Good afternoon, my favourite people. We are heading into the main universe now. I'm not going to do a blow-by-blow rewrite of each episode. (Honestly, some episodes may only get mentioned as an afterthought; depends on the plot bunnies.)
We all know the rules of fanfiction. We don't own anything except our original characters and original plot points.
ENJOY!
"Ah, Indiana," Jeff greeted her as she approached his desk, "You just finished the inventory for the medical supplies?"
"Yep," Indiana nodded as she handed Jeff the paperwork, "We're basically good at the moment, especially since there hasn't been a callout yet and the boys haven't injured themselves doing something stupid. But give them time."
"Looks like at minimum, you need some more syringes," Jeff observed as he read through it.
"Yeah. I used up quite a few running the physicals on everyone when I first arrived," Indiana told him.
"Done. I'll place the order later today," Jeff reassured her, "How do you find everything otherwise? We haven't had the chance to touch base much."
"Well, your infirmary is very well stocked; and this is from someone who worked in a Level I trauma centre," Indiana praised.
"You settling in well?" Jeff asked her.
"Sure am. This feels more and more like home every day," Indiana answered.
"I'm glad, Indiana. This is your home now, too," Jeff declared before stopping Kyrano, "Ah, Kyrano! I was just about to look for you."
Kyrano walked over, asking, "Is there anything wrong, Mr. Tracy?"
"No," Jeff shook his head before informing him, "I've just had news that Tin-Tin will be leaving London on Wednesday. That means she'll be home by Friday."
"That is good news indeed, Mr. Tracy. How can I ever repay you for your kindness to my daughter?" Kyrano asked.
"Well, she's got a good start, Kyrano," Jeff pointed out, "An education in the finest American university and a European tour to her credit."
"Mr. Tracy, you are the finest man I have ever had the privilege to work for," Kyrano proclaimed.
"And you, Kyrano, are the loyalist," Jeff responded in kind.
"I'm looking forward to finally being able to put a name to a face," Indiana remarked, "I've heard a lot about her from everyone here."
Jeff was about to respond to Indiana's statement, offer the generic, "You two will get along swell," along with some other remark about finally having other female company on the island (Grandma Tracy was spending a lot of time flying back and forth to her home as she prepared to sell it). But the words died on the tip of his tongue when he suddenly heard a cry of anguish. Jeff and Indiana immediately turned to the source of the cry.
"Kyrano, what's wrong?!" Jeff asked urgently.
But Kyrano could not respond. He continued crying out in pain. Suddenly, his legs gave out beneath him and he collapsed to the floor. Jeff called out Kyrano's name in horror as he immediately fell to his long-time employee's side.
"Hey, what's happened?!"
Indiana looked up from Kyrano as she heard Scott's voice, standing by the doorway towards the kitchen and dining area.
"Scott, get my kit!" Indiana ordered as she turned to Jeff, "Keep him stable."
"What's wrong, Kyrano?!" Jeff continued to call for his friend.
"Got it!" Scott panted as he immediately handed Indiana her kit.
Indiana wasted no time. She immediately hooked Kyrano up to a portable monitor, letting out a slight curse when she saw there was a sudden fall in his heartrate. She immediately pushed up Kyrano's sleeve, allowing her to attach the cuff to his arm to take his blood pressure.
"Blood pressure's low," Indiana observed before turning to Jeff and Scott, "I need you to help me get Kyrano to the infirmary."
"Right," the boys nodded.
Indiana raced ahead to get everything set up while Jeff and Scott helped Kyrano to the infirmary. When he was placed on the bed, he was no longer writhing in pain.
In fact, it didn't look like there was anything wrong with him.
"What… what happened?" Kyrano stammered, "Why am I in the infirmary?"
"You collapsed, Kyrano," Indiana informed him, "You had a sudden drop in heart rate and blood pressure, so I need to run some tests."
"There is no need, Dr. Evans," Kyrano objected, "I'm fine."
"You had a drop attack, Kyrano," Indiana retorted as she prepared Kyrano for the blood test she wanted to run, "We need to find out why you had one."
"What's that?" Scott asked as he passed Indiana the strap she used to help find a vein, earning a smile of gratitude for the doctor.
"Sudden falls that occur without external physical triggers, like tripping over something or being pushed," Indiana clarified, "They typically last for fifteen seconds, sometimes longer. Like we're seeing here, people often recover from one very quickly."
"What causes them?" Jeff demanded.
"A hundred and one things," Indiana responded, "Hyperventilation, hypotension, cardiovascular syncope…"
"Ana, we don't all hold MDs here," Scott reminded her.
"Hyperventilation is rapid breathing, hypotension is low blood pressure, cardiovascular syncope is just a fancy term to say you fainted," Indiana translated, "Basically, there could be a lot of causes. Some benign, some not so benign. That's why I want to get started on these tests."
"How long will they take?" Jeff asked her.
"Probably the rest of the day," Indiana guessed with a shrug, "I'm going to be running a whole battery of tests to see if I can find an immediate cause. I'll also want to run them again in a few days to make sure he's back to normal."
Jeff and Scott knew that Indiana was in doctor mode now, so they decided to step back and let her do her job. Before leaving, Jeff told Indiana to let him know the outcome of the tests and ordered Kyrano to rest in his room when Indiana was done, something Indiana readily backed up.
"So, what actually happened?" Scott asked his father as they walked away.
"It's hard to say, son. Indiana came to me with the inventory paperwork, I told Kyrano the news about Tin-Tin coming home on Friday and he just collapsed," Jeff recalled, "It was a sudden onset, as Indiana would say."
"Let's hope Ana can find the cause. We want Kyrano to be well enough when Tin-Tin comes back," Scott pointed out, "But hey. That is good news about Tin-Tin."
After Indiana discharged Kyrano after running the tests, she spent quite a lengthy amount of time in the infirmary to go over the results. Her brows furrowed in confusion as she read them. She couldn't find any reason to explain the drop attack. His heartrate and blood pressure were back to normal. Every test she ran on him came back clear. Her physical that she had recently run on him didn't raise any flags concerning seizures, rare syndromes or vertebrobasilar insufficiency.
"Well, Dr. Evans?" Jeff pressed as he walked in, "Did you find anything?"
"That's the thing," Indiana began as she looked up from the papers, "I can't find anything."
"You said people tend to recovery quickly from a drop attack," Jeff reminded her.
"Yeah, but even then, you can usually find a cause. Nothing's popping up," Indiana revealed, "I can't explain it."
"You said hypotension could be a cause. Could it be where he just had a sudden drop in blood pressure?" Jeff inquired.
"Possibly," Indiana mused, "But at the moment, I'm ruling it cryptogenic. I'll run some more tests later. But we might need to call in a specialist to review the results. Particularly any neuro causes."
"You think there could be something underlying that might not be picked up straightaway," Jeff surmised.
Indiana nodded, "I know someone at Strong Memorial Hospital. He's in neurology. I've worked with him a few times. I can give you his information."
"Done," Jeff nodded, "I know you suggested it, but I have to ask. You won't be offended if I brought in someone else for a second opinion?"
"No. I used to consult other doctors all the time when I worked at Kessler. It's standard practice," Indiana shrugged, "I get why you asked, though. I've worked with a few doctors who get insulted at the idea of consulting with other doctors. A few medical students I knew who were like that didn't last long."
"In the meantime, get something to eat," Jeff instructed her as he gently guided her out of the infirmary, "You're no good to us if you don't look after yourself as well."
It was the following day. As Indiana said he would, Kyrano bounced back fairly quickly. He bounced back so well; it was as if nothing had happened. But nobody would feel better until they could conclusively find the cause behind his drop attack (or, at least, eliminate the more serious causes).
"I've just spoken with Dr. Roberts," Indiana told Jeff as she approached him, "He's flying out later. I've sent him the results of the tests I've run ahead of time to help him review and give a baseline. Kyrano signed off on it."
"Thanks, Indiana," Jeff smiled as he looked at the photo of the rocket (which just happened to house Virgil's entrance into Thunderbird 2).
"Is this the rocket that took you to the moon?" Indiana asked.
"It sure is," Jeff smiled, "We almost didn't make it. A few days before the launch, they found an unexpected problem with the rocket. If they couldn't fix it, we would've been delayed several months. They did. Then, I almost got pulled from the roster. They suddenly got cold feet about sending an expectant father up in space."
"Your wife was pregnant?" Indiana gasped.
"Yeah. I got the callup not long after Lucy and I found out she was pregnant with Scott. I was on the backup crew, but got bumped up after the original commander had to bow out due to medical reasons. Lucy was seven months pregnant when I went up. We were in space for two weeks, then we were quarantined for three weeks," Jeff recalled for chuckling slightly, "Scott almost decided he didn't want to wait for me to come out of quarantine, but he held on long enough for me to get there."
It was at this moment Kyrano approached them, holding a tray with what looked like a telegram, "You miss those days, eh, Mr. Tracy? You must be proud to have been one of the world's first men to land on the moon."
"Well, it's all a long time ago, Kyrano. A long time ago," Jeff smiled before noticing what Kyrano was holding, "A cable for me?"
"Yes, sir," Kyrano nodded as he approached Jeff, "From London."
"Kyrano, I've spoken with Dr. Roberts and he's flying out here to give you a check-up," Indiana told him.
"Oh-ho, I'm fine, Dr. Evans," Kyrano immediately objected, "It's just a dizzy spell."
"Well, I think your daughter would appreciate coming home knowing her father was completely healthy after a drop attack," Indiana successfully argued her case.
"Oh, this is from Tin-Tin. She's on her way from London," Jeff read, "Hey, she's flying in the new Fireflash! Gee, that's a great aircraft!"
"Fireflash?" Indiana repeated in confusion, "Where do I know that name?"
"It's the new atomic-powered aircraft that can fly six times the speed of sound," Jeff clarified, "I had heard it was due to go on its maiden flight soon. Looks like Tin-Tin was lucky enough to score a seat."
The next time Scott went looking for Indiana, he found her in the infirmary. She had her earbuds in, indicating that she was studying. Indiana had mentioned offhandedly that she listened to music while studying to help her focus. Scott also knew that continuing professional development was mandatory for all doctors. It allowed them to keep their skills sharp and remain up to date with all new surgical techniques, among other benefits.
Also, he found out that Indiana was a bit of a nerd, and had affectionately teased her as such.
Indiana let out a startled yelp when she looked up from her study material and saw Scott. Pausing her music, she gasped out, "You startled me!" as she pulled out her earbuds.
"Well, you did seem lost in your own little world there," Scott observed as he sat on the bed near the desk.
"Professional development," Indiana corrected, inadvertently confirming Scott's suspicions, "Also, I'm rostered to teach some ATLS courses soon, so I'm doing a bit of lesson planning in between."
"ATLS?" Scott repeated in confusion as he stood up and leaned over the desk to look at the papers.
"Advanced Trauma Life Support," Indiana clarified, "It's a training program for medical providers, focusing on the management of acute trauma cases."
"And how does trauma management work?" Scott inquired.
When Indiana looked up from her paperwork, she suddenly realized how close Scott was. Scott must have realized to, because he cleared his throat and stood back.
"Lay down on the bed and I can demonstrate," Indiana ordered.
Scott almost choked on air, not just at the order, but the matter-of-fact way she gave it. Trying to keep his thoughts pure, he laid down on the bed he previously sat on, hoping to God this wouldn't be a repeat of his physical and he could keep his clothes on this time. Indiana stood over him, like she would in an emergency room.
"Okay. The assessment of a trauma patient is divided into two surveys: a primary survey and a secondary survey. In a primary survey, any injuries that are life-threatening are diagnosed and treated. Other injuries get relegated to the secondary survey," Indiana explained, "Remember this for the primary survey: ABCDE."
"ABCDE," Scott recited, "I assume there's a reason it involves the first five letters of the alphabet."
"There is," Indiana nodded cheerfully, "It helps us remember the order of assessment. Basically, you treat first what can kill first. For example, a patient would die from an airway obstruction quicker than they would from breathing difficulties following a pneumothorax."
"Pneumothorax. That's a collapsed lung?" Scott guessed.
"Bang on. A stands for Airway and C-Spine Stabilization," Indiana said as she grabbed a mask, not attached to anything, and pretended to put it on Scott, "Airway is always the first priority, and every patient gets fitted with a mask to be given oxygen. Unless they need to be intubated. You're talking normally to me, so that tells me your airway's not compromised. If your voice was hoarse or I can hear audible breathing coming from you, that would be concerning."
"What can compromise your airway?" Scott inquired. "I know about blockages, vomit, blood, but is there anything else?"
"Soft tissue swelling from trauma to your head or neck can cause an airway obstruction. For example, if you sustain trauma to the larynx and/or the trachea," Indiana stopped for a moment as she rested her hand on his chest between the inside edges of his collarbones, showing where his trachea is located, "there can be displacement of epiglottis, arytenoid cartilages and vocal cords, for example. That can cause what's known as a cervical airway obstruction."
"You mentioned C-Spine Stabilization," Scott decided to change the subject, "I assume that means stabilizing the spine. That's where you would bring out the backboards and neck brace."
"You got it," Indiana praised, "Typically, you don't need to do any diagnostic imaging at this stage. As long as the spine's immobilized, any possible spinal injury is stabilized and you can put off diagnosed imaging for the time being until you get to the secondary survey."
"You're not actually gonna attach them to me, are you?" Scott asked nervously.
Indiana let out a laugh, "Nah. For one thing, I'd have you on the floor for that. Having you on the bed, lets me demonstrate some exams I would do on you without equipment. If you needed it, of course."
Scott did notice that Indiana was demonstrating some of the hands-on techniques she would use to evaluate his condition at each stage of the survey. He was familiar with a lot of these techniques already, recognizing them from when Indiana ran the physical and from the first aid course he took.
He wondered if, one day, Indiana would let him test his knowledge by pretending to run the survey on her.
A part of him he struggled so hard to repress since he first laid eyes on her popped up quickly to ponder what she would think if he said clothing was optional. But that part of him was heavily repressed for a reason.
For one thing, he was a gentleman. He despised men who treated women as nothing more than sex objects. He had also heard how, before accepting Jeff's offer, Indiana had been approached by several wealthy men to be their "personal physician". He never wanted Indiana to feel propositioned.
"I guess B is for Breathing," Scott presumed.
"Bingo," Indiana nodded as she reached for a pulse oximeter, attaching it to his finger without turning it on, "Breathing's the next item evaluated in trauma care. Some breathing issues can be diagnosed with physical examination alone, but others can only be diagnosed with diagnostic imaging, like a chest radiograph. I diagnose any breathing issues you may have and treat them. That pulse oximeter there monitors the saturation of oxygen in your blood. Anything between 95-100% at sea level is considered normal for a healthy person. Anything lower than 88% means trouble."
As Indiana took the pulse oximeter off of him, she continued as she grabbed the wand for the ultrasound machine, "C is for circulation. This is where more diagnostic imaging comes in, like an ultrasound. There are some cases where the bleeding's external, but there is also the danger of internal bleeding, like a laceration to your spleen. Blood would also be obtained for laboratory investigations."
"Like if I needed a blood transfusion. You'd need to know my blood type," Scott pointed out as Indiana pretended to run an ultrasound on his abdomen to look for internal bleeding.
"Yeah. And some of the patients I've seen weren't in the position to give me their medical history," Indiana quipped, "This is where we sometimes find the remainder of the primary survey delayed. Because sometimes, we can't stabilize a patient in the trauma room. We might need to rush them to surgery. D is Disability."
"Let me guess," Scott cut in as Indiana grabbed a torch, "This is where you assess head injuries."
"That's one example," Indiana mused as she pretended to flash a torch around his eyes, "Assessment of your neurological status is included. For example," Indiana trailed off as she grabbed Scott's hand, "Squeeze my fingers."
Confused, Scott obeyed her anyway. He also was able to blink on command and answer basic questions about the date. He assumed this was part of a special test done to assess his neurological status that she mentioned earlier.
"Congratulations, You passed," Indiana joked before finishing up, "Finally, E is for Environment and Exposure. Think hypothermia, burns…"
"That's the fifth priority," Scott surmised, "And that's the primary survey."
"Yeah," Indiana nodded, "The secondary survey is where you would be examined from head to toe with additional imaging done if the primary survey indicated a need for it. Like I said earlier, we may take the imaging for your cervical spine if it was required."
"Those doctors will be in good hands," Scott remarked, "With you as a teacher."
"I hope so," Indiana sighed as she put away the equipment she took out for demonstration, "It's a brilliant approach to trauma care. It helps to prioritize more immediate concerns. Like I said, airway obstructions kill quicker than breathing complications from a pneumothorax."
Scott accepted Indiana's outstretched hand as she went to pull him up. But something happened on the way up. Neither of them could describe what happened in great detail, for it all happened so fast and they had a hard time catching up to reality.
All they knew for sure was, somehow, Indiana ended up on top of Scott on the bed.
Scott immediately began praying no one walked in. He didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea. This was an accident. Nothing more. Not to mention, his brothers would never let them hear the end of it.
Especially Gordon and Alan. He could have sworn he heard whispers of them starting a betting pool about their relationship; namely, if and when it would turn romantic. No one's placed their bets yet, as far as he knew (he didn't even know if they had actually started a betting pool or if they were trying to wind him up; both scenarios were highly plausible).
Indiana adjusted her position so she was resting on her elbows at least. She did this to try to get up and also so she didn't crush Scott. (Scott would argue she wasn't.) But she felt a firm hand press into her back. Almost as if he was telling her to stay.
Indiana felt her breath hitch in her throat as Scott reached up a free hand to tuck a strand of hair that had fallen over her face behind her ear. He didn't immediately move his hand away. Instead, he caressed her cheek.
"Ana, I…," Scott choked out, his voice and facial expression betraying the desire he felt.
"What's stopping you?" Indiana murmured.
"This is it, everyone! We have our first emergency call! Come up for the briefing!"
"That," Scott responded dryly.
Indiana let out a small laugh as she pushed herself up. Scott was right. The moment was destroyed. Unfortunately, it wasn't the first time this happened, and they both had the sinking feeling that it wouldn't be the last time.
"Ah, Scott, Indiana, good," Jeff greeted them as they walked into the main lounge area, "As I stated before, we have our first emergency call. The new Fireflash atomic airliner is in distress at London Airport."
"Wait," Indiana cut in, "Isn't that Tin-Tin's plane?"
"Tin-Tin?!" Alan repeated in alarm.
"Unfortunately, it is," Jeff nodded solemnly, "A bomb has been planted in their landing gear. From the communications John picked up from the space station, if they tried to land, the impact would detonate the bomb."
"If that atomic reactor is damaged, radioactive material will be dispersed over a large area. It's not just everyone aboard the plane that's in danger," Indiana pointed out.
"Indiana's right. John has also reported that the radiation safety factor will expire in under two hours. So, it is imperative that that we find a way to land that plane safely without detonating the bomb," Jeff told them firmly before wrapping up the briefing, "Okay, boys. That's the brief. It's your first assignment, so make it good. As you know, your uniforms are in your craft and must only be worn on call."
"Right, father," Scott nodded.
"Okay, father," Alan agreed.
"Sure thing, dad," Virgil piped in.
"Yeah, father," Gordon added.
"I am also certain that Indiana here would appreciate it if you boys didn't return from your first assignment injured," Jeff quipped, turning to their chief medical officer.
"Well, nothing more than bumps and scrapes," Indiana amended, "Any serious injuries? Different matter, boys. Try to save them for later assignments."
Scott recalled the lesson he had just been given on Advance Trauma Life Support before they got the emergency call. He knew what was involved. He didn't want to force Indiana into that position. Not if he could help it. Everyone knew that injuries – minor and serious – were an occupational hazard. That's why they recruited Indiana, after all. But that didn't mean they weren't going to do everything possible to try to mitigate the risks.
All four Tracy sons reassured her that they would do their best, but they couldn't make any promises. That satisfied Indiana for now. She had a lot of trust in them and she knew they had a job to do.
"Okay, Scott. Away you go. And keep in touch," Jeff instructed.
"Yes, sir," Scott nodded as he approached the entrance to Thunderbird 1's silo.
"Well, Brains," Jeff began as he turned to the engineer sitting by his desk, "Your phenomenal mind made all of this possible. Now, you're gonna see it in operation."
As Scott disappeared behind the wall, Alan, Virgil and Indiana shouted various well wishes and warnings to be careful. Everyone knew the routine for when the emergency call came. As Field Commander, Scott would depart for the danger zone first. The others would line up in order of their craft, but they knew they would have time. It takes a few minutes to prepare Thunderbird 1 for launching. Then, once Scott was on his way to the danger zone, he would contact John in Thunderbird 5 for further details. With this information at hand, he could then determine what would be needed and relay the instructions back to base.
So, they had more than enough time to go watch Thunderbird 1's launch.
This wasn't the first time Indiana had seen Thunderbird 1 launching. The boys had performed at least one test flight on each of their craft since she arrived on the island. But this was the first time since International Rescue started operations, and it would be the first time they would be responding to an emergency call.
So, it goes without saying that this launch held more significance than the others she had seen.
As she always was, Indiana found herself both impressed and slightly amused by how the Thunderbirds were concealed around the island. In Thunderbird 1's case, its launch point was under the pool, which was at this time retracting to give Scott a clear exit. She knew that it would only be moments before she heard the sound of Thunderbird 1's thrusters come to life and she could see the blue and silver rocket take to the skies.
She was not disappointed. As predicted, Thunderbird 1 came soaring out of its silo and took to the skies in what almost could be described as a traditional rocket launch. (Keyword here being almost.) Once they saw Thunderbird 1 change to horizontal flight and officially depart for the danger zone, everyone rushed back to the main area. They knew, at this point in time, Scott would be receiving more details from John and he would be radioing in afterwards to convey what would be needed at the danger zone.
They needed to be ready to launch at a moment's notice.
Sure enough, they heard the tell-tale series of beeps. Installed on the wall directly in front of Jeff's desk was a series of photos displaying all five Tracy sons in their International Rescue uniforms. The uniforms were the same. Blue jumpsuit. Boots. Sash. What gave each uniform a unique distinction was the colour of the sash and the band at the top of their boots. Each Tracy son was allowed to choose their own colour. There was also a button Jeff could press for when visitors came to the island that changed the photos to photos of the boys in their normal attire. They looked like normal family portraits.
There was also a portrait of Lady Penelope, their London field agent, nearby.
But there was something unique about these photos. They also served as their means of communication; especially when someone was out in the field. Anytime someone was trying to contact the island, the eyes would flash and there would be a series of beeps accompanying it.
That was what was happening here. Scott's eyes were flashing on his portrait, indicating he was trying to contact base.
"Go ahead, Scott," Jeff answered the call.
Sure enough, when Scott appeared on the screen, he was no longer wearing his casual attire. He was wearing his uniform, complete with the light blue sash (his chosen colour). Unnoticed by the others, Indiana shifted somewhat uncomfortably.
A little-known fact about her is, just like a lot of women, she loved a man in uniform.
As she remembered the moment she and Scott shared before they received word of the emergency call, and now seeing him in his uniform on his way to a rescue, she wondered how she was going to survive.
"I'll be arriving at London Airport in 52 minutes. But it looks like I'll need heavy rescue."
"Okay, Scott. I'll organize it right away," Jeff promised his oldest before turning to Virgil, "Alright, Virgil. Away you go."
"Right, father," Virgil nodded as he approached the portrait of his father's rocket.
"Be careful," Indiana warned him.
"I will, Indy," Virgil reassured her before he disappeared from view.
"Come on, Indy," Alan said as he linked arms with her, "Let's go to the balcony. You'll get a good view of Thunderbird 2 launching."
Gordon also linked arms with her and the two gentlemen escorted Indiana to the aforementioned balcony. Again, Indiana had seen each Thunderbird (except Thunderbird 5) launch at least once. But, just like witnessing Thunderbird 1 launching just moments ago, this one was more significant. It was the first launch where Thunderbird 2 would be travelling to a danger zone.
It would be several moments before Thunderbird 2 emerged from the hanger hidden behind the cliff face. For one thing, Virgil needed time to change into his uniform. For another, he needed to select the pod. Thunderbird 2 had six detachable pods containing different rescue equipment. Some of the classics included Thunderbird 4 being housed in Pod 4 and Pod 5 containing the Mole. Beyond that, the equipment housed in the pod was interchangeable.
She had heard briefly before she was escorted to the balcony that Thunderbird 2 would be taking Pod 3 on this rescue.
Before long, the cliff face opened up and Thunderbird 2 began to taxi down the runway to its launch point. She remembered the first time she saw Thunderbird 2 launch for a test flight. She was worried that Thunderbird 2's massive wings would cut down the palm trees that lined up alongside the runway. But those fears quickly went away when she saw the palm trees fall backwards away from the runway, thanks to some mechanisms Brains installed.
Thunderbird 2 then reached the spot where the ramp was located and was then lifted into launch position. Once in the correct position, a small blast shield appeared behind Thunderbird 2's aft motors. Within seconds, those motors came to life and Thunderbird 2 took to the skies.
"Do you think there'll be a time when I'll get used to seeing this?" Indiana asked the two Tracy brothers currently escorting her back inside the villa once Thunderbird 2 disappeared into the horizon.
Gordon and Alan pondered her question for a moment before shaking their heads and responding, "Nah."
Indiana let out a shrug. She supposed they were right.
"Does Kyrano know?" Indiana suddenly asked Jeff, remembering that he didn't come with them to see Thunderbird 1 launch (because he had to handle the talkback and give clearance).
"I told him when you all went to see Thunderbird 1 launch," Jeff clarified, "He's worried, but also trusts that the boys have it all in hand."
Whatever words Indiana was going to say in response was lost when John's portrait beeped to indicate an incoming call from Thunderbird 5. Knowing that John could be reporting in with vital information about the rescue, Jeff rushed to answer.
"Go ahead, John," Jeff answered the incoming call.
"I've just received new transmissions concerning the Fireflash, father. London Airport just told them of a rescue attempt that's going to be made. They're going to attempt to put a man aboard one of their wings to try and disable the bomb."
"That sounds more like suicide than a rescue attempt," Indiana couldn't help but remark.
"I agree, Indiana, but sometimes, a failed attempt is better than no attempt at all," Jeff conceded.
None of them made a move to leave the lounge area. They knew that, if John had just radioed in a report, Scott would radio in one of his own momentarily.
Sure enough, not even a few minutes later, Scott reported in.
"Base from Thunderbird 1. ETA at London Airport now 41 minutes. Any more news?"
"Yes, Scott," Jeff nodded, "John's reported in from the space station that a rescue attempt is going to be made. It seems from transmissions intercepted that they're gonna try to put a man aboard Fireflash. How, we don't yet know, but continue your present course. It doesn't look too hopeful."
"Well, let's hope they succeed. Say, Ana, what are the medical risks of this?"
"Them putting a man into the wing or if Fireflash stays in the air too long?" Indiana sought clarification.
"Both."
"I'd hope that man has a harness, a parachute, and really good medical insurance," Indiana quipped, "With the people on the plane, I'd say the biggest risk is Acute Radiation Syndrome. Symptoms can include nausea, diarrhea, headache, fever, weakness; list goes on."
"How long would it take for the symptoms to show up?"
"That depends on the exposure," Indiana responded, "If it's a mild dose, it could take weeks. If it's severe exposure, which is what could happen if that shield expires, minutes. When you get there, work fast. If that shield expires before the plane can land, you're not going to have much of a window to get them down safely."
"I'll keep that in mind. I'll keep in touch."
"A harness, a parachute and really good medical insurance," Alan repeated in amusement.
"Oh, shut up," Indiana grumbled.
Scott pondered Indiana's words as he continued his journey to the danger zone. Before joining International Rescue, he was in the Air Force. He was a fighter pilot. He flew all kinds of aircraft in all kinds of combat conditions. He had the commendations (and the scars) to show for it. Not that he could tell the stories behind those commendations and scars. Those missions were classified.
Well, most of the scars, he could talk about. They weren't all from his Air Force days. He had some classic scars, like when he and his brothers went a little too far in their roughhousing, or when he got his appendix removed when he was twelve.
He knew about the dangers of radiation exposure to some extent, but hearing Indiana talk about the risks helped put things into perspective for him. As Field Commander, he was also the first responder. He needed to know everything about the danger zone. Including the risks that they would face.
Once he was satisfied that he had examined the risks enough, he felt comfortable enough to risk allowing his thoughts to wonder to that interrupted moment he had with Indiana in the infirmary.
He couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if Jeff hadn't interrupted to inform them of the emergency call. Would they have regained their senses regardless? Would they have kissed? And if they had kissed, would they have been able to stop at one? How far would they have gone?
It wasn't the first time they came close. He hoped it wouldn't be the last; and he also hoped it wouldn't be interrupted. Again. By either themselves or outside forces.
Clearing his throat, Scott noticed that he was now approaching London Airport. (Where had the time gone?) He could ponder things later.
For now, he had a job to do. He had people to save.
As he prepared to land Thunderbird 1, he radioed the Control Tower:
"London Tower from Thunderbird 1. Approaching London Airport. Height: 2,500 feet. Airspeed: 7.5 thousand miles per hour. Will be touching down in two minutes."
Indiana found herself back on the balcony watching the horizon. They had heard that Scott had landed safely at London Airport and was able to get them to cooperate with his requests (with some reluctance, admittedly). They also knew that Virgil was just under twenty minutes behind in Thunderbird 2. This meant that they would have a very narrow window to enact their rescue operation.
She fiddled with the rock she always carried with her. It was her good luck charm, but she hoped that the good luck would also reach Scott and Virgil. And Tin-Tin and everyone aboard the plane.
Everyone needed all the luck they could get.
"Dr. Evans," Kyrano's quiet voice cut into her quiet thoughts, "Why don't you have some coffee?"
"Only if you sit with me and rest for a bit," Indiana requested as she accepted the cup Kyrano offered, "I know you bounced back pretty well, but I still want you to take it easy. At least until the specialist gets a good look at you."
"I am fine, Dr. Evans," Kyrano reassured her, "I appreciate the concern, but I don't think there's anything wrong."
"How are you holding up?" Indiana asked after taking a sip of the coffee, resting a hand on his arm in a comforting gesture, "I know. Silly question."
"I fear for my daughter's safety, Dr. Evans. But I also have faith. I have faith in Mr. Tracy and his sons," Kyrano stated resolutely, "I have faith that they will find a way to bring the plane down safely. I have faith that they will bring my daughter home unharmed."
Indiana gave Kyrano a gentle smile. That was all they needed. They needed faith.
She also knew the determination that ran in the Tracy family. She knew why International Rescue existed in the first place. The accident that claimed the life of Lucille Tracy was well-known. It was a freak accident in itself. But what made the real impact was the lack of resources. They couldn't get the equipment they needed out in time. As a result, Lucille Tracy, and a lot of others who would have survived, died before they could be rescued.
Jeff Tracy was not the only person who lamented at how that could have made a difference. But he was someone who had both the determination and the resources to do something about it. After taking the time to grieve and make sure his sons had everything they needed to help them through their own grief (despite popular reports, Jeff did not neglect his sons after his wife's death), he immediately set to work developing an organisation that would bring specialist equipment to danger zones faster than conventional means. For he knew first hand the difference it could make.
"Virgil just contacted base," Alan informed them as he walked out onto the balcony, "He's arrived at the danger zone and they're getting ready to start the rescue operation."
"Are they okay?" Indiana asked worriedly.
"They're fine so far. Just eager to get things rolling," Alan answered, "I don't think we'll get much more from them until the rescue's completed."
"Thank you, Mr. Alan," Kyrano said to him.
"Tin-Tin's going to be fine, Kyrano," Alan reassured the older man, "She will be home before you know it."
"Wonder how she'll react when she finds out she was inadvertently part of International Rescue's first assignment," Indiana quipped, "Do the passengers actually know what's going on?"
"John said they're keeping the passengers in the dark as much as they can. They're claiming a minor technical fault made them return to London Airport and problems with the airport are making them unable to land," Alan clarified, "They're trying to avoid a panic, but I think not knowing what's going on wouldn't help much either."
"It depends on the person, Alan," Indiana stated wisely, "One of the first things I learned in patient care is letting the patients dictate how involved they want to be. There are patients who want to be involved in the process, but ultimately leave the final decision making to their physician. There are some that want no role at all. The same could be applied here. Some people may not want to know what's going on. They might just be content with the knowledge that someone is doing their best to help them."
Alan pondered Indiana's words, recalling the family's experiences with hospitals and medical teams. He certainly saw her logic.
They sat there in an anxious silence. Nobody could come up with anything to say. No way to reassure each other. They were in the dark. They had no way of knowing what was happening at London Airport. They had no way of knowing the outcome of the rescue mission.
Neither of them could recall with absolute certainty how much time passed before Gordon ran out yelling, "Scott's calling!"
The three of them raced into the lounge area as Jeff accepted Scott's call.
"Go ahead, Scott," Jeff said urgently.
"The mission was a success, father. We managed to get the plane down without detonating the bomb."
"What's the condition of everyone on board?" Indiana asked, "Did you get them down before the shield expired?"
"Unfortunately, no. It took two attempts to land the plane due to equipment problems and the radiation safety factor expired just before the second attempt. Everyone's being checked out by medical professionals as we speak, Ana."
"They'll need regular monitoring. Remember what I told you about the timeline between exposure and illness?" Indiana pressed.
"It's all been taken care of."
"What about Virgil?" Jeff cut in, "Are you and Virgil okay?"
"Virgil got a few bumps and scrapes. The tires blew on the Master Elevator Car and he lost control and crashed into a ravine during the rescue. He's okay to fly home."
"Is he really? Did he hit his head in the crash?" Indiana demanded.
It was at this time Virgil cut in, "I'm fine, Indy. If anything, I might have jarred my shoulder. I didn't hit my head. No whiplash."
"Yeah. Well, you're getting an exam when you get home, buster," Indiana decreed.
"You boys can fill us in on the rest of the details later. For now, head back to base," Jeff instructed.
True to her word, Indiana gave Virgil a full exam when he and Scott returned to Tracy Island following their successful first assignment. During this time, both boys filled in the gaps left by their brief field report.
When Virgil landed, he immediately unloaded the Master Elevator Car and two radio-controlled cars, positioned along the runway where the landing gear would be deployed. As Scott mentioned, there was a hitch. A fault had developed in one of the radio-controlled cars, but it appeared to have rectified itself before Virgil started tracking the plane as it was on final approach. However, before the plane could land on the cars, the radio-controlled car that presented the issue veered out of control and crashed into an empty plane nearby. As a result, Fireflash had to abort the landing at the last minute so Virgil could get the backup radio-controlled car ready and line up for the second and final attempt. As Scott mentioned, during this time, the radiation safety factor expired, resulting in some radiation exposure, as Indiana feared. This attempt was much more successful than the first, but they still cut it close. Ironically, the nosecone being forced onto the ground by Virgil's elevator car crashing helped the plane come to a stop with only a few hundred yards left on the runway. By some miracle, the bomb didn't detonate. Further investigation would eventually reveal if the bomb was a dud or not.
But the report was still a mixed bag. There was an incident that occurred while waiting for Thunderbird 2 to arrive. When Scott landed at London Airport, he gave the instructions he was told to give: help with transporting his mobile control equipment to the control tower, and police guards around Thunderbird 1 to ensure no photographs were taken. When Scott was planning the operation, the Automatic Camera Detector went off; someone snuck aboard Thunderbird 1 and took photos of the instrument panels. The police gave chase, but eventually lost sight of the person responsible, so Scott was forced to dispatch Lady Penelope. He heard on the way back to base that Lady Penelope was successful in stopping the man.
Now, night had fallen on Tracy Island. Dr. Roberts had arrived from Rochester and he and Indiana had isolated themselves in the infirmary on the island with Kyrano, going over the previous test results and running new tests, including special tests that fell under Dr. Roberts' purview as a neurologist.
In the meantime, everyone else occupied themselves as they waited for news on Kyrano's health. Alan decided to distract Tin-Tin by leading her out onto the balcony to admire the moon and the night sky. They even played a game to see if they would be able to spot Thunderbird 5 (they weren't, but the distraction was welcome all the same). Virgil was serenading everyone in the lounge with some piano tunes, playing both original compositions and some of the classics. Jeff was reading his newspaper. Scott and Gordon had challenged each other to a friendly game of chess.
Nobody knew where Brains was. At least, not until he walked in and said, "Excuse me, Mr. Tracy. Dr. Evans and Dr. Roberts would like to see you."
"Just one moment, Brains," Jeff requested, "Operation Coverup."
With the press of a button, Jeff enacted Operation Coverup. The photos of the five Tracy sons in their International Rescue uniforms were replaced with photos of the five Tracy sons enjoying everyday life.
Satisfied their secret would be safe, Jeff turned to Brains, "Okay, Brains. Show them in."
"Yes, Mr. Tracy," Brains nodded as he walked away to do so.
While waiting for the two doctors to join them, Scott signalled for Alan and Tin-Tin to come back inside, knowing that his long-time friend would want to know her father's condition.
"Well, doc, what's the verdict?" Jeff asked worriedly as Indiana and Dr. Roberts entered the room.
"Oh, he's okay, Jeff. I've checked over Dr. Evans' test results and I examined Kyrano myself. I can't account for that dizzy spell, but I can assure you there's nothing wrong," Dr. Roberts proclaimed.
"Well, that's great news," Jeff sighed in relief as he approached the neurologist, newspaper in hand, "Thanks for flying out here the way you did."
"Oh, anytime, Jeff," Dr. Roberts beamed, "It gives me a chance to see where Dr. Evans got herself set up. We worked together a lot at the hospital. She even shadowed me when she was doing her rotations. Always knew she would amount to something special."
"Well, that's why I recruited her," Jeff remarked.
It was at that moment Indiana and Dr. Roberts noticed the newspaper in Jeff's hand. It was enough time for International Rescue's adventure at London Airport to make the evening edition of the newspapers. The headline read, "International Rescue: Who Are They?"
"Well, how about that, Jeff? Some story, huh?" Dr. Roberts quipped, gesturing to the newspaper.
"It sure is," Jeff nodded.
"Oh, fantastic, the way the whole thing is cloaked in mystery! I sure would like to know who these people are," Dr. Roberts proclaimed before finishing his sentence, "'Cause the one thing I'd like to do is shake 'em by the hand."
"Well, thanks again, doc," Jeff said as he shook the doctor's hand.
Indiana shot Scott a knowing smile, causing Scott to bite back his laughter. He knew what Indiana was trying to tell him. If only the doctor knew he was actually shaking hands with International Rescue.
"I'll show you out," Indiana offered.
"Oh, there's no need, Dr. Evans," Dr. Roberts dismissed her kind offer as he went to the front door, "So long, Jeff!"
"So long," Jeff responded in kind.
When Indiana saw from the doorway that Dr. Roberts had reached his plane and was preparing to board, she returned into the lounge area, where Tin-Tin immediately pulled the young doctor into an emotional embrace, thankful that her father is okay.
"Well, fellas, I guess that handshake was for us," Jeff remarked before declaring, "Boys, I think we're in business!"
It was at this point that Virgil, who had stopped playing when Dr. Roberts left to hear his father's announcement, immediately started playing again. This time, he started playing a special tune he had composed for when they celebrated their first successful mission.
Indiana sat next to Scott, watching as he continued his game with Gordon. She laughed when Scott pulled a surprise move that allowed him to declare checkmate, leaving Gordon stunned. Gordon spluttered in indignation, trying to work out what he had done wrong to allow Scott to sneak a victory past him.
Kyrano joined them at this point, happily embracing his daughter as they celebrated the news of both the successful mission and Kyrano's clean bill of health.
They certainly had something worth celebrating tonight.
Yep. They sure do. I know how I'm gonna celebrate getting this chapter up. Popcorn.
BYE!