All I have to say about this is that I like the title.
"Whoa, rough skies."
Gordon was more of a sea legged man. He was really the only one of the family that was of such a disposition. If there had to be a disaster, he would much rather the sea was involved or even the land. It wasn't exactly flying he didn't like.
More like the atmosphere. It was too thin, too temperamental, too devoid of water.
He'd take the sea any day. At least there most vessels couldn't get their systems fried by an idiot's non-equipped craft. At least there you couldn't really fall to your death (as such), or plummet at high speeds. He wasn't dismissing the life threatening dangers the sea could throw at you, no, he was just evaluating the ones he liked less.
Was it wrong to hope that any major disaster call would be a vessel in trouble rather than an aircraft? He thought not.
But then, life was never fair. They already faced one rescue so (because they could never be lucky enough to get a lengthy amount of time off without reasonable payback), life made it two: a horrible two.
Watching a brother fall through the air with no way of ceasing was not what Gordon had planned for the rescue. It shamefully took him a moment to react before he thought of what he could do from his places, stranded in the skies.
"I'm attempting a redock."
There was every chance it wouldn't work. There was every chance he wouldn't be able to make it work. He just had to be glad that it did.
"Virgil, I've slaved you console to mine. I now have control of Thunderbird Two."
"Thanks Gordon."
The sea would always be his preference, but maybe he could come to like the air, just when the skies weren't so rough.
Once again, I hope you liked it.