Thunderbirds and the Tracy Family are the creation of Gerry and Sylvia Anderson
Chapter 106
"Oiy, Mister…Mister!" the eager children called out to their wee friend's volunteered saviour.
Totally unaware, as yet, of his impending involvement, Jeff Tracy snapped his head up from the Mobile Control desk, when he found himself suddenly besieged by excitable youngsters.
"Ahmm…what are you doing over here?" he asked in a gruff tone and trying his best to sound authoritarian, thinking the youngsters were merely excited and fascinated by the fact the Thunderbird craft were here and, perhaps, wanting to take a peek at the nerve center of operations. "You children really should be aboard Thunderbird Two now, so you can be taken to somewhere safe. Isn't there anyone looking after you!" the Tracy patriarch added in query, as he looked around and feeling slightly irritated that they had obviously been left to run around without any adult supervision.
"But, Mister….them'ns over there said you was the best man for the job," Billy quickly informed him, totally ignoring the question and completely unfazed by Jefferson Tracy's gruff manor, as he pointed back towards the great green transport ship where the brothers were making a pretence at being busy.
Thinking for a moment that his sons meant he was doing an excellent job in his brief stint as Field Commander, Jeff couldn't help the little swell of pride that rose in his chest. "Yes….well…it takes experience…and someone who knows what they're doing, of course…knows what it is to command," he replied, feeling he should maybe, after all, be courteous enough to acknowledge his young fans.
The children, though, took that to mean something different entirely and great beaming smiles spread across their little faces, as they nodded in eager excitement amongst each other. They had, indeed, found their man. Timmy's salvation was at hand!
"Come on then, Mister…you have to help Timmy," Billy urged, beginning now to tug on Jeff's uniform sleeve, with all the other children joining in the urging.
Completely thrown offside for a moment, Jeff's face was a picture of confusion. Hadn't his boys rescued all the children! There was no mention from the staff of another child called Timmy but yet, the children seemed so sure and adamant.
"Timmy!" he found himself automatically repeating and frowning in irritation when he became momentarily distracted by young Liam, wiping his snotty little nose on the back of his hand and then tugging on his uniform pants.
"Aye….Timmy. He's our wee friend…so he is, an he's in trouble…an…an he needs you to rescue him, so he does, Mister. An…an them'ns over there said you was the best man for the job," young Andy jumped in all in a rush and pointing back again to our boys in blue. The other children eagerly backed him up.
It suddenly dawned on the temporary Field Commander then, that his boys hadn't been referring to his role as co-ordinator after all but, far from being disappointed, Jefferson Tracy felt a greater surge of pride swell up in his chest. His boys thought him, not only capable but had actually recommended him for this particular phase of the mission; the rescuing of a 'little boy' called Timmy! And, if truth be told, he had actually been hoping for a more active role, to get stuck into the more physical action of rescuing, to show his boys that the 'old man' could still 'cut it'.
Somehow, the phrase, 'Be careful what you wish for', comes quite clearly to mind, along with, 'Pride comes before a fall'!
"Come on, Mister…we'll show you where he is," Billy eagerly urged him, tugging once more on Jefferson Tracy's sleeve and then, without waiting for a response, took off, along with the other children, in the direction of their wee friend's waterlogged home. "He's over here…so he is," the youngster called back and continuing to run on.
What could Jeff do but get up, leave Mobile Control and follow the children immediately. He had, of course, being the professional that he was and used to planning operations in precise detail, been intent on asking certain pertinent and basic questions, such as, the nature of Timmy's predicament, so he could ascertain what equipment he might need for this rescue but such had been the sudden speed of events, he never got the chance!
And it was all so much simpler from a child's perspective. Timmy needed rescuing, so…you go rescue! What else was there!
"All right, children…slow down. Wait…for…me," the Field Commander panted, as he tried to catch them up; bringing home to him, rather effectively, the fact he was no longer a young man. Jeff was a fit enough man, for his age, doing cardio-vascular workouts and going for sensible jogs along the beach but his days of chasing excitable young children, he realised, were well and truly behind him.
His haste in following the children hadn't gone unnoticed and was carefully observed, with a strange mixture of nervous trepidation, well, at least from two of his sons and yet excited curiosity, as to just how all this was going to pan out.
"I'm tellin you….we're probably going to regret this," Virgil warned, with a heavy sigh.
"Nah…come on. The old man's been itchin to rescue…something! So…let him go…rescue!" the cheeky aquanaut returned, with a cavalier wave of his hand. "He'll be in his element. He'll be as…'happy as a pig in muck'!" he added in a beaming grin, causing his two older brothers to groan.
"Have you forgotten what Scott said!" John felt obliged to remind his younger brother, raising a questioning eyebrow.
"Nope…not at all," Gordon returned, quite unconcerned. "Our illustrious Base Commander told us not to let him go rescuing any…kids. Right! So…Timmy's not a kid!" he added, the simplicity of the logic being all too beautiful.
Virgil and John could only stare at each other with something akin to helpless defeat.
"He's got a point, Virg!" John remarked, beginning to appreciate the beauty of their let-out clause.
Gordon's long-suffering brother sighed heavily. "Y.e.a.h. That's what's bothering me! I believe our little brother could talk his way out of Hell…if he had too!"
The jovial prankster grinned at what he considered a compliment. "Aww, come on. Timmy's only a little pork-chop. Dad grew up on a farm…remember! He's used to animals. What can possibly go wrong!"
At that, the two older Tracy's just looked at each other. They weren't even going to dignify that with a remark. Or, perhaps, it was the fact they just didn't want to think of what could possibly go wrong! And Murphy's Law sprung to mind, 'anything that can go wrong, will go wrong'. Not to mention the fact they were in Ireland and Murphy was a very Irish sounding name! All in all, it didn't exactly bode well.
"All right…all right," Virgil agreed. "But we keep a close eye on him. And the first sign that he's in trouble…we're in there right away," he stated seriously, with the hope that would ease his conscience.
"Yeah, sure," Gordon replied, nodding and pulling his face into serious agreement, with John following suit. "But come on…admit it. You guys wanna see Dad wrestle the little porker as much as I do!" he couldn't help adding in mischievous delight, waggling his eyebrows.
And how could they deny it! Though they made a pretty good pretence of that not being the case.
As they raced off to follow their father, at a discreet distance, Virgil could be heard to mutter. "Gawd…why do we let him talk us into stuff like this!"
Jefferson Tracy finally caught up with the youngsters outside of a very muddy and waterlogged little paddock, near the river and after taking a few moments to catch his breath, looked around for the child he was expected to rescue. "Well, children….where is he?. Where is Timmy? Is he hurt? Is he trapped somewhere?" he asked, with some urgency.
"There he is…in there. Help him, Mister. Rescue him," the children all began shouting at once and pointing.
If there were prizes being handed out for the most stupefied and gormless expressions then International Rescue's Commander-In-Chief would have won hands down, as he stood rooted to the spot at the sight that confronted him and what he saw looked nothing, remotely, like any child, that was for sure. For what Jefferson Tracy found himself looking at was one small piglet, stuck and struggling helplessly in the mud near his little shelter and squealing for all he was worth like a …well, 'squealing like a stuck pig', which he surely was, in the truest sense of the word!
"Ahmmm….Timmy is a piglet!" the Tracy patriarch groused, stating the very obvious, when he had finally cleared his throat. "You want me to rescue a…piglet!"
"Aye…we do. Cus you're International Rescue…so you are…an yous help anybody that's in trouble. An…an …Timmy's an anybody…cus he's our wee friend. An he's in trouble…so you have to rescue him…so you do," Billy spoke up immediately, his young eyes shining with all the innocent faith of a child, as he reminded the man in charge all too clearly of International Rescue's simple mission statement.
The youngster had him there, all right. He couldn't argue with that. But somehow, Jefferson Tracy never imagined that such a simple premise, of helping anybody, regardless of race, color or creed, would be put to the test in quite such a way. Now, it seemed, they were going to have to add 'species' to that as well!
And, just in case, the man at the Mobile Control desk had been considering reneging on this deal, little Lizzy was intent on reminding him of the consequences of such an action…just for good measure!
"An if you don't rescue Timmy…I am going to tell everybody in the whole world…what not nice men yous 'uns are…so I am," Lizzy stated adamantly, her little face pulling into a cross frown.
Jeff groaned inwardly. That's all he needed, adverse publicity for his organisation. And they would get it too, for there would always be those only too happy to jump in and portray International Rescue in a bad light. Besides, hadn't he been praising his eldest son's good PR judgement, just before they left for this operation, so he could hardly be the one to bring his own organisation into disrepute by having it known that International Rescue were insensitive to the feelings of little children and refusing to rescue their pet.
Feeling he was well and truly caught between a rock and a hard place, Jefferson Tracy began his assault on the fence surrounding the pigpen with a disgruntled mumble, though to much cheering from his excited and happy young audience. As he swung himself over the top, he found himself wondering if his boys knew of little Timmy's piggy form, when he had been so 'highly recommended' for this job!
After he jumped down and his boots immediately began sinking in the sticky, watery mud, having first splashed up around his uniform pants, he pretty much guessed they did. Closing his eyes briefly, the stalwart Commander drew in and let out a heavy, 'I-will-stay-calm' breath.
Now that he was in, though, there was nothing for it but to proceed, so with determined fortitude, Jeff set his sights on the squealing little piglet, struggling helplessly near his shelter at the far end of the pigpen. However, as he went to put his best foot forward, his boot seemed to have other ideas and almost got left behind! So cloyingly sticky was the mud that it held his boot in place but the rest of Jefferson Tracy carried on, sending him sprawling into the muck, face first!
A collective wince, followed by 'unable-to-hold-it' snorts of laughter erupted from behind the foliage of some nearby bushes, where the Tracy brothers watched from their hidden vantage point.
"Eh….maybe we should…!" Virgil felt obliged to offer.
"Are you kiddin! Hell no…this is just gettin good," Gordon grinned mischievously. And, after a few moments thinking, a very brief few moments it had to be said, the other two were inclined to agree! Gordon then raised his watch, where their youngest brother's face appeared from on board Thunderbird Five. "Hey Al. Wanna see something funny! And make sure you record this!" he added, turning his wrist to train his watch on the action.
Well, he didn't feel it was fair for them to hog all the fun!
Meanwhile, back in the pigpen.
Grousing, grumbling and inwardly cursing, after all, there were children present and trying to ignore their giggling, the now less than immaculate Field Commander hauled himself to his feet. He then drew his hands across his face, wiping off as much of the mud as possible and flung it contemptuously from his fingers. And, without a backward glance, marched off, as best he could, sucking and slurping his way through the sticky mud towards his troublesome objective.
He almost fell again before he got there, causing his boys to hold a breath in anticipation and almost feeling disappointed when he didn't but eventually he got to the struggling creature. Jeff bent down, grasped a firm hold of the mucky little piglet and, with a loud slurping suck, pulled Timmy free of the mud, holding his prize aloft in triumph. Loud cheers went up from the children, leaving the Tracy patriarch actually feeling quite pleased and proud of himself for having accomplished his mission.
It had all went rather well, he thought…apart from the earlier mishap, of course. In fact, the children might well have said it was, 'wee buns'! Now, all he had to do was get safely back across the pigpen and International Rescue could continue to hold its head up high.
And, that was his intention, to hold his head up high. But then, we are talking Murphy's Law here!
You would think too, that the little piglet would have been only too happy at having been rescued from his muddy 'prison'! But it seemed Timmy had ideas of his own about just what freedom meant and being in the hands of this grousing stranger, who had invaded his pen, wasn't it. At the first opportunity, he was going to make his bid for freedom.
Jefferson Tracy had barely taken a step before Timmy started squirming and struggling violently in his arms, squealing for all he was worth.
"Will you hold still, you little runt….or I'll have you made into a plate of ham and eggs!" the Commander-In-Chief groused under his breath, as he fought valiantly to hold on to the troublesome creature.
Well…Timmy had no intention of taking any such insults…and in his own back yard; nor did he like the man's tone!
Squealing in protest and continuing his fierce struggling, the little piglet eventually won his freedom and jumped out of Jeff's arms, much to the Commander's annoyance. And he wasn't the only one! Timmy's friends were none too pleased either with the International Rescue man's performance that he had let go of their wee friend.
"Aww, Mister….you let 'im go…so you did," Billy groaned in disappointment.
"Aye. What'd ya do that for! You should've houl on to 'im," Andy joined in, dishing out the simple childlike advice with cold clarity.
The Tracy patriarch grumbled and groused his excuse about not letting him go but rather it was the piglet's fault for squirming so much that he slipped out of his arms. Such feeble excuses don't really wash, though, not with children who believe International Rescue can do anything and that the simple rescue of one little piglet should, in fact, have been…wee buns!
Of course, there was no doubt in the children's minds as to what had to be done now.
"You'll just have to go an catch 'im again, Mister…so ya will," young Liam stated decisively and joined in a chorus of agreement from the others.
And did their father's predicament, having lost his reluctant little rescued charge, bring any sympathy from his sons, watching from their hidden vantage point! If it did, it wasn't showing, rather it proved more a great source of amusement and entertainment.
There then followed such hilarious comedy, as they had never seen before, as they watched their father chase his squealing and cantankerous little nemesis all around the muddy pen. The boys tried real hard not to break out into raucous laughter, while unheard calls of, 'You'll never catch that way, Dad', 'You need to sneak up on him, Dad' and 'Aw, you almost had him, Dad' were offered in critique and advice. A high old time was being had, discussing among themselves their father's, so far, unsuccessful tactics in trying to trap his quarry. They were sure going to 'dine high on the hog' over this one for a long time to come!
But Jefferson Tracy had no intentions of being outsmarted by some ornery little piglet. After all, International Rescue pride was at stake here or, and maybe more importantly, Jefferson Tracy pride was at stake here! Eventually, with outstretched hands and bending down, he closed in, having cornered the meddlesome little creature up against the back wall. He made a triumphant lunge, only for Timmy to bolt, with loud squealing, back through his legs and out into the open pen.
That brought exasperated sighs from the children but unheard snorts of laughter from his sons, followed by commiserations of, 'Hard luck, Dad'.
Jeff continued to grumble and grouse, as he chased after his quarry but feeling he had, at last, got the upper hand, made another all out lunge, when it seemed Timmy had all but run out of steam and was standing still, panting his little heart out.
Timmy, though, hadn't quite given up yet, as no true battler and survivor does and was only just catching his second wind for, as the man from International Rescue made to pounce once more, the astute little piglet bolted again, making good his escape. Jeff had already committed to his action, however and so, finding himself off balance and unable to stop, had nowhere else to go but down! The Commander-In-Chief landed, with a splat, face down in the stinky muck.
"Ouch!" the Tracy boys winced and grimaced, though couldn't quite contain the laughter that was welling up inside.
"Seems a shame our Base Commander can't see all this!" Gordon commented amusedly. "Do ya think we should…..!" he was about to suggest.
John and Virgil shot each other a wry look.
"Yeah, like right, Gordy! It's bad enough, Scott's going to have to hear about this at the debrief……," John returned, not even wanting to think that far ahead.
But it seemed, Murphy's Law was working overtime this trip and determined to enforce itself, once again for, at that moment, Virgil's watch started to beep, indicating an impending communication. And he just knew who it had to be! They all did, causing them to look nervously at each other.
"Aren't ya gonna answer it! Don't want to keep the Base Commander waiting!" Gordon responded with a sheepish grin, earning him a narrow-eyed frosty glare from his older brother.
"Yeah….thanks a bunch, Gordy. You and your…'Shame our Base Commander can't see all this'," Thunderbird Two's pilot mumbled to himself, knowing he was now 'between the devil and the deep blue sea', dammed if he didn't answer the call and probably dammed if he did! "Scott must've dammed radar in his brain!" he mumbled on.
Biting the bullet and taking a deep breath, Virgil activated the communication, trying for all the world to look totally at ease and relaxed. "Yeah, Scott. What can we do for you?"
He could see by his eldest brother's face, though, he was not in the mood for platitudes.
"Just where the hell is Dad! Why isn't he manning Mobile Control!" the Base Commander thundered. "And don't try to fob me off, Virg. I know he's not there. I've been trying to reach Mobile Control for ages."
Oh, oh, busted!
"Eh…well, Scott. He's…eh…," Virgil winced, hesitating as he frantically thought of the best way of formulating his answer, which of course only added fuel to the fire.
"You let Dad get involved in the rescue….didn't you! You let him go rescuing some of those kids!" Scott accused.
"Now, Scott…keep your shirt on!" Gordon grinned, peering out from behind his older brother and twisting Virgil's wrist so he could look at the watch face. "He's not exactly……"
But it seemed the Base Commander was in no mood for lame excuses. "You're all in this together …aren't you!" he continued in suspicious accusation. "What the hell did I tell you guys before you left! Don't go letting Dad rescue any of those kids. That's your job. His…is Mobile Control….period!"
"But Scott….we didn't let him rescue any of the children…..we swear," John joined in, hoping that might be enough for his eldest brother, with the others immediately backing him up.
Yeah, like right! They hadn't 'a snowball's chance in hell', as the saying goes.
"A.l.right. Then where is he? Put him on…I want to speak to him. Like right…NOW," the Base Commander insisted emphatically.
The boys shifted uncomfortably and looked nervously from one to the other.
"W.e.l.l….eh…that's kinda awkward right now, Scott. He's…em…kinda busy!" Virgil winced, knowing that would never satisfy his eldest brother and that he was only prolonging the inevitable.
"Oh yeah…very busy," the other two agreed, in mock sincerity.
"You guys are gonna be in some deep pigs—t…if you don't tell me WHAT'S GOING ON!" Scott thundered.
And with that, Gordon erupted in a snort of laughter, with the comment, 'Yeah, just like Dad', which brought on tearful laughter from John, in the background, while poor Virgil fought hard to control himself and keep his face straight.
"S.s.sorry, Sc.Scott. It's just…Dad's tryin to rescue….Timmy!" Virgil all but managed to get out, as the brothers continued to watch the spectacle of their father in the pigpen.
"WHAT! You guys swore to me….," Scott's eyes narrowed in a frosty glare.
"Relax, Scott. Timmy's…a piglet. Dad's just tryin to rescue….a piglet!" John assured their eldest brother, while trying to keep the laughter from his voice.
"Yeah….so ya see….it really is Dad who's up to his eyes in pigs..t!" Gordon couldn't resist, earning him a sharp poke in the ribs from John.
Poor Scott. His face was almost as funny a picture as what the boys were watching. He looked totally and utterly gob smacked, while a burst of laughter could be heard from Jenna, followed by a rather lame apology to her Base Commander, as she fought to control her hilarity. Something for which she would, no doubt, pay for later!
"A piglet!" the Base Commander repeated, still trying to process the information and wonder where in the hell a piglet had come into the equation.
Virgil went on then to explain, as best he could, how it had all come about.
"I see. And just who's bright idea was that!" Scott responded with a measure of sarcasm, although deep down, he already had a pretty good idea. "No…don't tell me."
So, when two pairs of eyes looked accusingly to Gordon….it was confirmed.
"Just told the kids, we'd put our 'best man' on the job," the cheeky Aquanaut grinned.
"Ohhh gawd," the Base Commander sighed heavily, while Jenna soothingly rubbed his back and bit her lip to stifle her amusement. After a few moments! "Alright….here's what you're going to do. And I expect…this order…to be carried out without question. Is that understood!" he then added, taking firm control of the situation.
The boys gulped nervously. "Yes, Commander."
"Just make sure you record it all. Every last little detail! We're gonna want to watch it later!" their eldest brother ordered, his steely blue eyes now glinting with what they suspected was amusement but knew he would never admit to.
Little smiles of relief pulled at their faces. "F.A.B, Commander. You got it. Already being taken of…even as we speak," Virgil acknowledged. The communication was ended.
Back in the lounge of Tracy Island!
"You're not…really…mad at them…are you, Scott!" Jenna asked, out of bemused curiosity, as she massaged her Commander's shoulders.
He turned and looked up at her, his deep blue eyes flashing in wry amusement. "It's good for them to think I am!"
"Why, Mr Tracy! That's very naughty of you!" his lover replied, with a wry smile.
"Guess you're just starting to bring out the best in me, Miss Rollins!" he returned with seductive smoothness.
Meanwhile…back at the Inter-State National Pig Wrestling Championships!
After much more chasing, slipping, sliding and falling in the muck, Field Commander Jefferson Tracy finally bagged his quarry, having cornered the little guy up against his shelter, much to the delight of his young audience and unheard congratulations from his sons. Huffing and puffing, he then made his way back across the pen and climbed back over the fence, making sure, this time, he was holding his squealing little nemesis in a vice-like grip.
"Alright, children….let's get you and…Timmy…back to your friends in Thunderbird Two and get you all out of here," the now totally unrecognisable Tracy patriarch, not to mention head of a multi-billion dollar empire, groused through gritted teeth, doing his utmost to be 'nice'.
"Oh oh. Time we weren't here, guys," John suggested, at seeing their father now heading their way, surrounded by happy, cheering children.
They beat a hasty retreat back to the big green transport craft of Thunderbird Two, where they busily engaged themselves in some trivial tasks, as well as checking up on their temporary passengers, making it seem that's where they had been all along.
As their father squelched his way towards them, the brothers looked up, trying real hard to suppress the laughter they could feel welling up.
"Gee, Commander…you look…eh…kinda……!" Virgil remarked, in feigned surprise.
"Don't. Just…don't say it," their Field Commander growled darkly.
"Is that a…piglet…you've got there!" John asked, his face a picture of pure wide-eyed innocence.
"Aww….isn't he sweet," Gordon cooed, reaching out to stroke the little fella's snout. "What'cha doin with a piglet, Da…ahmm…Commander!"
Jefferson Tracy eyed each and every one of his sons with wry suspicion but before he could give any sort of retort!
Timmy, it seemed, hadn't quite finished in his dealings with the Field Commander! The whole experience had obviously proved just too traumatic for the little fella and he promptly 'let go' a flood and we won't mention what else, all down the front of his already filthy uniform.
For a moment, there was utter silence; that stunned silence that comes when the unthinkable has just happened.
"That'll…eh…be nerves…I expect. Causes a…reflex action! Little guy's probably just scared," John then offered helpfully, in mock seriousness, needing something to break the unbearable silence and not knowing how he kept from falling about in laughter.
Virgil and Gordon, though, were choking themselves, literally, trying to hold it in and had to momentarily turn away to compose themselves.
Jeff Tracy, already a man on the edge, closed his eyes briefly and growled darkly at Timmy, who he was sure had done that deliberately before thrusting the squirming creature into the arms of the waiting, giggling children.
"Aww thanks…you were stickin out, Mister…so ya were," young Billy gushed in admiring tones and followed in a chorus of the same by the others. Well, of course, with children being as fickle as they are and now that Timmy had been successfully rescued, the International Rescue man was a hero after all!
Frowning, Jeff automatically looked down at himself, to see just where he might be…stickin out but such was the dishevelled state he was in anyway it would have been impossible to tell, even if he had. It brought sniggers of laughter from his sons.
"No Commander. He means you were like…'cool'," Virgil offered in translation.
"Yeah….smile, Dad," Gordon spoke in low tones for only his father to hear. "Think of International Rescue's good-will image. You pulled off a great PR job there…so ya did! 'International Rescue's Field Commander rescues children's pet…at great personal risk to life and dignity'!" he added in amusement, while trying to keep his face straight and drawing along his forefinger and thumb, as though he were expounding a newspaper headline.
That earned Gordon and his sniggering brothers a dark scowl but before he could, again, think of any reply!
"Mister….Mister," little Lizzy interrupted, causing the gruff man to look down. "Thank you for rescuing Timmy," she added in her sweetest little girl's voice and batting her eyelids.
And what could he say! "Yes…well…ahmm. That's what International Rescue is here for…eh…young lady. Just…glad…I could be of help," Jeff smiled through gritted teeth.
His boys nodded in mock approval.
Little Lizzy hadn't quite finished though. "But you really need a bath, Mister…so you do. You stink!"
Out of the mouths of babes, huh! Lizzy ran off to join her friends, leaving a somewhat rather speechless Jefferson Tracy and, as he turned his dark scowl on his still sniggering sons, they too made a hurried exit, screwing up their noses at the niffy pong.
"Excuse me, Commander. Think I'd better go blow up that debris blockage in the river now," Gordon quickly remembered.
"Yeah. I'll just go and…eh…give him a hand. Make sure he…em…doesn't go falling in!" John immediately offered, wincing a smile.
"Yeah…and I'd better go check on our passengers….make sure they're settled in," Virgil suddenly remembered.
And with that, they quickly disappeared to their assigned tasks. With nothing else for it, Jefferson Tracy squelched his way back to Thunderbird One, mumbling and grumbling as he went, cleaned himself down as best he could and donned a clean uniform. Once Gordon and John had successfully completed their task, he began dismantling Mobile Control after he had first, of course, informed his eldest son back at Base Command, they were officially standing down.
Funny thing was, no mention was made of 'the Timmygate Affair'. Perhaps the Base Commander was saving it all up for the debrief!
With everything finally stowed away, the great green cargo plane rose majestically into the air, complete with some very excited children, who, no doubt, would remember this day for the rest of their lives. Gordon and John stayed with their young passengers in the holding section, partly to entertain but also to make sure curious little noses didn't go anywhere they weren't supposed to, although on Gordon's part, it was probably more to do with the fact he had some serious flirting still to do with a certain Miss Sarah Gordon, while he still had time!
Accompanied by Thunderbird One as escort, they flew down the length of Lough Beg, to give their little guests an unforgettable and spectacular view of the countryside before heading inland to the nearby town of Castledawson, where a larger children's home had offered to put them up until repairs could be made to their own.
And, with final farewells said to their new friends in International Rescue, Timmy including his own unique thanks, in the form of piggy grunts, the children watched the awesome machines disappear across Lough Neagh and head for home.
It was always a good feeling when a rescue went well, especially where children were involved and this one had certainly had an added entertainment value, though perhaps, not all the operatives of this heroic organisation would look on it just quite so fondly! The team settled down for the long journey home.
After a while and still some ways out!
"Base to Thunderbird One. Come in…Thunderbird One," Scott called, continuing in his efficient and professional manner.
High above the earth, Alan listened in eagerly to the transmission and couldn't resist patching it through to Thunderbird Two. Well, after all, his brothers had been good enough to let him share in their fun.
"Hey guys…listen up. Scott's contacting Dad," Alan informed them with the eager delight of someone who was expecting a 'rumble in the jungle'.
Jeff acknowledged the call on the secure frequency and had to admit to feeling a bit strange at this role reversal, thinking he should be the one at home behind his desk.
"So, Dad! How did the rescue go! Everything go…smoothly enough!" Scott asked, giving away nothing of what he knew and making no comment on his father's appearance.
"Yes, Son. The rescue went…ahmm…A-okay. In fact…it couldn't have went any better," Jeff replied a little hesitantly, though trying to sound fully confident for he did not intend to share the fact that he, Jefferson Grant Tracy, Commander-In-Chief of International Rescue, out on his first mission as Field Commander, which had been at his own insistence, not to mention, their father, had ended up face down in stinking mud, having been beaten by some little runt of a piglet!
The slightest arching of an eyebrow was the only sign that Base Commander Scott Tracy knew different.
"Well gee, Dad….I hear it was a real…pig…of a rescue!" he returned, giving his father a cool, calculating stare, via the vid-cam communications, with the merest hint of amusement flashing in his steely blue eyes.
That brought unheard eruptions of laughter from Thunderbird Two's crew. "Hey…way to go, Scott," Gordon grinned, ever admiring of his eldest brother's quick-witted retorts. He was quickly shushed, for they couldn't wait to hear their father's reply.
So, word had got out already. Well, just as long as they didn't know the whole story, Jeff grumbled to himself, though no doubt, word of little Timmy's 'nervous disposition' would be a source of great amusement.
"Yes…well. An unusual situation did arise that needed my urgent attention…but it was easily dealt with," Jeff reported, wishing he never had to be reminded of it again and bringing a 'yeah, like right, Dad' snort of unheard laughter from onboard Thunderbird Two.
"Y.e.s….that's something else we need to discuss…Field Commander! Like, 'so urgent', Mobile Control was suddenly left unmanned, without any explanation!" Scott responded in cool authoritarian tones.
Again and just briefly, there was that stunned silence from Thunderbird Two's crew, followed by long, low whistles of incredulity.
"Gee, sounds like Dad's in a whole heap of trouble," Gordon grinned, with a warped sense of delight.
And stunned silence hadn't only come from TB2. Had he heard right! Had his eldest son just pulled… him…up, on a point of procedure! Jefferson Tracy floundered and blustered, "Now, look here, Son…!"
"Save it for the debriefing…Commander. No doubt, it will make for an entertaining report!" Scott cut in, eyeing his father with cool deliberation and before the man, who looked like he'd just been slapped across the face with a wet fish, had any chance to comment, the young Base Commander cheekily thought a reminder might be in order. "And don't forget to call in for security clearance, at the outer marker, for landing. Base to Thunderbird One….out."
Indignant was not the word! Jeff Tracy may have felt initially justified in his grumbling and grousing of, 'just who does he think he is' and 'how dare he treat me like this' but, deep down, he knew he only had himself to blame, on two counts. One, Scott was right, on his point of procedure and right to pull him up on it and two, he expected nothing less from his eldest son than total professionalism for, one day, he would take over the running of the organisation permanently and, if his lack of hesitation in not letting his father of the hook was anything to go by then International Rescue was surely in very safe and responsible hands.
Still, he had to admit; it did sting a bit, being pulled up on such a very basic procedural error, by your own son, especially when you wrote the damn procedures in the first place!
"Well, this is gonna be…interesting, guys…not to mention fun…huh!" John commented, with all the curious delight in awaiting the outcome of a 'prize fight'.
It wasn't often the boys actually looked forward to a debriefing but this, sure as hell, was one they were not going to miss! And so it was, when they eventually arrived back at Base, they completed the quickest post flight checks and tidy-up they had ever done, to arrive up in the lounge just as their father came through from Thunderbird One's silo. Seems he wasn't just as much in a hurry to get his post flight checks completed but still, he thought he might have been here first.
"I…eh. I…ahmm…I hoped we might have done this in private, Son," Jeff frowned and shifted uncomfortably.
Scott eyed his father with cool regard and never once wavered, as he replied. "Now, you know it doesn't work like that, Dad. Everyone involved, is here for the initial debrief…so if there are any conflicting reports…we can sort it out. Then, if you still have something to say…we can do it later."
Seems like the young Base Commander intended to finish, exactly like he started, by the book. And, to Scott's way of thinking, if his father wanted to be Field Commander and pilot of Thunderbird One for the day then he was going to have to endure the whole package and perhaps it would make his father think twice before being so eager to go out again!
Out-foxed again by his own damn rules. The scowling Tracy patriarch turned, to find three simpering smiles of amusement all looking in his direction.
But as they lined up, however, to face their Base Commander, noses started to twitch and Thunderbird Two's crew found themselves jostling for position…as far away from their father as possible!
And they weren't the only ones who noticed a rather nasty niff in the air. When Grandma came into the lounge, wanting to find out how her son had faired on his first rescue out in the field, her already wrinkled nose wrinkled even more.
"My..my…what is that smell?" the elderly lady commented immediately, being none too worried about whose feelings she offended. "Why…I haven't smelled anything like that since way back on the farm in Kansas. It smells like a pigsty in here!"
Sniggers of laughter escaped from her grandsons, while Jenna had to press her lips together hard and cover her mouth before actually having to turn away to compose herself.
"Yeah. Look…sorry, Dad. Grandma's right. Think you'd better go take a shower first," Scott suggested helpfully, wrinkling his nose and waving his hand in front of his face for effect.
Even though their father had changed his uniform and cleaned himself up as best he could before leaving the scene, it was the kind of 'ripe' smell that seemed to just hang in the air and follow you everywhere!
Was there no end to this humiliation, the Commander-In-Chief thought miserably to himself! This wanting to have gone out on a rescue and pilot Thunderbird One was certainly costing him dear, in reputation and dignity. But now that it was pointed out to him, he had to admit, he was a bit niffy. Funny that; how after a while you don't notice things like that!
Letting out a deep breath and mustering as much dignity as he could, under the circumstances, Jefferson Tracy held his head high and swept past his sons to make his exit, leaving the rather distinctive odour in his wake.
"Okay, guys…take five," Scott informed his brothers, for which they were more than grateful, giving them enough time to go grab a quick shower of their own and get back in time for the 'main event'. "And, Grandma...can you get…eh…some air-freshener in here…or something," he added in request, as he screwed up his nose again and made like he was spraying. "Thanks."
A short while later and now that the air was a little sweeter and a lot more breathable, the team had once again assembled for the young Base Commander to, finally, get his debriefing underway.
"Now…where were we!"
