Whumptober 2021

#10) Back at it Again- TAG

Prompt #10- Flare up. Thunderbirds are Go with some original series background thrown in. Mid S2

The rescue had been a disaster from the start. Inaccurate coordinates thanks to shifting tides, more dangerous wreckage (and cargo) than what the call and manifest indicated, and some very peeved sailors who didn't like being told what to do by an aquanaut half their age. Never mind the fact Gordon had seen more in his IR and WASP days than these sailors ever had- or ever would if they didn't listen to him.

"Single file please. The docking claw is just ahead." Gordon said through clenched teeth.

The six sailors walked away as Gordon spoke to them. Taking a quick steadying breath, Gordon hurried after them. They did stop at the door to let Gordon through first onto the stormy deck. Though the looks a couple of them gave made Gordon wonder if they would try shoving him overboard.

No matter what the men were doing in the ocean waters, they still needed to be saved like any other person would. So when a couple of them had shoved Gordon against the cabin walls when he ushered them out, he just gritted his teeth and ignored it. It wasn't like it compared to his military days. Those people really knew how to haze someone. Plus, he knew any attempt to confront the men would only escalate and with his only back up hovering well above the sinking freighter, that wasn't a battle worthy of fighting.

So he remained polite and professional as he walked them through securing the straps on Two's carrier. When the sailors all lifted off, Gordon released the tension in his shoulders he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Virgil would be the one to greet and secure the sailors in Two's hold. With his older brother's increased age, and bulk, that would keep the men in line without Virgil needing Gordon's help.

Knowing he didn't need to interact again with the men didn't stop the zing of bitterness that rose within him. Mentally he chided himself. A grumpy group of sailors was not going to diminish a rescue well completed. Still, Gordon held himself stiffly as he looked around the ship. John had already remotely deployed Four's store of inflatable buoys to keep the ship from going under. The GDF would probably want to look around the ship if the incorrect manifest was any indication.

An approaching helicopter boasted their logo. 'And that's my cue.' Gordon looked over the bulwarks and leapt into the water. Four waited moored just below the surface. Fatigue crashed into Gordon's limbs and he felt something tweak in his back. 'Not now.' Mentally groaning he increased his speed.

It still took longer than it should have to haul himself into Four's airlock. Carefully he walked the hall to the cockpit, sitting down with a thud on his chair. His back protested. Loudly.

'Oh great.' He should take one of his muscle relaxers and lay low for the rest of the day. The last thing he wanted- or needed- was another flare up.

A beep came seconds before John's face floated into view.

Gordon forced a smile. "What's up?"

John didn't seem to notice Gordon's fake attempt at cheer. "Another distress beacon about 50 nautical miles southeast. Looks like a fishing trawler got caught in the storm too. You up for another rescue?"

"Send me the coordinates." Gordon ignored the tightness in his back. "Tell Virgil I'll let him know where to pick up Four."

"F.A.B."

John's image flicked out of existence and his navigation computer blinked. Gordon sighed but gripped the steering console tighter. This was his job and he couldn't walk (or swim) away with lives in the balance.

The next hour was straight torture. Even constantly shifting did nothing to relieve the tension in his back. Gordon popped a couple Motrin he kept on hand but knew it would do nothing more than slightly mute the inevitable.