#idontknowreallywhy

If the GDF kept their word… this Christmas might be the one time he actually managed it. Dad was home, and Aunt Casey had insisted that the same protocol that had covered their “Family Reunion” trip into the Oort Cloud could be extended for the Tracys to have a proper Christmas for once.

John had his reservations about the likelihood of that. And in any event that was a week away yet. While as ever he had organised gifts in September, and the same ‘surprise’ deliveries they had every year were lined up and paid for thanks to EOS spotting the similarity and doing her unique version of copy paste, John wasn’t really finding himself able to be excited by any of it.

The hurricane season seemed to be extending further into December every year. There’d been seven separate avalanches in the north, almost daily bush fires in the south, a mudslide, a mine collapse, one of the Martian shuttles had lost an argument with an unplotted asteroid and the team at the new Alfie II lunar base was constantly on the line with requests for advice. 

And that was quite enough to keep them all busy yet the more imbecilic end of humanity had to make it worse. The billionaire boys club who tried to break the record for the fastest pole to pole to pole orbit, run out of fuel and crashed into an old military satellite no government admitted responsibility for and thus had given the gift of headaches for days afterwards as first John, then Scott had to attend interminable meetings to extricate IR from the political quagmire that followed.

On top of that Fischler’s latest attempt to harness the power of said hurricanes to “End the global energy crisis in a week!” was predictably as disastrously dangerous as it was ambitious.

And then his old college nemesis, now flouncing around Oxford in a gown that didn’t suit him, had incorrectly cited JG Tracy’s research in a frankly horribly written paper and he was inundated with questions from highly respected academics seeking his comment.

John had exhausted the tea stash which should have lasted him until at least February.

And after the 48 hours he’d just had - John could really contemplate murder for a cup of tea.

As if on cue, the familiar clicking and hissing of the elevator connecting with the airlock preceded EOS’s announcement of the arrival of his SUPPLY PACKAGE.

The extra level of smug in her tone would have been a warning to a less exhausted man. As would the odd emphasis she placed on the last two words.

As it was John had no attention to spare for anything other than identifying and unpacking whichever box contained the teabags as a matter of urgency.

Which was a shame, because it meant that as he activated the airlock door he was entirely unprepared for the overwhelming experience of foliage to the face.

*****

Scott toyed with the buckle of the safety harness across his chest as the elevator hissed and clicked upwards. Brains’ genius machinery adjusting to compensate for g force and air pressure changes as they rose through the atmosphere. There was no reason for him to be nervous - they’d all made the trip plenty of times - and yet… His other arm squeezed a little more firmly around the base of the special delivery that hadn’t quite fitted in any of the usual cargo units.

Perhaps the problem was he wasn’t entirely sure what his reception would be.

Virgil and Brains had been double checking John’s request list as One had arrived back in the hangar and Scott joined them and peered at the list as MAX zoomed away to locate some missed item. The first entry surprised him: 

“Didn’t we already refill the tea last time?”

“Yep, fourteen days ago but he wants more.”

“He’s got through three months of tea in a fortnight?!”

“Maybe… he’s just stocking up for the new year?” came the optimistic response.

“Virgil, it’s on the list three times.”

Brain’s head joined the circle over the tablet. “Hmm. N-now you mention it… it is a little s-strange for John to have made that k-k-kind of an error.”

Virgil looked at the elevator with a frown and  checked his watch. Scott laid a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll go. I’m way over my hours anyway so I can’t answer a call even if I wanted to. Find me one of your legion of mediscanners and I’ll find a peace offering to distract him with… has MAX baked any… wait…” inspiration hit Scott as his eyes fell on the baubles hanging from a storage shelf. “Virgil, Brains, how about we give John that present a little early? You know the one. It’ll be ok if I hold on to it tight, right?”

“I d-don’t see why not? It was always intended to t-travel back with J-John eventually.”

“Virgil, d’you mind? Is from you too and…”

His brother shrugged 

“No, it’s a good idea and might get you in the door… just send it back down for me if he’s ill ok? Likelihood of getting him to come back a week early given…” Virgil gestured vaguely to indicate the world at large. “But if you can at least persuade him to sleep…”

“FAB. I have an idea.”

As he entered the thermosphere Scott began to have doubts in his plan. What worked for his overwhelmed and overtired toddler brother might not have quite the same effect on his under-slept and over-caffeinated adult one. It could just end in an argument. There was a non-zero probability he’d get punched in the face. Nevertheless in the absence of another brainwave Scott would just approach it the traditional Tracy way - use what you’ve got and then wing it.

*****

“HAPPY CHRISTMAS LI’L BRO I BROUGHT YOU A TREE!!”

EOS had failed to inform him of any unexpected baggage in the cargo area at all, let alone half a forest and a deranged brother.

“Scott! What the hell?!”

John knew he sounded more annoyed than he really was. Perhaps he’d reached his exasperation limit. Perhaps the genuine excitement in his big brother’s voice softened his the tension in his chest just a little… either way he couldn’t bring himself to maintain the scowl for long and settled for resignation.

The trademark shiny eyes and dimples gleamed out at him from behind a 4ft shrub… or possibly a small tree. A very familiar tree, but for the scale…

“It’s a pōhutukawa.” He couldn’t help a soft smile as he reached out to touch a tiny scarlet bud.

“Yeah! Well, a dwarf one. It won’t get a huge deal bigger now but should flower properly again in a couple months. Brains and Virgil and I… we’ve been working on ‘em in his lab a good while and Brains reckons she’ll do just fine in your li’l space greenhouse.”

“It’s not a greenhouse, it’s a unique, highly specialised range of horticultural habitats, the product of years of painstaking experimentation.“

“Is it made of glass, Johnny?”

“Borosilicate, to be precise. But that’s not the point. And don’t call me Johnny.”

“Well Brains is confident Kylie should do well in the same ‘horticultural habitat’ OOPS…” Scott’s commitment to air quotes meant he nearly dropped the tree and John reached out to grab it and settle the pot safely on the floor of the gravity ring. The Earth passing by underneath it accentuated the absurdity of the situation and John wrestled to keep a straight face.

“Kylie?”

“She needed a name. You can change it if you like I don’t think she’d mind. Anyway she should thrive in the same ‘horticultural habitat’ as the other Kermadec plants you have. It’s from home, see? Mutant offspring of that pair in Grandmas’s garden.”

They hadn’t bought it? Then…

“Geez, Scott how long did this…”

“Oh about three years give or take... It’s a Christmas Tree, Johnny! Because it’s Christmas! You know in Aotearoa they call it…”

“The New Zealand Christmas Tree.”

Scott seemed at great pains to ensure John got the joke.

“And it’s Christmas so…”

“It’s a beautiful specimen, Scott. I love it, I do but why have you… I’m coming home for Christmas.”

“Pfft not soon enough, you need a tree here. Look see we even made some decorations for ya…” his brother snatched up another box 

A string of lights emerged, tiny Thunderbird models, a small version of the ornate star that always graced the tree at home, smaller stars made of clear resin with one of his family’s faces grinning from within each… including…  John’s breath caught… including Mom’s.

“Virgil made most of these. He dodged the jingly stuff as that’d probably drive you mad. Brains wouldn’t let me add tinsel but I did sneak a li’l up” Scott dumped the box into John’s arms and half unzipped his flight suit to reveal a golden string of the glittery stuff tucked inside.

“I know I know… it’s not very modern. Or spacey. But Mom loved it and this is from her original stash so…”

“I know, Scott. It’s ok. All Christmas trees have to have tinsel. Tracy law.”

He deposited the box next to the pot,  accepted the slightly sweaty tinsel and draped it loosely around the top of the tree. His nose wrinkled ever so slightly - Scott had been wearing that uniform a while. As if he’d read his mind Scott cleared his throat and zipped it back up again.

“You only just got back from Nepal?”

“You look tired John. Even for you.”

Both spoke at once. But Scott was louder and his expression demanded an answer.

“Eh I’m alright.” 

“When are you coming home?”

“I’ll be there by Christmas.”

“Penny’s coming for dinner on 22nd.”

“Well I guess I’ll be there by the 22nd then.”

“Right. Alright then.”

Scott looked around whilst fiddling with something in a pocket of his baldric, seemingly slightly at a loss as to say next. John knew Scott was always guilty for feeling so out of place up here, for feeling like an intruder in his brother’s second home. In the environment that seemed so natural to he and Alan. To their Dad. John had run out of new ways to tell him it was okay.

“Scott.”

“I know, I know I’d better let you get on…”

“Scott.”

His brother finally met his eye and John saw the hurriedly concealed melancholy there. He beckoned him closer and opened his arms, bracing himself for the collision as Mr-Go-Fast-Or-Go-Home launched himself into one of the rare hugs John knew Scott craved far more of than John could satisfy. 

And yet John’s eyes watered at the uncharacteristic gentleness with which his brother embraced him. As if Scott knew exactly how fragile, how close to snapping he was.

“I miss you too, Scott.”

“Y’do?”

“I do.”

“But y’talk to us every day.”

Somehow having his own words parroted back to him felt surreal.

“Not quite the same is it?”

“Mmph.” Scott huffed “No. I don’t think so.”

The need to rest just for a tiny little bit was gnawing at the back of John’s eyeballs but he couldn’t bring himself to send his brother away yet. Anyway, something was bothering Scott and he had clearly come all the way here for a reason… maybe he needed to talk about something. John could play host just for a little while until he found out what it was.

“You could stick around for a bit? Help me get… Kylie was it… settled in? And then we could play a little zero G handball or I could show you the experiments I’ve got going on. Or we can just grab some tea and… oh” John lifted the lid of one of the other boxes to peer inside “oh and some of these chocolates and watch the world go by?”

“Sounds perfect, John. Lead the way.”

*****

The couches in the gravity ring were surprisingly comfortable and the two brothers ate chocolate, sipped tea from their spill proof mugs and chatted about this and that. They’d found Kylie a space in the not-a-greenhouse, added the decorations. A clearly exhausted John had finally dissolved into giggles as Scott had “lifted him up” to place the star at the top of the barely waist height tree. Just like Mom used to.

They talked of her a little, John pointed out the star system she’d focussed the latter part of her research on. Big brother listened and pretended he couldn’t have identified it blindfold. Scott encouraged his brother to unload about the Cambridge moron, contributed a number of suggestions for appropriate insults (rat-faced weasel having been deemed far too flattering) and ludicrous plots for vengeance.

It did not escape the elder that John appeared to be tailing off mid-explanation of some point and had twice had to pretend not to notice John letting go of the mug only to be surprised it didn’t float. How much time was he spending out of the ring these days? Seemed like more than he should and his lack of surprise didn’t diminish the big brotherly concern. 

Not long after Scott had fetched and applied the weighted blanket he’d smuggled into the elevator with the excuse that “Space is cold Johnny you know the cold makes me cranky” and his brother had rolled his eyes and offered an uncharacteristically weak riposte regarding the atmospheric controls, Scott smiled as a weight settled against his shoulder. He reached over and plucked the leaking mug of lukewarm tea from John’s limp hand and placed it in the cupholder. 

“EOS?” He whispered. “Lights low and all calls redirected please.”

It took only the slightest movement to shift John’s head onto his lap and then to tuck the blanket around him. His brother shifted a little, muttering an incoherent objection.

“Ssssh. Is all good bro. I’ve got you safe.”

Inspired by a distant memory, Scott placed a finger ever so lightly against John’s forehead and slowly stroked down the length of his nose before lifting his hand and repeating the movement. The remaining tension in John’s frame dissolved.

“Sweet dreams little spaceman. I’ve got you safe. Fly high and bring your momma back some stardust.”

*****

There had been nothing in the mission brief to suggest they approach the disaster zone with any more caution than normal. It was, from the information John had received from the ground team, a fairly simple extraction mission. In hindsight, the lack of information that John had been given should have had alarm bells ringing in all their heads.

“What were they even excavating down there?” Scott had asked the valid question once John had given them the very quick lowdown.

“They weren’t clear with me on that.” John replied, the irritation evident in his voice. “All they mentioned was something about a colony.”

Alan had scoffed at that. “On the Moon? Do they not know there’s a successful and vibrant civilisation being built on Mars right now? Who would want to make a new base on the Moon?”

“Uncle Lee still has a fondness for the Moon.” Scott had commented without taking his eyes off the colourful screen of readouts in front of him. He flicked through the various bits of data, his expression growing more and more taut with each swipe. There was not one report that was fully completed, all having various black lines and CLASSIFIED — DO NOT READ signs strewn across the pages. The holograms were a jigsaw of information, no one piece fully complete and legible, and Scott was not happy about it.

“That’s more sentimental.” John pointed out. “Besides, bases and colonies are two very different things. The Moon is a great half-way point to Mars to set up a base, Alan, but that isn’t what they seem to be doing.”

Defeated, Scott had banished the data away from his view with an exasperated sigh. “What did you say the name of this company was again, John?”

“I didn’t. It’s some new start-up, I think. I hadn’t heard about until we got the call. Apparently their business is called ‘The Lunar Expansion and Underground Land Identification Corporation’. If you’re pressed for time, they also go by ‘The Lunar Expansion Co.’ for short.”

Alan hadn’t been impressed with the company’s choice of name and had fought back his urge to eye-roll upon hearing it. Whoever was responsible for creating that mess of a title needed a serious lesson in how to name a company properly. Take their two family businesses — Tracy Industries and International Rescue — they were short, sweet and to the point. Bonus points for their acronyms being easy to remember; TI and IR. They virtually roll off the consumer’s tongue!

LEULIC, however? What kind of an acronym was that? Alan didn’t claim to know much about business, and often left the more complicated matters to his older brothers, but even he knew catchiness was a key selling point when it came to a name! This company’s was too much of a mouthful, and nobody was going to remember LEULIC!

“So, they’re identifying land to expand upon?”

“That’s the idea, Scott, at least from the limited information they’ve given me. No-one on their end has been willing to divulge anything else.”

“Keep talking with them. See if you can get them to open up a bit more. The more we know, the better it’ll be when we get there.”

“F.A.B.”

15:23

Thunderbird Three’s retros fired as they entered the Moon’s orbit.

The sight was one Alan was sure he’d never get used to. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get used to it.

Being International Rescue’s main astronaut, Alan had flown his red rocket to the likes of Mars and Europa, and he had set foot on Haley’s Comet. One day, he dreamed he’d travel to the edge of the solar system in his faithful Thunderbird.

But the Moon?

The Moon meant so much more to him. The Moon was far more special.

Earth’s natural satellite, along with the stars that shared the night-sky, had been the first celestial object that Alan had ever set his eyes upon. With all her swirls and craters, it had been the foundations of all of Alan’s astronaut dreams as a child. Unlike the other planets in the solar system, where one needed a telescope to fully appreciate their beauty, the Moon was almost always visible from Earth with the naked eye. Alan had never mistaken the Moon for a bright star, as he had so often done with the other planets. Even during the light of day, the familiar rock could sometimes be seen, still visible despite the hour.

Always constant, always there.

The Moon.

Beyond that, however, the Moon had been Dad and Uncle Lee’s home for a while. His brothers used to call it ‘Dad’s Office’ and, whenever Alan was missing him, he had taken comfort in the ability to see the rock upon which his Dad had been living and working.

The Moon would never not be special for Alan. He would never tire of visiting it, nor would he ever grow bored of observing it.

As final preparations were made to land and the grey surface spread across Thunderbird Three’s cockpit windows, Alan couldn’t help the small smile that gently formed on his lips.

Three hit the dusty surface with a soft thud.

Scott wasted no time in unbuckling himself from the co-pilot chair. He attached his helmet and checked his wrist unit. A hologram of data emerged, hovering in the air above his arm. Parts were still blocked off, much to Scott’s annoyance, but he swiped through until he found the page he was looking for.

A map that John had managed to wrangle from the Lunar Expansion company.

“We only have two hours until those workers run out of oxygen.”

As Alan followed Scott’s lead, unclipping his helmet from his belt and assessing his own equipment, four blips on the map began to flash; the four trapped miners.

Scott pointed to it. “We’re approximately five miles south of the disaster zone. We’ll take the Explorer Pod and travel north until we meet them. We need to work fast. Time isn’t on our side.”

“Relax, Scott. This is as simple as a mission can be.”

His brother scowled. “You should know better than to use the S word, Alan.”

“Oh, come on! The company with the stupidly long name, trying to create a colony on the Moon?” Alan clicked his helmet into place. The oxygen from his own tank hissed as his suit became airtight. “We’ll be home in time for dinner!”

16:04

The red shell of Three grew smaller and smaller as they travelled across the dusty lunar terrain. Alan tried not to look back. Upon leaving Three’s cockpit, a gnawing sense of doubt over the mission began to rear its head. No matter how much he tried to shake it, the feeling refused to leave him. Glancing back towards his Thunderbird, towards their only ride back home, and watching it shrink in the distance didn’t help matters.

By the time they arrived at the base — if it could even be called such; one lunar rover transporter, two mobile units and a very large drill could hardly be taken seriously as a base! And these people were supposedly trying to build a colony? — Scott and Alan were surprised to see the Lunar team having already begun rescue operations. It was a relief to see that the work done by the Lunar team hadn’t been a complete botch job.

The drill, specially crafted to break apart the lunar surface, had been deployed cautiously in an attempt to burrow a new hole. According to Meg, the leader of the group of miners, the new hole had been excavated beside the first one, but Alan had a hard time figuring out exactly where this initial hole had supposed to have been. Either the team had already done a good job at covering it back over, knowing they wouldn’t be needing it again, or… Alan wasn’t sure what the or was. All he knew was that his rising sense of dread was deepening with each passing second.

The Lunar team had managed to reach the collapsed cavern, where the four trapped miners had been cowering, in less than an hour. Scott had scanned the area briefly, sending his data back to Thunderbird Five. He didn’t bother waiting for John to reply, jumping straight into the action with easy commands and direct instructions for the rest of them, Alan included.

A winch secured. A line tightened. Scott hooked in.

The first two miners were an easy score. Alan had opened comms to inform John that Scott was like the claw in an arcade machine and the miners were the prizes he was winning, only there was no sarcastic retort about how Scott was terrible at the claw machines and that he’d believe it when he saw it.

There was no reply at all. John’s communications were silent.

The situation wasn’t dire, the mission was running smoothly, so why was John so quiet? Alan thought back to the data that Scott had sent him earlier. There had been no response to that message either.

“Hey, Scott…” Alan began as his brother ascended from the hole for the third time, slightly wounded miner under his arm.

“Can’t stop, Allie. The last one’s disappeared.”

Alan ceased his prodding and poking of his wrist unit to glance up at Scott. His brow creased, perplexed. “What do you mean ‘disappeared’? It’s a cave-in. Where else could he have gone?”

Scott rose both his arms up in an exasperated shrug. “All I know is that he was there when I was retrieving Miner Two but he was gone when I went back for this one.”

“Does she not know where he went?”

“Shock.” Scott explained, tugging again on the rope strapped to his waist. “Couldn’t get anything from her.”

The comms situation could wait, Alan decided. He lowered his wrist and began to set up his own winch system.

“No, Alan, you stay here.”

“Two pairs of eyes are better than one.”

“Yes, but it’s better if you remain top-side for now.”

“If you’re expecting trouble, it’s probably better if I come down with you.”

“Who said I’m expecting trouble?”

“Your face, your voice, your general ‘must keep Alan out of harm’s way’ schtick.”

Once upon a time, Alan resented his older brothers for trying to keep him out of the loop. Even at the age of ten, when they tried to keep the worst parts of Dad’s explosion from him, Alan had insisted he’d been old enough to deal with it all. Nowadays, he understood, even if he still didn’t always agree with it.

Scott chuckled. “I’m not apologising for it, Alan.”

“I don’t like this, Scott.”

He had dropped his voice down to a whisper so only his brother could hear. Scott strolled over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Despite Alan’s growth spurt a few years prior, he still wasn’t quite at Scott’s height, and so his brother tilted his head down. “Like you said, simple mission, right?”

“I definitely think I spoke too soon.”

“Also like you said,” Scott continued, not allowing Alan the chance to feel guilty for accidentally jinxing their mission, “it’s caved-in. There’s hardly many places he could be. I’ll be out again before you know it, missing miner in tow, alright?”

Alan could feel his goosebumps rising. His cheek twitched.

“Hey?” Scott patted his shoulder before letting go. “Time is running out.”

His brother had tried to reassure him, but Alan felt no more reassured than he did twenty seconds before. He gave Scott his best smile regardless. Scott’s returning smile was doubtful in itself. Alan knew his brother too well for Scott to hide the concern in his eyes.

He watched as his brother lowered himself over the edge of the hole, as the blue and grey of his uniform slowly descended down into the dark abyss, with his gut instincts screaming at him to pull him back up.

Jeff had always taught his boys to never discount their instincts, to always trust what they felt, no matter how ridiculous it might have been. Alan ignored those words of wisdom. He ignored his instincts entirely, opting instead to tend to the shocked miners. His mind, he decided, just needed something else to occupy it until Scott got back.

Alan was broken out of his despairing daydream when Meg called over to him from one of the rovers. He had jumped around as though she had woken him from a trance. He didn’t miss her quick, amused grin.

“We’re going to get these guys back to the main facility. We’ve got room for one more, if you want to ride with us?”

“I’ve got to wait for my brother.” Alan explained, his expression slackening with a grimace. “Do you… not want to wait for your last guy? Take them all back together?”

Meg, to his surprise, waved off his concern. “Oh, we trust that your team will deliver us what we need.”

More of those goosebumps rose beneath Alan’s uniform. Her phrasing certainly didn’t quell his sense of rising dread regarding the mission.

His eyes darted back down to the hole, to the endless black that lay beyond. It was eerily similar to the nothingness of space…

The slamming of the rover doors and the starting of its engine snapped Alan back out of his daze once again, but before he could stop them, Meg was zooming off into the distance, dust kicking up from the back wheels.

Alan squinted on instinct. His arm was raised to save his eyes from the onslaught of debris, forgetting the protection his helmet gave him. Upon realising there was perspex between the dust and his face, Alan lowered his arm and opened his eyes. 

As the dust cleared, his stomach somersaulted. 

The terrain was flat, so much so that, in the distance, he could still make out of the red shape of Thunderbird Three.

So where was the rover that had only just left?

17:55

His radio crackled, but there was no incoming transmissions. None, at least, that he could make out.

Alan tried his best to get a better signal, resorting to waving his arm around in the air as though a non-existent antennae needed realigning. It didn’t work, however, and he was left with plain static.

He checked the time again. Scott had been gone for twenty minutes. There was only forty minutes left of that miner’s oxygen.

Being a rescue operative, Alan had learned how to compartmentalise. He’d trained himself to keep his cool in a whole host of crises with his simple mantra of Act Now, Worry Later. 

It wasn’t enough for today. Today, he was having trouble getting his mind to box up his panic.

He paced backwards and forwards and concluded, once and for all, that there was nothing normal about this mission in the slightest! Oh, how he berated his past self for jinxing the mission.

Another glance at the time and Alan made his decision. Retrieving his own grapple gun from his belt, he quickly set up his own winch mechanism. Then, only when he was certain it would hold his weight, did he make his own descent down into the burrowed hole.

18:00

Down and down it went, further and further beneath the lunar surface. Alan wasn’t sure how far down the Lunar team had drilled. Having been too caught up in the more important process of getting people out of danger, Alan hadn’t been too bothered about going through the limited details the team had supplied about their own rescue attempts with a fine-toothed comb.

Scott wouldn’t have been too impressed if he’d known, but he wasn’t here right now.

Scott was somewhere below.

It took him a few minutes, abseiling through the hollowed out and crumbling rock face, but Alan’s feet soon touched ground. His helmet torches cast light, the only light that was available to him at present, but they were barely strong enough to penetrate the darkness that loomed. Three feet ahead of him was the best Alan could see, but three feet was all he needed.

Slow and steady, then, he thought to himself as he took his first couple of steps.

And then stopped sharp.

Alan glanced around at the walls. He ran a gloved hand over the rock. He was inside the moon, in a cavern that he’d expected would have been far more cramped than it actually was, and he was far too heavy. 

His eyes flickered to his boots. 

That… wasn’t right. 

To test his fears, Alan jumped once.

Twice.

Three times.

All yielded the same result; he was jumping no higher than if he were back on Earth.

On instinct, he raised his wrist with his communicator and opened transmissions with Thunderbird Five. “Hey, John? Can you grab me a gravity reading? John? Are you there?”

Static hissed in reply and only then did Alan remember his inability to contact his brother.

To contact anyone.

He inhaled deeply. “Fine.” He muttered to himself, lowering his wrist once again but keeping the line open. “I don’t need a gravity reading to tell me that one of this is normal.”

The abnormal gravity, however, wasn’t the only concern Alan had. The rocky walls had been smothered in something red. His immediate thoughts landed on the worst possible outcome — blood. Heart-rate quickening, Alan followed the trail of crimson down to the floor and over to a shiny opening a few yards ahead of him. 

He hurried over, observing what appeared to be a hatch with curious bewilderment. 

“Scott, what have you been playing at?” Alan hissed to himself, kneeling down to inspect the metal closer. “Or, maybe you were following our missing miner?”

He really, really didn’t want to venture any further into the Moon’s core. He’d already had enough run-ins with insanity on this mission, had far too many opportunities to start thinking about worse-case scenarios, but, if he wanted to find Scott, Alan realised he didn’t have much of a choice. 

With a dramatic grunt of annoyance, Alan swung his legs over the edge of the hatch. They dangled for a moment until he found what felt like simple rungs of a ladder beneath his boots.

“So, someone definitely wanted this hatch here.” He commented out-loud for no-one but himself and the static-filled communications device on his wrist. “Question is, why?”

19:02

He jumped off the last rung, still unnerved by how unnatural the gravity was, and took a quick gander of the new space.

“Okay. Looks like… some sort of underground bunker, maybe? I don’t know why anyone would need an underground bunker on the Moon.”

The buzzing communications device was lifted back up in front of his face and Alan scanned to see if he was able to receive any messages again.

“No dice, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re not able to hear me. On the off-chance you can… Did Uncle Lee ever mention anything about a bunker, John? Are you able to find out anything? And the gravity… John, the gravity still isn’t right. It could just be my brain overthinking it but I think I might be heavier than back home.”

Alan pressed on, venturing further into the bunker space. His helmet continued to light his way.

“From what I can make out, there are two chambers, both carved out of the rock. If this was Earth, I’d describe it as some sort of bomb shelter, one that had been made roughly, quickly, but this isn’t Earth. You wouldn’t need a bomb shelter on the Moon, right?”

The more he pondered that question, the less Alan liked the answers. He fought back a shiver and began to examine the first chamber in more detail.

The walls had been haphazardly supported by beams of various sizes. The rock beneath Alan’s feet was covered with a thin tarpaulin that had worn heavily in some areas. To his left there was what looked like a make-shift bathroom, or maybe some sort of decontamination zone. It was distinguishable only by the shower curtain and empty bucket. He shivered at the thought of how impractical that seemed, even for a bunker so crudely made as this.

Storage shelves lined the dirt walls on the right. As Alan passed, he noticed non-perishables still stacked; purified water; canned food; an opened first-aid box with a few bandages missing — perhaps a courtesy from the missing miners.

“It’s definitely giving bunker vibes. It reminds me of the old storm shelter Mrs Williams used to have back in Kansas, d’you remember? I’m trying to send you through images, John, but I don’t know if you’re getting them.” Alan sighed. “I don’t know if you’re getting any of this. I hope you are.”

Alan tried not to his voice sound too obviously shaky. He wasn’t usually one to get scared so easily — living in constant fear of Gordon’s next revenge prank in the playful war they waged as children had them both unfazed when it came to the unknown — but this felt different. The deeper into this mystery he went, the more unsettled he felt.

Something was wrong with this place.

He continued on, strolling cautiously into the second chamber. It was just as hastily put together, having been separated from the first by an old bedsheet that had been so arbitrarily pinned up it hung lopsidedly. By the minimal furnishings, it was clear this area had been reserved as a makeshift living quarter.

“Here, look at this.”

Alan crouched in front of an improvised table. It had been crafted out of old storage boxes, worn from being underground so long, and sat alongside a tattered armchair, but his interest was in the company name that had been printed on the side of the wood.

“Lunar Expansion and Underground Land Identification Co… But these look like they’ve been here for decades! I thought you said the company was new, John?”

Still, Thunderbird Five was silent.

Alan stared at the symbol that hovered above his arm. No signal. Perhaps sending these messages was a waste of time after all.

He stood back to his full height and observed the rest of the room. A sad excuse for a kitchenette sat on one side — an ancient microwave model that had a broken door; an empty portable refrigerator that contained a box of mouldy donuts; two pots with cracked lids; three chipped ceramic mugs — and shoddy sleeping arrangements that began and ended with a collection of undressed mattresses on the tarpaulin floor, all poking at awkward angles, sat on the other end. 

Alan hopped and jumped over them to reach the other side.

To the metal door that was ajar.

Scott had been missing for far too long, and Alan knew, in his gut, that he was somewhere down here. Unwilling to ignore those instincts for a second time, he gently pushed the door wide open to reveal a long tunnel. How long it went on, Alan did not know. Darkness seemed to permeate from every crevice and, with only his helmet torches, he was limited to how much he could currently see.

The constant snapping static from his comms device began to grate on Alan’s nerves.

“Sorry, John.” He commented, a little louder than he’d been before, before switching off his device. “I’m going dark for a while.”

19:10

Alan exited the two chambers and pulled the door closed behind him. It sealed first with a crackle and then a loud pop! A new sort of silence encased him.

It was practically pitch black. Alan used his hands to guide him for the most part, unsure why his torches weren’t strong enough but too fearful to delve into possible reasons as to why. In the distance, he could make out what he hoped were lights, but they were still quite far from him.

Got to keep moving, keep going forward. Got to find Scott.

Given the haste with which the bunkers had seemed to be built, Alan had half-expected rocks and debris to litter his path. He was surprised to find the ground clear and level. If Alan had to guess, he’d have suggested the tunnel had been carved out especially. Given the bunker he’d just left, Alan didn’t like the odds of just how right he probably was on that theory, and he certainly didn’t like to ponder on the reasons why it had been built in the first place.

19:20

On and on the tunnel went. Alan was starting to become tired. 

Surely Scott couldn’t have been made it too far down this tunnel? Surely they’d soon bump into each other and Alan would be able to leave this infernal place with him in tow? Give it one more second and he was certain he’d see the outline of his brother in the distance, silhouetted agains the brightening light in the distance!

Alan glanced at the time.

Ten more minutes until the miner’s air supply ran out, unless Scott managed to find a way of providing him with more. Knowing Scott, he probably offered his own supply. Alan couldn’t berate him for that; he’d have done the exact same thing. It didn’t stop him from worrying about it, however.

Oh, where the hell were they?!

If his stats stated he’d walked for miles, Alan would have believed it. He was grateful for the long life he batteries in his torches seemed to have. As always, Brains had probably over-engineered the gadgets. His gratitude switched to praising his friend instead of the device. 

Then, it happened. The feeling of someone walking over his grave.

The darkness was intruding on his space, flooding all his senses.

He couldn’t breathe.

Alan checked his own oxygen levels, fearful that he’d miscalculated the time and was himself running out of precious air, but the stats showed he still had plenty of air left in his tank.

More worryingly, the data claimed the air surrounding him was breathable.

He fought to catch his breath, fought to calm his racing heart. Alan had never felt claustrophobic before. It was a bizarre sensation for him, one all too similar to a panic attack. Those he had been unfortunately acquainted with in the past.

It was overwhelming and his suit wasn’t helping matters. It began to feel tight in all the wrong places for the first time ever and… How far down had he descended? Was there ever an end to this tunnel? Did he even know if Scott was down here?

Alan scanned the area again, every breath harder than the last, and then, once his device showed him green a second time, he pulled off his helmet.

It wasn’t enough. He bit down on the fingers of his gloves, first his right hand and then his left, before tugging them off with ease.

He sucked in the cold air, allowed his sweaty palms to feel the chill. He flexed his fingers.

It shouldn’t have been possible — none of this should have been possible! — and yet there he was. Alan Tracy, breathing on the Moon, or rather in the Moon, without the aid of his helmet, without his suit being properly sealed.

It was a good job none of his brothers could currently see him.

19:25

He had almost had enough of the pressing darkness. He’d had to talk himself out of turning back three times in the last five minutes, but this time the urge to hightail out of that tunnel was stronger. At least up on the surface he’d be able to talk with someone. The team at the Lunar Exploration base had plenty of questions to answer, but Alan knew he had to venture further.

He knew he couldn’t leave until he found his brother.

Alan had yet to fully rid himself of his claustrophobia. His helmet and gloves being off was one relief, but he still felt trapped. He guessed he probably was. 

The bright lights that had been calling to him since entering the tunnel, that had been growing more and more intense with every heavy step Alan had taken, were finally reached.

Five of them, shining out with stunning luminance, outlining a metal door that had been built into more of the rock face.

Alan gave the panelling of the door a single knock with one of his knuckles. It was almost identical to the first door he’d entered through at the start of the tunnel, only this one hadn’t been left open. It was sealed shut. A rectangular panel was built into the side. Alan crouched to examine it.

“Some sort of scanner, maybe?”

It all began to feel more and more uncomfortably like a trap, but what other choice did he have than to proceed… Somehow.

“C’mon, Scott. How did you manage to get past here? Did the miner open it for you?”

He flicked his radio on again, wincing as the static, a stark contrast to the silence he’d been thinking in, burst to life.

“Update for you, John, if you’re getting this. I just spent the last… I don’t know, but it was far too long, walking down a tunnel, but I don’t think it was a tunnel. Well, I do, but… I think this is some sort of airlock.” 

His bare fingers traced the cool scanner in front of him as he relayed his adventuring to his brother.

“But why would anyone build an airlock inside the Moon? None of this is making any sense. I’m hoping, if you are receiving these messages, that you're able to make sense of it, John. You usually do, so no pressure or anything.”

After a brief pause, Alan sighed. “I wish you were here. Not because I’m hating being on my own down here, which I am, by the way, but because your hacking skills would have really come in handy. This door is sealed tight. There’s no way I’m going to be able to get in here.”

Alan pondered the possible ways he could gain entry as he rose back up to his full-height, using the wall in front of him to help him balance. He was half-way through a debate on whether forcing the door to open was even possible when his bare hand caught the scanner.

“Pressure stabilising.” 

Alan jumped, his heart in his mouth, at the sudden robotic declaration.

“Stand by for decontamination.”

He stumbled back several steps as the door in front of him creaked open. Beside the entry, the light on the scanner panel had turned green and Alan cradled his hand close to his chest. The shiver he had fended off before returned, and this time he was unable to stop it from running up his spine. He had the feeling of a thousand eyes on him.

If Scott hadn’t been missing, this would have been the perfect time to run away, no matter how curious Alan was about what laid beyond the mysterious door.

But Scott was missing and Alan had to find him. If he was in there, whatever or wherever there was, Alan had to go in and try to locate him.

Perhaps there was a reasonable explanation for everything that was happening. Perhaps Scott would clarify everything once Alan had found him. Perhaps it was only the video games he’d been playing the night before that were now blending with his rational thinking. After all, it was only a door! 

A door that he’d never seen before in his life.

A door that shouldn’t have been possible, that had opened with a single touch of his palm.

But still only a door!

What could possibly be so terrifying about it?

He stepped through the doorway.

“John,” Alan didn’t dare raise his voice too high. “I’m going in. You’re probably yelling at your screen if you can hear this, but Scott has to be in here somewhere. I need to find him. And, if you are receiving this and you don’t hear anything within the next half an hour, then… I don’t know.”

There was no way he could ask John to send Virgil and Gordon as back-up. Three was already on the Moon. They had no other transport available that would reach them in time. 

He and Scott were alone in this.

“Don’t come yourself!” Alan quickly added. “If this is some sort of weird trap, we can’t risk you getting caught up in it too, just…” He sighed. “I don’t know. Hope for the best, I guess. See you on the other side, and all that. Thunderbird Three out.”

The line was cut and Alan was in silence once again.

“Come on, Alan! Pull yourself together. It’s just a room…” He glanced around, feeling very small in the grandness of said room.

It was nothing like the shoddy chambers of the bunker he’d investigated. This was more akin to some sort of laboratory. Glass panels divided sections of the room apart, making it seem far more airy than it actually was. Silver and white dominated the scene, and all his self-reassurance fell flat as the door slammed shut behind him. The lights were just as bright inside as the ones had been out in the tunnel.

Alan winced as he attempted to move further into the room, only to find his boot stuck fast to the ground beneath him. Like he’d stood in industrial strength glue, no matter how hard he struggled, Alan couldn’t free himself from the metal plating he’d involuntarily stood on as he’d entered. Walls rose up beside him on all sides.

He was contained.

“Decontamination process beginning. Decontamination process beginning. Please remain inside the decontamination zone until the process has finished. Decontamination process beginning.”

Alan focussed on trying to bring his senses back in line, focussed on not going into a panic again, but all he could taste was something metallic. He raised his still-bare hands, pressed his fingers to his lips. They tingled, as did his cheeks, his ears, his throat.

His whole body began to feel floppy but he still couldn’t move his feet.

He went to call out, but his voice had gone.

The corners of his vision blurred and, in the final few seconds of consciousness, Alan could make out the robotic voice echoing off the containment walls.

Before bed, he had asked his father all the necessary questions regarding how long it would take to drive out to the track and what time would be best for him to set his alarm. Jeff had helped him navigate the itinerary before tucking him in for the night and wrestling with Lucille over Scott not needing to be so organised at the tender age of nine. Scott had heard part of their conversation, but their words had soon drowned out as sleep claimed him.

When he had woken in the morning, he was on time and raring to go. His bag had been packed the night before so all he had to worry about was getting ready to leave, but that was when it all went wrong.

He strolled downstairs, his bag grasped excitedly in his hand, prepared to see his father waiting to drive him over to the club… Only Jeff wasn’t in the living room. He wasn’t on the front porch and, when Scott traipsed through to the kitchen, he noticed he wasn’t there either.

Virgil was sat at the table. In one hand, he held a spoon that was dripping with milk and cereal. In the other, he held an orange coloured crayon, which currently held more of his attention. When Scott entered, Virgil’s head lifted.

“Dad had to go over to Grandpa’s. Something had happened.”

Scott’s heart sunk. “What? What happened?”

“Nothing bad!” Virgil quickly amended at the look of dread on his older brother’s face. “Grandpa said it was urgent though, and Dad said he would have been back by now.”

Scott slammed his bag onto the table before lifting himself into one of the dining chairs with a huff.

Virgil steadied his bowl of breakfast with a tut. “Careful! You’ll ruin my homework!”

“What are you working on?” Scott asked, peering over the box of cereal to try and make out what Virgil had been colouring. Being on the opposite side of the table, it took Scott a minute to decipher the picture. “Is that a pigeon?”

“No! We’re studying regional birds. This is the titmouse.” He held up the orange colour proudly. “He has some orange around his sides!”

“Orange is boring. You should colour it blue.”

“It wouldn’t be accurate.”

“So? It would look cooler.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, throwing over another sheet of paper towards Scott. It landed upside down but, when Scott flipped it over, he noticed an already completed picture.

“That’s a bluejay.” Virgil explained as Scott’s eyes widened.

“I’ve seen these! There were some in one of the parks when me and Dad visited Wichita last month.”

“You can keep it.”

Scott’s eyes tore away from the perfectly coloured in picture — honestly, Virgil had a real talent for his art projects — to glance back at his brother. “What about your homework?”

“I only needed to do one, but I got inspired so I did them all. You can keep that one.”

Before he could utter his thanks aloud, Lucille walked into the kitchen with John trailing behind her. When she caught sight of Scott, he expression saddened. “Scott, honey, I’m so sorry but you might have to join the afternoon class today. Your dad did say he’d be back by now but…”

“It’s alright. Virgil coloured me in a bird.” Scott held up the picture for his mother to see.

“That’s lovely, sweetie.” She smiled fondly and then ruffled his hair. “Now, breakfast?”

Scott frowned. “But what if dad gets home when I’m eating?”

“You shouldn’t really start the day without breakfast, Scot. What about some cereal, like Virgil? Or I could make you some pancakes if you’d prefer.”

A dull thud and then the cries of a toddler came from the next room. Lucille ran out to check on Gordon before she noticed Scott’s grimace at her suggestions.

“Mommy is right, Scotty.” Virgil said, as John clambered up onto one of the chairs to join his older brothers. “Food is good.”

Scott rolled his eyes. He wasn’t particularly hungry and he hadn’t planned on having anything before his first day of training. Though he wouldn’t admit it to any of them, he had been feeling anxious all night. His sports teacher had signed him up for the track club after claiming he saw potential in Scott, and Scott had been excited to start ever since he’d agreed to give the club a go, but now the day had approached, he was nothing but nervous. Eating was the last thing on his mind.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Just have something small.” Virgil offered his bowl. “You can have the rest of mine, if you’d like?”

Scott shook his head. Cereal, especially the kind that was now soggy from being left in the milk too long, was the least appealing option. He jumped off the chair and scoured the kitchen. Both Virgil and John watched him curiously as he opened cupboards and debated between boxes and tins. Eventually, during his perusal of the refrigerator, he caught sight of the remainder of Mom’s freshly made apple pie and his eye brightened.

He took the pie from the shelf and placed it on the counter. Once he retrieved a clean plate from one of the cupboards, Scott carefully sliced himself a piece. He was acutely aware of his two brothers staring at him. Smugly, he returned the rest of the pie to the fridge and then took his seat at the table again.

“That isn’t breakfast!” Virgil claimed as Scott began to tuck into the pie.

“Mom said I had to eat. This is what I want to eat.”

“But it isn’t healthy!”

Scott’s eyes flitted from Virgil’s horrified expression to John’s curious gaze. He shrugged. “It tastes good though.”

“Mommy said pie is for the puds.” John frowned, finally understanding what his older brother had chosen to do and deciding to show he was unhappy about it. “Not morning time!”

Another couple of bites of pie were taken and Scott rolled his eyes. “It’s fine, Johnny. Mom won’t know. I’ll eat it really fast, look!”

But John had already jumped down from the table and had left the kitchen. 

Unfazed, Scott continued to eat at a hurried pace. Whilst he technically didn’t do anything wrong by helping himself to the apple pie, he didn’t fancy having to explain his choices to Lucille and so wanted to be rid of any evidence before she returned.

“Ew, Scott, slow down! You’re getting crumbs everywhere!”

“Stop bein’ such a baby, ‘Gil.” He involuntary spat more crumbs everywhere, causing Virgil to cover his colouring to avoid the sheet getting tainted.

It took Scott no less than a few minutes to finish the plate. He grinned widely. “See? Nothing to worry about!”

Virgil clamped a hand over his mouth as the front door to the ranch clicked open and Jeff’s voice boomed through to them.

“Scotty? Ready to go?”

With furrowed brows of confusion at his younger brother’s obvious amusement, Scott hopped off the dining chair. The pie sat heavy in his stomach as he jumped, the nervousness beginning to set back in again, but he pushed it aside.

Just as Scott was about to run through to greet Jeff, Lucille appeared from the next room. She stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Slow down. You’ll cause an accident— Oh, Scotty.”

There was a glint of amusement in her eyes that matched Virgil’s quiet giggles.

Scott frowned. “What?”

“What have I told you about leaving those pies for pudding, not for breakfast?”

His cheeks warmed. “I didn’t…”

“No? So why is your little face covered in the red sauce and crumbs?”

His mother’s fingers carefully wiped at the corners of his mouth as she asked him her question. There was no accusatory tone, only soft delight.

Scott batted her fingers away. How embarrassing! “Mom! Stop! It’s fine! I’m already late!”

Behind him, Virgil was finding it hard to contain his chuckles. 

Scott offered him a glare, finally realising what his younger brother had found so funny. “You didn’t even tell me!”

“You would have found out eventually! That’s what happens when you eat something you’re not supposed to, Scotty.”

“Boys.” Jeff stood behind his wife in the doorway. “No fighting.”

“We wasn’t fighting.” Virgil clarified, his smile still large and beaming despite his inaccurate phrasing.

“We were about to.” Scott mumbled before being ushered out of the kitchen by Lucille.