Fifty One - BF
Virgil looked at the pilot's seat and the controls that he would need to use. He came to a decision. "Gordon!"
"Yeah Virg.?"
"How'd you like to fly Two home?"
"Fly Two? Me? Why?"
"Guess I'm not up to full match fitness yet. My arms a little sore..."
"Your arm!" Gordon was more than a little concerned. For any of the Tracy boys to voluntarily relinquish control of their craft was almost unheard of. "Is it okay?"
"Yeah, it's fine. I guess I can't expect to hold up a concrete wall for nearly three hours and not feel a few aches and pains. It's been a while since I've been on full duties remember."
"If you're sure." Gordon said hesitantly.
"I'm sure." Virgil gave him a light push. "Go on before I change my mind." He headed to a passenger seat as Gordon eagerly slid into the pilot's position.
"Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One. Preparing for lift off."
"Gordon! What are you doing? Where's Virgil?" Alan was clearly surprised.
"Having a rest. He says he's getting too old for this game. The old boys are falling apart, they just can't hack the pace anymore..."
"Hey!" Virgil protested, "I can change my mind you know."
"No chance. I'm here now. You'll only get me out of this seat with a crowbar. See you at home, Alan."
"Race you!"
"Don't you dare!" Virgil threatened his replacement.
Gordon chuckled and Virgil watched him run through the start up procedure, and then, with the confidence born of hours of practice in the simulator, set the great plane in motion.
Minutes later they were easily overtaken by Thunderbird One.
"Darn, he's beating us." Gordon commented lightly.
Virgil tried flexing his fingers. The muscles in his left arm had really locked up. He hoped that they'd relax before he got back to base. He didn't want to take the chance that he'd be sidelined from the next mission.
He hadn't noticed any improvement when Gordon spoke. "Hey! I've got a visual on Thunderbird One."
"What? They should be almost home by now." Virgil came and stood at Gordon's shoulder. "Where are they?"
Gordon pointed to the radar and then out the cockpit window. "Doesn't that look like them?"
"Yes!" Virgil automatically reached for the radio. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One. Come in Alan!"
***
The lift off from the danger zone had gone smoothly, Scott reflected. Alan could fly Thunderbird One nearly as good as he'd been able to. He sat back in his seat and tried to reconcile himself to the idea of someone else flying his plane.
"Hey there's Thunderbird Two." Alan had said. "We passing them... now! So long suckers, eat our dust."
Scott chuckled.
They hadn't said much over the intervening minutes until Scott detected that Thunderbird One was slowing down.
"Ah, Scott..." Something in Alan's voice, coupled with a change in motor sounds made Scott sit up. "I'm not feeling too good. Mind if we just hover a bit?"
"What do you mean 'not feeling too good'?" Thunderbird One had stopped its forward motion so Scott felt safe in unbuckling his harness and moving over to the pilot's seat.
"I'm... feeling a... little... dizzy." Alan gulped. The cabin was spinning and growing darker. He felt nauseous. The sounds of Thunderbird One were receding into the background.
Scott found his brother's head. "Hey! You're sweating. Lie down on the floor for a bit."
"Yeah... I... think... I... migh..." Alan lost his battle to retain consciousness.
"Alan. Alan!" Scott felt for a pulse. It was still there, but Alan was out cold.
Virgil looked at the pilot's seat and the controls that he would need to use. He came to a decision. "Gordon!"
"Yeah Virg.?"
"How'd you like to fly Two home?"
"Fly Two? Me? Why?"
"Guess I'm not up to full match fitness yet. My arms a little sore..."
"Your arm!" Gordon was more than a little concerned. For any of the Tracy boys to voluntarily relinquish control of their craft was almost unheard of. "Is it okay?"
"Yeah, it's fine. I guess I can't expect to hold up a concrete wall for nearly three hours and not feel a few aches and pains. It's been a while since I've been on full duties remember."
"If you're sure." Gordon said hesitantly.
"I'm sure." Virgil gave him a light push. "Go on before I change my mind." He headed to a passenger seat as Gordon eagerly slid into the pilot's position.
"Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One. Preparing for lift off."
"Gordon! What are you doing? Where's Virgil?" Alan was clearly surprised.
"Having a rest. He says he's getting too old for this game. The old boys are falling apart, they just can't hack the pace anymore..."
"Hey!" Virgil protested, "I can change my mind you know."
"No chance. I'm here now. You'll only get me out of this seat with a crowbar. See you at home, Alan."
"Race you!"
"Don't you dare!" Virgil threatened his replacement.
Gordon chuckled and Virgil watched him run through the start up procedure, and then, with the confidence born of hours of practice in the simulator, set the great plane in motion.
Minutes later they were easily overtaken by Thunderbird One.
"Darn, he's beating us." Gordon commented lightly.
Virgil tried flexing his fingers. The muscles in his left arm had really locked up. He hoped that they'd relax before he got back to base. He didn't want to take the chance that he'd be sidelined from the next mission.
He hadn't noticed any improvement when Gordon spoke. "Hey! I've got a visual on Thunderbird One."
"What? They should be almost home by now." Virgil came and stood at Gordon's shoulder. "Where are they?"
Gordon pointed to the radar and then out the cockpit window. "Doesn't that look like them?"
"Yes!" Virgil automatically reached for the radio. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One. Come in Alan!"
***
The lift off from the danger zone had gone smoothly, Scott reflected. Alan could fly Thunderbird One nearly as good as he'd been able to. He sat back in his seat and tried to reconcile himself to the idea of someone else flying his plane.
"Hey there's Thunderbird Two." Alan had said. "We passing them... now! So long suckers, eat our dust."
Scott chuckled.
They hadn't said much over the intervening minutes until Scott detected that Thunderbird One was slowing down.
"Ah, Scott..." Something in Alan's voice, coupled with a change in motor sounds made Scott sit up. "I'm not feeling too good. Mind if we just hover a bit?"
"What do you mean 'not feeling too good'?" Thunderbird One had stopped its forward motion so Scott felt safe in unbuckling his harness and moving over to the pilot's seat.
"I'm... feeling a... little... dizzy." Alan gulped. The cabin was spinning and growing darker. He felt nauseous. The sounds of Thunderbird One were receding into the background.
Scott found his brother's head. "Hey! You're sweating. Lie down on the floor for a bit."
"Yeah... I... think... I... migh..." Alan lost his battle to retain consciousness.
"Alan. Alan!" Scott felt for a pulse. It was still there, but Alan was out cold.