"Well, I think that wraps up the debrief boys." Jeff leant against his desk as he looked at his only two gathered sons. Virgil and Alan were still apparently grounded due to a storm front and John said he'd keep trying to connect with them. So far nobody had heard anything from the two MIA International Rescue operatives. "Go on, get a bite of dinner, grab a shower and get some sleep. You boys look exhausted."
Gordon and Scott nodded their heads slowly as their sleep deprived brains struggled to comprehend just what it was that their father told them. Standing slowly, they both made their way out of the lounge and headed off in the direction of the kitchen. Looks like it'd be chicken salad sandwiches for dinner. Thankfully that was something Scott and Gordon knew how to make since Tin-Tin and Kyrano had gone to bed.
Jeff remained at his desk as he pondered how long the storm would last. It was unusual for a storm to last as long as this one was, it'd been five hours since Jeff or any of his sons heard from Virgil and Alan. The last that Scott and Gordon saw of them was when they were packing up shop in Guyana after the rescue efforts had been completed. A beeping from John's portrait prompted Jeff to take the call.
"Hello John, how does everything look on the rescue front?" Jeff looked at the portrait to see John's pale white features. John's blue eyes were alight with something akin to fear. "John what is it? What's wrong?"
"Dad, I'm afraid we've got two operatives down." John's voice remained shaky as he answered his dad. "I thought they'd been grounded by a storm, but I just received a transmission from TB2. The time stamp on the call was five hours ago."
"What are you talking about John?" Jeff looked back at John seriously; dread filling his chest as he sensed that something was terribly wrong.
"I received a mayday from TB2. A corresponding radio transmission was placed and from what I can gather…they've crashed." John gazed back at his dad through the monitor.
"Please tell me you're joking! Why didn't you get the transmission until now?" Jeff's cobalt blue eyes narrowed in concern and irritation.
"I wish I was joking father, but if you'd like I can play the emergency transmission for you." John sounded very apologetic. Feeling it was reason enough to call it an emergency, Jeff activated the Klaxon to bring his two exhausted sons back to the lounge.
"Wait until Scott and Gordon have arrived then you can play the transmission. If at all possible, please get a lock on their position so we can go retrieve them." Jeff pinched the bridge of his nose as he heard the thundering footsteps of Scott and Gordon racing back to the lounge.
Scott and Gordon both arrived back in record time, carrying their dinner with them. Both looked a bit more alert than they had been a few minutes earlier. Gordon approached his dad's desk, before taking a healthy bite of his sandwich. Scott was in the process of chewing what he had in his mouth and Jeff waited patiently until they'd swallowed before dropping the bombshell. Scott was the first to speak.
"What seems to be the problem dad?" Scott lifted his sandwich to take another bite, but Jeff's lifted hand stopped him from doing so. Gordon swallowed what he had in his mouth and gazed back at his dad.
"Have you heard from Virge and Al?" Gordon and Scott shared a look before sagging in disappointment at hearing their two brothers still had not been heard from.
"No boys. I have not heard from them, but…I do know that their situation is not good." Jeff began.
"Is the storm that bad that the rescuers need rescuing or something?" Scott got a somewhat cocky grin on his face which promptly fell at John's statement.
"Well, it doesn't appear to be the storm that's holding them up. They do need rescuing, but that's because they've crashed. I can't raise them and I just received a mayday and emergency radio transmission from several hours ago according to the time stamp." John closed his eyes as he admitted the reason for his call. "Dad called you two back so I could play the transmission for you lot."
"So then play it! If they're hurt we need to get to them immediately!" Scott set his sandwich down on the paper towel he'd wrapped it in before running back to the lounge with Gordon.
"Okay." John sighed lightly. "Apparently they kept the line open whilst trying to contact Scott and Gordon's watches. This is what was recorded. Playing transmission batch number 984600. Emergency radio transmission from Thunderbird two and operatives three and five.
"Thunderbird 2 to Thunderbird 5…do you copy over?" Alan paused as he waited for a reply. "Thunderbird 5, can you hear me? This is Alan…how do you read?"
"This can't be happening. Try Scott through your comm. watch." Virgil sounded irritated. "Tell him we are in the soup, I am going to need to fly lower."
"Okay." Alan's reply was a little shaky. "Scott, do you copy? Over?"
"What is it Sprout?" Scott's voice rang out loud and clear.
Scott started as he heard his own voice over the recording. He remembered that call. Hadn't that been Alan playing with his watch? Oh dear.
"We're caught in some fog and visibility is at an all-time low. We need to fly lower. Our ETA is going to need at the very least ten extra minutes tacked onto the original estimated incoming time of arrival." Alan replied as calmly as he could.
"Sprout? Did you say something?" Scott's voice was clear, but he'd apparently not heard what Alan said. "Alan, quit playing games…we need you to focus!"
Scott's face fell as he realized that Alan had not been playing around. He'd been trying to contact his eldest brother to notify them of a problem and Scott couldn't hear him. Why hadn't he heard Alan?
"Can you hear me?" Alan started to sound worried.
"Alan, you need to speak up. I can't hear anything you're saying." Scott sounded irritated.
"Scott, it's me Virgil! Can you hear us?" Virgil called from the main pilot's seat. "We are going to fly lower…we can't see!"
Jeff, Scott and Gordon paled when they realized that Virgil started sounding scared just as much as Alan was. Virgil was Mr. Cool as a Cucumber, why would he be worried unless the situation truly was bad?
"Alan, quit playing games and help Virgil pilot Thunderbird 2, call me if ya'll run into trouble. Scott out." Scott disconnected the call. Alan and Virgil could still be heard over the emergency transmission.
"I'll try Gordo. Maybe it was just a bad connection." Virgil dialed in his watch to Gordon's frequency.
"Yo Virge, what's up?" Virgil gave a relieved sigh to hear his little brother's voice sounding somewhat carefree.
"Gordo, do you read me?" Virgil sounded relieved to hear his prankster brother.
"Virge? Did Alan get ahold of your watch? Scott's pretty raving mad over Alan playing with his watch while we're on a rescue." Gordon sounded totally confused, a growl probably from Virgil could be heard as he realized that Gordon couldn't hear him either.
"Gordo can you hear me?" Virgil paused…waiting for reply from Gordon that he'd heard him.
"A little word of advice Alan…quit playing with the watches. Dad will be furious when he finds out you were playing around instead of helping Virgil fly the green bug." Gordon spoke in an admonishing tone to his younger brother.
"But we're not playing with the watches! Can't you hear us?!" Alan cried from the co-pilots seat. He didn't sound mad, he sounded scared.
"Virgil, what is your ETA? We're waiting and dad is getting worried, you guys are late!" Gordon inquired, his voice breaking up slightly from static.
"We are going to be a few minutes late! We are flying in the soup!" Virgil growled back into his watch. How come neither of his brothers was hearing him and Alan and why did base and Thunderbird Five not reply to their calls? A low hum could be heard over the transmission. "Holy Shit!"The transmission briefly cut out, before reconnecting.
"We're going to need to ditch, I have no control!" Virgil cried out.
"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" Alan screeched from beside Virgil. Both the middle and youngest Tracy sons sounded terrified.
"Brace for impact!" Virgil cried out, his strong voice cracking as fear took hold.
"No!" Alan screamed out, a thunderous boom was heard before a cacophony of bangs, screeches and screaming metal was heard. Alan and Virgil continued to scream until suddenly the transmission cut out.
Jeff, Scott and Gordon shared an identical stunned look as they realized that due to equipment malfunction…they'd been virtually unable to save their brothers. Looking up at the monitor, their eyes met John's worried blue eyes.
"Where are they?" Jeff pleaded with John to give them the coordinates of TB2 so he and his sons could go rescue their two members.
"I've triangulated their signal and they've crashed onto a sand bar a couple hundred miles outside of the Florida Keys." John relayed what the coordinates were to his father and brothers.
"But John…I don't understand. Their coordinates place them…" Gordon began.
"In the Bermuda Triangle…I know." John finished Gordon's statement. "You all be careful. I want you to keep an open line with me at all times."
XXXXXXX
The next time Virgil opened his eyes, he squinted with a grunt of pain. His vision was swimming and quite frankly it was making him nauseous. Closing his eyes Virgil focused on deep breathing, but some details started making themselves known to Virgil. One of those details was that he felt cold. Biting his tongue, Virgil opened his eyes again and waited for his vision to straighten out.
He found he was in the infirmary back on his family's island. Feeling a chill run down his spine, Virgil recalled feeling cold and he lifted his blanket to see that the reason he was cold was because he was in only his boxers. His chest had ace bandage wrapped tightly around him, and it occurred to Virgil that he must have hurt his ribs.
'Strange, I don't recall getting hurt at all in Guyana. Alan and Gordon both fell more than I did, but Alan only scraped his hand on a rock.' Virgil lowered his blanket back down and looked around the infirmary again.
The spacious room looked familiar, yet something about it just seemed…wrong. Turning his head to the side, Virgil found his mouth agape at the sight of his younger brother. Alan lay in the bed next to him, his eyes not visible for the bandages wrapped about his head. Virgil couldn't tear his eyes from his youngest brother's still form.
"Alan? A-Alan?" Virgil pushed the blankets away from his body and disregarded the sharp pain in his chest to creep over to Alan in the next infirmary bed. "Alan…can you hear me?"
"I'm sorry…he can't hear much of anything right now."
Virgil whirled around at the unfamiliar voice and spotted a young woman about the age of twenty nine. She was standing with her back to Virgil, gazing at a diagnostic panel situated on the wall in front of her.
"That aircraft crash really did a number on him. He's received some pretty serious wounds, I doubt he'll be waking anytime soon."
"A-Aircraft crash?" Suddenly the memories hit Virgil smack dab in the face and if it wasn't for Alan's bed being next to him, Virgil would have found himself on the floor.
"You don't remember?" The young woman finally turned around and locked eyes with Virgil, her emerald green eyes dancing playfully.
Virgil sat on Alan's infirmary bed in silence as the memories hit him. Now he remembered…he and Alan had been flying Thunderbird Two, they'd begun experiencing technical malfunctions and had been unable to contact Base or Thunderbird 5. Blinking slowly, Virgil recalled the memory of grabbing Alan's hand in his and clinging tightly to his baby brother as they both got into the crash position, just before impact. From there his memories were fuzzy at best.
"No…I remember now." Virgil shook his head to shake away the memory of crashing Thunderbird Two. "How bad is Alan hurt?"
The woman slowly approached Virgil, her mahogany colored eyebrows wrinkling as she focused on Virgil.
"Well, I ran several tests on him and he's got a contusion to the back of his head. He's received whiplash like I've never seen before and he's bruised pretty good. Thankfully there are no broken bones; however I had to sew that laceration on his face closed to make sure that he won't scar too badly." The woman stood before Virgil, before she lifted Virgil's head by placing a finger beneath his chin. "You on the other hand were a little more roughed up. You managed to fracture a rib, which ultimately led to you passing out earlier. The girls…how they did it I have no idea, managed to carry you two young men here to the infirmary."
"What are you doing here?" Virgil glanced around the room, a look of disbelief on his face.
"I live here…it's not much, but it's home." The woman helped Virgil up from his perch beside Alan's bed. "I'm Rachel by the way and you sir are going to lie back down before I sedate you. You've just be through a traumatic ordeal and you shouldn't be up and about so soon."
"Please, answer my question…what are you doing here? This is my family's private island." Virgil shook his head slowly, disregarding the dizzy feeling he caused.
"How are you related to Mr and Mrs. Tracy and their daughters?" Rachel tilted her head in question as she guided Virgil back over to his own infirmary bed.
"Mr. Tracy is my father…Jefferson Tracy, multi-billionaire and ex-astronaut." Virgil allowed himself to be escorted back over to his bed where he was forced to lie back down. "I don't understand…where are my father and my brothers?"
Rachel pulled the duvet back up over Virgil's muscular frame as she turned curious eyes back to Alan.
"Mr and Mrs. Tracy are on holiday in Greece for their anniversary and…as far as I know there are no sons. Mr and Mrs. Tracy only had five girls – unless he had an illegitimate child which I doubt for Mr. Tracy is a wonderful man and he'd never hurt the missus like that." Rachel left Virgil to go check on Alan. "Who is your mother?"
"Her name is Lucille but…" Virgil started to say but Rachel finished for him.
"She died in childbirth with this young man I am tending too?" Turning to look at Virgil she gave a small smile. "Alecia and the girls told me when I asked for some information about how they came across you two."
"Right." Virgil conceded before looking back over at his brother. "What are his chances of waking up soon?"
"Depending on how fast his body reabsorbs the blood from his contusion – I'd give it a week. But don't hold me to that, our bodies are amazing life forms and we as living breathing creatures can have the ability to bounce back from almost anything." Rachel resituated Alan's duvet. "Now sir, it is time for you to try to get some rest. No more talking or moving around or I will be forced to sedate you."
Listening to the young woman who commanded him to rest, Virgil rolled over slowly – facing his unconscious baby brother. Locking his gaze onto Alan, Virgil blinked repeatedly; making an honest effort to remain awake. Feeling his eyes droop, the last thing Virgil saw before falling asleep was Alan's steady breathing pattern and blood stained bandages on his face.
XXXXXXX
Scott piloted Thunderbird One towards the last known location where Alan and Virgil's craft went down. He gripped the yoke tightly, his hands noticeably white knuckled as the anxiety and guilt ate at him. Gordon sat beside him, chewing on a grubby thumbnail as he gazed out of the windscreen. As they approached the location, both Scott and Gordon looked around and felt their hearts sinking – Thunderbird Two couldn't have crashed here. It was just nothing but a bunch of water, water, water and more water.
"Scott, where are they?" Gordon's voice was thick with tension as he scanned the horizon for any sign that maybe they hadn't yet reached the coordinates.
"We're here…these were the coordinates that John gave us." Scott set the controls and he too stood to peer out of the windscreen – looking below the craft. In the dark of night, the waters were nothing but a murky black despite it being ocean water.
"Scott!" The eldest brother's head shot up as he heard Gordon's alarmed voice break the silence.
Following Gordon's pointing finger Scott observed that maybe a couple thousand yards away was a sandbar and there resting on the sandbar was Thunderbird Two. It lay in a crumpled heap, flipped up on top of the roof. Scott felt like the wind had been knocked out of him as he observed his third youngest brother's pride and joy smoke like it was on fire somewhere within the engine. Quickly locating a place to land Thunderbird One, both Gordon and Scott scrambled from their craft – trying to reach their brothers before anything else happened to them.
XXXXXXX
Virgil opened his eyes and looked around. He still lay on his side, facing Alan and the blonde hadn't moved an inch. His bandages were now a pristine white, but the only other difference about Alan was that he looked clean. Last time Virgil saw Alan he was covered in mud and blood. Now his hair looked cleaner, combed back from his forehead – the mud washed from Alan's face, revealing some of the spectacular bruising Alan acquired from the crash.
"Well, look who's awake."
Virgil turned his gaze towards the counter where he saw the woman with glasses and he tried to place who she was again. He knew she told him her name, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what it was.
"How are you feeling?" She strode towards him and placed a hand on Virgil's forehead to check for a fever. "Feeling any pain, dizzy, nauseous?"
"No…who are you again? Where am I?" Virgil's gaze swung around and he noticed familiar equipment. He was in the infirmary on Tracy Island, but who was this girl?
"My name is Rachel and I am your physician for the time being. What do you remember?" Rachel leaned towards Virgil and gazed into his eyes.
Virgil met Rachel's gaze head on and stumbled over his words. He remembered…that they…he and his baby brother were flying…somewhere and they crashed? Breaking eye contact with Rachel, Virgil was left to ponder the mystery. He noticed Rachel step away from his bed and move towards Alan, checking his temperature with an aural thermometer.
"How's Alan?" Virgil tried to sit up, but a white hot pain flashed in his rib cage and it nearly took Virgil's breathe away.
"Don't try to sit up, you'll only make your injuries worse." Rachel admonished. "He's doing better."
She removed the thermometer from Alan's ear when it gave a beep and looked over his temperature before stepping away to document his temperature reading on a chart which hung from the foot of his bed.
"How long have I been out?" Virgil reached up and rubbed at a sore bump on his temple.
"Two days." Rachel grabbed a pen light and made Virgil hold his eyes open so she could conduct a neuro check. "Your pupils are reacting normal, doesn't look like that spill in the jungle made you any worse for wear."
Virgil remained quiet as he thought back on what was going on. He remembered bits and pieces and his ribs hurt like a bitch, but he couldn't remember what exactly happened.
"Tell me…what do you remember Virgil?" Rachel looked at the young man who lay in his own infirmary bed with a curious eye.
"Um…I think I remember Alan and I – our equipment failed and I…I believe we crashed." Virgil thought back on it and then it hit him. "We were coming back from Guyana, headed to New Jersey because of a state of emergency, our navigation equipment went on the fritz and from there it all went to Hell in a hand basket."
Rachel nodded slowly but then tilted her head in question. "If you were headed to New Jersey from Guyana…how did you crash land here on Tracy Island? We're nowhere in between either of those two locations."
"I know, but…I don't know. Like I said – our navigation equipment failed, maybe we got turned around and were flying back home." Virgil wriggled slowly in his bed until he was sitting propped up against the pillows. "We couldn't even communicate with our dad or brothers."
XXXXXXX
"Damn it! Where in the Hell are they?!" Scott held onto some panic handles which helped him to balance on the textured ceiling of Thunderbird Two.
"Not here…but the one question I have in which I agree with you is – where are they?" Gordon stood on the ceiling of Thunderbird Two while he inspected the pilot and co-pilot's seats of Thunderbird Two. The safety harnesses were still buckled, a thermos cap of coffee lay on the ceiling by Gordon's foot while the thermos of tea rolled around.
"This is not good…this is not good at all. Where could they be? There is nobody outside, the sand bar is too small and there aren't too many places to hide." Scott joined Gordon in the crew's quarters. Both brothers were a tired and frazzled mess.
"I have no idea…maybe they were found and rescued." Gordon suggested. That earned him a glare. "What?"
"Nothing…just…nothing." Scott ran his fingers through his hair.
"Come on…we've already checked this place over with a fine tooth comb." Gordon grabbed Scott's arm and tugged lightly, trying to prompt his brother to walk back with him. He was tired and despite his worry over Virgil and Alan's disappearance, sleep won the battle. "Dad will be calling us soon; we'll want to report what we've found…or lack thereof."
Scott tensed at the mention of their failure to locate their brothers. There was no sign that Virgil and Alan had been there, except for the spilt coffee and that set Scott on edge. If they couldn't find Alan and Virgil, then they couldn't treat it like an actual missing person's case; primarily because that's not exactly the type of thing you broadcast over the news. Scott could just see it now.
"Missing two International Rescue Operatives – last seen wearing jumpsuit with International Rescue Pin on left breast pocket and helmet. If found please contact your local authorities, however to protect the identities of the operatives we cannot reveal their names or any known information – but what we can tell you is that operative three has brown hair and brown eyes while operative five has blond hair and blue eyes."
Scott shook his head at that notion. No matter how much they missed their brothers, they couldn't risk anybody finding out their identities. International Rescue was a top secret organization.
"Scott, you gonna answer that or should I?" Gordon's voice tore Scott from his thoughts and the eldest looked back at his second youngest brother before pressing the button on the control panel to open the connection between channels.
"Scott here." Scott answered, his face grim.
"You find them Scott?" Jeff's worried voice and the look on his face tore at Scott's heartstrings.
"We found Thunderbird Two, but…we can't find Alan or Virgil." Scott looked away, his heart feeling heavy. "They aren't here."
