9. Virgil and EOS – Error and Failure

"Virgil, there has been an error in the drive system of Thunderbird Two."

That tinny voice, deceptively sweet. All Virgil wants to do is shut off the comm. – or better yet, to yell, "Don't you think I've noticed that?"

Because Two is in a swirling dive, heading towards the ocean like a leaf in a gale. Up and down, in circles, round about and back to front. And there's nothing he can do about it.

"Dammit!" he yells, desperately punching buttons and pulling levers. "I can't get control back!"

"Incorrect."

This time, the voice was welcome. Virgil's back stiffened.

"What do you mean?"

"I believe I can correct the error," EOS says. "If you will let me."

She's asking because he's never let her loose in Thunderbird Two before. She's asking because he's categorically said no every time John has suggested she helps with maintenance. I can't trust her, he thought. I can't. Not after what she did.

But now, with the ocean looming closer and an explosive death on the horizon, Virgil doesn't have any choice. And he knows it all too well.

"Alright. Do it!"

And then there's the strangest sensation – like when Gordon took over the controls from the POD, but weirder. At least then, Virgil knew the craft was in the hands of a human being. Now? It's in the hands of the Frankenstein code baby John accidently brought to life. And it's scaring the hell out of him.

Seconds become hours and life beyond the cockpit window goes in slow motion. Waves move across the ocean like inching silver strands. He counts his heartbeat. He thinks. I don't want to be a failure. I don't want to let everyone down…

And just as Two is going to hit the water, suddenly she's rising up like a phoenix, soaring back into the big blue above – and not below.

"I have corrected the error," EOS says. "There is a problem with the code. I have made a temporary repair, but a permanent fix will be needed."

Air gushing back in and out of his lungs, Virgil grasps the controls as the AI lets go.

"Thanks," he says. "I don't know what I'd have done without you, EOS."

And then the tinny voice is gone, replaced by a tinkling laugh, girlish and light and almost embarrassed.

"Thank you for trusting me, Virgil," EOS says.

"It was my error not to trust you before," Virgil replies.

And she laughs again. And something inside Virgil feels a little lighter – as if a niggling worry has been washed away.