My entry for the 2014 Tracy Island Writer's Forum Pick-a-Prompt Challenge.
Special thanks to Samantha Winchester for taking the time to beta this and for putting me through my paces, though I think we can only count this as a warm-up lap!
Also, to give credit where credit is due, huge thanks and big hugs to one of my best friends, Emily, for putting up with my incessant rambling about this! What an enthralling discussion that was over Facebook about possible ideas for a few favourite prompts! I know it's nothing like what we initially discussed but I still owe you for getting the ball rolling for me :D
Disclaimer: I don't own Thunderbirds and some dialogue lines have been borrowed from pilot episode Trapped in the Sky – so any aspects you recognize are not mine.
There was a soft pop as the fluorescent yellow ball collided with the racquet, bouncing easily off the nylon gut before its short flight ended with a rebound off the wall. A squeak of sneakers followed, then another pop and rebound as the one-sided game continued.
Alan Tracy had been down in the tennis courts for an hour already, keeping with the tradition of playing his weekly game despite the absence of his usual partner – though later that day, at last, she'd be back with him. However it still made for a good game, playing against the wall. Hitting the sphere of fibrous felt back and forth with varying degrees of strength and distance; hard and far away enough to be considered a viable workout without an actual human opponent.
The rhythmic combination of noises stopped at the commencement of the emergency klaxon, and the ball, suddenly unopposed, flew half way across the room before smacking to the floor and rolling away.
At first the blond figured it was just another drill, until the sharp sound of his father's voice echoed around the court demanding he head up to the lounge for the briefing. He acknowledged, before quickly changing and heading back up to the villa.
Entering the room his eyes flickered to his father, who was occupied talking to John's live portrait on the wall. As his back was turned, Alan took the opportunity to quickly sidle in, taking up a stance behind Virgil who was seated on one of the couches. Not a moment too soon, as a second later John appeared to mutter a farewell before the screen became its painted counterpart and Jeff turned to face them.
"Okay, boys, that's the briefing. It's our first assignment so make it good. As you know your uniforms are in your craft and must only be worn on call."
Alan understood this all too well; they'd been over this part of a pre-rescue briefing many times. His father didn't need to say it, but it was for a routine purpose. For his peace of mind, a way of looking out for them and still being a father whilst staying the professional commander of the rescue organisation. It reminded Alan of the times back when he was little and his dad sent him off to school. He, or Scott, whoever it was, would call out at the last minute something along the lines of 'your lunch and juice bottle are in your bag'. Something that to a pre-teenaged kid sounded completely unnecessary, having seen said parent or older brother put the objects into his backpack minutes earlier, and yet they still said so. It was just their job, their obligation.
"Right, Father," Scott responded, tearing Alan from his reverie.
"Okay, Father," he said, humoring him, so as to not seem out of place.
"Sure thing, Dad."
"Yeah, Father," his brothers echoed.
"Okay, Scott, away you go. Keep in touch," Jeff Tracy, now in full base commander mode, ordered.
"Yes, sir."
Alan watched as his eldest brother made for the lamps on a concealed rotating panel in the wall next to their portraits, hidden behind which was Thunderbird One, a hypersonic rocket. International Rescue were off on their first mission, and Alan felt a gush of emotions overwhelm him for a split second.
"Good luck, Scott," he called out, as his brother disappeared from view.
Jeff turned his intense gaze toward his youngest. "Now, Alan, I know you're going to be even more worried about Tin-Tin that the rest of us are, except Kyrano, of course, but I assure you we're going to do everything we can."
That was the point when Alan realized he had no idea what was actually going on, having missed the entire briefing. "Tin-Tin?" he said, suddenly concerned. "What does this have to do with Tin-Tin?"
And that was the moment when his father figured out the same thing. The brief but incendiary argument that followed, caused such fury and upset to course through Alan that he completely missed the sleek silver rocket pass elegantly by, disturbing the view of the sea beyond for just a fraction of a second as Scott began the journey towards his destination: London Airport.
The world seemed to crash around Alan's ears. The unimaginable, the unthinkable was in the process of taking place, and it felt like he had been stabbed in the chest. He remained fixed to the spot, staring dumbfounded at his father.
The expectation of loss of life in a line of work such as a rescue organisation was something he'd have to get used to, that much he knew. But this time there was an exception to be made. Tin-Tin? His best friend and girlfriend, who he was supposed to fly to Tokyo to collect, that was too much for him.
Right now she was on her way home to him after finishing off her studies with a tour around Europe, experiencing numerous languages, cultures and engineering projects before heading back to the island to help with the Thunderbirds. She'd called him earlier, when it had been the early hours of the morning over there, saying just how excited she was to be coming home. But with her flight now likely to blow up upon emergency landing over in London, there was a very real possibility that he would never see her again.
He couldn't lose her, not on the very first hurdle. It wasn't fair.
"I'm going with Virgil," he stated, adrenaline rushing through him.
There was no question about it; he'd go in Thunderbird Two as part of International Rescue and help save her. Didn't he owe her that? He loved her; he couldn't just stay here in the middle of nowhere knowing she was in danger. And what if the worst were to happen? Could he ever forgive himself for not trying?
"No, Alan. Virgil goes alone." Dad replied sternly and Alan snapped, blinkered vision overruling all sense of reason and understanding.
"Take, ah, pod three, ah, Virgil," Brains supplied from his seat beside the desk. "The e-elevator cars are, uh, ah ideally suited."
"Why won't you let me go?" Alan demanded, rounding on the Tracy patriarch.
"I'm not going either, Alan," Gordon chipped in unhelpfully from his left.
Alan only scowled back. "Well, I don't see Fireflash crashing into the sea!" he retorted. "This isn't just an ordinary airliner full of passengers that's in danger, this concerns Tin-Tin, and she needs me. She'll be expecting me once she knows International Rescue have been called!"
"Which is exactly why you can't go, Alan," his dad replied, his normally calm voice shaking with anger at his youngest's insubordination as he slammed a fist onto the desk. "You're too emotionally involved and that could put the entire operation in jeopardy. Scott and Virgil are capable and level-headed enough to handle this by themselves."
"Think about it, Alan." Virgil spoke in an annoyingly quiet voice to his right, and Alan turned to face him, arms folded. The engineer placed a hand on the astronaut's arm in a display of comfort as he fixed him with a steady gaze. "Tin-Tin won't know what's going on, the crew of that plane won't panic the passengers. They'll have no idea what's happening until we bring them down. You're not in the correct mindset right now and it won't do us any good. We all know how much you care for Tin-Tin, and I give you my word that we will do everything in our power to bring her back. You will see her again, okay? Remember, everyone on this island loves her, too."
Despite those words that he knew were true, fury and defiance still burned strong within Alan. He was being treated like a kid again and he hated it. None of them thought he could handle himself out in the field; none of them were prepared to give him a chance. How was he supposed to be part of the team if this was how they treated him?
He was so immersed in his inner thoughts that the shrill beeping from the wall indicating a communications link made him jump out of his skin.
"Go ahead, Scott," his dad acknowledged, which only served to make Alan even more furious. Scott calling in was yet another reminder of what he was missing out on, another reminder of what he was being held back from.
The next thing he knew, Virgil was striding over to the rocket portrait on the left hand side, which concealed the chute that would take him to the cockpit of Thunderbird Two, standing with his back against it and arms by his sides. To any ordinary person, Alan mused, his artistic brother would look kind of stupid; that was, until they witnessed the entire six foot tall portrait flip backwards with Virgil still upon it. It never failed to amaze him every time he saw it, though he'd never admit that out loud in a million years.
Part of him wanted to storm right there and then over to the passenger elevator and prove everyone in his family wrong. But he knew that before he'd taken so much as a few steps Gordon would be on his back, preventing him from going anywhere. Resigned to his fate of just having to sit around, mope and wait, Alan turned and flopped noisily onto the couch that would, under different circumstances, have taken him down to Three.
Leaning back stiffly into the comfy leather with a disgruntled sigh, he found he was nowhere near ready to relax, not until Tin-Tin was back safe and sound. Standing up again, every muscle in his body tense with worry and anguish, he heading down to the aircraft hangar. He had over an hour before the rescue operation would begin and while he knew he couldn't actually go anywhere productive, he just had to get off the island.
Tracy One stood silent and proud in the dimly lit hangar as Alan entered, flicking switches on the walls to reopen the hangar doors following Thunderbirds Two's departure, and allow the daylight to come streaming in. A deliciously warm breeze tickled his face and legs as he made his way over to the staircase to take him up to the cockpit.
He hadn't told anyone where he was going. They would no doubt freak out if they knew, thinking he was going to do something stupid. And while yes, he had thought about it on the way down, even he knew it was reckless and completely pointless.
But a simple joy ride to help relieve some stress, who could argue with that?
"Hey kiddo, going somewhere?"
Well, Eyes in the Sky obviously thought he could.
He activated his watch and treated John to his best what-have-I-done-now? look. He knew John's technological capabilities far exceeded his own but finding out his brother had obviously used Five's tracking systems to locate his exact position from twenty-two thousand miles away only to berate him, annoyed him.
"Can't a guy get any privacy round here?"
"Hey, relax, will you?" John said lightly. "I know you're not going anywhere. Virgil suggested I keep an eye on you in case you did anything dumb. I reminded him that a) Three would be way too conspicuous and b) Tracy One is far too slow."
Alan grumbled under his breath. Was he seriously that predictable?
"I thought I'd take a few spins around the island. No racetracks round these parts."
"And I'm calling in to update you on the situation," John replied, calm as ever. "So far all aerobatic maneuvers to dislodge the bomb have failed, and it seems London's next scheme is to put a pilot aboard via an RAF TX204 to see if he can do anything. They're in the air already."
"Like that's going to work!"
"But they've got to be seen to be doing something, Alan, for the sake of the crew and passengers, and because they need to know they're doing everything they can short of just blowing it up in the air or forcing it to land. There is a miniscule chance the guy can disable the bomb but if I'm honest I don't think it'll work."
"Thanks for your support, that's a great help!" Alan retorted indignantly.
"Scott's half an hour out and Virgil is twenty-three minutes behind him. They'll figure it out, Alan, there's still time. Scott aims to have the Fireflash down in the next hour as that's when the radiation safety factor expires."
"Have you heard anything at all from Tin-Tin?" It was a desperate question he knew.
"I'm sorry, Alan," John said quietly, as if he had heard Alan's thoughts. "You know she'd never risk giving away her connection to International Rescue like that."
"I know, I know," Alan sighed, beginning the preflight checks as their conversation continued.
"I can stream the transmissions though, straight to you in Tracy One. It'll be one-sided so no one can hear you, but you'll still be able to hear how the operation goes."
He ran a hand through his hair before nodding, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Thanks."
"No problem. If you still want that joy ride you've got twenty-five minutes."
John disconnected, but it wasn't long before the jet's radio kicked in and the communications between the TX204 and Fireflash echoed around the cabin, allowing Alan to listen to the current rescue attempt before International Rescue arrived on the scene.
"Okay, Fireflash. Hold her dead steady and maintain low safe cruising. Any adjustments that need to be made can be done from our end. Bob Meddings, who is making this attempt, may contact us both on this frequency."
"Roger, now at low safe cruising and steady."
"Here we go."
Although by now he had completed the preflight checks, and the small jet was air-ready, the astronaut no longer felt like flying. Instead he remained in the pilot seat, staring out at the expanse of blue sky beyond, sending hopes and prayers that the advanced technology they'd been busy preparing over the last few years was ready to face up to the challenge, and be able to save the Fireflash and everyone inside. But most importantly, save the one person who had been constantly on his mind for the months she had been out of his reach.
Sixty-three minutes later and he was still sitting there, shaking with elation and relief in the realization that somehow, almost impossibly, everything was okay. International Rescue had succeeded in their first mission and were now known to the world.
And he would see Tin-Tin again.
Inhaling deeply to calm himself, the grin on his face never faltering, Alan switched off the radio and made his way out of the small aircraft. Virgil was also fine save for a few bruises, and the astronaut made a mental note to tell both of his eldest brothers how much he owed them. But as he headed out of the hangar, he remembered something even more important that sobered his expression. He had a very important apology to make.
Prompt 2: "He hadn't told anyone where he was going."