I hadn't intended to post so small a chapter-let, but due to literary chaos of the wildest magnitude,this first bitgot up here. Tikatu, you ARE a life saver!
12
He climbed back into Thunderbird 1 after John, still glowing from the King's handshake, and the Princess's furtive kiss.
Alais... all of a sudden, Alan had a new definition of beauty. With a pert face zephyr-dusted with pale freckles, and rosy-blonde hair caught loosely back at the nape of her slender neck... and those eyes! Grey, he decided, but with secret shadows of purple, hints of sea-blue... She glowed in his thoughts like... like... like the Venus de Milo, but with arms. He was deep in passionate visions of romance and heroism, when the hatch slid shut behind them, and John turned suddenly around.
His half-brother was fast, and anger had made him strong. Alan, recalling too late their earlier quarrel, found himself seized by the shirt front, hoisted onto scrambling tip-toe, and slammed against a bulkhead.
"Listen," John told him, all the scarier for seeming utterly calm. "You want to show off your ignorance, be my guest. But if you ever insult or embarrass her in front of me again, I'll rip your damn head off. Understood?"
"Uh-huh!" Alan squeaked. "Never again! Promise!"
John let him drop, gasping, to the deck, then nodded once. Indicating the hold with a slight jerk of his head, he said,
"Now..., get."
Alan got.
Tracy Island:
Home at last,he pelted through an access tunnel from Thunderbird 1's hangar, to Thunderbird 2's. John followed, rather more circumspectly than his youngest brother. The matter between them hadn't been brought up again, nor would it ever be... officially. But from that day forth, Alan's behavior around Lady Penelope was as respectful and courteous as a Boy Scout's. He was already warming up for round two with John, though; plotting like mad.
Thunderbird 2 finally arrived, hurtling through the tropical night, as metallic green and noisy as a rampaging dragon. Virgil lined her up with the runway, then brought her down in a tremendous squeal of tires and hissing hydraulics. Now, she taxied slowly forward along the pavement, brilliant spotlights caressing her muscular hull.
Once inside the hangar, 2's engine roar faded gradually from earthquake to mutter, then died away entirely. Waves of maintenance robots attended her at once, attaching like remoras, or scuttling along her hull after bits of errant debris.
Alan waited at the end of the boarding platform, fairly bouncing with impatience. John stood about five feet away, arms folded upon his chest, seeming no more excited than if he'd been watching a primary school rendition of Swan Lake.
Truth was, though, these hangar meetings were rather important to them. Before the de-briefing, before explanations and critiques, the boys often gathered to welcome one another, joke around and congratulate. Off-hand tradition, sort of.
Virgil, Scott, Brains and Gordon exited Thunderbird 2 when the shutdown procedures were completed, the engineer and pilot helping Gordon to limp his way over the boarding platform. Scott came slowly after them, walking as though each step required major concentration and a detailed flight plan.
Temporarily forgetting his recent altercation, and mischievous schemes, Alan hurried forward. He'd had to stand by, fists clenched impotently at his sides, as Gordon struggled to escape the settling wreck. Princess Alais had come forward to take his hand, listening silently with Alan while John guided the other boy to safety. He'd held it together, somehow, fighting the urge to second-guess John's route, or tell him to hurry... but it hadn't been easy.
They greeted one another with all the usual tenderness and concern.
"Way to go, Man! You were almost 'Gordon, the Awesome Fossil'!"
"Shut up," his brother growled, cuffing aside the roughly affectionate hug. "I knew what I was doin'!"
"Yeah. Real pro stuff," Alan grinned. "Getting lost, trapped in primordial ooze, nearly drowned... the list goes on and on."
He danced out of Gordon's reach, laughing,
"Next time, Dude, you'd better bring me along!"
"Not bloody likely!" Gordon snapped, bracing his failed lunge against a handy guard rail. "All you'd find time t' do is flex for th' lasses."
"Don't forget 'point and laugh', Bro!"
Still grinning, Alan helped his brother onto the anti-grav stretcher Brains had summoned.
"...And I can't help it if I'm a chick-magnet. The world, my man, is full of beautiful girls, and every one of them...," ( he waved his hands, scanner-
fashion, up and down his own proudly posed physique) "...craves the hotness."
Gordon never noticed the sedative shot, he was laughing so hard.
