Stu Kopecki looked up from his computer screen. It had sounded like a knock at his door, and even though he'd been expecting it, the rap had been so soft, he wasn't positive he hadn't just imagined it. When the sound came again, he got up from his chair with a smile on his face. Striding through the house, he flung open the door and beamed at the young man on his doorstep.
"Gordon! Come on in!"
Gordon Tracy returned the wide smile and reached to shake his old mentor's hand. "Mr. Kopecki, it's been way too long!"
"I've told you before, son, call me Stu. Mr. Kopecki just reminds me that I'm a doddering old man."
"Yeah, I just hope I can dodder like you. You're looking good. Really good."
Stu pulled himself up tall. "Thank you. You're not looking as bad as I expected. From what your Dad said, I half expected crutches, or a walker at least. Speaking of which, come on in here and have a seat. Is that the upgrade software?"
"Yes, sir. Johnny said to tell you to call him when you're ready to load it and he'll walk you through it."
Stu watched critically as the young man moved to the couch and sat down. He was relieved to find no indication of the injury Jeff had told him about a few days earlier. It was that sprained hip that had changed the planned trip by John to upgrade Stu's IR radio set up.
Stu had become an International Rescue Operative almost a year earlier when a tornado had crushed a building at the high school, and the Thunderbirds had been called out for the rescue. He had been amazed to find the rescuers to be the sons of his childhood friend, Jeff Tracy. The eldest son, Scott, had asked Stu to keep their secret, and he had consented, then after a conversation with Jeff, had signed on as an operative.
He hadn't regretted his decision for an instant. His duties were minimal, and the rewards, including occasional visits by the Tracys, were great. Although, when Gordon had been a last minute replacement for John's scheduled visit, Stu had found himself caught up in what he was sure was some sort of scam.
"Are you doing okay? You don't seem to be limping or anything."
"I'm fine. You know how Dad is, a paper cut is a major injury as far as he's concerned. I've got a big ol' bruise, but even that doesn't hurt much. I was just happy that it happened when it did. Gave me an opportunity that I didn't think I'd get."
"So, how was the wedding?"
"It was great. I saw a lot of people that I hadn't seen since I left the service. It's always good to talk to old friends, you know?"
"Actually, I do. Now, why don't you explain to me what you want that damn prop for?"
Gordon's eyes lit up. "Is it here? Does it work? How does it look?"
Stu sighed. "I don't know. I haven't opened the box." When Gordon jumped to his feet, ready to go look, Stu shook his head. "Oh, no you don't. I want your solemn promise, Gordon. I want your solemn promise that this isn't going to come back and bite me in the rear."
Gordon batted his eyes in a show of innocence. "Why, Stu, you know me better than that. I'd never implicate you in anything I'm doing. Besides, it's going to be a nice thing. Honest."
"Funny, but that sure didn't sound like a solemn promise to me."
Gordon immediately sucked in his smile and raised his hand in a Boy Scout salute. "I hereby promise that this will not come back and bite you in the rear. On my honor as a Boy Scout. And as a Tracy. And as a former W.A.S.P. Oh, and as an International Rescue Operative. How's that?"
Stu shook his head ruefully. "You forgot the stack of bibles and the Constitution."
"Okay, I swear on…"
"Enough. Let's go take a look at this thing."
"Great! Where is it?"
"It's out in the shop. Come on."
The two men left the house and made their way to a small outbuilding where Stu did his woodworking. Unlocking the padlock, Stu ushered his guest in, flicking on the overhead lights as he followed. In the middle of the shop sat a polystyrene crate.
Gordon frowned. "It's smaller than I expected it to be."
Stu shrugged. "I double checked the bill of lading, and this is the right box. One used movie prop complete with handheld remote control. Let's open it up. Maybe they packed the wrong piece."
The two men approached the crate, and together, unsnapped the fasteners and lifted off the top, which proved to be it's own shallow compartment holding a thick pamphlet of instructions, and a fist-sized remote control with several switches and toggles.
"Cool." Gordon reached for the remote.
Stu picked up the pamphlet, and opened to the first page. "Oh," he said with mild surprise. "This is interesting."
"What?" Gordon moved to look over Stu's shoulder.
"Uh, let's get the side here opened up."
"Huh? Oh, okay." Still curious, Gordon moved with Stu to unlatch the side of the crate. When they removed the side panel, Gordon frowned. The entire crate appeared to be filled with a gray brown mass of fur.
"Push the blue button on the remote, son."
Gordon glanced over at his friend, then picked up the remote from the table where he'd placed it, and pointing it squarely at the fur, pressed the blue power button. The fur seemed to twitch, causing Gordon to jump back. Then in an intricate move, the fur started unfolding itself, until after a few minutes, a full-sized replica of a reindeer stood in front of the two men.
Gordon, who's smile had gotten wider and wider as the animal had taken shape, started laughing. "Oh, that is just so cool!"
Stu had his own smile and shook his head in amazement. "It's astounding how realistic it is."
"Yeah. It's amazing what they can do these days. From the catalog description, it can pull a sled and everything."
"Well, it should for how much it cost you."
"I know. It was serious money. But I figure once I'm done with it, I can use it to deliver gifts to children's hospitals and things. It won't just sit, I promise you."
Stu nodded, knowing full well just how generous the Tracy family was. "Here, let's see if we can put it through its paces."
With a grin, Gordon joined Stu in reviewing the instructions. Soon, they had the robotic reindeer breathing and shaking it's furry head in standby mode, and walking and nuzzling their hands in full active mode. The afternoon flew, and both were sad to see it fold itself back into the crate at the end of the day.
Merry Christmas!