(Disclaimer: All Thunderbirds characters are the property of ITC and licensed by Carlton International Inc.; all rights reserved.)
I would like to thank the cousins Ann, Ellie-Beth and GillyLee for taking a helpless writer under their wings.
(We are Family. That song is the property of Sister Sledge.)
BETAREADER: NO SINGING!! FOR GOSSAKE NO SINGING!!!
AUTHOR: No singing?
BETAREADER: No singing, please!!!
AUTHOR: Oh OK.
Thanks to BETAREADER. She has had a crucial part in this.
Thanks to GillyLee for her encouragement and the forwarding of the kind reactions from the other members of the SSWOR ring.
Thanks again to GillyLee for writing the summary. (But you forgot to spell check it, honey.)
Thanks to Alexander Graham Bell for inventing the telephone.
Thanks to Bill Gates for developing Windows.
Thanks to those persons unknown for developing the modem.
And finally thanks to my parents for………
BETAREADER: AUTHOR, hey AUTHOR! AAAUUUTHOOOORRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AUTHOR: Yes BETAREADER?
BETAREADER: Cut it out, you haven't been awarded the Nobel Prize for literature! It's just a fanfic. Let those people over here read the story. That's what they want, not a resume on the worlds greatest inventions.
AUTHOR: Oh! OK!!
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Oceanic Ordeal.
BETAREADER: I still think this title sucks btw.
AUTHOR: Hush!!
The five Tracy brothers were sitting in the lounge waiting for the things that could………
BETAREADER: AUTHOR, hey AUTHOR! AAAUUUTHOOOORRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AUTHOR: Yes BETAREADER?
BETAREADER: How come there five of them waiting in the lounge?
AUTHOR: What do you mean?
BETAREADER: Shouldn't there be someone up in TB5?
AUTHOR: Why?
BETAREADER: To monitor and alert the Base if there's an emergency somewhere.
The five Tracy brothers: We don't mind being together for once.
AUTHOR: See??
BETAREADER: Yes, but is the space station automated then?
AUTHOR: I don't know. John?
JOHN TRACY: Yes?
AUTHOR: Is the space station automated? What do you think?
JOHN TRACY: I don't think.
AUTHOR: Huh?
JOHN TRACY: I think only what you write.
AUTHOR: Oh!
"Guys, I've got a call for help." Said John.
BETAREADER: AUTHOR, hey AUTHOR!
AUTHOR: Yes?
BETAREADER: Is John psychic or something?
AUTHOR: What do you mean?
BETAREADER: Well, he's sitting in the lounge with his brothers and suddenly he knows that there are people in trouble.
AUTHOR: No, he's in the space station.
BETAREADER: No, look at the first sentence of this story; The five Tracy brothers were sitting in the lounge………
AUTHOR: Yes, but you said I had to put one of them in the space station.
BETAREADER: I repeat, it reads; The five Tracy brothers were sitting in the lounge………
AUTHOR: Oh that, I got to change that sentence yet.
BETAREADER: Ah, and when are you going to do that? Before or after you post it?
AUTHOR: Now, what's that supposed to mean?
BETAREADER: You read all those stories?
AUTHOR: Yes and they're fantast………
BETAREADER: Read the author notes too?
AUTHOR: Yes.
BETAREADER: 'Me Lud', the defence rests its case.
AUTHOR: BETAREADER, that's a very unfriendly thing to say.
BETAREADER: I'm unfriendly, I'm a Scorpion. Now go on with that story.
Four Tracy brothers were sitting in the lounge when the tranquil silence in the lounge was broken by a beeping sound. On one of the portraits on the wall, the eyes began to blink. It was John's portrait.
BETAREADER: Wait a minute, why John?
AUTHOR: Why John? He's the space monitor, isn't he?
BETAREADER: Is he?
JOHN TRACY: Am I?
AUTHOR: OK, what am I doing wrong now?
BETAREADER: Think, logic dictates that John, who's the middle son btw, is the pilot of TB3.
ALAN TRACY: No, he's not. I am, although I take Scott with me as a rule.
BETAREADER: Shut up, kid. Your elders are talking. AUTHOR, you don't need to be an astronaut to sit in a space station. Even I can do that. You need an astronaut to fly TB3.
ALAN TRACY: Hey, but I'm a astronaut!
BETAREADER: Yes kiddo, you are, but not that experienced like John is. Because you're the youngest, you're the one with the least experience.
AUTHOR: But where does it say that John is TB3's pilot?
BETAREADER: Logic, dear AUTHOR, logic! Scott-TB1, Virgil-TB2, John-TB3, Gordon-TB4 and Alan-TB5.
AUTHOR: And pray, tell me my dear, why is John forever cooped up in TB5 then?
JOHN TRACY: That's what I like to know too.
BETAREADER: I can't tell you that.
JOHN TRACY: Hey, wait a minute. I think I'm entitled to know why I'm………
BETAREADER: I can't tell you. First, this story is only PG-13 and second I would be sued if I would say it here on this public page.
JOHN TRACY: Yes but………
BETAREADER: Mail me John and I tell you.
JOHN TRACY: Do I have your addy then?
BETAREADER: As soon as AUTHOR writes that you have it, you will.
VIRGIL TRACY: Hey, that order in which we are named……… Does that mean that I'm the second eldest and John the middle one?
BETAREADER: YES! OF COURSE!! No doubt about it.
VIRGIL TRACY: Really?
BETAREADER: Really!
VIRGIL TRACY: Phew, what a relief. You don't know how disconcerting it is not to know for sure. I mean, with every new story John and I have to wait to find out what our place in this family is.
JOHN TRACY: Yes, it makes me feel as if I have multiple personality disorder.
BETAREADER: No honey, just middle child syndrome.
SCOTT TRACY: OK, so that's sorted out. Now, who's in the space station?
AUTHOR: Alan is.
ALAN TRACY: Now wait a minute, why me?
AUTHOR: Because John got a cuter ass than you do and I can see it better if he's down here.
JOHN TRACY: Uhm………thanks………I think………
Alan looked angry when he gave the particulars of the rescue call.
"A sailing yacht is in trouble in the South Pacific. It's sinking, there's a hurricane approaching them and the only person aboard it who knows anything about sailing was knocked out by the boom."
"OK," said Scott, "Can you tell us their pos………"
BETAREADER: AUTHOR, hey AUTHOR! AAAUUUTHOOOORRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AUTHOR: OMG!! What is it this time?
BETAREADER: Where's Jeff?
AUTHOR: I got rid of Jeff, for a change, OK!?!?
BETAREADER: Oh OK, just a question.
"OK," said Scott, "Can you tell us their position?""No Scott, sorry but they weren't on the air long enough to get a fix. Roughly saying it's 1000 miles southwest of Norfolk Island."
BETAREADER: AUTHOR, hey AUTHOR! AAAUUUTHOOOORRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AUTHOR: *Sighs* What??
BETAREADER: A 1000 miles southwest of Norfolk Island?
AUTHOR: Yes, something like that. Why?
BETAREADER: A 1000 miles southwest of Norfolk Island, that's smack in the middle of Australia's east coast.
AUTHOR: Well, how can I know that? I live at the other end of the world.
BETAREADER: Research AUTHOR, research. Look in an atlas, check the Internet. Spell check!!
AUTHOR: You have a bee in your bonnet about that spell check, haven't you?
BETAREADER: Yes I have! You wouldn't believe the amount of bad spelling that goes on around this site. Some quite funny mind you.
SCOTT TRACY: Excuse me. This is all very interesting, but could we go on with that rescue thing?
Authors notes: So what do you all think of this so far? Shall I continue? Or do I have to crawl back under the stone I came from?
Beta reader's notes: Stop sucking up to your readers. If you have any. Which I doubt. And it would help if an author would listen to his or hers Beta.
Authors notes: And when did I NOT listen to you? You've ruined this story!
Beta reader's notes: Oh no! You did that all by yourself. People, I did my best, don't look at me if you don't like this story.