"Ned Cook?" Alan demanded incredulously, a scornful edge to his voice. "Since when have you been…like that?" Scott looked skyward, willing his eyes to stay dry. He really couldn't face this now. Not after the rescue. It was all right for Alan, he'd been warm and dry in the satellite all night. Mind you, he hadn't had the dinner Scott had just had. That thought, silly as it was, buoyed Scott up a little, but all he wanted was to switch off the comms link and enjoy a peaceful trip back to base. However, it was clear that Alan wasn't going to let him.
"Since when?"
"I don't know. I didn't know. It just…well it is. That's all. Does it really matter Alan?" Alan snorted,
"Heck no. You want to do that, you go ahead. So long as I don't have to think about it. But Ned Cook? Honestly Scott, how can you like THAT?"
"What do you mean Alan?" Scott asked quietly. He knew the objections, hell, he'd been through them often enough with himself, but he couldn't believe his brother could be so callous, and while he was grateful that he didn't have to fight Alan about his sexuality, he would have preferred a rather less dismissive point of view.
"He's an idiot. And dangerous. You know what Dad thinks of him. Gordon's right, it's no wonder he was mad at you." In his mind's eye, Scott could picture Alan, slouched in Thunderbird Five's control chair, probably hovering himself all round the monitoring room. He could see the tight pair of furrows between his eyes, the angry patches of red that erupted on his cheeks whenever he flared up like this.
"You don't know him Alan. And that's not what Dad was mad about anyway. Not really. He's angry with me because I guess I haven't got the guts to go with my feelings. I want Ned to come to the island because I don't get to see him enough otherwise, but I can't persuade my rational self that it's safe. Instinct tells me to trust him, but my stupid brain won't go with it, so I won't stand up to Dad. I guess he's not really happy about me being that way anyway, and anything I do wrong is just magnified right now."
"Why should you trust him? He's a lunatic, he gets in trouble all the time, he's obsessive about filming us, getting a story out of everything…" Alan's voice was whiney, childish; being stuck in space didn't suit him, it only emphasised his youth as he got more and more frustrated with being left out of the action back on Earth. He was as professional as any of them on a job, but this reaction…well, it was only what Scott should have expected, he told himself.
"Correction Alan, he was. He's not now. I mean, he's still looking for a story everywhere, but he understands about us now. He's just irresponsible, like you can be sometimes…" That was below the belt and Scott regretted it as soon as he had said it. Okay, it was true enough, but in a different way to the way Alan was bound to take it.
"You're comparing me to that crazy idiot? Dad's right, you've lost it." Scott closed his eyes. This wasn't what he wanted at all. He wanted to be able to land his craft, get Alan into the cockpit and have a face to face talk, but obviously, that wasn't possible.
"No Alan. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I just meant that you don't know him, and the things he does that look really bad aren't actually that bad. He's just thoughtless sometimes, doesn't think things through properly, maybe doesn't consider other people's feelings as much as he should when he's on a job. But he's alright. He's different when he's not chasing a story."
"And how did you find out?" Asked Alan, sounding petulant.
"I…well I just got stuck in a cave with him when I was really tired and unable to think straight. He…he came on a bit strong and I couldn't fight him. By the time you turned up, I don't know, I guess I'd had time to find out what he was really like. Look, I know it's not the best thing to find out about your brother, but give me a chance. I don't want to fall out with you. Don't judge Ned till you've met him. That's all I'm asking."
"How can I meet him if Dad won't let him on the island? I can't believe you Scott. If you're going to be difficult and turn out gay, you could at least pick someone decent to go out with." Scott rolled his eyes and shook his head, scratching his hair,
"ALAN! I suggest you shut up now. I really, really want to still be on good terms with you by the time I get home, but you're treading a fine line. Give Ned a chance. Say what you like about me, but take my word that you need to stop prejudging him now. If you want to moan, moan towards Virgil. He seems to have all the answers. He can probably give you better reasons than me for all this. Now, when are you going to reopen that line to Base?"
"Now I guess. You will cover for me won't you? I mean, you're not that mad at me are you?" Scott paused, letting him stew for a while before answering,
"Sure I'll cover for you. You're a Tracy aren't you? Just you remember it." He paused again, he felt dreadful, he couldn't leave things like this,
"Hell, I'm sorry Alan. I didn't mean to bawl you out, but I'm having enough problems with this whole thing, without having you on my neck. I sprung it on you, I know. It wasn't really fair, but you did ask. Just leave it alone. You can come and have a yell at me when you get back from your tour of duty. Okay?" Alan actually laughed; in his head, Scott saw the frown lines fade and the gentle boyish features return,
"Sure Scott. I'm sorry too. Never argue with a man you can't see face to face, that's what Grandma says, and she's right…"
"As always." Scott added. "Reopen that channel then."
"FAB. I'll leave this channel too, I might need you to back me up" Said Alan. Scott waited a moment while Alan fiddled with the panel up in Thunderbird Five. He felt a rush of pride in his brother: yes, he could be hot-headed, but handle him well and he could cool off so fast and with such grace… he heard him call,
"Space station calling base, come…"
"Alan, what happened?" Jeff's voice cut him off.
"We had a loose connection up here Father. I'm sorry it took so long, but I couldn't find the source for a while, then I found that some of the others were loose too and I tightened them up while I was there so we didn't have another blackout. I guess that debris that hit last week must have shaken it more than we thought." Scott grinned at his brother's capacity for lying himself out of trouble. His father sounded fairly convinced,
"Is it all checked out now?"
"Yep. I've been round all the affected circuits and we're sound now. I've checked in with Scott and Virgil and they've been fine. They're on their way back, you'll be able to get them now."
"Okay Alan. I'll talk to you again later, we can't afford blackouts like that, we've been frantic down here. I'm going to talk to Brains, see if we can't get some sort of backup. What did you hear of the rescue?"
"I listened until they'd just decided what they were going to do, then I lost contact."
"They've been on their own for the whole rescue? Hell." Jeff banged his fist on the desk. "Okay. I'll call the others for their position. Well done for fixing it Alan. Out." There was a long pause, then Scott heard his direct comms link to base and drew in a breath. He got the feeling his father would check up on that outage. He could be just a little suspicious of his youngest son at times.
"Base to Thunderbird One, come in Scott."
"Loud and clear Father, am I glad to be back in touch."
"How long have you been out of touch with Alan?"
"A few hours I guess. We were preparing to start the main rescue attempt when we lost contact with him. Luckily our short-range circuits were unaffected. Do you know what it was? I heard some crackling before it happened." Scott felt that a little embroidery couldn't harm Alan's cause.
"Alan says he had a loose connection. I don't know. Brains says it's an unlikely thing to happen and it shouldn't have taken so long to find, but Alan said he repaired some others that were becoming loose. However, that's something to sort out later. Where are you?"
"Not far from home now Father, ETA approximately four minutes."
"Virgil's calling, debrief in the lounge as soon as you've landed."
"FAB." Scott flicked off the link and puffed out his cheeks in relief; at least his father was talking to him fairly civilly.
The island was ahead, a dot in the distance. As he came closer, he eased off on the controls, bringing his Thunderbird round in a wide arc to slow her to a hover over the main complex. The pool was already sliding back as he pushed evenly on the two main controls and the craft pivoted in the air till it was vertical. As he felt the familiar swoop in his stomach of the horizontal jets loosing their anti-gravitational thrust, he kicked in the main jets in his tail and felt the comforting bump and bounce of opposing jet-thrust that let him down into the launch bay as softly as if he had landed on a deflating bouncy castle.
As Thunderbird One was carried on the trolley back up to her hangar, Scott changed out of his uniform top. He had intended to arrive in the lounge wearing civvies, but the flight back had further swollen his wrenched ankle and he couldn't get it out of his boot. He dragged himself onto the walkway, clinging to the rail for support and emerged into the lounge, dangling from the fittings. His Father looked up briefly from his desk,
"Hmph." He said, not unkindly, and pointed to the couch. Scott glanced over at him and gingerly let go of the wall. His leg crumpled under him as he tried to put weight on it, and he grabbed for the fittings again, his face screwed up in pain. The wall span round at his grasp, still unlocked from his return, and he heard his father's mystified 'Scott?" as he left the room again. He clenched his hands once more and span back into the room. His father was looking at his whirling son with some interest. Scott curled the corner of his mouth in a half-smile,
"I've twisted my ankle or something. Can't walk on it." His father's eye's widened, Scott knew the flurry of calculations of recovery times and probabilities of him being needed on a rescue that were speeding through his father's head as he stood up and came over.
Pulling Scott's right arm around his shoulders, Jeff took his weight as he hopped over to the couch.
"Let's get your boots off." He knelt in front of his son, gripping the heel of the offending boot. Scott felt about five again; far distant memories of having his red rubber boots briskly pulled off by his mother at the end of a walk in the mud. It didn't make him feel any better as a bolt of pain fired up his leg. He winced and involuntarily pulled his leg away. His father looked into his eyes as he pulled off the other boot. What was he looking for? Weakness?
Brains came back into the room and looked at the scene,
"E-everything o-okay?" he asked.
"You'd better take a look at this ankle after the debrief Brains, Scott thinks it's just twisted, but I want you to check. How did it happen Scott?"
"It was right at the end, I had to wrap a rope round to steady myself and I got thrown off balance. I'll explain when I tell you the rest." Jeff pursed his lips disapprovingly, it sounded avoidable from where he was, but he'd wait. He'd promised himself that he'd keep calm and focus on normality. He certainly didn't want a repeat of the earlier scene. If he'd only known, he would have called Scott to his room, where he could close the door and get a bit of privacy. Still, no point looking back.
"Okay. I want to know everything, as soon as your brothers get back."
Out of the great windows that looked out to sea, Scott could see Thunderbird Two on her final approach, slowing towards a majestic halt, out of sight down on the runway.
"Five minutes later the soft hum of machinery preceded the arrival of the passenger lift and Virgil, John and Gordon. They had all changed out of their uniforms and they came to sit with Scott in front of their father.
"How's your foot Scott?" Asked Virgil.
"Swelled up on the flight back, Dad had to get my boots off for me. Brains is going to check it over for me in a minute. It'll be alright."
"Okay, that's enough." Said Jeff, "I want to know exactly what went on out there." Scott started to explain the details of the rescue, first their arrival and an outline of the situation, then the failed line attempts.
"You lost two lines? They must have been your best chance. How did it happen that you lost them both?"
"I couldn't get close enough. I tried, it was bad luck really that they caught on things, otherwise I would have reeled them in and tried again. Honestly Sir, I did everything I could think of to make them successful."
"He did Father." Virgil affirmed, "Thunderbird One could get in a lot closer than Two, but the wind was just so strong and unpredictable, the lines were too thin to resist. The rope only worked because it was heavy enough as a coil to fly fairly straight."
"The rope? Go on then Scott."
Scott explained the idea he'd had and its execution. His father's face was growing redder as he listened, it was clear that he was using every ounce of willpower to keep himself from interrupting. When Scott eventually finished, relating how he had hurt his ankle and got back into Thunderbird One and away from the building, Jeff stood up. He could not stay seated.
"You should never have done it Scott. Why didn't you tell me what you meant to do?"
"We were cut off." Gordon said indignantly, best acting skills to the fore.
"I heard you'd decided what to do by the time you were cut off. I didn't get a single update after John called in to say you'd arrived. A plan like that…it was foolhardy. Thunderbird One is not built as a climbing frame. Those wings are her weakest point under flexion. At the very least, she should have been flown by a competent pilot." Scott cut across,
"Gordon flew her perfectly, he did a fantastic job."
"We went through this at the time Father, "Virgil added, "Scott didn't want to put anyone else's life on the line with his plan, and Gordon was the only other available, and he's not up to that sort of work, you know he isn't."
"It was a dangerous plan. The whole craft might have been thrown off balance and crashed, it would have killed you all if it exploded."
"But it didn't." Scott said, quietly. "We saved every person in that building Father. How else were we meant to do it? I asked the others at the time and they couldn't think of anything, so we went with my idea. It was so important to decide quickly."
"You should have asked me. I'd never have let you do it."
"What would you have suggested?"
"I don't know, I'd have to think about it. You'd have to tell me more about the conditions."
"Exactly! There wasn't the time I knew you'd need. By the time you had an idea, we'd have lost every last one of those kids. By the end, Gordon was holding up the building. You always say that the risk is part of the job. Well, we took the risk. It's too late now, but it paid off."
"It was stupid. There's risk and there's risk. You hazarded all your lives and Thunderbird One, our means of rescuing people, when the result was unlikely to be good."
"I can't believe this." Virgil was on his feet. "Father, you are contradicting everything you usually tell us. Lives before machinery; other people's lives, especially children's, before our own; take the only option left, even if it's dangerous, rather than abandon them. What's different about today? I know what's different. You're mad at Scott, and I know why, and I don't think it's fair, and I don't think it's right, and I know that if you weren't so incapable of backing down, you'd be patting Scott on the back and telling him what a great job he'd done and well done for taking the risk and saving those kids, because that's what we're here for. We could have kept you informed, but Scott knew that today you wouldn't trust his judgement, and he was right. If he'd told you and got an order back, we'd have flown home miserable, no lives saved. I don't care if you're mad at me now, I won't have you persecuting Scott. Either tell him he can or can't have Ned here outright, or leave him be and stop imagining this great change in him, because only you can see it, and it's only a reflection. Excuse me." Virgil left the room. Jeff was left with his hands on his desk, fuming. He took a breath and muttered,
"Debrief over, go and get that wretched foot sorted out, then go to bed."
John and Gordon were sitting petrified on either side of Scott, seemingly unable to move. Scott could hear Gordon's breath coming through tight nostrils, uneven and shaky. He patted John on the knee,
"Help me walk?" He asked very quietly. John nodded silently, Brains was already on his way across the room, eyes wide behind his glasses. Together they heaved Scott up from the couch and with an arm round each of their shoulders, he swung out of the lounge and down the corridor. Gordon ran past them, heading for the pool.
In the medical area, Brains examined Scott's foot while John paced up and down, not saying a word. At length, Brains spoke,
"W-well, i-it appears to be just a very bad twist, though I-I think you've, er, torn the muscle slightly. There's a p-possible hairline fracture, b-but it's p-pretty hard to tell, your feet are such a-a mess of old s-scars." Scott grinned back as Brains raised his eyebrows, smirking slightly as he bound up the foot,
"I-I suggest you k-keep off it for a couple of weeks, s-see how it, er, feels."
"Thanks Brains." Said Scott, "Can I have some crutches? I don't want to spend the next few weeks waiting to be carried around." John looked up,
"You're sounding pretty happy with things." Scott shot him a look,
"I've got to be. Wait." Brains looked from one to the other,
"D-don't mind me. I-if you want m-my opinion, I-I would say A-Alan should have tried something a little more, uh, convincing. Your Father only j-just believes him. I started to t-tell him it was i-impossible, before I realised what m-might be going on. I b-backtracked a little for you, b-but I'm afraid I-I'm not a very good er, liar." The other two stared at him,
"You lied for us?"
"S-sure John. I guessed something was up, though I still don't know what. M-Mr Tracy's been very agitated lately and I was s-sure you wouldn't want it m-made worse."
"It's impossible for those connections to come loose?"
"Absolutely Scott. The, er, main circuitry for the connection with base is made up of er, sealed modules, each welded into place. Th-there are no joints to loosen. They blow very occasionally, but it u-usually means sending up a replacement part"
"Does Dad know that?"
"In theory, yes. But I think I convinced him o-otherwise, for the moment. I-if he checks, I-I'm afraid I can't help you."
"Didn't you know that John?"
"I knew, but I was hoping it wouldn't come up. Dad didn't take too big a part in the designs for that area. I fitted a lot of the circuitry for the link with Brains. You never did that bit, did you Scott?" Scott shook his head,
"I worked mostly on the monitoring circuits, so did Alan. They're all joints and bits of looped wire. Probably because we built them." He gave a facial shrug. "Well, I'm going to go and check on Virgil, see if I can sort out this mess I've got him into. Thanks Brains." Brains handed him a pair of crutches and Scott hopped off down the corridor, as confident as he was on two feet: well, you don't get scarred foot-bones like that without learning some useful skills…
As he opened the door to Virgil's room, the sounds of outside carried from the open window. Regular rough splashes revealed that Gordon was thrashing his problems out in the pool as always: fast regular lengths. That so much splashing could be heard suggested that he was not in the best of moods. At his best, he could barely be heard as he sliced through the water in perfect lines.
Virgil was not in his room, but on the balcony outside, leaning his rough chin on his hands and the railing. Scott leant next to him, leaning his crutches against the rail. His brother turned his head, twitching the corners of his mouth in greeting.
"How's the foot?"
"Might be a crack in it, but probably just a bit stretched. You alright?"
"Mmph. I'm going to go and talk to Dad in a minute. I just needed to cool off a bit first." He paused, rubbing his stubbly chin on his knuckles. "Better shave too." Again, the twitch. "I'm sorry Scott. I don't think I helped your cause very much. I just couldn't let him say that. I love Dad, but he can be so pig-headed sometimes. He's worse than Alan. How did Alan take it by the way?"
"Not so well, but I think I talked him round a bit. At least, he was happier by the time he called off. Same opinion as Dad I guess: not so much what as who."
"Gordon's alright. I told him not to hassle you. I said you had enough problems. But I think he genuinely doesn't…well, I don't think it means anything to him. But he won't tease you for the hell of it now." He pushed himself up and went back into the room. Scott grabbed his crutches and followed. While Virgil shaved, Scott sat on the bed, pulling at the covers. The false cheeriness he had assumed for Brains' benefit had all leaked away now and he was glad to be with Virgil, who knew.
"Thanks for sticking up for me Virg."
"No pwoh'bum." Virgil replied, his mouth screwed to one side.
"You're not to let him get at you for it. It's my fault, not yours." He waited while Virgil finished, rubbing at his own chin which also needed seeing to. As Virgil patted off his face, Scott asked,
"Have you seen Grandma? Only she must be pretty confused. I bet Dad hasn't explained that little scene to her. Brains doesn't know what's going on."
"No. Haven't seen her. We'd better sort this out soon Scott. It's wretched for everyone."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"It's not you. Full stop. I'm going to see Dad now. Want a game later? I'll probably need it after this."
"Sure. I'm going to shave and take a nap, I forgot I didn't sleep last night. Wake me for lunch if I'm not up?" Virgil nodded and left the room.
Virgil walked quickly to the lounge, his face set. His father was not there. Returning quickly along the corridor, he came to a door and knocked,
"Who is it?"
"Virgil. I want to talk to you. Please." A pause, then the door was unlocked and opened. Virgil stepped inside and his father shut the door behind him.
Jeff looked tired. He went back to his chair and sank into it as if he would never get out of it again. Virgil stood in front of him, ignoring the chair to his left.
"Father, I wanted to apologise for earlier. I should never have said that, particularly not in front of the others." Jeff shook his head. Virgil went on, "But I had to say something. It, it wasn't fair, what you said. I know it's not my place to say, this is largely between you and Scott, but I know you don't like being opposed to him. He's out there doing his damned best for you, and you…I'm not blind Dad, I could tell you were proud of us all out there, don't deny it, I could see it clearly. You've just given your opinion once and you're not willing to lose face by backing off. I…I'm sorry." Virgil looked at his father whose gaze had sunk to his lap, and sat down at last. Jeff looked up again,
"Finished?" He asked, without a trace of emotion. Virgil nodded guiltily, "Right. Okay, I was proud of you today, for what you achieved. I won't deny it. But I still think the way it was done was stupid. Okay, maybe it was the only way, and maybe on another day I'd have okayed it, but I think the way it was handled was not good. I'm going to talk to Scott, he should have told me, he knows that. If you're all going to be in that much danger, I need to know. I'm not convinced about the space station, I guess Brains was trying to cover for Alan, but I'm pretty sure that sort of fault is not possible with the circuits we installed. If I'm right then Alan lied to me, probably under direct or implied orders from Scott or you. I don't like to think my boys are lying to me, no matter what the reason. Scott knows why I'm not happy with him at the moment and I guess he's told you, since you said you knew. You need to understand that this is not a case of being bull-headed, Virgil, this is a case of a father trying to do what's best for his son. I know it may not look like it, but Scott needs to make up his own mind on this. If he can make a decision, I'll forget that any of this ever happened; if he can't, I don't see how I could change my mind now. I've stated my position, that's how it is. You know that. It's just the same as 'time for bed' or 'no TV till your homework is done' when you were younger. I'll forget you said anything. I understand your point of view, but the answer is no. Go and get some sleep. That's what I'm going to do." Virgil nodded,
"Okay Dad. Take it easy." He left the room, feeling little better than he had when he went in, and went back to his own room. Scott was still there, lying fast asleep on the bed. His crutches dangled from his arms as if he had started to leave before sleep overtook him, and he was still unshaven. Virgil pulled away the crutches, threw a spare blanket over his legs, placed a pillow under his head and pulled the chair over to rest his feet on so he wouldn't strain his back. Scott did not stir as Virgil left the room and went to catch some sleep in Scott's bed.
"Ready?" Virgil asked as Scott came into the lounge. Lunch was over, Jeff had gone to check over supplies inventories with Brains and Gordon was back in the pool with Tin-Tin, floating on lilos till their lunch went down and they could continue the tenth match in a 'best of thirty-one' aquatic ball game tournament they'd invented.
"Blue, please." Scott said. Virgil took the blue, yellow and pink pieces out of the Risk box,
"You are so predictable." He said, laughing as he started to deal the cards.
"I am? Yellow and Pink? Talk about predictable. I take it John's playing?"
"It could just as well be the dummy."
"Except that you always play the dummy as black. Where is he?"
"On his way. He was just calling up to Alan for the latest reports on his asteroid." Scott grinned. The cheeriness on both sides was slightly forced, but it felt better than moping around. It felt more Tracyish. John came in, arms swinging happily, Scott looked up,
"How's the asteroid?"
"Still there, it's following a perfect ellipse still, constant velocity, slight change in magnitude. Alan thinks it's got a really slow spin on it. I think maybe it was in collision with something, that's why it's turned up now. I can't wait to get back and look for myself." Scott and Virgil looked at each other, eyebrows jumping; neither of them could quite share John's enthusiasm, but his good mood was infectious.
"Great." Said Virgil, "You're pink." They laid out their pieces.
"How did it go with Dad?" Scott asked Virgil as they threw to start.
"Depends who you are. I'm not in trouble, which I guess is a good thing. Neither are you really, any more. I think he's hoping it will blow over without him having to do anything. He's not backing down and he still managed to make me feel bad about suggesting he should. He's gong to have a chat with you later about the advisability of telling him when we're about to die. It's up to you. If I could persuade you to not be Scott, we'd be laughing. I'm going to attack Brazil with two from Argentina." Scott screwed up his nose. He only had two in Brazil.
"I knew I'd get it in the neck for that. Do you think he's right?" Virgil threw a six and a one, Scott threw a five and a two,
"One each!" Said John triumphantly, being a believer in long, drawn out games,
"What? That we shouldn't have done it? No. He doesn't even think he's right. You'd never get him to admit it though. Brazil with three from Peru." They threw and Scott's tiny Brazilian force fell to the might of three little pieces of yellow plastic.
Two and half hours later, the board was frighteningly pink. John sat back in his chair, a satisfied smirk on his face, drawing himself extra tokens on bits of paper, as Virgil and Scott frantically tried to maintain their grip on Asia and South America.
"That's a five." John said lazily as Scott tried to get him to exchange a piece for a five and three ones in response to a battle he had just lost.
"Well, it should be a ten, you gave it to me as part of that bundle earlier when I actually had armies, and they were all meant to be tens. I counted them."
"Do you believe him Virgil?" Asked John,
"No, but better humour him. He's going to lose anyway."
"You reckon?" Asked Scott, determinedly. John nodded violently and handed him the pieces he'd asked for. By the middle of John's go, Scott was out, his remaining blue pieces swept dramatically aside into the Atlantic.
"Okay, so you were right. Well, I'd love to stay and draw out more pieces for John, but I'm just in time to catch a programme I rather want to see, so if you'll excuse me…" As he left the room, John was launching a surprise attack around the back of the board on Virgil's poorly defended Kamchatka.
The door closed. Virgil picked up the blue dice and looked at his watch.
"The Ned Cook Show." He said, and looked up at John. John nodded and threw three sixes,
"How are we going to sort this out? I wouldn't usually interfere, but this is stupid." Said John. Virgil put down the un-thrown dice and cleared his troops from the far east of Asia,
"I had an idea, tell me what you think. I was wondering, even if Dad's being idiotic about not letting Scott have leave still, it's his birthday coming up, you'll be back on duty by then, but maybe that will force Dad to let one of us go with Scott to the mainland like we always do. If we did, I could arrange for Ned to meet us there. Sure, Scott wouldn't get to spend much time alone with him, if I know Dad he'll be checking we're together the whole time, but I was thinking: if I called Dad while we were there, told him we were bringing Ned back to the island and that it was entirely my idea, nothing to do with Scott, we might get a result."
"He'll still go crazy at Scott, or you."
"He won't. Not at Scott, I'll make sure of it. I'm not even going to tell Scott my plan, well, I'll tell him we're meeting Ned, but not the other bit. I'll tell Ned, obviously, but not Scott. What he doesn't know, he can't be blamed for, and he can't stop me doing."
"Dad'll stop you doing it. How do you think forcing him is going to make him change his mind?"
"He won't be able to stop me. What's he going to do? Forbid us to land on the island? Come on John, he couldn't do a thing. Okay, maybe it will be a bit awkward, it doesn't solve the problem of Scott not having the resolve to do it himself, but it does force Dad to meet Ned and gets over that initial hurdle. I'm willing to take what I get for it." John was pointing out countries, attacking and winning. With one final flourish, he replaced Virgil's final piece with a rather elegant drawing of a spinning pink asteroid with 'five' marked beneath it. "You with me?" Asked Virgil.
"If you really think it'll work, sure. I'm not convinced it will, but I don't want to come back next month and find things are still like this."
"Right. I'll call Ned and tell him. I guess he'll have to fit it in around his work, but I get the idea he can get a bit of flexibility. Well played, John. I will thrash you next time." John rolled his tongue around his mouth.
"Yeah, sure Virgil. I'm going to go and catch the end of the show, take a look at what it is we're missing here." He left Virgil to pack up the game and went to find Scott. He was in his room, door open, sitting on the end of the bed, watching the small television, set into the wall. His face was unreadable, but he didn't notice John come in. He jumped slightly as he sat down next him,
"Oh! Hi John. Achieved world domination?"
"Yep. I left Virgil licking his wounds. What are you watching?"
"The Ned Cook Show." Said Scott, looking straight at the screen. His voice was steady, but it was clear that this was a mixed pleasure. The current item finished and Ned bounded back into view. All the time he was on screen, Scott was immobile, seemingly terrified of showing any emotion. John sat next to him, looking for what it was that Scott liked so much. Just occasionally, he could see it, blazing through as the camera pulled away from Ned, a split-second as he heard something through his earpiece or let his mind wander for a second while everyone was concentrating on an act. Now the show was coming to and end, Ned was doing his final piece to camera, Scott's hands were gripping his knees,
"Well folks, that wraps it up for tonight's show. It's been fab to present you with such a great programme. Here's Ned's little tip of the week, for all you guys and gals out there who have a birthday coming up soon: don't make everyone guess, tell them what you want. The world has enough novelty socks; this year, make a stand for good presents. That's a message I've had from several people, and is especially to buck up ST. I guess you know who you are. And with that, Ladies and Gentlemen, Goodnight." Rapturous applause, a stare straight into camera that turned Scott vaguely red, and the credits rolled.
"ST?" John asked, eyebrows raised.
"Okay, I know. So I'm already getting told off on international TV. I should never have told him it was coming up." John caught his eye and winked,
"Does it make you feel better? Watching him?"
"I guess so. Maybe not. Sometimes it doesn't feel real any more, can you understand that?"
"Sure. You talk to him plenty though?"
"Nearly every day. But you know what that's like well enough. Somehow it's not the same, and it doesn't necessarily leave you feeling all that good. Oh heck, it doesn't matter to you. It would be better if Dad would let me go and see him though."
"Hmm." John looked pensive, "Virgil's going to try to arrange for you to meet up with Ned for dinner when you're over on the mainland for your birthday. If one of us goes with you, Father has to let you go."
"Good idea." Said Scott distractedly, his mind clearly still back with the show. John noted the manner, it was so unlike Scott to answer anything without careful consideration.
"I'll tell him you like the idea." He got up and left Scott sitting on the bed.
Virgil waited as the connection to Ned's studio was made. He had managed to get the number after a lot of persuasion on his part that he should make the arrangements rather than Scott. A woman answered and he spoke,
"Would it be possible to speak to Ned Cook Please?"
"Who is it calling?"
"Scott's brother." He thought this was probably the best answer to gain access to the famed reporter/presenter.
"I'll see if he's available, hold please." Virgil waited as the hold music cut in. He thought it sounded vaguely familiar, but it took him a while to work out that it was piece he played regularly on the piano. The removal of every nuance of feeling or rhythm had rendered it almost unrecognisable. Mercifully, the call was soon reopened, the woman was back,
"He'll take it in his office, putting you through." A click and a pause, then Ned's voice,
"Hello? Who is that?"
"It's Virgil, Scott's brother."
"Oh. Right, um, is everything okay?"
"Yes, nothing's wrong." Virgil hastened to reassure him, "It was just, with Scott's birthday coming up, I was wondering if it would be okay with you to meet up for dinner or something. If you're free that is."
"Sure. But I, um, I thought your father wouldn't let him have leave?" Ned's voice had a note of dejection in it,
"He's been a bit difficult, yes. But we always come to the mainland for birthdays, always. A couple of us will have to come and stick with Scott, but if we don't tell Dad we're meeting you, he can't very well say no."
"Fourth of April. I'm meant to record the show that day, but I could rearrange it. Unless you come along? I don't really want to have to explain to the whole team that I've changed their hours, so how about you come and watch the show, or come along after if you don't want to watch. Then we can get a meal afterwards. I'd say come earlier, but rehearsals and all that are a real bore. You can have a tour afterwards."
"Okay, we'll come and see it. Scott's not likely to want to miss it. Look, there's another thing. This is an absolute secret from Scott, you must not tell him."
"What?"
"What are you doing the day after the show?"
"Nothing I can't cancel. Why?"
"I was wondering, would you be able to come back to base with us?"
"What? Hey buddy, Scott would be in so much trouble, I couldn't…"
"No, I'm going to call ahead and make sure I get all the blame. I know the problem, I'm living with it. Scott and my father are as bad as each other and you are never going to get that invite unless it's from me or John. I'll take the rap, I just need to get you there. Once you've arrived, Dad can at least talk to you. It'll be too late, security-wise. If we tell Scott he'll force us not to, because he's Scott. It's a little underhand, but I'm not living like this for the next however many years, it's like living on a volcano. What do you say?"
"I'll do it if you promise Scott's not going to take any blame for it."
"I promise."
"Okay, you're on. I'll put seats aside for you. How many?"
"Three. It'll probably be me and Gordon with him. John will be back up in Space and Alan…Alan tends to get the short straw. He'll get it this time because he's the one most likely to blow things."
"Right, three seats it is. Uh, thanks bud, this means a lot. Just so as you know if I forget to mention it again, I'm really grateful." Virgil's eyebrows hit the roof. This guy was okay. He really was. Hell, of course he was, Scott loved him.
"Oh… No problem. We'll just turn up then?"
"Yep, I'll leave the tickets at the box office. Say you're Scott's party as guests of Ned Cook and they'll let you in. Do you want me to get us a reservation for dinner somewhere?"
"Sure, if you know somewhere."
"Right. See you on the fourth then. Doors open at about four-thirty, show starts around five, then it's as long as it takes, though we try to do it in one take as far as possible. I'll send someone to fetch you back afterwards, so stay put till they find you."
"Okay. See you then. Bye Ned."
"See you Virgil." The call ended and Virgil got up. As he walked past his father's office, he could hear the faint sounds of an argument inside. It seemed that Jeff had finally cornered his eldest son about the communication problem. He walked on to the lounge, sat at the piano and played. The rendition was a thousand times removed from its hold-music counterpart, and Virgil stared into space, lost in thought.
A couple of weeks had gone by, John was back up on the space station and Alan was home. The first day or two had been a little tense. He had definitely avoided meeting Scott alone when he might get roped into a discussion about his views, but after a while his natural gregariousness took over and Scott was careful not to say anything that might rouse his brother's hot temper once more.
Tonight, however, was going shake Alan's good mood.
It was the third of April and when the four brothers were sat in the lounge relaxing, their father at his desk as usual, Scott noticed that he was getting looks from Virgil and John that said, 'Ahem! Now Scott, ask him.'
"Father…"
"Yes, Scott."
"Will it be alright for me to go to the mainland tomorrow for my birthday as usual, if nothing turns up on the rescue front."
"Where do you want to go?"
"Just out for dinner somewhere. A nightclub afterwards maybe? I don't know. Just a bit of fun." Jeff pursed his lips. He really didn't have an excuse to stop Scott going. In fact, he found he didn't want to stop him going. But a warning bell still sounded in his head, unbidden.
"You'll be going with your brothers of course? I want you all to stick together at all times. No wandering off. If you need to get back here quickly because of an emergency call, I don't want you separated to start with." This was nothing to do with it of course. They all had their comms watches and they'd always be as far from their transport as the person who had gone furthest, but it sounded reasonable.
"Sure Dad."
"Who's staying behind? I'm not having you all traipsing off, someone's got to be here for the rapid response. Alan, you'd better not go." Scott would have covered his ears at this point, if it had been polite, though inwardly he was sighing with relief. Alan was definitely not the person he wanted along to have dinner with Ned Cook. He'd probably misconstrue something and knock the poor guy out. He was very glad his father had made the decision for him.
"Why is it always me?" Alan's whine achieved siren levels, firing round the room with the effectiveness of an ambulance in a cul-de-sac at night. His father winced and looked at him with irritation. It is you Alan. You're the second rapid response pilot. It's Scott's birthday, otherwise he'd take his turn. It's also you, until you learn that you get plenty of time out when the others stay here, and it is not appropriate behaviour to moan about it." Alan got up, beaten, and flounced off to his room.
"You may go with Virgil and Gordon, Scott, but I want you all back here before morning, I don't want you staying out overnight, it's too risky. Are you going in the jets?"
"Tin-Tin said we could borrow Ladybird and Virgil's going to take the JT."
"Okay. What time will you leave?"
"Sometime in the morning, if that's okay. We'll get in a bit of sightseeing too."
"Right. I'm trusting you to behave yourselves. Don't let me down." Virgil shot a look at John, neither Scott nor their father noticed.
Getting from the airstrip into town had been easy. They had soon located the studio building and had a few hours to spare wandering around the shops and museums. Gordon bought Scott a new pair of shades, having failed to come up with anything else to get him for his birthday. At four-thirty, they entered the studio building, got their tickets and were shown to their seats, on the end of a row, towards the back of the block of seating. The warm-up rolled over Scott in a cloud of unimportance, while his brothers laughed heartily at the tried and tested jokes being fired from the stage. Then the producer explained how things worked before the title music played and Ned bounded on. Time performed that funny little trick that makes you question its constancy, and although every second of the show stamped its mark in Scott's brain, it seemed barely a count of ten before he was applauding its conclusion with the others; Gordon whooping and whistling beside him, Virgil clapping more soberly, but still smiling broadly, while Scott smiled, and clapped, and felt his mouth go dry.
The audience was clearing, but as requested, the three of them stayed where they were. As the last people waited in the aisle to leave, a girl in her early twenties, with unruly blonde hair and two clipboards came up to them,
"You Scott's party?"
"That's right." Answered Scott, unsticking his throat.
"Great! I'm Mandy. If you'll come with me, Ned says to show you straight to his dressing room. He said you could go right in, but maybe the other two guys would like a tour first?"
"Sure. Love to." Said Virgil quickly, before Gordon could speak.
"Okay. Great! Follow me, I'll drop you off at Ned's room, and then I'll show you two round. I guess you've seen it before have you?" She asked Scott. He shook his head. She smiled, caught out for a second,
"Oh…Well, he must need to speak to you urgently I guess. I expect he'll show you round later." She stopped outside a door with Ned's name printed on a piece of card that had clearly been stuck there for some time. "Here we are." She knocked. There was no answer. She pushed the door and it opened. Poking her head around the door, she looked round. Then she turned back to Scott. "I think he's in the bathroom. You go right on in, he'll be with you in a minute. I'll show these guys round and bring them back here in a while. Okay?" Scott nodded. "Great!" She said, and swept off, pulling Virgil and Gordon in her wake.
Scott entered the room. The door closed behind him and he smelt the scent of Ned in the air. He closed his eyes, breathing the smell that told his brain about rightness and contentment and…
There was a hand on his shoulder, feeling like a conduit of comfort; the feeling flowed out of it, ran across his back, up into his head, soothing and calming. Then there was another, a soft touch, snaking under his arm and sliding warm and firm to the centre of his back. The tip of his big toe felt the nudge of another foot through the shoe.
More contact.
A length of warm thigh through two layers of sliding material,
the tender grip of arm round upper body,
elbow crooking as if it were made to fit just round Scott's ribs.
Then the hot glow of abdomen,
beating heart,
steady breaths,
the heat of the studio still radiating back out,
the rhythms of living flesh pressed against Scott's thin top, resonating with his own.
Neck touching neck,
grip on shoulder tightening.
His own hands finding the ridges and curves of clothed back, just damp with the heat.
Pulling tighter,
eyes closed,
nose buried in short hair behind an ear.
Pulling tighter.
His brain was singing with heat and belonging and the importance of the moment. Now cannot end. Keep your eyes closed. It lasts for just this long.
And he knew he must stop and he eased his grip, but there was no reciprocal easing, an imperceptible tightening if anything.
And he gripped once more.
His father's voice was calling far away in his head. Something about duty, something about behaving like a man, like an officer, like a…and he pushed it away.
Cheek on sweating neck, which moved, till lips were by his ear and touched the soft skin just there,
soft,
harder,
harder,
almost a kiss,
but so, so important, that it was something else.
And there was no logic left.
No reason to feel like this with something so relatively new and untried.
Being hugged after having his red rubber boots pulled off after a walk in the mud. Playing over and over in the blackness behind his eyelids.
But now he would have to give up, he was falling, his sense of balance and position lost in the darkness of panic-shut eyes.
His grip loosened,
he opened his eyes.
Reflex caused Ned to do the same. Steady breaths as eyes met eyes for the first time that day, and held as tight as the hands still resting on back and waist. Ned blinked slowly, and grinned.
"Enjoy the show?"
Scott nodded and grinned back,
"Boy, I've missed you." He said. A beat. Then a mischievous twinkle crept into Scott's eyes,
"Did you book a table for dinner? I could eat a horse."