A/N: I'd like to thank all who have reviewed. You don't know what that means to me. Also, I'd like to ask ya'll all for some patience. My muse hates being rushed and tends to leave me at times because of a rush (He's new and isn't used to the work load yet). Oh, and about the mysterious woman - She's NO Mary Sue and if you'd like a complete background story on her, information, whatever, e-mail me. Otherwise, please be patient (there's that word again!) and let me do my thing. Anyhoo... On to the story...
"Scott, could you please come to the lounge?" Jeff called through the intercom in the med room.
"What about the woman?" Scott asked, getting up and stretching from sitting.
"Alan's coming to relieve you."
Just then Alan walked in, carrying several racing magazines with him.
"Well speak of the devil. Planning on staying here long?" Scott asked noticing the magazines as he left and Alan just shrugged.
When Scott got to the lounge he found Virgil and Gordon standing around his father's desk as Jeff and Brains talked quietly amongst themselves.
"What's going on?" Scott asked, wandering up to the desk.
"Brains, why don't you explain what you and Alan found?" Jeff said and Brains nodded.
"C-c-certainly Mr. Tracy," Brains said, bringing out the metal box, now opened. "V-V-Virgil, if you could, please tell me what this is."
Virgil looked in the box and whistled. "It's a flute. An expensive looking one at that, but a normal looking C flute."
"Thank you. It is an e-e-e-expensive flute. It is sterling silver with twenty-four karat gold, er, accents. But do you notice a-a-anything odd about it?"
Virgil took the body of the flute out and looked at it carefully. Then he checked the head and foot parts, shaking his head saying he could find nothing out of the ordinary.
"W-w-would you mind playing a note for us? Middle C, if you wouldn't mind."
Shrugging, Virgil put the flute together and played the note. Everyone was wondering what Brains was getting at when they noticed ripples in Jeff's cup of coffee. As Virgil continued to play the note, everyone began to feel everything start to shake.
"A-a-a-all right Virgil, you can stop now."
"What was that?" Jeff asked, visibly alarmed.
"I-I-it was the flute, Mr. Tracy. You see it was designed to a-a-amplify the sound waves. The longer it's played, the more forceful the waves."
"But where's the amplifier?" Scott asked.
"Inside the head," Brains said, taking the head joint and unscrewing the tuning cap. Inside they saw a bunch of wires crammed into the small space a cork should be. Brains pulled the wires out, exposing the back end of what looked like a micro-satellite. Tipping it up just right for the light to shine on the inside of the head joint, he showed them the other side of the mini-amplifier.
"That's all interesting and all, but why a flute? If you were going to amplify sound waves wouldn't a brass instrument be better? You know, like a trumpet or something?" Gordon asked.
"A brass i-i-instrument would be better, but not as compact. Nor as soothing to hear," Brains said, putting the head joint back together and putting the flute back into the box.
Scott silently took everything in then turned to his father. "Did you find anything out on those IDs yet?"
Jeff shook his head. "Nothing but dead ends. One of them is a fake and the other two are recently deceased singer and musician."
"What about those dog tags?" Virgil asked.
"The ID number on them matches that of a dead sergeant, a Mr. Jonathan Gant. The military wouldn't let more than just that out though, which leads me to believe..."
"With that kind of weapon and fake IDs, she's either a spy or secret agent," Scott finished for his father, who nodded solemnly.
"So what do we do with her?" Gordon asked.
"I guess wait until she wakes up, find out what we can, then take her to where ever she was heading. There's not much else we can really do right now."
Everyone stood in silence until there was a familiar beep coming from the wall behind them. Looking up, they saw the eyes of John's picture flashing.
"Go ahead, John," Jeff said, opening the lines of communication.
"Father, I've just received a strange call from a Captain Schwartz."
"What kind of call?" Virgil asked.
"Well, it seems that the Fireflash aircraft, flight 169, was heading from Japan to Australia when they hit some pretty violent turbulence. The last thing I heard before their radio went out was something about the plane falling apart."
'I knew this would happen,' Jeff thought. "Do you have the coordinates of their position?"
"Within a thirty mile radius, yes. They're over the Pacific, east of New Zealand."
"Scott..."
"I'm on it," Scott said heading for the secret revolving wall that would lead him to Thunderbird 1's hangar.
"Virgil, you and Gordon take Pod 4."
"Right," Virgil said, heading for the secret entrance to Thunderbird 2.
"Dad, what about Alan? Don't you think we might need his help?" Gordon asked.
"If you need Alan, tell Scott and have him come back here and pick him up. We need someone watching that young woman carefully."
Gordon left, shaking his head. 'I don't think Alan is the type to watch things carefully...'
Alan sat in the med room reading his magazines. He heard the familiar beep of an incoming call he guessed was from John. He looked at the still unconscious woman and sighed. 'Just my luck. A call comes in and I'm stuck baby sitting,' he thought, going back to his magazine. He was in the middle of a particularly interesting article when he thought he heard something move. Glancing up from the article, he saw the girl moving and went to the intercom to tell his father. In almost no time Jeff was in the room, followed closely behind by Brains.
"Wh-where am I?" the young woman asked, putting a hand to her forehead and grimacing at the pain.
"You're safe, for now," Jeff replied.
The young woman opened her eyes slowly; trying to focus on the three faces standing around her. "Who are you? What happened?"
"We were wondering the same thing," Alan said.
"My name is Oriana Gant, but most people know me by my stage name, Felony Shepherd. As far as what happened..." she said, pulling herself up to a sitting position.
"You're an actress?" Alan asked, looking at his father.
Oriana started to chuckle but ended in a cough. "No. I am not an actress. I'm a singer. Or at least I was."
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Will Alan ever finish his article? Will Oriana come clean about the flute? Will poor Brains ever lose his st-st-stutter? Probably not, but tune in anyway to find out what happens next!
"Scott, could you please come to the lounge?" Jeff called through the intercom in the med room.
"What about the woman?" Scott asked, getting up and stretching from sitting.
"Alan's coming to relieve you."
Just then Alan walked in, carrying several racing magazines with him.
"Well speak of the devil. Planning on staying here long?" Scott asked noticing the magazines as he left and Alan just shrugged.
When Scott got to the lounge he found Virgil and Gordon standing around his father's desk as Jeff and Brains talked quietly amongst themselves.
"What's going on?" Scott asked, wandering up to the desk.
"Brains, why don't you explain what you and Alan found?" Jeff said and Brains nodded.
"C-c-certainly Mr. Tracy," Brains said, bringing out the metal box, now opened. "V-V-Virgil, if you could, please tell me what this is."
Virgil looked in the box and whistled. "It's a flute. An expensive looking one at that, but a normal looking C flute."
"Thank you. It is an e-e-e-expensive flute. It is sterling silver with twenty-four karat gold, er, accents. But do you notice a-a-anything odd about it?"
Virgil took the body of the flute out and looked at it carefully. Then he checked the head and foot parts, shaking his head saying he could find nothing out of the ordinary.
"W-w-would you mind playing a note for us? Middle C, if you wouldn't mind."
Shrugging, Virgil put the flute together and played the note. Everyone was wondering what Brains was getting at when they noticed ripples in Jeff's cup of coffee. As Virgil continued to play the note, everyone began to feel everything start to shake.
"A-a-a-all right Virgil, you can stop now."
"What was that?" Jeff asked, visibly alarmed.
"I-I-it was the flute, Mr. Tracy. You see it was designed to a-a-amplify the sound waves. The longer it's played, the more forceful the waves."
"But where's the amplifier?" Scott asked.
"Inside the head," Brains said, taking the head joint and unscrewing the tuning cap. Inside they saw a bunch of wires crammed into the small space a cork should be. Brains pulled the wires out, exposing the back end of what looked like a micro-satellite. Tipping it up just right for the light to shine on the inside of the head joint, he showed them the other side of the mini-amplifier.
"That's all interesting and all, but why a flute? If you were going to amplify sound waves wouldn't a brass instrument be better? You know, like a trumpet or something?" Gordon asked.
"A brass i-i-instrument would be better, but not as compact. Nor as soothing to hear," Brains said, putting the head joint back together and putting the flute back into the box.
Scott silently took everything in then turned to his father. "Did you find anything out on those IDs yet?"
Jeff shook his head. "Nothing but dead ends. One of them is a fake and the other two are recently deceased singer and musician."
"What about those dog tags?" Virgil asked.
"The ID number on them matches that of a dead sergeant, a Mr. Jonathan Gant. The military wouldn't let more than just that out though, which leads me to believe..."
"With that kind of weapon and fake IDs, she's either a spy or secret agent," Scott finished for his father, who nodded solemnly.
"So what do we do with her?" Gordon asked.
"I guess wait until she wakes up, find out what we can, then take her to where ever she was heading. There's not much else we can really do right now."
Everyone stood in silence until there was a familiar beep coming from the wall behind them. Looking up, they saw the eyes of John's picture flashing.
"Go ahead, John," Jeff said, opening the lines of communication.
"Father, I've just received a strange call from a Captain Schwartz."
"What kind of call?" Virgil asked.
"Well, it seems that the Fireflash aircraft, flight 169, was heading from Japan to Australia when they hit some pretty violent turbulence. The last thing I heard before their radio went out was something about the plane falling apart."
'I knew this would happen,' Jeff thought. "Do you have the coordinates of their position?"
"Within a thirty mile radius, yes. They're over the Pacific, east of New Zealand."
"Scott..."
"I'm on it," Scott said heading for the secret revolving wall that would lead him to Thunderbird 1's hangar.
"Virgil, you and Gordon take Pod 4."
"Right," Virgil said, heading for the secret entrance to Thunderbird 2.
"Dad, what about Alan? Don't you think we might need his help?" Gordon asked.
"If you need Alan, tell Scott and have him come back here and pick him up. We need someone watching that young woman carefully."
Gordon left, shaking his head. 'I don't think Alan is the type to watch things carefully...'
Alan sat in the med room reading his magazines. He heard the familiar beep of an incoming call he guessed was from John. He looked at the still unconscious woman and sighed. 'Just my luck. A call comes in and I'm stuck baby sitting,' he thought, going back to his magazine. He was in the middle of a particularly interesting article when he thought he heard something move. Glancing up from the article, he saw the girl moving and went to the intercom to tell his father. In almost no time Jeff was in the room, followed closely behind by Brains.
"Wh-where am I?" the young woman asked, putting a hand to her forehead and grimacing at the pain.
"You're safe, for now," Jeff replied.
The young woman opened her eyes slowly; trying to focus on the three faces standing around her. "Who are you? What happened?"
"We were wondering the same thing," Alan said.
"My name is Oriana Gant, but most people know me by my stage name, Felony Shepherd. As far as what happened..." she said, pulling herself up to a sitting position.
"You're an actress?" Alan asked, looking at his father.
Oriana started to chuckle but ended in a cough. "No. I am not an actress. I'm a singer. Or at least I was."
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Will Alan ever finish his article? Will Oriana come clean about the flute? Will poor Brains ever lose his st-st-stutter? Probably not, but tune in anyway to find out what happens next!
