THE COLD LIGHT OF DAY by BOOMERCAT RATED FRPT

Brains thinks about his place in the Tracy family.

This story takes place immediately after the events in A Cold Day in Hell and A Cold Evening.

"Th-that's all right, Virgil. G-Gordon said he would, uh, do it."

I was careful not to look at Virgil Tracy as I said it. I knew exactly what his expression would be... horror, quickly masked. Instead, I looked down at his brother, Scott, lying quietly in bed. I was mildly surprised to find him awake. The sedative I had administered little more than an hour earlier should have insured a restful eight hours of sleep.

But instead I found him looking up at me, a wry grin on his face. He understood that I was simply employing a stratagem to cause Virgil to do what I wanted. I kept the grin from my own face, but did sketch a wink. Scott's grin widened for a moment, but then he drifted off to sleep. I resisted the urge to tuck him in, knowing it was not my place.

Instead I turned away and faced Virgil. His eyes were on Scott. "So, he's going to sleep for what, eight hours?"

"Y-yes." My reply was somewhat distracted. Knowing I would get my way, and Virgil would leave in Thunderbird Two to recover pod four, and the damaged Thunderbird Four, my mind had already turned to the problem of Thunderbird One's power failure. My preliminary assessment led me to believe the sudden immersion in the frigid salt water of the Arctic Sea had overwhelmed her systems and caused several critical systems to overload and short out.

It was a combination of several factors that had caused a catastrophic power loss that could have easily cost Scott Tracy his life. Fortunately, his brothers Virgil and Gordon were there to overcome what I saw as my overweening pride. In my monumental arrogance, I had never considered the possibility of multiple factors. Well, to be truthful, I hadn't considered this particular combination. In fact, I do believe if someone had asked me what the result of such a combination would be, I would have scoffed at the possibility.

Nature has a way of taking us down a few pegs when we start thinking we can best her. And I was determined not to let the Tracy family down again. I had already decided I would move the location of several key circuits. At least one had only shorted because of its proximity to another damaged circuit board.

A hand waving in my face caught my attention, I looked up to see Gordon Tracy looking at me expectantly. "Uh, what was that, uh, Gordon?"

"I wanted to know if you could rig an oxyhydnite system in Four. You know, like the laser? Something that shoots out the front?"

"Actually, uh, Gordon, that was something your father s-s-suggested yesterday." I looked closely at the younger man. He was a bit pale, but moved with an easy grace that I envied. My assistant Tin-Tin had advised me that Gordon had injured his ribs yesterday, but did not want his father to know. I liked Gordon a great deal, but I would not risk the displeasure of his father, Jeff, who was my employer. I could see no signs of distress that could not be explained by fatigue.

"Great! And while you're at it, could you take a look at the neutron bomb launcher? I wanted to set one loose on Virg yesterday, but the damn thing misfired."

I smiled. Gordon's neutron bomb launcher was a private joke that he and I had shared since Thunderbird Four was in the planning stage. Gordon liked to think of himself as a bloodthirsty pirate, but I knew better. "Uh, I'll be sure to g-g-get right on it."

"Thanks, Brains. Uh, Scott's okay, right? I mean, there haven't been any complications or anything, have there?"

"N-no, no complications. He'll be fine with rest, uh, Gordon." I had answered this question several times today, but I felt no rancor. Scott Tracy was a very special man. His family would be lost without him, and in the few short years I had spent with the Tracys, I had come to feel the same way.

When Jeff Tracy had first approached me about his plans to build a secret base dedicated to the idea of providing rescue services when none other would work, I had been immediately captivated. I had always wanted to make a Big Contribution, but I had found that I was not really very successful. I had discovered early on that my life was to be relegated to the rather useless life of a theorist. They told me I was too brilliant to dirty my hands with actual work.

My intelligence was as much a handicap as advantage. Add to that a rather stereotypical appearance, big forehead, weak eyes, no muscles to speak of, and most people saw me as a thing, a sort of animated computer.

I think it was as much the way Mr. Tracy looked at me as anything else that convinced me to say yes to his rather unconventional proposal. He talked to me as if I were his equal. My embarrassing stutter was ignored and my ideas were listened to. I had never dealt with a more charismatic, intelligent man in my life, and I was sold long before the conversation ended.

Later, when he told me more of the specifics, I wondered if I might have made a mistake. His plans required that I live on an isolated South Seas island along with his family. The island part didn't bother me, I had been isolated one way or another for most of my life, but when he described his five sons, I must say I had some serious qualms. With the exception of Virgil, whom Mr. Tracy described as an excellent engineer with an artistic bent, they sounded like a bunch of gung-ho jocks. One was a fighter pilot, two were training as astronauts and the last was a medal winning Olympic swimmer.

To that point, my experiences with these types of people had not been positive. A lifetime of sneered insults and wedgies did not bode well for a life in close proximity with the sons of Jeff Tracy. Mr. Tracy on the other hand, was so utterly charming in his honesty and sincerity that I decided I would put up with the inevitable taunts and jealousies.

My first introduction to them seemed to bear out my concerns. When I arrived at Tracy Island, I was escorted by the family retainer, Kyrano, into the lounge of Tracy Villa and found myself the subject of close scrutiny by five sets of suspicious eyes. Introductions ensued, and I was subjected to five very firm handshakes.

Mr. Tracy himself gave me a tour of the premises, and I immediately resolved to spend as much of my time as possible on the lower floors of the home where a wonderful series of modern laboratories awaited me. Over the next several weeks, I got a few lessons in pre-judging people.

I was as drawn to Scott as I was to his father. He was a thoughtful, honest man with brilliant insights into aircraft design. He had no reservations about dealing with a geeky scientist, and made it clear to me and to his brothers that I was to be treated with respect. He always seemed glad of my presence, and that was a new experience for me. I soon found that he had decided to include me as one of the family. He has a generosity of spirit that makes him a natural leader. I find that I am as willing to follow him as any of his brothers are.

Virgil, whom I originally thought would be the only one I could relate to, was indeed easy to get along with, although he was every bit as active and fit as his brothers. I was fascinated by the range of his tastes. I had developed a taste for opera and fine art more as a rebellion against my peer's more plebian pursuits than any true leaning. Virgil could discuss music, art and engineering with equal facility, but he also loved old sitcoms and serial action novels. He was comfortable playing chess or Ping-Pong. An amazing man.

John was a nightowl, often stopping by to chat as I burned the midnight oil perfecting my designs. He seemed on first acquaintance quiet and bookish. He was already a published author of a book on astronomy. I had actually read it, not realizing it was the same John Tracy. It was insightful, but written for a high school level of understanding. When I commented on it, he had grinned saying most of it had been written when he was in high school, so he would take my comments as a compliment. His subsequent books dispersed any thoughts I might have had concerning the quality of his work. As far as quiet was concerned, that idea disappeared one afternoon when I overheard a conversation between all five of the brothers. John gave as good as he got and showed a rapier wit and quick temper.

My first experience with Gordon was disconcerting to say the least. In our first discussion concerning what would come to be Thunderbird Four, Gordon had put forward his idea for the neutron bomb launcher, explaining that if people were found to be hopelessly trapped, he wanted a way to 'ease their suffering.' He seemed so earnest that I was appalled, wondering what kind of insanity I had let myself in for. Scott happened to pass by, and hearing his brother's plans, shook his head, and cuffed Gordon, telling him that he was to leave me alone. He later warned me to watch out for that earnest look. It's advice that I have heeded to my advantage ever since.

Alan at first seemed the most likely to give me trouble. He has a mercurial temper and can go from joking to sulky in the blink of an eye, but he also has a first class mind, and from the beginning, I have utilized his ideas in my designs. In retrospect, I believe it was my willingness to take him seriously that forged out friendship.

And it is a true friendship I have with each of the Tracy brothers, much to my amazement. They all accept me as I am, and the expected taunts and insults simply never materialized. They are remarkable people, and the first true friends I can honestly say that I have ever had.

None of this was important at the moment. At the moment, my plate was rather full. In addition to reconfiguring and repairing Thunderbirds One and Four, I was in the middle of a critical upgrade to a piece of equipment I had whimsically named 'Firefly'. I also had several metallurgy experiments running in the laboratory. It never ceased to amaze me how despite meticulous planning and forethought, things always seemed to come together at the most inopportune moments.

As I made my way through the house, my mind was on the chemical equations of the new alloy that I had great hopes for. If it panned out, and was as strong and light as the specifications indicated, I could rebuild Thunderbird Two's pods and increase her lift capacity by several metric tons.

I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I almost ran over Mrs. Tracy. With a stuttered apology, I attempted to step around the Tracy's grandmother only to have her block the entire hallway. I had to shift mental gears to concentrate on what she was saying.

"... eaten?"

"Uh, I'm sorry? What was that?"

"I asked if you have eaten today?"

The question should not have caught me off guard. Grandma Tracy seemed to count it one of her missions in life to fatten me up. My mind however, was covering other ground, and I'm afraid I was only able to respond with a somewhat vacant stare.

"That's what I thought. You come with me, young man. You're going to eat at least one good meal today."

It wasn't a request, and one disobeyed her at one's own peril. Ruth Tracy was a kindly goodhearted woman, but autocratic in her own domain. It only took one round of spinach and liver casseroles to teach me not to cross her.

I followed her to the kitchen my mind once again on my calculations. I was a bit surprised to find myself at the kitchen table with a bowl of osso bucco and rice. One thing about the Tracy household, one never went hungry. Grandma could easily have been a chef at a four star restaurant, and I found just the aroma of the dish was enough to stimulate my appetite. Within a few minutes, Mr. Tracy and Alan arrived, drawn by the delicious aroma.

"Brains, have you figured out what caused the power failure on Thunderbird One yet?"

"Uh, uh, yes, Mr. Tracy. It was a combination of f-f-factors. I believe if I move the main hydraulic bus to the left of the uh, ventral strut, and reconfigure the weapons computer to uh, protect the circuitry I can prevent any reoccurrence."

"Alan, I want you and Gordon to help Brains. I don't want Thunderbird One offline any longer than necessary."

"Yes, Father."

"Brains, how long before Scott can fly again?"

"It's uh, difficult to say. Assuming nothing unusual in uh, his recovery, I would expect him to be able t-t-to return to full duty in t-t-two weeks or so."

"Two weeks? If I know Scott, he'll be raring to go in two days!"

"Y-y-yes, I'm uh, sure he will uh, Alan. However, a concussion is not a c-c-condition one should fool with." I turned my attention to Mr. Tracy. "If you would prefer, I could call uh, Dr. Carraker to confirm my diagnosis?"

"No. No, that won't be necessary Brains, unless you feel you need that confirmation. I trust your skills. As far as Scott is concerned, he will stay in bed."

Jeff Tracy said it flatly as if there would be no argument. In most things, we all obeyed Mr. Tracy's pronouncements, but all five of the Tracy sons had strong wills of their own. I would count myself lucky if I could keep Scott in the sickroom for the rest of today, let alone another two weeks. I made a mental note to myself to talk to Virgil when he returned from picking up pod four. I knew I could rely on Virgil to be sure Scott didn't overdo.

I again turned my thoughts to the experiments running in the metals lab. I was constantly looking for ways to improve the five Thunderbirds and the ancillary equipment. Safety, of course, was the paramount concern. For all that International Rescue was run like a military operation, the fact remained that it was a family of which I counted myself a part.

Yesterday had been frightening to all concerned. I had waited in the lounge with Mr. Tracy and Alan hoping but at the same time terrified as the events unfolded. The line between success and disaster was as thin as a monomolecular filament. Although all of my friends are competent at what they do, it seemed to me that three lives hung in a very delicate balance.

I shuddered to think what the loss of any of his sons would do to Mr. Tracy. He had maintained a professional façade throughout the rescue, but he was so clearly on the edge that I feared for his sanity had Scott not made it.

Well, Scott had made it, and it was my intention to see to it that a disaster of this magnitude never happened again. Rewiring Thunderbird One was just one of the improvements I had in mind. And if my experiments ran as I expected, I would be able to deliver improvements in performance that would have Scott salivating.

My thoughts turned back to the problem of installing an oxyhydrite system in Thunderbird Four. In many ways, the small scout ship was the most complicated of all the Thunderbirds. It's size alone made the addition of any new systems problematic. The easiest way would be to weld on an exterior tank, but I knew from experience that Gordon would balk at any change to the exterior of his submarine. I would have to wait until Virgil returned to assess the damage and consider my options.

As I was thinking, I got up from the table, and rinsing my plate in the sink, I headed once again for my laboratory. I was halfway there when I came to a stop. I reviewed the past five minutes and realized I had not thanked Mrs. Tracy for lunch.

I had never had to concern myself before with mundane courtesies. If I was rude, it was just deemed to be part of the genius persona. But as a member of this family, I had been trying to learn the manners I had never had the time for before. Scott and Tin-Tin in particular had helped me to understand how important it was to acknowledge everybody's contribution. And that included Mrs. Tracy's and Kyrano's cooking.

I headed back for the kitchen, my mind again on the equations for the new alloy. I pushed open the swinging door and walked in, but as I did so, one of the equations I had been wrestling with suddenly made new sense. I stopped to pin the thought down. If I took it to the fourth power, I would get an extension of the cosine that should result in an increase in the tensile strength that would be... quite... remarkable.

I looked up to discover Mrs. Tracy, Mr. Tracy and Alan all staring at me with amused looks. "Did you forget something, Brains?"

"Uh, no. Uh, excuse me." I turned to head for the lab, anxious to get my thoughts down on paper. As I reached the elevator I remembered again that I had intended to thank Grandma Tracy for lunch. I confess I dithered for over a minute, wanting to get to my lab, but knowing I had been rather rude to just walk out on the family meal as I had.

Finally, with a groan of frustration, I headed back to the kitchen. I knew from experience if I didn't go back, the thought would intrude itself on my brain again and again throughout the afternoon. I all but ran back to the kitchen. I'm afraid I rather burst through the door, causing Mr. Tracy and his mother to look up in alarm. I stood there, feeling foolish, but still, I said, "Uh, Mrs. Tracy, I wanted to th-th-thank you for lunch. It was delicious."

"You're quite welcome, Brains."

Having satisfied the demands of courtesy, I was free to head for my lab. As I once again headed down the hallway, I found myself striding with my head in the clouds. Yes, this alloy was just the thing. I couldn't do anything about my mistakes of the past, but I was determined not to repeat them in the future. The alloy was one way, and better wiring was another. I would keep my brothers of the heart as safe as I could.

Arriving at the lab, I found Tin-Tin engrossed in the next stage of the experiment. I joined her and soon found myself wrapped up in the exacting task of measuring and tempering my new alloy. The time we spent was very profitable, and within a few hours we had a sizable sheet ready for testing. We were discussing which test to do first when we felt rather than heard the deep rumble signifying the return of Thunderbird Two.

I looked over to Tin-Tin, and said dryly, "C-cue Gordon Tracy."

Tin-Tin giggled as the door to the lab slid open, and Gordon burst into the room. "Brains! C'mon! Thunderbird Two just landed!"

I affected indifference. "Oh, uh, I'm sorry, Gordon. I'm r-r-right in the middle of something. I'll check out F-four tomorrow, or maybe the next day."

The look on my friend's face was priceless. He couldn't have been less astonished if I had grown tentacles. Tin-Tin had her back to him, and though her eyes were shining with mirth, she continued my little game. "Oh, but Brains, there is so much to do. We have all of these experiments, and the upgrade on the Firefly, not to mention the repairs to Thunderbird One. I doubt you can get to Thunderbird Four much before the end of next week."

"W-w-wait, Tin-Tin. Isn't that uh, conference at the end of next week?"

"Why Brains, you're right! That's ten days, isn't it? Well, I guess we'll just have to push back repairs on Thunderbird Four to some time next month."

I pulled out a binder and made a show of opening it and scanning the pages. "Right. Let's uh, see. Hmmm. Ah, well, it, uh, looks like I'll be able to squeeze in a couple of hours on the s-s-sixteenth. Does, uh, that work for you, uh, Gordon?"

I was a bit surprised that it took him so long to get the joke. I'd like to think it was a credit to my teasing skills, but in reality, I think it was actually shocking to him that I wouldn't be chomping at the bit to get at his precious submarine. He looked us over and sniffed. "You two should do stand-up. No, really. C'mon, I want to see how she looks."

He darted out the door. I looked at my new alloy and sighed. It would just have to wait. I grabbed a clipboard and offered my arm to Tin-Tin, who giggled as she took it. We proceeded to the hangar bay where Thunderbird Two had just deposited Pod Four on the conveyor belt. Tin-Tin and I walked over to join Mr. Tracy and Alan as they both bemusedly watched Gordon's jittering in place as we all waited for the conveyor to complete its motion.

Mr. Tracy caught my eye as he rolled his heavenward. "Gordon, settle down. No matter how bad it is, we'll fix it."

"Yes, sir." Gordon's response was automatic, and I wondered if he even realized he had made it.

Virgil trotted up just as the pod came to a halt. "Brains, how's Scott?"

"I believe he's sleeping, uh, Virgil."

Virgil looked over to where his father was using a remote to open the pod ramp. "Dad, I'm going up to the infirmary. Alan, catch him if he faints!"

With that Virgil trotted away. Alan looked as if he was taking Virgil's joke seriously, hovering at Gordon's side. Then the pod ramp was down, and Gordon practically ran to get to his beloved submarine. I let out a breath. The entire nose section was a tangled wreck. Still, as I scrutinized the damage, I was heartened. It was not as bad as I feared, and even as I looked it over, I knew I could have it operational within a few weeks.

I was surprised at the lack of emotion on Gordon's face when I finally looked up at him. He looked at me with flat dead eyes and asked, "Well, what do you think?"

Any thought of joking that I might have entertained flew out the window at his look. As much as I loved all of my creations, the Tracy boys were all amazingly constant to their chosen vehicles. I knew the mask Gordon was wearing was to hide a deep pain at seeing his beloved submarine so damaged. "I believe it looks worse than it actually is, uh, Gordon. Thunderbird Four should be seaworthy within a few weeks. Quicker if you and your brothers will pitch in."

Alan was quick to speak up. "Of course we will. You just tell me what to do, Brains. I'll start right now."

I paused, glancing at Mr. Tracy. I knew he was more concerned with getting Thunderbird One back on line. After all, it was needed for every call, not just those involving water rescues. For his part, Mr. Tracy was looking thoughtfully at his two youngest sons.

To the outside world, Jeff Tracy probably seemed an autocratic and strict father, but the truth was he loved his sons more than life itself. Knowing it made no sense to start repairing Thunderbird Four before Thunderbird One, I could see my employer soften at the look in Gordon's eyes. "All right, boys. We'll make this a double effort. Make a start on Thunderbird Four right now, but after four hours I want you both working on Thunderbird One. Tomorrow we'll set up a schedule, see if we can beat Brains' repair time estimates. Brains, once you've got them started, I'd like to see you in the lounge."

"Uh, yes, Mr. Tracy." I turned to Gordon and Alan and started issuing instructions. As smart as they were, it only took a few moments to get them started, and I headed up to the lounge.

Mr. Tracy was waiting for me, and immediately offered me a seat. I was a bit apprehensive especially when he asked me how I was doing. "Uh, I'm uh, fine, sir."

"Brains, I want you to know how proud I am of everything you've accomplished. What happened out there yesterday was an accident, pure and simple. I won't have you feeling as if you are somehow at fault."

I was taken somewhat aback by his words. I was at a loss to know how to reply. I'm afraid I just sat there with my mouth hanging open.

Mr. Tracy smiled warmly and said, "I just wanted you to know. Now, I'd appreciate it if you'd go and check on Scott and send Virgil out to me. If we're going to repair both craft at the same time, I'm afraid it's going to be all hands on deck."

Feeling my cheeks color, I mumbled an acknowledgement and fled the room. As I headed to the small infirmary, I paused. I had never had a place that I could honestly call home. I never really had asked for such a place, wanting to believe myself above needing such a thing. It was a sudden revelation to me that I now actually had what I thought I had never needed.

I must admit, for a moment, my eyes misted. Shaking my head of the fancy, I put the thought to the back of my mind for further consideration and completed my journey to the infirmary. I found Virgil staring morosely at his sleeping brother, and Mrs. Tracy sitting and knitting. I relayed Mr. Tracy's message and did a quick check of Scott's vital signs. As I expected, my friend was sleeping without distress. As I finished my examination, I glanced over at Mrs. Tracy, and carefully tucked Scott in.

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