Scott lost track of time as he kissed Ned, happiness surging through him as he ignored the nagging little voice in the back of his head that said, 'you've got to go home in a few hours, it ain't gonna last buddy…'. In moments, it seemed, there was a knock at the door and when Ned called 'come in', a blonde whirlwind entered, closely followed by Virgil and Gordon, both looking slightly shell-shocked. She smiled cheerily at Ned, nodded to Scott, then put her hand on the door to exit,
"I gave these guys a tour Ned I'm off now see you next week yeah?"
"Right Mandy. Thanks. Have a good weekend."
"I will, see you guys bye." She flew from the room, shutting the door behind her. Ned laughed at the looks on Virgil and Gordon's faces,
"Good tour? She's an er, interesting guide, isn't she?" Virgil allowed his eyes to close a little, so that the whites were no longer visible all the way round,
"She's pretty energetic. Is she always that enthusiastic?"
"Oh yes. Good to have on the team, works really hard. And you won't catch anyone being miserable round her. Could possibly do with using 'Great' less often…"
"Oh, I don't know. I only heard it about fifty times…"
"She's amazing." Piped up Gordon, "What I'd give for energy like that on my team…"
"Right Gordon. Shame you work with such a lethargic bunch of colleagues huh?" Scott tried for biting sarcasm, but he was just too happy and it came out rather comically. He batted away any reply with his hand and turned to Ned,
"Well, did you book that table?"
"Sure. One birthday boy table on me at Mr Edward's in…three-quarters of an hour." Scott's face fell and he looked at his watch. "I'd give you your present now, but I don't have it. I had to order and it didn't arrive. I'm sorry." Virgil sat down and looked at Ned,
"I'd have waited till he had his dinner in front of him before I told him that."
"I don't like to keep people waiting. I'm sorry, but the show can take longer to do than this, I didn't want to book too early and miss our slot. It'll take twenty minutes to get there anyway. Want the Ned Cook Show tour while you're waiting? I know you two have already had one tour, but you might actually see something, long enough for it to register if I take you round, and Scott hasn't seen it."
"Yeah, it was a bit whistle-stop." Said Virgil.
"It was okay." Said Gordon.
Ned took them round the studio. He showed them the scenery dock, the cameras, the sound and lighting set-ups and the corridor lined with photos of some of the acts and stories he'd had on the show. After about twenty minutes, he brought them back to his dressing room.
"You alright Scott? You look like you're limping a bit?"
"Oh, it's fine, I twisted it badly on a rescue a couple of weeks back. I only got off the crutches a couple of days ago."
"You wouldn't have coped so well on Mandy's tour. She went four times the speed." Said Virgil.
"She's a busy girl. I enjoyed her tour." Said Gordon. Virgil looked at him hard, but Gordon was gazing at the photos on Ned's dressing table. A few famous faces peered out from behind the mirror, a face in the top left could easily be a member of his family, judging by the features, and down in the bottom right was a photo of Scott. It was tiny, Gordon recognised it as having been cut off one of the smaller copies of the latest Christmas family portrait. Trust Scott, he thought to himself: complete lack of vanity, plus irrational objection to having his photo taken, equalled very few photos of him lying around. He always looked vaguely uncomfortable in the portraits his father commissioned from time to time. In fact, the best photos Gordon reckoned you could get of Scott were stills off the little camera that recorded cockpit activity for Thunderbird One's black box. But Scott wouldn't have thought of that when asked for a photo.
"Shall we go then?" Asked Ned, moving to the door.
"Yes." Said Scott firmly, and looked meaningfully at Ned as his stomach rumbled loudly.
They walked to the restaurant and were seated immediately. Dinner was a happy, carefree affair, Scott and Ned still on the high of being together again, Virgil happy to see his brother back on track and Gordon mysteriously thrilled with everything.
As Scott polished off the last of his second dessert: an apple pie which, he announced, would perhaps almost make it, if presented in the right way, to almost the level of greatness of Grandma's home-cooked version; he sat back in his chair and sighed,
"That was a delicious dinner. Thanks Ned."
"My pleasure entirely. So, what do you guys want to do now?"
"Well, I'm going to the bathroom before I do anything else." Said Virgil, and he got up and walked over to the door in the corner of the restaurant which showed a rather elaborate 'Gents' sign with a line drawing of an Edwardian Gentleman in a tailcoat and top-hat. The others lapsed naturally into a comfortable, post-prandial sort of silence, Gordon making origami shapes with his napkin that fell to bits as he lifted them into the air. Ned's foot was nudging gently at the side of Scott's leg, and Scott was almost asleep, half wishing he had held back on that second pudding.
In the toilets, Virgil checked that all the cubicles were empty and that no-one was on their way in, before nipping into a cubicle and locking the door. He brought his wrist close to his face.
"Calling International Rescue." He said softly. There was a pause, then his watch flicked into life,
"Go ahead Virgil." Said his father, "What's up?" Virgil squirmed uncomfortably on the cold, hard lid of the toilet. He didn't really want to do this, but it was the only way he could think of.
"I just wanted to let you know that I made a decision. It's entirely my own idea, at this moment Scott knows absolutely nothing about it, because I know he'd stop me if he did. That's why I'm calling from a toilet cubicle."
"What are you talking about Virgil?" His father sounded confused, but guarded, as if he suspected…
"I'm bringing Ned Cook back to the island with us when we come home later."
"No Virgil. You are not."
"Sorry Father. I arranged for us to meet him for dinner and told him my plan. His first answer was no, because he knew Scott would get into trouble over it. That's why I'm doing it."
"Virgil, you are not bringing him here, that's an order." Virgil drew a deep breath. He had really been hoping his father wouldn't say that. It was so deeply ingrained in him not to disobey a direct order, that to do so was almost unthinkable. Almost.
"Okay. Put me down for a court martial next week, because I have to ignore that order. If you knew how hard it is for me to do that, you'd get an idea of how strongly I feel about this." Virgil stopped. He could see his father pacing in and out of his view. But he didn't seem to be quite as angry as Virgil had expected. His voice was still calm, if a little tense when he spoke,
"I forbid it. However, as you are no doubt aware, there is very little I can currently do to stop you, short of forbidding you permission to land, and I have no doubt you will return with too little fuel to allow me to reasonably do that. I will be expecting a full explanation of this behaviour when you return. I will consider what to do with you and any unwanted visitors at that point. I am disappointed in you Virgil. Over and out." The line was cut and Virgil sat with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. His throat was dry and he felt vaguely nauseous. What would his father do? He could not remember any time when any of them had disobeyed a direct order so shamelessly to his face. They never disobeyed direct orders, it simply wasn't an option. But the others would wonder where he was. He got up, flushed the toilet out of habit, washed his hands and went back to the table.
"D'yuh…" He swallowed, trying to get some moisture back into his throat, "Do you want to go home now, or do something else first?" Scott looked at him, horrified,
"I'm not going home yet Virg. I've had barely two and a half hours with Ned."
"Um…" Said Ned, looking to Virgil for a cue, Virgil nodded and spoke again,
"Scott, I just called Dad, we're going to take Ned back to base with us." Scott froze. A completely incomprehensible mishmash of emotions and queries were suddenly speeding through his head. It was the most incredible birthday present, just what he'd wanted, but it filled him with a dread fear worse than any he'd ever experienced during a rescue. He looked straight into Virgil's eyes,
"Dad said yes?" Virgil looked away. He could not lie to Scott, not after the insubordination he'd just pulled on his father.
"Not exactly. But he knows it's nothing to do with you."
Scott's stomach was turning over and over. Now he definitely wished he'd given the apple pie a miss. How could he refuse something he wanted so much when the man it involved was right next to him, when he could feel the ache of wanting tonight to go on and on? But how could he accept, knowing that his father would consider it the most grave offence, knowing that his brother would be in terrible trouble, that Ned would probably be whisked straight back off the island, as soon as the plane refuelled, and that even if his father bent enough to allow Ned on the island, it would be at the expense of some of his pride in backing down on the conditions he had set for that privilege? Scott simply could not bring himself to be the one to hurt that pride. It was what made his father great, if a little overbearing on occasion.
"Virgil, we can't." He almost whispered.
"Yep. That's what I knew you'd say, which is why it's already decided. It's nothing to do with you at this point. I'm sorry if it upsets the end of your birthday a little bit, but I think it's worth it. We'll give it a go. I think it might work. If it doesn't, you're no worse off than you were before, and I'm…well, I'm on slop-out duty for the next six months, but I'd rather that than continue to live in this atmosphere any longer."
Scott sat back in his chair, playing with the tablecloth with fidgeting fingers. He looked round at Ned and wished with his entire being that this was easy, that he wasn't being pulled painfully in two different directions. Somewhere in the most instinctive part of his brain, there was a Scott in an air-force uniform, standing smartly to attention, with no intention of ever disobeying any orders. That Scott was not very happy with off-duty Scott right now. A bawling-out was heading fast in off-duty Scott's direction. And he knew he deserved it. But what could he do? He certainly couldn't stop Virgil, he knew that from experience. His brother may be pretty quiet, gentle and artistic, but Scott knew to his cost that he could also be one of the most determined people you would ever meet.
"I can't condone this. Sorry Ned, but I can't, not if Dad doesn't agree."
"I know. That's why it is entirely my fault that Ned's coming with us and why I called Dad to make sure he knew it. Come on, let's go. I get the feeling you don't want to go anywhere else now?"
"Right." Scott stood up. Ned went to pay the bill quickly, not waiting for it to come to him, and they left the restaurant, heading for the airfield.
As they walked down the empty streets to the edge of town, Scott Tracy made a decision,
"Right." He said again, and this time his voice was firm, commanding. There was a march in his step and though there was softness in his eyes when they fell on Ned, his whole frame suddenly spoke of efficiency and determination. On-duty Scott was going to take what control he had left of a tricky situation.
They checked in with the flight control at the airfield, before proceeding to the two jets standing near the main complex.
"Ned can come with me, Gordon with you." Said Virgil, "I don't want you implicated at all."
"Okay. You can call this one. Ned…" He called him over to him and placed his hands on his lapels,
"I imagine Dad will want a chat with you pretty quickly when we get home. Don't let him scare you, he's a great guy. Tell him the truth. He'll be fair with you. I hope." He pulled on the lapels and kissed Ned softly on the lips. Glaring at his brothers in a warning not to even think of raising their eyebrows, he flicked up the top of the Ladybird, and jumped in, in one easy, graceful movement. Ned watched him with admiration, before Virgil tugged on his arm and gave him a leg-up into the second jet.
Ned pulled on the harness as Virgil hopped in beside him and spoke,
"Look Ned, I hope you don't mind, but I've done just about as much rule-breaking as I can stand for today, so I'm going to follow this one slavishly: no outsider who knows who we are comes to the island without having a blindfold. So I'm afraid you're not going to see much of this trip. Is that okay?"
"I don't have a choice do I? Sure. It's fine. Anything to make this easier. Put it on, bud." Virgil smiled, took out a blindfold and carefully wrapped it round Ned's head.
"See anything?"
"Not a thing."
"Good. Well, tell me if you feel queasy or anything. I hate flying blind, in any sense of the word, it can do weird things to your stomach. I'll tell you if we're going to change altitude, give you a chance." Ned nodded. Virgil waited as Scott's jet taxied to the runway, built up speed and took off. The control tower's signal alerted him that he was clear to take off and his strong, long-fingered hands splayed on the controls as the jet accelerated and rose into the air.
As the two jets approached Tracy Island, only minutes apart, Virgil opened comms,
"Virgil to Base, permission to land?"
"Base to Virgil, hold the landing, Ladybird isn't down yet, take a wide circle and I'll let you know. When you're down, I want you to leave the jet out on the runway, don't take her in yet." Virgil chewed his cheek as he listened to his father's words.
"FAB." He said, and let the jet run on past the island, taking a wide, curving path back out over the ocean, waiting for his turn to land. As he came back to roughly the same point again, the commlink buzzed again,
"Virgil, you have clearance to land, come in gently, Ladybird's off to the right, so keep left."
"FAB. Going down, Ned." Virgil pulled the jet round in a tighter ellipse and eased off the power until they were almost gliding in towards the island. The runway, which always seemed so short when he was in Thunderbird Two, stretched out to a reassuringly long stretch of tarmac in this comparatively tiny craft, and as the wheels touched gently down and he started to apply the brakes, he saw the Ladybird, shining in the artificial lights, stuck in behind the palm trees to the right at the end of the runway. The jet slowed to a halt and he taxied her round to stop just next to the bright red jet. His father was talking again,
"Right. Scott, Gordon, Virgil; I want you out of those planes now. Now! Mr Cook can stay put." Virgil took a deep breath,
"Good luck Ned. See you." He pushed open the hood and jumped out, leaving Ned, still blindfolded, sitting in the passenger seat.
Virgil walked quickly across the tarmac to where his brothers stood. By instinct, it seemed, they lined up, as if on parade: to attention, eyes gazing straight ahead, as if their very natures were telling them that this was the way to survive. Jeff Tracy strode out from the smaller hangar entrance set into the giant moving cliff-face that concealed the abnormal size of the craft within. As he passed his three sons, he threw them a glance. A half-smile pulled up the corner of his mouth that faced away from them. His boys looked smart, even out of uniform. What father couldn't be proud of that?
"Gordon, pull those shoulders back." He said as he passed. A slight movement, and the order was obeyed. Jeff nodded and proceeded to the second jet. He pulled himself up, into the cockpit, and sat next to Ned, in the pilot's seat.
Outside, in the impromptu parade, Gordon spoke,
"What if he just takes off with Ned? Takes him straight back to the mainland?"
"He can't." Said Virgil, "There's barely enough fuel to get them to the coast, Dad wouldn't risk it."
In the cockpit, Jeff turned to Ned and removed the blindfold. Ned blinked a couple of times and held out his hand,
"Hello. Ned Cook." He said, with as much confidence as he could muster. Jeff was caught slightly off guard, such confidence seemed rather out of place. 'Yes, but this is Ned Cook.' He said to himself as he took the proffered hand; no need to be unnecessarily rude.
"Jeff Tracy." He said. The handshake was firm, Jeff filed the information in his mind: a good handshake inspired a degree of confidence that was rarely misplaced. "I'm Scott's father, as you are no doubt aware."
"Yes, Mr Tracy. I...I know you would prefer that I wasn't here. I desperately want to be here, but I know it's not really convenient. I hope we can sort out our differences." Jeff watched him closely, searching for the nerves, the lie, anything to point to a deceit or dishonest word. All he could see was the honest nervousness of a visitor to a strange place, though it was more limited than might be expected; clearly Ned's experience through his work gave him a better head for these things than most people.
"Okay Mr Cook, here's my view of this, I've had a lot of time to think this over, today, and during the last few weeks, so these represent my final and well thought-through opinions.
"I am not happy that you are here, not because I wish to prevent one of my sons from knowing happiness, but because I am not satisfied that the fullest precautions have been taken to ensure that you do not represent a security hazard, and because you are here in violation of a direct order I gave to Scott concerning the conditions under which you would be allowed here. You know who we are. You are also the sort of person I would generally class as a danger to us. I have seen your work and I know that, no matter how good your intentions, this visit and the opportunities it presents will be almost overwhelmingly tempting to you as a reporter. You do not need me to tell you the whole of the case I put to Scott, because I am sure you have already heard it."
"Scott never says a word against you Mr Tracy. He explained what you said, and why he couldn't bring me back, but he has never suggested that you were being unreasonable."
"Well, I'm glad to hear it. At least he still has some respect for me. However, having said all this, although it means allowing a serious insubordination to go more or less unpunished, I am willing to go back on my former decision and allow you to stay on the island for a day or two. I am doing this for two reasons. Firstly because I am willing to accept that it is not your fault that you are here and that you have recognised that you should not be. It would therefore be rude in the extreme to force you back into that blindfold and whisk you back home. It would show a lack of hospitality that some people on this island ('My mother for one' he thought), would consider unforgivable. Secondly, I am persuaded that you really are in love with my son and that he is actually fond of you. This being the case, I have to accept that it is not healthy or fair to keep you apart indefinitely. It is definitely the cause of a deterioration in the friendly atmosphere in this family, a deterioration I am keen to reverse, and it is clear that Scott was not planning on resolving the situation himself. You may thank Virgil for taking matters into his own hands. I do not condone his actions, I am disappointed that he could not find a way to persuade his brother to make a decision for himself, but since it is now too late, I will accept that I have been bypassed and try to make the most of this.
"I have some conditions for you to accept if you are to stay. If you do not accept them, I will willingly refuel and take you back to the mainland. If you accept, but then go back on your word, I will see to it that you never work in broadcasting again. I have contacts all over the world, Mr Cook, and I assure you I could do it so effectively that you couldn't even get a pirate frequency. Understood?"
"Yes Mr Tracy, go ahead."
"The first condition is that you will not, at any time, use any information you happen to pick up either about members of my family, or about International Rescue or its equipment, or this island; or mention that you know us, have been here, or have any connection with us; or even hint at it, whether in a broadcast, in any other media, or privately to friends or associates. Secondly, you will not wander about on this island. You will be shown the main living areas in the villa, where you may wander freely. There are other rooms and places where you may go only in the company of one of us. The rest of the island is out of bounds. You will not attempt to gain access to any of our equipment or any of the areas relating directly to International Rescue's work, nor will you ask any questions about them, beyond what is reasonable. You will certainly not accept an invitation from anybody to go for a tour of the hangars or equipment. I will warn my sons not to offer, but you are to refuse if they do. Finally, you are to be aware that we are on call all the time. There is some routine maintenance to be done. Since you will only be staying a short time, much of this can be put off, as I imagine Scott would like to spend the time with you. However, if an emergency call comes in, you may be asked to go to your room. You must not expect to be allowed to be present while we deal with it. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mr Tracy."
"Do you accept these conditions and understand that I will enforce my penalty with no reservation if I consider you to have broken one or more of these conditions?"
"Yes, I do, Mr Tracy. I swear I will keep my word. Look, I know this may not mean much to you, but I know your picture of me comes mostly from what you've seen on tv, and how you've had to deal with me in the past. I just want you to know that being with Scott has changed me. I mean, I guess I'm no different when I'm after a story, but I think he's taught me where to draw the line sometimes. I guess I'm getting a bit of common sense rubbed off on me. Now, if I've understood correctly, that basically comes back to you. You're the one who brought him up like that. I'm not trying to butter you up, but I just wanted you to know, they're great guys, and I know it. I'm busy remodelling myself, and the more I do, the more I'm glad of it."
Jeff checked for the falsehood again, but he couldn't see it. This was genuine, or he'd lost his touch.
"Right Mr Cook. Thank-you."
"Please, call me Ned."
"If you prefer it. Thank-you, Ned. Welcome to our island." He shook Ned's hand once more and pushed up the hood. Ned undid his harness and followed Jeff with his case, jumping down with a fair amount of grace, and hurrying to catch up as Jeff moved towards his sons.
"Right, stand easy, boys. Listen to me. I am allowing Ned to stay for a day or two. You have forced my hand and I have no wish to be rude. Ned has agreed to a set of conditions, which will not be broken. These include a total ban on going anywhere that we have equipment. No tours of the hangars, no showing off your ships to him. I know he's already been in Two, but under no circumstances is he to go near any of them while he's here, nor talk about our work. Ned agrees, do you?"
"Sure Dad." They said in turn.
"Good. I'll still want to see you, Scott and Virgil, about this once he's gone home. I am not happy, but we'll forget that for now. Right, Virgil, will you put these jets away. The rest of you, back up to the house, I'll get Kyrano to make a room up for you in the main house Ned." They followed him back to the villa via the secondary monorail that could take non-IR visitors up from the runway to the house in total ignorance of the warren of hangars and service areas they were passing. When they arrived at the house, Tin-Tin met them,
"Ned! I'm so glad you have been able to come." She said, as innocently as if she had no idea of the politics surrounding the issue.
"Tin-Tin, would you please show Ned to the first guest room along the corridor, and ask your father to make it up for him. Then take Ned to the kitchen and get him something to eat and drink. We'll be with you in a minute." Tin-Tin smiled,
"Of course, Mr Tracy." She glanced at Ned and left the room, with him following her.
"Gordon, could you go and tell Grandma that we have a visitor, if she's awake, and Brains if you can find him."
"Sure Dad." Said Gordon, and rushed off to find them.
"Scott." Scott looked steadily into his eyes.
"Yes Father?"
"I've ordered that room to be made up. It is of no interest to me whatsoever whether it is used or not. I don't want to know. I just don't want you pretending and counterfeiting use just for the appearance of it. There's been enough secrecy and bending of the truth in this house recently. I want it to stop now. I actually quite like Ned, now I meet him. In the flesh he seems pretty honest and straightforward. I hope I'm right about this. I'm not happy, I never want to find anything like this happening again, but I'm going to forget it. I get the feeling I've come close to losing my relationship with you lately, and I can't have that, it's been unpleasant. So this is it. We draw a line. As to how much or whether Ned comes here again is something we'll look at later, but my objections are on the record and they can stay there. Are you okay Son?" He looked at Scott, who was standing stock still, his eyes closed. Jeff put his hand on his shoulder. Scott opened his eyes.
"Yeah. I'm…thanks Dad. Really. Thanks. But you know, I'm terrified. I mean it, I'm more scared than I've ever been on a rescue."
"Why?"
"I guess I'm worried. What if Ned broke our trust? What if he betrayed us? It would be my fault and I couldn't live with it."
"Do you expect him to?"
"Not at all. I can't imagine it. But what if I'm wrong?" Jeff stood back from his son,
"Scott Tracy. Remember who you are. What if the rope doesn't hold? What if the engine fails? What if the guy shoots you? What if the sky falls? 'What ifs' get you nowhere. They don't bother you when you're on a rescue. Don't dwell on them now."
"I know. I guess it's just that it's International Rescue that's at risk, not just me or Virgil or one of the machines."
"Ignore it. I've let him stay, it's as much my look-out as yours. I think he'll be okay. Keep an eye on him, don't tempt him too much. Now. Go and enjoy yourself. And get some sleep, I don't want you staying up all night and not being ready for action. I know you Scott, you forget."
"I could say something about pots and kettles. Who do I find still doing paperwork when I get up for a drink at four in the morning?"
"Alright. I admit it. If I've been forced to realise one thing this last few weeks, it's that we're pretty much identical when it comes to things like that. And I apologise for it. Now go on." He patted Scott on the back. Scott smiled, held out his hand, and shook with his father. He went to the kitchen feeling like the world had just been heaved off his shoulders.
In the kitchen, Ned was sitting at the table, Virgil, having returned from the hangar, was perched next to him on the edge of the table. Tin-Tin was busying herself with the kettle and Grandma was just coming out of the larder with a giant-sized home-made fruit cake. Scott grinned as he entered, suddenly feeling that maybe that slice of apple pie hadn't been such a bad idea, and come to think of it…
"Grandma, you are a mind-reader." He went for the first slice, but was shooed off by his grandmother,
"You wait, Scott Tracy. Where are your manners? Visitors first." She put the platter down on the table, whisked a plate in front of Ned and laid a thick doorstep of cake on it.
"Wow, thank-you Mrs Tracy. I've heard a lot about your home-cooking." Grandma smiled and ushered him on,
"Eat, eat. It's my special, it has turmeric in it. I'm not surprised you've heard. You will learn, young man, that if Scott Tracy is not worrying about his work, he is thinking about food. How he's not the size of a house is anybody's guess. He's already had more birthday cake than is good for him today. You, on the other hand, look as though you could do with fattening up a bit." Virgil smirked and raised his eyebrows at Scott, who just kept on grinning.
"That's delicious. You sure are a great cook Mrs Tracy." Said Ned, clearing the last crumbs from his plate as Tin-Tin put a mug down in front of him.
"Have another slice dear. And you boys can take one each too." Scott and Virgil grabbed at the cake and bit in, scattering crumbs far and wide. They yelped as their grandmother laid a healthy spank on the backs of their legs and handed them plates.
"Sorry Grandma." Mumbled Virgil through his mouthful.
"Don't speak with your mouth full."
Scott finished his mouthful and turned to his grandmother, running his fingers awkwardly through his hair,
"Uh, Grandma, you've been introduced to Ned, yes?"
"Well of course I have my dear, I would hardly be talking to him if I hadn't now would I?"
"I just wondered…um, you know who he is, I mean to me, not in general…"
"Scott Tracy," his grandmother took his strong, tanned hands in her small, delicately patterned hands, "I knew a long time ago."
"You did?" Scott was taken aback, so apparently were his brothers, and even Tin-Tin, who froze, looking over the top of her mug.
"Why of course I did. I may be old, young man, but that doesn't mean I can't spot a lost heart when I see one. Ned, you come to me any time you get doubts about whether he loves you, and I'll tell you what it's been like in this house recently, then you'll change your mind."
"You don't, you don't mind, Grandma?" Scott asked, uncertainly.
"I've never thought it was any of my business how other people want to lead their lives. If this is what makes you happy, I'm not going to stand by and make sour faces. There's been enough of those about recently, and I intend for it to stop." Scott grinned again, he seemed to be doing a lot of that right now, grabbed his grandmother round the waist and swung her round. She screamed girlishly,
"Put me down! I don't know where you get the nerve."
"You are, without doubt, the best grandma there ever was." Said Scott, with total sincerity. "How come you didn't say anything?"
"Because you and your father are about the stubbornest people I know. Heaven knows where you get it from…" Scott and Virgil both smirked. "And I just couldn't see that throwing my two penn'orth in was going to help any. I'd more likely have taken sides and just made things that much worse. When you get to my age, perhaps you'll have learnt that sometimes keeping your mouth shut is the better option. If you hadn't gotten that rescue call when you did the other night though, I might have said something anyway. It's none of my business how my boy chooses to run his family, but I ain't never held with those kind of raised voices, not at that time of night, and not for those reasons. It wasn't civilised. Oh now look, you made me speak badly of my family in front of a guest. I'm sorry Ned, you'll have to forgive an old lady who should know better."
"I didn't hear a word Mrs Tracy."
"Good boy." Replied Mrs Tracy, with a twinkle in her eye. "More cake?"
"No thank-you. I've had plenty. It's delicious, but we had dinner before we came back."
"That doesn't stop this lot. Gordon, have some cake." She said as Gordon entered the kitchen.
"Gee, thanks Grandma. I can't find Brains anywhere. Must be busy with something." He took a slice of cake, quickly picked up a plate under his grandmother's disapproving gaze, and sat opposite Ned at the table. Scott put his empty plate down on the table and placed a hand on Ned's shoulder,
"Want a tour? The bits you're allowed to see I mean. Not quite as exciting as a studio, but…"
"Sure." Ned gulped down the last of his drink and stood up. "Thanks Mrs Tracy, Tin-Tin." Scott pulled him by the hand and he followed him out of the kitchen.
An hour later, Ned had seen most of the house. Dawn wasn't far off, and standing on the balcony of Scott's room, he could see the rest of the island starting to emerge from the darkness.
"It looks incredible Scott. It all belongs to your family?"
"Yep. Private tropical island. Not a bad place to wait for action." Ned slipped his arm round his waist and they leant on the rail, looking at the stars together, the cool night breeze gently ruffling their hair. "We should get some sleep. I don't want to be on my last legs if we do get a call."
"Am I…I mean, there's another room for me isn't there. Do I have to…?"
"Oh, no. Dad did mention that. He doesn't care, so long as he doesn't have to know. I'm thirty-one Ned. No matter what the problems we've had, Dad's not that much of a dictator. Let's grab your stuff and get some shut-eye."
Ned opened one eye. His cheek was cold, a trail of drool snaking out of the corner of his open mouth. He shut it and thought about moving his hand up to wipe his face. Then he decided not to, because the hand that wasn't trapped underneath him, too numb to use, was holding on to a well-muscled thigh that definitely wasn't his own. He smiled to himself. For only the second time, he was waking up next to Scott Tracy and he couldn't have been happier. He ground the side of his face into the sheets to try to dry it and snuggled in a little closer to Scott. He placed a kiss on the warm, damp skin of his back, feeling the relaxed muscles shifting fractionally beneath his lips.
Scott opened one eye. His cheek was cold, a trail of drool snaking out of the corner of his open mouth. He shut it and thought about moving his hand up to wipe his face. Then he decided not to, because the hand that wasn't trapped underneath him, too numb to use, was draped lightly over a hand, holding onto his thigh, that definitely wasn't his own. He felt a touch, no, a kiss on his back, sending tingles though him, and he drew back his hand and rolled over in the direction of the kiss.
As Scott and Ned faced each other, they each wiped the side of their own face. They laughed,
"Good morning." Croaked Ned.
"Mmm." Said Scott.
"That the best you can do?"
"Mmm." Scott nodded. Ned ran his fingers down the lines of definition in Scott's shoulder muscles,
"Show me the rest of the island this morning."
"Only what I'm allowed to." Said Scott, slightly sharply,
"Sure. Sorry Scott, should have qualified that."
"No. Sorry. I'm grouchy, I've had too much sleep, need a shower." He started to push himself up, Ned's hand gripped more tightly and stopped him.
"Oh no you don't. Not yet." He pulled him back down and kissed him.
"Okay, you can have that shower." He said, pulling away after a while, "We don't taste so good. Clearly turmeric cake that late at night isn't great for your breath." Scott swatted at him, "Hey! I said we!"
"Come and take that shower with me then."
Half an hour later they emerged into the kitchen. The only person in evidence was Alan, sitting at the table with a bowl of cornflakes, a racing magazine, and very tousled hair. He looked up and saw Ned and the little warning furrows between his eyebrows sprung into action.
"What's he doing here?" Scott frowned at him, strode over and stood between him and Ned, hovering close to his face,
"Where are your manners Alan? He's here with Dad's knowledge, you behave yourself. Shake hands and don't you dare let me hear you speak to a guest like that again."
"Sorry Scott. I was just, um, surprised. No-one told me he was here. I thought you were still slugging it out with Dad about him."
"Okay. No. We've dealt with that now. You must have been in bed when we got back."
"Of course I was in bed. What else is there to do when everyone else goes off to the mainland and leaves you behind?"
"Tin-Tin stayed. She wouldn't come with us, said you needed some company. I guess you cold-shouldered her did you?" Alan looked rather sheepish. "Alright baby bro, I know you're sore at us for leaving you. But you know Dad's rules. Just say hi to Ned and be nice, you look like a monster with your face screwed up like that."
Alan forced his face into a smile, got up as Scott stood aside, and held out his hand to shake,
"Sorry, Ned. I guess I'm not awake yet. We met at that rescue, but didn't get introduced. I'm Alan."
"Hi Alan. No sweat. I don't blame you, seeing my ugly mug this early in the morning is enough to put anyone off their cereal." Alan grinned and sat down.
After breakfast, Scott took Ned on the outdoors leg of his island tour. They wandered through the rough vegetation on the rocky rises behind the villa and sauntered along the beaches, paddling their feet in the lapping waves, before making their way up to the house again and stopping by the pool.
"Well? What do you think?" Asked Scott as they sat at one of the little poolside tables, shaded by a giant parasol.
"It's amazing. What a place to live! If I wasn't under the strictest injunctions from myself and your Father, I'd be planning an hour long report on this place and the possibilities it represents."
"Well, I guess that's one that'll just have to stay in your head. What did Dad threaten you with?"
"He said he could stop me from ever being able to broadcast from anywhere ever again. I suppose he could do it, he's not bluffing is he?"
"Would it matter if he was?"
"No. I'm not about to break my word."
"Good. But no, he's not bluffing. Dad knows people in all sorts of circles, and you can bet he knows the right high-fliers to make good his threat. He…" But at that moment the alarm signifying an emergency call went off, flashing from a toggle hanging down from the parasol. Scott squeezed his eyes shut and cursed under his breath. He stood up,
"That's a rescue coming in. Stay here, or my room or the kitchen, not in the pool. I'll…I'll see you later." He snatched a momentary kiss and ran off to the house. Ned stared after him, dazed by the speed of his exit, then fell back in his chair and sat watching the sun-sparkles dancing on the ripples of the water.
Scott dashed into the lounge, arriving at the same time as Alan and Gordon. Virgil was already there, standing near his father, their attentions focused on John's portrait, which was live and talking fast.
"…a fix for it, too short a transmission, but I'll keep trying. There's a really patchy response on the scans, I don't know why. I've seen something like it before, I'm trying to remember what it was."
"Did you get to hear what the emergency was, John?" Asked Jeff.
"They're a legit ship, but something's gone wrong on board, I don't know, either a piece of equipment or one of the personnel. They've got a crack in the hull somewhere, in one of the side plates. I guess they're one of the old class three types, all heavily welded plates, rather that one smooth piece. Usually they're weaker, but it does confine damage, or they'd have exploded by now. Their power is down or failing, so the atmosphere that's leaking out won't get replaced and I guess they can't do anything about it. They'll be on emergency power for heating, won't want to waste it on radio if they got that I've received them. I'm sure that's why the signal cut off. I'm trying to get a boost on my transmissions now that they've moved away from me, but I'm not getting a response, I'll keep trying."
"Right John, do your best. We'll work out a plan of action down here. Keep in touch with any developments." John signed off and the still portrait blipped back. "All here? Good. We've got a space rescue on our hands. You heard the basic details there. A split in the hull, loss of power and an unknown situation on board. Could be anything, from a debris hit knocking in the hull and taking out the power, to a bout of stir-crazy. John's having trouble finding the ship, it was moving fast, but it's out of sight round the corner at the moment. It's not descending, so it might come out into view any time. We need to get up there, fix that hull or transfer the people off the ship. Alan, this is your call, what do you think?"
"In Thunderbird Three, we'll be able to find her, no problem, but it's hard to know what to take without knowing what sort of ship it is. Cutters, lines, all the usual stuff, but if I knew the ship, I could take up the right materials, do the job properly. Maybe if John sends a copy of those scans, one of us might recognise the pattern."
"Base calling Space Station, come in John."
"Go ahead Father."
"John, can you transmit a copy of the scan results, see if we can interpret them?"
"FAB." John's image disappeared and a set of computerised scan images appeared on the screen. The lines of data showed several dark blobs, with lighter coronae spreading in jagged, uneven patterns into the surrounding area.
"Looks like some kind of force-field." Said Virgil.
"Too irregular." Said Scott, "Does look familiar though, John's right. I've seen something like this. When was it?" He pulled at his lip, thinking for a while. "It was while I was on surveillance during training in the Air-force. I was doing high-altitude sweeps for atmosphere-skimming jets. I remember seeing the shape and not recognising it and asking the officer in charge to identify it…" He paused again, trawling his memory, "It was a Scorpion ship."
"Of course." Said Jeff, banging his hand on the table, "They were built like the class threes. I'd forgotten there were any still in service, but now I think of it, there were two still going when I last looked. Alan, get onto the International Astronautics Registry and find out who those two are registered to."
"FAB." Said Alan, and hurried to the terminal behind his father's desk.
"What's a Scorpion ship?" Asked Gordon. Scott turned to him,
"It was a pioneering design, intended to cut the number of accidents involving space debris, back when hulls were more easily damaged. They look like scorpion fish, all spikes of metal sticking out like fins all over the place. It means that the debris or meteor hits the spines rather than the hull, gets deflected or slowed, so doesn't punch a hole in the ship. Even stops a lot of the erosion from space dust. But they're the very devil to dock with, and you can't bring them into the atmosphere, so they're a shuttle job to get to. They were alright as an idea, but the moment stronger hull materials were readily available, they were made redundant. I guess they have novelty value though, we're probably looking at some sort of party going on in there." Alan came back with a note in his hand,
"Two registered Scorpion ships, both re-registered under new names – Coral-Reef and Blue Moon. The first is under the ownership of a private company in the States, which hires it out for special occasions, birthdays, honeymoons, that sort of thing; the second is currently being used as a training ship, doing the small-ship survival course for a little international university department. It's only had it a few months, new course, new equipment, this is one of their first proper uses of it. I checked up on the private company and their ship is having a refit at the moment and is in close orbit round the moon, so I guess it's not that one."
"Right. Gordon, I want you to go and get on to that university department, find out what they know and get them on an open line with John if they're in a position to help. Alan, if you know what you need, go and load up Thunderbird Three, make sure there are EVA suits in for the three of you, plus enough for at least five or so personnel, you can always swap over if there are more on board. Scott, Virgil, you go up with Alan, you might well need the manpower. Tin-Tin, run and send as many survival packs as you can down the chute. Thunderbirds Are Go!"
The couch with three of Jeff's sons on it sank through the floor as Tin-Tin rushed off to perform her task and Gordon hurried to make his call.
Minutes later, the pressure in Thunderbird Three's chemical rocket pads increased to a critical point, and the craft followed its bright red nose into the sky. By the pool, Ned heard the rumble of the take-off and looked round to see the crimson rocket climbing straight upwards and slowly fading from sight as it left the Earth's atmosphere. Suddenly he felt very lonely. Instinct told him that Scott was in that rocket, meaning he was no longer on the same planet as Ned. He got up and walked up to the house, carefully choosing an entrance that would allow him to go straight to the kitchen, rather than risk passing too near the lounge and the edge of his promise.
There was no-one in the kitchen. Ned got himself a drink as he had been told he could, and wrapped his hand round the glass. The icy liquid quickly spread a sheen of condensation over the outside of the tumbler, and Ned's fingers automatically played with it, leaving clear trails in the frosting, which stood out for second before they misted over again, drops of water running from their nadirs and making their own clear paths down to the table-top, while Ned sat lost in thought.
As Thunderbird Three left the atmosphere and the blue sky faded to stars, Alan opened the link with the Space Station.
"Which way, John?"
"Bear East. I last caught sight of them headed round that way, but I can't do any better than that I'm afraid. Dad said Scott worked out it was a Scorpion?"
"Yeah, he saw one during training once."
"They're antiques."
"Amazing ships though." Scott butted in, "I'd like to see her, if we can sort her out first. They were a really innovative design."
"Better get to her quickly then. A crack in the hull's no good for any ship, no matter how innovative." Alan was working away at his console, leaving Scott to pilot the craft. Virgil was packing the stores more carefully in the hold.
"Right. I've set this scan up to pick out the hull material. I've blanked the Earth and us, so we should only get the Scorpion and debris, which would be too small. Scott, you wave her around a bit and I'll call the figures."
"FAB." Scott answered Alan and took hold of the directional controls. Short jet bursts from Thunderbird Three's middle ring altered her course by degrees, while Alan kept his eye on the readout and called the results to Scott.
"Twenty. That's way too low, we need to be seeing hundreds. 20, 20, 25, 30, 31, 31, 31, 31," the numbers came in a steady stream, Alan now functioning on autopilot, "25, 31, 50, 68, 70, 64…"
After a time the numbers rose more quickly and as they rounded the Earth, they climbed to the heights Alan had been expecting.
"148, 148, 150, 169, 183, 179, 185, 198, 203, 230, 270…"
"There!" Scott cried, spotting the form of a spaceship on his monitor. Alan abandoned his post and hurried to look at the screen.
"John, we've got it. Patching you through." He flicked a switch and John whistled,
"Got it. Boy, that's an old ship. I've got the line on it now. It seems to have a spin on it, pretty ferocious by the look of things. You'll never dock with her like that. Can you try to open comms with her now you're closer in?"
"Sure, I'll try." Alan flicked another switch, "This is International Rescue calling Scorpion ship, Do you read me? Come in Scorpion ship. Blue Moon? Do you read me? Any signal will do. Can you hear me?" They waited, tense and silent for a minute, but there was no response. Alan called down to Virgil in the hold,
"Virgil, plug in the transmitter down there and keep trying to contact this ship will you, we're pointing the right way, but we're not getting any answer."
"FAB." Said Virgil, and set about the task.
"Scott, if we can't get hold of them, we'll have to link up with them first and find out the situation later. Can you take us on a turn round her and see if there's any way we can hook up."
"FAB." Said Scott, and soon they were flying in a wide circle round the stricken craft, looking for a way to fix a line or dock properly. After a complete circuit, Scott broke the silence,
"It's no use Alan, we can't link up like this. She's spines all over except in her tail, and that's all flimsy bits of singed exhaust. We could hook up a line along her side, but not with the spin she's got on her, the line would be snarled in moments."
"Okay, so we'd better stop the spin. Any ideas John?"
"Id usually suggest a line, but Scott's right, you'd be snarled up before you knew where you were. Could take a shot at her with Three's rockets, but that's inaccurate and I don't know about her hull stability…the only thing I can think of is if you were to take a walk over there and hang on to her and fire your EVA pack jets against the spin."
"Would that be enough?" Asked Scott.
"Sure. No real resistance. It'll be tricky, to get the direction of force right, but it would work."
"Right." Said Alan, getting out of his seat, "I'll get suited up and mosey on over then. Tell Dad will you?"
"FAB." Scott heard John passing on the information to his father while Alan went to change into his suit. In a few minutes he was back, helmet under his arm, in his snug, silver spacesuit.
"Check me over, will you Scott?" He asked. Scott checked the autopilot and went over to his brother. He checked the seals between the gleaming silver boots and the bottoms of the trouser legs, then the front seal and the various wires and hoses providing life support from the canisters and pumps strapped to Alan's back and chest. Then the gloves, sealed to the sleeves at the wrist, the jet-pack that would ensure that Alan could move himself around safely in space, and the dials that would tell him when his life-support was running short. The readouts on Alan's reference dials matched those on the equipment, so Scott nodded, waited while Alan pulled on his helmet, then checked and double-checked the seals from the neck down."
"Breathe hard." He commanded, his back to Alan, over the commlink from Thunderbird Three. He turned and watched Alan panting in and out. So the link was functioning and so was the suit. He gave Alan the thumbs-up and went back to the console as Alan made his way to the airlock.
"Entering airlock now Scott." He heard Alan say over the link.
"FAB. Closing inner airlock door. Depressurising. Opening outer airlock. Good Luck Alan, take it steady."
"I will." Scott watched on the monitor as Alan reeled out on a line from the airlock. A single burst from his jet-pack sent him hurtling towards the Scorpion ship and a few shorter bursts altered his course, then slowed him, until his was approaching the side of the craft at low speed. One more burst from his chest stopped him relative to the ship and he floated, still moving through space, but a steady thirty feet from the nearest spine.
The ship was indeed rotating around its axis. Quite fast, now that Alan was so close. The spines swept past him like the teeth on the drum of an old-fashioned music box. If he were doing this for training, he'd have asked to slow it down a little, but this wasn't training, and he didn't have that option.
"Whew, she's spinning like a ferris wheel, Scott. It's going to be tricky landing on her."
"Be careful Alan. If you can't do it, take a trip round the end and see if you can get a hold on the exhaust."
"No fear Scott! I've heard enough stories about that. I don't fancy getting fried when they decide to come out of hibernation. No, I'm going to come off the line though. If I go near with it I'm going to be trussed up like a fly in a web in no time."
"Are you sure Alan? How are the levels in your pack?"
"I've hardly used a thing Scott. I promise I'll hook back up the moment I've got her stable." He unclipped the line from the catch and runner on his suit and left it hanging in space like a bizarre parody of the Indian Rope trick. Unconnected to anything now, he touched the jet controls on his pack and moved cautiously towards the ship. He felt slightly nervous. His usual bravado was all very well, but there were rules you learnt when you first went into space, and the first of them was that, wherever possible, you stay hooked up to something. Enough tales were told in training of people who had just unclipped for a moment to do something, lost their grip, found a malfunction in their pack, or any of another hundred basic problems, and been sent soaring off into space, never to be seen again. Alan ended up doing a few disconnected EVAs in his work for International Rescue, but it still made him uneasy for the first few minutes.
He focussed on the ship, not looking down. He was used to being out in space, but it was always a good idea to not look down, especially if 'down' for you wasn't directly pointing back at the surface of a planet. Somehow the human mind didn't always cope very well with seeing nothing but infinite stars beneath its feet. Even an experienced astronaut, used to the extraordinary concepts of what constituted down or up in space, could get the odd panic signals if caught off guard. So Alan focussed on the sweeping spines ahead of him, and how best to attach himself to one of them.
He was so focussed on those immediately ahead of him, in fact, that he did not notice the extra long one coming up under his feet, until it connected, flicking him up and imparting some of it's spin to him.
"Alan!" Called Scott, as he watched his brother float off like a spinning rag-doll, racing away from the ship.
"Alan, stop yourself, quickly, you're heading away too fast." Jeff voice suddenly filled Alan's ears and the control room of Thunderbird Three. Clearly John had patched him through so he could follow developments first hand.
"Alan, take the spin off and try to…" John added.
"Shut up!" Came Alan's voice, loud and angry. Worried, more like. "I know." A pause. "Sorry, but I need to concentrate guys."
Alan's fingers played gently on the controls. He had a basic gyro in his helmet, but he preferred to use the ships to line himself up. That was the problem in space. If you closed your eyes, you'd never even know you were spinning. You had to fix yourself a point around which to stabilise. A burst from the front, one from the back, a nudge to one side, a bigger burst from the back – no, that was too much. A wave of panic went through him as he saw the distance he now was from the two ships. A poem he had read many times as a child came back to him with force, the knowledge of what dying in the depths of space meant:
Stars below and stars above,
Why are you fearful now my love?
So cold, I am so cold, you cry,
How can this be, when stars are by?
He quashed the sick feeling and let off another burst. The minutes passed in silence, his family honouring his wish for peace. At last he was steady against the two ships: when he held his arm up horizontally in front of his eyes, the line along the body of Three remained steady, though getting smaller by the minute. He sighed with relief and pressed for another burst to send him forwards, back towards the two ships.
The ships were moving perpendicular to Alan's direction of thrust, so he had to continually give himself little sideways nudges, but in time, the bulk of the Scorpion ship started to fill his field of vision once more, and as he finally stretched out a hand and grabbed a passing spine, pulled himself close and tied himself on, he heard a whoop and applause across the commlink. Gordon was clearly on the line now.
"Well done, Son." Came Jeff's voice once more. Alan grinned,
"How am I doing for time now?" He knew the air on the ship must be running out, but they had not been able to get any idea of the time constraints until they knew what size the ship was. John related his findings,
"It's hard to tell, Alan. There are so many unknowns, but judging from the data I've got on Scorpion ships, their endurance can't be huge. The volume in there is only about twice that of Thunderbird Three. It depends what size the crack in the hull is, how long their generators have been down, how may people are on board, and how long it was before we received their message. I really can't give you a time, but I don't think we're too late. Once you've stabilised that thing, if you can locate the damage, we'll have more of an idea what we're dealing with." They watched Alan's progress as he fired strong bursts from his jet packs. The ship swayed, its rotation unchecked for a while, before Alan found the perfect angle and the rotation slowed…and stopped.
"Good job Alan!" Scott called to him, "Now find that damage."
Within minutes, Alan had found the damaged area, a cracked panel, about three feet long, it's edges feathered outwards, as if it had been caused by a blow from the inside. Fine fracture-lines spread from the ends and a fine stream of crystallising gases escaped from the gap. Alan sucked his teeth in concern.
"This doesn't look good fellas. I wouldn't pin much on her integrity. We'll have to go in and try to get them out as quickly as possible. We can put a strap on this for now, but this is a proper repair job, not a five-minute lash-up."
"Right, what do we need Alan? I'll get suited up while Virgil finds the gear, then I'll get him to check me and pass me out and I'll join you over there."
"FAB. We want the carbon fibre patch kit, plenty of fixers, a couple of cutter welders and some of the spare suits, I don't think we ought to keep them waiting."
"FAB." Scott checked that Virgil had heard the list of supplies and told him to hurry up to the control room once he had them. Then he went to the spacesuit storage lockers and pulled out his suit, it was almost identical to Alan's, but with blue flashes where Alan had his familiar off-white. He checked the seals himself, but let Virgil run over the complete check again before heading to the airlock with the gear. The second rule in space was that you could never check too many times.
Clipping himself onto Alan's abandoned line, Scott thrust himself towards the Scorpion ship where he landed, feet from Alan, and clambered over to him. He looked at the damage and took a sharp intake of breath,
"Better work fast, those lines are spreading." Said Alan.
Back in the Tracy villa, Ned was still sitting at the kitchen table, when Tin-Tin entered.
"Oh, Ned. Are you alright?"
"Fine, Tin-Tin. Although, I'd like to know what's going on, but I know I'm not allowed to, so I'm not even going to ask."
"Poor Ned. It must be very difficult for you. I know. I hate it when Alan's on a rescue like this."
"Alan's gone too?"
"Of course, it's a space rescue."
"Don't tell me. I'm not allowed to know."
"Well that's just silly. You need to know. Scott's up there risking his life. I think you have a right to be informed. I can hardly bear to follow what's going on when Alan's on a rescue, but I feel ten times worse if I don't know exactly what's happening. I'll go and ask Mr Tracy."
"Tin-Tin, no…" said Ned, but she had already swept out of the room and was rushing to the lounge.
"Mr Tracy?" She asked softly, as she approached him, "Can I ask a favour of you?"
"What is it Tin-Tin?" Asked Jeff, barely flicking his eyes from the screen to look at her.
"Would you let me tell Ned what is going on? He's sitting on his own in the kitchen, being noble and deliberately not asking any questions, but he's worried about Scott, you can see it. I think he has a right to know what Scott is doing. It's not fair otherwise. I would feel dreadful if I couldn't know what Alan is doing."
"I don't like it Tin-Tin. He may learn something he shouldn't."
"What can he learn? He knows we have incredible equipment anyway. He knows what we do. He knows about our secrecy. If he won't even ask me for details, he obviously has no plans to use the information. Please Mr Tracy."
"Alright Tin-Tin. You're probably right. He can come in here, but he's to stay out of sight in that corner, I don't want him to distract the boys when they're on vid. And I might ask him to leave if I feel it is necessary."
"Thank-you Mr Tracy. I'll go and tell him." She sped back to the kitchen.
"Ned. Come with me. I asked Mr Tracy and he says you may come and sit in the lounge, if you stay out of sight of the screens and don't mind leaving if he asks you to." Ned stood up, his eyes shining,
"Really?" She nodded. "Thank-you Tin-Tin, thank-you so much." An impulse made him lean in and snatch a kiss on her cheek. She smiled softly, batting at his arm in a careless rebuttal, and he followed her, almost at a run. She led him past Jeff and over to a couch that was out of sight of the screens. There she sat and related the details of the rescue so far, until he was up to date with the fact that Scott was now crawling over the hull of the battered old ship with Alan. He had stopped smiling now and was looking scared. Ned Cook didn't do space. He had been up once, as part of a report, and they had tried to send him again several times since, but he wouldn't go. The outer limits of Earth's atmosphere marked the limits of Ned's bravery. Give him a dangerous situation on Earth, and so long as he was reporting, he'd barely notice it, would ignore it, or take what came to him in fairly good spirits. But take him off the Earth and he was lost. Fear coursed through him. There was something about knowing that mistakes were all fatal there, that the only thing between you and death was a bit of tin sheet: that he couldn't deal with. Scott was out there, from what he had just heard him say over the comms, it sounded like the ship he was sitting on could break up at any moment. Ned knew about that, had covered space accidents from the ground. A break up in space meant an explosion in a small ship like that, as the pressure inside far exceeded that outside. A slow leak like this might reduce that possibility, but for Ned that wasn't enough. That was Scott there; that dot on a dot in the vastness.
Tin-Tin looked at him,
"Are you alright Ned?"
"No. I'm scared." For some reason, he didn't mind telling Tin-Tin, in a low voice that would not be overheard by Jeff Tracy.
"I thought you were the bold, brave reporter?" She said kindly, trying to jolly him out of his fear.
"I am, with stuff on Earth, stuff that isn't anything to do with me. I mean, I do care when I see terrible things happen on Earth, but space is different. And I'm not reporting. You get a sense of detachment with that, but this is different. I can't block out that it's Scott up there. Thanks for getting me permission to see this, Tin-Tin. I really am grateful, but I think I'll go and take a little time to myself if you don't mind. No offence to you."
"Of course not. You go ahead. I know how you feel." He smiled at her and walked out of the room. As he left, the screen showing the live feed coming from Thunderbird Three showed a flash of light, and a pop sounded through the audio circuit: the sort of pop you hear when you pick up a large explosion only through a layer of spacesuit and a helmet mic, when all around is a vacuum.
Gordon made his way along the corridor, heading back to the lounge. He had left his father with the information he needed and didn't want to be away too long from the data coming back from the rescue. He had just grabbed his book and…
As he passed Scott's bedroom door, he could hear speech coming from inside. He stopped. Yeah, sure, Ned would treat it like his own room while he was here, but what the hell was he doing in there chatting away to himself? Unless… No. He couldn't be. Not after everything they'd…
Gordon put his ear to the door and listened. The nuances of the speech were lost through the wood, but it was still pretty easy to hear the words.
"…where it all happens. Ladies and gentlemen, it is my privilege and honour to transmit live from the very house where those great rescuers live. I am standing now in the bedroom of Scott Tracy, the man in charge on the ground at so many of those…" Gordon was gone, pelting back down the corridor to where Jeff was staring at the feedback screens from behind his desk in the lounge.