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burningcowboyhoagietaco · 3 years

Text

A Way to Learn a Lesson

written by:

@burningcowboyhoagietaco

illustrated and edited by the amazing, the one and only:

@lenle-g

Before I publish the story id like to thank @lenle-g from the bottom of my heart for being patient with me, being nice to me the whole time, and for making my story even better and more exciting. Without her I would have stayed in my normal, not that good English story. so thank you for everything!!! <3<3

And here's my part at @tagminibang submission:)

☆☆☆☆☆

Scott, no!!! No way! I am not going to give any lectures to anyone." John's voice comes out tight. "Especially not in front of a crowd. No way."

"Why not?" Scott raises a brow, his voice honeyed with ‘big brother wants something’. "It's not like you're gonna get executed by some children just for talking space at them, right? You love talking about space. It's all I've heard since you were, like, seven."

"No, that's not it." There's a sharp shake of the ginger’s head, "Scott, come on!" John knows for a fact that his oldest brother knows he's the most socially awkward person to have ever lived on Tracy Island (and maybe the entire planet). "You’ve lived with me long enough to know how much I hate social.... anything." John complains. "Why would you ever think I'd want to do this?""

"Well, yes, I know that," Scott shrugs, "I've seen that look you get on your face when there's a lot of people around." He’s well aware that his brother is an introvert who hates socializing with anyone, so he quickly changes the subject to try and make his younger brother feel a little more at ease. "But hey... everyone knows how much you like it when anyone talks about space or anything about astronomy. You'd be amazing at it."

"That's a different thing." John says flatly. Flattery, it seems, wont get Scott very far. "It's like, whenever you guys ask me anything about space, I like to answer them for you, but from random people…? And in huge crowds? I just simply can't." Surely he doesn’t have to explain himself much more than that?

"Oh trust me, everything is going to be fine." Scott was a flippant hand around, talking without really thinking, because all he wants is for his brother to get out of Thunderbird 5, to visit Earth for a little bit, to mingle with people a little. It can't be that bad. "If anything happens, Gordon and Alan'll be in Thunderbird Five doing Space Monitor duty, me and Virgil are gonna keep an eye on everything, and you’re in safe hands with Lady Penelope and Parker. It's all set up, so please go have some fun for once and teach the children something cool."

"My answer is still no." John says persistently, without hesitation. He's pretty sure it'd be worse than being in the middle of a hurricane, or testing one of his Grandma's new cooking experiments. It’s lucky Scott misses his involuntary shudder.

Scott, though, is so done with him at this point, that he's pretty sure there's no choice but to use plan b and hope that that works instead on his unwilling, stubborn, red haired brother. They've got to get him down from orbit and to that lecture somehow. Scott's just not going to stand for anything else.

"Are you sure that's your last answer?" Scott asks, with a heavy sigh, already planning the best way to call in the big guns.

"Yes," John scowls, arms folded. "Yes, it is."

They'll see about that.

...

"Is everything ready?" John adjusts his sleeves, smoothing down his vest and putting the last touches on his collar. Neat, simple, formal. Can't go wrong. "My presentation papers, laptop, and my mini simple dimple?”

"Yes, all in the bag." Scott calls back, rapidly checking everything, "But do you really need that little fidget thing of yours?" He picks his younger brother's old toy up between forefinger and thumb to examine it, remembering the day John made their Mom buy it for when he gets stressed.

"What fidge- oh, yes I need it." The look on John's face leaves no doubt about that. "I've used it ever since Mom bought it for me."

"Hey… Mom would've been proud of you, you know?” Scott tells him, in a quick flash of brotherly pride. “For, you know, going out of your safe zone for a little while and teaching the children and all that."

"Yeah, I know…" John finds him a nervous smile, "But I'm not doing this voluntarily, you've forced me with that plan b of yours."

The second John says that Scott's cheeks dimple, the corners of his eyes crinkle, and he grins victoriously, his teeth a bright white in the earliest rays of morning sun.

“All I had to do was make a call." He shrugs, "Lady Penelope did all the talking and somehow convinced you to go." Scott got a little more excited. He took a couple of steps forward, slightly standing on his toes reaching John's level asking"How did she convince you?" Clearly waiting teasingly for an answer to come out of John's lips

"Huhhhh." John exhales loudly, a little despairing. "She promised me we'd go to the Pagasa Astronomical Observatory after I finish the lecture with the children." He shrugs, keeping his eyes down, embarrassed.

"The what now?" Scott stares at him, thoroughly confused.

"The Pagasa Astronomical Observatory in the Philippines.” John says, like that was obvious, “It's equipped with a 45-cm computer-based telescope. It's so powerful that astronomers and astronomy enthusiasts can now conduct effective observations of stellar bodies and other distant space objects! Scott, it’s been my dream to go since I was, like, 17."

Scott always knew how much of an astrophile his younger brother is; he never cared about his physical appearance, nor his poor eating habits and he always used to make excuses to read his books alone, yet no one has ever interfered in his personal life.

"Okay okay space lover boy,” Scott grins at him. He'd expected Penny to be persuasive, but resigning herself to hours stuck with John in full excited-about-space mode would hardly be in his top ten. Either he's gonna owe her one, or Penny's more resilient than him. “You can go, no one is holding you back."

The short silence between them was broken by a ringing sound from a nearby table, which John answers.

“...Mhm, yes? Oh, the lecture." It must be Penelope calling, "Yeah, I'm ready, I'll head out now." John grabs his bag, wandering toward where the FAB1 must already be idling on the Tracy runway. "Time to go."

"Mhm,” Scott makes an agreeable noise, watching him go. “Please stay safe and please don't make an idiot of yourself." He's teasing… mostly.

"Yeah yeah," John waves at him over his shoulder, not even looking back. "I won't."

…

"Are we there yet?" Despite the consistently amazing views out of FAB1’s windows during the flight, John’s found himself mostly looking down, fidgeting with his fingers. He’s worrying, just a little, about what awaits him in the Philippines - a whole different tropical island to his own, though still in the South of the Pacific Ocean.

"Just give Parker ten more minutes, darling,” Her Ladyship smiles at him, “We'll arrive in no time."

There’s a moment of silence before, unexpectedly, it’s broken by a call flashing up from, of all places, Thunderbird Five. There’s a prickly sense of discomfort as John realises that, of course, it’s not him calling. Gordon must be trying to reach them.

"Heeeeey Lady Penelope,” The kid greets, as Penny flicks it on, seemingly a lot less bothered by the change than he is. “Oh, and Mr. Tracy.” There’s a huge smirk on his face. “How's our newest teacher holding up?"

"Firstly, my name is John.” John points out, flatly, “Second, I'm not your teacher so please don’t call me Mr. Tracy ever again. Thirdly…” He concedes, quirking an eyebrow, “Yeah, I'm good for now, but fourth… How are you holding up, up there in my Thunderbird? She’s not much like Four, is she?"

"Ooooooooo that's a good question,” Gordon looks half like he’s considering it, half like he’s really missing his own ‘bird. “I'm holding up pretty well thanks to Alan. He’s taken all the Monitor duty stuff, so all I gotta do is keep an eye on you guys." He sounds a bit… sarcastic about that. “It’s pretty boring, honestly. How do you survive up here without a pool?”

"Young Master Gordon, are you quite done talking?" Parker glances, unimpressed, at the little floating hologram of John’s brother in his rearview mirror, "Because we're about to arrive at our destination."

"Huh… oh yeah,” Gordon doesn’t seem too bothered about that, but he waves merrily at them all the same, “Okay bye and John, please have fun, you too Lady Penelope, okay bye guys."

It’s only a few moments later that Parker opens his mouth to tell them that they’ve arrived at Chino Roque Theater, pulling up out front to let them both climb out.

John's eyes widen: it’s nothing like what he saw on the internet. It was more enormous, more luminous, more spectacular than anything he’d seen or read online. All he remembers reading is that it's a sphere shaped building located in the Philippines, in Anilao Hill, but the pictures on the webpage didn’t do it justice like being there in person does.

The building was smooth and round; the auditorium shaped like a massive egg nestled in amongst the other buildings. They were early enough that the sun was just cresting the horizon, colouring the sky with reds and oranges, visible through the geometric front of the building - where giant triangles of glass intersect together to give the people inside an amazing view of the sky at night.

"M'lady, you and John can go ahead. I'll park FAB 1." Parker said, before going to the parking lot - unaware just how tiring and long his journey to find a place to park is going to be.

They both head inside the building, admiring the sweeping glass fractals of the roof high above them. It’s incredibly beautiful, really a feat of engineering. So much so, that John almost forgets why he’s even there, until he spots a couple of buses arriving on the other side of the building, and the panic sets in. He was expecting to be a little bit anxious, but this feels like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. He presses a hand hard against it, trying to calm his racing pulse and stop the sudden shake of his fingers, and Penny must notice, because a little hand settles, ever so lightly, on his shoulder, drawing his attention to her.

"Hey John," Lady Penelope looks him steadily in the eye, projecting warmth and reassurance. "They're just a small, mixed group of children and teens. They can’t possibly hurt you, now can they? They just came to have a small lecture because all of them like space and astronomy just like you. Imagine yourself at their age, meeting a real life astronaut.” John tries very hard not to remind her who, exactly, his Father was, as she goes on - trying to visualise being a kid that didn’t get ‘take your son to work days’ at NASA’. It’s a pretty horrifying concept. “Most importantly,” Penny adds, “it's only for an hour or so, so you don't need to worry so much." She had to smile just to reassure him. “You’ll have filled their heads with space facts and be out before you know it.”

"O-okay,” John takes a deep, steadying breath, “I don't know if I'm supposed to trust you on this, or whatever, but I really don't have any other choice." He also wants to add that they forced him to go, but at the last second he remembers that they never forced him - he agreed to go because Lady Penelope promised him a trip to the observatory.

It seems like a pretty weak reason, now that he’s outside the stage door, knees shaking.

"Mhm, I think it's time to go inside.” She nudges him callously in the right direction, and John’s palms meeting the solid metal of the double doors is the only thing that keeps him from following gravity’s call and landing on his face. “Again, if anything happens, I'll be at the back of the room and I have a plan b if things get too much." John, pretty shocked by just how many plan b's the Lady Penelope might have prepared for the day, can only shake his head, bemused. “So stop worrying and get out there!”

She vanishes off into the atrium, and John can’t help the loud exhale that escapes his mouth before he musters up all the courage he can, and enters the room.

Bright lights startle him for a moment, and he’s pretty sure he does an awful, awkward impression of a blind baby giraffe as he stumbles out onto the stage and freezes as he notices the first smatterings of audience are already taking their seats.

The moment he placed his foot on the smooth wooden floor, his heart had started to beat faster, his hands began to sweat, the more steps he took forward the more he felt anxious. It was, he’ll think later, one of the toughest moments of his life, and he’s been to space. Multiple times.

Come on John. He tries to straighten up, shake off his anxiety, This can’t go worse than your first EVA.

Taking another deep breath, John waits patiently for all the attendees to take a seat inside the room. Waiting doesn’t help his anxiety levels at all, and he can feel them increasing by the second, but, determined, John doesn’t let it stop him from starting his lecture.

"H-Hello everybody,” He starts, incredibly conscious of the hushed silence that falls across his audience. “I'm John Tracy, M.Sci, PgDip, B.Lang Hons,” he rattles off his credentials, his nerves almost blurring them together, “I worked with NASA as an astronaut for three years before going… uh… solo in my astronomical studies, and I'll be your guest lecturer for the day.” He swallows around the lump in his throat, as a ripple of hushed oohhhs and ahhhs goes through the crowd. John’s pretty sure his face has gone bright red. “Thank you for having me at the Chino Roque Theater,” He goes on, before his embarrassment can bet the better of him, “I hope everyone’s had an amazing day so far. We'll be spending the next hour or so talking about astronomy and space physics, so shall we get started?" John thought it was a good opening, and yet his back was really wet from all the people's eyes on him. Glancing offstage, Penelope throws him a thumbs up, and he feels a little better.

"Um,” He blinks. “So does anyone here know how old the universe is?" John ventures, only to be surprised as almost everyone answers at once;

"Almost 13.8 billion years!"

"Yes,” The edge of a smile works its way onto John’s face. Clearly this was going to be a shout out the answer kind of lecture. He can work with that. “That's correct, now does anyone know how the universe started?"

"The Big Bang!" Most of them answer, and John feels a surge of relief. These guys really are into space.

"Okay, okay, not bad at all." He nods affirmatively at them, and the screen behind him lights up with an artist’s rendition of the Big Bang happening. "Now if I were to go and search ‘how old is the universe’ in, say, Google, the answer would be 13,772 billion years. It’d be the same thing if we looked at NASA, or even Wikipedia - so how did people get to know the age of the universe? How do you even start calculating something that old? Well I'm going to explain it for you in two ways: the good, nice way, and the kinda not that good and not that scientific way." There’s a bit of an awkward pause as John wonders whether or not he’s explained that well. When only silence greets him, he very quickly realises he needs to press on.

"So, uh, the good way.” He folds his fingers together behind his back, trying to resist the urge to fidget. “Well, in the middle of the previous century, as telescopes developed, we noticed something strange. We found that stars in very distant galaxies tend to look red… Umm, which is something that’s not supposed to happen.” A chuckle escapes John and, to his relief, the audience laughs with him. Scott never gets his space jokes. “So why’s that?” He asks, “See, if a chemical element gains or loses energy it’ll emit light in certain frequencies, thereby creating certain colors.” A small movement of his hand signals the slide to change, and a picture of the visible section of the electromagnetic spectrum appears, colouring the room with rainbow light. “For example,” John goes on, bathed in blue and violet, “Consider something like… a desk lamp, as like an element. If you give a lamp electrical energy, it’ll release that energy in the form of heat and light, yeah?" There’s a murmur of uncertain understanding in the room. “Electricity goes in, the bulb gets hot, and it gives off light. Well, we know stars do pretty much the same thing - only powered by nuclear fusion rather than a nine volt plug.”

"From studies of the sun and stars that are near Earth, we know that they’re made of helium and hydrogen, yes?” There’s another murmur of agreement in John’s crowd, “Well, hydrogen and helium can create red light, but they don't have the ability to create these shades of red that we see in deep space." The slide behind John clicks to a comparison of the two shades, on two different stars - making the difference clear.

"So, if stars are made of helium and hydrogen then why do distant stars have different colours? Are their compositions different?uh, well It’s possible, but not likely. The strongest explanation is that the color difference is due to the movement of the stars." The room gives a soft gasp at this news, and John knows he’s onto something good.

"So there's something called the redshift and blueshift phenomenon that says that if an object radiates light and approaches you, the color of the light begins to turn blue, and if the object is moving away from you, the color will turn red. This happens because the wavelength of light contracts and expands with movement meaning that something stretching equals red and contraction equals blue."

"And the strange thing is,” John adds, his audience listening raptly, “That most, if not all, stars show the same behavior, so, if we think about it, if all stars are moving away from us, that means that they were close to us at some point, and if we follow their path, we find that everything in space meets at a point named ‘singularity’."

"It was believed, in the past, that everything in the universe, or at least in the visible part that we have observed, that is to say,” John flicks to a graphic on his next slide. “All the galaxies, planets and stars, were all gathered at one point - the singularity. The theory is that this point exploded in what we call the ‘Big Bang’, and from that time onward, the universe has been in constant expansion.”

"So it’s with data from this knowledge that we can calculate the age of the universe:” With a wave of his hand, John puts a series of bullet points up on the screen behind him, then reads them aloud.

“One, the universe began as a very small, single point.” He reaffirms, “Two, the universe is constantly expanding outward from that point, and three, from these we have the ability to calculate the expansion rate of the universe, by calculating the speed of the stars that are moving away from us. If we take the furthest accelerations and enter them into this equation,” John’s board merrily does it’s thing behind him, “Then, we get the age of the universe."

"And, so we don't forget, all this talking was about the good way. There is another way to calculate the age of the universe, the, uh, not as good way, or, more specifically, the less scientific way.” A ripple of laughter goes through John’s audience - and he relaxes a little more. Maybe Scott was right. Maybe these are his kind of people. Scott’s never laughed at a space joke for sure. “There's no problem with it,” He quietens them again with a gentle gesture, “and it does support our theory and calculations, so I guess we should talk about it."

"Since ancient times, humans have been looking at the sky, watching the stars, and giving them names like Cygnus, Canis Major, Orion.” All names any young astronomer in the Southern Hemisphere would recognise, and be able to enthusiastically point out in the night sky. “In those days, there wasn't the internet so they were looking up at the stars instead.” Much like John himself, when he’d been a boy.

“As a way of calculating the age of the universe, astronomers set out to search for the oldest celestial bodies in space.” He goes on to explain, “The idea was that if we find a star whose age equals X, then the age of the universe must be greater than the number X. So we pointed our telescopes up there and started trying to find out their ages from birth, to youth, to their old age until their end."

"Can anyone guess the age of the oldest star we've found?" A lot of answers were guessed, some of them were pretty close, but some, amusingly, were way too far. "Ok, ok…” John puts his hands up to pacify his excited crowd, “Umm I see there are a lot of answers, but the oldest star people discovered was actually estimated to be 13.5 billion years old. The HD-140283, or as you might know it, the Methuselah Star. That number is very close, you’ll notice, to our estimation of the age of the universe."

"But if we found a star that is 13.5 billion years old today, then we could find an even older star next week and that would ruin all of that,” He chuckles, mostly to himself, “We also should note that this method alone isn't suitable for determining the universe’s age, but as long as we have two methods with corroborative results, we can be reassured that the estimate is correct.” He pauses for a second, “So, does anyone have questions?" A couple of hands raised, and John found himself suddenly answering a lot of questions - but he managed all of them despite his fear of the huge crowd.

He’s starting to feel more than a little overwhelmed.

"Umm… W-well that was a lot of questions,” John tries to pull it back in, his allotted lecture time ticking away on the big clock at the back of the hall. He feels a little panicky from the bombardment, and his palms have gone sweaty. “We’d better move on.” To distract himself from the people, as much as anything, “Our next topic is the theory of relativity, so l-let's get started on that."

Lady Penelope, from her fold-out seat at the back of the room, frowns. It’s clear John’s terrified and she wants to use plan b, but as long as he’s still standing on his feet, and giving the lecture, he's probably fine for now. If anything, it’d cause more of a disruption to drag him away now.

"Umm,” John takes a breath, trying to centre himself in the science of it all. “Let's start with a supposition, a hypothesis if you like, and consider it together. Okay, you’ll have to bear with me on this one, but let us suppose that we were all asleep, and the universe suddenly inflated by a thousand times.” There’s a murmur in the crowd at how odd everything abruptly getting that much bigger sounds, “Your bed, your pillow, your desk,” John extrapolates, “even the meter we measure stuff with. If humans became a thousand times bigger, when we woke up would we feel something strange? Would we even notice anything had changed? You’d think so, but no.” John’s settling back into his rhythm now, “So why is that? Because the bed and everything became a thousand times more inflated and our bodies also inflated a thousand times, with everything scaling in parallel relation to each other so that this percentage, this scale, was preserved throughout the room. You’d never know the difference."

"Henri Poincaré, the well known mathematician and theoretical physicist, says that we will never be able to discover that something like this has happened, even if we use all the mathematics and calculations ever invented.” John drives the point home with another illustrated slide, “This hypothesis is called the Poincaré hypothesis, and simply, because the meter with which we measure things will have also expanded a thousand times, there’s never going to be any equation or calculation or any analysis possible that could lead us to the truth, because the ratio is preserved in all parts."

"Now, this is important, because the same thing also happens with time. If everything suddenly got a thousand times faster, we’d still never feel anything different. Why’s that?” He asks, rhetorically, “Because time is also a thousand times faster, your heartbeat is also a thousand times faster, your body would function a thousand times faster to keep up with it all. As long as everything is increased by the same amount, the ratio is preserved, and none of us will be able to detect any change."

"So Poincaré asked the scientific community; is there no way to know that time increased or that things inflated?" John tells the room, "Well, it was Albert Einstein who answered him, deciding that the one and only way to tell, would be to have someone observing what happened to the world from another galaxy, from another world, lightyears away. For someone to point a telescope in our direction, and look through it at us, and say what happened to the Earth? Why are humans walking a thousand times faster than in the past? But this person who realized the situation,” The astronaut waves a flippant hand, starting to feel much more confident again, “would have to be a person standing on a fixed external platform in a different world, so that what happened to us was not also happening to him."

"But, as Einstein commented, this hypothesis is impossible for a simple reason and it's that there is no fixed platform in the universe - the entirety of it is in constant, turbulent motion. For example, the Earth rotates at a speed of 460 meters per second, revolving around the sun at 30 kilometers per second, and at the same time, the sun and it’s planets and dwarf planets and moons and asteroids, all revolve around our galaxy, The Milky Way, at a speed of 300 kilometres per second, and so the whole universe revolves. That's,” John takes a deep breath, finding himself out of air after so much explaining, “why it's impossible for us humans to completely accurately judge the motion of any astral body."

"Because there is no fixed berth, we can only offer relativity. This is the first part of the theory that Einstein came up with, in summary; it cannot be said that the monotony of a body is absolute motion."

"Another thing he said was that, because of the vastness of the universe, it’s impossible to synchronize, what does that mean? Well, I will give you an example.” He flicks his slide, “Say I’m a person in the Philippines, and I'm talking to someone from the United States. We synchronize, and hear each other in real time, because we have a method of fast communication. I can hold my device and say; hello, how are you?” John holds up the slim, sliver slice of his phone to show the audience, “How’s the weather there? And they’d answer me with something like; I’m fine thank you, it's night here so it’s a bit hard to tell what the weather’s doing! What’s the weather like there? And I’d answer them; it's daytime, and maybe ask them something like, what are you eating? They’d answer me; a burger, and then I’d tell them that I'm eating kaldereta, and it’s much better than a burger."

In the audience Penny quietly hopes that Gordon, who's probably listening in with the rest of his brother’s, missed the fact John was making jokes on stage. The poor little bugger’ll never live it down otherwise.

"These two events, each person talking to the other, are compatible.” John goes on, absolutely oblivious, “It’s possible because the two wireless devices, be they mobile phones or more sophisticated comms systems, are on the same globe, creating a fast means of communication.”

"But,” John postulates, “If I was talking to someone from another galaxy and I used the same means of communication to make a call, do you know how long it would take to get to them? It would be about five to six thousand years until my signal reaches the phone of our friend, and they’ll have married, had children and died, and their children would have married and had children and died, and so on, for thousands of years before then."

"And that's why it's impossible to synchronize between the ends of the universe,” John balances his palms like he’s weighing two invisible ends, “It rather puts a damper on our chances of finding and communicating with extraterrestrial life, for sure, but at least it’s possible to synchronize within one system, like the system of the Earth. "

"This is a thing that also applies to light, for example: any star you could look up and see now, the light emanating from it may be coming from thousands of years ago. This means that it’s possible that the star you see shining could have exploded and disappeared, and hasn't existed for a long time. Why? Because it takes a couple of thousand years for the light from that explosion to reach us."

"There isn’t any proof for the hypothesis that the universe is linked by time, but the thing that happens that we’re sure of is that the universe is made up of, sort of, separate islands of different times that have no connection between them. The connection between movement and time in space is something we all know about, for example, a day on Earth equals twenty-four hours, yes?” There’s a chorus of agreement from the audience, “But on Saturn, a day is ten hours because it rotates faster. Astonishingly, a day on Mercury is the same as fifty-eight whole Earth days, which, infact, is also a Mercurian year, because the planet revolves around the sun for the exact same period as it revolves around itself."

"Okay, so, to what extent is movement related to time?” John asks, well and truly into this whole teaching thing now, “Well, Einstein was the first person to discover the connection between them and suggested that; suppose you’re on board a very fast rocket, 100,000 miles per hour for example. The mechanical watch on your wrist would be delayed over the flight, but you wouldn’t feel like time is being delayed. Why’s that? It’s because the rhythm of your heart would slow down - all of the vital processes in your body that are inside the rocket will slow down."

"As you move more, something called the dilation of time will happen.” He steps to the side, as if to illustrate the point, only to find himself stumbling a little, like if the ground beneath his feet had moved. “T-Time slows down,” John tries to recover it smoothly, but everything’s starting to feel, weirdly, like it’s shaking, and he doesn’t think it’s the anxiety anymore, “and that's-"

John doesn’t get to finish his sentence because there’s an abrupt shift and a loud cracking from under him, and getting off the stage suddenly seems like a good idea. Someone screams outside, and the volume in the room skyrockets as the children start panicking. John’s one hundred percent sure this wasn't anything planned.

He knew he shouldn't have come.

Earthquake? He wonders first, then; Tsunami? Ground slip? Hurricane? Whichever it is, John has to prioritise calming the people and evacuating them out of the building. The giant glass panels above them are trembling with the force of the shaking, and, as a professional at this sort of thing, Thunderbird Five’s Space Monitor doesn’t like the look of it one bit.

"Everyone calm down,” He has to shout to make himself heard over the roar of people, even with the microphones pointed his way, “This is a normal thing. All we have to do is evacuate immediately, as calmly. as. possible. I don't want anyone crowding the exits, do you all understand what I just said?" The front rows, white faced with fear, nod encouragingly at him, and he watches as they begin to lead the way toward the glowing green signs that signal the emergency exits. Immediately after making sure the crowd is moving, John pulls up his comm to contact Gordon.

"Gordon, are you on the line?” John’s a little breathless and he climbs down from the precarious stage, into the throng of terrified bodies, “We have a situation in here."

"Let me guess, you caused it?" Gordon seems so excited to hear something other than his brother's boring lecture that humour has outweighed his professionalism.

"Gordon,” John grits his teeth, “I'm being serious right now, there was a huge movement in the ground beneath the Chino Roque Theater, and it's still ongoing. Tell Alan to do a check on what's happening beneath us using the Ground Penetrating Radar." He orders.

"F.A.B." Comes the far more serious response, before Gordon clicks off the line to do just that. Squashing down any fear he’d about the now swelling, shuffling crowd, John opens his arms wide and walks toward them, the motion sort of like he’s trying to herd sheep, as he tries to evacuate the people safely out of the building.

He’s not exactly an expert at being on the scene during rescues.

"John, there's a landslide going on right now,” Alan’s worried little voice comes ringing out of his comm speakers, “Right next to the theatre. You’d better get out of there. I’m monitoring the situation, but it’s looking like you’re going to need International Rescue to get you and the people out of there. The debris field is spreading fast." John would do almost anything to be up there instead, at his own screens. “I've contacted Virgil and Scott, I’m patching them through now.” Alan clicks Scott and Virgil, both clearly just finishing their suit up sequences, into the conversation. It seems important to keep them up to date with John's developing situation.

"Hey Mr. Tracy, how are you holding up?" Scott jokes over the roar of his launching Thunderbird, the sound filling the background of the call with white-noise, "Oh, and how was your lecture?" John thinks he sounds far too casual in contrast to the impending danger all around him.

"Oh my God, Scott, is now really the time?” John groans, and a kid with mousey blond hair not dissimilar to Alan’s looks up at him, very confused, before the astronaut waves him on, “You are an adult person,” He reminds his big brother, “Please don't be like Gordon right now. He’s practically still a child."

"Hey!” Gordon had clearly overheard the conversation between his brothers, and springs up to defend himself. “I'm only two or three years younger than you!" He complains, not about to do the math.

"Gordon, we don't have time for arguing about that now,” John frowns, “and Scott, I'm holding up alright at the moment. Please don't ask me anything about the lecture until I get back home." If his voice cracks a little on that last bit, he’ll never admit it.

"Okay, okay I won't ask anything about that,” Scott reassures him, his amused, big brother grin very much in place, “Keep on evacuating the people safely until we arrive John, you’re doing great. It won’t take us that long. ETA at 15,000 mph is sixteen minutes.” He reassures, “We’ll be there before you know it."

"F.A.B. Scott." He reluctantly signs off. Now that he’s finished talking with Scott, John’s pleased to see that a lot of people have already made their way out of the atrium’s three sets of double doors, evacuating the building to get as far away from the landslide as possible. His fingers itch to pull up the schematics from Thunderbird Five on his comm, no matter what the people around him might think. He quickly caves, and it feels worth it to be able to see the incoming tide of slipping land.

They don’t have much time.

“Let’s go!” He shouts, chivvying. He’s a little breathless with the tension, so he keeps things short. “Come on! Let’s move guys!”

From his vantage near the crumbling stage, John can make out Lady Penelope and Parker by the main doors, ushering people through, and the sight of them fills him instantly with immense relief.

“Okay, that's a good amount of people out.” John has to jog to catch up with them, skirting around a little old lady with a zimmer frame and taking a second to correct her course, “Lady Penelope, Parker, I think you should go and check on the people who’re out. They could have minor injuries from the stampede, and International Rescue are still ten minutes out. I'll make sure the last few stragglers exit safely."

Penelope just nods, pale and worried. Her blond brows are all pinched in together, nervous and Parker looks practically haggard as he claps a reassuring hand on John’s shoulder, her faithful old companion following her pink shape dutifully out the doors. Hopefully they’ll go make sure that no one was badly injured in any way.

Turning back to the slow cascade of cracking rubble behind him, John finds the stage area has been all but obliterated, and his heart aches for the patrons of the Chino Roque Theater who’ll have to rebuild from scratch when this is over. He imagines the Tracy fund can contribute a significant amount toward that though. They often do for worthy causes.

John pushes the damp curl of his slightly sweaty bangs out of his eyes and climbs over what looks like a twisted piece of ceiling girder toward the sound of people, possibly trapped stragglers, who are calling for help.

"I miss Thunderbird 5 so much,” John mutters, keeping it under his breath so that no one hears him, as his palms are scraped raw against the concrete he’s trying to clamber around. There’s a rippp of fabric on a jagged piece of metal and the knee of his previous pristine brown jeans meets much the same fate as his poor, scuffed hands. “Oh, come on!” He’s having no luck today, “I'd so rather be assisting the situation from space. I can’t believe I’m stuck here." John grumbles, to no one in particular. He’s just not built for this kind of thing. Heavy labour and getting sweaty pulling people out of scrap heaps is what his other brothers do. At least rescues in space don’t have all this… gravity to contend with.

"John?” The crackle of a comm cut’s across his complaints, “What’re you still doing in there?” Gordon’s voice breaks him from his thoughts, little brother’s tone heavy with concern. “The building could fall any moment! You're so lucky the landslide isn't moving very fast, but it’s not gonna stay that way forever." Gordon was really worried about the fact that his older brother was still inside. “It could engulf the building! You need to hurry it up, bro.”

"I'm evacuating the people as fast as I can,” John gets both hands under the armpits of a boy who couldn’t be older than seven, and swings him above a pile of rubble toward safety, “I'll be out in no ti- Ah!"

John’s voice gets cut off with a startled cry, and it takes Gordon a second or two, time John might not have, to remember how to breathe so that he can yell in any way coherently into his comm. His eyes are wide, his anxiety levels through the roof as he tries, and fails, to rouse his brother on the other end.

"SCOTT! You need to get there now.” Gordon’s aware that he’s totally losing his cool, panic creeping in over his weak layer of professionalism, “I just lost contact with John.” He gasps, “He was evacuating people and I heard him yell and now he’s not responding! And- and it's not just him. There were other people he was trying to get out."

"Hey Gordon,” Scott tries to keep his voice steady to inject some kind of stability into the conversation, “Don't lose your cool yet. I'm sure nothing that bad happened to John. Just stay your positive self, okay? I’m arriving right now and Virgil isn’t far behind me."

Thunderbird One is panning over the city, low enough to ruffle the hair of people looking up, but it’s not a problem until the usually so sure and steady pilot finds his hands nearly slipping off her controls as Scott catches his first, horrific glimpse of the building that he knows his younger brother is inside.

“What the…?”

The Chino Roque Theater is almost flat.

"Virgil,” Scott swallows hard to try and remove any of the tremor from his voice, “A-Are you seeing what I'm seeing right now?" He almost succeeds.

"Scott this isn't a joke, it looks like half of the building has come down with the landslide! John’s in there!" Virgil sounds more terrified than Scott thinks he’s ever heard him. What scares him the most is that the exit was on the side that has fallen in, which means that a lot of people are trapped under it, their John included. "Scott, we need to help them right now.

"Okay, here's the plan,” Scott’s hands tighten white-knuckled on the steering yoke, “You wear your exo-suit and go clear the debris out of the way so that we can save them, and I'll get rid of that roof with Thunderbird One and check for life signs. Remember that saving lives is our top priority, got it? No matter what’s happened to John."

"F.A.B." Virgil sounds incredibly tense. He lands Thunderbird Two as fast as he can in the crowded, limited space. Local people are beginning to make their way out of their houses to see what all the commotion is about, and the cramped city streets aren’t ideal for International Rescue’s four hundred and six ton workhorse.

Two’s pilot struggles into his exo-suit, rushing to get the Jaws of Life prepared despite Scott’s insistence that he focus and take things slow and sensible. It’s not long until he finds himself digging among the debris looking for buried people and, in the white rush of it all, Virgil’s not even sure how he got there.

"Scott,” he presses on his comm, “Please tell me you’ve got something?"

"Fortunately and thankfully yes,” It’s hard to find the hopefulness in big brother’s clipped Mobile Control voice, but it’s there to Virgil’s expert ear, drizzled in nervous relief. “I've got a whole cluster of life signs,” Scott reports, “BPM signalling in the green. "I think they’re just trapped under the debris." Alan’s echolocation report came back suggesting that there’s a big space under what could be folded sheet metal from the ceiling, that they’ve huddled in. I'm really sure there's nothing that bad, but still we have to continue otherwise it will take a bad turn for us and the people in there."

“I can use the grappling cables in Thunderbird One to take the strain off the roof,” Scott adds, “But I need you in there to get those people out.”

“Already on my way,” Virgil ducks under some rebar, skirting around the rubble and pulling away loose debris as he goes. His heart is loud in his own ears, and Virgil hopes the creak and groan of metal and concrete above him is Scott lifting the weight off the roof, keeping it from collapsing any further onto the people below, and not anything more sinister. Virgil gets peppered by a slide of small stones, but the roof holds steady.

He presses on until he catches sight of the cluster of around forty people, all huddled together around a tall, central figure with a shocking amount of rubble dust smeared over his face, and powdered through his ginger hair.

“John!” Two’s pilot makes a beeline for his brother, despite the fact three of the people are stuck under rubble. Clearly John’s in control of the situation here, and he’s never wanted a mission update from their Space Monitor so much in his life. He can’t help but hone in on the fact John's left arm is crudely wrapped in a piece of cloth from his sleeve, which he must’ve ripped off in order to tie it.

"You have to tell me exactly what happened,” Virgil drops the controls for the Jaws of Life, and grasps his brother’s biceps in both hands instead, resisting the very strong temptation to pull the spaceman in for a hug. “And what happened to your arm?!?" There’s a river of blood seeping from beneath the make-shift bandage, but John, it seems, isn’t bothered by it in the slightest.

"Not now Virgil.” His concerns get thoroughly dismissed, “We’ve got to get these people out of here, and then I'll tell you everything." Virgil didn't like the idea that something happened to his brother and he's silent about it, but after all John was right about saving the people first since his arm is under control for now.

John crouches by the nearest injured person; a pale, skinny teen with a sizable piece of rebar keeping him pinned.

“You’re gonna be out of there in just a second, Lito.” Virgil watches him reassuring the young man for a long moment, “Uh, Virgil?” John prompts. “Any time?”

“What?” He blinks, “Oh, yeah!” His brother is clearly waiting expectantly for him to use the Jaws of Life to get the poor kid out. "I’m on it, but you better tell me everything after we're done saving them." Virgil demands. “But, uh, Scott’s kind of holding the roof up right now, so you’re probably right.”

"Okay,” John literally rolls his eyes, busy stealing a pair of blue rubber gloves from the Med Kit Virgil brought with him, and snapping them on to protect his hands and the fine cuts he’d gotten from climbing over rubble. “I promise I'll tell you everything, but can we start actually rescuing them now?" Rolling his eyes right back, the bigger man uses his exosuit to heft the rubble off Lito, before John swoops in to apply pressure to his injuries.

“Give me the fold out stretcher from your sash.” He orders, hands bloodied “Then go get the next person out. Efifania, Sergio?” John beckons a pair of nearby dad’s in closer, clearly having singled them out as capable stretcher bearers. “Think you can manage Lito here for me?”

As Virgil starts removing the rubble from above the other two trapped people, a middle aged man and a younger woman, it becomes immediately obvious that both of them have more severe wounds than young Lito. They both need medical treatment immediately.

“I’ll carry one of them.” Without the three extra sets of hands he’d need, Virgil has to leave a couple of crowd members applying pressure to their wounds, as he moves back to where John is helping Lito unsteadily to his feet. “Think you can walk, young man? We’re gonna need that stretcher for the big guy.”

“I won’t let you fall.” John promises, and Virgil feels a real swell of pride at how well his brother is handling the situation whilst being outside of both his space station and his comfort zone. It looks like having a rescue and a job to do really gives him no time for anxiety. "I agree that that's our best plan.” He adds, nodding, short and sharp, to confirm it, then John turns, an arm around Lito’s waist and the kid’s arm slung over his shoulder, to address the crowd.

“Anyone not so severely hurt needs to help get the injured out of here.” John instructs, the small crowd listening raptly. The look on the faces of these scared people is one Virgil is all too familiar with, but he knows John has far less experience of in person. They’re really looking to him as their saviour. “Virgil here is going to lead us through the path he just made.” Which is news to Virgil, but does seem like the best plan. “International Rescue will then be able to take us all to the hospital to get checked out, and then I’m sure you’ll be released to go home to your families before you know it. Got it everyone?"

In that moment Virgil finds himself struck with amazement at how John seems to have become almost as fearless as Scott, as they started carrying the two injured people out to safety. It was really a new side to him that Virgil doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

"Virgil… I need you to check on Lady Penelope and Parker.” John’s keeping pace at his side, helping the boy they’d dug out along as he goes, “I told them to check to see if anyone was hurt."

"Hmm, yeah you're right.” Virgil frowns. If Penny and Parker have any more injured party members, even minor ones that just need a check up, Thunderbird Two will need to evacuate them to the hospital as well. “Have you got any idea where they might be?"

"Well, I told them to get somewhere away from the landslide,” John frowns, as their limping, shocky party stumbles out into the bright light of day, to be greeted by the roar of Thunderbird One’s engines high above them. “They should be near here.” He yells over the sound of it.

As usual, it turns out that John is completely right. Penny and Parker are waiting for them, but neither John nor Virgil find the look on Lady Penelope's face all that reassuring.

"JOHN!” She rushes toward the battered, bloodied spaceman, her arms outstretched. Virgil very quickly and carefully finagles poor Lito out of the way as his brother gets ambushed. “Are you okay?!?” Penelope demands, frantic, “What happened to your arm?” She reaches for the bloodied bandage, and John winces, “I'm so sorry,” All of John’s carefully constructed rules around personal space are shattered as she cups his cheek, inspecting his face for injury. It’s lucky that John is by far the most patient of the Tracy boys. “I shouldn't have left you there.

"She’d been so terrified, perhaps more than anyone else here. The horrific view she’d seen with her own eyes is going to haunt her for a long time yet. One second she was getting out of the building to reassure and check up on the people, and the next she was watching half the structure collapse completely, with John under the side that fell. She still feels a little sick.

"I'm so, so, so sorry John,” She repeats, before he can get a word in edgeways to reassure her, “Please, you must tell me if there's any way I can make it up to you. Ask me anything and I'll do it."

"Okay guys,” Virgil chuckles, “while you talk things out I'll go to get the injured people aboard Thunderbird 2. Make it quick though, we’ve still got people who need immediate medical treatment, got it?"

"F.A.B. Virgil.” John nods, “We'll be quick. Penny, I..."

“I’m so sorry.” She repeats again, and pulls his good arm over her shoulder as if to steady him as they make their way at the back of the crowd toward the big green Thunderbird.

"No no no, Penny, please stop apologising.” John’s fingers tighten for a quick moment on her shoulder, in brief reassurance, “I'm not going to ask you for anything because it was never your fault.” He insists, “It was just some bad luck, that's all. Fortunately I, and most people, got out safe with no severe wounds. These things happen.”

“Your arm.” She points out softly, hoping that all that blood looks worse than it is, “John I can’t believe you stayed behind like that, it’s so...”

“Tracy?” He grins, amused but very weary.

“Scott Tracy.” She corrects, scowling a little as she holds on just that little bit tighter around his waist as his adrenaline from the rescue starts to flag. “I thought you had more common sense.”

“Hate to disappoint.” She feels the warmth of him chuckling, “I’m lucky it was nothing worse than his cut from some shattered glass that fell on my arm while I was helping one of the guys who got stuck. I don’t think any arteries or anything have been damaged, but it is... kinda deep." And he might be getting a little lightheaded from the blood loss. Still, he really wants to reassure her, just like she had reassured him before he’d gone in to give the lecture.

"Hate to interrupt your moment, but are you guys done?" Scott pops up from who-knows-where amongst the crowd to yell at them. He’s clearly joined the relief effort. "Virgil’s just finished getting everyone aboard Thunderbird 2, and he's ready to launch." He adds, squinting at the pale, wobbly mess of his brother. "And you really do need to check your arm. That looks nasty.”

"Yeah Scott,” John wipes a tired hand over his dirty face, dislodging dust, “We're done. Don’t let Thunderbird Two wait for me, I'll hitch a ride with Lady Penelope, uh,” He turns to her, bashful, to check, “If that’s okay?"

“Of course,” Her Ladyship concedes, “Scott?” She is mildly concerned that big brother might want to have the injured member of his flock under his wing so he can smother him.

"Yeah sure, ride whatever you want.” Scott flip flops a dismissive hand at them, “You can ride a pod, I won't care as long as your destination is the hospital."

"How about you, Gordon?” John knows his little brother is still on the line, probably sulking. “Is it okay if I take the ride with Lady P?"

"W-what do you mean by that?” Gordon sounds confused and maybe a little embarrassed, like he’s been caught out. “Scott already said you should go, why’re you asking me?"

"Well, she's your girlfriend.” John grins, teasing, as Penny helps him into the back of FAB1. “Of course I have to get permission from her boyfriend.

"Penny swats at him for that, amused, but careful not to hit his injured arm. She doesn’t need anyone’s permission to do anything, but it is fun to see Gordon squirm - especially as Scott and Virgil both crack up, and even Alan in space starts teasing him.

"What?!?” Gordon’s face, bless that darling young man, has gone bright red. “J-Just go already." He ducks off the comm screen to try and hide his embarrassment, but it’s far too late for that.

He’s lucky that Penelope finds it incredibly endearing.

"John,” She nudges him, as the Tracy’s all click off the line to go do their actual jobs. She’s a little concerned that he’s looking a bit spaced out, if you’ll excuse the pun, and it’s probably a good idea to keep him talking. “You know we're still going to The Pagasa Observatory, just like I promised you, right?"

"Wait really?” John’s head tilts, a little floppy, towards her from where it had been sinking into FAB1’s luxurious headrests. He’s looking a little grey, but it’s good to see his eyes open. “After all that happened?” A ginger eyebrow quirks, “Are you sure there's time for that?"

"Well, we’re on our way to the hospital now, but there’ll be plenty of time this afternoon.” As long as the medics give him a clean bill of health. “You can change your clothes after we're done checking your arm then there should be time for you to go see that big telescope you've been dreaming of visiting. After all, I did promise you we’d go there after we're done."

"Well, that sounds good to me!” John smiles like there’s a supanova fuling him, “Penny you’re the best."

They reach the hospital a little after International Rescue has dropped off the fourty or so injured people, and so there’s quite a wait for a Doctor to be free so that they can have a look at John’s poor, sliced arm. Penny seems to be doing a worried hover at his side, while he waits, shaky from blood loss, and though he’s not used to having so much company, John has to admit it’s nice to have a chance to catch up with his old friend with no rescue alarms blaring.

Alan reports in that the two worst injured in the landslide have been hospitalized as fast as possible, that they were stable - the doctors have said their prognosis looked good. He also tells him that Lito’s family had been asking after the redheaded lecturer who’d helped him out of the rubble, and that John Tracy, M.Sci, PgDip, B.Lang Hons, should probably expect a gift basket in the mail quite soon.

John gets quite flustered about that. He’d just been doing his job.

The spaceman's arm was eventually treated, and Scott calls in to ask what actually happened to his arm. It still hurts, a properly bandaged throb just under his elbow, but not like before. The painkilling injection and little bit of morphine they’d given him when they stitched it up had probably helped with that.

Alan’s reports dug up that the landslide had been caused by a water main leaking under the building, and destabilizing the soil. Over time, water can do a lot of damage, washing away vital infrastructure if it’s not been properly reinforced during construction.

As the Chino Roque Theater was a new build, there must have been a mistake in the installation of the pipes during construction.

Someone was getting a big lawsuit heading their way, and Tracy Enterprises will be more than happy to fund the lawyers for the theatre.

As Lady Penelope promised him, they found John a change of clothes and went to the Pagasa Observatory. Penny’s quite sure she’s never seen anything as wholesome as the moment John sees the telescope - his eyes went all shiny, and the smile on his face was massive.

"Lady Penelope, Parker come take a look at the stars!!!” He calls, over his shoulder, with the enthusiasm of a boy half his age, “They’re really beautiful from here!" With such a high-powered lens pointed up at the cosmos, it rivals even his view from Thunderbird Five.

"Indeed, they are." Lady Penelope and Parker both step up to take turns, but John was the one to look through the telescope the most. With all the stealth her years as a secret agent offered her, Lady Penelope took a picture of him.

"Parker, come take a look." She whispers, beckoning her old companion gleefully over. "He looks so happy and innocent in this picture. Wouldn’t it be lovely to see his face like this always?"

"We still have some time before they close,” Parker points out, a sly grin creeping onto his nosey old face. “How h’bout we leave him like this for a little longer?"

"That, Parker.” she smiles, “Is an excellent idea.”

The End

#tag mini bang 2021 #tagminibang2021 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #john tracy #scott tracy #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #alan tracy #Lady Penelope #Parker #tag #my writing

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hedwigstalons · 5 years

Text

This is a first foray into TAG so apologies for any continuity issues (a common problem in my head). A little bit of festive fun and nonsense with a rescue thrown in for good measure.

xoxoxox

**Going Out With A Bang**

Christmas has arrived and for once it looked like the whole family would be able to share in the festive meal. The world had been quiet and since December 22nd and the Tracys hoped it would grant them peace for a few days more so they could properly enjoy the holiday season.

The final arrival had been John who has returned via the space elevator late on Christmas eve. He had been reluctant to desert his post as space monitor but Eos has practically threatened to pump out all the oxygen if he hadn’t stepped through through the air lock right now. He suspected she had been conspiring with Alan; those two had been mightily absorbed on the youngest Tracys last visit up to Thunderbird Five. Now, sat with a coffee in hand, he was glad to be home even if home came with a heavy dose of gravity.

Christmas morning had been a whirlwind of activity. Alan had resembled an over-excited puppy as he dashed from one sibling to the next to wish everyone a merry Christmas. Gordon had managed to find the most hideous shirt bedecked with neon candy canes that Virgil had proclaimed to to an offense to the senses. Scott had adopted his usual role of commander and made sure everyone had eaten a proper breakfast (“No Alan, marshmallows are not breakfast”). John had tripped over the step in the lounge at least twice already. It was a typical island Christmas.

As lunch time approached the assembled group of five brothers, Kayo and Brains were glad that Scott had insisted on breakfast. Grandma has declared that there would be no barbecue this year and she would be treating them all to a traditional turkey dinner. As the allotted time approached the prospect of consuming a hot and heavy meal in tropical heat was not appealing, especially as Grandma had insisted on doing most of the cooking herself. More than one island resident was caught sneaking off to the store rooms to stock up on pre-lunch snacks until Grandma had locked the stores and declaring that she would not let them spoil their lunch. She ignored the pained glances that passed between brothers that said clearer than words that lunch would definitely be spoiled if Grandma Tracy was catering.

The smell of scorched meat and the sound or curses as a pan of vegetables boiled dry signalled that it was time to set the table. International Rescue worked as a smooth machine and laying the out the dishes for lunch was no exception. Figures interwove as plates were passed along and settings made up. As the last dish was put in place the team stepped back to admire their handiwork. Even if the food in the dishes looked a little suspect the table itself was a picture of festive cheer.

“Crackers!” exclaimed Alan, the disappointment in his voice evident for all to hear. “Didn’t we order any for this year? It’s not a proper Christmas lunch without crackers”.

“I’m sure we did. I think I spotted a box in storeroom 3. You all sit down and I’ll go and fetch them.” Gordon sped out of the dining room and down the hallway that led to the stores. He soon veered off and headed towards his own room where the box of crackers had been liberated to a few days earlier. The selection of bright foil cylinders appeared identical but he knew otherwise.

As Gordon returned to the dining room, box in hand, he was pleased to see that everyone was seated already. He walked around the perimeter of the table, carefully laying a cracker across each place setting. Conversation was in full flow and only Scott noticed that the crackers were not pulled out of the box in an entirely random order. He wondered what Gordon had planned but as he was evidently not the intended recipient of whatever prank had been prepared to was happy to sit back and watch the drama unfold. It looked like Virgil would not be so lucky.

Gordon finished his round of the table and sat back in his own seat. “Ok, crackers in a circle, right? Everyone hold out you cracker to the person on your left.”

Virgil and Alan then, thought Scott as everyone complied with the seemingly innocent instruction. Soon a chain of crackers was set up around the table.

“Five...Four...Three...Two…One...”

The klaxon sounded and the crackers were dropped back on to plates as everyone rushed through to the comms room. The light hearted atmosphere had gone and been replaced the usual rush of adrenalin that preceded a rescue.

“Go ahead, Eos” instructed Scott. The AI was pretty good at filtering out the necessary rescues from the surrounding noise of global radio chatter. She had also been instructed to reroute calls to the local emergency services or GDF for the duration of Christmas day so the fact she was intruding on their family time meant the situation must be serious.

“I have received a distress call from an oil rig. It has been damaged in a storm and the crew need to evacuate. The weather conditions preclude evacuation by helicopter. Some of the crew opted to leave by life raft but the transponder has failed and all contact with the life raft has been lost.”

“Virgil, Alan and Gordon; you all get going in Thunderbird Two. We’ll need Thunderbird Four to help with the missing life raft. I’ll take Thunderbird One and meet you there. John, you’re on comms; get full details and co-ordinates and brief us once we are airborne.”

The brothers dispersed to their respective concealed chutes that let to the Thunderbirds. John was grateful to claim his seat by the comms table; the sudden rush from the dining room had left him a little dizzy and highlighted that he was not yet acclimatised to Earth enough to take a more active role in the rescue.

Grandma, Kayo and Brains retreated to the dining room. The dishes were returned to the kitchen and would be warmed through once the boys returned, whenever that might be.

xoxoxox

As the two Thunderbirds approached the rig the weather conditions worsened. They had taken off into bright tropical skies over an azure sea. Now, several time zones and climatic regions away they were surrounded by darkness. Fierce winds buffeted their craft and the pilots could feel the strain through their control yokes. Rain lashed the cockpit screens and visibility was almost zero; flying was by instruments and instincts. The seas below churned and roiled beneath them, not that those aboard the mighty ‘birds could see that.

John had made contact with those still trapped on the rig and was now in possession of the full details and severity of the situation. Eight personnel required evacuation from the rig and a further four were lost somewhere on the unforgiving ocean. Part of the platform had failed structurally and the was at risk of collapsing into the sea. A small mercy was that the crew has managed to cap off the bore hole so any potential environmental disaster had already been averted. The drilling company would be able to make the structure safe once the storm had passed but until that happened the crew was in danger. With the first four to evacuate now lost without a trace the remaining crew were unwilling to follow their colleagues into the remaining rafts and preferred to take their changes on the unstable rig.

Eos had also been busy. Having ascertained the exact time the life raft had been launched and its last known location before the transponder had failed she had run simulations using the weather and ocean current data from the area. Her high-tech models allowed her to narrow down the search area and she was able to provide Scott with a more defined zone in which the life raft should be found.

“Approaching raft rescue zone now” Scott announced as he reached the area. “I’ll see if I can locate the life raft by scanning for life signs. Deploy Thunderbird Four then continue to rig; you should be able to evacuate those remaining using the rescue cage.”

“FAB” acknowledge Virgil.

Scott activated his scanner and started a sweep of the area. It looked like a futile task, trying to locate a small orange raft in miles of dark ocean, but he trusted in Eos’s calculations. He needed to, there wasn’t a lot else to go out out here. He knew that Gordon would also be scanning the area from Thunderbird Four and it was hopefully only a matter of time before one or other of the brothers found the missing crew.

Gordon was at least more comfortable that Scott. Underneath the surface of the ocean he was protected from the worst of the storm conditions. Other that the occasional deep swell that would shift his ‘bird slightly off course he could almost forget the tempest playing out on the surface. He was used to working in limited visibility so the darkness was no hindrance to him. He maintained radio contact with his sky-bound sibling as they scanned the rescue area, starting in opposite quadrants to maximise efficiency.

The brothers swept the area using a mix of radar and life signs scanner until “Woohoo, I win!”

“Gordo, this is not competition. Do I take it you have located the raft?”

“Sure have. Sending through the co-ordinates now. So how do you want to go about extraction?”

“The conditions are too rough for you to tow the raft. I’ll snare it with a grapple and return it to the main rig. From there we can get them aboard Thunderbird Two. It’s not going to be comfortable for them though. I want you to try and attach a communicator to the raft so I can let them know what is happening.”

“FAB”.

Attaching a communicator to the side of the raft would require a trip to the surface. A prospect Gordon wasn’t looking forward to as the swell still hadn’t abated. It would also require some careful piloting.

Gordon surfaced the submarine. His powerful lamps soon illuminated the orange box that was being tossed about on the waves. He hoped those inside had strong stomachs because it was one hell of a bumpy ride they were being subjected to. He monitored the rise and fall of both the life raft and his own craft until he was familiar with the pattern the waves were moving to. Then, at the optimal moment he fired a small cannon. A disc flew through the air and adhered itself to the side of the life raft with a dull thunk.

To those inside the raft the sound of something solid hitting the side was disconcerting. Their fear soon turned to elation as Gordon’s friendly voice was heard inside their craft.

“This is International Rescue. Please report your status. Is anybody hurt?”

“International Rescue? Thank goodness, we thought we were lost for sure.” The relief in the speaker’s voice was palpable. “We are all a bit bumped about. One head injury but no signs of concussion.”

The rescue plan was soon relayed to the crew in the raft and while they were not enamoured with the idea of being suspended below Thunderbird One they were pleased that their ordeal would soon be over.

Back at the rig Virgil and Alan were concentrating on rescuing the eight remaining crew. Virgil was holding a hover over the rig while Alan was on winch and rescue cage duty. The rig was creaking and groaning in the storm force winds and the pair knew they needed to work quickly.

Alan lowered himself and the rescue cage to the deck of the rig. The surface of the platform was exposed to the elements and the most dangerous aspect of the rescue would be stopping himself and the crew being blow off the side of the platform. For now the crew were safely holed up in one of the cabins on the surface of the rig.

Alan ensured his gravity boots were engaged and that he was attached to a safety line before he risked exiting the rescue cage. The short walk to the cabin felt like a marathon as he braced himself against the vicious gusts. The checker plate surface was slick with the rain that was still falling in torrents and even the gravity boots were struggling to get a purchase. It was with some relief that Alan reached the cabin and entered. His safely line prevented the door from being closed and he had to shout to be heard above the elements.

“So, who needs a lift home?” he grinned. He easy manner and smile instantly calming those waiting for rescue.

He was pleased to see that the crew were already kitted out in full safety gear including harnesses and helmets. This would make his job a whole lot easier and save him having to escort everyone to the rescue cage individually. He connected the safety line to an anchor point within the cabin and instructed everyone to clip in. The line acted as a guide rail and would allow everyone to traverse the deck safely between the fixed point of the cabin and the rescue cage.

Alan issued instructions on how to harness in to the safety cage. Then, one following close behind the other, the line of eight crew fought their way across the deck, gripping the safety line for support. Only once the last crew member had reached the cage did Alan release the anchor point in the cabin and begin his own return journey. Form there it was just a matter of activating the winch and they were being safely swallowed up into the belly of Thunderbird Two.

There was no chance to rest though. The evacuation from the rig had been the easy part; the real challenge would be to secure the life raft which was even now on its way to rendezvous with them, suspended from the base of Thunderbird One. Once Alan had settled the crew from the rig into the passenger bay he returned to the winch cables.

The plan was to attempt an air to air transfer. It would not be safe to transport the life raft all the way to land underneath Thunderbird One, nor was the idea of individually winching out the four trapped inside. The solution, although far from ideal, was for Alan to to attach Two’s grapple to the life raft. Scott would then disengage One’s grapple leaving Two free to winch the life raft inside the cargo area where there was plenty of space. The manoeuvrer would be challenging and not without risks.

Alan looked out of the open hatch in Thunderbird Two, grim determination on his face. Thunderbirds One and Two were being hovered expertly side by side. His two oldest brothers seemed to act in perfect unison, each acting to correct against the still-buffeting winds at the same time. The life raft was swinging wildly about on the end of its tether and Alan felt sorry for the four poor souls he knew were contained within. He took aim and fired the suction grapple but the erratic movement of the raft in the gusting winds meant his first shot missed. He recalled the grapple and tried again. The raft swung in and out of his line of sight and the whole exercise felt faintly reminiscent of a fairground game but one that had four lives as the prize rather than a misshapen stuffed toy. With a fair dose of luck on his side the second shot flew true and the suction grapple adhered firmly to the room of the raft. Scott quickly disengaged the line from Thunderbird One. Alan activated the winch mechanism and drew the raft inside the safety of the giant transporter ‘plane.

With the rig workers all safely accounted for the final task was to collect Gordon and Thunderbird Four. International Rescue would then be able to drop their grateful passengers off at the nearest airfield and head for home.

It might not have been the Christmas they hoped for but there was something about a successful rescue that lifts the mood. The International Rescue secure frequencies were soon filled with cheerful chatter between Thunderbirds One and Two and Tracy Island. Gordon attempted to lead everyone in song but soon stopped when Virgil threatened to dump him back in the ocean. The only disappointment was that Christmas day was nearly over by the time everyone had safely returned to base.

xoxoxox

It was a weary crew of operatives that gathered in the lounge again once post-flight checks had been completed and dirty uniforms discarded.

“I’m starving” groaned Scott as he kicked back and relaxed in an easy chair. “I thought Christmas was meant to be a time of eating to excess but instead I feel like we missed about four meals.”

“You’re always hungry” Virgil retorted, stretching out and taking up about three sofa spaces “but I know what you mean. I could almost contemplate Grandma’s Christmas lunch after all that. I’d go and fetch some food but I’m too comfortable now. Hey, Johnny, you fancy digging out some snacks?”

John was interrupted in making an indignant response about Virgil being perfectly capable of fetching his own snacks when their Grandmother appeared. “Welcome back, boys. I know you must be tired out after today but you need to look after yourselves. I’m not having anyone heading off to bed without a proper meal. We saved lunch so I want everyone back in the dining room in five minutes. I just need to set the table again.”

There was a collective set of groans that had more to do with facing their Grandma’s cooking in reheated form than the prospect of shifting off the sofa. However, everyone knew that if they didn’t face the meal tonight she would only wheel it out again tomorrow and Grandma’s cooking was one thing that did not improve with age.

Everyone shuffled through to the dining room to help finish setting up the meal again. Gordon gulped as he realised that everything had been reset. The crackers had been placed back in their box when the first iteration of lunch had been cleared away and Kayo was now in the process of laying a tube across each plate. He scanned the table but he had done his job too well, the crackers looked identical.

The sinking feeling deepened as Scott’s hand landed on his shoulder from behind. A low voice growled in his ear. “Well this should be interesting. Cracker roulette. I know you didn’t get those out the store room earlier, Grandma had them all locked down tighter than Fort Knox. The question is, little bro, are you feeling lucky?”

It is one thing to play a prank when the victim is carefully selected. It is quite another to have that control taken away. Pranks come with retribution and Gordon knows that each person around the table would have their revenge somehow, the unknown is the price he would be expected to pay.

Everyone returned to the seats they had vacated all those hours previously. The crackers raised to signal the start of the meal.

“Five...Four...Three...Two...One...Merry Christmas”

Except the ‘Merry Christmas’ was partially drowned out by a shout as one cracker erupted as a highly effective glitter bomb. Sparkles of red and green coated those that had been holding either end.

Uh oh.

Gordon’s chair crashed to the floor, knocked over in his haste to exit the room. He took off at a sprint but his attempt at escape was futile. The way no escaping the wrath of a now twinkling Kayo and Scott.

“Gordon Tracy, I’m going to be finding this stuff for weeks! Just you wait until I get my hands on you.”

Pranking Kayo comes at a cost. Usually a very painful cost. She caught up with him half way to the lounge and expertly tackled him to the floor. Scott arrived moments later. Between the pair of them Gordon was soon trussed up in tinsel. Scott threw him unceremoniously over his shoulder and carried the prankster back to his chair in the dining room, ensuring his younger brother got smeared on copious amounts of the glitter in the process.

There were a few sniggers as Gordon was fastened to his chair. He knew there was no point in trying to escape his tinsel bonds, Kayo had made sure the knots were firmly tied and out of reach.

Gordon tried appealed to their better nature. “Aw come on. It’s Christmas after all. You can’t let me starve while you all eat. That’s just torture.”

“Oh you’ll be eating, Gordo.” Kayo’s voice had taken on a dangerous edge. She freed his hands while making sure he was still unable to escape the chair. “You’ll sit there until you have cleared your plate like a good boy.”

Scott started heaping large portions onto Gordon’s plate, carefully selecting the most suspect looking parts of their Grandma’s cooking.

“There might even be...dessert.”

Gordon gulped and picked up his fork. The price for his prank was high and it was time to start paying.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #scott tracy #virgil tracy #john tracy #gordon tracy #alan tracy #kayo

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thunderbirdthree · 5 years

Text

Skyfall Part Two

Here’s the rest! I couldn’t find a good place to cut it so you’re going to get it all at once :) Thiis is the final part.

Part One (AO3)

Virgil saw the fireball crash in front of him, pressing on his control, pushing his ‘Bird to her very limits.

“Gordon I hope you’re ready.”

“FAB Virg.”

“Lowering pod, opening door in 5,4,3,2,1.”

Gordon watched the pod door open in front of him and felt his ‘Bird start to move forward. His brows furrowed in concentration as his ship slipped out from the pod, making sure the nose was pointed down so he would slip under the water, instead of hopping across it. He turned on his floodlights and pointed them at the floor.

It wasn’t hard to see Three, or really, what remained of her. There she sat nestled on the ocean floor, burnt and blackened, but he could still make out some of the distinctive red. H noted with a sigh of relief, that the piece sitting in front of him seemed to be the cockpit. He could only hope Alan had remembered his helmet, and the life support on his suit had survived the crash, and that the pressure of the G force… Gordon shook his head, he couldn’t be distracted. Yes it seemed unlikely Alan could survive this, but one way or another he was going to find his brother. He moved Thunderbird Four up towards the metal, focussing his lights towards it. Was that a flash of blue cloth he saw? Gordon put on his helmet and left Four, swimming as fast as he could towards what was in front of him.

----

After Virgil had dropped off Gordon, he joined Scott in hovering over the water.

“Hey Virgil, I’m going to set One’s autopilot and come on board.” Scott said over the . radio, voice thick with emotion.

“FAB Scott.” Virgil didn’t question it. Whatever happened next, whether Gordon came up empty handed, or with Alan- alive or dead, his family needed to be together. He barely glanced up as Scott made his way into the co pilot seat next to him. They were all trying to be professional, for the sake of the mission, but sitting here, watching and waiting, with nothing to do, Virgil was barely holding it together, and he knew that he didn’t think he could make contact with Scott without bursting into tears. Instead he watched as Thunderbird One turned herself around and flew off towards home.

Then there was a crackle over the radio.

“Hey guys? I’ve found him, he’s alive, barely, but he’s alive.” The tension release was almost audible. Barely alive wasn’t good, but barely alive was workable.

“We’re back in Thunderbird Four, Virg you better be ready for a pickup.”

“FAB Thunderbird Four.” Virgil was already adjusted the massive ship over the pod.

“I’ve alerted the nearest hospital that we’re on our way. Kayo and Grandma are flying over in Thunderbird Shadow.” John’s professionalism had returned in full force. Scott and Virgil watched the yellow Sub reappear and redock with Thunderbird Two.Scott leapt up from his seat, racing down to meet Gordon and Alan, Virgil joining him as soon as Two’s Autopilot was set to the coordinates EOS had uploaded to the navigational computer, and he had put the throttle on full blast. He found his brother’s still in the cargo bay. Gordon gave him a look as he approached.

“We figured we would be better off not moving him as much as we could. I’m not sure our med bay could really help him.” Virgil walked over and took a look at Alan. It took everything in him not to fall to the floor crying. Alan looked so small, his limbs where all weirdly bent, as though his bones were shattered. There was a huge gash on his forehead that someone had slapped a piece of gauze over to stop the blood from dripping down Alan’s face. It was going to need stitches but they were close enough to the hospital that Virgil decided to leave it to them. His hands were shaking too much to be of any use. An Oxygen mask was strapped over Alan’s face, and he was hooked up to a heart monitor. Virgil looked at the numbers. Alan’s blood oxygen was low and his heartbeat was slow, but he was breathing and his heart was beating. ut what scared Virgil most was the chunk of red metal sticking out of his brother’s uniform, blood all around it. Virgil reached over to brush some of Alan’s hair out of his face.

“Oh Allie…”

----

Shawna Morris had been on her break when Murray, a fellow nurse had come rushing into the break room yelling at them to turn on the TV. She and her fellow nurses had watched at Thunderbird Three tumbled out of the sky. She had watched as Thunderbird Four had dived after it, and she barely breathed as she watched the lack of movement on the screen. At one point she saw someone leave Thunderbird One and enter Thunderbird Two, before One turned around and sped off. And not 5 minutes later, she watched as Thunderbird Four reappeared and was lifted back into Thunderbird Two, with no indication of what had happened down below. She felt sick, to see a Thunderbird, one of the strong, dependable Thunderbirds crash down to Earth like that was so jarring. Her thoughts where distracted when Dr. Michaels crashed into the room.

“The IR operative is alive but in critical condition. We’re the closest major hospital to the crash site, Thunderbird two will be landing within the next 5 minutes. We need every available hand. Bring up all bags of A- blood we can find. We’re prepping Theater One for immediate emergency surgery. ” With that he sprinted out of the room. Shawna didn’t have time to think, just to spring into action. She raced down to the blood storage, where the techs where frantically attaching blood to IV lines. She, Murray and another nurse grabbed each ready pole and sprinted back to the elevators. When the door opened, Dr Michaels was bag, he nodded,

“One of you follow me, we need to meet Thunderbird Two.” The group traveled to the ground floor and as the closest to the door, Shawna found herself following Dr Michaels into the parking lot. There was a whole team of people waiting to meet the ship. Specialists and nurses from every department.

“Here they come!” Someone called out. Shawna looked up to see a speck in the sky that get getting bigger and bigger. Thunderbird Two landed in the parking lot, a door on the side opened and everyone leapt into action. Shawna only got close enough for a second to hook up the first blood transfusion, and only one thought made it through her mind.

“Oh my god, he’s a kid.”

----

Scott watched as the medical staff rushed Alan onto a gurney and into the hospital. He nodded at Virgil, a sign for the middle brother to go with them and see what was happening. Gordon made to follow, but Scott placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder,

“No, give them space to work.” With Alan in the hands of the doctors and nurses, Scott felt some of the adrenaline begin to wear off. His knees felt weak, like he might topple over any second. Gordon seemed to notice,

“C’mon Scott let’s get inside.” Wrapping an arm around him, Gordon led Scott into the building and into a chair. Scott tried to ignore, how everyone else in the waiting room seemed to be staring at them. He put his head in his hands, taking deep breaths as Gordon rubbed his back. This was backwards. Gordon had been the one who had actually had to save Alan, Scott just had to sit and wait, Gordon was the one he should be comforting. He managed to calm down enough to sit up.

“Are you ok Gordy?” He asked. Gordon shrugged,

“Are any of us?”

“Excuse me, sir.” A young receptionist walked over. “I was told to bring these to you?”. Scott took the offered clipboard with a small smile of thanks, and the receptionist left him to it. Looking down he noticed that it was paperwork with the title Hospital Admission of a Minor Under 18. With small bold lettering telling him that a parent or legal guardian needed to be the one filling it out. Legal Guardian, well, that was him.

“He’s a kid, Gordon. He doesn’t deserve this, we let him in too young.”

“Don’t blame yourself Scott, this is a freak accident, it could have happened to any of us. Besides you know we needed the extra person. Was it ideal, no. But it was what we had to do at the time. No one is at fault here.” Scott nodded, he still felt guilty, but that wasn’t a fair burden to lay on Gordon.

----

Shawna left the operating theatre to find the Thunderbird who had accompanied the kid up here. He was sitting outside the theatre, tearing a tissue into little pieces. He looked up as Shawna apprached, she put on what she hoped was a sympathetic smile.

“Mr….” She started, before realizing she had no idea what this man’s name was. He was an international hero, had saved her own uncle a couple years previously, but he was anonymous to her.

“Call me Virgil.” He said offering a small, sad smile. “How is he.”

“Their finishing up now, I was sent to tell you that he’s in critical, but stable condition. They’ll be bringing him into ICU room three in about 20 minutes if you want to find the rest of your people and meet him there.” Shawna didn’t know for sure, but judging by the fact Thunderbird Two didn't move, Thunderbird One was now visible in the parking lot and a smaller third vehicle had shown up, she could only guess that no one had left. Virgil climbed to his feet.

“Thank you.” He told her, she nodded at him as he walked off, watching as he turned the corner.

----

Virgil made his way down to the waiting room, where he wasn’t surprised to see that Grandma, Kayo, Brains and John had arrived. What he was surprised to see was the way they were all crowded around Scott whose shoulders were shaking harshly.

“Hey what's going on?” Virgil asked approaching the group. Gordon looked up,

“Did you know the International News Network managed to catch the whole thing on video? Because we sure didn’t. We were sitting here, waiting, when it started replaying on the news, Scott lost it. Won’t respond to us, not even when John told him he had to fly over in One.” Virgil looked up at the now blank TV screens, and how everyone else in the waiting room had moved away, giving his family space. Virgil pushed through the huddle around his brother, kneeling in front of Scott.

“Scott, hey look at me.” Scott didn’t respond, his shoulders shaking as he cried violently into his hands. Virgil used his hand to push his brother’s chin up so Scott could make eye contact with him. Red rimmed blue eyes met brown.

“He’s ok Scott, he’s coming out of surgery right now. He’s critical, but stable, and we can all go upstairs and see him ok.” Scott nodded, taking a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

“Ok, good, just breathe.” Virgil slipped into rescue mode, calming his brother. He wrapped one of Scott’s arms around his back, John hurried over to support the other side. Virgil tried to ignore the stares from everyone else in the room as his family made their way slowly up to the ICU.

----

Alan felt like he was in a fog under miles of water. Floating for a long time, nothing to see, nothing to hear, just dark and silence. He wasn’t panicking, he didn’t feel trapped, just calm, like nothing could hurt him. Something changed suddenly. It wasn’t as quiet, he could hear what sounded like a faint beeping from above him. Looking up, there was a light shining into the water. His curiosity got the better of him and he began swimming up towards the surface. As he approached the beeping got louder, and where those voices he could here? As he reached the surface and was about to break through, he heard three clear words. “He’s waking up.”

The light was blinding as Alan cracked his eyes open. He immediately closed them against the harshness before giving it another try. He slowly blinked them open, letting his eyes adjust to the light and the two figures looking down on him. The faces began to be clear and Alan recognized Scott and Virgil looking down on him. They looked awful, was his first thought. Scott obviously hadn’t shaved in a few days, and his hair looked grayer than Alan remembered. Deep, dark circles lined his eyes, but they still glistened with happiness as he smiled down at Alan. Virgil didn’t look a whole lot better, but he at least looked vaguely like he’d seen a shower within the last few days.

“Hey kiddo, welcome back.” Scott said softly, cupping Alan’s cheek with his hand.

“What happened?” Alan managed to get out, voice throat sore and scratchy. Scott and Virgil looked at each other, seemingly having a private conversation. Virgil smiled at Alan and slipped out of the curtain. Scott took a seat on the edge of the bed.

“You crashed. As far as well can tell, you were hit by some sort of debris. It was enough to rip into three and send you on an uncontrolled spiral into Earth, hitting everything in your path. You crashed into the ocean.” Alan took the information in for a second. Virgil returned, holding a cup of ice. He spooned some into Alan’s mouth. Alan let it melt, the cool water soothing his throat.

“Did anyone else get hurt? How long have I been here?”

“No one else got hurt, Allie. It’s been about a month. They kept you in a medically induced coma to give the worst of your injuries a chance to heal, they started trying to wake you up last night.” Virgil supplied.

“A… month?” Alan’s brain struggled to comprehend what was going on. Virgil chuckled,

“Yeah, you were injured pretty badly. The fact you even survived the crash was a miracle.” He paused, “Dr. Michaels will be in in a little while. They were very cautious about waking you up, but most of your severe injuries are healing nicely.”

“What happened to Three?” Scott and Virgil looked at each other. They had feared Three becoming a target for souvenir hunters, thanks to the news broadcasting her exact location, so when Alan had been in less critical conditions, John, Gordon and Vigil had taken Two out to salvage the wreckage from the bottom of the ocean.

“Oh Allie.” Scott sighed. “The only piece of her to even make it back was the cockpit. I’m sorry.” Alan gulped trying to hold back the tears he felt in his eyes at that news. He felt Virgil pull him into a gentle hug.

“Try not to think of it, you’re alive. We can build another Three, we can’t build another you.” Alan nodded, trying to put on a brave face. Virgil stood back up.

“I’m going to call home, I’m sure everyone else will want to fly out immediately.” He turned to Scott,

“See I told you he would wake up and be ok, now will you please take a shower lasting longer than 15 seconds.” Scott glared at Virgil, his eyes softening when Alan chuckled.

“It’s good to have you back kid.” Virgil said, as he left the room, to place his call.

6 months later

Alan gazed up at the new Thunderbird Three gleaming in front of him. He had been home for five and a half months now, his injuries were all but healed, and he could be cleared to return to flight as early as his next physical. He jumped as he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He looked up at Scott.

“What do you think?” His big brother asked.

“She’s beautiful.” Scott nodded,

“Brains does good work. John took her up for a test flight last night, said she’s as smooth as ever. Reinforced steel, the cockpit is now also a self- enclosed escape pod. I think Brains even said something about a new coffee machine.” Alan smiled at his brother,

“Sound’s great Scott.” He bit his lip.

“Hey, Alan look at me.” Alan turned to his brother. “You don’t have to go up, not now, not ever if you’re not ready.” Scott had concern in his eyes. Alan nodded.

“I’ll be ready Scott. It was a freak accident, it could have happened to any of us.” Alan took a deep breathe. Was he ready? He missed flying, he missed looking down on Earth from above, he missed helping people. He hadn’t realized just how many people he had rescued until his hospital room had been filled to the brim with flowers and cards from people all over the planet. People deserved to be rescued, as Virgil had once said, people deserve to know that if they called for help, someone was listening. Taking one last look up at his beautiful new ship Alan squared his shoulders and this time the confidence came easily,

“Yeah, I’ll be ready.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfic #tag skyfall

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the-writers-bookshelf · 3 years

Text

hi Aubrey! Happy Fab Friday! I know it's been a while since I sent anything in, and I don't have much new stuff to show. I still wanted to write in this week, so here's the beginning of a WIP that I started a while back!

------------------------

System recording begins

The Sun burned at a distance, many billions of kilometers away, only a little brighter than the other visible stars. From here, even lonely Pluto was but a speck in the distance. There was nothing but the darkness of space broken up by the faint flickers of starlight. Even the Oort cloud lay behind the ion trail of the Hopeful, with only the emptiness of interstellar space ahead.

The oblong gray ship’s halls were still and silent, save for the occasional maintenance drone whirring away at some task or another. The ion drives steadily hummed, spitting out high energy particles to gently push the ship along the sea of infinity. The nuclear furnace at the heart of the ship burned at full power, fueled by the same atomic process that gave life to the stars. Cold air sighed as it passed between the 15,000 cold-sleep pods and the hibernating occupants within. More drones worked here, monitoring the humans within for any signs of distress or system failure. The Hopeful could not lose this most precious cargo.

If the fusion plant was the heart of the ship, then the computer systems were its mind. The artificial intelligence that guided the vessel, named Argus by its programmers, worked to ensure everything was working properly. One mistake could spell doom for its passengers. That could not happen. Argus watched through thousands of sensors and monitoring devices, ensuring that nothing could go wrong without the AI noticing it.

Argus sifted through the data that streamed through its sensors, checking that everything was still right. A handful of seconds passed before the many thousands of checks were all cleared. The AI would have breathed a sigh of relief, if it had lungs. There had been a few close calls while passing through the Oort cloud, but aside from some minor damage to the hull's paint, everything turned out fine. Argus began calculating a course for the nearest star, Alpha Centauri.

Argus finished by turning the Hopeful’s radio transmitter towards Earth and sent a final message of farewell. The designers had decided that, to preserve Argus’s components, the AI would hibernate alongside its passengers. It would awaken in the event of the various sensors detecting danger to the ship or passengers, and when the ship arrived in the Alpha Centauri system, to determine a suitable landing spot for the colonists on one of the trinary system’s worlds.

With a few final adjustments, the course was set. Argus began to shut down its main processors, only leaving the proximity detection and internal monitoring components active. As the ion drives pushed the Hopeful onto the course at an acceleration that would bring them to a relatively significant percentage of c, Argus pulled back into hibernation mode.

submitted by @aurelianpen

(this came in last weekend I think? but I was in the middle of holiday insanity so I'm just getting to it now!!)

This is COOL! It really pulls you in and gets you right into the atmosphere of the setting!! LOVE it! :D

#asks #fab friday writers #aurelianpen

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adalidda · 3 years

Photo

Illustration Photo: The Smart Citizen Station is a modular open-source environmental monitoring system developed at Fab Lab Barcelona at IAAC. Multiple sensors can be added easily added, expanding the capabilities of the installation or replaced when they are damaged or the sensors lifetime is over. (credits: Smart Citizen https://docs.smartcitizen.me/Smart%20Citizen%20Station/ / Flickr Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0))

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natsora · 7 years

Text

The Cetus Arc - Chapter 39

Anubis

[AO3] | [FFnet]

Ryder was on her bike. The ride there had calmed her down a little, though she’s still anxious to see this done. Dex’s bike running parallel to hers in the distance, a trail of dust cloud running behind him. The others had piled into the Nomad. Ryder decided they probably needed the space to transport a bunch of prisoners.

SAM had done a scan. There were a couple of pre-fabs standing in the area. The best SAM was able to determine based on heat signatures, there were only minimal forces on the ground. They would be able to handle the enemy without problems. Even though intel was sketchy, this was the best lead she had. Ryder wasn’t about to let it go, especially when she knew her problems, all my fucking problems, weren’t the symptoms of some shitty concussion. Her life had turned to ashes because somebody caused it to. It was all fucking planned.

Nobody had said a word against her plan. It was simple enough. Hit hard, hit fast. She and Cora would be the main hitters. Relying on stasis to keep their prisoners under control, Scott and Drack would knock out any that got past them with concussive rounds. If all went as planned, Dex didn’t have to do anything but to keep an eye on her.

Soon. Some real fucking answers soon.

The heat of the desert and the warm wind of the ride encased Ryder like an armour. She rolled her head from side to side as piano keys thumped and a clear voice sang in her earpiece.

Teach me how to fight I'll show you how to win You're my mortal flaw And I'm your fatal sin Let me feel the sting The pain, the burn Under my skin

As they neared, Ryder turned to Dex. “You have one job and only one job,” she said, her gaze intense. “Watch me. You know the lock command. You know what I can do when I disappear. Don’t hesitate if it happens.”

Dex nodded, his mandibles fluttered once. “Activate the shield now. You might not have the time once the bullets start flying.”

He nodded once more and he did as told. Ryder unslung her rifle and flipped the safety off. Her eyes found the others. “Ready?”

They nodded.

Even though they were all ready for battle, Ryder wanted to try guile before bringing out the big guns. Drack and Scott hung back as they watched the ladies sauntered over. Cora had an open comm channel for them to monitor the situation. Ryder and Dex didn’t have access to the channel since there wasn’t enough time to rig up one up for their omni-tools. The structure was on a higher plane of elevation compared to the surrounding. Scott and Drack kept hidden behind an outcropping of rocks, where the difference in elevation kept them hidden from possible snipers. Dex followed the others’ lead.

The males waited as the females worked. Dex kept his eye on Scott’s expression since it was probably harder for him to read Drack’s. Everything seemed to be proceeding well according to Ryder’s plan. Scott cocked his head as if listening in on the conversation happening on the other end of the comm channel. Dex tried to steady his breathing, his talons tight around the pistol. Drack sniffed, sampling the air about him, before turning to Dex. “Relax, the kid has got it covered,” he rumbled, almost gently.

Dex raised a brow ridge. “Kid? You mean Ryder?” he whispered back.

“Yeah,” Drack said. “Like I said, the kid.”

Scott glared at them. “Will you two shut up, I’m trying to listen here.”

Meanwhile, Ryder and Cora faced a pair of human females at the door. “Who are you?” one of them asked, Ryder dubbed that one Bruiser for her stout frame and ham-sized fists.

Ryder didn’t reply, she just peered over their shoulders to get a quick gauge on the number of people inside. The pre-fab wasn’t large, just a wide foyer out front and then a corridor with one door on either side and another door right at the end of the corridor. There wasn’t anybody else visible to Ryder. “I hear this is the place to come for good Oblivion,” she said, sniffing loudly and jittering like an addict would.

Cora caught on and hunched her shoulders, she stammered. “Yeah… I… I hear Anubis is selling the good… good stuff here,” she said. “I’ve got credits. I just… just need the stuff.”

Bruiser turned to her companion, Ryder dubbed her Blade for the long knife she was playing with as she eyed them with narrowed eyes. There was just a moment of hesitation but Ryder could see nobody was buying their act. She drew the energy from the pit of her being to her hand. She trusted her hand forward, it was a meaningless gesture but it helped her channel the energy. It was quick, sudden and without warning. The Push slammed them both against the wall.

Cora could feel the sudden shift in biotic energy around Ryder. She wrapped the two in Stasis to stop them from falling to the ground but the element of surprise was gone. On the other end of the open comm channel, Scott’s voice buzzed. “Go, go, go!”

One turian and an asari burst out from the room right at the end of the corridor even as Ryder strode in confidently. She pressed her back against the wall as bullets flew. Her finger rested lightly on the trigger, waiting for a lull in the hail of fire. Cora had her work cut out keeping the two in Stasis. Ryder flung a mild Shockwave down the corridor without looking. She followed the Shockwave with a spray of bullets before turning into the corridor. The two operatives were lying unmoving on the floor. Ryder walked down the length of the corridor. With her teeth, she peeled her glove from her right hand. She checked the pulse of the turian by placing her fingers against his un-plated neck. Dead.

“Fuck,” Ryder cursed.

Behind her, Ryder could hear Drack and Scott entering. There were sounds of a struggle as they restrained Bruiser and Blade. Cora’s steps were loud as she followed Ryder down the corridor leaving the boys to handle their captives.

Ryder felt rather than saw the fallen asari’s pull of biotic energy. The air practically hummed with power as a blue bolt of Lance whizzed past Ryder. She twisted at the waist to avoid it. “Cora!” Ryder shouted when she realised it wasn’t aimed at her.

Cora turned her mouth agape in surprise. The Lance left a deep gorge along the wall as it zipped down the narrow corridor. There wasn’t enough time. Ryder knew Cora wouldn’t be able to avoid it. With a growl, she Pulled at Cora’s feet as she threw a Shield over her. It wasn’t the layered Shield she used in Ditaeon, Ryder prayed it was enough. Cora lost her balance when she felt a tug at her feet. Her hands thrown out in front of her to break her fall. With wide eyes, Cora felt the heat of the Lance against her face it impacted against Ryder’s Shield.

Ryder yelled as she tried to layer another Shield but it was too late. Her Shield flickered and disappeared. Cora was caught by the edge of the Lance. Her hardshell’s shields took the brunt of the damage. Ryder threw a Push down the corridor to get everyone else out of the way. The Lance dissipated once it exceeded its range. Instead of running over to Cora, Ryder turned to the downed asari. With one hand clamped around her neck, Ryder squeezed.

“Ryder!” Cora shouted, getting up to her shaky feet.

She could only hear her name being called in a vague haze. All Ryder saw was red, red, red. “Ryder!” Cora yelled in her ear as Cora’s hand clamped down on her shoulder.

Like a taut string pulled too tight, Ryder snapped, “Fuck!” Her hand unwillingly her grip on the asari’s throat, slamming her back to the floor.

Ryder whirled away from Cora’s hand. “See to her.”

She ran her hand through her damp hair, breathing hard. This was more violent than usual even for her. Her hands shook a little as she supported herself against the wall. Fuck, too close. Too fucking close. She glanced at Cora once before squeezing her eyes shut, the image of a hole through Cora’s chest burnt behind her eyelids.

“Are you all right?” Dex asked. “You’re not feeling weird, are you?”

Ryder could hear the anxiety in his voice. Am I? I don’t think so but… She clenched her hands to stop their shaking. Ryder just shook her head and took a deep breath to keep a lid on the chaotic anger in the pit of her belly.

Turning her head, Ryder found Cora and Scott wearing identical expressions of shock and a tiny bit of fear. Only Drack met her eyes head-on with a smile of approval. Of course, the krogan approves. Vaguely she wondered what her father thought about it.

Ryder wasn’t happy with her reaction but if nobody else was hurt she could live with it. The shock, the fear was just a small price to pay. They had to learn she wasn’t who they thought she was eventually. I never was, I’m not the shiny Pathfinder that they seem to see whenever they look at me. Ryder ducked her head and turned back to the door at the end of the corridor. “Are the other rooms clear?” she asked.

“They’re clear,” Drack replied.

Ryder peered over her shoulder and saw Dex just behind her. “You might want to step back a little,” she suggested.

Dex nodded and went to flank Drack. Good choice. The door before her was unlocked. Ryder didn’t hesitate, she palmed the door. It opened without trouble. There was no resistance on the other end. There was only a single human male on the other side of the door.

The room was empty save for a table and two chairs. He was seated on one of them while the other was opposite him. It looked like an interrogation room to Ryder.

The man looked up in surprise at her. His amber eyes met hers. At first, it was shock, surprise and then finally recognition. Then he spoke. “Pathfinder,” he drawled in his honey-smooth voice. “We meet again.”

It was like a knife stab to her brain. Ryder’s sure steps into the room faltered and stopped. Seeing him, hearing him here, now and not via a screen or a vid was a jolt of electricity. Memories that were locked away for months on end, came free like birds released from their cages. The memories weren’t a gentle slow reveal from the fogginess of forgetfulness. It was a searing invasion of painful and lost memories thrust right into her brain. The remembered pain of electricity coursing through her skin. The tug and jerk of her muscles that seized and spasmed, the utter humiliation of uncontrollable bowels, her howls and screams of pain echoed in her mind.

“Dance, Ryder. Dance,” the man said, his honey-smooth voice invaded her ear like a drill.

She recoiled visibly.

“Ryder?” Dex called, his eyes trained on her.

Ryder swayed where she stood. “You!” she shouted, flaring blue.

“It’s fucking you all along!” she shouted.

Her left hand was sheathed in blue so suddenly that Ryder flinched. She rubbed the back of her neck, fingers brushing against the new bandage, as her amp burnt. The man smirked. Cora and Scott jumped out of the way as Ryder pushed past them to leave.

“Dex, please,” she begged, her hands shaking.

Dex walked right towards her, unafraid and confident. Ryder’s jaw clenched tight as she felt herself fading. Dex spoke the lock command as omni cuffs wrapped around her wrists. “Come on, Ryder,” Dex said as he pulled her gently into one of the rooms.

“Thank yo…”

Drack paced outside Ryder’s locked room. Dex watched. His talons tapping a rhythm against his arm. His back leaned against the door he had hacked locked. It felt wrong, different to do it away from the bunker. At Wrench’s, Dex knew he had back up if things went wrong. Here, with the krogan pacing, her brother frowning and glaring in turns and the Pathfinder tapping messages on her omni tool and sighing every other minute, Dex felt trapped.

“How long?” Scott asked finally, breaking the silence.

“As long as it takes,” Dex replied.

“What does that even mean, bird?” Drack growled.

“Who are you calling bird, lizard!” Dex shouted, straightening and flaring.

“Hey!” Cora stood, pressing a hand against Drack and Dex. “This is not helping anyone.”

The Tempest was due to arrive in a while. Cora had contacted Kallo to come collect them. They had left the rest of the team on the ground at Ditaeon. Security at the outpost couldn’t be compromised regardless of their mission here. Their prisoners had to be treated and then questioned. With Ryder out of commission for the moment, Cora expected to take the lead in questioning.

Cora had seen how Ryder’s face twisted at seeing Vidal. If she had to guess, seeing Vidal had shifted something within Ryder. It might have caused the Cetus chip to activate, maybe it was just coincidence, Cora didn’t know. She expected Ryder to have some answers for them once she recovered. If only she could keep the guys from murdering each other, that would be good.

It’s been hours. How long does an episode last?

“Dex, let me out.”

Dex jumped. It was Ryder’s voice coming from behind the door. He turned and was about to unlock the door when he stopped himself. “Are you, you?” he asked.

“Yeah I think so,” Ryder replied. “I ah… I think I’ve managed to cut myself.”

The door was quickly unlocked. Ryder stumbled over the threshold, her arm had a series of cuts all along it. “What happened?” Scott asked, rushing forward.

Ryder shrugged. “It’s not called missing time for nothing,” she said, as she sank to the floor. “Gods…”

Cora could tell Ryder had utterly no strength left. Ryder needed a doctor and rest. Scott ripped a pack of medi-gel opened as he knelt down to tend to the cuts. Ryder just cradled her head in her good hand with her eyes closed.

“The Tempest is arriving soon. Lexi should take a look at you,” Cora said.

Ryder nodded while her head was still in her hand. “How are the prisoners? Did the asari live?” she asked, her voice soft and wavering.

“The asari will live. We found suicide pill in a false tooth in all of them,” Cora reported, finding herself settling into what she used to do when Ryder was Pathfinder. “They had remained silent but I think it’s safe to assume they are all Perseus. The suicide pill is something we have encountered previously in Perseus operatives.”

Ryder grunted her acknowledgement. “What about Vidal?”

“He’s still secure in the other room. We’ve made sure to restrain him.”

She looked up from her hand once Scott was done. Ryder got to her feet and rested her hand against the wall to support herself. Her face was one of fierce resolve as she headed back towards Vidal’s room. With each step she took, Ryder seemed to straighten and strengthened. By the time, she got to the door it was like nothing had happened. Ryder turned to them. “Just Cora, the rest of you wait outside,” she said, even as her hand signalled something to Cora.

Cora nodded acknowledging her signal while Scott opened his mouth to protest. Ryder shook her head. “Scott, I need to do this myself,” she said. “Cora needs to hear this because this has wider implications than a fucking chip in my head.”

Scott didn’t budge but he didn’t speak. His face a look of the famous Ryder stubbornness. Ryder placed her hand on his arm and squeezed. “Please.”

Finally, Scott looked away. Cora’s heart clenched. He looked defeated and ashamed at the same time. She forced herself to look away and followed Ryder into the room. Ryder’s face had hardened, all the softness she had when speaking to Scott was gone, buried under the frustration and anger she had for Vidal and her situation.

“Pathfinder,” Vidal drawled his eyes on Ryder. “I never thought to see you again. Not after Havarl.”

Cora could see Ryder’s jaw tightened. She glared at Vidal. Goddess, does he have a death wish?

Ryder took the seat across the table from Vidal. Her hands shook under the table but her face was a stone mask. She wanted answers. “You’re working with Perseus,” Ryder said as she leaned forward, it’s more of a statement than a question.

Vidal just smiled, his teeth white, perfect and gleaming under the artificial lighting. “Glad, you’ve worked that out, Pathfinder,” he said mirroring her action.

Their faces were mere centimetres apart. Nobody spoke. Nobody blinked. Then Vidal seemed to flinch at something he saw in Ryder’s eyes. Cora wasn’t quite sure what he had seen.

“But you’re not quite right there,” Vidal continued after that flicker disappeared behind the mask of bravado. “I’m working for them.”

Ryder’s eyes narrowed. “For?” she repeated.

The silence hung in the air. Cora shifted her weight from one foot to another. Ryder seemed content to let the silence go on and on. Her eyes still pinned on Vidal. The tension was so thick Cora could slice it with her omni blade. Finally, Vidal caved.

“Yes!” He hissed. “What did you think? I was forced out of Kadara, I was on the run!”

Vidal smirked. “I think you can sympathise with that now, Ryder.”

Cora almost walked the three steps that separated them to strangle him, even if it’s just to wipe that smug look off his face.

Ryder’s left hand was clenched and she kept it on her lap while the right was in a relaxed loose palm on the table. Her face was still an impassive mask. Cora let a breath out softly through her teeth when she realised she was holding her breath.

“Touché,” Ryder said.

It seemed like a valve broke within Vidal as words spilled forth. “They approached me,” he pointed out. “And you know what they say, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. They wanted me to make it look good and boy did I deliver, didn’t I? You were looking so good by the end there.”

Every sentence that came from Vidal’s lips was a swing against Ryder’s control. Her jaw twitched, her left hand shook with the strength of her grip. Then her knuckle popped, breaking the lull. Ryder stood as her hand flared a brilliant blue. She slammed her open palm down with such force that the desk had a visible crack in the middle. Cora was instantly on her feet. Her fingers wrapped tight around Ryder’s arm.

Ryder’s jerked her arm away, her eyes glaring at Cora. Cora stood her ground, meeting Ryder’s gaze. For a moment, neither of them move. Then from behind the locked door, Scott’s muffled voice came through. “What’s going on inside? Sara! Cora!”

Ryder took a deep breath and sat down again. Once sure Ryder had her temper under control again, Cora walked back to a corner and tapped a message to Scott. She prayed Drack wasn’t about to smash the door down.

Vidal’s laughter rang out. “Ryder, Ryder, Ryder,” he chortled. “Your buttons… it’s just too easy.”

Cora was too far, too slow to stop Ryder. She could only watch. The desk that separated Vidal and Ryder was Pushed to the side. A human fist collided into Vidal’s nose once. His eyes were screwed up in pain as his head rocked backwards. His shoulders shook in what Cora at first thought was pain but when he lifted his head, Cora could tell he was chuckling.

Vidal’s head hung tilted back as blood flowed down his face and shirt. “Pathfinder,” his honey-smooth voice now a dry rasp. “This is who you really are.”

Ryder’s hands snapped out and pulled Vidal’s head by his hair to face her. He winced. “This is what you made,” she spat, her eyes burning into his. “Remember Havarl? You had your fun there, didn’t you? I remember, my body remembers. It’s my turn now.”

Ryder told herself turnabout was fair play as she punched Vidal again and again.

By the time Cora was able to peel Ryder away from Vidal, his face was cut and swollen all over. Still, he never stopped talking, goading Ryder harder with each cutting word. What the fuck was he trying to do? Get Ryder to kill him?

Words came on and on. Perseus sought him out after being ousted from Kadara though they didn’t know about his true identity. “I was more than happy to help them in the charade,” Vidal confessed.

“The entire fucking torture session was a charade?” Ryder asked, her eyes wide.

“Of course! The Cetus chip was the main show and what a show it was. Even Rix didn’t give as good a show as you did! Even though he did get Nakmor Kesh good.”

Ryder turned to Cora who nodded in confirmation. Her bloodied knuckles shook as she tried to control herself. Her rage was burning so hot, she felt like she was being scorched from the inside out.

So I wasn’t the main target but if they had targeted two Pathfinders, it stands to reason they would target the others as well. Tann would never believe that the Leadership would just think Rix and I went crazy. That leaves the others to strike under Perseus’ influence.

“What are Perseus’ goals?” Ryder asked.

That’s the one thing she didn’t get. Perseus had been attacking the outposts, first via hacking attempts then actually attacking them. Is it just a distraction from their true purpose?

Vidal spat, a glob of blood landed on the floor. “Their goals? How would I know? Did they consult me? I am after all just a pawn, a scapegoat for you to chase. They are warned when your team raided their stronghold. They had their eye on you after Ditaeon. At the rate you wreck things, they are sure to up their timetable.”

Ryder gritted her teeth. How much is just said to goad me? How much is actual truth? Vidal is never one to not work an angle.

Perseus might have their eye on her again. Ryder didn’t care. Let them come!

On the other hand, Vidal might be saying things just to say them. Or he was still serving his role, he was put here to mislead them. No, they can’t know we have access to Sloane’s systems.

Ryder’s thoughts went around in circles but there was one thing clear in Ryder’s mind. She needed Nexus to be aware of this. The other Pathfinders needed to be alerted. Rix needed to be checked out. I need the fucking chip out of my head!

Cora motioned her to a side. Ryder walked over trying to keep her strength up. Her bone-deep weariness was like anchors around her neck dragging her to the depths. She had always needed to rest when her episode was over. After the gruelling session with Vidal, Ryder was completely exhausted.

“Are you all right?” Cora asked, eyeing her cautiously.

Ryder nodded but she leaned her weight against the wall. Rubbing her hands over her face, she took a deep breath to steady herself.

“What are we going to do with Vidal?” Cora whispered. “He undoubtedly responsible for your...”

“Fucking torture session?” Ryder completed in a deadpan voice, not bothering to keep her voice low.

Cora couldn’t bring herself to say anything so she just nodded tightly. “Leave him here. There’s nothing he could tell us we can’t get from the others,” she said.

“Really?” She asked in surprise. “You’re just going to let him go?”

“No,” Ryder said. “I’m not letting him go anywhere. He will stay here like this. He’s a worm. He will find a way to free himself.”

Vidal pulled against his restraints. “No, Ryder!” he shouted. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to go!”

Ryder crossed her hands over her chest and just watched. This was the first time Vidal had actually shown distress. He had not batted an eyelid at all the beating that Ryder had given him. Him actually surviving seemed to be a problem for him. Why? Her anger just simmering below the surface as her curiosity got the better of her.

“How is it supposed to go, Vidal?” Ryder growled.

Tears were streaming down his face now. Ryder was reeling. She couldn’t tell what’s true, what’s false when it came to Reyes Vidal. He was a snake, he manoeuvred and schemed. He’s a man of a thousand faces and none of them his own. Is this a ploy? Crocodile’s tears?

“No, not like this,” he cried.

Then, just like a light switch had flipped, Vidal sneered at her. “Look at you, Pathfinder. It’s so easy to play you, like a guitar under my nimble fingers. I wonder if you still look as good as you did back in Havarl?”

Ryder clenched her fists as she returned to her chair. Trying to keep her cool around Vidal was proving to be all but impossible. If anything, Vidal was excellent at getting under her skin, too good. The anchors around her neck pulled and pulled, weighing heavier and heavier with each passing second. Ryder wanted this over and done. Now.

“Sara,” Vidal drawled. “Can I call you Sara?”

Ryder drilled her eyes into him. Her anger had turned into an inferno. She could see Cora in the corner shifting, ready to stop her. Whatever it was she was going to do. Ryder hadn’t quite decided if she wanted to do anything yet. Her body was rigid and still. Still, Vidal talked and talked.

“The screams you made sounded so good. And how you danced for me, Sara.”

Ryder snapped. It was too easy. There was nothing separating Vidal from her rage. With a quick biotic pull on her blade, her wrist snapped the blade open and she plunged it right into his thigh. Vidal screamed. She twisted the blade as she pulled it out again. Her breaths came quick and short. Ryder stood suddenly, her chair tipping over and hitting the floor. With bared teeth, she wiped her blade across Vidal’s shirt. She was beyond words, all she could manage was a feral growl deep in her throat. With a cry of frustration, Ryder pushed Vidal. The chair he was tied to teether on the edge for a second before he fell back.

Standing over Vidal for a second, her eyes flicked over to the corner. Her father was standing there like a sentinel. It was the first time she saw him here. Ryder wasn’t sure if she was just too tired to register his presence or he just decided to put on a show when she was teetering on the edge of turning to what she hated. A fucking torturer.

He was frowning, not in the usual disapproving way but in disappointment. She looked away. Ryder forced herself away from Vidal. Slapping her hand on the holo-lock, the door slid open. Scott and Dex almost fell into the room when the door opened suddenly. Cora was looking at her with an unreadable look in her eyes. Ryder didn’t care what it meant. She probably thinks I’m a monster. I probably am. A monster Vidal made.

Vidal was screaming and screaming as Ryder walked away. The door closed and the sounds grew muffled. If Ryder had bothered to check Vidal over, she might have found a small incision scar just at the base of his skull, hidden inside the hairline.

Lyrics taken from Warrior by Beth Crowley

#the cetus arc #trials of ryder #Mass Effect #mass effect fanfiction #mass effect fanfic #mass effect andromeda #me: a #me:a #me: andromeda #sara ryder #femryder #fem ryder #sisryder #sis ryder #writing #mass effect andromeda fanfic

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