His ragged breaths echoed back to him. Solid stone walls reflected and distorted the sound, magnifying it until the world was filled with the uneven rhythm of his own fear and guilt.
The walls pressed in, cold, hard and unyielding. The cave roof seemed to loom closer. His flashlight's feeble glow didn't reach that far, only sparse reflections from specks of mica in the volcanic rock hinting at the size of this cavern. He made a conscious effort to ignore even that much. He didn't need to see the walls or roof of these caves to know they were there, so different from the open skies, the verdant gardens and earthy scents he loved best. He didn't need to look up at the stalactites, hanging ominously overhead, to know he might be crushed at any second by a weight still more brutal and just as oblivious to his pain.
His breathing hitched, the thunderous echoes of his gasp returning on the cool, damp air.
The urge to get out, to blink in the daylight and breathe air scented with exotic pollens, tree resins and the sharp tang of ocean salt, was almost irresistible. It was hard to remember he'd come here by choice, harder still to face the reasons why.
His flashlight flickered and then steadied, a little dimmer than before. It was reaching its limits, just as he was, and he hesitated before flicking it off. He sank to the hard ground, feeling the black rock leach heat from his limbs even as he folded them under him. He'd delayed for long enough. It was time to stop his trek through this seemingly endless cave system and accept the reality of his situation.
It is time!
Pain and fear filled him. The emotions felt distant and alien, even through he could not deny they came from within. They were wrong, weak… an aspect of everything he'd rejected in this life. There'd been a time, long ago, when that fear was a constant of his lowly existence. No more.
You cannot escape me!
His own low moan echoed off the cave walls. He focussed on the reverberations, forcing his unsteady breathing into a more even rhythm and feeling his racing pulse follow suit. He was more than his fears. He was more than his aching limbs and pounding heart. He was at once something as magnificent as the burning heart of a supernova and something as insignificant as the smallest speck of dirt beneath his feet. He concentrated on the stillness and solidity of the rock behind him, seeking oneness with its steady calm.
It is time! You cannot resist me! Listen to me!
The throbbing of his pulse filled his hearing, and then it began to fade. Familiar patterns of meditation fell into place. Words shaped themselves soundlessly on his lips, prayers and chants focussing his mind as he drew on the core of his faith. Kyrano opened eyes that glowed like ebony pearls, unseen and unseeing. Darkness surrounded him, more total and absolute than any he could find on the island's surface above. Even Thunderbird Five, bathed in Earthshine and watched over by the distant stars, would never know this total, pitch-blackness.
Kyrano! Hear me, Kyrano!
The cave was still now, the whisper of his breaths coming in a slow, even rhythm and no longer with enough force to echo back to him. Instead his straining ears picked out the sounds of the living Earth. Somewhere, deep in the cave system, water trickled – perhaps the last remnants of Tracy Island's scarce rainfall percolating through the rocks, perhaps the all-engulfing ocean finding its way into cracked lava tubes far beneath. Deeper still was a low rumble, felt rather than heard, as magma shifted and the Earth herself flexed, strained and sought release. And above all this, all the sounds that Kyrano accepted as one with himself, part of the natural order, there rose the sound of grinding gears and confined power, yearning to escape. Thunder shook the bones of Tracy Island, felt even this far from daylight and sending vibrations through the air to caress Kyrano's upturned face in the darkness.
He'd feared this. The moment he felt a malevolent mind searching for him, pounding against his spirit, seeking entry and domination, he'd dreaded what might be coming.
His concentration faltered. Fear and guilt returned, redoubled, as the Thunderbirds launched unwarned into more danger than they could suspect.
Kyrano!
The hated voice echoed again through his skull, pressing through his momentary weakness. He felt his half-brother reaching for him, using his own anger and loathing to tighten the chains that bound them ever closer.
No. He concentrated again on the darkness that surrounded him, on the still of the Earth and on the solitude he'd sought out. Only when his heart was calm and his spirit centred did he turn his attention to the other darkness, the one he carried inside.
Hear me, Kyrano! Have the Thunderbirds left? Does International Rescue even now fly into my trap?
All are born to suffering.
It was a noble truth Kyrano didn't question. A teaching he found easy to accept as the pain swelled within him. His resistance had grown over the years, but his half-brother never relented. His efforts earned him only torment as the other's mind flayed his besieged spirit.
How dare you deny me! Kyrano!
The blow flared across his nerves, both physical and spiritual. The echoes of his cry merged and blended, distorting into an unearthly wail. It took a moment to gather himself, to restrain his body's instinct to flee or fight.
The physical pain was not the truth here, and as difficult as it was, it would soon pass. Instead he forced himself to examine the sensation and recognise the suffering in all its forms. He acknowledged his anger at this violation, his dismay at his own weakness, and his sorrow for the half-brother he'd never been able to redeem. He reached beyond himself, and felt the suffering in the mind pressed against his. He felt the rage, the constant yearning and dissatisfaction that drove the man who called himself 'The Hood'. He recognised the drive for vengeance, and grieved to know that whether his schemes failed or found undreamed-of success it would never be sufficient. His brother's suffering was eternal, seated in the same unholy desires that fuelled his power.
Ah. They come!
It was almost worse to hear gloating in that voice than anger. The Hood's amusement trickled through Kyrano's mind like ice water through his veins. An image flickered in front of his eyes: Thunderbird One descending on her rocket thrusters.
They come, Kyrano. For all your efforts, for all your sacrifice and pain, still they come at my summons.
Kyrano shuddered. The glimpse of death and disaster that surrounded Thunderbird One's slender form spoke eloquently of the Hood's callous 'summons'.
Their plans, Kyrano! Tell me what International Rescue plans to do. Tell me how best I may capture one of the accursed Tracy's sons and bind them to my will. Tell me!
Never. He didn't need to vocalise the thought. He felt the Hood's roar of fury at his resolve.
You will obey me, Kyrano. You are at their base, Kyrano – their unsuspected traitor! I must know their plans. You will open your senses to me. Your eyes are my eyes! Your ears are my ears! You will show me all!
Finally a command that Kyrano need not resist. A slight smile played unseen across his lips as he relaxed his efforts that far and no further, reflecting a blackness as thorough and complete as that engulfing the Hood's own spirit back to him.
Another surge of anger, another wave of pain.
And then, more ominously, a renewed sense of gloating satisfaction.
How shall I punish you for this, Kyrano?
The question was far too smug to be anything but rhetorical.
Perhaps since you deny me my desire, I should take yours?
Tin-Tin. Images of Tin-Tin, blue-clad at Mobile Control, her hair freshly-styled just yesterday, her elfin-face as exquisitely made up as it had been when her father last saw her, mere hours before.
It took everything Kyrano had, everything he was, not to give into his fear. He could feel the Hood still pressing, still demanding his compliance. If it became convenient, the mercenary would turn on his half-niece without remorse, there was no doubt of that. But still he'd rather take one of International Rescue's men. That Tin-Tin herself might fly the Thunderbirds she'd helped create was beyond the comprehension of the demon who saw only her delicate beauty and her father's love.
You know their weaknesses, Kyrano. You know how they may be lured… trapped… taken. Give me one of Tracy's sons, Kyrano, and I may yet return your daughter to you.
Do as I command!
All are born to suffering. And suffering is born of desire.
Drawing on all his strength, Kyrano forced himself to meditate on the teachings of the enlightened and face the second noble truth. As guilty as the Hood was of letting greed and delusion rule him, Kyrano was not wholly innocent. His desire for stability, health, warmth and comfort were a form of greed, a denial of the karma, both good and bad, that the Universe rewarded without prejudice. His concern for Tin-Tin was born of ignorance. The calm core of him knew that his daughter was now a grown woman, intelligent enough to recognise a trap and capable of looking after herself. The fatherly possessiveness that refused to accept that was mere selfishness, a yearning not to surrender his child to the mercies of the world.
Flame burned in his mind's eye. Voices cried out. The Hood assaulted him with image after image of the destruction he'd wrought, urging Kyrano to betray all he was simply to make it stop. Occasionally he caught a hint of his half-brother's actions amidst the devastation, his tormentor pursuing his goal in spite of Kyrano's defiance. From time to time there was even a glimpse of a familiar blue. Usually the sight quieted his mind and stilled his fears. Not here, not now.
To his regret and shame, the roiling shadow inside Kyrano mirrored the pitch darkness around him. Born of a deep-seated hatred that grew with each assault on his spirit, that turbulent anger was itself a form of desire – a pale reflection of the jealousy and resentment that drove his half-brother.
Sometimes Kyrano feared he'd never be free of that taint. It seemed his brother would burn out all that was light and free within him, and leave behind only the choking miasma of dark emotion. Now though, Kyrano leaned into the solitude he'd sought out. He drew in a deep breath, relaxing his body as he released it. The world was still and calm around him. The darkness was complete. Sight was useless, sounds muted. Ignoring the strong mind still battering his, Kyrano focused on the caress of cool air against his skin and the feel of the volcanic rock surrounding him.
Here, in this place that once burned with all Earth's fury and now stood calm, strong and steady, Kyrano sought out the third noble truth handed down in the ancient writings – that liberation from suffering was possible.
Strange that so simple a concept could be so difficult to accept. Were greed, delusion and hatred really so integral to his spirit that even the possibility of redemption seemed foreign to him?
He breathed deeply, letting his pulse slow. He was more than base instinct. He looked at the dark mirror held up to him and rejected it utterly.
His brother's cry of anger rang in Kyrano's ears. It faded, the Hood's vice-like grip on his mind becoming tenuous as his meditation became more focussed, more certain.
Kyrano was a simple man. He sought out the middle way, neither indulgent nor unduly self-critical. He did not claim great enlightenment, or that his deeds were always motivated by right intentions. He strove for understanding and wisdom nonetheless. That simple aspiration was enough to drive a wedge between his spirit and the dark and twisted one ensnaring it.
The Hood's fury became distant. Already Kyrano could feel the edges of desperation in his brother's thoughts – his plan was falling apart, lacking the leverage he'd counted on obtaining. He lashed out, the force of the blow wringing a cry from Kyrano despite the fading link.
Kyrano let the pain flow through him and into the solid foundations of Tracy Island beneath him. Humming wordlessly, he allowed the echoes of his own pain to merge with the song of the universe. He accepted his flaws, and those of his brother, without condemnation.
Lost in meditation, he didn't even notice the moment when the Hood fled his brother's burning calm. Here in the darkness, time was meaningless. Pain and anger were left behind. He accepted his fears for his daughter, for Jeff Tracy's sons, and met them with trust – in Mr Tracy, in Brains and in the youngsters themselves. He accepted the blackness in his own soul and strived to surpass it.
Scarlet and pink streaked the sky when Kyrano emerged, blinking, from the depths of Tracy Island. The swift tropical dusk was already fading by the time he stepped into Tracy Island's lounge, refreshment tray in hand, only to pause. Jeff Tracy's gaze was on the balcony doors, and Kyrano's eyes followed, watching a column of flame descend past the reinforced window and listening to the roar of returning Thunderbirds.
"Ah, Kyrano. There you are!" Jeff Tracy's smile and relaxed drawl were more reassuring than any words. "You sure missed a big one this afternoon." His smile faltered a little, the expression in his eyes grave and a little apologetic. "I had to send Tin-Tin out." The smile returned, softened by a father's understanding. "She's just fine. Did us proud. Spotted someone prowling around the Thunderbirds and rallied the troops to see him off." Leaning back in his chair, Mr Tracy chuckled. "For once NTBS didn't complain about not filming the Thunderbirds. They had a field day filming the police chase instead."
Kyrano inclined his head in acknowledgement and thanks for the information. The calm of the cave lingered inside him, the toxic influence of his half-brother once again expelled, his fears not yet fully conquered but better understood and held in check. Even so, a warm glow of relief and joy suffused his voice.
"I am most pleased to hear that, Mr Tracy."
The whir of Thunderbird Two's lift drew both men's attention a moment before Tin-Tin's voice floated through the air.
"I'm sorry, Virgil, but I still believe that man was familiar."
"I kind of agree," Scott rotated into the room just as Virgil and Tin-Tin came into view, his wrist-com active as the three continued their ongoing conversation. "There's something about those eyebrows…"
"But, Scott…"
"Save it for the de-brief, boys." Jeff Tracy shook his head, inspecting each of his sons before looking Tin-Tin over with a smile. Soot coated them and weariness bowed their shoulders, but each carried the knowledge of lives saved and a job well done. "Good work, all three of you. Now, go clean up."
"Yes, Dad."
"Thank you, Mr Tracy."
Virgil and Tin-Tin were quick to leave, eager to rid themselves of the rescue's filth. Scott lingered. His eyes flicked to Kyrano, offering the elder man a fleeting smile, before turning back to his father with a serious expression.
"I'm worried, Father. That fella's a distraction at best. At worst…." Scott swallowed hard, expression grave. "Father, I couldn't rule out sabotage. If he'll do something like that just to draw us out…? I don't know how he knows so much about us, but we're just barely keeping ahead of him. If he ever gets the drop on us…."
Jeff Tracy nodded, steel-grey eyes meeting midnight blue. "Let me worry about that, son. You just get some rest."
The young man sighed, brushing a hand back through his ebony hair before nodding and seeking out his own room. Jeff Tracy stared after his son for a few moments before echoing his sigh and turning back to the media analysis streamed from Thunderbird Five.
Kyrano stood beside him, waiting patiently to assist his friend and benefactor, comfortable in their silent companionship.
He listened to the reporters praising International Rescue and the tearful gratitude of those saved. He heard Jeff Tracy brief his agents, concern in the patriarch's voice as he set them yet again on the trail of their most elusive enemy. Guilt troubled him, his voice freezing in his throat when he so much as thought of naming his half-brother. He set the guilt aside, knowing the day would come when he could speak, and accepting that for now, he was doing all he could. As much as any member of International Rescue, he could be satisfied with his day's work.
Because sometimes lives are saved by a brave team, working together in the harsh glare of daylight. And sometimes they're saved by one man, doing what little he can, all alone in the dark.
