The Press
The flight to Anderson City was much smoother. I think even Gordon felt more relaxed, as he started to ask me questions about the cruise.
"I've never been on one." He told me with a gleam in his eyes. "Is it true about all those ship board romances?"
"I saw a few develop," I admitted, "but I didn't get to experience anything personally though. Most of the people seem to have been outside of my age group."
"Shame." He commented and then proceeded to ask me about the other activities on board.
The flight was smooth and passed quickly.
From where I was seated I could just make out when we reached land and subsequently when we started flying past the tall buildings of Anderson City.
Virgil prepared to land at the airport. His conversation with the control tower confirmed that the airport had been closed off in order to maintain International Rescue's security. Local Government dignitaries and representatives of the Gold Star Line would be on hand to meet us. He passed this information on to the other passengers.
We began to lose height, so gently that I didn't realise that we'd touched down until Gordon undid his safety harness and stood. I followed his example. Now I could see the tarmac.
"We'll let the injured out first." Virgil said. "Once they're sorted we'll off load the passengers. As soon as you're all clear we'll take off again."
"Oh." I must have looked disappointed.
Both International Rescue men smiled. "Can't be helped." Virgil said. "We might be needed at any time and I want to do a proper repair to the tail."
"T-thanks for trusting me." I stuttered. "And thanks for saving me too."
"Scott told us you were almost involved in a punch up." Gordon raised both hands in a fighting position. "Thanks for sticking up for us."
I didn't get the opportunity to say goodbye to my International Rescue friends. As soon as we alighted from Thunderbird Two we were escorted away. We reached the terminal and were startled by a loud noise coming from behind us. It was Thunderbird Two taking off. She lifted up and flew away, towards Thunderbird One circling in the distance.
We were herded into a hanger. "Like a flock of sheep." Someone muttered. The mass media clung to every vantage point like a flock of vultures.
I could see some of my fellow passengers pointing me out, but I chose to ignore them, hoping to find anonymity in the crowd.
A lady, wearing a badge that proclaimed her to be an Emma Goldstein, Public Relations Assistant to the Gold Start Line, approached me. They were holding a news conference and understood I would have an interesting story to tell. Was I interested?
"No!"
She gave me a big artificial smile. "The company would be willing to give you half a million dollars worth of free travel on its' line."
"Ms Goldstein. At the moment I have no desire to ever set foot on another boat. All I want to do is have a shower, find some clean clothes and have something to eat."
"And then would you be willing to attend a conference?"
"No! Never!" I walked away.
A reporter from the World News approached me. Would I consent to an interview?
"No" I repeated.
"If you would consent to an exclusive interview we'd be willing to pay you."
"I'm sorry. I'm not interested."
"You name your price."
"Not interested."
"We'll also get you an immediate flight home, first class. And pay for the replacement of all the goods you lost on the trip."
"No!"
"You stick to your guns, 1." It was Trixie. "Don't tell them anything. Don't tell anyone!"
"Thanks Trixie." I was grateful for her support.
The World News reporter pushed in front of her, forcing her to step backwards.
"You don't have to give us all the details. Just the highlights."
"No!" I repeated for the hundredth time and moved away, only to have the tape recorder of a newspaper journalist thrust under my nose.
"Is it true that you travelled in the cabin of Thunderbird Two?" He asked.
"If you want a story." I told him in anger. "You can write about how a eighty four year old lady, who showed more spirit and character than any of you - you ..." I couldn't think of a suitable, and publishable verb. "...members of the press was treated with no respect by any of you. How she's just been shoved away. Or..." I was getting into my stride now. "...you can write about how the Gold Star Line doesn't care about it's passengers. How when all they want is a good meal, a shower and to get some sleep, they are cooped up in a hanger and asked inane questions."
I took a breath to continue and Ms Goldstein, who'd been following me like a lap dog, jumped into the fray. "Now then," she said with an ingratiating smile at me, "3 2 is quite correct in reminding me of my duty. The Gold Star Line is arranging now to have all passengers and crew put up in a five-star hotel for the night. Maybe tomorrow 3 2 will feel like talking to the media."
"No I won't!" I told her and was blinded by a flash bulb.
The flight to Anderson City was much smoother. I think even Gordon felt more relaxed, as he started to ask me questions about the cruise.
"I've never been on one." He told me with a gleam in his eyes. "Is it true about all those ship board romances?"
"I saw a few develop," I admitted, "but I didn't get to experience anything personally though. Most of the people seem to have been outside of my age group."
"Shame." He commented and then proceeded to ask me about the other activities on board.
The flight was smooth and passed quickly.
From where I was seated I could just make out when we reached land and subsequently when we started flying past the tall buildings of Anderson City.
Virgil prepared to land at the airport. His conversation with the control tower confirmed that the airport had been closed off in order to maintain International Rescue's security. Local Government dignitaries and representatives of the Gold Star Line would be on hand to meet us. He passed this information on to the other passengers.
We began to lose height, so gently that I didn't realise that we'd touched down until Gordon undid his safety harness and stood. I followed his example. Now I could see the tarmac.
"We'll let the injured out first." Virgil said. "Once they're sorted we'll off load the passengers. As soon as you're all clear we'll take off again."
"Oh." I must have looked disappointed.
Both International Rescue men smiled. "Can't be helped." Virgil said. "We might be needed at any time and I want to do a proper repair to the tail."
"T-thanks for trusting me." I stuttered. "And thanks for saving me too."
"Scott told us you were almost involved in a punch up." Gordon raised both hands in a fighting position. "Thanks for sticking up for us."
I didn't get the opportunity to say goodbye to my International Rescue friends. As soon as we alighted from Thunderbird Two we were escorted away. We reached the terminal and were startled by a loud noise coming from behind us. It was Thunderbird Two taking off. She lifted up and flew away, towards Thunderbird One circling in the distance.
We were herded into a hanger. "Like a flock of sheep." Someone muttered. The mass media clung to every vantage point like a flock of vultures.
I could see some of my fellow passengers pointing me out, but I chose to ignore them, hoping to find anonymity in the crowd.
A lady, wearing a badge that proclaimed her to be an Emma Goldstein, Public Relations Assistant to the Gold Start Line, approached me. They were holding a news conference and understood I would have an interesting story to tell. Was I interested?
"No!"
She gave me a big artificial smile. "The company would be willing to give you half a million dollars worth of free travel on its' line."
"Ms Goldstein. At the moment I have no desire to ever set foot on another boat. All I want to do is have a shower, find some clean clothes and have something to eat."
"And then would you be willing to attend a conference?"
"No! Never!" I walked away.
A reporter from the World News approached me. Would I consent to an interview?
"No" I repeated.
"If you would consent to an exclusive interview we'd be willing to pay you."
"I'm sorry. I'm not interested."
"You name your price."
"Not interested."
"We'll also get you an immediate flight home, first class. And pay for the replacement of all the goods you lost on the trip."
"No!"
"You stick to your guns, 1." It was Trixie. "Don't tell them anything. Don't tell anyone!"
"Thanks Trixie." I was grateful for her support.
The World News reporter pushed in front of her, forcing her to step backwards.
"You don't have to give us all the details. Just the highlights."
"No!" I repeated for the hundredth time and moved away, only to have the tape recorder of a newspaper journalist thrust under my nose.
"Is it true that you travelled in the cabin of Thunderbird Two?" He asked.
"If you want a story." I told him in anger. "You can write about how a eighty four year old lady, who showed more spirit and character than any of you - you ..." I couldn't think of a suitable, and publishable verb. "...members of the press was treated with no respect by any of you. How she's just been shoved away. Or..." I was getting into my stride now. "...you can write about how the Gold Star Line doesn't care about it's passengers. How when all they want is a good meal, a shower and to get some sleep, they are cooped up in a hanger and asked inane questions."
I took a breath to continue and Ms Goldstein, who'd been following me like a lap dog, jumped into the fray. "Now then," she said with an ingratiating smile at me, "3 2 is quite correct in reminding me of my duty. The Gold Star Line is arranging now to have all passengers and crew put up in a five-star hotel for the night. Maybe tomorrow 3 2 will feel like talking to the media."
"No I won't!" I told her and was blinded by a flash bulb.