Chapter 6: Uninformed
Scott was in Hell. He wanted desperately to be with his brother, with his family. He got all his news secondhand, relayed from Tracy Island, first by Grandma, then Kyrano, and finally from Father, back in his usual place in the command center. It was, for the most part, good news: Virgil had survived the trip to the hospital—albeit barely, survived surgery. His father and Gordon had saved the people on the submarine. But even though the news was good, it was a poor substitute for being there with them. He needed to see Virgil, see that he was really still alive. "It's been almost a day, is that normal?" he was asking. Virgil still hadn't woken up, which was all the more reason he should be there and not stuck up here in space.
"The doctor assures me he's not in a coma," his father said. "He's just giving his body time to recover. She said this is a normal response. Don't worry, Son."
"Don't worry?" Scott demanded, then sighed and scrubbed his hand across his face, remembering whom he was talking to. "Sorry, Dad. I don't mean to snap at you. It's just that I feel so helpless out here."
"I know, Scott, I know," his father said soothingly. "Believe me. Any word yet from John?"
Well, maybe changing the subject would be the best thing. At least for a few minutes, he could avoid thinking about Virgil. "Nothing since I last reported, Father. They're still trying to pull the rocket back up out of the atmosphere." John had radioed in an hour ago to report that they had reached Saturn. The rocket they were trying to save was trapped in the atmosphere, but hadn't yet fallen into the planet. The people on board had managed to use their one remaining thruster to keep something resembling an orbit, although they were still spiraling inward. Brains and Tin-Tin were working to set up a Sky Hook to grapple it up out of the planet's atmosphere. So far the maneuver had been tricky. They were using untested methods, mostly products of Brains' vast intellect, and things were bound to go wrong or be more complicate than anticipated. Scott didn't expect to hear from them again for at least a few more hours.
"Well, let me know as soon as you hear," his father said, and signed off. As if Scott wouldn't tell him when they were done with their mission, he thought sourly. But his father hadn't meant anything by what he said. Of course he had confidence in his sons. He was just worried about another son, no doubt. Scott was a little concerned as well, but there seemed to be little danger to John, Tin-Tin, and Brains.
Scott sank back in his seat. Nothing to do now but wait. He hated waiting. Also, his leg was killing him, although he had seen no point in sharing that with his father. The pills that the doctor had given him worked to take the edge off, but as long as he used them as directed (that would be two every four to six hours), he wasn't supposed to operate heavy machinery. Considering he was currently responsible for a whole space station—the ultimate in heavy machinery, he figured taking the whole dose wasn't a good idea. He was taking half doses. It kept the pain manageable, provided he didn't move around much. The problem was, there was a lot of moving around he had to do. He got up every few hours to use the bathroom, forcing himself to get a glass of water while he was up. Then he had to hobble back to the control center carrying the glass. He couldn't face eating, and he hadn't tried to sleep. But he knew the importance of staying hydrated. He would be no good to anyone if he fainted from dehydration.
But other than that, the waiting. It gave his brain all kinds of time to dwell on all the really crappy things that had happened to them in the last week. First, being trapped, helpless. Now being isolated, helpless. Scott was noticing a pattern lately that he did not like. He really wanted to talk to somebody, but the problem was, the person he normally shared these kinds of things with—inasmuch as he ever shared feelings with anyone—was currently lying unconscious in a hospital bed—but not in a coma, he reminded himself. Just recovering. He would have considered talking to John, except that he was busy, and also didn't know what was going on. Scott thought again of how angry John would be. Well, there was no help for it now.
It was another three hours before he heard anything. "Thunderbird 3 to International Rescue," John hailed.
Normally the communication internal to a rescue would be handled by the command center on Tracy Island. In this case, though, Thunderbird 3 was so far out that only the strong instruments of Thunderbird 5 could receive her. Consequently, Scott had been handling information transfer between them and Tracy Island, and this call was for him, not for his father. "Go ahead, John," he said immediately, leaning forward.
"Mission accomplished," John said, appearing on the screen. He sounded and looked very happy. As well he should. It had been a tricky business.
"Great job!" Scott said. It had taken a surprisingly short amount of time, considering what they'd had to do. "How's the Saturn rocket?"
John chuckled. "Brains got to do a little space walk. She's not a hundred percent, but she'll make it back to Earth." Brains, visible with Tin-Tin in the background, shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the space walk. To the best of Scott's knowledge, he had never been out in space before. Well, he had been in Thunderbird 3 and 5, obviously. But that was in a spaceship. Out in space with nothing between you and a vacuum was quite another thing. Scott had taken a couple of space walks. He had to admit he kind of liked them.
"That's great, John," Scott said. "And Brains and Tin-Tin. You guys did great. Look, I—" he stopped. He had put it off as long as he could. This was the part he was dreading: telling them that Virgil had nearly died, a full day ago, and he hadn't told them. It caught in this throat.
"What is it?" John asked, face suddenly concerned.
"Look, I couldn't tell you before because you had to focus on the mission," he said, still not quite able to come out and say it.
"Something happened!" John exclaimed. "What happened? Are you ok?" He peered closely at the screen, no doubt looking Scott over for recent trauma. He wondered what he saw. Scott figured he was probably looking pretty haggard by now.
"I'm fine," Scott said. Relatively speaking, that was true.
"Virgil," John said. "What happened to Virgil?" Behind him, Tin-Tin gasped and put her hand in front of her mouth, looking horrified.
This sucked just as much as Scott was afraid it would. "Remember the storm we mentioned?" Scott said. John nodded. "Well, Kyrano went out to batten down the hatches, and got into trouble. Virgil went to help him."
"He's not—" John started to say, but couldn't finish. Tin-Tin came forward to rest a hand on John's shoulder, and Brains leaned closer.
"He's alive!" Scott assured them hurriedly, suddenly realizing how this was sounding. "The doctor says he'll be fine."
"But…"
"But he fell and reinjured his abdomen. He had to go in for surgery again."
"He's going to be ok?" John asked, needing to hear it again, no doubt.
Here was the tricky part. Since Virgil hadn't regained consciousness yet, they didn't actually know for certain that he would be ok, despite the doctor's guarded optimism. "He'll be ok," he said anyway.
"You should have told us right away," Tin-Tin said accusingly, frowning at him. "When did this happen?"
Scott squeezed his eyes shut. "About a day ago," he said, and waited for the storm.
"A DAY ago? And you're just now getting around to telling us?" John demanded, sounding outraged. "Scott, what were you thinking?"
Scott sighed and opened his eyes to three angry faces. "I was thinking you needed to focus on the mission. I know you're all angry. I don't blame you. But if I'd told you, a day ago, that Virgil needed immediate medical attention, what would you have done?"
"What do you mean?" John asked.
"You would have wanted to rush right home, right? Even though you were several hours out, and couldn't possibly have gotten to him before he got to the hospital."
"Well, we—"
"So what would you have done? Either you would have come back and let the people in the rocket die—and I really don't think you would have—or you would have gone on, but been worried and distracted, thereby slowing down the rescue."
John was silent for several minutes. He glared at Scott for a while, then looked away. But he didn't break the connection. In the background, Tin-Tin and Brains shifted uncomfortably. "I do see your point," he said finally. "Look, Scott…I can't speak for Tin-Tin and Brains, but there's something you're forgetting about me, big brother. I'm almost always in a situation where I think one of my brothers is going to die, and I can't help them. It's the major disadvantages of being the Space Monitor so much of the time. I could have handled it. You should have told me."
Scott hadn't even thought of that. "So when Virg and I were trapped underground—"
"I was going out of my mind, Scott! My God! You must know how that feels, because I'm sure you've been dealing with a similar feeling for the last day. But the point is, I can do my job and worry about my brothers at the same time. I really hope you remember that the next time you decide to keep me in the dark about something like this!"
Scott chewed on that for a bit. "I'm sorry," he said. "I had no right not to tell you."
"That goes for us too," Tin-Tin said. "Virgil is our family too, Scott. You all are. We would have liked to have known." Brains nodded agreement.
"I'm sorry," Scott said again. "God forbid we ever find ourselves in a similar situation, but next time I won't keep anything back."
"Good," John said, sounding somewhat mollified. "Now. It'll be a day before we get back to you, and then we can all go see how Virgil's doing. We're heading back right away."
"Yeah," said Scott, hoping his brother would have woken up by then.
"What is it?" John asked, apparently noting something in Scott's tone. "There's something else you're not telling us, isn't there?"
Scott winced at the return of the accusing tone. Well, he had promised not to keep them in the dark. He took a breath, and told him everything. He told him about the need to choose between saving the people in the submarine and saving Virgil, about Alan's decision, and even about how he himself would have done the same thing. "It ended up ok for the submarine crew," he finished.
"Poor Alan," Tin-Tin said into the silence.
"It's a hell of a decision to make," John said. "And Scott, maybe it is better that you didn't share that while it was happening. It would have been a terrible temptation to try to rush back and help, you're right. That was basically the reason you didn't tell us, isn't it?"
Scott nodded, feeling a little better by his words. John had apparently decided to forgive him. "Yeah, pretty much," he said.
"But he has not awakened since the surgery?" Tin-Tin asked.
"Well, no," Scott said. "But Father said Doctor Lowry told him it's to be expected, and not to worry yet."
"Then we won't worry," John said, although he didn't sound sincere, and Scott knew they would all be as worried as he was until his brother woke up. "Hang in there, Scott. We'll be there as soon as we can."
oOo
Alan sat miserably in the lounge. He desperately wanted to see Virgil, to see for himself that his brother was still alive. But since he had decided to take him to this hospital as International Rescue, he could never go there as Alan Tracy, brother of the patient. Which meant he had to rely on Gordon to tell him how things were going. Gordon, at least, didn't seem upset with him.
His father, on the other hand, hadn't said five words to Alan in the last day. Well, who could blame him? Not only had Alan disobeyed a direct order, twice, and put their security at risk by taking Virgil to the hospital in Thunderbird 2, but he had also put his father and Gordon in danger by leaving, not to mention abandoning the people in the sub. International Rescue was never supposed to do that. Gordon had told him later that Father had smoothed things over by telling the people—who were wondering why the big green plane had left—that it was needed elsewhere for another rescue.
Alan had returned as soon as he could, and with a rare bit of luck, had actually arrived just in time to pick up Gordon and Pod 4. As soon as the pod was safely stowed, and Gordon was in the cockpit with him, their father had taken off in Thunderbird 1, radioing briefly to let International Rescue know they were off. He hadn't said anything to Alan.
"I know what you're thinking, and he doesn't hate you," Gordon had said. "He's just worried about Virgil, as we all are."
They had discussed that for a while. Alan had dropped Gordon off surreptitiously near Lady Penelope's estate and then gone back to Tracy Island. When he arrived his father was waiting for him, Kyrano and Grandma with him. "You're in charge here until we get back," he told Alan, and then they left. They got to go to the hospital and see Virgil, and Alan had been stuck on the island. With lots of time to think about what was happening.
The first thing he did was radio Scott and fill him in on any detail he could think of. Uncharacteristically, Scott hadn't asked Alan how he was or been at all big-brotherly. Well, that was understandable, since he was worried about Virgil. But Alan had really needed someone to talk to.
Later, Father and Kyrano had come back, leaving Grandma and Gordon in the hospital. His father had unceremoniously taken back over at the command center. Alan didn't even try to talk to him. He was afraid of what he would say. Instead he found out from Kyrano how his brother was doing. Then he had spent the next day avoiding his father.
That was about to change, though. His father unexpectedly walked in and headed straight for Alan, giving him no time to exit unobserved. "Hello, Alan," he said, and sat down on the other end of the couch.
"Father," Alan said. Well, no use putting off the inevitable any longer.
"Son, we have to talk about what happened yesterday," his father said.
"I know, Father," he said, unsuccessfully trying to gauge how angry his father was. The thing was, he didn't look angry at all.
His father shifted, and Alan could have sworn he looked nervous. But that was impossible. The great Jeff Tracy, at a loss for words? That was unthinkable. "I'm sorry that I—" Alan started, but his father held up a hand, cutting him off.
"I have something to say first, Alan," he said. "I know that you understand the sacrifices and risks that we take as International Rescue. Furthermore, I'm sure you understand the need to strictly obey orders. It's the only way that rescues can be quickly and efficiently carried out."
"I know that, but I—"
"Let me finish, please, Alan. That being said, it's equally important for everyone in a mission to understand what's happening in the big picture, and acting according to what is best for everyone. Alan, I know you understood the big picture. I do not believe that you would have left if either your brother, myself, or the people in the submarine had been in any immediate danger. You gauged the situation, and took the course of action necessary to save everyone, despite my order to the contrary." He stopped to draw breath, but Alan didn't feel like interrupting this time. "Son, you made the right call. I did not. You saved Virgil's life, and you didn't jeopardize anything other than our image. I was wrong."
Alan gaped, open-mouthed. His father had just admitted to being wrong. He never thought he would live long enough for that. He waited, but his father didn't seem to have anything else to add. "So you're not mad, then," Alan said lamely.
His father laughed bitterly. "Sure I am, Alan. But at myself, not at you. I was so focused on the rescue at hand that I didn't stop to consider that we could have postponed it, that Virgil was more urgent."
"What makes you think that I was thinking about the big picture?" Alan asked, playing devil's advocate despite himself.
His father looked at him steadily. "Weren't you?"
Alan wasn't so sure, actually. He had been desperate to save his brother. But then he remembered that when the news started to come in, he was actively discharging passengers. If he hadn't at least been thinking about them a little, he would have taken off with strangers aboard. "Yes, I guess I was," he said.
His father smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good! Now, I know you're frustrated about being stuck here and not able to see Virgil, but that was the right call too."
"I love you, Dad," Alan said impulsively. He realized that it had been years since he had said that.
"I know," his father said gruffly. "I love you too. I love all of you. I should say it more often." He cleared his throat. "Well, I'm off to see Virgil. I should be back tonight. You're in charge of the command center until I return."
And just like that, the conversation was closed. Alan felt immeasurably better, though. "Right, Father," he agreed, unfolding himself from the couch to go man his post.