Seventy Seven - BF
He lay there. Whatever possessed him to try to have a nap beside 'The Mole'? It had to be one of the nosiest machines in International Rescue's auxiliary fleet... No... It was too noisy to be 'The Mole'. Thunderbird One? Thunderbird Two?? Thunderbird Three???
That couldn't be right. There'd be no way he'd try to sleep beside Thunderbird Three while she was launching, or were they just testing the rockets? No, that didn't make sense either.
He raised his hand to his head and winced as it came in contact with a sore spot that had been bandaged.
Despite the protests of his aching head he cracked open an eye.
He instantly recognised his surroundings before he shut the eye again. He was in Thunderbird Two's sickbay.
So that was the noise. It must be Thunderbird Two's engines.
No that didn't make sense either. The sickbay was specially insulated to reduce engine noise to a minimum.
And there was the biggie! Why were the engines going when he wasn't operating them? Thunderbird Two wasn't flying, he could tell by the lack of motion and vibration.
So, what was that motor? And why did they have it operating in the sick bay?
Why was he lying down in here?
He struggled to make sense of the questions that filled his befuddled brain.
Virgil opened his eyes again. Despite the fact that the room was spinning he could see someone preparing something at the workspace beside him.
"Scott." He croaked.
He saw Scott turn and smile with something akin to relief, before a wave of nausea forced him to close his eyes again.
If Scott was saying something to him, it was impossible to hear over the roar of that motor. Why didn't Scott turn it off? He took a breath to steady his stomach and opened his eyes again.
Scott was indeed talking.
"I can't hear you Scott." Virgil yelled.
Scott frowned.
"That noise? What is it?" Virgil yelled again.
He saw Scott say something but still couldn't hear it. He shook his head in frustration and closed his eyes again.
Scott stood there, trying to make sense as to what was going on. "Virgil?" he asked. "What noise?"
There was no answer from the figure on the bed.
A chill shot down Scott's spine. "Virgil? Can you hear me?"
Still no response.
Hesitantly Scott reached out and touched Virgil on the arm. Obviously unwillingly Virgil opened his brown eyes.
Can you hear me? Scott asked again. This time using sign language at the same time.
No. Virgil signed back.
I can hear you. Scott told him.
Then you've got better hearing than I have. Virgil signed crossly. His headache was getting worse.
What can you hear? Scott signed.
There was confusion on Virgil's face. That noise of course.
What noise?
That roaring motor noise. You must be able to hear it.
Scott shook his head.
I don't understand. The nausea was getting too much so Virgil closed his eyes again. The room's spinning, and I've got a headache.
"Virgil! Look at me!" Scott tried yelling. But there was no response. "Oh, heck." He said worriedly. "Please not this. Not now!" Once again he tried to get Virgil's attention by touching his arm.
"What!" Virgil said crossly. Then he remembered. What?
Can you hear anything?
I told you. I can't hear anything for that noise.
There's no noise. The room's quiet.
Virgil closed his eyes. Slowly Scott's statement sank in. He opened his eyes again and this time Scott could see fear. "There's no noise?"
Scott shook his head. "No."
"What can I hear? I can't hear you, only this roaring sound." He swallowed to get a feeling of panic under control.
Do you remember what happened?
Virgil shut his eyes again. "Wasn't there an explosion?" He put his arm over his eyes to block the light out. "I feel sick."
Scott watched his brother's hand clench into a white knuckled fist, and got two kidney bowls. Before he placed them on the bed he brought the bases together with great force beside Virgil's ear.
There was no response.
"What's happening?" Virgil asked pathetically, oblivious to the clang of the bowls. "What's wrong with me?"
Scott needed to communicate with him, but clearly he wasn't feeling well enough to open his eyes and read sign language. A flash of inspiration came and Scott hopefully ferreted about in a cupboard. "Just what we need," he pulled out a Braille machine and checked it over.
This one had a pad where the reader would place their fingers, and small pins would raise and lower themselves making each letter of the Braille alphabet, thus enabling the typist to communicate with the sightless person. They'd never found a situation where such an arrangement was necessary... until now.
"Where are you Scott?" Virgil asked, unwilling to open his eyes again. He reached out for his elder brother.
"I'm here." Scott took the hand. "I won't leave you."
"I'm deaf aren't I?" Virgil asked in a plaintive voice.
Scott communicated with him the only way he had available at this moment. He gave his hand a comforting squeeze.
Gordon came into the room. "How is he?" he asked quietly. He noticed that Scott was looking a little grey and that Virgil was obviously conscious. The sight of his brothers holding hands put him on his guard. "How's it going, Virgil?"
Virgil didn't reply.
"He can't hear you, Gordon."
"What!? Why? What's wrong?"
"I don't know. All he can hear is a roaring noise."
"Are you sure?"
Scott nodded. "See if you can get a response."
Gordon found a paper bag and blew it up. He held the inflated bag next to Virgil's head and popped it with a loud bang.
"He didn't even flinch." He noted soberly. "How bad do you think it is?"
"I don't know," Scott said equally seriously. "I guess we won't know until we get him home. I'm going to try to get a bit more information so we can send it to Brains. But I don't want to let go of his hand. Get that chair, and put the Braille typewriter on it will you. That's it, beside the cot."
When the machine had been positioned to Scott's satisfaction he placed Virgil's hand in the correct place. "I hope he can remember what he learnt."
"What are you doing?" Virgil raised his head and opened his eyes enough to see the contraption. Then he let his head fall back on the pillow.
Scott tried typing. * Do you understand? *
Despite it all Virgil managed a small smile. "I knew there was a reason why I learnt Braille. I understand."
* Any pain? *
"Headache and nausea."
* Anything else? *
" Everything's spinning and there's this continuous noise."
* You said it sounds like a motor. *
"I feel like we're testing Thunderbird Three's jets in my head."
* What can you remember before the explosion? *
Things were clearer in his mind now. "We were at an oil refinery. I was helping you get Mobile Control clear. We thought there might be an explosion." Then his eyes flew open and he tried to sit up. "Is everyone else okay?"
Gordon moved in and guided him back down onto the cot. "We're okay, Virgil."
* They're okay. * Scott reiterated. *Alan's getting Thunderbird One ready. He's going to swing by and pick up Professor Bunsen. Remember he was going to give me a check up today, so he can check you out at the same time. *
"Great. I'm going to be checked over by the Nutty Professor." Virgil moaned. "I must be in a bad way."
* We don't know yet. It's probably temporary. *
Virgil moaned again and tried to get more comfortable.
* What's wrong? *
"The noise! It's getting worse!"
"I'll radio home and tell them." Gordon offered. "You keep him company."
Scott nodded and picked up Virgil's hand again, rubbing it reassuringly. Then he felt the pressure of his brother's grip increase. "We're going to have to do something to help him."
As if he'd heard him Virgil said. "Can't you do something? This is going to drive me crazy."
Jeff Tracy answered Gordon's radio call immediately. "How is he?"
"He's conscious, Dad..."
Jeff relaxed.
"...But..."
Jeff tensed up again. "Yes, Gordon."
"He can't hear anything. He says he's got this roaring sound in his head."
"Can't hear any..." Jeff closed his eyes and Gordon could almost see the thoughts 'not again' flash through his mind.
"Uh, Dad. Is Brains there?"
Jeff looked at him again. "He's in his lab. I'll patch you through."
Gordon could read concern behind Brains' thick glasses when the scientist appeared on screen. "How is he?"
Gordon explained all he knew. "What can we do Brains? He says the roaring's getting worse."
Brains thought for a moment. "The tinnitus could have been caused by anything..."
"The what?"
"Tinnitus. It's the technical term for roaring either in the ears or the head. It's not necessarily linked to his, ah, p-perceived deafness."
"There's nothing perceived about it Brains. I tried popping a paper bag beside his ear and he didn't move a muscle."
"D-Do you know, did he hit his head?"
"Yeah, it looks like he did. He's got a small head injury and there was blood and some of his hair on Mobile Control."
"Ah, th-that could explain the headache, and possibly the tinnitus. The hearing loss could be as a r-result of the concussive nature of the explosion."
"I know my ears were ringing afterwards, but the rest of us could still hear okay. So why's he lost his hearing?"
"I-I won't be able to answer that question until I can examine him, Gordon."
"Okay. Can we give him anything in the meantime? He says the tin-eye..."
"Tinnitus."
"...Tinnitus is getting worse."
"T-Try a mild sedative. I don't want to do too much medically until we know wh-what's wrong."
"Okay, Brains. Thanks."
"M-Make sure the cabin pressure remains c-constant. Call me if there's any ch-change in his condition."
"Will do. Out."
Scott had heard the exchange. He was already going through the medical cabinet looking for the required medication. He found the hypodermic syringe and placed it on the work surface beside the cot. Then, using the Braille typewriter he explained to Virgil what they were going to do. That finished he picked up the syringe.
"Ah, Scott."
Scott looked at the injured man lying on the cot. Yes?
"No offence intended, but I'd prefer it if Gordon did that."
Gordon laughed at Scott's shocked face. "I don't blame him Scott. No offence intended, but I'd feel exactly the same way at the moment. Your eyesight's still not good enough. He doesn't want to end up looking like a pincushion."
"I bet you would've let me do it while I was blind!"
Gordon shook his head. "Nope. I think I would have rather done it to myself."
"Great." Scott muttered. "So much for trust." He handed over the syringe.
Gordon looked down at Virgil who was looking back at him with a half smile. So, you trust me with this. Do you trust me to fly Thunderbird Two?
Virgil screwed up his face. "What's the option?"
We let Scott fly her.
Virgil let out a resigned sigh. "I guess we're both in your hands."
***
Brains contacted Thunderbird One. "Alan. Can I p-please talk to Bunny?"
"Sure Brains." Alan made the necessary connection to the radio at the passenger seat. "Can you see him, Professor?"
"I can my boy, I can." Professor Bunsen's safety harness was barely restraining him. The prospect of flying in Thunderbird One had made him even more excitable. "Good to see you, Robot Head. How's Virgil?"
"He's c-conscious, but he's lost his hearing and appears to have developed t-tinnitus."
"Lost his hearing!" Alan said in concern.
"How severely?" Professor Bunsen asked.
"G-Gordon seemed to think it was total."
"Total!" Alan echoed. "And what's tinny..."
"Tinnitus... Noises inside the head... What have you prescribed?" Bunny Bunsen was concentrating on the face in the video screen, rather than the pilot.
"A mild sedative, to keep him calm. Ap-pparently the tinnitus is quite severe." Brains gave the Professor a full run down of what he knew.
"Good, Brains. Let us hope that this is only a temporary condition. The world shouldn't lose his music."
It wasn't until they'd signed off that Brains realised that the Professor hadn't used his hated nickname this time.
Bunny Bunsen must be truly worried.
***
Two other worried people were in Thunderbird Two's sickbay.
Gordon looked at Virgil who was now sleeping fitfully. "If this hearing loss is permanent, it'll kill him."
"No it won't, Gordon. He'll learn to cope."
"Like you did? But without his music..."
"You'd better get up front and start this bird up. The sooner we get him to medical care, the sooner we'll know how serious this is. Then, IF we need too, we can start worrying about the future...
He lay there. Whatever possessed him to try to have a nap beside 'The Mole'? It had to be one of the nosiest machines in International Rescue's auxiliary fleet... No... It was too noisy to be 'The Mole'. Thunderbird One? Thunderbird Two?? Thunderbird Three???
That couldn't be right. There'd be no way he'd try to sleep beside Thunderbird Three while she was launching, or were they just testing the rockets? No, that didn't make sense either.
He raised his hand to his head and winced as it came in contact with a sore spot that had been bandaged.
Despite the protests of his aching head he cracked open an eye.
He instantly recognised his surroundings before he shut the eye again. He was in Thunderbird Two's sickbay.
So that was the noise. It must be Thunderbird Two's engines.
No that didn't make sense either. The sickbay was specially insulated to reduce engine noise to a minimum.
And there was the biggie! Why were the engines going when he wasn't operating them? Thunderbird Two wasn't flying, he could tell by the lack of motion and vibration.
So, what was that motor? And why did they have it operating in the sick bay?
Why was he lying down in here?
He struggled to make sense of the questions that filled his befuddled brain.
Virgil opened his eyes again. Despite the fact that the room was spinning he could see someone preparing something at the workspace beside him.
"Scott." He croaked.
He saw Scott turn and smile with something akin to relief, before a wave of nausea forced him to close his eyes again.
If Scott was saying something to him, it was impossible to hear over the roar of that motor. Why didn't Scott turn it off? He took a breath to steady his stomach and opened his eyes again.
Scott was indeed talking.
"I can't hear you Scott." Virgil yelled.
Scott frowned.
"That noise? What is it?" Virgil yelled again.
He saw Scott say something but still couldn't hear it. He shook his head in frustration and closed his eyes again.
Scott stood there, trying to make sense as to what was going on. "Virgil?" he asked. "What noise?"
There was no answer from the figure on the bed.
A chill shot down Scott's spine. "Virgil? Can you hear me?"
Still no response.
Hesitantly Scott reached out and touched Virgil on the arm. Obviously unwillingly Virgil opened his brown eyes.
Can you hear me? Scott asked again. This time using sign language at the same time.
No. Virgil signed back.
I can hear you. Scott told him.
Then you've got better hearing than I have. Virgil signed crossly. His headache was getting worse.
What can you hear? Scott signed.
There was confusion on Virgil's face. That noise of course.
What noise?
That roaring motor noise. You must be able to hear it.
Scott shook his head.
I don't understand. The nausea was getting too much so Virgil closed his eyes again. The room's spinning, and I've got a headache.
"Virgil! Look at me!" Scott tried yelling. But there was no response. "Oh, heck." He said worriedly. "Please not this. Not now!" Once again he tried to get Virgil's attention by touching his arm.
"What!" Virgil said crossly. Then he remembered. What?
Can you hear anything?
I told you. I can't hear anything for that noise.
There's no noise. The room's quiet.
Virgil closed his eyes. Slowly Scott's statement sank in. He opened his eyes again and this time Scott could see fear. "There's no noise?"
Scott shook his head. "No."
"What can I hear? I can't hear you, only this roaring sound." He swallowed to get a feeling of panic under control.
Do you remember what happened?
Virgil shut his eyes again. "Wasn't there an explosion?" He put his arm over his eyes to block the light out. "I feel sick."
Scott watched his brother's hand clench into a white knuckled fist, and got two kidney bowls. Before he placed them on the bed he brought the bases together with great force beside Virgil's ear.
There was no response.
"What's happening?" Virgil asked pathetically, oblivious to the clang of the bowls. "What's wrong with me?"
Scott needed to communicate with him, but clearly he wasn't feeling well enough to open his eyes and read sign language. A flash of inspiration came and Scott hopefully ferreted about in a cupboard. "Just what we need," he pulled out a Braille machine and checked it over.
This one had a pad where the reader would place their fingers, and small pins would raise and lower themselves making each letter of the Braille alphabet, thus enabling the typist to communicate with the sightless person. They'd never found a situation where such an arrangement was necessary... until now.
"Where are you Scott?" Virgil asked, unwilling to open his eyes again. He reached out for his elder brother.
"I'm here." Scott took the hand. "I won't leave you."
"I'm deaf aren't I?" Virgil asked in a plaintive voice.
Scott communicated with him the only way he had available at this moment. He gave his hand a comforting squeeze.
Gordon came into the room. "How is he?" he asked quietly. He noticed that Scott was looking a little grey and that Virgil was obviously conscious. The sight of his brothers holding hands put him on his guard. "How's it going, Virgil?"
Virgil didn't reply.
"He can't hear you, Gordon."
"What!? Why? What's wrong?"
"I don't know. All he can hear is a roaring noise."
"Are you sure?"
Scott nodded. "See if you can get a response."
Gordon found a paper bag and blew it up. He held the inflated bag next to Virgil's head and popped it with a loud bang.
"He didn't even flinch." He noted soberly. "How bad do you think it is?"
"I don't know," Scott said equally seriously. "I guess we won't know until we get him home. I'm going to try to get a bit more information so we can send it to Brains. But I don't want to let go of his hand. Get that chair, and put the Braille typewriter on it will you. That's it, beside the cot."
When the machine had been positioned to Scott's satisfaction he placed Virgil's hand in the correct place. "I hope he can remember what he learnt."
"What are you doing?" Virgil raised his head and opened his eyes enough to see the contraption. Then he let his head fall back on the pillow.
Scott tried typing. * Do you understand? *
Despite it all Virgil managed a small smile. "I knew there was a reason why I learnt Braille. I understand."
* Any pain? *
"Headache and nausea."
* Anything else? *
" Everything's spinning and there's this continuous noise."
* You said it sounds like a motor. *
"I feel like we're testing Thunderbird Three's jets in my head."
* What can you remember before the explosion? *
Things were clearer in his mind now. "We were at an oil refinery. I was helping you get Mobile Control clear. We thought there might be an explosion." Then his eyes flew open and he tried to sit up. "Is everyone else okay?"
Gordon moved in and guided him back down onto the cot. "We're okay, Virgil."
* They're okay. * Scott reiterated. *Alan's getting Thunderbird One ready. He's going to swing by and pick up Professor Bunsen. Remember he was going to give me a check up today, so he can check you out at the same time. *
"Great. I'm going to be checked over by the Nutty Professor." Virgil moaned. "I must be in a bad way."
* We don't know yet. It's probably temporary. *
Virgil moaned again and tried to get more comfortable.
* What's wrong? *
"The noise! It's getting worse!"
"I'll radio home and tell them." Gordon offered. "You keep him company."
Scott nodded and picked up Virgil's hand again, rubbing it reassuringly. Then he felt the pressure of his brother's grip increase. "We're going to have to do something to help him."
As if he'd heard him Virgil said. "Can't you do something? This is going to drive me crazy."
Jeff Tracy answered Gordon's radio call immediately. "How is he?"
"He's conscious, Dad..."
Jeff relaxed.
"...But..."
Jeff tensed up again. "Yes, Gordon."
"He can't hear anything. He says he's got this roaring sound in his head."
"Can't hear any..." Jeff closed his eyes and Gordon could almost see the thoughts 'not again' flash through his mind.
"Uh, Dad. Is Brains there?"
Jeff looked at him again. "He's in his lab. I'll patch you through."
Gordon could read concern behind Brains' thick glasses when the scientist appeared on screen. "How is he?"
Gordon explained all he knew. "What can we do Brains? He says the roaring's getting worse."
Brains thought for a moment. "The tinnitus could have been caused by anything..."
"The what?"
"Tinnitus. It's the technical term for roaring either in the ears or the head. It's not necessarily linked to his, ah, p-perceived deafness."
"There's nothing perceived about it Brains. I tried popping a paper bag beside his ear and he didn't move a muscle."
"D-Do you know, did he hit his head?"
"Yeah, it looks like he did. He's got a small head injury and there was blood and some of his hair on Mobile Control."
"Ah, th-that could explain the headache, and possibly the tinnitus. The hearing loss could be as a r-result of the concussive nature of the explosion."
"I know my ears were ringing afterwards, but the rest of us could still hear okay. So why's he lost his hearing?"
"I-I won't be able to answer that question until I can examine him, Gordon."
"Okay. Can we give him anything in the meantime? He says the tin-eye..."
"Tinnitus."
"...Tinnitus is getting worse."
"T-Try a mild sedative. I don't want to do too much medically until we know wh-what's wrong."
"Okay, Brains. Thanks."
"M-Make sure the cabin pressure remains c-constant. Call me if there's any ch-change in his condition."
"Will do. Out."
Scott had heard the exchange. He was already going through the medical cabinet looking for the required medication. He found the hypodermic syringe and placed it on the work surface beside the cot. Then, using the Braille typewriter he explained to Virgil what they were going to do. That finished he picked up the syringe.
"Ah, Scott."
Scott looked at the injured man lying on the cot. Yes?
"No offence intended, but I'd prefer it if Gordon did that."
Gordon laughed at Scott's shocked face. "I don't blame him Scott. No offence intended, but I'd feel exactly the same way at the moment. Your eyesight's still not good enough. He doesn't want to end up looking like a pincushion."
"I bet you would've let me do it while I was blind!"
Gordon shook his head. "Nope. I think I would have rather done it to myself."
"Great." Scott muttered. "So much for trust." He handed over the syringe.
Gordon looked down at Virgil who was looking back at him with a half smile. So, you trust me with this. Do you trust me to fly Thunderbird Two?
Virgil screwed up his face. "What's the option?"
We let Scott fly her.
Virgil let out a resigned sigh. "I guess we're both in your hands."
***
Brains contacted Thunderbird One. "Alan. Can I p-please talk to Bunny?"
"Sure Brains." Alan made the necessary connection to the radio at the passenger seat. "Can you see him, Professor?"
"I can my boy, I can." Professor Bunsen's safety harness was barely restraining him. The prospect of flying in Thunderbird One had made him even more excitable. "Good to see you, Robot Head. How's Virgil?"
"He's c-conscious, but he's lost his hearing and appears to have developed t-tinnitus."
"Lost his hearing!" Alan said in concern.
"How severely?" Professor Bunsen asked.
"G-Gordon seemed to think it was total."
"Total!" Alan echoed. "And what's tinny..."
"Tinnitus... Noises inside the head... What have you prescribed?" Bunny Bunsen was concentrating on the face in the video screen, rather than the pilot.
"A mild sedative, to keep him calm. Ap-pparently the tinnitus is quite severe." Brains gave the Professor a full run down of what he knew.
"Good, Brains. Let us hope that this is only a temporary condition. The world shouldn't lose his music."
It wasn't until they'd signed off that Brains realised that the Professor hadn't used his hated nickname this time.
Bunny Bunsen must be truly worried.
***
Two other worried people were in Thunderbird Two's sickbay.
Gordon looked at Virgil who was now sleeping fitfully. "If this hearing loss is permanent, it'll kill him."
"No it won't, Gordon. He'll learn to cope."
"Like you did? But without his music..."
"You'd better get up front and start this bird up. The sooner we get him to medical care, the sooner we'll know how serious this is. Then, IF we need too, we can start worrying about the future...