Author's Note: It's hard to believe, but I've been writing Thunderbirds stories since the year 2002. Twelve years of the adventures of the Tracy family. And in all that time, Sam Winchester, or Jaimi-Sam as she is now called, has been my editor, mentor, friend. I've recently been writing in another fandom, and it just hasn't been satisfying, and I realized why when I got Sam's edits for this story. Sam is the best editor in the world, and has been, IMHO, since I started. I know there are those who would take issue with that, and all I can say is, the proof is in the pudding. If you have enjoyed my stories over the years, it is in large part because of Sam's insight into the characters, her massive plotting skills, and her eagle eye for misplaced commas (a specialty of mine!) It's only when I try other fandoms that I realize how special Sam is to me, and I just had to let you all know!

Scott Tracy sighed. Sitting at his father's desk in the lounge of their home on Tracy Island, he reflected that he just wasn't cut out for paperwork. He resisted the temptation to scan ahead, to see how many documents he still had to review, knowing that if it were more than one or two, he'd give up in frustration.

No, the only way to complete this job was to just plow straight ahead and not let himself be distracted, no matter how sorely he wanted that distraction. When his father had left two days ago, he'd given his eldest son that look. The one that said he was relying on Scott to get the job done.

It was a look that Scott has always been ambivalent about. On the one hand, he took great pride in the fact that he had never let his father down not even when he was a kid. On the other hand, he dreaded the look, often thinking that one of these days he would fail. And then there would be another look on his father's face. One that Scott felt sure would crush him.

Scott wasn't about to face that look if he could help it. But looking at the tallies of toilet tissue, pens and vacuum bags used at one of the many Tracy Enterprises plants was about as a boring a job as he'd ever had to endure.

He started to think about his brother John. Now, John could do this kind of report without falling asleep. Maybe he'd just delegate it.

With another sigh, Scott shook that thought away. John was currently stationed on Thunderbird Five, and had been conferring via computer with Brains over a vital upgrade to Thunderbird Four's communication system.

No, just keep plowing ahead, he thought to himself again. That was the way to get this job done. With a slight frown of concentration, Scott looked again at his computer screen. Now, why would they need that many external back up drives? The plant in question, building high tech cargo jets, didn't actually have onsite research and development, so why were they ordering twenty hard drives?

Scott started to pull up reports from previous quarters, when his younger brother, Gordon, came striding in from the deck, his laptop held white-fisted in one hand. Scott's eyebrow rose as he took in the tight lips and white face.

"Gordon? What's up?"

Gordon strode past the desk, not breaking stride. "I need to get my gun."

Scott rolled his eyes, wondering what Alan had done this time. He went back to his research, trying to decide whether there was something going on at the plant. A few minutes later, Virgil walked in from the bedroom hallway.

Looking back the way he had come, he asked, "What's up with Gordon? Where's he going with that rifle?"

Scott's head shot up. "What? What rifle?"

Virgil shrugged. "It looked like the SR-25. I think he was headed for the back door." The house's back door led to the wild areas of the island.

Concerned, Scott flipped an unobtrusive switch on the desk. "Gordon, this is Scott."

After a moment, Gordon's voice floated through the air. "Yeah? What's up, Scott?"

"Where are you, and what are you doing?"

"Remember last week when I said something was killing some of my birds?"

Scott nodded to himself. When they had first moved to the island several years earlier, Gordon had been adamant about visiting the illicit bird markets of Singapore and Hong Kong, where he bought up all manner of rare and endangered tropical birds. Once he'd established plantings to support them, he'd released them all, making the island one giant aviary. "Yeah, what about it?"

"Well, I set up a trail camera, and I found out it's rats. Big rats."

"Oh. So, you're... what? Hunting them with a high-powered sniper rifle? Bit of overkill, don't you think?"

"I need to eliminate them before they get established. I think they came in on flotsam from that big storm last month. I need to take them out before they can breed, or we'll never be rid of them."

Listening in, Virgil nodded. "He's right, you know. Once they start breeding, they'll be all over the island."

"I don't disagree. But using a rifle that can drop an elephant at 300 yards isn't a particularly smart way to go about it. Gordon, come back and we'll set out some poison baits."

"No, Scott, the ecology out here is really fragile. I'm not going to poison half of the species just to get a few rats. Think of it as a tactical strike, not carpet bombing."

Scott shook his head. "Using that gun is not a tactical strike, it's downright dangerous. Now, come back here and we'll figure this out, all right?"

After a few moments of silence, Gordon responded in a deadly tone, "I don't miss what I aim at, Scott."

Scott rubbed at his eyes. "I know you don't. But those slugs will rip right through a rat, and you know it. You get an unlucky ricochet, and who knows what you'll hit. Come on back, and we'll set out some traps or something."

Another few moments, then, "Fine."

Crisis averted, Scott sat back and shook his head. Virgil, who detested rats, perched on the edge of the desk and said, "You know, he has the right idea. Maybe we could get a couple of pellet guns, have a rat hunt."

Scott thought about that and nodded. "That might not be a bad idea. We could use it as a training exercise."

"Training exercise? What training exercise?" Alan entered the room, a wary look on his face.

Virgil enlightened him. "Gordon found rats on the island, so we're thinking of getting pellet guns and having ourselves a good old fashioned rat hunt."

Alan crossed his arms, cocking an eyebrow, "Yeah, because we run into so many rat hunts on our rescue calls."

Scott frowned. "I was thinking we could break into teams, do it as a teamwork thing."

"I'm on Gordy's team!" Both Alan and Virgil cried in virtual unison.

Scott shot Virgil a look. "You don't want to be on my team?"

Virgil smiled sweetly. "No, because I want to win."

Scott's eyes narrowed and he spoke very softly. "Alan, you are on my team. We are going to take them down."

With a frozen smile, Alan squeaked out, "Okay."

Virgil just smiled at Scott's deathray look and said, "How about a little action? Say, ten bucks a rat? Losers pay winners?"

"Oh, you're on!" Alan's eyes sparkled. There was nothing he liked better than a competition with a bet involved.

"Let's make it twenty a rat, and the top producer collects one hundred dollars from each of the others," Scott challenged.

Still smiling, Virgil shook his head. "I don't mind the twenty a rat, but you know how Gordon gloats."

"He's got nothing on me, I guarantee it." Scott smirked, his head cocked to the side.

Alan laughed. "Isn't that what you said the last time you decided to swim against him?"

Before Scott could answer, Gordon came striding in, clutching a light jacket. "Scott, I'm going to Auckland. Tell Grandma not to wait dinner on me."

"Hold up there a minute. What do you mean you're going to Auckland? That's a six hour round trip, and it's almost noon already."

"Yeah, so?" Gordon challenged. Several months earlier, their grandmother had put her foot down, demanding that the brothers have regularly scheduled days off. John had worked up a schedule that gave each brother one day off a week, and a three day 'weekend' every four weeks.

The schedule had worked well until Alan had decided to go to the mainland on his day off. Their father had balked at the idea, saying one day was not long enough to actually leave the island. Scott had stepped up and defended his brother's right to use his time off anyway he wanted.

He'd won the argument with his father, but in the intervening months, no one else had left the island on their single day, preferring to spend the time off on personal hobbies, or lazing around the pool.

Hearing the challenge in his brother's voice, Scott almost rose to the bait, but he caught himself, and said instead, "What's in Auckland? I thought you wanted to get rid of those rats."

"Yeah, we're gonna help you. We're gonna have a contest to see who can kill the most rats. Twenty bucks a rat," Alan grinned.

Gordon just stared at his younger brother. After a moment, he shook his head. "No, we'd never get them all. It only takes one pregnant female and there'll be Armageddon out there for some of those birds. No, I'm going over to Auckland to get a professional rat eradication system. I'll be back before midnight."

With no further ado, the redhead left the room, all three of his brothers staring after him.

"A professional rat eradication system?" Virgil frowned. "What the hell is that?"

"That, my dear brother, was a major buzzkill. I was looking forward to that hunt," Alan said, disgruntled.

Scott nodded, but said, "Okay, break's over. Alan, weren't you looking at those design specs for the new probe?"

"Yeah, I was just getting a drink. It looks good. I'll show you later." Alan headed for the kitchen.

Virgil stretched his back. "I'm heading back to the lab. I want to talk to Brains about that deterioration on Two's ventral shaft."

"Okay. I'll see you later."

Virgil lifted a hand in farewell as he left the room. Once again alone, Scott looked back at his computer screen and sighed.

After dinner, Scott came back to the lounge and sat again at his father's desk. Throughout the afternoon, he'd gathered together reports from the cargo jet plant. Over the past year, he'd discovered several instances of what he considered inappropriate requisitions, and now he intended to write up an action report for his father.

Sitting back for a moment to think it over, on a whim he reached out to flip a switch. "Base to Thunderbird Five. Come in, John."

When he didn't get an instantaneous answer, he frowned. "Base to Thunderbird Five. Are you there, John?"

Frowning at additional delay, Scott was ready to call again when John's face finally appeared. "Thunderbird Five. What's up, Scott?"

"Where were you? Why didn't you answer?"

John's face went still and he replied, deadpan, "Do you really want to discuss my bodily functions?"

Scott chuckled. "Uh, no. Sorry."

"Hmmm. So, what's up?"

"Well, I've been going over some inventories from Seattle, and I've got something weird going on. I wanted to get your opinion… Uh, hold on a minute, I've got a call coming in." Scott flipped a different switch. "Base to Tracy One, say again?"

"Scott, I'm thirty minutes out. Can you turn on the runway lights for me?"

"Absolutely. You get what you wanted?"

"Yeah, I sure did. I'll introduce you when I get home. Gordon out."

"Introduce you? What's he talking about? Where's he been?"

"Today was his day off. He found out that some rats got onto the island after that last storm, and he went over to Auckland to get what he called a professional rat eradication system."

"Is it some kind of A.I.? What did he mean introduce?"

"I have no idea. It's Gordon. It could be anything. I'll let you know when I find out. So, I'm going to send you the information I found. Can you look it over for me? It seems suspicious, but I'd like your thoughts on it before I take it up with Dad."

"Okay. When do you want it by?"

"What, you have a hot date tonight?"

"No, but I've tapped into the Harvard Syracuse game. I want to watch it live."

"Twenty bucks says Syracuse wipes the floor with Harvard."

John smiled. "Have you even been following Lacrosse? Harvard is six and one, and Syracuse is two and five."

"Make it fifty bucks."

John rubbed his hands together. "Ah, that new equatorial mount is mine. Thanks, Scott."

"If you're that sure, maybe we should make it a hundred."

John smiled. "Don't need a hundred. Make it seventy-three dollars. The mount costs $72.99. The extra penny is just to make it hurt."

Scott chuckled, "You're on. I'd appreciate it if you could look over this stuff by tomorrow at noon. I have a call with Dad then."

"Sure, no problem. Hey, let me know about this rat system Gordy got, okay?"

"Absolutely. Enjoy your game."

"With that money in the bank, you know I will! John out."

"FAB."

Shutting down the communicator, Scott sat back for a moment to compose his thoughts, then he started writing up his report for his father. He was almost done, when Gordon called in. "Tracy One to base. Scott, I'm on final approach."

"Base to Tracy One. Okay. Listen, we had chili for dinner. Grandma saved some for you."

"Aw, great! I'm starving."

"All right. See you in a bit."

"FAB."

Scott looked at his report, then decided to shut down for the night. As much as he hated to admit it, he was curious about Gordon's rat system. He got up to head for the hangar just as Virgil walked into the room. "Where you going?"

"Gordon's home. I want to go see his rat eradication system."

"Ah, no, that would be his PROFESSIONAL rat eradication system."

Scott chuckled at his brother's wry remark. "I stand corrected. Come on, he said he'd introduce me to it."

"Introduce you? What the hell does that mean?"

"I have no idea, but I figure if I'm there when he taxies in, he won't be able to spring it on me when I least expect it."

"Good idea. Let's go."

The two brothers headed for the elevator that would take them to the family's jet hangar. When the elevator door opened, they saw the little red sport jet had already parked, and as they walked up, the doorway dropped open, and Gordon hopped down the steps.

"Welcome home," Scott called out as he and Virgil crossed the hangar floor.

Gordon, who'd turned back to the doorway of the jet looked up and grinned. "Hey guys, wanna meet Jack?"

Scott and Virgil stopped. Glancing at each other in consternation, Virgil spoke up. "Uh, Jack?"

Still grinning, Gordon reached into the jet and pulled out a brown and white bundle of fur. "Yeah. Jack."

Scott felt his eyebrows climb. His brother was holding a small wiry coated dog. "Gordon… is that a terrier?"

"Yup. A Parson Russell terrier. Just the thing to hunt rats."

"Dad hates terriers," Virgil said in a dead voice.

"Yeah, well, Dad's going to have to get a grip. This is the best kind of dog to track down and kill rats. It's environmentally friendly, and admit it, guys, we've been without a family dog for way too long."

Gordon had put the dog on the ground, and little thing had sat down and yawned, showing little interest in its surroundings.

"What's wrong with it?" Virgil asked.

Gordon looked down at the dog with a frown. "Whaddaya mean?"

"That is a little yappy dog. Why is it not yapping?"

Scott, who had squatted, trying to attract the dog's attention, asked, "Why is it not bouncing off the walls? I thought terriers were high energy dogs."

"Oh, well, Jack has a history. His owner died a couple of weeks ago, and the guy's son had Jack taken to the shelter, like, immediately. Poor little guy had no chance to say goodbye. He's in mourning for his old owner. He'll be fine once he realizes he's here for good."

Virgil stood with crossed arms. "Once he realizes he's here for good, he'll start chewing up Dad's shoes. And digging in Grandma's garden. What are you going to do when her rose bushes get torn up?"

"Ah, my rat eradication backup plan will keep her happy."

Scott and Virgil shared a roll of the eyes. Gordon stood watching his little dog as it sat waiting for whatever would happen next.

With an air of knowing he'd regret it, Scott asked, "Okay, so what backup plan?"

Gordon grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

He reached into the jet, and pulled out a small animal carrier. After a moment of fumbling with the wire door, he reached in and pulled out a tiny bundle of orange and white striped fur. "Meet Backup Plan."

Virgil immediately reached out for the kitten, gathering it close to his chest, and gently stroking its fur. The kitten showed no signs of trepidation, starting to purr loudly, and kneading its tiny paws on Virgil's shirt.

"You're not naming it Backup Plan."

Scott in the meantime held his hand out, and in a soft voice, coaxed the little dog. "Jack, here Jack."

Without looking over, the dog heaved an audible sigh, and got up and walked over to Scott's hand, and sat down. As Scott started to pet him, the dog wagged his tail perfunctorily for a moment, then gave every indication of patient endurance.

"Oh, well, don't do me any favors, dog."

Frowning, Gordon said, as if to himself, "He'll be fine. He just needs a little time."

"If you say so," Scott replied, shaking his head.

"I do say so. I mean, come on, this is a dog's paradise. Lots of room to run around, plenty of people to fawn over him. He'll be fine."

"Did it ever occur to you that this might be its personality? Maybe it's just… blasé," Virgil said, still stroking the kitten, which had fallen asleep in his arms.

Gordon shot his brother a dirty look, then said, "Hey, that kitten is for Grandma. Don't you go thinking it's yours."

"If that's the new family dog, then this is the new family cat. Besides, when Snuff died, Grandma said she wouldn't ever have another cat."

"Yeah, well, she said that when Barney died too. You know she loves cats. Even if I hadn't gotten Jack, I still would have gotten her that kitten. As soon as I saw it, I knew it was perfect for her."

Scott shook his head. "You know that kitten will do more damage to the birds on this island than rats ever could, don't you?"

Gordon ducked his head. "Yeah. Yeah, I know, but look at that cat and tell me you wouldn't have gotten it. Tell me you don't think it's time for Grandma to have a new kitten."

Scott reached out a gentle finger to scratch the kitten's chin. "Well, maybe we could make it an indoor cat."

Gordon nodded eagerly. "Yeah, that's a good idea. It's not like it would be cooped up. There's tons of room here."

He looked down at the dog again, and with a worried frown said, "Come on Jack, let's go show you where you'll be staying."

Scott watched as Gordon strode away. The little dog had been staring off into space, but when Gordon walked away, it sighed again, and got up and followed along behind.

Virgil shook his head. "Dad's going to go ballistic."

Scott glanced over at his brother. "Maybe, maybe not. He's never really explained why he doesn't like terriers, but I think you hit the nail on the head. I've never known a terrier that wasn't vocal, yapping all the time. That dog hasn't made a sound."

"Personally, I think it's brain dead."

Scott smiled fondly. "Leave it to Gordon to find the only brain damaged dog in Auckland."

Virgil chuckled, then looked down at the kitten, still content to be held in his arms. "Let's go show Grandma this kitten."

With a grin, Scott nodded, "Yeah, let's."

The next morning, Scott was up early. Dressed in shorts, an old USAF tee shirt and cross trainers, he headed for the lounge, and the balcony stairway that would lead out to the long switchback trail down the cliff to the beach.

His mind was on Virgil. The previous evening, when they had taken Gordon's gift kitten into the kitchen, where their grandmother was going over her recipe file, Scott had seen the momentary look of loss on Virgil's face when Grandma had cried with joy upon seeing the tiny thing.

Scott knew his brother would never admit that he'd fallen in love with the kitten just as their grandmother had. If Scott did nothing, Virgil would just live with it.

It wasn't as if his brother wouldn't have access to the kitten. Like the dog, it would be a family pet. But also like the dog, there would be only one bed for it, and that bed would be in his grandmother's room.

As he came into the lounge, Scott's eyebrow went up. Gordon was at the balcony, looking out on the dawning day. Coming up beside him, Scott commented, "You're up early."

Gordon nodded. "Yeah. You're running today, right? Jack and I wanted to come along."

Scott looked down at the dog, who was once again staring off into space. "Yeah, I can see he's raring to go."

"We're just going out as far as the point with you."

"The point? Why bother, if you aren't going far enough to get any benefit from it?"

Gordon shrugged. "The dog's been living in a cage for the last few weeks, and I don't know how fit he is. I don't want to push him too hard just yet. Besides, I want to pool safe him this morning."

"Pool safe him?"

"Yeah. He's just a little guy, and I want to teach him how to get out of the pool on his own. Dogs don't automatically know where the stairs are, you know."

"And you think he's going to be doing a lot of swimming on his own?"

Gordon sighed. "When I was stationed in Groton, one of the guys had this retired greyhound. Beautiful dog. One day it got out, and somehow found the rec center and fell in the pool. It drowned because it didn't know how to get out."

Scott grunted. "Well, if you're coming, come on, let's go."

Scott started down the long steps to the beach at a slow jog. Gordon trailed behind, calling Jack to keep up. When he hit the sand, Scott considered picking up speed, but Gordon was still having to coax the little dog to keep up.

As he started out on the ten mile track down the beach, suddenly, Gordon was beside him keeping pace. Scott started to look back over his shoulder, but his brother shook his head, saying, "Don't look back. Either he comes with or he doesn't."

As they jogged up the path, Scott asked, "So that's going to be your training technique? Tell him what to do, and then just hope for the best?"

Gordon sighed. "I don't know. I've never had a dog that was just plain not interested. The people at the shelter said he was just depressed at losing his owner, but I'm beginning to think maybe Virg was right. Maybe it is just his personality."

Scott shook his head. "He hasn't even been here a day. Don't give up on him. He'll come around."

The two brothers continued down the path in companionable silence. They'd almost reached the one mile mark, a spit of bare land that they called 'the point,' when Scott suddenly said, "Of course, it might be a good idea not to get too attached. Dad really hates terriers, you know."

"Yeah, so everybody keeps telling me. You know why?"

"I haven't got a clue. He's always been that way as long as I can remember. But he never would tell me why. But in view of your new friend here, I was going to put Grandma on the spot about it in private last night…but you saw how excited she was over Charlie."

"Yeah, I scored major points there, didn't I? I mean, I really did think she was ready for a new cat, but I sure didn't expect her to be that happy." Gordon slowed, then said delightedly, "Hey, look! He actually followed! Good dog, Jack, good dog!"

Scott turned back, jogging in place, to see that, sure enough, the little dog had come along after them. More importantly, he seemed to be making eye contact with Gordon, a doggy smile on his face.

"See, I told you he'd come around. I'll see you later, okay?"

Gordon smiling happily, nodded, "Yeah, be safe."

Scott started off, only to hear his brother behind him, calling out, "No, Jack, we're going this way. Come on, Jack. Here we go."

Scott knew better than to turn around. A dog had to have a clear understanding of what was expected, and Scott didn't want to confuse it by implying it should follow him. Still, he thought once the little dog had settled in, it might be nice to have him come jogging with him in the mornings.

His brother was right. The family had been without a dog for too long. Despite Jack's apparent disinterest in everything, Scott had felt the way just having the dog in the house had eased some almost indefinable tension.

Scott continued his run. Once past the point, the path wound up into the wild areas of the island. Scott always enjoyed this area. When his dad had first bought the island, it had been essentially bare rock. But with Brains' desalinization plant providing fresh water, they had been able to bring in all manner of plants.

Those first years, as the plants were taking hold, Scott had thought of the island as a tropical paradise. But in truth, it wasn't until Gordon had decided that they needed birds, that the place came alive. There were some birds that made exotic calls, but it was even just the homely little chirps as he ran along that made Scott feel lucky to live here.

He reached the hundred-foot waterfall that Brains had designed as a part of his water system, and skirting the base, headed back the way he came. He still wasn't sure what to do about Virgil, or whether to do anything at all.

Scott was also considering the action report he'd written up for his father. Yesterday, it had seemed like something sinister had been going on. But in the clear light of the new day, he wasn't so sure.

As he approached the villa, he could hear a high-pitched barking. He grimaced. That bark definitely fell into the category of a yap.

Scott detoured to the pool area, where the yapping was coming from. As he rounded the plumeria bushes, his eyebrows went up in surprise. His brother Alan was holding up a tennis ball, and Jack was bouncing around trying to get to it, his little stump tail wagging furiously, a non-stop stream of happy barks coming from his throat.

As Scott watched, Alan tossed the ball into the swimming pool, where Gordon was treading water. Jack, with a bound, leapt into the pool, paddling madly to get to the ball.

Both Alan and Gordon were laughing at the little dog's antics, and in fact, Scott couldn't help the wide grin on his face. As he watched, Alan started to move toward the shallow end of the pool where the stairs were, but Gordon stopped him. "No, stay there, Al. I wanna see if he understands where the steps are."

Scott strode forward. "Well, he's looking a lot better, isn't he?"

Alan grinned as he watched the dog swimming toward the shallow end without any urging. "Never met the dog yet that could resist a tennis ball. Watch, he'll bring it right to me."

Interested, Scott watched as the little terrier made it to the pool stairs, and hopped out of the water. Shaking itself as it came, the dog trotted over to where Alan and Scott stood waiting.

Alan squatted down, his hand extended to take the ball, but Jack stopped out of reach, and looked from Alan to Scott, then almost delicately, walked over to Scott, and put the ball down at his feet.

All three brothers froze for a moment, before Scott reached down and picked up the ball. Jack immediately started bouncing and yapping, asking for it to be thrown. Scott obliged, tossing the ball to the far end of the pool, Jack scampering after it.

"So, what? He likes you better?" Alan said, a slight frown on his face.

"Naw, I don't think so," Gordon called from the pool. "I think he just wants everybody to play. I bet he'll bring it to you this time."

Scott kept quiet. He wasn't sure what he wanted. He knew if Jack showed a preference for him over Alan, that Alan would be upset, but he had to admit there was something deep in him that wanted the dog to like him.

As before, when Jack got the ball, he immediately paddled to the pool stairs and literally jumped out of the water. Alan stood with a frown on his face, his arms tightly crossed. Scott wanted to bend down and call the dog, but didn't want to risk alienating his brother, so he stood calmly waiting.

Jack, tail held high, came running, the ball extending his jaws to their widest extent. Just when Scott was sure that Jack was coming directly for him, the little dog swerved, and ran past.

Startled, both brothers turned to see the dog stop directly in front of Virgil, who apparently had just arrived. Dropping the ball, Jack yapped away, dancing in front of the aloof man, inviting him to throw the ball.

Unlike Scott and Alan, Virgil did not pick up the ball, instead shaking his head. "Uh-uh, nothing doing. I'm not getting attached to something that Dad is going to launch into orbit."

As if he understood the words, the little dog stopped. Suddenly staring off into space, Jack moved away from all three brothers, and lay down on the edge of the pool with a sigh.

"Yeah, when you're right, you're right," Alan said with a sniff and walked away.

Gordon pulled himself out of the pool, and gave Virgil a look of pure disgust. "Nice one, Virgil. Jack was finally starting to feel at home. Come on, Jack, let's go get you dried off."

Picking up the dog, Gordon stalked away, leaving Scott and a very consternated Virgil staring after him.

"I, uh, didn't mean… um… I mean, I didn't intend…"

Scott shook his head, patting his brother on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Dog's just weird. Come on, let's go get some breakfast."

Still frowning, Virgil nodded his head and the two brothers headed for the house. Taking the steps up to the balcony two at a time, Scott said, "Hey, I found something yesterday in the reports from the Seattle plant. I asked John to look it over, but I'd like your opinion too."

"What kind of something?"

"You know, yesterday it seemed as suspicious as all hell, but today, I'm not sure it's not just paranoia on my part."

"Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they aren't out to get ya."

"Yeah, well, I really need a second set of eyes on it before I mention anything to Dad."

"What? John doesn't count?"

Scott grimaced sheepishly, "No, of course he does, but I just want your opinion too."

"Okay, so what is it?"

"Some odd requisitions, orders for parts that don't make sense, things like that."

Virgil started to smile. "So you think Stuyvesant is out there building a secret weapon or something?"

Scott frowned. The idea of the staid, intensely loyal plant manager doing anything underhanded was hard to take. "I don't know. That's why I want someone to look at this stuff with me."

"All right, but I want my breakfast first."

Scott nodded, and the two Tracy brothers made their way to the kitchen. Pushing through the door, Scott found Alan standing next to their grandmother, an earnest look on his face. "So, I was just hoping you could explain it."

"Explain what?" Virgil asked from over Scott's shoulder.

Alan looked up at his brothers and, taking a plate of eggs from his grandmother, moved to the kitchen table. "I was asking Grandma why Dad hates terriers, because I can tell you, Gordy is not going to give Jack up."

"Sit down, boys, I'll have your eggs ready in a minute," Ruth said from her station at the stove. "I just can't imagine what possessed your brother to get a terrier."

Virgil shrugged as he carried his coffee mug to the table. "He said it was because this is the best kind of dog to kill rats."

"That's utter nonsense. Any good farm dog will kill rats."

Scott nodded, a fond smile of reminiscence on his face. "That's true. Remember Polly? She was a champion rat killer."

Virgil smiled softly, but Alan frowned, shaking his head. "Well, we don't have Polly, we have Jack. So, what about it Grandma? Why doesn't Dad like terriers?"

Ruth handed plates of fried eggs and hash browns to her grandsons and shook her head. "Well, it's really your grandfather's fault."

"Grandpa? What did he do?"

"Well, let me tell you. Your dad was just a little boy, no more than four years old, and your grandpa just doted on him. Well, so did I, but Grant just thought the sun rose with your dad. There was a new couple at church one Sunday, and it was only hospitable to invite them out to the farm for supper."

Scott nodded, remembering the many times his grandma had invited people out for a meal at the farm. He could see similar nods coming from Virgil and Alan.

"Well, they showed up with this little dog. Oh, my, but it was a pretty little thing. A wire fox terrier. Black and white, but with these beautiful patches of red, just the color of a real fox. It was a show dog, but for all of its beauty, it had the worst temperament. Your father was playing on the living room rug, pushing around his little cars, and this nasty little dog just ran up and bit him on the leg. No warning, no provocation."

Gordon pushed in the kitchen door. "Good morning, Grandma. What's to eat?"

"Have a seat, dear. I'll have your eggs ready in a moment."

"Sounds good. So, Virgil, kicked any kittens lately?"

Virgil bridled at the remark, but it was Alan who spoke. "Shut up, Gordon. Grandma's telling us why Dad doesn't like terriers."

Ruth had paused, looking with consternation at her red haired grandson. Gordon was oblivious, pouring a generous helping of cream in his coffee. "So, what's the story, Grandma?"

Not liking the subtle tension in the room, Scott spoke up, "Dad was bitten by a fox terrier. But Grandma, how was that Grandpa's fault?"

"Well, it wasn't the bite, although that was bad enough. It took eight stitches as I recall. It was how your grandfather reacted to it. Now, I will say the owners of that dog didn't help their case at all. They tried to shrug it off as no big deal, and your father there, bleeding and screaming his head off." Ruth placed a plate of eggs in front of her grandson, then took her seat, wrapping her hands around her coffee cup.

Ruth shook her head. "Your grandfather was a good, Christian man, but when he saw his little boy bleeding, he just went berserk. He ordered those people out of the house, and told them he was going to have their dog destroyed. I don't believe I'd every seen him quite that angry."

Scott shook his head, a disbelieving smile on his face. "Grandpa? I don't think I ever heard him even raise his voice."

Ruth reached over and covered Scott's hand with her own. "I know you didn't, baby. Grant just wasn't an angry man. But on that day, he was. We rushed Jeff to the ER, and they stitched him up, and I believe it that would have been the end of it, except that your grandfather just couldn't seem to let go of his anger. He carried on for days about how treacherous terriers were and how they all should be shot. It made a very deep impression on your father."

Scott nodded, understanding better now why his father had such a phobia where terriers were concerned. As he looked around the kitchen table, he could see the same understanding in Virgil and Alan's eyes.

Gordon, however, sat eating his eggs with a frown on his face. "Well, he's just going to have to get over it now, because Jack is here to stay."

Scott sighed, "Gordon…"

"No, Scott. This is the dog I want. I'm keeping him. I'll see to it that he stays out of Dad's way, but I'm not giving him up."

Virgil shook his head. "You've only had him for a day. Maybe it'd be better if you took him back before you got attached to him."

"Oh, you'd like that wouldn't you, Virgil?" Gordon replied with some heat.

"Hey, hey, come on now, fellas. Let's not get into a fight," Scott made calming gestures with his hands. "We'll figure this out. Okay?"

Gordon got up and put his plate and utensils in the sink. "There's nothing to figure out, Scott," he said, stiffly. "Either Jack stays or I go."

The young man stalked out of the kitchen, leaving his brothers and grandmother staring after him. Alan turned a gimlet eye on Virgil. "Why are you being such a dick about this?"

"Alan!" Ruth scolded. "There's no need for such language at the breakfast table."

"Sorry Grandma," Alan replied, never taking his eyes from his older brother.

Virgil took a calming breath, and when he spoke, it was softly. "Am I the one who brought in the only kind of dog in the world that will upset Dad? Am I the one who isn't listening to reason? I don't think so. Scott, tell him. Dad is not going to allow that dog to stay on the island, and that's all there is to it."

Unhappy at the argument, Scott sat back shaking his head. "I don't know guys. Dad's a reasonable man. True, he has a reason to dislike terriers, but there's nothing to say he couldn't get used to Jack being around. One thing is certain, Gordon is digging in his heels. It's true he's only had the dog for a day, but we all know how softhearted he is. The more needy the animal, the more Gordon wants to help."

Alan got up, rolling his eyes. "He's not softhearted, he's soft-headed. I'll go talk to him."

Sighing with relief, Scott called after his brother, "Thanks, Al."

Virgil fixed his gaze on his brother. "Do you really believe that? Do you really think Dad will just roll over and say fine?"

Scott shook his head. "I have no idea. I do know we're in for tough times. Gordon's stubborn streak comes straight from Dad, and the fireworks should be… spectacular, to say the least."

Virgil sighed. "Any other dog at that shelter… Damn it. I hate it when things like this happen."

"Yeah, me too. Tell you what, let's go take our minds off of it. I want to go over those reports with you."

"Yeah, okay. Grandma, you need help cleaning up the kitchen?"

Ruth made shooing motions. "I'm fine, you boys just go get to work. And don't worry so much about your father and brother. I'm sure it will all work out okay."

Both men smiled fondly at their tiny grandmother, and taking their coffee cups, headed for the lounge.

Two hours later, Scott sat back in Thunderbird One, and went through his shutdown list. He and Virgil had never gotten the chance to go over his report, because they had no sooner reached the lounge when John had called in a rescue.

The old tension had started in Scott's neck and shoulders as his brother had described a factory fire in Ashgabat, Turkmenistan. He'd listened, his pulse starting to pound. This was the toughest part of his job, staying home while his brothers flew into danger, but with his father in New York, there was no choice, someone had to man the desk.

To his surprise, and the surprise of his brothers, Gordon had volunteered to stay behind and cover the desk, saying he wanted to make sure Jack could handle the sounds and smells related to the departure of Thunderbirds One and Two.

Scott had practically jumped out of his chair, hurrying to the wall sconces that marked the entrance to Thunderbird One's hangar. He paused before triggering the turntable that would spin him onto the catwalk to his beloved 'bird, asking Gordon if he was sure.

Gordon, being Gordon, had jumped up from his chair saying Scott was right, and he should be going. Scott rolled his eyes, but wasted no time triggering the sconces, Gordon's laughter ringing in his ears as he sprinted across the walkway.

When they had arrived on scene, they had discovered that the factory, although fully engulfed in flames, had been emptied of its workers, and there were no rescues needed. Without human lives at stake, it was a simple matter to use TB Two's dicetylene cannons to knock the fire down, and brothers headed home with hardly a hair out of place.

Finishing his checklist, Scott popped the hatch, and headed to the lounge. As he swung back around on his turntable, Gordon called from his station at the desk, "Welcome back!"

Scott grinned in response. "Thanks. I'm just going to go change, then I'll come out and relieve you."

"No rush. I'm kinda liking the overwhelming sense of power here."

Scott rolled his eyes, and headed to his quarters. He took a quick shower then headed back to the lounge.

"Okay, power ranger, move your butt," Scott said as he entered the room.

Gordon got up, and Scott saw that Jack had been sitting on his brother's lap. As the red head put the dog on the floor, Scott gestured toward him, asking. "So, how did it go? What did Jack think of my takeoff?"

"Well, he was pretty much convinced that I could have done a better job of it…"

"Uh-huh," said Scott as he sat down. Looking the dog in the eye, he reached down and scratched Jack behind the ears. "Is that what you thought?"

Unlike yesterday, the little dog sat leaning into the scratching, his stump tail wagging. Scott smiled and sat back patting his legs, inviting the dog to jump into his lap. Jack looked to Gordon for a moment, then jumped up.

Scott took his time scratching the dog's ears, his hands moving down into a doggy massage, that Jack relaxed into. "So, seriously, how did he do?"

Gordon, who'd been watching his brother with a smile on his face, said, "When you first lifted off, he was, like, terrified. He just sat there shaking. But I showed him I wasn't afraid, and he settled right down. When you came back, he looked at me to make sure it was all right, then he was fine. He's really a smart little dog, Scott."

Scott finished his massage, and put the dog down on the floor, where Jack shook himself all over and flopped down on the carpet. Scott looked his brother in the eye. "Okay, so tell me. Why this dog? You know as well as the rest of us that this is going to cause problems with Dad. Why would you want that fight?"

Gordon shook his head. "I don't. You know I don't like crossing Dad. But Scott, when I got to the shelter, and I was looking at all of the dogs, it was like… I dunno… they were all jumping around and barking, like they were all saying 'pick me, pick me.' And there were some really great looking dogs there, too. All sizes, all colors, all of them wanting to be my dog, you know?"

Scott nodded. He disliked going to animal shelters because it was so hard not to want to take every one of the dogs home.

Gordon continued. "But then, in the one corner, there was this dog that wasn't jumping and barking. He was just sitting there looking at me. And it was like he really truly wanted me, but he knew I was going to pick someone else."

Gordon rubbed a hand through his hair. "The shelter guy was totally surprised. He said that I was the first person that Jack had responded to at all. He said every other time anyone had come through, Jack stayed at the back of the cage with his back turned. What can I say? He needed me."

Scott raised an eyebrow. "The shelter guy knew a soft touch when he saw one."

Gordon shook his head. "Scott, look at him. This is a good dog. Remember how he was yesterday? It's only taken him one day to figure out that this is a good place. We're good for him, and he's good for us. I just need to keep him out of Dad and Virgil's way and he'll be fine."

"Hey, you're not being fair. Virgil just doesn't want to see you get hurt. He doesn't think Dad can be convinced, and he thinks you're in for heartache, okay?"

Gordon was still for a moment, then asked quietly, "What do you think? Can I turn Dad around?"

Scott sighed. "He's had fifty years to change his mind about terriers and it hasn't happened. I don't know, Gordy. I just don't know."

Both brothers glanced up at the sudden soft thunder of Thunderbird Two's return. "Oh, um, were you supposed to have some kind of meeting with Dad this morning? He called in while you were out."

Scott winced. His father was not likely to be pleased that he had left his post. "Yeah. It wasn't supposed to be until noon, though."

"Noon? He was on the horn, like, right after you guys left. Bet he heard about the rescue on the news."

Scott pulled a face. "Probably. What did you tell him?"

"I told him I asked to stay. I said I was looking for the experience, and that it seemed straightforward enough not to be an issue."

Scott's eyebrows climbed, and a slow smile started. "What did he say?"

Gordon smirked. "What could he say? He just nodded and said to remind you about the meeting when you got home."

Scott let out a relieved breath. "Thanks, Gordy. I owe you one."

"De nada. Come on, Jack. Let's go see what you think about the smells in the hangar."

Scott watched as his brother left the room, the dog bouncing at his heels. He had to admit, he was really starting to like the little guy.

Checking his watch, he pressed a control on the big mahogany desk. "Base to Thunderbird Two, you still aboard, Virg?"

"Thunderbird Two. Uh, yeah, Scott. I'm just winding up my checklist."

"Listen, I've got that report to make to Dad in less than an hour. You wanna come straight to the lounge and take a look at this stuff?"

"No time for a shower?"

"It's more than just a page. You know, Johnny's had all night to review it. Why don't you just go ahead with your shower, and we can look it over after my meeting."

There was a soft sound of a pneumatic door opening, and Virgil strode in, still in full uniform. "Happens I can speed read, Scott."

Scott grinned, pleased at his brother's willingness to set aside his own comfort to help him out. Virgil pulled up a chair and plopped himself down, pulling his sash over his head as he did so. "Okay, so what am I looking at?"

Scott handed his brother a copy of the report. "Let's get John online here."

Flipping a switch, Scott called out, "Base to Thunderbird Five."

"Thunderbird Five. Hey guys."

Virgil, his nose in the report, waved a vague hand at his brother. Scott, to give Virgil a chance to catch up, cocked his head and spoke, "Good morning, Sunshine. And how are you today?"

John froze minutely, then deadpanned. "Dandy."

"Excellent, glad to hear it. Say, I was looking into it, and I've discovered that I can get a three-year subscription to Aerospace Engineering Quarterly for the low, low price of only 72.99. Sounds like a deal, doesn't it?"

"You watched the game?"

"Naw. Waste of time. I just checked the scores," Scott said sweetly.

John sighed. "Fine. I owe you."

"Why, yes. Yes, you do," Scott smiled benevolently, then turned to business. "So, did you look over that report for me?"

"Yeah, I did. Scott, I think you're right. There's definitely something going on. And not something good."

Scott felt a subtle tension release in his shoulders. "Okay, so you can't think of any legitimate reason for this stuff?"

John shook his head. "I might be able to make an argument for some of this junk, but most of it makes no sense whatsoever. Have you checked into where it's coming from?"

"What? What do you mean?"

"I mean, once I saw where your report was going, I started backtracking. As far as I can tell, based on your research, the odd requisitions started in early May of last year. That's just about the same time that Stuyvesant hired those two new project managers, Quing and St. John. I've been trying to track them back, see where they came from, but so far no luck."

Scott felt a prickle of fear run down his spine. "So you're thinking this is worse than what I was thinking."

Virgil spoke up for the first time. "Scott, these chemicals. Did you notice that apart, they're fairly innocuous, but if you've got a strong chemist, they could be turned into Kolatek?"

Scott felt the color drain from his face. Kolatek was a powerful explosive that had all but replaced RDX as the explosive compound of choice. "You know, it crossed my mind, I've gotta admit. But I didn't have a chance to double check the chemistry on it."

"Well, the bottom line here is this is definitely something Dad needs to see," John said firmly.

"I haven't read it all, but I have to concur here, Scott. There is definitely something rotten about this."

Scott took a deep breath, nodding. "Okay. Thanks, guys. John, you'll keep searching on Quing and St. John, right?"

"Absolutely."

"All right, then, call me when you have anything, okay?"

"Wait, wait. I want to hear about Gordon's rat eradication thingie."

Scott paused then said wryly, "Not so much a thingie as a dog."

"A dog? He got a dog?" A smile of delight lit up John's features.

"Yes, and not just any dog. A terrier. What did he call it, Virg?"

"A Parson Russell Terrier. It's a Jack Russell."

John's face fell into disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me."

"We kid you not. It's a little terrier named Jack."

"He got a kick dog? Why the hell would he get a kick dog?"

Scott sighed. "Because out of all the dogs in the shelter, this was the one that was the most pathetic."

John shook his head. "A yappy nuisance dog. What is wrong with him?"

"Oh, no. It's not yappy. Oh, and it doesn't bounce," Virgil said dryly.

"Apparently, it's suffering from clinical depression," Scott said in the same tone.

John froze for a moment then a smile formed. "Okay, you guys really had me going there for a moment. A terrier. Yeah, right."

Scott and Virgil shared a look, and shrugged their shoulders in unison. "You'll see."

John frowned, a wary look on his face. "Yeah, all right. Listen I've got to go. I talk to you guys later, okay?"

"Sure thing. Base out." Scott replied before shutting down the connection.

Virgil started to chuckle, and Scott joined him. "So, do you think he's calling Gordon directly, or will he check it with Alan first?"

"Knowing John he's probably going to bring a couple of satellites online to see if he can spot the dog."

Scott snorted a laugh. "Right. Well, I have to say, I'm beginning to like Jack. He's settling in, and a while ago, he deigned to let me scratch his ears."

"So what are you saying? You going to go up against Dad on this?"

Scott grimaced. "I don't know. We're just going to have to wait to see how it plays out."

Virgil nodded, "Well, that's exactly what I'm going to do. I'm not going anywhere near that dog until we know if it's actually going to stay."

Scott sighed. Virgil was right, of course. Getting attached to the little dog was not wise, but sometimes, Scott was no more wise than Gordon where his heart was concerned.

Both brothers jumped a bit when a loud tone sounded, indicating an incoming call. Glancing at his chronometer, Scott said, "That'll be Dad now."

"Okay, I'll see you later." Virgil was quick to leave the room, no doubt anticipating their father's reaction to the report Scott was going to give him,

Scott opened the line, finding his father in one of his more formal business suits. Scott felt distinctly underdressed in his tee shirt and shorts. "Hey, Dad."

"Son. How did the rescue go?"

"Fine. The factory workers had all evacuated the building by the time we got there, and it was just a matter of knocking down the flames. We didn't even land, we just used the dicetylene cannons on One and Two."

Jeff nodded. "And how did Gordon perform?"

"He did fine, Dad. There wasn't much to do, but he stayed available throughout the entire rescue. I couldn't have done any better myself under the circumstances. How did the bidding go?"

Jeff shrugged. "Well enough, I suppose. Frankly, if we lose this bid, I won't be upset at all. They've put Wronski in as the military liaison."

"Really? I would have thought after that Pan Avionics fiasco they would have kicked his ass out of the Pentagon."

"Yes, well, he apparently knows where the bodies are buried. I'm not going to allow him to run roughshod over my people. If we win the bid, I am going to insist on an ironclad contract. One that he can't fiddle with."

Scott nodded. "Okay. So, when are you coming home?"

"I've got three appointments that I can't cancel tomorrow, including one over dinner, so I won't be heading out until Wednesday morning. Expect me around noon on Thursday."

"Uh, well, you may not want to come straight home, Dad."

"Why not?" Jeff frowned.

"Let me send you this report I've written up. There's something going on in Seattle, and you may want to stop over there and look into it."

"What kind of something, son?"

"Well, I'm not really sure. There have been some requisitions that don't make a lot of sense, and some of it seems like it could possibly be dangerous. I've had both John and Virgil look it over, and they agree that whatever is going on out there is not right."

"All right, send it along. Anything else? How are things at home, any problems?"

Scott rubbed his nose, saying, "No, not problems, exactly. Uh, remember a while back when Gordon was saying a couple of his birds were dead? Well, he put out a camera, and found out we've got some rats on the island."

"Rats. Damn. We'll have to do something about that. I don't want vermin running around."

"Actually, Gordon is on top of it. He went over to Auckland on his day off and went to an animal shelter and picked up a dog. He calls it his professional rat eradication system."

Jeff smiled. "A dog? What kind of dog?"

Scott tried not to squirm. "A white one. A white one with brown spots. Its name is Jack."

"Jack, huh? Well, if it has any farm lineage, it should be a good ratter," Jeff said, the smile never leaving his face. "Is it a good one, do you think?"

Scott smiled back. "Actually, yes. I think it's a very good one. He's settling in already."

"Excellent. You know, you never really know how much you miss having pets until you get the next one. I'm looking forward to meeting this dog."

"Yeah. Oh, and Jack isn't the only pet he got."

"Oh?"

"He also brought home a kitten."

Jeff's smile widened. "Ah, I imagine your grandmother was pretty pleased?"

"Yeah. She burst into tears when she saw it. A little orange and white tabby. She named it Charlie." Scott smiled in reminiscence, but then the smile faded.

"Son? Is there a problem with the cat?"

"No, not really… no, actually there is a problem. Virgil and I met Gordon in the hangar when he got home, and as soon as he saw Charlie, Virgil snatched him up. He kind of thought that Grandma wouldn't want the kitten because she said she'd never have another cat after Snuff died. I think it kind of broke his heart when Grandma was so happy."

Jeff nodded. "Your brother has always been more of a cat person. So, what do you think we should do about it?"

Scott shook his head. "I don't know, Dad. I don't know if we need to do anything about it. It's not like Grandma would hide Charlie away. Virgil will be able to play with him whenever he wants. But I saw a look on his face for just a moment, and… Well, I just don't know."

"Hmm. How old is this kitten?"

"Eight weeks according to the shelter people. Why?"

Jeff shook his head. "Nothing. I'll tell you what, we'll talk about it when I get home."

"All right."

"Anything else?"

"Not that I can think of."

Jeff nodded. "All right, son. Keep the home fires burning, and I'll see you in a few days."

"All right, Dad. Take it easy."

Scott shut down the line and sat back, feeling guilty about not being totally forthcoming about the new family dog. He justified it in his own mind thinking his dad didn't need the aggravation when he was so far from home.