#thundertober2024

Virgil was just particularly cautious when it came to his Thunderbird, even more so now that she was sentient. He might not have known how her new systems worked, but he always made sure to check up on her, just in case.

There was a routine. Virgil would come down to the hangars, humming, sometimes broken notes or a song he’d heard in passing. He’d run a diagnostic scan, then get to what needed fixing. Thunderbird Two remained in craft-mode on day one – she needed a refuel, and a recharge after those back-to-back rescues. Her pilot would ask her things, but she’d merely rumble back in response. Virgil never questioned it in the beginning. He didn’t know what was really wrong…

The second day both Scott and Virgil had come down to the hangars; eldest brother apologising profusely to the heavy lifter. They’d been blind sighted in the sky, and both Thunderbirds had managed to swing into each other; One almost being knocked out of the sky, and Two receiving a large scrape along her side that had stripped paint. Virgil kept insisting it was neither of their faults, but Scott knew how he felt about his craft, and still was guilty about it. Virgil had taken up a roller brush and a large tin of green paint to cover the scrape, looking over his ‘bird carefully.

“I know it’s not causing you any pain but, you’re not usually this quiet, Thunderbird Two,” he observed, prepping the brush. “Has, something else happened? … Did you and Thunderbird One have an argument?”

He knew that wasn’t true – the silver rocket wasn’t sentient. But as he waited for a response from his craft, his expression dropped a little when all he got was a rumble from her systems.

“Huh, not feeling up to chatting again? No worries; shouldn’t take me long to fix this.”

On the third day, it had become obvious that something was wrong. He’d come down every day since to check on her again, and it was still the same thing. Entering the hangar today, Virgil found Thunderbird Two finally transformed, sitting up near the module-storage with her arms resting over her midsection. Her pilot approached cautiously.

“I know you haven’t been ignoring me these past couple of days,” he started softly, feeling golden-orange optics scan over him. “What’s going on, Two? Why haven’t you tried to tell me?”

She lifted a hand, making sure he looked up, and pointed to her neck, mouthing what looked like ‘I can’t’ before giving him a small shrug. Brown eyes acknowledged her quizzically.

“Something wrong in-…? Wait, no… God, I wish I knew exactly how you worked…” Virgil rubbed the side of his head, unsure of what she’d tried to tell him. He had an idea, but-… If she were human, he’d assume maybe she had a sore throat, and had lost her voice. But then-… He looked up again to hear the Thunderbird tapping a finger against the insignia on her chest – a sound to get his attention – then pointed to her neck again, mouthing another word.

Malfunction.

“Vocal malfunction?” her pilot pieced together, and Thunderbird Two nodded. Virgil scoffed at himself. “Of course; I should have known that…! Sorry Two. Can’t believe I overlooked it so often-!”