In which John Tracy begins to appreciate some genius; an engaging charter pilot brings apples; two planes go out, and one comes back
Scott stood up and leaned against the railing. John slid down a little in his chair. Virgil was tapping his fingers on his knee, eyes down.
"You know what your problem is, John?" Virgil began. He barely got half the sentence out before John came roaring back the other way.
"If you think I'm going to sit here and listen to you…"
"Not now" Scott said. His tired tone made both of his brothers stop and look at him, surprised. "We're not doing this right now. Virgil, cut it out. John, go away."
"What do you mean, go away?"
Scott waved his hand. "Go away. Beat it. Scram. I don't want to listen to you argue, and it's obvious that you're not going to be able to not argue, so take it somewhere else. Same for you, Virgil."
"What are you going to do?" John said, feeling like he was about nine.
Scott stood up. "I've got to get ready to go to Luton and I don't need two hornet-mad brothers buzzing around me while I'm getting organized." He stuck his hands in his back pockets and gave John an unexpectedly warm smile. "Try to resist the urge to call the guys in white coats while I'm gone, okay?"
"What did you think when he told you?" John asked.
"That he was off his rocker. It took me a while. But you know Dad. He has a way of making the impossible seem possible."
"That's not the same as it actually being possible."
"Yes," Scott agreed. "And for that, we have Brains."
John just shook his head. "I just don't…"
"I know you don't," Scott said. "Go and do it somewhere else."
John could appreciate that. He pulled the door aside and walked, muttering to himself, out into the lounge. Virgil reached over and shut the door behind him.
"Can we talk about him a little?" Virgil asked.
Scott shook his head. "He's not completely wrong, Virgil. What he's saying isn't out of character for the rest of the world."
"I know," Virgil said. "But that's not the point. We're not supposed to be the rest of the world. We're supposed to be better." He saw Scott's surprised expression and smiled. "Not now. I mean when this thing gets off the ground. And anyway, I'm not saying we are better. I'm just saying we're supposed to be."
Scott sighed, and turned around to look out at the ocean. "I guess it's like what Dad always said about privilege."
Virgil lowered his voice into a gruff imitation of their father. "Privilege requires greater sacrifice because it isn't earned?" He switched to his normal voice. "Yeah. You know what's stranger? That all those platitudes Dad shoved at us when we were growing up actually formed into a coherent philosophy."
"I wasn't expecting that either," Scott admitted "If this rescue thing doesn't pan out, maybe he should open his own church."
John stood on the top of the stairs, listening to the sounds of the island. The gentle slap of the water in the pool against the filter. Below him, the slow, impersonal beat of the ocean against the shore.
He wondered how he could have been so naïve, never to question. His father moved to an island in the middle of nowhere because he wanted to relax? What could be the reason, if not because of the total secrecy it afforded?
But even John hadn't believed it. It was just another property his father had bought; besides, he was too familiar with his father's peripatetic lifestyle to believe he'd ever really settle down here. No, it would look like to everyone else what it had looked like to John: a successful business man buying that most priceless commodity: privacy. It was genius.
Except for the rest of it.
He started down the stairs. It was ridiculous. He was the one who had been living in half- isolation for a year; he was the one who was supposed to come back crazy. Not everyone else. He had been living in a place that was the opposite of normal; a completely artificial environment. He wanted to come back to normalcy; to traffic noise, to bad top-40 radio and people without advanced degrees.
He had pictured coming home and having it actually feel like home. Late nights, listening to his brothers talk: they were all accomplished storytellers, especially Scott and Gordon. He wanted to hear Virgil play the piano and hear Alan's rants on how incredibly astronomically fabu his NASA training was. He had wanted to talk to his father about what he should do at ISA, if he should move to the private sector, or go back to school and get his Ph.D. He had pictured taking a little vacation on this private island paradise; sunning on the beach, drinking drinks with umbrellas.
But it was all a lie. The mountain hid a rocket and two airplanes that the DOD would probably kill to get their hands on. It wasn't paradise, it was camouflage.
And his father wanted him as an accomplice.
He couldn't quite admit to himself that the idea was somewhat enticing. He wouldn't want to pull another straight year there, but there was something about being in space, the feeling of being between the commonplace and the unfathomable – not to mention having a mini-observatory of his own. If this Brains character could build a freaking rocket, he could probably manage a decent telescope. John could finally show the world "unqualified."
But he couldn't. You couldn't just toss a satellite into orbit; you couldn't just invade airspace in the name of some nebulous good.
The sound of an engine startled him, and he looked up to see a small yellow plane winging in a circle overhead. As it passed over the house it waggled its wings, and, out of an unshakable habit that he and all his brothers developed when they were small, he waved vigorously to the plane as it passed overhead. He saw that it was headed for the runway, and he trotted down the rest of the stairs and onto the tarmac.
He stood on the edge of the runway under the palm trees as the tiny plane landed with a few bumps – it was pretty windy – and taxied to a stop. After a minute, the door opened and Nancy stuck her head out. "Hey, it's the prodigal son!"
"Unsacrificed," John called, coming forward. "What are you doing here?"
"Bringing the mail," Nancy said. She opened the door and flung a small canvas bag at John, missing him by a few inches. John dodged out of the way just in time.
"Hey, you almost killed me!"
"And here I thought you were the smart one," Nancy laughed. "Don't you have enough sense to get out of the way?" She disappeared back into the plane. John picked up the bag. "What do you…hey!" He jumped back as another bag came flying out the door.
"Okay, you were aiming for me that time," John said.
"Oh, what, a big strong boy like you scared by a wee little girl like me?" Nancy said, appearing back in the doorway.
"Are you finished?" John asked.
"I am."
John picked up the second bag. It was heavier than the first, and felt lumpy. "What's in this?"
"Apples for your father. Julie's idea. Don't worry, they're wrapped up." She folded her arms and leaned against the doorway. "And how is island life treating you?"
"Unfairly, but the rest of the planet has been pretty spectacular," John said. "I don't know if you're aware of the tremendous amount of water here, but it's mostly behind you and really nice to swim in. Plus, you've got an atmosphere, which I've never really given enough credit to."
"Yes, Earth's a lovely little place once you get acclimated," Nancy said with a smile. "And are you enjoying being home?"
John thought for a moment. "Yes, but it's been unexpectedly complicated."
"All life is unexpectedly complicated," Nancy said. "That's what makes it interesting."
"I guess so. I miss civilization," John said. "But it's nice to see everyone again."
"I'm sure civilization misses you, too. Crash any cars yet?"
"There aren't any cars to crash." Of course, he could always crash a giant rocket into the Sydney Opera house. That would probably impress her. "But I'll see what I can do when I get back to Florida."
Nancy smiled. "Good. Tell the tall one I made it in seventy five."
"Seventy five what?"
"Minutes. Also, remind him that I am more pilot than he could ever hope to be."
John laughed. "Okay."
"Don't forget. He needs constant reminding, that one does. Give my regards to your father."
"Will do." John swung the mailbag and the bag of apples over his shoulder. "Have a safe trip back."
"I will," Nancy said. "See you around." She waved and shut the door. John watched as the plane taxied down the runway and then lifted into the sky. He turned and headed towards the stairs. He could see Gordon making his way down.
"Where've you been?" Gordon asked, when they met halfway.
"Picking apples." John thrust one of the bags at his brother.
"Before that."
"Talking to Father."
"Where?" Gordon looked annoyed. "I was looking for everyone and everyone was gone."
John opened his mouth to try to think of what to say. He hadn't prepared himself to lie to his brother.
"Well…" he started to say, but Gordon was frowning.
"Shh." Gordon said, putting his hand out to quiet John. "What is that?"
John listened for a moment, and then spun around.
Later, John had thought it was funny that the sound was exactly like it was in old World War II movies, when somebody shoots down a Hurricane or a Messerschmitt. That same sound, the speed of the fall pitching the engine sound higher and higher.
"Where is it?" Gordon whispered. "Is it Nancy?"
John was scanning the sky with his hand shading his eyes. He pointed. Between the blue of the sky and the blue of the ocean was a small shape, slowly morphing into wings, angle strange and awkward, aiming for the wrong horizon. John's eyes widened.
"We've got to…" he turned and began running up the stairs to the house, taking them two at a time. He could hear Gordon behind him.
"Dad!" Gordon shouted.
Virgil appeared, running down the stairs. "Get up here, there's…" He stopped, seeing their faces and realized they knew. "Scott's getting the jet out." He looked up and his expression blanched. John turned around just in time to see the little plane hit the water. It seemed to bounce and flip over, but it was hard to tell at this distance. He looked up at Virgil, who paled.
"The jet?" John said.
"That's all we have," Virgil said angrily.
"Where's Dad?" Gordon demanded. He tried to push by John, who moved to let him go, but he was stopped by Virgil, who was staring over his head out at the water.
"She radioed she was having problems," Virgil said distantly.
John looked up at him. "We need to get a hold of WASP. What's Father doing?"
"He's with Scott. Come on."
The three ran up the rest of the stairs and into the house. Virgil hurried over to radio and spun the dial.
"Mayday, mayday, mayday," Virgil said tensely, and waited.
A voice cracked in over the line.
"WASP Sydney responding to mayday. What is the nature of the emergency?"
"This is Virgil Tracy from location latitude 22.23 S longtitude 129.35 W. Jane Air plane tail number VH-WEN is down near our location. One person aboard."
"Jane Air number VH-WEN out of Badgery Creek airport?"
"Affirmative," Virgil said shortly.
"We'll contact the airport to get the GPS on the aircraft and take appropriate action, sir. Do you have a visual on the craft?" the voice said.
Virgil looked at John, who was standing by the window. John shook his head.
"Negative," Virgil said.
"Sir, we've contacted Badgery Creek ATC. They have Jane Air Flight One lost on radar. We're rerouting the nearest vessel to the location."
"Affirmative."
"There goes Scott" John said. As he spoke, the sound of the jet taking off filled the room.
Virgil nodded. He switched the radio. "Tracy Island to Tracy One."
"Tracy One, go ahead."
"WASP contacted ATC at Badgery Creek and they've dispatching their ship to the GPS location."
"Affirmative," Scott replied.
Jeff Tracy walked into the room. His face looked grim.
"I've radioed WASP," Virgil said. "They're dispatching a vessel."
"How far away are they?"
Virgil shook his head. "I don't know."
Jeff put his hand on his son's shoulders. "All right. Scott will let us know what he finds."
John turned from sliding glass doors to face his father. "Can you do anything else?
Gordon looked up, surprised.
"No, John, I can't" Jeff said.
"You don't have anything here at all that can get out there?" John asked. "Anything?"
Jeff looked pained, and he shook his head. "No. Not now."
"We had a little motorboat," Gordon said tonelessly. "But Virgil took the motor apart."
John turned back to staring at the ocean.
"Can you see Scott?" Gordon asked.
"I'm not sure" John said. "There's a lot of glare."
"Should I try to get him?" Virgil asked his father, who shook his head.
"Don't bother him. He'll contact you as soon as he knows something."
"Tracy One to Tracy Island," Scott's voice came over the radio. "I have a visual."
Gordon and John jumped up and came over to where Virgil and their father stood by the radio. Scott's voice sounded thin as it came through the speaker.
"It's…it's wreckage, mostly. I'm turning to come lower, so hang on a sec."
"Can you see Nancy?" Virgil asked.
There was just the crackle of the open line for a moment, and then Scott's voice came over again. "I can see the fuselage and the tail…it looks like the tail broke off…wait…I think…I think I can see her. Hang on, I'm going to contact WASP."
The four men waited in silence, heads down around the radio.
"Tracy One to Tracy Island." Scott's voice broke through. "They've got someone about a half an hour away."
"Can you see her?"
"I'm coming up now…yes. That's her! That is definitely her."
The four men crowded closer around the radio. Gordon's eyes were very wide. "Is she moving?"
There was a pause. "She's holding on to…I'm not exactly sure what, but I can't tell…I can't tell what her condition is."
"Is she all right?" Virgil asked.
"I can't tell," Scott said, clearly frustrated. "I go any lower or slower in this thing I'll stall out."
"All right, Scott. Just keep circling until you can get an idea," Jeff said.
"I'm not going anywhere," Scott said. "I'll stay here until WASP gets here."
"A half an hour is a long time to be in the water," Gordon said softly. "By yourself."
John glanced at him, but he was still staring at the radio. Scott came on again.
"Okay, I can see her now. She's holding onto a piece of the seat, I think. She doesn't look injured from here, but I can't really tell. But she seems to be pretty secure on the cushion. As far as I can tell, she's looks…oh, she just got swamped by a pretty big wave. She's been knocked off the seat." He stopped. The crackle of static on the line seemed very loud. After a minute Scott's voice came through again.
"She's not holding on anymore. She's not swimming…I don't think she can..." The communication broke off.
Virgil closed his eyes.
"She's…" Scott cut himself off. "I've got to circle around again."
Nobody in the lounge said anything. The radio hummed quietly to itself.
"I'm coming around." Scott's voice broke the silence. "She might have just been knocked out by that wave."
Virgil put the handset down on the table and straightened up, shoving his hands into his pockets. Gordon had his hand to his mouth, biting his thumbnail. Jeff took a long breath and let it out silently.
The radio cracked. "Virgil?"
Virgil picked up the handset. "I'm here. We're here."
"I can't see her. I don't…I can't see her any more."
Jeff gently took the handset from Virgil's grasp. "Scott? Come home, son."
There was the briefest of pauses, and then Scott said, "Tracy One to Tracy Island. I'll wait for WASP. They'll be here in about twenty minutes. Tracy One out."