Chapter Two: Welcome to Wales

"You're awfully quiet."

Alan jerked his head up at Virgil's statement. His older brother wasn't looking at him – he was, after all, piloting Thunderbird 2 – but Alan got the distinct impression Virgil probably had an inkling about exactly what was wrong with him. He'd always been one of the more perceptive Tracy brothers.

"Yeah, Alan." Gordon swung around in the co-pilot's chair, heedless of the ships controls. "By now you're normally whining about how long the journey's taking."

Gordon, on the other hand, was about as perceptive as a sledgehammer. Normally Alan appreciated his endless supply of jokes and easy sense of humour but right now, he wasn't in the mood for it.

"I've just got some things on my mind," he said evenly.

Gordon raised his eyebrows. "Anyone we know?"

"You know, Gordon, contrary to your beliefs, not everything has to do with girls," Virgil said dryly. "Right, Alan?"

Yeah – Virgil knew all right. God knows how. Maybe Tin-Tin had said something … she and Virgil were fairly close.

For some reason this thought sent an irrational wave of anger pulsing through him and he had to resist the urge to glare at the back of Virgil's head. Gordon was still watching him intently and acting jealous over Tin-Tin would be a huge giveaway and besides, it wasn't as if Virgil had actually done anything … had he?

"Alan?" Virgil's voice broke through his reverie and he suddenly realised that he hadn't answered his brother's question.

"Uh – yeah, right," he said quickly, turning back to the window.

Gordon sniggered behind him. "Definitely a girl."

Alan stared at his reflection in the window and slowly counted to ten, fighting to keep his temper in check. There was no one who knew how to push his buttons like Gordon Tracy did.

Now if Gordon would just keep his mouth shut then everything would be fine …

It was like hoping that the sun was going to rise in the morning.

"But which girl?"

Shut up, Gordon.

Gordon tapped his fingers against his chin in an exaggerated manner. "Let's see … how many girls does our young Alan actually know?"

Shut up, Gordon.

"Well there's Lady Penelope … but she's a bit out of your league, huh Alan? And there's Grandma – eugh, I'm not even going to go there …"

Alan's grip on the arms of his chair tightened.

" … then there's Onaha but unless you go for seriously older women I somehow doubt it's her. Besides, Kyrano might have a few things to say about that."

Don't hit your brother. Don't hit your brother.

A look of unholy glee dawned over Gordon's face. "And I know who else Kyrano might have a few things to say about …"

He's going to say it.

"Tin-Tin!" Gordon finished dramatically, watching Alan closely.

Alan bit his lip in an attempt to keep hot, angry words from spilling out of his mouth.

"Of course – Tin-Tin! She's by far the most obvious choice!" Gordon's airy tone made it sound as if he'd only just made the connection between Alan and Tin-Tin – which Alan knew to be a complete lie. Gordon had been teasing him about his 'we're-just-friends' status with Tin-Tin for years – it was a constant source of amusement for his older brother. Normally Alan could take his annoying comments and blatant innuendos but thanks to the recent problems with Tin-Tin, he on the verge of completely losing his temper.

"Alan and Tin-Tin sitting in a tree …"

Virgil, who up until this point had been relatively quiet, spoke up. "Gordon – grow up." He sounded as exasperated as Alan felt. While Gordon was the humorous, easy-going member of the Tracy family but he had a tendency to push things too far.

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G …"

Virgil sighed. "Gordon."

"Aw, come on Virg – I'm just getting to the good bit! First comes looooooove, then comes –"

Alan whirled away from the window, his temper snapping. "Just shut up, Gordon!"

His brother broke off mid-song, taken aback by the anger in Alan's voice.

"Alan, I was only joking –"

"Yeah, well it's not funny. Unless I specifically tell you, then what's going on in my life is none of your damn business!"

Gordon held up his hands in a gesture of submission. "Alright, alright. Sheesh … sometimes you can be so touchy, Alan."

Alan was seriously beginning to regret his harsh words. Gordon looked almost hurt and Alan knew that truthfully, his brother had only been messing around. He hadn't meant anything malicious by his comments – it was his timing that had completely sucked.

Alan rubbed his forehead with one hand. Why, oh why did he always seem to make difficult situations even worse?

"Just drop it, okay?" he said finally.

Gordon shrugged and slumped back into his chair.

There was a moment of silence and then Virgil spoke again. "We're coming up on the Western Coast of England. Scott's probably reached the site by now."

"I'll check." The argument forgotten, Gordon leaned forward and depressed the communicator button on the instrument panel. "Thunderbird 2 to Thunderbird 1."

There was a brief crackle of static and then an unexpected voice came through the speakers. "Thunderbird 1 here. Go ahead, Gordon."

Alan started, Virgil looked up from the ship's controls and Gordon frowned. "Tin-Tin?" he said curiously. "What are you doing here?" It wasn't common practice for Tin-Tin to take part in rescues, although since the events with the Hood three years ago, she'd participated in a couple.

"Your dad said Scott would need some initial back-up, so he sent me along to help."

"Where is Scott?"

"He's gone to assess the situation. I'm manning Mobile Control until you guys get here. What's you ETA?"

"Twenty minutes."

"I'll let Scott know."

"FAB."

Gordon sat back in his chair and stretched luxuriously. "Thirty minutes … doesn't this big, green bug go any faster?"

"Do you want to get out and push?" Virgil asked archly.

Gordon grinned. "Hey, I'm not insulting your baby, Virg. I'm just eager to get to … where are we going again?"

"A coalmine in Cilybebyll, Wales."

"Sillybebil? What kind of a weird name is that?"

"It's Welsh, Gordon."

"Welsh? Who in the world speaks Welsh?"

"The 2.9 million people who live there?"

"2.9 million … how do you know something like that? What did you do – swallow an encyclopaedia?"

"I could have just made the figure up …"

Alan let his brothers' banter wash over him as he watched patches of English countryside flash past through the gaps in the clouds. Hearing Tin-Tin's voice over the radio had brought it all back to him – the inescapable mess that his stupid actions had caused.

He sighed and rubbed a hand fiercely across his eyes in an attempt to dissipate his gloomy mood. After all, Tin-Tin aside, he had a lot to be happy about. He'd finally finished the long, boring years of mandatory schooling that his father had required of him, even though returning to Wharton Academy after the incident with the Hood and having to act as if nothing had changed had been the hardest thing Alan had ever done.

It had been worth though. As had the difficulties his new position as a trainee Thunderbird had caused him during those final three years of schooling. Alan had never been particularly interested in schoolwork – what was the point when his marks would have no bearing on his future career? – but one of his dad's stipulations was that he had to maintain decent grades if he was to continue his training during the school holidays. Consequently, Alan had spent his final years in school working harder than he had done in the previous ten – something which had been an endless source of amusement for his older brothers, who were all convinced that he was going to fail. Alan had found their obvious doubt infuriating – he'd have like to have seen them try to balance a series of mathematical equation sat the same time as struggling to revise for a simulation exam on the intricacies of space-flight – but it had also provided him with an added incentive to make them eat their words by proving them all wrong.

And he had. And his brothers had been suitably impressed; although Gordon had jokingly suggested he'd paid Fermat to help him, Virgil and Scott had congratulated him but also worried that he was still too young …

But Alan hadn't cared. Because when it really mattered he'd been able to hand over a report card without cringing and his dad – the person whose opinion mattered the most – his dad had been proud of him.

And so here he was: a fully qualified, flight-worthy Thunderbird. A member of the world-famous International Rescue, risking his life to help those in need. Everything in his life was coming together; he had his whole future to look forward to as his dad endlessly reminded him. So why did he feel as if everything was on the verge of falling apart?

It couldn't just be this problem with Tin-Tin … could it? Surely she didn't mean that much to him, that the thought that he had ruined everything between them had made him feel so miserable?

Alan shook his head. His thoughts just kept chasing each other round and round in his head and it was beginning to make him feel slightly queasy. The last thing he needed was to be sick and then have to put up with Gordon's teasing for the rest of the journey. Better to think about nothing.

Alan pressed his face against the window and found that thinking about nothing was a lot harder than it sounded.

Tin-Tin wearily pushed a strand of hair out of her face. Her dark hair was pulled back tightly into a ponytail but as usual certain tendrils were determined to escape and plague her; tickling her nose and obscuring her vision. Not for the first time Tin-Tin considered how much easier having short hair would be.

Her eyes scanned the console of Mobile Control, noting which buttons were flashing and making sure that she had no incoming connections. She was currently in the process of updating those concerned with the status of the mission. Keeping everyone informed of the various stages of a rescue was an important job and Tin-Tin took it very seriously. However, standing behind Mobile Control she couldn't help smiling as she contacted Thunderbird 5 and the familiar face of John Tracy appeared on her screen.

"Thunderbird 5 receiving. Go ahead Tin-Tin."

"Scott's securing the area. First reports indicate that four of the eleven men have been recovered by the other mineworkers, but the remaining seven have been cut off by the fire. They're still trapped inside the mine. The local fire services have been doing their best but they can't get far enough into the mine to be of any real help."

"Thunderbird 2?"

"ETA ten minutes."

"FAB. Keep me informed and I'll pass the information on to the island. Thunderbird 5 out."

John's face faded from the screen but Tin-Tin found herself continuing to stare at the blank display. It was funny, but up until this moment she'd never noticed how much Alan looked like his older brother. They shared the blond hair and blue eyes that the rest of the Tracy family lacked, but there was even a similarity in their facial structures if you looked hard enough.

Alan … Tin-Tin frowned irritably. He was invading every area of her life at the moment. Even when she should have been concentrating on helping to save the lives of seven men, she couldn't stop every thought she had from coming back to Alan. It was insane; this was neither the time nor the place to be worrying about the situation with Alan. If she wasn't careful then she was going to start making mistakes – and she didn't think anyone would be particularly impressed if she tried to claim it was all Alan's fault for distracting her. No, she had to stop this. Now.

Tin-Tin shook herself and then prepared to contact Scott so that she could update him on Thunderbird 2's status.

Scott wiped the sweat from his forehead with one hand, leaving a streak of soot across his brow. Although he'd only been at the rescue-scene for twenty or so minutes, his fireproof suit was already blackened in places and one of the sleeves was torn where a grateful miner had gripped it too tightly. At least he managed to secure the scene; with the aid of the local firemen he had established a perimeter behind which the general public and various television companies were being kept away from the action.

Not that much was actually happening at the moment. Although Scott had entered the mine, he had quickly been forced back by the intensity of the fire before he had reached the lower levels. So he had retreated, bringing with him the four miners who had become disorientated by the smoke on the upper level. The knowledge that there were still people trapped below the surface preyed on Scott's mind but he knew there was nothing more he could do until Thunderbird 2 arrived and they could put the Firefly into action.

As if his thoughts had summoned it, the vast green cargo plane emerged from amongst the low lying clouds and circled the scene of the accident, looking for an appropriate landing site. Scott shielded his eyes against the sudden glare of the sun and watched as Virgil expertly lowered the large craft, bringing her down gently to rest alongside Thunderbird 1 in the open moor-land near to the mine.

As Scott trotted closer, Thunderbird 2 rose up on its hydraulic legs, depositing one of her many pods on the ground as she did so. Scott knew without having to ask that the Firefly was inside and sure enough, the pod doors opened and the fire-fighting machine trundled down the ramp.

A short time later, two figures descended from the main body of Thunderbird 2. They were already dressed in their protective fireproof clothing, although like Scott, both held their headgear in their hands. Because of this Scott was able to scan their faces as they came closer, hurrying past the Firefly. What he saw troubled him; while Gordon looked focused, Alan looked anything but.

In fact, he wore a most un-Alan-like expression on his face. Normally his youngest brother was bouncing on the balls of his feet, over-flowing with eagerness, at the beginning of a rescue. Today however he looked drawn and tired, and the blank expression he was exhibiting was a sure sign that his mind was elsewhere.

Scott sighed inwardly. The last thing he needed today was to have to deal with an absent-minded Alan.

"What's the situation?" Gordon asked after Scott had reached them and any pleasantries had been exchanged.

"There are seven men trapped somewhere on the lower levels of the mine. They might be together, they might be in smaller groups or the might be on their own – we just don't know at the moment. Now I managed to clear the top level of the mine but the fire prevented me from going any further."

"Which is where the Firefly comes in," Gordon concluded.

Scott nodded. "Exactly." He lifted his headset so that the internal microphone was next to his mouth. "Virg, I want you to take her down and clear a path through the fire for us. I'm not sure you'll be able to put it out completely but you should be able to control it while we get the rest of the miners out."

"FAB." The Firefly began to make its way towards the mine and the remaining three Tracy brothers turned and jogged after it.

"As for the rest of us," Scott continued, "We're going to work at getting the miners out. Gordon and I will take the lower levels and Alan, you'll take the upper one. When we find the miners one of us will bring them up to you. It'll be your job to get them out of the mine and to the first aid area. Understand?"

While Gordon nodded easily and pulled his helmet on in preparation, Alan looked disgruntled. "I'm not a kid, Scott. I have done this before."

"And I haven't got the time to put up with your interruptions," Scott said sharply. "Every second counts. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," Alan muttered sullenly, pulling on his own helmet before Scott could pull him up on his distinct lack of respect.

Following in the Firefly's wake, Gordon thought longingly of the ocean. While this was by no means the first fire-rescue he'd taken part in, it was one of the hottest. And with the added threat of another of the lamps exploding, it was also one of the more dangerous. Not that danger bothered Gordon – he just hated being so hot. He was perspiring so much that the surface of his facemask was starting to fog up.

Gordon swung his flashlight to the left so that it illuminated the side of the mineshaft. On his right Scott did the same, their torches looking for any sign of life.

"Nothing here." Scott's words sounded in Gordon's headset. His voice reflected the same frustration Gordon felt. They'd been strategically working their way through the mine for a good ten minutes now and still hadn't found any sign of the missing miners. The chance of finding any of them alive was becoming more and more unlikely.

"I've got nothing as well," Gordon reported, playing his beam of light along the wall.

"Scott, I've reached the third level but the fire's getting worse," Virgil spoke from the Firefly. "I'm going to have to stop for a bit."

"FAB. Just get it clear as fast as you can. And keep your eyes peeled for any of the miners."

"Will do."

Gordon's light moved slowly down the tunnel, when something caught his attention and he paused, looking back.

His eyes widened. "Scott – there's a passageway here."

Scott's beam joined his and moved around the opening, defining it.

"Check it out," his brother ordered, "but stay in radio contact and for God's sake don't get lost!"

Gordon shook his head at that last comment. Scott tended to get very short-tempered and blunt on missions – it led to some very interesting confrontations between him and the equally hot-tempered Alan. Gordon, on the other hand, merely grinned at his brother and moved into the tunnel.

Gripping his flashlight tightly in one gloved hand, Gordon proceeded down the dark tunnel. His progress was painfully slow – he had to check every inch of his surroundings – and the restrictive nature of his breathing apparatus made it even more arduous.

Yet it seemed that luck was on International Rescue's side because just when he was about to abandon his exploration, the light from his torch passed over a figure on the ground.

"Scott, I've found one!" he called excitedly, bending down beside the man and pulling off one of his gloves. He pressed his fingers against the miner's soot-coated neck and was rewarded with a paint pulse. "And he's alive!"

"Any visible injuries?"

With the aid of the torchlight, Gordon inspected the man closely. "Not that I can see. I think the smoke must have gotten to him."

"Alright, get him up to the surface. I'll let Alan know you're coming."

Alan was glad to see his brother emerging out of the darkness – and not just because of the miner Gordon was carrying. It meant that rather than standing around like a spare part, he actually had something to do for a change. Even if it was only helping the injured man outside it was better than nothing.

"Hey,Squirt."

Alan ignored Gordon's words and hurried forward, wrapping the miner's free arm around his shoulders and making sure he had a good grip on the unconscious man.

"I've got to go back. Will you be alright on your own?"

Alan's irritation flared. "I think I can manage to get him to the mine entrance without you holding my hand, Gordon."

"I was talking about supporting his weight, not your competence." Alan heard the exasperation in his brother's voice.

He flushed. "Sorry. And yes, I'll be fine."

"Good. I'll see you later."

"FAB."

When Gordon headed back down into the mine and Alan was forced to support the whole weight of the man, he realised what his brother meant. This miner was heavy; he was a big man with a thatch of dark hair that was barely distinguishable from his soot-stained face. His hands were the same size as Alan's shoes and the young man shuddered to think how much muscle was hiding under the miner's singed uniform.

"Come on," he grunted, heaving the man along towards the daylight shining through the entrance to the mine. It took a lot of effort but after several minutes of sweating he stumbled out into the sunlight, the miner still slumped against him.

Tin-Tin was there like a shot, momentarily abandoning her post as Mobile Control. Under her efficient direction, the local fire chief helped Alan to carry the man to one of the waiting ambulances, where the paramedics were quick to start assessing his condition.

Alan wanted to stay so that he could find out how the man was doing but he knew he had to return to the mine in case one of his brothers needed him. The headset frequencies only worked at certain distances and if he was outside of the mine then there was a chance he wouldn't hear any contact that was made – especially considering he had momentarily moved his headgear to preserve his clean air supply.

"He's going to be okay."

Tin-Tin's voice startled him. She had moved up beside him while he had been watching the paramedics stabilising the miner. Alan looked across at her and found that she was watching him, her pretty face tense. It was only then that he realised they were the first words either of them had spoken to one another since he'd kissed her.

Alan opened his mouth to reply but he couldn't think of anything to say other than, "I'd better go back." He toyed with the helmet in his hands rather than looking at her.

Tin-Tin's expression darkened slightly. "I suppose you better had," she said coolly, giving Alan the distinct impression that he'd said the wrong thing.

Alan wavered, torn between asking her what he'd done and returning to the mine. In the end he opted for the latter – after all, it was what he was supposed to be doing. Not to mention that it didn't require him to try and sift through his turbulent Tin-Tin-related emotions.

Tin-Tin watched angrily as Alan Tracy turned and walked back towards the mine without a backwards glance. She had just made peaceful overtures towards him, had given him the perfect opening, and all he'd said was he had to go back to the damn mine. She knew Alan took his work seriously but that was ridiculous! It wouldn't have taken him more than a few seconds to say something,anything, appropriate in return.

Scowling, Tin-Tin turned back to Mobile Control. Although she tried not to, thanks to the direction in which the portable control centre was facing she couldn't help watching as Alan reached the entrance of the mine. He paused and, reaching back over his shoulder, carefully reattached his oxygen tank to the headset in his hands, presumably switching the pump back on as he did so.

In the next instant, everything changed. It was like she was watching it all in slow motion. Alan was on the threshold of the mine when a deep rumbling sound burst out of its depths. He froze in the process of putting his helmet back on and levelled his flashlight, directing the thin beam into the depths of the mineshaft. Then his hand rose up in front of his face and had Tin-Tin been able to see his expression she would have noted that his eyes widened in horror.

"Alan," she whispered as a sudden chill of premonition swept through her. "Alan, get –"

In the next instant, the earth gave a shuddering scream and a huge cloud of dust, rubble and pieces of timber burst out of the mine. Alan was engulfed in the blast, disappearing from Tin-Tin's vision as the ground began to shake. Screams of "Naeargryn! Earthquake!" reached her ears as she clung to Mobile Control, fighting to maintain her balance. Her heart was racing, her eyes were watering from all the dust and soot in the air and she felt sick with fear as they searched for any sign of Alan.

When she finally spotted him she abandoned Mobile Control without a second thought and threw herself across the trembling ground, desperate to reach him.

The force of the blast had thrown Alan a good five metres back from the entrance to the mine. He was lying on his side; his arms and legs sprawled carelessly about his person and his eyes closed.

He looked peaceful – almost like he was sleeping. It was only when she drew close enough to see the blood trickling steadily down the right hand side of his face that Tin-Tin knew something was seriously wrong.