BLACK AND BLUE by PURUPUSS RATED FRC

Black days and blue days for International Rescue.

Prologue

A lazy breeze danced around the palm trees. A pair of gulls squabbled over a morsel of fish and then flapped away lazily over the ocean. The waves lapped the white sands. Overhead the blue sky was devoid of clouds.

The pool was still. There was no one diving in, practising their swimming strokes or lazing by its turquoise edge.

The steps leading up into the house were almost blinding white as the midday sun reflected off them, but there was no one about to be dazzled by them.

All was calm.

Inside the house, Jeff Tracy sat at his usual place at the desk that occupied one side of the room. He was oblivious to the marbled floors, the oriental art works and the momentos of his years as an astronaut. His attention was totally taken up by the facsimile spread out before him. On the far side of the world members of his brainchild, International Rescue, were saving the lives of others, and the facsimile showed him what troubles they were up against.

It was a big rescue. They had needed all their speed and skill to ensure that the trapped victims were rescued alive.

The team had been gone for nearly 59 hours and last reports had indicated that the job was nearly over. Scott had been brimming with confidence when he'd reported in last time.

"Only one small group to go, Dad. We should have them out within an hour with minimal trouble."

Jeff smiled at the memory and looked at his watch. The hour was nearly gone, he should be hearing from them soon...

A beeping sound from the row of portraits of his five sons caused him to look up.

John, Scott, Virgil, Alan and Gordon. He briefly noted how smart they all looked in their blue International Rescue uniforms and the thought that his wife, Lucille, would have been proud of them flashed through his mind. One pair of eyes was flashing in time with the beeps. With no sense of urgency he answered their call.

"Go ahead, son."

The flashing eyes disappeared to be replaced by a video image of the boy.

Jeff had been expecting, at best the broad smile of a job well done, or at worst a worried frown that signalled that the job would take longer than anticipated.

Jeff was not prepared for the image before him.

His son's face was pale beneath the grime that had been collecting for the last 59 hours. The eyes were bewildered and uncomprehending. Shock and disbelief were the emotions that etched the handsome face.

Jeff saw not the face of a confident young man, but that of the little boy that he used to take on his knee and reassure after a particularly bad dream.

Only this was no dream, this was reality, and what reality was bad enough to have such an impact on such a strong person.

Various scenarios jostled for Jeff's attention and one particularly sombre one kept coming to the fore. It couldn't possibly be that one. Could it?

He had to find out.

Jeff was the first to find his voice. "What's wrong, son?"

The face in the picture frame opened and closed it's mouth a few times, but no words came out. The figure took a deep breath, steeled himself and said the words, those words that Jeff did not want to hear, the words that he had dreaded hearing, the words that he knew must be coming.

"We've got a problem..." A long pause. "He's dead, Dad."

Those three words chased out all the scenarios except that one, which had turned into cold hard fact.

Dead? A member of the team was dead? They had all known that it was a possibility when they had started this venture. They had all gone into it with their eyes wide open. They'd known the risks and reasoned that when it came to saving the lives of others, the risks were not too great.

Jeff closed his eyes to steady his nerves, when he opened them again he saw that his knuckles were white from where they had gripped the desk. "A death grip" he thought tightly and then realised that he was missing one important bit of information. Information that would banish all hope that this WAS somehow a dream, information that he had to know but did not want to know.

With an effort he voiced the question in the form of one word. One simple word, but one full of meaning.

"Who?"

The eyes were uncomprehending again, clearly the boy was fighting with his own emotions. The eyes glanced down and then were raised to face his father again. At the same time a hand came into view in the screen and Jeff saw the answer to the question.

It was a piece of uniform. Of course, all members of International Rescue wore the same distinctive blue uniform but each wore one item that marked them out as individuals. The sash - colour coded for each operative. Scott's was pale blue, Virgil's yellow, John's mauve, Gordon's orange, and Alan's off-white. Even Brains had a brown one for when he took part in missions.

The sash in the quivering hand told Jeff instantly what he hadn't wanted to know.

At that moment Jeff's mother walked into the room. "Have you seen my..." she started to say and then stopped when she saw his face. It was as white as the sun-bleached steps at the front of the house.

"Mother, you'd better sit down..." It didn't seem to be his voice yet there was no one else who could have said it. "There's been an accident."

She glanced at the row of portraits and at once knew what the outcome of that accident had been.

She sank into a chair with a sound, half sigh, half moan. "Oh Jeff, not..."

He nodded, his mind a confusion of thoughts, mentally preparing what would need to be done.

They had all talked about the prospect that one of them could be killed on a mission, even joked about it. Their training had included how to react and what arrangements must be made should a comrade fall while on duty. Yet, somehow, none of them had really believed that it would happen.

Deep in the bowels of the complex, there was a safe. The safe contained the usual accruements that would be expected of a multimillionaire. Stocks, shares, deeds, titles, items of value...

The safe also contained the wills and funeral arrangements of each member of International Rescue. One of the last things each operative, throughout the world, had done, before officially signing up with International Rescue, was decide what should happen to their earthly remains, should the worst happen.

Jeff imagined himself opening the safe and retrieving the files he had hoped would lay undisturbed during his lifetime. He had no idea what any of those files held. Even his five sons had refrained from discussing what their final wishes would be, as if they were frightened that to mention the existence of these files would somehow make them a necessity.

For one International Rescue member his file would now be opened.

How could this happen, why did this happen, when did it start...

Chapter One: Beginnings

"Okay, listen up." Jeff surveyed the members of his team assembled before him.

Scott, Virgil, Gordon, Tin-Tin, Brains, Kyrano, and Grandma were all waiting for his next pronouncement which would send International Rescue flying around the globe.

"As you heard John say," Jeff nodded at the video picture of his oldest son, beamed down from onboard the space satellite, Thunderbird Five, "There's been an earthquake which has caused a landslide in Wellington, New Zealand. Buildings have collapsed and people are trapped. The local rescue services need our help.

"Scott, you fly out there right away and get as much information from the authorities as you can." He didn't wait for his son's reply before he was issuing his next instructions. "Virgil! You and Gordon had better take Pod Five with the 'Mole'. Take any other equipment you may need..."

Brains interrupted "I-I-it's reclaimed land on the waterfront," he stammered. "Many buildings will have s-s-sunk into the ground."

Virgil was already heading to the painting of the rocket that served as the gateway to the mighty Thunderbird Two. "Thanks for that info, Brains," he said as he turned back to face them, his back against the painting. He flicked an invisible switch and his feet tilted up to be higher than his head, before he slid headfirst onto the hidden conveyor belt.

Jeff looked at his watch. "I wish Alan was here, but he's going to be arriving back from Thunderbird Five too late to help out. Brains, you had better go, they may need an extra pair of hands."

Brains stood up. "F.A.B-B., Mr. Tracy."

Wellington was being hit by a cold southerly wind. A particularly vicious blast hit Thunderbird One just as Scott was opening its retractable wings for his final descent. He briefly fought to regain control of his craft and then touched down in the grounds of the National Museum. A sign carrying the words "Te Papa" and an image of a fingerprint proudly proclaimed the buildings identity. From where Scott sat at the controls of Thunderbird One, he could see no visible damage to the building, he knew though that other buildings had not been so lucky.

A police van was drawing up beside him and he descended to greet the officers inside. As he emerged from the shelter provided by Thunderbird One's hull he felt the sudden chill of the wind. He made a mental note to grab a jacket before he set up Mobile Control.

"International Rescue..." Two female officers were walking towards Scott. The more senior had her hand outstretched. "I'm Superintendent Hally. Thanks for coming to help. You've no idea of the relief that was felt when we heard that your team was coming." She paused. "Ah, there are others?"

Scott smiled. "Yep. I'm here to establish a base and liaise with the local authorities. Our rescue craft is on its way now." He looked at his watch. "It should be here in about 10 minutes. If you could give me a hand with my equipment and show me where I can put it, we can start getting our side of things underway."

The two police officers assisted Scott with the Mobile Control and helped him load it into the van. They then drove the short distance to the Civil Defence base in a nearby warehouse. By the time the gear was set up, Thunderbird Two was reporting in.

"Thunderbird Two to Mobile Control, Thunderbird Two to Mobile Control," Virgil's voice came sailing out of a speaker mounted on the main control unit. Scott flicked a switch and Virgil's face appeared on the monitor.

"Go ahead, Thunderbird Two."

"I'm one and one half minutes away from danger zone. Where do you want me to land?"

Scott consulted a map of Wellington's waterfront displayed on another monitor. Deciding on the best place, he pointed to it. Up in Thunderbird Two the same image was visible on a monitor to Virgil's left. An orange dot was showed where Scott was pointing.

Gordon, looking over Virgil's shoulder, pointed too. "If you veer right 2 degrees, we should be there," he said. Virgil nodded his understanding and made the appropriate adjustments to his flight path.

"We can see Thunderbird One now," he told Scott's image. "Am coming down beside."

The Superintendent and her assistant heard this announcement. "Are they going to need assistance with their equipment?" Superintendent Hally asked.

Scott shook his head. "No thanks. The only help we should need is for you to tell us where you want us to act, and of course I don't need to tell you how vital it is that a guard is posted to ensure that no one gets near our craft."

Superintendent Hally smiled. "Of course." She took out a notebook. "We need your help initially in two places. There is a collapsed building on Jervois Quay. It's an office block, and reports say that at least ten people are trapped inside."

"The earth's given way and the building's subsided into the ground. The walls that remain standing are very unstable and we can't get close enough to shore them up. We wouldn't hold any hope for any survivors except that a passer-by heard voices. There is also a landslide that has buried several factories in the foothills of the city. We have people digging, but we have no way of knowing how many people were trapped and are still alive."

Scott turned back to the console. "Right! That gives us something to go on with." He returned his attention back to the communication monitor. "Virgil!"

Virgil's face reappeared on the screen. "Yes, Scott?"

"Proceed to Jervois Quay." The orange dot moved to the appropriate location. "You can drop off Gordon and the Mole and then carry on to this location," the map and orange dot moved, "and assist with the rescue there."

"F.A.B."

Fifty hours later, Virgil eased his way between the slabs of concrete that lay shattered on the ground or propped up against other slabs of concrete. The scene reminded him of a collapsed house of cards. Occasionally he paused to daub a marking on a landmark. After many hours of tiring work, he didn't want to get lost in this maze!

His slimline pack was coated in concrete dust and he snagged it as he skirted some rubble. The super strong material held firm and did not rip.

The muffled sound of a voice told him that he was nearing his goal. He reported this information back to Mobile Control. "Nearly there, Scott. I think I can hear them."

His brother responded slowly. "Understood."

Virgil frowned. Scott didn't sound 100% right. "You okay, Scott?"

"Yeah I'm fine," he didn't sound fine, "don' worry about me, worry about what you're doin'."

The words were slightly slurred, but Virgil decided that he was not in a position to do anything about it. He knew that Scott was in the same room as medical personnel. They were in a better situation to help if needed.

The voice behind the wall had stopped as if it was listening, so Virgil shouted to give some encouragement. "This is INTERNATIONAL RESCUE. Can you hear me?"

"Yes, yes!" was the excited reply. "We can hear you."

"Hang on, I'll be with you shortly."

Shortly turned out to be half and hour as Virgil carefully cut his way through the last obstacles to those trapped.

It was two men. One had clearly suffered a blow to the head and lay on the dusty floor in semi-consciousness. A makeshift bandagebound his head and blood had seeped through. The same type of cloth was supporting his neck. The other knelt beside him, shirtless. Virgil didn't need to guess what the bandage had been made out of.

The shirtless one greeted Virgil with a big grin. "Strewth, International Rescue, great to see you. We certainly need your help." He bent over his companion. "It's all right mate, you'll be safe soon."

Virgil pulled a silver thermal blanket from a pocket in his pack. He quickly unfolded it and laid it over the injured man, speaking as he did so. "How long has he been like this?"

The other man frowned as he formulated his reply. "Since the earthquake. He was standing on a box when it hit and he fell against this concrete wall." He indicated the wall at his side. There was a smear of blood. "It was like a slow motion movie. I saw him fall and saw his neck bend at an alarming angle. I couldn't do a thing to stop him. I thought there was a possibility of a neck injury so I wrapped my shirt around his neck to minimize any movement. He's alternated between thrashing around and lying still, and I didn't want him to do any more damage than he's done already. Apart from that, his pulse and breathing appear to be stable."

"Glad to hear it." Virgil was attaching a 'Vital Signs Monitor' to his patient's chest. He then flicked on his intercom. "Virgil to Mobil Control. Have reached object. Two male victims. One okay." He cast a questioning eye to his companion, who nodded in agreement. "Other has head injury and possible cervical injury. Have attached 'VSM', am starting signal now." He started the 'VSM's' transmission.

There was no reply.

"Scott," Virgil was worried, "are you receiving me?"

There was a crackle of static and Scott's voice came floating over the airwaves. "Sorry, Virg. I'd dropped the mike. Can you move the injured?"

"Negative." Virgil didn't remind Scott that it was dangerous to move anyone with a head or neck injury. "Scott, can you put me through to Brains or Gordon?"

"Put you through?" Scott sounded confused.

"Yeah Scott, I need to talk to Gordon or..."

Another voice cut in over the airwaves. "This is Superintendent Hally. Can you hear me?"

Virgil fairly shouted into the intercom. "What's happened to Scott?"

"He's passed out, a medical team is checking him out now."

"Right. Thanks." Virgil paused to gather his thoughts. "Look, there's a button marked four on the top right of the control panel..."

"It's not lit."

"That's okay. Can you push it and then push the button marked two. That will put me on a direct link with one of our other operatives. If you need to communicate with any of us push button two again and you'll be talking to me."

"Right! I'm pushing the buttons now."

"Virgil calling Gordon, can you read me."

"Loud and clear, Virg. What's up."

"Scott's collapsed..."

"What..."

"Don't worry, he's being looked after, I'm more worried about this guy I'm with now. He's got neck and head injuries and we can't get him out the way I came in. The only way we can move him is to lift him through the roof. You're going to have to use Thunderbird Two to remove a section of the roof and lower a stretcher down to us. Is Brains available to help?"

"Yes."

"He'll have to be lowered with the stretcher. Can you get that organised straight away?"

"Yep. I'm with him now. We're heading for Thunderbird Two. See you soon."

Virgil signed off and smiled at his shirtless companion. "Are you warm enough? I've got another of these blankets if you need it."

The man smiled back. "She'll be right. It's the middle of summer and it's the coolest I've been all season." He frowned. "How're you going to get the roof off without everything crashing down on us?"

"Cut a hole and lower a stretcher through." Virgil was occupied tending to his patient. "Now to let them know where to find us..." He started a location beacon.

Gordon was seated at the controls of Thunderbird Two. "This is a bit different to Thunderbird Four," he said to himself.

"A-any p-problems?" Brains queried.

"Nope. Just re-familiarising myself." Gordon's tone was light. "Here we go." A flick of a switch, and the craft shook as its vertical jets were ignited. Gordon gently eased a lever forward and Thunderbird Two rose gently off the ground. "There we go," he said, "no sweat."

The signal from Virgil's locator beacon was beeping from the dashboard of Thunderbird Two. Gordon flew until the plane was directly overhead the signal. "We're in position." He informed Brains.

"Right." Brains zeroed in on the signal and pushed a button. Six suction cups sped out from Thunderbird Two's undercarriage and affixed themselves to the roof of the building below. Adjusting the tension of the connecting cables, Brains ensured that the roof would not collapse onto those below. He then lowered a drill, which bit into the roofing structure and disappeared into the building.

Two of the men in the room below looked up when a sprinkle of dust fell onto them from the ceiling above. Virgil smiled when he recognised the drill bit. "Well," he said, "we're on our way out." He resumed his examination of the injured man. "You've done such a good job on that neck brace," he said, "that I don't want to replace it until we have to move him."

His companion smiled at the complement. "I've done a bit of first aid in my time."

"It shows. Any time I'm needing first aid, I'm calling on you."

Above them the drill had retracted and a new tool had appeared. It poked out of the hole and then divided into fifty arms. Each arm radiated out from its central point and attached itself to the ceiling.

"That'll stop the roof coming down onto us as they drill out a hole big enough to lift our friend through."

The building was rattled by an aftershock and both men protected the patient from falling debris with their bodies. When the rumbling had stopped they sat up again and brushed dust from their clothing.

"I guess you guys are used to this."

Virgil smiled. "Not really. You're never 100% sure whether or not another big quake is going to hit. You always have at the back of your mind that you might get trapped. It keeps you on your toes."

"How long do you think they will take?"

"It depends. If the roof starts disintegrating, they'll have to slow down."

"Well let's hope the roof holds."

Both men looked skywards.

Up in Thunderbird Two, Brains was echoing the sentiment. "I hope the r-roof holds so we can get through to them in a hurry."

Gordon agreed. "How does it look so far?"

"F-fine, so far the structure s-seems solid." Below them a drill with a diameter of three metres was grinding its way into the building.

"Hold it, Brains." Gordon had detected a wind shift. He feathered the controls and brought Thunderbird Two back into position. "The wind's picking up. Okay, you can start again."

"I-I think I-I can safely speed the drill up."

"Great. Do it."

The drill bit doubled its speed.

In the temporary hospital set up beside the Civil Defence Headquarters, Superintendent Hally had taken it upon herself to ensure that Scott was being looked after. She was seated outside the examination room into which he'd been taken. She stood up rapidly when the doctor exited the room. "Well?"

"He's got a bad case of influenza. How long has he been in the country?"

"About 53 hours."

"This particular strain manifests itself after 24 hours, so he was infected after arriving in New Zealand."

Superintendent Hally sighed. "International Rescue voluntarily offer to help us, and in return we give them the 'flu. I don't call that a fair deal."

"I guess they regard it as just part of the job. The work they do there's always a chance that something will happen to them. He's just lucky that it's nothing worse. I'd hate to be the one to tell the world that something serious had happened to a member of International Rescue."

"How long till he's back on his feet?"

"It usually takes a week to get over it, my guess is that he won't be taking any further part in this rescue."

Superintendent Hally thanked the doctor and went back to the control room. She hesitated in front of Mobile Control then picked up the microphone and pushed the number two. It lit up.

Virgil was alerted by a beeping noise coming from his intercom. "Go ahead."

"This is Superintendent Hally. Just thought you'd like to know that your associate is going to be all right."

"Glad to hear it." Gordon was listening in on the conversation. "What's wrong with him?"

"He's contracted a case of influenza. The doctor says that he'll be laid up for a week and going by the members of the force who've suffered from it, I'll have to agree with him."

"Not to worry," Virgil assured her. "As soon as we've finished helping out here, we'll take him home for some T.L.C. Thanks for letting us know."

Superintendent Hally signed off.

Virgil's companion gave a low whistle. "That flu really hits you hard. Some firms have had to close their doors until they've got enough staff who are fit enough to continue on with their jobs. It's so contagious that there have been reports of people contracting it from passing bits of paper, although I'm sure that is an exaggeration. You start out by feeling nauseous and light-headed and then you lose all your energy. Some people have found that they haven't the strength to raise their arms."

Virgil looked at him. "That's going to be interesting. Scott immobilized. He's going to go stir crazy."

A grinding sound above them told them that the large drill had bitten through. The fifty arms retracted until they supported the plug only. The drill continued to push through until fifty arms of its own were able to slide out and support the remaining roof. The plug was then withdrawn from the structure. The hot sun slipped into the room and cast its rays onto the three men.

Up in Thunderbird Two, Brains was undertaking the difficult job of negotiating the plug between the support wires of the drill. That done he buckled himself into a harness and spoke into his intercom. "Lower m-me away, Gordon."

"F.A.B."

Swaying in the breeze Brains was lowered toward the hole he had just bored, giving Gordon instructions as he did so. The stretcher was caught in the breeze and he started to rotate dizzyingly. He activated a small jetpack and his rotation was counteracted. The stretcher continued to swing however and he had received several bruises by the time he'd negotiated the hole.

Virgil greeted him with a big smile. "Good of you to drop in."

The International Rescue members busied themselves with immobilizing the injured man. That done they transferred him to the stretcher.

Virgil stood slowly, easing out the kinks in his body that had developed over the last hour. "You'd better take him Brains, we'll head out the way I came." He unhooked a spare helmet from Brains' harness and gave it to the shirtless man. "Sorry we can't supply you with any other clothing."

Brains concurred, "G-good idea. T-the wind's getting quite blustery. I d-don't think we'll be able to make more than one air lift."

"Well you'd better get moving." Virgil assisted his colleague back into the harness. "We'll meet you back at Thunderbird One."

Brains spoke into his intercom. "Brains to T-thunderbird Two. Lift away."

A reply of "F.A.B." and Brains and the injured man were disappearing back through the hole in the ceiling.

Virgil looked at his companion."Are you going to be able to walk out okay?"

The man smiled. "Sure, no sweat."

Virgil led the way to the 'exit'. "If you feel like stopping for any reason, just let me know."

One of Wellington's famous winds was whistling above the hole in the roof. Brains was bashed against the concrete structure as soon as he and his charge emerged from the comparative calm of the building. Grimly he hung onto the stretcher to prevent the patient from being knocked about too much. A particularly strong gust of wind grabbed at the helpless pair and spun them in a dizzying spiral. Caught unawares, Brain's face snapped into the cable that connected them to Thunderbird Two's bulk. The impact sent his glasses flying and he was unable to stop them falling back to the ground below.

Stifling a mild curse he spoke into his intercom. "G-Gordon, I'm going to n-need your help getting back into Thunderbird T-Two."

"What's the problem, Brains?"

"I've lost my sp-pectacles. I-I can't see a thing."

"Don't worry, I'll put Thunderbird Two into automatic hover and come back and give you a hand."

Gordon found his associate still dangling from the harness. He quickly unhooked the patient and then undid Brains' harness. "If you can wait there Brains, I'll see to this guy and then come back to you."

"I-I should have a spare pair of spect-tacles in the locker above my workstation."

"No sweat, be back with them soon."

Gordon made sure that the patient was comfortable in the first aid room and attached him to the on-board V.S.M. The patient seemed stable so he quickly went through to Brains' workstation. Opening the locker he found an assortment of weird and wonderful tools but no glasses. Frantically he opened other cupboards but no luck. He rejoined Brains, still standing where he left him.

"Sorry Brains, I can't find them anywhere. You sure that's where they'd be?"

"T-they should be there. Where-else could they be?"

"Look, we've got to get that guy to hospital straight away. I'll get you into the first aid room and you can at least listen to the audio nurse and hear if there's any complications. We'll find your glasses after." He grabbed Brains' arm and guided him in the correct direction.

The route back through the rubble was even harder than Virgil had thought. Several times they had to assist each other up over a slab of concrete. It was slow going. They stopped for a breather. Virgil turned to his companion. "You okay? You're getting a bit scratched there."

The other held up his arms, which were caked in dust and bleeding in places. "Nothing which a good wash and a few band aids won't fix."

They had just started off again when the ground heaved into life. Virgil's companion was thrown forward against Virgil, who was in turn knocked against a wall. As Virgil braced himself he saw a concrete slab come toppling towards him. Instinctively he raised his hand to protect himself...

Chapter Two: Dilemma

Gordon had just returned to Thunderbird Two's control seat when the after-shock struck. Even the mightiest Thunderbird shuddered from the force of the shock waves. He watched helplessly as the building below, the one that contained his brother, collapsed like a deck of cards. A pall of dust rose up from the wreckage obliterating the view.

He reached for the intercom. "This is Thunderbird Two calling Virgil, do you read me?"

No reply.

He tried again. "Virgil, can you here me! Virgil! Answer me! Come in, Virgil!"

The intercom remained frustratingly mute.

Gordon's first instinct was to notify Scott, to seek reassurance and form a plan of attack. But Scott was out of action, laid up by a virus. Should he radio home, should he worry his family, perhaps unnecessarily? His thoughts were interrupted by a call on his intercom.

"G-Gordon," it was Brains, "was that another shock?"

The voice helped Gordon regain a sense of control and his was already beginning to form a plan of action as he replied.

"Yes, it was, Brains. Quite a big one by the looks of things. A lot of the buildings have collapsed even further." He paused. "Including the one Virgil was in."

"Can you reach him?"

"No, he's not answering the intercom."

"W-we've got to get down there and help him!"

"I know. How's the patient?"

"His blood pressure's, uh, dropped slightly."

"Okay, we'll get him sorted and then we'll go get Virgil." The 'plane started to move forward.

"And Gordon."

"Yes Brains?"

"He'll be fine!"

"Yeah," Gordon sounded more confident than he felt. "Yeah, he'll be fine."

In the makeshift hospital, Superintendent Hally picked herself up off the floor. The hospital seemed to have survived the aftershock fairly intact. She knew that she would be needed back at Civil Defence Headquarters. She commanded the constable guarding Scott's room to stand his ground and hurried over to the Civil Defence HQ.

Like the hospital, the Headquarters was still structurally intact. Not that you could tell from the papers and equipment that littered the floors. Superintendent Hally picked her way through the debris until she reached the co-ordination station. International Rescue's Mobile Control stood unattended and she felt a momentary pang of guilt at leaving Scott. Pushing that to the back of her mind, she took control.

"Damage reports?"

"Nothing major. No new casualties. The only damage is to already damaged buildings, and they've already been evacuated."

Someone piped up. "Lucky International Rescue got out of there in time. That factory that they were searching was one of the worst affected."

Superintendent Hally swung round to the speaker. "Are you sure they got out safely?"

"Well," the speaker paused, nonplussed, "we saw the stretcher being raised out of the building and the Thunderbird craft seemed to hover above the factory for a mighty long time. It was still there when the quake hit, but reports are that it's coming in to land now. They've rescued one man with possible head and neck injuries and they'll be coming straight to the hospital. Why do you ask?"

"Just want to make sure." The Superintendent was unwilling to appear indecisive, 'I just have a feeling...,' she thought to herself.

Back on the island, Jeff Tracy also had a funny feeling that something wasn't quite right. He kept his thoughts to himself though as Tin-Tin served him a cup of coffee.

"Any news, Mr. Tracy?"

"Nothing yet Tin-Tin. I haven't heard from them for a while, but I guess they are too busy to radio in."

He was interrupted by the television giving an update on the earthquake.

"There have been reports of a severe aftershock. At the present time no further casualties have been reported. We cross live to our reporter at the scene."

"Thank you, Fred. Yes, there has been quite a major 'quake. Reports say that only buildings that were affected by the initial 'quake have been damaged. These had already been evacuated by the rescue authorities, including International Rescue."

Jeff turned from the set. That would explain why Scott hadn't radioed in. The team had clearly been kept busy since their last report and just as well too, judging by the news item.

Virgil became suddenly aware of a shooting pain down his right arm. The force of the pain made him gasp, causing him to inhale a lung-full of the dust. This sent him into a paroxysm of coughing and a new wave of pain through his body.

"Are you all right?" The concerned face of his travelling companion came into his field of vision.

Virgil waited until his coughing died down before answering. "No, I don't think so." He looked at his hand. It was jammed between the concrete slab and the wall at his back. A bit of wood that jutted out beside him was the only reason why he hadn't been totally crushed. He took a breath to steady his nerves. It was clear that the bones in the hand were broken. Virgil didn't care to think that he might have sustained worse injuries than that. "I think I've damaged my hand."

When the other man saw where the hand was, he gave a long low whistle. "Gee, you're lucky that's all that's broken. How'd you manage to get your hand in there?"

Virgil gave a rueful smile. "I guess instinct took over from common sense. I automatically tried to stop that slab from falling onto me. Anyway, how are you?"

"Me? I'm fine, tough as old boots. I'm more worried about how we're going to get you out in one piece. Any chance of calling up some of your friends?"

As if on cue a voice was heard from within the rubble. "This is Thunderbird Two calling Virgil, do you read me?"

The man started looking through the rubble to find the intercom that Virgil had dropped.

Gordon's disembodied voice came through the ether again. "Virgil, can you here me! Virgil! Answer me! Come in Virgil!"

"There it is!" Virgil pointed to the intercom. At that moment a chunk of concrete rolled off another and landed on the intercom which was flattened with a puff of smoke and a shower of sparks.

Momentarily demoralized, both men stared at the space where the intercom had been.

"Guess it's not our lucky day." Virgil was the first to speak.

"Yeah, you wouldn't have another on you, would you?"

"Yes, but I don't think it'll do us a lot of good." Virgil looked at his shattered wristwatch/telecom on his right arm.

Both men were silent as they collected their thoughts.

Virgil waited until the pain had subsided before he reached into a pocket in his trousers. Every movement seemed to cut him like a knife. He paused and then pulled out two bits of metal, each similar in size to a pencil. He jammed his thumbnail under a flap of metal on one and flicked it so that it rotated and settled at right angles to the body of the instrument. The movement caused him to drop the other one.

"Bother. Could you get that, please? I suppose if we're going to work together I'd better know what to call you."

"Neil. And I guess your name is Virgil." Neil retrieved the 'pencil'.

Virgil smiled. "So much for secrecy. Thanks." He looked at the 'pencil' in Neil's hand. "If you could open out each end of that, like this..." he repeated the operation with the other end of the 'pencil' still clasped in his hand. He then slid open a section of the instrument and a thread, no thicker than a human hair fell out and dangled from the silver casing. At the end of the thread was a tiny connector.

Neil copied Virgil's instructions. "Much easier with two hands." He said. "What is it?"

"It's a jack..."

"A WHAT?"

"A jack, it'll only move a few millimetres, but hopefully it will be enough to release my hand without bringing everything down on top of us.

"Now..." trying to twist his body round without moving his right arm, Virgil managed to jam his jack next to his hand and between the wood and the concrete. "...if you could do the same with yours on the other side. Now connect those two bits at the end. Good." He paused. "See that button..." Neil looked at the connector, there was indeed a tiny red button. "Stand as far back as you can and push that button. And get ready to run if anything goes wrong!"

Neil was amazed at how calm Virgil was. I guess when you've been in tight situations as often as this guy must have been, you get somewhat used to stressful situations, he mused. He pushed the button.

At first it seemed that nothing was happening then slowly, ever so slowly the concrete slab started to move. A light shower of dust fell to the ground at their feet. Virgil became aware that he was biting his lip. It's not going to be enough, he thought. It MUST be. Suddenly he felt the pressure on his hand lessen, and a moment later he was able to pull it from its prison. He slumped back against the wall and his knees buckled as he was swamped with a mixture of relief and pain.

Neil rushed over to his side. "Here, let's have a look at this hand." With infinitesimal care he examined the damage. "Could be worse, but you're not going to be able to use it for a while. We'll have to immobilize it so that we can get out of here."

Virgil managed to shrug his pack off his left shoulder. "Can you help me get this off?" Once freed of the pack, he opened a pocket and reached inside, pulling out a container of saline solution and some bandages. "Can you clean up the cuts?"

"No worries." Neil was quick and efficient in his work. "Now what?"

Once again Virgil reached into the pack. This time he pulled out a glove. "Here, can you hold this open while I slip my hand into it?"

Once this operation was completed, Virgil released a valve on the side of the glove. The glove expanded, surrounding the injured hand in a protective cushion.

"Strewth." Neil was once again impressed. "You haven't got anything in that pack that can get us out of here quicker, have you?"

Now the injured bones were immobilised, Virgil began to feel more in control of the situation. "Nope, we'll just have to start walking and hope that our exits aren't blocked."

"Keep optimistic, mate," Neil swung the pack onto his broad shoulders, "she'll be right."

They set off on what they were sure would be a long journey back to safety.

It was taking longer than Gordon would have liked to get Virgil and Neil's rescue operation underway. Brains was heavily handicapped by his lack of glasses and was unable to help with the unloading of the patient. The ambulance services were understaffed due to the 'flu and Gordon had to assist with the transportation of the injured man to the hospital. While he was there, he was able to tell someone else about his colleague/s predicament. All the other rescue services were involved in other call outs.

"Well Gordon, old boy, it's up to you," he said to himself.

His first line of attack was to get Thunderbird Two back into the air. From this vantage point he was able to sweep the building with his scanners. On his third pass, he was able to pick up some signs of life.

"Yes! Got'em!" he whooped.

"Where?" Brains peered short-sightedly at the computer screen.

"There." Gordon pointed to two faint dots. "They're pretty close to the entrance. They might get out of the building before we can land."

"W-Well, we'd better hurry to, uh, greet them."

Gordon manoeuvred the Thunderbird machine until it was hovering over the place that had been set aside for its landing. There were two trucks parked in the previously vacant site.

"C'mon," Gordon was getting impatient. "Get out of the way! I wish this baby had a horn." He mimed pushing a button in the middle of the steering column. "That would make 'em shift."

It had seemed to be a long slow process. The path that Virgil had marked so carefully had been obliterated in places. They frequently had to stop to allow his pain to subside. Many times Neil had to assist Virgil over the fallen infrastructure of the building. And still the end didn't seem to be in sight.

They were having a breather after Neil had helped pull Virgil up a particularly steep slab of concrete.

Virgil laughed. "I thought I was supposed to be the one rescuing you."

Neil ran his thumbs under the straps of the pack to ease his aching shoulders. "Well you helped rescue my mate, so I guess one good turn deserves another."

Virgil heaved himself back to his feet. He was going to be mighty sore in the morning he reflected.

They rounded the corner and were met with the sight of daylight through the front door of the building.

"Well what do you know?" Neil was grinning from ear to ear. "We made it."

They were just about to step out into the fresh air when their passage was barred by the sudden appearance of a figure.

Gordon jumped in surprise. "Boy, am I glad to see you two. And upright too." He noticed the cushioned bandage on Virgil's hand. "Hey, what happened to you?"

Now that he had reached safety, Virgil was able to make light of the situation. "Nothing much. I just squished it a bit."

The three men stepped out into the bright sunlight and started heading over to a waiting ambulance.

"Well," Neil shrugged off the pack and handed it to Gordon, "I'm fine, so I guess this is where I'll 'love you and leave you.'"

Virgil stopped and turned to him. Neil's skin and hair were chalky white with a thick coating of concrete dust. "I guess I owe you a lot, so thanks." He extended his left hand, which was also covered in the dust. "I hope you were a Boy Scout, this is the best I can do."

Neil took the outstretched hand and shook it warmly. "Yep, some of my best times were spent in Scouts. Always glad to meet a fellow member. And it was my pleasure to help. Made me think that just for a short time I was a member of International Rescue myself. It's a privilege to be able to repay you guys in part for all the good you do."

Gordon nudged Virgil. "C'mon, you'd better get that hand seen to." Virgil climbed into the ambulance and Gordon hurried back to Thunderbird Two. As the doors to the ambulance were closed Virgil gave Neil one last wave and that was the last he saw of him.

The doctor took down the x-ray and peered over his glasses at Virgil. "Well, you needn't worry. You will be able to play the piano again."

Virgil was delighted "Great!" He then frowned. "How'd you know I played the piano?

"Your fingers, or more correctly, your fingertips. They're slightly flattened. As your job is of the more physical type I can't see you spending a lot of time at a computer so therefore I think you must practice playing some type of keyboard instrument. The piano is the most common."

"That's good detective work." Virgil was impressed.

"Ah, in my job you frequently have to play the detective. People often can't, or don't, give you all the facts relating to their illness and you have to work out what's really happening. I quite pride myself on my deducing abilities, for instance, I would say that your top-secret base is probably on an island somewhere. As it would need to be clear of other habitation and away from regular flight paths, it's probably based in the middle of an ocean. The Pacific Ocean is the biggest so odds are that that is where this island is."

Virgil had heard people expound this theory before and was not about to say anything that could confirm the hypothesis, so he merely shrugged non-committedly.

"Another deduction that I would make," the doctor continued without pausing to see if his comments had hit home, "is that the gentleman in the room next door is actually a close relative of yours. Probably your older brother. There's enough of a physical similarity between the two of you and you also gave yourself away by showing great concern for him, when you arrived, even though you were obviously in a lot of pain."

"Now wait a minute..." Virgil was starting to get a little worried.

The doctor held up a placating hand. "You don't need to worry. You will note that I've held this conversation while only the two of us are in this room. Another important talent that a good doctor has to have is to know when a patient's confidentiality must be upheld at all costs. Your organisation has helped a good many people and for that reason, among others, I am going to respect your request for secrecy."

"Thanks." Virgil smiled. "I'll give you one point for the piano playing and a 'no comment' for your other two theories. I would like to give you a more positive answer, but there are unscrupulous people out there who if they thought you had even the tiniest bit of information about us, no matter how tenuous, would not hesitate to use whatever force they deemed necessary to get that information." He stood up and held out his good hand to shake the doctors. "I'll leave you to deduce what you like from that."

The doctor laughed good-naturedly and showed Virgil to the door. "You can take your 'associate' home whenever you are ready to leave, although I hope you are not the pilot of one of your Thunderbirds. You are not going to be able to use that hand much."

Virgil looked at his arm thoughtfully. The plaster stretched from below the elbow to the tips of his fingers. The hand, he had to admit, was virtually useless. He shrugged. "We're all pilots. One of the others can fly the Thunderbird, no problem."

"We have a problem."

Gordon had met Virgil at Mobile Control.

"What's up?" Virgil frowned at his brother.

"You can't fly Thunderbird Two like that, Scott's out for the count, and Brains has lost his glasses. We can't find a spare pair anywhere."

"Did you check Thunderbird One?"

"Yep, not a sign of 'em."

"Where is Brains?"

"Still scrabbling around inside 'Two' trying to find a spare pair. But we've looked everywhere and there's no sign of them. And there's no way that I'm going to let Brains pilot a Thunderbird craft when he can't see his nose in front of his face."

Virgil gave an involuntary shudder as he conjured up a mental picture of Brains piloting Thunderbird Two into the sea because he couldn't find the island. "There's only one thing we can do then," he said. "You fly 'One' home and take Brains with you. I'll stay here and keep an eye on Scott. You can bring Alan back with you, then you can fly 'Two' and Alan can fly 'One' home again."

"I guess it's our best plan of action." Gordon agreed. "I've already checked with Superintendent Hally and they can manage without our help now. I'll get cracking and you can radio base and let them know what we're up to."

Virgil smiled. "F.A.B. With all this decision making, we'll be putting big brother out of a job."

They arranged to have mobile control reinstalled inside Thunderbird One and supervised Scott's transfer to the sickbay of Thunderbird Two. Satisfied that all that needed to be done had been done, Virgil accompanied Gordon to the entry of Thunderbird Two.

"Don't take too long," he said, "I'm itching to get home."

Gordon coughed. "I'll be back before you know it." He turned and strode purposefully towards Scott's plane.

Virgil stayed at the door of Thunderbird Two as he watched the smaller rocket ship lift off with a blast of its vertical jets. After the silver craft had disappeared into the distance, the scene appeared to be eerily quiet. He went back inside, closing the door behind him. He suddenly realised that he had precious little to do until his brothers returned. He wondered into the sick bay.

Scott was lying asleep on one of the bunks. His normally tanned face a ghostly white colour contrasting sharply with his black hair. Virgil checked his brother's condition on the 'VSM' and found them to be as normal as could be expected.

"If you need me big brother, just yell. I've left the intercom on." He said, although he doubted that Scott heard him. After tucking the blanket under Scott's chin, Virgil left the room.

He headed up to the flight deck. From this vantage point he could see the scene for miles around. He noted the scorch marks on the ground where Thunderbird One had taken off and hoped that it would return soon. Further in the distance Virgil could make out the wreckage of New Zealand's capital city. He could just see the warehouse in which he had been trapped and he shuddered to think what might have happened if he'd been in the wrong place when the quake hit.

Once again he felt a tremor under his feet as the ground reacted to the seismic forces around. Virgil switched on the radio and relaxed as no further reports of any danger came in. He slid into the familiar control seat and experimentally tried out the manoeuvres he would have had to undertake if he had to fly the Thunderbird to escape another big 'quake. The Doctor was right. With his right hand immobilised he would not be able to operate the big plane. He could only hope that things would remain quiet until he was able to get home.

He looked at his watch and mentally counted down the time it would take Gordon to fly home and then return...

..."Couldn't complete a simple rescue without my help, eh." Alan was in a cheerful mood when he arrived in Wellington. He'd been disappointed at being left out of this one and was glad when he was called into service, even if it was only to rescue his two brothers. He grabbed Virgil's plastered arm and inspected it. "Guess we won't be having any concerts from you for a while."

Virgil was in a slightly less cheerful frame of mind. "I have it on good authority that this hand will be as good as new. Now if you would be kind enough to..."

Alan wasn't listening. "So where's big brother? Must be getting too old for this game. He'll have to start leaving it for us younger ones." Whistling, he disappeared into the sickbay.

Virgil rolled his eyes. "I wish he'd hurry up, don't you?" He muttered.

Gordon didn't reply. He was leaning against the wall and his cheeks were paler than usual.

Virgil frowned at him. "Are you okay?"

Gordon coughed. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired I guess. It's been a long day."

Virgil tried to feel his brothers forehead but his hand was knocked away. "You sure you're okay?"

"I said I'm fine!"

Virgil refrained from further comment. Gordon was sensible enough not to risk his life or that of his brothers. He'd have to trust that the aquanaut was feeling all right. At that moment Alan wondered out of the sick bay. He seemed more subdued that he had been when he walked in a few moments earlier.

"He doesn't look well, does he?"

"That's 'cause he isn't!" Virgil confirmed the diagnosis.

Alan headed towards Thunderbird Two's entrance, giving Gordon a poke as he passed. "Well I guess we'd better get these invalids home."

"Yeah," Gordon agreed, "that sounds like a good idea!"

Thunderbird Two neared Tracy Island. Graceful palm trees could be seen waving in the gentle breeze. The sun was glinting on the ocean and the house could be seen reflected in the swimming pool.

Virgil sat in the passenger seat, his jaw muscles clenched tight. It was bad enough that someone else had to fly his beloved plane, but as the trip went on, he was becoming more and more worried about Gordon's state of health. Normally he would have trusted his brother to fly his plane, but now...

He could no longer bite his tongue. "You haven't got enough power!"

Gordon appeared confused. "What?"

"More power! You need more power!"

"More power?"...

Virgil leaped to his feet and expertly made the correct adjustment and then transferred Thunderbird Two onto automatic hover. He made a decision.

"I'm taking over."

"What!"

"You're in no fit state to land her. Your reactions are too slow. One false move and we'll crash land, and I'm not prepared to jeopardise our lives as well as those on the ground."

"In case you hadn't noticed," Gordon pointed to Virgil's cast, "you're not exactly in top condition either."

"I've been thinking about that..."

Back on the ground Alan Tracy was standing on the veranda looking up at Thunderbird Two hovering over the runway. "I don't get it. Why doesn't he come into land?"

Jeff left his desk and walked out onto the deck. "Something must be wrong. They haven't reported in..."

As if on cue a beeping sound sent them hurrying back into the lounge. Virgil's eyes were flashing.

Jeff flicked a switch on his desk. "Go ahead, Virgil."

Virgil smiled reassuringly. "Slight problem, Father. Gordon's come down with this 'flu..."

"How is he?" Jeff interrupted.

Virgil shrugged. "Better than Scott, which isn't saying much, but he's not competent to land Thunderbird Two."

"I resent that." A voice was heard in the background.

Virgil chuckled. "Maybe I phrased that wrong. Anyway I've got two ideas. Either we can lash my right hand to the steering column and then my left hand will be free to do the necessary throttle adjustments."

"Sounds risky." Jeff didn't like the sound of it. "What's the other idea?"

"Either you or Tin-Tin flies Thunderbird One and winches Alan down to take over."

Jeff paused. "That idea has merit, but I'm not sure that either Tin-Tin or I have the necessary skills to be able to control One without risking Alan's neck."

Alan was unconcerned. "So! Now's the chance for one of you to get some experience!"

Jeff looked back at Virgil's framed image. "Okay. We'll make the necessary arrangements at this end. You get Gordon comfortable in the Sick Bay."

Virgil smiled back at his father. "F.A.B."

Jeff had decided that as much as he would have liked to have some action, Tin-Tin had had more practise at flying Thunderbird One and would be better suited to the job. "Take it easy, Honey," he told her. "There's no rush. Alan's got the hard job, you just have to keep Thunderbird One steady."

Seated at Thunderbird One's controls as she hovered above Thunderbird Two, Tin-Tin recalled those words. One slip of the controls and Alan would be sent swinging like a pendulum, perhaps even ricocheting him into Thunderbird Two. She took a deep breath and spoke into the microphone.

"We're in position, Alan."

His voice sounded tinny in her ears. "F.A.B."

Secured in his harness, Alan watched as the hatch below him slid open. This close, the great bulk of Thunderbird Two hid the earth below. From this viewpoint, it looked as though he was going to be lowered to the top of a building, not an aeroplane hovering a couple of hundred metres above the ground. He stepped out into nothing, the cable tethering him to Thunderbird One stretched taut.

"Lower away."

From her seat at Thunderbird One's controls, Tin-Tin activated the winch mechanism. Slowly Alan started to descend. He was glad that there was relatively little wind. This job was never pleasant and the thought of an air-to-air transfer in heavy winds, especially when one plane had an inexperienced pilot and the other was on automatic pilot, made his blood run cold.

He spoke into his microphone. "Virgil, open the hatch."

Below him an opening appeared. He could see Virgil's face looking up at him. The face disappeared as Thunderbird One altered her position slightly. He spoke again, "Tin-Tin, right, right two degrees." He felt her make the adjustment and once again Virgil's face swung into view.

"Nearly there. Keep her steady. I'm entering the hatch now." He disappeared inside Thunderbird Two and Virgil assisted him to the floor. Alan undid his harness. "I'm inside, Tin-Tin. Winch in the line and then you can land."

"F.A.B. Alan, see you at home." The line disappeared and the sun streamed in as Thunderbird One moved away from above her sister plane.

Alan shut the hatch above him and turned back to Virgil. "Right, looks like it's little brother to the rescue again. Let's land this baby."

Chapter Three: Changes

"There's nothing else for it! We're going to have to employ someone else!"

Virgil had been trying to reach an annoying itch under his plaster. He stopped and looked at his father in surprise. "Employ someone else?" he echoed.

"Yes. You can't take part in rescues while your arm's mending. Scott and Gordon are both laid low with the 'flu. If International Rescue is needed now, we are going to be severely short staffed."

"But Dad, you've always resisted such ideas because of security concerns." Alan was puzzled by this change of heart.

"I'm just facing facts. We've only got a limited number of operational staff. Both Tin-Tin and Brains are more important to the organisation in research and development rather than as operatives. I could send you..." he gestured towards Virgil "to man Thunderbird Five, while your arm is getting better, and have John on standby here. Even then, we'd still be short staffed. And John doesn't have the operational experience that the rest of you have."

"But Mr. Tracy, how do we find new operatives?" Tin-Tin asked reasonably. "We can't just advertise in the paper."

"I can see it now," Alan said. "Top Secret organisation requires strong, intelligent person. Must be fearless and able to work under pressure. Send C.V. to-"

"Obviously that is not an option." Jeff conceded. "But we've managed to create a network of agents around the world without endangering our security. We'll just have to screen all possible applicants at each stage along the way. I'll send out a bulletin to our agents to prepare to start proceedings straight away."

Somewhat numbed Virgil headed down to Scott's room. His brother was recovering from his illness, as evidenced by his complaining about being confined to his bed all the time, but he was still pale and hadn't recovered his appetite.

Scott put down the magazine he was reading. "At last! Some company. Sit down."

Virgil sat. "I think I need to sit down, I'm in shock."

"Why?"

"Father's just announced that he's going to get a new operative."

Scott frowned. "You mean another agent somewhere in the world."

Virgil shook his head. "I mean someone who can take on our duties when we're out of action."

Scott's frown deepened. "That can't be right. You sure you're not getting this 'flu and you're getting confused?"

"He's right." Alan entered the room. "Dad's out there now talking to Lady Penelope about arrangements."

Scott fell back against his pillow. "I never thought I'd see the day... Still I guess it makes sense..."

And so the search for a new member of the International Rescue team was underway.

Initially ads were placed in various publications, advertising for applicants for jobs at fictional firms. In some cases International Rescue's agents were able to put forward names of people that they felt would be suitable. All applicants who had living relations outside the organisation were immediately dropped from the list. As Jeff said, "We can't expect anyone to lie to their families and we can't chance any security leaks."

Those remaining had their backgrounds thoroughly checked and rechecked. These individuals then had an interview with the local I.R. agent, who told them nothing about the prospective job but asked them a set list of questions. Depending on these answers, the applicant was either discarded or proceeded onto the next level.

The next stage was a test to see how the individual reacted to stressful situations. The applicants were invited along to a location. On the way there, an accident scene confronted them. They were judged on how they treated those involved and in some cases whether they even stopped!

Those who passed this test had to undergo another interview. By this stage many had grown tired of what was seen to be a run-around and dropped out of the race.

There followed more questions by agents. Those who remained were checked once again at the highest level. The number had been whittled down to 25.

Lady Penelope orchestrated the final security check, using methods known only to her. She completed her checks with a personal interview. Her laid back charm put many off guard and she was able gain more information than any of the previous checks had revealed. Some of the applicants dismissed her as a rich 'air-head' and were immediately dispatched from the list.

It was up to Jeff to interview the final five applicants, under the guise of considering them for a job at one of his companies. The calibre of the applicants was very high, but in the end he'd narrowed it down to one person...

"One person? All those months of checking and he employs one person." Alan was astounded. "He decides we need more back-up and then he employs one person."

The four Tracy brothers had gone on a hike around the island. They'd stopped for lunch on the far side and the conversation had turned to the newest member of the squad.

"Steady on, Alan. This is Dad's baby and he's wary about letting a stranger into our midst. Despite all the checks, he's still worried about security leaks." Scott tried to calm his youngest brother down. "If this goes well he'll probably employ someone else."

"And then we'll have to go through the whole rigmarole again!"

"Not necessarily. I gather Father was pretty impressed with all the final applicants." Virgil added his slant on the issue.

Gordon asked a pertinent question. "Anyone know anything about this guy? Assuming it is a man."

"No, Dad's been pretty tight-lipped about the whole affair. I guess he doesn't want us to make any conclusions about this person until we meet him, or her." Scott finished his statement and took a large bite out of his sandwich.

"Penny's bringing them over tomorrow, so I suppose we'll find out more then." Virgil was fishing in his daypack for his sketchbook.

"If it's a woman, what do you think she'll look like?" Gordon asked. The others looked at him. "C'mon, you must admit it would be nice to have another lady around here. You can't tell me you haven't thought about it. All except him," he jerked his thumb towards Alan. "He'll be worried that he'll be making Tin-Tin jealous."

"Hey, what're you talking about!" Alan was embarrassed by the connotation.

"Aw, c'mon Alan, we all know that you and Tin-Tin have, shall we say, a certain amount of affection for each other." Scott was enjoying winding his brother up.

"Yeah, why don't you put us all out of the misery of pretending that there's nothing going on and marry the poor girl." Virgil held up his pad. On it he'd sketched a couple of doves kissing and a pair of wedding rings.

Alan made a grab for the sketch pad. "Is this 'Pick On Alan Tracy Day' or something." His brothers laughed good-naturedly and Virgil handed him the piece of paper with the picture on it. Alan screwed it up and threw it into his bag.

Back at the house Jeff was surveying the new operative's room. It had been painted a neutral colour and his mother had just put clean sheets on the bed. She walked over and took her son's arm.

"What are you thinking about Jeff, you're not having second thoughts are you?"

Jeff smiled and tapped his mother's hand. "No Ma, I'm sure that this is the right decision and that we've chosen the right person. I just hope the others will be able to get along with them."

"I don't think you'll have any problems with John, Scott, and Virgil. Gordon and Alan might be a different matter."

"That's what I was thinking."

She gave a demure smile. "I've been wondering. Do you think flowers in this room would be appropriate?"

He smiled. "Mother I'm sure that flowers would be appreciated. And I'm saying that only because it would be a nice gesture, not because the occupant is male or female. You'll have to wait with the rest of them."

She pouted. "Jeff Tracy, anyone would think it was a Christmas present you were giving us, not someone who's coming to work with us."

"I just don't want anyone to have any preconceived notions. They don't know they are coming to work for International Rescue and you don't know anything about them."

"How do you know that they'll want to work for International Rescue?"

"One of their initial questions was 'Name a service organisation you'd like to work for.' This particular applicant named us straight away."

"What if International Rescue hadn't been mentioned by anyone suitable?"

"One of the bystanders at the 'accident' would make a comment along the lines that International Rescue was a great organisation and that they would be interesting to work for."

"Seems to me that you were taking a chance that they were concentrating on what was being said and not what was going on."

He gave her an affectionate squeeze. "I know, but all the final candidates had experience in other rescue organisations. I think we're pretty safe."

Chapter Four: New Beginnings

Lady Penelope was sitting in the airport lounge. Her elegant legs crossed, long perfectly manicured hands holding a magazine, which she was calmly perusing. Her companion by comparison was a study of pent up nerves.

Trying to make light of the situation he said. "I've never been so nervous. I've abseiled down crumbling cliffs during my 'Search & Rescue' work and fought fires in buildings that were collapsing about my ears. But I've never been as nervous as I am now. Waiting to start a new job!"

Lady Penelope smiled. "I'm sure you'll feel better once you know what you have to do... Ah, here's Parker and Mr. Tracy."

Her companion stood up to greet Jeff. "Good to meet you again, Mr. Tracy."

Jeff shook the outstretched hand. "The pleasure's all mine. We're looking forward to having you work with us. "If you have all your luggage, we'd better take off before the weather deteriorates."

Parker got behind a baggage trolley, piled high with immaculate pink bags and started to push them out towards the airfield.

Hoisting a battered backpack to his shoulders, the newest member of International Rescue followed up behind his new employer and his associates.

Jeff was arranging clearance for the plane. The staff were treating him with the difference that benefited a wealthy and generous man. After all the paper work had been cleared they climbed into a courtesy cart and were driven out to the waiting 'Condor'.

Parker had already seen that the luggage had been carefully loaded. "All set, M'lady."

"Good Parker."

Her companion hesitated. "Wait a minute! This is a Condor, isn't it? They're long-range planes. Where are we going?"

Jeff Tracy held up his hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, you're not being kidnapped and we don't subscribe to illegal activity. It's just that where you are going to be based is a long way from here. If you have any problems with that, you are more than welcome to turn around and leave now. No questions asked. I would like to point out, though, that we would value the addition of your expertise to our, er, organisation."

The man looked at the three people surrounding him, an ex-astronaut tycoon, an aristocratic lady, and her aging butler. What harm could they do? With a shrug he climbed into the plane.

Jeff smiled and motioned for Lady Penelope to climb in next. He then climbed in after Parker and raised the gangway up behind him.

"I'm getting nervous." Gordon was pacing up and down in front of the row of portraits. Operation Cover-up had been enacted and each picture of the Tracy Boys showed them clad in casual clothes.

"Nervous?" Scott was amused. "You think nothing of climbing aboard a sinking 'plane or clearing debris from a rocket that's about to launch and you're nervous about meeting a stranger?"

Gordon stopped pacing. "Okay, so maybe nervous is the wrong word. Try... apprehensive. What if this person isn't all that he/she is cracked up to be?"

"Don't worry, after all the checks that have been carried out, they've got to have the 'right stuff.'"

"I'm with Gordon." Virgil was seated at the piano, though tellingly the keyboard was closed. "What if he, she, it, doesn't 'gel' with us. We rely on trust, what if we can't build up that trust with this 'person'."

"Lets cross that bridge when we come to it."

The 'Condor' circled the island once and made a low run over the house. Parker moaned and covered his face.

"Not frightening you, Parker, am I." Jeff grinned.

"Nooo." Parker didn't sound too sure. "Hit's just that Hi found the sun a bit too bright for my eyes."

Jeff banked the plane and brought it smoothly down onto the runway. The craft rolled to the hangar and stopped. An older gentleman in oriental dress emerged and approached the 'plane as it disgorged its four passengers.

"Mr. Tracy. You had a good flight."

"Great, Kyrano. Perfect flying weather." Jeff introduced the young man to his servant. "This is Kyrano. Been a friend and helper for longer than we'd both like to admit."

Kyrano bowed low. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

Jeff turned back to his newest operational member, who was gazing wide-eyed at the opulent scent that surrounded him. "This is your last chance. If you want to back out we'll get back onto the 'plane right now and I'll take you back to the mainland. Once we take you inside that building, you're committed to joining us."

"Now Jeff," Lady Penelope admonished him. "You're making it sound like a suicide mission. You're going to frighten the dear boy away."

"I just want to make quite sure that he is prepared to join us. We can't afford any security breaches."

"I've done a bit of checking of my own, Mr. Tracy, and you're well liked and respected in the business world. I also consider myself to be a good judge of character and I trust you, all of you." He made a sweeping gesture with his hands taking in the entire group. "I wouldn't have come this far with you if I'd had any doubts about what you are up to." He stretched out his hand towards Jeff. "I'm willing to join your organisation."

Jeff's craggy face broke into a smile as he shook the hand. "Glad to hear it. Come on the others are waiting to meet you."

Alan was standing on the deck. "Why are they taking so long?"

Gordon joined him. "Maybe he's got a lot of luggage."

"I don't think so, the majority of it is pink, so it must be Penny's."

"It could be someone who likes pink. Can you see him?"

"No." Alan turned to look at Gordon. "Anyway it's Parker who's carrying all the luggage so it must be Penny's."

"Look," Gordon pointed, "Oh no, it's Kyrano with Dad's gear, and there's Dad."

"Will you come inside?" Scott appeared at the doorway. "He's going to get a complex if he sees you two staring at him..."

"There he is." Alan interrupted.

"Where?" Scott strained to see over their heads.

"What's he like?" Virgil had deserted the piano.

"Bit hard to tell from here."

"Come on guys. He's probably nervous enough as it is without us giving him the onceover from here." Scott grabbed Alan and Gordon by the arm and dragged them inside protesting.

Grandma chose that moment to enter the room. "Did I hear the 'plane?"

"You did, Grandma. They're coming in now." Gordon confirmed.

"Is it male or female?"

"Male, with short dark hair. That's all I could make out before I was man-handled inside," Alan complained, rubbing his bruised arm.

They froze when they heard the sounds of the lift operating.

Tin-Tin brought in a tray of cups and placed them on the table. "Has anyone seen him yet...?"

The lift stopping silenced her query.

Almost as one person they all took a deep breath.

The door slid open.

Scott realised that his nails were digging into his palms.

A figure stepped out of the lift partly hidden behind an arm full of pink bags.

There was a collective sigh as the pent up breaths were released. "Parker!"

Virgil went over to assist the manservant. "Where are the others?" He asked as they left the room.

"Taken the stairs. Mister Tracy wanted to show him a bit of the hisland." Parker's voice trailed off down the hallway.

"And this is the centre of operations." A voice from behind them caused the rest of the group to spin around. Tin-Tin narrowly managed to avoid catching her dress on the tray holding the coffee cups. "Boys, Grandma, Tin-Tin, Brains. I'd like you to meet the newest member of our team, Neil Huia."

Neil grasped his backpack to his chest and uttered a nervous, "Hi."

Feeling somewhat at a loss, Scott moved over with his hand outstretched. "Hi, I'm Scott."

Neil extended his arm to return the handshake and lost his grip on the backpack. Both he and Scott bent over to retrieve it and managed to bang their heads together. They both stood up and each thinking that the other had it, let go of the bag. It fell again and landed on Jeff's foot.

"Sorry, Mr. Tracy." Neil grabbed the bag and hoisted it over his shoulder.

"Don't worry about it." Jeff smiled genially. "Scott, take his pack and put it by the door where it won't cause any more trouble."

"Yessir." Scott lifted the bag from Neil's shoulder and did as he was told.

"Well, Neil, I'd like you to meet the principle members of my organisation. These are four... Where's Virgil?"

"Helping Parker," Scott told him.

"Well Neil, these are three of my five sons. In order of ages. Oldest is Scott, whom you've already bumped heads with."

Scott gave a little wave and an embarrassed, "Hi."

"Second is John, who's currently on duty on the space satellite."

"Space satellite?" Neil looked bewildered.

Jeff carried on as if he hadn't heard the comment. "Then we have Virgil, whom you'll meet in a moment, Gordon and the youngest is Alan." As each of their names were called out, the Tracy boys came forward and shook Neil's hand.

"This delightful lady," Jeff put his arm around Grandma, "is my mother. She's the most important member of the organisation as she keeps us fed and watered."

"Oh Jeff!" She laughed her face dimpling in delight.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Tracy."

"This is Tin-Tin, Kyrano's daughter. She helps with engineering and development."

"Wow." Neil said unsubtly as he looked wide-eyed at Tin-Tin's delicate frame clothed in a fine oriental gown.

"And last but not least we have our principle engineer, Brains. Without him we wouldn't be able to do what we do."

"How do you do," said Neil, wondering exactly what it was that the organisation did.

"N-nice to m-meet you, Neil."

"Come over to my desk, Neil and I'll introduce you to John."

"Okay." By now Neil was feeling somewhat bewildered.

Jeff pushed a button and an ornament rose from the desk revealing a hidden microphone. "Jeff Tracy calling Thunderbird Five, Jeff Tracy calling Thunderbird Five."

"Thunderbird Five...." Neil eyes grew round as realisation dawned. "Then you guys must be..."

John's handsome face appeared in place of his portrait. It wasn't till that moment that Neil realised that the portraits had changed and in those photos, each of the Tracy boys were dressed in identical blue uniforms. Identical except for their sashes...

"Hi Dad. I wondered when you were going to call."

"We've just got back. John I'd like you to meet Neil Huia. The newest member of International Rescue."

"Great to meet you, Neil. Afraid I can't say that I've heard a lot about you. Dad's been keeping pretty quiet."

"Guess we're even. I've only just found out that you're International Rescue." Neil's voice held a trace of awe. His eyes scanned the remaining portraits, coming to rest on the one person he hadn't met. A small smile appeared on his face.

"Ah, Virgil, you're here." Jeff's comment caused Neil to turn. He hadn't seen Virgil enter the room. "Neil this is my middle son, Virgil."

Virgil stepped forward, his smile tempered with a slight frown. "Glad to meet you at last."

Neil gave a little chuckle. "Oh, we've met already." They shook hands. "Glad to see your hand's better."

Virgil's frown deepened and then disappeared into a look of recognition. "I thought I recognised you, but I couldn't place your face. Mind you, you're a bit cleaner than the last time I saw you." He turned to Gordon, who like the rest of his family, was wearing a frown. "You've met Neil before Gordo'. You too, Brains."

"We have?" Gordon was totally flummoxed.

"W-When?" Brains stammered.

"Well it wasn't for that long," Neil said. "I must admit that my recollections of you two are pretty hazy. But I sure remember Virgil."

"Okay, don't keep us in suspense," Jeff growled. "Just when did you two, ah, four meet?"

"Remember that earthquake in Wellington? That one where I got my hand jammed in the concrete and Scott and Gordon came down with the 'flu."

"Of course!" Gordon's face cleared.

"Neil was the guy who helped me out of the building. I went in to rescue him and he ended up rescuing me." He turned to Jeff. "Well Father, I've got to endorse your choice. I've seen this guy in action and he's perfect."

Neil turned red. "Gee, thanks."

Jeff smiled. "Well it's nice to know that you approve. It makes me feel that I've done the right thing. Why don't you show Neil to his room and then when he's ready we can show him around."

"Sure." Virgil turned to Neil. "Where's your bags?"

"By the door." Neil pointed. "Watch it, it bites. It's already attacked Mr. Tracy and Scott."

Laughing Virgil grabbed the pack and ushered Neil down the hallway.

After they'd left Lady Penelope turned to Jeff. "Do you feel happier now?"

Jeff paused. "Yeah, yeah, I do, Penny. It's been worrying me sick that we'd made the wrong decision." He looked at those assembled in the room. "How do the rest of you feel?"

"Well, Virgil told me how relaxed and confident Neil was during that rescue," Scott said, "I'm sure you've made the right choice." The others nodded their assent.

"When are you going to bring him up here?" John's voice floated down from his portrait.

"Probably later today. We'll see how things pan out. I'll let you know so you can have the welcoming mat out."

In Neil's room Virgil placed the pack on a chair. "I hope this room's okay. We kept the décor plain so you could add your own personality to it."

Neil wondered to the window. From it he could see the Pacific Ocean. "Yeah, it's great. Those flowers just give it a homely air."

"Better thank Grandma. They were her idea."

Neil paused. "What did your father mean? 'It makes me feel that I've done the right thing.'"

Virgil leaned against the door jamb. "Well up to now it's really only been the five of us Tracy boys who have done all the rescues, with some help from Brains, Tin-Tin, Parker and Lady Penelope."

Neil was amazed. "Just you five?"

"Yep. After that Wellington rescue three of us were out of action, which left International Rescue with serious staffing problems. Fortunately we weren't required anywhere for some time. But Father realised that there was always a chance that International Rescue wouldn't be able to help someone. So he decided to hire someone else. What you've got to realise, Neil, is that International Rescue is Father's baby and he'd do all he could to protect it. You've also got to remember that we have some pretty powerful machinery, that in the wrong hands could do a lot of damage. Hence all the secrecy. He hasn't said anything, but we've all know that Father was worried that introducing someone new to the organisation would compromise that security."

Neil was serious. "I understand." His expression changed to one of amazement. "So the entire team of International Rescue is in that room?"

Virgil smiled. "Not quite. Apart from John up in Thunderbird Five we have a network of agents around the world. We do the donkey work, and the agents ensure that our secrecy is maintained and help out if needed." He straightened up. "Do you want to have a rest, before you get shown 'round?"

"Not likely. I'm raring to get started."

"Okay, I think Father's worked out who's showing you where, so we'll head back down to the lounge."

They entered the lounge. It seemed incredible to Neil that he was looking at the entire working crew of International Rescue.

Jeff stood up. "Grab a cup of coffee and have a seat."

Neil took a cup. "Thanks."

Jeff leant back in his chair. It was the most relaxed that any of the Tracys had seen him for a long time. "So Neil, no doubt you want to learn more about us, and we certainly want to learn about you."

Neil settled down in a comfortable chair. He was already beginning to feel at home. He learnt how Jeff had been brought up on a Kansas wheat farm. How Jeff had had to bring up his five sons with his mothers help after Jeff's wife, Lucille, died. How Jeff had been a respected astronaut, one of the last men on the moon and how he'd given up the excitement of space travel to care for his family. He had a brief lesson in how Jeff had used his engineering skills to build up a successful business empire, how a desire to help others took hold and grew.

The rest of the family then took over. Neil learned how Scott had been educated at Oxford and Yale and decorated during his time in the Air Force. How Virgil had been received degrees at The Denver School of Advanced Technology. How Gordon had been a champion Olympic swimmer and a member of the World Aquanaut Security Patrol. How John had followed in his father's footsteps, becoming an astronaut as well as developing a passion for communications. He also learnt how Alan was a successful race car driver and had trained to become an astronaut after being expelled from Colorado University.

"He launched a rocket through the Dean's window." Gordon laughed.

"Not on purpose," Alan protested. "It was meant to go vertically, but one of the stabilisers came loose and it went off course."

"Still, was Father ever mad after that escapade. He made us leave the house and we could still hear him giving you a rollicking, from the garden."

Alan sought to change the subject. "We haven't heard from Tin-Tin yet. She was top in her classes."

"What did you study?" Neil asked.

"Higher Mathematics, Advanced Technical Theory and Engineering," she replied modestly.

"She's a big help for Brains," Jeff added. "And Brains is the brains behind most of our craft and equipment. What he doesn't know about anything, isn't worth knowing."

Brains looked at his feet shyly. "I-I do have a r-retentive m-memory," he stammered.

"And the genius to be able to put that knowledge to practical use." Jeff was enjoying praising the young scientist. "I saw him one day at a lecture and I knew straight away that he was the man who could enable my dream to become reality. Without him, International Rescue would literally have never got off the ground." Brains blushed.

"Kyrano," Jeff passed on to the figure standing quietly to one side of the room, "has a knowledge of horticulture unsurpassed by anyone else in the world. He's developed several strains of food plants that have helped alleviate world hunger."

Neil stared at the manservant. "Then why is he... I mean..." he stopped embarrassed.

Jeff smiled. "Why does he work for me? I've asked him that many times. Kyrano, perhaps you could answer that better than I could."

Kyrano bowed. "Mister Tracy is a good man and a good friend. He supported me when my wife died. He paid for my daughter to go to school. I owe him much and this is how I repay him."

"You've repaid us ten-fold, Kyrano," Jeff said fondly.

Kyrano bowed low again. "I thank you."

Jeff turned to Lady Penelope. "Penny, do you want to give Neil a run-down on your position in the organisation?"

"Really Jeff, I'm sure Neil doesn't want to hear about my small role. I just help where I can." She crossed her elegant legs and smiled in an aristocratic way.

Alan snorted. "'Small role', she says. If it wasn't for Lady Penelope, International Rescue would have been finished a long time ago."

Jeff took up the story. "Penny is our London agent. She may act cool and aloof, but don't ever underestimate her. She's got quite a few tricks up that sleeve of hers. We rely on Penny to close any security holes, with Parker's help of course.Parker was the best safe cracker in England..."

"The United Kingdom, hif you would pardon the interruption, Mr. Tracy." Parker was affronted.

"Sorry, the United Kingdom, until he met up with Lady Penelope and went straight."

"Hand HI've had more excitement with her than I'd had in 25 years of robbing joints, ah, h-establishments."

"So now, Neil, perhaps you'd like to tell us a bit about yourself."

Neil thought for a moment. "Well I'm 29 years old, and of Maori decent. I was born in Auckland, New Zealand but grew up in a small town just out of Palmerston North. I was involved in Scouts, starting as a Kea and going right through to be a Venturer, gaining my Queens Scout and starting on my pilot's license in the process. Mum was a member of the St. John Ambulance, so I joined and spent many Saturday's as a 'Zambuck', that is a first aider, at sporting events.

"Dad was a member of the volunteer fire brigade so when I was old enough I joined too. I was also a member of the local Search and Rescue, which meant that I was involved in searching the Tararua Ranges. I grew to love hiking through the New Zealand bush and had initially planned to be a Ranger with the Department of Conservation. I subsequently changed my mind and did a degree in engineering, but shortly after I graduated both of my parents were killed in a car crash. I had no other living relatives to turn to, so I decided after that to become a paramedic so I could help others, maybe prevent someone else's parents dying in the same way. Over the last few years I've found being a paramedic to be a bit limiting as you've got to wait for the person to be rescued before you can really work on them and then sometimes you're too late. That's why I've been looking around for another job. My hobbies have been abseiling, mountain climbing and I've learnt to play the guitar. Oh, I've run a couple of marathon's too." He added as an afterthought.

Scott whistled. "Phew. That little resume just about puts the rest of us to shame!"

Virgil nodded in satisfaction. "I told you he was the right man for the job."

Chapter Five: One

Jeff stood up. "Well, Neil, now that we know a little bit more about each other, how would you like to have a look around?"

Neil practically leapt to his feet. "Are you kidding? I'm dying to get cracking."

"Fine. Scott, perhaps you'd like to take Neil first."

"Sure Dad." Scott unfolded his tall frame and stood up. "Well Neil, from this room you can directly access each of the Thunderbird launch bays."

Neil looked around him. It seemed to be a perfectly normal room. He'd been outside and down the hallway. No signs of any heavy machinery there. There were no other doors to be seen.

"O-kay," he said slowly. "I'll believe you. Thousands wouldn't."

"Naturally, to keep our secret safe, the entrances are hidden." Scott told him. "So far we've only had people visit who don't know who we are. I'd be interested to know if you can find any of them since you know they exist."

"My first test, eh. If I fail, do I get kicked out?"

Scott laughed. "No. But if you succeed we go back to the drawing board."

"Okay." Neil scanned the room. "Using logic, the doors can't be on either of these two walls as there is nothing connected to them on the other side. Unless of course there is a false wall and you have to use a lift." A slow grin crept over his face. "That's an elevator to you Americans."

The Tracys chuckled good-naturedly.

"Well, I guess I'll start with this wall." His eye caught sight of a painting of a rocket. It was marginally taller than he was. "Dad would have loved this room and he would have loved meeting you, Mr. Tracy. He was mad keen on space and space travel. In fact, he named me after Neil Armstrong."

"That's interesting," Jeff said. "I named my boys after some of the space pioneers."

"Really?" Neil spun round. "Let me guess. John Glenn, Alan Shepherd, Scott, um, Carpenter, Gordon..." He snapped his fingers, trying recall the name. "Don't tell me. Gordon, Gordon Cooper. That's it. And Virgil..." He stopped. "Virgil? No, I'm sorry, mate, you've got me with that one."

"Gus Grissom," Virgil told him evenly.

"Of course." Neil snapped his fingers in recognition. "Gus Grissom. Pilot of Apollo One. I forgot his first name was Virgil." He paused. "Terrible way to die. Burned alive, trapped in a space capsule. And not even in space but in a training session." He turned back to the painting. "This is one of the later rockets, isn't it?"

"That's right," said Jeff, "that's the first rocket I flew on, Taurus Four. Virgil did the painting."

"Did you? It's great." Neil examined the painting again before moving on, without noticing the knowing looks that passed between the rest of the group.

Neil finished examining the first wall with no success. "This could take forever. Couldn't you give me a clue or at least tell me if I'm hot or cold."

Everyone else was clearly enjoying themselves. "You've been so cold you could have been on Pluto, and so hot that you could have been on the sun," Gordon told him.

"Really? Where?"

Gordon didn't say anything and just mimed locking his lips together.

This really is a test, Neil thought. A test of my tenacity. I wonder if I'd get the sack if I gave up. Nah, they've already taken a chance in employing me, they're not going to risk International Rescue now by firing me. They just want to see how clever they've been. He had to admit that they had been very clever. So far.

He found a crack in the wall. "Ah ha."

Gordon took a closer look. "Paint's cracking, Father. Could be caused by vibrations from Thunderbird One taking off."

Jeff examined the wall. "You could be right. I'll add it to the maintenance schedule." He smiled at Neil. "Sorry, but this is a defect. Let us know if you find any more."

Neil's shoulders slumped. He then squared them again and resumed his search.

Tin-Tin felt sorry for him. "Couldn't we at least give him the general area?"

"Okay," Scott conceded. "The access way to Thunderbird One is in the vicinity of those two lamps."

Neil looked where Scott was pointing. "But I've already checked there and found nothing."

Scott cocked his head at his father who nodded. "Right, we've give you this one. You stand between these two lamps..." He demonstrated with his back to the wall. "Push these two buttons, pull the lamps in towards you and..." The section of the wall rotated taking Scott with it. An identical wall section took its place.

Neil was left standing there with his mouth open. "Strewth."

"Pretty slick, eh." Jeff indicated the wall to Neil. "Now it's your turn."

Slightly nervous Neil placed his back against the wall. Grasping the lamps he could just feel the two minute buttons Scott had indicated. He pressed them and pulled the lamps inwards. The lounge disappeared to be replaced by a huge hangar.

Ahead of him stood Thunderbird One.

"Strewth."

"Gives you quite a turn does it?" Neil hadn't noticed Scott standing on the platform beside him and jumped when the other man spoke.

"Yeah, literally."

"Normally I'd step straight out onto this platform, but I waited for you to arrive. Come on." He led the way onto a platform. There was just enough room for the two of them. "Usually this only carries one person, that's why it's a bit of a squeeze. You push this button here..." the platform started to move.

Neil tried to take in his surrounding but his attention was drawn by the rocket plane ahead of him. He looked up past the red nose cone. The roof appeared to be solid granite. "How on earth do you launch it from here?"

"We don't. See that tunnel?" Off to the side, a tunnel disappeared down into the earth. "We built this hangar here because it made access easier. Once the pilot is settled, Thunderbird One is conveyed down to its launch pad under the swimming pool."

"The swimming pool?"

"Yeah. It slides back and we blast out through that."

They had nearly reached the door that led to the cockpit of Thunderbird One and Neil leant over the edge of the platform. His eyes followed Thunderbird One's sleek lines down to its base. "Strewth, that's some drop. You'd be instant pancake."

"She's capable of speeds over 15 thousand miles per hour and able to reach heights of up to 2500 feet."

They stepped into the cockpit. Neil gazed around at the array of electrical equipment that buzzed and glowed and told Scott a million and one things about the state of his aircraft.

"Have a seat." Scott indicated the pilot's seat.

"Thanks." Neil approached the seat as if it may have been the electric chair, regarded it uncertainly and then gingerly sat down. "Comfy."

"Normally I'm the pilot. My job is to fly to the danger zone, ascertain what equipment we need and form a plan of attack. As part of your training, you'll be taught how to operate all the craft, including this one." Scott briefly gave Neil a rundown of the instrumentation that was visible from the pilot's seat.

"Back here," Scott led the way, "is where we store Mobile Control. I set this up when I get to the danger zone and co-ordinate from there."

"Mobile Control? It's a bit big, isn't it?"

"We do rely on transport being provided by the local authorities to transport it. Sometimes it's easier to operate from Thunderbird One herself, and frequently I'm helping out, at the coal face as it were, myself. Brains is working on a smaller version but retaining all the functions this model carries out. The problem is that he gets side tracked thinking up and manufacturing other equipment that have a more direct bearing on the success of the rescues. So this project is usually on the back burner."

"What else can Thunderbird One do?"

"As far as actual rescues go, it's a bit limited. As I said it's a reconnaissance craft not a rescue vehicle, though it does have a few tricks that enable it to stabilise things until Thunderbird Two arrives. C'mon, we'll try her out." They had reached the cockpit again and Scott slid easily into the pilot's seat. He indicated another chair. "Strap yourself tight. We hit 3 g's on take off."

Neil found himself fumbling with the seat belt. Nerves or excitement, he wondered.

Scott was talking into the microphone. "Thunderbird One to base. Am moving to launch pad."

His father's voice came over the air. "F.A.B."

"What did he say?" Neil wasn't sure if he'd heard it correctly.

"F.A.B. It's our call sign to say that the message has been received, understood, and will be carried out. Are you strapped up?"

"Ye... ah F.A.B."

"Okay, here we go." Scott moved a lever forward and the plane started to move forwards and down.

Inside the cockpit they were blind to what was drifting past them. "We'll get visibility once we launch," Scott explained.

The craft halted. That was easy enough, Neil thought.

Once again Scott spoke into the microphone. "Thunderbird One to base. Cleared for take off?"

There was a pause as Jeff checked the radar. "You're clear to go."

"F.A.B." He looked over his shoulder at Neil. "Hang on!"

Neil found himself gripping the edges of the seat.

Scott pushed another lever forward. Thunderbird One seemed to pause before gathering momentum. Upwards they shot. Neil found himself being forced backwards into his chair, his limbs felt as if they had lead weights attached to them. Then suddenly they felt free.

"Switching to horizontal flight." Scott moved another lever. The gimbals on both seats swivelled allowing both men to keep a vertical alignment. When the operation was complete he looked back at Neil. "How'd you like that?"

"Great! Better than a roller coaster ride."

"We'll circle the island a few times and go in to land. I'll stabilise her and you can get up and have a look at the view." The viewing portals had slid open and Neil untangled himself from the seat belt and made his way to the window. He looked back the way they'd come.

"Where'd those wings come from? I don't remember seeing them before."

"They're retractable. They stabilise Thunderbird at lower speeds."

They circled the island three times. On the third approach Scott bought Thunderbird One to hover over the pool. It looked perfectly normal to Neil.

"Thunderbird One to base. I'm coming in to land in a moment but can you retract the pool now so Neil can see where we're going."

"F.A.B. Scott. After you've landed, we'll have lunch."

Below them Neil could see the pool receding as the launch pad beneath was exposed to the world. "Clever."

The landing was more comfortable than the launch had been. "Do you have to have such an explosive launch from the danger zone?" Neil asked.

"No. Normally we land on its side, which means that we can offload easier. We're not as streamlined when we take off so it's a lot gentler."

The platform was waiting for them when the door slid open. Scott stepped on board. "I'll give you a clue as to where the next door is. See that tube." Just beside the access way to the lounge was a large, corrugated tube. It came out from the wall, turned a right angle and disappeared through another wall. "Remember that."

"O-kay."

Jeff was the only one in the lounge when they arrived back. "How'd you enjoy that?"

"Great. Can't wait till I'm allowed to have a go."

"Good. We'll get you started on the simulator in a couple of days and when we're satisfied you're proficient enough, we'll move onto the real thing. I warn you though," Jeff's face took on an expression of mock gravity, "Scott doesn't like it when anyone damages his bird."

Neil matched the expression with one of his own. "I'll remember that."

"Where is everyone?" Scott asked.

"Getting lunch ready." At that moment Tin-Tin appeared in the doorway.

"Lunch is ready, Mr. Tracy."

"Great, I'm starved." Scott headed for the doorway.

"You're always starved," Tin-Tin admonished him. "Don't forget we have extra people this time."

Chapter Six: Air & Sea

After lunch Neil sat back, replete. Despite Tin-Tin's concerns, there had been plenty of food to go around. "That was great, Mrs. Tracy. I can see why you're regarded as the most important member of the team."

"Why thank you, Neil," she said almost girlishly. "It's nice to know that I'm appreciated."

"Well, shall we move on?" Jeff asked rising from the table.

Neil leapt to his feet. "I get to see Thunderbird Two now, right?"

"That's right." Virgil stood up. "We showed you Thunderbird One before lunch because she operates under a weight restriction. And after Scott's eaten, she can't take the weight." He ducked a napkin that his brother threw at him.

"And we're showing you Thunderbird Two after lunch because she's able to lift the excess weight that Virg's carrying." Scott ducked as Virgil pretended to through the napkin back at him but instead threw it into the laundry bin.

They returned to the lounge.

"Do I have to try to find Thunderbird Two's access way?"

"We'd like you to try," Jeff told him.

"Let's see... Scott pointed out a tube..."

"Oh he did, did he?" Virgil glared at Scott.

"It was on this side..." Neil had his back to the wall. "About this far from the door..." He paced it out and stood facing the wall. "But there's no lamps here. So either you've put me crook, or there's a different mechanism involved." He started to examine the wall. "I guess the painting could be a door." He pulled at the painting of 'Taurus Four' experimentally and pushed on the frame. "You wouldn't touch the painting itself or else you'd see the finger marks." He ran his fingers around the edge of the picture. "There's no hidden catches or hinges." He turned to the others. "Am I getting warm?"

"Toasty," Virgil told him.

"Great. So how do you open it?"

"Shall I show him?" Virgil asked.

The others murmured their assent.

Virgil strode towards the painting and turned so his back was resting against it. "You might want to take a step back." He said. "I wouldn't want to kick you in the face."

"Huh?"

Virgil smiled. "See you down there." The painting rotated, tipping his feet higher than his head and he slid out of sight. The picture settled back into place.

"Strewth." Neil stared at where Virgil had been. "Do I have to go down the same way?"

"Only if you want to land in his lap," Scott told him.

"Gordon will take you down in the passenger elevator," Jeff said.

"Right," Gordon affirmed, "Come on." He led the way to the hidden lift.

Virgil wasn't actually sitting in the pilot's seat when his passengers arrived in the cockpit. "Welcome to Thunderbird Two."

"Thanks." Neil frowned. "Do you have to travel all the way down here upside down?"

Virgil chuckled. "Fortunately no. That tube that Scott pointed out is the chute that I slide along. After a few feet you will have noticed that it has a sharp corner. I rotate within the tube at that point and continue on down feet first. The chute extends out from the ceiling of Thunderbird Two's hangar and through a hatch on Thunderbird Two. It comes down through there," he pointed at a closed hatch at the back of the cabin, "until it reaches here." He tapped the seat. "It then bends into three and detaches from the main part of the chute. It's like a giant slide."

"Wow, ingenious." Neil looked out of one of the observation windows. "Where are we?"

"Inside the cliff. If you look out to the right, you'll see a conveyor belt." Virgil flipped a switch and the conveyor belt started moving. A series of pods came into view. "We'll choose pod Four and Gordon can show you his baby."

Neil was confused. "You pilot a pod?"

Gordon laughed. "No, it's what's inside that's my, ah, baby."

Pod Four had settled underneath Thunderbird Two's bulk. Virgil flicked another switch and Thunderbird Two started a graceful decent. "Each pod becomes part of the fuselage. By being able to detach the pod from Thunderbird Two, she is able to carry out other duties while the equipment the pods contain is being unloaded." The plane stopped its decent with a gentle thump.

After checking that the coast was clear Virgil opened the hangar door. Soon Neil was able to see the palm trees swaying in the cool afternoon breeze. "You'll never get through there. Do this wings on this thing retract too?"

"No, but the trees do."

"What?"

As if on cue, the palm trees all fell backwards away from the runway. Virgil guided the transport craft down to the other end of the runway and stopped. To Neil's surprise the big plane started to tilt up so its nose was facing into the air.

"You'd better come and sit next to me," Gordon told Neil.

Another check on the radar and Thunderbird Two roared into life. Neil felt the 'plane shake as it lifted its bulk off the launch pad and into the air. They went a few hundred feet out over the ocean and stopped.

Virgil turned to his brother. "Right, Gordo. Let me know when you want me to drop you off."

Gordon gave him a mock salute. "Righto." He led Neil down into the pod.

At first Neil was amazed by the size of the pod, realising that he was in fact inside a plane. Then he became aware of a small yellow craft resting on a slipway.

"This," Gordon told him, "is my 'baby.' Thunderbird Four."

"Wow. It seems so small."

"She has to be, to be able to be transported around the world. She's only 30 feet long, but she's strong. She's been tested up to depths of 9,250 metres and Brains reckons she should be able to withstand greater pressures than that." They walked over to the submarine. "Here we have lights, which can be lowered to expose a cannon."

"A cannon?"

"For clearing debris. Also handy for scaring off giant squid."

Neil stared at Gordon. He'd already picked him as being the joker of the family and he wasn't sure whether or not to believe him now.

"In here," Gordon climbed onto Thunderbird Four and opened its hatch, "is the cockpit." He jumped down inside. Neil followed him.

Inside it seemed comparatively roomy. "Here we have the airlock, spare breathing apparatus, rescue gear..." Gordon quickly rattled off the points of note. "Have you done any scuba diving?"

"I've done the odd bit of snorkelling but not scuba diving."

"Doesn't matter, I'll show you the ropes. Do you fancy going for a quick spin in her now?"

"I'd love to."

"Okay, take a seat and strap in. Ah, not that one, you'd better sit in a seat with a head rest."

Neil obliged, wondering why he'd been given that directive.

Gordon settled into his seat. "Okay Virgil. Let us go."

"F.A.B."

Neil suddenly experienced a falling sensation, which was cut short with a sudden jolt. The headrest saved his head from snapping back from the concussion. "What happened?"

"Thunderbird Two dropped the pod. It's only a drop of about thirty feet."

"Wish you'd warned me."

"You get used to it."

The door to the pod was starting to swing open. Sunlight came streaming in. The slipway extended out into the sea.

Gordon gunned the motors. "Right, off we go."

Neil prepared himself for another jolt, but the entry into the water was surprisingly gentle. Gordon adjusted the buoyancy compensators and the sub started to sink.

Neil was soon caught up in a magical world that he had, up till now, only been able to explore the fringes of. He stood at Gordon's shoulder drinking in the sight spread out before him.

"Look at that!" He pointed at a brightly coloured fish that cruised slowly past them.

"That's an orange slimyfish. It's a species that is only found off these islands. And that's a spade ray, and there's a planktonfish." Gordon reeled of the names of dozens of other animals. Neil was quietly impressed - so the joker had a serious side after all.

"I wish I had your knowledge."

"It takes time, and it's easier to remember when you meet them face to face."

Another voice broke in. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird Four. You ready to go home?"

Gordon looked questionly at Neil who sighed and nodded. "Affirmative, Virgil. We're returning to the surface."

The sub broke the surface of the water and skimmed along until it met up with the gaping mouth of the pod. It motored up the slipway and the door closed behind it.

Seeing Neil's slightly worried face, Gordon comforted him. "Don't worry. For us this is the easy part."

Once back in the cockpit of Thunderbird Two, Neil admired Virgil's skill as he flew over the runway, turned and landed. A feather on a balloon couldn't have made a softer landing. He was even more impressed by the feat when, after returning the craft to its hangar, they stepped outside to have a look at the aircraft.

"It's huge!"

"250 feet long, 60 feet high and she has a wing span of 180 feet. She needs to be that big, to be able to carry all the heavy duty equipment." Gordon had stayed behind to clean down Thunderbird Four, so Virgil was giving Neil the tour of the hangar. "Down here is where we store the rescue vehicles." Virgil pointed out 'The Mole', 'The Firefly' and the other vehicles, giving each the briefest description of its duties. There would be time for more detailed descriptions later.

Chapter Seven: Space

Virgil looked at his watch. "We'd better get back. I know Alan's dying to show you Thunderbird Three."

"That must be the space ship." Neil paused. "Scott gave me a hint as to where the entrance to Thunderbird Two was. Any chance of you giving me a hint for finding Thunderbird Three."

Virgil thought for a moment. "All I can say is that if you look for a similar access way to Thunderbird Three as there was for Thunderbird's Two and One, you'll be way off beam."

Neil screwed up his face. "Thanks, that's a big help."

Back in the lounge the family were once again waiting for them. Jeff at his desk dictating a letter to Tin-Tin who was seated at another table. Grandma was resting in an easy chair knitting, Kyrano and Parker were holding an earnest conversation about something and Lady Penelope was explaining to Brains her idea for a new hidden gadget. Scott and Alan were seated on a green couch, talking.

Neil bounced into the room. "Now for Thunderbird Three!"

Alan spoke up. "Let's see if you have more luck this time."

"Right. I doubt that it will be accessed from this wall," Neil pointed to the wall that hid the access way's to Thunderbird's One & Two and winked slyly at Virgil, "so you must access it from somewhere else." He paused to think. "So far we've rotated horizontally and vertically and I guess you'd use a different method this time to confuse would be villains. Maybe a lift?"

Alan frowned.

Neil stepped up onto the level that led to the veranda and looked around. None of the pictures here were big enough to conceal a doorway. He was beginning to get a little tired of this game. "I know," he snapped his fingers, "you play a chord on the piano and a door opens." His fingers played a 'ta da' on the keyboard. "OR the piano is actually Thunderbird Three itself!"

Jeff grinned and looked at his watch. "It's getting late so we'd better show you. Alan?"

Alan nodded and patted a spare square of cushion on the couch between himself and Scott. "You get a good view of the opening if you sit here."

"You do?" Neil sat down beside the youngest Tracy and looked around him. "I don't see anyth...WOAH!" The room suddenly seemed to rise up away from him and it took him a second to realise that the couch had actually sunk into the floor. "I don't believe this." Another identical couch sped upwards past them and he followed its progress as it slotted into the hole vacated by their own seat.

They reached the bottom and started to slide along to their right. Ahead of them the great red body of Thunderbird Three rose up into an enormous chasm. Neil gapped at the craft, craning his neck to take it all in. He had little chance memorise the space ships sleek lines as the couch carried them under the base of the ship. They stopped dead centre and started to rise. Neil took one last look around them as they were swallowed up by Thunderbird Three.

The couch came to a stop inside a circular room. Both Alan and Scott stood up and Neil followed suit.

"That was fantastic! It's huge!"

Alan grinned. "287 feet high. You ain't seen nothin' yet. Strap yourself into that seat. We'll be launching in about three minutes." He walked over to a lift that stood waiting for him and disappeared upwards.

Scott ensured that Neil had tightened his seat belt securely before he too strapped himself into another chair. "You thought it was exciting taking off in Thunderbird One." He said. "Wait till you experience this. We hit 25,200 miles per hour just to escape Earth's gravity." He spoke into a microphone, "We're ready, Alan."

"F.A.B."

Neil could feel the vibrations of the craft as it built up enough power to leave the ground. A sudden fear gripped him. He had often dreamed of space travel but had never thought that he would experience it. And here he was strapped into a giant space ship. What if it should explode! What if he couldn't handle space travel! What if he was space sick! That would be too embarrassing. He held his breath.

A lurch told them that they had left the ground and were powering towards the heavens. Gradually the pressure built up and Neil found himself being pressed back into the chair. He failed to see the need for seat belts as was unable to move his arms and legs. Then he found that the pressure was lessening.

"Leaving Earth's atmosphere." Alan's voice seemed to come from miles away.

Scott undid his seat belt and stood up. Neil followed suit, amazed that he was now able to move so freely. "That," he said with feeling, "was something!"

Scott smiled. "Are you feeling okay? Space flight can upset some peoples equilibrium."

"Yeah, I feel fine."

"C'mon we'll go up to the flight deck."

They stepped out of the lift to find Alan working at a control panel. "How did you find the launch?"

"Better than I expected."

Alan patted the console. "She's a good craft. She'll take care of you. You probably heard about the time that we had to rescue the space ship 'Sunprobe' from the Sun."

Neil nodded. "There was some concern that you guys would fail to make it back!"

"We went much closer than we thought was possible in Thunderbird Three, but she held together and we didn't experience any radiation leaks or degradation of the hull."

"It was mighty hot though!" Scott remembered.

Neil stared at the console. "How far and fast can you go?"

Alan thought for a moment. "Speed depends on a various number of factors, such as amount of debris about, and the amount of fuel on board. We've never really pushed her to her limit. As far as distance goes the human factor is the weak link. Once we're moving in space we can shut off the motors and Thunderbird Three will keep moving at the same velocity, until something impedes her momentum. We can carry a certain amount of food and we manufacture our own oxygen, but both of these are finite resources. So the only thing that can limit the distance we can travel, is how long we can survive ourselves."

"Not a experiment I'd be willing to try."

"No, me neither. Most of Thunderbird Three's work is within Earth's gravitational pull and it's main task is ferrying supplies between home and Thunderbird Five. Still you get some great views from up here." He motioned towards one of the portholes. "Take a look. We've picked a fantastic day. There's hardly a cloud over the Southern Hemisphere."

Neil wondered over to the window and looked out. Below him, receding into the distance was the blue/green planet he called home. "Strewth. It's beautiful. Look! There's New Zealand!"

Drifting below him, in a wide expanse of ocean, a group of islands stretched out in a line pointing to the curved surface of the planet. As Thunderbird Three's trajectory headed further north the line disappeared over the horizon. Neil pressed himself into the porthole's glass to try to catch one further look at his native land. He was aware of a feeling of homesickness.

He became aware of Scott standing at his shoulder. "Takes your breath away doesn't it. No matter how many times I make this trip it never fails to give me a thrill. The view is always different, yet the same." He nudged Neil. "Come over to this side and you'll get your first view of Thunderbird Five."

With one last yearning look at Planet Earth Neil followed Scott to the other side of the cabin. Ahead lay their target. From this angle it looked round and flat with a variety of aerials protruding. Neil could just make out the words "International Rescue" written mirror image on the windows. He stared at it. "Reminds me of that round building you've got on the island."

Scott laughed. "We didn't tell you did we? The round house is what conceals Thunderbird Three's launch bay."

"How does it do that?"

Alan was listening to the conversation. "The structure is shaped like a donut and made of flame retardant materials. Thunderbird Three just blasts off straight through the middle of it. You wouldn't know there was anything odd about it unless you were directly overhead, and even then we keep the launch bay covered until we need to access it."

They were swinging alongside Thunderbird Five and Neil could see that the satellite wasn't completely round, but had what appeared to be a tube sticking out from one end. Alan spoke into the microphone.

"Thunderbird Three to Thunderbird Five. Come in John."

There was a brief crackle of static and John Tracy's voice came drifting over the airways.

"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird Three. Good to see you little brother. Got our newest member with you?"

"Sure have. He's had a look around our place and now he's come to visit yours."

"Great. Gets a bit lonely up here sometimes with only the stars to keep me company."

"Awwww. Wait till we board and then I'll serenade you with my violin."

"I don't know that I'd want to hear that. It would've been better if you'd brought Virg and the piano. "

"I'm sure Scott would oblige you with a song." Alan glanced at Scott who screwed up his face.

"That sounds nearly as bad! Okay. You're cleared to dock."

"F.A.B." With practised ease Alan guided Thunderbird Three into the docking bay. A light on the control panel glowed green. "Right, we're cleared to open the hatch." He pushed a button and stood up. "Come on, Neil. Time to meet the oldest of our clan."

The door slid back to reveal the interior of Thunderbird Five, all flashing lights and chattering voices and yet there was only one person present. John Tracy wearing his blue International Rescue uniform with violet sash extended his hand in greeting.

"Nice to meet you in person, Neil."

"Thanks. Nice to meet you too." Neil looked around. "Strewth. You live here?"

"For three months at a time yes. Then Alan relieves me for one month."

"Don't you get bored?"

"No. My hobby is astronomy and I get a better view of the stars from out here than I could ever hope to get on Earth. I've written a couple of books on the subject."

"They've sold well, too," Scott added. "He's also discovered several galaxies and quasars."

"Huh?"

"A very distant star-like source of intense radio energy emitted at much longer intervals than those of a pulsar," John explained.

Neil still looked confused.

Scott handed John a bag. "I'll give him one of your books to read. Grandma sent you some freshly baked apple pies."

"Great! That's the one thing I miss, home cooking."

Scott turned to Neil. "Nice to know that his family is important to him."

John was inspecting the contents of the bag. "Just want to make sure that Scott didn't have a snack on the way up."

"No I didn't, and if you want to check you can call Grandma and ask."

John laughed and stored the pies in a fridge in the galley area.

Neil was staring awe-struck at his surroundings. "This is fantastic!" he breathed.

John began the guided tour. "This is the galley, here we have our hydroponics garden for fresh fruit and vegetables." The plants were all green and lush looking, their fruits plump and juicy. "This is the living quarters. We try to keep the same sleep cycle as back at the island, on Earth, so the lighting mimics Earth's patterns, with the windows adjusting the amount of light they let in automatically. Of course, up here we have a great source of natural light from the sun, with no overcast days. I'm above the ozone layer here and don't have any of Earth's natural sunscreen, so the windows are UV protected." The tour continued on.

"This is the library. All books are contained in electronic format to reduce space and there is an extensive number of video titles of all sorts of genre.

"Here's the gym. I can't just wander outside for a walk, so we have a full range of equipment and Brains is always coming up with new ideas to keep it interesting.

"And finally, here we are back in the main communications room. From here we can pick up just about any radio or tele-link signal from Earth."

"But how do you sort through this mess of signals to hear a mayday call?" Neil wanted to know. All he could hear was a gabble of voices.

"The computer is programmed to isolate any message containing words such as help, emergency and International Rescue, in all the known languages of the world."

Neil could hear a note of pride in John's voice as he showed off his 'baby'. He'd heard that same tone in all the Tracy brothers as they'd shown him their rescue vehicles. He felt jealous but realised that he would have to wait before he would have the opportunity to experience that sense of pride. Another thought occurred to him.

"One question," He asked. "How come we're not weightless? I always thought that this far out we'd be floating about the place."

"Another of Brains' inventions," John told him. "An artificial gravity compensator. It's fitted to both Thunderbird's Three and Five so that we can keep a firm grip on things."

The never-ending chatter of voices was suddenly overridden by a now familiar voice.

"Jeff Tracy calling Thunderbird Five."

John crossed the floor in two strides and picked up the microphone.

"Go ahead, Father."

"Just checking up on how things are going."

"Great. We've just finished the grand tour."

"Fine. It's getting late and Grandma's getting dinner ready. Are those boys ready to come home?"

John glanced at the other three. Scott nodded. "Yep. They'll be leaving shortly."

"Okay, Son. I'll talk to you soon."

"F.A.B., Father. Tell Grandma thanks for the pies. I don't think Scott had any on the trip up!"

Jeff laughed. "Glad to hear it."

John signed off. "Looks like you're required back at base."

On the trip back to Earth, Neil strained to catch another glimpse of New Zealand but most of the Pacific Ocean was now cloaked in darkness. Tracy Island itself was just saying goodbye to the last rays of the sun as Thunderbird Three returned home.

Jeff was waiting alone in the lounge when they arrive back. "What did you think?"

"Fantastic." Was all that Neil could think to reply.

"John was the most talkative I've heard him for a long time," Alan commented. "He's always been the quiet one of the family and today we couldn't get him to shut up."

"He's proud of Thunderbird Five and wanted to show it off," Neil hypothesised. "You've all been pretty talkative about your respective craft. I guess none of you have had much of a chance to 'show off'."

Gordon appeared at the door. "That's good timing. Dinner's ready."

Dinner was once again a gastronomic delight in Neil's eyes. "Ka pai te kai, Mrs. Tracy," he said. "That was another great meal. I can't remember when I last ate so well. You'd better introduce me to the gym so I can work it off."

Jeff sat back. "One day without exercise won't hurt you," he said. "Make the most of it. Tomorrow we start training."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"On a more serious note, Neil. I want you to think about what you've let yourself in for. This is a dangerous occupation and I don't want you to think anything else. I suppose, in some respects, I should apologise for not letting you know what you're in for..."

"You don't need to, Mr. Tracy. I've got a fair idea from my other rescue work."

"I'm sure you have. I don't want to sound morbid, but I would like you to think about drawing up a will. One of the reasons why you were selected was because you have no ties, but you've still got to think about what you want us to do, should the worst happen."

Neil shrugged carelessly. "All my worldly possessions are in my back pack. Just chuck me and it into Thunderbird Two's jets and turn it on. That'll take care of all problems."

"No way!" Virgil looked horrified. "I'd be the one who'd have to switch it on. And I'm not having bits of you clogging up the works."

The others laughed, relieved that what had turned into a rather depressing conversation had suddenly been lightened.

"On a more cheerful note," Jeff continued on with a smile, "we'll have to get you measured up for a uniform too. You'll have noticed that each of the boys has a different coloured sash. Brains has one coloured brown. Any thoughts as to what colour you'd like?"

Neil thought for a moment. "Black!"

The others were astounded. "Black?"

"Either that or aqua. Both of them are colours that New Zealand uses to represent itself at various events. Black is the most common. We've a world champion rugby team called the "All Blacks." So other teams have called themselves things like... the "Tall Blacks" for the national basketball team, "Black Ferns" for the women's rugby, "Black Sox" for softball, "Black Caps" for cricket. The first non-American yacht to win and hold onto the 'America's Cup' was called "Black Magic." It's supposed to be a stimulating colour too. Aqua represents the clean green image of the land and the blue of the sea and is a more calming colour."

"And you're sure you want black rather than aqua?" Jeff queried.

"Yeah. My St. John uniform was black and white, so I'll feel right at home."

"Okay then. Black it is."

Chapter Eight: New Experiences

Despite the excitement of the day and his new surroundings, Neil dropped off to sleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. His dreams were filled with weird and wonderful images. He was flying at 7,000 miles per hour in Thunderbird One. Racing for the stars, piloting Thunderbird Three. Using Thunderbird Two's grabs to rescue his parents from that oncoming car...

He was jarred awake at 2.00 am by the sounds of a klaxon and running feet. He struggled to remember where he was when suddenly the memories of the previous day came back to him in a flash.

A rescue! He was part of International Rescue and this must be a call out. He leapt out of bed whipped on some clothes and galloped down the hallway.

The rest of the team were already there, still garbed in their sleepware. No one acknowledged him as they listened to the report John was giving from his portrait.

."..down the mine shaft," he was saying.

"And there's no way the rescue authorities can reach them?" Jeff asked.

"Negative. The ground there is pretty unstable and has been fenced off for years. They think the kids must have found a hole in the fence and climbed through."

"Okay," Jeff acknowledged, "see what other information you can find out about the terrain and radio it through. I'm dispatching Scott now." He nodded at his oldest terrestrial son who turned and headed to the twin lamps on the wall. Wordlessly Scott grasped the lamps and swivelled around out of sight. Neil was torn between the desire to see Thunderbird One being launched and a wish to be included in the rescue.

"Virgil..." Jeff continued on, ."..you'll need the Mole and other mine rescue gear. Take Alan and Gordon with you." Neil's heart sank.

After the Tracy boys had all left the room Neil stood there aimlessly. It was too dark outside to see either craft launch and he clearly wasn't needed this time. He was about to speak when the night sky outside was suddenly lit with a fiery glow. The accompanying roar announced Thunderbird One's departure. He rushed to the window and watched the rocket plane streak away into the sky. It was the merest pinpoint of light in the distance when a faint light became visible from where he surmised the cliff face would be. Slowly the light became more defined and he strained his eyes to see the next chapter in the unfolding drama.

The light was partially obliterated as the bulk of Thunderbird Two passed through the cliff opening. The giant craft was only a silhouette against the ill-defined terrain. The illumination from the cliff disappeared as the doors swung shut. Neil could just make out Thunderbird Two's nose being lifted towards the heavens until...

The flash of light blinded him temporarily as his eyes struggled to adjust from near perfect darkness to the fiery glow of a jet blast. He looked away for a moment to rest his eyes and then looked back to see the 'plane leave the island's environs. Compared to its sister ship, it seemed rather sluggish but he knew it was flying at a speed greater than any aeroplane belonging to any other organisation.

When he could no longer see Thunderbird Two's fiery trail he turned back into the room. "Mr. Tracy?"

Jeff looked up as if he hadn't realised the Neil was standing there. "Yes?"

"Is there anything I can do?"

Jeff looked at the newcomer sympathetically. "Not at the moment. It's all up to the boys now." He laid a pen on his desk and sat back. "Sorry we couldn't include you on this rescue, but obviously you'll have to undergo some training before you'll be able to help. Anyway," he chuckled, "we can't let you loose on the unsuspecting public before we get you clad in a uniform."

Neil smiled. "Like Superman, eh? Once I'm in uniform, no one will recognise my face."

Jeff laughed. "Something like that. Anyway this will give you the chance to observe operations from this end. And you'll find out that most of what we do back here at base is wait. So if you want to go back to bed..."

"No way! I'm not missing a thing."

Kyrano walked into the room carrying a tray and set it onto the desk. "Your coffee, Mr. Tracy." He retreated from the room.

"Thanks, Kyrano." The tray contained a coffee-pot and two cups. Jeff started filling one of the cups. "Would you care for one Neil?"

"Thanks." Neil accepted the proffered cup and sat down on one of the green sofas. It gave him a funny feeling to know that one flick of a switch and he would be boarding Thunderbird Three. "I came in a bit late. What's the story with this rescue?"

"It appears that four kids disregarded a fence and some warning notices and trespassed onto some old mining land. The ground is pretty unstable and one of the boys fell down a mine shaft. The other three managed to raise the alarm, but the local rescue authorities don't have the equipment to mount a rescue in such unstable conditions."

"How is he?"

"We don't know. The kids say they didn't hang around to find out, they just ran to get help."

Neil sipped his coffee and stared out the window into the night. "Well I hope it's daylight where they're going."

"Should be about 9 am, local time, by the time they get there."

The time was actually 8.59 am when Scott touched down in a railway yard next to the mine. He quickly left Thunderbird One and was greeted by the police sergeant who was waiting for him.

"Are we glad to see you!" The sergeant shook Scott's hand.

Scott smiled a greeting. "Any further word on the boy?"

The policeman shook his head. "No. His name's Clark and his friends are in the railway station over there. They should be able to give you more information about what you're up against."

"Great. If you can give me a hand with some gear, I can set it up in the station while we wait for Thunderbird Two to arrive."

The station was a large wooden building. It had clearly been an important part of the town in the days when the mine was open, but now many parts of the building were boarded up. The sergeant led Scott into a portion of the building that was still in use. A quick glance at the walls told Scott that the station was now used as a base for a steam train excursion society.

The three boys looked to be aged between six and ten. They were sitting in the cafeteria, drinking soft drinks. The looked startled when they realised that Scott was from International Rescue.

"Hi there." Scott pulled up a chair and sat down in front of them. "I just wanted to find out if you could give us any information that might help us rescue Clark."

The three boys looked at each other and Scott detected an expression of fear in their eyes...

What am I doing here? Andrea Simpson gazed at the chaos in front of her. It had seemed to be a good idea at the time. Take a group of twenty, mildly intellectually handicapped children for a steam train ride. The children had loved the idea and had helped with the fund-raising required for the venture. But now... now that two adult helpers had had to pull out with family illnesses it only left two adults, herself and her husband Sam to look after them.

"Richard! Don't stand on the seat, you'll dirty it. No Martha, you can't eat your lunch now, it's too early." A dirty face wandered into her line of vision. "Fred! Where have you been?"

"Outside. There's a black mountain! Lucy and I have been climbing it."

"Black mountain? Oh, no, the coal pile! Is Lucy still there?" Fred nodded. Sam, why had you chosen this time to go and talk to the train engineer?

Andrea shot an exasperated look down the train carriage. Most of the children were sitting down now.

"Listen everybody. I have to leave the train for a few moments. I would like everyone to stay sitting in their seats until I get back. Don't eat your lunches. I know! Why don't you all sing the train song while I'm gone. Carol you can lead the song. Fred, you can come with me and show me where Lucy and the black mountain are."

Martin Battson stared at the brake valve wheel in his hand. This should have been replaced weeks ago!

'Mavis' was a mighty pretty lady. Her jet-black skin shone in the morning sun as she stood proudly in the station yard. Martin was proud of her, spent hours ensuring that she looked just right. But at the moment he was mildly annoyed with her and with those who dallied with her. You couldn't go driving a two hundred tonne steam train with a faulty brake mechanism. Carrying the brake wheel he climbed out of the engine cab and headed towards the workshop.

Clark Storry saw Martin leave the engine and go into the grimy workshop. Keeping low he dashed over to the engine and climbed into the cab.

As he admired the workings of the engine he ran his hands over the levers. Giving one a pull he was rewarded with a hiss of steam from the underside of the loco. Laughing he grabbed another lever and pulled. This time he was rewarded with another hiss of steam and a change in the sounds emanating from the locomotive. A tremor ran through the engine and he quickly jumped to the ground and ran away...

Scott and the sergeant were walking towards where Thunderbird Two had landed. "I'm really sorry about this." The sergeant was saying. "We really had no idea."

"That's okay," Scott told him, "we'd rather be called out when we're not needed than miss saving someone because we weren't notified."

They met up with Virgil, Alan and Gordon who had just alighted from Thunderbird Two.

"You said not to hurry," Virgil greeted Scott with. "What gives?"

"I'm really sorry." The sergeant apologised again. "You've been sent on a wild goose chase."

The crew of Thunderbird Two looked at Scott questioningly. "Four kids out here on holiday." He explained, "Their parents have gone to visit some friends and they found themselves stuck for something to do. They snuck through the fence to explore the mines and decided they'd like a bit of excitement, so they dreamed up the 'friend fallen down the mine shaft story.' Once they found out that International Rescue had been called out they felt the story had gone a bit too far, so they told me everything."

"So there's no Clark?" Alan asked.

"Oh there is. Apparently he's 13 and a bit of a tyrant. He was the one who masterminded the whole idea and told the younger kids to go along with it. They don't know where he is."

Alan grinned, remembering the days of his childhood. "Sounds familiar."

Scott ignored him. "Anyway there's no point us hanging around, so we may as well head home."

"I'm really sorry." The sergeant was about to apologise again when he was interrupted with a shout.

"Sergeant! Sergeant!" It was Martin Battson running towards them.

The sergeant turned to face him. "Marty! What's wrong?"

"The train," Martin was not as young as he would have liked and the effort of running had made him breathless, "the train..."

"What about it?"

"It's a runaway."

"Runaway? What do you mean?"

"It's taken off and there's no one driving it."

"No one? Where's Bill?"

"In the signal room, showing one of the teachers around."

"Teachers? Then the train's full of kids?"

"Yeah, and intellectually handicapped ones at that."

"Couldn't someone operate the emergency brake in the carriage?"

"If the teacher on board thought of it. I doubt that any of the kids would."

At that moment Andrea and Sam Simpson came running over to the group, two coal blackened children in tow. "Can you stop the train? We're supposed to be on board."

Martin whirled round to face her. "So there's no adults on board?"

Andrea looked shocked. "No Sam was having a look around and I was rescuing these two from the coal help." Two grimy faces smiled angelically at the crowd of adults.

Scott spoke up. "I take it it's a steam train."

Martin looked at him suddenly aware that four of the men present were in International Rescue uniforms. "Yes, that's right!" Hope gleamed in his eyes.

"Then wouldn't it automatically stop when the firebox was empty?"

"If it were a coal fired loco, yes. But 'Mavis' is oil powered and she's got a full tanker. There's also the problem that there is a 1 in 15 gradient 10 kilometres out of town. She could free wheel all the way to Septsville."

The sergeant turned to the International Rescue crew. "Looks like you're those kids' best chance. If that train gets up too much speed and can't take a corner..." He didn't need to finish his sentence.

Scott gave a tight smile. "Looks like we were meant to take this trip after all." He turned to his brothers. "Okay, you three had better get going. One of you will have to be lowered onto the loco and see if you can stop her safely. I'll relay the instructions to you via Mobile Control."

Virgil, Alan and Gordon were nearly at Thunderbird Two when a shout made them pull up short.

"Wait!" It was Martin Battson. "You'll need this!" He thrust a brass wheel into Gordon's hand.

Gordon looked Martin. "What is it?"

"The brake."

Gordon looked at the metal ring with new-found respect. "Yeah, I guess that'll come in handy."

Virgil was already seated in the pilot's seat when Gordon made his way to the cockpit. "Looks like you've been nominated as Engineer," he said. "Want to do this job, Gordo?"

Gordon shrugged. "I've always dreamed of driving a steam loco. It's not exactly how I imagined it would happen but..."

They were flying over the runaway train. Virgil adjusted Thunderbird Two's speed to match that of 'Mavis'. He opened the communication link between himself and Mobile Control. "We're overhead, Scott. Gordon's going to do the transfer. Any instructions?"

"Yeah, watch out for those hills. There're some pretty steep cliffs between here and Septsville."

Virgil glanced at his radar. "Yeah, I'm reading them."

"Concentrate on getting Gordon on board safely. They're digging out the schematics now and I'll be able to send the details to him once he's on board."

"F.A.B."

Inside the rollicking carriage the children were having a ball. Some were sitting with their noses pressed up against the windows, watching the scenery flash by. Others had decided that they were too hungry to wait for lunch and were eating. None of them were worried by the absence of their caregivers.

"What's that?" Richard pointed at a lever situated at one end of the car.

His older brother had schooled Mike up on trains. "It stops the train if you really, really need it to. But if you stop the train when you don't really, really need it to, you get into big, big trouble."

"Oh." Richard started at the lever. How could such a little thing get you into big, big trouble? "We'd better not touch it then." The two boys wandered back to their seats.

Gordon stood looking down through the open hatch in Thunderbird Two's underbelly. He'd made air-to-ground transfers many times and several air-to-air transfers, but air-to-train transfers? Below him, the loco jumped about alarmingly.

"You ready to go?" Alan shouted at him above the roar of the wind and machinery.

Gordon rechecked that his line was tethered safely, ensured that the brake wheel was tucked securely inside his jump suit, and flashed his brother the thumbs up sign.

"We're ready to go," Alan radioed Virgil.

"F.A.B. I'll try and keep Two in line with the engine and away from those cliffs."

"F.A.B. I'll keep this line open to keep you informed of developments."

"Right."

Gordon took a deep breath and stepped out onto nothing. The line held and he was slowly lowered towards the old engine.

Virgil eyes darted to the monitor relaying his position relative to the train and then back to the cockpit window. A rocky crag loomed up in front of him. With no time to shout a warning to Gordon and Alan he pulled back on the steering column and Thunderbird Two rose sharply into the air.

Suspended below Thunderbird Two's undercarriage, Gordon was flung about like a rag-doll. "Hey what gives!" he started to yell, when the crag flashed past his feet alarmingly close. "Whew, that was close."

"Gordon!" Alan's voice rang in his ears. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tell Virg. I don't want anymore near misses like that one."

Once again the great plane started to get close to the train. Glancing down, Gordon coughed as smoke and steam rushed up to greet him. He glanced up at Thunderbird Two and was struck by the juxtaposition of the two vehicles. Ancient and modern. Both triumphs of their age. Both at some time deemed to be 'state of the art.'

He had no time to continue his musings as Mavis was just over a metre beneath his feet. At that moment the iron horse swung round a corner, Thunderbird Two keeping pace. Centrifugal force swung Gordon out away from the engine. As both train and plane straightened up he once again found himself a metre above his objective.

"I need a metre more," He radioed Alan.

"F.A.B." From Alan's position Gordon's progress was largely obscured by the smoke streaming from the funnel.

Gordon was now standing on the roof. "Cut me more slack." He unhooked a magnetic grab from his belt and attached it to the engine's iron cladding. It held firm. "Right, I'm disengaging the line." The umbilical cord that connected him to Thunderbird Two swung free.

Mavis rounded another corner!

Gordon was flung sideways and went over the edge!

The magnetic grab held!

As the train straightened up again he took the opportunity to use the momentum to swing into the cab. The noise was deafening. He freed himself from the cable that tethered him to the magnetic grab and spoke into his telecom.

"Gordon to Mobile Control."

He could just make out Scott's voice. "Mobile Control to Gordon. Receiving you."

Gordon turned the volume up to maximum. "You're going to have to shout, Scott. I can barely hear you."

Scott made a couple of adjustments to Mobile Control. "How's that?"

"Better." Gordon turned to face the bewildering array of levers and wheels and braced himself against the rolling action of the engine. "I'm inside the cab. Now what!"

Scott poured over the plans spread out in front of him, Martin standing at his shoulder pointed to a part of the diagram. "The brake wheel goes there."

"Thanks." Turning back to the microphone Scott relayed instructions to Gordon. "You see where it goes?"

"I think so..."

Once again Mavis rounded a corner violently. Once again Gordon was thrown to one side, the brake valve wheel skittering out from his outstretched hand. He lunged at it as the train cornered again and it slid out of his reach towards the open door. Frantically he scrambled after it and managed to loop a finger through just as it started falling into the wildly racing countryside. Hugging it to himself he took a moment to steady his nerves.

"That was close."

He crawled towards the controls, aware of the heat emanating from the firebox. Once in position he slowly stood up.

The children in the train had crossed the line from enjoyment to fear. They had not been warned that the trip would be as rough as this. Those who had initially regarded the bucking ride as something akin to a roller coaster hugged one another. Those who wanted the reassurance of their teachers were starting to panic. Children were screaming and shouting.

Mike looked at Richard. "I think we should pull the lever."

"But we might get into trouble!"

A bag fell out of an overhead locker and hit one of the girls. She started to cry.

"I don't care. I don't like it." Mike stood up and started to make his way towards the lever, dodging flying bodies and bags. A particularly violent turn sent him head first against the bulkhead. He collapsed to the floor and lay still. A trickle of blood ran down the side of his face.

"Mike!" Richard cried. "Mike!"

Back at base, Scott was keeping Jeff and Neil up with the play. "The train's nearly reached Septsville and we've just received word that a full oil tanker has broken down on the level crossing."

"That's not good," Jeff commented.

"That's not the worst," Scott told him. "It's bordered by a housing district including a school. Police are evacuating everyone but it's taking time. And," he added, "to keep things really interesting, Martin's just informed me that there's every possibility that the boiler might overheat and explode. Gordon and those kids wouldn't have a chance."

"Um...Couldn't you sort of 'harpoon' the train, somehow, and sort of reverse tow it?..." Neil tapered off, sure that his idea sounded ridiculous.

Jeff looked at him. "That might work! How about it Scott?"

"I'll check what Virgil thinks..." Moments later Scott was back on line. "He says it's a good idea but it won't work with the cliffs around. However there's a clear straight section of track for a couple of miles leading into Septsville. If Gordon doesn't bring the train under control by then we'll try it." He paused. "Good thinking, Neil."

Neil smiled shyly.

Up in Thunderbird Two Virgil and Alan were keeping a close watch on events. "There's only ten miles to go. He's cutting it fine." Alan sounded strained.

"Yeah. We might have to resort to Neil's harpoon trick." Virgil glanced at Alan. "You'd better get the harpoon ready. I'll get Thunderbird Two into position." He steered the great plane so that it was directly behind the last carriage. He opened the communication line to Alan. "We're too high at the moment. As soon as we're clear of the cliffs I'll bring her down to the lowest, safest height. We want to pull on the train horizontally not vertically."

"F.A.B." Alan was ready and waiting, strapped into the control seat, a device very much like a harpoon in front of him. He could see the ground whistling below him and tried to estimate their speed. The train was easily doing 150 miles per hour. It was a miracle it hadn't jumped of the tracks.

Back in the locomotive Gordon was having difficulty bracing himself against the forces of the racing train. His hand kept on jumping about as he tried to position the wheel. With a triumphant cry he at last slid the wheel home and turned it as far as it would go. He then grabbed a lever and started applying the brakes.

'Mavis' hit the last curve before the final straight. Gordon grabbed the engineer's chair to steady himself and then resumed pulling on the brake. The wheels started to lock.

"She's not going to stop in time!" Virgil could see Septsville and the tanker in the distance. He lowered Thunderbird Two till the giant plane appeared to be almost running along the ground. "Alan! Fire when ready."

Alan squinted through the cross hairs in the eyepiece. He had the train in his sights. His finger activated the launching mechanism. With a whoosh the 'harpoon' flew from Thunderbird Two's undercarriage and hit home in the rear wall of the guard's van. "Activate retros!" he ordered Virgil.

Virgil reduced Thunderbird Two's speed. The harpoon line grew taut and held. Slowly the train started to slow down, the locked wheels screeching and hissing as sparks flew, the friction causing the metal to glow red.

Looking out through the locomotive's window, Gordon could see the tanker ahead. The driver was still in his cab, frantically trying to get the engine to start. He looked up in fear and seeing the steam train bearing down on him, deserted his vehicle, diving for cover in a nearby ditch.

Virgil applied more reverse thrust, trusting that the rear panel in the carriage would hold. Miraculously it did and 'Mavis', her cowcatcher nudging the tanker slightly, ground to a halt.

Gordon let out the breath that he'd been holding and wiped sweat from his brow. It wasn't only the heat from the firebox that had caused him to perspire. He swung down out of the cab and headed back to the passenger carriages. "Gordon to Virgil. I'm going to check on the kids."

"F.A.B."

Back at the station, the Simpsons and the Engineers were shouting and hugging each other in delight. "It worked!" Sam whooped. "I can't believe that you did it, but it worked!"

Scott received a big hug from Andrea. "How can we thank you people?"

Gordon was issuing instructions to the children. "Right, I want everyone to get off the train and go and assemble by that tree over there. Someone will be along soon to look after you."

Richard tugged at his sleeve. "Mike's sick," he said.

Gordon found Mike, still unconscious, and radioed Mobile Control. "Scott, get an ambulance down here. One of the kids has taken a knock to the head and is out cold. The rest seem to be all right but could do with some reassuring."

"F.A.B." While the sergeant was radioing for medical help Scott turned to the Simpsons. "I guess you'll be wanting to get to your charges a.s.a.p."

"Yeah," Sam looked at his watch. "We won't be there for at least half an hour on those roads. We'd better get moving." He and his wife started towards the door.

"Just a minute," Scott told them, "give me a hand getting my gear on board Thunderbird One and I'll fly you down. We should be there in five minutes."

"Really?" Andrea brightened at the thought. "You'd do that? That's wonderful."

Thunderbird One actually arrived before the ambulance. Sam and Andrea briefly thanked Scott for the ride and then rushed over to the children, towing Fred and Lucy with them. They were soon swamped in a sea of kids, all talking excitedly, all wanting to tell their version of events.

Scott jogged over to the train and climbed aboard. Inside his brothers were applying first aid to Mike. "How's the kid?"

"He's just come round," Gordon told him. "He's still pretty dazed."

An ambulance officer arrived at the scene. "I hear someone's injured."

"Yeah," Gordon indicated Mike. "Apparently he was thrown against the bulkhead and knocked unconscious. I estimate he's been out for about ten minutes."

"Thanks." The ambulance officers took over tending Mike as the International Rescue team alighted from the train.

"Well done, fellas," Scott congratulated his brothers. "You did a good job."

They stopped to look at 'Mavis'. Her cowcatcher was wedged underneath the body of the truck.

"Whew," Alan whistled. "That was close."

Gordon stifled a yawn. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm about ready for bed. Just as well I don't have to fly us home." He gave Virgil a sympathetic pat on the back.

"It's all this excitement," Virgil told him. "You can't take it."

"Really?" Gordon looked affronted. "Do you want me to fly us home?"

Virgil backed away with his hands raised in mock protest. "No thanks. I want to get home in one piece. Besides," he looked at Gordon's grimy hands and clothes, "I don't want anybody getting my machine dirty."

Back at Tracy Island John had finished relaying the good news. "If it hadn't been for that harpoon idea of Neil's, things would have been a lot worse."

"You're right," Jeff agreed. "Just as well I hired him. Well done, Neil."

Neil looked a little uncomfortable at the comment. "It was nothing really, just an idea, it was the guys who did all the hard work."

"Yyyes," Jeff agreed slowly, "but in this job you also need to be able to think laterally. It's no good us having all this equipment if we can't think of the most effective ways to use it."

"Well," Neil shrugged, "I guess it was seeing Thunderbird Two that gave me the idea. It's a whale of a size, and the shape's not dissimilar." He yawned. Outside it was still dark. It would be at least a couple of hours before the sun would make its appearance.

Jeff noticed the yawn. "Why don't you go to bed. There's nothing else going to happen now. The boys will come home, clean down their machines and go straight to bed themselves. They won't be in the mood for chat, and you'll want to be wide awake when we start training." He leaned back in his seat, his hands clasped behind his head. "Your first International Rescue rescue..."

"My second," Neil reminded him.

"Your second, then. How'd you find it?"

"Exciting and frustrating. I won't feel I'm really involved until I get to actually go out on a proper rescue."

"We'll see how you go with the training. You might find you're involved sooner than you think. In the meantime," Neil was stifling another yawn, "go to bed!"

Neil stood up and gave a mock salute. "Yes Sir!"

It wasn't until late in the next day that Neil was able to question the Tracy boys about the previous night's rescue.

They were in the shooting gallery practising with laser guns.

"Wasn't it frightening being lowered onto that train?" Neil asked Gordon.

Gordon shrugged. "I won't say that you get used to being in dangerous situations, but you learn to harness your emotions. It keeps you focused on what's going on around you." He aimed at a target 30 metres away and pulled the trigger. He missed the target. Looking at his gun he muttered, "Must need recalibrating."

Neil smiled and watched Scott aim at another target. The target glowed yellow as it registered a hit on the rim. Virgil lined up a target next to his older brother and succeeded in getting a little closer to the bullseye. His target shone orange.

Neil had his second attempt. His first had been a complete failure, this second time wasn't any better.

They became aware that they had company. Lady Penelope and Parker had witnessed Neil's dismal attempts.

Lady Penelope looked at Neil with sympathy. "Don't worry, I'm sure all you need is a little practice."

Neil glared at his gun, "I don't need a little. I need a lot!"

Scott proffered his gun. "Care to show us how it's done, Penny?"

Lady Penelope waved an airy hand. "Now Scott, you know how I dislike such things."

"Yeah, right." Scott didn't sound convinced. "How about you, Parker?"

"Don't mind hif H'I do." Parker took the gun, inspected it and in one fluid motion raised it to eye level and let off a shot. His target glowed red.

"Bullseye!" Alan clapped Parker on the back. "Good shooting. Didn't realise that marksmanship was part of the safe cracker's armoury."

"H'I never carried a gun meself," Parker told him, "but h'it was 'andy to know 'ow to use one. 'Cause H'I'm not a patch on 'er Ladyship."

"Sure you don't want a go, Penny?" Virgil asked.

"No thank you." Lady Penelope was fiddling with her charm bracelet. "I seem to be having a problem, Neil, would you help me remove this."

"Of course," Neil undid the clasp. "Hey, you've got some neat charms on here. Horse, flower, gun, bird, dice, telephone... Do any of these do anything?"

"One or two have their own little secrets." Lady Penelope took the bracelet from him. "Such as this one..." In a movement almost too fast to see she raised the charm shaped like a gun and took aim. The farthest target exploded in a cloud of red sparks. "Dear me, it seems to be rather too powerful. I shall have to get Brains to modify it a little."

Neil was standing there, his mouth hanging open. "Strewth." He eventually managed to say. "The guys were telling me about some of your talents, and I didn't know whether to believe them. I do now."

"Grace, Charm and Deadly Danger, is her family motto." Virgil told him. "Never underestimate either Penny or Parker. They'll always surprise you."

"Now my dear boy, don't exaggerate," Lady Penelope told him. "We just help where we can." She turned back to Neil. "We came down to say good bye. I have a charity function that I'm due to attend tomorrow and I'm afraid that I just can't let the Duchess of Royston down. The dear lady would never forgive me."

Neil was unsure how to farewell a titled lady. "Well goodbye Lady Penelope and thank you for recommending me for this job."

"It was my pleasure," Lady Penelope told him. "I'm sure that you will fill the position admirably." She turned to leave. "Come Parker we had better, ah, depart."

The Tracy boys weren't at all concerned about protocol. "Yeah, and next time you're here you can give us all lessons in shooting, Parker. We'll make sure Penny gives you some spare time." Scott took his gun back from the butler.

Parker looked pleased that he could teach 'them Yanks,' as he affectionately but privately called them, something. "H'it would be my pleasure, Mister Scott."

"Great," said Scott. "Until next time then..."

To Black and Blue Part Two >>