Virgil: 21 points
Scott: 19 points
Alan: 18 points
John: 15 points
Gordon: 14 points
Challenge 4: Alan
"I'm not happy about this."
"Really Virgil? You should have said something." There was more than a hint of sarcasm in Jeff Tracy's voice - and a large quantity of weariness, too. Virgil had certainly not held back in expressing his doubts as to the wisdom of turning Thunderbird Two's hangar into a racetrack and Jeff had got to the stage where he was forced to either give voice to his frustration or be driven to the brink of insanity.
"If there's a rescue-"
"The barriers can be removed in under three minutes. We've tested them."
"What if a car goes off the track and hits something vital?"
"The barriers will hold."
"But the-"
"We've tested it."
"What about-"
"Tested."
"You don't even know what I was going to say."
"I think I do." Jeff ran through all seventeen of the objections Virgil had raised. He knew the number - he'd counted through them often enough.
Virgil was finally silenced, though the glowering expression he'd worn since lunch didn't shift. His father sighed and had one more go at reassuring him.
"Virgil, I've told you, it's going to be fine. Brains and I have considered every single thing that could go wrong. You know I wouldn't put the organisation at risk for the sake of a game. Your 'bird is safe, the hangar is safe, the pods are safe. Everything's safe."
"Famous last words," Virgil muttered as Alan approached.
"Not still fretting, Virg?" Alan asked with a grin. "Come on. You know Dad's got plenty of safety measures in place."
Jeff was hardly relieved at his youngest son's arrival, knowing full well that another set of complaints was about to be raised.
"Don't bother, Alan," he said, forestalling his son with a raised hand. "I'm not changing the track to your original design and I'm not removing the speed limiters from the go-karts, either."
"Spoilsport."
"Virgil's right about us needing to be careful. We don't want to put ourselves out of action, do we? Anyway, I'm sure there's plenty to challenge you boys on the track Parker and I have set out."
"Challenge the others, maybe," Alan grumbled. "But it'll be a walk in the park for me."
Virgil didn't bother making any comments along the lines of pride coming before a fall. Just as Gordon had been guaranteed a win in the pool, Alan was sure of first place out on the race track. What order the rest of them would finish in was the only uncertainty. Well, with one exception...
John.
The second-born brother was the most hopeless driver anyone had ever had the misfortune to be stuck in a car with. Finishing the race would be a miracle - if he even managed to get round the track in order to qualify. Virgil just hoped his brother didn't cause too much mayhem - he still didn't entirely trust the piles of tyres that had been set up to mark out the course and protect the valuable equipment. He'd be glad when the event was over and his territory could be restored to its usual order. Plus, all his brothers had been teasing him mercilessly over his protectiveness with regard to Two. Alan had been worst of all. Maybe he'd suggest they rappel down Thunderbird Three for his challenge and his brother could see how he liked it.
"Ready?" Alan asked. "The guys are waiting."
Virgil instinctively took a few steps towards the launch chute before catching himself and trudging unenthusiastically towards the elevator. Sure enough, everyone was gathered down in the hangar, Penny clutching a chequered flag and Tin-Tin positioned in front of the console which would record the qualifying times.
"You know the rules," Jeff said. "Three warm-ups, then a qualifying lap. The race proper consists of twenty-five laps. If you don't finish, you don't get any points."
"Let's get going!" Alan was desperate to start. "I'll go first. Show you guys how it's done."
He certainly did, his first warm-up lap setting a pace which none of the others could hope to match. His flying lap, which Virgil couldn't even bring himself to watch, so close did Alan get to the barriers, was a definitely unbeatable 53 seconds.
"Not bad," Alan announced, coming over to Tin-Tin and checking his time. "Who's up next?"
"Go on, Virg," Scott suggested. "Get it over with."
Torn between the desire to beat his brothers and the need to ensure his 'bird's safety, Virgil set a respectable, if unspectacular time. Scott was fractionally faster, but Gordon, despite crashing into the tyre wall on two of his warm-up laps, beat the pair of them.
"Your turn, Johnny," he called as he took off his helmet. He turned to the others. "This is going to take a while. Should we go for coffee?"
"Shut up!" John told him, getting into his vehicle and trying unsuccessfully to get it started. In the end, Alan reached in and got it going for him. Then John was off - managing a whole five feet before stalling.
"Coffee?" Virgil muttered. "We could be through with dinner by the time he's done."
Sure enough, it was a long time before John completed his flying lap.
"Five minutes, thirty-three seconds," Tin-Tin announced, barely hiding a smile. John's four brothers were less tactful, however, making it quite clear how unimpressed they were, though all of them were secretly surprised that the blond had actually managed to stay on the track long enough to qualify.
As was John himself!
Only Alan had completed a lap in less than a minute. In fact, he was a whole twenty seconds ahead of the rest. As expected, he bragged about his achievement, offered his brothers his condolences on their lack of ability, impending old age and general uselessness, but it was clear his heart wasn't really in it.
"It's too easy," he muttered to Parker. "Like shooting fish in a barrel."
Truth be told, he'd hoped to have more of a chance to impress Tin-Tin. It hadn't escaped him how his girlfriend and Lady Penelope - especially Lady Penelope - had been fascinated by the performances of all five brothers up to this point, clearly enjoying the overt displays of testosterone they'd witnessed over the past few days. He'd heard more than one comment about Scott's biceps and Virgil's abs and he knew that he couldn't really compete with his more solidly built brothers. Not that he was jealous, or that he didn't trust Tin-Tin, but this event was his chance to shine and it would have been nice to have done something a little more dramatic to prove his worth. Starting in front and staying in the lead until an emphatic victory, whilst something he'd have relished in his racing days, simply wasn't doing it for him when it came to the Tracylimpics.
Unless...
"Got it!" he announced.
"Got what?" Gordon asked.
Alan ignored him and walked over to John. "Johnny, " he said, slinging an arm around his brother's shoulders. "I'm going to help you out."
"How?" John asked. "I did what you told me. Didn't help. Let's just get this over with and hope I can retain just a little bit of dignity."
"How about we swap places?"
"What?" four brothers plus a father chorused.
"I'm giving up my place at the front. John, you take it. I mean, it's only fair - I obviously got your share of the talent when it came to driving."
"Hang on a minute," Gordon frowned. "Shouldn't I get pole in that case?"
"Come on, Gords," Alan said. "Are you really going to deny John the chance to lead - even if it's only for about two seconds?"
John's eyes narrowed at the insult, but, clearly desperate, he said nothing.
Gordon thought for a moment then grinned. "Okay. Why not make it interesting. Eh, Tin-Tin?"
He nudged Alan with his shoulder, clearly understanding his brother's motives.
"Thanks, Gords," Alan murmured. He looked expectantly at Scott and Virgil, who needed no persuasion to agree, both being well aware that John was at a disadvantage in most events having been up on Five for so long.
"Are you sure?" Jeff asked.
"Sure, Dad. Anyway, it'll be a sweeter victory knowing I had to work for it."
Jeff rolled his eyes at his son's comment, though he had to agree that his other boys posed no threat to the former F1 world champion. Anyway, it had taken him and Parker most of the day to set up the track - it would be good to know it would witness a proper race.
"Very well, then." Penny moved to the start line whilst the brothers lined up their karts. When everyone was in position and John's stalled car had been restarted, she unfurled the flag and nodded to Tin-Tin, who set the starting lights in motion.
"'H'and they're 'hoff!" Parker cried.
Five hours later...
"What time is it?" Scott asked.
"Ten-thirty," Virgil told him. "Six minutes since you last asked."
"Well, I'm starving. Go and ask Grandma if we can have dinner now."
"You ask her."
"She'll only say no again. Go on, Virg - you're her favourite."
Virgil didn't deny it, though his smug smile quickly disappeared under the onslaught of cushions thrown at him by three tired, hungry and downright grumpy brothers.
"No point," he said once he'd emerged from the pile of pillows. "You heard her - no dinner till everyone's back upstairs."
"I can't believe he's still going," Gordon said incredulously. "I mean, I'd have thought he'd have run out of fuel by now."
"Nuclear power pack," Scott told him. "That kart could run for days."
"Don't," Gordon groaned. "I bet he'd go for it if he thought he could. Al, why didn't you put a time limit on the race?"
Alan, who had been sitting in a corner, pouting in a way he hadn't done since he was about five, simply glared in his brother's direction.
"Oh, come on, Alan," Scott said, going over and attempting to sling an arm around his youngest brother's shoulders, keeping his cool with the ease of years of experience when Alan elbowed him away. "Don't get upset over it."
"Don't get upset?" Alan roared, leaping to his feet. "I'm not upset!"
"Could've fooled me," Gordon muttered.
"I don't think I've ever been this mad!" Alan continued.
"Well, John-"
"Not with John! With you!"
"Me?" Gordon laughed. "You were the one who tried to overtake on that corner. You should have realised I'd be prepared for it - right in front of Tin-Tin. I mean, come on, Al, you're kinda predictable."
Alan threw him yet another filthy look. "You swerved in front of me."
"Perfectly legitimate move. At least, that's what you said when you did it to Henstrom in Monaco. I seem to recall he didn't like it, either."
"At least Henstrom had the sense to back off. That's why he's a top racing driver and you're an idiot. There was no need for either of us to crash out like that."
The gentle swish of the lounge door opening distracted Gordon from whatever he'd been about to say in response. Four brothers looked eagerly at the man who entered.
"Is it over, Parker?" Gordon asked.
The chauffeur sank down into a chair and rubbed his eyes. "Nope. But 'e's getting there. Lap twenty."
"About an hour to go, then," Scott muttered glumly.
"'E's determined to get to the h'end," Parker agreed. "H'I didn't think h'it was possible to drive that slowly."
"You should have thought of that, Alan," Virgil said. "All that fuss about limiting the top speed when it was the lower speed that you should have been worrying about."
"Oh, shut up, Virg!"
"Hey, don't take it out on me! You're the one that crashed."
"So did you. And my crash was Gordon's fault."
"Well mine was Scott's fault."
"How was it my fault?" Scott was somewhat aggrieved. "I wasn't even on the track when you spun out."
"I caught sight of the damage you did to pod three when you crashed."
"Damage? Virg, there's a tiny scuff on the paintwork. You can barely see it even when you're a centimetre away from it. There's no way you could have seen it from the track."
"Well, I was distracted worrying about it," Virgil told him.
"Yeah, Scott," Gordon laughed. "You really shouldn't have been so apologetic to Virgil. You must have known you'd break his concentration making him think it was worse than it was."
Scott fixed the most innocent of expressions onto his face as Virgil, realising he'd fallen for his brother's ruse to get him out of the race, rose to his feet and advanced on him.
"So you not only ruined pod three..."
"Tiny scratch, Virg."
"Scratch? You said a scuff."
"Scratch, scuff, what's the difference?"
"A scratch is worse."
"Not necessarily."
"Yes it is. And it must be bad given that Dad wouldn't let me go over and have a look. I swear, if we get called out and I have to show up with a damaged 'bird, I'll... I'll..."
Virgil simply couldn't think of a punishment worthy of the crime.
"Though actually," Scott continued, as Grandma came in from the kitchen, "It wasn't really a scratch or a scuff. More of a dent."
"Dent?"
"Sit down, Virgil!" Only Grandma's presence saved Scott from the wrath of his middle brother. Still, to make sure of his safety, Scott made sure to position himself behind his grandmother, figuring there was no point taking unnecessary risks. Reluctantly, Virgil sat down once more, though the evil looks he kept shooting towards Scott suggested that forgiveness wasn't going to be an option any time soon.
"Still no end in sight?" Grandma asked Parker, sighing as she received the latest report.
"How's Dad?" Alan asked.
"Lying down," Grandma told them. "I told him before the race started that those tyres would be too heavy for one man to lift, especially a man whose back is already giving him trouble, but he didn't listen. Well, he's paying for it now. Why are all Tracy men so proud and stubborn?"
"John's going to be proud if he picks up the ten points," Scott said. "Especially since no one else will score any."
"There's still hope," Gordon said.
"You think so?" Scott laughed bitterly. "I walked round the track faster than he was driving."
"So did I," Grandma sighed. She didn't sound too thrilled with the achievement.
"No," Scott told them. "He'll make it. All John has to do is keep going."
He did.
An hour later, tired, hungry, and possibly more exhausted than he'd ever been in his life, given the supreme effort of concentration the task had taken, John finished the course. Penny had to be prodded awake by Tin-Tin in order to wave the chequered flag and all his brothers had fallen asleep so failed to witness his moment of triumph, but John had done what everyone - himself included - had believed impossible.
He'd not only won the driving challenge, but he'd taken the lead in the Tracylimpics.
