Part One
2065
Jeff Tracy was many things but he was not a janitor.
"Gordon!" His bellow was loud enough to be heard across the Island.
At a countdown of five his fourth son skidded into the room, hair askew, panic on his face. "Yes, Dad?"
"Did you do this?" He waved a hand at the general disarray of the lounge. Food wrappers lay in a pile in one corner, cushions were all over the floor and there were several bowls of half-eaten...something on the table.
With Alan up on Five with John overseeing the Excel, and Scott and Virgil out on a mission, that only left one likely culprit.
Okay, he had to admit that even if they were all home, there was only ever going to be one likely culprit.
His fish son's eyes widened and a hand rubbed the back of his head. "Uh, it was late last night. I was going to clean up this morning."
Jeff's cane made an appropriate sharp tap against the hardwood floor. "It is past lunch."
"Virg, dragged me out on a rescue this morning."
"It's Virg-il. Clean it up."
"Yes, Dad."
Jeff knew he had a frown on his face, and that his frustration was more than the mess, but Gordon was an easy target.
And the mess needed cleaning up.
It was fortunate his mother wasn't here.
Scott and Virgil were out on the second mission of the day and it was a nasty one. Jeff had gotten used to being on the sidelines and monitoring from a distance, but he hated it.
Five minutes earlier there had been a yell from Virgil, a worried shout from Scott and a moment where Jeff could do nothing but hold his breath until Virgil reported his status as okay.
The mountain had missed him.
"Are you okay, Dad?"
Jeff blinked and turned grunting as his hips and back complained. "I'm fine, son."
Blond eyebrows frowned at him, russet eyes suspicious.
"Clean up this mess."
That frown turned into a defiant glare and Jeff had to hold back a snort. There was still fire in his fish.
He continued to be amazed at the young man Gordon had become. His son had been only sixteen when the Zero X had taken Jeff from his life. Since then, he had won an Olympic gold medal, become a respected WASP officer, survived at least two health crises and had become a truly great aquanaut and rescue operative.
But there were certain aspects of his sons that had defied time, and apparently Gordon being a slob was one of them.
Jeff moved to his desk and yanked the chair out, folding himself into it. Today was one of those days where he felt every one of those eight years stranded in space.
It did not help that his mother had gone to the mainland for a reason. Mom said it was likely nothing, but she had made an appointment anyway.
And told him not to tell the boys.
He should have gone with her. He had planned to be with her. But she had shushed him away. Told him to look after his family. She would fly out herself. She was as stubborn as any of them and when International Rescue deployed early that morning, she had the leverage to keep him on the Island.
So, he was left worrying.
Top that off with Virgil attempting to get himself killed and his day was just peachy.
Gordon darted around the room gathering junk and piling it into the appropriate recycler. Every now and again his eyes would dart in Jeff's direction.
Jeff did his best to ignore him.
A chime and John flickered into the middle of the room.
His middle son opened his mouth to say something, but caught sight of Gordon who looked up at the space monitor. Jeff grit his teeth just a little as it was obvious the two of them were communicating without words, likely regarding their father's health.
All his boys had been pussy-footing around him since he had been released from the hospital. This would be understandable, except that was a year ago now and it was starting to get very, very old.
But neither of them said anything and it was a split second before John turned his full attention to his father. "Dad, mission complete. They're on their way home."
"Virgil's status?"
John blinked. "All vitals are fine. He didn't report any injury."
Jeff grunted.
"Dad, are you okay?" John's voice was ever soft and caring.
Jeff ignored it. "I want both Scott and Virgil to report to the lounge as soon as they return."
"Dad-"
"Thank you, Thunderbird Five."
A red eyebrow raised a fraction before his son nodded. "FAB."
John flickered out.
No doubt to give his brothers the heads up that their father was not happy.
He sighed and rubbed his eye with the palm of one hand.
"Dad?" It was quiet and worried. Gordon peered up over the edge of the desk from the sunken couch. His expression was caught between concern and the need to flee.
Another sigh as he let his shoulders drop. "Have you finished cleaning?"
Gordon blinked and returned to grabbing rubbish off the floor.
A moment later the glass balcony doors clicked and began closing. Bare seconds after that Thunderbird One shot into Tracy Island's airspace, the familiar rocket plane lining up above the villa as the pool retracted.
He stared as her exhaust flared across the deck as she lowered into her cradle.
-o-o-o-
"Heads up, Thunderbird One."
Scott raised his eyes as Tracy Island came into view, relief after a long morning and the option of lunch foremost on his mind.
A shower would be heaven.
"Thunderbird Five?"
John's hologram was apologetic. "Dad wants to see you in the lounge immediately. Both you and Virgil."
A blink. "What? Why?" Lunch took a step back.
Damnit.
"Unknown." A sigh over comms. "Visual check, I suspect."
Scott's shoulders dropped even as he shifted One into vertical flight. "FAB, Thunderbird Five."
Virgil. It had to be Virgil. Dad was still sensitive to any and all injury in the field. It was understandable, but at the same time, unavoidable.
Admittedly, Scott wanted to set his eyes on his engineer brother just to make sure he was still in one piece. After all, half a mountain had nearly landed on him.
It wasn't the first time.
Virgil seemed to specialise in getting himself buried.
As One slid past the balcony, his father stood one hand on his cane, the other behind his back, ramrod straight, staring out at the Thunderbird.
Scott poked his comms. "Virg, you better be in one piece or Dad is going to roast your ass."
Scott eyed his monitor, tracking Two's progress back to the Island. Perhaps it was a reflection of his own concern, but Scott had held back on his return speed, more comfortable to keep within a safe distance of his brother.
A grunt over comms. "Minor bruising, Thunderbird One. As reported earlier."
Scott grunted back.
At least he could understand their father's need to see them in one piece.
One's gantry carried the Thunderbird deep into the mountain, sliding her smoothly into her hangar as always. She sighed and settled as he flicked through post-flight.
God, he wanted that shower.
He climbed out of his seat as dried mud flaked off his uniform, and let the pilot retrieval system retract. A set of stairs, an elevator later and he was walking across the comms room. "Dad, you wanted to see me?"
Grey eyes raked him from above his father's desk. "Debrief."
Scott closed his eyes a second. "Dad, I really need a shower." Shower before mission breakdown. It was an unspoken rule. It gave them the moment alone to gather wits and straighten out stories.
And left less dirt in the lounge.
His father leant a little further onto his cane, the thunderbird carved into the acacia wood catching the light. "We will wait for Virgil."
Scott let his shoulders drop. Off to his right he absently noted Gordon with an armful of rubbish. Scott frowned. Those chocolate bar wrappers looked very familiar. He narrowed his eyes and took a step towards his little brother.
Gordon's eyes widened and he darted out of reach, scampering over to the far side of the lounge.
Lips thinning, Scott glared at him and the resultant expression from his brother could only be called smirking guilt.
Damnit, he had been looking forward to those.
He let his shoulders drop and turned his back on Gordon, stepping out towards the balcony.
There were more important things.
Two was on approach, Virg wouldn't be too long. Debrief as brief as it could be, then shower and food.
A flicker. "International Rescue, we have a situation."
Oh, for the love of-
He turned to find John hovering in the middle of the room as expected, a worried frown on his face. His eyes bounced between Scott and his father. "Scott, it's from Callisto."
He stared at his brother. "Callisto?" His brain immediately started calculating flight times.
Hell.
The Jovian outpost was at the extreme of human endeavour, bar their trip to the Oort cloud. He, himself, had signed the grant forms that had seen the final boost from Tracy Industries to get the program into space and onto Jupiter's second largest moon.
His father was frowning at him.
Scott straightened. "Details, John?"
"I have Graeme Walters on the line. Both directors of the expedition have gone missing."
A blink as his heart sunk. "Both? How?"
"Apparently they were on an explorative foray and simply disappeared. Two days ago."
Aw, hell.
John's eyes darted to his father.
Jeff must have sensed something in the air because his eyes narrowed. "What don't I know?"
John sighed. "Dad, the directors of the Callisto Expedition are Kate Berrenger and Ju Zhang."
-o-o-o-
Virgil stepped off Two's hatch and groaned. Today had been a long one and it was only halfway through. He flexed his left arm, rubbing the ache of bruises up and down it from that last landslide. Mud flaked off everywhere. He needed to have words with Mother Nature. Land-sliding over a village was one thing, but dumping more on the poor rescuers desperately trying to get a family out of the mess already created was just unfair.
And it hurt.
He hadn't lied to his brothers; it was just bruising. He had scanned it to make sure. But Scott and probably Dad would still want to check on him and smother a little.
Scott, he was used to. Dad, he worried about. It was understandable, of course, but Virgil was concerned that their father was fretting too much about his sons to stay mentally healthy. There was an 'out of sight, may never see them again' vibe that had Virgil poking at texts on PTSD and speaking to Grandma in the late hours at night.
It was a circle of anxiety.
Stepping into the elevator, he rested his head against the cool metal wall and closed his eyes. There had also been a very early morning and definitely not enough coffee to compensate.
Shower, food and, if he was lucky, maybe a snooze by the pool. Either that or a bucket of coffee to drown his exhaustion in.
Almost as if fate heard that thought, the elevator doors opened to the lounge and an argument.
A big one.
"No, Dad. No way."
"I was not asking your permission. This is my decision."
Virgil skirted around the stone wall, past Gordon's aquarium, and was confronted by the two eldest men in the family mirror-imaging each other's glares.
Gordon stood in the sunken lounge beside John's hovering hologram and both were staring, eyes wide, up at Scott and their father as they confronted each other.
"Dad, there is no way you meet the medical requirements for a space mission like this. Alan and I will go."
"I have the experience-"
"No!"
Virgil flinched. There was more in that single word than a command decision. Virgil could hear the fear in his brother's heart.
Dad raised his voice. "As I said, this is not your decision. It is mine."
"As the Commander of International Rescue, it is my call." Scott shifted his stance, his shoulders firming up as he pushed himself to his full height.
But Dad didn't need height.
Dad was Dad.
His cane tapped the floor sharply. "Not this time, son." The word 'son' was obviously aimed at putting Scott in his place.
Scott glared at his father. Virgil figured that the only reason he had paused was because this was his father. A brother would have been steamrolled by now and anyone else positively flattened.
Instead...
"It's not safe!" It was a true statement, but Virgil read it more as 'I can't lose you again!'
It was echoed in his own heart.
Dad's voice softened slightly. "Humanity never got anywhere by taking it easy."
"But you've already given too much!"
And Virgil was moving, striding up beside his brother, a hand landing on Scott's shoulder as he bodily intervened between the two. He fixed his glare on his parent.
"What the hell is going on?"
-o-o-o-
TBC