CHAPTER 12

After the run-in with Griff, all five brothers were alert for trouble, even to the extent of John insisting that they stay together in pairs. Alan complained that if anyone had to have a bodyguard, it was Scott and was Gordon going to follow Alan to the bathroom as well.

This was quashed by a group glare at the Tracy youngest.

After a few days, with Griff seen only to grumble at Scott's presence, it was gradually decided that Griff wasn't a danger, just an annoyance, and work continued as before. Scott began working with his brothers again, a change that Griff tacitly accepted, and the Tracys continued to have periodic meals with the Bereznikis.

Finally, one day at lunch, a nervous looking Griff approached Scott. "Thompson, I'd like a word with you," Griff said in an undertone.

"All right," Scott replied easily. "What do you have to say?"

Griff eyed the gathered brothers uneasily, noting the hostile looks he was getting from the youngest three and cleared his throat. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry I exploded at you the other day. It wasn't right. You got the right to have whatever friends you want….I got a short temper and my wife yells at me a lot about it. I…uh..apologize." He put his hand out, offering to shake.

Scott extended his as well. "I'm glad, Griff. I'd rather have you as a friend."

Griff looked relieved and soon excused himself and went back to his own men.

Alan cast a resentful look at Griff's back. "I hope you don't take him seriously, Scott."

"I don't want trouble, Alan," Scott eyed Griff as well. "And I'm not going to be the one to start it."


The final large component had arrived with the supply rocket, a pie-slice shaped wedge that would complete the disk that was Thunderbird Five. In what John suspected was insanity, and because, he reasoned, they would need to know the guts of how TB5 was constructed, John had volunteered his team to help attach it. The brothers had become 'his' team by two simple expedients, all four had voted him leader and Scott had insisted. "You've forgotten more about space than I ever knew, John," Scott said. "The other day, when you rattled off every potential danger in space convinced me that you're still the man for the job. I'm conceding the role to you."

Now, standing in his space suit with the bright sunshine glaring down on John and his team, he began to seriously wish he'd taken up oceanography like Gordon.

Gordon, Scott and Virgil had been in free fall for weeks now. He didn't have any concerns about Alan, who'd had astronaut training and therefore adequate time in free fall as well as recent practice. Gordon moved well in null-g, probably because scuba diving was second nature to him. The ones he worried about were still his two older brothers, both of whom frankly moved like water buffalo in space. They'd all had some basic training in the International Space Station, and had also practiced underwater in the oceans around Tracy Island; good but not an exact correspondence. And, of course, there was the shuttle debacle and some time here on-station before he and Alan had arrived, but Scott and Virgil just weren't picking it up as fast as the other brothers had.

He touched his communicator. "Virgil, don't forget why your soles have magnetic plates in them; they'll anchor you to the girder and simulate gravity. You have one foot coming loose! Fasten it down!" He watched Virgil shrug in his space suit, then dig his foot back into the girder, while he held a beam steady for Gordon to weld.

In the interests of safety he'd teamed one better-skilled astronaut with a less technical partner. Gordon, who swam in space as well as in water, worked with Virgil while Alan kept a subtle eye on Scott. Scott hadn't forgotten the accident and his hesitancy showed, although he never complained. Neither did he ask for guidance or help. The trouble with older brothers, John mused, was that they were used to being the ones in charge, with better skills and advanced knowledge. They had trouble recognizing competence in a younger brother, especially when it exceeded their own abilities in that arena.

Still, she was coming together nicely and John would be glad when he could take up his duties. John had designed the radio telescope array that was going in. It would give him better access to the stars than any of the observatories on Earth and he wouldn't have to share telescope time. The thought made him smile to himself. And there'd be nobody there to tease him about keeping his head in the clouds all the time!

"Hey!" John was torn from his reverie by Scott's shout. He looked up to see Virgil floating slowly away from the array, despite frantic attempts to swim back.

"Your jets, Virgil, use your jets," John spoke crisply into his communicator. He spotted Scott trying to unhook his safety harness. "Scott, don't try to go get him. He's got to learn how to do this. Alan or I can go after him if need be. Virgil, you aren't at the end of your safety line yet, so try to use the jets to maneuver yourself back rather than reeling yourself back in."

They had to learn to move freely in space, not tied down by safety lines. Alan, Gordon and John were already off the ropes and Scott was making progress. But Virgil…John sighed and reminded himself to be patient, remembering how hard it had been, learning to drive that damned Firefly. And he wasn't looking forward to training in Thunderbird Two.

"This is supposed to be team-building, isn't it?" Virgil called out gamely as he deployed his suit's jets, moving incrementally back to the array. "I mean, you get to stop looking up to me as your infallible older brother."

John heard Gordon snicker. "We never thought you were infallible, Virg," he said patiently. "Doin' good with the jets. Just a little bit farther…You do play a mean piano, though…Doin' fine..And there you are." He let out a breath and hoped the radio hadn't caught it. Confidence. That's what Scott said a commander projected. Confidence in his men.

Boy, would he be glad when the Thunderbird Five was complete and he could let Scott be in charge instead.


As usual, every evening after their shift was over, Scott would go to the Command Center to work through the paper trail of the project. He was convinced that the answers to the overruns could be found there. One of Dad's forensic accountants had taught him a few tricks, and Scott gratefully used them to examine the books, shipping manifests and electronic inventory. Methodically, he went through the information, keeping encrypted notes on the hidden International Rescue database already installed in the master computers.

At last, late one evening, he stopped and rubbed his dry eyes with his fingers, then refocused on his conclusions. "This can't be right," he muttered. "Some of these numbers don't make sense. The oxygen usage is way out of line. The power usage is much too big." He scratched his head and went through a few more screens.

I've about memorized the blueprints for Five and the oxygen usage figures just don't match available pressurized space. Either we've got a slow leak somewhere, or there's a pressurized room that's not accounted for on the blueprints. He flicked to a different screen. And there's been a steady loss of supplies. They never make it here to the station. Not enough to be readily noticeable, but the drain is there over time. He yawned and stretched. Darn it, it's getting late. Can't stop now, though. I'm finally getting somewhere.

He matched two screens, then did a calculation and finally sat staring. Several large component parts had never arrived and had to be reordered. Put together, they were worth several million dollars. If this 'hotel' had to make a profit, we'd never be able to make this month's payroll because of the shortages, as well as the accidents and work stoppages. He ran through the data one more time to make sure of his numbers.

The drain is definitely faster than we planned for. We're not ready to close up shop yet. Running wire for the artificial gravity system could wait but we still need to finish that last part of the wedge and pressurize it. I need to discuss this with Father…But I'm too tired to do it right now. I'll upload this to my encrypted files and talk to Dad tomorrow. There's something going on up here. He shut down the computer and left the office, nodding to the construction worker he passed along the way.


"So, where's Scott?" Gordon asked, floating free in their shared room while reading an oceanographic journal.

"In the office, working on his audit again. I don't envy him." Virgil said, changing from t-shirt and jeans to pajamas. He pulled over to his sleep sack and got into it.

"He hasn't gotten more than four hours sleep every night this week," John commented, putting his e-reader aside. "That's not safe up here."

"Do you want to be the one to tell him?" Virgil asked with a grin and pushed Alan, floating by engrossed in a movie on his tablet player, aside. "I don't."

"Yeah, John," Gordon joined in. "As…um…'Team Leader' and grand pooh-bah, you're the one who rides herd on us." He focused on his journal again. "Don't ask me to talk to Scott. That's your job."

Even though all five of them had to share one small room, Gordon had to admit it wasn't going as badly as it could be. He'd lived in very close quarters with co-workers and had to admit that Scott's quiet idea of electing John leader had worked well. Every one of them was holding on to his temper as tightly as possible. Best of all, with John as team leader, he had squelched his usual astringent sarcasm to live up to the role.


Unusually, Virgil was up before Scott the next morning and had the dubious privilege of waking him. "Okay, Scott. Up and at 'em…" Virgil tugged at Scott's sleep sack.

"Ten more minutes…" Scott muttered.

"Scott, it's time to get up," Virgil shouted in his brother's ear. Scott jerked awake and saw his brothers watching him with amusement.

"You didn't have to yell so loud…." He grumbled as he slowly pulled himself out of the sleep sack and got himself dressed with help from his brothers, who each handed him an article of attire. "Okay, okay, I get your point. I oversleep ONE day and you gang up on me…" Finished dressing, he followed the herd, no, he supposed it was a pack to the dining room.

John dispensed a covered mug of coffee and handed it to him. "You sure you're ready to go outside today?"

Scott stifled a yawn. "Of course, I am. Come on, John, we've all worked on short sleep; you especially, to get your star-gazing in. It's no big deal. Just let me get some caffeine in my system and I'll be fine."

Still looking serious, John nodded. "Okay, but if you need a break, take one, will ya?"

Scott settled himself at their regular table. "Of course I will. Now what's for breakfast?"

"The usual," Virgil said glumly. "Your choice of microwaved frozen scrambled eggs, microwaved frozen pancakes or microwaved frozen sausage."

"You forgot the microwaved frozen muffins," Gordon added, taking a bite. "It's gummy," he said indistinctly through a mouthful.

"When I'm up here, I'm going to pack fresh eggs," Alan said softly.

"Better learn how to cook first," Gordon finished his muffin and took a long swig of coffee. "At least the coffee's good."

"Hey, guys," Bob floated over to their table. "How are you doing?"

"We're finishing on the last wedge section," John finished his coffee. "We should be starting on the wiring for the 'stereo' system tomorrow."

"Good. That's better progress than I expected. I was wondering, though," she said with a smile. "I've got a little job that needs doing. I was wondering if Virgil and Scott would be available?"

"What's the job?" Scott asked, finally giving up on breakfast.

She grinned. "Window washing. It's time for the regular maintenance on the station's windows. You'd be spraying a cleaning solution on them, then checking for pits, cracks and breaks in the seal. It's a two-man job, you'd be working on safety lines. You feel up to it?"

Virgil shrugged. Scott caught John's eye and raised an eyebrow. John had expressed his concern about Scott and Virg's skill level in free-fall and he was the commander, after all. After a moment of thought, John nodded. "Okay, we're in," Scott replied. "What do we do?"

"Griff will be helping you get started. Meet him by the lower airlock door. He'll walk you through the first few windows, then go back to his regular job." She eyed the suddenly tense-looking brothers. "Is there a problem? I'd understood you and Griff had made up."

Scott shook himself. "Of course we have," he said. "Virgil and I will be happy to work on the job. Tell Griff we'll be there in a few minutes."

Bob left to return to work, leaving the "Thompsons" to clear their table and suit up. Scott and Virgil were almost to the lower airlock when Virgil stopped. "Damn! I forgot to get the cleaning equipment. I'd better go up and get it. Wait for me at the airlock door?"

Scott grinned. "I think we're both pretty keyed up, Virg. I'll meet you at the door, then. You go ahead and bring the vacuum cleaner or whatever it is."

"Be right back," Virgil waved and headed down the hallway and was soon lost to sight.

Ten minutes later, Virgil had slung the sprayer over a shoulder and arrived back at the lower airlock where a burly space-suited figure waited for him.

"Hi Griff," said Virgil, looking around. "Where's Scott?"

"Isn't he with you?" Griff also looked around. "Nobody was here when I got here. I haven't seen him at all."

"That's strange," Virgil said and keyed the suit-communicator. "Scott? You there?"

He heard nothing but static. He tried again. Still no answer. "Maybe he's back at the room. I'll go get him," Virgil said and went back to their shared room. He found no evidence of Scott. Starting to get worried, he called John. "Johnny, have you got Scott up there with you?"

"No. I thought he was going to clean windows with you?" John answered.

"So did I," Virgil answered. "John, can you check and see if Scott's already outside? I'll look inside the station. There can't be too many places to check. The place isn't that big."

"Okay, I'll get back to you. Maybe he's got a broken radio or something," John said. "I'll get Gordon and Alan on it too."

Forty-five minutes later, Virgil was holding himself together, but only just. He'd had Bob use the all-hands intercom. No Scott. Finally, the space station had been searched in its entirety, both inside and out and no sign of Scott had been found.

"Do we have a shuttle or some other transport to use?" John asked Bob, his face creased with worry. "We need to check the area immediately around the station."

"John, he didn't take any transport away from the station. All the escape pods have been examined and are accounted for and the next cargo shuttle won't be here for a week," Bob said.

"That's not what I meant," John said patiently. "If he went out an airlock, he could be floating in space somewhere. We have to look for him. Virg, how much oxygen did he have on him?"

"Same as me," Virgil replied. "Eight hours' worth."