WHIRLWINDS by BOOMERCAT RATED FRPT

The Tracy brothers deal with a tornado.

Chapter One: In The Desert

Scott Tracy concentrated on the cards in his hand, trying to ignore the impatient pacing of his youngest brother. Across the small camp table, his brother Virgil was casually rearranging the cards in his hand, to all intents totally calm. Scott discarded the seven of hearts and immediately knew it was a mistake. With a beatific smile, Virgil swept up the card, then laid it back down with two other sevens and said, "Gin!"

"I don't get how you two can sit there playing cards at a time like this." Alan threw up his hands in disgust. "We've got to get back there!"

Scott mentally counted to ten before replying in a calming voice. "Alan, you know we can't go home yet. John will let us know when it's safe."

"It's been over twenty hours. The worst of the storm has to have passed by now. I'm going to go call John." The impatient young blond strode over to his ship, Thunderbird 3, and disappeared through a hatch.

"Good. Let him make John miserable for a while," Virgil muttered.

Scott chuckled. It had been a very long day.

Like all of the islands in the area, their home, Tracy Island, was occasionally subjected to storms, but because of its location, most of the worst storms passed far enough to the north as to be little more than a nuisance. Unfortunately, the current storm was a rogue cyclone on a track that had been projected to sweep directly across Tracy Island.

After due consideration, Scott's father, Jeff Tracy, had ordered his sons to evacuate Thunderbirds One, Two and Three to a remote area of Australia, well out of the path of the storm. There was no doubt that the vehicles of International Rescue could survive in their reinforced hangars, but as Jeff pointed out, for the duration of the storm, it would be unsafe to launch from the island in the event of a rescue call.

In the shade cast by the giant cargo ship Thunderbird Two, Scott, with his brothers Virgil and Alan, had set up camp. The engineer Brains had been gone for over a week attending a series of conferences concerning the recent destruction of the Mars probe. His grandmother, the family's manservant Kyrano and Kyrano's daughter Tin-Tin had flown to Auckland leaving his father Jeff and brother Gordon to ride out the storm at home.

Scott dealt the cards for yet another game of Gin. It wasn't that he wasn't concerned. He was, but he couldn't do a hell of a lot about it. For better or worse, he had left the family home, and until the cyclone force winds died down, there was no way to return. Scott couldn't allow himself the luxury of openly fretting about it even if he would. He was in charge when the Thunderbirds were in the field, and while he would give Alan a lot of leeway for his highly charged temper, he had to maintain his own self control for the sake of the mission and his brothers.

He was grateful for Virgil's quiet support. His brother helped to buffer Alan's excesses. Virgil had suggested the card game as a way to pass the time and keep their minds off the peril the storm represented. For the most part, the strategy worked. Scott was able to compartmentalize his concern, but Alan made very little attempt to control his mounting anxiety, and the 'lead by example' policy that Scott adopted had only seemed to aggravate the younger man.

"Thunderbird Five to Scott Tracy."

Scott sighed and Virgil just wearily shook his head. "Go ahead, John."

"Scott, Alan is...distressed." John's tone made it clear he was exhibiting great patience.

"Yeah, I know. Listen, how are things back at the base?"

"Well, I've lost direct communication, but we expected that. I'm still getting the weather telemetry, don't ask me why. It's showing the wind velocity is steady at ninety miles per hour, but with gusts registering up to 120 miles per hour. They've had six inches of rain in the last two and a half hours." John paused for a moment. "The system has more or less stalled right over the island, and it's likely to be another twelve to fourteen hours before it moves off enough for you guys to return."

Scott's calm voice didn't betray his inner turmoil. "Okay, John. Uh, what about the surge factor? Can you see anything there?" As with any tropical storm, the surge of the sea was the real danger.

"As far as I can tell, it's surging at about forty to fifty feet. I hope Gordon's wearing his flippers."

Scott knew that Brains, the engineer who designed the Thunderbird machines as well as most of the base had calculated Tracy Island could withstand a sea surge of up to sixty feet before the island's formidable defenses were overwhelmed. The Tracy villa itself was built into the bedrock and over one hundred feet about the surf line. Scott had no real concern for his father and brother's lives, but the if the deep underground hangars that housed the mighty machines of International Rescue were to become flooded, it could spell disaster.

Secrecy was one of the tenets of International Rescue. Jeff Tracy believed, and Scott agreed, that only by maintaining utter secrecy about their identities was International Rescue able to have the freedom to perform its stated mission of rescuing any in need. If the hangars flooded, the ships of International Rescue would be forced to remain above ground in full view of prying eyes.

"Care to make any predictions on that, Johnny?" Scott asked quietly.

"Not really. It looks like it could go either way. I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

Virgil spoke for the first time. "John, why don't we send Alan up to you? It'll give him something to do, and he'll be there in case we decide we need you."

"Nice try, Virg."

Virgil and Scott shared a look of amusement. Scott looked up to see his youngest brother headed their way. For John's sake, he said, "Well, speak of the devil."

"Scott, did John tell you? The island is probably underwater! I'm telling you, we have to get home!"

"Alan, settle down. Even if we could survive the winds, what would we do? If the island is really underwater, where would we land?" Virgil asked reasonably.

Alan deflated like a pricked balloon. "I know, I know. It's just that... just that I feel so damn useless sitting out here in the desert. I wish we'd just stayed and rode out the storm at home."

"We all do, kid. But we couldn't do that and be ready for a call, now could we?" Scott caught his brother's eye, hoping to pass on some of his own calm to the hot-blooded young man.

"Right. But still..."

"Come on over here. We'll play some poker."

Alan eyed his oldest brother as if he had lost his mind. "Poker? With you? I still haven't paid off the last million I owe you."

Virgil chuckled. "He's got a point, Scott."

"All right, how about some Scrabble? We've still got that set in Thunderbird Two, don't we, Virg?"

"Uh, yeah, I think so. Let me go look."

Virgil sauntered away, and Alan reluctantly came and sat at the table. Virgil returned with a beat up box and a large dictionary, and soon all three men were caught up in the game.

Chapter Two: Heading Home

"Thunderbird Five to Scott. Rise and shine, Scott. Time to head home."

Scott Tracy bolted upright. He looked muzzily around for a moment trying to recall where he was.

"Scott? You there? Yoo Hoo, Scotty! Wake up!"

"Yeah. I'm awake. Just give me a moment." Scott sat at the edge of the bunk, eyes closed, trying to summon the energy to get moving. He and his brothers had stayed up late into the Australian night waiting for word on the passing of the storm. It had been well past midnight before John had been able to confirm that the eye of the storm had indeed passed their island home. Scott had insisted that they all get at least four hours sleep before heading home, reasoning that by that time the winds would have died down.

Glancing at his watch, Scott wished he had ordered five hours instead of four. Now that he was awake, he knew he would not be able to get back to sleep. He looked over at the other two occupied bunks. Neither Virgil nor Alan had so much as twitched at the sound of John's voice booming through the speakers.

"Okay, John. I'm going to let the guys sleep a bit longer. Why don't you go back to bed? I'll call you when we're underway."

"No, I'm okay. Listen, I've checked already, and the winds are steady at twenty miles per hour out of the southeast. I haven't had any luck reaching the base yet, though. Satellite imaging shows a lot of damage, but with the overcast, I can't get any really clear shots."

John sounded worried, and with good reason. Nobody had seriously expected the communications array to survive the storm, but Thunderbird Five's transmitters should have been strong enough to punch through the interference of the weakening storm to reach the wrist communicators that they all wore.

"All right. I'll get the guys up and moving. You keep trying. There could be a hundred reasons why they haven't answered." Scott tried not to dwell on the worst of those reasons.

"FAB, Scott."

Scott took a moment in the Thunderbird Two's locker room to throw some water on his face before heading back to face the monumental task of waking his brothers. Alan was fairly easy. He was in an upper bunk, and all Scott had to do was yank off the blankets, and drag the younger man out of his bed.

Virgil, on the other hand, was a tougher nut to crack. At one point Scott thought he had succeeded when Virgil was sitting on the edge of the bunk with his eyes open. Scott turned his back and was startled by a loud snore. Amidst Alan's snickers, he turned back around only to find Virgil still upright, eyes still open, apparently sound asleep. Sighing, Scott continued to alternately cajole and threaten until there was a slight semblance of intelligence behind Virgil's dark brown eyes.

"All right, fellas, let's get the camp broken down. I want to be on the way home within the next 30 minutes."

"It's about time. I'll tell you what, Scott. I'll take care of the camp. You guys can go ahead and leave. I'll still beat you home anyway."

"Little brother, that sounds like a challenge."

"Nope. Just a statement of fact. Your little toy rocket may be good against Virgil and the amazing flying blimp hangar, but Thunderbird Three is a real rocket. There's just no comparison."

"Blimp hangar? Blimp hangar?"

Scott supposed he should be grateful that Alan had found a way to wake Virgil up, but the look on his face did not bode well for Alan's future health. "Virg, save it until we're home. We need him to fly his 'real rocket' for us."

Virgil promised retribution with a look that Alan simply smirked at. Whistling a carefree tune, the youngest Tracy brother headed for the hatch. Scott watched him go, shaking his head, then turned to his other, still sleepy-eyed brother. "You safe to fly?"

"Always."

"Good. There's nothing I'd like better than to prove Alan wrong. Let's get going."

Scott headed to his ship, waving to Alan as he went. It wasn't really fair to leave his youngest brother to do all of the clean up, but truth be told, Scott was anxious to make sure his father and brother were all right. Alan rarely displayed this kind of generosity and Scott intended to take full advantage. He went through his pre-flight with the ease of long practice, and within five minutes was airborne and streaking home.

Still fifteen minutes out, his radio crackled to life. "Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird One."

"Thunderbird One. Go ahead, John."

"Scott, I finally made contact with Base. Dad and Gordon are okay, but the base is apparently a mess. Dad says you are going to have to land at the airstrip. Virgil too."

"The airstrip? What happened? Was it the storm surge?"

"I don't know. Dad wasn't in the mood to discuss it. He just barked the orders and signed off."

"Okay, John. I'll let you know what's up just as soon as I get there."

"FAB, Scott. Thanks." There was no hiding the relief in John's voice. Scott spared a thought for the life that John and Alan lived, spending half of their year on the outside listening in, hearing the sounds of disaster but not able to do anything about it. It was a life that Scott knew he couldn't have lived.

Scott pushed Thunderbird One to her limits, needing to be home, needing to see for himself that everything was all right. When he finally had Tracy Island in his sight, he had to double-check his coordinates to be sure he was in the right place. The entire profile of the island had changed.

Breathing hard, Scott tried to pinpoint the differences. The first, most obvious change was the lack of any palm trees. The island had been covered with them when Jeff Tracy had first bought the island, and away from the house and grounds, the tall graceful trees still abounded. Now, the island was littered with the downed remains of them. Scott whistled at the sight.

Bringing Thunderbird One around in a final approach, Scott could see the family swimming pool was clogged with the trees, explaining why he could not bring his ship into the underground hangar. There were also trees piled up against the rock-disguised entrance to Thunderbird Two's hangar.

At first Scott thought the house had made it through the storm with little or no damage, but then he saw what appeared to be part of the boat dock sticking out through what had been the living room window.

"Oh boy. Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two."

"This is Thunderbird Two. How's it look, Scott?"

"It's been... re-landscaped, Virg. What's your E.T.A.?"

"Sixteen point five minutes. John says we have to land out in the open."

"Yes, and we're going to stick out like gorillas at a tea party. Listen, when you land, I want you to dig out the camouflage netting and get us under cover."

"What will you be doing?"

"I'm going to find Father, make sure he and Gordon are all right."

"FAB, Scott. I'll see you soon."

Chapter Three: A Fine Mess

Scott picked out a fairly unlittered spot on the island airstrip and gracefully landed Thunderbird One. As he shut his silver rocket plane down, he put in a call to Thunderbird Five. "John, I've landed and I am heading up to the house. The place is a mess, but I think we'll be okay."

"Thanks, Scott. Keep me posted."

"I will. Scott out."

Scott climbed down out of his ship. As his feet hit the ground, he heard the whine of an engine. Curious, he went to investigate. Coming up the stairs to the pool deck, he found Gordon behind the wheel of a small skiploader, working to clear the debris from the swimming pool.

Scott whistled to be heard over the small but powerful machine. Gordon's head swung around and, seeing his brother, he waved and set the engine to idle. "Welcome home!"

Scott walked over to his brother. "Thanks. How did it go?"

Gordon said wryly, "You remember that scene in that old movie, Wizard of Oz, where the kid is in the house and it goes up in a tornado?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, there was a point when I figured we'd be testing the aerodynamics of the ol' Casa de Tracy."

"Really? Are you okay?"

Gordon bent his head to show Scott the copper-colored hair. "See the gray? One more storm like that and I'll be whiter than Dad."

"Speaking of Dad, is he okay?"

"Broken arm," Gordon said flatly, making Scott wonder just exactly what had happened. He stood for a moment waiting for the explanation, but none was forthcoming.

"All right. I'm going to head up to the house. Virgil is due any minute now. He's going to get One and Two under netting. When Alan gets home, if you see him before I do, tell him to get up to the array and see if he can do anything about getting communications back on line."

"Okay, Scott."

Scott headed to the house. Climbing up the stairs to the villa, Scott had to watch his step. Everywhere he looked he found torn up foliage. Not just the palm trees, but also his grandmother's beloved rose bushes. The hibiscus plantings were gone too. About the only thing remaining was the low lying herb garden that Kyrano tended so faithfully.

Scott was saddened by the damage. It had taken years for some of these plants to grow. Now everything was down to bare rock again. As Scott reached the level of the house, his breath was taken away. What he had not noticed from Thunderbird One was that every window and glass door covering the front of the house had been blown out, spraying glass everywhere.

Crunching over the glass littering the patio, Scott called out, "Dad?"

Entering the room, Scott waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they did, the first thing he noticed was the large dock piling sitting in the middle of the splintered remains of Virgil's white baby grand piano. Scott couldn't help a soft sad "Awww."

This was going to break Virgil's heart. "It's only a piano, Scott. I'll get him another one."

Scott turned to find his father sitting at his desk, his splinted forearm resting on the mahogany top. Scott walked over noticing the carpeting squelched under his feet, "Gordon said you broke your arm. So what happened?"

"Doesn't matter. Son, I want you to help your brother clear the pool and the gate to Thunderbird Two's hangar. It's imperative that we get those ships under cover. Then I want you to take a tour of the facilities. See where we stand. Take Virgil with you. I want to know if we have any major structural damage."

"All right, Dad. Will you be okay here?"

"In the tattered remains of my command?" Jeff smiled sardonically. "I'm fine, son. All of this is just cosmetic. A little hard work, and a bucket of money and we'll be back in business. And as it happens, I have the bucket of money, and four strong sons to do the hard work. Listen, that sounds like Thunderbird Three."

Scott walked over to the patio. He watched with a critical eye as Thunderbird Three swung into vertical then dropped straight down into her silo. Once again, Scott had to admire his brother's skill in handling Thunderbird Three. Alan was an excellent pilot. Scanning the horizon, Scott spotted a small dot that rapidly expanded to become Thunderbird Two. "Here comes Virgil."

"Good. Go on out and help Gordon now. I'll send Alan straight out to the communications array. I'm sure your brother will need a few moments alone when he sees his piano."

Scott was torn between wanting to be there for his brother and wanting to be anywhere else when Virgil saw what had become of his beloved baby grand. Scott remembered when they were kids. They had come downstairs early one Christmas morning to find the piano dominating the room in place of the old broken down spinet Virgil had learned on. Virgil had been no more than eleven at the time, and he had spent the entire day just sitting and touching the keys, stroking the satiny finish. He had only come out of his fugue-like state when Gordon and Alan had tried to play chopsticks with chocolate-covered hands.

Scott shook his head at the memory and, with a sigh, headed back to the swimming pool. As he came down the spiraling stairway, he could see that Gordon had abandoned the skiploader and was in the pool itself, manhandling large fan-like fronds out onto the deck.

Scott hurried down the steps. His younger brother was being reckless, in Scott's opinion. Gordon had broken his back less than five years earlier, and had suffered from intermittent back pain ever since. Lifting the heavy fronds couldn't be good for him. He reached the pool and pulled the fronds from his brother's hands. "Here, I'll do that. You bring the loader up close and I'll dump stuff in it."

"Scott, I'm already wet, you..."

Scott ended that argument by hopping into the pool. Ignoring his brother, Scott gathered up several fronds. He heard splashing behind him, and when he turned he found his brother climbing out of the pool. Scott waited patiently for his brother to get the loader started and, when the hopper was lowered, dumped his trash into it.

Working together, they had the pool cleaned out in short order. Scott realized the water level had dropped considerably with the removal of the trash, and he had to climb up the steps to get out. Walking to where his brother was using the loader to shift the pile of foliage off of the deck, he called out. "Gordon! Listen, forget about the deck for now. Go on over to the main hangar door and get it cleared so we can get Thunderbird Two under cover."

"FAB, Scott." Gordon spun the little skiploader in a circle then trundled off towards the hangar. Scott looked up to the house, wondering if Virgil was ready to take the tour. He decided to give his brother a little more time and headed to the airstrip.

At the airstrip, he found Thunderbird One tidily covered by a huge tent-like net. Looking around, he found the control strip at one corner of the net. He threw the toggle switch on the control strip and stood back. With a whine of miniature motors, the huge construction started to fold itself up and back, like the motorized top on a convertible car. Scott watched the process in admiration. Brains' little contraption sure took the work out of uncovering the rocket plane.

Within a few minutes, the camouflage net had folded itself into a neat package the size of a steamer trunk. Scott picked up the heavy net and heaved it into its storage compartment on Thunderbird One. Climbing up into the cockpit, he made short work of his pre-flight list and boosted his ship into the air. He threw the switch that slid the pool to the side, giving him access to Thunderbird One's hangar. Dropping the ship's tail so he hung directly over the opening, he neatly dropped Thunderbird One onto her launch pad.

Scott heaved a sigh of relief. He knew the high tech netting distorted the outline of his ship, but he still preferred to have her under cover. The ship rode its pad up to the main floor of the hangar, and Scott was able to take the walkway that delivered him directly to the main lounge.

As he entered the room, he looked over to his father. Jeff Tracy still sat at his desk, but Scott didn't like the paleness of his face. "Okay, Dad, I think it's time for you to go lie down for a while."

Startled from a half doze, Jeff looked up. "What?"

Scott moved quickly to the desk. His father's face was wet with a sheen of sweat. His eyes were unfocused. "Dad? Come on, we're going to get you down to the infirmary."

"No, I'm fine, son. I was just resting my eyes."

"Dad, you're not fine. Now, come on, before I call Grandma."

The threat worked, but Scott suspected only because his father was feeling lousy. He helped him down to the small two-bed sick room and got him tucked into bed. Going to the drug cabinet, he selected an analgesic. "Okay, Dad, I want you swallow these then I want you to get some sleep."

Jeff cocked his head, saying, "Funny, I don't remember your degree being in medicine."

Scott grinned, "Just call me Doctor Scott."

His father harrumphed but obediently swallowed the offered pills and settled down, closing his eyes. Scott stood quietly, with his arms crossed, watching his father. After a couple of minutes, Jeff opened his eyes and said with some exasperation, "Are you still here? Don't you have some work to do?"

Shaking his head, smiling, Scott replied, "I can outwait you, Dad. You need to rest. I intend to see that you do."

Disgruntled, Jeff complained, "You know, you have a lot of your grandmother in you."

"Thanks."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"I'll be sure to tell Grandma you said so."

"Scott, I'm your father."

"Yes, you are. You're also injured. Apparently in some way that neither you nor Gordon are willing to discuss. I'll let that ride. It's your right. But I am not going to stand by and let you work yourself into a fever or something worse. Now, the quicker you fall asleep, the quicker I can get out there and get to work."

Scott didn't like butting heads with his father but if Jeff wasn't going to be sensible then Scott felt he had no choice. For a few moments, Scott thought his dad was going to cloud up and rain all over him, but the moment passed, and Jeff settled back a look of speculation on his face.

"All right, Son. I can see your point. I would be just as pigheaded if our roles were reversed. Your first priority is to insure that we can still function as International Rescue. Losing a piano is unfortunate, but losing lives is unpardonable. See to it that Alan has everything he needs to get the array back online. Get Thunderbird Two under cover as quickly as you can. We can worry about everything else as time allows. Got it?"

"Yes, sir. We'll be ready for anything that comes."

"All right, Son. If you need me, you know where I am."

"Sleep well, Dad." Scott shut off the light as he left the room. Heading back to the lounge, he turned his thoughts to the next issue. Entering the room, he found his brother Virgil leaning against the desk, shoulders slumped, turning a piece of splintered white wood over in his hands.

Scott walked over and put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'm sorry about your piano, Virg."

Virgil looked up, quickly covering the look of misery on his face with a façade of indifference and, with a shrug, dropped the wood on the desk. "It's okay. It was a nice piano, but like Dad says, it was only a material thing. It can be replaced easily enough."

Scott cocked his head, unsure whether to pursue the issue or not, but Virgil straightened up then continued. "Dad wants us to take a look around, see if there's any structural damage."

Looking at his brother's determined face, Scott nodded. "Yeah, I know. Let me check something first." Scott walked around the big desk and flicked on some switches. "Base to Alan. Come in, Alan."

"Hey, Scott. What's up?"

"Virgil and I are going to do a damage assessment. How does the array look?"

"Actually, not bad at all. That swing system that Brains came up with did the job. All I need to do is erect the masts and re-align the dishes. Shouldn't take more than five or six hours."

"Are you going to need any help with it?"

"No. I can handle it myself. Where's Father? How come he didn't call me?"

"Dad broke his arm. He's resting now."

"He's okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine. He just needs to rest for a while."

"Okay. I'll let you know when we're back online."

"FAB, Alan."

Scott walked over to where Virgil stood and threw a friendly arm over his shoulder saying, "Come on, let's go check the house underpinnings first. Gordon said he thought the whole house was going to blow away."

The two brothers spent the next several hours going through the entire base checking for any signs of serious damage. At one point Gordon called to say he had the door to Thunderbird Two's hangar was clear of obstructions, and he would taxi the great ship in. Virgil's response was casual saying it was okay, he'd just as soon take a break and taxi her in himself. Scott laughed because the look on Virgil's face was anything but casual. Gordon took it in stride, saying he would work at clearing the airstrip itself.

The damage was deemed to be all superficial, to everyone's relief. Alan finished repairing the communications array and arrived at the house just as Gordon came in complaining of hunger. The four brothers batched together a lunch of sandwiches and gathered around the table to eat.

"So, what was it like?" Alan asked his brother Gordon.

"It was crazy. I saw a shark go sailing by at one point."

"Baloney!"

"I swear to God, it was a shark. It was kind of bouncing along. Then when the palm trees started blowing over, I figured it was time to go hide under my bed."

That got a chuckle from his brothers.

"We went down to the hangars. Dad felt that would be safest." Gordon shook his head at the memory but paused to eat.

"Gordon? Why shake your head? The hangars are sunk into the bedrock and reinforced with steel sheeting. Surely you didn't have any problems?" Virgil had helped to design the hangars that had been built by enlarging natural caverns and reinforcing them to the point that they could hypothetically withstand a nuclear blast.

Gordon's response was tinged with sarcasm. "Picture the world's biggest bell. Picture it being struck repeatedly with a half ton of palm tree. Now picture yours truly as the little clapper in the bell."

Scott laughed out loud along with his brothers. He could just picture the scene. When the laughing had died down, Alan asked, "So how did Dad break his arm?"

Gordon shook his head. "You'll have to ask him."

"Ask me what?" Jeff Tracy said as he entered the room. Scott immediately stood up to help his father to the table. Pale and ill-looking though he was, Jeff's response was to slap Scott's hands away, growling, "I'm fine. Stop treating me like an invalid."

Scott stood back, his hands up in surrender as his father sat heavily down. In a tired voice, Jeff repeated his question. "All right, Alan, what was it you wanted to ask me?"

"Dad, I just wanted to know how you broke your arm."

A sudden tension filled the room. Jeff Tracy stared at his youngest son, who looked uncertainly back. The tension was broken when Gordon suddenly stood as if the leave the table. Jeff's voice was soft. "Sit down, son."

Scott frowned at his copper-haired brother as Gordon stood as if considering the request. The moment passed and, with a shrug of indifference, Gordon sat back down and went back to eating his sandwich as if nothing had happened.

Jeff sighed. "You want to know how I broke my arm. Well, I'll tell you. I broke it through my own stupidity." He paused as cries of denial came from around the table. Scott couldn't help but notice that Gordon did not join in. Jeff continued. "You boys know I did some storm chasing while I was at college. I've always told you it helped pay the bills. I acted as a go-fer for a couple of graduate students."

Scott nodded as he listened. His father had often used his experiences chasing down tornadoes in Kansas as object lessons in caution and responsibility for Scott and his brothers.

"Well, I wasn't entirely forthcoming with you about those experiences. I've been very careful not to glamorize those trips. I always made sure to play up the dangers inherent and the need for caution." Jeff had their attention now. "But the truth of the matter is, I loved chasing those storms. My buddies and I would drive so close that the Jeeps would be all but bouncing off the ground. We'd dare each other to get out of the Jeep just to dance in a hailstorm. It was wild and crazy and as exciting as all hell. We were young and stupid and we thought we were invincible."

Shaking his head, Jeff went on. "It was amazing that we didn't kill ourselves."

Scott tried to imagine his father as a wild kid dancing in a hailstorm. The picture just wouldn't come to his mind. His father was the steadiest person that Scott knew. A glance at Virgil's dumbfounded expression told Scott he wasn't the only one finding his father's confession hard to believe.

Alan was the first to recover. "So you went outside to dance in a hailstorm?"

Jeff chuckled at the question before replying ruefully, "I wish that was it. There was a point when the house started to literally bounce. It felt so much like when I was kid in that Jeep, that I just lost my mind for a bit. I, uh, wanted to go up to the point to see what it was like."

Scott literally felt his jaw drop. The point was a spit of land at the northern end of Tracy Island. It bore no vegetation and was the most exposed area of the entire island. In a storm, there would be absolutely no protection from the elements. In a cyclone, going to the point would be suicidal.

The silence around the table was absolute. Scott along with Virgil and Alan simply stared at their father. Jeff for his part toyed with a sandwich. "Gordon tried to stop me, and to my shame, I called him some nasty names for his trouble." Jeff looked up, catching his copper-haired son's eye. "I treated you very badly and you'll never know how truly sorry I am. I'm hoping you can forgive me."

Gordon ducked his head, embarrassed by the open apology. "That's okay, Dad."

Jeff watched his son for a moment, apparently trying to judge if things were really okay between them. Gordon, sensing the eyes on him, looked up and, caught by his father's sincere look, smiled his acceptance of the apology.

Scott didn't know what to say. For his father to admit to a mistake was practically unprecedented. He couldn't remember the last time Jeff had apologized to any of them. Again, Alan was the first to recover. "So you went out to the point?"

The question was asked so meekly that Jeff had to chuckle. "No. I got as far as the porch. No sooner had I gotten out on the porch than a tree limb flew up and smacked me in the arm. Knocked me right on my keister. Your brother was there like a shot, and it's a good thing too. The wind was blowing so hard I would never have made it back up on my feet without his help. As it was, we barely made it back inside before that dock piling came through the window and wiped out the piano."

"You were in the lounge when that happened?" Scott blurted out the question.

"Yes, Gordon had helped me over to the couch. It was an amazing sight to see that piling flying through the air."

"Not as amazing as the sound the piano made when it got hit." Gordon smiled shyly at his father.

"True. It was like listening to all of Virgil's piano lessons at once. And it didn't go easily, did it, son? It stood for almost a minute holding up that log. Then the legs gave out, and the whole thing came crashing down. It was about then that I realized prudence was in order, and Gordon and I retreated to the hangars. Remind me to talk to Brains about tuning those walls."

The dry comment brought general laughter from around the table. Jeff turned to Scott. "Have you and Virgil finished you assessment?"

"Yes, sir. Here's what we found..."

The next hour was spent going over the repairs major and minor that would be required to bring the home base of International Rescue back to full speed. With chores assigned, the lunch meeting broke up.

Chapter Four: A New Challenge

Over the next several days, the four brothers worked hard to bring their home back to some semblance of normality. They considered themselves lucky that the damage was no worse than it was. Several islands had been totally devastated by the storm with appalling loss of life. International Rescue was called out three times to rescue people from islands that had been wiped clean by the storm. But gradually things returned to normal.

Scott was working with Virgil to install new carpeting in the lounge when a call came through for Jeff. Scott looked over at Virgil and Virgil just shook his head. They both hoped it wasn't their grandmother again demanding permission to return to Tracy Island. Jeff had been adamant that his mother was not to return until the house repairs were complete.

Their argument had grown increasingly acrimonious, not in small part because of Jeff's broken arm. The family doctor had his hands full with more serious injuries and Jeff had been told in no uncertain terms that his only recourse for the time being was to rest. Jeff had become increasingly impatient under the restriction, and his mother's persistence had been an irritant that made his temper explosive.

From across the lounge, Scott couldn't make out what was being said but was grateful when his father's tone remained even. He turned his attention back to the job at hand. He and Virgil had spent the morning nailing down the tack strips that would hold the carpet and, now having finished laying down the padding, they were working with knee kickers to tighten the carpet in place.

Scott admired the ease with which Virgil worked the knee kicker. It looked easy when his brother did it, but Scott knew that expertise had been hard won. Virgil had spent a couple of summers in high school working with a carpet installer. Those summers were paying off now in the professional job they were able to do. The risk of discovery meant that all of the repair work around the house had to be done by the Tracys themselves.

Scott couldn't help but admire his father's planning. When he had been in high school, his dad had insisted that he spend his summers working with old man Carstairs, a local carpenter. Virg worked in carpet installation. John worked with an electrical contractor and Gordon a plumber. Alan had spent his summers working with a concrete company. At the time, Scott had resented having to work when all of his friends took the summer off, but looking back, he could see the worth of the work. The hard labor had toned his body as the discipline helped him mature.

It didn't hurt that he was able to buy his first car in time for his senior year either. Nothing made a guy more attractive to a girl than his own set of wheels. Even if those wheels were on a broken down old Mustang. Scott let his mind wander to that old car. It had been a pip, that was for sure. Not much to look at, but under the hood where it counted, it was everything a seventeen-year-old could want.

His reverie was interrupted by the sound of a call coming in from Alan, who had replaced John in Thunderbird Five two days earlier.

"Go ahead, Alan." Jeff was the picture of calm competence.

"Father, we have a real problem here. I've received a call about a tornado. A school building has collapsed trapping a conference room full of teachers. The rescue people say their equipment was all wrecked when the warehouse it was in was destroyed, and they can't get replacements for 72 hours. The debris that the teachers are trapped under is not stable, and the weather people are predicting heavy rain in the next six hours. The fear is the rest of the building will topple and crush these people."

"All right Alan, tell them we are on our way. Scott..."

"Dad, wait, that's not the problem!" Scott had already started for the panel disguising the entrance to Thunderbird One's hangar. He stopped at his brother's worried call.

"All right, son, what's the problem?" Scott looked over to see his other brothers, John and Gordon, enter the room.

"Dad, it's Kalvesta High." Scott felt a knot form in his stomach. What were the odds? Scott and his brothers had grown up on a farm outside of Kalvesta, Kansas. Kalvesta High School was their alma mater.

Chapter Five: The Mentor

It wasn't as if the Tracy boys hadn't stood out in school. Both Scott and John had been class presidents. All five had been honor students. And it would have been hard not to have noticed an Olympic medal winner in their midst. No, the Tracy boys were all well known to the faculty of Kalvesta High. And even though twelve years had passed since his own graduation, Scott knew he had not substantially changed in appearance in the intervening years.

The stunned silence in the room was broken when Alan asked, "What are we going to do, Dad?"

Scott turned his attention to his father sitting pale and silent behind his desk. The quandary that they were in showed plainly on Jeff Tracy's face. To participate in this rescue would be disastrous. To walk away, unthinkable. The head of International Rescue sat no less stunned than his sons.

John broke the deadlock. "Well, I don't see that we have any choice here. We can't go, that's all there is to it."

Virgil immediately dismissed that possibility. "No way! We have to go!"

"Virgil, they'll recognize us. We show up there, and International Rescue is over, done."

"So you're saying International Rescue will help virtually anyone in the world except people in Kalvesta? That's ridiculous!"

"And if we help them and get shut down because we did, what then? How many people die because we aren't around?"

"All right, boys, that's enough." Jeff said quietly. "You both have sound arguments. But the final decision is mine."

Scott watched as his father gathered himself. "You boys know why we are here. We have dedicated ourselves to protecting human life. To saving any who ask. Secrecy has long been our ally in our quest. But even if it means we are to lose everything we have worked for, we cannot fail to respond to those in need. We are who we are, boys, and I for one know that I could not live with myself if I were to doom those people to death simply because saving them would be inconvenient. Alan, tell them we are on our way. Scott, get going. Virgil, you'll need pod five. John and Gordon will be coming with you. For better or worse, boys, Thunderbirds are go."

Scott held his head high as he strode to the wall panel that led to the cockpit of Thunderbird One. Well, they would go out in glory if this were their final rescue. Within minutes, he felt the familiar thrill of Thunderbird One's mighty rocket engines booting him into the sky. He reached his cruising altitude and pointed his ship for Kansas.

"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird One."

"Go ahead, Alan."

"Scott, your course is map 23 reference 972815 slash 14."

"Got it. Thanks Alan."

"Scott, just so you know... Your contact in Kalvesta is the fire chief. It's Mr. Kopecki, Scott."

Scott sighed. Any hope of keeping their identities a secret went out the window with that information. Stuart Kopecki had been a fixture in their lives since childhood. He owned the local feed and seed and was the town's scoutmaster, as well as fire chief. "FAB, Alan."

With his course set, he put in a call to base. "Thunderbird One to base."

"Go ahead, Scott."

"Father, ETA to the danger zone is 27.5 minutes. Alan tells me Stuart Kopecki is the man in charge."

"All right, son. Stu is a good man. When you get there, I want you to apprise him of the situation. Explain the need for secrecy and ask him for his help. God knows if it will do any good, but I think we should at least try to limit our exposure."

"I agree, Father. I've been thinking about it and with exception of Mr. Kopecki, I think the only ones we have to worry about are the teachers themselves. Now, some of them will be too new to remember us, but most of them are going to know us on sight. I was thinking maybe we could wear HAZMAT suits. With the visors down, you can't really see the person inside."

"That's a possibility, son. The suits are bulky, though. I don't want to add to the risk factor unless it is absolutely necessary."

"Understood, Father. I'll let you know once I've had a chance to look things over."

"FAB."

Scott concentrated on getting every last ounce of speed out of his ship. The time flew by and soon he was able to call in to home. "Thunderbird One to base."

"Go ahead, Scott."

"Father, I've reached the danger zone. The weather is going to be a problem. The wind is picking up and it's as dark as midnight out. I suppose that could work in our favor, though. I can see the high school. The administration building is pretty much flattened. I'm going in to land now."

"All right, son, keep me apprised."

"FAB, Dad."

As Scott dropped Thunderbird One out of the sky, he was surprised at the feeling that came over him. He had not been back to Kansas in over ten years and he hadn't expected the feeling of homecoming.

Except for the ruined administration building, the school looked the same as it always had. Surrounded by wheat fields, its hundred-year-old brick buildings stood proud against the threatening gray skies. The admin building had been built when Scott was a sophomore and the more modern construction had not been proof against the fury of the tornado.

Scott set down on the school's football field, bringing to mind many happy memories. He had quarterbacked his team to a divisional championship in his senior year. He briefly wondered if the trophy had survived the destruction of the admin building.

As he shut his ship down, he saw several men heading toward him. In the gloom, he didn't recognize anyone, but he knew that would change. Flipping on the intercom, he called out. "Please, if everybody would stand back, I'll be with you shortly."

He watched as most of the men halted. One, however, continued forward, and Scott realized with a start that he would know that stride anywhere. It was Stu Kopecki. Taking a deep breath to still his nerves, Scott headed to the hatch in the belly of his ship. Once the hatch was open, he called, "Sir, can you give me a hand here?"

As he had hoped, by addressing himself directly to Mr. Kopecki, the other men had stayed back, not moving to join them. Scott tried to perform business as usual, rolling the lightweight mobile control console to the door and asking the man to grab it. Together they wrested the unit through the door and, at Scott's direction, set it up under Thunderbird One's wing.

Scott wasn't quite sure what to say. Stuart Kopecki had always been one of his mentors, and Scott suddenly realized he hadn't sent the man so much as a Christmas card for several years. For a moment, the man was swept up in admiring the equipment and hadn't really noticed Scott's presence.

"Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One." Virgil's voice caused both men to jump.

Scott reached over and picked up the microphone. "Go ahead, Thunderbird Two."

"Scott, Gordon wants to know if you think Mrs. Krenwinkle will be there." Virgil's voice was tinged with amusement, and Scott couldn't help but chuckle. Patricia Krenwinkle taught English at Kalvesta High and had been the bane of Gordon's life. Gordon, whose easy charm had won over every other teacher at every other school he had attended, had never been able to impress Mrs. Krenwinkle. As a result, he was sure she had it in for him.

"Hang on, I'll ask." Scott realized this was the perfect opportunity to see how things would stand with Stuart Kopecki.

"Mr. Kopecki, is Mrs. Krenwinkle one of the trapped teachers?" Scott watched as the man's head shot up. Kopecki's eyes widened in recognition, and he was quick to understand the implication of Scott's polite question.

Scott could see the realization flood over the man's face and was relieved when the surge of emotion seemed to settle down to pleasure. Kopecki shook his head ruefully. "I should have known. I just should have known. Scott, how are you, son?"

"I'm fine, sir. It's been a long time." Scott stepped forward to shake the man's hand.

"Too long, Scott. Too long. And that would be your brother Gordon wanting to know about Patty Krenwinkle? And of course, that was Virgil's voice. You're all involved with International Rescue."

It was a statement, not a question, but Scott replied anyway. "Yes sir. We are International Rescue. And that puts us in a dilemma here. The only way International Rescue can operate efficiently is with total secrecy. We are putting ourselves and our organization at great risk being here, and I'm hoping we can count on you to help us limit our exposure."

Kopecki nodded his head. "Yes, I've seen several papers on the pros and cons of International Rescue's requirement for secrecy. I never thought I would be in a position to expose that secrecy."

Scott's heart fell. Stuart Kopecki was an honest forthright man. He was a man of high ideals, and he wasn't afraid to make an unpopular decision to uphold those ideals. All Scott could do was hold his breath and hope Kopecki believed maintaining International Rescue's secret identity was the right thing to do.

Scott waited for his mentor's reply and breathed a sigh of relief when the man nodded his head, saying. "Well, I've never known your father to do something without a good cause. If Jeff believes secrecy is the way to go, I'll go along with it. But Scott, Patty Krenwinkle is indeed one of the teachers involved, as are Lee Hollenbeck, Mally Terjean, and Tom Garman. I don't believe you'll have much luck hiding your identity from them. Oh, and Coach Daugherty. He's gotten old, but you know he'll know you all on sight."

Scott felt a wave of nostalgia at the names of his old teachers. He set his feelings aside for the moment and became all business. "Well, we'll worry about that when we get to it. For the moment, all I want to do is get them all out safely. Can we go take a look at the site?"

Mr. Kopecki smiled his approval at Scott's willingness to get to work. "We sure can. Let me just get the area cleared." He lifted a walkie-talkie to his lips and spoke clearly into it. "Jerry, I need you over here to guard this ship. Bill, take Wyatt and set up a perimeter at least 100 yards back from the school buildings. International Rescue can get the job done, but only if we can insure their security."

Scott listened to the acknowledgements then asked curiously. "Is that Wyatt Esterhaus?"

"Oh, that's right, he would have been in your class at school. Yes, that's him. And Bill Robinson, too. Jerry is Jerry Holbright from over in Kansas City. You probably remember his wife, Leah Stine."

Scott felt slightly overwhelmed. This was going to be a lot harder than he thought. He had spent all of his childhood with these people. Not only did he know them, but also he was surprised to find that he really wanted to talk with them. Bill and Wyatt were more than just classmates, they were good friends. Scott could remember long lazy summer afternoons spent at the lake, swinging from a rope, challenging Wyatt to see who could swing furthest out in the lake.

He shook his head to clear the thoughts. 'Uh, I think Virgil dated her for a while."

Scott realized the comment was lame as soon as he said it. To cover his embarrassment, he strode off toward the rubble of the collapsed building. He pulled a compact thermal scanning device from his belt as he went. Stu Kopecki walked with him, looking curiously at the device. "What is that, Scott?"

Scott was startled by the question. On most rescues, he would have neatly deflected the question. International Rescue did not advertise their equipment. But this was Mr. Kopecki, and Scott had to stop himself and consider before answering. Realizing it was too late to try and hide anything from the man, he held the device out for Mr. Kopecki's inspection. "It's a thermal scanner. I want to try and determine where in the building any survivors might be."

Kopecki held out his hand, and Scott gave the device to him. "I've never seen one this small. Is it accurate?"

"Yes, to about fifty yards. Anything more than that, and I can use the heavy duty scanner built into Thunderbird One."

"You and your brothers come up with all this stuff?"

"No sir. We have this engineer. The guy is so bright, he puts Thomas Edison to shame. He designs most of the equipment we use. But we all have input into it. Brains comes up with it, and we tell him what works with it and what doesn't."

"And you had nothing to do with the design of Thunderbird One?" Stu Kopecki asked skeptically. Scott had to remember that Stu had known him since he was a boy and was well aware of Scott's childhood ambition to design aircraft.

Scott blushed and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I guess I had more than a little input where the ships are concerned. But still, it was Brains who really made my designs work."

The two men had been walking as they spoke, and now stood at the edge of an eight-foot high pile of rubble. Stu Kopecki silently handed back the scanner, and Scott got to work. Skirting the outer edges of the pile, Scott directed the scanner over the debris watching the tiny screen intently. He has only gone a few yards when the scanner alerted him with a whining beep.

Scott stopped and directed the scanner over one corner of the debris and was rewarded with a second beep. He held the screen so that Stu could see and pointed out a series of bright green dots. "Each one of those dots is a heat source. Do we know how many teachers are missing?"

"Eight, plus Lee Hollenbeck, and Tina Fought." Scott nodded. Lee Hollenbeck had been the civics teacher when he was a student but had become principal before Alan had entered high school. Ms. Fought had been the school secretary since before his father had been in school.

The screen showed a total of eleven dots. "Is Mr. Hinke still the janitor? I've got an extra body showing here. Could it be him?"

"No, George retired a couple of years back. Hoot Jacobs is the school janitor, but I saw him just a while ago. I don't know who that other person could be. You're sure it's a person right? Could it be something else?"

"Well, this scanner isn't quite as accurate as the bigger ones, but yes, I'd say it's definitely a person. Too big to be anything else, and not hot enough to be machinery. Say, do you smell something?"

"That's propane. There was a big tank out behind the building. We think it ruptured, but we haven't been able to get to it to do anything about it. Has your engineer got anything to han.... What in blue blazes is that?"

Chapter Six: Buggy

Scott looked up just as his wrist communicator came to life. "Thunderbird One, this is Thunderbird Two. Scott, we have arrived at the danger zone."

Scott lifted his wrist. "I can see that, Virg. I want you to set down on the football field next to me. We're going to need the HAZMAT suits and both Jaws. There's a ruptured propane tank here, so we're going to have to be careful about sparks."

Instead of acknowledging, Virgil responded, "Uh, Scott, are you sure it's a good idea to set down on the field? I don't like to think what Coach Daugherty would say about scorch marks on his prize Bermuda grass."

Scott stared at his brother's visage. He had never given a thought to the damage that the Thunderbirds typically did to the various places they that landed. He realized it was arrogant to assume that because they were performing a needed service, that such considerations were unnecessary.

For as long as Scott had known him, Evan Daugherty had spent his weekends and summers attending to the landscaping of Kalvesta High. It was a source of pride for the small farming community that the high school grounds were immaculate.

"Tell him to land in the student parking lot."

Stu Kopecki's quiet order shook Scott out of his daze. Nodding he said, "Okay, Virg, bring her down in the parking lot."

"FAB, Scott." Scott and Stu Kopecki watched as the big cargo ship dropped lightly on to the gravel lot. Both men headed to Thunderbird Two. Scott realized after a moment that Stu was not keeping step. He looked back to find his mentor standing with wide eyes watching as the great ship lifted up on huge hydraulic jacks, leaving the pod exposed.

Grinning, Scott said. "Impressive, isn't she?"

Stu started and looked at Scott. A slow smile formed. "You could say that. Virgil is flying it?"

"Yes sir. Thunderbird Two's his baby." The two men stood and watched as a large ramp slowly dropped to the ground from the end of the pod. As soon as the ramp was down, Scott, followed by Stu Kopecki, headed for the pod.

Before they reached the ramp, three figures dressed in enveloping silver suits appeared at the top of the ramp. Scott had no problem in identifying his brothers, despite the anonymity of the bulky suits. It was Gordon who was looking in their direction, and had paused, uncertain what to do. Scott gestured for his brother to come over, and moving gracefully in his suit, Gordon came down the ramp.

As Scott suspected, Stu was not fooled by the disguising visor. Grinning widely, the older man said, "Gordon! Take off that hood and let me get a look at you!"

Scott smiled as Gordon pulled off the hood and reached out to shake hands. Stu wasn't having any of it, and he pulled Gordon into a bear hug. John and Virgil, seeing what was happening, came at a trot, and for a few moments, it was a happy backslapping reunion of old friends.

Stu stepped back, holding John at arm's length, a wide grin on his face. "It is so good to see you boys. I always knew you'd all do well, but this? Well, I couldn't be more pleased. Where's Alan? Does he go out on rescues yet?"

Virgil answered, "Oh heck yes. He's an integral part of the team. Right now, he's manning our communications center on Thunderbird Five."

"Communications? I would have thought that would be more along your line, John."

John couldn't seem to stop grinning. "Actually, Alan and I trade off. Thunderbird Five is a space station. We rotate once a month."

A sudden thought seemed to occur to Stu. "Scott, how's your grandma? One minute she was making pies for the school bake sale, and the next she was gone and nobody knew where."

"Grandma's fine. Dad talked her into moving to the island. She still bakes the best apple pie you ever ate, and as far as I can tell, she's as happy as can be."

Scott looked to his brothers. "Okay, fellas, let's not keep Mrs. Krenwinkle waiting. All of the heat sources are coming from the northwest corner of the building. John, you and Gordon get over there and start getting the Jaws set up. Virgil, I want you to get Buggy and see if you can lift any of the debris."

The men scattered to their tasks, and Scott led Stu back to the mobile control unit. "Sir, will you listen for any calls for a moment? I need to get something from the cargo bay. Just hit that button and talk if anyone calls in."

"All right, Scott. You go ahead."

Scott headed for the hatch on Thunderbird One reflecting on the fact that he found himself trusting Stu Kopecki as much as he would trust his own father. He wondered if he were making a mistake. In one of the compartments in the cargo bay, Scott found the listening device he was looking for, and he headed back to mobile control.

As he exited his ship, he heard voices. Hurrying over to the mobile control unit, he found Stuart Kopecki deep in a conversation with his father.

Stu looked up, saying, "And here's Scott now."

As the older man stepped back, Scott stepped in. His father had a sly smile on his face. "Scott, Stu has agreed to become an agent for us."

Scott burst into a smile as a thrill of delight ran down his spine. It was the perfect answer to their dilemma. He nodded to Stu but turned to give his father the lowdown. "Dad, I think this may just work out. There's a propane leak somewhere in the debris. We'd have to wear the HAZMAT suits anyway. With Mr. Kopecki on our team, we just can't lose!"

"I have to agree with you on that, son. Now, what's the situation?"

"Well, the school is actually still standing. It's that new admin building that got torn up. It looks as if the roof caved and then the walls fell in. Virgil is bringing out Buggy, and John and Gordon are setting up Jaws. We've verified eleven life signs under the rubble, and I was just about ready to head over with a listening device."

"All right, Scott. Keep in mind Buggy has only had one real rescue. I'm still not convinced it can do the job for us. Keep an eye on it. Make sure Virgil doesn't have any problems. If you have to, dump Buggy, and just rely on the tried and true."

"FAB, Father." Scott cut the connection and gathered up the listening device.

"Scott, what is this 'buggy' you were talking about?" Stu asked curiously.

"It's a new lifting device Brains came up with. That's it coming down the ramp now." Both men watched as an odd vehicle motored down the pod ramp. It looked like a huge ball. Perfectly spherical, it stood a good thirty feet high. It was propelled by tiny wheels at its base. On the side facing forward was a large window in which they could see a HAZMAT-suited figure working the controls.

Snorting, Stu said, "It doesn't look like much."

Scott chuckled. "No, I don't suppose it does, but just watch."

The giant ball trundled forward until it was well clear of the pod. It came to a stop, and both men listened as the heavy duty engines came to an idle. After a moment, there was the loud whine of an electric motor, and a series of circular ports on the top of the ball slid open. As Scott and Stu watched, eight long telescoping rods came further and further out until they reached a good forty feet above the jet-black ball. When the rods reached their maximum extension, they proved to have joints that bent the rods back down toward the ground. As soon as the tips of the rods hit the ground surrounding the ball, the ball was lifted up, and the tiny wheels retracted into the body of the craft, leaving a smooth surface.

The ball was lifted up a good twenty feet in the air, and Scott grinned. It looked like a large spider. In fact, it would have been called 'The Spider' if they hadn't already had a piece of equipment by that name. Scott watched Stu's face as the mechanical spider moved off toward the debris. Stu noticed Scott's attention and said wryly, "Your engineer friend has a weird sense of humor."

"Well, he does, but it was Alan who came up with the idea for this one. He saw something like it on some old vid program. Come on, we'll go see it in action. Uh, where's the guard?"

They both looked around, and when neither man could spot the guard, Stu pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Jerry, where are you, son?"

A short crackle of static, and the man replied, "I'm over here, by the big green whatsit."

Scott and Stu looked toward Thunderbird Two, just as a man came out from behind it. The man waved, but made no move to join them. Stu used the walkie-talkie to instruct the man. "Jerry, I'm relying on you to make sure that nobody, but nobody comes near these ships and their equipment."

"You can count on me, boss." Stu waved and nodded.

Turning to Scott, Stu said, "Have you got everything you need? Let's get over there, having seen your 'Buggy,' I can't wait to get a look at your 'Jaws'!"

Scott grinned at his old friend's enthusiasm. He gathered up the listening equipment and trotted to catch up with the older man. They rapidly overtook the large Buggy. Virgil was still cautious where Buggy was concerned. In the initial testing stage there had been an incident that had nearly taken his brother's life, so Scott was pleased to see Virgil taking such care now.

Stu seemed content to walk behind the giant contraption, and so Scott was able to scrutinize how it was moving. He sighed with relief as he realized that while still slow, Buggy was moving much more smoothly than on its first outing. Obviously Virgil was gaining more confidence in its handling.

When they arrived at the pile of rubble, Virgil positioned the large machine over the center of the building. Then much to the amazement of Stu Kopecki, the legs grew even longer, extending further and further until the ball-like body of the machine was a good fifty feet in the air. At this full extension, the individual legs looked incredibly thin and frail. Scott knew however that they were tougher than they looked, having been constructed of one of Brains remarkable alloys.

Having reached full extension, Virgil moved to set Buggy's legs. The machine looked almost delicate as it positioned itself with its legs stretching to mark the perimeter of the site. Scott had a good view of three of the eight legs, and he was quickly satisfied that all three were in good positions.

Scott's wrist communicator came to life as John called out. "Virgil, leg five is in an unstable position. Lift it straight up, and move it three feet forward. A little more... Yeah, that's got it. Six, seven and eight are all okay."

Gordon chimed in, "Two, three and four are fine, Virg."

Scott could see legs eight, one and two from his vantage point. Before he could confirm that all was well, Virgil's tense voice could be heard. "What about one? Somebody go around and check it for me."

Scott tried to calm his brother by projecting his faith. "Virg, one is in good shape. And I can confirm eight and two, too. Want me to double-check the others for you?"

Scott's implied criticism brought the expected chuckle from Virgil and protests from Gordon and John. Scott grinned as he started to set up his listening equipment. He didn't respond to his younger brothers' comments and after a moment they ran down.

"All right, fellas, I'm ready with the Ear. Everyone get their heads-up displays on." Scott flipped a switch, and a holographic screen appeared in midair in front of him. Stu started and tentatively reached out to touch the apparition. He paused and glanced at Scott for permission then touched what looked like a solid screen. Stu sucked in his breath in surprise when his hand went right through it. Drawing his hand back Stu frowned and rubbed his fingers together. "It's a superfine mist of oil. It's shot out of these jets. Brains designed the system and formulated the oil. The mist is so fine it will hang in the air for a good fifteen minutes before it dissipates." Scott said as he looked to the left and waited until he saw three green lights wink on, indicating that his brothers were linked up. "Stand by, guys, I'm sending a pulse now."

Scott keyed a sequence into the machine and a muffled boom was heard. Immediately, the heads up screen began to react, creating a three dimensional picture of the surrounding area. Scott got to work typing commands that shifted the view to exclude extraneous information. A ripple went over the screen, and the surrounding school buildings disappeared from the view. Another ripple, and the blue green forms of his brothers disappeared. The view gradually changed perspective until it appeared as a rotating cube.

Experience showed Scott that within the cube were mostly areas of crushed debris and a few lifesaving pockets of space. In one of the pockets were huddled seven blue green forms. In another, much smaller pocket, were two more. Scott's blood ran cold when he saw that two of the blue green forms were in areas of debris, apparently lying under the rubble.

"John, grid reference eight Y. Get on it. Gordon, you go after grid reference six R. You guys need to hustle. There's no telling how much air they have. Virgil, I want you to work on grid reference five W. And make sure you shift the debris to the left. I don't like the looks of the ground on the right."

There was a whine of machinery as his brothers acknowledged the orders and got to work. Scott set the Ear on continuous feed then pulled out a second listening device. He gestured to Stu to follow him, and he headed around the debris pile.

The side they had originally approached was piled high above their heads, but as they rounded a corner, they came to an area where the debris had slid to one side. It afforded the two men a good view of the work underway. Virgil's Buggy had developed a huge claw directly beneath the body. As Scott and Stu watched, the black ball gingerly settled down onto the rubble, reminding Scott of a hen settling down on its chicks. The mighty claw closed and the ball drew itself upward, bearing a large chunk of debris. The debris was shifted to the left and deposited neatly on what in Scott's day was Senior Square.

Scott shifted his attention to where John and Gordon were working with the Jaws. The Jaws were nowhere near as impressive looking as their big cousin. Built on the chassis of an all terrain vehicle, the small devices each had an outsized clamshell bucket that with its serrated edges looked like big jaws. They were remote controlled to minimize the weight, and Gordon and John stood off to the side, working with control panels on waist high pedestals.

Scott grunted with satisfaction. Despite less practice, John was keeping pace with his younger brother, shoveling up chunks of plaster and other debris with the skill of a pro. Scott reflected the John had plenty of time with simulations that were similar to video games. He just hoped his brother was keeping the fact that there was a live human at the end of this game firmly in mind.

"Virg, hold up a moment." Scott called to his brother, then moved to where a small crater was forming in the debris. He took out a device shaped something like a flare gun and, after pressing a few keys on its side, pressed the barrel firmly against the debris and fired.

Stu came up and in a worried voice asked, "Scott, what are you doing?"

Scott looked up. "This is a microphone set up. I programmed it for eight feet, which should drive it right through the top of the air pocket that the majority of those folks are in. Don't worry, it's designed to disturb the area as little as possible."

When Scott lifted the barrel, he showed Stu that the hole he had created was less than the width of a pencil. Coming out of the gun barrel and disappearing down the miniature hole were two wires. Using tiny clamps, Scott connected the wires to a black box. He plugged in a set of headphones with a microphone extension.

"Scott, how are you going to be able to hear with all this racket going on?" Stu had to raise his voice to be heard over the sounds of the two Jaws devices.

Scott smiled. "This is one of those things that I love." Scott opened up the top of the box, revealing a complicated series of switches. "See this? Each of our rescue vehicles operates on a set series of frequencies. I can program in those frequencies, and this automatically filters the sounds out. I put on these headphones, and I can hear a pin drop a mile away."

Stu was suitably impressed. Scott grinned then slipped the noise canceling headphones in place. Immediately the sounds of the machines disappeared. Scott turned up the gain on the microphone deep in the rubble, and the sounds of breathing and quiet sobbing could be heard.

Turning on his mic, Scott said, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is International Rescue. We are on site and working to free you from the debris."

Scott's calm voice caused all sound to stop. After a moment, one voice spoke up. "Thank God! Please help us! We have injured people here."

Scott had been on hundreds of rescues. He had heard that same plea countless times, in a number of different languages. Never before had he been so touched. He recognized the voice as that of Lee Hollenbeck. Mr. Hollenbeck had been one of his favorite teachers. A big bear of a man, he had always seemed a pillar of strength to Scott. To hear him so reduced struck a nerve in Scott, and he had to take a moment to compose himself before responding.

"All right. I want everybody to remain calm. Sir, I read seven people at your location. How many are injured?"

When Mr. Hollenbeck responded, his voice was much calmer, stronger. "Well, everyone's hurt in one way or another. Most just scraps and bruises. But Evan's unconscious. Uh, excuse me. I mean, I have a 73-year-old male that was hit on the head with debris and is unconscious. I also have fifty-year-old woman with a broken leg, and another 30-year-old woman with a broken arm. How soon can we get out of here?"

Scott almost wished Mr. Hollenbeck had continued to call the victims by name. Evan could only be Evan Daugherty, but Scott had no idea who the two women were. "Sir, we are working as quickly as we can. We don't want to risk any further collapse, so we must move cautiously. With luck, we'll be able to get a man down to you within an hour."

Scott listened to the whimpers and groans of the people trapped below. It gave him an odd twist in his stomach but also tightened his resolve to see them all safe.

Chapter Seven: In The Danger Zone

"Scott, I'm breaking through!" John called out as calm as if remarking on the weather.

"Mr. Kopecki, why don't you stay here and talk to the folks down there. I'm going to go over and help John." Scott handed off the listening device and hurried over to where John was on hands and knees cautiously shifting small chunks of rubble aside. Scott could see the still legs of one of the victims, a woman.

With Scott's help, John shifted a larger piece of wood paneling away from the woman's head. Both brothers gasped. It was Mrs. Linnet, the biology teacher. Scott quickly dropped to his knee, feeling for her throat pulse. He had never much cared for the woman, but seeing her lying there unconscious hurt his heart. It was apparent that what had saved her was the sheet of paneling, which had come to rest on two large chunks of masonry forming an air pocket.

Relieved at the warmth of her skin, Scott felt a strong pulse. A bruise on her forehead explained why Mrs. Linnet was unconscious. Scott looked over at John who was carefully checking Mrs. Linnet's limbs for broken bones. "John, we're going to need the air stretcher and EMT kit."

John looked over and cocked his head. "I'll take care of this, Scott. You can get that stuff, and get into a HAZMAT suit. Mrs. Linnet's a mean old girl, but she was never stupid. She could wake up any minute and recognize you and then the game would be up."

Chagrined, Scott responded, "Yeah, you're right. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Scott trotted back to Thunderbird Two, waving to Jerry the guard as he went. He grabbed a HAZMAT suit, pulling it on as he headed to the medical room of the ship. He activated the anti-gravity air stretcher and piled medical supplies on top. He pulled three more of the stretchers out of their bays, and put them on top of the pile of medical monitors, splints, drug boxes and other supplies using the straps of the top stretcher to secure the entire load.

Heading back to the site, Scott was dismayed to find that it had begun to rain. The storm added another dimension to the rescue effort. Before he rounded the corner to the site, Gordon's strained voice came over his communicator. "Scott, you're going to need to bring a body bag."

Scott felt a weight descend on his shoulders. He arrived at the site to find Gordon and Stu standing over a still form lying on a pile of rubble. Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, Scott moved over to stand next to his brother. The victim was a man unknown to Scott.

"It's Mr. Davis. He replaced Mrs. Bruff when she got sick in my junior year. I never had any classes with him but Alan had him for U.S. History," Gordon said sadly.

"He had a wife and a new baby. He was a good man." Stu Kopecki made it a benediction. Scott shook himself and pulled out one of the body bags he had thrown onto his pile of supplies almost as an afterthought.

"Okay, Mr. Kopecki, you and I will take care of Mr. Davis. Gordon, go on over and help John. With this rain, we're going to have to hurry."

"All right, Scott."

Scott and Stu gently laid out the dead teacher and enfolded him in the body bag. Scott unstrapped the top stretcher, and the two men lifted the body on. Looking over where John was placing a neck brace around Mrs. Linnet's throat, Scott said, "Mr. Kopecki, we're going to need some stretcher bearers, and ambulances to take the injured."

Nodding solemnly, Stu pulled out his walkie-talkie and called out, "Wyatt, we need an ambulance over here. Oh, and Elliott Davis didn't make it. Put in a call to the county and have them roll the wagon."

"Okay, Stu. What about Ruthie? I saw her over where we're letting people wait. Will you come talk to her?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'd better. I'll be there in a moment." Shutting off his walkie-talkie, Stu said, "Ruthie Davis needs to hear this from me. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Yes, sir."

Scott watched as Stu carefully picked his way over the rubble and then turned back to the job at hand. John and Gordon had Mrs. Linnet loaded up on a stretcher and were carefully maneuvering her to the side of the building. By the time the two brothers had reached level ground, an ambulance pulled up. They loaded the injured teacher aboard, and John ran down the symptoms and vitals as Gordon trotted back to where Scott stood with the body bag. "I sure hope Eddie Brooks never finds out I helped save Cow-face Linnet. He'd never forgive me."

The joke fell flat in face of the tragedy that lay at Scott's feet and with some irritation he said, "Go check on Virgil. See if he needs any help."

Gordon obediently moved off toward the black spider-like machine that was steadily removing great chunks of debris. Scott sighed. He shouldn't have snapped at his brother like that, but sometimes it seemed to him that Gordon thought everything was a game.

At the sound of some rubble shifting, he looked up and found John had rejoined him. "Let's get the body over where they can pick him up."

"FAB." In the HAZMAT suit, it was impossible to see John's expression, but the voice was solemn enough to fit the occasion. Together, they lifted the stretcher and moved away from the building.

"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird One. Come in, Scott."

"Yes, Alan, go ahead."

"Scott, how soon are you guys going to wrap this up?"

Scott glanced back at the disaster site where Gordon was moving the smaller Jaws in to assist the larger Buggy in moving the rubble. "Two, maybe three hours. Why?"

"Scott, you may not have that much time. Weather forecasts are showing a band of thunderstorms headed for your area. You should be seeing rain very soon, and it could get worse."

Scott glanced at the water already beginning to puddle in low-lying areas. "How much worse, Alan?"

"There are reports of hail and sleet twenty-five miles south east of your position, and there's a tornado watch on that covers most of Kansas and half of Oklahoma."

Scott turned to the southeast, and sure enough, the already dark sky looked marginally blacker in that direction. "Okay, Alan. I'll see if we can get a move on. I want you to keep a close eye of those storms. If any of them look like they're spawners, you sing out, got it?"

"Got it, Scott."

Scott headed over to where Gordon and Virgil had been joined by their brother John. "Fellas, we have to step this up. Alan's spotted a couple of thunderstorms headed into the area."

Scott looked at the crater that had been formed by Virgil's careful removal of debris. "Hold up, Virg, I want to talk to Mr. Hollenbeck for a moment." As Virgil raised up the body of Buggy, Scott strode over to the headphones that had been abandoned earlier by Stu Kopecki. Lifting them to his ears, he listened for a moment, but heard only a soft coughing sound. "This is International Rescue. Mr. Hollenbeck?"

"Please, under the circumstances, just call me Lee."

"Uh, yes sir. We have a storm front that is going to move through here shortly. What I need to know is what is the disposition of your people? Are you close together or spread out."

"Sir, the room we're in has compressed to about three feet high. I've got a couple of folks within touching distance but the rest are spread over an area of about twenty-five feet. Uh, we can feel movement in the rubble above us and it seems to be centered over the area where Patty and Dan are. Please. Please be careful how you move this debris."

"We'll do the best we can, Mr. Holl... Uh, Lee. You folks just hang tough and we'll be with you before you know it."

Discouraged, Scott moved over to where Gordon stood at the controls of his Jaws. Scott stared at the 3-D representation of the site on the heads-up display. "Maybe we should thump again?"

Gordon's question was offered a bit meekly, and Scott patted his brother on the shoulder. "That's just what I was thinking, Gordy."

Scott pulled a remote control device from his belt and aimed it in the general direction of the Ear. "Stand by, everyone, I'm sending another pulse down."

Scott triggered the remote and immediately felt the vibration go through the ground beneath his feet. Intently with Gordon, Scott watched as the display renewed. Gordon pointed a mute finger at one area. "Yeah, I see it. Okay, fellas, change your grid overlays to number two."

Gordon touched a button on the control panel and immediately the grid, which had been two dimensional changed to show a third dimension. "Okay, Virgil I want you to work at 4Wb. John, you and Gordon climb down there and see if you can shift that slab. It looks like it's right on top of the air pocket."

Scott indicated an eight by eight piece of what looked like sheet rock. He watched as his younger brothers gingerly made their way down into the crater, testing each foot placement before putting any weight on. He glanced over at Buggy which he had to admit was really showing its stuff today. Most of International Rescue's excavating equipment was large and decidedly heavy. Buggy's function was to provide excavating muscle where the situations were more delicate. Its ability to provide the muscle without putting any pressure on the site made it invaluable in shifting conditions such as these.

Balancing on small piles of what looked like bookshelves, John and Gordon cleared debris off of the slab of sheet rock. They consulted together briefly before moving to opposite sides to lift the slab away. Scott heard the grunts of exertion as his brothers worked to lift the heavy piece of debris. Scott made an aborted move to give them a hand, but stopped when he saw his brothers manhandle the slab to the side.

No sooner had the slab been moved, than a dust covered figure appeared in the gap. John's voice rang out, "Okay, we're through!"

Scott watched as Gordon and John helped a tall lanky man out of the air pocket they had uncovered. It could only be Mr. Heinemann, the business teacher, although it was hard to be sure with the man's trademark flaming red hair white with dust.

John hopped down into the hole that had been dug as Gordon assisted the teacher up out of the pit. The going was treacherous, and Scott quickly reached out to steady the man over the shaky terrain. Once out of the pit, Gordon led the man away toward the triage area that had been set up in the last few minutes by Stu Kopecki and his volunteer firemen.

Scott called over his headset, "John, what have you got?"

"Scott, three of these folks are ambulatory. I'm in the process of sending them over to the opening. I've got three more that are going to require assistance."

Scott looked up as Gordon came by carrying a small step ladder. "All right, John. I'm sending Gordon down to you. I'll take care of the folks that can make it out on their own. Gordon, did you get that?"

Gordon had already reached the opening and hopped lightly down. "Uh, yeah, Scott, I did, but Mrs. Fought is over here. She's not going to make it up this ladder by herself."

Scott glanced over where Virgil was working at clearing another area covering the last two survivors. Seeing no problems there, he moved toward the opening. "All right, Gordon, I'm on my way."

As Scott approached, a figure climbed up the ladder. It was Mr. Hollenbeck, and he turned immediately to help a young Asian man that Scott didn't recognize out of the opening. Scott found he wished he could tear off his hood and let his old teacher see his face. He sighed, knowing it was impossible.

Scott stepped forward and gently displaced Mr. Hollenbeck. "Excuse me, sir."

"Please be gentle. Tina's not as young as she used to be, and I wouldn't like to see her injured."

"Yes, sir, we'll be very careful." Scott meant what he said. Tina Fought was a good friend of his grandmother, and he intended to treat her as gently as he would treat his grandma's favorite porcelain teacup. He reached the edge of the pit and looked down where Gordon had Mrs. Fought firmly in his arms.

Scott remembered his grandma saying one of the things she liked best about Tina was she was the only woman in town who ever had to look up to her. Scott never appreciated that comment as much as he did now. Mrs. Fought was barely four foot ten, and her 'fighting weight' as she liked to call it was well under a hundred pounds. Scott never really thought about it because the woman was so feisty she always seemed bigger somehow. But now, clinging to Gordon, she looked like little more than a child.

Seeing his brother, Gordon carried the tiny woman over to the ladder and, stepping up onto the bottom rung, lifted her up into Scott's arms. Scott was able to stand up bearing Mrs. Fought's weight in his arms. When he went to set her down, she grabbed him around the neck. "Please. My ankles are broken. Hold me tight."

"Tina, your ankles are not broken, now let that young man get back to his work. If you want to be carried, I'll do it."

"Why, Leroy Elmer Hollenbeck! What would your wife think? Besides, I like his muscles." Scott stood somewhat dumbfounded by the exchange, and he yelped when Tina Fought's hand snaked around and goosed him in the rear.

Mr. Hollenbeck laughed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. We try to control her, we really do."

Scott carefully put Mrs. Fought on her feet and just as carefully held her at arms length. "Uh, that's all right. Folks, we have an area set up just over this way, if you'll all follow me." Scott rubbed his rear. "Uh, all except you, ma'am. You can walk in front."

"You want to watch my hiney, don't you young man?" The incorrigible 75-year-old woman slapped her butt suggestively and started up the incline of the pit. Scott swore she was putting an extra wiggle in as she walked. Mr. Hollenbeck pushed his way past Scott to offer a buffer. Scott felt as if his eyebrows were never going to come down. He followed the teachers up, offering a steadying hand when needed. Once they were safely on the ground, one of the firemen shepherded them away and Scott turned back to the site.

"Scott, we're ready to transport Mr. Daugherty." John's voice was low, apparently to keep from being overheard.

"FAB, John. I'll stay up here. You and Gordon hand him up then one of you can help me carry him out."

"Right."

By the time Scott reached the opening, John and Gordon stood below with the still unconscious Evan Daugherty. The high school coach/gardener/driving instructor was on a backboard with a cervical collar protecting his neck. He looked much older than the last time Scott had seen him even considering the injury. His brothers lifted the stretcher carefully, doing their best to keep it level. The anti-gravity device that Brains had developed made the task of transport easier and smoother, but it still required two people to handle. John followed the stretcher up out of the opening.

The two brothers carried the injured man gingerly climbing over the rubble. When they reached the triage area they were immediately freed of their burden by paramedics. Scott was sure he knew both of the men but couldn't put names to the faces. After a moment, he turned back to the rubble.

John stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Scott, I think Gordon is losing it."

Scott was immediately concerned. Seeing all of these familiar faces was daunting for him. He hadn't even given a thought to how it might be affecting his brothers. "What do you mean? What's wrong?"

"He tried to tell me Mrs. Fought pinched him on the butt. And, no, I don't think he was kidding." John said softly.

Scott felt nothing but relief. "Really? I'll tell you what. There she is. I want you to go on over and make sure she's okay. I know Grandma will be relieved if you can tell her you talked to her personally."

John paused, not sure that his older brother understood the problem but after a moment, he said reluctantly, "All right, Scott."

Scott turned back to the rubble and made as if to walk away. After a moment, he turned to see what would happen. Sure enough, John had only been talking to the woman for a few moments when that hand reached out and grabbed at his butt. John jumped as if stung by a wasp and hurried back to Scott's side but not without casting glances back at Mrs. Fought to make sure she wasn't following him.

"Scott! She goosed me! Mrs. Fought goosed me!" Scott would have given a lot to have seen John's face at the moment.

"Welcome to the club." His dry response drew John up short.

"She got you, too? Wow. This has been one surreal day." John looked back at the small woman sitting at a table daintily sipping Red Cross orange juice. "Say, we have to figure out a way to get Virgil over there."

Scott laughed and put a hand on his preoccupied brother's shoulder. "Come on, we have work to do."

Chapter Eight: A Successful Rescue

Together the Tracy brothers climbed over the rubble. Approaching the pit, they heard a startled squawk. Pushing ahead as fast as he dared, Scott reached the edge of the opening and looked down. His breath caught in his throat at the scene below. Gordon knelt frozen next to none other than Mrs. Krenwinkle. The teacher was lying on a stretcher red-faced, holding Gordon's hood in her hand. "I'm so sorry. I just needed to steady myself. It was an accident."

Scott saw the deer-in-the-headlights look in Gordon's eye and called out from above, "That's all right ma'am. The suits are just a precaution against a propane leak. If you'll just hand it back to my associate, we'll have you out of there in just a moment."

Scott watched as Gordon's Bane, as the brothers had come to call Mrs. Krenwinkle, meekly held out the hood. For a moment, Gordon just knelt there staring at the hood as if he had never seen it before. The moment finally passed and Gordon reached out and snatched the hood back putting it over his head.

Scott rather thought it was a little late for that move and was formulating how he would approach the woman when she said, "I'm terribly sorry, young man. I know you people treasure your privacy. Let me assure you, I have a terrible memory for faces. I've already forgotten what you look like."

Scott was stunned by that revelation. Like Gordon, he had classes with this woman every year for four years. He had never had any reason to doubt her sincerity, but did she really just not recognize his brother? If it was true, it was a fantastic break. Scott made a mental note to check with Stu Kopecki.

Truth or lie, the woman still needed to be rescued. Scott noted the air splint that bound her leg. Seeing Gordon still had not recovered from the shock, Scott hopped down into the opening and clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Let's not keep the lady waiting. You take that end, and I'll take this end, okay?"

"FAB." Gordon's voice was steady. Apparently he was getting over the shock. Together, they maneuvered the stretcher up to John's outstretched hands, and this time, Gordon went up the ladder to help carry the victim out.

Scott looked around and found a petite blond woman sitting with her back against a pillar. Again he felt the shock of recognition. It was Jennifer McNamara. She had been a year ahead of him in school and had figured in some of his fondest adolescent fantasies. She also had been the steady girlfriend of Marty Johnston, a big tough kid who Scott steered clear of.

Seeing his stare, she said, "Hello? My name is Jen. What's yours?"

"Uh, Scott, ma'am." Scott recovered from his momentary distraction, taking in the splinted arm and general pallor of the victim. "We'll be moving you shortly. Let's get you settled on a stretcher."

Scott looked around and found the stretcher he needed and moved it over to where Jen sat. "All right. Now. Do you hurt anywhere other than your arm?"

"No, the arm hurts like crazy, but I'm fine otherwise. I would really rather get out of here under my own power, but that other guy said I have to be carried."

"Yes. That's for your own protection and for our safety. Now, can I help you settle on the stretcher? Let me hold your arm steady, and you can just lie down." Scott got her settled and for want of anything else to do, asked, "So, how long have you been a teacher?"

"Less than a year. I worked to put my husband through school, then he put me through. I just got my teaching credentials last spring.

"Your husband's a teacher too?"

"No, Marty works for the Bureau of Land Management."

That told Scott everything he wanted to know. She was no more available now than she was then. He was saved the need to continue the small talk by a call from above, followed by the sight of John hopping down into the pit.

"Okay, Jen, here we go. You just lie back and let us do the work." Scott waited until John was at the other end of the stretcher, and together they lifted the young woman up. Gordon waited up above, and this time it was Scott and Gordon who carried the injured woman to the triage area.

Just as the firemen took over the care of Jennifer Johnston, the rain began in earnest. Within moments it was coming down in sheets. Gordon's shoulders slumped and Scott heard him mutter, "Can this day get any worse?"

Scott looked over to where the triage had been set up and was amazed to find that no one was there. Looking around, he spotted several people heading into the gym. Scott sighed. Apparently only he and his brothers were too dumb to get in out of the rain. "Come on. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can go home."

'Yeah. Scott..."

Scott looked over as his brother hesitated. "Yeah? What?"

"Scott, Mrs. Fought pinched me. On the butt. Hard," Gordon said it all in a rush. "John doesn't believe me."

"Actually, I do," John said sardonically.

Scott smiled. "Gordon, don't worry about it. She got us too."

"What? Man oh man! How are we going to tell Grandma?"

John exclaimed, "What, are you out of your mind? You tell Grandma and you'll be on bread and water for the rest of your natural life. We aren't telling Grandma, got it?"

Gordon slowly nodded. "Got it."

The brothers had been walking back to the site as they talked, and Scott looked ahead to where Virgil had continued to shift debris as his brothers extricated the survivors. There was no doubt in Scott's mind that Virgil was gaining confidence and skill with each load he moved. As they watched, the claw dipped down to almost delicately grasp a huge chunk of masonry.

"How's it coming, Virg?"

"Hey, Scott. Listen, I need you to verify the air pocket. It seems like I should have broken through by now."

"All right. Hang on a moment." Scott, along with John and Gordon walked over to where the Ear was still set up. "Okay, got your heads-up going?"

"Yes, Scott. Fire away."

As Scott expected, the nifty free floating heads-up display was inoperable given the driving rain. Flicking a switch, he turned on a much smaller screen built into the device. "Okay, sending pulse now."

As Scott keyed the Ear, a teeth-rattling boom, accompanied by a blinding flash of light occurred. Scott jumped then realized it was only thunder and lightening. Loud thunder and lightening. Directly overhead. "Gordon, go get the lightning rods deployed on Thunderbirds One and Two."

"I've already deployed on Two, Gordon. Standard procedure in a storm, don't you know." Virgil's voice was smug.

Gordon and John started snickering, but they wisely withheld any comment. Scott filed the comment away for future action. Gordon picked his way over to the rubble as Scott and John both concentrated on the tiny screen.

Checking the rubble against the image on the screen Scott said, "Yeah, it looks like you missed, Virg. Hold up a few moments. John and I might be able to break through from the side."

The screen display seemed to show only a thin layer of debris separating the hole Virgil had created from the air pocket containing the two remaining victims. John and Scott consulted the screen one last time before heading to the spot that looked best for a breakthrough. As they sloshed through the thick mud, Scott saw the rubble at their target begin to shift, seemingly on it's own.

Suddenly a hand was thrust through the rubble, and over the sound of the storm, Scott heard a cry for help. With John's eager help, Scott tore away at the debris. Their efforts were rewarded when the face of a boy, no more than fifteen appeared in the hole. Filthy and wet, the kid's face was nonetheless wreathed in a huge smile.

"I didn't think I was ever going to get out of there! Who are you guys?"

As he pulled the youngster out, Scott replied, "International Rescue, at your service. And who are you?"

Scott grinned behind his disguising visor as the boy's eyes threatened to pop out of his head. "No shit? Uh, I mean, uh, really? You're really International Rescue? Wow, that's amazing! Did you bring Thunderbird One? And Two? Oh, my God, nobody is going to believe this!"

John was quietly chuckling and Scott grinned as he waited for the kid to wind down. He turned at the sound of debris shifting and saw Gordon coming up behind. "Scott, I left Mr. Kopecki at mobile control. Hey kid, what's your name? Your folks are probably missing you by now."

"Oh. Oh, yeah, my name is Griffin Lewicki. Are one of you guys the pilot on Thunderbird One? I want to be a pilot when I grow up. I'm going to join the Air Force. Say, I've always wanted to know something. How do you get to be a Thunderbird? Is there like a test, or application? I really think I could do it, you know. I could be a Thunderbird."

"Hold on a moment. Scott to Mobile Control." Scott was used to this kind of enthusiasm, but the kid was wet and starting to shiver. Gordon apparently noticed because he reached over to the medical equipment and pulled out a thin but tough sheet of space blanket material.

"Griff, the first step in becoming an International Rescue operative is to live past your sixteenth birthday. Wrap this around you. What good is it to get rescued only to die of pneumonia?" Gordon pulled the blanket tight around the widely grinning boy.

"Uh, this is Mobile Control."

"Mr. Kopecki, we've found a boy named Griffin Lewicki. He's in good shape. I'm sending him over to you with Gordon."

"Oh, thank God he's all right! We just got word from his parents that he had a tutoring session with Mel Vasquez. Have you found Mel yet? His wife is out here."

Scott watched as Griffin suddenly deflated. He eyes widened as he realized he had forgotten all about his tutor. "He's stuck under a bookcase. I couldn't get it to move, so he said to try and dig my way out. He's over there."

Scott and John both moved to where the boy pointed. Scott was aware that Griffin was begging Gordon to be allowed to stay but to no avail. Scott concentrated on seeing through the murk to the man trapped by a heavy wooden bookcase.

The first thing that was apparent was that although the case rested only on the man's knees, he was having a hard time breathing. Mr. Vasquez was the Spanish and French teacher at the school. Scott had taken Russian with Mrs. Terjean, so had never had a class with him, but John had taken four years of Spanish and muttered to Scott. "He has asthma."

Nodding, Scott took in the bluish tinge to the lips and frantic look in the eyes, and reached for the drug kit in the EMT box he carried. Sorting through the boxes of medicines, he found what he was looking for, and pulled out the inhaler. Mr. Vasquez immediately reacted to the sight of the inhaler, reaching for it eagerly. Scott released it into the man's grip, and Mr. Vasquez wasted no time in using it.

John in the meantime had prepared a needle injection. When it became clear that the inhaler was not sufficient, John swabbed the man's forearm, then swabbed it again. Finally satisfied the area was disinfected, he injected the fast-acting medication. Within a few moments, Mr. Vasquez's color improved and his breathing eased.

"Thank you." The simple remark was heartfelt and Scott smiled.

"No problem, sir. Just let us get this bookcase off of you and we'll have you out of here in no time." With John at this side, Scott examined the bookcase. With the total destruction around him, he was amazed to find it intact, its heavy wood unscarred.

"I think we're going to need Gordon down here."

"I think you're right, John. Scott to Gordon. Where are you?"

Darkness suddenly fell, and as Scott turned toward the opening, Gordon calmly replied, "Right behind you, Scott."

"Right. John and I are going to lift this bookcase. I want you to pull the victim clear."

"FAB."

Scott waited until his brothers had positioned themselves then called. "On three. One... Two... Three..."

Scott and John both strained upward. For several moments the stubborn case refused to budge, but the Tracy family was nothing if not persistent, and suddenly the heavy wood shifted. "Now." Scott gritted out.

Gordon wasted no time in pulling the injured teacher to safety. Scott and John released the case with a heavy thud. Standing tall to stretch his back, John muttered, "Next time we use the jack."

"Next time we make Virgil and Gordon do it." His dry remark brought the expected laugh, and Scott turned to where Gordon was ministering to Mr. Vasquez. Addressing himself to the victim, Scott asked, "How're you doing, sir?"

"I'm fine, thanks to you folks. I heard you telling young Griffin that you're from International Rescue?"

"Yes, sir, we are."

"Well, I imagine I can get a few lesson plans out of this experience. How did you know about my asthma, if I may ask?"

The gently asked question caught Scott off guard. It was Gordon who answered smoothly, "The fire chief knew. Sir, are you feeling any pain in your legs?"

"Ah, that would be Stu Kopecki. A good man. No, actually, they're a bit numb. My left hip hurts, but that's an old injury. Can I get up now?"

"Yes, but let's take it slow and easy. If you start to feel dizzy or uncomfortable, just let us know." Gordon and John worked together to assist the man to his feet. Scott led the way out of the hole. To his surprise, the rain had stopped for the moment.

"Okay, Virgil, we've got him. You can wrap it up." Scott looked up at Buggy towering over the scene.

"FAB, Scott."

Scott turned back to Mr. Vasquez to see the man staring open mouthed at the spider-like contraption hanging over his head. "Amazing. I'd always heard that International Rescue had fantastic devices, but this is simply... amazing."

"Sir, your wife is probably very anxious. Why don't you let us get you over to where Mr. Kopecki is waiting?" Scott didn't like hurrying a victim along, but the threatening skies were likely to open up at any moment.

"Oh. Uh, yes, I wouldn't want Marisa to worry. Lead the way." John and Gordon flanked the man as they made their way over the rubble.

When they reached the triage area, Stu Kopecki was waiting. "Mel! You're a sight for sore eyes! Come on over to the gym. Marisa has been beside herself with worry."

"In a moment, Stu." The dust covered teacher turned to Scott and his brothers. "I want to thank you men... Not just for saving my life, but for the good work you do. You're the kind of shining example that renews faith in a weary world. I'm sure you hear things like this all the time, but everytime I read of your heroic exploits, I feel my own load is just a bit lighter. Thank you, men. Thank you from the bottom of my heart."

Scott was stunned by the praise. Mr. Vasquez was right, of course. Praise and thanks were par for the course for the Tracy brothers, but seldom had he heard it so eloquently put. He stood silent as the man shook each of their hands, before turning and walking away toward the gym.

Stu Kopecki walked beside the man, but looked over his shoulder at the three brothers and mouthed, "Don't leave yet."

John and Gordon were apparently as stunned as Scott himself, for they stood silently watching the man walk away. As soon as Mr. Vasquez was out of earshot, Gordon said in a whiny voice, "Would it have killed that man to give out an A?"

John laughed. "The last time he was that eloquent, he dropped a pop quiz on us."

"Old Bore and Dazzle Vasquez. The Scourge of the Romantic Languages."

Scott chuckled, he should have known better than to think his brothers would be impressed. "All right you clowns, let's get packed up. I'll take care of the stretchers and kit, you guys get the Jaws loaded up."

His brothers responded in unison, "FAB."

Each brother headed to his task. Scott felt good despite the one death. It was a good job. Buggy had performed impressively, as had Virgil. Having Stu Kopecki sign on as an International Rescue agent was a bonus he hadn't even dreamed of. John had performed as a seamless part of the team. All in all, it was a good day. Scott started formulating his report as he loaded up the supplies onto one of the stretchers.

Scott had just turned on the anti-grav unit to maneuver the stretcher over the rubble when an eerie wailing filled the air. Scott's heart leapt to his throat. It was years since he had heard that sound. It was the town's siren. It only sounded in the event of a tornado or other disaster.

Scott scanned the skies but could see nothing. The clouds overhead were heavy and threatening, but there was nothing like a funnel forming. Scott realized that he had come to a stop at the frightening sound. Shaking himself he put on as much speed as he dared. The anti-grav unit on the stretcher was designed to hold up tremendous weight, but it's compensators could be overcome if Scott moved too quickly over the uneven ground. As he cleared the rubble he saw that John and Gordon were way ahead of him. Both were already running up the ramp of the pod.

That left only Virgil, and as Scott watched, the ungainly Buggy hunkered down in front of the ramp and began the process of retracting the long thin legs. On level ground, Scott was able to put on more speed. He ran across the field to Thunderbird One and slung the stretcher aboard. As he climbed into the cockpit, hoping to get airborne, one of his brothers screamed over the mic, "Touch down! We've got a touch down! Scott, it's behind you! Virgil! Oh God, Virgil!"

Chapter Nine: In The Teeth Of The Storm

Scott gritted his teeth. Thunderbird One was skittering across the football field like a drop of oil on a hot pan. He pulled his safety harness tight and sent up a prayer. He reached forward to throw the lever that would deploy the air-propelled spikes into the ground to anchor the ship. It took two tries because of the bouncing of the ship.

Scott barely felt the thumps as the spikes drove into the ground. The bouncing lessened but didn't stop altogether. Worse than the bouncing was the noise. He had always heard that tornadoes sounded like freight trains. This sounded more like the end of the world. The roaring was so loud that Scott almost felt it like pressure on his ears. It was all he could do to grimly hold on and hope that his chair didn't come loose from its mounts.

It seemed to go on forever, and just when Scott thought it couldn't get any worse, the rocket end of the ship lifted clear of the ground. After a moment, the heavy rocket motors thumped back down to the ground, but before Scott could feel relief, the rear lifted a second time, clearing the ground by several feet. Scott could literally feel the spikes start to pull out of the ground. Again the ship was dropped from a teeth-rattling height.

Scott had never felt quite so helpless. Options raced through his mind, but none were feasible given the conditions. As the rear started to rise a third time, Scott knew his ship was done for. The spike under the left strut had all but pulled free in the last round and it was inevitable that Thunderbird One would flip onto her back or worse. As the ship started to leave the ground, Scott could feel the tilt.

Almost like a cat playing with a mouse, the tornado again released the ship. It hit the ground hard, and Scott was thrown yet again against the restraints. To his amazement, the noise abruptly lessened and the shaking gradually stopped. Scott was almost afraid to start breathing again. He closed his eyes in a moment of relief then opened them to the blinking lights of his status board. Training took over and with shaking hands he shut down the systems of his ship.

After a few minutes, the ringing in his ears died down, and he heard the desperate voices of his father and youngest brother. "Scott? Come in, son!"

"Scott, I can't reach Virgil. Do you have a visual on Thunderbird Two? Scott? Can you hear me?"

Taking a deep breath, Scott flicked the communications switch. "Uh, Thunderbird One to Base and Thunderbird Five. I'm all right. Give me a few moments to check on the fellas."

"Son, Alan recorded a tornado in your area."

"Yes, Father. It touched down right on top of us. I'm okay, but I don't know about Thunderbird Two. I'm heading for it now."

Scott spoke as he dropped out of the hatch. He turned to find Thunderbird Two sitting at right angles to Thunderbird One, less that ten feet away. His eye followed a cable that stretched from a port in TB2's nose over the back of Thunderbird One. Scott could make out the cable end attached to a heavy-duty spike on the far side of the ship. He nodded his head as he realized the reason Thunderbird One had not been blown over was the timely intervention of his brother, Virgil.

As he strode over toward Thunderbird Two, his practiced eye ran over the trailing edge of the wing searching for damage to the delicate flaps. One aileron seemed slightly askew, but that could wait. He turned to Thunderbird Two, intending to find his brothers, when a side hatch slid open. He changed his course to intercept and grinned when his brother Gordon hopped out.

When Gordon turned his attention back to the hatch, Scott hailed him. "Gordon! You guys all right? Dad and Alan have been trying to reach…" Scott's voice trailed away as his younger brother turned a pale frightened face toward him. With a sudden knot in his stomach, Scott asked. "All right, what's wrong?"

"Scott, Virgil didn't make it back. He had just gotten the legs retracted when the tornado hit. The last we saw, Buggy was flying away across the parking lot. We gotta find him, Scott."

Scott fought his own sense of panic to throw an arm across his brother's shoulders. "Calm down. We'll find him. Remember after that training accident Brains loaded it up with safety features. He'll be fine."

John appeared at the hatch pushing one of the hover bikes that were stored in a forward compartment. John was no less pale than Gordon, but greeted his older brother calmly enough. "Scott, you all right?"

"I'm fine. Do we have any telemetry on Buggy?"

"No. We can't raise him. We think it's on his end. Our long-range transmitters are out, but the short-range stuff should be working. Maybe if we pulled the Mobile Control Unit out of Thunderbird One, we could use the locator system?"

"Maybe. Look, I don't want to take the time. We need to get to him. Let me have this bike. John, you pull another one and come after me. Gordon, I need you to get over to the school and make sure everyone there is okay."

"But Scott…"

"No buts, Gordon. Just do it. Oh, and go over to Thunderbird One and put in a call to Dad, let him know what's going on. Got it?"

Gordon's answer was reluctant. "Yes, Scott."

As Gordon made his way toward Thunderbird One, Scott turned to John. "What direction?"

"I didn't see it happen myself, but Gordon said it went to the north. He was pretty shaken up, Scott."

Scott eyed his middle brother's white, pinched countenance, but forbore any comment. "Bring the EMT box, John."

"FAB." Scott threw the restricting hood of his HAZMAT suit back as he fired up the hover bike and headed at full speed for the wheat fields that stretched off into the distance. He was confident that he would find Buggy. After all, it stood almost three stories tall. As he flew over the fields, his confidence faded. The dark day was turning into an even darker night. He started to consider returning to Thunderbird One for aerial reconnaissance when he caught sight of a black hump on the horizon. It was further than Scott would have thought possible.

Scott poured on all speed as he raced across the fields. As he approached he could see marks on the ground where Buggy had presumably hit, showing a pattern of bouncing not unlike a thrown baseball. As far as he could tell, it was resting upside down, with the wide window covered by a huge pile of dirt the ball-like machine had pushed up as it reached its final resting place. The entire body of the machine had been scoured down to the raw metal by the force of sand blown by the tornado's killer winds. Buggy was no longer a pristine ball, having a number of large dings over her surface.

Scott had been calling out to his brother since his arrival at the wreck, but the only response was an eerie whistling of wind through a bit of bent framework. Scott found the hatch was now high up on the curved side of the machine. It was just enough above his head that Scott couldn't quite reach the keypad or the manual release. Looking around for something to stand on, his frustrated eye fell on his hover bike.

Scott gauged the distance and realized that it was just too far. Anxious and irritated, he considered his options. He rapidly came to the conclusion that he would have to either send John back for a ladder or have Gordon bring one out. "Scott to Gordon. What is your status?"

"I'm with Mr. Kopecki, Scott. They had enough warning to get everyone under cover, so everything is under control. Did you find Virgil? Is he okay?"

"I've located Buggy, but it's upside down. The hatch is too high to reach. I need you to bring out a ladder. The ten foot one. You can home in on my signal. We're about three miles up the road. I'm pretty sure we're in Mr. Milstein's field."

"FAB, Scott. I'll be there right away."

Scott circled the crumpled machine calling out reassurance in case his brother could hear. "Virg, we're going to get you out of there, you just hang tight. You hear me? You're going to be okay, Virgil."

Scott desperately hoped that he was telling the truth. He was on his third circuit of the wreck, unable to stand still, when John came up, EMT box and stretcher secured to the back of his bike. "Scott?"

"I can't reach the hatch. Gordon's bringing a ladder." Scott led John over to where the hatch was depressingly close but still out of reach. John took a look and without saying a word intertwined his fingers and dropped his hands in invitation. Scott was quick to accept and, using John's hands as a step, clambered up onto his brother's shoulders. John stood as steady as any rock as Scott reached the manual release for the door.

With a few pumps of the handle, the hydraulic mechanism engaged and the door slid to one side, stopping about halfway open. Boosting himself up, Scott entered the small cockpit. "Virgil? Virg, can you hear me? Are you okay?"

Scott pushed aside the bulky airbags that Brains had insisted would protect the operator. He found his brother hanging upside down held in position by the safety harness of his seat. As Scott crouched down beside him, Virgil said in a weak voice, "Depends on what you mean by 'okay'."

Scott closed his eyes in relief. "Okay, as in alive, breathing."

"Oh, well then, I guess I'm just dandy. Is Gordon all right?"

"Gordon? He's fine. Why?" Scott asked as he checked Virgil's pulse and color.

"Idiot tried to come after me. I'm in a ten ton machine that the wind is blowing away like a feather and my 160 pound brother thinks he'll just trot out and stop it."

"Maybe he just wanted to dance in the hailstorm like Dad." Scott was working to free his brother from the harness holding him. "Watch your head, I'm going to release the catch now."

Scott hit the safety release and Virgil tumbled to the curved roof of the cockpit. With a small moan, he cried, "Look out!"

Chapter Ten: Virgil Soccer

Virgil started heaving out the contents of his stomach. In the confined space there was nowhere for Scott to go, even if he would. As a result both men were shortly spattered with vomit. Grimacing as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve, Virgil whispered, "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Hang on a moment." Scott leaned out of the hatch. "John, have you got any water with you? Virgil's okay, but he tossed his cookies."

"Uh, yeah, hang on." John strode over to his hover bike and rummaged around for a moment before coming up with a plastic bottle of water. As an afterthought he grabbed a clean rag too, and after securing it to the bottle with a bit of tape from the EMT kit, tossed the package up to his brother.

"Thanks. Listen, put in a call to Gordon. Tell him to bring up Thunderbird Two. There's no point in us shuttling back there."

"Scott, you can tell him yourself. Here he comes." Scott looked in the direction of John's pointing finger and saw his younger brother coming at high speed on a hoverbike, ladder balanced precariously behind him.

As the younger man pulled to a panting stop, Scott called out. "Gordon, dump the ladder and get back to Thunderbird Two. Virgil's okay, but I don't want him to have to make that long ride back. Oh, and bring the pod, too. I don't know how we're going to do it, but we'll have to load up Buggy."

Gordon stood for a moment looking from Scott to John and back again. Apparently realizing that the Tracy pecking order was in full swing, he unhooked and dropped the ladder to the ground then mounted the hover bike and headed back the way he came. Satisfied that his order was being followed, Scott turned back to where Virgil sat with his arms wrapped around his knees, head back with his eyes tightly closed.

Scott opened the water and liberally wet the cloth in his hand before nudging his brother to give him the bottle. "Here, rinse out your mouth."

Virgil cracked open an eye. "About time. Where'd you go for it, Outer Mongolia?"

Scott busied himself wiping off Virgil's face and hands. "I sent Gordon back to Thunderbird Two to bring it up here. Gotta smack that boy down when he screws up."

Virgil opened both eyes and frowned. "Two issues here, Scott. First, I didn't say he screwed up. I was just worried about him. And second, since when is flying Thunderbird Two punishment?"

Scott paused for a moment then looked his brother in the eye. "Since you tried to make me look bad."

"What? When did I do that?"

Scott mimicked a little girl's voice, "Oh, I've already deployed the lightning rods on Thunderbird Two, Gordon."

Virgil chuckled, "Oh, that."

"Yes. That. How do you feel? Can you stand?"

"Sure, just as soon as everything stops spinning."

Suddenly a bright light chased away the gloom of the cockpit. Scott held up his hand against the glare that outlined the hatch.

"Oh, sorry." John's voice came through as the light was turned to reflect off of the side of the cockpit. "Virg, you okay?"

"Yeah, just a little dizzy."

"Gordon said it looked like the tornado was playing soccer and you were the ball."

"Yeah, that just about describes it. At one point, I swear I was about a hundred feet in the air. I thought I was a goner for sure, but then it just kind of let me down easy. Then just when I thought it wasn't going to be so bad, it kicked me for a long goal. By that time all of Brains' airbags had gone off in my face, and I barely felt it when I hit the ground. Remind me to thank him."

"So, what do you think, Scott? For his next death-defying feat, I mean. Over Niagara Falls in a barrel? Jump the Grand Canyon on a motor scooter? Oh, I know, tell Dad he wants to become a Hare Krishna priest!"

Scott and Virgil looked at each other and started laughing. Within a few moments all three brothers were laughing so hard they were wiping away the tears. They laughed long and hard. Suddenly John stopped laughing to listen. Scott paused and heard it too. The distinctive sound of Thunderbird Two's VTOL engines firing up in the distance. Wiping a final tear from the corner of his eye, Scott took charge.

"Okay, Gordon will be here in a moment. Let's get you out of here. You really can't stand on your own?"

"I dunno, Scott. It's like everything is spinning. It settles down, but everytime I move, it starts up again. I think I probably need help." Though he tried to be matter of fact about it, Scott could see his brother was deeply embarrassed by his condition.

"Well, don't worry about it. I'm sure it's just a matter of time. John, I think we can just use the stretcher to lower him down."

"Stretcher? No, Scott, please! Just give me a hand, I can make it, I just need to lean against you."

Scott shook his head. "We're ten feet up in the air, Virg. If you can't negotiate the ladder safely, we're going to have to lower you down. It's no big deal. Once you're on the ground we'll let you walk, okay?"

Virgil dropped his head, "This is embarrassing, Scott."

Scott hunkered down next to his brother and said in a low, quiet voice. "No, what's embarrassing is forgetting to deploy the lightening rods. This is just necessity, okay?"

Virgil shook his head, "Yeah, okay, Scott."

"Hey, Virg? What if we just put a rope under your arms and let you climb down? That'd be a lot quicker, and we'd be able to keep you from falling. What do you think?" John's alternative put a hopeful gleam in Virgil's eye.

"How about it, Scott?"

Scott weighed the safety of using the stretcher against Virgil's pride and slowly nodded his head. "Yeah, I think that could work. Good idea, John. Can you get the rope?"

"I'm on it, Scott." John dropped from view as he slid down the ladder.

Scott turned back to Virgil. "You fall and I'm going to kill you."

"I'll keep that in mind. Help me up, Scott." Virgil held out a hand. Scott latched onto it and pulled his brother upright. He grabbed onto Virgil's waist when the younger man's knees started to buckle. Virgil held on for a moment then straightened up. "I'm okay, I'm okay."

"Virg... this might not be such a good idea." Scott's voice betrayed his concern.

"No, I'm fine, Scott, really. I just stood up too fast is all." Virgil's voice was shaky, but there was no doubting his determination.

"Virgil, this is me you're talking to. Just me. I want you to tell me the truth. How bad is this?"

"Scott, 'soccer ball' is really an apt metaphor. I got the bejezus kicked out of me, but nothing's broken, nothing's bleeding. I'll be fine. Just as soon as we get home and Gordon has washed down Thunderbird Two, I'll be raring to go."

"Thunderbird Two? What makes you think he'll be washing down Thunderbird Two? I had it in mind to make him wash down Thunderbird One!"

"Thunderbird One? But I'm the one who's injured here!"

"God, no wonder Gordon's always so glad to see me go. He needs Alan to play 'picked on little brother'." John stood in the hatchway with his arms crossed, shaking his head.

Virgil shrugged. "Somebody's got to do it."

John rolled his eyes and handed the rope to Scott. "You want me up here or down below?"

Scott wrapped the rope around Virgil's chest, saying, "I'll hang onto the rope, you get below and steady him."

In the field before them, the night sky was lit up by the mighty engines of Thunderbird Two as she dropped out of the sky. John started to climb down the ladder but stopped when he saw Virgil was not following. Scott sighed, knowing Virgil wouldn't move until Thunderbird Two was safely on the ground. Scott watched the landing but could find no fault with it. Virgil on the other hand frowned and muttered something about Gordon being ham-handed.

"Let's go, Virg." Scott placed a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder, but the touch was enough to get him started. Virgil started down the ladder with John below and Scott keeping a tight hold on the rope above. He got about a third of the way down, when he stopped and closed his eyes, resting his head on a rung.

"Virgil? You okay?" Scott called down.

"Uh, yeah. Just... give me a moment."

John was already on the ground and the look on his face was worried. "It's just a few more steps Virg. You can make it."

"Yeah. Yeah, I can. Just a moment longer." Virgil's knuckles had whitened as he gripped the ladder. After a moment he continued his slow climb down the ladder. As he stepped off the last rung, he said, "There, see? Piece of cake."

Scott dropped the rope and slid down the ladder. "You all right? Do you want to sit down?"

"No, Scott, I'm fine... I just need..." Virgil's face went pale, and without further warning, he again began to vomit.

Gordon, who had just trotted up, jumped back as the effluvia spattered his boots. "Whoa! Warn a guy, would you!"

Scott, who had immediately moved in to support his brother, raised his head. "Gordon, you and John go get the stretcher."

"Scott, I don't need a stretcher."

"Shut up. You're riding on the stretcher."

Gordon who had paused to watch the exchange shared a look with John before heading over to the hover bike to unstrap the stretcher.

Scott was caught between concern and annoyance. He disliked having to snap at any of his brothers but wasn't going to let Virgil's stubborn pride put his health at risk. Virgil was displaying an alarming tendency to lean to the left as he tried to cope with the obvious dizziness he still felt.

Gordon returned with the stretcher, but neither he nor John showed any inclination to force the issue. Virgil had again closed his eyes and was leaning heavily on Scott. Scott kept a firm grip, providing as much support as he could. "C'mon, Virg. Let's get you home."

Still reluctant, Virgil opened his eyes, asking, "How are we going to get Buggy loaded?"

John, who had inspected the ball-like machine responded. "She actually looks pretty good, Virg. If we can get her upright, I think she can make it back under her own power."

Gordon looked skeptical. "How are you going to get it upright?"

"The legs. All we have to do is extend the legs on one side, and that should roll it right up."

Scott considered for a moment then made his decision. "All right, John, you go ahead and see if that will work. Gordon, help me get Virgil on board Thunderbird Two. C'mon, Virg, lie down here."

"Scott, everything's spinning. If I lie down, I swear, I'll fall off. Let me just walk, okay?"

"You know we won't let you fall. We'll use the straps, how's that?"

"Damn it, Scott, I don't want to lie down."

Scott rolled his eyes. Gordon was studiously examining a stalk of grass. Like a light dawning, Scott realized the issue. "Virgil, up or down, there is no way you can fly that Thunderbird home. You might as well ride it out in the sickbay. At least that way you won't have to watch Gordon flying her."

Virgil gave his brother a pained look. "Gordon hasn't practiced on her for months, Scott."

Gordon opened his mouth to respond, but a warning look from Scott stopped him. "Virg, Gordon is your back-up. If you don't feel he's competent, you need to take it up with Dad."

"Okay, fine, Scott. If I remember correctly, John is your back-up. Why don't you let him fly Thunderbird One"

"Sounds good to me!" Gordon piped up, grinning.

Scott threw a dark glance at Gordon and turned to the challenge in Virgil's eyes. "Because I'm not incapacitated!" Scott replied with some heat. He took a moment to calm down then continued, "I'll tell you what, Virg. You walk over to Thunderbird Two on your own power, and I'll consider letting John fly Thunderbird One."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Scott stepped away from his stubborn brother, and with arms folded across his chest, watched as the younger man swayed before taking a determined step toward Thunderbird Two. Virgil paused then taking a deep breath, started walking toward his ship. Within three steps he had run himself into the ground, falling on his hands and knees. Gordon made a move to help him, but Scott waved him off.

"You going to see sense anytime soon, Virg?"

On the ground on his hands and knees, Virgil muttered something under his breath. Scott asked solicitously, "What was that, you said? I couldn't quite make it out."

"Just.... Come and help me up, Scott," Virgil gritted out.

"Listen, Virgil, just face it. You can't even walk straight. There's no way you can fly safely. I'll help you over to Thunderbird Two, but you've just got to understand that there's no way I'm going to let you fly her."

Scott's heart went out to his brother when Virgil replied in utter defeat, "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

"Come on, let's go home." Scott pulled his brother upright and grabbed him tightly around the waist, leading him to the big cargo ship. Gordon followed behind towing the anti-grav stretcher.

Scott looked over his shoulder at his younger brother. "Gordon, can you get the bikes and everything stowed? I'll get Virgil settled."

"Sure, Scott." All three brothers turned at the sound of the electric motors of Buggy. They watched as two legs were extruded from near the ground and started pushing the big ball over. Scott turned away as the big machine came upright then turned back at Virgil's groan overlapped by Gordon's laugh.

The huge ball had indeed come to an upright position but then had continued to roll until John, visible through the big window, was again hanging nearly upside down.

Chapter Eleven: Heading Home

"Scott... I'm...." Scott turned to where Virgil was doubling over. He aided his brother to the side of the ramp, where Virgil again began trying to turn his stomach inside out. Scott winced in sympathy. His brother's stomach had previously been emptied and for the most part, Virgil was racked by dry heaves.

Scott looked around to find Gordon staring at Virgil. "What are you standing there for? Go get the bikes." Scott snapped more strongly than he intended.

Gordon jumped then, blushing, turned and hopped off the edge of the ramp. Scott turned back to Virgil to find his brother slowly straightening, a look of speculation on his face. "You okay there, big brother?"

Scott waved off the concern, shaking his head. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just that it's been a tough day. You're not going to believe what Mrs. Fought did. Come on, I'll tell you all about it in the sickbay."

Virgil frowned. "Scott, I concede that I'm possibly not fit to fly us home, but I don't need to be in sickbay. I'll ride the shotgun seat. I'll be fine."

"Uh, Virg... Let me think how to put this nicely..... No way in Hell are you riding shotgun."

To Scott's relief, Virgil chuckled. "What's the matter, Scott, afraid you'll lose a brother or two?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Either you'll kill Gordon, or you'll have a heart attack. Either way I end up doing kitchen duty more frequently."

"Well, what if I promise to pick up the slack... Can I ride shotgun then?"

Scott shivered. "It's getting cold out here. Let's get inside." With one hand firmly holding Virgil's belt and the other anchoring Virgil's arm across his shoulders, Scott led his brother into the bowels of Thunderbird Two. When Virgil would have turned to the cockpit when they exited the elevator, Scott simply tightened his grip and pulled his brother to the sickbay area.

Sitting Virgil down on one of the cots, Scott said, "Now, I think we should try a nice heavy sedative."

"What? No way, Scott! You may be able to get me into sickbay, but there's no way you're going to get me to take a pill. I'd probably barf it up anyway."

"Who said anything about a pill?"

"What? Oh, no! No, no, no! You are not giving me a shot! Don't even think about it!"

Scott looked pityingly at his brother. "Well, I suppose we could get Dr. Katzenstein in here."

Virgil paled. "You wouldn't dare!"

Arnold Katzenstein was the only doctor in town. Virgil had always sworn that the elderly doctor had only come to Kalvesta because no reputable town would have him. Scott secretly agreed with his brother but wasn't beyond using the doddering old fool as a threat.

"Hey, you've had the same paramedic training as I've had. You know a shot of sedative is the best bet. But I don't want to force you into anything."

Scott rummaged around in the drug cabinet for a moment and pulled out a fairly large box. Virgil's eyes widened when he saw what was in his brother's hands. "Uh... Scott? Uh... maybe I'll just go with the shot after all."

Scott fought to hide his grin as he put the box of suppositories back in the cabinet. "Okay, Virg, whatever you say. You want me to do it? Or if you'd rather we can call in Gordon or John?"

"No, that's okay. Just make sure you do it right." Virgil sighed with resignation as he rolled up his sleeve.

"Sorry, Virg, but you need to drop your pants for this."

Virgil looked at his brother through narrowed eyes. "You're enjoying this."

Scott barked a short laugh. "Virgil, what I am enjoying is the fact that all of my brothers are safe. I'm enjoying the fact that you are alive and well enough to be having this conversation. Getting to stick a sharp needle in your butt is pure gravy. Now, lie down so we can get this done before Gordon strolls in."

The threat of being seen by his kid brother did the trick and Virgil laid belly down on the cot, gingerly wiggling to get his pants down enough for the shot. Not wanting to press his luck, Scott swallowed the temptation to hum "Blue Moon" and quickly swabbed and injected the necessary medication.

As Scott taped a small gauze square over the site, his head came up. "What was that?"

Virgil's response assured Scott that the sedative was taking effect. "Whas wha?"

Scott frowned at the pinging sound that was coming more and more rapidly. Absentmindedly he reassured his brother. "Nothing. Go to sleep. I'm going to go check on the guys."

There was no response as Virgil settled into sleep. Scott hurried to the pod ramp as the pinging turned to a rapid pounding. A fiercely cold wind had blown up, and Scott looked out on a world transformed. The still green wheat which had stood knee high was battered down as far as the circle of light from Thunderbird Two's powerful spotlights extended. What looked like a light snow covered the ground. Scott watched in amazement.

It was hail. As he looked out, he could see it literally bouncing on the ground. To his critical eye, it appeared to be about pea-sized, but as he watched, it changed character, growing larger and larger until the small pea-sided nuggets were interspersed with hailstones the size of baseballs. Scott watched for a moment mesmerized by the sight. He jumped as a particularly large hailstone hit the ramp with bruising force. He stared at it for a moment then urgently called out, "John? Gordon? Where are you guys?"

John's reply was immediate. "I'm over to your left, Scott. Getting this thing upright is harder than I thought. This hail is really something, isn't it?"

Scott's stomach tightened as he waited for Gordon to check in. "John, do you have a visual on Gordon? I sent him out to load the hover bikes."

"Damn. No, Scott, I don't. I've been so preoccupied trying to get Buggy upright that I just haven't been paying attention. I know he got at least one of them loaded."

The hail had continued, growing to dangerous size as the brothers conversed. Scott pulled the hood of his suit over his head, knowing it was scant protection against the really large hailstones that were now pounding the hull of Thunderbird Two. Screwing up his courage, Scott headed down the ramp.

"Scott! Where are you going?"

Scott spun on his heel and looked back into the well-lit bay of Thunderbird Two's pod to find Gordon striding across the floor zipping up his jacket. "It's dangerous out there. You need to wait until this hail stops."

"Gordon! I thought you were out there somewhere. Why didn't you answer when I called you?"

"You called me? Huh." Gordon lifted his wrist displaying his communicator. Shaking it, he held it up to his ear. "It seems to be working. I must not have heard you over the storm."

Scott was torn by a desire to either hug or hit his younger brother. Instead he threw a friendly arm across Gordon's shoulder. "Well, as long as you're safe. Listen, I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier."

Gordon shrugged. "That's okay. Did you get Virgil to lie down?"

"I did better than that. I gave him a sedative. He should be out for at least eight hours."

"And you did this single-handed."

"Piece of cake."

"And you don't have any scars."

"Not a one."

"You never cease to amaze me, Scott."

Scott laughed as Gordon just shook his head. Both brothers turned at the sound of Buggy's heavy duty motors starting up. John had finally gotten the vehicle upright and had deployed the wheels. As Scott and Gordon watched, John drove the battered Buggy up the ramp and into the pod.

Under the harsh light of the main bay, the damage was much more obvious. Gordon shook his head in dismay. "It was really frightening. The wind just rolled it away. There was nothing I could do."

"Hey. Don't beat yourself up over it. You said it yourself, there was nothing you could do. Virgil's all right, and Buggy's just going to need the dings pounded out and a new paint job. It's all over and done with, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay, Scott." Despite his brother's ready agreement, Scott knew his brother was going to need a little time to get over this one.

John popped the hatch on Buggy and hurried over to his brothers. "Hey, guys, come on! We need to get some of this hail."

"What? Are you nuts?"

"Use your head, Gordy! The possibilities are endless!" Scott watched as the incipient depression dropped away from his red-haired brother. Scott smiled inwardly, knowing John was less interested in pranks than cheering up his younger brother. Within a moment, the younger Tracy was grinning maniacally as the prospects for practical jokes ran through his head.

"I'll get the cooler!"

"I'm on the shovel!"

Scott shook his head, laughing ruefully. "Alright, you've got five minutes. And I don't want either of you to leave the ramp." As his brothers hurried away Scott called after them, "And you better not even be thinking about pulling anything on me, or I'll get you both."

Scott watched for a moment as the two younger men started picking up hailstones that had landed near the bottom of the ramp. Gordon held up one about the size of a softball for John's inspection as Scott turned to go check on Virgil.

Ten minutes later, having strapped his sleeping brother in, Scott was in the cockpit of Thunderbird Two. To his relief the hail had stopped. He sounded a warning klaxon and watched a monitor to be sure John and Gordon cleared the ramp. His brothers both came into view of the pod camera system and Scott buttoned Thunderbird Two up, raising the ramp and lowering the main ship down to join the body with the pod. By the time Scott fired up the engines, both John and Gordon had entered the cockpit and strapped in.

It was a short jump to where Thunderbird One was parked. Scott made sure his landing was without so much as a bump. It was a matter of pride to him that he could handle all of the Thunderbirds equipment flawlessly.

Unbuckling his safety harness he turned to his brothers. Both of the younger men looked at him awaiting his next orders. "Okay fellows, let's get this show on the road. John, you're with me. We need to check out the ailerons and flaps on Thunderbird One before we leave. Gordon, you've got Two. See if you can get long-range communications up and running. Once you can talk to Father or Alan, you can head home."

John and Gordon both moved with alacrity to obey Scott's commands. Scott followed at a more leisurely rate, taking the time for one last check on Virgil who continued to sleep. By the time he reached the side hatch, Gordon had already made the necessary minor repairs to the long-range antennas and was ready to head for home. He stopped next to his brother for a moment saying, "Thanks, Scott."

"For what?"

Gordon shrugged. "I dunno. Just thanks."

"Okay. You're welcome, then."

Gordon nodded and headed into the ship that Scott had just left. Scott stared after his brother for a moment then headed over to where John sat on the wing of Thunderbird One wrestling with the aileron. "Careful, John, that's a delicate piece of equipment you're manhandling there."

John looked down on his brother wryly. "It's made of herculite reinforced steel, Scott. It's one hellava lot tougher than I am. Can you get me a hammer? I need to pound it in."

Scott rolled his eyes then scrambled up the maintenance handholds onto the wing. "Here, let me do it." John ostentatiously moved aside and let Scott take his place. "The trick of it is to twist... as you... push... it... in. And there! Done."

John looked from his brother's smirking face to the repaired aileron and back. Scott waited for the comment he knew his erudite brother wouldn't be able to resist. John opened his mouth but shut it as Thunderbird Two started to build up power for a vertical take off.

The two brothers watched the liftoff and followed the flight path of TB2's glowing engines until it disappeared in the clouds. John said quietly, "Gordon had a tough day today."

"Yeah, I know. I think we all have. I personally am exhausted." Remembering his short argument with Virgil, Scott said impulsively, "I'll tell you what, why don't you fly One for me?"

John raised his eyebrows, grinning. "Wow! You do everything but hump this ship. You're seriously going to let me fly it?"

Scott hopped down to the ground. "Yeah, you're right. It would be insane. You've talked me out of it. Hurry up before I make you ride on the wing."

"What? No fair, Scott! You can't promise that then take it away!"

Scott raised an eyebrow. "I didn't promise you anything. How about a compromise? I'll fly her as far as Hawaii, then you can take over and fly her the rest of the way. How's that?"

"This is a lesson, isn't it?"

"What, you mean, like keep your big mouth shut? Like don't look a gift horse in the mouth? Like never smart off to your older brother? Naw. No lesson." John opened his mouth to say something, but Scott cut him off. "Be careful, or I'll have to not give you another lesson."

John frowned, looking down and away, "Yes, sir."

Scott laughed, "Oh yeah, like you really meant that. Save your 'sirs' for Dad, John. I know you better. Here comes Mr. Kopecki, let's go say goodbye."

Stuart Kopecki was behind the wheel of the school's maintenance ATV. He pulled up in front of the Tracy brothers and asked anxiously. "Scott, John! Is Virgil all right?"

Scott smiled, "Yes, sir, he's fine. Just dizzy is all. Our engineer did a great job on the safety restraints. Is everybody here okay?"

"Everyone's fine. This second twister didn't do much more than crop damage. The hail did worse." Stu looked fondly at the two young men. "Well. I guess you two had better get going. Wouldn't want your father to think I was keeping you after hours."

Scott chuckled. "I don't think that would be a problem. Did Dad tell you one of us will be back? We have to get you set up with a communications set."

"Jeff mentioned it. You know you're welcome anytime. Plan on staying a while, get together with your old friends." Stu's beaming face took in both of the brothers. "Oh, before I forget, I've got something for you boys."

"Really? What?"

Stu turned back to the ATV. "Well, let's see here. Joe Milstein sent along a box of his Silver Princess sweet corn, and I've got some early tomatoes from Jenna Henry's garden. She's still winning every year at the fair, so you know they're good. Ben Henderson sent along a couple of beef tenderloins. There are a few watermelons, I'm not sure who brought those over. And I went over to Grilley's."

Scott's eyes widened. "Grilley's? Did you say Grilley's?"

"Yes, Scott. There are two fudge cream puffs for you, two sour cream danishs for you, John. The rest is for the family, and before you two start making plans, I will be calling your father and giving him an itemized list of everything else in this box." Scott reached for the big pink box, but Stu pulled it back. "Scott? Did you hear me? The rest of the pastries are for your brothers and dad. I even had them put in those passion fruit fritters that Mr. Kyrano used to enjoy. He's still with you, isn't he? Him and little Tin-Tin?"

It was John who answered. "Yes, only Tin-Tin isn't so little anymore. She works as Brains' assistant. Don't worry, Mr. Kopecki, I'll guard the pastries."

Scott frowned. "Hey, I'm not a kid anymore. It's been a long time since that binge."

John replied, "Yeah, right. I'm going to get a gun from the arms locker."

"Don't make me not teach you another lesson, John."

"All right, boys, enough. Let's get this stuff loaded onboard. I don't know about you, but it's too cold out here for my old bones."

The comment surprised Scott. "Old? You? You'll never be old."

"I'm getting older by the minute. Here, make yourself useful." Stu gruffly shoved the heavy box of fresh corn into Scott's arms. John opened a storage hatch, and within a few moments, the food was all stowed.

Scott turned back to his old mentor. "Well, I guess we had better get going."

"Yup. I'll see you boys around."

"Okay, well, take care of yourself."

Stu laughed shaking his head. "Come here, you two!" He reached out and gathered the brothers in a twin bear hug that threatened to choke off Scott's breath. As quickly as that, Stu released them, and without a backward glance, hopped onto the ATV and headed back to the school.

John, watching him go, said quietly, "Dibs on the comm installation."

"I think we'll all have to come back. God, I've missed that man, and I didn't even know it."

"Yeah. Me too. So, do you think he'll really call Dad about the pastries?"

"You can bank on it. I'll tell you what, let's just stow them in the storage hatch. That way we won't be tempted."

Sighing, John replied, "Okay." The big pink box joined the rest of the food in the storage hatch and the two brothers climbed up into Thunderbird One. In the cockpit, Scott cocked his head at his younger brother and stared. John fidgeted under the scrutiny and finally asked, "What?"

"Take the pilot's seat. I'm going to catch some sleep."

John grinned, started to say something, thought the better of it and finally said, "Yes, sir!"

Scott settled himself in the drop down passenger seat and prepared to let John fly them home. The take off was not as precise as Scott would have liked, but he bit his tongue and eventually John started to relax. Scott pretended to fall asleep, but in actuality he felt every little course correction and change of power level that John made.

Scott kept a surreptitious eye on the course and time, and shortly after a sweeping turn, heard the telltale beep of sensor contact. It took all of Scott's willpower to continue the charade of napping. He listened as John toggled the switch to the mircorphone. "Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two. Come in, Gordon."

"John? What happened? What's wrong?"

"What do you mean, what's wrong? Nothing's wrong."

"Where's Scott? Why isn't he piloting?"

"Oh, well, he just decided to take a nap is all."

"Scott is taking a nap."

"Yes."

"And he's letting you fly Thunderbird One."

"Yes."

"Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird Five."

"This is Thunderbird Five, go ahead Gordon."

"Alan, Scott is taking a nap while John flies Thunderbird One."

"You lie!"

"No, ask him yourself."

"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird One, come in Scott."

"John, here, Alan. Scott is napping."

"Is he sick?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Guys, the way I see it, one of two things has happened." Gordon's voice was full of awe. "Either Hell has frozen over, or the age of miracles has come to pass."

"Gordon, I'm scared."

"Me too, Al. Me too."

"Excuse me, but did it ever occur to either of you that it could just be that Scott trusts me? That Scott realizes I'm an excellent pilot?"

There was a long pause before both brothers replied in unison, "Naw."

"Fine. Believe what you want. Gordon, I'll see you at home. Alan, I'll see you in a week. Thunderbird One, out." Despite the annoyance in his voice while talking to his brothers, John chuckled as soon as he cut the connection. Scott smiled as his younger brother started whistling a jaunty tune.

Scott was awakened from a light doze some time later when John put a call into base. "Thunderbird One to base."

Their father's deep voice replied. "John? What happened, son? Where's Scott?"

"He's right here, Father. He let me fly Thunderbird One home. Is the area clear? We are on final approach."

"Traffic is clear, you are go for landing." Jeff Tracy's voice was a firm beacon to the weary.

Scott mimicked awakening, stretching and yawning. "We're home?"

"Just about. Did you have a good nap?"

"Yes, thanks. Listen, the way I see it, you have two choices here. Either you can wisely relinquish that pilot's chair to me, or you can foolishly try to land Thunderbird One yourself with me breathing down your neck."

John engaged the autopilot and stepped down. "And here I was telling the guys you trusted me."

"I do trust you, John. You know I do. I just can't help it, I need to be in control."

"All right, but you owe me."

"Okay. I owe you. Now buckle up, I'm taking her to vertical." Scott handled the controls with panache and within fifteen minutes, the brothers were playfully jostling each other to be the first across the walkway.

John finally gave way with a crack about age before beauty and Scott hurried through to the main house. He reassured his father that the mission was a success and that Virgil would be fine and with his father's permission headed to his suite for a shower and change of clothes.

He was just buttoning his shirt when he heard the deep rumbling signifying the return of Thunderbird Two. He headed for the hangars at the run, nearly colliding with John as his brother also came running. The two brothers took the elevator to the floor of the hangar and joined their father and grandmother just as the latter two entered the hatch into the interior of Thunderbird Two. A quick check showed Virgil was still peacefully sleeping, and John joined Scott in transporting their brother to sickbay.

Once Virgil was settled, Jeff told his sons the debriefing would wait until the morning, and they could take the rest of the day off. John left in search of Gordon, as Grandma and Jeff settled in to wait for Virgil to awaken. Scott considered going for a swim but decided to sit with his grandmother and father for awhile.

"Son, why don't you go and take a nap. You look like you could use one."

"No, Dad, I'm fine. It's been a hellava day, though. It was really good to see Mr. Kopecki again."

"Stu's a good man. I don't know why it didn't occur to me to ask him to be an agent before this. Alan has called dibs on installing the comm system for him."

Scott smiled. "John called it, too. I guess it will depend on when the system is ready. I don't mind telling you, I wouldn't mind going back to visit myself. There was just something in the air that said 'home' to me."

"Did you run into anyone else you knew?"

"Yes and no, Grandma. Wyatt and Bill were there, but I didn't actually run into them. Oh, and we rescued Mrs. Fought. We had our HAZMAT suits on, so she didn't recognize us."

Grandma smiled fondly. "I haven't heard from Tina in months. How did she look, Scott? Was she well?"

Scott grimaced, "Oh, she was fine, Grandma. She had a couple of minor bruises but nothing serious." Scott looked away unable to face his grandmother.

Much to Scott's surprise, his father said quietly, "Oh, Lord."

Grandma hushed her son then spoke up, "Scott, did she make a grab at you?"

Scott sat up in amazement. "How did you know?"

"That woman is a menace," Jeff growled.

"Jeff, enough," Grandma said sternly. "Scott, Tina Fought is a wonderful sweet woman, and you know yourself she is as caring as the day is long. But she has always had this quirk."

"Quirk? Mother, you call molestation a quirk?"

"It's hardly molestation. Scott, she just has this quirk. She's an ass-grabber. Always has been, always will be. Oh my, the trouble it used to cause in town! Of course, once she got the job at the high school, she had to control herself."

Scott could hardly get the words out past his shock. "Grandma... you knew?"

"Oh, my heavens, yes! Sweetie, she never would have done it if she had known it was you. She's a good woman." Grandma glared at her son as he snorted. "She's a good woman and I know I can trust you not to hold it against her."

"Sure, Grandma. I won't, but what about John and Gordon? She got them, too."

"Oh for God's sake! Mother, I've told you that woman wasn't fit for decent company! I'm going to go find the boys and have a talk with them." Jeff got up and stomped out of the room.

Both Scott and his grandmother stared after Jeff as he left the room. Scott risked a glance over at Grandma just as she glanced at him. They both burst into laughter at the same time. "All right, Scott. I want all the gory details! Tell me what happened."

"Well, she got Gordy first. What happened was this..." Scott launched into the story with gusto, and the two, grandmother and grandson, spent the next few hours laughing and reminiscing.

Chapter Twelve: Epilogue

Some time later, Scott sat up as Virgil finally started showing signs of waking up. He had had a great time just sitting and talking with his grandmother, something he resolved to do more often. The entire time, Virgil had slept peacefully, but now he had grown restless, tossing in his sleep.

Finally Grandma reached out and, finger combing his hair, coaxed him awake. "Grandma?"

"Yes, dear heart. Wake up now. It's time to wake up."

Virgil woke up with no more encouragement, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. Scott grinned at his brother. "How do you feel, Virg?"

"Actually, not bad. Not bad at all. You got Buggy loaded with no problems?"

"Eventually. John had some trouble getting it upright at first, but he made it finally."

"What aren't you telling me, Scott? Did Gordon crash Thunderbird Two?"

"No, he did not. You've got to stop saying that, Virg, you'll give him a complex."

Grandma snorted. "That one? It would take more than a few insults to get through your brother's thick skin. But I agree with Scott, I won't have you impugning Gordon's abilities, it's not polite, and I know I've raised you both better."

Both brothers responded in a good natured sing-song, "Yes, Grandma."

The tiny elderly woman gave her grandsons a stern look then relented. "Virgil, you get dressed now and I'll make you both a bite to eat."

"Oh, Grandma, that reminds me, Mr. Kopecki loaded us up with food. We've got sweet corn, steak, tomatoes and watermelon."

"Oh! That sounds like that would just hit the spot, now doesn't it? Give me thirty minutes and we'll have us a feast." Grandma left the sickroom, with her grandsons smiling fondly after her.

"Hurry up and get dressed, Virg. I didn't tell her the best. Mr. Kopecki got us Grilley's!"

"Oh man! The caramel sticky buns? I would kill for one of those right now!"

"Well, hurry up and get dressed. I know for sure that there are fudge cream puffs for me. I forgot all about it until Grandma mentioned food. I only hope John forgot, too. If he told Gordon, neither of us are going to get anything."

Virgil dressed in the jeans and t-shirt his dad had thoughtfully hung on the end of the bed, and the two brothers headed for the lounge. As they walked up the hallway, Virgil suddenly stopped, Scott running into his back. "What?"

"Listen!"

Scott listened, but all he heard was someone, probably Gordon, laboriously playing 'Chopsticks' on the piano. Wait... the piano?

Scott grinned at the look of stunned wonder on Virgil's face. It was that Christmas all over again. "Well, don't just stand there, let's go see!"

With a look of childlike joy, Virgil started forward only to come to a stop a second time as he entered the lounge. There, where his beloved white piano had stood for years was a gleaming black piano. From behind his desk, Jeff called out, "Oh, there you are! I took the liberty of having this instrument delivered. I hope you like it."

Virgil stood staring at it a tiny grin on his face. Scott whispered in his ear, "Don't forget to breathe."

Suddenly Gordon, who had had his head down as he slowly pounded out the notes to the familiar tune, looked up. His face was smeared with chocolate, and he grinned, waving a hand sticky with chocolate, "Hey, Virg! Are you feeling better?"

Virgil didn't notice at first, his eyes were on the beautiful piano in front of him. When he finally took in his brother's appearance his eyes widened in rage. With an inarticulate yell, he threw himself at his younger brother who, having carefully set his trap, danced away laughing with glee.

Scott grinned shaking his head. Life in the Tracy household was a whirlwind in itself, and Scott wouldn't have it any other way.