Unpredictable

Fermat was almost finished with his pre-engineering homework when A.J. walked into the room. The younger boy looked surprised to see him for a moment, and Fermat caught the look as he glanced up at his roommate.

"H-Hey, A.J.," Fermat said. "Y-You look s-s-s... astonished."

"I am, a little," A.J. replied. "I heard about a fight... and that you were in it."

Fermat's rolled his eyes. "I w-was, sort of. Trey Mackenzie a-attacked A-A-A... Pinky. I tried to h-help A-Alan, but couldn't do much. Just g-got knocked over."

"Are you all right?" A.J. asked. "I heard you all went to the infirmary and there were policemen on campus..." His voice trailed off as an encouragement for Fermat to finish the tale.

And he did. A.J. listened raptly to Fermat's account, refraining from questioning his roommate until the story was through. Then the younger boy whistled, or tried to, and shook his head.

"Wow! That's wild!" he exclaimed. He sat back in his desk chair. "I suppose this means Alan can move now."

Fermat snorted a small laugh. "I d-didn't even th-think about that. But you're r-right. Now he can g-get away from S-Sugi."

Suddenly, there was a burst of music; Fermat couldn't identify it, but it sounded very classical to him. I'll have to ask him what that was, he thought. It sounded cool. Andrew fished around on his desk and found his phone. He opened it, read the caller's identification, and his eyes lit up with delight.

"Dad!" he cried. Pushing the button to talk, he put the phone up to his ear and said, "Hi, Dad! Let me find my earphone!" He got up and hurried over to Fermat. "I'll only be a minute. Here, talk to my roommate while I look for it. His name's Fermat."

A.J. thrust the phone into the hands of a very confused and alarmed Fermat, then turned back to his desk and began to rummage around in a drawer. Fermat glanced down at the picture on the phone. Looking back at him was a distinguished looking man with a high forehead and dark hair going gray at the temples. Hesitantly, he put the phone to his ear, and said, "H-Hello, Mr. T-Trumbull. I'm F-Fermat Hackenbacker, A. J.'s - I m-mean, Andrew's – roommate.;"

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr... Hackenbacker, is it? Andrew has emailed me about you; he tells me you are his friend." The man's voice was smooth and practically without a regional accent. "He was leery at first about having a roommate at all; I am glad to hear that you and he are getting along so well."

"Y-Yes, sir," Fermat said politely. "We weren't on g-good terms to start with, b-but have worked th-things out, so n-now we're friends."

"Excellent!" Mr. Trumbull was pleased; Fermat could hear it. He glanced up to see A.J. returning, putting in his ear piece as he did.

"H-Here's Andrew," Fermat said as the younger boy stood beside him, his hand held out expectantly. "It was n-nice meeting you, s-sir."

"And you," Mr. Trumbull replied. "Goodbye, Mr. Hackenbacker."

"Goodbye." Fermat held out the phone to his roommate, who immediately switched the audio over to his earphone.

Fermat turned back to his books, and tried not to eavesdrop. He did hear one thing that A.J. told his father.

"Nah, Dad. He's not scared of you; that's just the way he always talks."

"Thunderbird One from Thunderbird Two. Scott? Anything?"

"Thunderbird One here. Nothing so far." Scott's voice sounded out over the speakers in Thunderbird Two's cockpit at Jeff's question.

"Thunderbird Five from Thunderbird Two." John's face popped up on the communications screen. Jeff leaned over to speak to his son. "Anything yet?"

John shook his head. "No, not yet. There's too much EM interference over their last known position. The weather, I'd say."

Jeff smothered a soft curse, then sat up straighter. "Keep looking. Even if they went down, there's got to be some debris."

"F-A-B," Scott answered, echoed in a moment by John.

Jeff turned back to the scanners, keeping an eye out for the research vessel that had gone missing. The institute that was responsible for this particular cruise had acted quickly; they were on the radio asking for help as soon as communications and GPS contact were lost. They had also contacted the Royal Australian Navy, but that particular entity couldn't get to the ship's last known position as quickly as IR could. Helicopters from the Fleet Air Arm were on their way from their base in New South Wales to help in the search, but Jeff wondered if they would be of any use in the current weather.

"Thunderbird Five from Thunderbird Two," Jeff said. "How's the weather looking?"

John shook his head. "Not too good. This is a pretty massive supercell."

"Stay on it, John. Give us updates every ten minutes; sooner if you see something amiss. We don't need any surprises."

"F-A-B."

"Gordon? Anything?" Jeff didn't look up from his scanner's screens to ask the question.

"Not so far, Dad," Gordon answered from the opposite copilot's chair. "This rain has visibility way down."

"Keep going. They have to be around here somewhere."

"How are you doing, Virgil?"

Virgil sat in the pilot's seat, his muscles tense. The bad thunderstorm that surrounded them was proving to be a challenge even to his piloting skills. "I'm good, Dad," he said, his voice terse. "I'll keep her in the air."

"Good man," Jeff said quietly. He couldn't let his attention drift from the screens before him. They had to find the ship. From what the institute had reported, the ship had deployed their Sealink submersible an hour and a half before communications were lost. That's why Thunderbird Four was loaded in the pod. It might be necessary to retrieve the Sealink and its four occupants with IR's own mini-sub. That was part of the reason why Gordon was also along for the ride, despite being not quite one hundred percent. Other than Alan, Gordon was best with Four.

"Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird One!" Scott's excited voice rang out over the airwaves. "I've found them!" He rattled off a string of coordinates. "I'm flying over to say hello."

The relief in Two's cockpit was palpable. "Good work, Scott," Jeff said. "We're on our way."

A.J.'s conversation with his father was a long one, and the boy was probably more animated than Fermat had ever seen him.

Makes me want to call home myself, he thought. In fact, I think I will.

He pulled out his phone, and grabbed his jacket, sticking the phone in a pocket. "I-I'm going out. See you at d-dinner?"

A.J. nodded vigorously, and Fermat smiled as he left his room. In the elevator, he pulled his jacket on over his one good arm, clumsily zipping it up. Once outside, he took out his phone, stuck his earphone in, and speed-dialed a number that he already knew by heart.

The phone rang three or four times before it was picked up, and it was Onaha's face that appeared on his screen.

"H-Hey, Onaha," he said with a smile. "How are y-you?"

"I'm doing very well, Fermat dear," was her pleased response. "Are you all right? I hear you and Alan got into a bit of trouble today."

"Y-Yeah, we did, but I think it w-will work out for the b-b-b... good," he explained. He paused and asked, "Is my d-dad around?"

Onaha's smile went smaller, and softer. She said, "He is, Fermat, but the Tracys are out on 'family business' and have left him to... mind the store."

"Ah," Fermat replied, nodding in understanding. "Then p-please tell him I c-called and that... he's I-It!"

The housekeeper laughed. "I will tell him. You be careful, and stay healthy."

"I w-will. Goodbye, O-Onaha."

"Goodbye, Fermat."

The connection closed, and Fermat sighed as he removed his earphone. He tucked both ear piece and phone into his jacket pocket again. I think I'll head for the dining hall. Dinner will be starting soon, and Alan will want to know that his family's out on another rescue.

His decision made, he tucked his uninjured hand into his pants pocket, and sauntered down the walk toward the cafeteria, the music from A.J.'s phone still ringing in his mind.

Scott carefully eased his 'Bird downward, using the VTOL thrusters in short bursts. He was heading for the deck of the ship below. Sailors were out in foul weather gear, trying to clear a space for him to land.

"The deck looks bad, Dad," Scott said. "The frame to raise and lower the submersible is twisted, and the communication masts are all down. I don't know what happened, but whatever it was, it was pretty powerful. Hey, looks like they've got the deck cleared enough. They're waving me down."

"Be careful, son," Jeff replied.

"Always, Dad. Always."

He turned back to concentrate on his flying. The sailors moved out of the way quickly when it became apparent that his VTOLs had enough power to sweep someone overboard. The wind tried to move him off course, and the rain made visibility difficult, but in the end, he made it down. Securing the controls, he opened a locker at the back of his cockpit and brought out rain gear of his own. Donning it quickly, he climbed out of the rocket plane to find himself surrounded by the sailors.

"Cap'n wants to see you on the bridge," one of them shouted over the wind.

"Right. Let's go!" he shouted back. And with a cordon of sailors around him, he hurried up to the bridge, hoping to discover what had happened to this ship.

Alan sauntered to the dining common, his hands in his pockets, deep in thought. He'd gotten an email from Coach Evans, telling him to be at the morning run and tomorrow's practice... or else be cut from the team. Sugi had returned while Alan was doing what little homework he had time for.

"Looks like you're not long for the team, Tracy," he had said with a snide tone to his voice. "Coach isn't very forgiving to those who skip practice."

"I had my reasons. I'll be there in the morning," Alan had retorted. "And tomorrow afternoon." He squashed hard the urge to answer back in kind, to tell Sugi that he wasn't the one who was going to be cut; Sugi was. That's all up to the coach, he reminded himself. I'll tell him what I saw, and let him do the rest.

"They had better be really good reasons, Tracy," Sugi scoffed. "Just because your daddy is rich..."

Alan stood up suddenly, and whirled to face his roommate. His blue eyes flashed with anger as he said in a clear, cold voice, "Listen, pea brain. I don't know what you've got against my dad, but he wouldn't buy me a place on any team, at any time, anywhere. He wants us to work for what we get, just like he did. So, take your attitude toward my dad and his money and stuff it where the sun don't shine."

Sugi grinned and raised an eyebrow in challenge. "What'll you do if I don't?"

This brought Alan up short. He hadn't thought ahead that far. But a niggling little voice inside told him not to push it any farther, that making a threat at this point - particularly a physical threat - would destroy the tentative goodwill he'd established with Ms. Belvedere. And somehow, he knew he'd need that goodwill in the days to come.

Instead, he raised his own eyebrow, and backed down. "You aren't worth my time," he spat. "And after tonight, you won't be in my face, either." He turned around and went back to his desk.

"And what do you mean by that?" Sugi asked.

Alan gave him a look of contempt. "As if you didn't know. You were the one who ratted out Trey Mackenzie over his smoking problem. You tried to implicate me in it, but that backfired. And now Trey's been expelled, not only for the smoking, but for tackling me and trying to beat me up... in front of witnesses. I have permission to move out as of tomorrow."

"And how do you know it was me who ratted him out?" Sugi asked, turning to his closet and rummaging around in it, avoiding Alan's glare.

"The list of people who could have is pretty short. You and I were the only two involved that I know saw Ms. Belvedere recently. I know I didn't do it, so who does that leave?" Alan closed his Spanish book and stood. Stepping over to his own closet, he pulled out his jacket and slipped it on. As he left to go to dinner, he stopped at the door. "By the way, Ms. Belvedere did tell Trey that I didn't rat on him. So, who do you think he's going to blame?"

With that parting shot, he was out the door and on his way to the dining hall. The air was nippy, and he could see his breath before his face. He made a mental note to wear athletic pants instead of shorts in the morning; it promised to be a chilly one.

When he entered the dining hall, he glanced around to find his usual crew. He spied Fermat's familiar blue glasses and made sure he knew where his friend was sitting before joining the food line.

He pulled a carrying tray from the pile at the end of the line and held it in both hands, ready to slide it onto the rails before the steam tables where the servers worked. There was plenty of room between him and the boy in front of him, but suddenly he was shoved from behind. He stumbled forward, and hit the kid in front of him, who had just accepted a plate of hot food from the server. The boy dropped the plate, barely jumping out of the way of the potatoes and gravy, which spattered all over him as the plate tipped on its way to the floor. It landed upside down, the food a oozing mess that was half on the floor and half on the victim's shoes.

"Hey! What'd you that for?" the kid asked, angry and affronted.

"I didn't!" Alan replied. He motioned to the people behind him. "I was pushed!"

"I didn't see anyone push him," said the tall boy behind Alan. He turned to ask his neighbors, "Did you?"

They all shook their heads, and answered variations on "No" before the tall boy turned back to the affronted student and shrugged.

By this time, Alan had figured out what was going on, and offered his own, clean tray to the boy, then grabbed some paper napkins and tried to help him clean off his shoes. He was pushed away by the boy himself, then by the maintenance man who had come at the request of the food servers.

"Move along, boys. You're holding up the line," the man said as he began to sweep the plate and food into a dustpan. Alan turned back to try and grab another clean tray, but they were too far back now, and the boy behind him gave him a hard nudge to move him forward. Fortunately, one of the servers saw him without a tray, and called to someone else in line to hand her one. He did, and she handed it to Alan, then gave him a plate of food.

"Be more careful next time!" she chided, a serious look on her face.

Great, Alan thought. She didn't see him push me either.

He finished getting his food, and carried it over to where Fermat was sitting. Xavion and Qaeshon were already finished eating, and Jason was nearly done. Fermat was having an animated conversation across the table with A.J., who looked like he'd just gotten there. Alan set his tray down and slid into a chair next to Qaeshon.

"Hey, Pinky," Qaeshon said. "The Brain has filled us in on the trouble you had this afternoon. How'd things go with Ms. Belvedere?"

"Pretty good, actually," Alan admitted. "I have permission to move as of tomorrow."

"So Trey got the boot?" Xavion asked, frowning.

Alan sighed and nodded. " 'Fraid so, Zave. And in case you're wondering, I didn't rat on him."

"Who did?" Jason asked around a mouthful of chocolate cake.

Alan took a swallow of water, then said, "Ms. Belvedere didn't say for sure, but the only one I can think of would be Sugi. He saw her this afternoon, not long before Trey tackled me. And she made a comment about respected students changing, or something like that."

"I see," Jason replied. "So you can move out. That's good. I bet you'll be happy to get out of there."

"I sure will," Alan said, nodding. "All that's left now is for Dom to confirm that he wants me to move in, and it's all set."

"I can't see any reason why he wouldn't want to," Qaeshon commented. "Unless, of course, he'd just rather have a room to himself."

This brought Alan upright. "Damn. I didn't think of that! Do you think he'd go back on what he said?"

"Why don't you ask him? He's sitting over there," Jason suggested, pointing to the table across the wide aisle from them.

"Let me get some food in me and I will." Alan began to eat, barely tasting the food as it went down. As he stuffed his face, Xavion kept looking at him, still frowning. At last Alan swallowed a bite and asked, "What, Zave?"

Xavion took in a deep breath and let it out, then shrugged a little. "I don't know. The coach wanted to talk to you about Sugi, and you missed practice for the second time." He held up his hand, forefinger and thumb held just a small space apart. "You're this close to being cut from the team. Now, I know you had a legit reason for not making practice, but even that's not going to fly with Coach. You'd better make sure you're out to run first thing tomorrow and don't miss the practice, no matter what happens."

"I'll be there," Alan assured him. "I don't want to be cut."

"A-Alan?" Fermat adjusted his glasses back on his face.

"Yeah, Fermat?"

"I c-called home today and found out th-that your d-dad was away on f-family business."

Alan's eyes widened. "Really? Any idea where?"

Fermat shook his head. "N-No. My d-dad was left to m-mind the store."

It took Alan a moment to process the reference, then he nodded to his friend. "Thanks for telling me, Fermat. I'll call home as soon as I can."

"Hey, Pinky. Dom is getting up," Jason said. "Now is the time if you want to catch him."

"Thanks. I'll be right back." Alan wiped his mouth, and rose from the table, He hurried off in pursuit of Dom, who was chatting with his friends as they headed for the tray return. "Hey, Dom! Wait up!"

Dom turned at Alan's call, and his face fell. He stopped; one of his friends gave him a questioning look and Dom shook his head briefly. The friend went on and caught up to the others they had been sitting with, but the small group kept looking back at Dom, ready to support him if need be.

"Hi, Alan," Dom said carefully. He licked his lower lip nervously.

"Hey," Alan replied, an optimistic tone in his voice. "I guess you heard about Trey."

"Yeah. How could I not?" Dom replied. He took a deep breath. "Listen, Alan. I appreciate everything you did in getting rid of Trey..."

Alan cut in, putting his hands up in a gesture of denial. "Hey, I didn't rat him out. He thought I did, and that's why he made the mistake of coming after me. But I didn't do anything; Trey dug his own hole."

"Yeah, well," Dom replied, his voice showing that he didn't quite believe what Alan said. "Whatever happened, thanks." He looked around nervously and drew his upper lip in between his teeth. "I, uh, suppose you want to talk to me about moving in."

Alan smiled. "Yeah, I do. How does tomorrow sound?"

Dom glanced back to his friends. "Uh, hey. I've got to go. Can we talk about this later?"

"I guess so," Alan replied, frowning a little. "When do you want...?"

"Uh, I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow, okay? Gotta go!" With that, Dom turned and hurried back to his friends. They closed ranks around him and the whole group hustled out the door.

"But I won't be... at... breakfast," Alan tried to explain, his voice getting softer and lower in his disappointment. His shoulders slumped and, with a heavy sigh, he went back to his own friends.

"What d-did he say?" Fermat asked as Alan slumped back into his chair. He pointed to the piece of chocolate cake on Alan's tray. "A-Are you going to e-eat that?"

"Here," Alan said, pushing the dessert toward his friend. "Knock yourself out." He ran his hands through his hair. "He asked if we could talk about it later... at breakfast tomorrow."

"But you won't be at breakfast tomorrow," Xavion said in a warning tone. "At least, not at the same time he'll be there."

"I know, I know," Alan said, slouching further in his chair. "And I bet he does, too." He shook his head. "I should have known this would happen."

"But why?" A.J. asked, looking puzzled. "Why would Dom go back on his word?"

Alan looked at Xavion, who passed the look to Jason. Jason glanced over at Qaeshon, who shrugged. "It's because of the rumor, I think," the sophomore said. "No one wants to be thought of as... well... different. It's not popular."

"I wouldn't be surprised if Sugi's talked to him, too," Xavion said sourly. "He made it clear that you're not his only target."

"Yeah, all too clear," Alan complained. He ran a hand through his hair again. "What am I gonna do now?"

"Thunderbird Two from Scott."

"Thunderbird Two here," Virgil said tersely. "Go ahead, Scott."

"I have a report on the cause of the damage to the Scrutiny," Scott replied briskly.

Jeff and Gordon glanced at each other, both wearing the same puzzled expression. "Scott?" Jeff asked. "What did you say the name of the ship was?"

"Uh, you heard me, sir," Scott replied, a touch of irritation in his voice.

"Scrutiny on the high seas?" a grinning Gordon murmured to Virgil. The pilot shook his head and rolled his eyes.

Jeff could see and hear some of the sailors chuckling behind his oldest son as Scott continued, "I am told that the damage was caused by a tornadic waterspout. The meteorologist clocked the winds at 125 knots per hour before the communications masts went down."

Virgil whistled. "That comes out to..."

"Roughly 145 miles per hour," Gordon said, finishing his brother's sentence. He leaned over and touched a few computer keys. "That's the equivalent of an F3 tornado on the enhanced Fujita scale." Glancing over at Jeff, he added, "They were lucky to get off as easily as they did."

"Waterspouts like this one are rare, but this supercell is powerful enough to have spawned it," John chimed in. "I'll keep my eyes peeled and let you know if I see anything else of that nature. They're hard to spot, but I think I can find any that might develop with enhanced Doppler."

"F-A-B," Jeff replied. "What is the Scrutiny's status, Scott?"

"They've got three men that need airlifting to a hospital, and they've lost communications with the Sealink. They're working on re-establishing communications and GPS," Scott reported. "The Sealink only has an hour and a half left of air. The ship tried to outrun the waterspout before it hit, so we'll need to launch Thunderbird Four at the Scrutiny's last known coordinates."

"F-A-B," Jeff said. "John, contact the Royal Australian Navy, and give them the Scrutiny's current coordinates. See if they can handle the airlift. Scott, if we can raise the Sealink and get it on their deck, can they lash it down?"

He could see Scott conferring with the captain and then returning to the small screen of his communicator. "That's an affirmative."

"F-A-B. Here's the plan. We'll drop Thunderbird Four at the Scrutiny's last known coordinates to find and raise the Sealink. Thunderbird Two will stand by to lift the Sealink with the magnetic grabs. Do what you can to help them restore their communications and particularly their GPS, Scott. If the RAN can't get out here in this weather, be prepared to airlift the worst of the injured yourself. John, I want those updates; this supercell is proving to be extremely strong and unpredictable. Once the Sealink is up and aboard ship, we can transfer any of the injured that remain. Acknowledge."

"F-A-B," Scott said firmly.

"F-A-B. Thunderbird Five standing by," John echoed.

From behind him, Jeff heard two more voices chime in with, "F-A-B."

"All right. We are good to go. Thunderbird Two, out." Jeff swiveled his chair around and beckoned to Gordon. "Let's prep Thunderbird Four, son. We've got a wild and wet ride ahead of us."