It's been a while...
When I first started writing Thunderbirds stories it was partly as an escape when things weren't going so well, but sometimes there's no escape from real life. Many of the ANs at the start of chapters have referred to my father's ill-health. You can probably guess, due to the length of time in updating this story, that the news isn't good. My father, who was a wonderful, wonderful man, died just before Christmas after six weeks in hospital in which I learned more than I ever wanted to know about emergency treatment, intensive care units and palliative care. I'll always associate this story with the worst time of my life, but I'm determined that it's going to be finished.
This chapter is more of a catch-up, but the next chapter is coming along and, all being well, will be up soon.
Ruth Tracy had had more than her share of troubles in her long life. Oh yes, she thought, as she began preparing coffee for the few remaining inhabitants of Tracy Island, she had a lot to be thankful for, more than most people, in fact. Her much-loved son was a hugely successful man, she had five wonderful grandsons, all of whom had made her proud over the years, and she was seeing out her days in the luxury of a tropical island villa, the heat of the sun doing her rheumatism more good than any medicine a doctor could prescribe - and she'd seen the best of them over the years. To the world at large, she had nothing to worry about beyond the usual uncertainties of advancing years, even if she'd had to face tragedy over the years: the struggle to bear a living child, the loss of her husband at far too young an age, and of course, the grief she'd felt at the death of her daughter-in-law, the misery all the greater as she'd witnessed the pain her son and grandsons had had to endure. But they'd survived and, more than that, thrived, almost as if the fates were doing their utmost to compensate for their cruelty in depriving them of Lucy.
No, to many of her Kansas contemporaries, Ruth was the object of envy, a woman without a care in the world. But the truth was, of course, very different, and right now, the woman was more anxious than she'd been for a long while.
When Jeff had sat her down and tentatively outlined his plans for a top-secret rescue organisation, she'd bitten back her initial retort that the whole thing was ridiculous and heard him out, understanding that this, like so many of his other undertakings, was his way of dealing with the grief and guilt that had plagued him since the death of his wife. He hadn't been able to save Lucy but maybe he could save others, stop them from experiencing the misery that had nearly broken him. Ruth understood that. She also understood that this kind of thing was in Jeff's nature. He'd inherited the calm self-control and practicality that she and his father had shared, but he was still only part down-to-earth Kansas farmboy. The other part of him - possibly the greater part - was an adventurer and a dreamer. It was what had taken him to the moon, after all. But despite the ruthlessness he could display when striving to achieve a goal, he was, underneath it all, a kind, generous man who would do anything to help those who needed it. She took more pride in that than in all his other achievements.
And so she'd supported him in what would be his greatest undertaking, only speaking out when it became clear that it was going to impact on her grandsons' lives too. She hadn't been surprised when they'd come on board - after all, they were more like their father than their mother in many ways - and she was deeply, deeply proud of them. But she still regretted all the things they were missing out on, isolated as they were on Tracy Island. More than that, she worried about the stress they endured - both physically and emotionally. Oh yes, being part of International Rescue was exciting and glamorous - more often than not her boys would return from some mission dirty and tired and completely hyped-up on adrenaline, laughing and joking as they told her about some horrendously dangerous feat of bravery one or the other had carried out. They all celebrated the successes. But there were the other times when they'd failed, when they'd arrived too late or found that even their advanced machinery wasn't enough. Then they'd trail quietly across the lounge from their respective hangars, shoulders slumped and eyes dulled by misery.
Then there were the injuries... She was more familiar with the small infirmary on Tracy Island than she'd ever wanted to be. She hated it when her boys were hurt. She'd thought her days of dealing with such things were long gone - that the next cuts and scrapes she would tend would belong to her great-grandchildren. But no, she was still putting her grandsons back together, or, worse, watching as more skilled medical practitioners did their job.
No, if her friends back in Kansas knew the stress she was under at times, they wouldn't envy her in the slightest.
And now... How had it come to this? She still couldn't believe what had befallen the family over the last few days. Less than a week ago she'd still harboured hopes - albeit ever fainter ones - of Scott and Lady Penelope coming to an understanding. Oh, she didn't approve in the slightest of the ...incident... between them, but even so, she was fond of Penny and Scott would make any woman a wonderful husband. But no, her stubborn grandson had refused to even talk to her about the matter and, as much as she liked Penny, she certainly wasn't on such intimate terms with her as to be able to broach the subject. Well, the woman had made her choice. Lord Simon Warrington-Farr wasn't the kind of man she'd have expected the aristocrat to choose over Scott, not physically, at least, but then he was her social equal and it seemed that in the end, that was what had mattered to Penny, especially now that the woman seemed to have lost her nerve and given up the secret agent game.
Well, it had been a lovely wedding. Quite spectacular, really. Of course, it was made even better by the fact that her own grandson was involved, playing a magnificent grand piano in Westminster Abbey of all places. Ruth had rarely been so proud. She supposed she should have known it wouldn't have ended well - things rarely did for her family. But for Virgil to be in this situation... Kidnapped by the same gang who had taken Penny, Simon and the others, suspected by the police of masterminding the crime of the century if not the millennium, and now, when he was safe and sound with Scott, having turned the tables nicely on his captors, to be preparing to go off with their final, most dangerous enemy, a woman who was out to destroy International Rescue as well as her family... Ruth didn't like it. This Sahara woman had nearly killed Virgil once before and she hated to think what she had planned for Scott if she got her hands on him. Oh, it was all very well for the others to tell her that there was no choice, that if they wanted to get Penny back and have some chance of salvaging International Rescue, Virgil would have to pretend to be under her control, to go off with her all alone and face who-knew-what, once again relying on Scott to keep track of him and swoop in to save the day. She didn't like it - and she knew no one else did, either.
As if worrying about Virgil, Scott and Penny wasn't enough, she was almost as worried about Jeff. Thousands of miles away in London, playing the part of the bewildered and furious father, throwing his weight around in a way that might befit a multi-billionaire used to getting his own way but which was in reality totally alien to the man, he was too isolated for Ruth's liking. This Sahara woman wanted him to give up the plans for Thunderbird Four, something which, if Jeff was forced to comply, would give away the identity of International Rescue once and for all. Ruth still hoped they could save themselves. After all, no one had confirmed anything yet - poor Alan was doing his best up on Thunderbird Five to laugh off the accusations, but the young man was sounding ever more desperate. If only it had been John up there. He had a far more devious streak than his youngest brother. Ruth thought he'd have enjoyed the challenge, and if anyone could have persuaded Sahara she was wrong, it would be him. But no, John was here on Tracy Island, though by the look in his eye, he wasn't sitting around doing nothing. No, Ruth knew that look. John had a plan. When she'd last spoken to him he'd been deep in conversation with Brains, something technical that she hadn't been able to comprehend, and he hadn't enlightened her, simply accepting the coffee she'd brought with barely an acknowledgement. Ruth hadn't minded. She could see he was trying to work out something and she prayed that whatever it was, it worked.
Brains was a worry too, of course. She'd felt so sorry for the shy young man who Virgil and John had taken to so strongly when they'd first met him. Even if part of her regretted that it had been his genius that had allowed Jeff to turn his dreams into a reality, she'd done her best to bring him out of himself and make him feel part of the family. Sending him away to the new Atlantic base with Parker wouldn't normally have concerned her, but Parker wasn't himself and she couldn't help but worry that the man would have another of his turns and that Brains would be the victim this time. Mind control, indeed! She'd have laughed at such a thing if she hadn't seen Parker's actions for herself.
She shook her head as she poured the coffee, wondering if right now, some scanning device was monitoring her. The thought chilled her and she prayed that her boys could stop Sahara before a call came in for International Rescue.
Which brought her back to Virgil. He'd assured her he'd be alright, that everything would work out just fine.
She'd heard that one before...