A/N: Hey guys. Last Chapter ( XD or :'( as preffered). Longer note to follow. Hope you enjoy.

Silence hung in the air. It stretched for an eternity. It struck John that the situation was just as tense for the Chinese astronauts. They did not know how many staff International Rescue posted on Thunderbird 5, nor how what weapons they had. John leaned around his box for a moment. He saw the second Chinese astronaut, stuck by Velcro to the floor, aiming his rifle. Too late John realised his mistake, and a huge force smashed into his right shoulder, throwing him backwards. John had the sense to roll behind his box. John grimaced; the impact with the floor was excruciating.

John had dropped his handgun, and reached for it with his right arm. As he shifted his shoulder, it seemed to light on fire. John snarled, cradling his right arm. The Chinese astronauts were also apparently using hollow point rounds. The bullet had expanded inside John's shoulder and totally wrecked the joint. The bones were smashed, muscles torn, and the bullet still inside. John would no longer be able to use his right arm. Blood stained his blue uniform.

John rotated so that his back was to the wall and his left side was toward the hatch to the science module. He crouched and scooped up his handgun with his left hand. The weapon felt wrong in his left hand. It felt even heavier than usual.

Unseen by John, the second Chinese astronaut holstered his rifle, and with the first aiming his handgun through the hatch at the box John was hiding behind, launched himself toward the open hatch. As soon as he passed through the hatch, he crashed to the floor, landing heavily. The other Astronaut oriented himself correctly and passed through more carefully, having seen his comrade's entrance.

John did not hear the other astronaut, only the one who fell. He stepped out into the middle of the module, fully visible. His arm was already raised, and he started to depress the trigger. The standing Chinese astronaut was faster, and a bullet impacted into John's ribcage. John instinctively bowed over slightly. The motion threw off his already bad aim. It was too late to stop the shot, though, and the bullet impacted into a cylindrical tank.

A few inches to the right was an oxygen tank. If the bullet had hit that, the resultant explosion would have vaporised the two Chinese astronauts and punched a hole the size of a dinner table in the outer wall of the module.

Instead, the tank was filled with non-flammable nitrogen gas. However, the tank was kept at significant pressure, to be able to store more nitrogen. The gas burst from the tank, tearing a gash in the side of the tank. The force of the exiting gas was explosive, and hurled both Chinese astronauts into the opposite wall of the module. John, further away, was only thrown to the floor. His head hit the floor with a snap, and his vision blurred. A soft blackness crept into the edges of John's vision. John knew that if he slipped into unconsciousness, he would not wake up.

John forced himself to rise to his knees. His right hand pressed hard to the bullet wound in the left of his ribcage and his left arm cradled his right. He could hear himself breathing, although it was muted, and sounded far away. John realised the tank rupture had probably damaged his hearing. He did not have the time to worry about that now. He shuffled painfully toward the Chinese astronauts, who were lying very still on the floor.

John reached the first. John saw that the man was still breathing. John painfully rolled the man into the recovery position on his side. Breathlessly, John looked up to see the other astronaut moving woozily. John looked around hurriedly, and saw what he wanted. All manner of items had been thrown loose by the explosion, and a roll of duct tape had landed a few feet away. Thunderbird 5 always carried dozens of rolls of duct tape; its uses were limitless. John scuttled toward the tape, scooping it up.

John's hearing returned in a rush, and his ears were assaulted by blaring alarms. John also noticed the lights were glowing a soft red, bathing the module in a bloody glow.

John turned back to the other astronaut to see the man was rising more purposefully. He slipped the mask off his face, and Jon was shocked by how young the Chinese man was. The young man looked in distress down at his belly. A shard of metal from the nitrogen tank was protruding several inches. A stain spread outward from the shrapnel, darkening the already black material. John started to approach the young man, but the astronaut pulled his rifle off his back, aiming one handed at John.

John raised his left hand, though he kept his grip on the duct tape. His right hand he kept pressed to the bullet wound. The Chinese astronaut screwed up his face in pain, and John saw pinpricks of sweat coalesce into beads. The man grunted. John growled.

"Let me help you," he barked at the man, "I can help you, let me help!"

The astronaut sighed, a sick, wet sigh. He looked at John, and in that moment, John knew that nothing could help the man. John lowered his hand, and the man lowered his gun. He spoke in heavily accented English.

"We were launching a nuclear drop site."

Joh was stunned. The Chinese, deploying nuclear weapons in space?

"A contingency…"

The man coughed, and blood dribbled out of his mouth.

"We jammed all the radio signals in this region of space except the one we used to talk to ground control."

John's mind raced. That was why he couldn't talk to Tracy Island. The other radio signals he could receive because they came from all the relay stations, the multiple sources meant that the signals were stronger than the jamming equipment. Tracy Island, however, transmitted directly to Thunderbird 5 and vice-versa.

John approached the Chinese astronaut. He knelt opposite the man, who was struggling to breathe. John looked the man in the eye. The look had no malice. John's eyes were clear and calm. The Chinese man looked back at John. He stared at John's unblinking eyes, wondering at the many shades of blue. The man exhaled, a great heaving sigh, and lay still. John looked away from the man's eyes as a tear crept into his own.

The other Chinese astronaut was still unconscious. John was reasonably sure that unconsciousness was the only injury the man had sustained. John stripped off his shirt. The shoulder and upper abdomen were crusted with a layer of blood. John bound his ribcage with duct tape. He struggled to breath, but he was no longer bleeding, from his ribcage at least. He then bound the hands of the unconscious Chinese astronaut.

John opened the hatch to the central communication module. He threw himself toward the console and caught himself, left handed. He quieted all the alarms, stopped all the flashing and pulsing lights. Then he noticed one more. A green one, labelled Thunderbird 3 Approach. John sobbed. All the tension and stress of the last few days left his body. All of the adrenaline and panic floated away, wheeling and spinning in the microgravity. Thunderbird 3 had launched, as scheduled, concerned with John's silence. A miscalculation on the part of Alan had delayed Thunderbird 3.

John rebooted the computer system, and opened the outer hatch to the docking assembly. Thunderbird 3 would now be able to dock with Thunderbird 5.

John was going home.