Firstly, an apology. Normally, when I write a story, I write a chapter, send it to quiller to proof, tweak it, and then re-read it several times as the full story to make sure it all fits, send it back to quiller for a final proofing, and then, when I'm sure it's as good as it can be, publish each chapter daily. The Tracy Triangle was an idea I came up with a couple of months ago, but time, or lack thereof, conspired against me and I haven't quite finished it. As I regard it as a Halloween story, this left me with two options - upload it tonight in a less than perfect state, or leave it for a year. So what I've decided to do is upload chapter one on Halloween (New Zealand time, anyway), and then upload subsequent chapters on or before the next Thursdays by when, hopefully, they'll be something close to my usual standard.

So, my apology is that this won't be up to my usual standard.

Sadly, I cannot lay claim to any of the characters, machines, or locations from the TV series Thunderbirds nor Thunderbirds are Go. All other situations, and errors are mine. Unless Gordon's Gremlins have got in there and changed things without my knowledge - and I'm not sure I can blame him this time.

As usual, thanks to quiller for her proofing time.

Please ask for my permission before listing The Tracy Triangle on a C2, or any other site other than Fan Fiction dot net.

Thank you.

Enjoy

F-A-B

:-) Purupuss

The Tracy Triangle

Side 1 - Adjacent

Alone in this cylindrical room, Gordon Tracy looked about him.

Ever since several years ago when he'd been banished up here to Thunderbird Five and had discovered what a wicked practical joke machine it was, he'd been begging to be allowed back on duty for Halloween and/or April Fool's Day.

And every year he'd been denied.

And yet, here he was, on October 31st, looking down towards Earth with almost the entire Pacific Ocean within his view.

He couldn't believe his luck.

He was sure that his brothers weren't happy with their dad's decision.

John especially. "You can't be serious," he would have complained. "Remember what happened the last time you rostered him on over Halloween? He made Tracy Island even more like the Mary Celeste than the Mary Celeste."

"I remember, John," their father would have replied. "But I'm going to let him this time, and I'll tell you why. It's his turn, he hasn't pestered anyone too much lately, and he deserves a second chance. After all, last time, he did save our home from being burgled and put an international gang of thieves behind bars."

John would have had no answer to that.

Neither would their brothers.

And so, a few days ago, Gordon had made the journey to geostationary orbit.

John had met him with a frown. "I'm warning you, Gordon, if I come back here and there's so much as a hint of green goop, a bit of code rewritten, one bit of food swapped, replaced, or hidden…"

"Thanks for giving me the ideas, Johnny,"

The frown had deepened. "…Then I'll personally see to it that a stink bomb will go off in Thunderbird Four before every mission."

Something that may have been worth it, Gordon theorised, if he could devise the ultimate prank to trick his brothers…

But at this precise nanosecond it wasn't the time to think about pranks. Thunderbirds One and Two with Scott, Virgil, John, and Alan were just completing a mission in the Caribbean.

"Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Five."

"This is Thunderbird Five. Go ahead, Thunderbird One."

"Mission over and I'm on my way home." Scott was sounding happy at the prospect, and Gordon figured that he was looking forward to their Grandma's home cooked meal. Missing out on her seasonal celebratory spread was one disadvantage of being rostered on to Thunderbird Five over Halloween.

Gordon would just have to hope that there were plenty leftovers after his gannet brothers had had their fill. "Acknowledged, Thunderbird One," he responded. "I'm plotting your home course…" On the oversized map before him, a name jumped out at him.

Bermuda.

"Ah… Thunderbird One… Are you sure you want to take that route?"

"Of course, I'm sure." Scott sounded surprised by the question. "Why wouldn't I?'

"Because you'll be passing through the Bermuda Triangle."

There was a moment's stunned silence when Gordon figured that Scott was trying to get his head about the fact that his brother had even voiced concern. "I beg your pardon."

"If you continue on your present route, it's going to take you right through the heart of the Bermuda Triangle."

"So?"

"So. It's the Bermuda Triangle."

"The only mystery about the Bermuda Triangle, Gordon." Scott was sounding a little peeved that they were having this conversation. "Is that people think there is a mystery."

"Aircraft have disappeared in its airspace."

"An aircraft is no more likely to disappear in the so-called Bermuda Triangle than anywhere else on the planet. They've disappeared over parts of the Pacific Ocean too, but you never hear about the Pacific Square."

"Nobody knows what happened to the craft that disappeared in the Bermuda Triangle."

"They were either misreported, disappeared somewhere outside the mythical airspace, or turned up a few days later without any fuss…"

Trust a flyboy like Scott to have analysed the circumstances behind those disappearances.

"The Bermuda Triangle's a myth, Gordon. There are no magnetic anomalies, links to Atlantis, and the Bimini Wall is a natural feature. I can't believe that you think that there's any possibility that a state-of-the-art craft like Thunderbird One could just fly over a particular patch of ocean and disa…"

"Thunderbird One?" Wide-eyed and disbelieving, Gordon stared at the on-screen diagnostics.

Or where they had been. Thunderbird One's data had just vanished from the record. "Scott?"

Okay. Nothing to worry about. It's just a glitch in the system or something. Gordon called up the check sheet to confirm that his memories of what to do in this situation were correct.

Attempt to reestablish communications

"Calling Thunderbird One. Come in, Thunderbird One." Come on, Scott. Answer me… "Calling Thunderbird One. Can you hear me, Thunderbird One?"

If he can, I'm not hearing him.

Contact other Thunderbirds on the mission to confirm the fault isn't with Thunderbird Five.

"Calling Thunderbird Two. Thunderbird Five calling Thunderbird Two."

"Thunderbird Two receiving."

Gordon couldn't begin to express the relief he felt. "I've lost contact with Thunderbird One. Can you radio him?"

"You've lost contact with Scott?" Virgil sounded as disbelieving as Scott had earlier.

"Yes."

"Are you sure this isn't a joke, Gordon?"

Like I'd joke about a thing like this. "I'm deadly serious, Virgil."

"Okay. I'll see if I can reach him… Calling Thunderbird One. This is Thunderbird Two calling Thunderbird One… Can you hear me, Scott?"

Heart thumping, Gordon waited to hear that contact had been made.

"Negative. Why don't you keep trying, John?"

"F-A-B. You're working through the checklist?"

"I am," Gordon confirmed. "Contacting you is item number two and number three is rebooting the comms computer."

"You'd better go do that then. Call us when you're back online."

"F-A-B."

For some reason, even though he was the one initiating the procedure, being disconnected from all human contact was even more stressful than Scott's inexplicable disappearance. The computer winked out, died for the longest one second ever, and then hummed back into life.

"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird One…"

The eerie silence prevailed.

"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird Two."

"I'm receiving you, Gordon. But I didn't reach Scott." Now even Virgil was beginning to sound somewhat frustrated.

"Me neither. Has John got any ideas?"

"No. Aside from suggesting that you run through the checklist, which you're already doing."

"I've done number two: calling you; number three: restarting comms; and now I've got to do number four and let base know."

"Then you'd better go and do that. Where was Scott when you lost contact?"

"Twenty-five degrees north, seventy-one degrees west."

"Why does that sound familiar?"

"It's the Bermuda Triangle, Virg."

"The… The what?"

"The Bermuda Triangle. I warned him he was flying straight into it, and he said he wasn't worried."

"I'm sure he wasn't…" Suddenly, Virgil's voice grew fainter. "Alan!"

The youngest Tracy must have grabbed the pilot's microphone, because his voice came through loud and clear. "Don't tell me you believe in the curse of the Bermuda Triangle, Gordon!?"

"No… No, of course not." But Gordon wasn't sure that he was telling the truth.

"It's a series of coincidences… Someone's way of creating a story out of nothing."

"I kn…"

"The Bermuda Triangle is a myth, Gordon, you know that. A complete fabrication. There's nothing to worry about. Remember that no matter what hap…"

There was something of a strangled squawk.

Virgil must have reclaimed his microphone. "It's okay, Gordon, John's dealing with that interference. Now, don't worry about Scott. It'll be a glitch in Thunderbird One's comms software and it'll be sorted when he gets home."

"What if he doesn't get home?" The words were out of Gordon's mouth before he realised what he was saying.

"Do you honestly believe that a little historical mystery is going to keep our big brother from Grandma's Halloween feast?"

Gordon managed a relieved laugh that, to his ears at least, didn't sound false. "No. Of course not."

"There'll be a bug in the system somewhere. We'll get home, John will work out what's wrong, and all our problems will be solved."

"You're right, of course, Virgil. I'd better continue following the checklist and let base know that Thunderbird One will be arriving unannounced."

"Good idea."

"I'll report back if Dad's heard anything."

"Thanks, Gordon. Thunderbird Two: out."

"Thunderbird Five calling Tracy Island." Despite his outward calm, Gordon could feel his stress levels rise when his dad seemed to take a second longer than expected to respond.

But then, and it had to be his imagination, in the briefest of moments before his father answered, Gordon could have sworn that he heard the ghostly voice of his big brother… A glance at Thunderbird Five's console confirmed that this wasn't possible.

"Tracy Island. Go ahead Thunderbird Five."

Play it cool. "When did you last hear from Thunderbird One?"

"I last called Scott when the training session was over. He said was about to head for home… Why?"

"Thunderbird Five lost contact with him…" over the Bermuda Triangle "six-hundred-and eighty-one-kilometres sou'-sou'-west of Bermuda."

"You lost contact?"

"That's right. No comms contact. No status update. No GPS pings. Nothing. It's like Thunderbird One vanished off the face of the Earth." Gordon decided to try calm logic. "Maybe there's some liquid Alsterene and OD60 floating around there?"

"I hope not. Not after that dog food fiasco."

"Except the last time there was a lot of interference before we lost contact. Limited video and no sound."

"I remember. And this time?"

"This time Scott was talking to me one minute and then radio silence the next."

Jeff appeared unmoved by this announcement. "Can you reach Thunderbird Two?"

"Strength five. They're of the opinion that it's a software glitch."

"It's a concern if it is." There was the barest hint of emotion. "Keep monitoring, Gordon, and let me know the instant you have news."

"F-A-B."

Shocked at how little he was holding out hope of success, Gordon tried to contact his eldest brother again. "Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird One… Come in, Thunderbird One… Scott, are you receiving me? Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird One…"

But there was silence from Thunderbird One.

"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird Two."

"Thunderbird Two: receiving. Any word from Scott, Gordon?"

"Negative. You?'

"John says it's like a wall's been erected. It's almost like it's been put there on purpose."

"Not by me."

"We know that."

"What's your location?"

"Twenty-five degrees, fifty-two minutes, eighteen seconds north, seventy degrees, three fifty minutes, twelve seconds west. We'll be upon Scott's last known location any moment. We'll follow his flight path and track him down to wherever he…"

"Thunderbird Two?"

…

"Are you reading me, Thunderbird Two?"

…

"Virgil. If you can hear me, I can't hear you. Get John to send a signal to Thunderbird Five so I know you're okay."

…

"Thunderbird Five to Base."

"Base here." Jeff Tracy's voice dragged Gordon's attention back to Earth. "Any news?"

Gordon swallowed down the low-level panic he was experiencing. "Nothing from Scott, and…"

"And?"

"And Thunderbird Two's disappeared too."

"Thunderbird Two's disappeared?"

"Yes. Virgil was talking to me, saying that they'd follow Scott's flight path, and then Five lost all communications with them."

"Vocal and situational?"

"Everything." After a quick glance at the checklist to confirm his memory wasn't playing tricks on him, Gordon initiated the next stage. "I've just programmed Thunderbird Five to monitor the local civilian and military airwaves for any references to unidentified aircraft." Or wreckage.

"Anything?"

Gordon examined the screeds of data scrolling up the computer screen. "Nothing as yet… I've already done it once, but I'll reboot Five's computers again. Everything seems to be A1, but a kick in the CPU might be all that's needed."

"All right, Gordon. Call me back when you've rebooted."

"F-A-B." Once again, the reboot only took a second, but it seemed long enough that Gordon was tempted to start pacing the length of the cabin in frustration. "Thunderbird Five to base."

Thunderbird Five must have still been waking up after her brief nap, as, once again, Jeff Tracy didn't respond immediately. But in the eerie gap, when nothing was being transmitted across the International Rescue network, once again Gordon heard a ghostly voice – this time Virgil's. At least Gordon thought he'd heard his brother. The sound was sensed as much as heard and disappeared into the ether almost as soon as his brain identified what it could have been.

A shiver went down Gordon's spine. "Thunderbird Five calling base," he repeated, his computer checks confirming that communications with Thunderbird Two were still non-existent.

"Base here. Any improvement on comms?"

"Negative. Thunderbird Five's still not reading Thunderbird One or Thunderbird Two."

"Okay…" Jeff took a moment to think. "Assuming Scott doesn't deviate from his original flightpath and maintains speed, when would we expect to see him back at base?"

Gordon checked another of the myriad of screens about him and started a countdown. "Ninety minutes?"

"All right then. We won't panic for ninety minutes."

Gordon was silent panicking already. He had to admire his father's cool calm demeanour…

Then again, Jeff Tracy wasn't having to deal with being alone in the unfamiliar realm of space, with the sole job being to keep track of every one of his brothers, and failing…

"How are you holding up, Gordon?"

"Me? All good, Dad. I'm sure it's a glitch in the system somewhere." I hope.

But Gordon's eyes kept on straying back to that clock counting down the seconds…

Seconds until they would know the truth about the Bermuda Triangle…

To be continued…