"All right, take care, Tin-Tin! And congrats again!"
"Thanks, John. See you very soon!"
The comm channel clicked off and John Tracy sat back in his chair.
"I still can't believe Alan is going to be a father," he said to the empty room.
The monitors responded in their usual way with beeps and whirrs, underscored by the constant babble of thousands of transmissions. John stood up and stretched, standing on his toes and reaching for the metal ceiling.
"I can't wait to get back down to Earth again," he said. "I want to see that holocard in person!"
Rolling the tension from his shoulders, John made his way to Thunderbirds Five's small galley and started preparing supper, if he could call coffee and cookies that. After six weeks in space, he wasn't up to making much else.
Much as he loved his job and his Thunderbird, the long stints drained him. This one had been particularly hard for a number of reasons. One, he had missed Christmas and New Years at home - again. Two, he had missed out on the pregnancy announcement and found out after everyone else via satellite link. That smarted, he thought. But I guess it was unavoidable. Not point in being sore about it. And three, he had been forced to extend his tour by a week on either side to accommodate Alan, first for a meet up with some old racing buddies and then for the pregnancy scan.
"That boy is lucky I'm such a nice guy," John said as he dumped freeze-dried coffee into a thermos mug. "I just can't say no to him. But I guess things won't be so bad once it's a three-way rotation."
He huffed out another breath. That was another thing that irritated him; he had missed out on the arrival of the new recruits. He knew it was childish and he knew it was pathetic, but part of him couldn't help but feel left out.
"Sometimes it seems that everyone else is getting on with their lives and I'm being left behind." He stirred his coffee and shook his head. "Stop being so tragic, Tracy. There's plenty going on if your life, too."
It was true. In two weeks' time, he would be presenting his latest research on non-baryonic dark matter at the University of Cambridge. Now known as one of the pioneers in the field – due to the fact he could dedicate so much time to studying the damn stuff – if the lecture went well, it could lead to a whole tour.
"And that would be something!" he said. "Alan could pay back for all those favours I've done for him and let me be the one gallivanting off around the world for once."
Coffee in hand, John made his way back to the control room and settled back into his chair. He picked up a nearby tablet and resumed work on the lecture. No doubt, he would continue to tweak and adjust his work until the night before. It needs to be perfect, he said. Cambridge is a big gig! All the while, though, he kept an ear tuned in to the background noise. It proved to be a quiet evening.
The next time he looked at his watch it was ten-thirty, and he only did that because the comm line from the island was beeping.
"I wonder who wants little ol' me?" he asked as he set his tablet aside. "Thunderbird Five here, receiving you strength Five. Go ahead."
"Hello, is that Nerds-are-Us?" a familiar voice said. "I'm looking for a giant egghead."
John shook his head and rolled his eyes.
"Good evening, Gordon," he said.
Gordon winked at his brother. From the scene in the background, it seemed that he was sitting at their father's desk.
"What up, brah?" the red-head asked.
John sipped his coffee.
"Not much. Just working on my lecture."
It was Gordon's turn to roll his eyes.
"What is that, draft five thousand? The boffins at Cambridge would be impressed if you showed up in a garbage bag and a top hat, quoting Hamlet backwards. Relax, will ya?"
John tapped the tablet lightly against his head and smiled.
"It's for my own sanity, not their approval," he said. "I need to know I've done everything perfectly."
Gordon snorted.
"Nerd."
"Fish-face."
"Son of E.T."
"Merman."
"That's not even an insult," Gordon scoffed. "I'd love to be half-fish."
"Gords, you are half-fish."
John set the tablet down again and propped his head up on his hand. Gordon leaned a little closer to the camera.
"You okay?" he asked.
There was no mockery in his tone now. John shrugged. The simple fact that his brother was empathetic enough to pick up on his state of mind made him feel a little better.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just feeling sorry for myself, is all. How are the new arrivals?"
"They seem okay," Gordon said. "They look identical but their personalities seem pretty different. Matthew is quite outgoing but Elijah barely said anything." He paused for a moment before a new grin appeared on his face. "You know, I'm not an expert on this kind of thing, but they do seem quite…handsome."
There was a pause.
"Gordon," John said, his voice low with warning. "Don't even go there."
Gordon held his hands up and tried to look as innocent as possible.
"I'm just commenting," he said.
"Well, don't," John said.
"Okay, okay. Don't get your space-pants in a twist." Mirth aside, Gordon wisely changed the subject. "Did Tin-Tin show you the holocard of the impending bundle of joy?"
John nodded and shifted in his seat.
"Yeah. Can't wait to see it properly. What's your prediction, boy or girl?"
"Totally a girl," Gordon said. "My squid-sense is tingling."
There was another pause.
"Your what?" John's expression could only be described as incredulous. "I did not think you could get much stranger, but you've managed to out-do even your own weirdness."
"I try, I try," Gordon said, waving a hand absently. "So what's your prediction?"
John shrugged again.
"I have no idea. I'm not good at that kind of thing. Babies are hardly my strong suit."
"Once it arrives, you might be glad of your long stints on Five," Gordon said. "Tantrums, throwing up, dirty diapers - and that'll just be Alan!"
John barked out a laugh and felt his heart warm. In their whole lives, Gordon had never failed to cheer him up.
"Good luck to him!" John said. "Rather him than me. I can't think of much worse."
The two chatted for a short while before Gordon yawned three times in a row and John ordered him to bed.
"All right, all right," he said. "I'm going. Keep up with the mother hen stuff and you'll start clucking and laying eggs."
"Yeah, yeah," John said. "I'll see you in a few days."
"See you soon, brah! Squid out."
The comm clicked off and John found himself chuckling again.
"Gordon, you are a most unique individual."
He tapped the tablet screen again. Words swirled on the screen but his mind could not settle back to work. Gordon's comment circled round and round in his mind. They do seem quite…handsome.
It had been a long, long time since John had even turned his thoughts towards such things. In some ways, he had given up on the idea of ever having a relationship. Working with International Rescue was not conducive towards having a partner – unless, of course, you were Alan and your girlfriend happened to be a permanent resident. Even worse, his job as space monitor, wherein he spent over half his time off-planet, made things even more problematic.
"No, Gords. I'm just not interested any longer. It's too difficult."
And yet.
There was a little niggle at the back of his mind. Part of the reason his father had taken on the new recruits was so his sons could have more of a life. John remembered the look of earnestness on his father's face when he had revealed his plans.
"You boys have sacrificed your lives for International Rescue. You haven't had the chance to explore in the same way I did when I was your age. It's time that changed."
It was a noble thought, and the fact that his father had taken a tremendous leap of faith and opened the operation to two strangers was admirable. Shows how much he cares for us, John thought. But I think I'll leave the partners and babies et al to my brothers. I'm not cut out for it – never have been and never will be. I'll settle for being the cool uncle.
Nerd uncle, more like, Gordon's voice intruded.
"And proud of it," John said, rising. "Proud of it."
He set his lecture aside again and went to the galley to wash his mug. Then he grabbed his trusty clipboard and started analysing the data streams that Five churned out every hour on the hour.
Sleep, as always, would wait.
