Chapter 8.
Gordon was having an amazing dream.
He was fifty metres under the ocean surface in his beloved yellow submarine. Outside the reinforced windows, schools of colourful fish swam and the occasional dolphin popped up to keep him company.
Of course, he already had company. Of the aristocratic, English accented variety.
"Oh Gordon," Penelope gushed, clutching his toned arm in devotion as she gazed in awe at the underwater safari, "I never knew the ocean was so beautiful."
"It's nothing compared to you," Gordon smoothly replied, beaming with confidence as he steered Thunderbird Four in a graceful arc around one of their dolphin escorts.
Penelope flushed pink and rested her head on his shoulder, "I wish we could stay down here forever."
"Me too, but the world needs me," Gordon replied, his tone akin to that of a remorseful superhero, "As International Rescue's only underwater specialist, I'm afraid I can't let my personal life infringe on my professional duty."
Penelope gave a cry of grief and wrapped her arms around him, "Why can't the world just accept our love?"
Gordon turned to look at her, his caramel eyes glimmering in the shafts of sunlight penetrating the ocean's surface. He wanted to seize her hand, but that would make steering difficult, and nosediving an innocent shoal of mackerel probably wouldn't be that romantic.
"Don't worry," Gordon assured, his tone reeking of manly confidence, "No matter where I go, no matter what I see, your beautiful face will always guide me back to this peaceful shore."
"Oh Gordon!" Penelope swooned, draping herself over what little of him she could access in the cramped confines of Thunderbird Four's cockpit, "Why did I never see this before? You're beautiful!"
A blond head was tossed poetically, "Only on the outside."
"No! Inside and out!" Penelope insisted, "So much more so than those incompetent brothers you're forced to work with. Quit International Rescue and come and live with me, Parker, and Bertie. It might not be as exciting as the life you're used to leading, but I can't survive one more day knowing that Kayo lives under the same roof as you. I must make you mine!"
Any preoccupations Gordon had with mackerel conservation flew out the window as he abruptly let go of Thunderbird Four's controls and turned to seize Penelope's hands, oblivious to the steep descent the little yellow submarine suddenly found itself in.
"Nothing would make me happier!" Gordon gushed, "Penelope Creighton-Ward, I love you!"
Before the aquanaut could be treated to a reply, something yanked him from slumbering paradise back to hellish reality.
Groaning loudly as a rush of cold air assaulted him, Gordon sat up and rubbed his eyes, squinting around his room as he tried to locate the perpetrator that dared to awake him from his beautiful (and scientifically accurate) dream.
He didn't have to look far.
Scott was stood at the foot of his bed, a murderous expression on his face as he gripped the edge of the duvet he had just ripped off Gordon's body.
"You!" Scott snarled, dropping the quilt and stalking towards the aquanaut like a tiger preparing to pounce, "Your stupid fart prank cost me most of my dignity, five thousand dollars to replace the horses you scared off, and a tank of wasted fuel!"
Gordon smiled sheepishly, acutely aware that his main escape route (the door) was blocked by all six foot and two inches of an angry Scott.
The window however, was blissfully unguarded.
Falling out of bed with the grace of a drunk seal, Gordon scrambled to his feet and made a break for the open window, chucking a cushion over his shoulder in a desperate attempt to hinder Scott's pursuit.
The aquanaut was just about to hurl himself outside (his window opened onto a balcony that fed into a path that terminated down by the pool) when Scott seized him by his pyjama bottoms. Without wasting a second, the eldest threw himself onto the floor, effectively acting as a deadweight in an effort to anchor his younger brother in place.
What Scott didn't count on was Gordon's willingness to re-employ one of his trademark childhood tricks.
One strategic wriggle later, and the aquanaut had ditched his pyjama bottoms, vaulted over the railing of his balcony, bolted down the path that bordered the glass roof of the lounge and hurled himself into the pool, clad in just his nightshirt and boxers.
Scott gaped for a whole seven seconds before springing to his feet and continuing his pursuit.
One benefit of living on an island was that hiding places were finite.
-x-
Alan was minding his business eating breakfast when something big landed in the pool with a splash.
The youngest glanced up from his cereal and wasn't surprised to see Gordon hauling himself out of the water, dripping wet and wearing only half of his regular pyjama set.
The youngest was about to ask what was wrong with the stairs when a screaming Scott came hurtling down said stairs, fury blazing in his sapphire eyes as he zeroed in on his rather wet target.
"Holy hell on a submarine!" Gordon exclaimed, bolting off across the patio and leaping over lounge chairs like a champion greyhound.
At the kitchen table, John and Virgil didn't even bother to look up from their respective breakfasts. Against the backdrop of Gordon's yelps climbing the volume ladder and Scott's threats descending into the bowels of illegality, Penelope's face popped up in all its holographic glory.
"Morning boys!" their London agent greeted crisply, pausing slightly when she overheard the commotion out by the pool, "Is everything alright?"
"Peachy," John replied, setting his oatmeal down on a nearby table, "What can we do for you, Lady Penelope?"
"I was just ringing in with Scott's score from yesterday," Penelope replied, peering around the room expectantly, "Is he still in bed?"
"Not exactly," Virgil replied, casting a dubious glance outside to where Scott had Gordon cornered behind the BBQ, "You can just tell us and we'll pass on the message to him."
"Very well," Penelope replied, clearing her throat as Sherbert jumped onto her lap, "He scored pretty poorly in the wardrobe category, mainly because he didn't deviate from his usual casual ensemble. He only got a three for that, I'm afraid. However he more than made up for it in the other sections. His choice of activity was exciting, the location stunning, and the experience all round memorable. He got a well-deserved five for his choice there. Like John, he was a perfect gentleman and his knowledge of the local area was also very impressive. Myself and Kayo both agree that the private hire of two horses for an entire evening would not have been cheap, however he made no reference to the cost, so scored another five there. He slipped up in the manners category a bit, which shocked me as I've always found him exceedingly friendly. I think the…ahem…trauma, of having to walk home might have influenced Kayo's decision to only give him a three there. Finally, was he second date material? Interestingly, despite some rather sharp comments Kayo included in the side margins, it's a firm yes and another five to boot."
John snorted, "There's a shock."
Penelope either didn't hear the redhead, or chose to ignore him, "Altogether, his final score came to twenty one out of twenty five. Well done, Scott!"
Alan grumbled something rude as Penelope clapped politely and turned her gaze to John, "Shall we do as we did yesterday and select tonight's participant without waiting for Kayo?"
"Sure thing," John replied, stretching over Virgil to grab the bowl.
"Does Scott want to do the honours?" Penelope queried.
"Uh, he's a little busy at the moment," John replied, wincing as Scott and Gordon continued to sprint around the pool like a pair of deranged apes, "Virg? How about you take this one."
The engineer lowered his mug of coffee and selected one of the remaining three names.
"Alan."
A mouthful of cereal was sprayed across the kitchen floor.
"What!?" the youngest squawked, throwing his breakfast down and nearly falling off his chair, "Oh man! I have nothing to wear! I have no ideas! I'm not ready for this!"
"Alan!" Gordon shrieked as he skidded into the villa, using the kitchen island as a buffer between him and Scott, "I need to borrow Thunderbird Three!"
Alan however, had his own problems, "What if she's still in a bad mood? What if she decides she can't be bothered and stands me up? What if I accidentally friendzone her? Scott! I need help!"
Unfortunately, Scott also had his own problem. It was called Gordon Cooper Tracy, and it was refusing to stand still.
Over on the holoprojector, Penelope blinked as Gordon tore off in the direction of the hangers, his sailboat boxers doing absolutely nothing for his cause. Hot on his heels was Scott, whose legs seemed to be holding up remarkably well in light of the trauma they'd endured the previous evening. With something that resembled a battle cry, Alan added himself to the Tracy daisy chain, hurtling after Scott and yelling something about 'clothes' and 'help'.
Penelope coughed awkwardly before shifting her attention back to the two static brothers, "Well, I'll let you get on with your morning. Tell Alan that I wish him good luck. I'll let Kayo know that she needs to be downstairs by six again. Oh, and could you also inform Scott of his score? I reckon he'll be quite pleased."
"Sure thing," John replied, picking up his oatmeal, "Thank you for your time, Lady Penelope."
Just as the holographic feed cut off, the house began to rumble. Growls of frustration echoed around the kitchen as Virgil and John slammed their breakfast utensils down in unison, their combined frustration at being disturbed yet again as evident as the hair on their heads.
A few tense seconds later the rumbling had reached a volume that surpassed any of the regular Thunderbird launches. Brothers two and three shared a fleeting look of confusion before rushing out onto the patio, barrelling past their grandmother as she doddered up from tending to her hibiscus patch.
Just as the vibrations reached coffee spilling level, Thunderbird Three blasted out of its launch silo and off into the sky. To everyone's ongoing shock and confusion, the pool then began to retract at twice its usual speed, water sloshing everywhere in the process.
Virgil and John could do nothing but stand and stare as Thunderbird One rose out of the patio and zoomed off in pursuit of Thunderbird Three. Dumbfounded, John activated his comm device and was hardly surprised at the exchange taking place.
"Don't let him get away, Scott!" Alan shrieked, obviously a passenger inside Thunderbird One, "That's my 'Bird he's hijacked!"
"He's not going anywhere," came Scott's snarled reply as he shamelessly engaged One's turbo jets.
Turquoise and caramel rolled in perfect sync as Sally joined her remaining grandsons on the patio, clucking in disapproval as she began shifting the loungers back into position, "Those ships are rescue vehicles, not go-karts."
A sound came out of Virgil's throat that sounded agreeable. Meanwhile, several thousand feet up, Thunderbird One's engines began to buckle in the thin air Scott was now hurtling through.
"Ha! Better luck next time, Scotty!" Gordon cackled as Thunderbird Three cleared earth's atmosphere, "Oh wait, there won't be a next time for you, because you blew it, clean out of your pants if I recall correctly!"
A mechanical sputter cut through the regular hum of One's engines as the silver craft began to lose momentum, her pilot hissing in fury as he reluctantly aborted his chase, "You can't stay up there forever, Gordon. Thunderbird Three hadn't been properly fuelled and Brains removed all of the supply bins last night for a scheduled maintenance check."
Up in the safety of orbit, Gordon sniggered, "No biggie, I'll just float for a bit. Might catch up on that lie-in you so rudely interrupted."
"Uh, Scott?" Alan's voice piped up in the background, "As much as I want to get Thunderbird Three back, any chance we could go on that shopping trip now? I've only got ten hours to get ready."
Scott sighed as parental burnout began to seep into his bones, "Alan, you have plenty of decent clothes in your closet. Why do you need new ones?"
"Because nothing I own is in style!" Alan wailed, "I've no idea what the current trend is."
"And you think Kayo does?" Virgil replied with a snort, irritated to find that his coffee had gone cold.
The youngest didn't answer, but made a small whiny noise that appeared to have the desired effect on Scott.
"Tell you what, I'll help you patch together an outfit," the eldest bargained, shifting to vertical flight as Thunderbird One retreated back underneath the pool, "But we're not leaving the island to do so. My legs feel as if they're about to drop off and I've already wasted enough fuel for one day."
The pout on Alan's face was nothing short of epic, but he didn't object. The reality of going on a date with Kayo was starting to sink in, as was the knowledge that he was the only one in a family of five boys who hadn't yet 'grown into his looks'.
Stupid hormones.
Meanwhile, two hundred and twenty miles above New Zealand, Gordon had a problem.
Space was freezing, and all he had for protection was his rather wet pyjama shirt and sailboat boxers.
Plus, he hadn't had breakfast and was starving.