2
The family gathered in the solarium, where Grandmother Tracy and Kyrano waited to welcome them home. The old woman had a comment for each of the boys and Jeff besides, as well as TinTin, Gennine and Parker. Brains ducked his head in, nodded once or twice in a nervous, white-rabbit sort of way, then scooted off to the peace and safety of his lab, hustling Alan away for medical treatment.
Victoria reached first for Scott, who'd just come in with Cindy, fairly glowing.
"Scotty," she told him, "I'm proud of you, and Grant would be, too. You did a man's work today."
"Thanks, Grandma," he replied, leaning over to kiss her plump cheek. The compliment meant a lot, for their grandfather (raw-hide tough, yet full of unexpected mischief and humor) had just about raised the three older boys. If he'd done granddad proud, then he'd done well, indeed.
Now Virgil's turn came up. He'd been his grandfather's favorite; hunting and fishing with the old man, riding the acres with him, right to the last day.
"Teddy," (Victoria hated the name 'Virgil', and used always a variant of his middle name, instead) "Good work! Not sure, but I don't think even your granddad could 'a put her down any smoother, nor done a better job defending his folk."
Virgil colored, and gave her a long, wordless hug. Victoria wasn't through, though. Giving him a sharp little rap on the side of the head with her knuckles, she added mischievously,
"...And stay away from them Striped-Arrow minxes!" (Meaning Shari and Teena, the twins) "They'll wear you out, with all their wild-girl philandering!"
"Yes, Ma'am," Virgil choked, blushing hotter. His bountiful romantic situation had become something of a family joke, though no one but grandma would dare tease him to his face. Ignoring all the knowing grins, Virgil beat a hasty retreat, at once pleased and embarrassed.
Grandma Tracy had been looking around the big, sunny room. Spying a particular face, her sharp expression softened suddenly.
"There he is!" Putting her arms out, she said, "John Matthew, front and center, boy."
Obediently, the blond second son came forward, bent his tall body down, and gave his grandmother a warm hug. Through two long years of darkness, pain and silence, she'd been just about his only ray of light, and the bond forged then still existed. She'd mourned the chatty little boy who'd vanished right along with his dead mother, and did her best to comfort and protect the pale little ghost that remained. Not that John, too, didn't come in for his share of teasing. Putting her hands on his slender shoulders she held him away a bit, frowning at all the cuts and awkward stitches.
"What's this? Looks like you been drug ass-backward through a hundred miles of sagebrush, Boy!"
John actually laughed.
"Feels like it, too," he admitted ruefully, touching the cut on his neck.
"Well, take yourself on over to that egg-head, then, and get yourself patched up again. And hurry up! I've got lunch preparing, and food don't get no better for waiting, you hear?"
"Yes, Grandma. On my way."
Gordon had been hanging back. He felt intimidated, for some reason, as though this "grandma" were the Queen Mum, herself. Only Virgil's big hand on his shoulder prevented the boy from bolting like a colt. And now she was looking at him, a warm, expectant smile on her high-cheeked face.
Virgil's hand sent him stumbling forward, feeling like a wretched damn imposter.
Though she'd come to know Gordon later than her other grandsons, Victoria had developed a genuine fondness for the red-haired boy, who was sprightly and full of life as a meadowlark, and loved her cooking, besides. He didn't seem himself, though, coming forward as nervously as he had that first time.
Frowning, Victoria took the boy's cold hands in her own and peered up into his face. He looked lost, she noted, and deeply confused. Obviously, something was wrong, but Grandma Tracy had never yet backed down from a fight, be it rattlesnakes, grizzly bears, government agents... or mysterious family behavior.
"Pull yourself together, Red," she told him, too quietly for the others to hear. "It's gonna be okay, you're home now. You have any questions, you come to me, or Teddy. We'll set you straight. Now, give me a kiss, quick like, and say something funny."
Rather numbly, Gordon obeyed the first instruction, but... funny? Put on the spot like that, he couldn't think of anything to say. So instead, he mimed exaggerated courtly etiquette, actually dropping to one knee and kissing her right hand.
"Oh, get up!" Victoria snapped crossly, clouting her second-youngest grandson on the head, "before I knock the fool clean outta you!"
Not wishing to find out whether the old lady could actually make good on her threat (right now, his money was on 'yes, she could, and then some'), Gordon scooted. Oddly enough, though, he felt better.
Jeff she gave a long, questioning glance, and then smiled at, saying mysteriously,
"That's better. Eating crow ain't never hurt nobody yet, Jeffery Connal."
"So I've learned, Mother," he responded. "Not too late, is it?"
His mother patted her son's hand, and it was as if the proud trappings of his ivy-league education, astronaut training, fame and wealth fell away in an instant.
"There's no such thing as too late, Boy," she told him. "Even sinners and damn G-men got purgatory to look to. Just you keep on doing right." Her gaze wandered pointedly over to Gennine, then. "...by everybody," She added firmly.
Then, after an affectionate kiss for TinTin (who'd clung to the far corners of the solarium, avoiding her anxious father) and shy Gennine, the Tracy matriarch accepted Parker's arm, leading them all to the breakfast room for a huge, ranch-style repast. Even Brains turned up eventually, with Alan and John; Grandma's cooking being something not to be missed.
Mountains of steaming food and hasty, back-of-the-envelope Thunderbird 5 designs combined to make for a long, pleasant family meal. It was well after six in the afternoon when they finally broke up for rest and showers.
"Get some sleep," Jeff told them all. "Priority one, from this moment on, is getting 5 back in space where she belongs. Meanwhile, John, have her monitor police scanners and news footage as best she can from Earth, and we'll handle the rescues as they come. Priority two, strengthen our defenses, find out where the "General" is, and bring him down. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir," his sons responded, as did Brains. Penelope favored him with a regal nod, then glanced around for Parker. (Eating his lunch in the kitchen with Kyrano- not that Victoria Tracy had refused them a place at the table, but being tradition-bound and proper, neither would consider sitting down with those they'd been engaged to serve; no matter how much more than a servant they'd truly become.)
"Parker," Penelope called softly, placing her carefully folded napkin beside her barely touched plate. She was hungry, but a lady did not bolt her food like a pig at the trough... and Parker would contrive to bring up a tray later, when she could eat without being observed.
"Yes, Milady?" He popped up at once, almost seeming to materialize from thin air.
"I find myself a trifle fatigued, Parker. I believe I'll repair to my suite, now."
"Very good, Milady," the servant responded blandly, pulling back the chair, that she might rise with her usual fluid grace. Before turning away, Penelope gazed around at the gathered others.
"Mrs. Tracy, the meal was truly superb. I thank you, for your kind hospitality." Then, continuing graciously despite Victoria's grudging nod, "Jeff... everyone... I bid you a pleasant evening." Her lovely blue eyes lingered a bit on a certain face, and then she turned to go, led off to the stairs by Parker.
The rest broke up in twos and threes, Gennine remaining behind for awhile, to help Mrs. Tracy stow and secure the kitchen. Alan stayed, too, not having much else to do, since Virgil had whisked Gordon off somewhere. Besides, hanging around got him petted and loved on by grandma, who gave "the baby" several extra helpings of dessert, and fussed over his newly healed wound like he was the only kid ever to break a bone.
Meanwhile, Scott had a very important introduction to make, one he'd been dreading since noon.
"Father," he began hesitantly, leading Cindy forward, "I'd like to introduce..."
"I know who she is," Jeff cut him off, sourly. He'd ducked more than enough of Cindy Taylor's needle-sharp questions to have developed a lasting, negative impression. She gave him an apologetic little wave and smile, saying,
"Let me guess; 'no comment' ?"
Folding his arms upon his chest, Jeff Tracy frowned.
"Miss Taylor," he said, "I may have my reservations about this, but I trust my son's judgement. If Scott thinks enough of someone to bring them home... then I'm pleased to accept his choice. Just..."
"I know..." Cindy sighed. "No cameras, no microphones, no outside calls and no taking notes. I've heard the spiel, Mr. Tracy."
"Call me Jeff," he said wearily, running a hand through his iron-grey hair. '...Before it turns into Dad,' the elder Tracy added silently, foreseeing certain future developments.
Weak with relief, Scott gave Cindy's shoulder a quick squeeze, then drew her aside, saying,
"Good night, Sir. See you first thing tomorrow."