"Keep up the pace, gentlemen!"
In truth, they weren't flagging. It was Scott who had increased speed. He was leading International Rescue's newest members on a gentle run around the island - wearing fifteen pounds of kit on their backs. Scott turned around and jogged on the spot for a moment while the twins caught up. There was a glossy sheen of sweat across their foreheads, though they weren't complaining.
"Do you treat all the new guys this way?" Matthew asked, his breathing deep but measured.
"So far, yes," Scott said, "since you're the first. Is the heat getting to you yet?"
"Nah. After living in the Central African Republic, we're used to it," Matthew replied. "It's a bit more humid here, though, I'll grant you that."
They continued their trek across the beach and up onto the foothill of one of the island's many slopes. Scott breathed in the lush scent of the tropical foliage. The slight temperature drop felt like heaven.
The terrain became steeper and Scott felt the familiar sting in his chest as his lungs were cleared of stale air. This is the life! he thought. He led his followers to a small clearing in the jungle and slowed his pace.
"We won't go any further," he said. "I don't want to get too far away from base, just in case there's an emergency call."
He jogged to one of the larger rocks that jutted from the ground and stretched, placing one foot on the outcrop. Matthew flopped down on to the boulder. Elijah, more demure, settled himself beside his brother and wiped his brow.
Scott reached for the straw of his camelback pack and took a long drink. The water was gloriously cool. He let out a satisfied sigh.
"How long were you in the C.A.R.?" he asked. "I remember seeing it in your file."
"Five years," Matthew said after a mouthful of water. "Five long years. We went over on a temporary aid mission and ended up staying. It was tough, but worth it."
Elijah nodded slowly. Scott watched him for a moment. He doesn't say much, he thought. Maybe that's why the other one talks all the time. I guess it makes it easier to tell them apart this way.
Their rest didn't last much longer. After a few minutes, Scott had them back on their feet and heading back down the mountainside. He had intended to use the time to go over the training schedule in his head. However, his thoughts drifted back to the conversation that started this whole new venture.
~oOo~
It had been a long time since Scott had been called to the office. As he pulled on a loose shirt and slipped into his shoes, he remembered the first time he had ever been called. Six years old and already causing trouble! he thought as he padded along the hallway from his bedroom. Dad was sore as hell for weeks after I put that dent in his car. What did he think would happen when he gave me a baseball bat? Sheesh!
Arriving at the office door, he knocked twice and entered at his father's summons.
"Ah, Scott, thanks for coming. Kyrano just left us some fresh coffee."
"What's this all about, Dad?" Scott asked as he eased himself into the chair across from his father.
Jeff still maintained his command desk in the lounge, but the office had been installed to give him peace to work on Tracy Industries business. He poured his son a cup of coffee and passed it to him.
"Well," he said as he dropped two sugar lumps in his own cup, "I've been doing some serious thinking and I want your opinion before I take this any further."
Scott picked up the cream.
"Oh?" he asked.
This is strange. Must be something big!
Jeff sat back in his high-backed leather chair and took a slow sip of his coffee. He placed the cup on a coaster and laced his fingers together. Scott leaned forward.
"Son, by the time I was your age, I was a married with two kids and my career had skyrocketed - literally and figuratively. I had been to the moon. I was on my way to making my first million."
Scott shook his head but smiled
"Way to make me feel inferior, Dad," he said. When Jeff looked at him with a fierce intensity, Scott's smile disappeared. "I was kidding, Dad."
"I know son, but that's part of what I mean. I'm starting to think that by setting up International Rescue, I've taken something away from you boys."
Scott had been about to take a mouthful of coffee but instead set the cup back down.
"Dad, that's not true. If anything, setting up International Rescue has enriched our lives. It certainly has for me, anyway."
Jeff nodded, his face painted with a rueful smile.
"That's good to hear, Scott. But tell me this, if I hadn't started International Rescue,me here do you think you would be right now?"
Scott brought a hand up to rub his chin.
"I guess... I guess I'd probably still be in the Air Force. That was the plan."
"And your brothers? Where would they be?"
Scott shook his head again
"Dad, where are you going with this?" Fear flashed through his blue eyes. "You're not thinking of shutting us down, are you?"
"Of course not," Jeff said. "I don't think the world could survive without us - as arrogant as that may sound."
"Agreed. So what's on your mind?"
Jeff picked up his cup and ran a finger around the rim. He took another sip.
"I've been relying on you boys to run this outfit for coming in four years now. Your whole lives are dominated by your duty. What I want to do is to take some of the pressure off and give you the opportunity to grow - if you so choose to."
"It sounds good in theory," Scott said. "But it would mean finding someone we could trust enough to bring into the fold."
"It would take time and effort," Jeff said. "We would need to be careful and rely on our agents for information. But I would like to look in to recruiting one or two more crew members to allow you boys the option to go off-island for periods of time and pursue other parts of your lives."
Scott rolled his cup between his hands as he ran the information through his mind. New members could bring serious risks... And yet there was a logic behind his father's idea.
"I can see the benefits," he said. "What sort of people did you have in mind?"
Jeff picked his glasses up and placed them in his nose, before pulling a small data tablet from one of his desk drawers.
"I'd like someone with medical training in the first instance," he said. He handed the tablet to his son. "I've made a short list of the backgrounds and qualities a recruit would ideally need."
Scott scanned the list, nodding.
"Yeah, we could do with someone with more medical knowledge than an EMT. And I agree with a lot of this. Someone from a search and rescue or firefighting background would be useful, too. I don't think you'll find all of what you need in one person, though."
"Indeed. I'd also like for whoever we bring in to have the ability to take shifts in Thunderbird Five. The idea was always that Alan and John would rotate, with you taking the occasional month, but it simply hasn't worked out that way. I know your brother doesn't mind, but I do think John wants - and needs - the opportunity to further his academic career."
Scott tapped his fingers on the edge of the tablet.
"Getting someone with that kind of experience would be trickier," he said. "Although, since Thunderbird Five operates with an anti-gravity system, it would be easier to train someone up. They wouldn't necessarily need to have done it before, so long as they were competent and confident enough to cope."
"Yes. And, ideally, I want someone who has done some kind of humanitarian work as well. It's not just the practical experience. The attitude and personality will be vital as well."
Scott handed the tablet back to his father and let out a low whistle.
"Wow. I wasn't expecting this to be our conversation," he said.
"We're you expecting a dressing down?" Jeff asked. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "As far as I remember, I don't have a car for you to dent any longer."
Scott rolled his eyes.
"I was just thinking about that earlier," he said. "I didn't think you would remember!"
"How could I forget? I had to replace the entire front wing of my Mustang! It cost a fortune."
The two men shared a laugh and Scott refilled his coffee.
"Have you spoken to any of the others about this?" he asked.
"Not yet," Jeff said. "I wanted to sound it off on you before I approached any of the rest."
Scott nodded; it made sense. He mused over the steaming cup for a moment before casting his father a curious glance.
"Dad, was there sketching specific that prompted all this?" he asked. "It seems a strange thing to just consider out of the blue."
Jeff shifted in his chair and nodded.
"I knew you would ask that," he said. "Alan came to see me a few weeks ago. He had something big to tell me."
"Oh?"
"Yes. Well, I'm sure you'll find out eventually from the two of them, but... Alan and Tin-Tin are pregnant."
"Pregnant?" Scott said, once again glad that he had not had a mouth full of coffee. "Alan? I don't believe it!"
"You don't believe it?" Jeff chuckled. "For the first time in years, I was speechless. Truly speechless."
"Well, that's great news!" Scott said. "Really great news."
"Hence why I think it's necessary to start expanding the 'family business,' since the family itself is about to get bigger. Alan and Tin-Tin will need time off, and John will need alternative relief from Five."
Scott shook his head.
"I'll be a son of a gun," he said. "A baby on the island."
"It'll mean some big changes," Jeff said. His voice softened and became almost sorrowful. "For all I know, the two of them might decide they want to raise their child on the mainland."
"Unlikely," Scott said. "But possible, I guess. If they stay here, we'll need to make adjustments to accommodation."
"There's a lot to think about, son," Jeff said. "I need to rely on you to help me get the ball rolling with recruitment. You'll need to help me shortlist candidates, carry out interviews - and run training programs for the new members."
"Don't worry, Dad. I'll do all I can."
Jeff smiled.
"I know you will, son," he said, raising his coffee cup in a small salute. "I know you will."
~oOo~
As they rounded the last bend before the approach to the runway, Scott glanced over his shoulder. The two Lynch boys were red-faced and panting. That's enough for one day, I think.
"Thank God," Matthew said. "I'm not an unfit guy, but I don't think I'm up to much more!"
They approached the base of the cliff that hid Thunderbird Two's voluminous hangar and Scott came to a stop. Matthew put his hands on his hips and gazed upwards.
"How do we get up there?" He asked.
Scott grinned as he gave his answer. He pointed at a staircase bored into the side of the rock.
"We take the stairs."
"God preserve us!" Matthew said. he adjusted the straps on his pack and rolled his shoulders. "All right then. Eli, the last one up does the sweaty training clothes laundry!"
And without another word, the two brothers were off like a shot. Scott laughed anew and followed - at a slightly more sedate pace.
