Egg-scuses
Sometimes we leave too much behind when we grow up. And sometimes we just need a convincing enough excuse to take it with us…
This is a fan-fiction based on the television series Thunderbirds. Characters and situations belong to the copyright holder and are used without permission.
This is just a little Easter silliness that I couldn't resist when it came to me this afternoon.
The morning dawned fair and clear. The ocean-scented breeze might lack the crisp bite of a spring morning in distant Kansas, but the tropical sun shone down on orchids as vividly colourful as any daffodil, and the air, still damp from the storm just-gone, carried a rich, organic smell. A promise of sunlight and new life in the months ahead.
Standing on his balcony, breathing deeply, Virgil stretched. He grinned as he rolled his shoulders, looking out across the jungle below. The clear blue sky glowed, the landscape lit with a clarity of light Tracy Island only ever saw after a storm. All the colours seemed brighter, clearer. It was ideal painting weather – perfect to fill the break Jeff Tracy insisted his sons take on Easter Sunday.
His fingers twitched, as if they felt the coarse wood of brush-handles against their tips. He glanced back towards the part of his quarters where he kept his painting supplies, his mind already sorting through the canvases he had in stock as it tried to decide on the perfect composition. A scene swam in front of his eyes, vibrant colours against a background of rich chocolate brown.
His stomach rumbling, he shook his head ruefully. Painting would have to wait. A little regretful of the delay despite his growing anticipation, he turned back into his room and hurried to bathe and dress. The rest of the family would already be at breakfast, impatient for him to join them. The sooner he did, the sooner they could all get started on the task that made this one day unlike any other.
He glanced again at his paint and canvases, promising them that he'd be back as soon as he could. But he wouldn't miss this morning for the world.
- xx -
Alan and Gordon were virtually bouncing in their seats, looking like small kids rather than men in their early twenties. Scott was sitting still, but there was a certain tension in his posture, a readiness that Virgil generally saw when his eldest brother was waiting for a rescue to begin rather than over the breakfast table. Their father and grandmother were watching with ill-concealed amusement, taking their time over the holiday breakfast and greeting Virgil pleasantly. Despite his own eagerness to get on, he couldn't help teasing. One eye on Scott, he took a few seconds longer than strictly necessary to fetch a bowl of fruit and a small stack of pancakes from the supply Kyrano had left on the kitchen table.
His brothers watched as if they couldn't imagine why anyone would want breakfast, despite the mute testimony of the empty plates in front of them. The two younger men were restless simply because it was Easter morning, and their excited memories of childhood were yet to fade. The irritation in Scott's expression wasn't due to any particular delight in the holiday… or not as such. It was rooted firmly in the longing looks he kept throwing towards the larder and the small fridge that Grandma forbade them to open. Virgil couldn't help smiling. Scott had the sweetest tooth in the whole family. He was twice their grandmother's size, and easily capable of getting past her, but he'd no more think of taking what waited in that fridge than Alan, Gordon or Virgil himself would. All four of them knew they had to earn it first.
Eyes dancing with amusement, Virgil decided to spare his brothers. He rushed through most of his fruit salad, and stuffed half the pancakes into his mouth, reaching at the same time for the coffee mug Gordon had already filled for him. A glimpse of Grandma's face brought him up short and he caught his father's eye in a hurry, eager to head off the frown developing in response to his eating habits.
Jeff Tracy returned his look blandly, to all appearances oblivious to his sons' urgency. Even so, Virgil heard his younger brothers catch their breaths as their father shook out the newspaper he was reading, folding it and placing it on the table beside him. Jeff kept his expression gruffly neutral as he started the conversation they'd had every Easter morning since Alan started high school.
"Well, what are you boys planning to do with yourselves this morning?"
As if he didn't know. But this was an old game, one they'd played for almost as long as Virgil could remember.
Scott leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest in an effort to disguise his anticipation.
"Well, I thought the fellas and I might take a hike around the Island," he offered as an opening gambit.
Alan and Gordon waited with bated breath, and Virgil felt his own back tensing, mug poised halfway to his lips. The next move in this complex dance was Grandma's, but even after all these years, they still never knew quite what form it was going to take. The petite, grey-haired woman sipped her tea, her expression sanguine in the face of sidelong looks from her son and elder grandsons, and more overt stares from the youngest boys.
The silence stretched out, one heartbeat, two.
Virgil felt his nerves stretching with it. He finished raising his mug to his lips and almost choked on an overlarge mouthful of the hot coffee. Scott leaned over, giving him a solid thump between the shoulder blades, but Virgil's heart wasn't sinking because of his discomfort. Surely Grandma hadn't forgotten? After all these years, she wouldn't stop… Surely she couldn't think they wouldn't want… He braced himself, shaking off Scott's help. No. She wouldn't let it get this far before saying something.
"That sounds like a good idea, Scott," he offered hopefully between splutters.
"Well now," Grandma's voice fell into a sudden silence. "Doesn't it just? After all, Easter is such a sweet time of year." The emphasis on the word 'sweet' was subtle, but unmistakable nonetheless. Virgil saw Scott breathe just a little easier, and felt the tightness in his own chest ease. "And you boys want to keep your fitness up… there're so many tempting things to eat on a long holiday afternoon."
She sipped her tea again, giving no sign that she was aware of the electric effect of her words on the group around the breakfast table. Gordon rocked back a little in his seat, and then forward again in the face of stern looks from his father, grandmother and eldest brother. His front two chair-legs hit the polished wood floor with a clatter.
"I'm up for a hike," he suggested, nudging Alan.
"What? Oh! Yeah, Grandma. Got to keep fit."
Scott's hand had settled on Virgil's shoulder as his coughing fit eased, and he could feel it trembling slightly. Scott was almost as impatient as their little brothers, just hiding it a lot better. Grandma smiled serenely. She'd as good as told them she was playing. Now they just needed her to give them the rules of the game.
When they'd been small, it had been easy, and Grandma's orders had been unquestioned. A simple instruction, a straightforward task to be completed. Since Alan grew too old to provide a justification, and Scott first left home, the family matriarch had been forced to become more imaginative. Where she hadn't been able to reach the boys herself, she'd found others to be her hands and feet. Initially sceptical of the fragile-looking elderly woman, base commanders, college friends, academics and astronauts had all found themselves yielding to her will of iron and total determination not to let her grandsons down. The list of those co-opted over the years into the complex web of tradition, deceit and self-delusion that was a Tracy family Easter morning included names that would shock and amuse half the nation.
Commentators, looking back on one Easter Sunday motor race, still had no idea quite why Alan had taken a detour along a service road on his victory lap. Not even the most eagle-eyed of them caught what Alan had spotted there and family duty compelled him to collect. As an Air Force Major Scott had resigned himself to missing out on the tradition. He'd set off on his 'search and recovery' mission, dutifully ignoring the date, before discovering that Grandma had been at work again. He'd turned in his find and accepted his 'reward' from an amused lieutenant general, the very same year that John found himself making an unexpected discovery on the surface of the Moon. The entire family were still wondering quite how she'd pulled that one off.
With four of the boys back on the island, together at Easter for the first time in over a decade, Virgil had half-expected her to go easy on them. He should have known better.
"Ah… well, I was wondering if you fellas could, ah, help me with something…"
The voice from the doorway startled them. Brains shifted from foot to foot awkwardly, reaching up with one finger to nudge his blue-rimmed glasses higher on his nose. Jeff Tracy frowned, his gruff voice a little stern.
"Now, Brains. You know I don't make the boys work on holidays."
"Well… ah…" Brains shifted again, glancing anxiously at Grandma. The apparently innocent old lady gave the slightest hint an encouraging nod. Scott's eyes narrowed, and he met Virgil's silent question with a nod of his own. This year, Grandma's Little Helper wore a lab coat and thick glasses. "It's just that I've been w-wanting to test these."
The hesitant engineer held out four devices. Each resembled a compact black radio receiver, with a small circular screen set into the largest side.
"We have so much, ah, trouble with broken signals – w-weak, intermittent, bouncing off r-rock. I think these, ah, devices might help with tracking them. I've, ah, planted four transmitters on the island, p-p-programmed to simulate difficult conditions, each on a different frequency. If the f-fellas are going for an, ah, hike anyway..."
He trailed off, and Scott's hand dropped from Virgil's shoulders.
"Sounds like fun," he said, leaning forward in his seat. How he kept his voice nonchalant was a mystery. "And useful too. There's one each. We can make a competition of it. See which of us finds our… transmitter first."
Virgil nodded, trying not to look too eager, aware of the enthusiastic expression on Gordon's face and the continuing confusion on Alan's. "How big are they, Brains?"
Brains held his hands up, as if cupping something small, round and about the size of a goose egg.
"I've, ah, painted each one in a bright colour," he offered with a shy smile. "To make them easier to spot when you find them."
Comprehension dawned on Alan's face like a new-risen sun.
"We'll help, Brains," he offered, jumping to his feet.
Jeff Tracy stood too, visibly amused, but with just the faintest hint of disappointment in his grey-blue eyes. "Very well, then." He hesitated. "Ah, are you sure there's nothing I can do to help?" he asked a little tentatively.
Brains started, as if only now realising he'd forgotten something. Juggling the four radio receivers into one hand, he reached into the voluminous pocket of his lab-coat and pulled out a fifth. "Actually, ah, Mr Tracy. I seem to have misplaced my prototype t-transmitter. It has to be around the house s-s-somewhere – rolled under a table perhaps. I was, ah, going to l-look for it."
Jeff Tracy's expression brightened. He had a predatory gleam in his eye as he stepped forward, scooped the device out of the engineer's hand and examined it closely. "I can do that," he declared. "After all, if they boys are… working. I shouldn't just - "
Grandma laid her tea-cup down in its saucer with a decisive click. Every eye in the room followed as the diminutive woman stood, crossing towards the larder and vanishing out of sight for a moment.
"Do sit down, Brains, and for mercy's sake eat something," she called over her shoulder. "You're nothing but skin and bones."
A second later she reappeared, something foil-wrapped and unmistakably egg-shaped cupped in her hands. "Why, I've got just the thing right here," she murmured as Brains dropped into his seat with a satisfied air and she laid her prize in front of him. "Happy Easter, Brains dear."
She raised an eyebrow, aware of the rapt attention of her son and all four grandsons. "Didn't you boys have something to go find?" she asked mildly.
Virgil jumped to his feet, catching his chair awkwardly as it threatened to tumble backwards. Rounding the table, Scott had already claimed the four radio receivers and was sorting through them. Virgil caught the one that came flying in his direction one handed, flicking it on and examining the screen as he tried to figure out how to use it.
Hmm, looked like he had a way to go. He'd need the rock-climbing gear and his good boots. Around him, his brothers scattered, each intent on their own hunt. Virgil moved a little more sedately, letting his breakfast settle. Maybe he ought to pack his waders. The streams he'd be passing must be running bank-full, the usually-feeble waterfalls spectacular after the downpour. He'd take his sketchbook and pastels too, catch the light before it faded. He might not be the fastest home, but he suspected that Brains was in no particular hurry to get his transmitters back. He'd just be glad to know the tracking devices worked. And Grandma would be pleased too, whenever Virgil returned, brightly-painted, goose egg-shaped transmitter in hand.
And, he couldn't help speculating, she might even have a reward for him.
- xx -
The End