The author wishes to express thanks to anyone who may read his story and encourages them to leave reviews, comments or even flame it hard. As with any who try their hand at publicly expressing an idea or story concept, all feedback is important and welcome.
Disclaimer: I do not own Thunderbirds, nor any other sci-fi or fantasy series, movies, comics, cartoons or news items used in this fiction as they belong to the creators or broadcasters or publishers who put them out for consumption by the public.
WARNING; the language level of this one is not too particularly trashy when we consider a story based on ex-cons, ex-military men, high risk situations and rescue specialists dealing with everybody's crap and messes on top of their own. Also, it was series canon that the entire Tracy household swore like drunken sailors on an hourly basis. They cleaned up the language a whole lot more than spic-&-span in the 2004 movie and 2015 series. Remember the internal joke that the "all clear" call phrase "FAB" actually spells out "Fuck It All, Boys!" because of how often Jefferson was absolutely livid with rage at all five sons at the same time. It was transformed as a familial joke to tell each other that if Dad was able to get angry to scold or punish, then they were all healthy and doing fine at whatever was happening as Jeff had always told them "Rescue first, heal second then order the House after everything else is done and packed away."
However, as I always warn people who read my work: this language was pretty much normal in the school yard 30 years ago when I was a teenager. So, how can you have such a thin skin and be part of the same culture on the same continent if this is really that offensive to you? Where did you spend the last few decades, if you can't take a few hard words from the mouths of kids when these words have been around since before World War I?
Thunderbirds
LOST VOICE chapter 4
Dawn of a new epoch
(Thunderbirds are go! – Lift off theme)
Friday 25th of June, 2060; 07:00am
Tracy Island; ground floor, dining room
North of the Australian coastline
John Glenn Evans Tracy, second-born son of the house, felt like a new man this morning. The nice warm tropical sunlight coming into the house from the wide open doors all around the edifice was helping him heal at long last, confirming for him that dad was indeed dead and no longer a threat. It was such a small thing really, but such a truly probant symptom of Jeff's mental illness from early on that they should have seen and known he was dangerous right from the moment Hiram begun to assemble the villa for them.
John took the orange juice carafe and served himself a tall glass to go along his whole wheat bagel with butter & honey. A small wedge of emmenthal cheese and a handful of mixed nuts from the serving bowl in the middle of the table rounded up what turned out to be a real feast for him. Normally he ate half of that and felt overly full. The contents of his plate barely qualified as a small breakfast meal in a restaurant but he felt himself get nauseous just by looking at the quantity he had taken.
Pursing his lips in thought, John admitted to himself that he had developed a severe eating disorder caused by his father's insistence that an astronaut needed to keep constant watch over his weight and body shape to fit into the space suits and escape capsules. He also used the excuse that they had a limited number of utilities runs with Thunderbird-3 per year to ferry up food and parts. Now which between food and parts do you thing Jeff prioritized?
Now think about what Jeff's reaction was when John reminded his dad about the grappling-claw / space elevator as a cheap and rapid way to send up anything they missed on one of T3's runs? John had bruises for five days following that little discussion, supposedly because of his playful quip about 'dad loosing his memory in his old age'. Nobody believed that to be the real reason John got beaten but nobody challenged Jefferson's manner of filling up T3's cargo hold on her monthly runs up to T5 anymore. The bully had won his real hidden objectives of micro-controlling John's bodily functions and personal habits while making it all about 'respecting The Authority' again, no matter how far from home anybody went.
Seated carefully in his wooden dining chair, John leaned back against the backrest, relaxing pleasantly, thankful that some charitable soul had affixed extra cushions on all of them so the injured brothers could eat without aggravating their injuries or keep wiggling around from the pain of sitting on the usual flimsy padding.
Now placed and restive, John thought again to the wide open doors and windows, the freely circulating sunlight and balmy air. Jefferson had always ordered that only the most minimum number of doors or windows be opened at any time. He had claimed that it was an old holdover reflex from his NASA days on the Moon and Mars to feel like flowing air meant a hull breach and imminent death. Back then, almost 8 years ago, the kids had swallowed the story without thinking; it was just one of dad's military mannerisms, he'd get over it in time. He never did. The reason was simple too; control.
Jonny bit into his bagel and sipped some OJ as he thought about the ungodly amount of cameras and sensors all around the villa and its lesser dependencies; the villas for the house servants, the Bellegants; the Hackenbacker's then the three guest houses. All had a density of sensors and audio-video monitoring that even the government-backed spaceships never had. All in the name of control. Jeff had penultimate control of the electronics beyond his kids, but not beyond Hiram who built and programmed most of everything on the island.
And Hiram was most resolutely not a control freak or a violent bastard. He just lacked the courage to stand up to Jefferson because the man had so many contacts and money-made allies that it was illogical to go against him within the bounds of the laws. John understood all too well why Alan acted the way he did in the end of things. It was the only viable strategy if they wanted to live on their own.
Jeff was so deluded and craving absolute control over his sons that even something inane like keeping a door or window open in the house was seen as an act of unauthorized autonomy – and rebellion – in the context of a greater, unending power play for dominance. Since dad didn't trust Hiram to not hack the surveillance computers to by-pass his ever vigilant cameras and allow the kids freedom from his power, he had gone back to basics. He simply obliged his sons to physically use only the doors placed in line-of-sight of his office chair or Ruth who liked to sit on the living room patio to knit her ugly and useless thingies that fit nobody.
Basically, Jeff had used his control of the boys' access to the outside, for movement or just for air as a barometer of how much his control of their daily lives was slipping out of his grasp. As long as the young men complied with the ridiculous orders, he felt secure enough to deal loosely with the big stuff. If one of the brothers forgot his orders and opened a window without permission and then even worse, forgot to close it on time, then it was a full-blown rebellion in progress and Jeff went on the warpath.
John, 23 years old that he was, trembled in fear as he remembered the last time he had come down to Earth from T5 and very badly wanted some air after spending four weeks stuck up in the floating tin can without real contact with his brothers. He had stopped by his bedroom to take a hot water shower and change into his civvies. His need for air was so pressing he had opened the room's patio door fully to let the warm breeze flow in. That was the reason Jefferson came into the room carrying his damned wooden paddle in one hand with the written list of house rules in the other. Dad gave him twenty whacks on bare ass, while holding the paddle with both hands like a cricket bat, swinging at full strength on each blow. Then he backhanded him across the face for his 'uppitiness' at thinking he was above following the same discipline as his brothers because he was away from the house so long at every duty shift.
Closing his teal-colored eyes, the blond-haired astronaut bowed his head and let the tears of relief flow freely, sobbing in heartfelt bone-deep relief that dad and grandma were no more. Maybe they could finally start to live with some damned logic and humanity in their lives again.
John opened his teary eyes and bit into his cooling bagel, savoring the sugary taste of the golden honey, another tool of punishment used by his dad plentily. Any sugar that wasn't the basic white stuff to put into coffee was strictly regulated and given in small quantities as rewards to those who obeyed promptly or followed the rules constantly without relapse for a month or longer. Suffice it to say that besides Jeff and Ruth, nobody inside the Tracy Villa ever got to eat any of the liquid goodness despite the fact it was healthier than the chemically bleached white stuff.
If you craved anything like honey, brown sugar or caramel and anything else of the sort in the natural way, then you had to have a reason to visit Hiram in his house at meal time. The man had stopped eating with the Tracy family several years ago when he realized that Jeff ran his meals like a feudal lord ran his great hall during holiday feasts. Only the blood Tracy's were seated close to him, the others were placed at the opposite end of the table and he forced the Bellegant's to prepare two different meals; one for the master and one for the 'guests of the house'.
In an act of brutal ignominy, he even forced the Bellegant adults to eat in their own little villa after the Tracy meal was done with. They were servants and nothing but, no matter how he kept telling his boys that he valued them like extended family. If you use the way he treated his children as baseline, maybe he really did see them as family… And THAT would explain soooo many things that went wrong…
It is in fact because of these stupid body weight, food and meal rules that Hiram created and manufactured his incredibly excellent ration bars the way they are. It was the only way he could give the boys he loved as if they were his own children a small bit of kindness and support right under Jeff's nose without the older man having anything to say about it.
Hearing the sounds of his favorite muscular artist coming from the corridor of the bedrooms, John shook his head to clear his thoughts and stick himself firmly in the present. Once Virgil was seated, the others would not be far behind and he would need all his considerable intellect to navigate the flood of possibilities now swamping them. Possibilities that they would have to decide themselves and be responsible for in their own names. No more Jeff or Ruth to clean the mess and settle the fallout quietly at home anymore.
Somehow, Jonny felt this was the dawn of a beautiful new epoch for him and his brood of brothers.
{ TB } - { PiQ } - { TB }
"Hungry!" growled Virgil in synch with the noise from his stomach as he carefully lowered himself into the newly cushioned dining room chair with an appreciative sigh of relief. His brown eyes full of gentle care gave his immediately older sibling a concerned glance before they panned over the veritable feast spread out on the table buffet-style in electrically powered warming & cooling restaurant-size pans. For the first time since last November, a genuine happy smile graced the paramedic's features.
Completely ignorant of the wince that appeared on John's face when the older sibling saw how much younger and carefree he looked with a natural smile, Virg loaded himself a plate with four eggs sunny-side up, two toasted bagels, two small thin crepes filled with mixed chopped fruits, a large bowl of baked beans, a mound of spiced hashed browns and a dozen strips of bacon. He decided to do some therapy by foodstuff too by spreading generously some butter and honey over his bagels and a drizzle of caramel sauce over his crepes. The tall athletic young man had a fork in his right hand bringing a slice of eggs to his mouth even as his left hand followed his gaze to snatch several pieces of emmenthal and two handfuls of nuts from the wooden service bowls to complete his main meal. He nodded in thanks to John when his sibling placed a tall glass of orange juice in easy reach on his left.
Both ignored the thermal carafe of coffee sitting in the center of the table next to the basket of condiments at this point. The enticing aroma of the high quality Colombian blend prepared by the cooks accidentally reminded them of Jefferson too much for comfort. Maybe later in the morning when the meeting got under way. God knew the people involved would need to whet their throats to gab and tease and whine plentily by then.
Virgil thought maybe he'd let the first serving go down easy then get himself a second plate later on during the family meeting. Dad so rarely let him have seconds, accusing him insultingly of being overweight when in fact Virgil was considered kinda slim for his size and age. He could easily pack on another 15 to 25 pounds and still be within the healthy weight category recommended by the AMA. Not that Jefferson had any advice to give on healthy lifestyles, given the cold hearted bastard lived on coffee, cigars and cognac around the clock at all hours. Virgil could remember clearly that from the moment they permanently moved to the island, dad always had both a tumbler of french Napoleon VSOP cognac and a luxury hand rolled Cuban cigar in hand as if the items were glued to his appendages. Snort! No matter now; the guy was dead and would not bother them anymore.
Which reminded him; he needed to do something extra nice to reward Scott for his incredible aim.
Digging into his warm food with a vigor he hadn't felt in almost a full year, the middle son looked around the half of the ground floor visible from their position and smiled widely at John with a nod of his head. "Opened her up all the way, did you? Nice! The breeze is good at this hour."
With a shared smile and nod of his own, John raised his glass of juice in playful salute while trying to hide his astonishment at how much Virgil could eat on one plate. Then again, it was only when he was assigned to go on trips to Australia to fetch the family's mail or on cargo runs to the USA for IR that the middle sibling could actually use his own money to go into a restaurant and eat is true fill, away from the prying, disapproving glare of dad.
Another thing that would be changed promptly. John would no longer tolerate his siblings to be starved or punished for their choice of food. They would no longer be obliged to have half or more of their nutrition from Hiram's granola bars, not if he could help it. And maybe, just maybe, he could find somebody to help convince himself that he could eat his fill free of any guilt or punishments as well.
{ TB } - { PiQ } - { TB }
Scott Carpenter Evans Tracy was in a good and proper bitch-fit and quite okay with the situation being called just that; thank you, oh so very much! He stood, leaning with his back resting against the wall, next to the door of his second youngest brother, mind aflame with anger and guilt.
The reports from the doctor downstairs had almost made Scott decide to forego the family meeting in favor of packing his fourth sibling into the first available aircraft, taking him by force to Sidney for a full physical and internment in a clinical environment ASAP. When they had undressed Gordy the night before, the medics had found evidence of cutting, and at least one set of scars at his wrists that indicated a botched attempt at suicide by blade in the last 4 months. The scars were attenuated by the means of surgical stitching and then were lasered until they looked only slightly discolored. It wasn't all. Gordon had actual scarring on his buttocks, thighs and lower back around the waist and kidneys indicative of being struck with a thin, long item that was very supple but also too regular to be natural.
An electric wire or heavy network cable.
Somebody had been striking Gordon on bare skin with a wire-whip hard enough to cut open the skin down to the fleshy layer and then had forced the kid to not get any treatment other than some ointment and compresses when stitches and surgeries would have been necessary on some of the cuts. Some of these cuts showed signs of prolonged infection in progress and Gordy had admitted to filching some antibiotics in both syrup and cream forms over several inventory counts to try and help himself.
All this damage was also done in the last 12 months. Scott knew by whom and why.
Gordon was presently inside his bedroom getting dressed for a casual morning among siblings without care for the opinions of Ruth or Jeff about how he dressed anymore. While Scott dreaded the appearance of the eye-eroding Hawaiian shirts, the oldest son was happy to let Gordy do anything non-dangerous that he needed to help lift his spirits out of the pit they were in since September of last year.
Gordon had asked dad for a year off to go and properly train with the WASP crew instead of relying on the aborted partial 2 months of boot camp he had received before the hydrofoil accident that damaged his back and almost ended his life. To say that Jefferson had panicked at the idea of losing his youngest, smallest and easiest to dominate pain-toy was the stupidest understatement of the century. Their poor second youngest sibling had spent five weeks recovering from the beating he received. He was forced to do so while under severe food restrictions, being grounded in his bedroom without any entertainment like a spoiled child that brought in a failed test when he wasn't doing busybody jobs as further punishment. Jefferson had forbidden him not only from participating in rescues until he was healed, which thankfully was logical at the time, but also forbade any visitors to his room to boot, which was plain cruel and unneeded with all the other stuff. But then again, Jefferson just luuuuved giving out his special 'no nothing left to live with' groundings to all his boys, regardless of age, education or capacities.
How the hell could the then 18 year old heal when he was denied medical care, proper food, proper sleep cycles and he was assaulted repeatedly by both dad and grandma while being worked like a mule at demanding physical chores around the house despite having already bad injuries?
On top of all that, Jefferson had decided that since Gordon himself had pointed his finger on the problem, HE, Jeff, would supervise the underwater exercises and submarine rescue practices that Gords would be forced to do in both simulators and Thunderbird-4's ocean access silo. With of course full punishments for any failures or misdemeanors but no rewards for successes as he was doing this under duress as a disciplinary redressment of his indocile, incompetent character.
Scott mumbled something nasty under his breath that sounded like promises that he would find a way to raise Jeff from the dead and kill him right and proper this time around.
His dark musings were interrupted by the door to Alan's room slamming open to let out Tanusha, dressed in her normal green cargo pants and green T-shirt, running for her life as her explosive laughter filled the corridor and lifted spirits in an almost magical way that Scooter always enjoyed. She was immediately followed by an irate towel-only clad younger brother whose very loud promises of retaliation via throwing her in the pool all dressed had the recently arrived Gordon folded in half, holding his stomach with both arms as he cried in laughter at the sight of the vengeful all-body blue Alan running like a loon after the female jokester.
Using Scott's tall form as a crutch to lean on, Gordon managed to keep from falling to the floor in honest, unfettered mirth as he tried to regulate his breathing. He didn't get very far in his efforts as a jovial Virgil's voice could be heard from the dining room announcing that this morning they had a brunch special; blueberries in anything you wanted and Alan was cooking for those interested. This time, even Scott was laughing himself to tears as their baby brother was heard to shout out loud about traitors and getting back at the whole household of backstabbers. His promise to make them all pee fluorescent blue by nightfall was met by John's disbelieving answer "How could you get that done?" The 14 year old's response of "I'm uncle Hiram's favorite; he'll give me something if I ask politely" had all the Tracy males suddenly far less certain of the power structure in the house.
As the first-born managed the get the still hilarious fourth son into the dining room, they both saw that Kayo had understood the better valor of a peace offering; she had put a plate of food in front of the scantily dressed, still resplendently blue Alan. "The color matches his eyes quite fetchingly." Scott couldn't help but blurt out as he could now see the teenager in the fully sunlit room. The explosion of laughter from all the others almost made him miss the glare of promised retribution from the baby broodling. Ah, well! He was cute in that color anyways!
{ TB } - { PiQ } - { TB }
Gordon was enjoying himself immensely. That was a novelty in this family, he could tell you that much. The last year since he turned 18 had been Hell on Earth the way Jeff had treated him as if he were suddenly a piece of trash floating in his mug of coffee. Why that happened was anybody's guess but Gordy was pretty sure his timid begging to be treated as an adult (no more paddlings) and to be allowed time out of IR to join WASP training to complete what he missed had been the triggers on the man's usually unstable temper.
Plating himself some fruit-filled crepes, beans, bacon strips and spiced hashed browns, the second youngest very carefully sat himself next to Scott who was also moving with deliberate care to avoid exacerbating his injuries. Taking the time to smell the delectable aromas, Gordy was almost brought to tears as he thought to how many times his father had called him a fatso, a tubby and compared him to an overstuffed wiener when he wore his wetsuit on rescues. Jefferson insisted that divers needed to be slim to get in and out of the equipment fast, without getting stuck on the fabric or buckles. Gordon had gotten a bad beating when he tried to reason with dad, reminding him that all the neoprene suits were crafted pre-fitted to the user by their own machine in the fabrication hangar and then the weave stretched to accommodate the person's body and movements when worn.
NEVER try to reason with the unreasonable. Sectarian gurus are the epitome of unreasonable. Gordon sure re-learned that lesson that day.
Blinking back the tears before they even had a chance to manifest, the 19 year old swamped his crepes in caramel sauce and took a huge bite, savoring every second he chewed it in his mouth. Some beans and potatoes later and he could feel the sentiment of wellness begin to spread through his body as the starvation for food, care and kindness was finally satisfied in the loving atmosphere.
"Oy! Le'ggo my Eggo!" Scott barked with a big smile as he got into a playful tug-of-war over a waffle with an equally smirking Tanusha as she preferred the less greasy food. Although, try keeping the bacon away from the girl and see how long you keep your arms attached!
"Get more from the fridge! We'll need them anyways!" the adopted sister replied gamely as she maneuvered to twist the confection out of the older man's grasp. Her smile of triumph was cut just as short as the waffle when a large knife sheared through the thing vertically, dropping about half back on the serving plate where Scooter grabbed it in victory.
Turning to the betrayer, Tanu was confronted with the gentle caring brown eyes of Virgil who shrugged in amusement at her face. "Sorry kiddo, but you were in the way of my mission" he told her as he waved his empty plate before setting to the serious task of getting some food before the tribe of barbarians ate everything in sight. He'd not taken any ham or sausages the first time around because he was so hungry, but now he intended to remedy that grossly neglectful oversight post haste. Along with another pair of crepes, more beans and hash browns. At 21 years old, he was still a growing boy; he needed all the fuel his physiology could get. He had medical literature about human growth to prove it.
The other five people could only blink amazed as Virgil had finished his first round in less than ten minutes flat without choking on something. "You know, bro… You fly Thunderbird-2; you're not her drop-module… You can't just stuff yourself like that…" Alan remarked causing an explosion of mirth around the table, even from Virgil whose shoulders shook as he tried to stabilize his new batch of edible therapy so it could make the trip to his seat without spilling out. "What can I say Sprout" the family's artist answered playfully "Like 'Bird, like pilot!"
Kayo snorted in her orange juice before quipping "That explains Gordon's sense of fashion a lot."
Alan continued "But what about Scott? He's not a fast at anything, especially learning new stuff. How is he like T-1? Other than the hot air coming out of his mouth, I mean…"
The following explosion of laughter and protests drowned out any chance at coherent, rational conversation for the rest of the meal as sibling banter took over the event relentlessly.
This sort of thing would have resulted in beatings, being deprived of food and getting locked in their rooms for a long time if Ruth had ever seen the scene. All this carefree, gentle, supporting sibling love and playfulness would have raised the ire of the old woman who had been raised with absolute silence around the house. Her parents had beaten into her that noisy children were simply trying to get attention they hadn't earned and as such were committing the sins of Pride, Ego and Nuisance, all of which were punishable instantly upon being discovered.
Her family had believed strongly that if you have the time to be noisy then you had time to work; if you had energy to speak then you were proving your laziness as not all your efforts were going into your task. That meant that children caught speaking as they did a job were usually punished with a strap or switch for 'dishonesty' on top of 'laziness' and 'shirking duty'. Is it any wonder she was a complete crock of shite at raising kids? Or that her four sons went straight to the armed services the moment they had their high school diploma in hand?
None of the current generation of Tracy children would ever cry or miss the last Hardale and her bitchcrap. They wouldn't miss the traditions and manners of Grant Hugh Tracy as embodied by their dad either.
At this point of the brunch, the only consensus established was that they would all be much safer, healthier and happier without the blasted old fucktards to scrap their lives.
Band of Brothers (and a sister)
(Thunderbirds are go! – rescue theme)
Friday 25th of June, 2060; 09:00am
Tracy Island; ground floor, living room
North of the Australian coastline
The badly injured young people moved cautiously from the dining room to the recessed area of the living room as it had the best, most plush seating in the entire house. The alternative was to go out on the main terrace and pull all the lounge chairs together but nobody felt like making any efforts anymore. There were a few jeers of playful teasing as Tanusha returned from a quick trip to Alan's room to fetch him some clothes. The towel he had worn for the last two hours covered enough but there was a limit to how much of their 14 year old sibling the others wanted to see.
Coming back in the living room, she threw him a bundle and then turned around, hands deeply in the pockets of her cargo pants in a way that accidentally made them stretch quite nicely across her athletic, well muscled rear and thighs at the great approval of the five young men in the room. Grinning widely at the sight of his nicely toned girlfriend, Alan quickly pulled his boxers under the towel before dumping it on the couch then he pulled on his jeans and T-shirt next. He decided that the weather was nice enough that walking barefoot in the house itself wasn't gonna be a hardship so he bundled the socks, sneakers and flannel shirt inside the towel and set it all on the floor next to the seat he wanted.
Alan stunned his brothers by sitting on the big ugly orange couch and letting Tanusha set herself on her side, her head resting on his lap with a cat-like smile of contentment as his left hand carded through her hair after undoing her ponytail. His right hand was quite clearly resting on her hip with the fingers caressing her belly where her own hands were holding on to it possessively. While the still full-blue Allie was occupied by his ministrations, Tanu's squinted golden eyes lazily followed the other Tracy's as they selected seats around the holocom well.
"Ahem!" Scott cleared his throat noisily. "When did this happen?" he asked vaguely at his littlest sibling, his question matched by the naked curiosity of the other three boys. It should be noted that due to their isolation on the island, the Tracy brothers had become some of the worst, most unrepentant gossip-mongers on the planet and none were worse than John as he usually had eyes and ears on everything around the solar system.
Alan willingly misconstrued the question and answered brattily "Well, you see, it was all Gordy's fault. He put a skin color change joke soap in my shower but…" he took a second to teasingly tickle Tanusha's hip with his right hand eliciting a squeal of laughter from the girl. "Despite having spotted the trap, my kind, caring, gentle, loyal girlfriend called Tanu didn't see fit to tell me. Hence I'm feeling a bit blue at the moment." The young teenager waved his left hand around breezily, unconcerned by the situation; "This too, my brothers, will come to pass." He spoke in grave bass tones to imitate an oracle pronouncing prophecy on the unworthy mortals.
Scott fell prey to peals of laughter just like the others despite that his question had been sidestepped neatly by the little bugger and his quite willing accomplice. Well, lieutenant Tracy hadn't been a wing leader or gotten made IR field leader just cuz of his cute dimples! He'd get to the bottom of this!
"That was not the question, Alan. I meant you and Tanusha; when did that happen?" the oldest came at the problem from the front; less chances of dodging the bullet that way.
"Well, at your age I thought you knew these things Scooter, but it goes like this…" Alan started in a simpering tone normally used by adults to explain relationships to 5 year olds.
The new explosion of mirth from the other siblings told Scotty he was clearly on his own at trying to dig them out of their virtual bunker. Kayo's satisfied smirk also told him she would not be helpful in any ways. Damn! That girl always liked her secrets too much! Especially in a house full of gossips! How could they have the good stuff if she kept hoarding it all away in the shadows like this? And it was HIS baby brother this was about, to boot!
John cleared his throat, mostly to avoid choking on his own laugh-induced spasms, and tried to bring the conversation back towards the more necessary topics. The also necessary juicy sibling gossip was less vital though and could wait a tick or three. "Allie! I don't want to sound insulting towards you… But why the fucking Hells did you make us all think you would be mute for life? I think you started to say something earlier this morning but I was too much out of it to process anything clearly. Could you please explain at length why you decided this?"
Alan leaned back into the couch's backrest until his head was tilted upwards to the ceiling, his left hand unconsciously rubbing Kayo's scalp in a way that was soothing to both of them at the same time. The young teenager closed his teary sky-blue eyes as he remembered the hurt, shame, misery and evil he witnessed during the last decade of his life. He didn't feel 14 years old; he felt 84 and above. Taking a deep calming breath, he drew strength from the tight hold Tanusha had on his right hand, anchoring him in the present with a friendly presence.
"Look guys, to begin with, there's a few admissions I have to make. Firstly, I am nowhere near uninformed about what dad did to all of you when I was away at boarding school. Thanks to Tanu convincing Hiram for me, he connected several phantom 'Y' splits in the cameras and sensors that dad had placed around the house and IR hangar complex. Given the thousands he had all over the island, it was a losing battle to try and tag those so we didn't. But for those in the house, they were all wiretapped right at the source; the active sensors themselves so we got the unedited data."
Alan righted his head to face his brothers. His own visage was closed off, his features pinched in concentration as he ordered his thoughts to offer them out loud. "We began tapping the wires almost as soon as Jefferson started trying to push his sick militaristic crap on us. When he tried to justify keeping the windows and doors closed on some NASA protocol shite that sounded as phony as it was. He never did that in Kansas or New York; why do it here? Then there were the closed rooms that only opened from outside and only with his Master of the Domain Key or IR Commander Cardkey. My room wasn't the only dismal prison cell he built on this island; it's just the only one you guys know about. I found a few others, spread out around the villa, the IR complex and there's a dozen on the island at large."
Virgil asked the question all brothers had on their minds "Why did you do that? Why did you hijack the sensor grid and keep the records?"
Alan stopped a few seconds while Kayo raised herself to a seated position to wrap her left arm around his shoulders and neck, giving him the support he needed to continue. "At that time when he bought the island and started building, I lived mostly in Kansas with Gordon and Virgil at Ruth's farm. We went to public school by day and worked hard at farm chores evenings and week-ends. Ruth hated idleness and systematically accused us of being lazy, slovenly and aimless layabouts. We were slapped in the face and hand-spanked daily with Virgil and me getting the wooden spoon once or twice a week when we back-talked. Gordon got spooned almost every other day for the flimsiest reasons. When we tried to complain to dad, he paddled all three of us until we were injured, unable to stand without help and then let Ruth at us with Grant's razor strop while he stood by, ready to beat us worse if we didn't submit to the rabid bitch's depredations."
Alan leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, trying to console himself that the monsters were dead and gone. "Because of the way dad let Ruth treat me, Gordy and Virgil, while attacking us as well, I figured out real quick that life on the farm would never be good or safe for us and the island would be worse when we finally went over there. So I talked with a few kids at home that had the cops or DCFS over at their house to settle things in their family. I got the idea from them to place a few cheap nanny cams bought at the thrift store through friends around the farm to record how grandma, granddad and dad hurt and beat us all the time. It came in handy eventually, although at a great cost.
Allie closed his eyes again, thinking of the man who died before him last night, the cruel vindictive bastard who would never have let go. He opened his eyes again, more determined than ever to make them understand his reasoning. "Think, guys! Use the training you got in school, in your jobs before IR and then for IR itself." He panned around the room to make eye contact with all four siblings before concentrating on his explanation. "All the recordings from the farm cameras showed a clear pattern of systemic violence, abuse, assault with weapons and in some cases torture. Just because an adult calls out the time-worn old lie of 'parental discipline' doesn't make it true or acceptable. We were being lied to, attacked and injured with alarming frequency that only paused when Grant died suddenly at the hospital during his checkup for his liver condition. But then it took up again and never stopped."
{ TB } - { PiQ } - { TB }
Gordon got up from the sofa and went to the kitchen to fetch some orange juice carafes and a basket of muffins, croissants and Hiram's granola bars. He put in the basket the pots of honey and caramel from breakfast just in case somebody's sweet tooth woke up. Taking out one of the large serving trays, he was wondering about how he was going to move that thing around fully loaded with his wobbly legs when the answer came in the form of Tanusha who took the tray by the handles and nodded at him to fill it. The pair worked in amicable silence, well aware of the equally silent living room behind them. They returned quickly with their bounty and set it on the round wooden console that housed the holocom before taking their snack back to their seats. A few minutes of silent movement followed as the other Tracy boys took their own little 'pick me up'.
Alan was grateful for the silent intermission; it was necessary for him as retelling everything was incredibly painful for him and for his brothers too. Some of the revelations would assuredly be greatly embarrassing, probably shameful too even though the brothers themselves were not to blame for events.
"Okay, Alan's tell-all, part deux" Gordon quipped playfully in a bad imitation of a foreign reporter.
Nobody laughed or even smiled at the fourth son's lame attempt at humor. Nobody blamed him though, and that was a novelty. With Jefferson and Ruth in the house, he would at least have gotten his mouth slapped shut, maybe even gotten three or four whacks on the ass with the paddle for 'interrupting important business with inane chatter' as dad used to say when he had no real reason to beat him.
Alan finished his plain oatmeal muffin and glass of juice before settling back into the couch. Tanusha stretched languidly like a cat and laid herself back on her side, head on her boyfriend's thighs, much to the amazed look of the older siblings who still could not understand THAT particular development.
Scott pursed his lips and frowned as he took in the sight of his littlest baby brother and what amounted to his sister-of-the-spirit and just how at ease and caring they were together. An emotion like a spark of jealousy tried to ignite in his heart only to be quashed brutally by big-brotherly pride at Alan getting the girl so fast and also a good deal of pride at his choosing so well. Any jealousy that she chose someone other than him would never survive the fact it was one of his own brothers she thought was worthy of being her soul-half. Scooter slouched a bit in his sofa, finally at ease and willing to really hear and make an effort to comprehend what his kid brother was saying.
John sighed a bit, saying goodbye to another dream as he watched the byplay between Alan and Kayo. Nobody with eyes could deny the closeness and trust. That wasn't a recent relationship; there was history between them for them to be this close and open with each other. Oh well, at least she chose well. If she had picked outside the family, John would have data-mined the living daylights out of the guy to expose his flaws and punt him out of her life before he hurt her. Older sibling duties oblige and all that…
Virgil just gave the pair a knowing smile and raised his orange juice glass in mock salute, earning a wink from Tanusha in return. Alan nodded towards him gravely but his face was still closed off, his mind in the past. Virgil adjusted his heavy bulk on the extra cushions under him and managed to not wince in pain as the excellent pain management drugs did in fact cut the worst of the agony from his many bruises. Virg wasn't emoting about the young couple's revelation of them being together. He was more concerned with what would happen legally to their family now and the presence of mercenaries that he wasn't sure who controlled for real.
Gordon was down right depressed. Again. But in a good way, contrary to the time four months ago when he put a box cutter through his wrists right under dad's nose as the fucking old bastard was threatening to beat him again. He had asked Jeff if he truly believed that beating a dead cold corpse would really have any effect on his attitude anymore. For the first time in almost ten years, the fear, regrets and self-loathing he saw on his father's face had not been faked or manipulative as the older man tried desperately to seal the injuries enough to bring Gordy to Hiram for complete surgeries before he bled out in his arms. Gordon did not blame Alan for his actions to date. He just had a bad case of 'what if we had waited?' going on. The problem was he had a good idea that Jeff would have continued and never given them any slack. As for the Sprout and Kayo teaming up, WTF? Wasn't he fourteen and she nineteen? How did that work anyways?
{ TB } - { PiQ } - { TB }
Alan sighed and picked up his tale. "You have all been trained to deal with rescues in a context where one of the persons is either mentally unstable, intoxicated or clearly criminally assaulting the victims at the scene of the accident. You all know the basics of dealing with dangerous, unstable people. Why in Tarnation did none of you ever put it in practice with Jeff and Ruth? Because you didn't know better. Because you were programmed from early childhood to just shut up, suck it up like a man and above all else, obey the leader blindly and faithfully or else the Wrath of Dad would be upon you."
Alan rubbed his left hand angrily through his short blond hair then used it to gesticulate at the group. "All the time we were growing up, the signs were there. When I saw confirmation of those signs written in bruises and bleeding welts on the skins of my brothers, I got a gut instinct that something had to be done. That was when I got the cameras. Fuck, did I get an eye full of shitty stuff I wish I had never seen or heard of in my life! I had cams in every room and most corridors across the house, barns and sheds on the farmstead. What they recorded was preciously kept and stored at the office of my Children's Public Assistance lawyer in Kansas City since I was six years old. To this day, I wish I could take out my eyes and dump my brain in a vat of bleach to forget it all."
Scott was paler than John for a change; "You have recorded at the farm since that far back? And nobody ever knew until now?" he asked in a whisper-quiet voice that quivered.
Alan turned a look of utmost sympathy and love towards the young man he had once mistakenly called 'daddy' when he was four years old since Jefferson was never present and Grant was bed-ridden at the hospital since before the avalanche that wrecked their lives. Despite the cruel beatings and vitriolic, heinous tirade from Jeff about the event, Alan had never stopped to secretly think that Scooter was much more his dad than Jeff had ever been. Something must have been apparent on his face as Scotty looked away, eyes filling with tears that fell down unbidden. Virgil, seated on Scott's left, extended a muscular arm to wrap a half-hug around his older brother, flexing to bring the boy closer into his side so he could hold him properly and give him stability while he got himself in hand.
Alan closed his eyes and spoke in poisonous tones. "I have 8 years of compiled, recorded horrors suffered by all of us at that farm. Given that the people who hurt us there would be coming to the island, well then a blind fool could see what would happen. I asked my lawyer at the Public Assistance Office what would happen to us kids if dad hurt us on that island; how would the cops come to help? His answer chilled my blood so bad that I almost had a heart attack at the age of six. He said the island was in 'international waters' and that meant that no country had any legal right to come on it and tell Jefferson Tracy anything about anything. He would be like a Holy King from the Bible. His word would be penultimate and we would prosper or suffer or even die by those words. Knowing that no mercy would ever come from dad, I looked at my life and saw that the only adult capable of helping was Hiram. But any communications with him would be monitored by THI or the new villa servers dad wanted built. That was when I got the idea of the century."
Alan squeezed Tanusha's hand in thankfulness for her incredible support along the years. Without her and Fermat, he would have died a few times on that Law-forsaken island. "You remember, it was when Gordon turned 11 and I was 6 that dad brought the Bellegant's into our lives. We met them at the farmstead at first but they were rapidly moved to the island to become the household staff for Jeff. Hiram was also present on the island but had left Fermat at a specialized pediatric hospital for a few months due to his emerging asthma problems and immunization troubles."
"Anyways, since Fermie was just 4 years old at the time, Hiram kept him located in Kansas close to Ruth for immediate assistance under the Tracy name. That meant I could go see him for an hour after school every day. On one of those visits, I brought with me a sample of those camera recordings and asked Fermat how to best send those to his dad so he could take the time to see what kind of animal his boss was turning out to be. It was actually Ferms that reminded me that his dad would be closely watched by our dad because of all the dangerous machinery and classified programs he worked with. Fermat couldn't send him anything directly anymore than I could. But we discovered a solution accidentally when his laptop pinged and a message from Tanusha arrived."
"She was 11 years old and so much more at ease with tech than her parents that they made her their IT person for when they needed to send messages or order online stuff. We asked her if she could scan her system to clear it of spyware and then sent her a small test video with harmless stuff about Gordon pranking John during the school holidays before. It worked. Her machine was a personal laptop, not connected to island servers as they weren't up and running yet. She had her own antennae and encryption. She brought the next batch of videos to Hiram as asked and he was both furious and scared as a hog with all five of us walking around its pen at breakfast."
The four other guys exhaled a puff of laughter at Alan's little joke at their expanse. Let him. Last they checked he was a bacon guy, just like them. And they never saw the short reedy kid refuse a plate of ribs either.
Allie moved his right hand to Tanusha's back and rubbed gentle circles from her neck to her waist and back up in slow languid gestures that had her spontaneously turn to her stomach and allow better access to her entire back for his loving ministrations. Her big satisfied smile was visible from the side despite her face being buried into Alan's thigh muscles. She stretched a bit and wiggled her shoes off her feet to get more comfortable. If her attentive boyfriend wanted to give her some warm affectuous caresses, she certainly wouldn't make the job harder for him! Huummm! Back rub…
Gordy shook his head amazed at the scene and said out loud with a much put-upon tone "Bro, man, you have got to tell me how you do that! I think I speak for us all when I say that you have gotten the best relationship, the fastest than any of us ever had. Although, to be fair to John, he never had much chance the way dad punted him to Five straight out of Uni."
The rumbling bass laughter of Virgil got the boys looking at him and Scott. The eldest son had decided to abandon all futile attempts at misplaced manliness and kept snuggled into the warm loving side of his larger, more athletic sibling. Both were chuckling at the public display of affection between the young friends (lovers?) who were both completely blind to the world right now.
{ TB } - { PiQ } - { TB }
After a few minutes of pause to renew the emotional batteries, Alan continued his circuitous explanation of his decisions. Tanusha decided that she was quite comfortably set on her belly with her attentive boyfriend's hand resting on her neck, giving her his warmth and affection so she stayed put, smiling widely all the time. The four older brothers could only marvel at the display of affection, trust and intimacy they were shown by the two young people. When had they had enough time to be physically close to create such a bond?
"After I shared all of the few recordings that I had in my possession at the time, Hiram helped me work with Fermat and Tanusha to create our own Virtual-Private-Network with a customized encryption that he never shared with Jefferson, IR or THI. This was our secure, private lifeline in case things got bad at the farm or on the island. It was a way to log into a dark-web hidden site and anonymously stream data, sound or video to the world without ever being caught. Of course, the 'never getting caught' is relative as just the types of videos and the angles they were taken from would immediately tell it was an inside job. In any case, I was gathering blackmail material since I was 6 years old and planning to use it to force dad to free us as soon as it would be just Gordon and me under the age of 18. Scott could have gotten custody easily if he was backed by John and Virgil and we all lived together. At least, that was the opinion of my lawyer from DCFS."
Tanu grunted in contempt, turning her head to glare at all four older siblings. "What Alan is trying to say politely because it's bad manners to speak ill of the dead is that the spineless lawyer explained why asking the cops or the Town Hall for help would get him nowhere. Money and Power. Mister Tracy had both in spades; 1) he had raw cold cash in hand to spend on ruining any electoral campaign he wanted and 2) he could shut down his manufacture and move the jobs in another state. As he had the biggest and most profitable industry in the state of Kansas at the time, and showing around twenty percent growth per year to boot, the Mayor and Governor would NEVER have moved against him for ANY reason, not even your health or your lives."
"Kayo's unfortunately right" Alan continued forlornly "Dad had so much money, so many contacts in the military and government but also in banks, companies, private 'hirelings' that I later found out were mafia people doing some dirty jobs on the side to silence detractors or keep DCFS people away from us. Yeah, there had been complains and denunciations from school nurses and teachers about how he treated us but the people were all paid off or threatened to death into keeping silent and often moving out of the state."
John blinked in surprise. "This is the first time I hear of these side deals and mafia involvement. Are you certain about this?" he asked completely taken off guard by the revelations.
Alan shrugged, looking blankly at the inert holocom in the middle of the rest area. "I think dad was always involved with organized crime at some level during his life. At least since he met somebody during the funerals for his brother just above him in age. You guys do remember that all of our uncles died in shootouts with either criminals or police during the early years of their military service? None of them lasted more than four years before putting their fingers into pies that weren't theirs and got caught by people a lot nastier than what they thought themselves to be. Grandpa Grant might have been a terror with his strap in the day, but the thugs had knives, guns and a few grenades even. The cops too. How those three losers ever got involved with Organized Crime then actually had the defect to think they could filch from them or blackmail them into forking over hush-money without any consequences… We were just lucky that those consequences never reached us later on."
Alan paused to whet his parched throat with some hot chocolate sweetened with honey before moving the story along towards the answers.
"And that brings us to my cowardly lawyer and how I got on dad's really bad side. It was when I was 9 years old, when Ruth lost her marbles and tried to murder me because dad had decided to stay on the island and leave all of us at our respective places. She had really wanted her days off to recover her strength and patience but now she would have me to contend with. Well, it was too much; the fuses in her head blew out all at the same time and she started assaulting me with everything in sight. When I yelled out to stop hurting me, she stopped dead in her tracks but something really weird and not completely sane passed in her face. She said she was tired of my saying lies, that she was gonna wash the lies out of my lying filthy mouth. She grabbed the bottle of powdered bleach she kept to clean extra gummed-up dishes and tried to force the powder down my throat. I started vomiting bile and food then some blood and soap froth… The bitch kept alternating between trying to forcibly feed me soap and beating the life out of me. Finally, when I lay inert on the floor, unmoving and barely breathing, she called dad on the island, not the paramedics, to ask what to do with my corpse."
Scott was livid with worry and seeing-red in rage against both elders. "Jeff told us back then that you had simply choked on some nuts because you were trying to secretly snack extra fast before supper and knew you'd get a spanking with the wooden spoon for stealing and willful rebellious disobedience if Ruth caught you. The lying bastard never told us it was so bad that you almost died! I would have asked the Air Force to go home to help you! I swear! I was 20 years old, Allie; I could have, would have, helped you!"
The young adult was desperate for his baby sibling to believe him and the others were in diverse degrees of ailment as they tried to think of the near-lethal situation the family's baby had to endure alone against Jeff and his many allies.
Alan made a vague gesture with his left hand, dismissing their belated concerns. "You couldn't have done anything Scott, and you know it. Dad was friends with the General in charge of the airbase you were stationed at; you would never have received permission to come interfere in the situation, let alone challenge Jeff's almighty authority in public like that. No, what happened was bad, but in the end, it was what helped set up the events of today."
The fourteen year old sighed deeply, closing his eyes as he cast his conscience back to those dangerous, fast-paced days when he could actually manipulate Jefferson for a few weeks when the man's remorse had almost woken him up from his depraved depredations against his children.
"Guys, Ruth, she hurt me so much…" Alan began to speak then stopped, barely able to hold back the sobs wanting to escape. After gasping for air a few times, he settled down and tried to speak in as detached a manner as he could manage. "Guys, I died twice on that table during the multiple surgeries needed to save both my life and my crushed larynx." Alan paused, closing his eyes to avoid looking at the shocked, disbelieving faces of his brothers. "My voice box was almost not saved. I had defensive spiral fractures on both arms, one knee dislocated and the ankle on the other leg was cracked. I had 3 broken and seven cracked ribs. My chest, back, buttocks and soles of both feet were covered in raised deeply bruised and bleeding welts left by whipping with an electrical cord. Nobody could explain how I came out of it without any damages to my eyes, ears or nose as pretty much every other part of me was damaged badly."
The pause after Alan's last comment lasted only long enough for Scott to grab the waste basket near the holocom and puke out all he had eaten since last night. He was followed closely by John whose stomach had been queasy from so much food and stress that the lanky blond astronaut barely managed to reach the patio doors at a run before the eructation happened. At least, it all went into the stupid ugly bush just outside, besides the wide sliding doors. If the vomit had gone into the pool, Gords would have screamed something fierce!
{ TB } - { PiQ } - { TB }
It took a solid half-hour hiatus for the whole family to pull themselves back together enough to be able to continue receiving the much needed informations before they could plot their futures from here.
Out of the inertia of habit more than preference, the young men placed back at the seats they had chosen; John and Gordon in one pair of sofas, Scott and Virgil in the other while Alan and Tanusha had actually not moved from their comfortable orange couch.
The fourteen year old started his historical review again; "Dad got with Hiram and the Bellegants on Tracy One and brought everybody home to Kansas at Mach 10. He actually landed the damned jet in the parking lot of the shopping center to be closer and dodge some traffic. They arrived passed 19:00pm, there was still some heavy traffic around the downtown area but he made it from the island to Kansas City in less than three hours and then less than ten minutes to reach the hospital. Once at the hospital, he started spraying money around like colored pellets in a paintball game at every last employee, patient or visitor that he could identify and buy off to keep quiet about our family troubles."
The teenager passed a weary hand over his hair, rubbing his scalp in fatigue and despondency. "I spent over a week in a coma, undergoing a plethora of surgeries and stomach pumping, and almost didn't make it off the table another two times. When I woke up, Hiram and my rep from DCFS were in the building so the attending physician inspected me then called for them to come to the room. Jeff was back at the farm at the time, no doubt trying to pay off somebody else to keep quiet. Anyways, Hiram and the lawyer gave me the rundown of what happened to my body and health."
Alan took a sip of his new hot chocolate before continuing. "Hiram left the room to go check on the pharmacists for the meds he had ordered for me, leaving just the lawyer in the room. Dad appeared out of nowhere, he'd been called by the orderly's about my waking up. No hellos, no 'welcome back son'; he went straight for the throat by telling me I had cost him nearly six million dollars of hush-money to keep the cops, DCFS and Town Hall from being warned. He told me to shut up and not make any noises about abuse or injuries because his capacity to keep me and my brothers together as a family depended on it. That was when I formally introduced the guy in the cheap brown suit as my lawyer from DCFS to dad who thought the man was one of my doctors. You should have seen his face change colors; it was like the disco ball in a nightclub!"
Gordon choked on air as he heard that little nugget drop. "I bet that went just peachy with the old guy! How the hells are you still alive today after shoving a lawyer at his face?" the adolescent sibling asked.
Alan's smirk was nasty and showed a lot of pain at the same time. "Besides the injuries that Ruth had already given me? I paid for it ever since. Surely you noticed my bedroom on the island? Anyways, the lawyer brought with him copies of the recordings that I had done but only for the farm. The man never had access to the island systems and was never made privy to the events here, mostly to protect us from Jefferson's retaliations if he discovered that his precious tools of control had been subverted against him. Anyways, to make the story shorter, the lawyer knew he couldn't get Jeff into a jail cell, not even for a booking at the precinct. So he did what he could: he haggled a monetary settlement put into an autonomous trust fund to pay me off. Jefferson was a bit stunned by the offer I made to sell off my silence but since he was deep in one of his bipolar guilt trips, he signed the checks, the DCFS fees and even the partial emancipation documents that created my little anonymous numbered incorporation and made it impervious from future attempts by Jeff or his minions to take control of it against my wishes."
"Wow, bro! You bled cash out of dad!" Virgil exclaimed in admiration at his sibling's gumption. "How much did you take him to the cleaner's for? A couple of grand's? A hun'rd thou?" the athletic medic asked with a wicked smile of satisfaction.
Tanusha exploded in laughter, trying to bury her face deeper in Alan's lap to muffle the guffaws that shook her lithe athletic frame like a reed in a storm. The nonplussed faces on his brothers were too much for Alan and he also exploded in mirthful laughter, tears running from his eyes from the effort.
After a few minutes, the two friends choked out a few last huffs of humor before turning to the assembled siblings with matching smirking faces. "Is that really how much you think that my pain and suffering at Ruth's hands was worth, a few grand's? You wound me, bro!"
Kayo tried to stay silent but couldn't; she started laughing again until Alan playfully swatted her well positioned plump rear, eliciting a loud smacking sound and a laughing "Yow!" from the girl. She tried to pout sadly at her boyfriend but the younger teenager didn't seem to buy it in the least.
John palmed his face in disbelief whilst Scott guffawed loudly, exclaiming "If any of us had tried that move on her, we'd have lost an arm cuz she'd be beating us on the head with our own ripped-off limb!"
"Yeah!" Virgil added playfully "And she'd use the sopping wet end to hit us too!" thus causing another explosion of good humor amongst the group.
Tanusha smiled then playfully poked Alan's thigh with her left index finger, whispering threats that had the young male blushing under his blue skin. His answer in the form of tickling Tanu along the ribs was ample evidence though that he decided not to let her attempt at pushing him around stand unchallenged.
The four older siblings could only watch raptly as the two friends played and showed affection like genuine lovers who had been together for a long time. This situation was getting to be a bigger question all the time for the brothers. On the other hand, it was patently obvious that Kayo loved their little Allie-Gator and had a great relationship with him. Lucky bastard!
After a little more horsing around between Alan and Tanusha, the pair settled down with the boy's ominous "I still owe you for letting me be blue! Just you wait, girl! It'll be epic, I tell you!" directed at his girlfriend who shrugged carefreely at his promises. "You're just a boy, Allie. What can you do? And more importantly, what could you do that would work on me?" she fired back with a daring grin.
The new laughter from the assembled brothers made the pair redirect their attention outwards at the room while blushing when they realized just how much of their relationship they had shown.
"Alright, people! No nuttin' to see! Keep your eyes forward!" Alan tried to bellow in an attempt at imitating a traffic cop waving people away from an accident. Somehow, it didn't work at all…
Confronted by four pairs of curious, humorous eyes, the young man sighed in defeat and admitted "Okay, okay! I took dad and, maybe, just maybe mind you, dragged a couple of millions out of him…"
The dead silence that followed was impressive. The last time it happened, Alan had been 11 years old and had asked his brothers what dad was good for inside International Rescue since Scott was field leader, John had just become space monitor and Virgil was already part-time pilot for T2. That left Jeff spending his time at home with a cigar and cognac, just 'supervising' but not doing much except yell and hit when the guys returned. Let's just say that the boys had kept that question and its incendiary answer under wraps and never spoke of it again until now.
Scott unfroze his brain first and asked in a falsetto kind of voice "Couple of millions? As in US dollars kinda millions? From dad?" the young adult seemed rather faint all of a sudden. John girded himself as best he could: "Just how many millions are we talking about here, Alan? Exact numbers, please."
Kayo snorted, commenting playfully "You do realize guys that bank information is both confidential and privileged? And you remember you are neither as you are a bunch of planetary gossips?"
At the mock offended faces of his brothers who were pretty certain the girl was trying to deny them their honest due of juicy sibling gossip, Alan bent forward to bury his face into Tanu's hair so he could muffle his laugh. His shaking shoulders somewhat gave away the game though and soon four older siblings were clamoring for details and explanations on top. Clingy buggers, the lot of them!
"Okay…" Alan said while making appeasing gestures with both hands. "It was actually 9 million US dollars by wire transfer to a Swiss bank in Basel where it was put into a locked numbered account that only I could access. My DCFS lawyer wrote the papers for the out-of-court settlements, the falsified DCFS reports about an innocuous accident, the incorporation papers, everything. Then five months later dad had him killed by his contractor in the mafia. I have this confirmed by external sources. I made some seedy friends in boarding school and had them look into the case. Some cops on dad's strings wrote it up as drunken driving gone bad on a country-side road when in fact the guy was sober and blood analysis indicated he hadn't drunk anything in months. I have the photographs of those reports; real, fake and a few other papers that were swapped out along the line."
The silence that descended on the living room was complete. All four older siblings were looking at the baby brother as if he had grown a new head that wasn't the same shape or colors as the first one. It lasted until Gordon got off his sofa, knelt on the floor and performed an exaggerated kowtow, loudly proclaiming his indignity while his face was flat in the thick carpet. That clownish display got the rest of the men exploding back into action, asking all at once about the money, what was done with it and such…
Tanusha put her right hand at her face, fingers in her mouth, and whistled a sharp signal to shut up the cackling smother-hens before they laid themselves a clutch in worry and stress.
Now that all the semi-adult men were silently back in their seats, Alan gave them all a withering glare, speaking coldly the lay of the land. "It's MY money. I suffered for it, I bled for it and I damn near died and almost lost my voicebox, Adam's apple and trachea on that event for the damn cash! It's mine! Keep your well-meaning mitts to yourselves! I did more with it than any of you would have anyways, so shiiiaaattt up and leave my finances be!"
Gabbing siblings, History and Laws
(Thunderbirds are go! – rescue theme)
Friday 25th of June, 2060; 11:30am
Tracy Island; ground floor, main patio near pool
North of the Australian coastline
After another half-hour pause to let tempers settle, the brood of sibling decided to benefit from the sunlight and move out to the patio by the side of the wide pool. The light and open air would help them to feel the freedom they now had and come to terms with all that it meant.
Alan sat on a lounge chair with Tanusha, her behind him and serving as a human cushion to offer comfort and support as they went through the harder, more private parts of what the teenager had to reveal to his brothers. They would not be able to function as a family or mount a common defense if the other four weren't brought up to speed on events of the last year.
Gordon decided to switch out his jeans and shirt for swim trunks; he would float on his back in the water as he listened to the hidden history of his baby brother. John dropped a small pile of cushions on the pool side and rolled up his pants legs, took off his shoes and socks then very slowly, carefully sat with just his feet in the calming, soothing water. Virgil guided Scott over to the lounge chair next to the lovebirds and they helped each other to lie down on their left sides, thus freeing their right hands to gesticulate or maneuver the mugs of coffee they both had with them.
Once everyone was situated, Alan sighed deeply but put on a determined face. He started up again his story about the things they had missed about Jefferson and his behind-the-scenes misdeeds.
"Okay guys; I thought about this and I'm gonna answer you. Back five years ago, I got 9 million dollars in cash from dad. I told him that since I had another 9 years of misery to live with the gribitch Ruth and him before I turned 18 and could legally walk out then he would pay me that to keep quiet or I would tell the media and DCFS right away. With my lawyer, we both admitted that Jeff would probably get a pardon from either the Kansas governor or the US President fast enough to break the trial before it began but the officials would have to wait until the charges were filed and the first plea entered in open court before they could make that move. Our position was that even if he did get pardoned, it would be the publicity that killed his reputation, gave DCFS the arguments needed to break up the family and the Feds, NASA and military would cancel their contracts with THI because of the 'Family Protection Acts' that were passed in 2033 by Congress in DC."
"What were those again?" Gordon piped up "I think I remember something about hearing from those back in my civics classes in grade school a decade ago…"
With a long suffering sigh at the lack of general culture his brothers usually exhibited, John waved a hand at Alan to let him answer for him. The young man had been speaking plenty this morning and affording him a few pauses now and then would help him endure the long run. "Back in 2032 there was the discovery that a self-labeled church-group 'The Congregation of Sovereign Christian Citizens of Free America' had setup a largish village & factory in North Carolina's Cape Fear, in the forested region between Wilmington and Sunset Beach, on the banks of the River of Cape Fear around the year 2025. It's important to know that they were never in history recognized by any level of the US governance as an actual church or religious organization since they were like a rural militia with unholy books to go along with their whiteness and guns more than anything else. These bastards were actually the deepest most right-wing paranoid dregs left over from the 'White Nationalist' movement propelled to fame and riches by the Trump Presidency Era of 2017-2024. With their resurgence getting broken by the general population, the super-minority wanted to install themselves in a remote unseen place where the newly elected Democrats and 'colored allies' in Washington DC would have trouble finding and stifling them."
John took a sip of coffee and frowned as he remembered the term paper he did on the subject back in high school when the 'American History' class covered the Trump in office and post-Trump era's movances. "You need to know that these people were a toxically radioactive mix of hard-core Nazis, christian white-supremacists, lay white-nationalists, Ku Klux Klan families and some who might not be white-power-only people but had a streak of anti-semitism and anti-arab in them that ran deep and hard so these were the folks they felt they could live with the best. The group started out a little less than a hundred families but soon grew to about three hundred households, all built-up wildly at high speed like the 'mushroom towns' back in the Wild West years when prospectors found gold in a creek."
The family's scholarly astronaut sighed deeply, focusing his thoughts on an old batch of knowledge he hadn't had any reason to think about in almost a decade. "The thing is, these racists – slash – religious were also the worst type of misogynists and ageists you could find. They were the archetypical crotchety ornery old white christian conservative men in the same vein as grandpa Grant had been but much worse in many ways. They hated everything with seven different passions all the time; non-christians, atheists, non-whites, women, children, most animals except maybe some farm cattle, horses and dogs cuz those are manly-men's best pals… You see the type? In keeping with the social norms and values they shared, these people established an illegal un-incorporated village managed by an unrecognized municipal council. In truth, it was more like an old medieval abbey run by the bishop with an abbatial council around him. The kinds of laws they used were 'biblical-only' themes, rules and by-laws; anything deemed atheistic, liberal or democratic was seen as the works of the Devil and his Red Communists thus shunned."
Virgil groaned in dismay and asked "Is it me or do these redneck idjiots sound just like the kind of people that Grant, Ruth and Jefferson would have loved to have for neighbors? It sure sounds like the kind of setup dad was running on the island from the start."
John's melancholy smile hit his brothers in the heart as the gentle blond answered "You're closer to the truth than you think, Virg. The group was actually composed of several sub-sects that had been outlawed and even placed on the USA National Register of Domestic Terrorists in the two first decades of 2000. These people were all like Grant and Ruth or worse; they repeatedly beat their children in the name of 'corporeal christian dis'K'iplinings' but some also advocated and practiced polygamy while all manners of sexual exploitation of minors, especially incest, was rampant. It was usual to see an old man have three to six wives and some twenty to thirty kids spread among them with a trawl of grand-kids after that. These men used their children, grand-children and great-grand-children any ways they liked. The political setup was both a basic gerontocracy with plutocracy on top of it as 'Official Authority' was based on the Eldest Living Male of each Household, just as in the Middle Ages. Amongst the Old Men, the richest, those with biggest land parcel or those with the most numerous wives & procreation were the influential decision makers of the group in that specific order. Riches were important to these people as 'Prosperity Gospel' was the basis for their religious doctrine and business mentality. They stole public land to install their commune without permits because in their views: "Nobody said otherwise or stopped us cuz God wants it that way" in that childish, rebellious, unintelligent manner that is the crux of how prosperity dogma works."
John passed a weary hand over his face as he remembered the films of the events shown in class. "The people in the commune were enslaved under whips, electric cattle prods and guns. They worked the farmland of the geriatric owners but received only a bunk, barely any clothes to tough out the rough nordic climate and a pittance of edibles which was handed out only twice a day. Only men of power, authority or means were allowed to stockpile food; everybody else was kept in near starvation so they stayed docile and afraid. The kids were routinely obliged to prostitute themselves to their Ancestors' business partners or church officials when the Mighty Father wanted a favor like a 'permit to get more land' or build an extension on the house or open a new store, etc… Young people up to their late twenties and mature women at all ages were nothing more than trained monkeys to be used and abused by these people. Then the scandal exploded in public in 2025 when they were discovered."
It was Scott who took up the recap at that point as he now remembered seeing this in history class as well. Man, did it make him feel old having to think back to high school like that! "I recall that now, John. Some tourists from Maine were vacationing in the Cape Fear area with their family sailboat on the sea when they saw some people that looked like a family of young children out to play on the beach but no adults in sight. They brought in their boat and then used a small zodiac to reach the shoreline to speak with the kids. When they arrived they saw the kids were injured, malnourished and worse, two little babies barely two years old were comatose. They brought the badly dressed sick and injured kids to their boat and made haste for Sunset Beach and its hospital but got lucky when they saw a Coast Guard cutter after just a half-hour at sea. Then the story of what was going on inside their commune broke out to the world. Especially since the boat owners had a good CPU with satellite antennae; social media did a wonder at alerting the population of the atrocities going on in there."
John picked up from his older brother: "And that leads us to the crux of WHY the new laws were passed in 2033. That commune of racists and Jesus-nuts was based around farming and hunting the woods as the basic means of subsistence but the older men wanted money to pay for their vices, especially their alcohol, tobacco, cannabis and the proof of their manly manhood: guns. Lots, lots and lots of guns in each house with only the men and boys older than age twenty-five being allowed to use them. It was the fear of these guns that kept the kids and women docile and obedient. Well, that plus the armed posse of elderly bastards who patrolled the streets to beat, rape or lynch people willy-nilly just for shits and giggles. So the social order was this: women took care of the house chores while young men toiled in the farm fields and young boys hunted with snares and bows in the woods. The old men aged 50 and above worked either at Cathedral Plaza (town hall) or in the one big money-maker in the village: a weapons factory making guns and munitions for the US military and governments supported by US foreign policy."
Scott cut in "And that's why those new laws in 2033 are so important to understand why dad was in a panic and accepted paying off Alan so bloody much!" he exclaimed with a light of recognition in his blue eyes. "When the whole fiasco exploded in the media, the USA Federal Government received the request from North Carolina to send in the National Guard to quell the criminals and free their slaves from bondage. The result was a three weeks firefight with guerrilla tactics used by both sides all over the forests and towns around Cape Fear. At the end of the year after everything was shot, arrested, seized or accounted for, only about four of the old white men survived as they usually preferred to die shooting or committed suicide after murdering most of their kin to keep them enslaved to them even in death. There was like 600 dead youths between the ages of 0 and 25 years that were found spread over the place in hidey-holes under barns or secret bunkers in the forest in the aftermath when the National Guard and FBI were doing the cleanup. Add to that about 400 dead adults and geriatric tyrants who were the main instigators and controlling force. There were about 375 kids and some 200 women found alive that never really recovered. Seeing this massacre but also the tyrannical religious depravities that sparked it all, the US population had an allergic reaction to religious and racial dogmatics across the board. It was a grassroots upheaval wide enough and bad enough to force Congress to unite across Party Lines to act against such fools occurring again. Since the entire commune was kept alive and flush with cash by military money from government contracts, the laws were dramatically changed."
"Yes, that's right, Scott." John completed the historical segue. "The Congress of 2033 decreed that from then on, any individual, family, sect, church or religious movance or corporation found culpable of such anti-human or anti-american crimes would be banned for ETERNITY from ever participating in Federal, State or municipal contracts, especially police or military equipments procurement. Also, they would never again be allowed to purchase land, buildings, machine-tools or any type of firearms on US soil. Any such person or group would also be forbidden from receiving taxpayer moneys; be it any type of service contracts, loans, bursary, mortgage, charitable tithe or tax credit. From then on, any such group that was identified and convicted at least once in Municipal, State or Federal courts would be put on the USA National Register of Domestic Terrorists and never again be able to enjoy US economic or social benefits ever again."
The six young people shared a look of understanding. Since Jefferson's main money source was Tracy Heavy Industries and their main buyer was the US government through both NASA and the US Air Force, it was blatantly transparent why the man had been scared stiff of being discovered for what he was and what he was building on the island. His entire setup was a limited, small-scale replica of the debased societal order that the commune of crackpots had made thirty years ago. If the Federal government got winds of it, not only would International Rescue become persona non grata on US land, but so would THI and the other Tracy familial holdings as well. Any investigation of the older generations of Tracy's and Hardale's would result in those farms and heritages being seized for dismantlement and auction just as much as the massive THI company would be. Then there were the criminal court convictions and jail time on top to consider.
Yeah, Alan and his DCFS lawyer had scared Jefferson straight into a fit of panic at the time. Unfortunately, the sick bastard had friends in the shadows and connections that his children learned about far too late to defend themselves from them.
{ TB } - { PiQ } - { TB }
After a few minutes of silent contemplation about the revelations just heard, the young people took a deep breath and plunged again in the miasma of their family's existence. Alan took the lead again as it was his explanation they all wanted to hear.
"So, you see, me and the lawyer got to pull a fast one on dad but it didn't end there by a long shot. A few months later, the man was found dead in a ditch after a rather strong rainstorm, with an open bottle of Wild Turkey bourbon on the seat next to him and liquor splashed all around on his person. It was a cheaply done setup to make it look like he had been hitting the hard stuff to forget all the depravities that he became aware of during his day job. Some felonious cops beholden to dad because their relatives had gotten jobs inside THI's Kansas City manufacturing plant just happened to be the responders for the accident. Everything got wrapped with a bow on top and handed to Jefferson like a birthday gift. My life went downhill since, but Jeff never got his money back, nor did he ever manage to usurp control of my company."
Virgil's deep baritone voice sounded as he asked his younger sibling just 'WHAT' exactly was this company and was it that important? He could see that Alan was circling around the subject without ever broaching it truly. "Come on, bro!" The pilot of T2 egged on "What is this company you built that it could make Jefferson panic?" Looking around at his other siblings for support, the athletic field medic added "It has to be a doozy or you'd have talked about it already. In fact, if it were useless or menial, I'm pretty sure dad would have talked about it just to put it down in public. So; what is it?"
Scott, from where he was lounging on his left side, leaning on his elbow with his head held in his left hand, gestured with his free hand that he wanted to get the goods NOW. "Inquiring brothers want to know, Alan! Stop holding back on us, man! You know we don't get nearly enough gossip around this isolated piece of desolation called home."
Taking a deep breath to garner some patience, the youngest sibling prepared himself for a cataclysmic outbreak of smother-henning from his older brothers. Why didn't they just get their own lives so they could leave him his? Weren't they old enough yet?
"Fine, fine, fine! Don't have a clutch on the patio on my account, you clucking hens! I swear! Any more worrying and smothering and you'd all sprout feathers like real chickens!" The fourteen year old grumbled in good-natured gab at his brood of siblings. Virgil's loud answer of "And proud of it, too!" had every one laughing at just how true that statement was. Neither of the Tracy sons had ever been shy or embarrassed about all the love, care, hugs and kisses they gave each other as part of their relationships. They were close because they wanted, because they could and because with their elders the way they had been, their survival had depended on this close-knit support.
Tanusha, from her position sitting behind Alan, wrapped her arms around her young friend and whispered something in his ear, too low for the others to hear. The boy closed his eyes as he exhaled a loud sigh of anxiety. Opening his eyes again, he looked all four older men before plunging into the harder subject. Money had never been a real issue in their relations, but that was because they didn't have any big disparities to talk about or be jealous of. Until now.
"Five years ago, when I got the money, I had already been talking with Hiram, Fermat and Tanusha about trying to market a small product that I had come up with. By this, I mean that I had designed the physical item and then created the basic program that ran on its integrated CPU. And yes, at the age of 9, I was already more intelligent and better organized than John had been when he was that age. It's just that my form of intellect is based on my capacity to perceive mobile items in multiple dimensions all at once and correlate causes, actions, reactions, consequences and secondary effects to the physical realm. Hiram said it was something like what Michel de Nostradamus was rumored to have in his eyes and mind. Anyways, my first commercial product was an electronic lock for the homestead."
Gordon laughed out "You're having us on! All this for making and selling an electronic lock? What kind of lock? Chicken coop type or barn door type?" the 19 year old asked in a somewhat disparaging tone. He could accept that his younger sibling get some cash for the injuries he suffered but 9 mil? And he created a company that grew that amount to even more? The adolescent didn't realize it but the first inklings of a nasty case of jealousy were appearing in his attitude.
Kayo glared at her friend Gordon; they were the same age and had very different specialties but she could take him on and break him anytime she chose. She was a mistress of Wing Chun kung fu whilst he was barely at intermediary levels in basic karate. In a contest where she chose to protect Alan from his aggressive ageist put downs, Gordon would lose quite badly.
The blue-skinned teenager snorted derisively at his older sibling's pretty obvious case of envy. "I may be blue man, but you're turning green at the gills. Was it something you ate?" he quipped in a biting tone that warned the older men that this Alan was a different animal than what they were used to. "As for the details, the company is called ASET Homesteading and safety products and it is the manufacturer of the exclusive line of 'AFT Hold-fast high security electronic locking systems' used in several hundred military bases, ships, hospitals and laboratories. We are in the process of winning a federal contract to retool and equip the locks of every American penitentiary. The current value of ASET is around 38 million US Dollars and counting. The Canadian expansion of next year and the England / Australia / New Zealand of the year after that will each increase the company's clientele and sales enough to double the net worth in three years. We estimate the US market to be ready for us to reach out to the civilian companies like subcontractors of the Dept. Homeland Security next year."
Kayo huffed softly and tickled Alan's short ribs playfully. "You forgot quite voluntarily to mention the weaponry and vehicular divisions, or did you think they would forget the Airboat?"
Squirming out of Tanu's grasp before she managed to make him explode in girlish giggles, the teenager shrugged unrepentantly. "It's not my fault if they're short sighted. T'not like the boat is small or quiet."
Kayo poked him in the ribs again but he was too far at the end of the lounge chair for it to reach properly; she would have to get him back later. "Anyways guys, that's how Alan got mercenaries and a big-assed ship. He builds the airships, water boats, trucks and guns to sell to the US Department of Justice and other associated organizations while at the same time hiring a lot of veterans that come back from their tour of duty in the Middle East sickened by the mismanagement, graft, corruption and silent complicity of US brass with the local warlords and militias. They want out; Alan offers jobs in exactly what they trained for, and Voila! Instant private army."
John pursed his lips in thought. "It can't be as easy as that… Can it?" the blond asked of his blue sibling.
The younger male shrugged back indolently "Throw enough cash, science and man-hours at a situation and something will happen. I have a pile of moolah that I control exclusively, Sci-Tech in the forms of Hiram, Fermat and my own capable mind ergo, if I want it, then I just sign the written orders with a check or budgeting plan and it will get done. Eventually, with research, tests, field trials, etc…"
Virgil asked in an uncertain tone "Are you telling us that your airboat is a prototype?"
Alan shook his head vigorously in denial to avoid the imminent onslaught of rash smother-henning coming at him. He noticed that Tanusha had chosen that particular moment to move out from behind Alan completely, leaving him alone in the face of rushing brothers. Damned traitor!
"No, Virg! Of course not! That model is well passed beta-tests and into actual commercial production for the DOJ and DHS. They plan to use it to over-fly the southern border line with Mexico. The airboat can hover and maneuver like a helicopter but carry like an old Hercules c-130 aircraft making it ideal for prolonged patrols over desert areas and open ocean like the Gulf of Mexico. It been ready for sale since last year and we already delivered four to DHS since last November."
Scott was slowly turning an unhealthy shade of ashen gray as he listened to his baby brother speak about contracts and deliveries. "Heu, Sprout… An ordinary fighter jet can cost around 30 million USD each. Just how much does that flying claptrap set you back when you sell it to good old Uncle Sam?"
Blushing a bit under his blue tint, Alan mumbled "about 85 million USD depending on the options and weapons packages the client chooses."
Gordon's voice had a decidedly soprano tone to it when he asked waspishly "I thought you said your company was worth just 38 millions? Do you know how to count or have you been wasting your time at school?"
Before any of the others could answer for him, Alan shot back in a fighting tone "I actually AM wasting my time at school; the curriculum for high school's grade 12 is like seven years behind where I'm at! That's why I have so much time to draw blueprints and write programs for my devices! As for counting my sales and money right; well, I have an entire office with two dozen full time accountants to handle that. I have several divisions with several services and subsectors in each. It's a complex organigram that I sometimes don't remember fully because it's just that BIG. Like the company. ASET Homesteading is just the founding division and principal holding shell; the others are incorporated separately to avoid a cascade failure in case of bankruptcy, lawsuit or Jefferson buying a judge to try and hijack what's mine. In total, it's worth about some 2 billion USD to date after five years of intense creative work and top-notch management."
Utter dead silence answered that, accompanied by gaping mouths.
