Tin-Tin walked into Jeff's office, looking politely interested,
"Yes, Mr Tracy, what can I do for you?"
"Sit down Tin-Tin, I'd like to ask you a few questions." Jeff gestured to a chair and, once she was seated, took the other chair.
"I just spoke to Penelope. She suggested I talk to you, but I want this to be in the strictest confidence. Understand?"
"Of course, Mr Tracy." Tin-Tin smoothed her skirt down and waited. Jeff paused for a moment before speaking, uncertain of how to begin.
"I learnt something from Scott today, a relationship, with…Ned Cook. Did you know there was something going on?" Tin-Tin looked nervous,
"Well, yes, I did… but I couldn't have told…" Jeff shushed her,
"No, no, of course not. I just want to know how you found out and who knows about it and, oh, I don't know, why I didn't find out by myself. And, what do you think about it." Tin-Tin smiled, relaxing. She could see how tense Jeff was, and her worry that he might be angry with her was gone.
"I knew because I noticed a lot of little things and put them together. Mostly because I keep on the look out for that sort of thing because it interests me. I don't suppose you would have noticed because you don't think about that sort of thing very much."
"What did you notice? What was there to notice?"
"Oh, just little things; how he talked about Ned, how he coloured up when you spoke about him. The way he wanted leave, the way he kept his top out of the wash because Ned had been wearing it. I did get a big clue at the start though. He had Ned's number in his trouser pocket. That's a little unusual, don't you think? But you wouldn't have known most of it."
"So who knows now?" Tin-Tin went on cautiously,
"I told John. I had to tell someone and he seemed the safest. We didn't tell anyone else. Virgil knows because Scott kissed Ned in front of him. I don't think Alan or Gordon know. Brains doesn't, neither does Grandmama or my father. They ought to know though. It's silly not to tell people. They'll find out. I was surprised Grandmama didn't work it out, she's as bad as me." Tin-Tin paused for a moment, "What are you going to do? Scott wants to bring him here doesn't he?"
"Sure he does. But I can't work my way round to letting him at the moment. For one thing, I know Scott's not going to put pressure on me to agree, and if he can control himself, I'm not risking a security breach for no good reason. Still, I'd like to know your impression of Ned."
"I haven't met him Mr Tracy. But I've heard Scott talk about him, and I've spoken to Virgil and John and they both like him. I think he's very different when he's not working. Besides, I trust Scott. He knows what's important and what isn't a threat. He truly trusts Ned. And he truly loves him, you mustn't doubt that."
"What would you do Tin-Tin?"
"I'd get Ned over here. But I don't expect you to. Maybe you should… no, it's not my place to say."
"Go ahead Tin-Tin."
"Well, I would suggest that you think seriously about getting Ned here, because Scott never will push you. I know that and so do you. It doesn't mean he doesn't want it." Jeff pushed his hand through his hair and looked at her, unconvinced.
"I don't see how I can do that. But thank-you Tin-Tin. I'll bear it in mind. That's all. Sorry to have bothered you."
"It's no trouble Mr Tracy." Said Tin-Tin, smiling sweetly, and she got up and left the room, her expression turning darker as she made her way back to her own room.
Jeff sat back once more, thinking. If only he could really sort out his feelings before he had to talk to Scott again, but his chats with Penny and Tin-Tin didn't seem to have sorted him out any more than to tell him what he ought to be doing. He had established that he still loved his son. Fine. But could he keep that up if he couldn't understand, if he couldn't even work out what he felt? He slumped in the chair, pouting, and picked nervously at the leather arms.
It was late at night before Jeff decided he had to speak to Scott. The intervening time had done nothing to calm him or sort out his feelings, and in truth, he wasn't ready. However, the time spent brooding over it had made things worse, not better, and it seemed like any more time would exponentially increase the problem in his mind. So at one o'clock, he pressed the button that connected him with Scott's room and immediately, Scott appeared on his screen. He hadn't been to bed, that was clear, and he looked tired and worried.
"Would you come up to the lounge Scott? I'd like to talk to you now."
"Sure, Father." Scott replied, and the screen went dead. A few seconds later, Scott came into the room. The rest of the family were in bed and the house was quiet. Jeff gestured to the couch and sat on the chair next to it. After a while he spoke,
"Look Scott, I'm having real problems dealing with what you told me today, and I don't want to be. It's really none of my business whether you prefer men or women, but I guess it matters to me more than I thought it did at first. You're my son and I love you, and because of that I'm really making an effort. But also because of that, I need you to give me some indication that what's going on is real and justified. I can't operate with all this uncertainty. Do you want me to agree to letting Ned Cook come here?" Scott looked helplessly round the room,
"I want…I want you to be happy with him. I don't want him to come here and you not be happy about it."
"But you're not happy that he can't come here? You're in love with him, you can't be happy he can't come here."
"No. I would love him to be here. But the risk, the way you'd feel about it, the way I'd feel about it…I'm not sure that that doesn't cancel it out. I need to know that it's not such a risk, but I don't see how I can. Give me an idea Father. If I could know that it would be safe…but we'd never know till he'd been and then…"
"I thought you trusted him?" Jeff's voice was rising, frustration growing in him. Scott could see it, but there was nothing he could do. If he had another answer, he'd give it. But he didn't.
"I do trust him. But I don't trust myself. I could never forgive myself if my trust was misplaced. In the end it doesn't matter whether I love him and trust him, or not, because my situation is not going to change, so I guess I don't want him here. Except I do, desperately."
"Make up your mind!" Jeff said, fiercely. His calm demeanour had left him, blood rushing to his face. Scott fell back in his chair, as if pushed by the force of his father's anger – so unexpected, so sudden. Jeff's mind was whirling, all the uncertainties he had quashed rising to the surface, wearing a different guise: not anger at his son's decisions, no, those he could accept, but anger at those decisions he had not made; could not make.
"How do you mean, Father?" Scott asked, his voice steady, trying to calm, but covering up a torrent of emotion. He had felt so safe coming here tonight.
"You need to give me a clue. How can I know what to think when I get no answers from you? If you love this man, you must want him to be with you here. Yet you always qualify it. There is always a 'but'. I can't make decisions for you Scott. What do you want?" Jeff was standing now and he bellowed the last four words. Scott shrank under the onslaught, but Jeff's anger carried him on,
"Every time I send you out on a rescue, I depend on you to make split-second decisions. How can I trust you with that, if here and now you have a conflict of interests that prevents you making the simplest choice…" Scott was jolted into speech,
"No Father! It's not simple. It's the most difficult thing I've ever done in my life. It's like knowing you have to breathe to live, but then being told the air's poisoned. Breathe or don't breathe. Either way, the outlook's not good." Jeff was pacing now,
"Fantastic, I ask for answers, I get mumbo jumbo…"
"No! I love Ned. I'm crazy about him. I hate every day I don't see him. But it's not who I am. You, YOU trained me. The air-force trained me to obey orders and learn, but you've been the best damn teacher I could have, and YOU taught me to put our secrecy and security, and what we are for people in danger, first. That is imprinted so deeply into my head that I can't shift it, even when it's a matter of life and death. The only way I'd ignore it is if something so soul-breakingly important came up that I had to." Scott was on his feet too, almost chasing his father round the room. "Well, this might be it, but I can't be sure, because that sense of duty, which gets me through everything else and makes me passionate about my job, is in the way of my analysing this thing properly. That's YOUR training. And you are exactly the same, or you'd have made that decision for me. Everyone criticises most in others that which most closely reflects themselves. Please don't think I've changed. Dad." Scott sat again, his last words sad and…
"For pity's sake. Stand up to me!" Shouted Jeff. "Persuade me to like him. Prove to me that you are the Scott I know…" A slight gasp behind him made Jeff wheel round, his face livid, fists clenched by his side.
Gordon, John, Virgil and Grandma were standing in their nightclothes, stunned, behind the partition with the next room.
"Dad? What's going on?" Gordon asked, scared, but almost before he'd finished saying it, the eyes of Alan's portrait started to flash and the bleeper announcing the incoming transmission sounded.
Silently, Jeff strode to his desk, ignoring his sons and mother. He sat and took a deep breath before opening comms.
"Go ahead Alan." Alan appeared on the screen, looking slightly dishevelled, his blond hair sticking up in clumps, his eyes droopy.
"Emergency call, Father. Bad weather has caused flooding and subsidence on an area of ground forming the main residential area of a city. Apparently it's still pretty rough and the helijets can't cope. There's a children's home that looks like it's going to fall, but the kids can't get out because the whole area is flooded and marshy and the weather's too bad to get boats in, especially in the dark. There's plenty of people trapped in the houses too."
"Okay Alan, send the coordinates through and then see if you can find out any more." He flicked off the connection.
"Virgil, take pod four with the extra equipment. Gordon, you go with him, be prepared for some muddy work. John, I want you to go and be prepared to take over manning the mobile control unit if necessary. I want you all in coveralls, and if you're in that water, wear a mask, you don't know what might be in it." Virgil went off to his wall panel, while Gordon and John made their way to the passenger lift. Scott sat, watching his father, then got up,
"Father?" No response. Jeff didn't look at him.
"Father?" Still nothing. Scott yelled,
"You're wasting time! Those kids could be in the muck by now." Jeff turned to him,
"Launch Thunderbird One." He said, dangerously quietly. Scott ran to the wall and gripped the handrails tightly as the walkway took him to the ship.
Even with the delay, Thunderbird One was still airborne before Thunderbird Two. Scott checked the destination details and pointed his craft in the right direction. As he changed to horizontal flight, the comms link to Thunderbird Two went off and reluctantly Scott opened the channel. Gordon's voice came over, sounding wary,
"What was that about, Scott? It sounded like Dad was really mad. What did you do?" Scott closed his eyes,
"Not now Gordon. Definitely not now."
"What? Why?" Gordon whined, Virgil cut him off,
"He means it Gord. Just wait. Is it okay Scott?"
"I don't know Virg. But I do mean it, I'm not discussing it now. Let's get this job done. My ETA is about fifteen minutes, so I'll set up as soon as I get there and see what I can find out."
"FAB Scott." Said Virgil and cut the channel. Scott called ahead to the area superintendent,
"This is International Rescue, I believe you require our assistance. I will require a safe landing area and security guards to protect my vehicle."
"Wilco, International Rescue. You can land at the city heliport, it's on higher ground near to the disaster area and we've set up our communications HQ here. Visibility's pretty poor, but if you go to reference four-eight, you should see the landing lights. Head for the red circle and I'll send some men over once you've landed. Thanks for coming."
"No problem. I'll have some more equipment landing shortly in a larger craft, can I pass on a landing place for them?"
"Sure, the green circle due west of your spot is free. Same reference. Tell them to watch the side-wind as they come in, it catches people out round the side of that tower."
"Roger, Superintendent. ETA now two minutes. Over and out."
Scott passed on the information to Virgil, and a couple of minutes later, he was bringing Thunderbird One in to land, buffeted by high winds and pelting rain. As he opened the hatch and climbed down the ladder, Scott saw six men in waterproof overalls running towards him. He shook hands with them as he explained the need for the craft to be protected from photography and intruders, then he operated the remote controls of the mobile control unit and manoeuvred it over to the building that one of the security men pointed out as the HQ.
Bringing the unit into the main control room, Scott was greeted by the Superintendent, a tall, British man with dark hair and a moustache, who shook him by the hand,
"I'm Super Palhurst. Very glad you could make it, er…"
"Tracy's the name." Scott set up the unit in a corner and then went across to look at the area map on a flatbed display in the centre of the room. Palhurst joined him to explain,
"You see the area marked in blue has always been water, swamp and so on, but the area in orange shows the extent of the current flooding. It's unprecedented. Small areas have been known to flood, some of them regularly, but nothing like this. I can only speak for the last two years, since I was posted out here, but it seems that much of this area…" he gestured with his hand, "has hardly suffered at all in the past. Clearly the buildings are not built to withstand it, it's a fairly poor area anyway, and their foundations and construction can't cope."
"So which are the buildings in the most immediate danger?"
"This group here, the children's home, these twenty or so houses and this building which is a sort of community centre. They are the worst from what we could see before the light failed. But now, the wind came up again when it got dark and we haven't been able to effect any sort of rescue since. We had started to evacuate some of the properties nearest to us, they are all sitting on their roofs or in their attics, but by the time we found there were worse-affected properties, it was too late. I don't even know if they will still be standing now."
"Right. Well, I have to wait for the extra equipment to get here, but it should arrive at any moment now. I'll probably leave another man in charge here, if the weather improves at all, you still need to work on evacuating what properties you can, we'll focus our efforts on the children's home and those other properties for a start."
The mobile control unit flashed a signal and Virgil appeared on the screen,
"Coming in to land now Scott. I guess we'll be straight off again though will we?"
"Nearly. I want John to come over and relieve me. I'm going to bring across Thunderbird One to join you, I don't think it's worth even trying to approach the area in any other way in this weather. It might be worth Gordon being ready to hop into Four though. We might well be looking for survivors in the water."
"FAB Scott. Okay, we've touched down. I see some guys running over. Where do I send John?"
"Straight over to the big blue doors in the middle of the tower wall. But he can come over with those guys, I want you to get over to quadrant three as soon as they're out of blast range, go and do a recce on that children's home for me. It's the tallest building in the area, or it was. Big stone-built thing."
"FAB." In a minute, John entered the control room, soaked to the skin as Scott had been.
"Right, John, this is Super Palhurst, he's in charge here, but he's taking your orders. Liase with him on when to send out conventional rescue gear to the nearest areas if the weather improves. I'm going to take Thunderbird One out there and try to help. Keep comms open, we might need more information."
"Right. See you later Scott."
"Oh, and call base and explain the situation will you? I haven't had time to call in yet."
"FAB." Scott nodded at the Super and ran across the tarmac to Thunderbird One. He dismissed the guards and waited till they were out of the way before firing the take-off jet and flying across to meet Thunderbird Two in the worst-hit area.
The Super had been right, visibility was appalling, and the gale now up to much the same strength as the blizzard in the mountains had been. Scott fought with the controls to bring himself down into the space between the buildings, trying to get a look at the position of the children's home. He called Thunderbird Two.
"What have you found out Virgil?"
"Very little Scott. They've got no transmitting equipment in there and with the weather being so poor, I haven't been able to communicate with them at all. It's leaning badly though. We watched it go a little more a minute ago. We're going to have to work quickly. I guess it's a case of getting a line down there with the passenger cage and getting as many of them out that way as we can. There's no way they can get out on the lower floors: the first two are flooded and it looks like there's severe structural damage on the third. I can't get as close as you, but Gordon pointed the 'scope at the windows and it looks like most of them are bunched up in the second floor from the top. The roof's off, so I guess they didn't fancy the top floor, but it doesn't make our job any easier. The angle's poor too, there are no windows on the upside slope as it were. The sides are too close to other buildings on that floor and of course the front is now tucked under. But it's not going to matter a hoot in a short while."
"Okay. You reckon we could hold it with a line to the back?"
"Negative, Scott. I fired a test line when we arrived. The mortar is like a sponge, you fix anything to those stones and they're just going to pull out. We'll have to send something through the windows and hope they realise to tie it on to something strong. You'll have to do it, I can't get in close enough with these buildings to cope with the angle to those windows."
"FAB Virgil. Lining up now." Scott eased his ship round to the front and brought it cautiously in towards the overhang of the leaning building. The windows looked small and dark. The floodlights blazing from Thunderbirds One and Two were weak and flickering in the storm.
"I can't see if there's anyone in these rooms Virg. I'm just going to have to chance it. Why can't we have a nice calm day? This is the third storm we've dealt with in a month, I'd sure like one where you can stand up outside without hanging on to something."
"At least it's not so cold here. It's actually quite warm, and you couldn't say that about the last three." Virgil said, soothingly.
"Sure. Small mercy. Well, here goes. Firing line now." Scott pulled the line trigger and the gun-like device projecting from a hatch under the cockpit fired the line towards the building. It shot across the gap, but before it could reach the window, an even stronger blast of wind caught it and it soared to the left, snagging in flailing power lines far along what had been the street. The whipping cables tore at the line and hauled at Thunderbird One, dragging the ship towards the walls on either side of it. Scott pulled helplessly at the controls, trying to stabilise, but it was no use, any second he would crash through one of those walls and become another piece of debris.
"Cutting line!" He shouted, and pulled the trigger a second time. The line disconnected from Thunderbird One and flew off like a ribbon in a breeze, making a nest of tangled loops in the power lines. Scott blew out a long breath, his heart beating fast.
"What happened?" Virgil asked,
"Line flew off, I allowed for the wind, but it was too strong. Got caught in some power lines off over there and they're strong as all hell. I'll have to try again."
"How many lines have you got?"
"One left. That is, one I can fire. There's plenty of rope in the storage bays here, but we can't get it to the building."
"Okay. Can you get closer before you fire?"
"Negative. I'm getting too much buffeting being in this tunnel. If I get closer I might hit. Any ideas?"
"I guess you'd just better wait for a lull and hope for the best."
"FAB. Firing on the next lull." Scott waited, his finger tight round the trigger as he watched the readouts on the panel in front of him and felt the ship shifting. Then the movement settled for a moment and he pulled the trigger.
Again the line fired out and this time reached the building, but the wind was rising again and as it came level with the window, it was carried on, landing barely past the frame on the stone wall. The angle made it slide across the stone to the sill of the next window, and for a second Scott thought it was catching on the broken glass; but the wind carried it on again, Scott reeling it back as fast as he could, until it caught in a tree and, lashing around it, became hopelessly entangled once more. Reluctantly, Scott cut the line again, his lips pressed tightly together. Elbow on the arm of his chair, he rested his chin on his fist, thinking, until the wind buffeted him hard and he was forced to grasp the controls to bring her back up, out of danger.
"Well Virgil, time for Plan B."
"You did your best Scott. What is Plan B?"
"I don't know. Let me think for a minute." Virgil and Gordon were silent, also thinking, as their brother sat alone in his cockpit and ran dozens of ideas through his head, most of them too slow, all the rest impossible. In theory.
"Virgil." Scott's voice broke through the drumming rain and howling wind that were audible even in the heavily protected cockpit of Thunderbird Two.
"Go ahead Scott."
"I need Gordon to come and take over from me."
"How Scott? There's no way I can land out here, and if I try it on the building, I'll have it over."
"I know. He'll have to fire one of your lines over. I can't do this any other way. I need to go across and get the kids out onto my wing. That'll give us enough clearance from the building for you to drop your passenger lift. I can't believe I lost the lines, but we'll have to cope without. The wind is blowing along the street, but it's creating a vortex round that corner. If I can swing out on one of the ropes, I can tie it off on one of the loops by the wing, and then I reckon I can make it over there. As long as I hit the wall, I can get to the window, there's such high pressure along here, I reckon I could scale it without much help anyway."
"It's crazy Scott, the building will be leaning right over you."
"I know. I'm not looking forward to it, but if I can get in there and secure that line, I can bring the kids across. I'll fasten another line over the fuselage and you can drop the lift onto the other wing. I reckon I could get two across at a time and…"
"Scott you can't. Even supposing you made it across, Thunderbird One isn't built for climbing on. It'll destabilise it, and the wings curve remember? They're going to be slippery as glass and bucking in the wind. You'll be fighting the gale, probably fighting a couple of terrified kids too. We're not talking one or two kids here anyway. There's about twenty-five of them in there, plus five or so adults. And that's assuming Gordon can hold it steady."
"He can do it."
"He's not experienced enough. You know he's not. He only just brought her in safely the last time."
"No, he did fine. It was only the flight pattern that was off. I was just teasing with…with Dad. He flies her fine, just fine."
"Yeah, okay, in normal circumstances, but I'm having enough trouble keeping this baby in the air, and I can fly her in my sleep. Why don't you pilot and let Gordon go across?"
"Because, firstly, Gordon hasn't got such a good head for heights; secondly, this is a strength job and you know as well as I do and Gordon does that not all those old injuries have healed completely – all the swimming training in the world isn't going to cover up for that when he's swinging helplessly from a rope out there with a kid on each arm; and thirdly, you're right, it's completely crazy, insane and impossible. And it's my idea, and it's going to be my neck out there, not anyone else's.
"Do you reckon you can do this Gordon?" Scott asked at last. "It means holding her dead steady in that alleyway. She's compensating for most of the buffeting, but you have to keep your eye fixed on that gyro and pull her round when she deviates the slightest bit. You'll be wrestling with her a bit when we climb on the wing, but I know you can do it. What do you think?"
"I guess Scott." Gordon's voice had none of its usual cheeky jocularity, it was nervous, but determined. "But I really won't know till I try, and then… shouldn't we ask Dad? Maybe he'll have another idea?"
"No. Dad will say no to this. He'll say no because he's not here and because he won't believe it has enough chance to risk it, and he won't come up with a better plan because he can't evaluate all the circumstances from there in the time. If we hesitate any longer we're going to lose every damn kid in there. I'd rather face Dad at the end of it having tried and failed, than live with myself if I didn't try."
"Scott it's crazy." Said Virgil, "Dad will flip if it goes wrong. Are you sure you're not just doing this to prove…"
"No! This has nothing to do with anything else. You focus, Virgil Tracy. You tell me another way to do this here and now with the equipment we have and we'll do it. I can't think of that other way and this is really urgent, I don't want to sit here and watch that house full of kids fall into the mud and drown them."
Virgil thought for a moment.
"If you can't think of it Scott, it isn't there. Let's go."
Scott pulled Thunderbird One level with the top of Thunderbird Two and linked up to Gordon's personal transmitter before recognising a signal from John.
"You hear what we're doing John?"
"Sure Scott. Alan was about to pass it on when you said not to. You sure you're not going to tell Dad?"
"No John. He'd stop us and I can't disobey him. I'd rather just bypass him for the moment. Plus I'm not so sure he'd trust my judgement today on something completely safe, let alone this." Scott paused, waiting for the inevitable questions. But they didn't come.
"Well, good luck, Scott. Keep transmitting. I want to hear what's going on. Good luck Gordon, rather you than me."
"Gee, thanks John, you make me feel a whole lot better!" said Gordon, a little of his lightheartedness returning to his voice. Scott cut in.
"Hurry this up guys. Gordon, can you fire the line to me here?"
"Sure Scott. Where shall I aim for?"
"Somewhere near the hatch, but keep your line short, you might need a couple of goes." Gordon took aim, fired, and missed. The short line lashed at the nose cone as it reeled back in.
"Sorry about your fresh paintwork Scott." Said Gordon. Scott smiled ruefully. It hadn't even crossed his mind. Gordon shifted his aim further back along the ship, waited, and fired again. This time the line struck the side of the ship just next to the wing, the clamping arms shot out and secured it and Gordon whooped.
"Got it!"
"Well done Gordon! Okay, clip yourself to that line with an extendable link, you're a bit off at this end, but the wind's blowing the right way to get you to the hatch. Then keep tight hold as you come across, don't trust your harness in this." Gordon appeared out of Thunderbird Two's top hatch, clipping himself to the line. He tugged on it a few times,
"Keep them steady fellas." He said, and hauled himself up and out until he was dangling from the line, swinging violently in the gale as he moved away from the vast bulk of Thunderbird Two. The rain made the line slippery and as he reached the middle and started the uphill climb, his breathing became heavier as he struggled to maintain his grip. At last he reached the glistening silver metal of the smaller craft and called to Scott,
"I'm across."
"FAB, opening hatch now. If you put the brake on the clip and let out your link and claw along the side, you should be blown towards the hatch." Scott pulled the override on the hatch-opening and it slid back. Gordon did as instructed, slid gracefully to the hatchway and climbed inside. Scott closed the hatch once Gordon was unclipped.
"Release the line Virgil. That worked at least. Nice work Gordon. I'll take her down into position, then we'll swap over and get going." Gordon clung to the side of the pilot's seat as Scott gingerly brought Thunderbird One back into position in the narrow passage in front of the children's home. He unbuckled the straps holding him in his seat, waited until conditions seemed stable, then cried,
"Swap!" He flung himself out of the seat and Gordon scrambled in and took the controls. The craft shifted a little, but Gordon soon had her back under control as Scott pulled on a harness and grabbed two thick loops of rope and a short temporary line-firer from the wall compartments.
"Open hatch Gordon."
"FAB." Gordon opened the hatch and both brothers screwed up their eyes as the wind and rain pelted into the cockpit. Scott glanced at Gordon, his eyes were wide open in an expression that said 'you really want to go out there like that?'. He looked away, grabbed hold of the handle by the hatch and leant out into the storm.
The rain streaming into his eyes made aiming difficult, but at least the wing he was aiming at was motionless in relation to the bit of floor he was standing on. He sighted the line-firer and squeezed the trigger. The line seemed to make tortuously slow progress through the air as the prevailing wind was directly opposed to it, but the distance was just short enough for success, and soon Scott was tugging on the line, trying it for grip.
"Okay Gordon, I'm going out, let her in as close to that wall as you think is safe. I'm going to have to chuck that rope from the end of the wing, it's no good if we're not close enough." Virgil's voice came over the comms,
"Scott, you keep yourself clipped on, I don't want to get filthy rescuing you from that muck."
"Sure Virg." Scott replied, thankful for the jest, no matter how forced. "Go easy on those controls Gordon, let Virgil talk you through if you get panicky. See you." Scott gave a final tug on the line, which he had clipped to his harness and swung out along the side of his ship.
The wind kept trying to push him back to the hatch, but planting his feet firmly on the metal, Scott could walk crab-like towards the wing, shooting glances at the anchor from time to time, looking for any sign of it sliding away. Several times the wind caught him and whipped him round, slamming him against the side of Thunderbird One till his ribs ached. The rushing air on his wet face sucked the warmth out of him and the metal was freezing when he touched it.
At last Scott reached the wing and hauled himself onto it, gripping his fingers round the sheath that protected the slot into which it folded. One hand hung on while with his other, he threaded the ends of the two ropes through the loop set into the side of the craft, leaving one coil by the loop. Lying flat, he wriggled along on his stomach, sliding at first in the middle of a desert of smooth, featureless metal, then, more securely, gripping the edges of the wing where its end formed a point with one side. At the very tip of the wing he stopped and took off the bulk of the rope that he had been wearing like a sash. Then he lay flat on the wing and paused, readying himself.
"Scott? You okay?" Virgil's voice was worried.
"I'm fine Virgil. It was just a bit hairy getting here and I thought a rest would be good." He gathered the coil and unrolled a length he hoped would easily reach to the window for which he was aiming. Then, gingerly, he sat up, legs splayed in front of him, knees bent, so that the sideways motion of his body was transferred through to the greatest area of grip on the soles of his boots. Then, grasping the edge of the wing with one hand, he leant back, coil in his other hand, and with a fluid motion threw the coil with all his strength towards the gaping hole of the window opposite. By determination, grace, or pure blind luck, the coil sailed straight through the window and the rope hung in space, being flung from side to side, but not slipping back. However, for the moment, Scott didn't see this; he lay on his side, holding the slippery metal with numbing gloved fingers as the tilted wing rolled him towards the edge. Over his headset he could hear Gordon cursing and Virgil giving quiet orders to bring the craft back to stability. The wing was righted and Scott shakily shifted himself back onto his front in the centre.
"Sorry Scott, that was a vicious gust." Said Gordon apologetically.
"No problem; good work righting her Gordon. Thanks Virg. Looks like the rope's in. I just hope someone does something with it, it's no good as it is." Scott unhooked the torch from his utility belt and shone its powerful beam across the gap and through the window. The lashing rain made it hard to see anything, but Scott thought he saw a shadow move in the depths of the room beyond. Then he was certain: the rope at his side was moving towards the window, straightening and becoming tauter. It jiggled for a while as if it were being tied to something, then it was swinging in the wind again before, quite distinctly, it was given two hard tugs, a universal sign for 'ready now', if ever Scott had seen one.
"Okay guys, someone's tied off that rope. I'm going to clip myself to it and go across, I just hope it holds. Wish me luck."
"Good luck Scott." He heard the replies as he fastened the clip on the front of his harness to the wildly swaying rope. Virgil, Gordon, John…and Alan, he must be listening in more closely than usual: all too often he just took on the progress reports from mobile control if possible.
Sitting on the edge of the wing, Scott eased himself off until his full weight was hanging on the rope. Slowly he pulled himself forward, hand over hand, thankful for the tough leather gloves he wore. The motion of the rope was disorienting and the drop below dizzying, but in this respect, the low visibility was actually a blessing, cocooning him in a bubble of clear space only big enough to see the building ahead. In a couple of minutes he was at the sill and scrambling over the jagged edges of the broken window, into the room.
Wiping the rain out of his eyes, Scott looked round the room, flashing his torch around the walls. In a corner sat two women and four children of about six years of age, a girl and three boys. The rope on which Scott had arrived was tied to a pillar in the middle of the room, and Scott quickly checked the knots and made it more fast before going over to the huddled group. The children looked terrified and apparently spoke no English, but the adults appeared fairly calm and understood when Scott greeted them.
"Hi, I'm from International Rescue, we've come to get you out."
"Thank-you so much, we thought no-one would be able to come here."
"The normal emergency services couldn't. That's why we're here. Who tied the rope?"
"I did Sir." The younger woman spoke, sounding more nervous than she looked.
"Well done, I couldn't have done much if you hadn't. Now we've got to get you out as quickly as possible. This isn't all of you is it?"
"No Sir." The older woman answered this time, "We thought it would be better not all to be in one room, in case something happened, some would survive. The youngest children are in the room behind this one, seven of them with another two adults, then the nine older children are next to that room with one more adult."
"Twenty children, five adults. Can you go and tell the adults in the other rooms that I am here and to stay put and keep calm, I'll get you out first, then the younger ones, then the oldest. Quick as you can please." Scott watched her go and while they waited for her to return, he unrolled a second harness from his belt and instructed the younger woman to put it on. She looked desperately uncomfortable wearing it, but Scott spoke soothingly to her and explained the safety features, omitting the obvious deficiencies of the rope set-up to which she would be attached. By the time the older woman returned, the younger was looking happier about what she had to do. Scott selected the youngest looking child, a boy whose name he was informed was 'Dan' and lifted him in his arms. He turned to the younger woman,
"Could you explain to him that he's got to hold very tightly to me and not be frightened, it's going to be fun, like going on a fairground ride, but he has to be very good." The woman nodded and taking the little boy's hand in hers, she spoke quickly to him. He nodded with wide eyes and wrapped his arms tightly round Scott's neck. Scott smiled at him and nodded back.
"I'll go across first, then you follow just like I told you." He told the woman. "Okay Dan, off we go." Scott clipped himself onto the line once more and spoke into his comms mic,
"Virgil, I'm starting back across with the first kid. There's a woman who is going to follow and we'll climb over to the other wing, so if you lower your cage now, she'll stay there with the boy till I bring back the others."
"FAB Scott, take care." Scott climbed onto the windowsill and let himself off the other side. The rope sagged alarmingly at first, but the extra weight of the child made it more stable than before and the swaying was less violent. Dan's hair tickled Scott's neck, but fear or obedience kept him still and hand over hand once more, Scott made his way back to the wing. Getting onto the wing proved more difficult. The rope was pulled taut over the edge and with Dan attached to his front, Scott could not swing round into a position to haul himself up. Eventually he let go of the rope with one hand and pushed on Dan's shoulder to put him back where he could see him. Smiling reassuringly, he mimed holding onto the rope that lay flat on the wing. Dan looked confused for a second, but then put one hand on the rope. Scott put his free arm around the top of Dan's legs and pulled himself level with the wing with his other arm. Pushing Dan onto the wing, he checked he had a firm grip on the rope before swiftly letting go and pulling himself up with him. With the rope now slackened again, he put his arm back round Dan and crawled with him back to the loop where the rope was tied off. Sitting him down, he tied the second rope around him and signalled to him to sit still there. Smiling again, he made his way back to the tip of the wing and flashed the torch at the window. A short time later his clip was flattened to the wing as the tension on the rope increased, the woman was on the rope and he could soon make out her shape coming slowly towards him.
As she reached the wing, Scott reached out and grabbed the woman's wrist. Pulling her in, he reached down and putting his arm round her waist, managed to roll her up onto the wing. She was shivering with cold and fear, her hair plastered down her face, but there was a certain pride in her achievement that made Scott grin.
"Well done, that was great. Dan's sitting up here, don't unclip yourself." He helped her crawl along the wing to where Dan sat, then he untied Dan, letting him cling to the woman for safety.
Re-coiling the second rope, Scott threw it over the body of Thunderbird One. The first time it slithered back, but the second throw was successful. Scott called to Gordon,
"Gordon, I need you to lose about ten feet in altitude and roll twenty degrees left left, as smoothly as you can, I have to climb over and I can't do it at this angle."
"FAB Scott." The blast of the VTOL jet announced the descent, then short directional bursts tilted the craft until Scott could scramble up beside the rope to the middle of the fuselage.
"Okay Gordon, right her again and take her back up."
"FAB." A slight wobble, a blast of jets, and Thunderbird One was back in position. Scott clung to the rope and slid carefully down the other side, where he tied the rope off on the loop, forming a handrail over the top of the ship. The passenger lift hung in the air above and in front of him and he called to Virgil,
"Lower passenger lift, put it down on the wing, and leave it there, I'll get all of this lot across first."
Each child across was another swoop out into the void, another gradual increase in the aches in Scott's muscles, another risky moment as he pushed the child onto the wing. First the middle group, then the very youngest, then the oldest ones of about ten and eleven. Each adult across was a talking round, a gentle coercing to do something they simply could not contemplate at the start, another risky moment as they were pulled on board. And all the time, the terrifying moments as Gordon lost control for a second and Thunderbird One jerked alarmingly beneath them, throwing them to the metal, rolling them to the very edge of the wing. The last adult came across before the last of the oldest children, Scott didn't want to risk an inexperienced person being the last across. At last, Gordon called frantically, having held his peace for hours,
"Scott, how long are you going to be? I can't do this much longer, I can't concentrate any more."
"I've got three kids left to get, hang on there Gordon, you're doing the job of your life, you've been fantastic, keep it up."
Then the building started to move again.
"Look out Scott!" Shouted Virgil, half deafening Scott. It stopped again, but the angle was now so precarious that another shift would surely topple it. Mysteriously large amounts of what looked like black soil were cascading from what should have been a slated roof. Scott thought quickly, there was a possibility…
"Gordon, I'm going to climb back over to the other side, then I want you to bring her in right to the building, use the yaw jets, fold up the wings, it'll make her less stable, but I want you to use the length of the body to push that wall back, if you go in at this altitude, the wing should hit on the windowsill and I can bring those kids straight over without the rope."
"But that's so dangerous, the lot could fall on us…"
"It's more likely to fall where it is now, don't argue, there isn't time, right I'm in place, get moving."
"I don't know how Scott, I've never…"
"Bring the right lever gently towards you, knock the lower one with your lower fingers, that'll kick in the yaws on their own…" Gordon did so and Thunderbird One started to drift towards the building. "Good, gently does it, now leave the lower one and beef up the main. Good." There was a bump, and grinding metal announced the arrival of Thunderbird One's wing in contact with the stone wall.
"Great Gordon, now ease off until you can feel the pressure start to drop, then hold her, I'm going in."
Scott clambered back over, and crouched, swaying in the wind, before jumping onto the sill and climbing into the room. The three children were hanging onto the pillar where the rope was attached, looking utterly terrified. Scott went over to them and asked,
"Do you speak English?" A boy, who looked like the oldest, replied in a very small voice,
"A little bit, sir."
"Good, come to the window, all of you." The two boys went to the window, but the girl seemed to have moulded herself to the pillar and would not let go. Scott pulled gently on her arm, but her grip was too tight and his wet glove slipped on the skin. He shook his head and went back to the boys.
"One at a time, climb up here," he patted the sill to explain, "then hold tight to the rope," he mimed it again, "and climb right over to the other side of the ship. Understand?" The oldest boy nodded and Scott ushered him to start. He put his hand on the second boy's shoulder to make him wait, then when the first was safely, if a little swayingly across, he let the second go and watched him climb over to join his friend. Scott turned back into the room and looked at the girl. He sighed and called to Virgil.
"Virg, let down the lift again, get it as close as you can and see if you can wedge it on the wing edge, I think you should have the clearance. Then tell them to get in, they've got some English. I've got a girl here who's not playing and we might not have time when I get her." Gordon cut in,
"Hurry up Scott, I can't hold her long, I don't know any tricks in this one."
"I know Gordon, you're doing well, just a few more minutes." Scott could hear the grating of metal on stone as Gordon's control became more erratic. The sound wasn't helping the girl who shrank further against the pillar. Scott went over to her and put his arm around her shoulders,
"Speak English?" The girl nodded fractionally. "Okay, you let go and come to the window with me. I'll help you and you'll be holding onto a really strong rope, so you'll be very safe. It will be just like climbing the stairs." Still the girl would not let go. "I'll be right with you, I won't let you fall. I can't help you if you don't cooperate." The girl turned her face away. Scott took hold of her wrist and gently prised it away from the pillar. "Hold onto me, come on…" He pulled a little harder and reluctantly, the girl released her grip on the pillar and put her arms round Scott's neck. He let out a slow breath, she was too big to take across as he had the younger ones, especially as the rope was now slack and he needed both hands to climb over lying tight to the ship. He stood up, holding her with one arm, and made his way to the window. He tried to put her down, but she wouldn't let go. Gordon was running a mantra in his ear,
"Hurry Scott, please hurry, please hurry…"
"Let go!" Scott shouted suddenly at the girl. She let go, the shock doing what gentle urging couldn't. She looked at him reproachfully. Dawn was now fully broken and dim light crept into the area nearest to the window. In the distance, over the howl of the wind, Scott could hear engines and the hum of helijets, the rescue of people from other buildings must be underway once more as the storm eased slightly with the coming day.
"Get on my back." Scott crouched and hauled her into place; legs gripped his sides ferociously, arms tightened around his dripping neck. He loosened them with his hands and heaved himself up onto the windowsill. The slack rope lay in coils on the wing edge and Scott had to avoid it as he stepped down onto Thunderbird One, hanging onto a loop of it. Gordon's control was definitely slipping, the wing scraped up and down the wall as gusts of wind swirled in the oddly shaped gap between the Thunderbird and the building. Scott threw himself down to lie flat against the rising hull of the ship in front of him. The girl's grip tightened on his throat again, but he couldn't let go of the rope. His feet slipped on the slick metal, the strength in his legs having diminished during the many runs to and fro. With aching arms, he pulled himself and the girl to the top of the rise, then lowered them carefully down the other side, rain lashing them. The passenger lift was there, a foot away, the two boys safely stowed inside, crouching in the corner and hanging on tightly. A gust of wind seemed to move it far away, though in fact it moved mere inches. Scott leant out to grab it, other hand still clutching the rope, but in the wind and rain, he couldn't see. His weary arms would no longer respond to subtle hints.
He slid his arm behind him, between himself and the girl, choking as the pressure on his throat increased once more. Wrapping his hand back around her waist, he pulled with all the strength he had, sliding her to one side, until he could move his arm and pull her round in front of him. Her grip was immense, fear holding her to him. He couldn't get her off. Gordon's voice in her ear was more insistent and the increasingly bucking ship was throwing him off balance and making it ever more likely that the passenger lift would swing away.
Scott looked down and looped his foot twice round in the rope serving as a handhold over the ship's body. Gingerly, he let go with his other hand and stood up. Now having both hands free, he gripped both of the girl's arms and pulled her off him. Before she could regain her grip, he turned her round, gripped her under the arms and threw her bodily into the passenger lift. She landed on her feet and crashed into the back wall, but the impact was not hard and the two boys quickly grabbed her and pulled her into their corner.
"Take her up Virgil, they're in." Far above him, motors whined and the lift scraped away from Thunderbird One as it rose up to safety.
Thunderbird One jerked as the weight left the wing and Scott was thrown sideways and back against the wall. His foot, trapped in the rope, twisted round and pain shot up his leg. In silence, he bit his lip, using both hands to haul himself back towards the rope and free his foot, then pulled himself back over Thunderbird One.
On the wing, he pulled in as much as the rope as he could, cutting it off at the farthest point he could reach. Then, holding the coil, he climbed back up to the top, dragging his injured leg behind him.
"Come ON, Scott." Moaned Gordon as the ship rocked and the building creaked.
"Coming, open the hatch." Scott crawled towards the nose, using the rope to steady himself. When he was level with the hatch in the side, he let himself over the edge on his front and slid down the side, the rope gliding away from him, back towards the wing. His hands scrabbled at the side as his feet found fresh air, and at last he found purchase on the edge of the hatchway.
Letting go of the rope, Scott climbed into his Thunderbird. Gordon's knuckles were white on the controls and he was dripping with sweat. Scott reached over and closed the hatch.
"Great, work, Gordon," he panted, "Now, sit forward, what is the direction of thrust?" Gordon sat forward, never having had time to strap himself in,
"About two o'clock, but it's variable, I've had to increase thrust steadily for the last fifteen minutes, I think the building is actually falling." He sounded scared, out of place in the air when he would have preferred to be in the water below.
Scott used his good leg to lever himself up onto the pilot's chair, till he was crouching behind Gordon. He reached forward on either side and laid his hands over his brother's on the controls.
"Okay, ease off your pressure, let me feel what you're doing." Gordon did as instructed and Scott felt the controls straining under his hands. He tightened his grip on the outside of his palms, leaving Gordon's hands free.
"Right, let go Gord." Gordon did and Scott grasped the controls more tightly. Gordon was right, Thunderbird One was firing almost at full power to hold the building. Scott addressed his brother again,
"Can you get out? Get down and wrap yourself round something, hang on tight, I'm going to have to shoot out of here at full power, or we'll be crushed." Gordon snaked out from under Scott's arms, and Scott lowered himself into a seated position, wincing as his injured foot touched the footplate.
"Virgil, can you see from up there? Have I got a clear flight-path straight ahead?"
"You're clear if you head upwards straight away. There are power lines…but you know where they are."
"FAB. Okay, hang on Gordon, firing all jets." Scott pulled the controls, imparting a sharp sideways kick to the Thunderbird, before the tail jets fired at maximum, jolting the ship forward and accelerating her to top speed in moments. Thunderbird One shot out and up as stone work and plaster rained down, bouncing off the tail. Behind it, the building fell, crashing into the water below, sending gouts of stinking liquid mud high into the air.
High in the atmosphere and miles away, Scott eased off on the controls and brought his craft back to a low cruising speed. Then turning her, he headed back towards the heliport.
"Virgil, are you on your way to the heliport?"
"Yeah. I've got twenty-five shivering people in here, I'm just landing, I'll get them to the medical area, then I'll head for the control room, okay?"
"FAB Virgil." The line was cut as Virgil landed and started to unload his passengers. "John, is there anything we can do about the other buildings in the area?"
"Not really Scott, the emergency services can cope I think. The wind's eased and they can see what they're doing, they've evacuated half of them, I can't see the rest being a problem now the helijets are out. Besides, I don't expect you're in top form to help, are you?"
"I guess if they can cope, I'd rather not go out there again, but if they need help…"
"Honestly, Palhurst says they'll manage fine. He reckons we all need a hot meal and a bath."
"I'm quite wet enough, thanks John. Well, I'll head back and come to the control room."
"FAB." Scott turned to look at Gordon,
"You alright?"
"Sure Scott. Nice flying." Scott grinned. "Hurt your foot?"
"Twisted it while I was throwing the last girl across. It'll be alright." He started to take off his gloves which were uncomfortably hot now that he was back inside.
"What have you done to your hands?" Asked Gordon, alarmed.
"Oh, it's just paint, I was doing my nose-cone earlier. That was a couple of hours wasted, I dread to think what state she's in now. Missed the pot with the paint and couldn't be bothered to clean it off in time."
"Is that what Dad was yelling at you for?" Gordon asked, remembering.
"No. Look, I'll explain that sometime at home. I really can't right now." Some of Scott's ebullient mood had evaporated. Gordon held his tongue and sank onto the floor, holding the bar next to him on the bulkhead.
In a few minutes, they landed back at the helijet and crossed to the control room, Scott leaning on Gordon's shoulder and limping across the tarmac. Super Palhurst welcomed them warmly, alight with admiration, despite the tension of coordinating the rest of the rescue operation. John and Virgil looked at Scott,
"You look done in." John said bluntly.
"No, it's not that bad." Replied Scott, "Twisted my ankle, but apart from that I'm just a bit wet really. Being out in that for hours wasn't really a picnic. Gordon's probably worse off than me. He's been concentrating like mad for hours. Bit of food and we'll be fine. If you're sure you don't need any more help?"
Palhurst shook his head, smiling, and had a man take them over to the canteen area where the four of them tucked in to shepherd's pie and hot puddings.
Later, Scott was ensconced back in Thunderbird One, his foot hovering just off the ground, supported by his folded hat tucked under his thigh, he'd get hell from Tin-Tin for that later on. The other three were in Thunderbird Two, already taken off and heading for home. Once airborne, Scott tried to call home to tell his father that he was on his way, but was unable to get through. Alan piped up over comms,
"You won't get through Scott, I haven't reopened the link yet."
"What?"
"Well Dad was pestering me to know what you were doing. I couldn't give him a decent answer. Usually I just give him the idea, tell him it's going fine, and he leaves it at that, but today for some reason he wanted details. I couldn't very well tell him that you'd told me not to, but I couldn't lie, so I broke comms. I've already told Virgil. I really need you to back me up on this. I'm going to bring it back on in a minute or two, but I'll have to tell him that there was a loose connection that took time to find. I need you to tell him that you lost touch with me too, or he's not going to believe me."
"Alan! You turned off Thunderbird Five?"
"No. I'm not that stupid Scott. I just broke the link with Dad. I never lost incoming messages. I could even hear Dad. He's been going mad trying to get through, he's got Brains up and everything. Poor Brains, he's probably had a rotten night, trying to locate the fault. If any of us were home, he'd have launched Thunderbird Three I reckon."
"Okay, well, thanks Alan."
"I still don't see why what you were doing was such a secret. Dad trusts you to know what to do. It worked didn't it?"
"Yeah, it's fine from this end. I just don't think Dad actually trusts my judgement right now, and I couldn't have that jeopardising the rescue."
"Why shouldn't he trust you?"
"Yeah, why Scott?" Chimed in Gordon, "Come on, you might as well tell us, while Dad's out of it." Scott thought for a moment, he had to tell them sometime, but he really didn't want to. Yet he knew they wouldn't stop pestering him until he did.
"Ask Virgil. He knows."
"No, I don't Scott. I mean, I know you told him. I'm really proud of you for that. But I don't know what's happened today, I mean, Dad seemed alright earlier."
"Yeah, he was. I don't know what happened. He thought about it too much, I guess. I had to tell him quickly because hiding it was driving me crazy, but I don't know, maybe I didn't think about what I was going to say enough. The jist of the argument this evening was that I should be able to make up my mind whether or not I want Ned here…or at least to persuade Dad to trust him, or even like him. He thinks that because I can't make a decision in that field, where my feelings are so strong, I must be going soft or something. I guess he does have his prejudices, no matter how liberal he tries to be." Scott stopped, he could almost hear Gordon and Alan's mouths hanging open as they guessed at his meaning. He took the plunge,
"I'm going out with Ned Cook."
"He means he's completely and utterly smitten with him, and the feeling's mutual, actually." Virgil said matter-of-factly. Scott smiled involuntarily, listening to the beached cod noises coming from Alan, loud into his headset. There was along pause before Gordon spoke,
"Gee, no wonder Dad was mad. Ned Cook!" The comms link to Thunderbird Two went dead, as if Virgil was about to display his powers of heavy-duty fraternal lecturing, and Scott and Alan were left listening to the sound of each others' breathing.