Ouch! My Spaceship!

So Charles found himself on one of the most luxurious trains he’d ever seen in the company of men and women who in general hated Spectrum and some even hated him personally… but there was one person who had smiled at him – smirked actually – and Charles had relaxed a little.

He and Sam Shore had some catching up to do when they had a moment.

But today’s session was really just a meet-and-greet for those invited to get to know each other a little. They were, after all, going to spend the next 10 days in close quarters discussing some of the most important information in the world.

There were many familiar faces present. Some Charles knew by name only, others he’d worked with – and on occasion against – in his various roles.

Colonel Valerie Casey, present as representative of the GDF along with Captains Rigby and Foster. The two Captains looked to have different roles, Rigby standing by the Colonel wherever she went and Foster acting more like an aide than a bodyguard.

Charles looked across to his own ‘aide’. Ochre also stood beside him but, while he was in uniform he was relaxed as befit his role this time. Charles knew that with his close protection training Fraser had been the perfect choice for his aide, and while he couldn’t see Blue, Charles knew his Captain wouldn’t be far as his unofficial role was to blend in and hide in plain sight.

In the centre of the room Younger was talking to Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, whose aide was a surprise to Charles in particular. Scott Tracy wasn’t the kind of man to play the role of “second” to anyone other than his Father, and Charles wondered what his old friend Jeff was up to, but that was a question for later, and as he watched the Lady’s well-known shadow detached from the wall and discreetly touched her shoulder. Lady Penelope inclined her head to him, they had a short conversation before the man left. Scott chose that moment to look over and cast a brilliant grin at Charles on seeing him, and once more he wondered what on earth the Field Commander of International Rescue was doing at a security conference…

Sam had not acknowledged him since the grin earlier, but Charles was aware of him making the rounds of the room. As he himself turned to greet Shane Weston, head of the London division of WIN Charles could see Shore and his daughter Atlanta heading towards Lady Penelope and Scott.

There were other players at the table, but Charles had yet to find out who some of them were.

The only organisations Charles had yet to lay eyes on was FAB – although he was pretty certain that that was who Lady Penelope was representing – and USS, though that was less of a surprise.

It wasn’t as if the Supreme Commander of Earth Forces could just amble around the room…although, as he thought that, one person in particular caught his eye. The man nodded and Charles reciprocated and Agent 21 melted away.

Interesting…

But then they were called to order and everyone moved to the larger carriage that had been designed for the conference. Charles took his seat with Ochre sat behind him to the side.

And they began.

By the end of the first day Charles was so glad he was able to keep a passive face. He knew that it was only the outlining of what they were going to discuss for the rest of the time, but some of the others obviously didn’t know that day one was not the time to be questioning things…

Ochre and Blue joined him for a late drink and to discuss their own observations of the attendees. They all agreed on some of the unexpected delegates and there were some discussions around what to expect going forward. They also discussed if there were any signs of outside influences likely to make a play…

Two hours and a RoS nap later, Charles was sitting on one of the couches in his quarters with an old Frederick Forsyth spy novel and taking a very much needed break now that they were stood down from ‘active crisis’. There were a multitude of things that he could have been attending to, especially in the face of Jeff Tracy’s death in the cells at Spectrum New York, but he was at an age where he’d learned to take a moment to rest. The current bevy of problems were all ones that could wait a bit as reports were drafted and examinations were completed. WP Younger had already been informed of what he needed to know, and that would be enough until the facts had been established and the sequence of events clearly defined.

He’d gotten a good three chapters and two cuppas into his book when his intercom chimed for attention.

Charles was not surprised by it. He had strong suspicions about who this would be, knowing the man, he’d expected this would happen sooner or later, and ‘sooner’ was the ideal. Laying aside his book, he went to the door and poked the intercom. “Yes?” 

“Sir, um, it’s me,” Cobalt’s voice floated through the speaker. 

One button press got the door unlocked, revealing a young man having a hard time keeping his inner turmoil off his face and clearly second-guessing himself. 

“Sir,” Cobalt started.

Before he could go any further, Charles interrupted with a gesture at the kitchenette. “Tea or coffee, Scott.” This wasn’t an officer needing to speak to his CO, this was a younger man needing guidance - and reassurance. ‘This is something he should have been getting from his father, but I’ll gladly stand in his stead.’ 

The use of his name got a startled blink out of him, his train of thought abruptly derailed. “Uh, coffee please, black.” 

“Good. Sit down.” Charles waved at the pair of couches while he went to boil the kettle. 

A nod and Scott did as he was bid, the tension in every line of his body betraying his agitation. 

Charles used the time needed to brew himself an Earl Grey and a cafetière of plunger coffee  to order his thoughts. He had a reasonably good idea of what might be troubling the younger man, and derailing him by using the name his mother had given him had been a deliberate choice. ‘He is so like Scarlet,’ Charles mused as he poured milk into his cup. ‘Both of them can logic themselves into corners and get lost in trying to do the right thing for those around them while ignoring their own needs and wants, but hopefully this will mark the start of a new chapter for Scott.’  

Once the drinks were ready he brought them over, placed the coffee before Scott and sat down opposite him, holding his own cup in both hands as he waited for Scott to figure out what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. 

“...I don’t know if I can leave Spectrum.” Scott was sitting with his elbows on his knees, shoulders hunched and fingers intertwined to keep himself from fidgeting. Staring into the depths of his coffee, his voice was very soft. “Spectrum’s been a haven for me and for Xanthic. It gave me a job, a purpose, it let me do good… and if we both go… you’re going to be short handed again.” 

“Scott, look at me.” The order was voiced kindly, but it was still an order and Scott automatically obeyed. “You do not have any sort of debt to repay, not to me, not to the others and not to Spectrum,” Charles informed him. “You and Gordon will be missed, do not get me wrong on that, but it is well past time you chose something for yourself, not for others.” 

Charles sat back and sipped his tea while waiting for Scott to finish being astonished at how quickly he’d divined the underpinning thoughts and reasonings that had him tied up in such complicated knots - the legacy of that man and how he’d raised Scott to see himself as a liability and a hindrance with an eternal debt to repay for having the temerity to exist. 

“But…” 

The protest drew a fond smile out of him. Scott simply would not be Scott if he didn’t make another attempt at putting those around him first. “Scott, you are a first rate Colour Captain, but you are a better Thunderbird. Your family needs you out there with them, not here with us, and yes, I know the War is still on, but what point is there in us fighting if there is nothing left to save?” Charles took a sip of tea to wet his throat. “I like to think that in this, Spectrum and International Rescue can be two sides of the same coin: one’s work gives the other a world to save.” 

“I…” Scott’s mouth worked for a moment as he mulled it over, little shifts in his thoughts betrayed in his little movements as he adjusted his perceptions around the new perspective he’d just been given. “...that… yeah, that makes sense.” A shy sort of smile played about Scott’s face, his shoulders dropping by increments with the realisation that yes, he could go home and he had Charles’ full support, full blessing, and full encouragement to do so. 

“Good.” Charles nodded his approval. “Drink your coffee and we’ll discuss your new orders. Unfortunately there is bureaucracy to satisfy and the sudden disappearance of Captains Cobalt and Xanthic, timed with the sudden reappearance of the original Thunderbirds One and Four, will raise questions.” White made a face. “I’ve been advised that similar to the ‘Thunder-spotting’ community, there is a similarly dedicated group who report on sightings of Colour Officers, so a transition period is needed to cover things.” 

“Yessir.” Cobalt nodded, picking up the mug. “Five and EOS can help generate fake sightings to muddy the waters.”

“Very good, I’ll speak with them later about a plan around that.” White took another sip of tea. “Officially, I will be sending two officers to Tracy Island to begin the investigation there, along with some additional officers to help scan and transport anything uncovered. Copper’s latest report is that they are still finding caches at Tracy Tower, so I imagine it will take some time to conduct a thorough search of the Island, enough time for the next Mysteron threat to occur. The aftermath of that event will be used to announce that two Spectrum officers were killed in action. With the subsequent lack of sightings of ‘Cobalt’ and ‘Xanthic’, the online groups will draw the conclusions that we wish them to make. Ideally International Rescue will be in the air before the reports are made, but due to the, ah, ‘outside factors’ in play, we’ll make do with whatever happens.” 

Cobalt nodded, sipping his coffee as he tested the plan and found it solid. “S.I.G. I’ll get you a timeframe as soon as I can. Five and Two reported that the terrestrial Thunderbirds were pretty securely locked down before they evac’d. Between that, people’s conditions, and straightening out the mess of TI, it’ll take us a while to get everything sorted out and get iR operational again. I’m not going to have an estimate until we can see the damage.”   

“Quite understandable,” White nodded. He placed his half empty mug down and drew in a breath. “I know it isn’t official yet, but let me be the first to say it.” He held out his right hand. “Welcome back, Commander Scott Tracy of International Rescue.”

Scott’s blooming smile was broad as he reached out to accept the firm handshake. “Thank you, Colonel White.” 

T H U N D E R F A L L 

At roughly the same time, the Officer’s Lounge had their own guest: Alan. With John and Virgil sleeping, Gordon visiting with Penelope, Scott dealing with something else, and Kayo having a strategy session with Brains, Rigby, and Dosela over their next moves, he’d been left at a bit of a loose end. After ‘finding’ Alan in the Promenade (Cloud may or may not have been involved and neither of them were going to confirm or deny it) Scarlet had brought him to the Lounge with the brief explanation of ‘he needs to be around people, but not general-public people.’ 

All present had immediately understood that and immediately shifted into ‘Operation Distraction’ mode, welcoming the youngest Tracy into the fold with a hot cup of coffee, a prime spot on the couch, and the offer of plenty of stories - something which Gordon and Scott gleefully joined in on when the younger dropped in after visiting with Lady Penelope and her household and the elder stopped by after whatever he’d been up to. The rest of the team automatically included the older Tracys in the rhythms and patterns of the active operation without saying a word. They knew their brothers-in-arms more than well enough to know that some pleasant distraction was very well needed by them too.

But as the conversations ebbed and flowed, there was something that Magenta noticed that the others missed. 

Scarlet could read a field of combat like a picture book. If you wanted to know what a person did, you asked Ochre. But Pat was the master of body language, with his background he'd had to be. So he was the one that saw Alan’s tiny shifts of position, the shape of the lines around his eyes, and the twitch in his fingers. He moved over to sit next to Alan, leaned over and barely moved his mouth to ask "Al, you okay?"

The fact that Alan didn't start spoke volumes, and he gave an almost invisible shake of his head.

Pat shifted closer and showed Alan something on his tablet. "What do you think?" Meanwhile, 'what wrong how help' was tapped out on Alan's leg. Pat wasn't that good at Morse, but he'd been practising since Scott and Gordon had shown how useful it could be when words were too hard or silence was needed.

Alan gave him a side eye look, took the tablet, and moved his fingers over the open notepad. 'I need to do something, anything.'

"Huh, you're right." Pat took the tablet back, looked the people in the foreroom over and sent a message to Gordon. 'Taking Three for walk, needs air.'

Gordon checked his watch and nodded, never looking at their direction. He then jumped into the conversation. "Oh man. That's nothing, you should see it when Cobalt and Five play cribbage. We've had to lay down tarps for the blood bath." Which set off a spirited discussion on card games. Which gave Pat the moments he needed to get Alan out of the foreroom.

He waited until they were around the corner. "So what kind of something? A couple of rounds in the gym? Maybe run laps? What?"

Alan rubbed the back of his neck. "Um… cookies? Maybe make some bread? Kneading is pretty soothing for me."

"Help you bake? Gladly!" Pat grinned and guided Alan towards the commissary. This was going to be a unique variation on the usual ‘Operation Distraction’. "I'm sure the cooks won't mind the help."

Perhaps an hour later, ‘Operation Distraction’ was slowly winding down when Blue looked around. "Where's Magenta?"

"Better question," Scarlet said, scanning the room. "Where's the Madman?"

Xanthic cleared his throat. "Mags told me he was going to take Three for a walk, something about air." He looked at his watch. "But that was ages ago." 

"Cloud?" Cobalt called.

Yes?

"Can you tell us where Magenta and Thunderbird Three are?"

They are currently in the base kitchen. They have just finished their second batch of cookies and Three is showing Captain Magenta how to do a five strand braid with the cinnamon bread dough. 

"Well, stress baking is good for something," Grey grinned. Cobalt tilted his head. "What kind of cookies?"

"They’re cookies, unless he's making Grandma's special ones, who cares?" Xanthic stood up and made sure his uniform was ship shape and Bristol fashion. 

Double chunk chocolate chip and chocolate with white chocolate chips and macadamia nuts.

There was a moment of silence, then Paul stood and grinned. "I think we should retire to the kitchen, gentlemen." He looked at Scott and Gordon. "You do both realise that if White, Fawn, or any of the Angels samples those, Three is never leaving Cloudbase, right?"

“We’ll have to reserve some for the Angels,” Blue warned, “they’ll be irritated if word gets out the Madman did some baking and we ate it.” 

“Yeah, ‘Happy Angels’ and all,” Ochre chimed in. 

“Good point. We’ll reserve some for the Angels and Green, then destroy the rest of the evidence before the Old Man or the docs catch wind of things.” 

“I’ll go on ahead and box up some for them,” Xanthic volunteered, getting up to do just that, with Scarlet and Blue on his heels with offers to ‘help’ - though if it was with the boxing up, the evidence destruction, or a bit of both was left very ambiguous. Cobalt just shook his head and strode out after them.

Meanwhile, Grey snagged Ochre to help fill the dishwasher - it was their turn - waited until the door was fully shut, then turned on Rick. He had a lingering question that needed answering and now was the perfect opportunity.

“Okay Rick, time to spill.” 

“Spill what?” Rick bluffed as he put down his handful of mugs, frantically trying to figure out exactly what he was supposed to be spilling.

“Back in Medical when we brought everyone in, what had your radar pinging when Lady Penelope’s cook called Parker ‘Aloysius’?” 

Rick considered trying to fudge the issue, then gave up. There was no way Brad would let this go. “I'm almost certain he's Aloysius ‘Nosey’ Parker, the best safe cracker and getaway driver of his generation. He completely vanished from the scene about fifteen years ago.” 

“And you think that he became Lady Penelope’s bodyguard?” 

“I did a little looking overnight, the timeline checks out, he starts showing up as her bodyguard at roughly the same time.” 

Wise eyes took his measure. “You gonna do anything about it?” 

Rick shook his head. “Hell no. One, I don’t have any proof, and two, if Kayo doesn’t do something to me, Lady Penelope will, or Cobalt will, or Xanthic will. As far as I’m concerned, if he’s been working for iR, he’s balanced the scales.” He finished loading the dishwasher and washed his hands. “Anyway, we have evidence to deal with. C’mon, let’s get down there before it’s all gone.” He grinned, a teasing expression. “Unlike you lot, I haven’t had any of the Madman’s cooking. I’m not missing out a second time.” 

Brad laughed at that and pushed Rick in the appropriate direction. “Then get a move on, I can tell you just how fast it vanishes!” 

“Moving!” Laughing, Rick was already on his way to the door at something just below a dead run.

T H U N D E R F A L L

The sun was on its way to the horizon when Alan finally stopped in front of Rabbi Azure’s door, having been guided there by Cloud since all the others were busy ‘destroying the evidence’ in the commissary and he was quite happy to leave them to it: this was one mission he needed to complete on his own.

This was, he had to admit to himself as he checked the time, the root cause for why he’d needed to stress-bake. Booking the appointment at something around zero-dark-thirty last night had been the easy part, but that’d just been all theory. This? This was the practical, and he’d have been lying if he’d said he was completely comfortable with it all. ‘But she works here with Orchid, and I like Orchid and Virgil trusts her, and she’s been recommended by Paul. That has to count for something, right?’ 

The numbers rolled over on his watch and Alan pushed the chime on the intercom. He was still very unsure about this, but Pau - no, Captain Scarlet, had suggested this. ‘So I’m at least going to try it. I can do that. I can try. If it doesn’t work out, no big, but I tried.’ 

The door slid back to reveal a woman in dark clothes, with white blonde hair in a braid that looped all the way around her head. Green eyes narrowed for a moment before filling with warmth. "Mr. Tracy?" "That's my older brother, I'm just Alan." He held out his hand.

"Rabbi Azure," her grip was warm and firm. " Please come in."

"Thank you." Alan wasn't sure what to expect, Cloudbase kept surprising him. It was a small room and held a comfortable looking chair, a couple of throw pillows, and some assorted other bits of furniture, all in warm shades. A one armed daybed made his eyebrows go up, but he sat down on the foot of it. Azure settled in the chair before the wall desk. Yes, it was an office, but it was a relaxed and restful one.

The rabbi herself was also relaxed in jeans, boots, and a long sleeved shirt in deep blue. Alan would be willing to bet it was 'azure'. The thought brought a grin.

"May I offer you something to drink? I have tea or water?"

"Water would be nice."

"Cherry, peach, or blood orange?"

"Huh?"

She smiled at him. "I have cherry, peach, or blood orange flavored water, carbonated."

"OH! Peach, please."

She got one out of a small cabinet, mostly hidden by her chair, that turned out to be a miniature refrigerator. Alan downed about half of it in three gulps. The ice cold liquid felt so good on his throat.

"So, Alan, what brings you to my door?" She sipped from her own bottle.

"Uh - what did Captain Scarlet tell you?"

Her smile was gentle. "That you needed to talk, or not talk, to someone, and that I should clear a block of time if you did want to talk."

"Oh." He had no idea what to do with that.

"The good captain couldn't betray a confidence even if he wanted to." She settled back in her seat. "How about I start, and tell you what I know about you?"

"Uh, that's fair." This wasn't like any therapist he'd ever tried to talk to. But then again, Gordon did say that the people here had the interpersonal skills of a box of rocks, which was understandable since they were professional spooks and other flavours of secret-keepers.

"So, I know that you are the youngest of five -" "Six. Can't forget our sister." At her eyebrow, he added. "She was adopted."

She nodded. "The youngest of six," she waited for his nod. "You've kept a low profile in a high profile family, surrounded by over-achievers, yet quite at ease in your own skin. You know who you are. You've also had your share of bad luck, not the least of which is having," the calm mask dropped for a second and showed a flicker of rage before concealing it again, "Jeff Tracy as your father."

"S.D. isn't my father. That's my brother Scott."

She tilted her head. "Not unreasonable, but what does 'S.D.' mean?"

"Sperm Donor," he drained the bottle. "Could I have another one, please?"

She gave a bright laugh. "Oh, that's perfect. Of course, what flavor?" "Cherry this time, please."

The new bottle handed over, she once again sat back. "So I've given you an outline of what I know, why don't you tell me what I don't know." Azure held up a hand. "No judgements or anything like that. Just tell me what you want to, or we can talk about hockey. Don't ask me about soccer/football. If it doesn't involve ice and a stick, I'm hopeless."

"What about curling?" He had to grin.

"Ice and a stick, I can talk about curling just as long as I can talk about hockey."

Alan nodded and rolled the bottle between his palms, thinking. She didn't know him, other than the superficial level, Paul had recommended her and Alan was fairly certain that Paul trusted her. This was also a chance that might not come again: not having one of his siblings breathing down his neck, trying to 'help'.

He took a deep breath to center himself. "Let's talk about ice and sticks later. Right now - I need help. I need to know if I did the right things, if I made the right choices."

"Of course. I won't pass judgement on anything you tell me. That's not my place. My place is to help you with what happened."

Marina froze mid thought, alarmed for a second; before remembering. The pearls and silk flower are on- a dressing table? Yes, along with her mother’s necklace. Her dress was handing up? Or hung over a chair? Her memory was a little fuzzy on that detail.

"I'll have to thank Atlanta for helping me get dressed." Marina thought. Although she couldn’t remember who'd done her hair.

"-That alright with you, Marina?"

 Marina blinked. 

 “He said ‘Think you can manage something proper to eat Marina? There's fish and vegetables in the pan." Troy repeated for her before she could ask. "If that’s okay with you? We never got around to ordering take out."

 "Oh. Yes, I think. Thanks…" Marina nodded. Then asked to the room in sign and gesture. "You? You Okay too yes?" 

 "We're alright, don't you worry." Shore said. He was down to his shirtsleeves. And his uniform jacket was hanging over the back of his hover chair.

Bar the commander they’d all changed in to their civilian clothes she realized.

Troy had on jeans and his often stolen cable knit jumper. And despite the commanders words still looked pale… Marina tried not to focus on that. 

 Atlanta had on a black top, with pink trousers that could be a skirt they were so swishy. Phones was in one of his eye watering shirts. With a bulky lump on one arm. Marina remembered the bandage on the stolen Terror-fish. The one that matched her dressing. 

 You patch me up, I'll patch you up…That’s what he’d said.

Marina reached over and tugged on the offending sleeve

"Me? oh this? Yeah I'm okay Marina. Don't you worry." Phones reassured. Marina frowned and did it again. Phones rolled his eyes but Rolled the sleeve up to show her. "yeah that's alright too, you see? Sheesh, it was just a nick."

"You got shot Phones." Troy scowled. 

"it wasn't exactly on purpose!"

"you still got a bullet-!" Troy started.

 “oh and you only had a cold I guess?” Phones cut in.

"okay, that's not funny, fellas.” Atlanta said quietly with a poke. Her face fallen very sober and Marina could feel how tense she'd suddenly become. "any one of you could have died."

 "stop arguing." Marina agreed and nodded along; squeezing her friends hand.

"Okay so I got shot, Troy got poisoned and Marina’s got a knock to the head. So we're even." Phones replied, a touch of a sulk then as he rolled his sleeve back down. Troy too huffed.

"evenly foolhardy more like! enough. Before I lock the three of you up for the rest of your mandatory rest break. Don't think I won't!" the commander Shushed. "now, someone make the coffees. Does Marina need another antibiotic or later?"

They'd made a timetable it turned out. Marina put tried to put it off for a little while longer but complied eventually. Marina let them be as they fussed over her; Filled her in little snippets of Gossip she'd missed. And let her make sure Troy was still okay. Phones almost instantly forgot he was sulking in favour of reassuring her and trying to get a smile out of her.

Even if she had to go through yet another round of how many fingers, Look up left right all over again. Move her hands wiggle her feet. Marina Did so, abet more a doggy paddle then a smooth stroke. Everything felt stiff. And compared to the maintenance check up on board Stingray it felt a real chore.

The doc had a Point though. She was asked if she had anywhere that was hurting or if she was in a lot of pain. And Marina admitted to feeling sore. Which was an improvement she supposed. Just sore just tired rather than exhausted.

Apparently the balm to help with the bruises was 'working wonders'. Marina wasn't quite convinced on that part. Yes she felt less delicate but it made the ones at her wrists look worse than they felt, colours blooming rapidly. Then again she supposed it was healing them faster.

She was dabbed at with antiseptic again too. But it didn't seem to sting so badly now. And best of all Oink was even allowed over. Phones had walked him over from the standby lounge. And by all accounts the seal pup mostly had been very well behaved. And even allowed on the sofa when Marina had slept!

“Just this once mind. He’s been very quiet actually." Sam grumbled as Marina cuddled Oink. His tone didn't match the under the chin scratches the commander was giving Oink. 

 "The cat is going nuts in my bedroom to make up for it!… Dang sea-pup missed you something terribly Marina. But not to worry. We'll take good care of you, yeh’ hear." he reminded her. Marina nodded.

"I thought you might want a shower or a bath. it might ease your shoulder? You can borrow some of my things?" Atlanta asked. She was cheery but still seemed real worried. As if Marina was going to vanish. They all were a little

"Or we can nip around to your place and put an overnight bag together. if that's easier?" Phones tried.

"We can have a go Fixing that dress of yours in the morning too." Troy agreed from the door frame he was leaning on. "what? Don’t look at me like that, I can do a decent darning stitch."

Marina laughed and nodded; again a little overwhelmed from the kindness.

Though she'd been able to wash and felt clean she agreed. Even if the thought of probably needing Atlanta's help again was somewhat embarrassing. A shower or bath might help her muscles? And shake off the sludge of Titanic that seemed to be clinging on to her. 

 "Shower would probably be best." she thought. A bath while she would have preferred she might fall asleep in.

Before she could think to explain a Beeping alarm startled everyone. But it wasn’t battle stations. 

 Troy let loose an "uh-oh" as Atlanta leapt up from the sofa and both of them bolted, nearly crashing into each other as they shot back to her kitchen.

“I asked you to reheat it not burn it!"

 "I thought it would cook faster?"

They could still be heard arguing over the flap flap of a tea towel. Even as the alarm was silenced. 

 "That's not how cooking works Troy!"

 "I was trying to be helpful-?"

 "You can help by getting that window open and fanning the smoke out.” Atlanta said, frustration creeping into her tone.  “And staying away from the stove top."

 "Sorry, honey. Look its fine? I'll have the ones with black bits."

"That's what you get for not wearing an apron skipper!" Phones yelled after him.

Troy stuck his head out of the kitchen with a scowl. And made face and gesture that Marina had learnt to mean "I can't say any thing rude to you off in front of the ladies and/or the commander but I will be later."

Phones made same back at Troy with a grin. And added in a stage whisper, "Can't tell the oven from a freezer and Atlanta still let him in the kitchen?!"

Troy winced returned to trying to get back in Atlanta's good books.

"Unlucky at cards AND in the Kitchen." Shore chuckled. Marina giggled in agreement.

"A train T cooking question?" she tried, wanting to join in. It was a little rough and she couldn’t think of the right words. Too rough maybe. 

  "T? Oh T for Troy?" Shore asked, "Sorry kid, can you repeat that?"

 Marina sighed but did so, still struggling a little but Phones was able to translate at least. 

 "That's not a bad idea." he then replied. "but maybe Troy should stick to washing up first!" 

 "I heard that-!" Troy started from the other room.

 "good, you can start out with putting that charred up skillet into soak." Atlanta cut back. 

 it only made Phones grin wider and Sam barked in laugh. Which set off Oink thinking it was a game.

 This, this is what I'd missed. Marina thought. Laughing together. The companionship, of familiarity affection and jokes. Even as the other two came back through with plates and cutlery. rather than sat around the dining table, for a change and a treat they ate dinner on trays on laps or little tables while watching the TV Sam had turned on.

it was Simple, easy to manage. white fish in a sauce and brightly coloured vegetables. Accompanied by Marina’s terrain favourite, hash browns. (Troy's could have written his name with his. Marina's fish was a little crispy but forgivable.) 

 Atlanta must have forgiven him for the char grilling too. Given the smudge of lipstick or tinted lip balm on Troy's cheek. it had been wiped off but they'd missed a bit. Marina discreetly as she could pointed it out. And Troy made it rather noticeable as he scrubbed both his cheeks very hard with a napkin before he'd even eaten anything.

Troy cleared his throat and explained they'd had no luck trying to get take out. Marina couldn’t remember the discussion about take out, why, or what day it was. But nodded anyway. She found eating was taking More concentration then normal. Particularly her hands. Pacifica food wasn't always utensil free or a completely eat with your hands cuisine. But Marina found her self struggling. She couldn't get the right pressure or angle. Particularly with the knife cutting up the veg and fish. 

 Fish knife. Pressed to her-

The knife slipped her grip and clattered loudly off both the plate the tray table. Marina braced for a telling off. For Titan to throw something. Neither happened.

 Instead, a clean knife was fetched for her. And an offer of help. Marina felt a little like a child or an elder at having to have her food cut up for her. But also felt loved from the cared for gesture. They wouldn't hear of Marina helping with the clearing of dishes or washing up, despite her pout.

 "besides Troy's getting kitchen training minutes in." Atlanta with a giggle. 

 Troy sometimes a gentlemen wouldn't attack either the two girls with a damp tea towel. So he tossed it at Phones's head for also laughing. But behaved for dessert. Marina declined, having no more appetite. She sat mostly listening, some times adding her own nod. She felt drowsy again. But not so sluggish or fighting to stay awake. More… content.

A horn beeped outside made her jump awake.

"That'll be your car father." Atlanta said.

"Right I'll see you all tomorrow." Commander Shore said pulling on his jacket. "Let me know if anything changes. I’ll let Fisher know to."

 "Yes sir."

"Sleep tight Marina. Let them take care of you. And take it easy. All of you, that's an order." he reminded with a pat on her arm as he passed her and a wave. Marina nodded and waved back.

 Atlanta saw him to the door. And Marina could hear the Shores exchange see you later's and what time will you be home and quit worrying I will if you do and have a good shift and love you too's.

"He's right." Troy was sat next to her, his arm around the back of her seat. "Let's get you set up in a bed or back on the couch Marina? You look beat."

"Takes one to know one, Troy." Marina thought. And even managed to sign it, slowly, but the whole sentence. And didn't need to repeat herself.

"Cheek!" he beamed, Atlanta and Phones joining in the laughs.  He stood up arranging the blankets. Then Troy paused.

"And er hey." Troy started suddenly sincere and serious in tone, "I never did say thanks yet did I?"

"For what?" Marina frowned looking up at him, to the others then back at him. Really looking. There's still deep shadows under his eyes. Not unlike the purples staining on his pale skin-! No. No it didn’t. He was okay. right?

Troy cleared his throat and it snapped her back to reality. “I hadn't really had a chance or know how to put it fancy so I'll say Thanks Marina." He said, almost shyly.  "You saved my life. Doing what you did. And I know how hard that must have been to do especially on your own. So I really do appreciate it. Thank you,”

Marina blushed and awkwardly shrugged, not sure how to reply to that.  “Of course I did. I couldn’t not do it. What else could I have done?”

"Saved his life Again," Phones quipped slash correct with a nudge. Then added just as sincerely, "I second what Troy said. Thank you." 

 "Me three." Atlanta said "Thank you, saving Troy like that. We really appreciate you."

"We all do!” Troy insisted. “Heh. I’d say I owe you one, but I'm not sure that covers it?"

"Makes us even." Marina wanted to say, to echo Phones joke form earlier. She gestured best she could to overcome suddenly to 'speak' properly. Tears were pricking her eyes again and her hands flapped uselessly.

"Ah shoot. I didn't mean to upset you-!"

 "I think those are happy tears. I hope."

“Oh don’t cry Marina dear. Atlanta teased gently passing her a tissue And pressed another kiss to her temple. “You'll set me off again"  Marina smiled  into it. And stood up (wobbling only a little), to hug Troy; pulling Phones and Atlanta into it too. 

She'd had more hugs and pet names in one day from all of them then Marina had ever known. And was enjoying being wrapped up in them, strange as it was. Earlier in the corridor it had felt suffocating. As if she didn't deserve it, like she was dreaming.

 Now the embrace felt almost like home. Even if Troy had to clap other’s back.

Troy’s big hands and how she tucked under his chin. Atlanta’s arms under hers and the circles she made on marina's back comforting her without thinking. And the way Phones squeezed her all gentle like, tight but without crushing.

“I'll go run you that bath, yeah?” Atlanta asked, eventually untangling herself.

 Marina nodded and turned about hug her in thanks. That’s what terrains hugged for as well right? Marina pressed her forehead to Atlanta's shoulder twice for good measure too.

"You're welcome honey." Atlanta said with another laugh into Marina's hair. Then over Marina's shoulder said to the fellas “Oh. That head bonk?”

 Troy and Phones nodded. "Told you so!"

 "No idea what it means. Marina?"

 But Marina shook her head, as Atlanta left the room.

“Alright. Another time."

 "Yeah we got plenty of that.” Phones agreed.

 "Now we do. How about we’ll make that list of what you need?” 

 Marina felt her hearts lighten again and clapped a yes. But was too tired to even wave try and make them understand. So pulled them in to another terrain hug. Or a second group hug. Even if she had to stretch up on tip flippered toe to do so.

 “Oof! Okay easy marina!”

 “Atta girl we keep saying you’re stronger than you look.”

It was much like that hug on the fish. But far more relieved less surreal. Marina clung on to them both. We made it. Safe

“Hey Troy," Phones said Almost Bumping heads with both of them, "You made it.”

“We made it. all three of us.”

They laughed and chuckled and held her back, held each other too. And Marina was truly happy.

Troy was alive. Phones too.

She really wished she could thank them. Stingray crew. The control tower. The Doc and nurses. The engineers. Her friends. Troy said she'd saved him. But they’d saved her too. Freed her. Again! Brought her Out of the shadow of Titanica. Back to Marineville, a kind of Home.

And far faraway from Titan. And from any grip he might have on her.

She was safe. No longer alone. And feeling much better. With them as friends by her side.

Safe. Marina smiles to herself.  Safe...

“So it’s over?” Dosela asked, sharing a quick look with Rigby. 

“It’s over,” John confirmed. “He was already being ousted from TI so that’s now in Grandma’s hands, pending Scott coming back on board as CEO, and the arrangements around the Thunderbirds and iR are ironclad and in our favour.” 

A pause to consider that, then Rigby nodded once, a sharp gesture. “Dosela and I will get out of your hair as soon as we can,” he promised. “We already got the important stuff off the Island in advance, thanks to John, and it shouldn’t take us long to pack our things and…” 

“No. You’re Thunderbirds, you’re staying,” Scott interrupted, his tone firm but his eyes warm. “There’s plenty of space on the wall for more portraits.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Wayne sounded relieved - and it was completely understandable. Being a Thunderbird - doing real, tangible good on a scale that most people only got to dream of - was something very hard to walk away from. 

“But we’re still getting out of your way,” Dosela proverbially stepped in. “We know you’ve got a bunch of stuff to sort out. Me and Rigs will take a month off or something while you reset and deal with everything else, then we’re back in the game.” 

“You don’t need to-” Scott started, but Dosela cut him off with a look. 

“Yes we do,” she informed him. “Besides, this is gonna cause a ton of paperwork with the GDF. We’ll take care of that while you take care of iR.” “I think that would be very wise,” Lady Penelope remarked. “And also very kind of you.” 

“Least we could do.” Dosela flicked her a small smile. 

“And speaking of doing, what will we all be doing now?” Penny went on to ask the room. 

“Right now?” Kayo stood up. “Resting. You and these two,” she indicated John and Virgil, “need medical clearance before we can leave the base. In the morning there’ll be calls to make, flights to arrange, resignations to send, and there’s going to be a lot of calls from the press for a statement or something, both from iR and TI, but that’s a later problem.”  

Murmurs of agreement met that statement, followed by a hubbub of different conversations as plans were laid and accommodation was arranged for Alan, Virgil, and John, now that they had official permission to be out of Medical’s confines.  

No one noticed Scott, staring at the floor, a deep frown between his eyes… and doubt pulling his mouth into a thin line.

T H U N D E R F A L L

Finding privacy while being a guest sharing a cabin on a flying carrier wasn’t easy, but he was Thunderbird Five, problem solving and trouble shooting was his bread and butter, and this was a task he was going to accomplish. That was how John came to be in Scott’s bathroom a short while after the meeting (since he’d be bunking with him) to make this call on his brother’s phone (as Scott was out organising a bed and getting toiletries and clothes for him) because there was no way he was going to let his big brother make it, he’d been through too much, suffered too much, and hurt too much on behalf of that man. If he could spare his brother this, he would. 

The call was answered on the second ring. “Scott, what is it?”

“It’s me, Grandma,” John told her. “I’ve borrowed Scott’s phone. Everyone’s okay, I’ll ask the doctors here if they can send you our medical data, but we’re all okay.”

“That will be good,” Grandma replied, but he could hear the coming question. “What’s happened?”

John tried to detach himself from his emotions - which, despite everything, were still very much present and very much complicated - and he was longing for a mental hug from EOS right now, to feel that warmth of her presence, but he couldn’t have that either, so he donned the mantle of Thunderbird Five instead. “I’m sorry to tell you that Jeff is dead.” The lie was easier than the truth right now, easier for him to utter, and easier for her to hear. 

A long pause, then Doctor Tracy spoke. “How?”

“Cardiac event in the cells at Spectrum New York. They couldn’t resuscitate him.” 

Another long pause, then a matching sigh and the sounds of movement that had to be her sitting down. “I thought as much.” The words were soft, but the underlying regret was sharp. Brief, but sharp. 

Now it was his turn to ask a question. “Grandma?”

“Amongst other things, cardiac and vascular issues are a known problem for long-term space flight. Enlarged heart, weakened valves, and so on.” Doctor Tracy was speaking again, wrapping clinical facts around a hard truth to blunt those oh so sharp edges and corners. “I could see something was going on, his colour wasn’t right and he was nursing his left arm. The stress of everything was probably the trigger event.”

“...why didn’t you say anything?” John asked, scarcely able to believe what he was hearing. If Grandma had spotted that from the other end of the board room table, subtle signs that she could recognise because she’d been a doctor for so many years and this was her son, someone that she knew oh so very well… If she’d said something, Jeff would have gone to the hospital, not the cells… ‘...and he might have survived…’ He… wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to do with that thought.

“I wasn’t sure.” The lie was blatant, but it was easy to swallow. “Thank you for telling me, John. Let me know when you boys and Kayo are going to go home and I’ll meet you there. We’ve got the board at TI mostly sorted out, there’s just a few details that are being difficult.”

“Okay, Grandma.” John let her change the subject. “We think it’ll be in the next day or two. Take care.”

“I will, sweetie, I will.” Click. 

John stared at the phone for a long moment, trying to get his head around what had just happened, but there was one thing he knew for certain: Scott would never, ever find out about this. 

T H U N D E R F A L L 

Post-flight, reports, and assorted paperwork finally complete (including a twelve page contact report for an encounter that had lasted five minutes at most and been three sentences long) Adam dragged himself through the base on a meandering path that terminated in his quarters. A stop at the commissary put two bananas and a yoghurt cup into his hands, a detour to the Amber Room got him a hug from Karen and a gentle kiss that went a long way to soothing his lingering agitation, then he was back in his room. 

While present-him would have much preferred to just drop everything onto the floor and collapse into bed as-is, he knew that future-him would regret all of it, so Adam made himself  secure his weaponry, hang up his tunic and ‘Cap, put away his boots, dump everything else into the laundry hamper, and take a hot shower. 

Briefly wishing that he’d been able to have that percussive therapy session with Paul (but at the same time glad they hadn’t, today had been long and jet lag had caught up to him about three hours ago) Adam wrapped a towel around his waist and went hunting for something soft to sleep in. Habit made him check his personal phone on the way through his room, and that was when he saw the waiting message from his father: ‘Adam, call me as soon as you get this.’ 

‘I’d better get this over with.’ Adam scooped it up, opened the message and hit the ‘dial’ icon. 

John answered on the second ring. “Adam?” 

“Yeah, it’s me.” Adam sat down on the edge of the bed, it seemed safer than standing.

“Adam…” there was a ‘woosh’ of a heavy exhale on the other end of the call, “I, well… the boardroom… is that the sort of thing you normally deal with?” 

“Today was tame.” Already mentally drafting his second contact report, Adam immediately cursed himself for the slip, that was stupid! 

“That was ‘tame’!?”

Adam’s ear was already well trained thanks to his time at the World Aeronautical Society,  working with a group of men who sometimes had the communication skills of a box of rocks had only honed that. Under the incredulous notes he could hear the worry that underpinned the three words, worry etched with not a little fear. 

The ‘woosh’ noise wasn’t an exhale this time but an indrawing of breath in preparation for something else to be said. “Look, Adam… I… can we talk? Face to face, not on the phone. This whole business with Tracy… it’s made me realise there’s only so much time.’ John interrupted himself with a huffed, self-depreciating sound that held nothing but regret. “I’m finally listening to your mother. She’s spent years telling me I’ve been a stubborn jackass about… well… about everything.”  

Adam had to swallow twice before he could talk. “I’d… I’d like that. I can’t take leave yet, but as soon as I get a chance I’ll be in touch with a date and time.” 

“I understand.” A pause and some indistinct talking in the background, then, “I have to go. Adam… son, I love you.”