Sorry - I made up the Comm-specs. Glad you think they sound plausible. You never know, somewhere out there they may exist.
Eighty Nine - BF
"Come on Virgil, make your shot!"
"I can't hear you, Alan, so I'm going to ignore you."
"How come you knew I said something then?"
Virgil looked at his youngest brother. "I could see your reflection in the glass of that picture." He lined up a red with the cue ball and took the shot.
It bounced off the cushion and away from the pocket.
Virgil sighed. "I wonder if deafness affects your co-ordination."
"Scott managed to play when he was blind." Gordon noted.
"Not always successfully." Scott reminded him.
Alan sunk a ball and then walked around the table to play his next shot. "Maybe it's your glasses." He suggested as he lined up the shot. It missed the pocket.
"I don't know if I want to take them off." Virgil said reluctantly. "I can't stand the thought of you guys plotting something and me not knowing about it."
"I wouldn't worry about that." Gordon said. "We'd only have to stand behind you and you wouldn't know we were talking anyway."
"True." Virgil turned off the processor and placed it and the Comm-specs on the card table. "That's better. Give my eyes a rest." The shot went in. "That must be the problem." He eyed the table and then decided on his next shot. He leant over the table to take it.
The klaxon went off.
Alan dropped his cue into the rack and ran out the door with Scott and Gordon close on his heels.
The ball went in the pocket.
"I'm on a roll now!" Virgil smiled and straightened up. His smile disappeared as he looked around the room finding it devoid of brothers.
He dropped the cue on the table and leant on the edge gripping it tightly. "It had better be an emergency." He muttered. "If it's a joke, it's not funny." He picked up his Comm-specs and shoved them into a pocket of his trousers before heading out of the room.
As he'd expected everyone was in the lounge. He stood in the shadows of the doorway and observed the activity.
His father was saying something, obviously issuing instructions.
Scott nodded, replied, and rotated into Thunderbird One's hanger.
Alan was looking at John's portrait and said something.
Brains and Tin-Tin nodded their heads in agreement.
Gordon listened intently, made some comment, listened some more, agreed about something and then took up his position, Virgil's position, with his back to the painting. He tipped backwards and slipped out of sight.
Virgil, head down, retreated to his room.
From his vantage point in the hallway, Kyrano watched him go. He could see that Virgil was feeling this more than he was letting on. He resolved to try in some small way to help.
***
Virgil stood at his window. From here he could see the swimming pool and the end of the runway. He pressed the palms of his hands against the pane of glass and looked out. He watched as the pool retracted, the water lapping gently as it drained into a hidden reservoir.
He felt the vibrations from Thunderbird One's motors before he saw the red nose cone appear in the hole. He closed his eyes as the rocket plane flared skyward and waited until he no longer felt the vibrations of the window before he opened them again.
Thunderbird One was already only a dot in the sky. He watched it change direction from vertical to horizontal flight.
Now he redirected his attention to the end of the runway. Thunderbird Two was already there, tilting in readiness for lift off. He imagined the conversation that was going on between Gordon and his father.
"Thunderbird Two requesting clearance to launch."
"Thunderbird Two, you are clear to go. Good Luck."
The blast of the tail rockets lit up the rear of the great green transporter and it powered up and away from Tracy Island.
It was well away above the Pacific Ocean by the time the sound waves caused the window to vibrate.
Virgil snapped the blinds shut and picked up a sketchpad.
He stared at the pad. Twice he moved as if he were going to mark its unblemished top page, but hesitated before his pencil touched the paper.
He dropped the pad onto his desk, threw himself onto his bed and stared at the ceiling.
Was this what life was going to be like forever after?
The red light above his door blinked.
If there'd been a chance that it was one of his brothers he would have told whoever it was to go away, but since all his brothers were away from the island he felt he should at least make an effort to be civil.
"Come in." He sat up so that his back was resting against his pillows.
The door opened and framed Kyrano, holding a mug and a more delicate cup. The older man smiled gently and spoke.
"Hang on Kyrano." Virgil felt in his pocket and retrieved the only communication link he had. He placed the Comm-specs on his face.
"Do you understand me, Mister Virgil?"
Virgil nodded.
"I thought, perhaps, you might care for a hot chocolate."
Virgil smiled. He had a weakness for Kyrano's hot chocolate drinks and Kyrano knew it. Maybe they weren't good for the waistline, but they were great for the mood, and right now Virgil felt he needed something to help him cheer up.
"Kyrano, I'd love one. Have a seat," he offered. He accepted the steaming mug and sipped at the hot drink cautiously. "Mmn. After one of these I always think I should do three laps of the island." He looked up. "What's happening with the rescue?"
Kyrano accepted the invitation of the chair and sipped at his own drink as he considered his reply. "There is a storm in the Atlantic Ocean. A fishing trawler is experiencing trouble. Five men's lives are at risk."
"A capsize!" Virgil sat up. "But Thunderbird One won't be able to land anywhere! And we'll need Thunderbird Four! But Gordon can't pilot Thunderbird Four and Thunderbird Two!"
"Mister Brains and Tin-Tin have also gone."
"Is Tin-Tin piloting?" Virgil asked in concern.
Kyrano nodded. "She has..."
"She's had plenty of practise in the simulator, but not nearly enough actual experience in picking up Pod Four, especially in rough seas. One false move could lead to disaster..."
"Mister Virgil..."
"She's a good pilot, but it takes hours of training before you can safely retrieve the pod. She'd be not only risking her life, and also Gordon's, Brains' and anyone they rescue..." Virgil placed his mug on his bedside table.
"But Mister Virgil..."
"I should have gone." Virgil stood and began pacing up and down. "I've got the experience in retrieving the pod."
"But your eardrums are not healed..."
"I could have stayed in the sick bay until the retrieval and done that and then let Tin-Tin take over again..."
"Mister Virgil..." Kyrano was finding it impossible to communicate, though whether that was due to Virgil's deafness or agitation he wasn't sure. He placed his cup to one side and stood.
"Why didn't they get Tin-Tin to pilot Thunderbird One?"
"Mister Virgil..."
"Then Alan could pilot Thunderbird Two. He's at least got some experience in retrieving the pod. Why didn't they think of that!?"
"Mister Virgil!" Kyrano intercepted the pacing man. "That is what they have done."
"What?"
"My Tin-Tin is piloting Thunderbird One." Kyrano said patiently. "Mister Alan is piloting Thunderbird Two. Mister Gordon will take charge of Thunderbird Four."
"But I saw Gordon take the pilot chute to Thunderbird Two!"
Kyrano nodded. "Mister Alan's uniform is in Thunderbird One. He had to get his spare uniform. Mister Gordon started the launch procedure while Mister Alan was getting changed."
"And Gordon's uniform is where mine used to be..." Virgil sank onto the bed. "I'm an idiot. I should have realised that they'd think of that. It's not as if they've never had to deal with a mission without me before is it."
Kyrano shook his head.
"And I guess we'd all better get used to the idea."
"Mister Virgil!" Kyrano said reproachfully. "Do not think like that."
"Why not, Kyrano. It's a distinct possibility isn't it." Virgil made himself comfortable on the bed again and picked up his drink.
Kyrano shook his head in exasperation and returned to his own seat.
Virgil looked into his mug. "I'm sorry."
"For what reason are you sorry?" Kyrano asked surprised.
"For not letting you talk. You were trying to tell me what was going on and I got over excited."
"Do not let it trouble you."
Once again the light above the door flashed it's alert.
"Come in." Virgil called.
The door slid back revealing Jeff Tracy. His face held a sombre expression. "I thought you should know how the rescue is going."
"Yes!" Virgil twisted round so he was seated on the edge of his bed.
"Scott's just radioed in. The trawler had already sunk by the time Thunderbird One had arrived. There's no sign of a life raft or any survivors. Gordon's just gone down in Thunderbird Four to check out the trawler. But it looks as though this is a salvage mission rather than a rescue."
The room was quiet when he'd finished.
Every now and then, despite their advanced technology, International Rescue would fail in a rescue. And when that happened it affected every member of the team. From those on the front line who would feel the remorse of failure, to those at home who felt the guilt of being unable to help, it affected each individual.
It would be a solemn household for the next day or so.
"Puts your own problems into perspective doesn't it." Virgil said quietly.
"Yes." Jeff agreed equally softly.
Virgil downed the rest of his hot chocolate. This time it brought no sense of relief. "How'd Scott sound?"
"Pretty down. You know how he gets. There was nothing we could have done, and from what I know they boat didn't have adequate life saving equipment, but still he's feeling it."
"Yeah. I guess they... we all are."
"I'd better get back... in case there's any further news." Jeff hesitated, as if he wanted to say something further, and then stepped back into the hallway.
"I have work I must do." Kyrano said sadly. He rose and collected Virgil's mug. "Can I do anything else for you Mister Virgil."
"Um, no thanks Kyrano. And thanks for the chocolate and the chat."
Kyrano bowed low. "It was my pleasure." He retreated from the room.
Virgil placed his Comm-specs back on his bedside table and sat in thought for a moment, then he clambered off his bed and went into his studio. He studied the blank canvas that sat on his easel and then began to draw...
Eighty Nine - BF
"Come on Virgil, make your shot!"
"I can't hear you, Alan, so I'm going to ignore you."
"How come you knew I said something then?"
Virgil looked at his youngest brother. "I could see your reflection in the glass of that picture." He lined up a red with the cue ball and took the shot.
It bounced off the cushion and away from the pocket.
Virgil sighed. "I wonder if deafness affects your co-ordination."
"Scott managed to play when he was blind." Gordon noted.
"Not always successfully." Scott reminded him.
Alan sunk a ball and then walked around the table to play his next shot. "Maybe it's your glasses." He suggested as he lined up the shot. It missed the pocket.
"I don't know if I want to take them off." Virgil said reluctantly. "I can't stand the thought of you guys plotting something and me not knowing about it."
"I wouldn't worry about that." Gordon said. "We'd only have to stand behind you and you wouldn't know we were talking anyway."
"True." Virgil turned off the processor and placed it and the Comm-specs on the card table. "That's better. Give my eyes a rest." The shot went in. "That must be the problem." He eyed the table and then decided on his next shot. He leant over the table to take it.
The klaxon went off.
Alan dropped his cue into the rack and ran out the door with Scott and Gordon close on his heels.
The ball went in the pocket.
"I'm on a roll now!" Virgil smiled and straightened up. His smile disappeared as he looked around the room finding it devoid of brothers.
He dropped the cue on the table and leant on the edge gripping it tightly. "It had better be an emergency." He muttered. "If it's a joke, it's not funny." He picked up his Comm-specs and shoved them into a pocket of his trousers before heading out of the room.
As he'd expected everyone was in the lounge. He stood in the shadows of the doorway and observed the activity.
His father was saying something, obviously issuing instructions.
Scott nodded, replied, and rotated into Thunderbird One's hanger.
Alan was looking at John's portrait and said something.
Brains and Tin-Tin nodded their heads in agreement.
Gordon listened intently, made some comment, listened some more, agreed about something and then took up his position, Virgil's position, with his back to the painting. He tipped backwards and slipped out of sight.
Virgil, head down, retreated to his room.
From his vantage point in the hallway, Kyrano watched him go. He could see that Virgil was feeling this more than he was letting on. He resolved to try in some small way to help.
***
Virgil stood at his window. From here he could see the swimming pool and the end of the runway. He pressed the palms of his hands against the pane of glass and looked out. He watched as the pool retracted, the water lapping gently as it drained into a hidden reservoir.
He felt the vibrations from Thunderbird One's motors before he saw the red nose cone appear in the hole. He closed his eyes as the rocket plane flared skyward and waited until he no longer felt the vibrations of the window before he opened them again.
Thunderbird One was already only a dot in the sky. He watched it change direction from vertical to horizontal flight.
Now he redirected his attention to the end of the runway. Thunderbird Two was already there, tilting in readiness for lift off. He imagined the conversation that was going on between Gordon and his father.
"Thunderbird Two requesting clearance to launch."
"Thunderbird Two, you are clear to go. Good Luck."
The blast of the tail rockets lit up the rear of the great green transporter and it powered up and away from Tracy Island.
It was well away above the Pacific Ocean by the time the sound waves caused the window to vibrate.
Virgil snapped the blinds shut and picked up a sketchpad.
He stared at the pad. Twice he moved as if he were going to mark its unblemished top page, but hesitated before his pencil touched the paper.
He dropped the pad onto his desk, threw himself onto his bed and stared at the ceiling.
Was this what life was going to be like forever after?
The red light above his door blinked.
If there'd been a chance that it was one of his brothers he would have told whoever it was to go away, but since all his brothers were away from the island he felt he should at least make an effort to be civil.
"Come in." He sat up so that his back was resting against his pillows.
The door opened and framed Kyrano, holding a mug and a more delicate cup. The older man smiled gently and spoke.
"Hang on Kyrano." Virgil felt in his pocket and retrieved the only communication link he had. He placed the Comm-specs on his face.
"Do you understand me, Mister Virgil?"
Virgil nodded.
"I thought, perhaps, you might care for a hot chocolate."
Virgil smiled. He had a weakness for Kyrano's hot chocolate drinks and Kyrano knew it. Maybe they weren't good for the waistline, but they were great for the mood, and right now Virgil felt he needed something to help him cheer up.
"Kyrano, I'd love one. Have a seat," he offered. He accepted the steaming mug and sipped at the hot drink cautiously. "Mmn. After one of these I always think I should do three laps of the island." He looked up. "What's happening with the rescue?"
Kyrano accepted the invitation of the chair and sipped at his own drink as he considered his reply. "There is a storm in the Atlantic Ocean. A fishing trawler is experiencing trouble. Five men's lives are at risk."
"A capsize!" Virgil sat up. "But Thunderbird One won't be able to land anywhere! And we'll need Thunderbird Four! But Gordon can't pilot Thunderbird Four and Thunderbird Two!"
"Mister Brains and Tin-Tin have also gone."
"Is Tin-Tin piloting?" Virgil asked in concern.
Kyrano nodded. "She has..."
"She's had plenty of practise in the simulator, but not nearly enough actual experience in picking up Pod Four, especially in rough seas. One false move could lead to disaster..."
"Mister Virgil..."
"She's a good pilot, but it takes hours of training before you can safely retrieve the pod. She'd be not only risking her life, and also Gordon's, Brains' and anyone they rescue..." Virgil placed his mug on his bedside table.
"But Mister Virgil..."
"I should have gone." Virgil stood and began pacing up and down. "I've got the experience in retrieving the pod."
"But your eardrums are not healed..."
"I could have stayed in the sick bay until the retrieval and done that and then let Tin-Tin take over again..."
"Mister Virgil..." Kyrano was finding it impossible to communicate, though whether that was due to Virgil's deafness or agitation he wasn't sure. He placed his cup to one side and stood.
"Why didn't they get Tin-Tin to pilot Thunderbird One?"
"Mister Virgil..."
"Then Alan could pilot Thunderbird Two. He's at least got some experience in retrieving the pod. Why didn't they think of that!?"
"Mister Virgil!" Kyrano intercepted the pacing man. "That is what they have done."
"What?"
"My Tin-Tin is piloting Thunderbird One." Kyrano said patiently. "Mister Alan is piloting Thunderbird Two. Mister Gordon will take charge of Thunderbird Four."
"But I saw Gordon take the pilot chute to Thunderbird Two!"
Kyrano nodded. "Mister Alan's uniform is in Thunderbird One. He had to get his spare uniform. Mister Gordon started the launch procedure while Mister Alan was getting changed."
"And Gordon's uniform is where mine used to be..." Virgil sank onto the bed. "I'm an idiot. I should have realised that they'd think of that. It's not as if they've never had to deal with a mission without me before is it."
Kyrano shook his head.
"And I guess we'd all better get used to the idea."
"Mister Virgil!" Kyrano said reproachfully. "Do not think like that."
"Why not, Kyrano. It's a distinct possibility isn't it." Virgil made himself comfortable on the bed again and picked up his drink.
Kyrano shook his head in exasperation and returned to his own seat.
Virgil looked into his mug. "I'm sorry."
"For what reason are you sorry?" Kyrano asked surprised.
"For not letting you talk. You were trying to tell me what was going on and I got over excited."
"Do not let it trouble you."
Once again the light above the door flashed it's alert.
"Come in." Virgil called.
The door slid back revealing Jeff Tracy. His face held a sombre expression. "I thought you should know how the rescue is going."
"Yes!" Virgil twisted round so he was seated on the edge of his bed.
"Scott's just radioed in. The trawler had already sunk by the time Thunderbird One had arrived. There's no sign of a life raft or any survivors. Gordon's just gone down in Thunderbird Four to check out the trawler. But it looks as though this is a salvage mission rather than a rescue."
The room was quiet when he'd finished.
Every now and then, despite their advanced technology, International Rescue would fail in a rescue. And when that happened it affected every member of the team. From those on the front line who would feel the remorse of failure, to those at home who felt the guilt of being unable to help, it affected each individual.
It would be a solemn household for the next day or so.
"Puts your own problems into perspective doesn't it." Virgil said quietly.
"Yes." Jeff agreed equally softly.
Virgil downed the rest of his hot chocolate. This time it brought no sense of relief. "How'd Scott sound?"
"Pretty down. You know how he gets. There was nothing we could have done, and from what I know they boat didn't have adequate life saving equipment, but still he's feeling it."
"Yeah. I guess they... we all are."
"I'd better get back... in case there's any further news." Jeff hesitated, as if he wanted to say something further, and then stepped back into the hallway.
"I have work I must do." Kyrano said sadly. He rose and collected Virgil's mug. "Can I do anything else for you Mister Virgil."
"Um, no thanks Kyrano. And thanks for the chocolate and the chat."
Kyrano bowed low. "It was my pleasure." He retreated from the room.
Virgil placed his Comm-specs back on his bedside table and sat in thought for a moment, then he clambered off his bed and went into his studio. He studied the blank canvas that sat on his easel and then began to draw...