Chapter Three: Heading Home
~~
Scott had finished packing Mobile Control away by the time the sun rose. It was a breath-taking sight to see the glowing red rays of the sun peak over the horizon, flickering on the sea. But, Scott thought to himself, no good deed goes unpunished. The early morning light showed the full extent of the destruction, in all its glory. The city of Osaka had much to do to get back on its feet again.
Scott headed over to Thunderbird Two before taking off, to check on things, namely his brother. Virgil and Alan were in the sickbay, tending to the still unconscious Gordon. 'How is he?' Scott said, leaning over the bed to see. He found that, with the suit removed, Gordon was in a worse state than they had at first thought, particularly his wounded arm.
'Not as bad as it looks,' Virgil said reassuringly. 'Nothing broken, just badly bruised.' Virgil had removed Gordon's clothing from the waist upwards to get a better look at the abrasion. 'The cuts to the head are superficial, just some of falling debris that cut through the plastic, but nothing more than a Band-Aid needed for those.'
'What about the shoulder?'
'I'm glad you asked, Scott, because this has me puzzled. It's badly bruised and slightly burned, as you can tell, but look at where the wound is situated. It's on the side, not just the shoulder, but the top part of the arm as well, and I can't work out why. At first, I thought he could have fallen, but it would have needed to be spectacular to cause that much damage. Then I thought maybe a large piece of debris could have fallen and hit him on the shoulder, but the angle and extent of the damage don't add up. I just can't figure it out.'
Alan shifted from one foot to the other nervously. He felt like a schoolboy standing outside the Headmaster's office, awaiting punishment for some childish prank. This was slightly different, though. He was not going to see his formidable Headmaster, Mr Henderson; he was going to talk to his brothers. And it was not he who was in trouble. Finally, he summoned the courage to speak. 'You won't like it,' he said, tapering off.
Two brown haired heads snapped up, wondering what their baby brother was hiding. Scott asked, 'Won't like what?'
'I know how he got that,' Alan said, gesturing to the bruised arm, 'If I'd have known what he was going to do...'
~~
'He did what?' Jeff Tracy thundered, not quite believing his ears. Jeff had heard correctly, of course, but he was in denial about it. It could have been a mistake, perhaps, or his brothers setting Scott up to the joke. Of course, Scott would never joke about something as serious as this.
Scott tried to avoid those enraged eyes, and tried not to let that voice get to him. 'He, according to Alan, body slammed the door. Quite literally, shoulder-first, threw himself at it, and took it straight off its hinges.'
Jeff was thoroughly lost for words. 'Why?'
This question had also crossed Scott's mind. 'I don't know,' he said honestly, not knowing what else to say. 'It wasn't as if it was his last option, to break down the door like that. One of the kids said that it was working properly, and wasn't obstructed by anything, but they shut it because of the fire. Besides, you've always said to break doors down with you feet first, and then try with the shoulder.'
Jeff nodded. 'Are you on your way home?'
'I'm about to leave, Virgil and Alan are just clearing up at the moment.'
'Good,' he said shortly. 'See you at home.'
The conversation ended abruptly, and Scott sighed. He glanced out towards Osaka harbour and saw the blue-grey sea as the sun splattered its golden rays upon it. Scott always felt fascinated by the changing colours and moods of the sea, much like the mood ring he often found his Grandmother wearing. Some days, the sea would be a cool, calming turquoise, inviting to those who wished to paddle in it. In the evenings, the sea shimmers with royal gold and deep red colour, giving it a majestic quality. Some days, though, the sea would be an unforgiving grey, as though storm clouds loomed over the head of the great King Neptune. That was the shade of the sea on the day of Gordon's hydrofoil accident.
Scott wandered over to Thunderbird Two, to see how Gordon was. Walking in, he found Gordon fumbling with his oxygen mask, employed as a precaution for smoke inhalation. 'Are you okay?'
Scott helped Gordon remove the mask. 'Fine,' Gordon said, using his arms to move himself into a sitting position. He grimaced in pain when he put his weight on the injured arm. 'By the look on your face, I reckon you've just spoken to Dad.'
Scott noticed how quickly his brother managed to adapt to a situation. There were no questions, no enquires as to where he was or how he got there. Scott suspected that the months of training with WASP had contributed to this attribute in his character. 'Hey, Gordo,' he said, taking the casual approach. 'Do you want to tell me what happened in there?'
'What happened in where?' Gordon asked innocently, trying desperately to avoid the subject that he knew he was about to receive a lecture on.
'The rescue, don't you remember?' Scott said, concerned that Gordon might have some form of amnesia. Seeing the bold look in Gordon's eyes, the eldest Tracy knew that Gordon was all too aware of what he was talking about.
'Sure, I remember,' Gordon said lightly. 'Osaka, earthquake, youth hostel containing eight trapped kids, Virgil put out the fire, Alan and I went in, all kids are saved, and another job well done. How's that?'
Scott was impressed at the account that seemed to roll effortlessly off of his tongue, except that it lacked one significant detail. 'You forgot your big finish; you passed out.'
Gordon brushed away the factor with the hand of his good arm, like it was a pesky fly buzzing around his face. 'That's no big deal; probably just all the excitement getting too much for me.'
Scott, begging to differ, said, 'I'd say not. You can't feel it so much now, because Virgil gave you a shot of painkiller, but I'd say you passed out from the pain, when you decided to use your shoulder as a battering ram and charge your way through that door.' Gordon remained silent, so Scott continued. 'Why did you do that?'
Gordon sat for a moment, and then said, 'I guess I wanted to save time, instead of trying the handle to find it wouldn't work, so I just went straight for it and knocked it down. A sign of efficiency.'
'It's not efficient when you end up breaking your arm,' Scott said scornfully.
'Well, I didn't break my arm, did I,' Gordon said, like a schoolboy being cocky to his teacher.
'You were lucky.'
'Lucky? You think I'm lucky? If I'm so lucky, how come I'm getting a pre- Dad lecture from my older brother?' Gordon tried to fold his arms over his chest, but realised that this would cause him some pain and so settled for aiming a glare directly at his brother.
'To show you the seriousness of what you did,' Scott said tersely.
'All I did was break down a door!' Gordon cried, immediately regretting it as he was launched into another coughing fit.
'Here,' said Scott, handing the oxygen mask back to him. 'Virgil and Alan are on their way back, so you'll be taking off soon,' he said shortly before he stood up and walked back to his own Thunderbird, wondering when his brother was going go grow up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jeff sat at his desk that night, reading the debrief reports that each of his four sons had written about their role in the rescue. He was very interested to see what these particular reports had to say. As always, he had found Scott's account to be neat and efficient, a reflection of the boy himself. He had been entertained at Virgil's tale of rescuing the young boy from the tree, which was penned in his son's creative, curly writing. Alan's, in his small and compact black ink, had described the event of Gordon launching himself at the door, as well as his successful attempt to resuscitate the young boy, something that Jeff had been proud to read. Gordon, in his ever-untidy scrawl, had omitted the cause of his injured shoulder.
Jeff had not questioned his son directly about the incident, but had waited to see if he would admit it without prompting. He was disappointed to find that he had not.
Reluctantly, Jeff was going to let it go. What Gordon had done was dangerous, showed poor judgement, and could have cost numerous lives, including Alan's and his own if the impact had caused the building to collapse. But, as Gordon was not going to say anything more about what happened, there was little more that his father could do except lecture him, which he knew that Scott would have already done. Of course, if Gordon made any other rash decisions in rescues, then Jeff would act. It was a tough call, but he would make it and live with the consequences.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~
Scott had finished packing Mobile Control away by the time the sun rose. It was a breath-taking sight to see the glowing red rays of the sun peak over the horizon, flickering on the sea. But, Scott thought to himself, no good deed goes unpunished. The early morning light showed the full extent of the destruction, in all its glory. The city of Osaka had much to do to get back on its feet again.
Scott headed over to Thunderbird Two before taking off, to check on things, namely his brother. Virgil and Alan were in the sickbay, tending to the still unconscious Gordon. 'How is he?' Scott said, leaning over the bed to see. He found that, with the suit removed, Gordon was in a worse state than they had at first thought, particularly his wounded arm.
'Not as bad as it looks,' Virgil said reassuringly. 'Nothing broken, just badly bruised.' Virgil had removed Gordon's clothing from the waist upwards to get a better look at the abrasion. 'The cuts to the head are superficial, just some of falling debris that cut through the plastic, but nothing more than a Band-Aid needed for those.'
'What about the shoulder?'
'I'm glad you asked, Scott, because this has me puzzled. It's badly bruised and slightly burned, as you can tell, but look at where the wound is situated. It's on the side, not just the shoulder, but the top part of the arm as well, and I can't work out why. At first, I thought he could have fallen, but it would have needed to be spectacular to cause that much damage. Then I thought maybe a large piece of debris could have fallen and hit him on the shoulder, but the angle and extent of the damage don't add up. I just can't figure it out.'
Alan shifted from one foot to the other nervously. He felt like a schoolboy standing outside the Headmaster's office, awaiting punishment for some childish prank. This was slightly different, though. He was not going to see his formidable Headmaster, Mr Henderson; he was going to talk to his brothers. And it was not he who was in trouble. Finally, he summoned the courage to speak. 'You won't like it,' he said, tapering off.
Two brown haired heads snapped up, wondering what their baby brother was hiding. Scott asked, 'Won't like what?'
'I know how he got that,' Alan said, gesturing to the bruised arm, 'If I'd have known what he was going to do...'
~~
'He did what?' Jeff Tracy thundered, not quite believing his ears. Jeff had heard correctly, of course, but he was in denial about it. It could have been a mistake, perhaps, or his brothers setting Scott up to the joke. Of course, Scott would never joke about something as serious as this.
Scott tried to avoid those enraged eyes, and tried not to let that voice get to him. 'He, according to Alan, body slammed the door. Quite literally, shoulder-first, threw himself at it, and took it straight off its hinges.'
Jeff was thoroughly lost for words. 'Why?'
This question had also crossed Scott's mind. 'I don't know,' he said honestly, not knowing what else to say. 'It wasn't as if it was his last option, to break down the door like that. One of the kids said that it was working properly, and wasn't obstructed by anything, but they shut it because of the fire. Besides, you've always said to break doors down with you feet first, and then try with the shoulder.'
Jeff nodded. 'Are you on your way home?'
'I'm about to leave, Virgil and Alan are just clearing up at the moment.'
'Good,' he said shortly. 'See you at home.'
The conversation ended abruptly, and Scott sighed. He glanced out towards Osaka harbour and saw the blue-grey sea as the sun splattered its golden rays upon it. Scott always felt fascinated by the changing colours and moods of the sea, much like the mood ring he often found his Grandmother wearing. Some days, the sea would be a cool, calming turquoise, inviting to those who wished to paddle in it. In the evenings, the sea shimmers with royal gold and deep red colour, giving it a majestic quality. Some days, though, the sea would be an unforgiving grey, as though storm clouds loomed over the head of the great King Neptune. That was the shade of the sea on the day of Gordon's hydrofoil accident.
Scott wandered over to Thunderbird Two, to see how Gordon was. Walking in, he found Gordon fumbling with his oxygen mask, employed as a precaution for smoke inhalation. 'Are you okay?'
Scott helped Gordon remove the mask. 'Fine,' Gordon said, using his arms to move himself into a sitting position. He grimaced in pain when he put his weight on the injured arm. 'By the look on your face, I reckon you've just spoken to Dad.'
Scott noticed how quickly his brother managed to adapt to a situation. There were no questions, no enquires as to where he was or how he got there. Scott suspected that the months of training with WASP had contributed to this attribute in his character. 'Hey, Gordo,' he said, taking the casual approach. 'Do you want to tell me what happened in there?'
'What happened in where?' Gordon asked innocently, trying desperately to avoid the subject that he knew he was about to receive a lecture on.
'The rescue, don't you remember?' Scott said, concerned that Gordon might have some form of amnesia. Seeing the bold look in Gordon's eyes, the eldest Tracy knew that Gordon was all too aware of what he was talking about.
'Sure, I remember,' Gordon said lightly. 'Osaka, earthquake, youth hostel containing eight trapped kids, Virgil put out the fire, Alan and I went in, all kids are saved, and another job well done. How's that?'
Scott was impressed at the account that seemed to roll effortlessly off of his tongue, except that it lacked one significant detail. 'You forgot your big finish; you passed out.'
Gordon brushed away the factor with the hand of his good arm, like it was a pesky fly buzzing around his face. 'That's no big deal; probably just all the excitement getting too much for me.'
Scott, begging to differ, said, 'I'd say not. You can't feel it so much now, because Virgil gave you a shot of painkiller, but I'd say you passed out from the pain, when you decided to use your shoulder as a battering ram and charge your way through that door.' Gordon remained silent, so Scott continued. 'Why did you do that?'
Gordon sat for a moment, and then said, 'I guess I wanted to save time, instead of trying the handle to find it wouldn't work, so I just went straight for it and knocked it down. A sign of efficiency.'
'It's not efficient when you end up breaking your arm,' Scott said scornfully.
'Well, I didn't break my arm, did I,' Gordon said, like a schoolboy being cocky to his teacher.
'You were lucky.'
'Lucky? You think I'm lucky? If I'm so lucky, how come I'm getting a pre- Dad lecture from my older brother?' Gordon tried to fold his arms over his chest, but realised that this would cause him some pain and so settled for aiming a glare directly at his brother.
'To show you the seriousness of what you did,' Scott said tersely.
'All I did was break down a door!' Gordon cried, immediately regretting it as he was launched into another coughing fit.
'Here,' said Scott, handing the oxygen mask back to him. 'Virgil and Alan are on their way back, so you'll be taking off soon,' he said shortly before he stood up and walked back to his own Thunderbird, wondering when his brother was going go grow up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jeff sat at his desk that night, reading the debrief reports that each of his four sons had written about their role in the rescue. He was very interested to see what these particular reports had to say. As always, he had found Scott's account to be neat and efficient, a reflection of the boy himself. He had been entertained at Virgil's tale of rescuing the young boy from the tree, which was penned in his son's creative, curly writing. Alan's, in his small and compact black ink, had described the event of Gordon launching himself at the door, as well as his successful attempt to resuscitate the young boy, something that Jeff had been proud to read. Gordon, in his ever-untidy scrawl, had omitted the cause of his injured shoulder.
Jeff had not questioned his son directly about the incident, but had waited to see if he would admit it without prompting. He was disappointed to find that he had not.
Reluctantly, Jeff was going to let it go. What Gordon had done was dangerous, showed poor judgement, and could have cost numerous lives, including Alan's and his own if the impact had caused the building to collapse. But, as Gordon was not going to say anything more about what happened, there was little more that his father could do except lecture him, which he knew that Scott would have already done. Of course, if Gordon made any other rash decisions in rescues, then Jeff would act. It was a tough call, but he would make it and live with the consequences.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~