A/N: I stumbled across this story on my hard drive recently and realised there were some finished chapters I'd never posted, so I figured I might as well put them up. The story still isn't finished, but maybe posting these chapters will give me the incentive to start working on it again. We'll see.
Chapter Eleven: Learning to Fly Again
Despite the pressing issue of the rescue, Jeff Tracy couldn't help noticing the mulish expression on his youngest's face as he joined the rest of them in the command centre. Alan didn't say anything; he just leant against the wall at the back of the room with his arms folded across his chest, but it was impossible to ignore his presence. It was the first time Alan had been part of a briefing for months – ever since his abortive attempt to rejoin IR, he'd stepped back, much to Jeff's relief. That he was actually awake at this time of the morning and here now suggested that things were about to come to a head once again. Alan was nothing if not persistent, although Jeff had to despair over his son's sense of timing.
He stood up and came around the front of his desk. "Alright, I'll keep this brief because we've got a lot to do. At approximately seven fifty-three this morning, local time, a magnitude 6.7 earthquake struck the town of Gisborne, on the eastern tip of New Zealand's Northern Isle." He paused to let them take that in. "The local authorities are reporting extensive structural damage, particularly to the parts of the city closest to the coastline. After making their initial assessment, they're now requesting our help in securing some of the larger structures and locating and rescuing any trapped townsfolk."
If Gordon had been there, he would have made some glib comment about playing "search and rescue" – probably earning him a swift verbal lashing from Scott given the current tension between them. As it was, Fermat merely looked nervous, Tin-Tin was frowning and Alan remained silent. It was almost a welcome relief and reaffirmed Jeff's belief that he'd done the right thing in sending his quarrelling sons to England, despite the current situation.
Virgil leaned forward, hands on his knees. "Have there been any casualties?"
Jeff glanced at the computer screen, indicating that John should field this particular question. "The timing of the quake worked in our favour," his blond-haired son reported."Most people were still at home and off the streets, so early reports suggest no casualties so far, although there are ten or so people unaccounted for. Parts of a small shopping mall in the south of the city have collapsed – that's where most of the rescue efforts are being focused."
"And where we'll be heading," Jeff added.
"What about aftershocks?" Tin-Tin wanted to know. Beside her, Fermat nodded, his glasses slipping down his nose.
"None that have registered," John said. "That's part of the reason the authorities didn't contact us straight away – they wanted to be sure the area had stabilised first. Anyway, I'm monitoring the situation so I'll let you know if anything changes."
"Thanks John." Jeff turned back to the room. "Right, any questions? No? Then I want everyone suited up and ready to go in five. John will give you coordinates when we're in the air. Virgil –" He waited until he had his son's attention "– I want you, Tin-Tin and Fermat in Thunderbird 2. Load up the Mole – I hope we won't need it but it's better to be cautious."
"FAB."
"I'll be taking Thunderbird 1 and manning Mobile Control for the duration of the rescue."
Virgil paused, half-in and half-out of his chair, his surprise evident. "You're not collecting Gordon and Scott?"
Jeff shook his head. "The authorities need our equipment more than they need our personnel. I've informed your brothers of the rescue and if our situation changes then it may become prudent for them to join us. Until then, they're on the other side of the world and they have their own work to do. Besides, it's about time this old man got some exercise."
Virgil looked like he wanted to argue, but one glance at their silent spectator seemed to change his mind. He let his breath out and nodded, mouth tilting up into a wry smile. "Maybe you can teach the youngsters some tricks."
"Or you could have company."
Alan pushed away from the wall and strode into the middle of the room. He moved easily, legs showing no signs of the weakness that had dogged them for so many months.
Mindful of the expression on his face, Jeff kept his voice level. "Alan, you're not an active member of International Rescue at the moment. Now I'm willing to discuss – to discuss this later, but right now we don't have time."
"Exactly. So take me with you." Alan folded his arms across his chest. "Don't tell me one more pair of hands wouldn't help – hell, it might even mean the difference between saving a life and losing it."
He sounded so cool, so confident – Jeff didn't quite know what to make of it. He was used to Alan blowing up in an explosion of incandescent rage – that Alan he knew how to cope with. But this Alan with his calm, direct gaze and his pitilessly accurate words … where was this all coming from?
If he'd had the luxury of time, Jeff might have pursued things. As it was, there was a town full of people who didn't have time for Alan's whims today. "You're off-duty for good reason. And you're going to stay there. If you absolutely have to get involved then you can help Brains here in the Command Centre. But not in the field. Is that understood?"
Alan didn't flinch. "Doctor Makura's given me the all clear. So you're out of excuses."
There weren't many times in life when Jeff Tracy was surprised. This was one of them. Doctor Makura had given Alan the all clear? When? And why hadn't he known? Why hadn't Alan told him? Had he been storing up the news, ready to use it against Jeff? To manipulate him?
His anger flashed out before he could stop it. "Why wasn't I informed of this?"
Alan drew himself up, but instead of erupting he simply shrugged. "Phone her if you don't believe me."
Would Alan lie … no, not about something this serious. Not even to get back into International Rescue. But why hadn't his son told him?
"Dad?"
Startled, Jeff looked up. The others were all still standing there, clearly embarrassed about being caught up in the middle of what was creeping uncomfortably close to an argument. But none of them had spoken; it took Jeff a moment to realise that there was one more person who'd been privy to the conversation.
John was sitting back in his chair, for all the world like he was kicking back watching sports rather than single-handedly monitoring activity for an entire space station. It was a deception that had served him well in life, constantly leading people to underestimate the quiet young man, which was just how John liked it.
"Can I have a word?"
The "in private" was unspoken but impossible to miss and coming from John, Jeff didn't even think about arguing. He nodded to Virgil, who led Tin-Tin and Fermat out of the room and towards the silos. Brains made himself equally scarce, which only left Alan, still standing defiantly in the middle of the command centre.
"Wait outside," Jeff ordered shortly. Alan held his gaze for a moment longer and then turned on his heel and stalked outside, closing the door behind him. Jeff turned back to his space-bound son. "This had better be good, John."
"I think you should let Alan join the rescue," John said without preamble.
Jeff considered his son for a long moment. "Why?" he asked finally.
"Because Alan's right and another pair of hands couldn't hurt. Because this is an earthquake and nothing to do with Wilcox. But mainly because no matter how much you might want to, you can't keep him from this forever."
"But what about Wilcox?" Jeff demanded. "Until he's caught –"
"Dad, it could be months before Wilcox is caught. Years even, if he's clever. Are you really going to keep Alan out of IR for that long?"
Jeff opened his mouth to argue but couldn't think of anything to say to that. In truth, he hadn't really thought things through, which was unusual for him, but given the circumstances not completely unexpected. He'd just assumed that he could forestall Alan until this whole mess was cleared up, at which point he'd sit his son down and calmly explain just what had happened. Whether he admitted the truth about what had caused the Welsh mine to collapse, he still hadn't decided. Given Alan's fragile state of mind recently that might be one truth his son could do without being burdened with.
But with Alan hovering right outside his office, and John's questions forcing the issue, it looked he was going to have to come to a decision sooner than he'd expected.
"I don't want to push him headlong into danger when he's only just recovered," Jeff admitted finally, running a hand over his face.
John's expression softened. "None of us do. But you can't protect him forever, not unless you're going to ban him from International Rescue."
Now that was an idea. Could he –
"Alan would never forgive you for that," John said quietly, clearly guessing where his thoughts had headed. "It's as much a part of his life as it is ours."
Jeff winced. John had always been good at delivering home truths, a trait he'd inherited from his mother. Right now it was one Jeff could have done without.
"There's something else," John added, but then paused.
"Well out with it then. Don't go coy on me now, John."
John smiled before sobering again. "Well, I think he's getting suspicious."
Jeff frowned. "Alan? He's spoken to you?"
"Not to me. But Gordon mentioned something in passing that got me thinking – and I know Tin-Tin's been concerned."
Jeff cursed under his breath. The feeling that everything was spiralling out of control was growing stronger by the moment and with the imminent rescue – "We always knew we were working on borrowed time," he muttered.
"Alan might be a bit self-absorbed sometimes, but he's not stupid. He's going to work it out eventually; start asking questions." John shifted his weight. "None of us like lying to him. And some of us – well some of us aren't very good at it."
He didn't name any names, but they all knew what Gordon and Tin-Tin in particular felt about the deception. The tension on Tracy Island since the latter had found out about Wilcox had been so strong he could almost taste it, like a lump in the back of his throat that he couldn't quite swallow.
"Why not let him have this," John continued. "It'll get him off your back and won't do any harm – if you're worried about his fitness, then I don't know – stick him on Mobile Control or something. Just let him be involved."
Jeff wanted to disagree; he really did. He wanted to come up with the perfect reason to keep Alan chained to Tracy Island until Wilcox was no longer a threat. But everywhere he looked, those reasons were sliding away. Alan was healthy now and certified by his doctor. They were shorthanded and despite what he'd said in the briefing, any extra hands would be a benefit. And this rescue had nothing to do with Wilcox – there was no chance that Alan would be able to stumble over the truth until they'd had time to deal with it. So really, Alan was right. He'd run out of excuses. He could order his son to stay behind just for the sake of it, but that wasn't likely to do any favours for their already fractious relationship. And judging by his mood, Alan wasn't going to back down without a fight.
"Tell the authorities that we'll be there in fifteen minutes," he ordered. John acknowledged the command with the barest hint of a smile and cut the connection between them.
Decision reluctantly made, Jeff strode across to the closed door of the command centre and yanked it open. Alan was sitting on the floor outside, his legs stretched out in front of him. He'd been massaging one of his thighs but stopped when he saw Jeff looming over him.
"Get changed. You're coming with me in Thunderbird 1."
Being back in the co-pilot's seat of Thunderbird 1 brought with it a whole host of memories for Alan Tracy. Hard to believe that it had been over six months since he'd last sat here, last adjusted his uniform, last listened intently as John updated them on the situation at the site of the earthquake. He'd been training in the simulator – part of Tin-Tin's suggestion to prove his fitness to his father – but a computer program, no matter how advanced, could never live up to the real thing. The sights, the smells, the familiar roar of the engine; in some weird way, it was like coming home.
But it was something else too – something Alan hadn't expected. As they'd lifted off from Tracy Island, his pulse had started to race. His hands were clammy and clasped together in his lap to stop them from shaking. He told himself it was just the usual anticipation before a rescue, but in truth it was much more than that.
It was fear. He was scared; there was no other explanation for the icy sensation that was crawling up his spine. Which was, quite frankly, ridiculous – he'd been after this for months, actively campaigning to rejoin IR. Now he had exactly what he'd wanted and gut was twisting so badly he was afraid he was going to throw up.
Doctor Tomass had mentioned something about this – that he might have an emotional reaction when he confronted the situation that had caused his injury – but he hadn't thought much of it at the time. It was just words. Wasn't it?
"Right, let's get a few things straight."
Alan jumped, pulling his attention back where it belonged. His dad wasn't looking at him, but out of the viewport where the New Zealand coastline was just peeking over the horizon. They hadn't spoken much since leaving the island, but the little that had passed between them had made it clear that Jeff wasn't happy with finding himself burdened with a partner.
His next words only confirmed that. "I don't agree with you being here. I think it's too soon and I want to speak to Doctor Makura myself before I consider making this a permanent arrangement. Are we clear?"
Alan nodded. When his father gave him a pointed look, he cleared his throat. "Yes, Sir."
"Added to that, we're damn sure gonna have a conversation about the way you spoke to me in my office. And don't think I'm going to accept the excuse that you were caught up in the moment of the rescue. There's a time and a place for discussions like that and you were way of base on that one."
Was I? Alan wondered, 'Cos it looks to me like I got just what I wanted. Maybe you're just pissed I'm crashing your little party.
"Yes, Sir," he repeated dutifully.
Jeff seemed somewhat mollified by his quiet acceptance. "Okay, ground rules: you do exactly what I say. If I order you away from the rescue site, you do so without complaint. If I tell you to man Mobile Control, you do so without complaint. Is that understood?"
It was amazing how much Scott was like their dad. It could have been his eldest brother sitting there, reeling that list off. What did Jeff think they did on rescues? Made up rules on the spot and did what they wanted? No, they followed Scott's command. Jeff's would be no different.
He trotted out the standard acceptance and Jeff ploughed onwards. "Most importantly, if you're injured at all – in any way, I don't care how small – you come and tell me immediately. I want no more of this self-assessment that you and your brothers seem so fond off. If the rescue in Wales taught us anything it's that you can never be too careful. If we'd identified your injury earlier –" He broke off and shook his head. "You come and tell me. Straight away."
That was one agreement he didn't have to drag out of Alan. No matter what good intentions had been behind his actions back after the Welsh rescue – and in truth, he couldn't really remember much about it – he wasn't going through the fallout again. Ever. "Yes, Sir."
There was a brief silence. Then Jeff sighed and said, "Alan, I want you to know that my reluctance to let you back into International Rescue is no reflection on you, or your abilities. I'm simply concerned about your health. The last thing we need is for you to push yourself too hard and risk a relapse."
It was a legitimate concern, Alan could accept that. If it had been any of his brothers in his position, he'd probably have felt the same. But knowing there was more to it than that – that they were all hiding something from him – undermined his dad's concern completely. This wasn't about his health; this was about the great Tracy conspiracy and keeping him firmly away from it.
Well, his family were going to find out just how hard that was going be.
The next hour passed in a blur of meetings, greetings and setting up. Mobile Control was assembled, Jeff began coordinating with the local authorities and Thunderbird 2 brought up the rear, the Mole prepped and ready to plough through the rubble.
Alan followed every order to the letter, refusing to give his father a reason to chain him to Mobile Control or worse, send him to wait in Thunderbird 2 until the rescue was over. No, he was going to be here, in the thick of the action. Then maybe someone would let something slip and he'd finally learn what was going on behind his back.
They were being sent out in search parties of five, sweeping different parts of the mall and the surrounding area, looking for survivors. So far six of the missing citizens had been found alive and well, but concern was growing, particularly for a young family who'd last been seen entering their independent store at the rear of the mall. The area had been thoroughly searched but there'd been no sign of the missing family yet.
Alan was working with Virgil, which hadn't been unexpected. As the senior member of International Rescue on the ground, Virgil was the natural choice to watch him and make sure he wasn't going to keel over. That left Fermat and Tin-Tin together, which wasn't an ideal choice for such junior members of IR, but Jeff had paired them with the brawny Police Chief, an ex-special forces officer who looked like he'd stepped off the cover of Recruitment Today.
Jeff himself was manning Mobile Control, keeping an overall track of everyone's progress and closely monitoring the seismic activity. Watching him, Alan couldn't help feeling a grudging admiration, despite his anger. Since he'd joined IR, he couldn't remember his dad ever coming out on a rescue mission. It was kind of like seeing the master at work.
Alan rounded a corner, picking his way carefully over the rubble. Gisborne was a mess. Shop signs hung drunkenly from their awnings; shards of shattered glass littered the pavement and the road underfoot was cracked and broken. With the streets so deserted, it was like being stuck in one of those post-apocalyptic films where the human race has been all but wiped out.
He waved his scanner back and forth slowly, watching for any signs of life. Behind him, the two local men Virgil had assigned to his team did the same. An invention of Brains, the scanners were adapted to monitor heartbeats, heat signatures and to pick up human speech from as far as a hundred metres away in the direction it was facing. They had already proved invaluable, picking out a knot of huddled school children who had sought shelter in the back of a car dealership during the earthquake.
"Alan, how's it looking?"
Virgil's voice crackled in his ear and he touched the microphone on his helmet. "All clear here. A lot of mess but no signs of life." He looked to his companions for confirmation. The dark haired one – Kris, he remembered distantly – nodded his head. Stephen, the redhead, was still watching his scanner intently.
"Same here." His brother was quiet for a moment."Tin-Tin reports no sign of the family yet, so we've got to keep looking. I want your group to head back to Mobile Control and then take the south side of the mall. We'll be working our way towards you from the other direction."
"FAB."
Alan checked the scanner again. Mobile Control was back the way they'd come, but he could see the wisdom of Virgil's command. They had to move strategically; they couldn't afford to miss any areas of the town.
"New orders?" Kris asked, his thick accent twisting his words.
Alan nodded, moving back down the road. "Back to the mall, then we're taking the south road."
The men fell into step beside him without comment. As senior members of the Gisborne police force they were used to following orders.
It took about ten minutes to arrive back at Mobile Control, the nerve centre of the rescue effort. As Alan approached, Jeff looked up and waved him over. He jogged across, wondering what his dad wanted. Virgil would already have reported their findings – or lack of them.
"Alan, good. I need you to run back to Thunderbird 2 and grab some fresh batteries for the scanners. Tin-Tin is reporting that a couple of hers are failing."
Alan stared at his father. Was Jeff serious? He was being pulled out of a rescue mission to play errand boy?
Apparently he was. Jeff had already turned back to Mobile Control, effectively dismissing him. Alan bit back the anger that was threatening to rise to the surface. This wasn't the time or place to indulge his emotions. He'd just go and get the damn batteries and then get back to the business of saving lives.
Kris and Stephen were waiting for him on the edge of the square where Mobile Control had been erected. "You'll have to go on ahead," Alan told them. "I've gotta go and pick up some supplies from our ship."
"Can't we come?" Stephen asked, shooting a longing look in the direction of the Thunderbirds, which could just been seen, peeking above the buildings behind them.
Alan smiled despite himself. "Sorry. Operatives only. Go on – I'll catch up."
Stephen mock-scowled at him, but allowed Chris to drag him off. Alan watched them go, wondering how they felt being ordered around by a teenager. He certainly wouldn't have taken it with as much grace as these older men were.
Shaking his head, he turned on his heel and hurried back towards the sports field on the outskirts of town where they'd secured the ships. He tried not to tell himself that this was all part of his dad's plan to keep him out of the way, but as soon as the idea had entered his head, he couldn't escape it. He kept picturing the hatches of Thunderbird 2 closing on him, trapping him inside, safe and sound. As mad as that sounded, he wouldn't put it beyond his dad. Jeff Tracy was nothing if not innovative and overprotective.
All thoughts of his dad fled when he approached the 'birds and caught sight of a figure standing in the shade of 2's right wing, staring up at the green underbelly of the ship. Alan frowned, squinting against the early morning sun and shading his eyes with one hand. While it wasn't unusual for their machines to attract attention from the public, this whole area had been evacuated as a precaution hours ago. There shouldn't be anyone here apart from members of the emergency services, and this guy wasn't sporting any of their high-visibility uniforms so… what was he doing here?
"Are you okay?" Alan called, hurrying towards him.
The man didn't turn; didn't react at all. He was … writing something? Anger rose up inside Alan, unfurling like a slumbering tiger who'd just been woken from a long nap. A reporter. They were the bane of IR; a parasitic growth that preyed on human misery. Rural reporters like this one were the worst of all. When you lived in an area where nothing more newsworthy happened than the local best-kept garden competition, a visit by the Thunderbirds developed new significance. They seemed to go even further out of their way to get that elusive photograph.
Alan wasn't worried about that so much – the technology Brains had installed on the 'birds was more than capable of standing up to even the most persistent of reports. No, what pissed him off was how the man was wasting their time and turning himself into a blatant target. Didn't he care that he was standing in the middle of an earthquake zone?
"Hey! What are you doing here?"
Still no reaction. Alan pushed his visor up and stalked over. There was protocol for dealing with this kind of situation, but right now he wasn't sure he wanted to follow it. Besides, they were more like guidelines anyway…
"Are you deaf? Hey, I'm talking to you!"
The man jumped violently, his notepad falling to the ground. He snatched it up and then turned slowly, revealing a non-descript man of about Scott's age with plain features and a thatch of brown hair. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on his thin nose, throwing up flashes of gold in the afternoon sun.
"Can I help you?" Alan asked archly, folding his arms across his chest.
"I – I was just –"
"I'm sure. Look, this area has been evacuated for a reason. We need to get you out of here."
"Not yet." The man appeared agitated, hands tightening around the note. He took a step backwards. "I'll come with you in a second, but first I just need to –"
"You need to come with me. Now." Alan reached out to take the man's arm, but the stranger recoiled, hugging the notebook to his chest.
Alan's temper snapped. "Look, stop messing around. This isn't a test or a drill or something – it's a real-life earthquake. I don't know how you got past the perimeter, but I don't have time for this right now. I'm getting you out of here so I can get back to doing my job – saving lives. Oh and yes, you can quote me on that."
Again he reached out and again the man jumped backwards. This time though his foot slipped on the uneven ground and he tipped over with a painful-sounding thump.
Alan bit back a curse, wondering what he'd done so wrong recently that had led to life conspiring again him. This was the last thing he needed when he was trying to press upon his dad and brothers how ready he was to rejoin IR.
"Hey, are you okay?" He retrieved the man's notepad from where it had fallen and glanced at it idly. The pages were covered in mathematical equations, the handwriting so cramped and erratic that Alan could barely make it out. Still, not exactly the kind of thing he would have expected from a reporter.
Behind him the man was picking himself up off the floor, brushing dirt off his patched anorak and faded jeans. When he saw Alan inspecting the notepad, he froze.
"Give it back."
Alan looked down at the notepad and then back up at the man. "What?"
"My notepad. Give it back."
"A 'please' would be nice. But how about this? You come with me and once we're outside the earthquake-zone, then you can have your notepad back."
The man's hands clenched. "But I haven't – I haven't finished. I need it back now and then I'll –" He lunged for the notepad and it was Alan's turn to dance backwards.
"Hey, hold on a second! I said you could have it back as soon as we're out of here. So just calm down, okay? You'll get it back, I promise."
As if to compound things, Alan's headset chose that moment to crackle into life. "Alan, what's taking so long? We need those batteries now." His dad. Great.
"Er, I just ran into a bit of a complication." He glanced across at the man, who had remained where he was, watching Alan warily, then turned his back for privacy's sake. "There's a guy hanging around the 'birds. He's kind of reluctant to leave."
"Have you explained the situation to him? You need to get him out of there quickly."
"I'm trying," Alan said through gritted teeth. "He's not being very co-operative."
"Well then try harder because Tin-Tin needs those batteries asap," came the unhelpful response. "Or do I need to send Virgil to help you?"
The insinuation that he needed his older brother to hold his hand stung. "I'll be fine. You can expect the supplies in ten minutes. Alan out."
Okay, so it wasn't the most mature of responses and he'd definitely hear about it later, but at least hanging up on his dad gave him a vague surge of satisfaction.
Which lasted until he turned back to the stranger and found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.
