Thunderbirds are FAB

An Unauthorised Parody

Virgil walked into the room jogging his shoulders up and down, and slumped into a chair. "I'm bored!" he said.

"Yeah?" said Scott. "Why don't you go and trim your eyebrows? You're beginning to look like some sort of master criminal! That might relieve the boredom!"

"Not so well groomed in the eyebrow department yourself, are you? You know, the bushier the eyebrows, the more evil!" said Virgil, and threw a cushion at Scott. It made Scott spill his drink.
"Hey!" said Scott, jumping up. You've ruined my shirt!"

"Meh!" said Virgil. "You need to get rid of it anyway. It seems to me that you always wear the same three shirts. Get some new ones!"

"They're classic!"

"They're about 100 years old!"

Gordon came into the lounge. "Hey, guys, why don't you come down to the lab and see what Brains is working on?"

"Alright," said Virgil lethargically, and followed Scott and Gordon to the lab.

"Hi, Brains!" said Virgil.

"Hello, Virgil, Scott," stammered Brains.

"They've come to see what you're working on, Brains," said Gordon.

Virgil narrowed his eyes. "Hey, hang on, Gordon! Has anybody ever noticed that you and Brains sound almost exactly the same?"
"We do not!" said Gordon.

"Yeah, Virgil. We sound, ah, completely, ah, different!" said Brains.

"Hmm. Sorry, I guess I was wrong," said Virgil.

"Anyway," said Scott. "What are you working on, Brains?"
"Well, Scott, I've been working on a new remote control camera. Here, you see," he stammered, and handed the device to Scott.

Scott eyed the device with suspicion. It was a small, remote control car, with a small array of cameras and microphones poking out of the top.

"It can be driven remotely and the pictures can be viewed from a safe distance," said Brains.

"Great!" said Virgil. "That's great! It's simple, but effective. It seems to me that there are lots of times on rescues when we need a really, really simple device, but we just don't have it!"

Scott looked to one side. "Yeah. Weird, huh?"

"So what do you think?" said Brains.

"Well, I don't know," said Virgil. "It looks too small."
"But it needs to be small to get into tight spaces," said Brains.

"Yeah, but bigger is always better, you know," replied Scott, taking the device and holding it at arm's length. "Could you maybe put a big oven timer on the top?"
"What possible use would this device have for an oven timer, Virgil?" stuttered Brains.

"Well, it would make it look better, and lots of our kit has oven timers stuck to it!" said Gordon.

"They do not!" said Virgil. "Those aren't oven timers! They're sophisticated pieces of equipment!"

"Really?" said Scott. "They look like oven timers to me!"

"Anyway!" said Virgil, looking accusingly at Scott. "What powers it, Brains?"

"Batteries," said Brains.

"Really, just plain old batteries?" asked Scott.

"That will never do!" said Virgil. "Can't you make it atomic?"
"Why?" said Brains. "It works fine on batteries. You can recharge them and everything!"

"We don't want to hang around charging things up, Brains! Come on, nuclear this thing!" said Gordon.

"Yeah, everything else around here is unnecessarily nuclear. We have an atomic oven in the kitchen, for God's sake. Nuclear power is obviously superior to every other kind of power!" said Scott.

"Obviously!" said Brains. "And the terrible waste implications, the Three-Mile-Islands and the Chernobyls, and the fact that I'm the one that's going to end up having to crawl around inside it when it inevitably breaks?"

"Meh!" said Virgil. "Details. Come on, Brains, fix the camera!"

"Okay," said Brains. "I'll make it atomic."

"Woot!" said Scott and the three boys sat down to watch Brains work.

Jeff sat in his chair at his desk, seemingly doing nothing but looking very busy about it. John's eyes glowed in his portrait on the wall.

"Go ahead, John."

"Father, we're getting reports of a collapsed building in Los Angeles after a minor earthquake. There are people trapped."
"How many?"

"I'm not sure. I've been having some trouble with my equipment."
"What sort of trouble?"
"One of the oven timers is broken."

"I see. Well you'd better get it fixed. You know we can't operate without a reliable oven timer!" said Jeff.

"Hey!" said John, frightened.

"What is it, Son?" asked Jeff, concerned.

"What just happened?" asked John, still scared. "One second you were sitting behind your desk, and now you're sitting on the front of it! How did that happen?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, John. I've been sitting here the whole time. It must be your imagination."

"Sure, father. That must be it."
"So what's the story?"
"I think we'll need Thunderbirds 1 and 2."
"FAB."

John signed off, and Jeff found himself once more, sitting behind his desk. He looked searchingly around the room for a few seconds, and then shrugged his shoulders.

Alan walked past the door to the lounge, and Jeff called to him.

"Alan, could you get Scott, Virgil and Gordon for me?" he asked.

"Why?" asked Alan, annoyed. "You have and intercom system right there for the whole house! Why are you always sending people to get people when you could just ask them yourself?"

"That's a good point, Alan. I'm sorry."

Alan huffed and headed off to join Tin-Tin in the pool. Jeff spoke into his intercom. "Scott, Virgil, Gordon? Could you come to the lounge, please?"

The boys heard him from the lab, and made their way to the lounge. On the way, Gordon spoke. "Hey, how come he always gets our names right?"
"What?" said Virgil.

"Everyone else in the world that has five kids mixes up their names, at least sometimes. Dad never does."

"Well, he's been rehearsing for, how many years? Scott, how old are you?" said Virgil.

"I don't know!" said Scott. "I'm either 26 or 30! I can never remember!"

"Well, he's been practising for a long time, anyway!" said Virgil. They arrived in the lounge.

"Boys, we've had a call! A building has collapsed in LA! Thunderbirds 1 and 2 are needed," said Jeff. "There was a minor earthquake, but Los Angeles is not at further risk."
"Not from earthquakes, anyway!" snickered Virgil.

Jeff shot him an admonishing look. "People are trapped in the rubble."
"Hey!" said Gordon. "We could use that new device Brains has been working on! The remote camera!"

"Isn't that lucky! Just when we're working on a new piece of equipment, we suddenly need it!" said Virgil.

"Yeah, it seems to happen a lot," said Scott, looking around, nervously.

"But it hasn't been tested!" said Jeff.

"Never mind. Brains is always testing stuff out on us. Look what happened with that gas!" said Scott.

"Okay, boys. I'll have Brains load in on to Thunderbird 1. Now, boys, on your way!"

Scott strolled over to the corner of the room, and stood in front of the picture between two lamps. That section of the wall rotated, putting Scott on the other side. The gantry slowly extended and placed him at the entrance to Thunderbird 1. Scott climbed in and took his seat. "Sometimes I wonder whether it would be quicker to just take the stairs," he thought to himself.

Thunderbird 1 descended down the ramp to the launch pad under the swimming pool.

"Hey!" said Alan, and only just managed to usher Tin-Tin out of the pool, and jump out himself, before he was trapped underneath the patio floor. "You could have warned us!"

"Sorry, Alan!" said Jeff.

Thunderbird 1 blasted off, covering much of the house in smoke. Alan and Tin-Tin coughed. The pool rolled back and they jumped back in and started to swim again.

Virgil stood in front of the picture of a rocket in the lounge. It tipped him up and back, so that he was going headfirst down on the conveyer. It made him feel nauseous. "There has got to be a better way!" he said as the mechanism turned him around. He was deposited into the cockpit of Thunderbird 2 with a jolt, and the seat bent into the right position. "Agh!" said Virgil. "I really have to see a chiropractor!" Gordon was sitting behind him.

"Hey, how did you get here?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," said Gordon.

Virgil drove Thunderbird 2 slowly along it's runway, and the end of it lifted to a 45° angle. He pulled randomly on a control stick, and Thunderbird 2 took off.

"What the hell?" asked Gordon, surprised.
"What?" said Virgil.

"Did you just change your clothes?"

"No."
"I swear! One minute you were in your brown waistcoat number, and now you're like that!" he said, pointing.

"Don't be silly, Gordon!" said Virgil.

Gordon jumped. "Agh! There you go again!"

"Shut up, Gordon. Come on, we have to change into our uniforms."

By the time Thunderbird 2 arrived in Los Angeles, Thunderbird 1 was already there. There was a large area of rubble around the collapsed building, and smaller buildings had been pulled down around it. Firefighters were dealing with sporadic small fires that were breaking out in places among the debris. Virgil and Gordon got out and joined Scott at mobile control.

"Hey, how did you get this thing out of Thunderbird 1?" asked Virgil.

"It's lighter than it looks!" said Scott.

A police officer strode over. "Greetings, my lad. I'm Captain O'Flaherty."

"What's the situation?" asked Gordon.

He spoke. "We know that there are people trapped down there, but we don't know who, or how many."
"Do you know of any injuries, General?" asked Scott.

"It's Captain. And we don't even know if they're dead or alive!"

Scott stood up. "For us to help you, we need to ensure that nobody takes photos or films of us, our craft, or our equipment. This is to be kept secret!"

"People can take pictures from really far away these days. How would we know?" said the policeman.

Scott looked at his brothers, confused, and then back to the police officer. "Just make sure nobody takes any pictures!" he said.

"Okay, we'll do what we can," said Virgil.

"Much obliged to you!" said the officer.

"Thank you, Colonel," said Scott. The police officer went and joined his colleagues a few metres away to coordinate the cordon around the site. When they had left, Gordon whispered to Virgil.

"Why are all cops Irish?" he asked.

"I don't know, Gordon," said Virgil. "They just are."

The boys took some measurements, fiddled with the oven timers, and discussed a plan of action.

Virgil went to the edge of the rubble with the mobile camera and remote control. He put it down and drove it into the wreckage. It took him almost three hours to survey the whole pile of rubble, and when he was about to conclude that there was nobody in there, he came across two men lying in a void.

"Scott! I've found some men!" he yelled into his radio.

"Where?"
"In the basement section by the east wall. I'm going in!"
"FAB. Keep in radio contact!"
Virgil called to the men. "We're going to get you out of there! Are you alright?"
One of them responded, weakly. "I'm alright, but my friend here is in a bad way!" He had a whistling, English public school accent.
"Hey, you sound just like- never mind," said Virgil.

"I'm coming in for you!"

Virgil drove the little car back to him, and then walked into the pile holding it. Scott watched on his viewer. Virgil was having to dig as he went, but he eventually got to the men. Both were now out cold, and Virgil took hold of one of the men's feet, and pulled him out. He then scooped him into his arms and carried him to a trolley attended by paramedics.
"He's in a bad way!" he told them. He dusted off his trousers.

He went back into the pile, but this time found it too difficult to get through.

"I need Gordon to help me!" he said, and Gordon climbed in next to him. Gordon passed the other man to Virgil, who pulled him towards the narrow entrance. Just as they were about to get out, a large chunk of brickwork fell and hit Virgil in the head. He fell down, unconscious. A heavier collapse then occurred, and Scott watched as Gordon was peppered with masonry, until he was buried in it, with arms and legs at odd angles.

"Gordon! Virgil!" cried Scott.

He watched in awe as Gordon emerged, dragging the man.

"How are you alive?" asked Scott.

"I may very well not be!" snickered Gordon, thinking he was joking.

"I just saw a load of bricks smash you to bits!"

"Yeah, but what are you going to do?" said Gordon, and shrugged. He carried the man to another paramedic wagon.

"He's in a bad way!" he announced to them.
Gordon then went back into the pile, and emerged with Virgil, still out insensible.
Scott ran over to join them. "How's Virgil?" he said.

"He's in a bad way!" said Gordon. "He has a cut on his head above his left eye."

"Where else would you expect to find a head wound?" asked Scott, sarcastically, and helped Gordon lay Virgil on the ground.

One of the ambulance crews came over. "Is he okay?"

"He's in a bad way!" said Scott. "But we can take care of him."

"Are you sure?" asked the paramedic.

"Yes," said Scott. The medic left.

"Gordon, you take Virgil home in Thunderbird 2. I'll follow in Thunderbird1 after I pack up mobile control."

"FAB!" said Gordon, and did as he was asked. He walked into the cockpit carrying Virgil, and looked around for a place to put him. "You'd think with the amount of times we crash, or manage to break ourselves, someone would put a bed or a stretcher or something in here!" He shrugged and laid Virgil on his side on the floor before taking off.

When he got home, Scott had overtaken him, and was waiting with the others for Virgil in the sickroom. Gordon put him on one of the beds.
Virgil started to come around. "What happened?"
"You got his by a falling building!" said Gordon.

"Oh, is that all!" said Virgil. "Did you get T2 home okay, Gordon?"
"I didn't crash it if that's what you mean!" Gordon turned to one side. "Unlike some people!" he said quietly.

Brains was moving brown glass bottles around on the desk, for no particular reason. He came over and decided to check Virgil over.

"Your camera worked great, Brains!"

"That's great, Virgil. Now, I want to check your reflexes. Wiggle your fingers for me, please."
"I can't."

"Okay, that's normal. Now, try again and I'll look very closely."
"Okay."

"Well done, Virgil. That's great. Now, I want you to move your eyes from side to side."
"Like this?"
"Yes, excellent. Now, can you blink for me at the same time?"

"No, I can't. I can do first one, then the other, but not both at the same time."
"Again, normal! I think you'll be okay, Virgil."

"Can I go?" asked Virgil.

"Okay, but take it easy!" said Brains.

"I'm going to call a doctor just to make sure," said Jeff.

Virgil sat down in the lounge at his easel and decided to paint an abstract.
"Wow, sorry, Virg. Did I do something wrong?" said Alan when he saw him.

"No, what are you talking about?"
"Oh, sorry!" said Alan. "It's just that your concentration face and your angry face are the same. It's difficult to tell."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry."

Gordon and Scott were waiting on the steps to the house for the doctor to arrive. A man landed on the beach with a speedboat.

"Is that the doctor?" asked Gordon, to Scott who was looking through his binoculars.

"I'm not sure. I can't tell if he has glasses yet!" said Scott.

"Remember to check for bushy eyebrows, Scott!" said Gordon.

The man came closer."Glasses, check!" said Scott. "And normal eyebrows. That's a doctor alright!"

The doctor was ushered into the house.

"Operation cover up!" announced Jeff, and the pictures on the wall of the Tracy boys in International Rescue uniform were replaced with some of them nonchalantly smoking and drinking.

The doctor came in and Jeff came around the edge of his desk to shake his hand.
"How is he, Doctor?"
"Oh, he's fine, Jeff. But I've suggested he be more careful ironing his doilies. It could have been much worse!" said the doctor.

"Doilies, right."

"Say did you see that report on the building collapse in LA? You have to hand it to those International Rescue boys!"
"Agh!" said Jeff, as he saw the pictures on the wall revert to the IR portraits.

"Are you alright, Jeff?"

The pictures changed back. "I'm fine," said Jeff.

"Well, I've just advised Virgil to-"
"Agh!" Jeff shrieked, as the pictures changed again.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
Jeff was relieved as the pictures reverted once again, and the doctor, even though he was looking right at them, did not notice.

"Yes, I'm tip-top. Thanks for coming, doctor!" Jeff showed him back to his boat.

The family had gathered in the lounge.

"I think we deserve a vacation!" said Alan. Let's go out on the town on the mainland!"
"Maybe we could stay with Penny!" said Gordon.

"Boys, this isn't a holiday camp we're running here! This is International Rescue! No vacations! That's my final word!"

"But, Dad!" said Alan.

"Alright Alan, you can all take a short vacation. We could do with an overhaul on the Thunderbird machines anyway."
"Hey, maybe we could go to a nightclub!" said Virgil.

"No! Nobody's going anywhere! We have a job to do!" said Jeff.

"We'd be back by tomorrow!" said Gordon.

"Okay, boys, just one night won't hurt."
"I'll get the jet ready!" said Scott, and stood up.
"No vacations! Take some responsibility, boys. I will not be moved on this."
"Okay, we won't go."
"Enjoy your trip, boys!" said Jeff. The boys looked at each other, and decided to take the opportunity.

The boys went to London with Penelope, and Tin-Tin, and to a club called the 'Fluctuating luminary.' One of the doormen bowed to lady Penelope.
"I hope you don't mind my saying so, Miss, but you are an astounding beauty!" he said, in a stumbling cockney accent. Virgil danced with Penny, and Alan with Tin-Tin. This left the other three boys to first almost empty the bar, and then to do the bachelor two-step, in the hope of finding a dancing partner.

"Hey, Scott!" said Virgil. "You're never going to get a chick dancing like that!" Virgil pointed to Scott's feet.

"You're no better. Your feet aren't even touching the ground. You're just thrashing around!"

"Maybe dancing isn't really our thing," said Gordon. "Come on, let's see if the others are ready to go back to Penny's."

Virgil, Penelope, Tin-Tin and Alan were all danced out, so they headed outside to Parker, waiting in FAB1.

On the way out, the doorman turned to Penny, and he and the other doorman exchanged glances, as if in a challenge.

"Goodbye, Lady Penny Lope!" he said, and bowed again. Penny smiled and they got into the car.

"That's weird!" said Gordon.

"What?" said Penelope.

"Well, you introduced yourself to that guy, pronouncing your name correctly. You didn't write it down for him, so how would he misconstrue it like that."
"I don't know," said Penelope.

Gordon frowned and folded his arms as Parker sped away.

"How come you never get arrested for speeding, Parker?" asked Virgil.

"The police know me, Virgil."
"Yeah, as a safecracker!"
Parker slowed down to within the speed limit.
"And how do you do that?" asked Virgil.

"What?"
"Well, you're moving your hands on the steering wheel, but the car doesn't steer!"

"It's all part of the design," said Parker.

"I see," said Virgil, unconvinced.

They pulled into Creighton-Ward Manor as the sun was rising, and went to bed still in their tuxedos.

In the morning, all the Tracy boys felt a little delicate, apart from Virgil who had been too busy chain smoking the previous night to drink. So it was he who flew the jet back to Tracy Island, coughing all the way.

"Hey!" said Alan, holding an icepack to his head.

"What now?" said Virgil, irked.

"Nothing. It's just for a moment there, I thought we were in Thunderbird 2 with the wheel turned upside down. Don't worry about it."

"Whatever," said Virgil.

He touched down on the island without incident. Jeff was waiting for them in the lounge.

"You got drunk last night, didn't you?" he asked Scott.

"Yes, Sir," he admitted sheepishly.

Jeff eyed him closely. "Are you wearing contact lenses?"
"No, I have 20/20 vision."
"So how come they were blue yesterday, and no they're brown?"

"I don't know, Father, I guess I drank a little too much."

"I didn't drink!" said Virgil.

"And your voice has changed completely since yesterday! What have you been up to?"
"Smoking heavily," said Virgil.

"Well, smoking never did anyone any harm!" said Jeff.

"We're sorry, Father," said the boys.

"Well, come on. You have duties. There are a lot of oven timers that need to be repaired."