First flight

Gordon

"Do I have to do this?"

"Yes, Gordon, you do," replies Scott, his tone firm.

"But I'm the aquanaut of the organisation. Dad's already said that Alan will be relief pilot for Thunderbird One. Why do I have to be able to fly her?"

"Gordon, we all need to be able to handle each other's machines. You know that. Suppose I got injured on a rescue and you had to fly her home for me? Now buckle up and get on with it!"

I sit down in the pilot's seat of TB1 as Scott straps himself into the jump seat behind me. I don't really enjoy flying, not the way my brothers do. If we didn't live on an island, I probably wouldn't have bothered to learn, but I certainly didn't want the indignity of having to cadge a lift like some teenager every time I wanted to go to the mainland.

Scott nods when he sees I am ready. "Right, I just want you to take her up, make a quick trip round the island, touch down in horizontal mode on the runway then lift off again and put her back in the launch bay. You've done it on the simulator, just do the same again." Ye gods, he sounds like a driving instructor.

I power up the great silver rocket and start the sequence that slides her down the ramp into the launch bay. As I do this I know that up above me a klaxon is sounding outside and the swimming pool is retracting into its housing.

"OK," says Scott. "Now remember to lock yourself into position on the launch pad, then call Dad and check you are clear for launch." I bite back a comment. What is it they say about never letting a member of your family teach you to drive?

"Thunderbird One, requesting take-off clearance."

"F.A.B., son, you're clear to go."

I push open the throttles and feel the mighty engines burst into life beneath me. "Hey!" I exclaim. "That's a kick in the butt!" I look round and I swear Scott has a small smile on his face. Maybe that's why he likes this beast so much.

I watch the instruments notching up our speed and altitude. As we near 10,000 feet Scott speaks again. "Contact base and inform them you are changing to horizontal flight."

"Why?" I ask, "Won't they see that for themselves?"

"Because you don't want whoever is tracking you from the space station to think that you are falling out of the sky." Uh oh, back to Big Brother mode again.

I do as I'm told, changing the orientation of the craft as I do so. As my seat slips round on its gimbals, my eye is caught by the plate on the wall. Yes, a plate. An honest-to-god, blue and white patterned china plate that Scott has fixed up there. None of us knows why, not even Virgil. Alan reckons we'll have to get Scott drunk one night and ask him. Fat chance of that. Scott could drink us all under the table and still juggle chainsaws afterwards.

Scott's voice brings me back to the present. "I want you to reduce to cruising speed and extend the wings. Careful – you'll find she handles a bit differently at slow speeds!"

His warning comes a fraction too late as we roll wildly. My corrections only seem to make it worse. "Hey, Scott, couldn't you have asked Brains to put a bit more resistance into these controls? I only have to blow on them and they move!"

Scott grins, a sly smile. "I like them like that. Of course, if you don't think you can handle it…." He leaves the threat hanging.

I take a deep breath. "No sweat, I can do this." I look round at my brother. "Say, Scott, can we just cut the driving-test routine for a few minutes? Just give me chance to get the feel of your 'bird on my own terms?"

Scott seems to think for a moment, then nods. "OK, kid, she's all yours."

I try a few gentle turns. It's not too bad – a bit like riding a surfboard in strong seas. Then I pull too hard and sky and sea flash past the window as we execute a series of barrel rolls across the sky. I manage to gain control again and attempt another banking turn. This time I've got it – not a surfboard but a windsurf. I feel myself wanting to lean out to counteract that weight as we slide round. Now for pitch. I point the nose of the plane towards the waves and we make a steep dive then pull up sharply. As we go over the top of the arc I feel myself momentarily float out of my seat with the negative G-forces. "Yee-ha!" I exclaim. "Ride 'em, cowboy!"

"Have you quite finished?"

I turn and give my brother a wide grin. "Hey, Scott this is fun! Much better than flying an ordinary plane. This is almost as much fun as …." I pause, searching for a comparison, "as riding with one of my dolphin friends!"

I think Scott realises that I can give no higher praise, and he smiles. "Yeah, Brains did a good job, didn't he? Come on, let's finish the test. Horizontal landing, please."

We turn back to the island and I hover over the runway, firing the belly jets to touch down. I turn and look at Scott. "You want to walk home from here?"

"No way, kiddo, how about you?"

I shake my head. "No, I'll finish what I started."

I take off again and we circle the island to come in over the swimming pool, which I am glad to see is sliding back as I change to vertical mode. I want to get back to my pool, but I'd rather not share it with Thunderbird One. After that it is simply a matter of lining up with the guidance control and settling back down into the launch bay.

Once the engines have shut down, Scott undoes his harness and stands up. I'm not sure I like that look on his face.

"You're not mad at me for throwing your 'bird around, are you?"

Scott shakes his head. "Nah, I'll get my own back. Just wait 'til Thursday."

"Why; what happens Thursday?""

That sly smile is back again. "Thursday I get to take your toy submarine out. Let's see what I can do with that."

Heck, I hadn't thought of that.