Say It Isn't So

"Scott!"

"Yes, Father?" Scott was startled to get see his father's puzzled face on his telecomm watch.

"I need your help in the simulator, son. Please come down here right away." Jeff looked worried now.

"F-A-B, Father." Scott ran down to the simulator, just outside the main lab and part of the laboratory blockhouse. He stopped at the door and read the keypad to see what program was running. Thunderbird One? Why is Dad doing that simulation? He opened the door, and found his father sitting in what would be the pilot's seat if it were truly Thunderbird One.

"I crashed her, Scott. And I need to know why. I recorded my session. Would you go over it with me and show me where I... goofed?" Jeff had a deeply puzzled look on his face.

"Uh, sure, Dad. I'd be glad to." They turned toward the monitor that showed the recording of Jeff's simulated flight and crash. Scott looked at it carefully. His father had done very well, until...

"Oh, there! Do you see that, Dad? The wings weren't fully in place before you made your dive. It's a timing thing. I've got it down in my bones by now. This light over here," Scott pointed to it, "needed to be green before you moved from horizontal flight. It was still red."

Jeff nodded at his son's explanation. "I see, now. I'll have to try it again and make sure I've got it right." He looked up at Scott and smiled. "Thanks, son."

"Um, Dad? Can I ask why you're doing this?" Scott's curiosity had been piqued by his father's unusual activity.

Jeff colored a bit. He didn't want Scott to know his real reasons. Yet.

"Just some practice, reacquainting myself with your Thunderbird. So I can give you better direction on the field," he prevaricated. Scott gave him a long look, then decided not to pursue the matter.

"Okay, Dad. If you need any more help, just holler."

"I will, Scott. And thanks again."

Scott left the simulator, deeply thoughtful.

Over the next few days, all of the Earth bound brothers were called into the simulator one at a time to answer questions about their particular Thunderbird. Gordon was particularly tried as his father was a pilot and astronaut not an aquanaut, and the two disciplines, flying and sailing, used different terms and measurements.

When the boys were too busy to help him, Jeff turned his attention to the auxiliary machinery that stood in the hangars. He would call for Brains to help him through the start up and shut down procedures, and would ask the engineer incessant questions.

Finally, Scott called a meeting of his brothers, inviting Brains and Tin- Tin to join them. They met in one of the comfortably appointed lounges in the guest accommodations of the Cliff House, a place where they knew they would be undisturbed.

"We need to figure out why Father is doing this, why he's putting us through our paces in our Thunderbirds," Scott declared.

"The reason he gave me is that he wanted to be able to give us better direction on the field," Virgil said, shaking his head.

"That doesn't cut it," Gordon said. "I think he's just testing us, making sure we know what we're doing with our Thunderbirds out there."

"Th-then why is he, uh, working with the, uh, M-mole, the F-firefly, and the, uh, Domo?" Brains asked. "I-it just doesn't, uh, make s-sense. And at th-this rate, I'll never g-get the, uh, modifications made t-to the n-new M- obile Control unit."

Alan looked thoughtful, "It's almost as if...." He shook his head. "Nah! Never happen."

"What, Alan?" Scott asked, interested in his brother's unfinished thought.

Alan looked sheepish. "No, Scott. It's too stupid. Dad would never do it."

"Alan, if you have an idea, spill it!" Gordon said impatiently.

"Yes, Alan. Please tell us," Tin-Tin coaxed gently.

Alan squirmed under the gaze of five pairs of eyes. Finally he spoke.

"It's almost as if he were training himself to go out on rescue missions with us."

Alan's thought seemed to turn on the lights in the mind of each person there.

"Of course!" Virgil exclaimed. "That's it! He wants to go out on missions with us! It's the only answer that makes any sense!"

Gordon looked confused, "Yeah, it makes sense if there's a reason why he would want to do something so... unlike him as that."

Scott and Virgil looked at each other. Scott said softly, "I think I might have the why for you, Gords." He looked around the room. "Dad is turning 60 this year. It's a big milestone for him. Most men his age either are going through, or have already been through a mid-life crisis of some sort. They are trying to recapture their youth, usually by doing things that rip out the F-A-Bric of their lives and their families' lives. Dad would never do the things that some of his friends have done; he's too stable a personality for that. But think about it. What was Dad's crowning acheivement in his youth?"

"The moon mission," Alan promptly replied.

"Right. And don't you think he would want to try and recapture some of the emotions of that mission? The rush, the excitement of it all? What's the one way he could do that today?" Scott spread his hands as he asked the question. There was a moment of silence as everyone thought about what Scott had just said.

"By going out on rescue missions," Gordon finally said, nodding. He looked up at Scott. "I guess it does make some sick sense." He shook his head, lowering his eyes. "But I really can't believe it of Dad."

"Believe it, Gords," Alan said forcefully. "I know just how he feels when you guys are out on missions, and he's stuck at home behind a desk and can't do a damned thing to help. It's the same feeling John and I get when we're stuck up there in Thunderbird 5. I just didn't think he would actually go through with something like this."

"He hasn't yet, Alan," Tin-Tin pointed out. "And it still may be that he will think better of it, if this is indeed his idea."

"Let's hope so," Scott fervently wished. "In the meantime, what do we do? We can't exactly keep him from using the simulator."

"I have an idea," came a voice from nowhere.

"John? Is that you?" Virgil looked around to see where his spacegoing brother might be. "Where are you?"

"In Thunderbird 5, nitwit," John said irritably. "Brains saw fit to let me in on this conF-A-B since none of you thought of doing it." Brains held up his telecomm to show John's scowling face on the screen.

Now it was Scott's turn to look sheepish. "Sorry, John. It's just that Dad hasn't used the Thunderbird 5 simulation at all. So we didn't think you... needed.... " Scott's embarrassment was evident as his voice trailed off.

"You didn't think, all right." John retorted. "And you're right about the Thunderbird 5 simulation. Why in the world would he want to come up here and do the same thing he does from his comfortable desk there on the Island?"

"Well, what's your idea, John?" Virgil asked quickly, before John could continue in that vein.

"We all know that there's more to rescue work than just knowing the equipment. There are so many skills we've all had to learn in order to do rescues safely. Rappelling, scuba diving, parachuting, rock climbing, orienteering, and lots more. Why don't you all get him to do some of those things with you? It might open his eyes to skills he doesn't have and maybe he'll realize that going out on rescue missions is more trouble than it's worth for a man his age."

John's suggestion was met with nods of approval all around. Then Brains spoke up.

"Y-you might want to, uh, ask h-him to help you w-with the maintenance of, uh, your Thunderbirds. Perhaps seeing again j-just how much w-work it takes to, uh, m-maintain the equipment would, uh, open his eyes, t-too."

"That's right." Virgil responded. "If he was to go out on rescue missions with us, he'd probably feel that he had to pull his own weight there, too." He turned to the engineer, "Good idea, Brains." Brains blushed and looked down at his shoes.

"All right, then," Scott said, rubbing his hands together. "We'll start Operation... Change of Mind tomorrow. Who wants to go first?"

Gordon put up a finger, "I will, Scott. I'll take Dad out scuba diving tomorrow. It's been ages since he's been out there. Then he can help me with monthly maintenance on Thunderbird 4. It hasn't been done properly for awhile."

"Good, Gordon. We'll start with you then. And make up a roster of things to get him involved in during the next few weeks." Scott said.

"Remember, he'll have Tracy Industries work to do, too." John reminded his brothers. "This little scheme will take him away from that, and he'll see how much business piles up while he is gone doing rescue work. He's still very hands-on with the company, you know."

"That's true, too." Scott agreed. He looked around the room again. "This has got to look natural, like we are just trying to get him more involved in our lives, in doing things we like to do, in spending time with him. Keep that in mind when you approach him, okay?" There were nods all around. Scott looked at his watch. "Almost time for dinner. Let's catch the monorail back to the Villa. And Johnny?"

"Yeah, Scooter?" John shot back Scott's old nickname just as Scott had used his.

"Sorry for not calling you in. We should have thought of you," Scott admitted.

"Damn right you should have. Better not forget again." John gave his older brother a smile and a wink. "Good luck with Operation Change of Mind. I'll be happy to do my part when I get dirtside again. Talk to you later, bro."

"Yeah, John. Later." The little screen on Brains' telecomm went dark.

"C'mon Brains, let's get some dinner," Scott said as they walked together to catch the monorail back to the Villa.