Chapter 3.
Virgil wasn't used to not being in control.
Granted, he didn't quite have the same authority within the family as Scott, but he was used to having both his viewpoints and actions respected by those around him. He was the calmest under pressure and liked to think of himself as a 'silent steerer' of sorts; capable of manipulating situations to his liking without drawing much, if any, attention to himself.
He was most definitely not in control of wherever the current situation was headed.
"We're going to put all your names in a bowl," Kayo began, scribbling on a scrap piece of paper she'd found, "And pick them out one by one. Whoever has their name drawn has to take me out on a date. Myself and Lady Penelope will be scoring you in five categories: fashion sense, choice of date activity or location, budget, manners, and whether we'd go on a second date with you. Each category will be graded out of five, with a top total score of twenty five. Winner gets bragging rights for a whole year and the cost of the date reimbursed. Are we clear?"
Five faces remained fixed in stupefied disbelief.
"Excellent," Kayo beamed, grabbing an empty fruit bowl and dropping the names in, "Who'd like to do the honours?"
Gordon's hand immediately shot into the air.
"No peeking," Kayo warned as the aquanaut tried to discreetly steal a glance at the piece of paper his fingers had closed around. The other four held their breath as their fish brother unfolded the paper, one hand shielding it from Alan's prying eyes.
"John."
There was a collective puff of relief from Scott, Virgil, and Alan, while Gordon flopped back onto the sofa cushions in obvious disappointment.
Brother número tres meanwhile, looked fit to shit himself.
"Alright Space Carrot," Kayo trilled, returning the bowl to the table, "I'll meet you by the pool at six o'clock sharp. Where we go and how we get there is entirely up to you. Don't forget that grading commences as soon as I lay eyes on you. Best of luck!"
Shadow's pilot gave her orange target a curt nod before turning on her heel and striding out of the lounge. The other four had enough collective intelligence to give her departure fifteen seconds grace before letting loose their reactions.
"Dude! You get to have Kayo as a hypothetical girlfriend for the entire evening!" Gordon gushed, yanking his feet up onto the coach so that he was balanced on his knees, "That's insane! Make sure you tell us everything that happens, okay? I don't want to mess up when it's my turn."
"What do you think she'll wear?" Alan asked, dreamily resting his chin on his hands, "Do you think she owns any dresses?"
"Who cares what she wears," Gordon scoffed, throwing his hands up in disbelief, "She's Kayo! She could got out wearing a trash bag and still look amazing!"
"True," Alan agreed, staring off into space for a few seconds before leaping up in horror, "Oh man! I just realised I have no decent clothes. What am I going to do when it's my turn? Ah man! Scott, quick! Grab Thunderbird One. I need to go shopping!"
Without waiting for a reply, Alan tore off in the direction of the hangers, his feet zig-zagging precariously on the hardwood floor as he torpedoed towards his destination.
"Don't break your neck!" Virgil yelled, not at all surprised when he didn't receive a response, "I think we ought to focus our attention on the one whose hypothetical date is happening here and now. You alright there, John? You're looking a bit peaky."
Scott, who'd been busy remotely locking all of Thunderbird One's entry hatches, turned to look at the brother he was sitting next to. Peaky was, quite frankly, putting it mildly. John was perfectly motionless, his face devoid of all expression and colour as he stared into space, no doubt wishing he was up in the safety of his orbiting tin can.
"Anyone home?" Scott asked, waving a hand in front of the redhead's face.
"D'you think we broke him?" Gordon asked, poking his ginger brother experimentally in the shoulder, "Maybe we should turn him off and then back on again?"
Scott ignored the aquanaut and peered closely at John's face. When in the safety of orbit and the isolation of space, their third brother was virtually unflappable. Calm, collected, and generally pacific in nature, he excelled in the art of soothing casualties, communicating vital information to government authorities, and even conversing with the odd rescuee in Chinese or Spanish.
Unfortunately for John (and all of them, by extension), the very traits that made him such a good communicator and all round nice guy came as part of a package deal with Thunderbird Five, which was currently twenty two thousand miles above their heads.
Slightly concerned that his brother didn't even seem to be breathing, Scott snapped his fingers in front of John's spaced-out face. The sudden sound and movement rebooted the redhead enough for his jaw muscles to start working again, "A date? She wants me to take her on a date? A date? Oh sweet mamaloosa…I can't go on a date, Scott. It'll be like high school all over again. A date? You've got to get me out of this! I'm not built for dating. What will she expect of me? Do I have to hold her hand? What if people think we're a real couple? What will we talk about?"
The middle brother's tirade was cut short when his breath hitched in his throat. Without thinking, he grabbed Scott by the shoulder, his frame shuddering as he began to drag in great gulps of air.
"Hyperventilation," Scott diagnosed, disengaging John's iron grip from his shoulder. Leaving the redhead in the capable hands of his immediate brother, the eldest jogged down to the kitchen and began ferreting around in the cupboard next to the automated kitchen module.
"Chill out, John. You heard Kayo, it's just a little exercise she and Lady P have cooked up to stretch our social muscles. Think of it as a training session, with no serious repercussions or consequences attached. Kayo's a good one, she'll look after you," Virgil assured, patting the redhead's knee.
John made no indication that he'd even heard Virgil. He continued to breath loudly and erratically, completely oblivious to everything and everyone around him. Predictably, Gordon took this as a cue to shove his nose in.
"Sounds as if he's going into labour," the aquanaut observed, glancing up as Scott returned from the kitchen, "You want me to get towels and boiling water?"
"Give it a rest, Gordon," Scott sighed, kneeling down and offering his distraught brother a paper bag, "Here you go John, deep breaths now."
Like a turtle surfacing for air, John broke out of his panicked haze just long enough to snatch the paper offering, his face flushing as he began to frantically inflate and deflate the bag. After several minutes of frenzied puffing, the redhead calmed down enough to accept the glass of water and tablets Scott was offering him.
"They're tranquilisers," Scott informed as John necked the pills without so much as looking at them, "They'll take the edge off the worst of the tension. You might feel a bit light-headed, but the worst should have passed long before Kayo comes to find you."
An epic groan travelled up John's throat as he flopped back into the sofa and slapped a hand across his eyes, "EOS, open a link with the nearest on-duty psychologist. I need help."
"Understood," came the girlish response, followed by a series of soft beeps, "I've located one in Wellington who has an emergency slot available at two o'clock. Would you like me to book you in?"
Eager to avoid an unnecessary trip and an even more unnecessary bill, Scott butted in, "Thank you EOS, but we've got this."
EOS gave a harrumph of disapproval, "Answering on behalf of someone who is mentally displaced can be considered a violation of-"
The AI's rant was cut short by Scott severing the comm link.
"You should just let me go back up to Five," John slurred miserably, "I'd be happier going back to having sentient AIs and algebraic equations for company anyway."
Sensing that his brother needed a heart-to-heart, Scott motioned for Virgil to distract Gordon. Within seconds engineer and aquanaut were engaged in a heated battle of Twenty Questions.
"What's got you so freaked out?" Scott asked, retaking his seat beside the redhead, "It's just Kayo. You don't even have to think of it as a date, just think of it as a chance to spend some time with a friend. There's no need to put any pressure on yourself. Take Thunderbird One, go see a movie, buy some popcorn, and come home before the credits roll. Easy-peasy, cotton breezy."
John sighed into his hands, "You don't understand, Scott. In space, I've got no direct competition. Any women who I happen to rescue up there don't exactly have hundreds of guys to compare me against. Most people who have space permits belong to the older demographic, so I'm even more of a rare commodity. Down here, I'm just one of the crowd."
Scott felt his heart break a little at his brother's harsh confession, "Go easy on yourself. I've received plenty of very positive comments from female rescuees about the person who handled their distress call. You're probably the best liked member of International Rescue, if you did but know it."
"But I don't have any of your, or Virgil's, or even Gordon's 'earthly' charm," John continued, using air quotes to make his point, "If I take Kayo up on her challenge, all I'll do is spend the entire evening obsessively comparing myself against every other guy I see. I'll get so hung up with my own internal scoring system that I'll forget everything else and perform terribly. Then, my already non-existent earthbound confidence will become even more non-existent. Seriously Scott, you take my place and go instead. The tranquilisers aren't agreeing with me anyway."
A wail of despair sounded from Gordon at his inability to progress beyond question sixteen. Eager to capitalise on any available distractions, John stood up and gingerly made his way towards the stairs, pausing occasionally to hiccup. Scott loyally followed, pushing the door open to his room when they finally got there.
"Lie down and have a rest, but I'm not letting you give up on yourself so easily," the eldest announced, wrenching John's wardrobe open and rifling through its contents, "Just got for an hour if you like, but it's important you don't run away from this. You won't be able to stay in space forever, and I don't want you living in the basement when that day finally comes."
John snorted and starfished on his bed, groaning when the tranquilisers threatened to make a reappearance.
"Here, wear these," Scott instructed, grabbing a pair of black jeans and a navy shirt and tossing them onto the bed, "You can't go wrong with dark colours, plus the navy will work well with your hair. Now, get some rest and I'll come and wake you an hour before Kayo's expecting you. Yell if you need anything in the meantime."
With the authority of a man used to being obeyed, Scott strode towards the door, casting a quick glance over his shoulder as he did so. The tension rolling off his ginger brother was probably enough to give him his own electromagnetic field, but he was no longer giving the vibe of being an immediate flight risk.
Brotherly concern was switched out for confusion when the bedroom door smashed into something midway through Scott's departure. Instinctively, the eldest Tracy used more force, pushing hard against whatever was causing the unexplained resistance.
"Holy halibut! My nose!"
Scott sighed and stuck his head into the opening he'd secured, one eyebrow going skyward when he spied Gordon with his hands welded to his face and blood streaming between his fingers.
"Eavesdropping again?" the eldest asked, shutting the door in a futile attempt to give John some peace.
Gordon glared with all the ferocity of a wilted geranium, "'D'oh I was d'ot! Who do you 'dink I am?"
"A squid with a bloody nose," Scott replied, placing both hands on Gordon's shoulders and steering him in the direction of the bathroom, "Stick your nose in the air. It'll help slow the bleeding."
Gordon obeyed, "D'is he 'dill going du'night?"
"Yes he is," Scott replied, resisting the urge to laugh at the aquanaut's nasally tone, "But no interfering. He's nervous enough as it is."
A blond head whipped around in mock outrage, "Me? 'Inderfere? 'Dever!"