One other reason why I'm less than happy with posting this story when I did, is that I, inadvertently, shunted quiller's own Halloween story "For Those In Peril" further down the list. If you want a good read, head there after you've meandered through this chapter.

And, if you want further reading and you're curious about the "last time" Gordon was on Thunderbird Five during Halloween, head back 17 years (17 years!) to my "The Tracy Celeste".

The Tracy Triangle - Side 2 - Opposite

It had been several years since Gordon had been banished up to Thunderbird and had discovered what a wicked practical joke machine it was. Several years of him begging to be allowed back on duty for Halloween and/or April Fool's Day.

And several years of Jeff Tracy denying him his request.

Until October 31st this year…

"You can't be serious," John complained. "Gordon? On Thunderbird Five? At Halloween!? You're asking for trouble."

"I know what I'm doing."

"Do you? Remember what happened the last time you banished him up there over Halloween…"

"I remember, John."

"He nearly revealed us to the world."

"He saved our home from being burgled."

"You mean he practically exposed International Rescue's secrets to a bunch of thieves!"

"And they weren't clever enough to realise what they were seeing."

"He could have blown International Rescue's cover."

"He could have, but he didn't," Jeff replied, maintaining his composure in the face of his son's tirade.

"In other words, we were lucky. So why take a chance this time?"

"I'll tell you why I'm giving him the chance, John, if you give me a chance to do so… It's his turn."

"I'll do a double shift."

"You're already going to spend your birthday up there."

"So long as my telescope's operational I don't mind."

"Glad to hear it. Now… Gordon hasn't pestered anyone too much lately…"

"Just as well you added the qualifier 'too'."

"…And I think he deserves a second chance to prove himself."

"Really?!"

"Really. After all, last time, he did save our home from being burgled and put an international gang of thieves behind bars."

"Having turned them into gibbering idiots."

"They were idiots to start with." That comment was courtesy of Alan. "If they believed the island was haunted."

John nodded his agreement.

Hoping that this meant that Thunderbird Five's Space Monitor had got his rant out of his system and was ready to listen to his plan, Jeff took a deep breath. "The reason why I'm going to let Gordon control Thunderbird Five during Halloween is twofold. Firstly: he'll be out of our hair and we, since we know what Five's capable of, are less likely to be caught out by one of his tricks…"

"He has a point, John," Virgil agreed.

John gave a reluctant nod of agreement.

Deciding that this was a positive sign, Jeff continued. "And secondly…" he paused for dramatic effect. "I intend to make this a stress scenario, and I'll need all your help."

This had those sons listening sitting up straighter.

"Stress scenario?" Scott queried. "How stressful?"

"Stressful enough to test him."

"They always do, but what evil have you got planned this time?"

Jeff managed to supress a smirk. Whilst stress scenarios were evil and he didn't like the idea of inflicting them on his sons, there was a certain satisfaction to be gained from seeing his boys squirm… That was… he amended… seeing them cope with a stressful situation with ease and come out stronger. "He'll believe that there's a submerged sub at 36 degrees north, 59 degrees west…"

"That will be stressful for him," Alan agreed. "An underwater rescue that he can only listen in on."

"You're right, but that's not what's going to be stressful," Jeff informed his youngest. "The real stress scenario will happen on the journey home. When Thunderbirds One and Two reach 24 degrees, 59 minutes, 59 seconds north, 71 degrees west on October 31st."

Virgil frowned. "Why do those coordinates sound familiar?"

It was Scott who gave him the answer. "That's the heart of the Bermuda Triangle."

"Exactly. And when you and Thunderbird One, and then Thunderbird Two, reach those coordinates, on Halloween, that's when Thunderbird Five will lose contact with you."

Scott gave a slow nod as he mulled the situation over in his mind. "So, Gordon will think we've vanished into the Bermuda Triangle."

"He's not stupid." Virgil shook his head. "He'll never believe that."

"At Halloween; when he's alone on Thunderbird Five; with no one else about to keep his mind off it…? He might… That's if he realises what the location is."

"He's just as interested in the nautical side of the Bermuda Triangle myth as you are the aeronautical, Scott," his father reminded him. "He'll know exactly where you're headed."

Alan's frown had been growing deeper and deeper throughout this conversation. "You're going to make Gordon think that, potentially, we've all disappeared off the face of the Earth at the same time? Maybe even crashed and burned? That's a bit cruel, Dad."

"That's the whole point of stress scenarios, Alan. To test how you boys react to stressful situations."

"We're your sons, not your subordinates. Just because your superiors put you through a biggie doesn't mean you need to do it to us." Alan crossed his arms. "Besides, how come it's always Gordon, or John, or me you torture? Never Scott or Virgil?"

There was a muttered: "Thank heavens for that," from Thunderbird Two's pilot.

"Because Thunderbirds One and Two are most frequently called into service," Jeff explained. "Which means they experience real world stressful situations more often than the rest of you."

"Except when they crash their Thunderbirds," John volunteered, and received twin baleful glares at the reminders. "Hey! I was on Thunderbird Five and had to listen to you guys go down without being able to help. In my mind, that's stressful enough to warrant being let off stress scenarios once or twice."

Alan snickered. "Maybe you should tell that to Grandma?"

It was his turn to be on the receiving end of a baleful glare. "You wouldn't be so flippant if you'd gone through what I went through…"

It had been John's first day back on Earth after a particularly long stint on Thunderbird Five, and he was supposed to be enjoying his sole day off when he'd received a frantic call from his grandmother. Without taking the time to wonder why she'd gone exploring and allowed herself to be trapped in a cave by the incoming tide, and with his brothers and father otherwise occupied on a rescue at some other far-flung part of the planet, he'd set out to save her. He'd swum through an ever-shrinking air pocket, his heart almost thumping out of his chest with worry, until he found an unperturbed Grandma wearing a wetsuit, with breathing apparatus at the ready, sitting high and dry on a padded seat on a raised platform, doing, of all things, knitting!

John had been so irked by his father's callousness and grandmother's complicity, that he'd barely spoken to them for the next twenty-four hours. Not even when offered his favourite dishes. He'd only relented when his dad had given him an extra day's leave at the end of his stint on Terra Firma to make up for the one at the start being ruined. Which resulted in Alan getting into a grump for having to stay on Thunderbird Five for a day longer than he'd planned.

Scott, Virgil, and Gordon, once they had decided that they were brave enough to approach John, had sworn blind that they'd been caught up saving lives for real and hadn't known a thing about the whole situation. He wasn't one hundred percent sure he believed them.

"Anyway…" He turned his attention back to his father. "What do you need us to do?"

"What I need you to do," Jeff began, the emphasis on the you, "is make sure it happens."

"Huh?"

"I'm sure you could write some code that will cause Thunderbird Five to ignore all calls from Thunderbirds One and Two on that date. I don't want base to lose contact; I'm not prepared to risk anything untoward happening for real; but to Thunderbird Five, it'll appear that they've disappeared off the face of the Earth… Can you do that?"

"Uh…" John frowned as he thought. "Yeah…? An additional firewall could do it…"

"You don't sound sure John." In contrast to his brother, Alan was sounding hopeful that this might be the case. Clearly, he was not a fan of his father's plan.

"I can do it. I'm just trying to think if there are any fishhooks."

"Like putting Gordon through an emotional ringer?"

"Alan," John said pointedly. "I have one word for you: Fisholene."

"And I've got two words," Virgil added. "Racing pink."

"And my four-word contribution," Scott told his youngest brethren. "Tin-Tin Eddie breakup."

"That's three words," John told him.

"Tin-Tin's one word."

"So's breakup."

-F-A-B-

One month later John declared that he'd successfully inserted the necessary code into Thunderbirds Five's computers, and it was another month after that when Gordon, not quite able to believe it, found himself doing a tour of duty onboard the space station.

At Halloween.

En route to their Atlantic simulation, communications between Thunderbirds One and Two had been on fire – Leaving Thunderbird Five out of the loop…

"I still say it's not fair."

"You're right, it's not fair, Alan," Scott agreed. "But Father's the boss. For whatever reason, he thinks these tests are necessary."

Alan looked disgusted. "You would think that. You never get stung by them."

"No, I just have to watch you guys get into trouble on a daily basis and work out how I'm going to get you out of it."

Despite his elder brother's acceptance of the situation, Alan clearly wasn't happy. "I reckon Gordon won't fall for it."

"And I think he will," John corrected.

"Nah, he's too clever for that."

"He's too clever for his own good."

There was no disputing this. "Maybe, but he's a scientist at heart, like you, John. He'll see through our ruse."

"Not if we play it right."

"He doesn't deserve to be tortured like this."

"It'll only be for…" Scott did a quick, rough, calculation. "One point seven five hours?"

"One point six seven," Virgil amended.

"I was including losing contact with Thunderbird Two."

"Then it's two point one seven."

Scott sighed, knowing he wasn't going to win that argument. Thunderbird Two's pilot had an almost supernatural ability to judge flight times to the second.

"Has anyone thought this through?" Alan demanded. "What happens if Gordon crashes and burns because he thinks we crashed and burned? It's not like we've got another aquanaut on tap."

"He won't. Father won't let it get that far."

"Are you sure? It's all right for him, sitting back on Tracy Island, knowing that it's all fake. I think he enjoys making us all dance like puppets."

"Well, it's my turn to make you dance," Scott interjected. "I'm in a hover right over a supposed sunken submersible and the crew needs our help. Get your game faces on guys…"

And so, they'd focussed on their imaginary rescue without their genuine aquanaut, and had almost forgotten about their father's plans until Gordon's opening remark on Scott's journey home.

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

"Of course, I'm sure." A large part of his mind occupied with a mental debrief of today's activities, Scott was genuinely surprised by the question. "Why wouldn't I?'

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

Oh, yeah… Scott, using the transmission only setting, brought Thunderbird Two and Tracy Island into the conversation. "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." Despite this being exactly the scenario they'd planned on, Scott couldn't quite believe 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 caught up in a storm, misreported, disappeared somewhere outside the mythical airspace, or turned up a few days later without any fuss. The Bermuda Triangle's a fairy story, Gordon. There are no magnetic anomalies, links to Atlantis, and the Bimini Wall is a natural feature." Nearly time to cut out. Got to time this just right… "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 disappear."

A light flashed up on Thunderbird One's console. Connection with Thunderbird Five had been lost.

Despite this, Scott continued talking to his unseen audience. "Stage one complete."

"That's my part of the plan working." John gave a satisfied nod. "I guess Gordon's now working through the checklist."

"It won't be long until we find out," Virgil reminded him. "Calling us is item number two…"

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

"And here we go… Thunderbird Two receiving."

All those on Thunderbird Two's flight deck heard Gordon's voice. "I've lost contact with Thunderbird One. Can you radio him?"

"You've lost contact with Scott?"

"Yes."

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

"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?" As everyone except for the current space monitor had expected, there was no response. "Negative. Why don't you keep trying, John?"

"F-A-B."

"You're working through the checklist, Gordon?"

"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."

John rubbed his hands together in delight. "He's falling for it."

"He thinks there's a glitch in the system," Alan told him. "He's not linking Scott's disappearance with the Bermuda Triangle yet. He probably thinks Thunderbird Five's malfunctioning."

"Malfunctioning?" John seemed genuinely mystified by Alan's supposition. "Thunderbird Five doesn't malfunction."

"Just keep telling yourself that, Johnny. Five's as fallible as the next Thunderbird."

"She's…!"

"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird Two."

"Shush you two!" Virgil commanded. "I'm receiving you, Gordon, but I didn't reach Scott."

"You didn't try."

"Shut up, John."

"Me neither," Gordon admitted. "Has John got any ideas?"

"Plenty," John muttered.

Virgil would have glared at him if his head had been able to turn 180 degrees. "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?" He's falling for it?

"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." As if the realisation that Gordon was giving credence to the Bermuda Triangle story wasn't shocking enough, Virgil was shocked even more so when his microphone was snatched away from him. "Alan!"

Alan was determined to give some reassurance to his space-locked brother… And maybe a hint or two. "Don't tell me you believe in the curse of the Bermuda Triangle, Gordon!?"

"No… No, of course not…"

"It's a series of coincidences… Someone's…" Dad'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…"

Clamping his hand over his youngest brother's mouth, John wrestled him away from the flight console. "What are you trying to do?" he hissed. "Spoil it?"

"Why should he suffer?"

Virgil, having claimed his microphone back, waved them both quiet. "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." And John flips the switch that'll turn off the programme.

"What if he doesn't get home?"

The merest hint of uncertainty stabbed through the airwaves.

John released Alan.

Feeling sorry for the space bound aquanaut, Virgil tried to boost his morale. "Do you honestly believe that a little historical mystery is going to keep our big brother from Grandma's Halloween feast?"

There was a laugh that didn't quite ring true. "No. Of course not."

Alan looked at John who grimaced in reply.

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

"Except for the problem called Dad," Alan muttered.

"You're right, of course, Virgil." Gordon was sounding more in control now. "I'd better continue following the checklist and let base know that Thunderbird One could be arriving unannounced."

"Good idea."

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

"Thanks, Gordon. Thunderbird Two: out."

"I don't like this," Alan stated. "He's stressing."

John shrugged. "It'll do him good to be on the receiving end for once… So long as he doesn't do anything to Thunderbird Five."

"Like what?"

"Like using up the water supply."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he can't vent his frustrations by taking a swim."

"Will you both be quiet?" Virgil ordered. "He'll be calling me back in a moment and I've got to convince him that I'm as in the dark about Scott's disappearance as he is…"

-F-A-B-

Whilst this conversation was ongoing, a very much unlost-to-all-scanners Thunderbird One was flying serenely home to Tracy Island, its pilot in conversation with International Rescue's commander. "Stage one of the stress scenario is underway."

"Good." Jeff checked his computer. "I've got both you and Thunderbird Two on screen."

"You'll be tracking us when we're lost to Thunderbird Five's scanners?"

"That's right."

"Good…" Scott paused in thought. "May I ask you something, Father?"

Jeff was surprised at the timing of the request. "Of course."

"I know you're testing Gordon, but don't you think that killing us all off is a bit extreme?"

"We're not 'killing you all off.' As soon as you're outside of John's invisibility zone, you'll reappear again."

"I just hope that you tell Gordon that this was your idea and not ours. He's got a long …"

"Thunderbird Five calling Tracy Island."

"…memory."

Jeff held up his hand to indicate that his eldest should be silent. "Tracy Island. Go ahead, Thunderbird Five."

"When did you last hear from Thunderbird One?"

How best to phrase this? "I last called Scott when the submersible rescue was over. He said he was about to head for home… Why?"

"Thunderbird Five lost contact with him 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. Maybe there's some liquid Alsterene and OD60 floating around there?"

"I hope not. Not after that dog food fiasco." Must remember that for future stress scenarios.

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

That was a stress scenario in itself; being out of radio contact and not knowing how the rescue was progressing. "I remember. And this time?"

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

Well done, John. Everything's going exactly as planned. "Can you reach Thunderbird Two?"

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

Not a glitch – a programme. "It's a concern if it is. Keep monitoring, Gordon, and let me know the instant you have news."

"F-A-B."

When Thunderbird Five had disconnected its link with Tracy Island, Jeff quickly initiated one with her sister craft. "Congratulations, John. Your programme's working perfectly."

"Thanks. How's Gordon doing?"

"No issues."

"In that case, don't you think we should let him off the hook, Dad?" Alan interjected.

"Not until after Thunderbird Two's disappeared and reappeared again."

"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird Two."

"Is that really necessary?"

"Alan! Shush!" Virgil commanded. "I need to concentrate so I don't give the game away… 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."

No, Gordon, not by you. By us. "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." And then you'll lose contact with us as well. "We'll follow his flight path and track him down to wherever he…" A light winked out on the console. "We've lost him."

"You mean," John corrected, "he's lost us…"

"Yes. He's on his own now…"

-F-A-B-

On Tracy Island, Jeff heard a familiar voice. "Thunderbird Five to Base."

"Base here. Any news?"

He was pleased to hear that Gordon was sounding calm and in control. "Nothing from Scott, and…"

"And?"

"And Thunderbird Two's disappeared too."

Jeff checked his computer, seeing twin dots moving slowly across the North Atlantic Ocean. "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. I've just programmed Thunderbird Five to monitor the local civilian and military airwaves for any references to unidentified aircraft."

Five won't find anything. "Anything?"

"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."

That's my boy. Always looking for humour in any situation. "All right, Gordon. Call me back when you've rebooted."

"F-A-B."

I'd better give the rest of the team an update. "Base to Thunderbird's One and Two."

"Thunderbird One receiving."

"Thunderbird Two receiving."

"Gordon's rebooting Thunderbird Five again and he's got her monitoring civilian and military channels for any reports."

"In other words," Scott reminded his father, "he's doing just what he's supposed to, which is what he was trained to do. He's passed the test, so how about letting him know the truth?"

"Yes," Virgil agreed. "He's proved that he can keep his cool in an emergency."

He turned his head slightly when Alan's voice piped up in the background. "Not that we didn't already know that."

"You want me to cut the stress scenario short?" Jeff queried. He received three verbal affirmations and even a head nod from John. "No. We'll stick to the original plan. He can wait that long."

"Thunderbird One won't be home for one point eight three hours," Virgil reminded his father. "That's going to feel like a…"

"Thunderbird Five to base."

"…lifetime."

"Thunderbird Five calling base."

"Base here," Jeff confirmed. "Any improvement on comms?"

"Negative. Thunderbird Five's still not reading Thunderbird One or Thunderbird Two." Despite his apparent cool demeanour, Gordon was sweating.

Don't worry, I know exactly where they are. "Okay…" What would I be saying now if this situation was for real? "Assuming Scott doesn't deviate from his original flightpath and maintains speed, when would we expect to see him back at base?"

"Ninety minutes?"

"All right then. We won't panic for ninety minutes." And, instead of panicking, we'll reveal what's really going on. "How are you holding up, Gordon?"

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

Jeff Tracy smiled as the link to Thunderbird Five shut down. He was proud of his son's attitude and was looking forward to seeing Gordon's cheeky grin again when the truth was revealed. "Base to Thunderbird One."

"Thunderbird One."

"Gordon's told me that we can expect you home in ninety minutes. What do you think?"

"I think that you'd better ask Virgil. He's the master of counting down to the exact ETA…" But then Scott's attention seemed to waver. "That's odd…"

For the first time today, Jeff felt a twinge of alarm. "What's odd."

His eldest still seemed preoccupied. "I'm seeing some strange flashing lights."

"On the console?"

"No. Through the viewports."

"What are they like?"

"Various c'l'rs. Some r', 'me 'een. Th't 'as 'ue. I' n'v'r s'n 'nyth' li' … b're."

"You're breaking up, Thunderbird One. Please repeat."

"Nev' s… …"

There was radio silence.

"Thunderbird One? Can you hear me, Thunderbird One?" Jeff's first instinctive reaction was to contact Thunderbird Five to see if John could raise the silent rocket plane.

But John was on Thunderbird Two and Gordon was on Thunderbird Five. And Gordon was already thinking that communications with Thunderbird One were lost. There was nothing more that he could do that he wasn't already doing.

"Base to Thunderbird Two."

The immediate response was reassuring. "Thunderbird Two."

"Can you contact Thunderbird One? He reported seeing some strange lights and then cut out."

"Okay, I'll get John to try and make contact. Do you want to see if you can reach him, John…? John's trying to reach him now… What did you mean 'cut out'?"

"I meant I lost contact with him."

"And, prior to that, he was seeing strange lights?"

"That's what he said."

"What kind of lights were they Inside the cabin? On the hull like St Elmo's Fire? Or in the sky?"

"I got the impression they were in the sky. It was hard to understand because of the interference, but I think he was describing them to me, saying they were a variety of colours, when reception started breaking up and I lost contact."

"Have you asked Th…? No, there's no point doing that. Any luck, John?"

"Negative. What's your positional computer telling you, Dad?"

"That…" Jeff Tracy couldn't believe that he was about to say this. "That Thunderbird One's disappeared over the Bermuda Triangle."

"Come on, Dad, the Bermuda Triangle? There's got to be a logical reason for this."

"I'm sure there is, John. But I don't know what it could be. It's just… unexpected."

"We're coming up to his last known location," Virgil reassured his father. "We'll soon know what's…"

For the second time today, Jeff felt his stomach lurch. "What's wrong, Virgil?"

"That's weird… Are you fellas seeing this?"

"It's weird all right," Alan echoed. "Spooky."

"Almost ethereal." Of course, that had to be John saying that.

"Tell me exactly what you're seeing, Thunderbird Two," Jeff commanded.

"Lights…" Static cut across Virgil's image. "The're lots of weird, co'ure' ligh' h'nging ov' 'e 'ate'."

"Thunderbird Two? Please repeat, Thunderbird Two."

"… n'v' see' 'yth' li' …"

"Thunderbird Two…? Thunderbird Two! Come in, Virgil!" Jeff Tracy stared at the microphone housed in the ornate box on his desk.

But there was no response.

Swivelling his chair so he was facing the positional computer's screen, Jeff told the image to travel back in time a couple of seconds, and pressed play. A dot, coupled with the number two appeared on screen.

And then vanished.

Keeping his eyes glued to that very spot, Jeff fast forwarded the recording until it was playing back in real time.

The screen remained blank.

Surely, he couldn't have lost contact with both Thunderbirds One and Two…?

At the same time…?

Over the Bermuda Triangle…?

To be continued…