Unavoidable Deception

"Earth to Pinky, Earth to Pinky." Qaeshon waved a dark hand in front of Alan's face.

Alan startled from his reverie. "Wha...? Oh! Hey, Kay."

"Where were you?" his friend asked. "You looked like you were in outer space somewhere."

The blond shook his head to clear it, and gave Qaeshon and the rest of the crew a half-hearted grin. "Yeah, I guess maybe I was."

For some odd reason, perhaps it was the offering of pizza delivered from one of the places in town, a lot of the boys who normally would have skipped Saturday night dinner at Wharton were in the dining hall, scarfing down pizza and generally having a good time. Alan and Fermat's little group, minus Ralph, were all present. Alan had tried to explain some of the intricacies of football to A.J. on their way to the infirmary, but after they left there, he became quiet, worrying about Gordon and basically feeling as if the troubles of the world were on his shoulders. It had not gone unnoticed.

"Hey, Pinky, what's up?" Jason asked. "You've been awfully quiet."

"Yeah, I know," Alan sighed. He knew he couldn't tell them about his brother, and Fermat had been watching him like a hawk - A hawk with glasses. Now there's a weird image - to see that he didn't. I can't tell them about Gordon, but maybe... maybe I can spike Sugi's guns a little.

"Hey, guys?" Alan asked, his serious voice garnering the attention of his friends. He paused, making sure all eyes were turned his way, then asked, "If someone started a... a nasty rumor about me, would you believe it?"

The boys all exchanged glances, each of them making contact with Fermat's eyes. Not knowing what his friend was driving at, Fermat shrugged and shook his head a little in answer.

At last, Qaeshon broke the silence. "What kind of fool question is that, Pinky? Of course we wouldn't. You're our... our Pinky and we know you. We know the kind of stuff you're made of."

"Yeah, Pinky," Jason piped up. "We wouldn't even listen." He stopped and thought for a moment. "Well, if it involved some pretty girl... I might ask for a phone number."

The boys chuckled, and even Alan joined in, a little.

"I think," A.J. ventured. The other boys stopped their chatter to listen to him. He was still new to the group, but as he didn't talk very much, when he did have something to say the others listened all the more carefully. "I think," he repeated, "that if I heard a nasty rumor about you... about any of you, I'd ask you about it." He paused for thought, then said, "And I'd try to track down where the rumor came from."

"Yeah, that's what I'd do, too," Qaeshon agreed.

Alan swallowed then asked, "What if it came from a... a popular source. Someone who people respect."

"I-If you t-told me it was a l-l-l... it wasn't t-true, it wouldn't m- matter to me who the s-s-source was," Fermat said firmly. "I'd b-believe you." He stared at his old roommate, eyes narrowing behind his glasses. "Wh-What's going on, A-Alan?"

"Nothing," Alan lied and shrugged. "I... I was just wondering."

"Hey, you can't fool us, Pinky," Jason said, frowning. "Something's up. Come on now, spill it!"

"I can't, Jase, not now," Alan replied with another sigh. "But when I can, I promise I will."

There was a moment of silence, then Qaeshon said quietly, "Whatever it is, we're here for you."

Alan smiled a little. "Thanks, guys. Thanks a lot."

The talk around the table was slow starting up again. "Hey, A.J.," Alan asked. "How'd your call to your father go?"

"It was okay," A.J. replied. "I think he was surprised that I called just to talk." He snorted, a self-deprecating laugh. "I usually call to ask for more money... or to complain." Looking at Fermat, he said, "I never really thought before about what I was doing when I called. I guess hearing you talk to your dad kinda... well, it showed me a couple of things."

Before Fermat could comment, Alan jumped in and said, "I know what you mean. That was me last year. I hated the idea of being here, so far from my family. But this year... it's different. I'm having... fun." He rolled his eyes. "If you can have fun at school..."

"You c-can," Fermat said firmly. "I d-do."

"Yeah, but you're the Brain," Qaeshon cut in, grinning. "For you, school is like summer camp... that lasts for nine months."

The resulting chuckles broke the ice again, and the talk turned to less serious topics. Finally, their appetites sated, the little group split up. Alan had Fermat walk with him as he disposed of their trays, and hissed, "We have to call your dad! I need to know about Gords!"

"I-I d-don't see how!" Fermat hissed back. "Not w-with A.J. in the r-room!"

"Hmm." Alan tried to think of a solution to their current dilemma. He didn't want to bring Fermat back to his room because he didn't know if it still smelled of stale cigarette smoke. Finally, he got an idea. "Wait for me at the games room. I'll go get my phone."

"Why can't w-we go to y-your room?" the bespectacled boy asked in a whisper.

"We can't," Alan whispered back.

"Why not?"

"We just... can't. Trust me on this."

O-Okay," Fermat said quietly just as A.J. caught up with them. "A.J-J. I'm going to the g-games room for a b-bit."

"Do you mind if I come with you?" A.J. asked.

"Uh, well," Alan hemmed. "I just remembered," he said all in a rush. "I left my math book in your room. I'd better go get it so we can study together."

Fermat rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly at his friend's quick change of plan. "Y-You're right. We'd b-better get the h-homework done f-first. Sorry, A.J."

"Oh, that's all right. Maybe we can go some other time," A.J. commented amiably. "I think I'd better get my own homework done, too. I'll walk back to the dorm with you."

The two best friends looked at each other and sighed.

Thunderbird Two made a smooth landing on the cleared lot next to the hospital in Peyo. A sign there indicated that the lot would soon be used to build a new wing, and Jeff absently made a mental note to look into it as a possible venue for a financial donation. He groaned when he saw Lisa Lowe hurry over... or try to. The first visit he made to Peyo had allowed him to touch base with their Ecuadorian agent, who set up security around the hospital. The militia was now surrounding the building, screening people who really were sick and injured and providing a buffer between the populace, who were outside waiting for an opportunity to see the heroes of International Rescue, and the Thunderbird craft. Jeff turned on the camera fogger, and hurried to join Virgil in the passenger lift, taking along his helmet for good measure.

They rode down in the three seater lift, the arm extending from the belly of Thunderbird Two's main chassis and lowering them gently to the ground. Virgil used the control pad on his wrist to activate the recall function and the arm rose again. The remote wrist band was another idea that was being tested on the field; it was to be used only during rescue operations and therefore wouldn't be integrated with the communicators, which were meant for daily use both on and away from base. Jeff did not want some stray pickpocket or mugger to end up with the controls that would give them access to a Thunderbird, even for a second.

The crowd shouted and waved at them and the two men gave a wave of acknowledgment, then turned and hurried on into the hospital. Jeff was glad for the helmet; the camera fogger wasn't proof against telephoto lenses and he had no desire to have his picture, in an IR uniform, plastered all over the press. On the way, they passed Thunderbird One, safely buttoned up and sitting on the helijet pad. Jeff gave Virgil a nudge, and they picked up their pace.

The militiamen and women who were guarding the hospital let them through without trouble, and their Ecuadorian agent, Augustin Enrico Diaz, met them at the entrance to the emergency treatment area. "This way," he said in fluent, if accented, English.

They ducked behind a curtain and Jeff finally felt secure enough to remove his helmet. Scott was standing out of the way, holding onto his own helmet. Jeff handed his off to Virgil, and went over to the bed where doctors were treating an ashen-faced Gordon. "Hey, Gordon."

Gordon looked up at his father and managed a small smile. "Hey, Commander." He waved a listless hand, the one without the I.V. line in it. "C'n ya tell these guys I want outta here?"

Jeff smiled. "Let's just find out what the doctor has to say, first." He glanced across the bed. "Doctor? How is he?"

Diaz stood at Jeff's right elbow, and asked Jeff's question in rapid Spanish. The doctor met the IR commander's eyes then began to speak, and Diaz started to translate. "The doctors say he is suffering from heat exhaustion," he said. "His temperature on arrival was over thirty-eight degrees centigrade, which is normal for this condition. They are trying to bring his temperature down with cold packs. The intravenous line is there because there is indication of dehydration."

Jeff nodded. Gordon's heat suit had been cut away, as had the protective under layer that was designed to wick away perspiration. His skin was pale and clammy, and he lay still, a condition so very unusual for this son. But he was breathing normally and the monitors he was hooked up to declared that his heart was beating in a regular rhythm, though it sounded a little on the fast side to his father. Jeff glanced over at the doctor again, addressing him even though he knew his words would be translated by Diaz. "How long will he need to be here?"

The doctor's reply was short and to the point. "As long as it takes for his temperature to go down to normal," Diaz translated.

Jeff reached out and gently stroked Gordon's short, dark hair, then sighed and turned to Scott. "See what you can get to eat and drink. Then contact Five and base. We may be here a while."

The three boys returned to Maplewood, Alan trying hard to curb his impatience and figure out a way that he and Fermat could get the privacy they needed to call Brains. But once they got to the third floor, he was immediately diverted by the news that played on the wide screen TV in the common room.

"Lisa Lowe here in Peyo, Ecuador, with an update on the injured International Rescue operative. The hospital has confirmed that one of the pilots has been admitted to the emergency room for treatment, but is not giving any details on his or her condition. Thunderbirds One and Two are on the ground here, and three other operatives have entered the hospital. None of them seemed to be injured. Reports from the Parque Nacional Yaguní indicate that they were fighting a forest fire and rescuing people stranded at a small missionary camp within the park. There has been no... wait..."

Lisa put a hand up to her earphone. "I have just received official confirmation of the venue and nature of the Thunderbirds' latest rescue. Yes, a missionary group in Quito has issued a statement thanking International Rescue and praising them for their work in reaching and removing over thirty campers and counselors from the midst of a raging forest fire."

The scene switched back to the newsroom, where anchorman Ned Cook asked, "Lisa, with this news from Quito, is there any speculation on what injuries the Thunderbird operative may have sustained?"

"None, Ned. But I will keep you updated on the situation."

"Thank you, Lisa. That was Lisa Lowe, reporting from Peyo, Ecuador with the latest on the injured Thunderbirds operative."

Fermat looked up at Alan, who had gone pale and was staring at the screen. He touched his friend's shoulder briefly. "A-Alan?" he called softly. "We h-have homework t-to do."

Alan whirled, about to retort angrily about Fermat's seeming insensitivity, but as he did, he noticed A.J. looking at him with an expression of puzzlement and curiosity. He clenched a fist, took a deep breath, and replied, "Yeah, Fermat. Let's... let's get to it."