Thank you to everyone who responded to chapter one - it means a lot. Whirlgirl, thank you (and there's lots of mystery in this one!).
Chapter Two
"I'm still surprised you didn't want to go to Penny's wedding," Jeff Tracy said, trying and failing to make himself comfortable in the jump seat of Thunderbird One. The craft wasn't really built with passengers in mind - even the pilot's seat lacked any real comfort, Scott too concerned with speed to want to slow his 'bird down with any unnecessary weight, even the negligible mass offered by a well-padded cushion.
Scott had long been subjected to comments about his relationship with Penny from his brothers and by now he'd perfected an expression of absolute neutrality whenever the woman's name was mentioned. "Well," he said, checking his instruments and making the tiniest change in course, "She's a good friend, of course, but we can't all go, can we? Virg has to be there to play the piano and you're one of the guests of honour. If I was there as well it would put too much strain on John and Gordon if a call came in."
"I guess you're right," Jeff said. "But you could have gone in my place."
"Penny wouldn't have heard of it," Scott said. It was true, after all. The relationship the woman had with the Tracy brothers might have changed considerably over the past year, but she still thought the world of his father. He knew full well that although Penny had invited every single one of the family, plus Brains and Kyrano, she'd clearly hoped that not everyone would want to attend. It was no surprise that Alan, still grieving for Tin-Tin, had refused, insisting that he'd rather do his stint up on Thunderbird Five, or that Kyrano and Brains had preferred the isolation of Tracy Island, neither man comfortable at lavish social occasions. Virgil had agreed to perform at the ceremony - the middle brother had needed some persuasion, but Scott had managed it, in the end simply begging his brother to save him from the embarrassment of meeting Simon Warrington-Farr and pretending that he hadn't slept with his new bride - and so, with the others needed to man International Rescue, it was down to Jeff to represent the family. Jeff had been a little surprised that his mother hadn't wanted to attend but the woman had insisted she'd rather be on hand to provide comfort to Alan should he need it - weddings were a delicate subject for the youngest brother, his failure to commit to Tin-Tin still playing on his mind almost a year after her death.
What Jeff didn't know, of course, was that his mother wasn't exactly enamoured of Lady Penelope at the moment. How any woman could prefer another man over one of her grandsons was beyond her. She'd been appalled to learn of Scott's involvement with the aristocrat - a drunken one-night stand, of all things! - but she'd had to admit she'd rather liked the idea of the pair of them getting together. But, as much as she'd tried to get her grandson to do something about it, Scott had remained stubbornly insistent that the whole thing had been a mistake and that Penny clearly didn't want to be reminded about it, not when she'd agreed to marry Simon.
As memories of that night flashed through his head, Scott quickly turned back to the controls in the hope that his father wouldn't notice the flush he could feel spreading over his face. He hadn't taken in all that much at the time - he'd been incredibly drunk, after all - but as time had gone by he'd begun to build up a picture of what had happened that night - or at least, what he thought had happened. The trouble was that he couldn't really trust his blurred memories, and he could hardly ask Penny for clarification. If only he could! One thing really did bother him, and he wished he could know the truth. He'd initially assumed he'd been the instigator. He'd been so drunk and desperate that night, utterly exhausted and grieving for the dead girl who had been like a sister to him, blaming himself as Field Commander for not bringing all his team safely home. But now he couldn't help wondering if things had actually been a little different. He seemed to remember Penny being the one to insist that they took things further. In some ways that made him feel better. Not that he thought Penny could ever be pressured into anything, but he'd been worried that he might have taken advantage of their close friendship and the woman's own grief. But, as comforting as the thought was, it had also led to a certain amount of confusion - and Scott Tracy didn't like feeling confused about anything.
One thing he was certain about was that his father would have been none too impressed to find out what had happened. Better he believed that Scott had reluctantly given up the chance to attend a close friend's wedding for the good of International Rescue, than that he knew the truth.
Actually, Scott wasn't sorry to be missing the ceremony. The wedding was going to be quite spectacular, certainly not the kind of event he was comfortable in attending. Virgil, in between bouts of panic, had been full of excitement at the prospect of playing in Westminster Abbey in front of the cream of British society - but Scott had happily joined with Gordon in laughing at the outfits his brother and father were expected to wear. Top hat and tails really weren't Scott Tracy's style - or his father and brother's, if he was honest.
Virgil had been in London for the past few days, practising with the string quartet who would join him in entertaining the guests before the ceremony and whilst Penny and Simon signed the register. He'd kept in regular touch with Scott and it seemed rehearsals were going well. Of course, the fact that the quartet consisted of four very pretty girls had been much appreciated by the middle Tracy, especially since all of them had decided to take pity on the lone American, making a point of ensuring that he was never at a loss for company. Virgil, it seemed, was having a wonderful time.
Sometimes Scott regretted not practising harder at the piano...
"Come on, then!"
His father's voice broke into his reverie and he started.
"Huh?"
"My turn."
Scott stared at his father, keeping his hands firmly on One's yoke.
"You want to fly my 'bird?"
Jeff's glare was spoilt slightly by the way his eyes twinkled, but his voice was firm as he once again demanded to take over the pilot's seat.
"Who paid for this machine?" he asked. "You never used to mind sharing your toys, Scott."
"Thunderbird One's not a toy." Scott was genuinely scandalised.
"She wasn't cheap, either," Jeff said. "Come on, son, move."
Only half-pretending to sulk, Scott slowed the speed of the craft down to something he thought his father would find more manageable, then engaged the auto-pilot to allow them to swap seats.
"This is more like it," Jeff announced, settling himself in. A few experimental swoops later - he had to laugh at Scott's slightly traumatised expression - and he was fully in control.
"Comfortable?" he asked, smiling at Scott's unconvincing reply - after all, when would any of his sons admit to the slightest flaw in their beloved Thunderbirds? - then accelerating rapidly until the craft had reached a speed beyond the capability of any other aircraft in existence. He rarely got the chance to enjoy a session at the helm of any of the 'birds, and he had to admit that this was his favourite. He was Air Force through and through, and, as much as he relished the rare journeys he took in Thunderbird Three, the challenge of flying One thrilled him more than anything.
"Had enough?" Scott asked, some five minutes later.
"Not a chance," Jeff told his son. "I'll take her up to the new base, you can land her."
The new base was a remote island in the middle of the Atlantic, originally intended to house a second set of Thunderbirds and a new crew. But after Tin-Tin's death, the plans had been set aside, no one having the heart to take on the training of new personnel, or to risk sending others to their deaths in the course of a rescue. However, it had been decided that an Atlantic base where the 'birds could lay up when they were on call in that part of the world would be useful, and so a hangar had been created in which One and Two could be housed, along with all the equipment needed to service the craft. There were also basic living quarters, nowhere near as sumptuous as the villa on Tracy Island, but more than adequate for the short periods of time anyone would be stationed there.
Scott wouldn't be spending any time there on this occasion, simply dropping his father off so that the man could fly to London in the jet the family kept there for use on occasions when they were travelling as Tracys rather than International Rescue operatives. Not that the 'birds were often used for commuting, but Jeff had been tied up in business meetings up till now, so had insisted on the lift in One rather than taking a more traditional means of transport.
Watching as the smile on his father's face grew ever larger, Scott couldn't help wondering if his father had just been looking for an excuse for a joy-ride.
"We should-" Jeff broke off as the craft suddenly lurched sideways, struggling to regain control and keep the 'bird stable.
"What did you do?" Scott ignored all safety protocol, snapping his safety belt open and hurrying to his father's side.
"Nothing!" Jeff snapped, the strain of keeping One in the air bad enough, without having his piloting skills questioned. "There's some kind of mechanical fault."
"She was in perfect working order when we left," Scott told him. "Let me back at the helm, Dad."
Jeff wanted to argue, but commander won out over father and he reluctantly ceded control to the more experienced pilot. There were a couple of tense moments as they waited to see how the 'bird would respond, but all seemed well, and, with no further problems, they began to relax. Scott couldn't help thinking he should have kept a closer eye on his father. Thunderbird One was no place for amateurs, even if she wouldn't have existed without them. His father must have done something wrong - unless his 'bird had just been sulking because he wasn't the one flying her.
With this irrational, but comforting thought, Scott was about to make some cheeky comment about his father's piloting skills, when it happened again. This time, a loud clunk accompanied the dramatic lurch to the right, and Scott suddenly had a real fight on his hands to keep his 'bird in the air.
"Told you it was nothing to do with me," Jeff muttered through gritted teeth as he reached for the radio.
Scott said nothing, instead slowing his 'bird down to a more sedate five hundred miles an hour and checking the distance to the new base. Twelve minutes, he thought. Surely One would behave herself for that length of time. She seemed stable enough at the lower speed, but, with none of the instruments indicating any problem, it was a mystery as to what was going on. He wanted to be on the ground just as soon as he could, and for the first time ever, he found himself feeling relieved that his father had ignored his objections and gone ahead with the new island base. Scott didn't exactly have fond memories of the time he'd spent there and he'd had no wish to revisit the place. But right now, there was nowhere on Earth he'd rather be.
John and Alan kept in close contact throughout the rest of the flight, and it was clear they were worried as Scott brought One in for landing. Jeff held his breath as his son slowed the craft right down, then began his descent. He had to admire Scott's skill in handling the machine as they settled gently on the ground with no further mishap.
Scott was out of the hatch and on the ground almost before Jeff had unclasped his safety belt. Climbing down the ladder, he looked for his son, finally spotting him crouched down and gazing up at the underside of one of the Thunderbird's thrusters.
"What's the problem?" he asked, making his way over.
"Looks like a bolt came loose and punched a hole in the fuselage," Scott said, the irritation in his voice clear. Things like this shouldn't happen, not given the strict inspection and maintenance all the 'birds underwent. "Did a bit of damage to the propulsion unit by the look of it."
Jeff said nothing, but it was clear he wasn't happy.
"I can fix it," Scott said. "There's everything I need in the hangar. But it'll take a while, especially if I'm single-handed. I won't be heading home tonight."
"I'd stay if I could," his father told him. "But I promised Penny I'd be at her party this evening and the wedding's tomorrow..."
"Don't worry, Dad. You go and have a good time."
"Maybe Virgil could fly back and give you a hand. He could get back in time for the ceremony."
Scott considered this for a moment. The repairs would certainly be completed more efficiently if his engineer brother was involved, but then Virgil was having the time of his life right now and, although he'd dutifully come traipsing over to the new base if he had to, Scott knew his brother had been in desperate need of this break. He couldn't take that away from him. And anyway, all it would take was one mistimed connection of hammer and finger and Penny would be looking for a new pianist. No, he'd fend for himself on this miserable piece of rock. Now that he was safely on the ground all his old antagonism for the place had returned. Did it ever stop raining here? he wondered.
"I'll sort it, Dad," he said. "If a call comes through, Johnny and Gords will have to handle it. I can co-ordinate from here if need be. It'll be fine."
"Well, if you're sure. Any problems, have Gordon fly Brains over in Two. And keep me informed."
"I'll do that. Got the presents?"
Jeff disappeared back into One, returning a few minutes later with a suitcase and a couple of large packages. "All set. Take care, son."
"You too. See you in a few days."
Scott watched as his father's jet disappeared into the distance, then turned back to One. "Right then, you," he said, patting her helm affectionately. "Let's get you fixed up. Then I'm checking every last inch of you - who knows what other damage my father has done?"
