Yet in that perfect, tranquil moment as his eyes darted to the left, he saw something so impossibly huge, something he'd never witnessed in all his thirty-nine years as a rescuer, Air Force man and older brother of four men; something that took his breath away at the very same instant it set every alarm in his head to ringing.

Stay up high and hope it didn't tear apart every stick and stone of the structures they'd built on their paradise? Or go into the depths of the island where those vehicles which were at the very heart of International Rescue lay silent and helpless? This was the choice with which they were faced, and all scientific evidence pointed to staying above rather than below.

But they'd only had eleven minutes' warning. Thunderbird Five's sophisticated monitoring and imaging hadn't been sufficient. The island's equally high-tech systems hadn't been adequate. Somewhere two hundred kilometres east of an island called Tonga, the Earth's crust had shifted twice in a row, sending calamity on a collision course with Tracy Island.

The hurricane shields were going up. He had just enough time to hurdle the one in front of the door that separated him from the relative safety of the villa. Scott turned to run, only then hearing the cry from behind him. He stopped as though some higher power had hit the pause button, and in the blink of an eye took in the gigantic five-story wave nearly upon them, and Jeff Tracy taking the steps three-at-a-time.

Scott glanced back to the shielding which had nearly blocked his escape, then to his father again. He would never make it. There was no way. "Dad!" he yelled, as a sound akin to a rushing freight train deafened him. Launching himself toward the staircase, Scott reached out and for a sweet, happy moment felt Jeff's fingertips touch his.

But there was only so far he'd been able to track them until three years prior, when he'd finally figured out a way to detect the fields generated by devices they were using to cloak the Thunderbirds from view. He spent a few weeks chiding himself over how blindingly easy it was to follow the signature of the fields based on magnetics and the simplest of Maxwell's equations. The one for each craft, he knew, had to be slightly different to allow for the varying shapes and sizes of them.

Underwater tracking was the obvious choice, as the field would create water displacement and thus following Thunderbird 4 would be a piece of cake. Quickly he realized that was useless, however, since 4 always and only docked with 2 and once it was set inside the larger craft would be protected by 2's own field.

Thunderbird 3 wasn't the first one to try, as tracking a sophisticated magnetic signature moving through Earth's atmosphere to space and back would be the hardest place to start. Lack of gravity and sheer force of exit and re-entry meant that devising something compact that could withstand such pressure was out of the question for a quick win. It was thus that he dismissed 3. The vacuum of space also made Thunderbird 5 off-limits for starters. That left Thunderbirds 1 and 2, and while 2 was slower and would therefore perhaps be an easier ship to follow, as first on-scene 1 was the logical choice.

While Scott Tracy was busying himself setting up Mobile Control, assessing the situation and relaying information to his brothers, he wouldn't be thinking about anything or anyone coming near his ship; no, he would be far too concerned with the lives that he was trying to save. Piloting the fastest of all the Thunderbirds, Scott would be the first one home as well, and once he was there he would have to contact his base in order to land if he followed any sort of military protocol at all.

That much, at least, Belah Gaat was certain of. He may not have gotten a great deal of detailed International Rescue information out of his half-brother over the years, but one thing he knew was the identities of those behind the secret organization. Between the two eldest males were at least forty years of Air Force service, if not more.

As former officers, they'd be running their ship tightly and by-the-book. So that made it easy; when Scott Tracy called in requesting permission to land, it would leave the field generator open long enough for his secret little weapon to send a message home. That deed done, it would completely deactivate itself and fall from 1 into either the water or land, where it would self-destruct.

Despite his best efforts, Belah had never been able to find out where precisely the Tracys called home, at least not full-time. He'd found a couple homes they owned in Europe, one in Greece and another in Kansas, but it quickly became clear they were rarely actually at any of those. It all made sense, though. If you were a secret organization, you'd want to make it as difficult as possible to find you.

Thus his search had begun, and the first of his devices had tracked Thunderbird 1 only as far as American Samoa before the terrific G-forces created by the sleek plane had destroyed it. He'd forced his team to start over again, to build something that could withstand a ride on 1, something that would be undetectable beneath its very own field. Nine months later they had succeeded and the trap had been set.

"Go ahead, John."

"There's a team of volcanologists trapped on Young Island, Father. They were studying the volcano there when it erupted. From what I understand, four of the team were killed instantly by pyroclastic flows. The other half, four men, made it out of their camp with SCUBA gear and into Calaman Bay, but the lava's heading for it fast and their air won't last forever."

"If it hits that water while they're in there, it'll make a crust that will crush them like a vice grip."

"Exactly. I don't even know if Thunderbird 2 will make it in the time those men have left."

Jeff turned to his eldest, who'd come running at the sound of the alarm. "Well, Scott, it looks like it may be up to you to get those four people out of there."

Nodding and taking his place at the wall to the side of his dad's desk, Scott replied, "It'll be a good chance to use the new pulsed pumping laser Brains fitted 1 with a few days ago."

"Right, Scott." Jeff turned to the pilot of Thunderbird 2. "You may not get there in time to help, Virgil, but every second you can coax out of her may mean a man lives instead of dies."

"I'll make her go faster," Virgil vowed. "Pod 5. Gordon, you're with me."

Jeff watched his boys exit the room; Virgil leaning flat against the moon rocket picture, Scott swivelling around on the rotating wall and Gordon speeding out into the hall to the elevator that would take him down to Thunderbird 2. "John, do they know help's on the way?"

He shook his head. "I can't seem to get through to them, if they've got radios. Metals in the cooling lava rock must be blocking the signal. What I caught was what little they transmitted before they had to duck completely under to avoid the flow."

"How deep is Calaman Bay, son?"

"There isn't a lot of data on it, Father, but it can't be more than 25 meters at the most based on scans of the surrounding Southern Ocean and land mass of the island. I can see the molten rock, though. The lava has completely changed the landscape of it already."

"How quickly will that lava fill 25 meters?"

John's face was replaced by a live satellite image zoomed to two hundred percent. "Probably in less than an hour. It all depends on how well the cooled rock is anchored to the shore. The more anchored it is, the more minutes they'll have. If it's not, the rock will just keep sinking until it crushes them. I would say they've already been in there about twenty minutes now."

Jeff shook his head. Scott was the only chance those poor scientists had, and he knew it. They all did.

Scott broke his own record and made it there in twenty minutes flat. That left little time for anything but the most drastic of measures. His infrared wasn't able to penetrate the lava - it had cooled enough to become solid, but was still so hot the entirety of the lava field glowed bright red on his screens.

"Thunderbird 1 to Base."

"Go ahead, Scott."

"Father, I'm just going to have to take my best guess here and use the PPL. Do we have any idea where the deepest spot is in what used to be Calaman Bay?"

"Listening in, Scott," came John's voice over the airwaves. "I went back to the last Earth scan Alan performed during one of his tours up here and it would appear that you've got about twenty-three meters at minus fifty-seven point oh-nine and minus twenty-six point seven one."

Scott's mind kicked into gear as he pinpointed those coordinates. Surely the volcanologists would have sought the deepest part of the bay. That meant the eastern-most side of it would be the safest bet, as it was the furthest from the pyroclastic flow and far enough away from where he hoped the men had sought refuge.

"I'm going to hit the eastern edge with the PPL, Father," Scott advised. "Thunderbird 2 from Thunderbird 1."

"Go ahead, Thunderbird 1."

"Virgil, you'll be landing south of Calaman Bay on the ice-covered portion of the island, I'm transmitting the coordinates now. I'll need you and Gordon to get the Mole under there in case there isn't any water left." To himself he muttered, "In which case what I'm doing is useless."

"Ten-four, Thunderbird 1."

Scott punched the coordinates into the pulsed pumping laser software and the gun lowered just behind 1's red-painted nose. He moved the plane east of the island and steadied her. "Firing," he said as his thumb pressed the button on his steering yoke.

Poised at the northern tip of Buckle Island, just over eighty kilometres south of Young, he watched the feed from the portable field tracker's tiny camera. It was nearly at its destination and already picking up a disturbance in the air. Within minutes, as it closed on its target, he realized he had indeed found Thunderbird 1. It showed its outline on his screen as clearly as if Scott Tracy himself had drawn the picture for him.

Now it was just a matter of settling the small device, small enough to be held in his hand, onto the hull of the 'Bird without detection. The camera told the story quite well for him. Tracy had used a pulsating laser beam to blast some of the rock from the eastern edge of Calaman Bay and was now setting down just south of that; high enough to not be hit by what was left of the flowing lava, but close enough to make it there on foot.

As soon as the small flying object, itself cloaked from 1's sensors, told him Scott was running away from his ship, he docked it softly and carefully on top in a place no one on the ground would ever see it. Now all he had to do was wait. Before the day was through he would know exactly where International Rescue's base was. Sure, if he'd outfitted the tracker with some sort of weapon, he could've had Scott Tracy then and there. But he didn't want only him. He wanted all of them.

Scott set 1 down and took off running like a bat out of hell. He'd cut a hole large enough to where he could see there was still water beneath the rock, but 2 was still sixteen minutes out and he knew he hadn't any time to lose. His heat resistant suit wouldn't protect him from fresh lava, but it was safe to 1,200 degrees Celsius and his instruments had registered the cooling rock he'd have to walk across at 800 degrees.

Closer to the center of the Bay it was only in the 40 degree range but Scott had to get past extreme heat to reach it. He'd be safe enough, but would the men have seen the escape route he'd created for them? Would they already have succumbed to the heat?

Carefully he made his way to the hole and looked under, dismayed to see not one sign of life. Maybe they were too late. Maybe the men had been crushed already. He refused to follow that line of thought, however. He had to do everything he could. Never give up, at any cost.

Taking a couple deep breaths and letting them out, Scott stuffed the regulator in his mouth and dove down into Calaman Bay. He was only a couple feet in when he realized the rock had already sunk so low he was scraping the back of his air tank on it. He shook his head and used his arms along the bottom to pull himself ahead, but he was having a tough time manoeuvring in the bulky suit.

Note to self, he thought. Get Brains and Gordon to invent heat-resistant SCUBA gear.

He could see absolutely nothing, even with the small light that was situated just inside his face mask. The ash that had hit prior to the lava made seeing all but impossible. Realizing he couldn't make it any further with the air tank on, he scooted back a few yards, managed to squeeze it off and bring it to rest on his right.

Pulling it along with him, he kept reaching out as far as his fingertips would go, praying he'd feel a person, a regulator, an air tank, something. That was when the regulator was yanked from his mouth. He searched blindly for it as his chest began to burn. When the tank was ripped from his hand, what little air was left in his lungs came out in a whoosh.

"Scott!" Virgil called, regulator hanging down over his shoulder.

"He got some of them out!" Gordon puffed, pulling alongside and then passing his brother. "Look!"

Virgil moved his eyes to the right, following Gordon's pointed finger. "I'll be damned," he breathed, noting three bodies on the shore.

"John said there were four; Scott must have gone under for the last one!" With that, Gordon quickly dove down into the hole Scott had created while Virgil raced to Thunderbird 2 for a hover bike and some hover stretchers.

Gordon made it only a few yards before realizing his tank wouldn't fit under the rock - in fact, he barely fit with just his heat-resistant suit. He had to take the tank off and slide it along next to him, plus he couldn't see worth a damn.

Two more yards of struggling through the murky water and just as the aquanaut was beginning to think he needed to grab a much more powerful light than the one he had, he felt a hand on his left arm and jumped, whacking his head on the rock above. He could just make out a familiar wristwatch and knew he had Scott. Ignoring the pain, Gordon pulled at his brother and started scooting backwards, but was gaining little ground. He stopped and took the regulator out of his mouth, touching it to Scott's hand.

It disappeared and Gordon was at least grateful his brother was able to get some oxygen as he continued struggling against the tight space. Had it somehow become tighter since he dove under? Panic wanted to rise in him as he thought of fresh lava making the cooled rock overhead heavier and heavier, until at last there was no more room and they were crushed.

The copper-haired man maintained his composure, continuing to pull Scott as hard as he could with his left hand and the oxygen tank in his right. At last, and it had seemed an interminable amount of time, he felt hands on his feet as Virgil pulled first him, then Scott and finally the fourth scientist out from a setting that wanted to be their watery tomb.

Virgil loaded the volcanologist onto a hover stretcher, hopped onto the attached hover bike and started off toward Thunderbird 2. Seconds later the great cooling rock field finally gave in to the fresh lava pouring onto its western edge. With something that sounded almost like a groan, followed by a sigh and then a large crack, it gave way. Crashing to the bed of the bay, sealing the fate of whatever wildlife had once been there, it was done. The bay was no more.

Gordon looked up at the still-spewing volcano as he helped a bedraggled but breathing Scott to his feet. "We got them all, Scott," he said, pulling his elder brother's arm around his shoulders. "Thanks to you."

Deprived for too long of the oxygen his body had needed, however, Scott collapsed onto his brother without so much as a nod of his head. Gordon lifted him into a fireman's carry and ran as fast as his burden would allow toward Thunderbird 2.

Nobody saw the tracking device, colored the same as Thunderbird 1's hull. They were happy, they'd done their jobs, and aside from some bumps, bruises, scrapes and a bit of unconsciousness, they had come out of it relatively well. It was a successful rescue, and they could all be in high spirits about that. As Virgil lifted off with his five patients and Gordon took command of Thunderbird 1, they had no way of knowing that this trip home for the sleek silver rocket plane would be the one that would doom them all.

Dark eyes surveyed the underwater excavation with satisfaction. From his position inside the small Deep Sea Vehicle which he had dubbed Kuda Laut, Malay for 'seahorse,' he checked what his readouts were telling him about the precise position of each explosive device. Nodding slowly as he compared that to the plans he'd been refining for months, a smile crept across his harsh Asiatic features. Rather than soften his appearance, the movement lent a menacing air to the man whose true identity only four men in the world knew. And three of those were dead.

That would soon change. Years of planning and nearly fourteen months in execution, preparations were finally near completion. The Tonga plate had turned out to be the most logical choice. A microplate with an ideal adjoining trench where it subducted the Pacific plate, it was very active already. He would just be helping it on its journey and it, in turn, would be helping him.

This was the single most brilliant and foolproof plan his mind had ever conceived of. And he was using a combination of the most technologically advanced human creations on the planet and the very essence of the planet itself to achieve the one thing that had eluded him for decades: the complete destruction of International Rescue.

Kuda Laut's radio suddenly came alive. "This is Team Two. Placement complete." He nodded, looking out the window before him. "This is Team Six. Placement complete." Each team called in, eight total, to announce their work was done. Now it was just a matter of timing. The simple push of a button was the next step, and he would be the one to do so when his gut told him it was time.

"Very well," he said into the small microphone to his left. "All teams disperse as directed."

He turned the wheel and accelerated, moving quickly toward the east. From the rented warehouse at Hanan International Airport on the western side of the island of Niue he would be safe. His calculations and painstaking placement of the explosives ensured this area would receive waves of only moderate height as a result of his deeds. Anything several hundred kilometres to the west of the ridge where the Tonga microplate met the Pacific plate would be wiped out by the largest tidal wave the world had ever witnessed.

And the best part was, he'd already taken care of making sure the Tracys wouldn't know it was coming. The night before he'd sneaked into the International Tsunami Warning Center in Hawaii and disabled the two data buoys that were directly between Niue and Fiji, and even the one further south of his location, northeast of New Zealand.

Posing as part of the overnight janitorial staff, it had taken no effort whatsoever between the mask he'd worn and the generic blue coverall he'd taken from the first closet he came upon. First the data buoys and then the seismographs. He managed to rig the computer detection programs to suppress incoming data for 30 minutes by telling it these were only going to be tests. This would give the tsunami he was planning time to reach Tracy Island before anyone even knew what had happened.

It never ceased to amaze him how unguarded some places continued to be in this day and age with the Hood running loose and no one having any idea who he was or where he'd strike next. That thought made him laugh out loud with great pleasure as he continued on his way.

International Rescue, and countless other innocents, would never know what hit them.

"I felt them, John, but I don't think anyone else was awake at the time," Jeff said, receiving nods from his other four sons who'd just joined him in the Lounge. "What are the results, who's been hit the hardest?"

"To be honest, I can't make heads or tails of it. I should be getting more signals than I am, but it's like everything west of the tectonic plate joint has gone dark!"

That's when they heard it. Or rather, them. Simultaneous with a distinct and ear-piercing warning siren to John's left came a voice crying out for help.

"TSUNAMI! Oh my GOD!"

John quickly silenced the alarm, his already pale face turning at least five shades whiter. "Father, hurricane shields. Now!"

It hit the five men standing in the villa living room like a ton of bricks.

"Where's Kyrano?"

"Where's Tin-Tin?"

"I haven't seen him!"

"She said she was going to the lookout point!"

"I have to hit the shields now!"

"Where's Grandma?"

"Let me get 1 in the air!"

"There's no time!"

Jeff jumped up from his desk and grabbed Scott by the shoulders. "I've put the shields on a timer, son. Whether I'm back or not, get to safety."

Scott's deep blue eyes met the steely grays of his father. He nodded almost imperceptibly before watching the elder Tracy disappear through the sliding glass doors.

"Where's he going?" Virgil asked, moving to run after him.

"No!" Scott exclaimed, physically blocking Virgil's path. "Alan, have you located Kyrano?"

"Yes, he's in Storage Alpha, Scott!"

"Get him to safety."

"But Tin-Tin!" Alan cried. "She's out on the beach! She'll be killed!"

"Dad won't let that happen, Alan," Scott said, a firm hand on his brother's arm. "I'll see to it they both get back. Now go!"

"What's going on, did I feel an earthquake?" came a voice from the hall.

"Virgil, take charge of Grandma!" Scott whirled to face Gordon. "Help him!" He stopped and looked toward the open door. "Of all times for Brains to be at a goddamn conference," he muttered.

All with their assignments, they ran for it. Virgil picked his grandmother up and cradled her against his chest as they made their way to the observation deck above Thunderbird 2's hangar. Scott sprinted across the living room and out onto the patio, straining to catch a glimpse of his father. Instead, he saw Tin-Tin high-tailing it up the stairs.

"Get to the observation deck!" he barked. "Where's Dad?"

She skidded to a halt and turned to look behind her. "He was right there!" she cried. "Right behind me!"

"Shit," Scott swore. "Get to safety, now!"

"Scott!" John's voice called through both his picture in the living room and his older brother's wristwatch. "One minute, that's all you have! It's almost on you!"

The hurricane shields were going up. He had just enough time to hurdle the one in front of the door that separated him from the relative safety of the villa. Scott turned to run, only then hearing the cry from behind him. He stopped as though some higher power had hit the pause button, and in the blink of an eye took in the gigantic five-story wave nearly upon them, and Jeff Tracy taking the steps three-at-a-time.

Scott glanced back to the shielding which had nearly blocked his escape, then to his father again. He would never make it. There was no way. "Dad!" he yelled, as a sound akin to a rushing freight train deafened him. Launching himself toward the staircase, Scott reached out and for a sweet, happy moment felt Jeff's fingertips touch his.

It had, he considered, been smart to approach his destination by air rather than boat. After all, who knew what ramifications his handiwork would have to the fault east of Tracy Island, and what that would mean for the placidity of the South Pacific?

But at this particular moment, he didn't care. All attention was focused on his infrared. It appeared the tidal wave had completely knocked out the island's power, and there were what looked like large metal sheets covering what had probably been windows. It was his first time here, and he drank everything in like a small child on his first trip to the toy store.

As his helicopter approached from the southeast, he directed his pilot to land on the tarmac located at the island's south side, which was fairly clear save for palm tree debris. He instructed the remaining three 'copter pilots to land close to him. Each PP-90L Pave Hawk, besides its pilot, contained a dozen men trained by the best assassins and military personnel in Eastern Asia. And each man, through an oath made before the Gates of Hell itself, had sworn his undying allegiance to the Hood.

The six men that rode with him disembarked and just as quickly their comrades joined them. Belah was no fool; he'd given them instructions to reconnoitre the entire island while he sat in the relative safety of his bulletproof 'copter, blades whirling, ready to take off. This island was the top secret headquarters of International Rescue, and with all the technology at their disposal it was easy to imagine their defensive systems were nothing less than equal to the task of defending that secret.

He listened intently for any signs of life as his men moved quickly around, over and through the sometimes rugged terrain. Each of the buildings was inaccessible due to the large metal sheets covering every possible inch of them. But he could at least tell that one was circular leaving a large opening in the middle; then there was what appeared to be nothing more than living quarters, and he'd also seen a kidney-shaped swimming pool littered with debris.

Knowing the kind of science at their disposal, the Hood had one more trick up his sleeve. There would be no calls for help from Tracy Island, power or no power. Once he'd discovered how International Rescue had blocked cameras and video equipment from "seeing" their Thunderbirds, it was not a very large leap devising a way to cripple their communications.

As he watched, a glow surrounded the schematic of the island he had pulled up on the screen in front of him. The shield placed by one of his teams was up. It was so thoroughly disruptive to the entire spectrum of frequencies that not even he and his men could use standard communications devices. His solution basically jammed every frequency, making them all 'busy' so that nothing else could get through. Even a cell phone was impotent under this field.

The Hood could never really be certain how, but he knew that International Rescue communicated amongst one another while in the field, communicated with their base, which he was now on, and were able to do so even from underground. Unless they were tapping into every communications tower on Earth, which he deemed highly unlikely due to the potential for security breaches, they had to have a very powerful satellite of some sort handling everything for them.

He'd deduced that satellite was the talked-of but never seen Thunderbird 5. But even that was useless to them now thanks to him. The Hood couldn't help but let his triumph show upon his face; a look that for once, instead of making him look more menacing, actually made him look almost happy.

He turned his attention back to the matter at hand. It had been nearly thirty minutes since the tsunami had decimated this former paradise, and thus far there had been no signs of activity. If even one of the Tracys, however, had made it behind the shields that now blocked entrance to the structures he could see, or into some structure he could not, there could still very well be danger for him and his team.

"Is everyone all right?"

Slowly they unfolded themselves from various self-protective positions around the observation deck. Before anything else, Virgil could tell the power was off simply due to the eerie silence surrounding them.

"Watches, everyone, we need some light." Each of them duly turned the blank white screen of their wristwatches on to enable sight. Virgil checked on his grandmother, who rose to her feet with Gordon's assistance.

"Tin-Tin, you okay?" Alan asked.

She nodded and looked around, shining her watch to every corner of the room they occupied. "Alan? Where are Scott and your father?"

Gordon, Virgil and Alan exchanged glances as Tin-Tin rushed to her father's side. He was just coming to his feet and shared a small smile with his daughter before turning to face his best friend's sons. "Yes, where are they?" he echoed.

"Well, I thought Dad went to get you," Alan replied. "Didn't you see him?"

She nodded. "Yes, he came and ordered me to get to…well, here. He yelled at me to run as fast as I could."

Gordon frowned. "He didn't run with you?"

This time she shook her head, then nodded, then shook it again. "Well, he did, and I thought he was right behind me. But when I reached the top of the steps, Scott was there and asked where Mr. Tracy was. When I turned, I didn't see him! Scott told me to get inside and I ran as fast as I could to meet all of you here."

"Virgil?"

"I don't know, Al. I'm sure they're safe." Virgil switched his wristwatch to transmit. "Virgil calling Thunderbird Five. John, are you there?" His only response was silence. Virgil thought for a moment. "Now why isn't that working?" He looked around them. "It's obvious the power's out, but we transmit through Five directly…Virgil to Dad." Nothing. "Scott, come in."

Alan whipped the cell phone out of his jeans pocket, turned it on and frowned at the display. "What? No signal? What do you mean no signal?"

Gordon pulled his own cell out of his pocket and flipped it open. "Same here. No signal. How can that be?"

"There's something not right about this," Virgil said to himself. He turned to the others. "All right, we've got to get the generators on; at least if we have power we can use the computers to communicate."

"But Virgil," came the quiet voice of Kyrano from across the room, "What if everything below ground is flooded?"

"Could be. But we're down two and unable to communicate with anybody; I'm not just going to sit here and imagine what might have happened to them."

Gordon and Alan nodded their agreement in unison. Virgil went to a narrow line of cabinets in the wall, popped it open and grabbed several flashlights strapped to wristbands. As he addressed each of the others, he handed them one. "All right, here's what we'll do. Gordon, you're with me. We're going to see how far down we can get, and if we can reach the set of generators in the supply tunnels then we'll get them on. If we have to go underwater, I want our aquanaut by my side."

Gordon nodded gravely.

"Al, nothing's going to get these hurricane shields up if the power's still off, so unless there's a breach somewhere, we can't get out of here. I want you and Tin-Tin to search every inch of every above-ground structure you can. If you find a way out, you come back here. Gordo and I will also meet everyone back here."

"And what about me?" Ruth Tracy asked. "You don't expect me to just sit here on my hands!"

"No, Grandma, I don't. Whatever the situation is or is not outside, we're all going to need to eat. And with the power out, chances are the food's going to start to spoil. Make whatever you can make without power, and bring it back here. I have a mind we're all going to be pretty hungry once we regroup."

Ruth narrowed her eyes. "If I didn't know any better, Virgil Tracy, I'd say you were sending me to the kitchen just to keep me busy."

"No, I'm sending you to the kitchen because I want food!"

He stared out of the window, straining to see any signs of life. There was nothing but a cliff in front of him, with some sort of outlook above it. It seemed odd to him that there would be a runway but no visible hangar.

"No visible hangar," he repeated the thought aloud. "If there's no visible hangar for the pilots of the Tracy family, then there must be an invisible hangar." He knew damn well that the Tracys flew their own jets. More than once he'd seen photos of Jeff Tracy arriving at London Airport for charity events, always accompanied by that maddening woman who always wore pink. He'd also heard stories of the oldest son flying and landing jets, and even managed to get the tail number of one of them. Sure enough, it had been registered to Tracy's corporation. They had to keep them somewhere.

"Sir, if I keep the helicopter running we won't have enough fuel to make it back," came the pilot's voice from beside him.

"Shut down, but remain in your seat on high alert. I'm going out."

The pilot nodded and soon the whirlybird was silent, its rotors slowly churning themselves to a halt. Belah pulled the multi-fire laser rifle from where it had been resting on the floor between his legs. Its readout told him it was fully charged.

As he stepped out and then closed the door behind him, he felt a strange tingling at the base of his skull. If he wasn't bald, his hair would've stood on end. Whipping to his left facing the tall cliff, he held the laser rifle ready. But nothing moved. In fact, the island was quieter than he would have expected. There were not even any birds, but then maybe they'd been scared off by the tsunami.

His sixth sense told a different story. He lowered the gun and closed his eyes, picturing the darkened bronze statue of his brother that sat upon a dais at his palace in Malaysia. In his mind the beaded curtain surrounding it slid slowly open and the flames encircling it grew brighter.

"Kyrano," he intoned, raising his right hand into the air, palm open. "You're alive." He heard a cry in his mind and smiled.

Ruth had just finished mixing the rest of the vanilla yogurt from the refrigerator with the fresh mix of berries Tin-Tin had brought back from Auckland only the day before. She kept her mind on her task, too afraid to let it wander to where her son and grandson were; confident that they were fine and holed up somewhere safe. Stopping a moment to wipe her hands on the apron that covered her torso and legs, she then began spooning the mixture into a large plastic container.

Kyrano had been digging the cheese and other dairy products out of the fridge, but suddenly the rustling sounds stopped. Stirring with her right hand, Ruth turned, shining her flashlight across the room, expecting to see him standing there holding more than he should be trying to at once. The small anticipatory smile on her face quickly faded as her jaw dropped. The wooden spoon clattered to the floor, bits of yogurt splattering the cabinets, the floor and her legs.

For rather than standing before her looking sheepish with all manner of food in his arms, Kyrano was lying on the floor motionless. Her instinct was to slap her wristwatch but then she remembered that it wasn't working.

Ruth knelt at his side. "Kyrano," she said quietly, as though afraid of startling him. "Kyrano, can you hear me?"

His head began rolling from side to side and a guttural moan escaped his lips.

"Not again," she whispered. She rose and headed for the tunnel that would take her back to the observation deck, moving as fast as her nearly 80 year old legs would allow.

"Dammit, it looks like at least half the tunnels are flooded," Virgil said as he and Gordon made their way along the monorail track.

So far they'd tried five of the sixteen staircases that led into various parts of the bowels of Tracy Island. The fifth had been the only one left that would take them to the southeast side of the island, beyond the edge of the pool. That was where the largest backup generator was, with enough power for the entirety of the island's systems. He and Gordon agreed to give the monorail track a try. If they could at least get close to the cavern that was Thunderbird 2's hangar, then Gordon could make the dive to Thunderbird 4.

Only that morning he'd moved her out of Pod 4, and had abandoned the small sub to 2's left when the klaxon sounded. If nothing else, 4 had plenty of SCUBA gear for the duo to make it through the connective tunnel that would take them to Thunderbird 1's silo, past its launch pad and to the generators.

They would have been sealed off when the hurricane shields went, and were supposed to come on automatically when power went out. Virgil wondered if that area had been flooded as well, but a whooping cry from his brother stopped his train of thought.

"It's free! I can get in!" Gordon crowed.

"Finally, some good news!" Virgil said as he raced after his brother.

"Alan, come here. I think I've found something," Tin-Tin said, stretching up on her tiptoes and wiping the index finger of her left hand along the wall. "Look."

He came to her side and shined his wrist light in her direction, stepping closer as she held her hand out. He reached for it and touched it, then looked into her eyes. "It's wet. Where is that from?"

Tin-Tin turned and pointed up and behind her. "I don't think this shield held as well as the others," she replied.

Alan stepped forward, reached up and felt the wetness as well. That's when he saw the sliver of light. "There!" he pointed. "We found it! Let's get something to pry it open!"

"Alan, your brother told us to regroup in the observation deck, not to actually try to get out."

"But Dad and Scott are out there!" Alan huffed, angrily searching the living room for something he could use.

"You don't know that," she replied matter-of-factly. "Besides, there isn't anything here to—"

He frowned. "Tin-Tin? What is it?"

"Did you hear that?" she asked, laying a hand on his arm. "Listen."

Alan's ears perked up. "Yes. It's coming from the kitchen. Isn't that where Grandma and your dad are?"

The two ran across the living room and skidded to a halt in the kitchen doorway. They shone their wrist-lights around and gasped at the same time.

"Kyrano!"

"Father!"

Alan looked around wildly as she went to her father's side. "Where's Grandma?" he cried, shining his light everywhere. "Where is she?" With that, he sped out of the kitchen, leaving Tin-Tin to tend to her father.

High-tailing it through the tunnel that led to the observation deck, Alan very nearly ran the little old woman over. "Goodness sakes, you'll kill me yet!" she exclaimed.

"Grandma!" he said in relief, pulling her into a hug. "Where are you going? What happened to Kyrano?"

"He's having another attack, Alan," she said into his chest, and he released her. "I was running back here for help but got winded and stopped for a moment." She looked behind him and shone her light there. "Where's Tin-Tin?"

"She stayed with Kyrano. Listen, Grandma, you go back to the kitchen and help them, okay? I've got to find Virgil and Gordon and see if we can get through the shield in the living room. Tin-Tin and I found a crack between two of them, I know it can be pried open, but I need help."

"All right, Alan, but please be careful," she pleaded as he disappeared down the corridor.

Belah Gaat stood at the base of the cliff and looked upwards. His half-brother had become more effective at blocking his attempts to get information out of him from a distance. But when he was in this close of proximity, Kyrano's far weaker mind was no match for his own.

But where…where was the opening Belah had seen through that mind? As if in divine response, that's when he heard the faintest of sounds to his right, like trickling water. He moved in that direction where the cliff jutted out beside the tarmac. There. Not in the large cliff face proper, but in the rock next to it. Water. He reached up and only when he placed his fingers over the spot did he realize there was a crack there.

He leaned closer. It wasn't a jagged crack made from water pressure. It was a straight man-made one. He'd found the way in. All those soldiers combing the island and only he, with his own private line to the mind of his half-brother, had been the one to discover what they sought. He sneered, stepping back several paces and bringing his laser rifle to bear. "Let's just see what's behind Door Number One."

"Boy," Gordon remarked, "is Scott gonna be pissed to find out his engines are flooded."

"Yeah," Virgil agreed through the suit-to-suit communicator. "At least 2's on stilts." He'd seen enough of his 'Bird to know the water was only halfway up her legs. As long as it had never been higher, she wouldn't have gotten waterlogged. First things first, though. Get the island's power back on and find their father and brother.

Passing beneath the swimming pool they knew was above them, they surfaced for a moment, removing the regulators from their mouths. "I could probably work the release," Gordon said, mirroring Virgil's thoughts, "on either the pool or the cliff door back in 2's hangar," he finished, jerking his thumb behind them.

"I'd thought of that, too," Virgil admitted. "But what if releasing all the water out of the cavern somehow harms Dad and Scott? What if they're on the tarmac, or in or next to the pool? Without the scanners we can't be sure."

Gordon nodded, and then cocked his head like a dog. Slowly he lifted the mask from his face, holding a hand up to silence his brother. Virgil listened. "What is that?" he whispered.

"I don't know," Gordon replied. "How about you keep going for the generator and I'll head back to the hangar to check it out."

"We're not splitting up, Gordon."

"But it could be Scott or Dad!"

Virgil's mouth tightened. "Come on; let's go back to the hangar. It could just be some floating piece of equipment scraping around." Off Gordon's look, he added, "Or it could be them."

Gordon replaced the mask over his eyes and settled the strap around his head. They put their mouthpieces back into place and were soon underwater heading back to Thunderbird 2's hangar.

"Father, speak to me," she implored for the twentieth time.

"He's still not responding?"

She jumped at the voice, and then quieted as she recognized it. "Mrs. Tracy, you startled me."

"I'm sorry, dear," Ruth said, patting Tin-Tin's shoulder. She turned and pulled one of the breakfast table chairs out and plopped unceremoniously into it. "Sakes, this is way too much exercise for an old woman."

Tin-Tin smiled in spite of her father's situation. "I just wish I knew what brought these attacks on. After all this time, we still don't know."

"No, we don't," Ruth sighed, "and it worries me."

Shining the watch-light back to her father, Tin-Tin frowned. "Me too, Mrs. Tracy. Me, too." Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she gasped. "Where's Alan? He was going to find you!"

"He went after Gordon and Virgil," she replied. "He needs help to get through the hurricane shield."

"Oh, he shouldn't have gone alone!" Tin-Tin groaned. "You know how he is!"

Ruth rose to her feet. "And that's precisely why I know he'll be just fine. Now," she said with more strength in her voice as she turned to survey the kitchen counter, "let's finish getting this food prepared. If history's any indication, your father will be coming 'round soon and the boys will be back in the observation deck. And they'll be hungry!"

"All right," Tin-Tin responded almost automatically. She looked back down at her father once more before following Ruth across the room. She had an uneasy feeling that she just couldn't shake.

Alan hissed in frustration as he tried a fourth staircase. So far he hadn't seen hide nor hair of his brothers and he'd been to three ways down already. He reasoned they must've taken the same route he was taking, and found the same results he had: that each staircase was too flooded to make it to 2's hangar. As he looked down with his wrist-light into the dark water a step below, he rolled his eyes as the light bulb went off.

"They must've taken the monorail!" he said aloud. "Now why didn't I think of that to begin with?"

The way it was set upon the ledge carved by their own equipment on the inside wall of 2's hangar, the monorail track sat nearer the top of the cavern than the bottom, and would be the most likely route in, assuming the whole thing wasn't flooded to the ceiling. Virgil and Gordon were probably already gearing up Thunderbird 4; he knew Gordo had been working on it before the tsunami hit. Resolutely Alan retraced his steps and when he reached a length of tunnel he knew to be fairly straight, began running like a bat out of hell.

Pieces of rock were shooting in all directions and the laser rifle was already half out of charge. Belah let it clatter to the ground. "Useless," he muttered, moving to the nearest helicopter, whose pilot - like all the others - sat waiting in the cockpit. He opened the door, spoke quickly in Cantonese, and then backed away, slamming the door shut behind him.

The whirlybird was facing the cliff straight-on, but had a 360-degree rapid-fire laser under its nose. Belah jogged over to what little progress he'd made and showed the pilot where to shoot by tracing the crack surrounding what he knew was a hidden door. He saw the pilot nod and moved back to stand beside the machine, raising his left hand. Within seconds he sliced his hand downward and the pilot began firing.

As rock was blasted away, scattering here and there on the tarmac and sand, the Hood could hardly keep from rubbing his hands together in glee. Pulling a square device from the belt around his waist with four buttons on it, he held it over his head as high as possible and hit the first button. It let out a loud horn-like sound, which would tell all his men to return to the tarmac.

"Where are you, Jeff Tracy?" he growled as the pilot sitting next to him ceased fire. His head whipped around, yanking the door open. "Why have you stopped?"

"I have removed the rock, but there is metal, my Lord. This laser won't penetrate it."

He turned back to see the pilot's handiwork. Sure enough, the rock on and surrounding the door was gone, revealing a metal door that was scorched but otherwise undamaged.

"Team Two, I have a special assignment for you," he said as the first of his men began returning. "You see that metal door there?" he asked. All four turned to look behind them and then faced him again, nodding their heads. Belah smiled. "The first of you to break through that door will be given one thousand bars of gold."

In a flash the men were at the door examining it, and before long were rummaging in various helicopters for supplies. Rocking back on his heels, arms crossed over his chest, the Hood looked up above him, where a building hung slightly over the tarmac.

"Now, where would I go if I knew a tidal wave was coming at me and I wanted to survive," he murmured. His eyes moved left to the round structure then back to the rectangular one that jutted out from the rock.

Clearly the one above his head was the highest, depending on where they had been when the tsunami struck. He looked back to the building to his right and up just a little, only then realizing that there were balconies and giant metal shields that appeared to be the size of sliding glass doors.

"That's their home," he said quietly. "That's where they live."

Returning his gaze to the metal door that Team Two was working on, he noted with interest that they were using knives to shove plastique into the ultra-thin crack surrounding it. Another group of men stood just to his left and he walked up to them.

"You," he said, pointing to a smaller one. "And...you." He pointed to a more muscle-bound man. "With me."

They nodded and fell into step behind him as he made his way around another helicopter and to the left side of the tarmac. He looked up and pointed at the overhanging structure.

"You'll tell me if there's any way into that building, or any noise coming from inside. I will hear your report in ten minutes."

Nodding again, the men began to scramble up the rock. It was slippery, but the wiry man was quickly making his way up with the larger one not quite keeping up with him. Belah knew the small one would get there first, but if he found a way in he'd need his large companion to help him breach it.

Suddenly there was an explosion. Belah's head jerked toward the other side of the tarmac as several exclamations of surprise filled the air. He saw a torrent rushing out and cursed in three languages as he retraced his path back to the first helicopter. Water ran around his feet as it shot like a curved waterfall from the rock. So there was some sort of cave back there, and it had been flooded.

It was with no small measure of disappointment that he wondered if all the Tracys had drowned.

"What on Earth...?" Ruth exclaimed as the kitchen shook. Pans, dishes and utensils rattled, some falling to the floor, as Tin-Tin rushed to her father's side to shield his face.

Eyes wide, she pulled the Tracy matriarch down next to her and covered her head as well. "Another tidal wave?" she whispered aloud, bowing her head over her elders. "Please not again!"

Gordon and Virgil had just reached the side of Thunderbird 2, surfaced, and removed their face masks and regulators when there was what sounded like a sonic boom from beneath them. A large bubble burst from underwater, followed by several more that were barely smaller.

"The door's open!" Gordon yelled over the din.

"That means this is going to empty fast!" Virgil yelled back. "Hang on to something!" He turned to swim for 2's front leg and wrapped his arms securely around it. Looking to his left, he expected to see his younger brother. He wasn't there. "Gordon!" he hollered, shining his head lamp all around.

"Here!"

Virgil trained his light further to the left and yelled, "Hang on!"

His brother was caught in the draining water, which had formed a small whirlpool closer to the giant front door. Virgil let go his Thunderbird and swam purposefully toward his flailing brother without missing a beat.

"No!" sputtered Gordon as he drew closer. "It'll catch you!"

Virgil stopped and treaded slowly backwards as he helplessly watched Gordon swirl 'round and 'round before him. Suddenly he had an idea. Quickly removing the oxygen tank from his back, Virgil let the regulator move into the tug of the whirlpool, holding tightly to the belts lashed to the tank with both hands.

"Grab it!" he cried.

When Gordon came around he tried but missed. Virgil waited, willing him to catch it this time. But when he did, it was with such force that Virgil was dragged forward. With the straps wound around his hands, he couldn't get himself loose and was sucked in alongside his brother.

Alan was knocked to his knees as the tremor went through him. He was nearly to the hangar but held tightly to the monorail track for a moment until he was certain no more shaking was forthcoming. Then he hopped to his feet and that was when he heard the yelling.

That was Virgil. And that was Gordon! He'd found them!

Five more strides and he'd be there. What had that tremor been? Four more. Why were they yelling? Three more. Had they broken through to the outside? Two more.

He skidded to a halt as he reached the cavern. To his left, far across its vast expanse, he saw bright lamps moving wildly around. "Virg!" he cried. "Gordon!"

He heard them yell back but it echoed around so much that he couldn't understand their words. "What's going on?" he yelled back. But with the relatively small wrist light as his only guide, he couldn't see anything more than their headlamps, which had stopped waving around but were moving in a large circular pattern. What the hell was going on?

"Virgil!" he tried again. "Gordon!"

It was then that he saw it. There was light beneath the water. Light coming from outside. They'd done it! They'd gotten through! The movement of their lamps...they must be caught in the water draining, that had to be it! They'd blown the door and gotten caught in a whirlpool! Alan could swim over there, but he knew he'd get caught in it, too. And if they got hurt he'd need to be healthy enough to help after the water had drained.

The youngest Tracy just had to wait it out.

"It sounds like he's coming to." Ruth lifted Kyrano's head and shoulders until he was in a sitting position.

He looked around, confused. "What happened?"

"Father," Tin-Tin said quietly, "you've had another of your episodes."

"Again?" Kyrano asked, shaking his head as his daughter nodded hers. "Tell me, did I say anything?"

"You were mumbling, but I couldn't make out any words."

"Kyrano, are you well enough to stand? We should get to the observation deck."

"Are the boys there?" he asked as the women helped him to his feet.

"We're not sure. Alan went to find Virgil and Gordon," Tin-Tin replied. "But everything shook around us just now and we don't know why. Maybe they found a way out."

"Well, they certainly didn't get the generator working," Grandma commented.

Tin-Tin provided them with flashlights from a kitchen cabinet. They moved into the hall, turned the corner, and went down a longer corridor that led past the rooms of the Kyranos and Ruth, along with some guest rooms. Beyond that was the entrance to the tunnel that would take them to their destination where they hoped the Tracy men - all of them - would be waiting.

John paced the floor in front of the main console. It had been an interminable seventy minutes since the tidal wave had hit Tracy Island. Everything had gone dark. He couldn't get through to their personal communicators or their cell phones.

He'd tried over and over for nearly all those minutes to get the villa, the lab, the roundhouse, their watches, the Thunderbirds; nothing worked. He wasn't allowed to call Lady Penelope, as she and Parker were on a top secret undercover mission for the British government and hadn't taken FAB-1 or their IR communicators, or even Penny's compact mirror for fear of unwanted interruptions.

John knew that even if power on the island was out, there was something else, a jammer of some sort that had to be at work. It was the only explanation. He couldn't help but fret about the safety of his family, but had to come up with something better than hoping they'd get online any time soon. That's when he knew what he could do. Hell, Google Maps had been doing it for years, and Thunderbird 5 had more technology than those geeks.

Sliding into his wheeled chair, John's fingers flew across a keyboard as he accessed the satellite nearest the South Pacific. An old one from the 1980s, it still worked remarkably well, even being called the mysteriously miraculous machine by scientists on Earth. Little did they know that John Tracy himself kept the satellite in pristine condition. It was one of many he would tap into whenever he wanted to know what was going on somewhere.

He entered the coordinates and got the standard blue/white/green marble image, pinpointed on his home. He then zoomed to fourteen thousand percent and frowned at the amount of static that appeared. There was some sort of picture beyond, and he set about telling 5's filters to clean out as much of the noise as possible. Even with all that power at his fingertips, there was only so much his 'Bird could do. At last he could see well enough for all the color to drain from his face.

The runway was covered in helicopters. Water gushed from the side entry to Thunderbird 2's hangar. The hurricane shields were still up. Men gathered along the tarmac in amongst their 'copters looked like military of some sort. But that wasn't what made his skin crawl. It was the bald man standing just far enough from the rushing water as to be out of its reach. He most definitely was not military. And the look on his face flipped John's stomach over and over again.

Panning around, John saw at least three dozen of the soldier-like men, all holding weapons at the ready. There'd be no weapons if this were a rescue mission sent to the island to help his family, if they'd been able to call out locally for help. No, these men were not there to lend a hand and he knew it. The pool was closed and everything else seemed largely intact if you didn't count the palm leaves and other debris scattered everywhere.

But it was the next thing to come into view that made John grip the side of his console in fear. Virgil and Gordon came shooting from the only opening visible, looking like drowned rats. They tumbled to a stop some twenty feet from the cliff base and were immediately surrounded by ten men pointing guns at them. Virgil happened to look up, as though directly into John's eyes. He saw a flash of uncertainty, of alarm, before his brother's professionally placid demeanor returned.

He said something to Gordon as John breathed, "No...there has to be something...this can't be happening..."

Gordon rose to his knees and was jabbed in the back by one of the soldiers. The bald man approached them and laughed. John could tell he was speaking. Gordon said something and it earned him a crack to the head. John watched the aquanaut sprawl unconscious to the asphalt and gasped. Virgil was spoken to next and his response, at least, didn't result in violence. Instead, the bald man laughed heartily.

In short order both men had their hands cuffed behind their backs. Virgil was dragged to his feet while Gordon was just dragged by his feet. Some water still came from the door, but it was barely more than a trickle now. The bald man followed them inside with six men in tow; the rest scattered to various points surrounding the helicopters.

John slammed his fist down hard and his Thunderbird bleeped in protest. "I'm sorry, girl," he said, nursing his pained palm. "Think of a way to save them, 5. You have to help me."

As if answering him, the console whirred softly. John knew it was only a cooling fan, but he felt a small measure of comfort anyway, like he wasn't truly alone. Like he wasn't going to have to sit up here and watch his entire family taken hostage.

Or worse.

As if to drive the point home that for once he wasn't in charge of all things having to do with communicating, the feed disappeared. Try as he might, he just could not get the picture back.

A voice echoed back through the cavern and bounced along the walls to where he still stood on the monorail track. Frowning, he knew it wasn't a voice he recognized. Rescue personnel? Perhaps a Navy ship had been in the area and noticed their distress?

Very quickly he knew that was the wrong answer. Briefly his face lit up as Virgil appeared in the doorway, but it fell just as fast when he saw the state his brother was in. He nearly yelled out when he saw Gordon being dragged like a piece of flotsam, and had to clap his hand over his mouth to keep it in. Behind that was a creepy bald man and others dressed all in black and holding weapons.

The bald one started barking orders in a language Alan knew had to be some sort of Chinese, or maybe Korean. If only he had John's gift of languages. And Chinese, of all of them, so difficult to understand conversationally…if that was even what he was speaking.

Whatever it was he was saying was drawing nods of understanding from the soldiers, but before he could do any more guessing a thought clicked in his mind. Kyrano knew Chinese! So did Tin-Tin! Several dialects, if he was remembering correctly. Alan turned and ran as fast as his feet could carry him. He had to bring the Malay man or his daughter back to see if they could understand who this was and what he was saying. His brothers' very lives could depend on it.

The Hood stood in triumph before one of the great wonders that was a Thunderbird craft. Lifted one hundred and ten feet into the air on telescopic legs, he had to take a few moments to stare in awe at its magnificence. And now here he was in full possession of it. It was his. This island was his.

International Rescue was his.

His laugh rang out as he approached the Tracy who was still standing. "I know you're Virgil," he said. "And I know you are the pilot of this craft," he gestured upward with his hand. "You will teach my pilots how to work it."

Virgil glanced briefly in his direction but remained silent.

"You will teach them. I have interesting ways of making people do anything I want them to. Even the intrepid rescuers who, I think," Belah continued, turning to look up at the great green 'Bird above him, "will never save another human life again."

He looked next to Thunderbird 2's left. "And I see we have the small submarine as well. 2 and 4 all at once!" Thoughtfully appraising the young man lying unconscious at his brother's feet, he continued. "And he is the pilot of this one."

"My Lord," a soldier said, skidding to a halt in front of his master.

"What is it?" the Hood snapped.

"We have located Thunderbird 1."

If he had been happy with acquiring 2 and 4, he was downright beside himself hearing that 1 was now also his. He looked Virgil up and down. "My sincerest apologies to your ego, but I have another bird to pluck now."

Barking something in another language to the man who'd brought him the news, the Hood took off at a dead run in the direction of the tunnel that led to Thunderbird 1's silo. As he reached its entrance, however, he stopped. A familiar feeling overcame him, and he knew it was a moment of fear in his half-brother. Holding a hand up to silence the men surrounding him with questions in their eyes, the Hood closed his own and concentrated.

Kyrano, Ruth and Tin-Tin made their way to the observation deck. When they entered the outer room, they were stunned for a moment by the natural light that filled it. A split second later they realized there were two men standing in front of them. As the food they'd been carrying clattered to the floor, Tin-Tin's voice rose above the din. "Who are you?" she screeched.

"We have three more!" the smaller man yelled out the window as he trained his gun on Tin-Tin. The other man leveled his weapon at Kyrano's head.

"Oh, no you don't!" Ruth Tracy crowed. It seemed surreal to the others as she launched herself forward from the group, her hand going into one of her large apron pockets, removing and twisting something.

Before anyone could react, she made a tossing motion at first the muscular intruder and then the wiry one. They cried out in pain, releasing their weapons and dropping to their knees at the same time. Ruth kicked both guns toward Tin-Tin, who picked them up, one in each hand.

"What in the world?" she asked as the men doubled over and began rolling around on the floor rubbing their eyes.

Ruth held a plastic cylinder up in the air, grinning from ear to ear. "Cayenne pepper, Tin-Tin. Gordon likes it on his coleslaw." Then she frowned. "I hope he won't be too disappointed that I used it up."

They laughed as Tin-Tin gave one weapon to her father and the other to Ruth. Then she pulled the cuffs from the two intruders' belts and secured them by cuffing the wrist of the smaller man to the legs of the control panels on one side of the room. She forced the arms of the larger one around a support column in the room's center, and then handcuffed his wrists together. Neither of them would be going anywhere anytime soon, and judging by the fact that neither could stop their eyes watering, they would be in pain for a good long while.

"Who are these men?" Kyrano asked, handing the weapon he held back to his daughter.

"I don't know, but someone else knows we're in here if they heard this one yell," Tin-Tin said.

Alan Tracy effectively stopped Kyrano's next words when he came bursting into the room. Within seconds he took in the scene before him and his jaw dropped. "Remind me to tell Dad to put you on the roster more often, guys," he said as Tin-Tin wrapped her arms around him.

"Alan, I'm so glad you're safe. There are men here—"

"I know, Grandma," Alan replied. "They've got Virgil and Gordon in 2's hangar."

Ruth and Tin-Tin gasped as a voice carried through the air, reaching them faintly through the open deck window.

"My God," Kyrano breathed, sinking into a nearby chair.

"Father?"

"Kyrano, what is it?" Ruth asked, coming to stand before him.

He looked up, face stricken. "A voice from the past, Mrs. Tracy." He looked to his daughter. "I'm so sorry, Little One."

"You could recognize it from so far away?" Ruth asked incredulously.

"Yes. It's a voice I haven't heard in a great many years. The voice of a man so terrible—"

"Father, just tell us! Please! Whose voice is it?"

Bowing his head, they could barely hear his response. "My half-brother," he replied.

"My uncle? What would he be doing here?"

Alan and Ruth exchanged glances, shocked that Kyrano had a sibling. "Why is your half-brother here on Tracy Island?" Alan asked, face growing red.

"He wants International Rescue," Kyrano replied in a near-whisper. "He always has."

"How long has this man been after my family?" Alan demanded.

"Your family? Why would he be after your family?" Tin-Tin asked, frowning in confusion.

Kyrano seemed not to hear her. "I don't know," he said to Alan. "But I should have known. I was blinded by my own surety that he could not find me here. That he couldn't find any of us."

Alan came forward and grabbed Kyrano's arm, forcing him to his feet. "What have you done? Have you led him here to destroy us?" he seethed.

"Alan, don't hurt him!" Tin-Tin cried, trying to wrench his hand away.

"Tin-Tin you know how I feel about you, but if your father has done something that will harm us—"

"Now don't be foolish, Alan," Ruth said, effectively prying her grandson's hand from Kyrano's arm. "You know darn well he's a peaceful man who loves all of us as much as you do, if not more. He wouldn't hurt a ladybug, let alone our family."

"You should know better!" Tin-Tin added hotly.

"Oh, should I?" Alan asked, turning and pointing to their two prisoners. "Then how precisely do you explain them?"

Neither woman answered causing Alan nodded in satisfaction. "I thought so. Now, whether you brought him here through something you did or not, Kyrano, the fact remains that we have intruders on our island, intruders who are holding two of my brothers prisoner. And Scott and Dad are still missing."

"Not anymore we're not," came a booming voice from the door behind them.

Alan went white as a sheet as the group gasped, turning in unison. There before them stood two very dirty and beat-up – but very alive – Tracy men.

"Jeff!" Ruth cried.

"Scott!" Alan grinned in relief.

Jeff came into the room limping slightly and running a hand through his damp hair. He put the other hand on his old friend's shoulder. "We heard most of that, Kyrano," he said, giving it a squeeze. He turned to the rest of them. "Now, I want you to give Kyrano a break. He had no way of knowing Gaat would find the island and it isn't even Kyrano he's after."

"Father? You knew about this…this…you called him Gaat?"

"Yes, Alan, I did. Belah Gaat. Kyrano told me about him many years ago when we first met. In fact, he and Tin-Tin were on the run from the man at the time."

The ghost of a smile crossed the Malaysian's face. "You saved our lives," he said simply. "This is why I've served your family ever since, Alan. I am forever indebted to your father."

He turned to his daughter. "I thought you would be safe here on Tracy Island. I knew of my brother's wish to have the secrets of International Rescue, but never dreamed he would find us."

Tin-Tin's eyes were wide and she shook her head slowly, as if trying to see through a mess of cobwebs. Her uncle was here to get the Tracys?

"Where have you two been anyway?" Ruth asked as Scott moved to stand next to his dad. "Leaving a little old lady here to fend for herself!"

Jeff and Scott turned to look at the two prisoners whose eyes were squeezed shut and running rivers of tears down their faces. Scott laughed, "Doesn't look like the little old lady did too badly for herself, Grandma!"

His father chuckled. "Now you know where we all get it from."

"Besides, Al, I told you I'd get both Tin-Tin and Dad back here. I just never said at the same time."

Alan shot Scott a look as Jeff turned to face everyone. "Has anyone been able to get through to John? Scott and I can't get our watches to work."

"Not yet. We tried our cell phones too and nothing. It's like every type of communicator we have is jammed."

Scott and Jeff frowned at the news.

"What happened to you, Dad?"

"Scott managed to grab me at the top of the steps as the hurricane shields went up. We were able to get into the cubby that houses the electricals for the outdoor lighting."

"Behind the big gray rock at the top of the steps?" Tin-Tin asked, trying to focus on anything but the fact that her uncle was close by. "And the door held?"

"Not exactly," Scott replied.

Jeff shook his head as he continued. "The door was completely taken off its hinges; we couldn't get it open no matter what."

"Eventually," Scott picked up the story," we just used the maintenance ladder that goes under the villa and found our way to Tunnel V."

"That's the fresh air duct that goes from right next to the house all the way down to Thunderbird 1's launch pad, isn't it?" Ruth asked incredulously. When Scott, Jeff and Alan all nodded she flinched. "Wasn't that an awfully steep descent?"

"Like a slide, Mother," Jeff said nonchalantly. "Eventually we reached 1's launchpad and then the first generator room just beyond that. We tried to get the backups online but the outtake flooded back into the generator room. We hung on to stalactites once the water carried us in there, then when it began to recede we got through to it."

Scott continued where his father left off. "In the meantime, the launch pad door wouldn't open anymore due to water pressure, so we made our way back through the outtake cave and it took us this long to break in through a damaged hurricane shield in the villa."

Alan nodded. "I saw that. I was going to try and find something to open it with. How'd you manage it?"

Scott barked a laugh and held his hands up as did his father. "With a bit of difficulty and a piece of the pole from the tennis court that handily found its way to the staircase."

"Virgil and Gordon were trying to get to the generator. They probably would have found you if they hadn't been intercepted by—" Alan glanced at Kyrano. "By the intruders."

"What? He's got them?"

Alan nodded, his eyes full of concern.

Taking a deep breath, brow furrowed in thought, Jeff slowly let the air out of his lungs before he spoke. "It would appear there are equal parts Nature's Fury and sabotage going on here." As those around him nodded their agreement, he looked at each of them. "What we need is a plan of attack."

"We have to dress Scott's wounds," Ruth said, eyeing the bleeding and seeping gashes on her grandson's hands.

"We just don't have time for that now, Mother," Jeff countered. "We've got to figure Gaat's next move and we have to get your other grandsons out of his hands."

"But we should also try to get the power back on, Father," Alan chimed in. "It would allow us to use our defenses to stop him."

"Then there's whatever's at the root of the communications disruption. Scott, what about the Thunderbirds themselves? I imagine 1's rockets are useless to us right now, but 2 should be all right."

"I see where you're headed. If we can get outside whatever's jamming us, we can reach John on Thunderbird 5."

"Exactly. And 2's sitting up high on her legs in the hangar, so she should be airworthy still."

"That's where he had Virgil and Gordon, when I saw them. I accessed it via the monorail track. Gordon was…" His voice trailed off.

"Alan?"

"He was unconscious. One of the men dressed like these two cold-cocked him. Virgil seemed all right."

"How many men?"

"At least half a dozen, but there have to be more than what I saw if Gaat's truly trying to take over the island. Dozens, maybe?"

Jeff's mouth set in a grim line. "Well, we aren't very many against dozens, but we're a tough bunch."

"You got that right," Ruth agreed.

"Here's what we'll do," Jeff said, and they all listened intently. He looked first at Kyrano. "You and Tin-Tin have the job of reaching the secondary generator near Storage Locker C-4. Now, C level shouldn't be flooded; anything below A is sealed tight and should've remained dry. Stay on your toes."

The Kyranos nodded and scurried away.

Jeff turned to Alan. "You and Scott need to get to Thunderbirds 2 and 4. Get them outside the interference once Kyrano and Tin-Tin have the power back on, and get hold of John and with anyone else you have to."

"That leaves us going after Virgil and Gordon," Ruth finished for him.

"That's right, Mother, but first I'm putting you in a bullet-proof vest." She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. "No arguments. I mean it."

Her eyes widened as they all left to take on their respective tasks, not a one noticing the smooth pate that appeared at the open window of the observation deck just in time to see Ruth Tracy fling her apron to the ground.

He kept silent as he crawled through the window. Three men followed him and he motioned for them not to speak. The muscular man, still with his arms wrapped around the column Tin-Tin had trapped him against, opened his mouth to cry out. Without so much as blinking, Belah shot him in the head, then turned and did the same to the wiry man.

"Failure is not tolerated," he hissed, and his companions nodded complete understanding.

The Hood darted to the entryway through which the last of the Tracys had disappeared and could just hear their footfalls retreating. He returned to the center of the room. "Four and Six," he said, looking first at one man, then the one who stood next to him. "You will go out this door and to the left, following the ones who have gone for the Thunderbirds."

The men nodded curtly and were soon out of sight. Gaat turned to the remaining man. "You're with me."

He nodded and obeyed, sparing just a glance at his dead comrades as he went by. He knew he'd better follow instructions to the letter or he'd be sharing their fate. The master was not a forgiving man.

"Gordon," Virgil whispered fiercely, looking across the metal floor. "I saw your eyelids flutter, Gordon, open 'em up. Come on."

The first thing he thought was that someone had stuck an axe in his skull. At least, that's what it felt like. He groaned. "What…happened…?"

"They put us in Pod 1. Probably three dozen men or so, they all look Southeast Asian, they've invaded the island."

Gordon's eyes opened wide at that. Only Virgil's watch-light enabled him to see his brother's face near his. "Who are they?"

"Don't know, they didn't speak much English. But they're trying to power up our 'Birds."

Trying to sit straight up in protest, Gordon winced as the pain slicing through his head reminded him just why he shouldn't. "Shit!" he swore, letting his head rest on the floor again. "Not my girl!"

"Trust me; I'm not any happier about it than you are. At least they can't get into 2, she's at full height. But sooner or later they'll figure a way to."

"They won't be able to start them without our corneal patterns."

"Let's just hope they don't dig our eyeballs out to get them."

"Where's everyone else?"

"I'm not sure, but I know I heard Al's voice just before we were sucked through the door."

"He must have seen what happened. He's probably gone for help."

"Gone to who? Grandma? Tin-Tin? Unless Scott and Dad have shown up, that's not ultra-comforting."

Gordon's chuckle morphed into a hiss as he fought the terrible headache that had settled in. "We need to get the lights on. We need to see what we've got in here."

Virgil nodded, struggling into a sitting position. This accomplished, he twisted his torso to let his watch-light shine around. As soon as he had his bearings he scooted toward the front of the pod.

"Where are you going?" Gordon asked and then groaned in agony as he rolled to his side and tried to push himself upright.

"You said to get the lights on."

"That I did," he moaned – while left mostly in the dark, he still felt like the pod was spinning wildly around him. "Ohhh, my head."

"Hard as a rock, Gordo, always has been. First thing," Virgil grunted, "after I make it so we can see, is to get these damn cuffs off us."

"That would seem prudent," Gordon said dryly. "And then?"

"That depends on what we find in here."

Virgil reached the pod door and managed to get to his knees, then to his feet. He moved backwards a few paces until he reached where the door met the pod's hull. Turning to face it, he moved to the right only a few more inches until he felt the control panel under his lips. Slowly he tipped his head forward so that his nose was touching it, and found the one area of the small four-by-four panel that was slightly depressed. He pushed it and was rewarded when it lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Ah, progress," came a voice from his left shoulder. Virgil jumped, turned, and glared at its owner. "Sorry."

Virgil growled in response, stuck his tongue out, and then thought of what his brother might say. He looked at Gordon and said, "No wisecracks."

"Couldn't if I wanted to. Feels like Jason Voorhees got my head more than once with his machete."

Sticking his tongue out again, Virgil pressed a series of buttons with symbols on them. The small screen at the top of the panel said RETINAL SCAN and Virgil squared his eyes in front of it. A small beam of pure white light radiated outward in a V-shape running from right to left over his eyes. Seconds later the screen said ACCESS GRANTED.

"Good thing we weren't blindfolded, too, or that would never have worked."

"Sounds like you need another machete," Virgil replied sarcastically. Then he stuck his tongue out and pressed a button with the small Greek letter iota on it. The pod was flooded with lights, causing both men to squint for several long seconds until their pupils adjusted to the sudden shock.

"There," Gordon said, looking around them. "Looks like we didn't unload this one properly after its last use."

"Wait a minute, how come I can't unlock the pod door?"

Gordon came to his side and looked at the panel. "Maybe after we get these damn cuffs off you can get it to work."

"You mean, it might take something harder than my tongue?"

Gordon laughed, then winced as a stab of pain shot through his head.

"Hell," Virgil mumbled, looking around for something to get their wrists unbound, "don't need my hands freed for that."

"Father, are you keeping up all right?" Tin-Tin asked after she'd had to slow down a fourth time so he could catch up to her.

"I'm fine."

"Someday I'm going to have to explain to you the many things that could mean."

He half-smiled but she could tell his mind was also on something else. "Tin-Tin, you are as intelligent as you are beautiful. But as imperative as our mission is, you must remember patience and caution above all else."

She frowned. Really, to get all philosophical at a time like this when the very organization that had kept her half-uncle away from them was in danger of being squashed like a bug? She huffed in exasperation. She loved her father so very much, and knew that he always wound up being right about everything…eventually.

But she also knew that the entire future of the Tracys and International Rescue…as well as that of her and her father…might rest on their current task. The faster they reached the generator and got the power on, the more likely their chances of succeeding in keeping their secrets safe.

"We're one-quarter of the way around B level, we should reach the stairway to C very shortly," she stated, picking up the pace. Deciding she just had to keep going in spite of Kyrano's seeming inability to keep up, her feet moved faster.

It was so unlike him, she mused, but chalked it up to the attack he'd experienced earlier in the kitchen. As she continued to jog along, she realized far too much was at stake for so many millions around the world to keep fretting and fussing over him. He was a grown man and could take care of himself.

Tin-Tin began sprinting and reached the stairs in no time. She descended three-at-a-time and rounded the corner at the bottom, her mind mapping the exact route to the generators in question. But halfway through the next passage, not ten feet from her destination, someone stepped out in front of her. She skidded to a halt and could barely get a squeak out of her throat as a large hand grasped it. Too late she realized her mistake. Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.

She wished she'd stayed with the man who'd given up everything to protect her, to keep her alive, to keep her safe. She felt the strange sensation of her fingers and hands tingling, and then going numb. Her toes and feet followed suit. There was so much she still had to do, to say to the ones she loved. Her vision began to blur, darkness creeping in at the corners and narrowing what she could see to mere pinpoints.

Then he dropped her to the floor like so much garbage. Tin-Tin gasped and choked, one hand flying to her throat while the other tried pushing her up into a sitting position. The one thing she hadn't counted in leaving her father's side on was that she'd run into his worst nightmare.

But the one thing Gaat hadn't counted on was that Tin-Tin was never without an eight-inch keris, a weapon native to her birth country.

She leaned forward as he stood before her, arms folded across his massive chest. He looked like he was about to speak when her hand whipped lightning-fast to her sock, and thrust out toward him. He made a large, sweeping gesture with his left hand that sent her flying back into the wall.

Why had she paid no heed? Why had she not learned what her father had tried her whole life to instill in her? The last thing she saw was glittering black irises that swirled as though alive.

"Damn," he swore quietly. "Why did you do make me do that, child?"

But he couldn't because International Rescue didn't have that. He made a mental note, if he ever saw his family again, to tell his father in no uncertain terms that they either needed to automate 5 so no one was ever stranded up here, or equip her with a re-entry vehicle, period. He'd broached the subject before but the project always seemed to wind up on the back burner. This time he wouldn't let that happen.

"Damn, damn, dammit, sonofabitch!" he exclaimed not for the first time as he paced restlessly before the main console. There had to be something else, there had to be a way…why could he not get through? He'd run diagnostic after diagnostic. 5 was in tip-top shape, all antennae working at one hundred percent but still he couldn't get through. The fact that their cell phones kept going directly to voice mail also made no sense, as they ran on land towers and not through his Thunderbird at all. It had to do with the fact that those he was trying to reach were on the island, but how?

What should he do…should he call New Zealand? Australia? Summon their governments and hope to hell they'd keep the secrets they'd find on Tracy Island? Maybe the World Navy. They still felt so bad about shooting Thunderbird 2 down, would they be able to help? He checked their locations. As fast as their ships were, it would still be at least eight hours before the nearest could get within sight of the island.

And if somehow everything turned out to be all right so far below his orbit, John would have singlehandedly destroyed International Rescue by letting strangers go to Base when it was so exposed. No, the military simply could not be trusted. His father and brother had made that clear in more than one conversation on the subject.

What about their agents? There were two in New Zealand alone, not to mention the one in Fiji, two in Japan and the three in Australia. Surely they could be of some use. As he was pulling up their contact information, it occurred to him that he was standing on-board the most powerful satellite in existence but was helpless to render aid without potentially destroying all they had worked for.

Powerful satellite…he thought back to a movie Gordon had made him watch last month when he'd been home. He couldn't for the life of him remember the name of it right now but in it, a super-genius had been able to use the satellites in orbit of Earth to target a destructive beam to a single pinpoint on the planet.

Wait a minute…super-genius! Brains! Why hadn't he thought of that before?

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" John growled, using one balled-up fist to hit his forehead repeatedly in time with the mantra. "His watch should work! He's not on the island, he's in Los Angeles!"

Sliding into the command chair he scooted just right of center and hit the emergency signal that would make Brains' watch vibrate on his wrist. A returning signal told him message received. Two minutes later, the face of the man who'd invented nearly everything International Rescue used appeared on the screen before him.

"John, you're lucky I, ah, wasn't speaking. What's going—?"

"Shut up and listen to me!" John snapped.

Eyes widening, Brains nervously pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. "What's happened?"

They had just taken out three black-clad men between the two of them and Alan got the idea from the way Scott was doubled over all that was not well. "You all right?"

Scott scowled at him. "You crack an old man joke and I'll show you how all right I am."

Alan grinned, never happier to be on the receiving end of his brother's ire, given that merely an hour ago he didn't know whether he'd ever see him again. But Scott didn't appear to be doing as well as he proclaimed. Like Jeff he was limping, and other than the fact that he was filthy, also appeared several shades too pale and would wince every now and again as they made their way along the monorail track to Thunderbird 2's hangar.

He had been through a lot, Alan reminded himself; both he and their father had literally fought for their lives out there. That they hadn't been swept clear out to sea or killed by the wall of water itself was nothing short of miraculous. That they were still walking, talking and even partaking in this rescue was downright nuts, he concluded. They should be resting. Alan snorted out loud. As if those two would ever lie in bed while their island was being taken over.

His thoughts darkened. This Belah Gaat, this half-uncle of Tin-Tin's – from the way Kyrano made it sound, he was badder than bad. There had been so many odd things happen throughout International Rescue's time in operation, and he suddenly wondered if Gaat had been at the root of some of it. If his aim all along had been to get to them and their technology, why would it be such a leap to think he'd been out there either causing disasters that would require International Rescue or waiting at various danger zones to try to overtake them? For that matter, how had he even found Tracy Island?

Alan stopped short, breathing in sharply as the wheels of his mind churned. It couldn't be. Sure, he was known for leaps of logic; that was part and parcel of who the baby of the family was. They all expected odd thoughts from Alan which, when tested, usually turned out to be the right moves. But this idea that was now forming in his head was almost too horrible to give words to. When Scott barked his name, Alan jumped and found he was shaking.

"Come on, we have to get to Gordon and Virgil!" Scott reprimanded, shining his watch-light on his brother. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"Scott, what if this tidal wave that hit the island was no natural disaster?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if Kyrano's half-brother caused this to happen? Planned this entire thing to give him the advantage he needed? It makes perfect sense!"

"Alan, I'm not inside your head with you. How could any man not only cause a tsunami, but time it in such a way as to suit his own purposes?"

Alan's eyes seemed to look inward as he spoke. "If he disrupted the tectonic plates on purpose, like with a very large series of explosions, he could have made them move in such a way that he knew it would create a tidal wave. He could even ensure it was going to go the direction he wanted, and then all he had to do was wait for Tracy Island to be hit, then swoop in for the kill." Alan looked up into the shadows of Scott's face. "Isn't it just a little too coincidental that we get hit by something we've never even been in danger from before and immediately afterwards, Gaat shows up?"

"You know, you may be onto something here, as crazy as it sounds," Scott replied, rubbing his chin. "Tell you what. When we catch Gaat, we'll check your theory and see if it holds water."

"No pun intended," Alan finished for him as they continued on their way.

"You ready?" Virgil asked, then looked at his brother and opened his mouth before shutting it without further sound.

"What?"

"That's what you're arming yourself with?" Virgil gestured toward the item Gordon was fastening to the belt strapped 'round his waist.

"And why not? You know anything that flies better than a three-inch nail?"

"A laser beam?"

"You know there aren't any laser pistols or rifles in here. Besides, this baby can hit a target fifty yards away."

"And you know this how?"

Gordon just looked at him.

"Right, better I don't know. We'll have to tell Dad to hell with locking all weapons up post-rescue from now on. Especially when we have nail guns on the loose."

"Ha," Gordon replied, looking up at the side of Firefly. "You ready, O Great Pilot?"

Virgil narrowed his eyes as he hoisted himself up to the cockpit and dropped in. "Too bad there's only room in here for one," he said sarcastically.

"And you wonder why I have the nail gun," Gordon deadpanned in return. "All right, I'll set the charges as soon as you're in position, then vault up onto the fender and be ready."

Virgil frowned. "Are you sure you can hang on?"

"No. There's nothing to hang onto. But if that bald guy or his men are out there I have a feeling I won't be staying up for very long anyway. Besides, this is really our only way out since we can't get the door to unlock."

"Well, be careful," was the last thing he said before lowering himself into the cockpit and sealing the door over his head. He knew it wasn't necessary to say, but Gordon was the one taking all the risks here. While Virgil would be nestled safely inside Firefly, Gordon would be exposed to whatever the invaders decided to shoot at him with.

The idea was that Firefly would provide enough cover for Gordon to get to 4. Once inside the submarine he'd be safe enough for the most part, although 4 hadn't been designed to withstand direct repeated laser fire for any length of time.

Still, they really had no idea what was going on beyond Pod 1. They couldn't figure out why the door wouldn't unlock nor could they see anything but static on the screen that should be showing them what was directly outside.

And so Firefly was going to be used in conjunction with some very basic plastique explosives they'd rigged in eight spots around the door. Those would blow simultaneously with Firefly ramming with as much speed as Virgil could gather from the opposite end of the pod. And while everything was exploding, tearing apart and creating general mayhem, without knowing what conditions were on the other side, Gordon would be laying on the left fender of Firefly just above the caterpillar tracks.

One wrong move and he could slide off and be crushed by the caterpillar's movement. One good shot from the enemy and he could be hurt or killed. There were any number of possible scenarios, none of them particularly good ones. But the two men had agreed that Gordon would need Firefly's protection to get to where Thunderbird 4 had been parked just to 2's left. Had been. What if those men had somehow gotten it to work or had otherwise moved it? Where would Gordon go then? What cover could he possibly take in the gigantic cavern that was 2's hangar?

Virgil resolved to just let it be. Gordon knew what he was getting into and if anyone could get out of a tight situation, it was the highly resourceful and well-trained former WASP officer. Besides, for all they knew, their family was trying to get in as much as they were trying to get out. In that case, Virgil hoped none of them were in the way when they put this plan into action.

"I thought Alan said Gordon and Virgil were in 2's hangar."

"He did, Mother. But something's not right. Tin-Tin and Kyrano should've had the power on by now. We need to make sure nothing's happened to them so we're detouring to C level."

Frowning, Ruth just held firmly to her son's hand as he pulled her along the passageway for Level A. They slowed and stopped at what Ruth saw was a staircase. She rarely came down into the bowels of the island, and so was unfamiliar with its layout. Jeff didn't move. "What is it?"

He sniffed the air. "Do you smell that?"

She mimicked his action and nodded. "Yes, I do! It smells like smoke!"

"That's what I thought. You need to stay here while I check it out."

"Like hell. You aren't leaving me all alone in a dark corridor, Jefferson Grant Tracy. Besides, I have the bullet-proof vest you made me wear. I'll be okay."

Jeff nodded and slowly they descended, the smoke smell becoming stronger and stronger. When they reached the fifteenth and final step, Jeff stopped. "I don't see any glow that would indicate fire. Maybe it's the next deck down."

As they headed through the hall, Ruth tried not to think about her family being in danger. She would do anything she could to prevent that. She owed them so much. Each in their own way had made absolutely certain she was somehow included in their world so she wouldn't feel old, useless and out-of-place.

She wasn't sure if they did so consciously or if it was just the sweet side of them they'd never admit to. Like when Virgil would incline his head while in the midst of a long concerto, and she would smile like a young girl, slide onto the bench next to him and sometimes lay her head on his arm, mesmerized by how effortlessly his fingers flowed along the ivories.

Or when Scott would flirt shamelessly with her right after she'd baked something chocolate, teasing her and flicking her apron strings until she quite literally chased him out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon. They had played this game from the time he could walk, but after Lucille's death the games had stopped because both had been far too exhausted from taking care of all the younger boys.

When she'd joined them on Tracy Island, her third night there they'd all begged her for her made-from-scratch chocolate cake. She'd been thrilled to be useful and had been elbow-deep in flour when out of her peripheral vision she'd noticed Scott hovering at the door. She remembered smiling and saying rather sternly, "Scott Tracy, you put a finger in that frosting and I'll have that finger permanently!"

As if being given permission to pick up where they'd left off so many years before, he had come in and started playing the same games with her, always managing to sneak something past her no matter how much she waved her cooking utensils. To this day he was relentless, using his now-longer legs and much greater height to gain the advantage, but still letting her win. Sometimes.

Ruth couldn't help but smile as she kept up with her son. Another fond memory surfaced, this time of Alan. "Come on, Grandma, it'll be fun!" She had been skeptical at best, but thought, what the heck. She was a Tracy woman, and no coward. She'd climbed into the passenger seat and waited for her youngest grandson to fasten a helmet to her head. Then he'd hopped into the driver's seat and started the car, revving the engine until she felt like her very bones were vibrating. But he hadn't yet pressed the gas pedal and she recalled turning to look at him, to ask him why.

"You really do trust me, don't you, Grandma?" he'd asked, all of seventeen years old at the time.

"Alan Tracy, what kind of question is that? Of course I do!" she'd replied with a huge grin.

No, inside she wasn't so certain that this wouldn't be her last ride ever, but she also knew that as danger-prone as the baby of the family was, he was not stupid and wouldn't deliberately put either of them in harm's way. That had been the first time she'd ever been in a race car. She and Alan had had a glorious time on back roads and had come home to catch hell from his father. She almost laughed out loud when she remembered Jeff saying he wanted to ground both of them but since he couldn't ground his own mother he guessed he had no right to ground Alan, either.

Her recollections were cut short when Jeff stopped at the top off another staircase. "There's the smoke," he said evenly, looking down. She peered over the edge and nodded. "Mother, I have to see what's happened."

She kept a tight hold on his hand. "Not without me. Where my son goes, I go."

He turned to face her and she thought she saw tears in his eyes. "Dad said that to me once."

She nodded. "When you went off to sign up for the Air Force. I remember."

"But he couldn't go with me."

"And didn't really want to. He just wanted you to know he was there for you even though you two were fighting like pit bulls at the time."

Hesitating only a fraction of a second, Jeff cleared his throat and started down the steps. "If it's too hot, you get back up here."

Ruth nodded and followed him down. It was quickly apparent that about a quarter of the way down and around the curved hallway to their right, something was burning. The glow was bright. "What would be on fire here?" Ruth asked, coughing a little from the smoke coming their way. "There's nothing but walls and doors in these hallways."

He let go of his mother's hand and sprinted toward the fire, heart pounding. "Jeff?" he heard her call, but kept going until he reached a sight he'd hoped never to have to see as long as he lived. A whoosh of air left his lungs as he dropped to his knees.

Reds, oranges and yellows danced across porcelain skin. He looked at the chest which was covered with ash but couldn't tell if there was movement. Long, dark brown hair was splayed haphazardly in every direction. He reached out to feel for a pulse and only started breathing again when he felt one.

"Thank God," he choked out, acrid smoke filling his lungs.

A figure appeared next to him. Looking up, he saw his mother's face but before either could say a word, a cry for help tore through the air. Jeff leapt to his feet.

"It's Kyrano!" Ruth cried, pointing toward the wall of fire. "He's trapped on the other side!"

"There's an extinguisher back there, I'll get it!" Jeff yelled.

Ruth glanced to the other side of the hall and saw one of the bad guys lying dead. Then she saw what had caused the fire. The wall was cut away, from the marks she guessed it was with laser fire, and the supplies that had been in the room behind it had fallen out and blocked the passage. This combination of plastic and other assorted materials burned hotly, giving off acrid smoke and fumes.

"Kyrano!" she yelled as loud as she could. "Are you hurt?"

The response was him yelling something she couldn't understand. For an instant she could see that he, too, was on fire. She looked down at her torso clad in the bullet-proof vest. "Well, I'm not fireproof, but…" She looked up again. Kyrano had dropped to the floor and cried out in pain. It was a sound that tore through her heart. "I'm coming!" she cried, and sprinted right into the wall of flames.

"Mother!" Jeff called out as he raced back to the scene. "Mother, no!"

But she was already out of sight. Jeff unlocked the extinguisher mechanism and began using it to try and cut a path through the fire. "Come on, come on," he muttered impatiently, trying to ignore Tin-Tin lying there unconscious. Just as he was starting to make some headway he heard a yell. He ceased spraying. "Mother?" he called out. "Kyrano?"

"All right!" he heard his mother holler back.

He started spraying the extinguisher again. A full minute later he broke through and tossed the mechanism to the floor as he rushed to them. The sight that greeted him was odd to say the least. Kyrano was face-down on the floor with Ruth face-down atop him, covering his head and as much of his body as her little torso could reach. The bullet-proof vest was between their bodies, and wisps of smoke rose from parts of what was left of Kyrano's clothing.

"What on Earth?" he asked, reaching down to lift her to her feet. But she was almost a ragdoll in his arms. "Mother? Are you all right?" he asked, alarmed, shaking her slightly.

Her eyes opened. Her hair was singed and there was black around her mouth and nostrils. But she smiled. "He was on fire," she whispered. Then she coughed; a wracking wheezing convulsion that shook every fiber of her being. "Glad you gave me that vest," she said, looking into his eyes. "It got the fire out." And then she went limp.

"Shit," Jeff swore. He carried her back to the relative safety of the way they'd come, then went back for Kyrano. Carefully Jeff helped his friend to his feet, noting his customary loose clothing was very fire damaged but had been his saving grace. A few of his hairs were burnt away but the burns to his skin were only minor. He seemed more dazed than anything.

The Malaysian man shook his head. "He has Tin-Tin," he squeaked, vocal cords destroyed by the heat and smoke. "We have to find him."

"No, she's here," Jeff said. "She's alive."

"The power," Kyrano croaked before he doubled over hacking and coughing. "The power."

"You're right," Jeff nodded. "Dammit!"

He looked up and was surprised to see Ruth walking toward them. "Go, Jeff," she said. "We have to get the power on for the boys," she said firmly.

Feeling more than just a little dazed himself from lack of oxygen, Jeff nodded as she held out her hands to take Kyrano from him. He put the other man's hands in hers and said, "Start back for Level B, I'll catch up with you fast."

Ruth nodded and walked slowly back through the path Jeff had made in the fire as he sprinted for the room that contained the generator not twenty feet away.

Kyrano nearly tripped over something and quickly realized it was a body. "Tin-Tin!" he cried, kneeling down. The woman was face-down and before thinking he quickly flipped her over. He gasped when he realized who he was looking at. In disbelief, he looked down at the face and back up into Ruth's eyes.

"I'm afraid that was too much for my old ticker," she said sadly, looking down at her lifeless body. "Never thought I'd go from a heart attack, but go I must. Tell Jeff…" she smiled as a man Kyrano recognized from Tracy family photo albums appeared next to her. "Tell Jeff there were never any prouder parents in the world than his. And tell him we love him. We love all of them, and will always watch over them."

Kyrano nodded as the apparitions of Ruth and Grant Tracy faded from sight, only to be replaced by someone that filled him with dread. "Belah," he whispered as the other man's bald head glowed in the firelight. But he wasn't alone and Kyrano's eyes widened. "No."

"Can you take it out, Brains?" came John's voice through the speakers.

Brains quickly tapped a few commands into the on-board computer of his prototype aircraft. "I just have to make a-a few adjustments."

"Well, for God's sake, Brains, hurry it up."

For just a moment, Brains' hand held steady over the computer interface. If the situation weren't so dire, he'd probably have laughed over how much John sounded like Scott just now. Instead, he muttered, "Don't have the damn voice i-interface in yet."

"It's okay, Brains, I'm sorry, it's just—"

"I know, John. They're, ah, my family, too." There were a few mechanical-sounding beeps and blips as the engineer's long fingers moved across the touch screen in a blur. "Yes, I-I believe this will do it," he breathed. "I'm not picking up any, ah, power signs still."

"Neither am I," John replied. "Do what you have to do, Brains, I'm ready to go on my end. You think this will work?"

"Not think. Know."

Brains could almost hear John's smile over the airwaves as Tracy Island appeared on the horizon. He felt beads of sweat gather on his forehead, eyes focused on that single point. He'd been about to get into the jet he'd flown to Los Angeles when John had practically screamed at him that he needed something faster.

That's when he'd gone to the privacy of Tracy Hangar at Los Angeles International Airport and hauled out the most recently invented vehicle for International Rescue. At first he'd thought of making it another Thunderbird craft, but it had quickly become apparent to him that International Rescue didn't need another Thunderbird.

So this little gem of his, which was the same length as Thunderbird 4 and only four inches wider, was a single-person flyer that could get into tight spots quickly when Thunderbird 1 was simply too large for the job. It had all come about the year prior when three mountain climbers had died in the Himalayas simply because Scott couldn't maneuver into the Kali Gandaki Gorge anywhere near where the men were trapped. There was no place flat enough for the big rocket plane to land. Thunderbird 2 with all the equipment she carried had gotten there in time, but the organization simply didn't have anything small or fast enough to beat the clock. It may have been made originally for mountain rescues, but now Brains was going to be testing his invention out on a rescue of a completely different sort.

Within a minute he was over top of the island. Using scanners he had the position of the small device locked in. "Firing," he said aloud as his finger hit the button.

"Yes!" John cried, bringing a wide smile to his friend's face. "Channels are open! Are the choppers still there?"

"Yes, a-and there at least a couple dozen men guarding them!"

"Not anymore," John growled. "I've checked the bio-feedback. There's not a Tracy among them. Sorry, guys, but we have to do what we have to do. Get 'em, Brains!"

Brains scanned the runway as he flew over it to verify that indeed there was no one there they knew, then quickly circled around and came at them from the southern edge of the island. Men scrambled for the cockpits of their helicopters or tried to run off the tarmac as he bore down on them.

Brains opened a hatch in the nose of his tiny plane and hit a button on the steering yoke. A white beam shot down, slicing through the choppers. Smoke billowed and sparks flew. When it cleared, nothing moved.

"Nobody survived that. I-I'm landing."

"Thank you," John said, closing his eyes in relief. "Now for God's sake, Brains, would you please get someone up here to bring me home."

"I-I'll do my best."

"You're armed."

Brains made a soft, short landing on the tarmac, unstrapped himself and pulled a small weapon from the holster on his belt. "You bet I am."

"Be careful."

"Just, ah, keep the comm-link open."

"Will do. In the meantime, I'm going to try to raise Dad."

Alan and Scott shared a look as they gauged the distance between the monorail track and the nearest soldier. Scott motioned for them to swing down from the metal rail and both men dropped with their hands on it. It was a good fifty foot fall to the loading ledge below and in the blink of an eye they let go. They hit at the same time and rolled into an easy somersault in tandem.

The man closest to them pivoted and leveled his weapon at Alan. Scott did a forward roll that would've made Captain Kirk proud. The soldier adjusted his aim. Alan went flying past his brother and lunged into the man just as he fired.

"Alan!" Scott cried, jumping to his feet as a second man appeared from behind Thunderbird 4.

"O-kay!" Alan grunted, grappling with his target for the gun.

Relieved, Scott ran for 4, vaulted himself up the side of it to the top and took stock of where the second intruder was. He jumped down onto him before he could even look up. One punch to the jaw was all it took to lay him out. Scott grabbed the laser rifle and clocked him on the side of the head. The man stopped moving.

Alan's struggle was only seconds longer as he managed to avoid the butt end of his soldier's gun, flip him over and wrench it from his grasp as he did so. As Scott raced over to help, a good whack to the base of the man's skull rendered him unconscious.

At that precise moment the power came back on and both men whooped with joy. "Get into 4, we may need her firepower," Scott ordered. "Pod 1's door is closed; I'd bet money that's where Virg and Gordon are."

"Right," Alan nodded as he headed for the small water craft's cockpit.

Scott made it to Pod 1 in short order and keyed a couple commands into the door. "Shit, why won't it open?"

As Thunderbird 4's engines whirred to life, there was a giant explosion and the most god-awful sound of ripping metal he'd ever heard. He yelped, falling to the floor as the pod's hatch started buckling outward. He managed to scramble away just in time for it to come crashing down mere inches from his feet. "What the hell?"

The rumbling muffler of Firefly was the next thing that filled his senses and he looked up to see it appear next to him through the smoke left behind from the explosion. Then a familiar voice yelled over the din.

"Scott?"

He leapt to his feet just as 4's motors and Firefly's engine cut out. "Gordon? Gordon, is that you?"

Before he could make heads or tails of the situation, he was enveloped in a bear hug that almost made him cry out in pain thanks to the bruised ribs he was sure he had. He wrapped his arms around his younger brother as another voice rang out.

"Scott! Al!"

"Virgil!" Alan cried as he ran over to the Firefly. "Gordo!"

"Thank God you're safe," Scott said quietly as Virgil made to give him a high-five but instead clasped Scott's offered hand.

"Where's Dad?"

"He—" Scott stopped short and drew up to his full height, turning to face Thunderbird 2. "He was supposed to be coming here with Grandma to rescue you two."

"What about Tin-Tin and Kyrano?"

"They obviously got the power back on," Scott said, looking around the well-lit hangar. He eyed each of his brothers in turn. "We've got to find them."

"I really hope we don't have to split up again," Alan almost whined.

"Sorry, Scooby, we Doo," Gordon grinned at the bad joke, ruffling his sibling's hair. "But this time you're stuck with me." He turned to face Scott and Virgil. "We'll head for C level, that's where the generator is."

Scott nodded. "Good idea. Virg, I think we should check outside and see if there are any more intruders, then head for the villa. Dad may be trying something else and just can't contact us."

The floor of the cavern hangar was actually level with B, which lay behind the rock at Thunderbird 2's tail. There was an access door not far away, and both Alan and Gordon took off at a run. Their brothers sprinted in the opposite direction, headed for the broken-out door that led to the runway.

"Man, it stinks in here," Gordon commented as he and Alan made their way through the B level passage toward the elevator.

"Yeah, it almost smells like…" Alan paused and sniffed the air as they stopped in front of the elevator. "Like something's burning."

The elevator reached them as though it had been working all along, and the men stepped in. Gordon jabbed the letter C on the panel and they waited as it descended. Alan looked down at Gordon's waist. "What is that on your belt?"

"Weapon of choice."

"You want this laser rifle?" Alan offered.

"Nope," Gordon replied, patting the nail gun affectionately. "She'll do just fine."

The doors opened.

"Tin-Tin!" Alan raced out of the elevator. "Oh my God, Grandma, noooo!"

"Alan, stop!"

It was their father's voice. Gordon stepped out, saw what was happening, and quickly stepped back in. He knew his father had seen him, but the bald man who was holding Tin-Tin in front of him had his back to him. He heard an evil laugh fill the air as the elevator doors slowly closed.

Having just arrived back at the point where he'd left his mother with Kyrano, Jeff was panting when he saw his sons step off the elevator. In shock himself at seeing his mother's lifeless body on the floor and Tin-Tin being held around the neck along with a gun pointed at Kyrano's head, the only thing he could think to do when his youngest darted toward them was yell for him not to. But it was no use; Alan was already halfway to them by that point. Luckily Gordon had gotten the hint and was undoubtedly on the way to get help.

"Well, well, well," Gaat said as he pointed the barrel of his snub-nose laser pistol right at Alan's head. "Since we've accounted for all the females, all I have to do is decide whether to make you watch as I kill your sons one by one, Jeff Tracy, or to make them watch as I take their father from them. What do you think?" he finished, looking between Jeff and Alan. "Get over there next to your father," he said, waving the gun in Jeff's direction.

Alan complied, placing his hand on his father's shoulder before turning to stand next to him.

"How touching," the Hood spat. "I suppose I should tell you that your technology will now be used to save people a different way: by bringing them all under my control!"

From his spot kneeling on the floor in front of his half-brother, Kyrano raised his head and looked directly at Jeff. "I'm sorry," he rasped. "Your parents love you and are very proud of you." He barely registered his employer's look of disbelief.

Belah brought the butt of his pistol down onto the back of Kyrano's head. As quickly as his body crumpled to the floor, Gaat had the gun pointed directly at the elder Tracy's forehead. "Now," he said, moving slowly closer, "what'll it be, Jeff? Do you go first? Or does your youngest?" He took aim at Alan but Jeff stepped in front of him.

"You don't need to kill them," Jeff said. "You have what you want. You have our island, our Thunderbirds, everything you need. I'll even give you money. But let my sons, Kyrano and Tin-Tin live. Let them leave Tracy Island."

"Oh, is that what you call this place?" the Hood asked. "I'll be more creative when I rename it."

"John Tracy calling Jeff Tracy, come in!"

Surprised by the interruption, Belah's finger moved to squeeze the trigger but stopped short. Jeff braced himself for death even as Alan tried to shove him out of the way. But there was a loud poof sound and Gaat's body stiffened, the laser pistol falling from his hand. His mouth opened and closed as both Jeff and Alan frowned, not understanding what had happened. As Gaat fell to his knees and Alan grabbed Tin-Tin from his grasp, Jeff grinned broadly at what they saw.

Standing not two feet behind the Hood was Gordon with his nail gun raised. "Told you she'd do just fine," he said to Alan.

The three men ran to one another then looked down at their matriarch's body on the floor. "What happened, Dad?" Alan asked, staring at his grandmother's unmoving form.

"Gaat nearly killed Kyrano," Jeff replied. "Grandma went through a wall of flames to help and I…well, I thought she was okay, but…" He faltered, completely unable to explain any of it. "I don't know," he finally said, taking a deep breath and looking at Alan. "Where are Scott and Virgil?"

"They were going to check outside where all the helicopters were to see if there were any more intruders," Gordon offered.

"Yeah, they, uh," Alan's voice faltered as he held Tin-Tin close. "After that they were going to look for you and…Grandma."

Jeff nodded. He raised his watch to his face. "John."

"Grandma?" John said.

"She's gone, son" Jeff said, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment. "Kyrano's unconscious, Tin-Tin's in shock. Get Virgil and Scott on the horn. I'd like their help moving everyone to the infirmary."

"Brains is there, he's probably met up with Virg and Scott," John quietly informed them. "I'll send them all down."

"Thank you, son."

"Now will someone please come up here and get me?"

Jeff nodded. "As soon as we can."

"Father?" Tin-Tin squeaked.

"He's okay, Tin-Tin," Alan soothed, stroking her ash-streaked hair. "And you will be, too."

It was with these stark contrasts in mind that Jeff decided partly cloudy skies with the smell of rain on the way was perfect for the mid-June day he had to bury his mother next to his father. A day he'd known would come at some point in his life, but had always hoped in a deeply hidden childlike way he'd never see.

He looked at Tin-Tin, who was dabbing at her eyes with a silk handkerchief. Next to her stood her father, mostly recovered from his injuries save for the shorter haircut he'd opted for to remove the burnt edges. How close they'd come to losing the Kyranos last week. He couldn't fathom not having them on the island and was beyond relieved that they'd survived.

And the reason Kyrano had lived was the very same reason the entire population of the island stood here at the Valley Falls Cemetery just outside the tiny town of Valley Falls. Grant Tracy's grave was well looked-after and now next to it was an open rectangular hole in the ground with a beautiful cherry wood casket suspended atop it.

He sighed as his eyes moved to his eldest two. Scott and Ruth had borne the brunt of raising the younger boys in the years after Lucille's death. Virgil had always been Scott's support beam, never failing to hold him up when he might otherwise have crashed and burned.

Next to them John, standing with Brains by his side. One just as much a son as the other, Jeff thought with a small smile. He remembered having a talk with his mother about that once; about her thoughts on Jeff including Brains more in family activities and not just International Rescue ones. He also recalled the blank look Brains subsequently gave him when he asked if he'd like to try a couple sets of tennis.

Brains had whipped him but good, with Ruth Tracy cheering him on the whole way.

Gordon and Alan. Two peas in a pod. Alan had been newborn and Gordon just a year old when Lucille was taken from them. Ruth had nurtured both youngsters with as much zeal as she had her own son, and they were all the better for having learned from the tough farm wife they had all adored.

There were many others there too, mostly from the older generation that had known both his parents. The minister began reading verses from the book of Ecclesiastes in the Bible. Verses that had been made into a popular song generation after generation from the time Jeff was a small boy.

"For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under Heaven," the minister said.

Jeff's mind wandered. Yes, there truly was a season for everything. Grant and Ruth Tracy had started this legacy with a farm and a dream. Jeff had left that world to follow his own dream, his own purpose. And he and Lucille had created a family of incredible men who laid their lives on the line whenever people were in trouble.

It seemed suitable, then, that their grandmother's heart attack had come while she was saving a life.

In spite of the casket that lay there before them, and the typical funereal flower arrangements surrounding them, and the minister who was somberly closing his Bible and saying a final prayer for the soul of Ruth Tracy, Jeff smiled. She wouldn't have wanted to go any other way.

Content Note: Thank you to Samantha Winchester for allowing my use of Valley Falls, Kansas as the Tracys' hometown, from her story Secrets and Lies.