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Virgil’s attention was drawn away from the trail ahead of him when he heard Alan groan.
“Wha…?” Alan muttered as he came back to consciousness.
“Allie?” Virgin asked softly. “You with me?”
“Virgil?”
“Yeah little bro, the one and only. How you doing?” Virgil asked.
Alan was clearly still somewhat disoriented. “Ow,” he ground out. “My head hurts.”
“I bet it does. Reckon you got yourself a concussion. Just rest, I’ve got you.”
Alan was the smallest of the brothers and Virgil the strongest, but it was still an effort to carry him, especially over the rough, slippery trail. There was no way for Virgil to prevent the occasional stumble. One of them almost brought him to his knees.
“Damn,” he muttered, stopping to get his breath and balance.
Only now did Alan seemed to realise he was being carried. “Put me down Virg, I can walk.”
Virgil continued to walk. “I’m fine. You just rest and enjoy the trip,” he assured, but just as he said it, his foot slid out from under him, causing him to almost drop Alan’s legs before he got his footing back.
“Come on, put me down. You can help me if I get wobbly,” Alan persisted.
Virgil took a deep breath and stopped walking. He knew what was coming next. “Alan, listen to me, I can’t put you down because you’ve hurt your leg.”
“My leg?” Alan asked.
Virgil was afraid of this, afraid the headache and confusion from the head injury had blocked out the other injury.
“Yes, you hurt your left leg.”
Alan looked down at his legs. Lifting his left leg, he frowned at the improvised splints.
“Oh,” he said, staring at his leg in confusion.
“Alan,” Virgil spoke softly, knowing realisation was about to hit his is youngest brother and with it the pain.
“Oh!” Alan gasped.
Virgil felt his brother’s body shudder in his arms, his fist cured into a death grip on Virgil’s collar. Moans escaped as he tried to deal with the pain. Virgil knew Alan wanted to be stoic and brave, to not be the little brother, be a man, not a boy. He also knew Alan had broken his leg at the very least, who knew what soft tissue damage there was as well. It made him feel sick just thinking about the pain his kid brother was in.
“Hold on tight, Allie. Cry, scream, cuss, whatever you want, whatever helps. It’s okay, no one here but you and me, you’re allowed.” He felt Alan nod against his chest, accompanied by the shuddering breaths that come with tears.
<><><><><>
One Day Earlier
“Why am I doing this?” Alan asked for what sounded like the hundredth time.
“Because…” came the dismembered voice from under the floor plates of Two’s cockpit, “you need to learn to do basic emergency maintenance on all the Birds and because if you do it right, I’ll give you a credit on your physics module.” Virgil’s head appeared through the inspection hatch. “So get your scrawny ass down here before I change my mind.”
Alan was studying with the Australian ‘School of the Air’ – which should really have been renamed ‘School of the Internet’ years ago, but after so many years, no one was bothered. All his brothers, plus Brains, had been authorised to give him credits for practical assignments. Kayo could also have handed out credits, if only there had been some place on the curriculum for her skill set.
With a massive, overly dramatic sigh, Alan followed his brother into the bowels of the beast – except he couldn’t say that because the last time he did, Virgil slapped him on the back of the head. ‘She is not a beast, she is a beautiful, graceful bird and don’t you forget it’. In the end, he sort of enjoyed his chore/lesson more than he would have admitted, partly because one-on-one time with Virgil was rare and he always looked forward to it. Virgil was so many things Alan wasn’t and wanted to be; big, strong, focused and calm, really, really calm – unless you insulted his beloved bird or scratched the piano. Of course, if you tried to have a rational conversation with him before he’d had his morning coffee, you were going to be disappointed, but even pre coffee, monosyllabic, clumsy Virgil was calm – mostly.
“Virgil?” Scott’s voice came over the intercom.
“Yup?” Virgil answered without stopping what he was doing.
“Alan with you?”
“You know he is. What do you want?”
“Need you both in comms.”
With that, he was gone.
“What was that about?” Virgil asked his teenage pupil. It wasn’t a call out - Scott would have said ‘we have a situation’ if that was the case.
“No idea. I haven’t done anything – what about you?” Alan replied.
Virgil just gave him an ‘as if’ look. He then began to reconnect the hydraulic control switch he had been working on and replace the cover.
“Get a screw driver and secure that panel,” he instructed, as he began to wriggle backwards.
“Shouldn’t we go straight upstairs?” Alan asked.
“Always leave any craft you work on ready to fly,” Virgil told him. “Always.”
“Got it,” Alan acknowledged, picking up the screwdriver.
<><><><><>
When they made it up from the hangar, everyone was there, with John’s holo form floating in the centre.
“Great, you’re here,” Scott commented, sounding even more irritated than he had on the comm. “So John, what’s ‘not a rescue but an emergency’ that you have to tell us all together?”
Yup, thought Virgil, that is the kind of statement guaranteed to get Scott’s hackles up. John hadn’t been looking at them; he was clearly looking at screen below him, manipulating data. Oh brother of mine, you are really poking the tiger in his den today.
Still without looking up, John spoke, “We’ve had a solar flare, a big one. It’ll hit Thunderbird Five in…” He looked over something to his right. “three minutes and six seconds. Behind it there was an even bigger coronal mass ejection. It should hit earth in about nineteen hours. The track looks like most of the southern pacific will be affected.” Not stopping to let anyone ask anything, he continued, “I am off to shelter, no way to know when I will be able to talk to you again.”
With that he was gone. As one they turned to Brains, who was working furiously away on his tablet. Finally he looked up.
“Yes, that’s what has happened,” he confirmed superfluously.
“Is John safe?” Grandma asked.
“Oh yes, Five is fully shielded. John has rightly gone to his living quarters, which has the heaviest shielding and a manually operated emergency air supply, but I have no worries about the radiation. Although this is a very big flare, it is unlikely to affect any communications, not these days.”
“Good thing,” Virgil commented, “because it’s already reached earth.”
“Okay, good.” Having confirmed his brother was in no imitate danger, Scott needed to move on to the Coronal Mass Ejection or CME.
They knew the danger a large mass ejection posed;. damage to satellites, space craft and aircraft; disruption of the Earth’s magnetic field that could damage power grids, electrical systems and communications.
Brains continued. “The eruption is very powerful. It is likely to cause considerable disruption.” He looked up. “We need to take precautions.”
“I’m picking up warnings going out all across the world, especially the Pacific,” Kayo confirmed.
Alan was struggling to understand how the flare got to Earth so fast and the mass ejection would take hours to reach earth and do so much more damage. Virgil told him to think of it as a cannon. The solar flare was the muzzle flash, visible to all, traveling at the speed of light; the coronal mass ejection was the cannon ball, traveling much slower and only impacting what was directly in front of it and doing real damage.
“They happen all the time,” Brains confirmed. “But most of them miss the Earth or are too small to be of any concern.”
<><><><><>
It was a strange time, a kind of limbo. Scott contacted the GDF to tell them that International Rescue would ground all craft two hours before the impact; they would only resume flying when they knew their craft were safe to fly and a reliable level of communication could be guaranteed. How long that would be, no one knew. John came back on line just under an hour after the solar flare passed him. It had taken that long to make sure the station was not contaminated and to check all the systems and test them. He reported that the shielding had worked perfectly.
“How is EOS?” Virgil asked.
“I am fine,” she responded
“You weren’t affected?” Brains asked.
“I was not.”
Thunderbird Five was also in the projected path of the CME and very vulnerable. The easiest way to keep it safe was move it to a new temporary orbit. John relocated to a new position, just north of the equator.
With just an hour to the no fly deadline, a call came in.
Scott and Virgil were in the comms room as John explained the situation.
“A national park ranger station in Borneo has picked up an automated distress beacon, but can’t pinpoint it. I can just about pick up, the signal is really week. Basically, to pin it down we’re going to need to be a lot closer,” he explained, bringing up a map of the general area. “The code is registered to a company called Santan Exploration. I can’t find much more about it. It was registered as a company three years ago by someone called Afi Sulsu.”
“Do we know anything about Afi?” Scott asked.
“Not much. He’s 42, got a degree in geology from Jakarta University twenty years ago. He used to work for a mining company but seems to have left that five years ago.”
“Any family?” Virgil asked.
“Wife, two children.” John looked up and shrugged. “Not much to go on.”
Virgil stood up. “I better get going. Where’s Gordon?”
“No, wait,” Scott commanded.
Virgil turned to face him, clearly confused.
“We’re cutting it fine,” Scott pointed out.
Virgil would never turn down a request for help, Scott knew this, but he was head of International Rescue. He had to be the one to say ‘no’ sometimes – and he hated it.
“It’s Borneo. That’s practically on our door step; I can be there in half an hour, less if we stop talking.” Virgil clearly didn’t see an issue.
“We don’t know what the situation is. We don’t know how many people are involved or exactly where they are. It could take hours. Virg, we can’t afford for you to get Two stranded on Borneo with who knows what electrical issues.”
Brains had been clear. All their craft were well shielded but, as Virgil himself had discovered in London, they were still vulnerable. A coronal mass ejection on this scale had never hit the earth since records began.
“When this thing hits,” Scott continued, “who knows what might happen and who might need us?”
By now Sally and Alan had arrived, both unseen by the arguing brothers.
“Look, I’ll go. I’ll assess. If we can help and be back in time, great, if not I’ll come back,” Virgil offered. Scott was wavering - he really did hate to turn down a call for help. “If nothing else I should be able to give the locals a more precise location for the beacon.” When Scott didn’t immediately reply, Virgil just continued, “Send Gordon down. I’m going.”
He was almost at the chute when Scott stopped him again.
“Not Gordon, he’s still sleeping. That Iceland job was a rough one.”
“I know, I was there,” Virgil pointed out.
Then, without even looking directly at Virgil or missing a beat, Scott responded, “But it’s not the same; Gordon had to do all the heavy lifting.”
Sally and Alan, still unseen, exchanged a look. When he was in full-on ‘over protective brother’ mode, Scott could be very tactless. The Iceland job had been long; it was a good hour and a half flying time just to get there. An observation submarine, taking geology students to see an underground volcano, had become trapped when a brand new vent had suddenly opened up behind them and new lava had trapped the rear of the sub. As more and more lava was created and then instantly cooled and solidified, the sub was slowly being crushed by the ever grown pillows of new igneous rock. Gordon had to make five trips down to pull out the crew and students from the front section, before it, too, was crushed. Each time he had to re-dock Four in the floating pod, unload the casualties and then relaunch. There was a fierce storm blowing and so it had been necessary to keep the retrieval cables attached to the pod to keep it steady and prevent it blowing away. This required Virgil to keep Two in a very precise hover above the pod, in high winds, at a low altitude. Alan knew how hard it was to maintain a steady hover for even a short time. Virgil had done it for almost an hour. With everyone safe on board, he flew their passengers, who, other than being scared, were unharmed, to Reykjavik, then flew home. They’d arrived at just before ten in the morning, having been out most of the night. After post flight checks and refuelling, Virgil had got to bed just after eleven. It was now just gone eight in the evening and he’d been up for an hour or so.
“I’ll go,” Alan offered, walking around to join Virgil.
Sally cleared her throat, causing Scott to look around. She gave him The Look, the one that said, ‘you’re being an ass, back down’.
“Okay, Alan goes,” Scott conceded.
<><><><><>
The jungles of Borneo are vast and dense, the terrain is mountainous with deep narrow valleys, there is almost no infrastructure and it rains a lot. The National Park was unpopulated and without any roads at all, at least that was it how it was mean to be. Once they were over the area the Rangers and John had indicated the signal was coming from, it was easy to pinpoint the location, at the head of a small valley. Less easy was how to get to the site. Unable to see through the trees, even if it had been light, Alan scanned the area using LiDAR. The results were revealing; a track, wide enough for a four-wheel or tracked vehicle to use, ran down the side of the valley to the site of the signal. At the site, there seemed to be some kind of structure. At the point where the track reached the top of the valley wall, there was a plateau. If it wasn’t covered in trees they could land there.
Virgil was using the lights and the camera under Two to scan it. “Reduce the sensitivity of the LiDAR so it picks up the trees,” he told Alan.
“Why?” Alan asked even as he was doing as his brother had instructed. Before Virgil could explain the image on his screen changed. “Oh!” he exclaimed.
“What?” Virgil asked.
“Okay the trees on the plateau are small, really small. It looks like the rest of the jungle from above but it’s not,” he explained.
“Yup, that’s what I thought; reckon they cleared this area when they were making that track. Okay, hang on.”
Those two words were never something you wanted Virgil to say at the controls. He dropped his beloved bird down as low as he could, angled the VTOL jets and began to spin her, fast, really, really fast.
“Yikes!” Alan squealed as he was flung against his restraints. He glanced at Virgil, who was still bolt upright in his seat. ‘Man he really is strong,’ he mused as he tried to fight Newton’s laws of motion and keep his head up.
Almost as soon as it started, it stopped, and Two was hovering over the plateau. Alan peered out of the window. The landing lights illuminated the new clearing, with the small trees all flattened in a neat circle, all lying in the same direction, creating a perfect spiral effect.
“You do know, if this gets picked up on a satellite cam, they’re going to say it was aliens,” he commented.
Virgil began to lower his aircraft for a landing. He looked over at Alan and smiled. “Well you are one of the few people who know the truth about aliens.”
Alan grinned. His encounter, along with Gordon and the Pendergasts, with an alien lifeform would always be one of the greatest moments in his life.
Thunderbird Two landed with a gentleness that belied her size and the terrain, and spoke volumes to the skill of her pilot. They configured a pod with half-tracks and fitted it with as much equipment they could, since they had no idea what they were going to find. Virgil set a timer running on his wrist comm. He needed to know how long it would take them to get back to Thunderbird Two, so he knew their take off dead line to be back at Tracy Island before the no fly dead line. From the look of it, the track was old but had been used recently. There was a steep drop on one side and an almost sheer slope above them on the other side. After less than two kilometres they emerged into a small clearing. Virgil checked his time. It had taken seven minutes to reach the clearing. He added three more for the uphill return trip, their flying time to the island and a twenty-minute cushion. That gave them thirty-five minutes on site before they had to head back to Two. He then set another dead line, which would get them home with thirty minutes to spare before CME impact.
Their lights revealed that the structure the scan had detected was in reality a collection of equipment clustered around an old but sturdy looking all terrain transporter. Beside this was what seemed to be an adit mine shaft disappearing into the steep mountain side. A small tunnelling machine was parked just to the side of the entrance. Above the background noise of the jungle there was a hum.
“What is that?” Alan asked.
Virgil was checking the other equipment and came to a halt at the back of the transporter. His big shoulder light illuminated the scene before him.
“Oh no,” he said with clear concern.
Alan joined him, looking at the power plant at the back of the craft. “What is that?” he asked.
Virgil sighed. “Illegal is what it is. In essence, it’s a battery. It provides continuous electrical power via a chemical reaction. The trouble is it’s very unstable. It requires a constant power regulation to keep the reaction under control.
“And if it isn’t stable?” Alan asked, already suspecting he knew the answer.
“Boom,” Virgil said, confirming his suspicion. “Which is why, despite being a very efficient, clean power source, they were banned more than thirty years ago.”
“So this is both dangerous and old?” Alan confirmed.
“Yup.”
“Oh joy.”
There was nothing to be done about the generator, so, using Alan’s comm to follow the beacon’s signal, they headed into the mine. To Virgil’s relief the tunnel had been drilled though solid rock, so he wasn’t too worried about cave-ins. It was unlit and headed gently downward. It was also very wet. Water ran under their feet and down the walls.
“What do you think he’s looking for?” Alan asked.
“Who knows? I know Borneo has silver, gold and diamonds, probably other stuff. This tunnel is old, but I’m guessing further down we’ll find new digging,” Virgil explained.
They had been going for more than twenty minutes and had found nothing. Virgil’s shoulder light was doing a great job illuminating the tunnel but it was only when they stepped on it that they found the metal plating under foot. It was old, heavy and totally hidden under the mud.
Virgil surveyed the rock around them; there were deep cracks in the wall. “At a guess, there is a fissure below this that they had to bridge it.” He gave it a good thump with his heavy boot. “Seems okay.”
Only a little while later they came across another plate and after that the old tunnel stopped. The original tunnelers had presumably decided the risks not worth the reward. The walls now changed. They were cleaner, fresh marks where a spiral rock cutter had been used, fresh rubble at the tunnel sides. Just then the alarm Virgil had set went off.
Alan looked around. “Time to head back?” he asked.
“We have a little time, let’s just see how far this goes.” With that Virgil walked on, giving Alan no choice but to follow.
Suddenly Virgil stopped and held his arm out to hold Alan back. The tunnel continued on but there was now a crack in the tunnel floor. It was less than a meter wide and bisected the tunnel. The only way over was to jump. The beacon signal was coming from below them. Either Afi, or whoever had activated it, had dropped it or had fallen in. Virgil shone his light down into the blackness below them. The crack opened up into some kind of cavern, but he couldn’t see anything. There was no way to get the pod into the tunnel. It was much too wide for the very narrow passage, so they ran rope from the pod, down the tunnel and set up an A frame over the gap. Virgil, strapped into his harness and was lowered over the chasm. Alan used his comm to control the pod’s winch remotely, lowering him into the darkness.
“What can you see?” Alan called down.
“Well, mostly blackness and rock, but there is a lot of water down here.”
“Can you see anyone?”
Virgil swung his powerful shoulder light around. It seemed to be empty. Then, as he looked down, he saw something just on the edge of the water, something reflective.
<><><><><>
Scott was pacing. Thunderbird Two should have been on the way back by now but they had not checked in since reporting that they were headed into the tunnel. In the end, he couldn’t wait and called Virgil. Unfortunately, deep in the mine, Alan and Virgil weren’t getting any signal. Scott then checked with John, who explained that he, too, had no exact location on them, probably for the same reason - they were too far underground.
“It’s an adit mine,” John reminded. “There is a whole mountain above them. Once they get away from the entrance, we could lose contact with them quite quickly. Modern mine tunnels are fitted with a relay. This one sounds like it’s old and illegal. The satellites we would normally use have been moved to protect them. They have to use Thunderbird Two and/or the pod to boost their signal, but that is no guarantee they can make contact with us. Like the beacon, I can tell you more or less where they are, but we know that, nothing more.”
“They’re cutting it fine,” Scott pointed out.
“This is Virgil we’re talking about, not Gordon,” John reminded.
“Hay! I am right here,” Gordon protested.
John ignored him. “We have given ourselves a two-hour buffer, so even if they are late back, they have time. Stop being a smother hen and trust Virgil.”
<><><><><>
Virgil was at that moment doubting himself. Time was up, they had to get out but… but the guy wasn’t dead when he landed. He couldn’t have been, because if was he’d be right under Virgil now and he wasn’t. He was a good three meters to the right, on a ledge above the water, which wasn’t that deep and had some wicked looking rocks sticking up through it. To have walked or crawled to the ledge, he had to have been alive when he landed and, possibly, was still alive.
“I’m gonna swing over to him and try and stay out of the water,” he bellowed up to Alan.
“’Kay, don’t blame you,” Alan acknowledged.
It took a couple of goes, but he managed to land beside the guy and without getting his boots wet, or any more wet than they already were. The man and for now Virgil decided to call him Afi until he was told different, was lying on his front, lower legs still in the water. He wasn’t dead, not yet, but his face was covered in blood from a large open wound on his forehead. A quick examination revealed evidence of an open depressed skull fracture. This, combined with what he had found during his brief primary survey made Virgil think he was already close to death. In all probability, he wasn’t going to make it but Virgil couldn’t bring himself to just leave him there to die. Besides, the man had family; family who would want him back. Who knew if the local authorities would be prepared to come all this way and risk entering a clearly dangerous mine just for a body?
‘Scott is gonna kill me for this,’ he thought as he shouted instructions to Alan.
Working together, they were able to extract Afi using well practised procedures reasonably fast. As soon as he was out they laid him on the tunnel floor so Virgil could check him again. International Rescue’s extraction stretcher was one of the few designs they had shared with the world, designed and built mainly by Virgil. Based on a concept John had come up with, the head restraints contained a small defibrillator on one side and a mini oxygen concentrator on the other. You could monitor and, if needs be, shock your patient and supply them with oxygen from the air as you transported them. Working quickly, Virgil placed the pads on Afi’s chest and waited for the automated defibrillator to run an analysis. In seconds it flashed up the reading – NOP; meaning ‘No Output’. Virgil rocked back to rest on his heels.
“Isn’t there something we can do?” Alan asked. “Can’t we shock him?” he implored. He already had the oxygen mask on the man’s face.
“You know what ‘no output’ means. His heart has stopped completely. The defib can shock a heart back into a normal rhythm, it can’t restart it. Start chest compressions.”
Alan instantly did what he’d been trained to do. Then just as quickly stopped.
“His chest feels weird,” he said worriedly
Virgil quickly ran his hand over the man’s central chest. He could feel the instability.
“Multiple fractures to the sternum, probably ribs as well. Carry on, just go easy. Nothing else we can do.”
While Alan did his best Vigil pulled out an auto-injector from his medical pouch. Once he was ready he told Alan to stop a moment then injected the man’s heart with epinephrine. Alan then resumed the compressions. After three minutes the monitor’s timer beeped. Alan stopped again and the machine reanalysed. It still said NOP. Virgil gave a second injection and Alan continued with compressions. There was still no heartbeat.
Virgil watched and tried to decide what to do. To have any chance of saving his life they had to maintain chest compressions until they got him to a hospital, which by his calculations would take at least fifteen minutes, considering he’d have to leave Alan where they were, run to the pod, drive back to Two, bring her back to the mine, hover over the very small clearing – in the dark, put her on remote control, then come down himself with the rescue basket and the hover stretcher, get the man back to Two, winch them all up and fly to the nearest hospital, all the time maintaining compressions. If they did all that he might have a chance, but then again, he clearly had a serious chest and head injury.
“Virgil!” Alan called in alarm.
Blood was coming out of the man’s mouth.
“Did I do that?” Alan asked in horror.
“No.” Virgil told him. While in truth, the compressions had brought the blood up, Alan didn’t do the damage that caused the bleed.
“Do I continue?” his brother asked.
“No. I’m calling it.”
“I didn’t think we could do that?”
Technically Alan was right, except in two situations, known and the double D, only a doctor could pronounce death, but sometimes you had to make the decision that the casualty was un-saveable and it wasn’t worth risking lives to continue. The blood must have come from the chest cavity. For chest compressions to have brought it up, there had to be a lot of it. Given all this and his head injury, plus lack of a heartbeat, there was no point carrying on.
He explained this to Alan, who hadn’t seen the head injury, since Virgil had covered it with a huge dressing while Alan was fixing the ropes and with no heartbeat to move it, blood had not soaked through the bandage.
“Isn’t there something we can do?” Alan asked desperately.
“Nothing, he’s dead.”
Virgil now realised this might be the first time Alan had lost someone in this way, mid- or post-rescue. The feeling never left you, or at least he hoped it never would. You felt so helpless, so deflated. You’d done your best, you got them out, but they still died on you. It wasn’t fair. It never would be. In another situation he’d have taken the time to council the teen then and there, but time was ticking.
Reaching over the body, he placed a big hand on Alan’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s pick him up and at least take him back to his family,” he encouraged.
<><><><><>
They carried the body, on the stretcher, back down the tunnel. Reaching the tunnel entrance was the first they knew of the storm that was now lashing the jungle. Logically they both knew it rained a lot in these forests, almost every day, but it still brought them up short. This wasn’t just tropical rain forest rain; this was rain on a biblical scale. Considering it couldn’t have been raining for more than fifteen minutes, the ground was now like a lake. They could hardly make out the vehicles which were in reality no less than twenty meters way.
“Come on,” Virgil urged, “there is only so wet you can get, might as well get on with it.”
They were halfway to the pod, the old generator to their right, mountainside to the left when it happened. Right in front of them a tree began to move. It slid majestically and alarmingly fast down the mountain, bolt upright and then, upon hitting the valley bottom, pitched forward and landed on the generator, blocking their path. Even as he watched Virgil was trying not to believe what was happening. The lights on the generator were going out, lights that should never, ever, go out.
“Drop it and run!” he bellowed. “Visor down!” With that, he dropped his end of the stretcher, looked over his shoulder to ensure Alan was following and headed for the pod by the longer route around the transporter. Alan did as he was ordered and followed; he was not about to stop and debate the issue.
They almost made it.
If anyone had been watching the explosion they would have said it happened instantaneously, but that was not the experience down on the ground, where milliseconds became minutes. First the concussion wave hit them. Throwing them down into the mud, then the heat of the blast washed over them and finally the debris came raining down. Virgil was aware of all of this. He found himself down in the mud, unable to get up. Initial panic that he was seriously injured passed when he realised a huge section of tyre was lying over his legs. With some effort he managed to roll free. Never had he been so grateful for the golden rule of International Rescue – no matter how hot it is, never, ever take off your suite and keep your helmet close. He was sure that was why he didn’t seem to have any of the problems associated with being so close to an explosion, such as perforated ear drums or a collapsed lung or two. All of these thoughts happened even as he ran to Alan, who was lying on his side.
“Alan!” he shouted as he dropped beside him.
There was no response. Alan had clearly been hit by more debris than Virgil. There were scorch marks on the back of his suit and clear marks on the back of his helmet where something big and hot had hit it. Which of the many bits scattered all around them had done this was anyone’s guess. Alan’s left leg looked wrong to Virgil. There was a huge swelling straining against Alan’s tight uniform, Virgil knew this was the bone, broken and displaced. He would have liked to have taken a closer look but for now the tautness of the rip proof fabric was all that was splinting a serious fracture. Quickly assessing what was needed, he ran to the pod.
It had been parked almost next to the source of the explosion and was now a wreck. Blown onto its side, track broken, the body badly caved in, the cockpit just a mess of tangled meatal. The whole thing was still burning, despite the rain. Turning away from what was now a useless collection of scrap metal, he reassessed his options and mentally listed his available resources. He had to get Alan to safety; he had to get him to Thunderbird Two. Automatically he tapped his comm for help, Thunderbird One could be with them in minutes, but as he looked at it, he realised he still had no signal. They were in the bottom of a valley, in a remote jungle. Getting a message out required a satellite or using the pod’s greater power to boost a terrestrial signal. The pod was not working and all the satellites within range of the comm pad had all been moved to protect them from the CME.
“Shit!” he swore out loud.
Now he had to make a decision, which if it went wrong, could cost Alan dearly. The question was; did Alan have any kind of spinal injury? Was it safe to carry him out or should he put him on the some kind of back board and drag it up the tack? A quick check gave him less options. The stretcher, with the body still on it, was now under a mass of burning debris. Seeing the damage to the pod and the transporter, he noted that he and Alan had been very lucky. The blast from the generator had been directed out, toward the pod. The bulk of the transporter, and, significantly, its engine, had been between the brothers and blast. Had it not, it was very possible neither of them would have made it.
With his engineer’s mind, Virgil looked about him. Yes, he could make an improvised back board if he had too, but doing it and then dragging it was going to take a lot of time. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He knelt down beside Alan and tried again to rouse him, to no avail. He moved to Alan’s feet and gently eased his right boot and sock off. With that done he pulled out his multi tool and flicked open the cross head screw driver. He then drew the point of the screwdriver up and around the instep of Alan’s now bare and very wet foot. On cue the foot curled. It was a reflex action and it showed Virgil that Alan had feeling in his right leg at least. It didn’t prove he didn’t have a spinal injury but, as things stood, he was going to have to take the calculated risk and lift Alan into his arms and carry him.
The leg was a different matter, the fracture needed to be reduced, but he couldn’t do that on his own. Back on Thunderbird Two there was a brace that could be the second pair of hands he needed. In the meantime, the leg had to be stabilised in its current position. He found a suitable piece of wood from the many giant splinters littering the ground that had once been the tree and used it and straps he made by cutting up Alan’s baldric to immobilise the leg as best he could.
<><><><><>
The track was steep and muddy, the still constant rain making it more of a river than a track, and even his high traction boots were struggling to get purchase. His light helped, but the darkness was another hindrance. As he carried his brother uphill, Virgil began to slip and stumble more and more. Eventually, one of these stumbles helped to bring Alan back to a semblance of consciousness. At first he didn’t understand why he was being carried. The pain from his leg injury only hit him a few moments later. It hit him very hard.
Virgil had stood still, cradling his injured brother for as long as he dared. He knew moving was going to hurt him - every foot fall, every jolt, every stumble - but there was no alternative.
“Alan, I’m sorry. I’d give you something for the pain but my med pouch came open when I was knocked over by the explosion. Everything disappeared into the mud.”
“Okay, not your fault,” Alan assured him.
“You ready for me to move on?” Virgil asked.
Alan’s head moved against his chest. “Do it,” he said.
“We’ll be back at Two soon,” Virgil assured softly and he began to walk on.
Behind him, instantly washed away by the still torrential rain, blood continued to fall to the ground.
Progress was painfully slow, literally so. It seemed to Virgil that for every two steps forward he took, he slid back or sideways one. Twice Alan asked him to stop, just to give him a break from the movement. Each time, Virgil complied, but not for long. He was increasing aware that they were running out of time. The second alarm went off and all he could do was keep walking. After what seemed like forever and almost without noticing, they finally made it to the top. There she was, sitting there, pretty as a picture, Thunderbird Two in all her green glory.
“Hay little brother, look we made it,” he announced.
Alan didn’t respond. Only now did Virgil realise he had gone limp, no longer gripping his collar, his head resting heavily on Virgil’s chest.
“It’s gonna be okay, I’ll get you home,” he promised.
Traversing the ground between the track and Thunderbird Two, littered as it was with small flattened trees and under growth, was almost more difficult than the track, but spurred on by the nearness of their salvation, Virgil made it without falling or even tripping once. Once under Two’s great nose, which gave them some protection from the rain, Virgil gently lowered Alan to the ground. Checking him, he discovered no signs he was in any immediate danger, but he had to get him inside and get his leg realigned soon. He stood up and went to hit his comm to connect to Two just as his shoulder light went out and the comm died.
“No!” he cried in despair. “Not now!”
It was no go, everything was dead. He took a moment to accept this and work on a solution. God, he was tired.
<><><><><>
Scott was both seething and beside himself with worry. He had accepted that they had lost communication with Virgil and Alan temporarily, yet he had fully expected to hear from them as soon as they were back above ground, but there was nothing. Repeated calls had gone unanswered. John was wracked with guilt because he’d persuaded Scott not to worry. Grandma and Gordon were just as worried and not sure how to help Scott, who predictably had become rather short tempered. Brains and Kayo had decided the best way to monitor their equipment as zero hour approached was in the hangar, well way from all the tension. If they were needed, everyone knew where they were – right?
No one could blame Scott. He had to decide whether to launch Thunderbird One or not. If he did, he hoped to find out what was going on, but that risked getting stranded who knew where or for how long. Or, he could just wait and trust his brothers to sort out whatever they were dealing with and get themselves home. He knew, once the CME passed, they were almost certainly going to be getting calls. If both One and Two were damaged and stranded, they’d be hard put to help anyone. Brains was sure the added protection of their underground hangars would reduce any possible damaged to their systems, but as he kept telling them, no one could know for sure.
In the end, he put his faith in his brothers - mostly in Virgil - and waited for the CME to pass, pacing behind his father’s desk the whole time while everyone else kept out of his way.
<><><><><>
Virgil knew his bird, knew her inside and out, so he knew how to get into it without power, but it was not going to be easy. Using a glow stick to light his way, he walked under the nose, to the far left, where there was a square panel at waist height. Within this panel there was a much smaller one in the bottom right corner. If you didn’t know it was there, you’d never find it. Virgil pressed it and the magnetic catch gave way, letting a small access flap drop down. Inside was an old fashioned, mechanical, digital lock. Virgil entered the access code, his birthday backward. Every Thunderbird had this kind of access, each one coded with its pilot’s birthday in reverse. The codes had to be something they could all remember in an emergency. After hitting the final number, he took hold of the large T handle and turned it through 180 degrees and then pulled. The whole panel swung open. Inside there was a small tunnel and a ladder. It was a long climb up into the cockpit; long, dark. With some tight turns and it was very stuffy. He tossed the glow stick, with remarkable accuracy, to land just beside Alan, so that if he woke up he’d have some light. He could have broken another one, but he needed both hands to climb and in all honesty he didn’t need a light to climb a ladder. Eventually he opened a hatch and found himself in the self-same inspection bay he’d been in when they had been summoned by Scott. Emerging into the cockpit, he took a breath and was surprised to find his legs shaking. He grabbed the back of his seat and took another long breath, before sitting. The first thing he did was crack another glow stick and then open the small compartment beside the seat and pull out a bottle of water. Feeling better for a drink, he looked at the dark controls before him.
“Okay girl, I have faith in you and in Brains, let’s do this.”
He’d never had to start her like this, from stone cold. In London, she had restarted automatically. That had not happened here. There was a procedure and he wasn’t ashamed he’d now pulled out the manual to follow it. Normally she always had some power of her own or was connected to the hangar power system. He opened the heavy book and turned to the very back. ‘EMERGENCY COLD START UP’
“Nothing ventured,” he muttered.
It took some time, as there were a number of steps to follow and they had to be done in order. He was finding it hard to concentrate. The green glow of the glow stick wasn’t the best reading light. Eventually it was done. His finger hovered under the last toggle switch.
“Here goes nothing.” With that, he flicked the switch.
For a second nothing happened. Then, with a familiar hum, lights came on, he could feel cool air on his face, the control panel lit up, and the head up display winked into life. He gave a sigh of relief and then frowned at the display. By default it should have given his current location, but a blue revolving circle told him it was trying and failing to find them. Then he remembered the satellites were still out of position. He tried to call home, but there was just static. It was a worry, but not his immediate problem, so he hit the switch to lower the cockpit lift, relieved it activated instantly. Grabbing what he needed, he descended back down to Alan.
Once he was back outside he quickly ran to his brother, who was now awake.
“Hey,” Alan greeted. “Knew you’d get her up and running when I saw the hatch open.”
Virgil knelt in front of him. “How are you doing, honestly?”
“Headache and my leg hurts like hell,” Alan admitted. “Kinda scared to move it.”
“I bet.” Virgil pulled something from his belt. “I have the good meds.”
While the morphine had a chance to work, Virgil gave his beloved craft a visual check, closed the emergency hatch and brought the hover stretcher over to Alan. Getting Alan on to the stretcher wasn’t painless but it was a lot less painful than their journey up from the mine.
<><><><><>
While casualties were normally treated within a module, there was a small med bay behind the cockpit. Virgil got Alan onto the bed and then broke the bad news. He was going to have to reduce the fracture and no amount of morphine was going to block all the pain.
“Can’t we wait?” Alan asked. “Let the hospital do it while I’m asleep?”
Virgil shook his head. “Too risky, the longer we leave it, the bigger the risk of you losing circulation to your lower leg. Okay?”
Alan took a deep breath. “Okay.”
He cut away the leg of Alan’s uniform, then ran a quick scan of the leg to confirm his suspicions. He’d practiced this manoeuvre many times, but he’d only had to do it for real twice and that was with Scott to help him and a few years ago now. Nonetheless, it had to be done. He pulled a wide strap over Alan’s hips and tightened it as much as he could. Then he put another strap around the thigh of the injured leg and secured it.
“I need you to brace yourself with your good lag and grab hold of the bar behind you. Whatever happens don’t let go until I say so – understand?” Virgil instructed.
Alan was looking very pale and scared but he nodded his understanding and complied.
With his patient secured and without waiting, he took hold of Alan’s calf and pulled it back. Alan couldn’t help it, he cried out in pain, but Virgil didn’t stop until he felt and heard the bones move back into place.
“It’s okay, it’s over,” he assured as he quickly removed the straps.
A quick scan showed they leg was now straight and normal circulation had been restored. He fitted a brace with built in cooling to the leg, all the time Alan was just lying there, staring up and trying to get his breathing under control. “Sorry, I…” Virgil began
“Don’t.” Alan looked at him. “Don’t say sorry for saving my leg. Thanks, big brother.”
Virgil took the thanks in good grace, but really didn’t want to. No matter how necessary it was, he hated to cause anyone pain, let alone his own brother. It made him feel sick inside, and he found it hard to look at Alan and not feel guilty. Logically he knew that was stupid. He’d done what was needed to hopefully save his brother from a life changing injury, but his subconscious wouldn’t let the guilt go.
“Right, well you rest and drink.” He handed him a large bottle of water. “I’ll see what I can do about getting us home.” He was about to go when he turned back. “You did great kid, really, I’m so proud of you.”
He was rewarded with the biggest smile Alan could manage. It made him feel just a little bit less guilty. With that, he finally turned away and headed to the front of his beloved bird.
<><><><><>
On Tracy Island they were performing the same cold restarts, and it took time, but everything came back except communication with the outside world. Brains speculated that the magnetic disturbance in the atmosphere would take some time to dissipate. How long he didn’t know. While they waited, they all stepped outside to admire the aurora, which was spectacular. Eventually, it was John’s voice that told them they at least had some communication. John was able to contact the GDF and they confirmed that while things were coming back, a civilian no fly zone was in force, so it was safe to get Thunderbird Five back in position as fast as possible. Power grids across the Pacific were down. Only a few, like Tracy Island with self-contained power plants and heavy shielding, had come back on line almost instantly.
As soon as Five was back on station, John began to call Virgil. The interference was still there, so John had EOS put the call on repeat. The minute the interference had dissipated enough, Virgil would hear a familiar voice – assuming his comm was working or he was on Two. It was all they could do.
<><><><><>
Alan had been resting with the ice on his leg a long time, he even drifted off to sleep briefly, but woke up to find the the brace was no longer cold, which normally happened after about half an hour. He didn’t think Virgil had come back to check on him and they had not taken off. He listened; nothing, no movement, no sound of equipment. Alan was tired and in pain and he wanted to sleep some more, but something was not right. He forced himself to sit up, very gingerly swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His left leg was heavily braced and he knew he couldn’t put weight on it, looking around he reckoned he could hop between supports. Using this method he made it to the back of the cockpit.
He wasn’t prepared for what he found. Virgil was on the deck. From the look of it, he’d fallen just before reaching the pilot’s chair. He was lying on his side, with his back to Alan and didn’t respond to his calls. Hopping over to the co-pilot’s seat, he used the back as a support as he lowered himself down to the deck and then shuffled over to Virgil. Like his brothers, Alan was a trained paramedic, but he didn’t have anywhere near as much experience as the others. Virgil was unresponsive, cold, clammy and very pale. He was clearly in shock, but why? Alan removed Virgil’s baldric and harness, then he ran his hands over his brother. On his back, where it had been mostly covered by his baldric, it came away bloody.
“Oh no,” he gasped. ‘Think!’ he told himself. Scott always told him if he found himself out of his depth, to fall back on his training. Virgil was on his side so his airway was open and he was clearly breathing. He had no way to get him to the med bay. He was in shock, so he was losing blood. The wound he’d found wasn’t that big and he wasn’t bleeding heavily, so he was probably bleeding internally. What he really needed was fluids and a doctor.
There were supplies on board to set up a drip. With difficulty he hauled himself onto his one good leg and hopped back to collect what he needed, remembering to collect the tough cuts to cutaway the uniform. He’d learned how to set up a drip on a very life-like dummy, but he’d never had to do it for real. He tapped his comm hoping to get some help from home, but there was just static.
It didn’t help that Virgil was on his side and he was limited to moving around on his backside, his brain still fogged by morphine. ‘Remember your training,’ he silently repeated like a mantra. Taking the arm closest to him he cut the uniform away and spread out the IV kit. There was an acronym Virgil had taught him Pre-A-VIP-Cad. He was so grateful for it. ‘Pre’ – prep, he cleaned Virgil’s arm with a swab, attached the extension tube to the needle and flushed it with the pre filled syringe. ‘A’ was for Attach the strap to the arm to bring up the veins. He did this. ‘V’ was to find a vein. Normally, Vigil’s veins were very obvious but he was dehydrated and had lost a lot of blood. Nonetheless, after a bit of prodding he could see one. ‘I’ was for insert needle. This was the bit he was worried about. At least Virgil was out cold, so he wouldn’t feel it. In the end it took Alan two tries to get it in properly, apologising to his unconscious patient the whole time. ‘P’ was for pull back. He retracted the needle leaving the tube in place. ‘C’ was for clamp down, which he did to stop blood running out of the tube. Virgil had little enough to spare. ‘A’ was for attach the extension tube, which was easy to do and ‘D’ was for attach drip, which he did, hanging it off the back of Virgil’s pilot’s chair. He then taped down the tube so it wouldn’t move and opened the drip line. He sat back; his leg was killing him, his head pounding, but there was no time for that. He pulled himself up and into the co-pilot’s seat and tried again to call John. Still nothing.
Then, as desperation was setting in, the console beeped.
Alan knew what that beep was, the Tracy island homing beacon. Normally it was silent, but clearly ‘factory setting’ was to have on. He didn’t care, he could follow it home, even if he couldn’t talk to anyone. Good a pilot as he was, Two was not his Bird. He was tired and in pain, as a result the lift off was not as smooth as it could have been, but she was up and the course was set for home. Even though they were now on auto pilot, Alan stayed at the controls, glancing over at Virgil every now and again.
They were almost a third of the way there when the radio suddenly came to life. “Thunderbird Two respond,” it said, over and over again.
“I’m here!” Alan almost shouted.
It took a second for the repeated request to be replaced by John’s voice. “Damn it’s good to hear your voice, is everything okay?”
“Not really,” Alan admitted. “We’re both hurt. Virgil is unconscious, he’s bleeding. We need to get to a hospital but the only navigation I have is the homing beacon,” Alan explained, not wanting to waste time.
<><><><><>
John wasn’t confident enough in their communications to fly Thunderbird Two for Alan, so for now she would continue on auto pilot to Tracy Island. Meantime, Scott was trying to ascertain the closest hospital up and running and able to take them. By the time Thunderbird Two was on landing approach, Brains was sure it was safe for Scott to take control and land her remotely, for which Alan was very grateful. He was in no condition to land; his leg hurt, his head ached and he was having trouble staying awake. More worryingly, Virgil hadn’t moved or made a sound. Sooner than he expected, but not as fast as he wanted, Alan and Virgil were in the medical facility on Tracy Island.
Alan lay on one bed, with his grandmother at his side. Kayo and Scott worked on Virgil.
“Alan, tell me what happened, everything,” Scott commanded.
So he did, right up to before the explosion. “Virgil said to run. I think the thing - the power plant - I think it must have exploded. I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up and Virgil was carrying me.”
“Carrying you?” Kayo asked.
“Yes, he carried me up that track, in the dark and the rain. It took forever. I think I passed out again. Next thing I know I was waking up underneath Thunderbird Two. There was a glow stick beside me and I could see the emergency hatch open, so I knew Virgil was inside. He got her started again, came and got me, then he pulled my leg straight,” Alan explained.
“Oh darling,” Sally sympathised.
“He had to do it,” he stated, in a tone that made it clear he was defending his brother’s actions. “Anyway, I was resting, probably fell asleep for a bit. When I came to, Virgil wasn’t around, so I went to look for him and, well…” He gestured toward his pale and still brother. “He was just lying there on the deck.”
“It was you who put in the IV?” Scott asked.
Alan nodded. “Made a bit of a mess of it but I got it there in the end.”
“You may have saved his life, so don’t worry about it,” Scott assured him.
“Just after that, the beacon kicked in and I took off,” Alan finished.
Kayo looked over at Scott, a mixture of worry and horror on her face. “It must have been the explosion, nothing else could have had driven something in that deep.”
They had determined that something, what, they didn’t know, since it didn’t show up on any scan, had been driven into Virgil’s back. It had clearly missed his spine, but whatever it was, it was still in there and he was still bleeding.
“How did he do that? Carry Alan, get into Thunderbird Two, treat Alan - when he’d been effectively shot in the back?” she asked.
Scott looked down at his beloved brother, so still and pale and ran an affectionate finger through limp dark hair. “Because he needed to take care of his baby brother; taking care of others, it’s what he does.”
“You all do that,” Kayo pointed out.
“Not like Virgil. I doubt he even felt it, at least not to begin with; he’d have been so focused on saving Alan.” Kayo look doubtful. Scott lowered his voice so Alan couldn’t hear. “He’s not like the rest of us, not counting Alan, because he’s too young to tell. If all this ended, I could go back to the Air Force. I was good at it, I enjoyed it.” Kayo lifted an eyebrow. “Okay I had some issues with authority,” he admitted.
“Some? The way I heard it you almost got courts-martialled,” Kayo reminded
“I was a lot younger then, and I’d never had to be the one in command. I am not the same man I was then. I know what I had. I could go back to it.”
“I hate to tell you this, Mr Tracy, but you are the CEO of Tracy Industries. You already have another job,” Kayo pointed out.
“Don’t remind me.”
“So what about Gordon?” she then asked.
“Maybe he wouldn’t go back to WASP, but he’d be happy back doing marine research. I know for sure Woods Hole would snap him up. There are any number of universities that would be happy to have John join their AI or astronomy departments, not to mention NASA. I’m not saying we want to do this, that International Rescue isn’t the most important thing in our life, but if it was taken away, we could be happy doing something else.”
“But not Virgil?” Kayo asked.
“I don’t think so. He’s too empathetic, helping people is just part of his DNA. Theoretically, he could do something in engineering, but I’d bet he’d end up in search and rescue someplace.” All the time he had been speaking, he had continued to gaze down at his brother. “Oh, Brother Bear, what did you do to yourself?”
Just then, Gordon’s voice came over the comm. “Nowhere in New Zealand has a hospital that can take them. Most of Australia is the same but Perth is okay. We have clearance to fly.”
<><><><><>
Scott flew them and Sally to the Royal Perth Hospital, then flew straight back to Tracy Island. He didn’t like it, but calls for help were now coming in. Without Virgil or Alan, John had come down to help out, leaving EOS to filter calls down to Brains. Scott knew he was needed; Virgil would never forgive him for neglecting his duty just to hanging around his bedside.
“I’ll keep you updated,” Sally promised. “and you do the same, okay?”
Scott grinned, kissed her on the forehead. “Promise.”
Sally hated being in this situation, having one grandson in hospital was bad enough, two, in different departments, was testing her to the limit. She located herself in the family room for the trauma department and waited, which was to say she paced and drank coffee. After what seemed like an age but was more like four hours, one of the receptionists came in.
“Mrs Tracy?” she enquired.
“That’s me, honey,” Sally confirmed.
“Your grandson.” She checked her tablet. “Alan. He is on the orthopaedic floor. You can take the lift at the end of the hall, third floor.”
She found Alan asleep in a bed in a curtained bay. He was in hospital PJs with a very impressive brace on his leg. Behind her, someone cleared their throat. Sally turned and found a man she presumed to be a doctor, beckoning her to come over.
“G’day,” he greeted, before he went on to explain that he was Alan’s doctor and he was going to be fine. “Someone did a great job reducing the fracture. The bones were in almost perfect alinement. They’ve put in a plate and some pins on the tibia. He should heal up just fine. We’ll keep him a few days, make sure the swelling goes down and the concussion doesn’t cause any issues.”
“That’s great news, doctor. When will you move him to a room?” Sally asked.
“Ah, yes, well the things is, we’re starting to get cases from other hospitals, east of here, who have lost power. We take on those patients who can be moved and it reduces the strain on their in-house power and gives them more room for emergency cases. Apparently, it’s the power grid that’s worst affected.” He could see Mrs Tracy was about to protest, so he held up his hand. “We wondered, if you didn’t mind staying with him a bit? We can squeeze him in with his brother, once he’s out of surgery and in a room.”
She had been about to protest that Alan needed peace and quiet after his ordeal and if they had no rooms she’d take him home, but being in Virgil’s room would be infinitely better for both of them.
“I think that is an excellent idea,” she told him with a smile.
<><><><><>
She waited for hours, Alan slept on, blissfully unaware. Nurses came to check on him, brought her coffee and cake and sandwiches. Eventually, as she, too, was beginning to nod off, when the receptionist called her to the front desk.
“This is Dr Patel,” he introduced.
“How do you do, Mrs Tracy.” Patel offered her hand. “I was the lead surgeon on Virgil’s case.”
Her accent was Scottish and she was very petite, with deep brown, almond eyes.
“How is he?” Sally asked, desperately needing news.
“Weak, but much better than we had feared when he arrived,” Patel assured.
She went on to explain that, as expected, they had found a foreign object in Virgil’s back, a small shard of glass.
“As you can imagine, glass is very hard to find and we had to be sure there was nothing left behind. For this reason the surgery took much longer than anticipated which was hard on him. The shard had nicked his liver, this is why he lost so much blood. In an idea situation, this kind of liver injury would have been left to heal without an operation, but we didn’t have that option. Nonetheless, I decided to leave it as it was. The liver is both robust and delicate you see.”
Sally really didn’t, but the serious looking young lady before her was instilling confidence. She seemed to know her stuff. “What happens now?” she asked.
“Until he is fully recovered from the anaesthetic I want him in ICU. After that, he will be moved to his own room. Lots and lots of rest is what is needed, along with fluids. He will need a few more transfusions until the liver heals, which it will and relatively fast, too.”
Just then Sally’s knees began to shake then turned to jelly. She would have hit the floor if Patel hadn’t caught her, displaying surprising strength for such a small women. Seconds later the receptionist was out from behind his desk and between them they helped her to sit down and found a glass of water.
“I am so sorry,” she apologised. “That’s never happened before.” Her hands were still shaking as she sipped her water.
“Don’t worry, I expect you haven’t had much sleep lately?” Patel speculated. Sally shook her head, now beginning to feel a little better. “You probably haven’t been eating regularly and worrying about your grandsons?” Patel looked pointedly as the older woman before her.
“All of those things. Considering what they do, the boys don’t get hurt that often. I was so scared, especially for Virgil.”
“Well, not to worry, he’d going to be fine. They both are. Let’s get you checked out, rested and fed, ready to look after your boys when they are awake again.”
Sally nodded her agreement. “But not until I give the family the good news.”
<><><><><>
Almost twenty hours later, Virgil was trying to work out where he was and why. So far, he had worked out he was lying down, he was dry and warm and his back hurt. It really, really hurt. Because he hadn’t worked out anything else, for now he was keeping still, not opening his eyes. Why? What had happened? Think, think. There was something about a mine and for some reason his beloved Thunderbird Two couldn’t fly and … and Alan. Something was wrong with Alan. It was no good. He was going to have to open his eyes, at least a little and try and ascertain where he was and what was going on - and find Alan.
It wasn’t exactly dark but then it wasn’t exactly light. It was blue. Blue light. Where do you get blue light? He tried to see about him. Mostly he saw pale blue, which his fingers told him was pillow. Beyond that, there seemed to be something that looked like a hospital bed with someone in it. Okay, he was in hospital. Why? He tried lifting himself a little higher, to see over the pillow and get a better look. Instantly the pain in his back ignited into fire and he wasn’t quick enough to stifle a gasp as he let himself back down.
“Virgil?”
The voice was soft and familiar, a face came into his sight line.
“Grandma?” he managed to croak out, his throat very dry.
“Yes dear. Here, have a drink.”
A straw appeared and he took the iced water gratefully.
“Gently, just a little at time,” she counselled.
“Where, why?” he asked.
“You got hurt on a rescue. There was an explosion and some glass hit you. Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine, but you need to rest, you lost a lot of blood.” He just continued to stare at her with confused brown eyes. “It’s going to be okay, I promise, darling.” She brushed his hair back off his forehead, letting her land linger on his cheek, just as she had when he was a boy.
“Alan!” Virgil suddenly called out as the memories hit him. He tried again to lift himself off the bed, only to fall back again, stifling a cry of pain.
“It’s okay, he’s fine. He’s over there, see?” She moved aside so he could once more see the other bed.
Now that he looked, even in the blue of the night light, he could see a tuft of blond hair.
“That’s Alan?” he asked, needing conformation.
“It is. Would I lie to my favourite grandson?”
“He’s hurt?”
“Broken leg, mild concussion. He’s going to be fine. They put him in here so you two could be together. Now take this.”
She handed him a small smooth object with a cord coming from one end and button in the middle. He looked at it with confusion.
“It’s a pump. The doctor told me to give it to you. When you press the button you get pain medication. You are in charge of it.”
He tried to hand it back to her. Virgil had always hated taking any kind of medication, especially if he thought it would dull his senses. Sally was ready for this, this was why she was doing this and not calling the nurse. She knew if anyone could make him take it, it would have to be her or Scott.
“Listen to me, you were hit in the back.” Alarm flashed in his eyes. “It’s fine, nowhere near your spine, but it did hit your liver and you’ve had major surgery. You’re in pain, don’t deny it, and you need rest, which you can’t get if you are in agony, so, please, press the button. Don’t worry, you can’t overdose.”
“I don’t need it,” he said quietly.
“Virgil Grissom Tracy, are you lying to your grandmother?” She stood up, folding her arms over her chest.
“He is,” Alan said from the other bed.
“Brat!” hissed Virgil.
Hearing Alan, knowing he really was okay, mostly, took the fight out of Virgil, not that he ever won a fight with his grandmother. He pressed the button. Less than five minutes later, he was asleep again. The pump control in his now slack hand.
Alan pushed himself up in his bed. “He really will be okay, won’t he?” he asked his grandmother.
“Yes dear, you know Virgil. Our biggest worry his going to be keeping him down long enough to heal.”
The last thing she did, before leaving her two boys to sleep, was open her comm pad and scan the room. She sent the scan of two sleeping brothers and a message assuring that both were now on the mend. There was no point calling them. She’d been monitoring International Rescue’s communications, so she knew everyone but Brians had been out on rescues almost continually since Scott left and were now all asleep. If anyone responded immediately they were not asleep and she would have something to say about that. She had forgotten one member of the team.
“Mrs Tracy?” EOS’ childlike voice called.
“Yes?” Sally responded with some trepidation.
“Do you wish me to wake John?” the A.I. asked. She barely acknowledged anyone but John, except Brains, although she tolerated Virgil more than the others, probably because he was an engineer.
“No, its fine; let them sleep,” she instructed.
“Very well. I am…” EOS paused, as if searching for the correct word, “pleased they are improving.”
“Me too dear, me too. Goodnight.”
Epilogue
Everyone knew it had to happen. No one wanted to do it and so it had been put off for more than two weeks. Alan could have left hospital after forty-eight hours but he asked and the hospital agreed, to stay until Virgil was able to go home. This would not always have been something his older brother would have welcomed, but since he slept thought most of the first three days and Alan showed uncharacteristic restraint, only talking to him when it was clear Virgil wanted to talk, it worked well. Once they were both home there had been another week of avoiding the dreaded debrief.
Scott finally bit the bullet and called them both to a meeting. Everyone else knew enough to stay clear. He had intended they be in the sunken seating area and have relaxed conversation about what happened. Virgil, however, was at the piano, playing some soft jazz. As far as Scott could tell, he was improvising, something he could happily do for hours, especially if someone brought him coffee.
Scott sat himself down at the desk and took a moment to enjoy the music, watching the way his brother’s big hands moved so deftly over the keys with the lightest of touches. Less than five minutes passed before Alan limped in on his crutches. Scott pushed the chair to one side and patted the empty desk top beside him. Alan, as he had so many times before, sat on the desk.
“So,” Scott began, not bothering to wait for a break in the music.
Virgil didn’t stop playing.
“I know you’re improvising so there are no breaks and you’re doing this to avoid the conversation, but I’m going to start anyway,” Scott announced, in a voice that was fractionally louder than was needed to be heard over the soft notes.
Alan looked nervous. His only reason for putting this off was the chance it would descend in to a huge row between the other two. They were both very strong personalities, what John called ‘Alpha Male Plus’. Having them both under one roof was dangerous enough, even without the ridiculously high amounts of adrenalin that their job added to the mix. That Scott was older and they were bothers kept the peace most of the time, but if it weren’t for Virgil’s legendary calm, it would probably have resulted in blood years ago, not that there hadn’t been blood in the past, but not since Scott turned eleven. Calm or not, even Virgil had his limits. Alan just hoped they were not about to reach them this time. The music continued.
Scott turned to Alan. “The thing is, Alan, I have known Virgil his whole life, so I know right now he is blaming himself for forcing me to let him go on that mission, even though I was the one who made the decision. He’s blaming himself because it was for nothing. The miner still died and he couldn’t even bring the body home to his family. Worse - you got hurt and he had to hurt you to save your leg.”
“But that’s crazy. We didn’t know the guy was gonna die. No way we could have known that tree would come down or that guy was using that old generator – actually, if it’s anyone’s fault it’s his. I mean they banned those things for a reason, right?” Alan blustered.
“Yes, they did. So would you rather Virgil had left your leg as it was, risked you losing it?” Scott asked.
“No!” Alan affirmed. “No way.”
Alan turned to Virgil and would have spoken directly to him, if Scott hadn’t held up his hand.
“Virgil I have a question for you,” he announced
There was a pause, then finally the music stopped. Virgil, his face unreadable, tuned away from the keys to look at his brothers.
“What?” he asked.
“Are you upset that it took Alan two goes to get a line into you?”
The blank expression morphed into one of puzzlement. “Two?” he asked.
Alan shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, made a bit of a mess of the first one, that’s why you had that big bruise on your arm, sorry.”
“Why are you apologising? I’m impressed you only took two, given that you’ve never done it for real and the situation you had to deal with. You did really well. “
Alan visibly relaxed and brightened. “That thing you taught us, ‘Pre A V.I.P. Cad’ - that really helped.”
“You know,” Virgil continued. “I’d be happy to give you some extra practice, maybe put the dummy in some less than perfect positions?”
“I’d like to do that,” Alan told him, surprised to find he really meant it.
“So…” Scott needed to use this positivity to get back to the real issues. “Can we agree that since Alan has nothing to apologise for or blame himself for, neither do you?” He looked pointedly at Virgil.
In return, his bother shrugged his acceptance but then said, “But I should have listened when you said no. It wasn’t worth it,” he insisted.
“Wrong. I was wrong. If the tree hadn’t fallen, you guys would have been able to shut down that generator properly, dropped off the body with the park rangers and been back here with time to spare. There are just some things we can’t factor into the risk equation, never could, never will be able to. One of those – among so many – is a landside and a falling tree. We know better than most, nature will always find a way to bite you on the backside. Don’t take it personally.”
He let his brother think on this awhile as he stood up, giving Alan a secret wink as he did. Alan saw this as sign the meeting was over and he’d done good. Nonetheless, he continued to give Virgil his ‘puppy dog’ eyes, just to be sure he’d give it up and seen it Scott’s way.
“Okay,” Virgil finally announced. “I admit it, nature is bad ass and she will bite us from time to time.”
“And…” Scott began. “I am sorry about what I said, about Iceland. I was out of line. I know how hard you work.”
“Finally!” Gordon’s voice carried from the library gallery.
All three of the other brothers looked up at him. “Have you been there the whole time?” Scott asked.
“Nope, just came now to see if you guys were done. I’m starving and Grandma brought back a whole box of doughnuts on the supply run this morning.”
“She did?” Alan asked hopefully, almost leaping off the desk before he remembered he needed crutches to do that.
“Well, okay, then. I’ll put the coffee on and break out the doughnuts and you go tell everyone else to come out of hiding,” Scott announced.
He walked over to Virgil and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Promise me you’ll try and remember this the next time.”
Virgil turned back to the keys. “I’ll try. Now, I’m taking requests, what do you want to hear?”
“Oh give me an old one, a classic, something I can sing!” Scott called as he headed for the kitchen.
Virgil began to play and Scott began to sing, knowing everyone would join in as they arrived.
“Muma! Just killed a man!” he belted out.
The End