Chapter 53.
Alan was prone to panicking.
It was something he'd tried to overcome for years, but unfortunately seemed as engrained in his DNA as being ginger was in John's.
He'd tried everything; meditation, deep breathing, yoga, listening to whale song, writing thought diaries, and none of them had worked. If anything, they'd just made him worse. Trying to meditate whilst holding a yoga pose and deep breathing in tandem with a humpback's harmony all while writing his deepest concerns down on the back of a discarded napkin had been too much like hard work.
Still, there was always John's stash of paper bags. Or Scott's stash of Valium.
It wasn't often that Alan found himself feeling jealous of one of his brothers. The Tracy pitch was pretty even when it came to material possessions, and aside from being assigned fewer solo missions, he felt that he was fairly evenly matched with his siblings.
Except when it came to keeping a cool head.
Alan could recall with chilling clarity multiple occasions where his brothers had been in mortal peril, yet had somehow managed to act if they'd merely been stuck in traffic.
There was the time Thunderbird One had stalled mid-flight and entered an uncontrolled spin over the Ethiopian Highlands. While Alan had almost required defibrillation upon learning of Scott's situation, his brother had calmly radioed in with a casual comment about being 'slightly in breach of the local speed limit'.
Or the time an iceberg had ruptured Thunderbird Four's external hull and the dry tube station had flooded. Alan had choked on his mouthful of cereal and been in the middle of receiving abdominal thrusts from Kayo when Gordon had reported that he was 'dealing with a bit of a leak'.
Then there was the time Thunderbird Five collided with a meteoroid and rapidly depressurised. Alan had outright fainted when Brains had informed him of the situation, while John had made a rather offhand remark about feeling 'a bit lightheaded'.
And of course, there was the time Thunderbird Two suffered an electrical fire and ended up a smouldering heap in the middle of the Sonoran Desert. Sally had been about to secure an oxygen mask over Alan's face when Virgil had quipped that his craft was 'almost as hot as her pilot'.
Unfortunately, the evidence was indisputable. Alan did not deal with stress well. Compared to other teenagers, he excelled at managing his emotions, but compared to his internationally acclaimed brothers, he failed miserably.
Never mind. Everything was going to be fine. Unlike his usual panic triggers, this particular one was incapable of causing him any harm.
Cooking. On his own. For nine people. On his own. With only Gordon for help.
On. His. Own.
'Then again…'
Trust fate to call all of his other brothers away in his hour of need. Scott was still out of action with his poorly shoulder, Virgil had gone to do a quick supply run on the mainland, and John was giving Parker and Lady Penelope a tour of Thunderbird Two's hanger.
Which left Gordon, who was more than happy to offer Alan some words of wisdom.
"What's on the menu, boss?" Gordon asked, quirking a brow when Alan shook his head and continued to stare blankly at the larder, "Don't worry, it doesn't have to be fancy. If you need an idea, just use your imagination."
"I think I sprained mine," Alan replied, his tone pathetic. There was one major downside to being the youngest of five, and that was the fact that you were almost never called upon to cook.
Gordon snorted in amusement at Alan's witty comeback, "Good one. Seriously though, just knock up something quick and easy. Heat up some tinned soup if you're really struggling. I promise I won't say anything to anyone."
Alan grunted in sarcastic appreciation, "Gee, thanks. What would I do without you. Hey, why aren't you wearing a shirt?"
Gordon blinked as if he were wondering the same thing, "It's hot out and all my good clothes are in the wash."
Blue met brown in an epic stare-off, "We all know you've got abs, Gordo. No need to shove them up our noses. Lady Penelope isn't even here right now."
Gordon smiled and grabbed a banana out of the fruit bowl, "Jealous much?"
Alan sighed and shook his head. He'd had the misfortune of seeing all of his brothers in less clothing than was appropriate, but Gordon more so than the others. The youngest duo had been sharing a bedroom and even baths up until a few years before their father's disappearance, much to the confusion of his friend and their 'adopted' uncle, Lee Taylor.
Alan's eyes widened as an idea hit him.
"Lee!" he exclaimed, seizing Gordon by the shoulders, "That's it."
Gordon wrinkled his nose and began walking backwards out of the kitchen, "What about him?"
Alan ignored his shirtless brother in favour of frisking his pockets in search of his phone. Memories of a delicious meal their dad's best friend had made for them many years ago were suddenly flooding back, and he was determined to capitalise on whatever inspiration came his way.
Open Phonebook.
Scroll to T.
Gordon Tracy.
Grandma Tracy.
John Tracy.
Scott Tracy.
Virgil Tracy.
'Why are the majority of my contacts all under T? Aha, there you are! Hiding between John and Virgil.'
Lee Taylor.
-x-
Flashback…
Captain Lee Taylor had never been fond of children.
While he was happy observing other people's offspring from a safe distance, he struggled to contain his revulsion if anything human and below the age of eighteen toddled in his direction.
There was however, one exception to that rule. Or five, as things were.
Lee had met Jeff Tracy when they'd been interns at NASA. They'd been paired together to work on the Artemis program and had been part of the committee that had sent the first female astronaut to the moon. From there, they'd been assigned to work on the Artemis Generation Spacesuits, and had spent six months on the moon field testing the advanced pressure modifications.
As if being stranded together on a chunk of rock two hundred and fifty thousand miles from home hadn't been enough, having to share just two pairs of space skivvies had been enough to foster a lifelong friendship between Lee and Jeff. A friendship that, after taking root, had transcended the parameters of work and spilled into real life. Lee had been Jeff's best man at his wedding, and had enjoyed a close friendship with Lucy prior to her untimely death. He'd also developed a reluctant fondness for Jeff's five sons, although he still had to wonder what had motivated his friend to want five kids.
One? Definitely.
Two? Understandable.
Three? Pushing the limit.
Four? Unwise.
Five? Madness.
In his opinion, that was a silly number of names to have to remember.
Still, friendship was friendship. Jeff may have been smart enough to blast himself into outer space multiple times, but obviously hadn't been smart enough to do his homework on contraception. Lee could count on the fingers of one hand the occasions where his friend had credited good physical and mental health to being a father of five young boys.
Of course, Lee wasn't immune to Jeff's plight, hence his offer to babysit when the Tracy patriarch suddenly found himself bedbound with a bad back that was, in his own words, like a 'corset of pain'.
"Of course I'll babysit, Jeff," Lee exclaimed, "You just stretch out and dose up on paracetamol. How long do you need me to watch them for?"
"Only for the one night," Jeff replied, his voice clipped with pain, "I tried asking my mother, but her state is snowed in and no flights are running for the next forty-eight hours."
Lee harrumphed in disapproval. He'd never understand why people got so worried over a little bit of sleet. Frozen rain had nothing on space dust, solar flares, and lunar storms.
-x-
Needless to say, Lee's arrival at the Tracy household was met with a heart-warming amount of enthusiasm.
"Uncle Lee!" the black haired one (Vincent? Victor?) yelled, torpedoing across the kitchen and helping himself to a hug, "Dad says you're staying the night!"
The black haired one was soon joined by his red-haired sibling (James? Jacob?), who gazed up at Lee with an expression of ardent worship.
In the background, the brown haired one (Sam? Simon?) was peeking out from around the kitchen island, a blond-haired toddler (Andy? Archie?) clutched tightly in his arms.
And finally, a blur of strawberry blond (George? Gerald?) who seemed determined to break the sound barrier as he bazookaed past his brothers and launched himself into Lee's arms.
"Hey, boys," Lee grunted, somewhat uncomfortable as George began climbing him like a tree, "Uh, yeah. Your dad isn't feeling the best, so I'll be manning the fort tonight."
The exclamations of delight that left the lungs of Victor, James, and George nearly split Lee's eardrums in half. A headache began to taunt the back of his eyes, made worse by the realisation that he'd only been in the house for three and a half minutes.
'Priorities, Lee. The sooner you start entertaining them, the sooner you can order them up to bed.'
A frown made itself at home on Lee's face as Victor waltzed over to the fridge and retrieved a tub of ice cream. James muttered something about being thirsty and ferreted in one of the cupboards next to the microwave, before emerging triumphantly with a massive bottle of fizzy lemonade. In the background, Sam turned on the TV, his choice of viewing material consisting of something frighteningly graphic and loud. Andy continued to doze, unfazed by the blood curdling screams emanating from whatever programme his brown-haired brother was quickly becoming immersed in.
George seemed determined to fuse himself to Lee's leg and didn't relinquish his hold even when the Captain marched into the middle of the kitchen and made his presence known.
"We'll be having none of that," Lee growled, confiscating the remote, lemonade, and ice cream, "Your dad might let you get away with horror films and ridiculous amounts of sugar, but you're under the care of Captain Lee Taylor tonight."
The atmosphere plummeted faster than a pair of lead pants.
"Now now, don't look so glum," Lee admonished, bending to unstick George's iron grip on his leg, "I never said we couldn't have fun, but we need to establish some rules first. If there's one thing your dad and I learnt real quick when we were on the moon, it's that rules can save both time and lives. Right, everybody line up."
Sam shuffled into formation, Andy still cradled in his arms. Victor and James obediently followed, their gazes downcast. As for George, Lee was contemplating whether he was going to have to use dynamite to detach him from his leg, however was saved from having to do so by Victor motioning for his little brother to come and join them.
Lee cleared his throat and began pacing up and down like a drill sergeant, "Rule One: There will be no watching of anything that encourages violence on the television. Rule Two: Sugar is reserved for dessert only. There will be no sugary drinks or sugary snacks. I've no interest in peeling any of you off the ceiling. Rule Three: There will be no staying up late. I've checked with your dad and know all of your bedtimes, so we'll be sticking to those. Finally, Rule Four: I'll be looking after Andy for the evening. You lads have homework and, in my opinion, children shouldn't look after children. Any questions?"
Four faces looked as if Christmas had just been cancelled.
"Come on now, buck up!" Lee enthused, "Like I said, we can still have fun, just not the crazy kind that you probably imagined when I first arrived. Okay, Sam, Victor, James? Skedaddle and get your homework finished. George, you need to find somewhere to sit quietly so you don't disturb your brothers. I'll take care of Andy in the meantime."
It was with an air of reluctance that Sam handed the snoozing Andy over. Lee figured it probably had something to do with the kid's dislike of being challenged. As the eldest of five, he was no doubt used to giving orders instead of receiving them.
As Lee tried to position Andy over his shoulder in a way that was comfortable for both of them, he set about drawing up a mental list of all the things children required as part of their day-to-day care.
Food. He certainly didn't want to see the outcome of leaving five children to starve.
Nappies. He sincerely hoped that category only applied to Andy.
Entertainment. Five rambunctious kids under the same roof spelled disaster. He'd need to prepare a schedule of activities to keep them entertained, plus a contingency list, plus a contingency list for his contingency list.
Baths. The garden hose would suffice if he encountered resistance.
Lee sighed as he made his way towards the fridge, Andy balanced precariously on his hip. The eldest three had dutifully gone and collected their school materials and were sat around the kitchen table, pencils and calculators in hand as they quietly worked out the answers to the homework activities they'd been set. George was sat on the floor next to James's chair, quietly playing with a box of toy animals. Aside from the occasional mammalian sound effect, he kept his mouth closed.
Satisfied that he was off to a good start, Lee set about giving himself a quick refresher tour of the house. Despite the absence of their mother and Jeff's tendency to not be on the same planet as his sons, it was obvious that the five boys were well cared for. They all sported neat haircuts, newish looking clothes, and were impeccably mannered. The fridge was fully stocked, the towels in the bathroom were freshly laundered, all the beds were neatly made, and none of the laundry baskets were full.
"Impressive," Lee muttered, suddenly very aware of the dump-like state of his own home. He'd have to ask Jeff for the number of the housekeeper he used.
A small voice broke through the Captain's train of thought, "Excuse me."
Lee ceased ogling the fresh sheets in one of the bedrooms and turned around, only to come face to face with Sam.
"Er, son?" Lee frowned as Sam side-stepped around him and headed for the laundry room, "I thought you had homework to finish?"
"I'm all done," came the reply, "I only had two questions left. I need to get this load on before seven, otherwise it won't have time to dry before we all go to bed."
Lee followed and idly watched as Sam expertly sifted through the contents of the laundry basket, tossing shirts, trousers, swimming trunks, and assorted bed sheets into one of the washing machines, before adding some detergent and slamming the lid closed.
"Alan usually eats around this time," Sam continued, ignoring Lee's look of confusion at the name 'Alan', "I'm usually the one who has the most success feeding him, so I'll take him off your hands if you don't mind."
Lee nodded mutely and handed the youngster over, dumbfounded at Sam's maturity. He was terrible with dates, but knew for a fact that the kid couldn't be any older than sixteen at the most.
As Lee watched Sam disappear down the staircase with the still sleeping Andy, he couldn't help but wonder if the housekeeper he'd previously complimented was in fact Sam himself.