MALFUNCTION by BOOMERCAT RATED FRPT

Returning from a rescue, Thunderbird Two has mechanical difficulties.

Chapter One: Trouble In The Sky

Virgil Tracy stretched his neck to work out the kinks. He was going to be stiff in the morning. He didn't care. He felt good, euphoric. He always felt this way after a successful rescue. Especially when the rescue was as tricky and fraught with danger as this one was. A team of volcanologists had been caught by an unpredicted eruption. They had sought shelter in the only refuge they had, a reinforced concrete bunker. A minor lava flow had trapped them, and all indications were a full-scale eruption would take place at any time.

Virgil, along with his brothers Scott and Gordon, had raced against time to cut through the hardened lava and the concrete to free the trapped scientists. They had won the race by the skin of their teeth, the new eruption shaking the ground as Thunderbirds One and Two had taken off.

They had deposited the grateful scientists at a research station nearby and were now headed home. Scott, in the faster Thunderbird One was somewhere far ahead, but Virgil didn't care. He'd take his Thunderbird Two any day. Flying at 150,000 feet, the sky was a dark hue even at midday. Virgil often felt all he had to do was to point his baby's nose up, and he would escape the bonds of gravity. Maybe go pay his brother John a visit. Virgil sighed. Not today. Today he had to get home and do an inch by inch inspection of his ship. He had the feeling his tail feathers had been scorched as he took off.

"Base to Thunderbird Two."

"This is Thunderbird Two. Go ahead, Alan."

"Virg, Grandma wants to know your ETA. She says if she puts dinner in the oven too early, it'll be tough."

"What are we having?"

Virgil's youngest brother shrugged. "I don't know. What do you care, anyway? I've never known you to pass up Grandma's cooking."

"True. Our ETA is two hours and thirteen minutes. But Alan, tell her we're going to need time to clean up. We're all pretty filthy."

"Okay, Virg. See you in awhile."

"FAB, Alan."

As the call was disconnected, Virg felt a small thump. Startled, he checked his status board. His heart started beating faster when he saw the tiny red tell tale flickering. One of the magnetic clamps connecting Thunderbird Two and pod five had failed. Another thump. Another red light.

Gasping, Virgil keyed the intercom. "Gordon, where are you?"

"I'm in the pod. Say, did you feel a couple of thumps just now? There's another one."

"Gordon! Get out of there! The clamps are failing! Hurry!"

There was no response. Shaking, Virgil called out. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One! Scott! Come in!"

"This is Thunderbird One. Virgil, what's wrong?"

"Scott! I've got failure in the magnetic clamps. I've lost three already!"

"Virg, dive. Get as close to the ground as you can. You need to be sure the pod doesn't land in a populated area. If it falls, it falls. We can always replace the equipment."

"No, Scott! Gordon is in the pod! If it drops he'll be killed!"

"Calm down, Virg. I'm on my way. Are you in communication with the pod?"

"I was, but now he's not answering. I think the relays have blown along with the clamps."

"All right. We're going to have to believe Gordon has enough sense to put on a chute. I want you to hit the deck. Got it?"

Before Virgil could reply, the door at the rear of the cabin opened and Gordon popped in. "Virgil, I think we need to get lower, don't you?"

Virgil sent a prayer of thanks heavenward. "Strap in. We're diving for the deck."

Virgil heard the buckles clicking behind him. "I'm ready, Virg."

Virgil put his big ship into a steep dive. "Scott, Gordon's here. I'm diving now."

"FAB, Virgil. I'll be with you in less than three minutes. Good luck."

"Thanks, Scott." Virgil shut down the mike before muttering, "I'm going to need it."

Virgil tipped the big transport into a screaming dive. Through the vibration of the ship, Virgil felt another series of thumps as more clamps lost contact. As he breached the upper cloud layers, he struggled to contain the dive, to bring the ship back to a level keel. As he pulled desperately back on the control wheel, he heard several overlapping bangs as the overloaded remaining clamps gave way. Thunderbird Two was at 500 feet when the heavy pod pulled free and tumbled to the earth.

The sudden shift in the balance of the ship threw Thunderbird Two up on her tail, then over on her back. Virgil fought the controls as if he were fighting a wild beast. A wordless yell escaped as he saw tall trees rushing straight for the window. He made a last effort to save his ship, and almost to his surprise, the ship responded, climbing in an outside loop that ended when Virgil twisted the ship upright.

Chapter Two: The Pod

With shaking hands, Virgil brought the ship to station keeping mode. He sat back for a moment and willed his desperately pounding heart to slow down. Through the rushing of blood in his ears, Virgil could hear Scott calling desperately. "Virgil! Virgil, come in! Are you all right? Virgil! Answer me!"

Letting out a deep breath, Virgil responded. "Yeah, Scott, I'm okay. What a ride."

"You should have seen it from here. I have to hand it to you, Virg. That was some fancy flying."

Virgil grinned. "Yeah, that's the ticket. I meant to do that."

Chuckling, Scott asked, "How's Gordon?"

"Oh crap!" Virgil had forgotten his younger brother. Twisting in his seat, he looked over to where his brother sat white-faced, with his eyes squeezed shut. "Gordon? Gordon, are you okay?"

Gordon cracked open one eye. "Is it over yet?"

"Yeah, we're okay. How about you? Are you all right?"

"Oh, sure, I'm fine." The high-pitched squeak of his voice belied the statement.

Virgil grinned. "Okay, let's go see what damage we did."

Virgil directed Thunderbird Two back along the flight path. He wasn't really worried that the pod had hit anything important. The Australian outback was as isolated a region as anyone could hope for. He could see Thunderbird One with its landing gear extended dropping to earth just over a ridge. When he topped the ridge himself, he saw pod five and grimaced.

"Wow." Gordon's quiet remark was an understatement. The path of destruction that the pod had taken extended for almost half a mile of gouged dirt and torn up trees. The pod itself seemed to be intact, but it had landed upside down.

Virgil sighed. "What a mess. Father is not going to be pleased."

Gordon laughed. "Aw, it's not so bad. We can use Thunderbird Two to get it upright, then all we have to do is fix the clamps."

"So you're saying you got everything secured in the pod before the clamps failed?"

"Oh. Secured, huh? Well... maybe secured isn't the right word."

Virgil closed his eyes. "Somebody just shoot me now."

"I will if you really want me too, but do you think we could land first?"

"Stand by." Virgil brought his ship down next to Thunderbird One. He and Gordon climbed down out of the gigantic transport, and trotted over to where Scott stood looking down at one edge of the pod.

Virgil saw that his brother was looking at something that looked like a long tapering rod. When they got closer, Virgil realized that what he was seeing was the long tail of a kangaroo. He shared a sad glance with Scott. When Gordon realized what he was seeing, he grinned. "Good shot, Virg. Maybe next time you could drop a pod on a baby seal."

Scott rolled his eyes. "All right. Let's see if we can get the ramp open, take a look at the damage."

Scott had brought a control box with leads sticking out of it. All three brothers looked up at where the exterior controls plugged in. The connection was a good fifty feet above their heads. Gordon shook his head saying, "There's actually a contingency Brains didn't plan for. Weird. How we going to get up there?"

"Somebody's going to have to drop from above." Scott as usual took charge. "Virg will winch you down, Gordon."

Gordon nodded and headed back to Thunderbird Two. Virgil turned to follow him, thinking he was glad Gordon was with him this trip instead of Alan. Where Gordon just got on with it, Alan would have argued over who should be lowered. Virgil loved all of his brothers, including Alan, but sometimes he was tempted to push his temperamental youngest brother out the hatch of his high-flying Thunderbird Two.

Virgil heard footsteps behind him, and turned to find Scott handing him the control box. "He's probably going to want this."

Virgil grinned. "Probably. Of course, he probably wouldn't notice he didn't have it until he was halfway down the line."

Scott grinned back, but said warningly, "Don't you dare."

"Who, me?"

The grin on Scott's face turned predatory. "Virgil, if you 'forget' to give Gordon that box, I swear, I'll tell Grandma and Tin-Tin you squished Skippy."

Virgil chuckled. "I won't forget."

Virgil turned and jogged to Thunderbird Two. He entered through the hatch that led directly into the rescue pod bay with its variety of winches and lifting equipment. Gordon was already in the drop harness. Virgil shoved the control box at him, and then double-checked to be sure his brother's harness was buckled properly. Gordon stood quietly throughout the operation, examining the control box. Virgil thumped the safety helmet Gordon was wearing. "You ready?"

Gordon looked up from the control box. "Sure."

"Okay." Virgil climbed up into the cockpit, and raised Thunderbird Two up a hundred feet. With Scott spotting him from the ground, he drifted over the downed pod. Gordon controlled the winch himself, so Virgil only had to keep the big ship steady. With the calm day, there were no crosswinds, so the job ran quickly and smoothly. Almost before he knew it, Gordon was back aboard, and Virgil was landing the ship. As a matter of pride, Virgil made sure he landed in exactly the same spot. He shut the ship down, and reached the rescue bay just as Gordon finished stowing the harness.

"Come on, let's go see the damage." Virgil was anxious. He had a proprietary interest in all of the machines he carried in Thunderbird Two, and the Mole and the Firefly were two of his favorites. Scott already had the remote control set up.

Scott placed a hand on Virgil's shoulder, apparently realizing how his brother felt about the machines in the pod. "You ready?"

Sighing, Virgil replied, "Let's just get it over with, okay?"

"Okay." Scott pushed the button that would lift the ramp door. The door was intended to open downward, but the motors were strong enough to lift it upwards even while lying on it's back. The weight of the ramp made it a slow process, but gradually the door opened.

Virgil found he couldn't look. He turned away shaking his head. When the ramp was fully open, Scott said mildly, "Now there's something you don't see every day."

Virgil turned to find both of his brothers gazing upwards. There, hung from the top of the pod were the Mole and Firefly. Virgil's jaw dropped. He looked around the interior of the pod. Virtually every piece of equipment was in its place, firmly secured.

Doing a slow burn, he looked over at his ginger-haired younger brother. Gordon said innocently, "Locked down. I think locked down would be a good word for it."

Chapter Three: A Long Day

Virgil made a fast grab at him, but Gordon danced away. "Sucker!"

"Oh, just you wait! I'll 'sucker' you!"

Scott intervened. "Hey, come on, you guys! I'd like to get home sometime today, if you don't mind."

Virgil pointed his finger at his grinning brother. "You'll get yours."

"Okay, Virgil. I'm closing it up. Get Two up in the air, and drop down the heavy-duty cables. We need to get the pod upright before we do anything else." Scott was all business.

"Right." Virgil headed back to his ship.

"Virg, wait up!" Virgil looked back to see Gordon jogging over. "I want to get the climbing gear. I'll hook it up to the top of the pod in case we have to replace any of the clamps on the upper rim."

"Good idea." The two men walked over to Thunderbird Two, and as soon as Gordon had gathered the equipment and cleared the ship, Virgil raised it up. Again with Scott spotting for him, he moved the big ship over the pod, and lowered three heavy-duty cables. Scott and Gordon scrambled to hook the cables onto davits near the roof of the pod, and Virgil very carefully lifted up and back to pull the pod upright. When it finally went over, Virgil could hear and feel the whump of it hitting the ground.

Virgil dropped Thunderbird Two back to the ground and trotted to the pod where his brothers were already pulling out testing equipment. Scott noticed Virgil's arrival. "All right, let's get the clamps all tested. Gordon, seeing as you brought the climbing gear, why don't you take the top. Virg, you get the left side, and I'll take the right. We need to know how many of these clamps we're going to have to replace."

Positioned all around the rim of the pod were 40 magnetic clamps. They gripped Thunderbird Two with both an electromagnetic charge, and a mechanical 'hand'. Virgil could see from the outset that several of the hands were twisted. Taking the tester that Scott handed him, he started at the middle of the bottom rim and worked his way outward. As he feared, every clamp along the bottom rim had been ruined. He glanced over to where Scott was taking his own tally. When he caught his brother's eye, Scott gave him a look of disgust and shook his head.

"Hey, you guys! I found one that's not busted."

Virgil rolled his eyes at the delight in his younger brother's voice as it floated down from overhead. "Great. One out of forty. Its going to take all day and night to get them all replaced. Scott, I've only got ten onboard. You're going to have to head back to base and get me more."

Scott nodded. "I think you're right. I suppose the back rim will be the same. I'll bring seventy-five just in case." Scott's shoulders slumped. "Eighty clamps. It's going to take forever."

Both brothers looked up at the series of light thumps as Gordon rappelled down the front of the pod. "It's not that bad, guys. It's only seventy-nine clamps."

Gordon landed lightly and grinned at his brothers. "And if there's a good one on the back rim, that's only seventy-eight. It's not like either of you have a hot date or anything."

Virgil said in a mock whisper. "Three children were enough. Why did Dad insist on five?"

Scott looked at his brother and said, "I wanted to be an only child, and look what happened to me."

"Aw, you know you guys would miss me if I wasn't around."

"You keep right on believing that, Gordy. I'm heading out. You coming?"

"No. I don't mind helping. By the time you get back we'll be ready for the extra clamps." Gordon said it nonchalantly, but Virgil was grateful. Their father believed each of his sons was responsible for the maintenance and upkeep of their craft. Because the pods were technically part of Thunderbird Two, Gordon could go home and nothing would be said. Given the exhausting rescue of the morning, Virgil knew he was lucky to have his brother's help.

"Okay. I'll be back before you guys know it." Scott jogged off to Thunderbird One as Virgil made his way to Thunderbird Two to get the spare clamps. Reaching the ship, Virgil first backed out the forklift. The clamps were intended to bear tons of weight, and were themselves bulky and heavy. Virgil reasoned there was no reason for him to tote the ninety-pound clamps when he could let the forklift do the work. Plus, the lift could be used as a working platform for all but the highest clamps.

With the spare clamps loaded, Virgil drove the compact forklift over to the pod. Gordon was stripped to the waist in the hot Australian sun. He had already pulled two of the broken clamps from their mounts.

"Gordon, put your tee shirt on. Grandma will kick your butt if you get sunburned."

"Virg, come look at this." Gordon was frowning as he examined one of the clamps. "This looks like scorch marks."

"Well, that eruption was mighty close. I was thinking I felt something hit the underside as we got airborne."

"Yeah, but look. It's on the inside of the clamp. How would the inside get scorched and the outside be untouched?"

"I don't know. You can ask Brains when we get home. I'll tell you what. You keep pulling the bad clamps, and I'll install the new ones."

Gordon put the damaged clamp aside. "Okay."

"And put your tee shirt on."

Virgil didn't hear the muttered response, but he figured that was probably a good thing. He watched as his brother reluctantly put on his white tee shirt. Virgil shook his head. Neither Gordon nor Alan had any sense when it came to being out in the sun. Both inherited what their Grandma called 'Irish burn and peel' skin. Virgil was thankful that he took after his deceased mother. In the sun, he just tanned. The longer the exposure, the darker he got.

Sighing, Virgil pulled the first of the new clamps and got to work. It was painstaking work, despite the electric drivers that made short work of the heavy bolts. Each clamp had a series of electrical connections to be wired in and tested. Virgil and Gordon worked in companionable silence. When Gordon finished the easier job of pulling out the damaged clamps, he grabbed a new clamp and started installing it at the far end.

The sun had long since passed its zenith, when the two brothers heard the distinctive sound of Thunderbird One's rocket engines. Looking up, they watched as the sleek ship lightly touched down. Virgil noticed that Scott too had landed in precisely the same spot as before. Virgil stood up and stretched his back. He headed for the forklift.

Virgil checked his watch as he drove the short distance to Thunderbird One. It was after five in the afternoon, and he had been up since before dawn on the rescue call. All he wanted was to lie down in the shade and sleep for a week, but that wasn't going to happen.

Scott appeared in the hatchway of Thunderbird One carrying a large box. "What's that?"

"Grandma sent dinner."

"Fabulous, I'm starving!" Virgil turned and called to his brother, "Hey, Gordon! Come on, chow's on!"

Scott sighed. "Why isn't he wearing his tee shirt?"

Virgil reached in the box and grabbed a biscuit. "If you brought your staple gun, I'll hold him and you can staple it to him."

As Gordon trotted up, Scott said in a no-nonsense tone. "If you want to eat, you'll put your tee shirt on."

"Scott, it's filthy and it itches. Besides, I'm in the shade, I don't need it. What did you bring?"

"Actually, I brought you each a change of clothes. They're in the port footlocker. Go catch a shower and change. I'll set this out when you guys are ready." Gordon grinned his thanks, and headed for the hatch to Thunderbird One. Virgil stood undecided. When Scott noticed, he said, "Virg, I can handle this. Go on ahead and get cleaned up."

"Thanks, Scott." Virgil followed Gordon to Thunderbird One, and with his brother grabbed the clothes from the footlocker. He raced Gordon over to Thunderbird Two, which had a tiny shower. Virgil won the footrace by half a step, and smiling smugly said, "I'll try to leave you some hot water." Gordon made a face then sat on the bench in the small locker room.

Of course, with the nuclear reactor, and Brains' clever water heating design, there was enough hot water for a hundred showers. Virgil stepped under the hot needle spray and immediately regretted going first. Gordon's submarine service background meant that he would shower and change in just a few minutes. If Virgil's competitive nature hadn't asserted itself, he could have stayed under the water for an hour.

As it was, he limited himself to five minutes before regretfully shutting it down, and giving his brother a chance. Drying himself off, he changed into fresh clothes. As he suspected, Gordon was out of the shower and drying himself off as Virgil slipped on the work boots Scott had thoughtfully brought. By the time he left the ship, Scott had set out a picnic in the shade of Thunderbird One.

Virgil's mouth watered. His grandmother always seemed to think she had to put enough food to feed ten people in her picnic baskets. There was a pile of fried chicken, still warm from the ever-hot container. Potato salad, baked beans, fresh corn on the cob, and hot biscuits with butter and honey. Looking over the generous spread, Virgil quipped, "What, no dessert?"

Scott chuckled. "Brownies. I hid them so Gordon wouldn't eat them all before we got our share."

"Good thinking."

"What's good thinking?" Gordon asked as he walked up.

"Leaving Grandma behind before she stuffs us all like sausages." Scott said smoothly.

"What's to drink?" Gordon asked, plopping himself down and reaching for the chicken. Scott turned back to the box and pulled out a large thermal jug.

"She sent iced tea." Scott handed Gordon a large plastic tumbler, and filled the glass full. Virgil held out a second glass, and when it was full, a third. When Scott set down the jug, Virgil handed him one of the glasses. The three young men dug into their dinner and when they finally sat back, there was very little left of the picnic.

Gordon looked over at the pod, and blew out a breath. Virgil knew how he felt. Between the long day and the good food, the last thing he wanted to do was to go back to work. Scott looked at his brothers, and said, "Okay fellows, we've got two choices here. We can either head on home for the night and sleep in our own beds, or we can spend the night here. If we stay, we can get an early start. What's it going to be?"

Virgil replied, "As tempting as home sounds, I wouldn't be comfortable leaving the pod out here unattended. You guys might as well go home though."

Scott looked at the youngest there. "Gordon?"

The young red head shrugged. "If I go home, I won't want to come back. I might as well stay. Wouldn't want Virgil to have to face Skippy's relatives all alone."

Scott smiled. "It's settled then. We stay and get an early start."

Gordon looked over at the pod again. "We've got a good hour's worth of light left. We should get started."

"Nope. I'm making a management decision here. We're all tired. Tired men make mistakes, so we aren't going to work anymore today." Scott said decisively.

Gordon grinned, but Virgil brought up an objection. "But Scott, what if we're needed for another rescue? We need to get this done as quickly as possible."

"Virg, like Dad says, there's quick, and there's quality. We all need to rest. One hour is not likely to make the difference, and if it does, well then, I'll take the heat, okay?"

Virgil accepted defeat with a nod. Looking at both of his brothers he said, "Hey, I want to thank you guys for your help. I really appreciate it."

Scott looked sly, "Enough to let me have your share of the brownies?"

"Brownies? What brownies?" Gordon perked up.

"Now you've done it, Scott."

"Okay, fellas, I'll tell you what. Grandma sent along brownies for dessert. What do you say we play a little poker for them?" Scott pulled a pack of cards from his pocket.

Gordon's smile was pure evil. "You're on!"

Virgil sighed. His father had strong feelings against gambling, but both of his brothers had served in the military where, as far as Virgil could tell, they spent their entire tours of duty learning how to fleece their brothers.

"Okay, dealer's choice, and the dealer chooses five card stud." Scott started dealing the cards.

Chapter Four: A Sinister Man

Atop a nearby ridge, unseen by the three brothers, a stocky Malaysian man cursed. The international criminal mastermind known as 'the Hood' immediately started to revise his plan. It had been a long day of ups and downs for him, but he had not gained his prominent position as a leader of a worldwide network of thieves, thugs, and spies by dwelling on lost opportunities.

The day had started marvelously well. The new Gamma beam projector he had been testing had worked supremely well. The volcano had erupted just as predicted. He had spared no more thought for the scientists he had imperiled than he did for the inventor of the projector whom he had left lying in a puddle of his own blood when he had stolen the prototype and plans.

He hadn't really been surprised when those pathetic do-gooders from International Rescue had shown up. It proved to be an excellent opportunity. Normally one of their number would remain with the ships working as a liaison with the local authorities, and assuming overall command. But there were no authorities here and all three of the men had gone to work on the rescue. No doubt they thought the isolation of site would protect their precious vehicles.

He had been delighted not only to have the opportunity, but also the wherewithal to take advantage of the situation. In his hover jet were a number of trilite mines that could be rigged to blow by remote control. The mines themselves were tiny, more suited to blowing up a single person.

His first thought was to place the mines under the seats of the pilots of the two machines. He would blow them up and study the resultant crashed vehicles at his leisure. He was stymied when he could not gain access to the interiors of either ship. Fearing the IR agents would return if he were to force his way aboard, he quickly came up with a second devious plan.

He placed all of the mines that he had at his disposal on the clamps that joined the great cargo pod to Thunderbird Two. The Hood assumed correctly if enough of the clamps failed, the heavy pod with its cargo of delightfully expensive machines would drop away. With luck, it would cause the crash of the mothership and death of its pilot.

He had waited and watched with barely contained glee as his unsuspecting victims had completed the rescue and loaded up the booby-trapped pod. His plans almost came to naught as a second much larger eruption had caught him away from his hover jet. Only by the smile of Fortune did he escape. By then, both International Rescue crafts had left. He cursed his abysmal luck but then saw that his prey had not escaped, but only flown as far as a research station on a mountainside nearby. Thunderbird One was nowhere in sight, and presumably had headed for their base.

The evil mastermind had only a general idea of where that base was. No amount of threats, bribes or torture had ever revealed more than the most general information that it was believed to be located somewhere in the South Pacific. Knowing that Thunderbird Two would easily outdistance even the fastest hover jet, the Hood took off heading immediately in the general direction he expected the great cargo ship to take.

The Hood had begun to believe he had guessed wrong about the route when fortune smiled once again, and the huge ship had appeared on his trackers. It came up behind him and passed far overhead almost before he had known it was there.

He triggered the remote control that would blow the pod clamps then waited expectantly. His eyes flashed in sudden anger when nothing happened. He triggered the remote again and again but the ship flew on undisturbed. The Hood threw the remote across the cabin in disgust. Once again International Rescue had escaped his grasp.

He watched cursing as Thunderbird Two reached the outside limits of his tracking devices. The curses stopped in his throat when, just before the ship had left the screen, it appeared to take a nosedive. Possibly. It was impossible to be sure, but the Hood blessed the goddess Fortune in his mind as he set a course for the last position he had on the accursed ship.

The Hood searched all afternoon for any sign of a crash without luck. He had begun to believe that his eyes and instruments had deceived him when his tracker beeped an alert. A ship was approaching the general area at a fantastic speed. The Hood immediately recognized the signature as that of Thunderbird One. He watched as the ship suddenly dropped out of the sky to land a good twenty miles east from where the Hood was sure the remains of Thunderbird Two must lie.

The Hood immediately landed his own craft in a deep, covering ravine. The nose of the hover jet rose up in the air to reveal a ramp down which the Hood drove an all terrain vehicle. Pulling out a hand held GPS device, the evil man set out. He had arrived at the scene of the downed pod only to find both it and Thunderbird Two intact. The three men from the morning's rescue sat at their ease on a blanket, apparently playing cards.

The Hood was a cautious man in that he was unwilling to risk himself. In previous run-ins with International Rescue, he had always come out the loser, especially when that dark-haired son of a whore was involved. He watched as the light started to fail after a spectacular sunset. The three men showed no sign of leaving. He had hoped they would return to their secret base for the night, but that obviously was not to be.

He regretted not bringing the hover jet closer. He only had an experimental sidearm with him, and thought longingly of the explosives and poison gas that were carefully packed in the jet. He considered returning to his jet. It would be so easy to set a canister of deadly gas near the air vents of the crafts.

As appealing as that prospect was, the Hood could not be sure he could get to his craft and back in time. He watched as the three stood from their card playing, evidently preparing to turn in for the night. He hoped they would set up a camp outside of the ship. In that happy event, he would be able to strangle all three in their sleep. Failing that, the Hood hoped they would all retire to the same ship. If he could not strangle them, perhaps they would leave the ships unlocked. He could steal Thunderbird One before they could organize pursuit.

He cursed all of the gods of Fate when the dark-haired pig entered Thunderbird One then returned and set up what was obviously a proximity alarm system. With the proper tools, the Hood could make short work of it, but as it was, he could only watch as all three men climbed into Thunderbird Two, shutting the hatch with a clang. The Hood could practically feel the snick of the lock as the ship was sealed for the night.

The Hood sat back, gnashing his teeth in frustration. In time, he calmed himself. This was the best opportunity that had ever arisen to deal with International Rescue. The Hood did not intend to let the chance slip away. If he could not steal one of the ships, then perhaps an opportunity would arise to steal one of the agents. Yes... If he could get one of them alone. Perhaps the redheaded one. His sources said that one was the pilot of the submarine, Thunderbird Four. He could be captured and tortured, partly for information, partly as recompense for all of the plans that International Rescue had ruined over the past year.

The Hood liked the symmetry of this idea. He slid back from the ridge and made his way to his all terrain vehicle. Settling down to rest, he gathered his thoughts away from the delightful prospect of the pain and anguish he would inflict, and started to plan how the downfall of International Rescue would come about.

Chapter Five: In The Morning

Virgil Tracy pulled the blanket up over his head. In part, it was to block out the tantalizing smell of coffee. But mainly it was to block the sound of his younger brother's slightly off-key but cheerful whistling.

It was too early in the morning. Overnight all of Virgil's muscles had tightened into one big knot. All he wanted was a little more sleep. The rueful thought entered his mind that if Alan had been along instead of Gordon he could have slept all morning. Well, maybe not. Scott was here too, and it was that military training that caused both of his brothers to think the day started at daybreak, when normal people were just settling in for the night.

Try as he might, Virgil could not block out the sound of his brother knocking around, assembling the surplus military rations stored in Thunderbird Two's galley into some sort of breakfast. After a short time, the whistling stopped and he heard footsteps nearing his bed. Virgil knew what he would find if he lowered the covers. He considered trying to outwait his brother, but he knew it was no good.

Sighing heavily he flung back the blanket and in one smooth, if pained movement, swung his legs out of the bed and sat up. Gordon grinned and held out the coffee mug. Ever since they were kids, Gordon had this ability to wake any of his brothers up just by standing next to their beds and staring at them. It was pretty funny when it happened to Scott or John or Alan, but downright annoying when it was pulled on him.

Virgil glowered as he took the proffered mug. Gordon's smile just got brighter as he said, "Good morning, Sunshine!"

"You just do that to be annoying, don't you?" accused Virgil.

"Yup. Uh, what did I do?"

"You know." Virgil muttered darkly.

"Okay. I think I'll go find Scott." Gordon left with a grin on his face.

Virgil sighed, looking at his pillow longingly. He got up and stretched, yawning. Well, the sooner they got started, the sooner he could get home to a real bed. Virgil dressed quickly and walked over to where his brother had set out some granola bars. He looked over at the two-burner stove and considered heating something up, but even thinking about it was too much of an effort. Grimacing with distaste, Virgil picked out one with chocolate chips in it. Sighing he settled down to chew on it. He always wondered what people saw in the stuff. After chewing half a bar, his jaw always ached.

Virgil looked up as the hatch opened and Scott stepped through. "Where's Gordon?"

"Gordon? I haven't seen him. What are you eating?"

"Granola bar. Want one?"

"No, I still have a couple of brownies left. Come on, let's get to work."

Virgil hid his irritation. Scott and Gordon had landed up with all of the brownies the night before. Well, actually, Gordon stuffed each brownie he won into his mouth, so at the end of the evening, only Scott had any left. If Virgil had known breakfast was granola, he would have refused to play poker with his card shark brothers.

Virgil followed his brother out of Thunderbird Two and over to the pod. Without a word, each brother picked up a clamp and headed for opposite ends of the line of previously replaced clamps. Virgil concentrated on making the connections tight, carefully testing each one. After half an hour's hard work, Virgil was sweating in the day's rising heat. Looking around, he called over to his brother. "Hey, where's Gordon?"

Scott looked up from where he was working. "What?"

"Gordon. Where is he?"

"I haven't seen him."

Chapter Six: Repairs

Virgil Tracy stood and stretched. He and Scott had run out of replacement clamps. While Scott finished wiring in the last one, Virgil headed over to the forklift standing by Thunderbird One's equipment bay. As he approached he heard a thump sounding from the open bay. "Gordon? Is that you?"

Virgil frowned at the lack of response. His younger brother Gordon had been among the missing for the last thirty minutes. Virgil knew it wasn't like his brother to goldbrick. With a sudden concern, he stepped up into the bay. "Gordon? You in here?"

Again there was no answer. Virgil blinked hard. The bay was in deep shadow, and it took his eyes some time to adjust after the bright light of the morning sun. Still not seeing clearly, Virgil heard another heavier thump, and headed in that direction. Not knowing what to expect, he rounded a corner to find his brother in a pile of shredded Styrofoam, carefully pulling the protective packaging from a clamp. Virgil saw several pallets with the prepared clamps just waiting to be shifted to the job site.

Gordon's back was turned, his ears covered with earphones. He was obviously listening to some of the nihilistic trash rock that he and Alan were so fond of. Nothing reminded Virgil quicker of the age difference between himself and his youngest brothers than their differing taste in music. He and Scott had grown up during a resurgence of the jazz movement, but the younger Tracys had both developed a taste for what had originally been called 'heavy metal' but was now called trash rock. In Virgil's opinion, the name described it perfectly.

Despite the bobbing head, Gordon was being his normal careful and meticulous self. He had finished prepping over half of the clamps, and Virgil was grateful for his diligence. That didn't stop him from walking quietly up behind his brother. Virgil waited until Gordon had set the clamp down on the workbench then placed his hand on his brother's shoulder.

The resultant jump and yelp were satisfying. With his face schooled to neutrality, he watched as Gordon ripped the headphones off, eyes wide. "Oh, did I startle you? Sorry. I was just coming to get some more clamps."

Gordon kept a hand on his chest, as if to keep his thumping heart from jumping out of his chest. He took a deep breath, "Uh, that's okay. These are all ready to go. I'll be finished in here in a bit, then I'll come out to help, okay?"

"Sure, no problem. Oh, and I just wanted to say thanks again, Gordon. It's really been a big help"

"That's okay, Virg. I don't mind." Gordon's eyes narrowed.

Virgil turned away to hide the smile that threatened to blossom. He grabbed the anti-grav hand truck, and got to work shifting the heavy pallets to the bay opening. Scott in the meantime had finished the clamp he had been working on, and took over the forklift, moving the pallets to the pod. By the time Virgil had moved all of the original pallets, Gordon had filled two more. "Virgil, that's all of the pallets."

"Well, come on, we'll go work with what we've got."

The two brothers left the ship and headed over to Thunderbird One. Scott and the forklift were out of sight. Gordon snapped his fingers and headed over to Thunderbird Two. "We're going to need block and tackle to lift those clamps up to the top." He called over his shoulder.

As his brother disappeared into the bowels of Thunderbird Two, Virgil was suddenly struck by the isolation of the place. With neither Scott nor Gordon in sight, he felt as if he were the last man on earth. Shaking his head at his sudden fancy, he returned to his work grabbing a clamp from one of the pallets. As he kneeled to install the new clamp, he felt the hairs go up on the back of his neck.

Virgil looked around for whatever was causing his sudden uneasy feeling. There was nothing in sight but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. He jumped at a sudden sound, and looked around, but it was only Gordon, using the hand truck to cart the block and tackle over to the pod. Scott appeared from around the far side of the pod where he had been stacking the clamp-laden pallets for when the work eventually moved to the back.

Gordon donned his climbing harness, and with the large, but lightweight block clipped to his belt, started climbing up the front of the pod. Seeing what his brother was doing, Scott came over and anchored the climbing rope, making Gordon's climb easier. Virgil turned back to his work, dismissing his earlier feelings as a product of a tired mind.

The three brothers worked through the morning. Virgil brought the forklift over as he started up the sloping side of the pod, using it as a platform. Gordon had started at the top, and was now working his way down the other outside edge. After a while, the younger Tracy had started singing along with the music blaring from his headphones. Virgil and Scott shared a despairing look before returning to their own labors.

Virgil had just about reached the end of his rope with his brother's loud singing. The refrain of the current song seemed to be 'death to us all, death to us all.' He was about ready to comply by killing the singer, when Scott yelled up. "Gordon! Turn it down!"

Virgil looked down at the one disgusted brother, then up to the other oblivious brother. Gordon sang on, not having heard a word. Virgil watched with interest as Scott first hefted a large wrench and looked up, apparently judging the distance. Virgil was relieved when his older brother reconsidered, and took off his heavy work glove. With a skill born from years of little league practice, Scott threw the glove with pinpoint accuracy, hitting Gordon squarely in the butt.

Gordon swung around in his harness, looking about for the source of the kick in the rear. Seeing Scott glaring up at him, he pulled down the headphones filling the local air with what sounded like cats being tortured. "What?"

From his perch halfway up the pod, Virgil could practically hear Scott's teeth grinding. "I said, turn it down!" Scott's growled.

"Oh, sure. Sorry." Gordon obediently looked down at the player at his waist and slid the volume control lower. "Is that better?"

Grudgingly, Scott replied. "Yeah, thanks."

"No problem." Gordon slipped the headphones back up over his ears and Virgil heaved a sigh of relief. It lasted only a few moments before Gordon started singing again louder than before. Virgil looked down at Scott who squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, shoulders slumped.

"Scott, I'll get the duct tape, you hold him down."

"Don't tempt me. Listen, I'm about as high as I can get without a platform. Why don't I go start on the back clamps while you and Gordon finish up here?"

"Oh, no you don't! If you go, I go."

"Fine, we'll both go. Come on."

Virgil sighed. "Hang on a minute." Reaching around, Virgil grabbed his own glove and heaved it at his offending brother. Unfortunately, his aim wasn't quite as good as Scott's, and instead of hitting Gordon on the back, it struck him full force in the head.

"Ow! What did you do that for?" Gordon glared down at Scott.

Scott stood with his arms crossed, glaring right back. "I didn't do it, Virg did. But as long as we have your attention, could you please knock off the singing? It's really getting on my nerves."

Virgil held his breath. His brother Gordon was generally easy going, but he was hell-on-wheels if crossed. Virgil had no desire to be on the receiving end of his younger brother's ire. After a pause Gordon blinked, looking from one brother to the other and responded. "Oh. Sorry about that."

Gordon turned back to his work. Virgil breathed again, relieved. He caught Scott's eye and mimed wiping sweat from his forehead. Scott grinned and nodded. "Hey, listen. I'm still going to get started on the back."

"All right, Scott. I'll be done here shortly then I'll join you."

Scott waved as he went around the corner to the rear of the pod, and Virgil settled back down to work.

Chapter Seven: A Snake Coils

The Hood pounded the ground in frustration. The thrice-accursed agents of International Rescue had given him several opportunities to execute his plan of kidnapping and revenge. But each time he came close, the chance was snatched away again.

His first chance had been ideal for his purposes. His redheaded target had conveniently entered the cargo bay of Thunderbird One. The Hood had watched as the dark-haired leader had come out of his ship and gone over to the Thunderbird Two, apparently not noticing that the cargo bay door was gaping open. The Hood had no sooner started toward that inviting opening when the dark-haired one was back, with his compatriot in tow, forcing the Hood to take cover.

The two men had gone straight to the pod and started work, leaving the Hood to curse against fate. He knew to cross the open space between his hiding place and Thunderbird One was to court discovery. It was a discovery he was not prepared to risk. The weapon in his hand was an experimental prototype that he had recently stolen. It was a ray gun that left its victim paralyzed and helpless for several hours, but it required several minutes to recharge between shots. Not an ideal weapon when facing more than one opponent.

The Hood recognized his own folly in assuming that he would only have to deal with one agent at most. Had his greed not blinded him, he would have come armed for any contingency. He was not often given to introspection, but as he worked his way around to put the bulk of the Thunderbirds between him and the pod, he realized his hatred for International Rescue was a liability. If any of his minions showed such weakness, he would have the man shot.

Finally he reached his goal and entered the cargo bay. Waiting for his eyes to adjust, he ran into a carton that fell with a thump. The Hood froze when he heard a voice in the doorway calling "Gordon? Is that you?"

He looked to the hatch opening to see the chestnut-haired agent staring right at him. He had his gun up and pointed at the man before he realized the man had his own problems seeing into the dark bay. The Hood had silently melted into the background, and watched and listened as his opportunity slipped away.

He followed the two men out, and hastily hid behind a strut as the red- haired one suddenly turned and trotted to the hatch of Thunderbird Two. The Hood twisted his head back and forth. He now had two victims to choose from, but as suddenly as the opportunity was presented, it was snatched away again as all three men came together at the front of the pod.

He had carefully worked his way back to the safer cover of a small ridge and waited. Again he bemoaned his failure to think before leaving his supply of arms behind. He glanced at the merciless sun beating down. He knew the heat would sap the will of his victims even as it weakened his own strength. He hunkered down to wait, knowing his own will to be stronger than that of those he was stalking.

Despite his will, the Hood was nodding off when the sound of conversation drew his attention back to the pod. He watched as his red-haired target said something to the man on the ground then turned back to his work. After a short conversation with the third man, the dark-haired leader on the ground turned and walked to the rear of the pod.

The Hood watched, pushing down on the exultation he felt. He waited several minutes to be sure his victim would not return. His eyes lit up with an unholy gleam when he realized he had a chance to capture the one member of International Rescue who had been the most instrumental in the destruction of his plans.

Like a snake, the Hood started weaving his way to the back of the pod.

Chapter Eight: The Serpent Strikes

"Okay, I'm done!"

Virgil looked over at his younger brother who was peering around. "Hey, where's Scott?"

"He went around to start at the back. He's been gone for ten minutes." Virgil commented.

"Oh. You need any help?"

"No. I... am... done." Virgil snapped the last connection into place. He lowered the forklift he was standing on as Gordon rappelled lightly down to the ground. "You go get the rest of the clamps. I'm going to head to the back. You know, I think we'll finish this up in time for dinner."

Gordon grimaced. "Good, because I don't think I could face another granola bar."

Virgil nodded with a grin. "Not quite up to our usual standard, are they? Between Kyrano and Grandma, I think we're all pretty spoiled."

"Yes, well, I for one intend to get back to that spoiling as quickly as possible." With a wave, Gordon headed off toward Thunderbird One. Virgil walked to the corner of the pod, his eyes on a slight cut on his hand. As he reached the corner, he looked up and came to a stop, trying to grasp what his eyes were telling him.

A good hundred yards off, a stranger was hurrying away carrying a large sack slung over his shoulder. In the next moment Virgil realized that it was no sack, but his brother Scott, hanging limply. Virgil's heart climbed right up into his mouth as he let out a scream. "Scott! No!"

He was running almost before he knew it. The bastard making off with his brother was approaching the top of a ridge, and Virgil had the thought that if the unknown man were to get out of his sight, his brother would be lost to him. He put all of his energy into insuring that didn't happen.

The man was hurrying, but with Scott's weight, and the shifting sandy ground, Virgil rapidly made up the distance. He could hear Thunderbird One powering up somewhere behind him, and in a moment of pure terror realized the man could have an accomplice. He put his faith into the thought that it was Gordon coming to the rescue, and not some murderous thief.

He steadily made up the ground on the bastard carrying his brother. Scott was dangling limply, obviously unconscious. Virgil would make the man pay hard for harming his brother. He exulted when the man stumbled, going to one knee. He was within ten yards of the man preparing to launch a tackle when the man suddenly turned.

Virgil saw the gun as it came up, but instead of dodging, he plowed ahead, gambling that he could get the bastard before he could fire. He realized he had lost when the gun went off with a sizzling sound rather than a bang. Virgil was slammed back several feet despite his forward momentum.

Chapter Nine: Paralyzed

Virgil Tracy lay on his back, gasping for breath. He had been shot. His mind worked to absorb that concept. One moment everything was crystal clear, and the next it was as if a mist had settled in his brain. Virgil knew there would be pain. He waited for it, but instead he felt nothing but a curious numbness, almost as if his entire body had fallen asleep.

Virgil wondered briefly if this was what death was like. He dismissed the thought reluctantly. The sky was a blazing shade of blue, hurting his eyes. He tried without success to blink.

Time had seemed to stand still, but his stunned reverie was suddenly broken by the shadow that crossed his vision. As if the shadow were a signal, Virgil's mind cleared and he recognized the roaring in his ears as the sound of Thunderbird One. The roar grew louder as TB1's retros were fired.

In his mind, Virgil screamed for Gordon to forget about him. He knew he was done for. Even if he didn't bleed to death, the paralysis was a just a different kind of death. There was no chance for him, but Scott was still out there. Virgil silently begged Gordon to make the right decision. Virgil would gladly welcome death if it safeguarded his older brother.

He despaired when the shadow of Thunderbird One settled within his sight. He listened in misery as his younger brother ran up. "Virgil? Virg? Can you hear me?"

He heard fear in his brother's voice, but he had no strength to answer. It was as if his brain had been removed and placed in a crystal box. He could see and hear, but he had no connection to his body to respond with.

Virgil assumed Gordon was making a physical assessment. After the initial inquiry, Virgil's younger brother had said nothing more, his own breathing as harsh and ragged as Virgil's. Virgil could go through the steps in his sleep. Evaluate the state of consciousness. Check the vitals. Feel for broken limbs. Reassure the patient. "It's gonna be okay, Virgil. I'm gonna take care of you."

Virgil wanted to scream. He wanted to shake his brother. He needed to make the younger man understand that Scott needed help now, that taking the time to care for him could seal Scott's fate. He could do none of that. He was trapped, helpless in his own body.

After an eternity, Gordon seemed to sit back. When he spoke his tone was puzzled. "What the hell did that guy do to you, Virg?"

Virgil couldn't even cry. Gordon's voice was shaky but determined. "Okay, Virgil, we are out of time. I'm going to have to carry you over to Thunderbird One. Can you hear me? Virgil?"

Fear truly struck Virgil when he realized Gordon had picked him up in a fireman's carry. He had not felt a thing. His only clue had been the shifting of his point of view from the sky, to his brother's tee shirt. He couldn't even feel the pressure of his brother's hands. He knew they had reached Thunderbird One only when the bright day suddenly darkened.

When Gordon laid him gently on the emergency pallet, Virgil got a brief glimpse of his younger brother's face. He felt a sudden sympathy as he realized Gordon was terrified. He wished he could do something, anything to let the younger man know he was okay. Well, not okay, exactly, but at least he wasn't in any pain.

He tried not to begrudge the time Gordon was taking to insure he was securely strapped in. Panic set in when his brother said, "Virgil, if you can hear me, I'm going to close your eyes now. I know that's harsh, but you haven't blinked, and we need to protect them. You're going to be okay, Virgil. You just hang tough."

Virgil came close to breaking at that point. He had never been this helpless in his life, and to lose one of his few remaining contacts with reality scared him more than he could imagine.

Chapter Ten: A Venomous Mind

The Hood pushed his little ATV to its limits. His careful plans were in a shambles. He cursed his obsession with International Rescue. There was no doubt but that he had brought this upon himself.

When the pilot of Thunderbird One had separated himself from his fellows, the Hood had rejoiced. Finally he was to have the opportunity he wanted. He worked his way to the rear of the pod and had simply shot his victim from behind. The fool never had a chance.

Knowing for his plan to work he had to get his victim out of sight before the other agents knew there was trouble, he had nevertheless taken the time to gloat over his victory. He told the paralyzed man that the condition was permanent. Caught up in his lie, he painted an elaborate picture of the fate that awaited the man.

The Hood crooned a tale that would have sent shivers up the spine of his victim, if the man could have shivered. He said that while the paralysis was permanent, the numbness was not. He said he intended to take great pleasure in slowly flaying the man. He said he had a device that would capture his thoughts and make plain all of his innermost secrets. He said he had an army of men who would raid International Rescue's home base and with the paralyzing ray capture all who lived there. The Hood took great pleasure in telling his helpless captive that would be made to watch all of his friends die, knowing he was responsible.

In actuality, the Hood was simply expressing desires he had since first hearing of International Rescue. He had nothing but contempt for those misguided fools who thought they could 'make the world a better place'. He had known all of his life that no one, not family, not friends, not colleagues, could be relied on. His own brother had betrayed him, turning him over to the authorities when he had killed that nosy lawyer.

International Rescue from the very beginning had been the antithesis of all the Hood believed. They proved again and again that good, caring people could make a difference. The Hood hated them for it. And now he had one of them in his power.

He had squandered the time he needed to make a clean escape. When he realized his foolishness, he scooped up his prize, and headed for the nearest ridge. He knew that once he was out of sight, the other IR pigs would be left scratching their heads at the mystery.

He had almost made good his escape when a yell went up behind him. He had been discovered! The Hood prided himself on his strength, but the sandy soil of the Australian outback gave him no purchase, and he struggled to escape. He could hear the racing steps of his pursuer, and at the last possible moment, he swung around and shot the man with his ray gun.

He had a short moment of exultation when he realized the one chasing him was the pilot of Thunderbird Two. His informants told him that the pilots were not interchangeable. He swelled with the hope that the accursed third agent would not be able to get either of the ships into the sky. He was, after all, only a sailor who was used for grunt work when the submarine was not needed.

Confident that he could now safely escape, he had headed to his ATV. He had taken only a few steps when his worst nightmare came true. Thunderbird One rose up in the sky. His informants were wrong! They would pay for their treachery, but first he had to escape.

The Hood ran with his prize to his ATV, and slung his unfortunate captive across the back of the machine. He had previous experience with the weapons available to the redheaded dog piloting Thunderbird One. He gambled that with his victim securely tied to the ATV, the IR agent would not be willing to fire missiles or cannons at him.

When he heard Thunderbird One's retros firing, he risked a glance behind. The Hood let loose a contemptuous snort. The fool was landing to pick up the man he had shot. The Hood would benefit from the pathetic incompetent's mistake. He hoped to put several ridges between himself and Thunderbird One. He found a promising gully that headed in the general direction of his hover jet, and he booted his little vehicle up to full speed.

Chapter Eleven: His Brother's Voice

Virgil Tracy struggled to maintain his focus. Since his brother had closed his eyes, he had felt as if he were drifting away. He strained to hear every sound, every footfall his brother made. It seemed as if it must have been hours, and Virgil feared that his brother had left and gone away, leaving him to float in a sea of nothing.

"Okay, Virgil, we're going to lift off now."

Virgil could have cried. Gordon's voice was like an anchor to his sanity. He had never realized how dependent he was on his senses. He needed Gordon to keep talking, but he had no way to ask.

"I don't know, Virg. I think I did the pre-flight right, but it's been awhile. Okay, let's just do this."

Virgil listened as Thunderbird One powered up and lifted off. It sounded fine to him, but then he had never listened that closely to TB1. Not like he had to Thunderbird Two. Oh, God! What if this was permanent? He had always flown as much by feel as by the instruments. What if this never got better?

"Whoa. WHOA!!! Oh man, Virg. How does he fly this thing? I swear, it'll roll if I breathe hard on it. Give me Thunderbird Four anyday."

Gordon's offhand comment startled Virgil out of his incipient despair. Gordon didn't like Thunderbird One? The few times Virgil had flown her she had been a pip. Nothing like his own Thunderbird Two, but a lot of fun. He hoped he would get the chance to tell Scott what Gordon had said.

"Uh, Virgil, I'd appreciate it if you'd uh, forget I ever said that."

At this point, Virgil would do just about anything to keep his brother talking. Gordon seemed to have some inkling of that because he continued. "Okay, I'm just about ready to call base here. Thunderbird uh, One to International Rescue."

"Go ahead Gordon. What are you doing in Thunderbird One? Where's Scott?"

"Alan, I need Dad right away. Oh, and Brains. I need Brains."

"Gordon, what's wrong?"

"I've got no time for this, Alan! Just go get him, would you?"

Gordon let out a deep breath. Virgil could hear his brother settle down. Where before his voice held fear, now there was nothing but determination.

"Base to Thunderbird One. What's the problem, son?"

"Father, I am in pursuit of a man on an ATV. He's kidnapped Scott. Virgil's been disabled by some kind of weapon I've never seen before, and I have reason to believe the same weapon was used on Scott. I am in the air in Thunderbird One and Virgil is here with me. I can't see the ATV at the moment. I lost it when I had to land to pick up Virgil. The terrain here is fairly flat but there are ridges and gullies all over the place."

Virgil approved of Gordon's succinct summation of the situation.

It seemed an eternity before their father responded. When he spoke, his voice was tightly controlled. "All right, son. What are your altitude and speed?"

"Uh, I'm at five hundred feet, cruising at 200 miles per hour. I'm going to start a standard search grid. They can't have gotten far."

"Listen to me, Gordon. This isn't like searching in the ocean. There aren't the visibility issues. What I want you to do is get some height. Take Thunderbird One up to 2500 feet, and go to station keeping. Then I want you to use the thermal scanner to pick up the life signs."

"I don't think that's going to work, Father. It's hotter than Hell out here. The ground temperature is at least 95 degrees, maybe more."

"All right, son. Height is still your best ally. Even without the thermal scan, you should be able to spot movement."

"FAB, Dad. Increasing altitude to 2500 feet. I can't see anything yet. You don't suppose there's a hidden base somewhere around here, do you?"

"We can't rule out anything at this point, son. All right, Brains is here. I want you to describe this weapon for him."

"Uh, go ahead, uh, Gordon."

"Well, I didn't get a close look at it. Virgil was chasing the guy and he suddenly turned. The guy's hand came up and I just assumed it was a gun. A big one by the way Virgil went flying." Gordon paused, and Virgil could imagine how hard it must have been for Gordon to see two of his brothers injured.

"When I got to him, I expected to see blood, but as far as I can tell, he doesn't have a mark on him. His vitals are okay. His eyes were open, but I can't tell if he's conscious or not. He isn't moving. Not even blinking. He has no reflexes, no reaction to pain. His eyes seem to react to light, but that's about it."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah. I think I read something about this. Uh, Gordon you're going to h-h-have to protect his eyes. If he can't blink, they're vulnerable. In the first aid kit, there should be some ointment. You ah, you are going to want to put the ointment in, c-c-close his eyes, then bandage them."

"Right. Brains, I'm a little busy right now, but I'll get to it when I can. I've already closed his eyes. What do you think this is?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah. Now, I've brought up a WASP security bulletin. It refers to a prototype of a weapon that was stolen about six weeks ago. It's effects pretty much, uh, coincide with what you're t-t-telling me, Gordon. Let me just read... Uh, here it is! The effects include total paralysis of the muscles with associated numbness... The test subjects later reported a total lack of, uh, feeling in their bodies... Th-th-this is interesting. The test subjects reported that while all other senses failed, they could both see and hear... The weapon was designed for riot control. The effects of the weapon are, uh, temporary, and should wear off within about s-s-six hours."

"Didja hear that, Virg? It's just temporary!" The relief in Gordon's voice was a pale shadow of immense release Virgil felt. He would have cried with joy if he could have.

"W-w-wait a minute, Gordon, not so fast. Uh, let me read a little further. Uh, just as I thought. The eyes must be protected... what's this about a death?"

After a few moments, Gordon prompted Brains. "Brains? What do you mean death?"

"Uh, yeah. Okay, yeah. Uh, Gordon, is Virgil on his back or his side?"

"His back. Why?"

"Um, you need to roll him onto his side. One test subject died when his tongue, uh, slipped back in his throat and cut off his air. Now, another one developed pneumonia when h-h-he was left on his stomach, so the side is the best. Now make sure you don't, uh, cut off the circulation in his arm, that could cause its own problems."

"Okay, Brains. I'm putting Thunderbird One on autopilot. Anything else I need to know?"

"Uh, no. The rest is just technical specifications... Oh, wait. Oh. Uh, let me talk this over with your father, and I'll uh, get back to you."

"Brains. No. You tell me everything you know. I'm in command here, and I need every advantage I can get." Gordon's voice cracked with authority, surprising Virgil. His younger brother tended to be so laid back that one could forget that his WASP superiors had placed him on a very fast track for command before an accident ended his career.

If Brains had forgotten, he was quickly reminded too. "Uh, yes, well, it seems the main suspect, in fact the only suspect, in the th-th-theft of the prototype is, uh, the Hood."

Chapter Twelve: Gordon Acts

Virgil listened hard, but his brother Gordon made no comment to Brains' startling revelation. The idea of his brother Scott being in the hands of that murderous thug made Virgil sick at heart. When Gordon finally spoke, his voice was calm. "Okay, Brains, I understand. If you come up with anything else, let me know. I'm going to go get Virgil squared away. I'll be back in a moment."

Virgil heard the snap of the seat's safety harness being released then nothing more. "Virgil, you heard the drill. I'm going to open your eyes to put the ointment in, but then I'm going to bandage them. I know it's hard to be in the dark, but it's got to be done."

It was very disorienting. Gordon opened Virgil's left eye, but just as it started to focus, a film covered his eye. Darkness descended then the procedure was repeated with his right eye. If he could have, Virgil would have begged Gordon to leave his eyes open if only for a little while.

When Gordon spoke again, he was back in the pilot's seat. "Okay, Virgil is set. Hey, what's that? Got him! Thunderbird One to base, I've picked up a trail of dust. It leads into a ravine."

"Can you see them, son?"

"Uh, no, not yet. He's down there, Father. The dust trail leads in, but not out. There are some overhangs and a couple of boulders. I'm going to flush him out."

"Be careful, son. Remember, he has your brother down there."

"FAB."

Virgil strained to hear what his brother was doing. He heard switches being thrown, then the whine of machinery. He reflected that if this had been Thunderbird Two, he would know exactly what each sound represented. As it was, he could only guess at what Gordon was planning.

Virgil was surprised to hear the singular sound of Thunderbird One's MX4 missiles being fired. Within moments he detected the far off boom of the double strike above the roar of Thunderbird One's engines. It didn't sound like Gordon was being careful. In fact, it sounded as if Gordon had totally lost his mind. Virgil strained for any sign that feeling was returning to his useless limbs.

"Oh, yeah, that got him moving." Gordon spoke softly as if to himself.

"You've spotted them, son?"

"Uh, yeah, Dad. He just broke cover." As worried as Virgil was, he had to credit Gordon with a cool head. He knew his brother worked best under pressure. It was true on rescues and was true here too. As hard as it was, Virgil realized that it was all up to Gordon to stop the Hood from escaping. Scott's life depended on that cool calm head. Despite his own tendency to think of Gordon as just a kid, Virgil knew he could trust him to do what was right.

It didn't make it any easier to lie helpless. Virgil couldn't help focussing on every little sound his brother made. "Okay, Father, I need to really concentrate here. He's playing true to form. He's making a run for it, just like he did when he stole that film from the movie company. I'm going to use the cannons to convince him to stop."

"All right, Gordon. Go ahead, I'll keep the line open if you need me."

"FAB."

Despite his resolve to trust Gordon's judgement, Virgil couldn't help but worry. Gordon had trained on Thunderbird One, they all had. But training and live fire were two different things. The slightest slip could send fifty caliber bullets right into Scott's lap.

Chapter Thirteen: The Parley

Even knowing what Gordon was doing, Virgil would have jumped when the cannons roared to life. He had assumed it would be a short burst, but instead that blasting seemed to go on forever. Virgil tried not to dwell on a mental image of his older brother being torn apart by ricochets, but once the thought occurred, it was impossible to banish.

Finally the firing stopped and Virgil heard Gordon mutter, "Good plan, jackass."

Their father apparently heard also. "Gordon?"

"Uh, yes. I've convinced him to stop. I'm setting down to parley with him."

"Son, don't leave the ship. Talk all you want, but do it with the loudspeaker system."

"Yes, Father." Gordon's tone betrayed his exasperation.

"Gordon, this is a very dangerous criminal. Both of your brothers are depending on you to get them home safely. You can't afford to take any chances."

"I understand that, Dad. I'm not going to take any chances, but that bastard is not going anywhere with my brother either."

"All right, son. Be careful." Virgil could hear the worry in his father's voice. Curiously, he found himself more and more confident that Gordon would handle the situation. His brother's determination struck a chord in Virgil's heart.

"FAB." Virgil listened as Gordon switched on the loudspeaker system that not only would broadcast his voice, but would also allow him to hear anything that the Hood had to say.

"This is International Rescue. You have something that belongs to us. Hand it over, and I'll let you live." Gordon had adopted a cold emotionless tone that gave nothing away.

"Fool, you will get out of my way, or I will kill this one."

"Touch him, and you die."

"You are bluffing. You are a weakling, like the rest of your pathetic organization. You 'treasure' life. Killing is beyond your ability." Virgil squirmed mentally. The Hood's condescending tone grated on the nerves.

"Well, let me just address that. First, I never bluff. Second, while I do indeed treasure life, I don't qualify pond scum as life. And third, my orders are to prevent you from escaping with my friend at all costs. If you want to survive the next few minutes, you're going to have to come up with a plan to keep me from killing you."

"I do not believe you can fire on me without also hitting your agent."

"I agree. Frankly, I would rather not kill him. But if the only other option is to let you get away with him, I'll drop him in a heartbeat."

"If I am to die, I will take him with me."

"Look, I only want my friend back unharmed. Oh, and the weapon you used on him. I'll tell you what. I'll lift up to 2000 feet. You put my friend and the gun on the ground then you take off. I'll have to wait until you're far enough away to keep from returning while I'm on the ground picking up my friend."

"And once you've picked him up, what is to stop you from coming after me?"

"I don't care a rat's ass about you. All I want is to get my friends back to base where the doctors can fix them up. And like you said, International Rescue is not big on cold-blooded murder. So, what do you say?"

"I want your word."

"What?"

"I want your personal guarantee that you will not come after me."

"You've got to be kidding!"

"You give me your word, and lift off. I will put your friend on the ground and leave."

"And the gun. I drop down here and that gun isn't lying right next to my friend, and all bets are off, you understand?"

"This weapon is my only defense against you and all of your bombs and missiles! I will not give it up!"

"Fine." Virgil listened as Gordon hit a switch and the whine of Thunderbird One's forward cannons filled the air as they were brought to bear on Scott and his kidnapper. Virgil prayed that Gordon would not be forced to fire.

"Wait! Very well, I'll leave the weapon."

"That's very sensible of you. Lifting off now."

"Wait! Your word! I want your word!"

"You have it. As long as my friend isn't harmed and the gun is next to him, I will not come after you."

"You and I will meet again someday." The menace in the Hood's voice was chilling.

"Yeah, we can have a latte together. Can I lift off now?" Gordon didn't wait for a reply to his sarcasm, but instead lifted up with a roar of rocket motors.

Chapter Fourteen: Success

"Gee, that went better than I expected." Virgil Tracy marveled at his younger brother's mild tone. Moments before, Gordon had faced down the Hood with a voice so cold and ruthless that Virgil believed he could have actually fired on his own brother. Now it was as if a switch had been thrown, and the Gordon that Virgil knew so well was back.

"You did very well, son. Is the Hood leaving?"

"Not yet. I guess he's going to wait until I hit the full two thousand feet. There. I'm at station keeping... And there he goes! My God, it actually worked!"

"Gordon, I want you to wait until he is too far away to double back. I don't need to tell you he gave in too easily. He's not the type to walk away when he's thwarted. He's planning something."

"Oh, I know exactly what he has in mind. Dad, is Brains still there?"

"Uh, I'm, uh, right here, Gordon."

"Brains, what's the drill on Virgil and Scott? Are they going to need any special treatment to recover from this?"

"Uh, well, as long as Scott is not injured in any way, no, they won't need special treatment. They uh, just need to sleep it off."

"What did you have in mind, son?"

"Father, I knew the Hood wouldn't give up unless he thought there was something to his advantage. That's why I told him I just wanted to get back to base. I reckoned if he thought Thunderbird Two was going to be left unguarded he'd toss Scott aside in view of the bigger prize."

"Way to go, Gordy!"

"Quiet, Alan. All right, son, so you think he'll head for Thunderbird Two as soon as you're out of sight?"

"Yes, sir. And as long as Virgil and Scott only need to sleep this thing off, there's no reason why they can't do it in the sickbay on Thunderbird Two."

"I don't like it. The Hood is a vicious crook, but he's not stupid. I don't like the idea of you being out there alone against him."

"Well, I'm not going to make it easy for him. I've spotted a hover jet in a ravine in the general direction he was headed. I'm going to make sure he can't use it against us. That ATV he's driving can't have much power left. They run on batteries and his has been away from a charger for at least a day, probably more. I figure if I hit the jet, he'll be walking. By the time he could make it to Thunderbird Two, Scott and Virgil should be awake. I think the three of us can handle him."

Alan piped up. "Four of us. I'm coming out there. Tin-Tin can fly me, and I'll parachute in."

"Yes. I think Alan is right. It's time we put paid to the Hood's account. Gordon, pick up Scott and get back to Thunderbird Two. Alan should join you in about two hours."

"Great. Alan, bring us some lunch, would you?"

"You've got it, bro."

"Okay, I'm going in to pick up Scott now. See you soon."

"FAB."

Virgil listened as Thunderbird One dropped to the ground. Despite the lack of any feeling in his body, Virgil knew when the vertical take off rockets needed to be fired a split second before they actually cut in.

"Oh! Ah! Damn it! Oh, uh, sorry Virg. These controls are just so touchy. I hope Scott didn't feel that hard landing." Virgil could hear Gordon releasing his safety harness buckles. "Hang tight, Virgil, I'll be back in a flash."

Virgil heard the sound of the hatch being opened, then silence descended. Determined not to give way to his fears, Virgil started counting his own breaths as his lungs mechanically continued to rise and fall. He had reached ninety-seven when he heard the sound of Gordon's voice approaching.

"Okay, Scott, we're at Thunderbird One. I'm just putting you down on a pallet next to Virgil. I'll be back in just a moment."

Virgil felt immense relief at Gordon's words. He knew Gordon would not leave Scott's side if he were seriously injured. Virgil tried to will Gordon to get Thunderbird One up in the air. He wouldn't feel safe until that happened.

"Thunderbird One to base."

"Go ahead, Gordon."

"Scott's on board, Father. As far as I can tell, he's in the same shape as Virgil. I'll get him settled in then I'm heading out."

"Son, I want you to put Thunderbird One in the air. You can settle your brother at Thunderbird Two. For now, I just want you out of the Hood's reach."

"Okay, Dad. I need to get him strapped in though. I'll be lifting off within the next couple of minutes."

"FAB, Thunderbird One."

Virgil listened as Gordon came over. "Scott? Listen, the weapon you were shot with was developed for riot control. I know it doesn't feel like it, but the effects are only temporary. Brains reckons you'll be up and about within about five more hours. You're going to be all right. For now, we're going to head back to Thunderbird Two and set you and Virgil up in the sickbay. Alan's coming out to help. Once he's arrived we'll get the pod repaired then head for home. You just try to relax, okay?"

Gordon apparently finished strapping Scott in, because Virgil next heard his voice coming from high above in the pilot's seat. "Okay, fellas, we're going to take off now. Oh, I have a little errand I need to run then we'll get back to Thunderbird Two. Thunderbird One to base. Am lifting off now. I'm going to take care of that hover jet."

"All right, Gordon. Be careful."

"FAB, Father... Uh, Dad? I've spotted the Hood. He's making a beeline for that hover jet."

"Will he get there before you, son?"

"Uh, no sir. He's a good ten miles out. I'll be there in less than a minute."

"All right Gordon. You know what to do."

"Yes sir. Uh, Dad? You know, I could eliminate a lot of our problems here."

"What do you mean, son?" Virgil could tell by his father's tone that he knew exactly what Gordon meant.

"One missile and the Hood never bothers us again."

"You gave your word, Gordon."

"I said I wouldn't come after him if he didn't hurt Scott. Well, paralyzing him is hurting him in my book." Gordon's voice had again taken on a deadly tone.

"Son, you also said International Rescue wasn't big on cold-blooded murder, and that's what this would be. Let him go, Gordon."

"Father..."

"As soon as you boys are headed home, we'll contact the local authorities. He's not going anywhere. Leave him be."

"Yes sir."

Virgil hated this situation. He knew he would cheer if the Hood were to drop off the face of the earth. But he also knew his father was right. It would be cold-blooded murder. He didn't want his easy-going younger brother to bear that stain.

"Gordon?"

"John? You've been listening in?"

"From the beginning. I want you to do me a favor."

"Sure. What do you need?"

"I want you to paint that bastard for me."

"Paint... Oh! Excellent idea! Dad, did you copy that?"

"Yes, I did, and I agree. John, good thinking. Gordon, you have an okay to go ahead and paint the Hood."

Virgil would have smiled if he could have. Brains' fertile mind had only very recently come up with a transparent paint that carried minute traces of enhanced iridium. A series of small but powerful satellites allowed John in Thunderbird Five to track within a half a yard anything that was had even a few molecules of the enhanced iridium. The original idea was to paint each of International Rescue's vehicles, but it would work fine here too. Once applied, the paint could not be washed off, and John could track the painted item for up to three months.

"FAB, Father. Uh, is Brains still there?"

"Right here, uh, uh, Gordon."

"Great. Brains, where did you install it? What's the protocol?"

"It's connected to the Dicetylene system, Gordon. Y-y-you have a toggle on the lower left quadrant of the control panel. It's marked P-one. Use the uh, heads up display to aim, fire with the fire controls on the collective."

"Okay, great. Say, what's this big red button next to it?"

"D-d-don't touch that! That's the landing gear jettison!"

"Oops."

Virgil listened with a sense of release. If Gordon was relaxed enough to kid Brains, then things had to be under control. At least, Virgil hoped Gordon was kidding.

"Oh, v-v-very funny, Gordon."

Gordon chuckled in response. "I thought so. Okay, I am ready to deploy the paint. Head's up display locked. P-one toggle to on position. I have acquired the target. Firing now. Hah! Got 'im! Geez, Brains, this thing packs a wallop. It hit him like a ton of bricks. He went flying. Oh, now he's shaking his fist at me. Sucker!"

Virgil shared Gordon's glee. He only wished he could have seen the look on the Hood's face.

"How about it John? Can you read it? If not, I'm willing to do it again. And again. Heck, I'll do it as many times as you want."

"As much as I hate to spoil your fun, Gordon, I have to tell you I'm getting a good solid track on him."

"You're sure? It's no trouble to hit him again."

"Gordon, has it occurred to you that the longer you take blowing up that jet, the more likely either Scott or Virgil will wake up and want to blow it up themselves?"

"Whoa! Good thought, John. I'm heading over to the jet now."

"That's a good little terrorist. Make sure you don't blow yourself up in the process."

"Okay, so just to be sure I understand, I'm supposed to blow up the jet, but not myself. Jet, not me. Jet, not me. Okay, John, I think I've got it."

"All right, boys, that's enough."

John and Gordon replied in unison, "Yes, Father."

Chapter Fifteen: Revenge Is Sweet

"Sorry guys. As much as I would love to share this with you, I'm just going to have to blow this jet up by myself." After a pause, Gordon's voice continued. "Oh, Scott, I've used a couple of the missiles already, and I figure it's going to take the rest of them to be sure of the jet. I'll help you with the reload when we get to base, okay?"

Virgil wasn't sure if his younger brother was kidding or not. Thunderbird One carried ten of the MX4 missiles, each one powerful enough to bring down a mountainside. The eight remaining missiles were enough to destroy several jets.

"Okay, there it is. It's in a ravine with high narrow walls. The Hood's a better pilot than I thought. There can't be more that a foot of clearance on either side of that thing. Okay, I'm targeting the jet now."

"Gordon, make sure you are well out of the way. There's no telling what kind of munitions the Hood has on that jet."

"Yes, I know, Father. I am firing from 2500 feet in the air, and I'm at least half a mile away. Firing now."

Virgil heard the missiles roar as they left the launcher. He counted to three before he heard the explosion as the missiles hit their target.

"Wow."

"Gordon? What's happening, son?"

"Uh, you were right about the munitions, Father. I've got a fireball that's at least 200 feet high. And there go some secondary explosions. I guess I'm not going to need any extra missiles. I doubt there are any pieces bigger than a dinner plate down there. I'm heading for Thunderbird Two now."

"All right, son. Keep me informed of any developments."

"FAB, Dad."

Chapter Sixteen: Hiss Of The Serpent

The Hood watched the departure of Thunderbird One as his heart burned with fury. The red haired devil had given his word, his WORD, and had dared to go back on it. He had been forced to remove his clothes which were covered in a sticky, smelly goo. Fearing poison, the Hood had been very careful not to allow any of the goo to touch his skin. As much as he detested the smell, he had carefully bundled the offending garments into the tiny storage compartment under the seat of his ATV.

The obvious attempt at murder infuriated the Hood, but not beyond the point of common sense. He intended to have the goo analyzed, and synthesized. If it was a poison as he suspected, he intended to use all of his resources to capture that red haired son of a pig and use it on him.

The Hood headed for his hover jet. His only satisfaction was that the IR bastard had slipped up and admitted he intended to head directly for his base. The Hood pondered the comment about having the doctors fix the injured men up. There had been some discussion among his lieutenants that International Rescue was actually a very small organization of no more than fifteen to twenty men. Most denied the possibility, citing the number and variety of machines that International Rescue was known to have used in various rescues. It was believed that a very large organization would be required to develop and maintain the many diverse machines.

The Hood had only his own experience to draw upon. In every contact he had with International Rescue, he came across the same men. The dark-haired whoreson was always involved, and also the chestnut-haired one. The redheaded dog was sometimes seen as was a young blond. One time he had been fortunate enough to capture one of their scientists for a far too short time. Other than that, the only other agent of International Rescue that he knew of was his own accursed brother.

Based on his own experience, the Hood believed that International Rescue was most likely a small operation, but the offhand comment about having more than one doctor at their disposal cast that belief in doubt. He would find out eventually. And when he did, they would pay. All of them would pay.

His ATV suddenly faltered. The drop in power lasted only a moment, but the Hood felt a sudden concern. The vehicle was not intended for such long-range work, and if the batteries died, he would be left with a long hike to his jet. Because there was nothing else he could do, the Hood ignored the issue and continued on.

The ATV showed no additional signs of distress and the Hood began to believe he would be spared a long walk. Then disaster struck again. In the distance a fireball bloomed. He shut the ATV down in time to hear several faint booms. The Hood threw back his head and howled his rage to the sky. He had underestimated International Rescue for the last time. The Hood vowed revenge. No IR agent would be safe in his presence. All would die horrible deaths.

Chapter Seventeen: Improvements

With a loud boom, Thunderbird One set down. "Damn it! I did it again! Hey, Scott, I think I need more practice on Thunderbird One. I'm okay in the air, but my landings could use some improvement. Okay, fellas, I'm going to go over to Thunderbird Two to get the anti-grav stretcher. I'll be back in a minute."

Virgil wondered how his older brother was taking all of this. As hard as this enforced helplessness was for Virgil, it had to be ten times worse for Scott. His brother was used to being in charge. And Virgil knew that hearing his beloved Thunderbird One hit the ground so hard had to be driving Scott crazy.

"International Rescue to Th-th- thunderbird One. Come in, uh, Gordon."

Virgil tried not to worry. Gordon had told Brains to contact him if any new information came to light. That Brains had initiated the contact definitely implied that he had learned something. He could only hope it was good news.

"Uh, International Rescue to Thunderbird One. Uh, are you th-th-there, uh, Gordon?"

Virgil could hear his younger brother's running steps as he bounded into the cockpit. "Yeah, Brains, I'm here!"

"Uh, yeah. Uh, Gordon, I've been talking to the team that developed the PRC-2 and..."

Gordon interrupted "PRC-2? What's that?"

"Oh, uh, it's the weapon that was used on Scott and V-V-Virgil. As I was saying, I've spoken to the people who built that weapon and uh, I have some g-g-good news."

"Great! I could use some good news, Brains."

"Uh, yes. It seems the six-hour time frame is the outside, uh, limit. Men as fit as Scott and V-V-Virgil generally start to g-get feeling back within, uh, a few hours. What you should see is a twitching of the extremities, followed by the uh, gradual diminishing of the uh, numbness."

"Hey! Brains, you're right! Scott just twitched his fingers at me! This is good news, thanks, Brains."

"Uh, you're welcome. If Scott is able to move his fingers, he should be able to talk within about thirty minutes. He should recover the ability to blink sh-sh-shortly after that and you can uncover his eyes."

Virgil tried desperately to move, but it was no good. His entire body was still numb. He knew that Scott had been shot some time before, but that didn't stop the fear that something would go wrong, and he wouldn't recover.

"Hey Brains, I want to talk to you in private for a moment, okay? Let me just get out of the cockpit, it'll only take a second. Fellas, I'll be right back."

Virgil's heart would have sunk through the floor if he had any control over it. Rationally, he knew he had to be patient, but emotionally he was a wreck. He couldn't help the thought that Gordon suspected something was wrong. Had he gone to consult with Brains on how to tell him he was permanently paralyzed? Surely not, but how else to explain the sudden secret conference? Virgil tried to re-connect with his body, but it was hopeless, he just had no feeling at all.

"Okay, I know you were wondering what that was about. I asked Brains if there were any cases where the patients didn't recover. I didn't want you guys to worry about it if the answer was yes, but Brains assured me... Well, let me just have him tell you. Thunderbird One to Brains."

"Uh, standing by, Gordon."

"Okay, Brains, I'm back in the cockpit. Would you please tell Scott and Virgil what you told me?"

"Uh, yes. Well, fellas, as I told Gordon, other than the one death from choking, and the pneumonia, wh-wh-which was uh, successfully resolved, all other test subjects made a full recovery. The weapon is uh, quite ingenious, actually. It targets the voluntary muscle groups almost exclusively. The next generation, uh, uh, PRC-3 even resolves th-th-the issue with the eyes. In spite of knowing there was no danger, more than half of the test subjects reported a sense that they would not recover. So uh, Scott and Virgil, if you are worried about it, please rest uh, assured that recovery will happen."

"Alan Tracy to Thunderbird One."

"Thanks, Brains. Go ahead, Alan."

"Our ETA is about two minutes. You should be able to hear us pretty soon."

"Great. Hey, did you bring some lunch?"

"Did I ever! Wait until you see what Grandma sent!"

"What is it?"

"You'll see soon enough. We have a visual on your position, I'm getting ready to jump."

"Okay, I'll see you soon."

"FAB."

"Hey, guys, I'm going to go out and make sure Alan doesn't kill himself. I'll be back in just a minute."

Virgil heaved a mental sigh. Brains had done much to relieve his fears, but now Virgil found he had no patience for waiting. He just wanted this all to go away. He wished his eyes were open so that he could see if Scott were making any progress. He listened for any sign that Gordon was returning. The delay seemed to last forever, but finally he heard footsteps, and the muttering of voices.

"Wow. What did I do to deserve chocolate decadence cake?"

"Are you kidding? You're the hero of the day. You could probably finagle this into Beef Wellington for a week if you half tried."

"You think so? Cool! Hey guys, Grandma sent a chocolate decadence cake! What else is there?"

"Roast beef sandwiches and German potato salad. And some of that green Jello stuff."

"With the pineapple and little marshmallows? God, I'm in heaven!"

"Well, let's go eat."

"No, we better wait for Scott and Virgil. They're probably going to be hungry when they wake up."

"Gordon, that's not going to be for hours yet! I'm hungry now."

"No, Brains got some more information and said they will be up within an hour or so. Here, watch this. Scott, wiggle you fingers."

A silence fell for several moments.

"Oh yeah, I think we'll be waiting on that lunch."

"Amazing. Even with only one finger working, he manages to boss us around."

Virgil didn't need sight to know that Scott had just flipped his brothers off. It gave him a warm feeling. Warm? Virgil tried to concentrate on that feeling of warmth. It seemed to center... right... there. In his hand. He experimented carefully. Yes! He was definitely moving his hand!

"Hey, Virg! You're moving! Good job!"

Virgil concentrated on moving his hand to a particular position. There.

"Well, if that's the way you guys are gonna be, Gordon and I will leave."

Virgil felt a momentary panic. Being able to move his fingers was a far way from the paralysis of the last few hours, but he still was relying on Gordon's voice to keep him from surely falling into insanity.

Gordon's response was quiet, but warmed Virgil's soul. "No. We won't leave until you guys are both up and about."

"What? Gordon, what about the clamps? We need to go work on them, or we'll never get home."

"Yeah, I know. I'll tell you what. You go start on the clamps. We finished the front of the pod, so you can head straight to the back. As soon as Scott and Virgil are able to move, I'll come help you."

"It'll go a lot quicker with two. It's not like they're going to swallow their tongues or anything. We can leave them alone. I know, I'll cobble up an alert button for Scott to push if they need us."

"No. Alan, you don't understand. Remember when I had that sensory deprivation training to qualify as a WASP?"

"Yeah. You said you hated it. You said you almost washed out because of it."

"Yes. It was just about the toughest thing I ever had to go through. I thought I was going to lose my mind. I remember straining to hear any sound. Any sound at all. It felt like I was drowning in the silence. When I finally heard the instructor's voice, it was like someone had thrown me a life preserver. That's what Scott and Virgil are going through right now. I'm not going to let them face that silence. That's all there is to it. You can go work on the clamps, but I'm staying here."

Virgil had wondered how it was that Gordon knew to keep talking. Now he understood, but it disturbed him that Gordon had never told him about that training. He couldn't help but wonder what else Alan knew the he did not.

"You're right, I didn't understand. Okay, then, I'll be out at the pod. If you get tired of talking, just give me a holler."

"Wait a second, Alan. Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Five, come in, John."

"This is Thunderbird Five, go ahead, Gordon."

"John, Alan just got here and he's going to go out to work on the pod. Can you confirm the Hood's position?"

"Yes. He's about fifteen miles to the west of your position. He hasn't moved in the last thirty minutes."

"FAB. Oh, and John, Scott and Virgil have both started moving. It looks like they'll be up and about within the next hour or so."

"That's great news. Thanks, Squirt."

"Anytime. I'll have Scott call you as soon as he is up."

"FAB."

Chapter Eighteen: The Hooded Snake Spits

The Hood looked at the smoldering crater that had once been his hover jet. His anger had become cold, deadly. No one took things from him and survived. The jet had been his personal possession and he had taken great pride in its accoutrements and hidden weapons. Its compartments had also carried a sizeable portion of his wealth in the form of currency from a hundred different countries.

He had been left with little but his own natural cunning, but he had survived on that before. The ATV had given out sometime ago and he had simply abandoned it. Now he turned his back on the charred remains of his hover jet, and set his sight on the horizon. Out there lay the unguarded Thunderbird Two. He would travel all through the night if necessary, but at the end, the secrets of International Rescue would be his, and woe to anyone who tried to stop him.

Chapter Nineteen: A Whisper

Virgil's ears perked up at a strange whispery sound. He had been concentrating on getting more than his hands and wrists to function properly. It was frustratingly slow. In the last twenty minutes he had managed to get both hands to move clumsily and now his feet were getting that warm feeling. The whispery sound came again, and he realized it was his brother Scott.

"Gordon...."

"Hey, Scott, was that you?"

"Yeah... Get these bandages off my eyes, would you?"

"You're blinking already?"

"Just get them off. Now."

Scott's voice had grown in strength, and the last had been said with his normal natural authority. Virgil felt a sense of relief. If Scott was okay, then he would be too.

"Uh, Brains said you wouldn't start blinking until after you could talk. I know this is hard, Scott, but I think we should wait a bit."

"Listen to me. I can't stand not seeing what's going on. I need you to take these damn bandages off me now."

"All right. Hang on a minute." Virgil listened as his brother flipped the switch to the loudspeaker system. "Alan, come on in, Scott's talking."

A few seconds later, Gordon's voice was again nearby. "Okay, Scott. Do you have enough feeling to sit up?"

"No. I can't feel much except my hands and feet and maybe my left elbow."

"All right, then, we'll just do it with you lying there. Okay, the bandage is off. Can you open your eyes?"

"Uh, no. Apparently not. Help me out here, Gordy."

"Nothing doing. Your eyes stay closed until you can open them on your own. Virg, I'm going to take off your bandage too. That way it's up to you when to open them."

Virgil sensed a lessening of the overwhelming darkness. "Thanks, Gordon." It had come out before he had even thought about it. Whisper thin and scratchy, but it was his voice.

He could hear the relief in Gordon's voice as he said, "No problem."

"Hey, they can see?"

"Not yet, but it's only a matter of time now."

"Well, how much can they move?"

"Alan, we are right here, you know." It came out sharper than Virgil intended.

"Hey! You are talking! How are you doing? Are you okay? Scott, what about you?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. How are you doing on the clamps?"

"They're coming along. I could use some help, though."

"Okay. Gordon, you go out and help him. Virgil and I can keep ourselves entertained."

"Are you sure? What if you need something?"

"Call up John. I need to talk to him anyway. He can let you know if we get into trouble."

Virgil had his doubts about this plan and from the tone of his voice, so did Gordon. "I'm not sure this is such a good idea, Scott."

"Listen, I want to get away from here as quickly as possible. Remember, the Hood is still out there. The sooner we are gone, the sooner we can let the authorities know where he is. So get moving, would you?"

"Okay, if you say so. Let me just get John online. Or maybe Dad would be better?"

"No. I want John. He's the one tracking the Hood after all."

"Oh. Okay. Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Five."

"Thunderbird Five. Go ahead, Gordon."

"John, I have someone here who wants to talk to you."

"John?"

"Scott? Oh, thank God! I thought we'd lost you there for a while."

"No. Gordon's taken real good care of us."

"Kind of amazing, isn't it?"

"Virgil? You guys have no idea how good it is to hear your voices."

"Actually, I do. I'm pretty pleased to find I can talk again."

"Me too. Listen, John, we need you to baby-sit us so Hero boy here can go work on the pod with Alan."

"Scott, you've got to watch that kind of talk. Gordon's head is big enough without you calling him a hero."

"Jealousy. It's all just jealousy."

"Run along and fix the pod, Squirt."

"I get no respect. Hey, you guys will call if you need anything, right?"

"Yes, now get out of here."

"Come on, Alan. I can tell when we're not wanted." Virgil listened as the two youngest Tracys went off chuckling.

Chapter Twenty: Movement And Decisions

The peculiar feeling of warmth reached Virgil's eyes and as suddenly as that he was able to open them. He focussed on his older brother's face less than three feet away. Scott's eyes were open and a smile played around his lips. "Well, hello."

"Hello yourself. How are you? I mean, how are you really?"

Scott seemed to ignore the question, instead calling out, "John? Do you still have a good track on the Hood?"

"Yes, Scott. He's hunkered down about fifteen miles west of your position. He hasn't moved for a while. I think he must be resting. He's probably waiting to make his move after the sun sets."

"All right. I want you to sing out if he moves as much as an inch. Got it?"

"Got it, Scott. Even if he does move, it will take him some time to get to your position."

"I don't intend to wait."

Virgil felt his stomach twist, further sign of his continuing recovery. "What are you talking about, Scott?"

"As soon as I can move, I'm going after that son of a bitch."

"What? No way!"

"Scott, Father would never approve of that!"

"That's why we aren't going to tell him."

Scott's statement fell onto stunned silence. Virgil felt very uneasy. This wasn't a game. "Scott..."

"Virgil, you weren't there. That man is a menace. I'm not going to risk my family by letting that monster run loose."

"Okay, fine. But I'm going with you."

"No you're not. I need you to stay here and protect Gordon and Alan. I'm going after him alone."

Scott suddenly sat up. Virgil determinedly mirrored his brother's action. "Not going to happen, Scott."

The two brothers glared at each other for a moment before Scott acceded with a small shrug. "All right. I pretty much figured you'd feel that way. We'll go together. John, you're going to guide us in."

There was a long silence. Scott and Virgil looked knowingly at each other. It was harder to gang up on their middle brother when he was floating a couple of miles above their heads, but it still could be done.

"John?"

"I think we should tell Dad, Scott."

"No."

"Okay, then Gordon and Alan."

"No."

"Hey, look, you guys are asking me to help you go murder a man. And don't try and tell me it's anything but murder, because it's not."

"Okay John."

Again there was a stunned silence. Virgil looked over to Scott who smiled a small smile and winked.

"What do you mean, 'okay John'?"

"I mean, okay. I understand what you are saying, so I am not asking for your help."

"So, you're going to stay and work on the pod?"

"I didn't say that. Don't worry about it, Johnny. Everything's going to be fine. Say, Virg, are your feet still numb? Mine feel like boards at the ends of my legs."

Virgil grinned. If there was anything John hated it was being left out of the loop. "No, my feet are fine. My butt is still numb, and I couldn't tell you if I needed to go to the bathroom, but my feet are just swell."

"Hmmm. Well, we need to wait then. There's nothing I hate more then getting started on a trip and having to pull over for a pit stop."

Scott moved over to the weapons locker and keyed it open with his palm print. "I think we need to take handguns and rifles. What do you think?"

"Yeah. Oh, and maybe a few grenades."

"Grenades? What do you guys need grenades for? It's only one guy!"

"Uh, John, we're going to shut down communications now. Take it easy, bro."

"You throw that switch and I call Dad."

Scott sighed. "John, I'm going after him. That's all there is to it. You feel you have to call Dad, you go right ahead. I'm still going to go after the Hood. All calling Dad is going to do is get everyone upset, but it's up to you."

"Don't try to lay a guilt trip on me, Scott. This is wrong, and you know it."

"This man hates us, John. I don't know why, but he hates us. And he has the power and money to do something about it. He's evil, Johnny, he's just plain evil, and I can't just walk away and risk him getting away to carry out the threats he made."

Virgil realized just being helpless in the Hood's grasp was not all that his brother had endured. He reached out and put a comforting hand on Scott's shoulder. "We'll take care of him, Scott. Don't you worry, we'll take care of him."

His brother looked over at him with gratitude and embarrassment. Scott was more used to be the comforter than the comforted, but Virgil was more than willing to provide what solace he could.

Apparently Scott had gotten through to John too, because after a short silence he responded quietly. "Scott, the Hood is at co-ordinates JSW 90.3 by JSN 143.78. I'll let you know if he moves."

"Thanks, John." Scott's reply was even quieter. Virgil and Scott both knew their brother dealt daily with an inner conflict. He loved his job in outer space. As an astronomer, the orbit of Thunderbird Five was an ideal place for his observations of the universe. But he despised the fact that he stayed in relative safety while his brothers daily risked their lives in all manner of horrendous conditions.

None of John's brothers thought any less of him for his being out of danger's way. In fact, Virgil held that fact as a talisman when things were at their worst and imminent death was staring them in the face. At least John was safe. Whether or not John really believed him when Virgil tried once to explain it to him counted less than the fact that contentious or not, when his brothers needed him, John stood with them as he did now.

The moment passed and Scott said, "I think we're going to need the hover bikes."

"That, and some lunch. Where do you suppose that cake is?"

"Hey, it's one thing to sneak off without them, but quite another to filch their dinner. You two steal that cake and I'll squeal so fast you won't know what hit you."

"Dinner? What time is it, anyway?"

Virgil checked his chronometer surprised to find it was already after four in the afternoon. Time had seemed endless while he was paralyzed, but still, it was odd to find how the day had sped by.

"Okay, we're just going to grab a couple of sandwiches and then get the hover bikes. There's the box. Do any of them have tomatoes?"

Scott's stomach replied to Virgil's question with a loud gurgle. Scott and Virgil chuckled as they pawed through the stack of neatly wrapped sandwiches. Finding the ones they wanted, they closed the box, but not before stealing a longing glance at the cake.

"Let's go."

"You know, Gordon and Alan are going to be pretty unhappy when they find us gone."

"Look, Virg, I know this is a lousy stunt to pull, but I can't get the thought that the Hood would kill Gordon on sight out of my head."

"With what? He doesn't have a weapon, remember? And we have the advantage. We know where he is, and he doesn't know where we are."

"I know all of that. It's just...."

Virgil willed his brother to go on. He knew Scott needed to talk about what happened. If he didn't it would burn his soul like acid. When Scott didn't continue, Virgil prompted him. "It's just what, Scott?"

Shaking his head, Scott tried to explain. "I've always detested the guy. We all have. He represents everything we fight against. But I never really understood what he was about, you know? The man's mind is like a sewer. I've never truly hated a person in my life, but Virgil, I hate this man. I hate him because I know he is relentless. He won't stop until he has what he wants, and I think... I fear... what he wants right now is Gordon's head on a platter. And, Virgil, I do mean that literally."

Scott spoke as they walked to Thunderbird Two where the hover bikes were stored. Virgil silently helped Scott as they broke out two of the bikes. In unison, they lugged the bikes toward the nearest ridge. Once they had a ridge between themselves and their unsuspecting brothers, they started up the quiet machines and headed west.

Only when they were underway did Virgil reply to his brother. "Nothing's going to happen to Gordon. We won't let it."

Chapter Twenty-one: An Unpleasant Surprise

The trip across the outback went smoothly. The little hover bikes had a top speed of almost fifty miles an hour, but because of their terrain hugging characteristics, and the rough nature of the land, it still took almost an hour to reach the area where the Hood was holed up.

Virgil and Scott belly-crawled up the last small ridge between themselves and their quarry. When they reached the ridgeline, Scott cautiously lifted his head. After a moment he stood straight up. Virgil followed suit. He had his doubts about this. A whispered conference with John confirmed that the Hood had not moved for at least a couple of hours. Despite everything Scott had said, Virgil didn't believe his brother could actually shoot an unarmed, sleeping man.

Virgil's frown matched Scott's as he took in the view ahead. A small gully hardly worthy of the name sat directly in their path. In the center of the gully sat an all terrain vehicle. There were no boulders, no holes. There was no place for the Hood to hide. With his gun at the ready, Scott advanced. Virgil's frown deepened. He knew the Hood was capable of some amazing tricks, but surely disappearing into thin air was beyond even him.

He stepped far to the side as he was trained to do, and followed Scott's lead. Virgil saw that Scott was kicking at the ground before setting his weight down. The action confused Virgil until he realized Scott thought the Hood had buried himself in the earth, waiting to grab an unwary ankle. Looking around, Virgil thought it unlikely. The ground in the area was hard clay, and even if the Hood had found some way to scrap out a man-sized trench, there was no way he could have covered himself up without there being some sign.

Virgil and Scott met at the ATV, staring around, but eventually lowering their guns. Virgil's bemused gaze settled on the ATV. Scott brought up his wrist and called. "Scott to Thunderbird Five. John, where is he?"

Virgil's stomach sunk like a stone at John's confused reply. "Scott, you're standing right next to him."

With a feeling of doom, Virgil reached down and opened the ATV's storage compartment. "Oh, my God."

Stuffed into the small space was the overall the Hood had been wearing.

Chapter Twenty-two: The Race Is On

Scott and Virgil stared at each other for a moment, then in a panic they both ran for their hover bikes, Scott frantically calling, "John, he's not here! The paint didn't work! Relay me to Gordon, now!"

John's voice was tense as he said, "Relaying now."

"Scott? What's up?"

"Gordon, I want you to get Alan and get Thunderbird One in the air now!"

"What?"

"Gordon, listen to me. The painting didn't work. John is not tracking the Hood. Now do what I tell you. Get Thunderbird One in the air."

Gordon's confusion was plain. "What are you talking about? What makes you think it didn't work? Hey, where are you guys anyhow?"

Virgil had a sense that time was running out. "We went out to check on the Hood's position. He's not where the tracking sensors say he is. All we found were the overalls he was wearing. He's running around loose, Gordon, and you said yourself he'd head for Thunderbird Two. Scott and I are on our way, but we want you and Alan to get out of there."

It was Alan who replied. "Let him come. Gordon and I will settle his hash for him."

"NO! Alan, I want you two out of there, and I mean now." Both Scott and Virgil had pushed the little bikes up to their maximum speed, leaning into the wind blowing in their faces.

There was no reply to Scott's demand. Virgil knew Gordon was the more level- headed of the two, and he addressed his plea to him. "Gordon, you guys need to go. Get over to Thunderbird One, and take off. We need you to come pick us up and then we'll all deal with the Hood. Okay?"

After a long silence, Gordon replied. "We're just going to take a look around. Get Thunderbird Two sealed up, then we'll come and get you."

The chill note in Gordon's voice told Virgil that the younger man was not happy with his older brothers. Virgil didn't give a damn. As long as they were safe, they could be as angry as they wanted.

Scott looked as if he were going to order Gordon to just get out of there, but he apparently changed his mind, instead saying reluctantly, "All right, but be careful."

"Yeah. I'll be just as careful and sensible as you two." Virgil grimaced at the tone. "We've cleared the area around the pod, heading over to Thunderbird Two now."

Like Scott, Virgil leaned forward on his bike, willing more speed from it. Gordon's voice showed his concentration. Virgil silently thanked the heavens that despite their annoyance, both of his younger brothers were well trained. They might not like it, but when Scott made it an order, they both obeyed.

"Well, it looks like everything's clear. I'm going to button up Thunderbird Two, and Alan is going to go get Thunderbird One pre-flighted."

"No! Gordon, I want you two to stick together."

"Scott, either you want us out in a hurry or you don't. I don't need Alan to hold my damn hand."

"Just do as I say." Scott's tone was like ice.

"Understood. Hey, Alan, come on back, Scott wants us to stick... Alan! Look out!!!"

Virgil's heart climbed up into his throat. Through the tiny wrist communicators came the incoherent sounds of a fight.

Chapter Twenty-three: Snakebite

The Hood's anger drove him as surely as the Australian sun beat down from the sky. He had always prided himself on his strength. Now as he approached the final ridge before claiming his prize, he realized his pride, like his obsession with International Rescue, could be his downfall. The ability to snap a neck with a single blow had not translated into stamina for a long distance run.

The Hood had forced himself to jog through the heat of the day. He knew that even flying the injured men back to International Rescue's secret base would not insure that he would reach Thunderbird Two before the redheaded demon returned, and probably with reinforcements. The Hood intended to get there first and arrange things to his satisfaction before that could happen.

Now, with his goal within tantalizing reach, the Hood felt the tremors of weakness coursing through his body. The heat of the day on his largely unprotected body had sapped his mighty strength. He found the parching of his mouth and throat an annoying distraction. Still, his mind was sharp. He flopped down to crawl to the top of the last ridge.

Fury gripped him when he took in the sight of Thunderbird One resting next to her sister ship. Despite his best effort, the dogs of International Rescue had beaten him here. He slammed his fist against the hard ground. His anger abated suddenly when, from the rear of the thrice-accursed pod, came the red-haired cause of his current condition. Watching as the agent went to Thunderbird Two, he smiled a sinister smile. The Hood would have his chance for revenge.

All too soon, the young man returned carrying a toolbox and made his way back to the rear of the pod. The Hood watched intently for any sign of return then made his way over to the great cargo ship. At the hatch he listened carefully for any sign of life. Hearing none, he entered into the cargo bay.

His first priority was to arm himself. He hefted a heavy wrench. It would have to do until he located the arms locker. In a locker, he found a set of overalls. They were a tight fit, but better than running around half -naked. Spying a small living area with a cook stove, the Hood rummaged around until he found the surplus MREs that constituted Thunderbird Two's emergency rations. Ripping several of the packages apart, he gulped down peaches and pears tossing the rest of the packages aside.

He was exploring the various compartments of the ship looking for the arms locker when he grew suddenly still at the approach of voices. Quickly grabbing up his wrench, he moved silently to the cargo bay. There he overheard a conversation that gave him all of the information he needed to act. The redhead was here alone with the blond boy. Their commander was somewhere out of reach. Now all of his pain would be revenged!

The blond, little more than a teenager, passed the hatch where the Hood lay in wait. The Hood intended to kill him with a single blow then he would deal with the red-haired swine. He swung the wrench high, but before he could bring it down, the blond was warned, and with a speed the Hood would not have credited him with, dove to one side, receiving only a glancing blow on the shoulder. The Hood saw that the youngster would not be moving for the time being.

The Hood knew the other would be coming, and he swung around flailing with the wrench to meet the new challenge. Again, the speed of his opponent surprised him as the redhead barreled into him before he could get the wrench into play. The Hood intended to teach his redheaded playmate the error of his ways. With a skill born of a hundred back alley fights, the Hood fell back with his attacker, grabbing a handful of tee shirt in his hand. Pulling the dog in, the Hood's hand snaked to the man's throat, latching there with the ferocity of a born killer.

His victim realized the danger too late. He was strong and wiry, but the Hood had the will. Gradually the young man's struggles weakened, then ceased. The Hood considered letting go, letting the pig draw breath so that he could be strangled again. The Hood had once toyed with a woman that way. He kept her alive for several days before she had stopped being fun. The pressure of his hands lessened as he considered the thought. But then, as penance for his obsession with International Rescue, he decided to put aside his own pleasure and finish the job.

The Hood's hands moved to tighten again, when he heard a cry from behind. "No!"

He swung around to meet the threat from the young blond, and found himself facing his own weapon. Desperately, the Hood threw himself to one side, but instead of the controlled drop and roll he had intended, he fell heavily to the ground. He raged as his entire body went numb.

Chapter Twenty-four: Home

Virgil Tracy hung grimly on to the handlebars of his hover bike. Although he and Scott were within minutes of reaching their base, he knew it would be too late. Whatever was going to happen was out of his hands now. He and Scott had heard the sounds of a fight starting then the communicators had gone dead. As they flew towards the base, Virgil sent a silent prayer of supplication. His younger brothers were both competent fighters, he knew that, but they were still his little brothers, and he couldn't help his need to protect them.

Virgil glanced over at his brother. Scott was white-faced, every line of his body betraying his anger. Virgil hoped that his brother's rage was not so great as to make the man reckless. He could almost have pity on the Hood. If either of his brothers were hurt, Virgil knew that Scott would take it out of the Hood's hide.

The communicator on Virgil's wrist suddenly flared to life. He spared a glance and found himself looking at his father's stern visage. "Scott! Virgil! John's filled me in. How soon will you arrive at Thunderbird Two?"

Virgil looked over at Scott, but his brother was intent on getting every ounce of speed out of his laboring bike. Virgil answered, "Uh, less than two minutes, Father."

"Boys, listen to me. We haven't been able to raise your brothers. I want you two to be extremely careful in your approach."

"Uh, understood, Dad."

"And keep this line open. I need to know what's happening." Virgil heard his father's voice crack with emotion.

Risking another glance at his communicator, Virgil replied, "Don't worry, Dad, we'll take care of it."

As they came close to the camp, Virgil sat up, intending to slow down for a stealthy approach. Scott shot by him. Virgil swore as his brother made no attempt to slow down his excessive speed. Leaning forward again, Virgil pushed to catch up. He couldn't help but think of the targeting computers on board Thunderbird One. If the Hood had gained access there, their rescue attempt would be very short-lived.

As the last ridge disappeared behind him, Virgil beheld a frightening sight. His brother Alan was covered in blood, but far worse, Alan was bending over the prone form of his brother Gordon. Even from a distance, it was obvious Alan was attempting mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

With Scott, Virgil sped into the camp. Virgil ran straight to where Alan was begging his brother to breathe. "Alan? Alan, back off, I've got it now. What happened?"

Virgil leaned down, gently moving Gordon's head to open the airway. He was surprised and relieved to see his brother's chest rising and falling albeit slowly. Scott had done a quick check on the Hood to make sure he wouldn't offer any more surprises, and was now dealing with Alan. "I was, uh, moving past the cargo hatch when Gordon yelled. I ducked, but not enough, and the bastard hit me with a monkey wrench. It knocked me out and when I came to, I saw the Hood was choking Gordon, so I pulled out the gun, and I shot him. Is Gordon going to be all right?"

The question was asked in a little-boy-lost voice that Virgil hadn't heard from Alan for years. "He's breathing, Alan. That's the important thing. You got him breathing."

Virgil caught Scott's eye. "I'm getting the oxygen from Thunderbird Two. What do you need?"

"Bring out the full kit, would you? I think Alan's shoulder is broken."

With a nod, Virgil ran for the sickbay in Thunderbird Two. Raising his wrist as he ran, he called out a report to his father. "Dad, both Gordon and Alan are injured, but the Hood is dead. Alan had to shoot him to save Gordon's life. Alan's shoulder is broken, and Gordon is unconscious, the Hood apparently tried to choke him to death."

"Bring them home, son."

"Just as soon as we have them stabilized. I'll keep in touch." Virgil barely heard his father's response of 'FAB'. He grabbed the supplies they needed and ran back to where his brothers waited.

Tossing the paramedic case to Scott, Virgil gently slid the oxygen mask over Gordon's face. He knew his brother's recovery would depend on how long he had been without oxygen, but he was unwilling at the moment to press Alan for that information. He took some comfort in the fact that Gordon's color had been good when he got there and with the administration of oxygen, the color had even improved. He reached over to where Scott was checking Alan's vitals and pulled a cervical support from the bag, carefully strapping it around Gordon's badly bruised neck.

Having done all that he could for Gordon at the moment, Virgil turned to help Scott immobilize Alan's shoulder. The youngest Tracy was sitting stoically, answering Scott's soft questions. As Virgil moved to Alan's side he said, "Gordon's tough. His breathing is easy and his color is good. You did a good job here, Alan."

"I should have... I shouldn't have... I was too close to that cargo door. If I'd been more cautious, that bastard wouldn't have gotten me."

Scott's response was gentle, "Don't kid yourself. If you had been further away from the door, he would have waited for a different opportunity. You survived, you stopped him. That's what counts."

Alan closed his eyes, grimacing as Scott wrapped his arm and shoulder with Virgil's help. After a moment, he nodded his agreement. "Yeah, I stopped him. I wonder if there's anyway we could make that paralysis permanent."

Virgil was surprised. "Paralysis? You shot him with that riot gun?" Virgil's eyes strayed over to where the Hood lay, noticing that there was no blood.

"Yeah. Gordon was showing it to me when you guys called and I stuffed it in my pocket."

Virgil saw Gordon starting to stir, and moved back to his side. "Just lie still, Gordon. Scott, I'm going to need a backboard over here. Gordon? Can you hear me?"

Gordon's return to consciousness was slow and painful. No sooner had Scott and Virgil gotten him strapped to a backboard than he started coughing, trying to relieve the pain in his throat. Virgil watched the younger man carefully for any sign of blood in the sputum. The Hood had strong hands that could have easily crushed Gordon's fragile larynx.

The younger man was still struggling to consciousness when Scott and Virgil eased him onto the anti-grav stretcher and carried him into Thunderbird Two. Virgil strapped his younger brother down with a safety web, then hurried to help Scott bring Alan aboard.

When both of the injured were safely stowed for travel, Virgil turned to his older brother. Scott stood staring out at where the Hood still lay, unable to move. "What do you want to do about him?"

"What I want is to leave him right there so he can get the full effect of your take off." Virgil cocked an eyebrow at his brother and friend as Scott continued, sighing. "That's what I want more than anything in the world right now."

After a moment Scott seemed to shake himself. "I'll lug him out of the way. You get Gordon and Alan home. We can have Dad contact the WASP authorities. I'll wait here until they can come and pick up that piece of garbage."

Virgil wondered if Scott would resist the temptation to take some revenge on the man. "Scott..."

"It's all right, Virg. I promise I won't touch him. In fact, I won't even talk to him."

Remembering his own feelings when he was paralyzed, Virgil felt a shiver go down his spine. Shaking his head, he replied, "All right, but as soon as I get the boys home, I'm coming back."

Scott finally looked him in the eye. "I'll be fine."

"I don't doubt it, but there's still the pod to finish." Virgil's pragmatism was not lost on his brother.

Scott shifted his focus from the incapacitated Hood to the pod, looming silently across the way. Sighing, he said, "Okay, I'll lug the Hood over to the back of the pod where I can keep an eye on him."

Virgil was torn between helping to carry the loathsome thug, and returning to his injured brothers. Scott caught his brother's indecision and shaking his head said, "Go on, get out of here, before Alan decides to fly home himself."

Nodding, Virgil smiled briefly then headed for his ship. Climbing into the cargo bay, he worked the controls to seal the big ship up and headed for the sickbay. Alan was asleep, the painkiller Scott had given him working it's wonders. Virgil moved quietly to Gordon's side. The light brown eyes were half open.

"Gordon?"

Gordon opened his eyes a fraction wider and half smiled, half grimaced. His voice was a croak as he said, "I'm sorry, Virg."

A bit confused, Virgil nonetheless said, "Don't try to talk, kid. We're lifting off and heading for home. You just take it easy and we'll be home before you know it."

Virgil started to turn away but was stopped when Gordon grabbed his arm. "Alan?"

"Alan's right over there. Looks like a broken shoulder. He'll be fine. And so will you. And so will Scott and I, for that matter. Try to relax, will you? I'm heading for the cockpit. If you need anything... Well, I was going to say just holler, but under the circumstances, I guess you'll just have to try mental telepathy."

Gordon grinned momentarily then closed his eyes. Virgil watched his younger brother for a moment, then turned and watched Alan. Both seemed to be resting comfortably enough with no signs of distress. With a quick nod to himself, Virgil headed to the cockpit. As he mentally ran through his pre- flight, he put in a call to his father. "Thunderbird Two to base."

The response was immediate. "This is International Rescue, go ahead Virgil."

"Father, I'm lifting off now. ETA is 23.5 minutes."

"We'll be ready for you. How are the boys doing?"

"They're both resting at the moment. Gordon is conscious and alert. Scott gave Alan some morphine, so he's not feeling any pain. Oh, and Dad, I was wrong about the Hood. Alan shot him with that paralysis gun. Serves him right as far as I'm concerned."

"Yes, Scott explained that. I've got the base commander at Perth sending a heli-jet to pick him and the gun up."

"Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two, come in Virgil."

"Dad, I've got a call from Scott, I'll talk to you later."

"FAB."

"Go ahead, Scott."

"Virg, come on back. Would you believe those two finished repairing the pod? You can take it home that way you don't have to return."

Virgil shifted uneasily. He didn't like the idea of Scott being left out here all alone. "I don't mind coming back, Scott."

"Virgil, don't be stupid. Now come back here and pick up the pod. The WASP boys will be here in fifteen minutes. By the time you can get the pod, and get back home, I'll probably have beaten you there."

Put in that perspective, Virgil agreed readily, turning Thunderbird Two in a huge arc. With pinpoint control, he eased his ship down, settling over the pod like a mother hen over an egg. From high in his cockpit, Virgil looked over and saw Scott sitting on the extended wing of Thunderbird One. The brothers waved to one another, then with the pod once again firmly in place, Thunderbird Two lifted ponderously into the sky.

Virgil didn't bother with climbing to his usual 100,000 feet. With the short distance to home, he settled for a paltry 50,000 feet, still well above the ceiling of most commercial jets. As he left the area, he was relieved to see a heli-jet with WASP markings streaking for Scott's position. He flipped a switch to turn on the intercom to the sickbay, and smiled to hear the faint sound of Alan snoring.

He was within five minutes of home when his tracker alerted him to the passing of Thunderbird One high overhead. He heaved a sigh of relief at the sight, and another, bigger sigh a few minutes later when Tracy Island came into view. Home had never looked so good. It seemed incredible to him that he had only been away for two days.

The tropical sunset splashed color over the water that reflected off of the white walls of his home. The entire flight, he had been aware of two things. One was a sense of fragility that he had never experienced before with Thunderbird Two. His eye kept stealing to his status board looking for any sign of failure in the newly installed clamps. The second thing was the soft sound of breathing coming from the intercom. The Hood had almost cost him two of his brothers and his own sanity. Virgil reflected that the Hood hadn't succeeded because of the bond he and his brothers shared. As he brought the big ship down, he hoped the Hood rotted in prison understanding that he had lost, that nothing he had tried had succeeded.

Epilogue

In the belly of the huge Mark Eleven Skymaster heli-jet, a snake lay dormant. He had gotten the use of his limbs back some time ago, but he had not moved. The fools had not bound him in anyway, instead putting him in a bunk with nothing but a strap to hold him in. It was a mistake they would pay for with their lives. He would strike soon, and when he had overcome the crew, and stolen the jet, he would plan.

When Thunderbird Two had taken off, the Hood had raged, knowing he was doomed. Yet the killing blow had not come. He had believed the dark-haired International Rescue agent was harder than that. The man had simply come to where he lay helpless and stood over him. For a long time the Hood had felt those eyes upon him. But in the end, the pig had simply turned away. Turned away as if the Hood were not worth the effort.

As one of the heli-jet's crewmen came to check on him, the Hood prepared to spring. International Rescue would learn of his worth. They would learn and despair.

Next: Aftermath >>