Participation II - Seventeen.

1 = first name

4 = town

When I awoke the following morning I was feeling somewhat refreshed. Sure I was still stiff from the previous days activities, but at least I'd slept without any nightmares.

I got washed and dressed and then looked at my door thoughtfully. I was hungry, but I didn't relish the thought of sharing breakfast with Jeff Tracy. I had a feeling that he might well feel the same about me.

I raised the blinds, pulled an easy chair up to the window, propped my multicoloured foot up on a stool and settled back to enjoy the view of the Pacific washing up on the white sands.

There was a knock on the door.

Grunting with the effort I got up and hopped over to the door.

Gordon was standing there grinning at me. "Morning 1. I thought that maybe after breakfast you'd like to have a look around Thunderbird Four."

"Thunderbird Four! Gordon! I'd love to. But... Breakfast..."

"He's already had his and is in the lounge." Gordon reassured me.

Not long afterwards I was tucking into a delicious meal, courtesy of Kyrano.

Gordon had managed to score me a cane that suited my height better and I was finding it easier to get around. He took me down into Thunderbird Two's hanger and we walked along the edge of the conveyor belt until we were beside Pod Four. We gained admittance to the pod and then I found myself facing International Rescue's submarine.

"Well?" Gordon said proudly. "What do you think?"

"It's very... yellow!"

He looked slightly hurt. "Trust me... when you're in the middle of a hurricane, surrounded by hundred foot seas, you want to be as visible as you can be."

That made sense.

Once inside I tried to make amends by showing how impressed by the little sub. And I was impressed too! Gordon reeled off a list of numbers giving the craft's statistics and capabilities. It sounded impressive, although to a landlubber like me, rather incompressible.

I was seated in the pilots, or should that be skippers, chair, when a thought came to me.

"How come you got roped into yesterday's debriefing?"

Gordon frowned. "I dunno. I think Dad wanted to make sure that what happened at 4 wouldn't happen again. And going by the chewing out he gave the others, I don't want it to happen again either! It wasn't very nice for any of us and I was only a spectator!"

"I admire and respect your father." I told him. "But yesterday I think he went too far..." I looked at my watch. "Oops. I'd better head back. Scott promised to take me on a walk around the island at ten-o-clock and it's five to now."

"A walk?" Gordon looked concerned. "On that foot?"

"That's what I said. But he said we could 'grab the hoverbikes'. Whatever they are."

His old grin was back. "Good idea. You'll love them..."

I'd arranged to meet Scott at my room and I made my way through the house taking care to avoid the lounge.

I was walking past Virgil's room when I heard a commotion.

"Aw, come on Virg. Just a peek."

"No Scott. It's not ready yet."

"I know that." Scott persisted. "I just want to see how you're getting on."

"You're not going to see it, until I'm ready for you to see it!" I was surprised to hear a touch of anger in Virgil's voice.

"Just a quick look and I'll be gone." Scott wasn't giving in that easily.

"No Scott. Now get out of my room."

"Please Virg..."

"Get out!"

"Virgil..."

"OUT!" Scott was propelled with great force out of the room, by an obviously angry Virgil, and the door was slammed shut behind him.

Scott found himself facing my rather surprised face. He grinned "The artistic temperament." he said by way of an explanation while indicating with his thumb in the direction of Virgil's room. "Are you ready?" I nodded. "Okay then, we'll just get some 'emergency supplies'."

'Emergency supplies' seemed, in Scott's book, to consist of a large variety of food appropriated from his Grandmother's larder.

It took me a while to get used to driving the hoverbike. Instead of conventional handlebars I had to deal with a joystick arrangement. And it was an eerie sensation riding along with nothing actually touching the ground. But, as Gordon had said I would, I was loving it.

It took us a couple of hours to reach our destination - the summit of the volcanic peak that was Tracy Island's crowning glory. As I sat on a rock looking out over the scene before me, I had to admit that the journey had been worth it.

Scott laid out lunch and I limped over to a seat by the picnic. "So tell me..." I asked before I took a bite out of a delicious looking savoury pie. "...what would you guys do if this thing decided to blow?" I indicated the volcano's crater.

"Call International Rescue?" He suggested, smiling. "It won't happen. Brains has checked this place out pretty thoroughly and he thinks that its been so long since this field was active that the earths plates have shifted a couple of hundred kilometres south. If anything's going to happen, it'll happen there."

"He THINKS..."

Scott shrugged. "Well it's an inexact science, and just to make sure he's got seismographs scattered all over the island. But I think we're pretty safe." He threw some crumbs over to a waiting bird. The bird pounced on the morsel and was then joined by at least fifty of its friends. We sacrificed the remainder of our buns.

"I wanted to say thanks for sticking up for us." Scott said after our feathered attendees had realised that there was nothing else on offer and had flown. "Not that we deserved it."

"Scott. I didn't stand up to your father just to save you guys from being treated like naughty schoolboys. I said it because it's the truth!"

He smiled gently. "Yeah, well thanks. I haven't seen him that angry since... I don't know when. Must have been after something Alan or Gordon had done."

"Not the perfect oldest son?" I said ironically.

"Oh, no. Definitely not by him." Scott's smile broadened. "I've never seen anyone stand up to him like that before. It must have taken some 'intestinal fortitude'."

"After facing the Hood with a loaded gun pointing in my direction, your father seemed like a pussycat."

"A Pussycat? I've heard him called lots of things, but never a pussycat. Still... that figures." Scott looked at his watch. "We'd better start heading down. There's a couple of other places I'd like to show you."

It was an enjoyable afternoon and Scott showed me places on the island with a beauty I'd never experienced before or imagined. He also gave me a tour of the other structures that the Tracy's had erected on their island.

All to soon our tour was over and we were stowing the hoverbikes in Thunderbird Two's hanger.

"Good there you are." John hailed us from the door leading to the rest of the house. "It's just on dinner time. If you want to get washed and head on up, I'll go drag Virgil from his room."

"Has he been there all day?" Scott asked.

"Yep. Didn't even come out for lunch. He's going to be starving so make sure you get yours before he arrives."

"How's Trixie?" I asked.

His smile disappeared. "I don't know. She's stayed in her room all day. Grandma took her in some lunch but she didn't eat any. Grandma's trying to coax her out to join us now. I hope she's successful."

As I washed up for dinner I wondered about what I'd just been told. Clearly Trixie was still in shock after yesterday's events. For a ninety-four year old woman it wasn't to be totally unexpected that she would want to rest up all day.

But why was Virgil laying low? Had he received an extra stern telling off from his father that I didn't know about? If so, why? Or maybe he felt guilty about what had happened to Trixie and me, after all he was the one who'd decided that we could go along with them. No, surely not. But I left my room filled with unanswered questions.

I took my seat at the other end of the table from Jeff Tracy. Trixie was already sitting there and Mrs Tracy was making a fuss over her, but to my consternation Trixie was barely acknowledging the other woman.

John and Virgil were the last to arrive. They greeted the general assembly with a big grin each and slid into their seats.

"You've been painting!" I said to Virgil.

"How'd you guess?" he asked.

"'Cause you've got a big blob of yellow paint in your hair!" John removed some of it from his brother's head and then wiped his fingers on his napkin.

"John Tracy!" His grandmother scolded in exasperation. "Not on the good linen."

"Sorry Grandma." He said a little abashedly.

Virgil had fished a paint stained rag from out of his pocket and was trying to remove the remainder of the paint from his hair. He only succeeded in making it look worse. He gave up and wiped his hands on the rag before handing it to John. "It's Gordon's fault." He grumbled. "I was just at a tricky bit and he comes barrelling in."

"I didn't ask you to stab yourself with the brush though did I." Gordon said teasingly.

"You didn't tell me I'd got paint in my hair either!"

"Why weren't you wearing your beret? And anyway, I always thought you liked yellow. If we're called out now you'll be colour co-ordinated. Yellow sash, yellow trim, yellow hair..."

Virgil opened his mouth to retort but was interrupted by a rumble from Jeff. "Boys! That's enough!"

The Tracy's were clearly concerned about Trixie. They kept on telling her jokes, asking her questions, telling her stories. Trying to get her involved. The Tracy boys even tried flirting with her - unsuccessfully.