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Comes The Revolution"Scott, please! Sit down!" Scott stood steadfastly, staring at Jeff with resolute look in his eyes. Then he sighed heavily and walked back to his chair. The debriefing was long over, Alan's perfunctory recital of the rescue's elements almost forgotten in the heated discussion that followed. Each of the Tracy sons had a comment, a reason, an objection to their father continuing to go out on rescues. And to each comment, reason, and objection, Jeff had an answer. Gordon had brought up the security issue. "If you continue to go out on rescues, Dad, eventually someone or other is going to recognize you as Jeff Tracy, multi-billionaire. From there, it's only a short putt to figure out that you are bankrolling International Rescue. Then all of our security precautions are blown!" He had added. "This first rescue wasn't so worrisome because you were in a heat-resistant suit with a hood. No one could see your face. But that's not going to happen all the time." "I've been giving that some thought, Gordon. We've been too lax in our personal security as it is," Jeff had replied. "You, Alan, and even John have had your faces out there in the public forum. I think it's time for all of us to use some camouflage. Brains, do you think you could come up with a pair of glasses or a visor or something of the sort that we could use to shield at least part of our faces? They'd have to be easy to see through from the inside, even in darkened conditions, and hard to see through on the outside." "Dad, there is no way something like that is going to hide Jeff Tracy, famous astronaut! Your dimples alone are world reknowned!" Gordon replied. Jeff kept his gaze on Brains, ignoring Gordon's comment. Brains nodded slowly. "I-I could try, Mr. T-Tracy," he said softly and with reluctance. Jeff looked at him, startled, then frowned. He sounds as if he doesn't want to do this. Doesn't he see how necessary it is? "What's wrong, Brains? Can't you figure out something that will help us obscure our identities?" Jeff asked, giving the engineer a hard look. "I-I'm sure I could, Mr. Tracy. It's j-just that, uh, I agree with Gordon. Y-You're too high profile to continue g-going on rescues. A p-pair of fancy glasses isn't going to, uh, hide you for l-long." Brains said with a quiet firmness. Jeff's eyes narrowed as he looked at Brains sitting ramrod straight in his chair. "No matter your own opinions, Brains, I want you to come up with something along the lines of what I've described. I'm not the only one who needs his face concealed," he said heatedly. There was a long silence as Jeff and Brains stared at one another. Then Brains nodded slightly. "Yes, sir." he said clearly. "Dad, the security issue isn't the only thing that's bothering us," Alan piped up. "Your lack of experience is also a problem." He stood, walking behind the couch he had been sitting on, moving to stand behind Tin-Tin. "Before we went out to rescue the FireFlash, we not only ran the simulations on the various Thunderbirds and the auxiliary craft, but we ran through a lot of rescue scenarios, using the Island as our training ground. Hell, we even went to the ski lodge for a few sessions using the arctic equipment." Alan's voice dropped a bit and got softer. "You haven't had that opportunity. And because of that, we feel like we need to keep a close eye on you. To make sure you're not getting in over your head." Virgil jumped in. "And when we're looking after you, we're not paying our full attention where it should be, on the rescue and its victims." Jeff sighed. "Alan, you may have run the simulations and participated in practice rescues, but until you went out on your first job, none of you had any real experience with rescuing people. For me, it will be on-the-job training." Jeff paused, leaning back in his desk chair. "I'm not too happy, Virgil, that you boys think the old man can't handle himself in a pinch and that you have to hold my hand all the time. Eventually, though, as I get more skilled in the various types of rescues, you'll be able to let go of my hand," Jeff said sarcastically. "And in the meantime, Dad? How would you feel if one of us got hurt looking out for you?" Virgil insisted. "We don't have the time or the energy on a rescue to help you with any 'on the job training'." Jeff's memory suddenly assaulted him with the image of Virgil in the Thunderbird Two's cockpit after it crash landed due to the USN Sentinel's missile attack. The feelings of fear and dread resurfaced and Jeff found he had no answer to Virgil's question. He was relieved when John jumped in to fill the small silence following Virgil's remark. "What if you get hurt, Father?" John asked. "You know how often we've been injured, even the point of hospitalization. Now, we can be incognito at a hospital, especially when you're using your clout and pulling the strings to clear floors of patients, getting guards to keep out unwelcome visitors. But where do we take you? What clout do we have to do the same for you? How will we be able to keep the media at bay?" John leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands. "It's too much of a risk, Father. All the way around." Jeff's eyes began to dart back and forth from one young person to another. They are ganging up on me! Did they plan this? "I'm sure we can come up with some arrangement in the unlikely event I am injured, John. Let me give it some thought. Though if I keep getting the soft, easy jobs like I did today, there will be no possible chance of injury," Jeff said wryly. "And what if you are killed, Dad? Scott asked his question then began to pace the floor. The others in the room watched him intently. "Let's think about that possibility, Dad. International Rescue is your dream. None of us would have ever thought of it. None of us would have ever been able to pull it off like you have. What happens to IR when you die? What happens to that dream?" He stopped for a moment to look around at each person, his gaze falling finally on his father. "Then there's Tracy Industries. It's as much a dream of yours as IR is. You built it up from scratch. What happens to that when you die? Does it get chopped up into little pieces and each of us gets a share? How is that dream going to live on?" Scott resumed his movement. "We know you're not going to be around forever. But we're not prepared for the day you... leave us. We'll probably never be fully prepared for that day. Just like you are not fully prepared to go out on rescue. And you need to be fully prepared. Gordon told me that you had to wear my gear because you hadn't thought ahead and ordered some for yourself. Alan was concerned about how winded you got after just a little bit of running around. And what scares us spitless, Dad, is that we know that the chances of you dying before we can all make the preparations to carry on both dreams increase dramatically when you put yourself in the danger of a rescue." He advanced to the desk to stare at his father frankly, blue eyes meeting blue. "We lost our mother tragically and unexpectedly. We don't want to lose you that way, too. Not if we can do anything about it." It was at this point that Jeff commanded Scott to sit down. The oldest son crossed his arms and watched impassively as his father stood behind his desk, putting his hands on it flat and leaning forward. "Believe it or not, Scott, I have thought about some of the issues you raise. I appreciate that you all have been thinking along these lines, too." Jeff took a deep breath. "This is what I've decided to do. Starting first off in the New Year, one of you will be going off to corporate headquarters each month for a month. I asked John if he would be the first, and he said he would go. This will introduce you all to the overt side of our family business, so when I am gone you'll know what to do to keep the company running smoothly. "I've also decided that you each need to cross train on each other's vehicles and have more time behind the desk during rescues. This will ensure that no matter who is home at the time, there will be someone to man whatever vehicles we need. And it will give you a feel for commanding this dream of mine. Because when I'm gone, I expect to leave one of you in charge of IR. Tracy Industries can have more than one of you at the helm, but International Rescue cannot. There has to be one ultimate commander and I need to find out which one of you that will be. "You've all been very patient about matters of the heart. But you're getting older just like I am. It's time you started looking for partners, for wives to love and to have and to hold. Some of these women may eventually become part of IR, some may not. To keep the dream alive we may even have to go out of the family and recruit others to help us. "But to do all this, the training at corporate headquarters, the cross training, the time you each will need to find your soul mate, even time for the vacations I've gifted you with today, we have to have a certain level of manpower available. And this means I must go out on rescues. You may not like it; in fact, I knew you wouldn't. But it has to be. I understand your concerns about my safety, and about our security. And I'm going to put my mind to those concerns over the next few days and come up with solutions to address them. In the meantime, things will proceed as I have planned. Cross-training will begin tomorrow and I already have a rotation schedule for manning the desk." He smiled slightly as he surveyed the silent people in the lounge, most of whom were gawking at him in shell-shocked disbelief. "I may be getting old, folks. But... I'm not dead yet." Jeff glanced at his watch. "I know it's late, but I'm hungry for my dinner. Are you ready for us, Kyrano?" The manservant nodded silently, then left the room. Jeff regarded the other people in the lounge, then followed suit. A few quiet moments, then Scott broke the silence, blowing out a loud breath. He put his head in his hands, then shook it before sitting up again, hands on his knees. "Well, that could have gone better." "We could go on strike." John offered facetiously. Scott chuckled at the suggestion. "Wouldn't work," Gordon riposted. "He'd have Grandma out there with him." The image of Grandma Tracy in an IR uniform made Scott chuckle again. Then he sobered and shook his head. "I've run out of ideas. He's got all his reasons lined up, all his plans. But he won't admit to the one thing I think is really driving this: recapturing his youth." Scott clapped his hands on his thighs and stood up. His brothers and Brains began standing up as well, stretching and shaking out their trouser legs. Alan offered Tin-Tin a hand up from the sofa. She smoothed down her dress. "Do you really think that is still his motivation, Scott?" she asked, falling in step with him as they made their way to the dining room. "Yes, I do, Tin-Tin," Scott said. He paused, then added. "I don't know why I still think that, especially after this little scene. But I do. His reaction to piloting Thunderbird Three is the biggest indicator of it, I think. He was so happy, so jazzed to do it. I think he was disappointed that this rescue wasn't the adrenaline-pumping type that we seem to have so often." He shook his head. "I'd hate to see what happens when one of those pops up again. Because I think that no matter how hard we try to convince him not to go, he's going to go." The two shared small, commiserating smiles as they entered the dining room and found their places around the table for their late Christmas dinner. |