They had made their swift way through to the infirmary almost before the gently rumbling engines of the immense craft had even shut down. John was aching from the impact with the water but finally feeling as though his core temperature had reached something close to normal, despite the cold of the damp suit that hung about his waist.
Gordon was very quiet. John climbed up beside him on the narrow bed, letting his blankets slip from his bare torso and slipping his arms around his brother. He could feel the tension in Gordon's shoulders but his little brother made no sound.
Onaha approached carefully and slowly turned Gordon's still gloved hands palm upwards, tutting in sympathy as she saw the damage. She pulled a chair closer and sat before him, timidly lifting the cuff of one of the gloves.
Gordon flinched as what remained of the palm of his right glove pulled at his burned skin and he shook his head in protest.
"Okay, okay." John soothed, "Don't look." He gently slid one hand up against the side of Gordon's face and turned his head away, urging his brother to hide his face into his neck.
Onaha waited a moment for Gordon to calm and then cautiously continued. She frowned in concern and slowly slid one blade of a heavy-duty pair of scissors inside the glove. Once cut away, the material was easy to peel off and she then set to working on his left hand. The palms and fingers of both his hands were grazed and burned and she began to wash the damaged skin with warm saline.
"Ow …" Gordon whimpered softly.
"I know," John whispered, nuzzling his face against Gordon's cheek and trying not to look at the reddened, tattered skin of his brother's hands.
"How's it look?"
John lifted his head and watched Brains hurrying into the infirmary.
"Not that bad now it's clean." Onaha replied with a slight smile of relief. "It's just superficial damage."
"Yeah … right …" Gordon husked.
"There's a harness and a win-win-win-special cable for rapid descent." Brains reminded him carefully.
"There wasn't time for that!" Gordon countered angrily, pushing away from John to sit up and glare at Brains. "I thought the gloves would be thick enough!"
Brains visibly recoiled at what he took as an accusation. "The glo-glo-material wasn't designed with long periods of friction in mind."
Gordon saw the hurt in the scientists' face and his shoulders sank. "God, I know … I'm sorry." He glanced at his raw palms and swallowed back the bile in his throat. "It's just … it kinda stings and - "
"It's okay." Brains smiled and nodded in understanding. He watched Gordon relax back against John and stepped a little closer, peering in interest at the damage. "And you?" He looked up at John and his smile faded a little.
"I'm fine. I just took a dip in the water." John shuddered at the memory and glanced down at the crumpled mess of wet uniform lying about his hips.
"It's supposed to be quite n-n-pleasant over there at the moment." Brains offered lightly.
John frowned up at him and then suddenly smiled at the kind man's gentle face. "Maybe it looks good from the weather satellite but, believe me, it's not quite bikini tropical."
Onaha glanced up at the pair of them and smiled in amusement. She grabbed a pot of burn ointment from the trolley beside her and took a large glob of the white cream. "You ought to get changed out of those clothes before you get a chill." She suggested distractedly, gently smearing the cream onto Gordon's hands.
John turned to Gordon and watched him nod in agreement. He seemed to have relaxed now and smiled in relief as the cooling, anaesthetising effect of the ointment began to seep into his skin.
"Okay." John sighed and slid down from the bed, glancing back at his brother in concern as he wandered from the infirmary.
oooo
A soothing warmth hung in the air as John stepped outside and headed towards the pool. The high mid-afternoon sun tingled on his freshly showered skin and he sighed in contentment as he sank into one of the sun loungers.
"Hey."
John blinked his eyes open and shielded them with his hand as he peered down past the pool.
Scott smiled a thin greeting and continued his ascent from the lower pool.
"Hey." John replied carefully, unsure what sort of mood his recently chastised brother might be in.
"We followed the rescue." Scott continued, ambling towards John swiftly. "You okay?"
John nodded.
"Virgil's in with Dad."
John glanced back towards the house and frowned in concern, suddenly worried what his brother might spill under the scrutiny of their father's debrief.
Scott sat down on the patio beside John and sighed heavily, a waft of cigarette odour following his movement.
John watched him in interest, noting the tightness of Scott's shoulders and the trouble that knotted his forehead. He was eager to know what had transpired between him and their father during the mission but somehow it seemed obvious.
"Dad called it in."
John frowned slightly.
Scott took a deep breath and shook his head slowly. "He contacted an old friend in the Pentagon and told him our concern." He looked up at John and groaned softly. "God, John. They were there because of us."
John swallowed back the sudden lump in his throat and tried to shove the image of the dead pilots back into the deepest recess of his mind.
"They were shot down because I wouldn't back off." Scott sighed, "Because I wouldn't listen. I didn't stop and think, I just - "
"I got the data recorder."
"What?" Scott gasped.
John swung his legs over the side of his chair and his frown grew. "Maybe there'll be something of use on it."
Scott paused for a moment, leaning back to let his quickly standing brother pass. Perhaps they ought to listen to their father and let it go.
"Coming?" John urged.
Scott groaned and followed John into the house.
oooo
The sensors in Thunderbird 2 and the security cameras in the silo would have made locating them simple. Still, they jumped in surprise as he called out to them from somewhere below the flight deck.
Scott froze, ceasing his struggle with the almost penetrated casing of the box in his strong grip.
"Shit!" John hissed.
The cargo ramp hung open beneath them, allowing access to the equipment inside and the maintenance that Brains had begun a short while before. It was also how they had entered the craft and now they could hear their father's footsteps on the metal grating.
"I've been looking everywhere for you two!" Jeff chuckled in greeting and stepped onto the flight deck. "What are you - ?" His eyes fell on the object in Scott's grasp and he groaned in dismay.
"Dad …" John began carefully.
"Is this what it was all about?" Jeff demanded in annoyance, "Is this what you risked your life to get?"
"I … yeah …" John nodded slowly.
"Why?" Jeff sighed, "God, John. I thought I could trust you of all people to be sensible!"
John was aware of his brother flinching slightly at what was obviously a reference to the differences he had argued out with his father. He paused in uncertainty and shrugged his shoulders.
"Why won't the pair of you listen to me?" Jeff urged and stepped closer to them, his anger fading into anxiety. "This is a dangerous situation, boys. I didn't ground Thunderbird 1 because I wanted to punish Scott. I had no choice. These people – whoever they are – pose a very real threat."
John nodded in agreement, recalling the exploding jet and imagining for a moment what might have happened if they had done as Brains had suggested and hoisted the plane closer to Thunderbird 2.
"Maybe they can confirm what we saw." Scott offered suddenly, quietly. He looked down at the box in his hands and shrugged slightly. "Or maybe they can give us more of a clue as to who is out there."
"It's not our concern." Jeff insisted.
"They shot at me!" Scott shouted angrily, "I want to know who the hell they are!"
John watched the frustration that crossed his father's face and could well imagine that the pair of them had already had this discussion.
"It's a military issue." Jeff replied evenly, "I just got off the phone from Penny. The volunteers and UN are pulling out of the area. It's up to the army to sort this now."
Scott nodded slowly, his shoulders sinking as he relented.
John watched his brother giving in and shook his head in dispute. "They'll take us out of the loop." He stated worriedly, "I agree with Scott, Dad. We need to know who these people are."
Jeff sank into one of the wide chairs and threw his hands into the air in exasperation. "Fine. Whatever. God … what did I ever do to deserve this …!"
Scott took that as permission and continued his attempts to break the seal of the data recorder.
oooo
They were broadcasting a mayday the whole time they were in the area. John adjusted the connection with the comm. to get a clearer audio output and felt a chill run through him. It seemed like only yesterday that he had desperately shouted the same call for help to his family.
Jeff leaned forward in interest, listening to the pilot announcing his engine failure and equipment malfunction.
"What could have caused this?" Scott asked quietly.
"Poor maintenance." Jeff offered.
"Or deliberate." Scott countered.
John spun round to look between the two of them. "You think?"
"I don't know," Jeff sighed, "I really don't know anymore."
John watched his father as he sank his head into his hands and groaned softly. He then felt his heart slam into his chest as the transmissions replaying over the comm. suddenly changed.
"What's that?" Scott urged, "Interference?"
"No." John managed, his head swimming. "Oh god ... it's Navajo code."
tbc ...