BLIND AMBITION - BLIND FURY by PURUPUSS RATED FRPT

Sometimes the easiest of rescues end up leading to the hardest of times...

Auhor's Notes: When I originally 'published' this story, I ended up with two separate, totally different endings (which is why it has such a long title). Now that I've had a re-read of the "Blind Ambition - Ambition Realised" ending I think that it's not up to the standard set by "Blind Ambition - Blind Fury." Therefore I have decided not to reproduce it for this site. Maybe one day I'll find the time and inclination to rewrite it.

I'd like to extend my thanks to Dusty who gave me the 'insight' to add realism to this story.

There's one other point I should make...
Naturally anyone or anything belonging to the Thunderbirds canon belongs to Carlton Inc. Dusty, Trish, Julia and Sereena are real life people, though not necessarily true to life. Anyone else mentioned is from own imagination. - So are the Comm-specs. J

Beginning

John Tracy sat alone in Thunderbird Five. Down on Earth two of his brothers were about to launch a rescue to save the lives of seven people trapped in Regnad Corp, a top secret, highly experimental laboratory, located deep underground. John grinned to himself when he remembered Gordon's comment upon hearing the location of the rescue.

"A top secret, highly experimental laboratory? Why didn't they just wire in a hotline to International Rescue when they were building it?" he'd asked. "Every time someone builds something that is 'top secret and highly experimental' we seem to have to get involved when it goes haywire."

Jeff had ignored his second youngest son. "This should be fairly straightforward boys, but I can't emphasise enough that speed is of the essence."

"When is it ever not?" Scott had asked as he'd headed over to the twin lamps that guarded the entrance to Thunderbird One. "I'll give you more info when I get it, Virgil. See you soon." He swivelled out of sight.

"Thanks," Virgil had said to the now vacant space. "We'll need The Mole I guess. Anything else?"

"I-I shouldn't think so," Brains had stammered.

Virgil had headed out to the danger zone alone in Thunderbird Two.

John reviewed the scenario in his mind. The 'top secret, highly experimental laboratory' was located 1000 feet underground. It had been built there to take advantage of the constant atmospheric temperature, and a subterranean river. The river had been utilised for everything from providing a source of unpolluted water for the experiments to generating the electricity that kept the lab operational.

It was one of the four power plants that had created the problems. It had exploded, bringing down a large part of the complex and trapping seven scientists in the deepest part. The three remaining generators had remained functional, supplying the victims with air, light and fresh water. The concern was that should one of those generators explode now, it could dam the river, causing the water level to rise and subsequently drowning the scientists. International Rescue had been called in to rescue the victims before this tragedy could occur.

Scott had set up Mobile Control in one of the utilitarian offices that dotted the surface of the site. From here it looked to be just a motley collection of buildings, of no real value or importance. If you didn't know otherwise you would never guess that beneath your feet was a top secret, highly experimental laboratory. Scott remembered Gordon's comment and, like John, grinned to himself. He sat back. Everything was ready and waiting. All they needed were Virgil and the equipment held in Thunderbird Two. His eyes flicked over Mobile Control one more time, checking yet again that everything was in order. A shaft of light caught his eye and he looked over to where it was coming from. Through a window, in the distance he could see Thunderbird One, her sleek lines reflecting the sunlight. That was some plane.

Scott smiled to himself. He enjoyed his work as International Rescue's Rescue Co-ordinator, and moreover was good at it, but his real forte and true love was flying Thunderbird One.

That he was the pilot of one of the fastest planes in the world never failed to give him a thrill. Virgil might state that Thunderbird Two was more essential to International Rescue but, to Scott, nothing could compare to the sheer speed, power and manoeuvrability of Thunderbird One.

The sad fact was that he never got the opportunity to take her for a spin, just for fun. He was usually too tired on the trip home after a rescue to even contemplate it. And International Rescue rightly frowned on the idea of launching its craft just for joyrides. Scott resolved that should this rescue be as easy as they hoped he'd take her for a burn on the way home; give her a chance to stretch her wings...

As Virgil hovered over Regnad Corp's external buildings in Thunderbird Two the thought crossed his mind that maybe they should have brought Gordon and Thunderbird Four. The Mole could handle being submerged, but had no form of underwater propulsion, needing to have a good source of traction in order to move. Should the river be too deep, it could well be that it would be he and Scott who would need rescuing. He pushed the thought deep into his subconscious and brought Thunderbird Two in to land. "How's things look, Scott?"

Scott watched Thunderbird Two rise up onto its hydraulic legs. "No new news." he told Virgil over the radio. "The scientists are all fine, none of the other generators have exploded and the river seems to be maintaining its level."

"So it should be a piece of cake then?"

"If things remain the same, it should be." Scott rubbed at his left wrist. He'd cut it during their previous mission and it was still healing, as could be testified by the itching sensation. It felt funny not having his watch on his arm. He'd tried wearing it on his right wrist for a time, but, being right handed, he'd kept snagging it on things and so he'd given up. When he was in the mood, it also gave him an excuse to keep on annoying his brothers by continually asking what the time was.

He wasn't in the mood now though. He was deadly serious, as he knew Virgil would be. When on a rescue all the Tracy brothers would put any thought of frivolity out of their minds. Lives depended on their being cool, calm and level-headed.

Scott locked down Mobile Control and headed outside to meet Virgil in The Mole. "All set?" he asked as he settled into his seat just behind the operator's.

"All set," Virgil confirmed gunning the motor so that The Mole lurched forward.

They trundled through the complex, seeking out the optimum point to start drilling. Virgil glanced at the map on the computer monitor. It was practically a straight line to The Mole's destination and there was nothing to impede their path. It was almost too easy.

Scott was never a fan of being the passenger in The Mole. There were no windows and nothing that would let you get your bearings as to where you were. Virgil, in the operators seat, had full control over their speed and direction, and full access to the instrumentation that acted as their eyes. From where he was seated at the Life-Support Systems console Scott could see none of this and therefore felt that he had no control over his situation. He was in effect as blind as a bat.

Or as blind as a mole, he thought ruefully. Despite his discomfort he said nothing though, knowing that there was every possibility that Virgil had situations in which he was equally uncomfortable. And he'd never heard Virgil utter a negative word during a rescue.

"We're in position," Virgil announced. "You ready to start drilling?"

"F-A-B," Scott answered automatically.

The Mole started tilting towards the ground and its boring tool began spinning at a speed that would enable it to cut the hardest rock like butter. As the bit began cutting into the concrete both men felt the resulting vibrations surge through the great machine.

"The rescue is under way," John reported back to base. "Scott and Virgil are in The Mole and have commenced drilling."

"Are they anticipating any problems?" Jeff asked.

"No. Scott made contact with the scientists before he left Mobile Control. They are all in good spirits and looking forward to getting out of there."

"Good," Jeff said. "How long do they think it'll take for them to get there?"

"About ten minutes," John told him. "But that's only to where they have to leave The Mole. Scott says that they'll have to search for the victims on the hoverbikes."

"But he knows where the scientists are?"

"He's got a pretty good idea, yes. He estimates that, all things being equal, everyone should be topside in an hour at the most."

"Sounds almost too easy," Jeff grunted. "Keep in contact with the boys John."

"F-A-B, Dad."

Ten minutes later The Mole ground to a halt. Virgil unbuckled his safety harness and stood up. "Ready?" he asked unnecessarily.

Scott was already on his feet, heading to the part of The Mole where their hoverbikes were stored. They took a moment to check that they had everything that they would require, only speaking to double check that the other was just as prepared.

"Okay!" Virgil snapped shut the storage compartment on his hoverbike. "Where are we headed for again?"

"The archives. Apparently they were going through some old files."

The last thing Scott grabbed was the radio that would enable them to maintain contact with Thunderbird Five. They opened the door and stepped out into a brightly lit, well-maintained corridor.

"Well," Scott said. "Makes a change from dark, smoke filled rooms. We can actually see where we're going."

Virgil was removing his hoverbike from The Mole. "Everything seems to be going so easily. Why do I feel it's too easy?"

"I know what you mean?" Scott agreed with a smile. "We haven't had a rescue this easy ever. All we'd need is little arrows pointing the way and I'd be convinced that this job was a set up." He turned and found himself looking straight at a directional sign.

'Archives' the arrow said.

For no real reason a shiver ran down Scott's spine.

Virgil whistled lightly. "Remind me to tell Alan this one next Halloween."

Two

The motors of their hoverbikes died away as they stopped to check their bearings. Helpfully a little arrow pointed around the corner.

"I don't get it," Scott said looking at his victim locator. "We should be getting a reading from them by now, but there's nothing."

Virgil hopped off his hoverbike and reached into the storage compartment and retrieved his own victim locator. "I'm getting the same reading. The only thing I'm picking up is the generator and the river."

"Me too. I'll go ahead and see if I get a reading further on. Maybe there's something blocking the signal. You go back and check that corridor we just passed. Maybe they've moved down there. Leave your 'bike, in case it's that causing the interference."

Virgil frowned. "The hoverbike?"

"I'm just covering all bases. I don't think that's the problem but just in case it is..."

"Okay, Scott," Virgil started walking back the way they'd come. "See you soon," he called over his shoulder, almost as an afterthought.

"Yeah," Scott said abstractly. "See you." He climbed off his own bike and walked towards the roaring sounds of the subterranean river. A five and a half foot, three inch wide, steel fence stood between him and where the river obviously was. By standing on tiptoe he was able to get a good look down into the rushing waters. He hadn't realised that they would be moving so fast.

Engineers had carved out the hard rock so that the river ran alongside the complex. Pumps ensured that the water level was kept below a critical level. The subterranean waters were that cold that if anyone fell in, it would be a toss up as to whether the rushing waters would drown them before they'd die of hypothermia.

Scott could feel the cool air floating above the waters and marvelled at how the engineers had managed to keep the room temperatures to a more comfortable 22 degrees Celsius. Looking to his right he could see a large turbine that was connected to one of the three remaining power plants. The sound it was making was almost deafening.

He moved on towards the archives room.

"Virgil to Scott." His radio crackled into life.

He turned the volume up and shouted into own radio. "Scott here."

"Any sign?"

"What?"

"Any sign?" Virgil shouted again.

"No nothing. I'm going to check the archives now. You seen anything?" As he moved away from the turbines the decibel level decreased.

"Nothing here. There's a small hallway off to the right. I'll check that."

"F-A-B. Keep in touch."

Scott entered the archives. Strangely the room was in darkness. "Is anyone there?" he called out as he felt around for a light switch. "This is International Rescue."

No reply.

The shiver ran down Scott's spine again, as he switched the lights on. The room was suddenly bathed in a cold, off white, glow. Scott blinked against the bright light and shaded his eyes. When they'd adjusted to the light he looked around.

The room was empty.

"Scott to Virgil."

Virgil's voice sounded tinny. "Go ahead, Scott."

"The archive room's empty."

"Empty?!"

"Have you found anything?"

"No."

"Come back to the 'bikes. We'll have to arrange a new plan."

"F-A-B."

Scott turned out the lights and left the room. Once again his ears were assaulted by the sounds of the ever rushing water and the splashing of the turbine. On impulse he looked over the thick steel wall, still searching for the missing scientists.

Apart from having no victims to rescue, things had been going so well. Everything had been in their favour. They could have done the rescue with their eyes shut.

Until that moment.

At that moment Scott's luck ran out.

The explosion sent Virgil running back towards where he'd last seen his brother...

Three

Things were progressing as normal back on Tracy Island. This was an easy rescue, nothing to worry about. At the first sign of trouble John would contact them.

Jeff smiled at Tin-Tin as she sat at the word processor opposite him.

She smiled in return. "You seem relaxed, Mr. Tracy."

"I am, Tin-Tin. Scott and Virgil could handle this rescue with their eyes shut. As long as they get there before the next generator explodes, they shouldn't experience any difficulties."

Grandma Tracy laid down her knitting. "If you say that too often, you'll jinx them."

Jeff laughed. "Come on, Mother, you don't believe in jinxes."

"C-Coincidence," Brains stammered from behind his portable computer. "Th-That's all jinxes are."

"There you are," Jeff said. "Coincidence."

Kyrano brought in the coffee pot. He topped up Jeff's cup before offering some firstly to Mrs. Tracy, then Brains and finally to his daughter.

"No thank you, Father," Tin-Tin said sweetly. She pressed the button on the word-processor that set the completed pages spilling out. These she laid on Jeff's desk. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Tracy?"

"No, that's fine thank you, Tin-Tin. Perhaps you'd like to go find the boys and see if they'd like a coffee. I think they were in the game room."

Willingly she wandered down to the room. Alan and Gordon were indeed there, playing a game of billiards and griping gently about being left out of the mission.

"We never get to go," Alan moaned.

"Be fair," Gordon said. "You go more often than I do."

"Not true," Alan rebuffed him.

"If it was such an easy mission, you'd think Dad would have let us go in Scott and Virgil's place," Gordon said. "It's almost as if he doesn't trust us."

"Yeah," Alan agreed. "It's not fair. I'd love to be there with them now."

Tin-Tin frowned at them. "Listen to you both," she scolded. "Anyone would think you never got involved in ANY rescues. You've both got specialised skills. When you are involved it's because International Rescue needs you to be involved. No one else can do what you can. Now stop complaining and come and have a cup of coffee."

Somewhat mollified they laid down their billiard cues and followed her out of the room.

John Tracy sitting alone up in Thunderbird Five, received a communication from the top secret, highly experimental laboratory. "This is International Rescue. Go ahead."

"Ah International Rescue - good. Can you get a message to your men underground?"

John felt a sense of unease settle over him. "Of course. What's the message?"

The voice was almost apologetic. "They're out."

John was confused. "Who's out?"

"Our scientists who were trapped. They've managed to escape by themselves. They're all fine."

"That's good news," John relaxed. "How'd they get out?"

Four

Virgil rounded the corner and skidded to a stop, before taking off at a run again. Ahead of him he could see flames shooting up on the other side of what he assumed to be a protective steel wall. But it wasn't the flames that worried him.

Scott was crouched down, obviously in agony, clutching desperately at his face. Even in the uneven, flickering light of the flames, Virgil could see that the top half of Scott's face was burnt. Horribly burnt. Virgil ran over to him and put his arm around his older brother. He could feel the heat from the flames behind them. "Let's get you away from here!"

"My face! ..." Scott gasped.

"I know. Hold on! I'll fix you up when we're out of danger." Virgil guided the injured man to the hoverbikes. "Sit here!" he ordered as he ushered Scott to the platform behind a hoverbike's seat. He pulled an anti-burn treatment from out of the storage container and sprayed it liberally on Scott's face. The spray set upon contact with the skin, cooling the burns and spreading a protective layer, like a second skin, across the damaged area.

Scott was shivering in shock.

"Hang on." Virgil ran to the other hoverbike. He opened the storage compartment and dropped in the spent burns canister. He then removed another canister as well as an emergency blanket; this was quickly wrapped around Scott's shoulders. "C'mon - let's get to safety. Swing your leg over and hang onto the back of my seat."

Virgil was pleased to note that Scott was able to accomplish this task without assistance. As soon as he was sure that his brother was seated securely he himself jumped onto the driving seat and fired the hoverbike into life. He needed to give Scott more first aid, but knew that it was imperative that they both got away from the blazing inferno.

"Thunderbird Five to Mobile Control... Thunderbird Five to Mobile Control... Come in Scott."

John frowned at the speakers that should have been replying to his call. It was unlike Scott to not respond promptly, especially as he'd been so confident that this rescue would be straightforward.

He decided to try one more time.

"Thunderbird Five to Mobile Control."

The speakers maintained their silent vigil.

"Okay Scott..." John said to himself "...If you're too busy to answer. I'll just have to try another tack." He changed frequency. "Thunderbird Five to Virgil..."

A couple of corners away from the site of the initial explosion, Virgil had decided that they were far enough that he could stop safely... at least in the short term.

He sprayed the contents of the second canister over Scott's face. "How's that feel?"

"Cold!"

"Good. That's what we want. How's the pain?"

"It's getting better now that the air can't get to it. I think that anti-shock shot's starting to kick in, too."

"That's good."

"How're you, Virg?"

"Me? I'm fine. Why?" Virgil was digging in the first aid kit for bandages.

"Well you're working in the dark..."

The dark? Virgil froze at the words. "The lights are still working, Scott," he said gently.

Scott looked at him. "Then why can't I see them?"

Virgil knew full well why. Scott's eyes were no longer clear and blue. They stared sightlessly out from his brother's injured face. Virgil did all he could do in the situation to protect his brother from the horror that he was looking at. He lied.

"Your eyes have swollen shut. I'm sure they're fine."

Scott raised a hand to his face to feel for himself. Virgil knocked it away. "Leave them alone! You'll only make them worse."

"You sound just like Grandma."

"Who's a very wise woman. Now hold still while I put the bandage on." Virgil began the process. It was at that moment that his watch communicator started beeping. "This is not a good time, John. We're kind of busy."

"Ah," John said through the tiny speaker in Virgil's watch. "Is that why I can't get hold of Scott? You'll have to tell him then, Virgil."

Virgil was still bandaging and ignoring his brother's video image. "Tell him what?"

"The scientists have all got out. They found a ventilation shaft and climbed out up the ladder..."

Now Virgil looked at his watch dial. John was surprised to see anger on his normally even-tempered brothers face. "They're all out?"

He sounded so angry that John was almost frightened to reply in the affirmative. "Ah - yes. They're on the surface and they're all fine."

Virgil glared at John before resuming his bandaging duties. "You mean we've wasted our precious time!"

John had never heard him speak this way before. Several times in the past International Rescue had been called out and started a rescue, only to receive the message that the victims had escaped themselves, or that it was a false alarm, or, occasionally, that it was a prank. Always in the past Virgil had taken the attitude that as long as no one was hurt, he was more than happy to waste his 'precious time.'

Something's different this time, John thought. Then he spoke up. "Oh by the way, you're probably already aware of this, but one of the generators has exploded..."

"Oh yes, we're well aware of that!" Virgil snapped. "It exploded in Scott's face!" He immediately regretted his outburst and looked at John's image. "Sorry, John. I didn't mean to tell you like that." He removed his watch. "Scott, can you hold this, then I can talk to John while I fix you up." He guided Scott's hands so that he was holding the watch correctly.

John was pale. "Is he alright?" he asked anxiously.

"Are you going to tell him the truth?" Scott asked sombrely. "That I'm blind?"

"You're not blind, Scott. Your eyelids are just swollen." Virgil tried to reassure him. But as he said the reassuring words he looked at John, who if anything looked even paler, square in the eye and, using a form of sign language, signed, Can't see.

"How's his eyes?" John asked, trying to keep his tone even.

"Swollen shut," Virgil lied. Open. Red. Bleeding, he signed.

"How bad are the burns?"

Not good. "They don't look too bad. I've given him two doses of the treatment, an anti-shock shot and I'm bandaging his face now."

"Can you get out?" John asked.

"We can only use one hoverbike ..." Virgil started to say.

"Obviously," Scott butted in.

Virgil ignored him. "...But we should make it back to The Mole okay. Sorry, John, but apart from anything else, there's a whale of a fire going on down here and we want to evacuate a.s.a.p." He looked at John's video image sympathetically. "Can you let base know what's happened? I'll get The Mole to the surface then take Scott home in Thunderbird One. Then I'll bring Alan back and pick up Thunderbird Two."

"Okay, Virgil. Keep in touch. I'll make sure everything's ready for when you guys get home."

"Thanks, John." Virgil shut down the transmission.

"Yeah. Thanks, John," Scott echoed, not realising that John couldn't hear him. He could feel Virgil finishing the bandaging off. "So," he said casually, "are you going to tell me exactly what you told John?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Virgil. I've known you guys all your lives and I can tell by the tone of your voices when you're trying to keep a secret from me."

"I'm not keeping secrets from you."

Scott grabbed Virgil's arm tightly. "I want the truth!"

Virgil took his watch back and reaffixed it to his arm. "The truth? The truth is that I don't know how bad you are. Apart from the fact that I don't have a medical degree, I've bandaged your face and I can't see the damage. Now don't worry. I'm sure everything's going to be fine." He uncrossed his fingers.

Scott appeared to be satisfied with the statement for the moment. "Can you find your way back to The Mole?"

"The computer map's still working, and don't forget there's a whole lot of helpful little arrows to follow."

Scott gave a bitter laugh. "Oh, yeah. I'd forgotten about them. Didn't I say we'd been set up?"

Virgil set the hoverbike into forward gear in preparation for setting off homewards again.

As the vehicle started forward the motion was arrested by yet another explosion. Instinctively both men dove to the ground covering their heads with their arms for protection. Scott suppressed a yell of pain as his injured face banged into the ground.

A wall of dust and debris swept down the hallway, choking them, cloaking everything in a thick coat of fine powder. The hoverbike shut down...

Five

John took a deep breath before establishing a connection with home. His father's visage came on screen. John saw Jeff frown as he took in his son's pale features.

"What's wrong, John?"

"The good news is that the scientists have managed to escape safely, without our help."

Jeff knew how this particular game worked. "And the bad news?" He glanced over to the doorway as Alan, Tin-Tin and Gordon walked in. On a sofa behind him he heard his mother put down her knitting. The tapping sounds of a computer keyboard stopped as Brains looked up from where he was working.

"The second of the generators has exploded. Scott was caught by the blast." John heard exclamations from others in the room but concentrated on his father.

"Is he badly hurt?"

"It was a bit hard to tell. Virgil was fixing him up when I made contact. Virgil'd say one thing and then sign something different. I think he was trying to keep the worst from Scott."

Jeff became aware that Brains was at his side. "C-Can you describe the n-nature of the injuries, John?"

Feeling sick, John relayed back, almost word for word what Virgil had said and signed. "There's two other things too, Brains. Scott made the comment that he thinks he's blind and as Virgil was taking off his communicator, I got a good look at Scott's face..."

"A-And..."

"It didn't look too healthy. If you need it, later I can send pictures..."

"Th-Thanks, John. I'll let you know."

"Can you tell us anything else, John?" Jeff asked.

"Only that Virgil's using one hoverbike to get them back to The Mole. He said he'd take Thunderbird One home, drop Scott off and pick up Alan to retrieve Thunderbird Two. I'll keep you appraised of any developments."

"Good, John. Keep in contact with Virgil. I want to know immediately there's any deterioration in Scott's condition or if they run into any problems."

"F-A-B, Dad." John's portrait resumed its usual position.

Jeff closed his eyes for an instant to try to make some sense of what he'd just learned. When he opened them again, his family and friends were looking at them. He hadn't even heard Kyrano enter the room, but the look on his friends face told him that he knew what had happened.

"Will he be alright, Brains?" Gordon was the first to find his voice.

"I-I don't know, Gordon. W-without making a physical assessment, th-there is no way of telling. S-Scott may be suffering from a t-temporary retinal blindness or..."

"Or it may be something more permanent," Jeff finished the statement for the young scientist. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime we want everything ready for when they reach home. Brains and Tin-Tin, you can get the infirmary ready. Alan, do you want to put in some time on Thunderbird One's simulator?"

Alan readily agreed, more out of a desire to do something constructive than out of a need to refresh himself on the sensitive controls of International Rescue's rocket plane.

Everyone scattered. Brains and Tin-Tin in the direction of the sickbay, Alan for the simulator room, Kyrano to put the kettle on, and Grandma Tracy headed off to do, whatever she did whenever there was a crisis.

Jeff thought he was alone in the lounge until he heard Gordon's sigh. "What can I do, Dad?"

Jeff felt empathy for his son. At this moment he too was at a loss to what he could do to help. He could only think of one suggestion. "Go and keep an eye on, Alan."

"Okay," Gordon said unenthusiastically before turning and, head down, wandering slowly out of the room.

The rumbling roar died away and silence overtook them. Virgil sat up and wiped the dust out of his eyes. "Scott! Are you okay?" Still lying facedown on the floor Scott nodded and succeeded in banging his forehead again. The burst of pain caused him to inhale suddenly. He began choking on a lungful of dust. He sat up, coughing uncontrollably on the irritant.

"Take it easy," Virgil supported his brother as he fought to gain his breath. "Calm down and take deep breaths."

"What - happened?" Scott eventually managed to gasp out.

"I'd say that was generator number three."

"Which means that number four is likely to go at any time."

"I think that would be a good supposition." Still supporting Scott with one hand Virgil managed to open the storage compartment in the hoverbike and withdraw a water bottle. "Here," he pressed it into Scott's hand, "have a drink."

He looked at the hoverbike. It was covered in a thick coating of dust. Experimentally he tried to start it. It gave a sick whirr and stalled.

"Filter's blocked?" Scott suggested.

"I'd say so. It'll only take a moment to clean out." Virgil flicked the appropriate switch. The blast of compressed air sent the filter flying out of the hoverbike and across the room, crashing into the opposing wall, before ending up on the floor.

"What was that?" Scott asked in alarm.

Virgil picked up the filter. What had started out as a bad day was turning worse. "Would you believe that something Brains invented hasn't worked?"

"No."

"Well in that case I won't tell you that the filter's been blown out of its fitting and has broken into three."

"Thanks for not telling me," Scott said dryly. "Can you fix it?"

"I'll give it a go." Virgil set to work with International Rescue's version of duct tape.

"Calling International Rescue. Calling International Rescue. This is Regnad Corp." A now familiar voice accosted John up in Thunderbird Five.

"Go ahead."

"Thought you'd want to know that the third generator has blown. It's the one that controls the water pump. Without that in operation the river level's going to start rising. There's no sign of your men yet. Are they alright?"

John's blood ran cold. "Thanks for letting me know. I'll check them out and get back to you."

"Thanks. I hope they're okay..."

"Yeah, so do I." John muttered to himself as he reactivated the link to Virgil's watch.

"Aw, John." Virgil muttered through a mouthful of duct tape. "Your timing's terrible." Both his hands were full with tape and bits of filter. He stuck the tape that he'd been holding in his mouth, to the back of his hand, knowing that he'd regret it later when it came time to remove it. But at the moment it was the cleanest surface he had available. Gingerly holding the filter together he walked over to Scott and knelt down in front of him. "My hands are full. Can you get my watch off my wrist and talk to John?"

"Sure." Scott managed the task with relative ease, freeing Virgil up to complete his repair work.

John was surprised to see Scott's bandaged face and not Virgil's staring at him. "Scott! Where's Virgil!"

"Doing some running repairs at the moment. Have you heard the third generator's exploded?"

"Yeah. It's the one connected to the water pump. That's why I called. What's happened?"

Scott explained about the filter. "Virgil's trying to fix it now." There was a stifled yelp of pain from Virgil as he ripped the tape off his exposed skin. "At least that's what I think he's doing."

Carefully Virgil managed to squeeze the battered filter back into position, before fixing it in place with more duct tape. "Okay that should do us. Fingers crossed." He pushed the start button. The hoverbike gave a cough and started idling.

"Nice one, Virg," Scott congratulated his brother. "Looks like we're on our way again, John."

"Good. Keep in touch. The river's probably starting rising. The sooner you guys get out of there the better."

"Our sentiments exactly," Virgil agreed taking the watch back off Scott. "But it may not be that easy. The last explosion was down the corridor where we were going to go. Who knows what obstructions we'll find."

"Well, we'll only find out by getting going." Scott handed his water bottle back to Virgil and managed to stand unaided.

"We'll keep you posted, John." Virgil finished the transmission and took a swig from his own water bottle before replacing the two of them in the compartment. He then assisted Scott back on to the hoverbike. "It's not perfect and we'll have to take it slowly, but it'll be easier than walking." He got into the driver's seat and set the motor into operation. "Well one things that's changed," he said over his shoulder. "The hallway's not so clean now. There's dust and dirt everywhere. Not to mention smoke."

"Smoke!" Scott was concerned.

"Not a lot. I'd say the ventilation system is still operational and is drawing the smoke away from us."

Once again they set off, this time hopefully to safety.

John kept his promise and quickly appraised the man from Regnad Corp.

"You do realise that if the turbines aren't working they'll act as a dam!" the man said. "The water'll have nowhere to go! Your colleagues had better hope that they can get out quickly."

Scott's head was down. He was trying to maintain his bearings, feel the vibrations of the motor of the hoverbike, keep an ear open for any sounds of danger from behind them, smell any change in the amount of smoke in the air. Anything to keep his mind off the fact that he had no idea what was going on.

He felt the hoverbike come to a stop and laid a hand on Virgil's shoulder. "Have we reached The Mole already? That didn't take long."

"We haven't reached The Mole," Virgil said quietly. "The corridor's blocked."

"Blocked!"

"That last explosion brought down half the walls and a good part of the ceiling."

"Can we get through?" Not being in control was starting to get on Scott's nerves.

Virgil slid off his seat. "Not on the hoverbike. It doesn't have the power anymore. We're going to have to walk from here on. Think you can make it?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not really."

"Better let John know." Scott stood up unsteadily on the uneven surface that was once pristine floor.

This latest bit of news felt like a blow to John. "Please tell me you're kidding, Virg."

"I wish. We're at least a kilometre from The Mole."

"I was just talking to the guy from Regnad. He reminded me that there's a chance that the river could dam now that the turbines have stopped."

"Terrific. Any other good news, John?" Virgil asked without much trace of sarcasm.

"The Tigers are behind at half time."

Normally the news that their favourite team was losing would have had Scott and Virgil moaning. This time however the triviality of it all caused them both to burst out laughing. "Thanks, John. Nothing like hearing about other people's problems to get your own into perspective. I'll report in, in ten minutes," Virgil signed off.

"I'm glad he's there," Scott said. "He's good value is our John."

Virgil silently agreed as he surveyed the devastation ahead of them. Then he started digging into the hoverbike's storage compartment, loading what he thought they'd need into a pack. This he swung onto his back.

"You ready?"

"I guess so." Scott took Virgil's arm.

Six

On a normal day, under normal circumstances the walk would have been traversed in under 20 minutes.

This had ceased being a normal day about two hours ago.

They couldn't walk in a straight line because Virgil had to steer Scott so that he would avoid bumping into any obstacles.

The further on they got, the more and the bigger those obstacles became.

They rounded a corner. Virgil stopped. This was one very big obstacle!

"What is it?" Scott asked quietly.

"The hallway's blocked."

"What, all of it?"

"I think so..." Virgil was scanning the pile of wreckage that blocked their path. "There's no way around it." He detached himself from Scott's grip and moved closer to get a better look. "Hang on... We might just be able to climb over the top."

"Over the top?" Scott was more than a little doubtful.

"It looks pretty secure... if I go first do you think you could follow me?"

"I... I don't know. I guess we can only try."

Virgil was on his wristwatch telecom. "We're going to have to climb the debris, John."

"But how secure is it? Can he ... can you...?"

"We won't know until we try," Virgil said. "That's unless you can find us an alternate route."

John scanned his GPS. "No, there's nothing. Sorry, Virgil, you've only got one option."

"Okay, John. Thanks. I'll give you a call when we reach the other side."

John smiled at his brother's optimism. "I'll look forward to it."

"You and me both," Scott said.

John shut down the communications link with the danger zone and reinstated the one to Tracy Island. His father looked eagerly out of the monitor at him.

"Any news."

John explained about the obstacle they'd come across.

"I don't like this," Jeff exclaimed heatedly. "Scott needs medical attention now!"

"There's nothing else we can do, Dad," John said evenly.

"What about the ventilation shaft the scientists climbed out of?"

John shook his head. "That's nowhere near where Scott and Virgil are. Their only exit is on the other side of the debris. And the quickest way we can get Scott to medical attention is to get them out in The Mole and then fly him there in Thunderbird One."

Jeff took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, John. I'm sure you've considered all avenues. I just feel so helpless stuck here."

"Tell me about it," John said, a small smile playing about his lips. "We've just got to sit here and wait."

Virgil had managed to scale the obstacle. At the top there was a space just big enough for a fair sized man to crawl through. It was going to be a squeeze. He looked back down.

"Put your left foot up, little to the left, that's it. That should hold your weight."

Scott moved up a step. He was perspiring heavily. Who would have thought that moving so slowly could be so taxing?

"How much further, Virgil?"

Virgil managed to crouch down so that his hand grasped Scott's shirt. "Not far." Still guiding Scott with the placement of his hands and feet he helped him to reach the top. "There you go. That's one small step for man..."

"It's the giant leap back down that worries me," Scott growled. "How high are we?"

"About fourteen feet."

"High enough."

"Okay," Virgil slid the backpack off. "This is where we start crawling. It should be safer in here - less chance of falling."

"I never realised you were such an optimist."

"I never thought of you as a pessimist. Come on, there's room for the two of us to start together." Virgil assisted Scott into the crawl way and then, pushing his pack and a torch before him started moving forward.

Scott decided that the way which offered him the greatest feeling of security was to feel every square inch ahead of himself before moving forward.

Gradually the crawlspace narrowed until eventually Virgil had to take the lead. The narrowing was starting to worry him, but he didn't voice his doubts to Scott. Then, just as he began to think that there wouldn't be an exit available to them, there was a bend in the crawl way and he could see light from a fluorescent tube. "Nearly there, Scott!" he pushed on determinedly, Scott following on more slowly.

Virgil was starting to feel happier about their situation. They were nearly free of the crawl way and the debris underneath had smoothed out. He realised that he was crawling along a flat piece of ceiling panel. He quickened his pace...

Virgil's yell and the sound of crashing building materials caused Scott to halt momentarily. Then he moved forward quicker than before, ignoring the scratches and bruises that he was inflicting on his poor battered body. He had to find Virgil, find out what had happened. He felt the drop in temperature on his unexposed skin as he reached the opening...

"Stop!"

Fortunately for Scott his reflexes were quick and he obeyed the order to stop. "Virgil? Are you alright?"

"Yeah." His brother's voice floated up from somewhere below him. "A few more scrapes and scratches but that's all. I crawled onto a panel that wasn't secure and it toppled off taking me with it. I sort of surfed the whole way down. Gordon would be proud of me."

"I'm sure he would. But how do I get down? Not the same way I hope."

Virgil stood up and dusted himself down, looking up towards his brother at the same time. Scott was approximately 13 feet above him, his head sticking out from an almost sheer wall of debris. Everywhere Virgil looked there were objects that could equally support or cut Scott as he attempted his descent.

"First thing you're gonna have to do is get out of that hole, without sliding down headfirst like I did." Virgil examined the situation. "Okay. Roll onto your back..."

Scott complied with some difficulty as his sash caught on various impediments. His Grandmother had refused to listen when they'd told her they'd be more of a hindrance than a help! "They'll have their uses, you'll see, and they look smart," she'd stubbornly said.

He completed the task. "Okay," Virgil said. "If you reach up you'll find an I-Beam. Grab hold of that and see if you can swing your body out."

Scott did so, hoping against hope that the I-Beam would remain firm. It did.

"Great. Swing your feet forward ... okay that should hold you for a moment."

Slowly Virgil started to talk Scott down the dangerous structure.

They'd nearly reached the halfway point when the beam he was standing on gave way. Virgil dove to one side to avoid been struck by falling debris. Falling himself, Scott grabbed out blindly and miraculously managed to grasp a beam that jutted out horizontally. His body swung into the wreckage momentarily knocking the wind out of him, but his grip held firm.

"Hang on, Scott!" Virgil yelled.

"I am," Scott acknowledged through clenched teeth.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Scott automatically rubbed his face on his arm to clear his vision. He only succeeded in causing a stab of pain to rock him. "Ahh!"

"Take it easy!" Virgil had seen the motion. "Move your right foot a bit to the right. There! That beam should hold you."

"That's what you said last time," Scott griped. "I don't know why Grandma insists we wear clean underwear. Too many scares like that and it'd be a waste of time."

Virgil's chuckled floated up from somewhere below him. "Not far to go now, Scott." He carefully scaled the structure until he was able to place his hand on Scott's leg. "Do you want me to guide you?"

"Yeah, okay."

They managed to descend another foot.

"Hang on, let me think about this." There was a gap so big that Virgil wondered if Scott would be able to cross it. "You're going to have to jump down a couple of feet."

"Onto the ground?"

"No, another beam. I'll guide you." Virgil took a good grip at a hunk of wood that stuck out and with his left hand grasped Scott's shirt firmly. "Ready when you are." His wristwatch telecom burst into life. "I don't believe this," he muttered. "John, you're a pain! We're fine. Call you in two!" He disconnected the call before John had a chance to speak.

John stared at the blank monitor. Talk about abrupt.

Trusting Virgil's judgement, Scott jumped. Virgil guided him so that he didn't fall back. He landed on what felt like a plank of wood and gripped tightly to whatever he could find.

Virgil climbed down the rest of the way. "You're doing fine. Only three feet to go. Okay, jump backwards onto the floor. I'll support you."

"Ready?"

"Ready!" Virgil braced himself.

Scott jumped.

Virgil caught him before he was able to lose his balance. "Made it," he said.

"Piece of cake."

Virgil coughed in the oppressive air. "Boy, that dust gets everywhere."

"I could go a drink," Scott said.

"Where's the pack?"

"Don't ask me," Scott said morosely. "I can't see it."

Virgil still had his hand on his brother's shoulder and he gave it a comforting squeeze before moving off to look for the lost bag.

"You'd better call, John." Scott advised. "He's bound to be a bit sore after the last time you spoke to him."

"Well his timing's lousy today."

"So tell him."

"John! Your timing's lousy. Next time you think to call us wait two minutes before you do, okay?"

John looked a bit put out. "Can I help it if I'm worried about you guys."

Virgil laughed. "No. Sorry, John, but we're fine. We've made it over most of the debris and with any luck we're on the home straight."

John's face broke into the first smile it'd managed in the last hour or so. "Glad to hear it. And to celebrate I won't call you back ... for fifteen minutes, so make sure you call me first!"

"F-A-B." Signing off Virgil sneezed. Rubbing his watering eyes he looked about. "Now where's that pack?" He looked about the floor. "I can't see it. And where's the torch? Sit down Scott, this may take a while."

Scott gingerly crouched down, feeling about before he finally sat down.

A beam of light caught Virgil's eye and he made his way over to it. He'd found the torch! Jammed in a hole; it's beam shining vertically. He tried to reach in to get it, but the hole was too small for his arm. Knowing there was a spare in the pack he didn't worry unduly.

"Found the pack?" Scott asked impatiently.

"No." Virgil's eyes followed the beam from the torch. "Yes." Bathed in it's own mini spotlight was the pack. Hanging from a hunk of steel ten feet up.

As Virgil explained the situation to Scott he looked back at the pack. "I wonder how close I can get?"

"Don't try anything too tricky," Scott warned.

"I won't." Virgil managed to gain a foot of height before deciding that the structure was too unstable. He stepped back down, removed his sash and then climbed back up. He then tried to knock the pack off its perch with the sash. After several swings he connected and it moved slightly. He tried again and this time the pack released its tenuous grip and fell towards the floor.

"Yes! NO!" Virgil quickly jumped to the floor near where the pack had fallen.

"What's happened?" Scott asked anxiously, annoyed at not knowing what was going on.

"We've lost the pack. I can't reach it. It's fallen down a hole." Virgil was frantically trying to find it but couldn't even touch the material. "Your arm's longer than mine. You try." He assisted Scott to where the pack had disappeared.

Scott felt about the hole to no avail. "No, it's no good. I can't even feel it."

Virgil sat down in defeat. "Okay, Scott, what did you do? Throw a mirror at a black cat while you walked under a ladder? I'm sure I haven't done anything to warrant all this bad luck."

Scott chuckled. "Sorry, not my fault. What's the date?"

"Tuesday 2nd."

"Not Friday 13th then."

"No."

"I know!" Scott snapped his fingers. "I left my lucky rabbit's foot at home."

"That was lucky for the rabbit but not us!" Virgil laughed as he stood up.

"We can't be that far from The Mole," Scott said. "I guess I can live without my drink until we get there."

Seven

Virgil was beginning to wonder if they'd taken a wrong turning. This was taking so long. Mind you, for every metre they moved forward they had to step two sideways so that Scott wouldn't have to step over anything, or bump into anything, or scratch himself on anything. Not that Virgil was worrying about his own skin. He frequently used his own body as a barrier between some sharp object and Scott.

"Move a bit to your left. There's a hunk of wood with a nail sticking out."

Scott felt some sympathy for his brother. What with continuously giving directions and all the dust in the air, Virgil was starting to sound very hoarse. Scott wasn't feeling that good either. His face hurt, his body ached and he felt as if he'd run a couple of marathons.

"Let's take a breather," he ordered.

"What? We can't stop. The water..." Virgil croaked.

"I know, but it's time we reported in to John anyway. You rest your voice and I'll make the call. Just find me somewhere to sit." Scott was led to a wall and slid down it so his back was resting against it. He felt Virgil's watch being pressed into his hand and activated the telecom. "Scott to Thunderbird Five."

"Scott? Where's Virgil?"

"I got sick of the sound of his voice so I said I'd make the call," Scott said. He heard a sneeze from Virgil that could have been a comment on his statement.

"I've just had Dad on the line. He wants to know how your face is."

"It's sore, Johnny," Scott said honestly. "But bearable."

"Brains has got the sickbay ready for you as soon as you get home. He's downloading every file on possible treatments that he can find. He'll get you fixed up okay."

"Yeah," Scott said doubtfully.

"Maybe you should try an analgesic," John suggested helpfully.

Scott shook his head. "Didn't we tell you? We lost the pack. All we've got is what we're wearing."

"You lost the pack? How?"

"Don't ask me. All I know is that it fell down a hole and we couldn't pull it out."

"Well Global Positioning puts you at about 100 metres from The Mole. You shouldn't have too much trouble from here."

"Where have I heard that before?" Scott said.

"Huh?" John asked confused.

"I'd put you onto The Frog to explain, but you probably couldn't understand him anyway."

"The Frog?" John was wondering if Scott had more than a burnt face wrong with him.

"You want me to go on without you?" Virgil croaked.

"You wouldn't dare," Scott said tightly.

"No I wouldn't," Virgil agreed quietly.

At the sound of his younger brother's husky voice, John understood. "The Frog. I like it. Matches that green plane of yours, Virg. If anything looks like a frog it's Thunderbird Two."

"Hey!" Virgil started to protest, but Scott had turned so that his body was between him and the telecom.

"Guess we'd better get moving, John. Hopefully the next time we call, it'll be from The Mole."

"Hope so, Scott. Talk to you soon."

"See ya, Johnny." Scott handed the watch back to Virgil. "Time to move on."

Virgil took the watch back. He'd like nothing better than to remain seated with a nice cool glass of water, but there was no chance of that here. He stood and assisted Scott to his feet.

John wasted no time in reporting back to his father. "They say they're both fine. But Scott says his face is sore. He looks pretty tired too. And Virgil's just about lost his voice. Scott's given him a new nickname. 'The Frog.'"

Alan and Gordon looked at each other and grinned despite their worries. 'The Frog'! They could have fun with that.

Jeff wasn't thinking about fun. "Any idea how far they've got to go, John?"

"My readings puts it at about 100 metres, but it's taken them half an hour to cover the last two hundred so don't expect them anytime soon."

"Okay, John. Keep in contact. I want to know the instant they get to The Mole."

"F-A-B."

The debris was getting worse. It was piled up higher and thicker. "We must be getting close to the third explosion," Scott noted.

"Step to your left," Virgil said by way of a reply. Automatically Scott obeyed.

Keeping with his brother, Virgil stepped in the same direction. As he put his full weight down the plaster panel gave way and before Virgil had a chance to react his left leg slid into a hole. Virgil tried to roll so that he didn't take Scott with him, but Scott's grip on his brother's arm meant that he was dragged over too.

The sudden shifting of Scott's weight caused a steel girder to swing around before it caught itself on Virgil's calf, trapping the leg painfully.

A cloud of dust ascended into the air getting into every nook and cranny. There was nothing they could do to avoid it.

Sneezing and coughing, they covered their heads in case something worse was about to happen.

When everything had stilled, Virgil was lying face down in the rubble and Scott was lying on his side at right angles to his brother. He sat up.

"Virgil, are you okay?" he asked anxiously.

Virgil was coughing up more dust. "Yeah!" he gasped between breaths. "Just fine."

Needing to reassure himself that this was indeed true, Scott managed to get to his feet. He took a step forward.

"Stop! Get off!" Virgil yelled.

Scott froze. "What!"

"You're - standing on - the beam. You're squashing me!"

"Oh," Scott automatically looked down. "Which leg."

"Right," Virgil gritted out.

Gingerly Scott moved all his weight onto his left leg. "Better?"

"Yes." Virgil managed to slide his leg out from under the girder.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked anxiously.

"Yep," Virgil said tiredly as he rubbed his leg. "Just another bruise to add to the collection." He cautiously got to his feet again and hobbled over to Scott. "Come on."

Eight

They stopped.

Scott could tell by Virgil's posture that something was wrong. "What's the problem?"

"We've reached a tricky bit."

"Describe it to me."

"Okay, Scott. That last explosion has blown out a big chunk of the corridor. The river's flowing through the hole. The floor has subsided here by about 10 metres. The water is flowing pretty fast and rising. I can't see any way around from up here. We could possibly clamber down and try to edge our way around, but there isn't much in the way of foot and hand holds."

"Oh, great."

"It gets worse."

"How?" Scott had a feeling that he didn't really want to know.

"I can see The Mole on the other side of the river."

"We're that close!"

"We're that close. If only I hadn't lost the pack! I could have rigged up a flying fox."

"Don't blame yourself. It's just not our lucky day."

Virgil groaned.

"What?" Scott asked dreading the answer.

"I can see the pack floating down the river. Out of reach of course!"

"You're kidding. Then where we were doing all that jumping around the floor must have only just been millimetres thick! The river must have been right under our feet!"

"Yeah. Lucky weren't we," Virgil said dully, feeling despondent. Then he shook the feeling off.

"So we're stuck," Scott was exclaiming. "There's one more generator that can still blow, we don't know of any exits behind us, and we can't go ahead!"

"Not necessarily. If I could climb down, I could see if there is a way around. I don't want to attempt getting you down there until I'm sure it's a viable route."

"Virgil!" Scott had come to a decision "Leave me. Go on. Save yourself!"

"Don't be daft, Scott."

"I'm serious. I'm only holding you back. If it works, you will have an opportunity to get The Mole and come back to save me. At least alone you've got a chance to save yourself."

"And if I do, but I can't save you? Do you think I could face our family, knowing that I'd left you to die? Do you think I could live with myself?"

"Do you think I could live with the fact that I killed us both, if you stay with me?"

Scott heard a touch of amusement in Virgil's voice. "You're not thinking clearly. You're not going to be living if we're both dead."

"You know what I mean."

The serious tone returned to Virgil's voice. "And what if our roles were reversed. If I couldn't see and you were leading me. If I told you to leave me. Would you?"

A sheepish look crept over Scott's face. He knew he'd been beaten. "No."

"Case closed then. We stick together." He looked about again. "Having just said that, I'm going to have to leave you here while I scout about. Are you okay with that?"

"I'll have to be. Would I be okay sitting here?"

"You should be. You're far enough away from the subsidence. I'm going to see if it's possible to climb down and if there're exits closer to the water."

"Better let John know what we're doing."

"Okay."

John listened to the plan. "Sounds risky, Virgil."

"You know me. I don't take unnecessary risks..."

"What about necessary ones?" John interrupted.

Virgil ignored him. "...If we can continue heading in this direction, at least we know we can get out. Our only other option is to go through parts of the complex where we haven't been before and hope to find that ventilation shaft the scientists used."

"Okay. Leave your communicator on full mode. I want to keep track of you."

Virgil smiled but remained serious. "Okay, John. I'm switching to full mode now."

John watched his monitor as the view changed to show what was visible from the tiny video camera mounted in the face of the watch. The picture panned around, tracking quickly over Scott's blue sash and then reversed its course. It moved for a bit and then stopped as Virgil hesitated at the top of the chasm.

The picture swung back and focused for a moment on Scott, and John heard Virgil say, "You still okay, Scott?" Scott replied in the affirmative, and then the picture started descending.

John switched his attention from the video feed and confirmed that he was receiving the location signal that the powerful transmitter in Virgil's watch was sending out. So far everything seemed to be working perfectly.

Scott sat on the hard, dusty floor. He'd misjudged how much he'd depended on Virgil's voice and touch to keep him grounded. Now with nothing else to occupy his mind, he started brooding on what life would be like if the blindness was permanent. He didn't like what he was seeing. All his adult life he'd been a pilot, and as a child it was all that he'd dreamed of doing. But if there was one thing that a pilot needed it was good vision. Life wouldn't be worth living if he wasn't able to soar like a bird...

Come on, Scott! he chided himself. You can't think like that. You're probably worrying for no good reason. Think of something else. Listen for Virgil. He may need your help.

With an effort he redirected his attention to the sounds of Virgil climbing down towards the water...

It was risky, Virgil had to admit as the narrow pathway down crumbled under his feet, but the alternative was just as risky. He was pretty sure that he would be able to descend safely himself but was beginning to have doubts that Scott would be able to negotiate the narrow ledge. Hopefully he'd be able to find another, safer route once he reached the bottom.

He stopped to evaluate the path ahead, feeling the cold air from the surface of the water against his face and took the opportunity to check on his brother. "Are you okay, Scott?" he yelled.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Scott's voice was barely able to be heard above the rushing waters.

Virgil took a firm hold of a rock that was embedded in the wall and pulled to test that it wouldn't give way. It held firm. Keeping his grip on the rock he stepped down...

The ground beneath his feet gave way. The rock unable to withstand the sudden downward force came loose and Virgil found himself descending to the waters below much quicker than he'd intended.

John had been updating base with Virgil's activities when he became aware that the picture in the video monitor was moving much faster than it should have been. Ignoring his father he changed channels.

"Virgil! What's happening?"

All of a sudden the picture stopped moving. The video monitor was in darkness. Frantically John adjusted the brightness and contrast until he convinced himself that he was still receiving a picture from the watch. Worryingly the picture hadn't moved.

"Virgil!" he shouted again. "Answer me!"

Nine

From the top of the chasm, Scott heard Virgil give a yell and the sounds of the path giving way.

"Virgil can you hear me?" Scott started to crawl towards the sounds of rushing water praying that the ground was firm. "Virgil!" He froze when he heard a sound.

"I'm here, Scott," the voice sounded strained.

"Virgil! Are you okay?"

"Yeah. The ground gave way. Stay put and I'll have a look around."

"Okay." Scott decided not to chance his luck any further and sat on the ground again.

Ten metres below, things weren't as good as Virgil had made out. When the ground had given out he'd skidded on his left side down to just above the water's edge. His relief at not actually ending up in the water was short lived, when upon checking if he received any injuries, he discovered that his left forearm was sore. Very sore.

He caught his breath when a lightening bolt of pain shot up the limb. "Great!" he muttered to himself as he removed an inflatable splint from a pocket. "Just what we need. Me with a broken arm." He heard Scott's shout and decided to keep this new problem a secret.

Something was tickling his left cheek and he absentmindedly rubbed it with the back of his right hand. As he went to slip the splint on he realised that the back of his good hand was discoloured with a smear of blood. He became aware of the sting of grazes on the left side of his face.

He managed to slide the splint into position and then inflated it. It cushioned and immobilised the broken bone and relieved some of the pain. He took a deep breath and then removed his handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his injured face. It was still bleeding, but it wasn't too bad. He decided that his best course of action was to follow the advice that he'd given Scott earlier, and leave it alone.

Shoving the bloodied handkerchief back into his pocket he gingerly stood up. Time to take stock of his surroundings. The water level was definitely rising. Even if there were enough of a path to take them around to safety, by the time Scott had negotiated the climb down, it would have been impassable. From here the frigid waters looked dark and uninviting. Virgil decided that their only choice was to head back the way they'd come and hope to find another exit.

Back the way they'd come. Virgil looked up the wall that he'd just descended. Fortunately the path he'd intended on traversing down was still intact, but he could see a gaping hole where he'd fallen. 100 percent fit and that obstacle would have been tricky. With a broken arm, it looked to be nigh on impossible.

"Virgil!" He heard Scott call out.

"Still here, Scott. I'm going to try to climb back up."

"Can you make it?"

"I'll let you know."

The climb upwards was easier than he'd expected. His good arm was against the cliff face and was able to grasp at helpful promontories. Then Virgil reached the gap. It was too wide to jump. Based on past experience he wasn't willing to trust the wall to a bit of rock climbing, and it would have been too difficult to do one-handed anyway. He looked upwards. Solid, flat secure ground was about three metres away, beyond his outstretched arm's reach.

"Scott!"

"Yeah, Virg."

"I need a hand."

Scott froze at the announcement. "What can I do?" He felt useless.

"Can you crawl over to the edge?"

"Yes." This was something Scott didn't want to do but knew he had to. "How secure is the edge?"

"Seems strong enough. Nothing's come down on top of me."

Feeling his way forward, by sliding his hands along the pebble-strewn ground, Scott edged his way in the direction he thought he should be headed. Then doubts forced their way into his mind.

"I'm not sure I'm going the right way. The sound of the water's echoing off the walls. Keep talking to me, Virgil - let me know where to go."

"Okay, Scott. Just follow my voice, and start thinking of another way out of here. This way's no ... STOP!" Virgil saw Scott's hands appear above him, preceded by a shower of pebbles.

Scott curled his fingers around the edge of the cliff. Moments later Virgil could see Scott's dark tousled hair and his bandaged eyes.

"Okay, I'm here. Now what?" Scott felt the blast of cold air from the river on what parts of his face weren't covered.

"Move, ah, four hand widths to your left. Good, you're doing fine. Okay, now another two. Right, stop there."

"Okay, I'm in position. Describe the situation to me."

Virgil would have rather concentrated on getting out of his current predicament and then getting the two of them away from the fast flowing water but realised his brothers innate need to have control of the situation. "I've gone as far as I can back up the path. The hole that I fell down is too wide to cross. The water's rising, but it's not an immediate threat. There's no exit accessible from down there, so we're going to have to try to find another exit back the way we came. And you're going to have to help me climb up out of here."

"How? How far down are you?" Scott lay down and stretched out his arm towards Virgil. Virgil reached upwards. They couldn't reach each other. "How big's the gap?"

"About a foot. Have you got something you can use as a rope?"

"Hang on a second." Scott's face disappeared from view, as did his hands. When they came back into view one hand was clutching something pale blue. It was Scott's sash. "Can you reach this?"

Virgil managed to grasp the blue lifeline. "Yeah, I've got it. Can you brace yourself?"

"A little, but you're going to have to do a bit of climbing yourself."

One handed, Virgil thought grimly. "Okay, hang on. I'll try and gain a couple of feet before I have to use it. He managed to inch his way up the cliff face enough so that his head was just level with the swinging sash. He then placed his injured arm through the sash so that the weight was taken by the elbow. This left his right hand free for climbing. "Okay, start pulling."

They had no fears of the sash giving way. Like the Boy Scout scarves of old it had been designed to be more than just ornamental. Virgil's problem was the pain that coursed through his arm as the sash dug in and cut off the circulation. Scott's was that he had nothing he could hang onto and prevent himself from sliding closer to the edge.

It took a lot of grunting and groaning, some sweat and a little blood, but eventually Virgil had reached the top. Scott grabbed the back of his brother's shirt and pulled. Virgil rolled onto relative safety, straight over his broken arm. He sucked in his breath as a wave of pain coursed through his body.

Scott heard the sound. "Virgil, what's wrong?" He put his hand out to offer help and succeeded in knocking the injured limb. Virgil let out a yelp of pain and pulled the arm out of harms way. "Virgil! Are you hurt?"

"Yeah... yeah I am, Scott. I busted my arm when I took that tumble."

"I thought you sounded a little odd. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I figured you had enough to worry about."

"Which one?"

"My left forearm."

"Great. You're left handed, aren't you."

"No, ambidextrous, remember."

"Yeah, but predominantly left-handed," Scott said. "How bad is it?"

"It's broken, but I've managed to splint it." Virgil sought to turn the topic away from his own problems. "Come on, let's get you away from the subsidence. I don't plan on having to go down there again."

Scott was never one to be fobbed off easily. "Can I do anything to help you?" he asked as he stood up.

"Yeah, take two steps forward so you're not so close to the edge."

Scott obliged. "So now we're back where we started, before you started risking your neck, except now you're injured as well. You'd better radio John and let him know."

"Okay - Oh, no! I've lost my communicator!"

"Where is it? Can you see it anywhere?"

Virgil was looking at the ground around their feet. "No, I can't." He moved carefully to the edge so that he was once again looking down towards the rushing waters. "Yes, I can."

"Where!"

"Three quarters of the way down the cliff. It must have fallen off when I fell."

"Well you're not going down to get it!"

"Don't worry. I'm not planning to." Once again Virgil took in his surroundings. "And we haven't got anything we can use to retrieve it."

"So we've got no way of letting base know where we are... Or how we are," Scott added meaningfully.

"Well then. We are just going to have to find another way out of here," Virgil said firmly. They began to retrace their steps.

They'd been moving for about ten minutes when Virgil let out a yell. "Hey! Just what we need. I've found a long piece of metal with a hook in the end. Perhaps I can get my watch. Wait here, I'll be back in a moment." He grabbed the metal strip and started back the way they'd just come.

"Don't leave me."

The voice sounded so pitiful and unrecognisable that Virgil's initial reaction was to look around to see where it had come from.

He strode back to Scott who grabbed his arm painfully.

"Virg. I know I'm being a wimp, but don't leave me alone. You're already injured and if something else were to happen to you, I wouldn't be able to get to you."

"A wimp! You are not a wimp. You've been taking this so well that for a moment I forgot you were injured. Here I am going on about how I'll never leave you and then I almost do just that! I'm sorry, Scott."

Scott gave a long shuddering breath. "I-I don't think I can take much more of this."

"You're doing fine, hang in there. To tell you the truth, I don't know how you've managed to hold it together so well. I would have been a gibbering idiot by now."

Scott managed a smile. "Somehow I doubt that." Then his smile failed. "Virgil... Do me a favour."

"If I can."

"Remove the bandages. I have to know if..."

"Whoa. No way. I've got nothing to replace them with and there's too much dust around here to be healthy."

"Please, Virgil!" Scott started plucking at the dirty white material that surrounded his head.

"No!" Virgil pulled Scott's hand away. "Leave it alone."

"You sounded just like our father then! Must be that frog in your throat."

"First Grandma, then a frog, now Father. I'll be getting a complex. Who am I going to remind you of next?"

"If you start sulking, it'll be Alan."

Despite his worries Virgil laughed. "C'mon. Let's go see if we can get my watch." He took Scott's arm.

John had contacted base. "His communicator's still transmitting, Dad, but I'm not getting a response."

"What's the picture you're receiving?"

"It's a bit hard to tell. Could be some kind of dark cloth, or mud. He was climbing down a cliff above the river, so it could be part of the river bank."

"Is it still attached to his wrist?"

"I can't tell. If it is, he's keeping mighty still."

"Okay, John. Keep trying, and keep us updated."

"F-A-B."

Jeff turned to the two sons who were listening intently. "You heard what John said. We've got to assume that something's happened to Virgil. If that's the case then Scott, being unable to see, is in greater trouble. Even if he can find the exit, he's not going to be able fly either of the Thunderbirds home. And if I know Scott, he's not going to leave Virgil alone ... under any circumstances."

"Dad! Let me fly out there."

"In what, Alan?" Jeff asked.

"The jet. It's the fastest plane we've got now. I can be there in five hours." Alan made a move towards the door.

Gordon grabbed his arm. "Five hours and they could both be drowned. Virgil's last report was that the river was rising. Where are you going to land? You need a runway for the jet. And just what are you going to do when you get there?"

"Then I'll take Thunderbird Three," Alan persisted stubbornly. "I could get there quicker than if I were in Thunderbird One."

"Thunderbird Three's designed for space work, Alan," John pointed out pedantically. "She's not made for inner atmosphere travel. And there's nowhere big enough to land her."

"I could still try."

Jeff was shaking his head. "No, Alan. The idea's just not practicable."

"But I've got to do something!" Alan practically yelled.

"Then calm down," Gordon told him.

Alan wrenched his arm out of Gordon's grasp. "I can't just leave them there!"

"Yeah, I know. I feel the same." Gordon glanced at his father. "Come on. We'd better go tell the others, unless there's something else you want us to do, Dad."

"No ... not at the moment, Gordon. Send Brains up here, will you. We'll see if we can come up with a plan."

"Sure." Jeff's two youngest son's left. Messengers with terrible news.

This was the situation that Jeff Tracy hated most about being the commander of International Rescue. He hated it whenever one of his operatives lost contact with the others. Hated it when one of them was injured. And now he was in the situation where he knew one had been blinded and the other ... what had happened to Virgil?

It was at times like this that Jeff stopped being the leader of International Rescue and allowed himself to be a concerned parent. It was at these times that he wondered why he'd started International Rescue, and even more so, why he'd invited his sons to be members of what he'd known would be a potentially life threatening organisation.

At this time he would also question whether the organisation should even continue...

Mrs. Tracy took the news stoically. Now was not the time to break down into tears. She would not allow herself to cry until she had a definite reason to.

Tin-Tin did not have such reservations. All the Tracy boys had been like brothers to her. Well Alan was more than a brother, but that was another matter.

"First Scott's injured, and now Virgil. Can things get any worse?" she wailed into Alan's shoulder.

"Do you have ANY idea what's happened to Virgil?" Mrs. Tracy asked.

"No, Grandma," Alan replied. "We're just assuming that he's fallen."

"He may have lost his communicator," Gordon said hopefully. "And he's still fine."

"Sure. That's probably it," Alan said with more enthusiasm than he actually felt. "Ah, Tin-Tin." He looked uncomfortably at Gordon, who, for the moment at least was pretending not to notice Tin-Tin's proximity to the youngest Tracy. "We've got to go and tell Brains."

"Come with me, my dear." Mrs. Tracy led the sobbing Tin-Tin away. "We can't fall apart now can we? We have work to do. You know the routine."

Tin-Tin allowed herself one last sniff and then straightened her shoulders resolutely. "You're right, Mrs. Tracy. I don't know why I'm such a cry baby. You're always so strong."

"You learn to be strong, my dear. When you are dealing with five headstrong grandsons, not to mention a son who approaches every challenge as if it's a personal affront, you learn to be strong. It takes time. You'll learn. In the meantime, I'm here for you."

"Thank you."

Brains was shocked by the news. He'd been delving into his vast computer bank, trying to dredge up every bit on information he could find on eye damage and treatment. A thick wad of printouts was standing precariously on the edge of his desk, testament to his hard work.

"I-I'd better go talk to M-Mr. Tracy." As he hastily pulled off his lab coat, the sleeve caught the paper tower and the whole lot tipped off the table.

Alan made a grab for it, succeeding in only snaring a few sheets as the rest scattered about him.

"Leave it," Gordon suggested. "It'll give him something constructive to do later."

They followed Brains back into the lounge.

Jeff forestalled their inevitable question. "I've just been talking to John. There's still no news." He was back in control now - Jeff Tracy - Commander of International Rescue. "Any ideas, Brains?"

"L-Let me go over the facts again," Brains said slowly. "Point one: We k-know Scott was blinded in the explosion."

"Yes," Jeff said.

"P-Point Two: We know their last location in the facility?"

"Yes," John confirmed.

"Point T-Three: We don't know what's h-happened to Virgil."

"The picture in his communicator moved pretty quickly for a bit," John said. "I heard him yell. That's what makes me think he's fallen."

"Point Four: We know the w-water's still rising."

"Yes," Gordon said.

"Point Five: We don't k-know if the threat of explosion is still there."

"I'd forgotten that," Alan said uneasily.

"The fourth generator hasn't exploded," John informed them.

"John?" Brains asked. "Assuming that they are both okay, and that s-something has h-happened to Virgil's communicator, how easy is it for t-them to exit the facility?"

"Not that easy, Brains. They don't know their way around. Virgil was trying to retrace their steps back to the Mole when I lost contact. They don't know how to reach any exits from where they were ... are."

"T-Thank you. Point Six: We know that both h-hoverbikes are out of action."

They all nodded.

"Point Seven: We h-have no craft here able to get to them in t-the time we assume they have available to them. Point Eight..."

"Oh, for Pete's sake, Brains!" Alan interrupted in exasperation. "Will you get to the point!"

"M-Mr. Tracy." Brains turned to his employer who was digging his nails into his clenched palms. "I-I believe we have only one course of action o-open to us."

"Which is Brains?" Jeff said as patiently as he could.

"We activate Thunderbird Two's Automatic Retrieval System."

Silence fell onto the little group as the realisation of what he'd just said sunk in.

Gordon was the first to speak. "But Brains! The Automatic Retrieval System is just too dangerous."

"U-Unmanned aircraft have been used before."

"Yeah, but they were Drones, and they were used during wartime for reconnaissance," Alan said. "They were nowhere as big as Thunderbird Two and it's going to be flying through civilian airspace."

"John can p-pilot it from Thunderbird Five."

John gulped. "We've never tried this before, Brains."

"I-I feel that we have a reasonable chance of success ... Maybe o-our only chance of success, M-Mr. Tracy?"

Jeff was frowning. He agreed with Brains that this seemed to be their only course of action, but he also knew the dangers inherent in piloting an unmanned aircraft half way around the globe.

"John, do you think you'll be able to safely control Two?"

"If it's the only chance they've got, then yes, Dad."

"Good. Okay, Brains, get together everything you think they'll need. You and Tin-Tin can go with them. Gordon, you can pilot Thunderbird Two when she arrives back. Alan, you can co-pilot. I want her on the ground 15 minutes maximum, so make sure everything is ready!"

"Yes, Sir!"

Virgil and Scott arrived back at the river. Virgil stopped walking just short of the water's edge. "Mind if I leave you here. I don't want you getting too close. I'm only going a couple of metres."

"Just keep talking to me and I'll be fine."

"John's probably worried sick by now," Virgil said conversationally as he walked over to where he'd last seen the watch. "He'll have the rest of the family in a right..."

"What?" Scott became alarmed by the unfinished sentence. He heard the metal hook drop to the ground. "Virgil!"

Virgil took him by the arm. "Come on," he said quietly. "Let's move away from here."

"But your watch."

"It's underwater, Scott. The river's been dammed and it's rising fast."

Ten

John was nervous. They'd tried Thunderbird Two's Automatic Retrieval System once before on the simulator. It had been a dismal failure. He'd crashed two minutes into the flight, due to a sudden updraft that John had been unable to sense. Virgil had not been impressed.

Brains had assured them that new sensors that had been installed since that initial test would avert a repetition of that disaster, but they'd never found the time to confirm his theories.

This was not a good time to be making a test flight.

It was one of those rare occasions when it was decided that International Rescue would be out of contact with the outside world. With both Thunderbird's One and Two stranded countries away, International Rescue was largely powerless anyway, but up till now Thunderbird Five was still able to receive distress messages.

Jeff decided to shut the worldwide communications link down, leaving only links between Thunderbird Five, Thunderbird Two and Tracy Island open. He wanted nothing to distract John while he was concentrating on the task ahead. To John it felt eerie sitting in a completely silent Thunderbird Five. It was as if he'd suddenly gone deaf.

The sensory connection reminded him poignantly as to why they were undertaking this rescue.

He stared at the video screen in front of him. A camera mounted on Thunderbird Two's nose gave him an approximation of what the pilot would normally be seeing. Around the edge of the screen a range of numbers told him various factors about Thunderbird Two's altitude, velocity, wind speed and direction, as well as a host of other things he would need to keep track of. A companion monitor showed a conventional radar screen. It's scanning circle rotating endlessly. A reasonable facsimile of Thunderbird Two's steering unit had been plugged into the computer and was awaiting John's instruction to lift the great craft skywards.

He rubbed his hands on his trousers to dry them. It was amazing how sweaty they could get in the temperature-controlled environment of the space station.

"Are you ready, John?" John could hear an edge of impatience in his father's voice.

"Ready, Dad. I'm activating the Automatic Retrieval System now!" John punched in a code into the computer. Speakers around him replicated the sounds of Thunderbird Two coming to life. "I have control."

"Good, John. We know you can do this. I'll keep radio contact down to a minimum. Any problems, let us know immediately. Good luck."

Words of encouragement came from his family.

"Good Luck, John."

"Break a leg, Johnny."

"Bring her home safely."

"D-Don't worry, John. I-It's perfectly safe," Brains offered his own support.

"Thanks. I'm lifting off now." John felt the steering wheel shudder as it mimicked the forces of the vertical jets thrusting into the ground. It was the closest Brains had been able to get to full sensory replication, without building an extra simulator room onto Thunderbird Five.

The picture on the video monitor started to change as Thunderbird Two lifted off.

Numbers around the edge increased at a rapid pace as Thunderbird Two gained height and speed.

In the distance John could now make out the hole that The Mole had made when Scott and Virgil had set off on their rescue mission. He hoped that the next time a member of the Tracy family saw that chasm it would signal the start of the rescue of his two oldest brothers.

He rotated Thunderbird Two so that it was pointing homewards and started to accelerate.

Back on earth Jeff and the others were watching the same image that John was. "So far so good, Brains."

"Yes, M-Mr. Tracy. He is d-doing well."

John was starting to relax. Not totally, but enough so that his muscles weren't taut with the strain of what he was doing.

His eyes flicked over to the radar screen. There was another aircraft in the distance. He gained altitude to avoid crowding the other plane. The blip disappeared off the radar.

His eyes scanned the numbers on the screen. All seemed well. He was beginning to enjoy himself. It was like a giant, ultra realistic flight simulator game, and he'd always done well playing those, sometimes even managing to outperform his more experienced pilot brothers. If only he could push that nagging voice, that kept telling him that this was not a game, out of his mind, then he'd be able to totally relax. Still it wouldn't hurt to have that little voice there to keep him on his toes. To remind him that this was NOT a game. That his brother's lives relied on this mission.

"Thunderbird Two, ah, Five to base."

"Go ahead, John."

"I'm making good time. This is easier than I thought."

As he watched fluffy white clouds soar past the monitor it was easy to forget that he was in fact in orbit around the planet and not soaring only a few hundred metres above it. If he'd taken the time to look out of Thunderbird Five's windows the illusion would have been instantly destroyed, but he concentrated on his task and lost himself in his work.

Another image appeared on the radar screen. This wasn't the blip of an aeroplane but something larger and more ominous.

"Thunderbird Two to base."

"Go ahead, John."

"Storm clouds ahead. Looks like a big one."

Jeff felt a twinge of apprehension. "Can you fly around it?"

"Negative. It's too big. I'll gain altitude and see if I can fly over it."

Brains brought up a weather map on a computer screen. "Th-There it is," he pointed

"Can he, ah, Thunderbird Two climb above it?"

Brains punched in some numbers and data was fed back to them. "No."

"Did you hear that, John?"

"I heard. So I cut straight through it then. Any idea of the wind speeds?"

"C-Current wind speeds look to be at a m-maximum of 100 km/hr."

"Tricky," John said flatly. "What's the terrain below the storm?"

"Two m-mountain ranges, one city and t-three large towns."

"How long will it take for the storm to pass?"

"Estimates range f-from eight to f-forty eight hours."

"So," John sighed, "sitting out the storm isn't an option."

"Only if you feel that you're going to be putting lives at risk," Jeff told him.

"The only lives that I think I'm going to be endangering at the moment are Scott and Virgil's," John told him. "I'll carry on. Brains' sensors are working well. I should be able to get Thunderbird Two through safely."

"Fine, John. I'll leave all decisions over to you. If you think you're in trouble bail out - even if it means ditching Thunderbird Two in some remote area."

"F-A-B, Dad."

On the radar the storm cell grew bigger and bigger. In the distance on the video monitor John could make out thick black clouds. Occasionally a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky.

John gave Thunderbird Two's systems one last check before he flew the transporter plane into the edges of the storm. Rain started to fall. It grew heavier and thicker. He changed the monitor view from video camera to video imaging to see through the rain. But all he could see was more rain.

The steering column bucked under his hands as a wind gust caught Thunderbird Two. John easily maintained control of the craft. The radar showed that he was traversing the width of the storm. A bolt of lightning flashed across the monitor.

The data readouts started increasing: Wind speed = 55 km/hr - 60km/hr - 70km/hr... Wind direction = northerly, nor' easterly, southerly... Rain volume = 10ml, 15ml, 25ml...

Another wind gust hit and it took John several seconds to bring the craft back under control. Once again he realised that he was sweating. "Five! Atmosphere! Reduce temperature two degrees!" he ordered. Thunderbird Five's ambient temperature was reduced accordingly, but John's stress levels remained the same.

He did a ground check. He was flying directly over the city.

A flash of lightening hit...

The screens went blank...

"What the..." for a moment John stared at the screens dumbfounded, before reopening the link with base. "Brains! I've lost contact with Thunderbird Two!"

Eleven

"Hey!" Virgil stopped suddenly. "Great! A ladder!"

Scott did not share his brother's enthusiasm. "What use is a ladder to us?"

"It leads up a ventilation shaft. Maybe it's the one that the scientists used to escape." Virgil placed Scott's hands on the ladder. "At least we'd be heading upwards away from the water. Do you think you could climb it?"

Scott brightened as he felt the distance between the rungs. "I should be able to. How high is it?"

"How high's Thunderbird One?"

"115 feet."

"Slightly shorter than that."

"Oh great," Scott deadpanned. "But can you climb it one handed?"

Virgil thought for a moment. "Can I borrow your belt?"

"Yes," Scott started to undo his belt. "Are you going to tie yours and my belts together...?"

"...And make a harness." Virgil was buckling the two belts together. "That's the idea. Do you want to go up first or last?"

"I think I'd prefer to follow you. That way you can help me off when we reach the top and if you need a break, I can hold onto you."

"Okay!" Virgil swung the combined belts around the ladder and his waist and buckled the ends together, leaving enough room for him to slide it up. "Let's go!"

The first ten rungs were easy to negotiate, but then Virgil hit a snag. "Hold on, Scott. I've reached a brace, I'm going to have to undo the harness to get it past it."

"Be careful."

"F-A-B," Virgil said automatically.

He swung around so that he was side on to the ladder and then threaded his right leg through, between the rungs, so that he had a more secure hold. Once he knew that he would not have to use his good arm to hang on, he slipped his broken arm under the belts. Now he was fairly sure that should he lose his grip on the harness, he'd be able to stop it from falling into the corridor below.

It was difficult to undo the buckle, slide the harness up above the brace and then complete the loop again one handed, but eventually he was successful.

Before swinging back into position Virgil stopped to look down. The floor of the corridor was wet and he could see waves of water flow down the hallway. Clearly their only option now was to continue climbing. He looked up. He had four more braces to negotiate before they'd reach some form of safety. "Okay down there?" he asked Scott.

"Ready when you are."

"Right! We've got another 10 rungs before we'll have to stop again."

Scott grunted an acknowledgement. If he'd gone first he could have climbed the ladder in one go, but he would have still had to hang around until Virgil reached him before he would have been able to safely get off the top rungs. He rubbed at his eyes, wanting to tear off the bandages and reassure himself that this condition wasn't permanent. He heard Virgil move up a rung, placed his hand back on the ladder and followed suit.

"We've lost contact with Thunderbird Two?" Through his thick glasses Brains blinked at the blank monitor.

"Try to regain contact!" Jeff ordered.

"I am!" Frantically John was pushing buttons and pulling levers, but nothing was happening. "Brains!"

"Have you entered the reset code?" Brains asked.

"I have!" John said exasperatedly. It was the first thing he'd tried. And the second. And the third.

Brains bit his lip in thought. "John!"

"Yes, Brains!"

"Reboot the computer."

"Reboot the..." John tried to make sense of this.

"Quickly, John, we don't have much time," Brains ordered.

John decided that Brains knew the system better than he did. "Okay. Shutting down now."

The computer screen displayed a few numbers and then went blank. John willed it to restart. The machine clicked, whirred and beeped, before row after row of numbers scrolled across the screen as the computer ran a diagnostics check. The screen blacked out again until finally John was looking through the windows of Thunderbird Two.

He gave a whoop of joy. "It worked, Brains, it worked! And we've hardly lost any altitude at all!"

"T-That's good, John." Now that the tension had passed, Brains' stutter had returned. "Even th-though you lost contact, Thunderbird T-Two must have continued with it's motors operating at the same p-power level. W-We were lucky you had it set on a horizontal f-flight path and were n-not trying to lose height."

"I'll say," John agreed as he made a slight bearing correction.

Brains got out a notebook. "That w-will teach me for taking shortcuts and using l-last century's computer code," he muttered to himself. "Note to me - re-revise c-code."

"Are you telling me," Jeff asked, "that that problem was caused by a computer crash?"

"I'm afraid so, M-Mr. Tracy. Something may have triggered it off..."

"Thunderbird Two was hit by lightning before we lost contact," John offered.

"...Such as a bolt of lightning." Brains continued on.

"That was some power surge..."

Twelve

The hot sun was shining over Tracy Island as Thunderbird Two came into view. Jeff Tracy was standing on the balcony watching the small dot on the horizon grow. As it neared the island he reopened communication with Thunderbird Five.

"John, before you land, I want you to hover at 100 feet over the runway until I give you the green light. I want to get everyone into the bunkers first, just in case anything should go wrong."

"F-A-B, Dad. Approaching runway now. Switching to hover mode."

In actual fact, Brains and Jeff were the only two not currently waiting in the bunker. "Okay, Brains. Get going."

"W-What about you, M-Mr. Tracy?"

"I'm staying here to keep an eye on things."

"If I may say so, S-Sir, that is not necessary. J-John is not on board Thunderbird Two. He cannot be harmed. You w-would only be endangering your own life. You can control the e-emergency systems just as easily from the bunker."

Jeff still appeared reluctant to move. "I know that, Brains, but..."

"Please, Sir. Come with me!"

"Hey! What's going on up there?" Gordon asked over the in-house intercom. "It's getting warm down here. Either you both get down here, or we're coming out."

"Okay, Gordon. We're on our way," Jeff told him. He took one last look at Thunderbird Two before following Brains to the safety of the bunker.

The landing had gone smoothly. They'd run a diagnostics check on Thunderbird Two and had discovered no damage.

"Great bit of flying, John," Gordon congratulated him.

"Virgil had better watch out. He might have some competition."

"No thanks, Alan. This is going to be my only attempt at long distance piloting."

Chuckling to himself John ended the transmission. He then realised that Thunderbird Five was rather chilly and that his clammy uniform was sticking to him unpleasantly. Before heading back to his quarters to get changed he glanced at the monitor that still showed the view from Virgil's watch. His blood ran cold.

"Thunderbird Five to Base."

Jeff was overseeing the inspection and loading of Thunderbird Two. At a beeping sound coming from his back pocket he pulled out his wallet. He turned to a photo of John.

"Go ahead."

John looked agitated. "I'm getting a different picture from Virgil's telecom."

"Which is?"

"It looks like it's underwater!"

Virgil heaved himself over the top of the ladder and would have gladly lain on the floor recuperating if it hadn't been for Scott following close behind. He reached out and grabbed his brother's shirt.

"Nearly there, Scott. Climb two more rungs. That's it. Your knee's level with the floor. Swing round. Made it!"

"Where's a wall?" Scott gasped. "I want to get well away from the hole."

"Back up," Virgil said. "A little bit more..."

Scott found the wall and rested with his back pressed against it. "You sure that wasn't closer to 300 feet? It sure seemed like it."

"It was actually closer to 50," Virgil said. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Are you?"

"I'll live," was the cryptic reply.

"So where do we go from here."

"Stay put. I'll have a look around."

Virgil stood. The room spun alarmingly and he leant against the wall for support.

"I don't hear you moving."

"Just getting my bearings." The room stopped spinning and swayed gently. Virgil resolved to keep his good hand braced against the wall as he moved around.

He made his way towards a steel door set into the steel wall. It was locked. No amount of pushing could open it. Virgil swore quietly.

"I heard that."

"So, tell Father," Virgil challenged. "I think I've got a good excuse." He looked up. In the ceiling was a grill, bolted to the wall eight feet above his head. A single bulb burned behind its protective cage. The walls leading up to the grill were smooth; there was no chance of any handgrips here. Above the grill the ventilation shaft continued onwards and upwards.

With a feeling of dread he got to his knees crawled back to the hole through which they'd just come. Way down below he could see water racing down the corridor dragging bits of debris along with it. Even if they could negotiate the ladder back down again, there was no way they'd be able to remain upright in that raging torrent.

His good arm, spent after the long climb, collapsed and he landed heavily on his broken arm. He groaned in pain.

"Virgil!?" Scott's anxious voice penetrated the fog that seemed to settle on his brain. "Virgil! Are you alright?"

Virgil dragged himself to his knees and managed to 'walk' the short distance between the ladder and Scott. "No. I'm not alright!"

"Your arm..."

The room was starting to go hazy. Scott's voice was disappearing into the distance. Virgil lay down on the floor so that his feet were rested on the wall, giving the blood a chance to rush back to his head. "I'm sorry, Scott." he said despondently.

"Sorry? Sorry for what?"

"Sorry for failing you. For failing our family."

"Virgil. It's not your fault. None of this is. We all know the risks, and occasionally we get caught. You can't blame..." Scott reached out blindly to lay a comforting hand on his brother. What he felt brought him up short. "Virgil! Your hand! Can you feel it?"

"No," Virgil sounded as if he was past caring.

"It's cold!" Scott felt his way up the hand until he reached the wrist. "I can't get a pulse! Perhaps the splint is too tight, I'm going to loosen it." He found the valve and released the air that was cushioning the break. Once again his fingers found the point where the radial artery should have been pounding in his brothers arm. There was nothing. The hand remained lifeless. Once again he felt his way up to the site of the fracture. He heard Virgil inhale sharply as he reached the break. The bone was clearly out of alignment and was probably blocking the vital blood supply to the hand.

Scott was really worried now. He hadn't given up hope that they would be rescued, but knew that if Virgil didn't receive medical help soon then without it's life-giving blood supply, the arm would die anyway. "I'm sorry, Virg. I know this isn't standard first aid but..." Before Virgil was able to say anything, Scott pulled on the injured limb. He heard Virgil moan and felt his body go limp.

It took some force, but somehow Scott managed to get the bones back into alignment, before re-inflating the splint. That task completed he sat back a moment to try and get his pounding heart back down to something resembling normalcy. He knew what he'd just done had been risky and the odds of success were remote, but the thought of doing nothing didn't bear contemplation. Either it had worked, or he'd just killed the arm himself. He was almost frightened at the thought of trying to locate the pulse again, but steeled himself and reached out to where he thought it would be.

At first his fingers came into contact with the cold floor, then moving them forward he touched the material of Virgil's sleeve. Hesitantly Scott moved his hand down the arm until it came in contact with bare skin. It was warm. Breathing a little easier Scott found the junction of the wrist and hand at the base of the thumb. He was more than a little relieved to feel the pulsating rhythm that signified that the life-giving blood was getting past the fracture site.

"You're gonna be okay, Virg," he breathed, then checked himself. "Virgil? Can you hear me?"

The only sounds he could hear were that of his brother's shallow breathing and the never-ending flow of water crawling inexorably up towards the ventilation shaft.

"Virgil?" he said again and reached out, finding first a shoulder and then Virgil's face. He could feel that the right side of the face was relatively unscathed, but that the left was a mess of cuts and grazes. "Virgil! You're hurt!" As he explored Virgil's temple he pulled away sharply. His fingers were wet and he knew it was blood. "Oh, Virgil - why didn't you tell me?"

Scott felt alone. He was blind, trapped, facing almost certain death and unable to help his younger brother who was possibly in need of urgent medical care. For the first time in his life, Scott Tracy knew the taste of fear and fought against the unfamiliar feeling of panic that threatened to engulf him.

Keep calm, he told himself. You've gotta keep calm. For Virgil's sake.

"C'mon Virgil! Speak to me! Please! - Please say something! - Virgil!"

The name came out as a yell.

Thirteen

In his role as commander of International Rescue, Jeff Tracy had had to endure many stressful moments. If I listed them all, he thought grimly, this one would be at the top of the list.

It had been just over 30 minutes since Alan and Gordon had set out in Thunderbird Two. Thirty minutes since he'd last seen any of his sons. Three of them he was sure of seeing again, but the other two...?

He automatically took a sip at his coffee without noticing that it was cold. He jumped when he heard a voice. "More coffee, Mr. Tracy?"

"Kyrano!"

"I am sorry, Mr. Tracy. I did not wish to frighten you."

"I know, Kyrano. I'm just a bit jumpy at the moment."

"I understand. Your boys, they will be alright."

It was a simple statement, said with simple faith. Kyrano was a simple man in tastes, but his mind was as sharp as any of the knives he used in the kitchen, and Jeff appreciated the emotional support that his friend was offering him.

"I sure hope you're right, Kyrano."

"Mister Scott, Mister Virgil. They have been in trouble before and have survived. This time will not be any different."

"But this time is different. With Scott's eyesight gone..."

"He will have the eyes of his brother, but still his mind will be his own. He will think to save Mister Virgil and Mister Virgil will see to save Mister Scott. They will not fail each other."

Jeff grinned "You're right, Kyrano. Those two always were a team, even when they were kids. In a strange sort of way I'm kind of glad it was them. All my boys are close, more so since we started International Rescue, but Scott and Virgil are almost telepathic."

"You agree with me. They will work together for each other, not for themselves. And they will survive."

"I just wish I knew what had happened to Virgil's communicator. It's been over two and a half hours since we heard anything."

They both jumped when an unexpected voice intruded. It was John.

"I've just been talking to Gordon, Dad. They're making good time. They should be there within 35 minutes."

"Good, John. Let me know of any updates, and keep trying Virgil's communicator."

"I have been. I've had no luck so far though."

"Doesn't matter. Keep trying."

"Yes, Sir."

Gordon and Alan were quiet. They were both feeling the strain of the worry that came from not knowing how their two brothers were. Gordon bore the additional strain of piloting Thunderbird Two.

Brains and Tin-Tin were in the sickbay, ensuring that everything was ready for when Scott came on board... and hoping that Scott's burns would be the only treatment that would be needed.

"How long before we get there?" Alan asked for the hundredth time.

"About 32.5 minutes."

"How long since we heard from them?

"Alan!" Gordon said in exasperation.

"Sorry, Gordon. I just don't like not being able to do anything." "Yeah, I know. Just sit tight, as soon as we get there, we'll retrieve The Mole and then we'll find them."

"How? Have you given that any thought? They could be anywhere in that maze. Assuming that they've been trying to find an exit and escape the water."

"And if something happened to Virgil - Scott wouldn't be able escape alone..."

"Don't! They'll both be okay. They've got to be."

"Of course they will be, Alan."

Alan sat for a moment in quiet contemplation. "You know, Gordon, of all the senses, the one I'd most hate to lose would be my sight."

"Yeah. If you were deaf you could still pilot a Thunderbird, Brains could rig up some kind of communication device..."

"Is it possible to lose your sense of touch?"

"Paralysis, maybe?"

"I wouldn't like that either."

"I could live without my sense of smell," Gordon said.

"Never smelling the scent of the ocean, of Grandma's freshly baked brownies, or damp wet-suits?"

"Okay, so I wouldn't like it, but I could live with it."

"Taste?"

"Unpleasant, but liveable."

"But if we were blind... if Scott's blindness is permanent... we'd be useless to International Rescue!"

"They'd think of something we could do." Gordon glanced at the compass and made a slight adjustment.

"But it wouldn't be what we were really good at would it?"

Their morbid conversation was interrupted by John. "How's it going fellas?"

"We've got a tail wind and we're making good time," Gordon said.

"Have you heard anything yet?" Alan was standing at Gordon's shoulder.

"Negative. I keep trying Virgil's communicator, but I'm pretty sure I'm wasting my time. They would have made contact by now if it was still usable. Still at least I feel I'm doing something."

"How's everyone back at base?" Alan asked.

"I've just been talking to Dad and Kyrano. I guess they're giving each other moral support. I don't know about Grandma though. How was she when you guys left."

"Oh, you know Grandma," Gordon said. "She was being the rock of the family."

"How was Dad when you left?"

"Same as he always is when one of us gets into trouble. We left him alone to work through the guilt trip and he cheered up a little when Brains came up with this plan."

"And the others? Let me guess Tin-Tin was sobbing into Alan's shoulder?"

Alan, standing behind he pilot's seat so that Gordon couldn't see him, stuck out his tongue John's video image. "If you must know she was crying into Grandma's."

"After sobbing into Alan's shoulder," Gordon added

"And Brains was thinking up a plan, and Kyrano was boiling the kettle, right?"

"Right. I wonder if they realise how predictable they all are." Despite the seriousness of it all Gordon was chuckling.

"I guess they've had plenty of practise," Alan said. "We will keep on getting into trouble."

"It's one of the 'joys' of being a member of International Rescue," John said. "Okay, talking predictability, we know that Scott and Virgil are alright. Right!"

"Right!" Gordon and Alan both agreed emphatically.

"Right. So what are THEY doing at the moment?"

"Scott will be ordering Virgil about," Alan said. "Telling him what they need to escape, where it can be got from and how it's to be used."

"Virgil will be describing their surroundings, in his artistic way 'The colour of the fire that's about to engulf us is the same as Thunderbird Three when she launches into the setting sun.'"

Alan hit Gordon lightly on the arm. "If he hears you talking like that he won't be impressed."

"But Scott will be lapping it up," John commented. "The more information he gets the better he'll be able to assess the situation."

"And Virgil will be doing most of the work, probably while thinking up a tune to mark the occasion," Gordon offered.

"He'll probably be carrying Scott - on Scott's orders," Alan said.

"That weight!" John gasped. "Hey - maybe that's the tune... 'He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother.'" "Last century's version or this?" Gordon asked.

"Oh, it'd have to be a Virgil version. For piano and hernia."

They laughed. For a moment their worries had gone.

"Guess I'd better get back to trying Virgil's communicator," John finally said.

"Yeah, you'd better," Gordon said. "Hey, John..."

"What?"

"Thanks for the chat. I'm sure Alan will agree with me when I say it's helped."

John's video image smiled at them. "I'll talk to you soon." And he was gone.

"How long before we get there?" Alan asked for the hundred and first time.

Fourteen

He could hear a voice in the distance. It came closer and closer. He became aware of a light that became so bright it was nearly unbearable.

"Virgil! Speak to me! Say something!" He recognised the voice, understood the words, but something in the tone sounded wrong.

"Please, Virgil, wake up! You gotta wake up! I don't want to be left here alone! I need you! I can't cope without you!"

Virgil sat up and waited until his head stopped spinning before he opened his eyes.

"Virgil, say something! Move! Do something! Let me know you're okay!"

Virgil was astounded to realise that Scott was panicking. He placed his good hand on Scott's shoulder. "It's okay, Scott. I'm here. It's alright."

"Virgil?" Scott placed his own hand on Virgil's. "You're alright. I... I thought..."

"You're shaking! Calm down, Scott. I'm fine."

"But your head..."

"My head?"

"I felt it. Your temple! It was bleeding. I didn't know how bad. I couldn't tell... Couldn't see..."

Virgil removed his hand from under Scott's and gingerly fingered his own temple. He could feel where the blood had dried and matted his hair. "It's alright, Scott," he said gently. "It was only a graze. I must have knocked it when I was looking about the room. Apart from my broken arm, I'm fine."

"Honest?"

"Honest. I promise that if I'm lying I'll never have another of Grandma's Brownies." The attempt at humour didn't have the desired effect. "I'm not going to leave you, Scott. I said it before and I'll say it again. You wouldn't leave me and I won't leave you. Remember that." He placed his hand back on Scott's shoulder.

It appeared to have the desired calming affect.

"I feel such a fool."

This statement surprised Virgil. "Why?"

"For panicking. I'm supposed to be the one who's calm in a crisis."

Virgil chuckled. "I thought we were all supposed to be that. It's part of the job description. Don't worry about it. I think anyone in your situation would be entitled to panic." He wriggled his fingers of his broken arm. "And thanks for doing whatever you did. I didn't appreciate it at the time, but my hand feels normal again." He made an abrupt movement with his hand and then cringed as a jolt of pain shot up his arm. "Well nearly normal."

"How high's the water?"

"I'll crawl over and have a look," Virgil did so, chatting reassuringly as he went. "It sounds louder." He reached the ladder and grabbed it with his good hand to steady himself as he looked over. His spirits sank. "It's reached the bottom of the ventilator shaft."

"How quickly is it rising?"

"I can't tell. It must be quite quick." Virgil shuffled back to his place beside Scott.

"Is there anything we can do?"

"I don't think so," Virgil lay down again; he was feeling light headed. "The water's rising, the door's locked, and we've got no way out! I think we've had it this time..."

"That's not like you! You've never given up before."

"I've never been in a totally hopeless situation before." Scott could hear the despondency in Virgil's voice. "I've never felt so helpless."

Scott sat for a moment in thought. "You know," he said carefully, "maybe we've been looking at this situation from the wrong angle."

Virgil had his good arm resting across his eyes. "We're trapped and we're going to die. What other angle is there?"

"We've only been concentrating on our situation from our view point. What do you think they'll be doing at home?"

"Weeeell. Father will be wondering whatever possessed him to create an organisation that puts his sons' lives at risk. Grandma will be trying to put a brave face on things. Alan will be making a beeline for the jet, so that he can get here as soon as possible, but he won't have given any thought as to what he'd do when he gets here. Gordon will be holding him back and hoping that Father will come up with a solution and then he'll be given the controls of the jet. Brains will be in his lab working on the computer trying to come up with a solution. Tin-Tin will be fighting back the tears and will be comforted by Grandma. And Kyrano will be very worried, very inscrutable and be making numerous cups of coffee! And as an extension of that John will be up in Thunderbird Five, trying to reach me on my communicator and feeling absolutely useless!"

Scott laughed. "True. And after they've done all that, what will they be doing?"

Virgil shifted the arm shielding his eyes so that he could see Scott. His older brother was 'looking' in the general direction as to where he expected the answer to his question to come from. "I don't know. You've obviously got something in mind."

"I think they'll activate Thunderbird Two's Automatic Retrieval System."

"Two's Automatic Retrieval System! But that's too dangerous."

"I think they'll consider it to be worth the risk. And it won't be too dangerous if John controls it from Thunderbird Five."

"You know what happened last time we tried that," Virgil said glumly.

"And you know Brains has put in improvements so it won't happen again," Scott reminded him.

Virgil sat up suddenly and then wished he hadn't. The spinning stopped after a moment as he felt a surge of hope pass through his system. "So they could be on their way here now!"

"Yes. How long did it take you to get here?"

"1.05 hours."

"So we'll give them 20 minutes to do what you said before, get the idea, debate its merits and get it underway. Since John will be flying Thunderbird Two remotely he'll be slower getting her home than you were, so we'll be generous and make that 1.33 hours. Then they'll have to load Two with whatever gear Brains'll think they'll need..."

"Give them quarter of an hour to do that."

"Right and then 1.17 hours to get back here, depending on whether Alan or Gordon flies her."

Virgil ran the numbers together in his head and hoped that he was thinking clearly enough to get an accurate total. "So that's roughly three hours five minutes."

"That's what I get too. So that means Thunderbird Two is about half an hour away from here."

Virgil frowned as he concentrated on confirming Scott's arithmetic. "How do you get that? I'd say we've been running around this place for about two hours."

"Agreed. So I'm taking that into account, plus the time we've been up here."

"But if we do that I think they'll be only 20 minutes into the flight."

"You were unconscious for about 20 minutes."

"Was I?" Virgil was startled by the revelation. "I guess that's one way to pass the time."

"So we've got to let them know where we are."

"And the only way we've got of doing that is to eat our edible transmitters." Scott could hear a new sound in Virgil's voice. It was hope. "Can you get yours okay?"

"I think so..." Scott felt around in a pocket. "I've got mine." He popped it into his mouth and started chewing. "Mmn, apple pie flavour. Have you got yours?"

"Yep!" There was a moment's silence as Virgil retrieved his edible transmitter. What he said next surprised Scott. "I'll kill him! As soon as I get home I'll kill the little creep!"

Scott ignored the fact that the comment was totally out of character and chuckled. "Alan or Gordon?"

"Alan!"

"What's he done now?"

"Remember how Brains said he could make our edible transmitters any flavour we wanted?"

"Yes."

"And Alan wanted to test him..."

."..So he said orange, beetroot and liver flavour. And Brains showed he has a sense of humour and did it..."

"Yeah. And Father made Alan keep his instead of getting a nice flavoured one."

"I remember. So..."

"So! He's only gone and swapped mine with one of his!"

Scott was speechless. Part of him wanted to laugh at the thought and part of him realised the seriousness of the situation.

"It's gonna taste terrible."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to have to eat it aren't I. Otherwise everyone will think I'm dead or something."

"And you can't swallow it whole. It has to be chewed to activate it."

"I'll kill him!"

"You might have to beat Father to the punch."

Virgil nearly gagged as he chewed on the transmitter. "I'll kill him!"

"Okay! I get the idea! You're going to kill him. But you'll never be able to do it one handed. Tell you what, as soon as we get home, I'll hold him down and then you can kill him."

At last Virgil saw some humour in the situation. "You're on!"

"And while we're waiting for them you can be planning just how you're going to do it."

"Something messy."

"Oh!" Scott sounded surprised "I thought you'd at least try to dream up something artistic, something with flair..."

John was alerted by a signal from his main console. What he saw elevated his spirits. He quickly activated the communication links between Thunderbirds Five, Two and base. "Dad! - Scott's edible transmitter is sending a signal! - And there's Alan's! ... Alan's?"

Alan backed away so that he was no longer visible in the video link between Thunderbird Two, Thunderbird Five and base. He turned scarlet.

Gordon turned to look at him. "You didn't! He's gonna kill you!"

"I-I thought he'd check it when he put his uniform into the wash."

"Alan!" Jeff's voice had a no nonsense tone and belied the relief that he was feeling. "I'll want to speak with you when you get home."

"Yes, Sir." Alan had a feeling it wouldn't be an agreeable conversation.

"That's if Dad doesn't kill you first!" Gordon couldn't keep the humour out of his voice.

"Thanks!" Alan said sarcastically.

Virgil and Scott hadn't spoken for a while. Virgil was humming a tune to himself, trying to keep his mind off his churning stomach.

"That's a neat tune," Scott said. "Did you make it up?"

"Yeah, just now."

"Well when we get home, record it. I'd like a copy."

"Before or after I get my revenge on Alan."

"Are you still going on about that?"

"Yes! His transmitter's made me feel sick." At Scott's laughter Virgil grimaced. "I do. I feel ill!"

Scott stopped laughing. "Really?"

"Really."

"How bad?"

"Not bad. Just enough to be annoying."

"What flavour transmitter were you supposed to have?"

"Chocolate," Virgil said sadly. "And instead I end up with orange, beetroot and liver." Then he cheered up slightly. "I do have some good news though." "I'd love to here some good news around about now," Scott said firmly.

"At least the lights have stayed on throughout all this."

"Lucky you."

There was a sizzling sound.

"Let me guess?" Scott stated. "The lights just went out?"

"Uh-huh." Virgil was now getting some idea of what Scott had been going through for the last five or so hours. He found a pocket and reached inside, his fingers closing around a flat strip.

All the Tracy boys hated this particular piece of equipment. A strip of luminescent plastic, that when exposed to skin temperature would glow. It wasn't a good light, but bright enough that you could see what your hands were doing. Its big drawback was that it was designed to stick to the forehead, leaving the hands free, and removing it was nearly as bad as removing duct tape. Reluctantly Virgil attached it to his head, realising that his scratches and grazes would make it doubly uncomfortable to remove. He settled back again miserably. "The day's just going from bad to worse."

"Have you got your headlamp on?" Scott asked him.

"Yes."

"Just the icing on the cake," Scott commented darkly. "I'll tell you one thing."

"What's that?"

"Next time someone says that a rescue is going to be easy, Alan can take Thunderbird One. I'm staying home!"

"Yeah. Me too. Gordon can take Thunderbird Two."

"Right! So we both pledge that on the next easy rescue we let our brothers take our craft."

"Agreed!"

They were silent for a short time.

"The game will be over now. I wonder how the Tigers got on," Scott mused.

"The way our lucks been going they will have lost and lost big." Virgil resumed his humming. Then he stopped. He let out a quiet chuckle.

"Okay, let me in on the joke," Scott said.

"I know how I'm going to get my revenge on Alan."

"Oh, yes? Something messy?"

"Depends on how Alan reacts. It's definitely something artistic. But I'll need your help - and Gordon's."

"And Gordon's? Alan's going to be in big trouble. So what's the plan...?"

Fifteen

"W-What's th-that s-sound?"

"W-What s-sound?"

The top of the ventilation shaft had been getting steadily colder as the cold water rose up the shaft and pushed the warm air upwards. Both Scott and Virgil had started to shiver in the cold air.

"W-Water!" Scott shivered out.

"I-It's j-just... Yuck!" Virgil sat up in alarm.

"Wh-What?"

"Th-The w-water's r-r-reached th-the t-t-top of th-the sh-shaft. It r-reached m-my h-head. I-It's f-f-freezing!" Virgil had still been lying with his head to the shaft and his feet propped on the wall.

"M-M-Moving f-fast?"

"Y-Yes."

They scrambled into crouching positions to try to keep dry, huddling next to each other to try to keep warm.

Now Scott could feel the motion of the water as it lapped around his boots. "Wh-Where's Th-Thunderbird T-T-Two? Wh-Where're th-those guys?"

Virgil couldn't be bothered making the effort to answer. Why waste the energy when he knew as much as Scott did?

They had to stand.

"Ug," Scott articulated. The cold water had reached the top of their boots and was trickling over inside. Their feet were starting to go numb.

Scott realised that before long their boots would be a hindrance rather than a help. They would hold in water and drag them down when the time came to tread water. "H-Have y-you g-got an-any d-duct t-t-tape?"

"A l-l-little."

"G-Good. T-Take o-off y-your b-boots."

Virgil complied as Scott did the same. "W-Want t-t-to m-make th-them air-t-tight," Scott said.

"C-Can't one h-handed," Virgil shivered.

"G-Guide m-me."

The tops of the boots were stuck together with duct tape and then each pair of boots joined by a length of tape long enough to go around each mans chest. They were now a pair of adequate, if somewhat smelly, personal floatation devices.

"Wh-Where's y-your s-splint?" Virgil asked.

Scott felt into a pocket. "H-Here. W-Whatcha d-d-doin'?"

Virgil managed to get some duct tape through the splint before he inflated it. He attached it to Scott's boots. "E-Extra fl-flotation."

"Y-You sh-should have it! Y-You c-can't swim w-with th-that arm."

"Already g-g-got one on re-m-member! Y-You u-use it."

The water had reached their hips.

They huddled together in a hug that had less to do with brotherly love and more to do with keeping warm.

"W-what d-d-do you th-think will g-get us first?" Virgil shivered out. "H-Hypoth-thermia or th-the w-water?"

"I h-hope it's th-the hypo-thermia," Scott replied through chattering teeth "D-Don't par-ticular-ly f-fancy d-d-drowning."

The water was up to their chests. They were in serious trouble and they both knew it. Their core body temperatures were dropping.

Virgil was the first to stop shivering. A bad sign. A drop of the core body temperature by 2 degrees was signalled by the cessation of shivering. This was the point where brain function would start to slow down. He knew it and Scott knew it.

"Scott," he said slowly leaning against the wall.

"Y-Yeah, V-Virg."

"If I don' make it 'n you do. Tell ev'ryone I love 'em."

"Hey don' talk like that!" Scott said in alarm. "You said you wouldn' leave me." He'd stopped shivering too. "Bu' jus' in case... you do same fo' me. 'kay?"

"'kay."

"'nd if we ge' ou' alive. We 'ell 'em ourselve. Deal?"

"Deal!"

Virgil thought some more. Just thinking was becoming more and more difficult, but there was something he felt he had to say. "I feel the same about you, Big Brother."

The words had come out so clearly that Scott was stunned. "Huh?" Then realisation dawned. "The feelings mutual, Virgil."

Briefly their embrace held an extra element of warmth.

And still the freezing water climbed inexorably.

Sixteen

Thunderbird Two swooped down low over the site. In the middle of Regnad Corp. they could see The Mole's trolley and the hole that showed where the tunnelling machine had started burrowing.

"Starting Mole retrieval," Gordon announced.

By the time they'd landed and rushed over to the hole The Mole had returned to the surface. Brains and Tin-Tin climbed in quickly, followed by Alan, all eager to see if there were any signs of their colleagues. Before he boarded it, Gordon scanned The Mole's exterior for any clues. What he saw brought him up short.

"Come on, Gordon!" Alan said impatiently, sticking his head out the door.

"Alan, look at this," Gordon said quietly. He reached up and wiped his fingers on the panel beside the doorway. The side furthest away from The Moles screw nose.

"What!" Alan said in annoyance. "I can't see anything, it's just water." Then he stopped as the realisation came to him. "Water! Gordon! That means that the rivers flooded and has probably filled the corridors."

"Yes," said Gordon.

"Then that could mean..."

"Yes," said Gordon sadly.

They climbed into The Mole. Alan took the drivers seat, Gordon sat at the Life-Support Systems console. Wordlessly Alan set The Mole into motion, homing in on the signals that were still radiating from his brother's edible transmitters. He remembered that one of those transmitters had technically been his and hoped that Virgil's final conscious contact with him wouldn't be an unpleasant tasting one.

Brains and Tin-Tin noticed the two Tracy men's preoccupation. "They'll be fine," Tin-Tin said hopefully trying to cheer them up. "You know Scott and Virgil. Nothing stops them."

"I hope you're right, Tin-Tin," Gordon said quietly. "We've just realised that the corridor they were in has flooded."

"H-How can you tell?" Brains asked in consternation.

Gordon explained about the water level.

"Brains?" Alan began tentatively. "Can our edible transmitters work if we're... they're... I mean... do we have to be... We're still receiving a signal... Does that mean they're still alive?"

Brains thought for a moment. "I-I don't know, Alan. I-I've never done any experiments in s-subjects where, ah, b-body functions have ceased to exist. But I b-believe they should do."

Scott and Virgil were treading water as much as their frozen limbs and frozen minds would allow. The pain was almost unbearable.

Virgil looked up. "You migh' be able reach zeiling grill."

Scott reached up and managed to hook his fingers through the grill. His fingers though were too numb to hang on and his hand slipped free. "Zo cloze," he said numbly.

Virgil was struggling to remain focused. He had to keep treading water, trying to keep warm and more importantly keep his head above water.

His headlamp was growing dimmer. A sure sign of his loss of body heat.

There was a water surge and their heads were banged against the ceiling grill before the water level dropped again. The waters began to churn, spinning them about the ventilation shaft.

"Wha' h-happenin'?" Virgil spluttered. Before he would have given his eye teeth to be able to wash the dust out of his throat. Now he was being forced to swallow more water than he could stomach.

"Wh-whirl-pool?" Scott managed to say before receiving a face full of water. The cold was really getting to him. He could feel the pain spreading through his muscles. It was only a matter of time now. Lose six degrees of core body temperature and you lost consciousness... and died.

Their boots were ripped away from them by the churning waters.

Another surge sent Virgil closer to the ceiling. This time he managed to hook his good hand through the grill. "Here Sco'!"

Scott tried to swim closer.

The churning seemed to ease off. Virgil took the opportunity to look up and, despite the numbness and pain and lack of co-ordination, managed to get a better grip. "Grab me!" He looked back at his brother.

Scott had disappeared.

"Scott!" Virgil yelled. He released his grip and began to frantically feel about beneath the water. "Scott!"

Nothing.

Not a sign.

Virgil had all but given up hope for himself, but there was no way that he was going to let his oldest brother die without a fight. He took a deep breath and ducked under the murky, freezing water.

He couldn't see anything. The cold was making his movements slow, sluggish and painful. But still he felt about blindly. Only one thought was in his mind. Scott! Where are you?

Something pressed over his face and he tried to push it away, but the cold and exhaustion overcame him and he felt himself slip away into a world of blackness and warmth...

Seventeen

Gordon sat on the seat, his head down. Water from his diving suit dripped on the floor of The Mole, but he paid it no heed. He shivered. It had been so cold out there. His diving suit had provided some protection, but he realised, although they were made to guard against colder climates, regular International Rescue uniforms would have been almost useless. As he pulled the blanket tighter about his shoulders, he felt The Mole start its backward path and reflected on the last few hours of torture that he and his family had been through.

He looked over at Alan operating The Mole's controls. His younger brothers back was rigid, a sure sign that he was trying to keep his emotions in check. He knew how close it had been.

The first thing Gordon had seen when he'd entered the water were Scott's boots taped together. It had given him hope that they were in the right place.

Then the cold of that water had made him think that maybe they were too late.

He'd pulled first Scott's and then Virgil's lifeless bodies out of the frigid waters. He'd only had enough time to note that they were both blue, so blue that it was difficult to see where their uniform ended and skin began, before they'd been taken by Brains and Tin-Tin. Much of those uniforms were discarded on the floor now, blue and yellow sashes peeking out pathetically, water oozing out and running down towards the nose of the tunnelling machine.

Cold. They were so cold.

He remembered the moment's elation he'd felt when he'd first seen then. And then he'd touched his brothers.

And they'd been so cold. His musing's were interrupted by Tin-Tin pushing a steaming hot drink into his hands. "There," she said kindly, "that'll make you feel better."

"Thanks, Tin-Tin," he mumbled.

"You're freezing!" she said in concern. "Go get into something warm and dry. The last thing your family needs now is for you to catch pneumonia."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he said sombrely. He gulped down a fair share of his drink and handed her the mug. "I can't believe how close we were."

"It's over, Gordon. Go and get changed."

"Okay, Honey. Thanks." He climbed against the gradient to the rear of The Mole before stopping to watch Brains bending over the two inert bodies, blankets concealing much of their forms. "They were so cold."

Brains looked at him, noting that that young redhead was shivering uncontrollably. "Y-You are too. Go g-get warm," he said kindly. "We'll need you to fly Th-Thunderbird Two." He began to unwrap the sodden bandages that covered the upper part of Scott's face.

Gordon decided that there were some things that he didn't have the strength to face at the moment. He walked through into the storage bay and changed back into his uniform. When he emerged Scott's face was covered over.

There was no sign of life.

Straining against the downward slope of the floor he made his way back down to Alan. "How's it going?"

Alan didn't look at him. "We're nearly at the surface."

"Have you called home?"

"Tried. Something's happened to the radio. John knows we've got them. That's all." Alan's sentences were clipped short, keeping his emotions inside him.

"Hang in there, Alan. We'll call home as soon as we get back to Thunderbird Two. Let them know how things are."

John Tracy sat at his communications console onboard Thunderbird Five. He bit his thumbnail nervously. Found! They'd been found! Scott and Virgil had been found! But how were they? Alive? Dead? Could he call base with such little information? Should he? What had happened to the radio? Had something even worse happened?

He gave up on his deliberations and opened up the link with home. "Thunderbird Five to Base."

His father's face appeared on the screen almost instantly. It was grey and lined with worry. "John! Any news?"

"They've found them both," John began with and saw his father's face begin to relax. Then it tightened again.

"How are they?"

"I don't know, Dad. I've lost contact with The Mole."

"You've lost..." Jeff lost the feeling to his legs and sat down heavily. "Why?"

"I don't know," John said helplessly. "Could be any number of things."

Jeff issued the order he'd issued many times today. "Keep trying, Son." As John's portrait reverted back to its normal form Jeff placed his elbows on his desk and pressed his face into his hands. Could today get any worse? Had it?

The Mole was back on its trolley and heading back towards the gaping maw of Thunderbird Two's pod. It passed from the warmth of this sun into the chill of the shadows. As it tilted sharply to climb the ramp into the pod a groan was heard from the rear of the vehicle...

Eighteen

He was in a world of blackness. No light, no shapes, the odd sound, but nothing to tell him where he was, or what was happening around him. He couldn't move his arms, couldn't open his eyes. He was cold, so cold. So cold he felt as if his very bones had frozen solid. Maybe that was why he couldn't move.

He heard a voice. A voice in the distance calling him, beckoning him nearer. He struggled towards that voice, somehow knowing that it represented safety.

He became aware that the voice was calling his name...

"Scott. Can you hear me Scott?"

Gordon! Was it Gordon? Yes! Gordon was calling him. Good old Gordon wouldn't let him down. He opened his mouth to let Gordon know that he could hear him, but no sounds came out.

"He's c-coming round!"

Brains? Was that's Brains' voice? If anyone could think of a way of rescuing him from wherever he was it was Brains.

"Come on, Scott. Say something!"

Alan! Alan was here too. Family and friends were nearby. It felt good. But he felt there was someone missing. Someone he had to find. But who?

He struggled to move.

"Don't fight the blankets, Scott," a feminine voice said.

Tin-Tin! It felt so good to hear her voice.

"We'll l-loosen them a bit." That was Brains again.

He could move his arms. He raised one to his head and all conscious thought seemed to coming rushing back. "W-Where am I?"

He heard a collective sigh. "You're in The Mole, Scott." Gordon's voice was accompanied by a touch on his arm.

"Why's it so dark?" Scott asked thickly.

"Your eyes are b-bandaged," Brains said quietly. "You were c-caught in an explosion, r-remember?"

Scott felt the bandages. "Oh yeah." He shivered. "What's happened to the heating?"

"We've got it on full," Alan's voice said. "If we turn it up any more we'll all cook!"

"Put your arm back under the blanket," Tin-Tin said. "You'll be warmer then." Scott allowed her to place it back under the thermostatically controlled blanket. "Do you feel up to having a warm drink?"

"Yes," he said weakly and was assisted into a semi-sitting position as a cup of warm sweet liquid was held to his lips. He drank what he could before being laid back down again.

He lay there a moment trying to recollect what had happened to get him into this situation. He still had a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something, or someone, important.

"We'd better radio base," Alan's said. "Let them know how they are."

"After w-we've got them into Th-Thunderbird Two," Brains advised.

Scott heard the door to The Mole open. Last time he'd heard that sound they'd been about to set out on a rescue. A rescue at Regnad Corp. He'd been with...

"Virgil!" Scott sat up suddenly. "Where's Virgil?"

"Shush, Scott." It was Tin-Tin's voice, but he had a feeling it was Gordon's hands encouraging him to lie back down again.

"Gordon!" Scott submitted weakly. "Where's Virgil?"

"He's here with us." Something in Gordon's voice didn't sound right to Scott. "Just lie back and keep warm."

"H-How is he?"

"Don't worry. Just..."

"Gordon!" Scott was in full command mode. "How is he?"

"He's still unconscious, Scott. He was so cold when I pulled him out of the water. You both were."

"Is he going to be alright?"

"Brains thinks so. He's started shivering so he's warming up. It's like an earthquake going on in his cot. What happened to his arm?"

"He fell. It was when he lost the communicator. He didn't realise he'd lost it until he got back to the top."

"Okay, Scott. Just relax. You can give us a full debriefing later. Now we want to get you into Thunderbird Two's sickbay."

Scott felt himself being lifted and carried on a stretcher out of The Mole and into Thunderbird Two's lift. The ride up to the sickbay was smooth and soon Tin-Tin was tucking him into one of the cots. He was starting to feel warmer now.

"How's it going, Scott?" he heard Alan say as Virgil was brought into the sickbay.

"I'll be better once I know he's conscious." As if in response Scott heard a groan from off to his left. "Virgil?"

"C'mon, Virgil, open your eyes," Gordon said.

"Yeah, Virgil. Say something," Alan added hopefully.

Virgil started coughing up water. Tin-Tin grabbed a bowl for him. "Don't let him roll onto his back!" she ordered.

"You know, I've never been so glad to listen to someone being sick," Scott commented. "It's probably Alan's edible transmitter that did it. He said it made him feel ill."

Alan turned red.

"W-Well he hasn't got to w-worry about it now," Brains said. He took the bowl away and knelt next to Virgil's head. "H-How do you feel, Virgil?"

"Brains," Virgil groaned, his eyes still closed. "Can't you let me die in peace?"

"My dear V-Virgil. I have no intention of l-letting you die."

Virgil squinted at him briefly with a half smile, "Thanks." He closed his eyes again in pain, before he once again began vomiting.

Brains was a little slow getting the bowl back up.

"Yuck," Gordon commented.

"Alan had better be responsible for cleaning out Thunderbird Two," Scott ordered.

"I don't believe this! Incapacitated and Scott's still ordering us about," was Alan's only reply.

Virgil's retching ceased. "Scott? Is that you? Are you alright?"

"I think I'm in better shape than you at the moment."

Brains stood up. "Tin-Tin. Do what you c-can about c-cleaning him up," he instructed. "I-I'm going to t-talk to Mr. Tracy."

Gordon followed him to the door. "I'll come with you, Brains. Time we got this show on the road. Are you okay with getting Mobile Control and Thunderbird One sorted, Alan?"

"Not a problem," Alan replied.

In Thunderbird Two's cockpit Gordon opened the link to Thunderbird Five. He couldn't help but smile when he saw the relief on John's face.

"What happened to you guys?" John asked.

"Put me through to Dad and stay on the line," Gordon instructed. "No point in repeating ourselves."

"F-A-B."

Jeff's relief at seeing Gordon was palpable. "Virgil and Scott..."

"They're both alive. Both injured but alive. You know about Scott, but Virgil's broken his left forearm. Brains is here, he'll give you the run down."

Brains' image replaced Gordon's. "M-Mr. Tracy. I believe both V-Virgil and S-Scott require specialist treatment. Scott for his b-burns and eyes, and Virgil has s-serious s-soft tissue damage at the site of the break. Both have hypothermia. I-I'd like to recommend that Thunderbird Two head straight to Saint Michael's Hospital."

Jeff's face expressed concern. He'd been looking forward to seeing all his family again, no matter how briefly. "How are you going to explain Thunderbird Two, Brains?"

"I-I believe we should keep as close to the t-truth as possible. The b-boys were examining a g-generator on Tracy Island when it exploded. Virgil f-fell rescuing Scott. They were b-both trapped in a cave with an underground stream and nearly drowned."

"Drowned!"

"We'll explain later, Dad," Gordon chimed in.

"B-Being so far from conventional rescue services and m-medical care, y-you decided to c-call in International Rescue, who rescued them both from the cave and took them st-straight to the hospital. St Michael's has an excellent burns and opthalmology unit and is c-close to home. We've r-removed their clothing, so there's n-nothing to link them to I-International Rescue. If you leave in 15 minutes, you'll arrive a reasonable time after Th-Thunderbird Two. Tin-Tin and I will t-take care of the transfer and Gordon's identity can remain secret. He can fly home in Thunderbird T-Two, meet up with Alan and then fly to the hospital, having been c-called home after being away on b-business."

"You've thought of everything, Brains," Jeff said with gratitude. He knew that both Brains and Tin-Tin regarded all the Tracy's as family and also knew that they were sacrificing any chance of visiting the hospital. "Thank you."

"J-Just doing my job, Mr. Tracy."

"It's more than that and you know it, Brains. The whole family appreciates what you're doing. You got that, Gordon? We'll meet you at the hospital."

"Right, Dad. See you soon. Out." He turned to Brains. "You'd better get out of those clothes," he screwed up his nose in distaste "and get into uniform."

Jeff stood up. "MOTHER!" he yelled.

"I'm right here, Jeff. No need to yell."

"Oh, sorry. Go get ready. We'll head off to the hospital to meet the boys."

"I'm already ready."

"You're already..." Jeff stared at a collection of bags at her feet. "How long are you planning on staying?"

"What do you think I've been doing these last few hours? As soon as I heard that Scott was hurt I knew he'd need hospital treatment, so I packed my bag so I can visit him. I knew he'd need a few things, so I packed a bag for him. When we lost contact with Virgil I thought he might end up in hospital, so I packed his bag."

"That's three." There were seven bags at her feet.

"Well Gordon, Alan, and John are going to want to visit..."

"John!" Jeff started to protest.

She folded her arms. "Now don't tell me you were going to leave that poor boy all alone in Thunderbird Five while his two brothers are in hospital," she said sternly.

"But International Rescue..."

"Will be out of action for a day or so anyway, if we're all at St Michael's. He may as well be here with us."

Jeff sighed his grudging acknowledgement. "Fine. But who's going to get him? Alan?"

"Why not. The boy's a trained astronaut. He's put in more time in Thunderbird Three than any of the others. He's even got more space time than you, Jeff."

"But we always double crew Thunderbird Three."

"Then he can wait until Gordon gets back in Thunderbird Two... or you can wait until he arrives back and go with him yourself."

"No I'm needed at the hospital now," Jeff grudgingly had to admit that his mother was right. "But you've got one bag extra."

"It's yours. I knew you'd never find time to pack. You'd just grab a few things and throw them into the bag. You'd get there and they'd be all creased and you wouldn't have what you wanted anyway. You've always been the same. Lucille always had to pack for you, and that was on top of packing for your five sons. I swear that if the Space Agency didn't have someone looking after all your gear you would have left your spacesuit back on Earth! I know you, Jeff Tracy."

"Mother!" Jeff protested.

"In everything else you are orderly, methodical and neat, but when it comes to packing you're a typical man. No idea!"

"Mother!" Jeff protested again.

"So I got together the things you'll need so that you can worry about your boys and forget everything else."

"Mother. Why are you hassling me like this?"

She looked at her watch. "Well that's five out of the fifteen minutes gone..."

Jeff chuckled and kissed her on the cheek. "You're a treasure, Mother."

Nineteen

The waiting at the hospital was nearly as bad as the waiting they'd endured at home. Jeff and his mother had been shown to a room as soon as they'd arrived at St Michael's Hospital. They'd been there ever since. At one point they'd stood up expectantly as the door had burst open, but it was only Alan, Gordon, and John.

"Any word?" John had asked anxiously.

"They're both in surgery. We're still waiting," Jeff had said.

And still they waited.

Eventually a man entered the room. "Mr. Tracy?"

"Yes." Jeff stood hastily. His mother rose more slowly and put her arm around his waist protectively.

"My name is Mr. Frank. I've been treating Scott's burns..."

"Is he alright?" Jeff asked urgently.

The surgeon smiled. "He should be fine. I don't know what International Rescue put into their burn medication but it did the trick. None of the burns are too deep. It's almost as if they'd been treated as soon as the accident happened. He'll need a little more work, but there shouldn't be any long term scarring."

Grandma Tracy felt her son relax slightly.

"What about his eyesight?" John asked.

Jeff stiffened again. He'd forgotten about the damage to Scott's eyes in the relief he'd felt upon hearing that his eldest would be okay.

The surgeon's smile faded slightly. "That's not my department, the ophthalmologist will be in shortly to appraise you of..." The door opened again and another white-coated figure entered. "Ah, here he is now. Mr. Tracy, this is Mr. Read."

Jeff shook the opthalmologist's hand. "How..."

"It's too early to say. He has severe retinal burning. Sometimes patients with this condition make a full recovery, others..."

Jeff sat down as his legs turned to jelly. "When will we know?"

"We'll give it a week. They'll heal better in total darkness, so we won't uncover them till then. We should have a good idea as to whether healing will be total by then. We've moved him to Recovery. You should be there when he wakes, it'll be very disorientating for him and I don't want him panicking unnecessarily."

Despite their worries the Tracy's grinned to themselves. The idea of Scott Tracy panicking was unthinkable!

"Please follow me," Mr. Read turned to go.

"What about Virgil?" Gordon asked.

The surgeon turned back. "Who?"

"Scott's... Our brother. He was injured at the same time," Alan explained.

Mr Read frowned. "I haven't heard anything about him. Was he burnt too?" He turned to his colleague.

"No. He broke his arm saving Scott. He had hypothermia too," Gordon said.

"I'm sorry. I'll get one of the nurses to find out. In the meantime..." he ushered them out of the room.

Scott was lying in a temporary bed when they reached him. Gordon was reminded irresistibly of how still he'd been when he'd dragged him out of that freezing water.

Jeff went to his son's side and took up a hand. "Scott?"

"That's good," Mr. Read said. "Talk to him. Let him know you are here."

Jeff tried again. "Scott. Can you hear me, Son?"

"Come on, Scotty," John said. "Come back to us."

Scott moved slightly.

"That's it, Scott," Jeff encouraged him. "You're going to be alright."

Scott made a sound that could have been him trying to speak.

Jeff lent closer. "What's that, Son?"

"M-My eyes. Can't see," Scott mumbled.

"I know," Jeff said soothingly. "They're bandaged. It's going to be dark for a while."

"D-Dad?"

"It's me son. I'm here. The whole family's here."

Scott revolved his head as if he were trying to catch a sound. "V-Virgil?"

"No, he's not. He's being looked after. He was injured too, remember?"

"Yeah... Injured too. We couldn't get to Thunderbird Two..."

Jeff looked worried.

The surgeon misinterpreted the expression. "Don't worry, Mr. Tracy. The painkillers have made him a little confused. He's probably mixing up his memories. When they wear off he'll be more lucid."

Till then Jeff decided that he'd better play it safe. "Just lie quietly, Scott. Everything's going to be okay..."

Virgil lay in his hospital bed and stared at the ceiling. He felt sore and he felt alone - he'd never felt so alone. He'd promised Scott that he wouldn't leave him and now that they'd reached safety he'd been forced away from his brother. He hoped that someone was with Scott. He wished he knew how Scott was. None of the nursing staff seemed to know, although they all knew that both brothers had arrived in an International Rescue craft. The knowledge had made him a minor celebrity.

Virgil looked down at his arm. How long had he been in surgery? He thought someone had mentioned a number of hours, but his thought processes hadn't been clear enough to take it in at the time. A drip drained into his other arm. He could see cuts and scratches about much of his upper body. He felt so sore...

Surely the entire family weren't sitting with Scott. One of them could come and sit with him, keep him company. Maybe they hadn't reached the hospital yet? No. He knew which hospital he was in and knew it was close to home. They could get to it in under an hour in the family jet. Virgil was now not only feeling sore physically; he was also feeling a little sore with his family for abandoning him.

The door opened. Jeff Tracy came striding into the room, closely followed by Virgil's surgeon, Dr Carlow. "I'm sorry, Son. They've only just told us you were out of surgery."

"I was side-tracked by a minor emergency," the doctor explained. "How're you feeling?"

"Sore," Virgil said honestly.

"That's understandable. What can you remember about your accident?"

"My - My accident?" Virgil looked to his father for guidance.

"You and Scott were checking the generator at home, remember," Jeff said helpfully.

"Oh, yeah. We were checking the generator when it exploded," Virgil said carefully, hoping that his story was going to follow the 'official' one the family was spreading. "It caught Scott in the face. I tried to get him back home, but managed to fall down and break my arm... How is Scott?"

"He's going to be fine," Jeff said reassuringly. "His burns are going to heal up just fine."

"And his eyes?"

"The surgeon is pretty positive..." To Virgil's ears his father didn't sound too convinced.

"How positive is pretty positive?" Virgil pressed the point.

"There's always a chance..." Jeff said slowly.

"So what do you remember of your own accident?" Dr Carlow asked.

"Um..." Virgil didn't want to say anything that would concern his doctor. Too much and his story may differ from the families version. Too little and the thought might be that he'd suffered some kind of head trauma in his fall. "It's a little hazy. I fell down. I remember water and being very cold. When I came to I was in some kind of plane, being sick. They tell me it was a Thunderbird craft," he continued ruefully, "and I didn't even realise."

"You both fell into the cave with the subterranean stream," Jeff told him. "The only way we could get you out and get you to hospital was to call International Rescue."

"We'll keep you in overnight for observation," Dr Carlow said. "You should be able to go home tomorrow."

"Great," Virgil sounded pleased. He hated hospitals.

"I've got other patients I've got to check up on," the doctor said. "I'll come back shortly and check up on you. Rest, Virgil."

When the doctor had left the room Virgil turned his head to his father. "I think you'd better give me a cheat sheet on what happened in my 'accident.'"

Jeff chuckled. "You did just fine. How much do you remember really?"

"Every painful detail, except the actual rescue."

Jeff smiled at him gently. "Don't worry about the story. You know the basics. Anything that happened to you before you were rescued, only you and Scott know about, and any difference in your stories can be put down to Scott not being able to see and in pain."

"How is he really?" Virgil asked urgently.

"Quite good considering. They're going to keep the bandages on for a week and give his eyes a chance to heal." Jeff looked down at his middle boy. It was frightening how pale and weak his normally tanned and healthy son was looking. "I'm proud of you Virgil. It's thanks to you that Scott's got a good chance of recovering 100%."

"I didn't do anything remarkable," Virgil waved aside the compliment and then yawned. "I just did what needed to be done."

"You look tired."

"I feel it." Virgil's eyelids were growing heavy.

Jeff patted him on the shoulder. "Get some rest. I'll come back later, or else I'll send someone else along."

"Mmn. Sounds good." Virgil settled down to sleep.

Jeff sat for a moment watching him. Just as he thought it was time to go back to Scott's room, Virgil's eyes snapped open.

"What?" Jeff asked gently.

"Promise me that you won't leave Scott alone! Not while he can't see..."

"Relax. The whole family's here. Between us we'll keep him company. Now get some sleep."

"Yes, Sir." Virgil's eyelids drooped again until he was asleep.

Twenty

Twelve hours after Scott and Virgil's admission to hospital, Jeff sent his other sons home. International Rescue had been out of action for too long. It was a view backed up by the two invalids.

"I don't need a babysitter," Scott had complained. "I'm fine. You guys are needed back at work."

When Alan, Gordon, and John had moaned about their forced departure to Virgil his reaction had been similar. "Imagine if someone were to get into trouble and we weren't available to help them. I couldn't live with the fact that someone had died because you were visiting me."

Reluctantly the three of them had bid their goodbyes and returned to the world of International Rescue.

Jeff and his mother alternated their visits between Scott and Virgil, before Jeff decided, early the following morning, that they too were needed back on Tracy Island. The decision was made reluctantly. It would mean that Scott would be left alone. It also meant leaving Virgil behind as he'd developed an infection and the hospital wouldn't release him.

"Can't we share a room?" Scott asked. "I mean, I don't need company, but it would be nice... for both of us."

Scott's doctor said no emphatically.

"Can't we share a room?" Virgil asked. "Scott shouldn't be left alone and I wouldn't mind the company."

Virgil's doctor said no emphatically.

Both Tracy boys were left alone in their rooms.

It wasn't long afterwards that Virgil found his way to Scott's room.

"Virg! What are you doing here?"

"Oh I got bored with my own company," Virgil said lightly.

"How'd you get here?"

"Walked! How else?"

"Does your doctor know you're here?"

"No."

Scott frowned under his bandages. "Do you think that's wise?"

"Are you complaining?" Virgil asked. "I can always go back to my own room."

"No, stay a while. Please."

Scott heard the door open and Virgil groan quietly.

"Virgil! I thought I saw you come in here! I've got another question."

"I've told you Buddy. I can't tell you anything."

"Okay. So you can't remember the plane, but what about the people?"

"Huh?" Scott was confused.

"Buddy's an orderly," Virgil explained. "He's really interested in International Rescue. He's already interrogated me about Thunderbird... which one was it Buddy?"

"Two!" Buddy said eagerly. "What were the uniforms like? What colour?"

"Colour!" Virgil sounded exasperated. "Do you think I've got an eye for colour, or something?"

Scott grinned to himself.

"You must have seen their uniforms," Buddy persisted.

"I remember the bowl I was sick in," Virgil informed him. "That was metal."

Buddy wasn't impressed. "Did you have an impression of colour?"

Virgil sighed. "Okay," he sounded thoughtful. "I think they were blue."

Buddy grabbed a notebook and started scribbling. "What shade?"

"Shade? Oh I don't know dark blue..." Buddy added something to his notebook. Virgil started to string him along "...or was it green? No I think it was green. What do you think, Scott?"

"Oh. I thought everything was black," Scott cheerfully joined in. "Definitely black."

"You could be right," Virgil said thoughtfully. "Black!"

Buddy was writing excitedly. Then he looked at Scott and took in his bandages. Reluctantly he crossed out Scott's comments. "Can't you remember anything?"

"I'm sorry, Buddy. I told you, I can't tell you anything about International Rescue!"

Just then the door opened and a nurse came in. "Buddy! What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Nurse Stone. I was just finding out about International Rescue."

"Buddy! You know better than to annoy the patients. Now go back to work!"

With a chastened "Yes Nurse." Buddy slunk out of the room.

Nurse Stone transferred her attention to Virgil. She folded her arms and fixed him with a hard stare. "And I suppose you are Scott's brother. What's your name?"

"Virgil," Virgil supplied helpfully.

"Do your nurses know you are here, Virgil?"

"Ah, no."

"Has your doctor given you the okay to go visiting?"

Virgil sounded as chastened as Buddy had been. "No," he said quietly.

"Then don't you think you should stay in your room?"

"Does it matter?" Scott asked. "I need the company and he's still in the hospital here..."

Nurse Stone looked at Virgil. To her trained eye he didn't look well. "How'd you get here, Virgil?"

"I walked."

"Then I'll get you a wheelchair."

"I don't need a 'chair," Virgil protested.

She got a wheelchair from the corner of the room and pushed it so it was directly in front of him. "Get in!" she ordered.

"I can walk!" he persisted stubbornly.

"Until I hear your doctor say that you are allowed to get about unaided, you are going back to your room in this wheelchair!" Nurse Stone could be just as stubborn.

Virgil looked at Scott. He hated to admit it but he was feeling tired. One broken arm, a small infection and he was dead on his feet after walking two hallways! Reluctantly he moved out of the bedside chair and into the wheelchair. "I'll see you soon, Scott," he said as he was wheeled away.

"Look forward to it," Scott said unhappily.

Virgil was spared a lecture by his doctor, by virtue of the fact that he fell asleep as soon as he'd been assisted back into his bed.

Scott wasn't so lucky. Nurse Stone had told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn't to encourage Virgil. "At least until he's been given the green light by his doctor."

Five hours later, Virgil awoke feeling refreshed. Once again he managed to sneak out and down to Scott's room.

Scott refrained from comment. "I'm glad you're here, Virg. I'm going crazy with no one to talk to."

"Well I'm here now, so talk away."

Their conversation lasted only five minutes before, once again, they were found by Nurse Stone.

"Virgil!" she said exasperatedly, before getting the wheelchair again. "What will your doctor say?"

Scott was surprised when Virgil climbed in without complaining.

This time Virgil managed to stay awake long enough to get a telling off from his doctor about the need for bed rest. Ear bashing finished; he tiredly ate his evening meal and fell asleep.

Nurse Stone once again reminded Scott that Virgil was a patient too and needed to look after himself. She then took him for a walk around his ward.

Next morning, after breakfast, Virgil was back.

Scott didn't even ask if he had permission. "How'd you like to take me for a walk?"

"Sure. Where to?"

"I want to find where the exits are, in case there's an emergency."

"I think the nursing staff will look after you if there is," Virgil pointed out.

"Doesn't matter. I need to know."

"I know," Virgil sighed. He didn't really feel like going for a walk. Didn't feel like doing anything energetic, but his loyalty to Scott prevented him from saying so.

They managed to sneak past the nurse's station by walking the fire escape to the ground floor. They reached an exit and stepped out into the hot sun.

"Boy that feels good!" Scott exclaimed.

Virgil didn't comment. The heat and exertion was making him sleepy.

"I don't believe this!" An all too familiar voice was heard.

Virgil looked over his shoulder. Nurse Stone was standing there, in a disapproving pose. Despite the fact that she was out of uniform she still looked every bit the strict ward sister.

"Oh no," Scott moaned quietly, recognising her voice. "Not her again."

"What are you two doing here?" she asked firmly.

"I was showing Scott around the hospital," Virgil said sheepishly.

"Including the exits? Wait here," she said in a resigned voice. "I'll get a wheelchair."

"She has a thing about wheelchairs," Scott muttered darkly.

Nurse Stone was back a short time later. "There you are, Virgil. You look tired."

The pronouncement startled Scott. He could only picture Virgil full of energy. He'd never even considered that Virgil's desire to keep his brother company could be taking its toll.

Virgil sat in the 'chair gratefully. He was passed the stage of being embarrassed at being wheeled around.

"Here, Scott." Nurse Stone took Scott's hand and placed it on her shoulder. "I'll push the chair, and you follow."

"I can push him," Scott offered stubbornly.

"You're still my patient," she said. "You're to take it easy. I'll push him!"

They made it back to Virgil's ward easily enough. But once there they ran into a very irate Doctor Carlow.

"What is going on here?" he barked. "Nurse Stone?"

"Just returning Virgil to his room," she explained. "I found them both outside the hospital."

"Scott needed to know the layout of the building," Virgil said lamely.

"Why?" The doctor wanted to know.

"In case there was an emergency," Scott explained. "I needed to know where the exits..."

"You two are a menace to each other!" Doctor Carlow exploded. "You're not my patient Scott, but I'm going to speak to your doctor about confining you to your room. As for you, Virgil, you are going to stay in your bed if I have to strap you in!"

Scott was just about to open his mouth to say something about patient care, but his brother arrested his speech.

"Okay. I'll stay," Virgil said. "I'm sorry, Scott."

"Are you okay?" Scott asked, concerned at this submission.

"I'm feeling a little tired," Virgil admitted. "Maybe after I've had a rest the doctor will let me visit you."

A humph from Doctor Carlow made them think that that was highly unlikely.

Jeff's train of thought was disrupted by the videophone. He'd only been back on the island half a day and was trying to catch up on some paperwork. He was surprised to see the countenance of a very irate doctor.

"Mr. Tracy. You're going to have to do something about your sons!"

"What?" Jeff asked in surprise. "What have they done?"

"They are both supposed to be resting. Every time the nurses go in to check on them they've disappeared."

"Disappeared?" Jeff was confused.

"Usually it's because Virgil is visiting Scott," the doctor said slowly, as if he were explaining a difficult diagnosis to an ignorant patient.

"Well he knows that while Scott can't see..." Jeff started to say.

"And today they'd both disappeared," the doctor continued on as if Jeff hadn't interrupted him. "We found them outside. Their excuse was that Scott needed to know the layout of the hospital! He's supposed to be confined to his room!"

Jeff suppressed a grin. That was Scott! Needing to find some kind control in a situation out of his hands. And, it seemed to Jeff, to be the most natural thing in the world that Virgil was helping him. Being his brother's eyes as Kyrano had said three days ago.

But he held his tongue. "Okay, Doctor Carlow. I'll have a word with them both. Thank you for telling me."

He paused for a moment before making another call. Trying to remove the smile from his face and replace it with a more serious frown. When he was satisfied that he had his features under control he dialled a number.

The phone was answered by a pale, scarred, and bruised face, topped with an untidy mess of brown hair. "Oh hi, Father."

"Virgil. I've just had your doctor on the line."

Virgil was surprised and then concerned. "How come? Everything's all right isn't it? Is Scott..."

"Hold on. Scott's fine. The Doctor's just concerned about you wandering off. You're supposed to be confined to your bed."

Virgil sighed in exasperation. "Scott's alone in that room. I can't leave him like that. Do you know what it's like for him? Not being able to see?"

"I know it's hard for him..."

"Hard for him," Virgil sounded almost angry. "You don't know how hard it was. You didn't see him panic! I promised him that I wouldn't leave him."

"No I don't know..." Jeff started to say. Then he checked himself. "Panic?"

Virgil bit his lip. He'd promised himself that that was one bit of information that he wasn't going to share with anyone, not even his father.

"Virgil..." Jeff prompted.

"I wasn't going to mention it. It's not important."

As yet Jeff didn't have the full story as to what had happened deep underground. Things had either been too hectic with medical treatment or else too public. He'd been content to wait until both sons were home and they could have a full debriefing. But he had a feeling that this was one item that wouldn't be revealed then. "What happened, Son?" he asked gently.

"It was when we were... stuck," Virgil said slowly. Deliberately keeping things vague in case anyone was listening. "We were for all intents and purposes about to die."

Jeff caught his breath. Up till now no one had put it quite so bluntly.

Virgil continued on. "Scott realised that the blood circulation wasn't getting to my hand, so he did something about it. Straightened the bone out."

"Straightened the bone..."

"The pain knocked me out. When I came to Scott was panicking." The words were coming out faster now. "He couldn't see what was happening, thought I was badly hurt, and didn't have anyone to describe the situation to him. You can imagine what that must have been like for him."

Jeff nodded. Frustrating wouldn't have been the word.

"I'm not prepared to let him go through that again!" Virgil finished bluntly.

"I understand, Son," Jeff sympathised. "But I do know that you are still in the hospital for a reason too. You've got to rest!"

"It wouldn't be so bad if we were in the same ward," Virgil protested. "It's not like I need 24 hour care. This isn't the Intensive Care Unit. I've only broken my arm."

"You've done more than that as you well know. I know it's hard, Son. But you've got to look after yourself too. If the worst should happen and Scott..."

"Father!" Virgil warned.

"I'm only playing the devil's advocate, Virgil. I AM making myself believe that he's going to retain his sight. But if he's not, he's going to need your support more than anyone's. And you are going to have to be strong enough to give that support."

Virgil nodded reluctantly. He was looking tired; the conversation was taking it out of him.

"I'll talk to the Doctor when he's had a chance to cool down, see if you can be shifted. But in the meantime please follow his orders. And that means staying in bed! I'll give Scott a call and explain it to him."

Virgil settled back, a resigned look on his face. "Alright. I promise I won't go visiting again... today."

"Virgil!" There was a warning tone in Jeff's voice that Virgil had often heard. Except usually it was directed at Alan or Gordon, not him.

"Okay, okay. I won't go until I'm given the green light."

"I'm sorry, Son."

"Yeah. So'm I. This place is pretty borin' for me. 'magine what's like for Scott!"

"Get some sleep, Virgil. I'll call you later."

"'kay." Virgil could hardly keep his eyes open. "Night."

It was 2.15 in the afternoon.

After disconnecting his call to Virgil, Jeff hesitated a moment. He was debating whether it would be better to talk to the Doctor first about getting Scott and Virgil into the same room, or whether to go ahead and ring his eldest son. He decided to give the Doctor some more time to cool down and dialled Scott's number.

Upon his first sight of Scott he was reminded irresistibly of the stereotypical mummy from an Egyptian tomb. His face was swathed in protective bandages. "Scott. It's your father."

"Yeah I know," Scott said wryly. "I've got a pretty good idea what you sound like."

Jeff felt slightly foolish. "I'm sorry, Son. I should have realised."

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm just getting so...fed up? Frustrated? This place isn't exactly a holiday camp, and I can't do anything."

"Do you want me to send out some more music...?"

"I'm fed up with listening to music all day. I'm not like Virgil. I need to be doing something..."

"Like wandering around the hospital?"

Scott started. "You heard?"

"Virgil's doctor wasn't very pleased with either of you. Virgil's supposed to stay in his own room and rest."

"Heck. It's only Virgil's visits that are keeping me sane and I think he knows it. That thick-headed Doctor should realise it too."

"I'm sure he does, Scott. I'm sorry, but I've just been talking to your brother and he's agreed to stay in his own room until he's given the all clear."

"He agreed or you've told him!" Scott said angrily.

Jeff waited a moment for Scott to calm down. "He's agreed. He needs hospital care too. If you could see him you would know..."

"Is he that bad?" anger was replaced with concern.

"He'll be fine," Jeff tried to reassure him. "Once the infection's gone he'll be up and about again. In the meantime I could always come back. I'd be there inside an hour..."

"We've been through that," Scott protested. "The business needs you there. You're short staffed as it is." Like Virgil he was deliberately keeping the conversation vague.

"I'm sure your Grandmother would be more than happy to come and keep you company."

It was not an idea that Scott relished. As much as he loved his Grandmother, whenever one of them was injured she did have a tendency to fuss around them. A tendency which all of them found cloying. He tried to rebut the idea with humour. "And how can I try to chat up any of the nurses if my Grandmother's hanging about? No thanks, Father, I'll be fine."

"Well we're only a phone call away if you want to talk. And once I've finished here I'll have a word with Dr Carlow and see if you can't both be shifted into the same ward."

"We've already tried asking that," Scott countered. "No dice."

"Maybe I can change his mind," Jeff said. "In the meantime I'm giving you the same order I gave Virgil. Rest!"

"Yes, Sir."

Initially both Scott's and Virgil's doctors had protested that their respective patients had very different needs and would be better in their allotted wards. After some gentle persuasion by Jeff they came to realise that recovery would probably be quicker if the brothers were sharing the same room.

Scott was trying to listen to the news through his headphones when he became aware that someone else was in the room.

"Hey there, Scott."

"Virgil!" Scott could hear how tired Virgil was sounding. He removed the headphones. "What are you doing here? Father's going to hit the roof! Not to mention what crabby Nurse Stone will say if she finds you..."

"Crabby Nurse Stone knows exactly where he is." He heard the nurse's voice only too clearly.

"Oh." Scott felt foolish. "I'm sorry..."

"Your brother's been shifted into your room Scott," Nurse Stone said. "This doesn't mean that you are to keep him awake, talking. He needs to rest."

Scott was delighted. "I'm glad you're here, Virg. Virgil?"

"He's asleep," Nurse Stone told him. "Now leave him be. I'll be back in an hour to check on you both."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Scott listened as her footsteps receded. When he was sure she'd gone he tried whispering. "Virgil. Virgil!"

The only reply was the rhythmical sound of his brothers breathing.

"Some company you're going to be, Virg," Scott grumbled good-naturedly.

When Virgil awoke it took him a moment to get used to his new surroundings. "Where am... What?" He looked at the adjoining bed. "Hi, Scott," he said thickly.

"Hi there, Sleepyhead."

"Sorry. It's these pain killers."

"That's okay. I'd rather listen to you snoring than be in here alone."

Virgil levered himself tiredly into a sitting position. "What do you mean snoring?"

"You were. Hey do you know even your snoring sounds like you're playing a tune. Each breath is a different note. I should have recorded it." Scott was sounding quite cheerful.

"Well make the most of it. It the best music you're going to get out of me for a while... Still could be worse..."

"You're telling me," Scott said under his breath.

But Virgil heard him. "I'm sorry, Scott."

"What are you apologising for. If we watched every little thing we said to each other we wouldn't have anything to say to Alan."

"True," Virgil chuckled. "Hey, I was too zonked out to ask before, but how come I've been shifted."

"I dunno. Father said he was going to try to change their minds."

"Shall we give him a call?" Virgil suggested. "See how he managed it."

Moments later they were chatting with their father.

"How did you manage to swing it?" Scott asked. "We were told that there was no chance of us sharing a room."

"Money talks," Jeff said gruffly. "I promised your doctor's that I'd supply their respective departments with a new bit of equipment if they could make an exception in this case. I'm going to be out of pocket for quite a few thousand."

"Like you'll even notice," Virgil scoffed with a laugh.

"If it keeps you two happy and helps you get better quicker, it'll be money well spent."

It was shortly after they'd finished their conversation with their father that Nurse Stone came back to check on her patients. "Are you comfortable, Virgil?"

"Fine, thank you." He flashed her a tired smile.

She sent him a brief one in return before turning her attention to Scott. "And how about you, Scott?"

"Me? Oh I'm fine," he said sarcastically. "This is a real holiday. Nothing I like better than to lie flat on my back, contemplating the future."

Virgil frowned in his brother's direction but said nothing. He knew Nurse Stone knew how to handle difficult patients. He hadn't exactly been a model patient himself over the last few days.

"Now that's not the attitude to take," she scolded. "The doctor's feeling very positive about your prognosis."

"I'm glad someone is," Scott snapped.

"In fact," Nurse Stone continued on, "he's agreed that you can go for a short walk. So I'm here to take you."

"Gee thanks," the sarcastic note had returned to Scott's voice. It had always been Nurse Stone who'd caught them whenever Virgil had snuck out. She'd always given them both a thorough telling off as if they were little boys rather than grown men. He'd grown tired of the woman.

Virgil couldn't hold back. "Scott..." he started to say.

"Of course if you want to stay moulding in bed," the nurse said. "I can leave you. I've got other work I could be doing. Now are you getting out of that bed or am I leaving."

Grumbling to himself, Scott got out of bed.

She handed him something.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's a cane, so you don't bump into things," she explained.

Scott dropped the cane as if it were made of hot lead. "No way I'm using that thing!"

"I'll hold your arm and guide you. That's only so you can feel the height of steps and avoid objects."

"For Pete's sake, Scott," Virgil said in exasperation. "She's only trying to help you."

"Don't you start!" Then Scott realised who he'd just snapped at. "Sorry, Virg," he said gently.

Virgil looked at Scott and then at Nurse Stone. "Sorry," he mouthed.

She picked up the cane. "Come on, Mr. Tracy. Do you want to go for a walk or not?" She held the cane against Scott's hand so he could feel it. Grudgingly he took it.

"See you later, Scott," Virgil called as he settled back against his pillows.

"Yeah, later," Scott mumbled and then heard Virgil snoring softly. He frowned. Virgil seemed to be sleeping a heck of a lot at the moment...

Twenty One

Virgil woke up slowly. He felt as if he was treading in molasses, that everything, including his mind seemed to be moving in slow motion. I haven't felt this bad since... He couldn't think when. Couldn't seem to get his mind to function properly. He had a feeling that he'd woken for a reason and tried to remember what.

A sound from the bed beside him jolted his memory. He'd heard Scott call out. Or had he? Everything seemed so vague.

Scott tossed in his bed. "Nooo..." he moaned. "I just need some light, just a little light. Please! Don't put out the light."

Suddenly a thought struck Virgil's befuddled brain with such clarity that it hurt. Scott was having a nightmare. All the worries that were kept buried during the day were coming to the fore while his brother was asleep.

Slowly, painfully, Virgil sat up and swung his legs to the side of the bed. A wave of nausea flooded over him and he shut his eyes tightly till it passed. Then, taking a deep breath, he stood up. His brain seemed to leave him for a moment and he wondered why he was doing this. Then Scott groaned again and flung his arms up into the air as if he were warding something off.

Virgil shuffled forward, before falling heavily into the chair beside Scott's bed. His IV line caught itself around his neck and he had a brief mental image that it was a rope about to choke him, before managing to lift it over his head and out of the way.

Scott turned again roughly, his bedclothes falling to the floor. Virgil didn't have the energy to pick them up. Didn't have the energy to do anything.

"Virgil!" Scott called out.

"I'm here, Scott." Virgil was amazed that his voice was still working. He felt so dry and thirsty.

"Help me!"

"How?"

"Help me, Virgil. Shine the light this way. I don't like being in the dark."

"Scott, I don't have a light."

"Please help me," Scott was begging.

Virgil laid a hand on Scott's arm. It seemed to take a lot of effort. "I'm sorry, Scott. I don't have a light for you."

Scott seemed to relax. "You're here, Virg."

"Course I'm here."

"You didn't leave me."

"I promised I wouldn't leave you and I won't." Virgil was aware that he was having a conversation with a man who was sound asleep, but strangely didn't feel it was a ridiculous thing to do. He was also aware that he was feeling very tired himself.

"You won't leave me."

"I - promise - won't - leave..." sleep overcame Virgil and he slumped back in the chair.

Scott woke the next morning with a dull headache. He put his hand to his head and felt the ever-present bandages. Some of his dreams of the night surfaced in his mind and with an effort he pushed them away. "You awake, Virgil?"

No reply.

"Virgil?" Scott sat up. Things seemed very quiet. He became aware that he'd lost his bedclothes, as he'd done the previous couple of nights. He climbed out of his bed to find them. Feeling around the floor in his general vicinity he found nothing, so took a step forward. Something in his way sent him flying and he found himself landing on top of Virgil's bed.

It was empty.

"Where's he got to?"

Now that he was fully awake he became aware of a sound beside his own bed. The sound of shallow, rapid breathing.

"Virgil? Is that you?"

No reply.

Scott blindly reached out in the direction of the sound until his hands found something hard.

It was an arm cast.

"Virgil, what's wrong?"

Scott felt up the arm. When he reached Virgil's throat he stopped. For the second time in four days he searched for a pulse.

Like the breathing it was shallow and thready.

His hand brushed his brothers face as he pulled back. "Virgil! You're burning up!" He reached out again and felt a clammy forehead.

"Where's a nurse when you need one?" he muttered angrily as he felt about on his bed for the buzzer. His restless sleep had shifted it from where it had been the night before. "Where is it?!"

He tried yelling for a nurse. Even Nurse Stone would have been welcome.

No one came.

"Where is the damn thing?" Frantically he felt under the pillows before finally throwing them in the direction of the far wall in frustration.

He was about to attempt to try to negotiate his own way out of the room when his fingers closed around the buzzer. He pushed the button down long and hard.

It seemed like hours, although it was only minutes before he heard footsteps and the sound of the door to the room being opened.

"What's wrong...?" a female voice started saying.

"Something's wrong with Virgil. He won't wake up, he's got a temperature, his pulse is weak..." Scott felt the nurse brush past him. He grabbed at her. "You've got to help him!"

She pulled free. "I will, Scott. Let me examine him."

With an effort he forced himself to sit on the edge of the bed. He could hear the nurse moving about, but had no idea what she was doing. He heard an alarm sound in another part of the ward and then heard pounding footsteps.

"Doctor Martin..."

"What's wrong, Nurse?"

"Pulse is weak, breathing's erratic..."

Scott heard an intercom unit being switched on. "Resus. Unit to room three. Stat."

More footsteps. More voices.

"What caused it?" someone asked.

"Don't know. We'll run tests. We've got to stabilise him first."

"Will he be all right?" Scott desperately asked no one in particular.

"Get him out of here!" someone ordered.

"No! I'm not leaving!" Scott gripped the bed as he felt someone pulling gently at his arm. "I'm not leaving Virgil!"

"Come on, Scott," it was Nurse Stone. "You're not helping your brother by staying."

"He wouldn't leave me. I'm not going to leave him!"

"Scott," she insisted. "Please come with me. We're in the way here. Let them look after Virgil."

"Get that oxygen bottle over here!" someone ordered. "Where's the adrenaline?"

"Here, Doctor."

"I can't find a radial pulse," a woman's voice said.

The words scared Scott. "Virgil! Hang in there!"

"What's he still doing in here?" the Doctor practically shouted. "Get him out."

Scott could feel someone tugging at his arm again. "No! I'm not going!" He pushed out at whoever had his arm and felt them lose their grip. He heard the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, but ignored it.

Words were flying about the room and Scott strained to catch them and string them into some sort of order.

"...Oxygen..."

"...Blood pressure dropping..."

"...Sedate him..."

"...Phone his father..."

"...Give me that..."

"...Heart rate critical..."

It wasn't until he felt the sting of the hypodermic needle that Scott became aware that someone had prepared his arm for an injection. He managed to hear the words "Catch him!" before he slid off the bed and into a dreamless sleep...

Jeff Tracy uttered a mild curse when his videophone interrupted his work. The caller ID alerted him to the fact that it was the hospital ringing him.

What have those boys been up to this time? he thought irritably as he answered the call. "Jeff Tracy here."

"Mr. Tracy. I'm sorry to have to call you like this, but your son...Virgil..."

Within ten minutes Jeff Tracy was on board the family plane winging his way to the hospital at the fastest speed the jet could sustain...

Twenty Two

The videophone was ringing in the empty lounge when Tin-Tin entered. She answered it.

"Ah, good evening, Miss." Tin-Tin fought the impulse to inform the caller that it was morning. "Mr. Tracy was due to contact us for a teleconference twenty five minutes ago. We haven't heard from him. We were wondering if there was a problem."

Tin-Tin was stunned for a moment. She'd never known Jeff Tracy to willingly miss a business conference. Despite everything that had happened over the last few days, she knew that he'd remembered this meeting, as he'd got her to get some files out earlier in the morning. She thought frantically.

"I'm sorry, Sir," she eventually said. "But Mr. Tracy is unavailable at the moment. A, er, technical fault has routed your call to his home. He is unable to be reached at the moment..."

The man on the other end of the videophone sounded more than a little annoyed. "Tell Jeff Tracy, that if his communication equipment is faulty, he'd better consider spending more time in his office, rather than swanning off on his tropical paradise. You can also tell him, Young Lady, that if that is the standard of equipment that Tracy Enterprises deals with, then maybe our company will be rethinking this contract. I hope to hear from him before the day is out!" The call was abruptly terminated.

Alan had come in and heard the tail end of the conversation. "Boy. That's one fellow whose tie is too tight."

"Alan, do you know where your father is?"

"Dad? No. Why?"

"He was supposed to attend a teleconference half an hour ago."

Alan was suddenly concerned. "Was that the guy he was meeting with?" Tin-Tin nodded. "That's not like Dad to miss a meeting. Where is he?"

"I don't know, Alan, that's why I asked you."

"Maybe Grandma knows, or Gordon. She's in the kitchen, so I'll ask her. I think Gordon's down in Thunderbird Four. Give him a buzz."

Ten minutes later they were back in the lounge, along with Gordon, their Grandmother and Brains. "Any sign of him?" Alan asked.

No one had seen Jeff Tracy.

"D-Did anyone check his room?" Brains asked.

"Second place I looked before I found you," Alan informed him.

"Has he left a note?" Gordon skirted the desk. The files for the meeting were present, but nothing else. He crouched down and checked underneath. Nothing. "Maybe he's said something to John."

But John hadn't heard from his father since a conversation the day before. "Do you want me to trace his watch?"

"Don't bother," Gordon held up the item in question. "He's left it on the desk. He only takes it off so he can keep track of the time during teleconferences, so he'd remembered that this one was coming up. So where's he gone?"

"Well we're not going to find him by just standing here," Mrs. Tracy asserted.

They agreed and organised a search.

Half an hour later they were together again in the lounge. Their search of the immediate complex had drawn a blank.

"Forgive me for asking?" Kyrano said differentially. "But has anyone checked if the jet is still on the island?"

"But he wouldn't just fly off without letting anyone know," Gordon said.

"Yes, but has anyone checked?" Alan reiterated Kyrano's question. "I didn't." He looked around.

No one had.

Gordon sighed. "Alan, do you want to check? We'll try the house again."

"Okay." Alan left on his errand.

Twenty Three

Jeff Tracy grabbed his credit card from the taxi's meter. Without a further word to the driver, without even bothering to shut the door, he ran, full speed into the hospital.

He knew where Scott's room was. He headed straight there, ignoring the frowns he was receiving from staff members over his thoughtless haste.

He flung open the door to the room. His mouth went dry when he saw two empty beds.

"Mr. Tracy?"

Numb he turned to the nurse. "Oh, um, Nurse Stone..."

She smiled at him kindly. "We've got Virgil in the Resuscitation Unit. If you come with me I'll take you there."

"How is he?"

"They are working on him now." They walked the corridors quickly, but not fast enough for Jeff's liking. "Where's Scott?" he managed to force out.

"We had to sedate him, he was so upset over Virgil's collapse. They've taken the opportunity to check his burns."

"What happened?"

"To Virgil? I'm sorry, Mr. Tracy, but I don't know. I only know that Scott found him unconscious and that his blood pressure was dangerously low. I believe that they are still working on him." They were riding down a floor in the lift. She laid a comforting hand on his arm. "Don't worry. They'll do everything in their power to help him."

The lift doors opened. They walked briskly down two more corridors before coming to a waiting room. "If you'll wait here, Mr. Tracy, I'll go see if I can find anything out."

Wait. The last thing Jeff wanted to do was wait. Wait for what? To be told that his son was going to be fine? To be told that his son was dead? He went to the door and looked out. The hallway was empty. He advanced cautiously into the hall and looked around him, straining his ears to catch the faintest sound that would tell him where Virgil was.

He walked a short way to his left, examining the nameplates on each door as he went. None gave him the information he sought. He retraced his steps.

This time he was lucky. An intern came hurrying past carrying some kind of equipment. As he disappeared into a room Jeff caught the recognisable sounds of people working hard and with great urgency.

He followed the intern into the room. Through one set of doors and then another.

People dressed in white were rushing around purposefully. Commands were being given and acted upon. Monitors beeped and whined. Sophisticated medical equipment did whatever it was meant to do.

No one noticed the pale, frightened man slip into the room to observe their activities.

His eyes took in everything - oxygen, I.V.s, syringes, masks, gowns. And, lying in the middle of it all, the still form of Virgil connected up to so many machines and bits of equipment that he nearly disappeared under the importance of it all.

One doctor took up a needle and the size of it made Jeff feel sick. This couldn't be happening. Another I.V. was attached.

"B.P.'s dropping!" Through the mind numbing chatter and medical jargon a few phrases stood out clearly.

"What's caused this?"

"Could it be something International Rescue gave him?"

"They gave us a list of medication used. Nothing unusual."

"Where's those lab results? We need an antidote NOW!"

"I've lost a pulse!"

"He's arrested! We're losing him!" The words jarred Jeff and he lent against the wall for support.

"No. Don't let this happen again," he whispered. "I've lost Lucille. Don't let me lose Virgil too." His eyes drifted to the heart monitor and he watched with mounting horror as the oscillations slowed, then stopped and all that remained was a single, unbroken line.

Twenty Four

Scott's mouth was dry. His face hurt. He moaned slightly as he remembered the last nightmare. It had seemed so real... Virgil unconscious. Doctors and nurses giving orders. Being drugged. He became a little more awake and then realised with a shock that it hadn't been a dream. The reason why it had seemed so real, was that it was...

"Virgil!" he sat up anxiously hoping that his brother would reply.

"It's alright, Scott." The unwanted voice of Nurse Stone was attached to a hand that gently urged him to lie down again. "Lie back down and relax. We'll get you back into your room shortly."

"But Virgil! How is he?" Scott's mouth was so dry he felt as if he were gagging on the words.

"He's fine. Would you like something to drink?" He was aided into a sitting position and a cup of water was held to his lips. He sipped gratefully.

"What happened?" he asked when he felt he could articulate clearly.

"We had to sedate you. While you were unconscious we checked your burns. Most are healing nicely, though there are a couple that may need further treatment. Your eyes are looking better too."

Scott wasn't worried about the state of his face. He just needed to know that his brother was going to be okay, and mere words wouldn't set his mind at rest. "I want to go to him."

"Do you feel strong enough to sit in a wheelchair? If you do we'll take you out of recovery and back to your own room."

Scott practically willed himself into the 'chair.

The feelings of helplessness that filled Scott were partly due to the fact that he had no idea as to where he was and mainly because he was concerned about Virgil's condition. "What happened to him?" he asked Nurse Stone.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I'm sorry but I haven't had a chance to find out."

"Haven't had a chance or couldn't be bothered?" he asked her coldly.

She said nothing. They pushed through a set of doors.

"Scott!"

"Father! What are you doing here?"

"The hospital called me. I came straight away..."

Scott felt the wheelchair turn to the right, Nurse Stone apply the brakes and then lift up his footrests. "There you are. Your bed is to your left. Can you get in yourself?" She was calm, professional, but there was a chill to her voice.

Ignoring her Scott stood and headed to the right. "Is Virgil all right?"

"He's going to be fine, Scott." Jeff tried to reassure him. "Get into bed."

Scott bumped into Virgil's bed and placed his hands on the counterpane. "Where is he? I need to know he's okay. Say something, Virgil!"

Jeff watched him with a myriad of emotions coursing through his system. It was bad enough to be called, urgently, to the sickbed of one son, but to see Scott... Scott who was normally so calm, so in control, so sure of himself... feeling about blindly, desperate to find his brother... Jeff thought his heart would break.

"He's okay, Scott. He's just asleep at the moment," Jeff said gently. "Give me your hand." He grasped one of Scott's hands, noticing how tense it was, and laid it gently on Virgil's limp one. Scott picked it up and clutched it in both hands.

"I'm here, Virg. I'm not going to leave you again. You're going to be okay," he whispered. "Just hang in there."

Jeff stood up and put his arm around Scott's shoulders. "Come on, Scott. Time you went back to bed."

With evident reluctance, Scott placed Virgil's hand gently back down and Jeff guided him back to his own bed.

"It's thanks to you, Scott, that he's going to be just fine." Both men jumped, they'd forgotten that Nurse Stone was still present. "You should be proud of him, Mr. Tracy. He found Virgil before it was too late. He's a hero."

During his career with International Rescue, Scott had often been called a hero. But he never felt less like one than he did at this moment. That he'd discovered Virgil before it was too late had been luck, pure and simple. And for this nurse to call him a hero was, in his present state of mind, hard to swallow.

"Rubbish! Get out!" he said bluntly before falling back on his pillow.

Jeff gaped at Scott. He'd never known him to be so rude to anyone, especially someone who wanted to help. Then he directed an apologetic expression towards Nurse Stone.

She gave him a timorous smile and, pushing the wheelchair before her, left the room.

"Scott? Why..." Jeff started to say but was interrupted by a gentle snore from his eldest. Clearly the sedative still hadn't fully worn off. He returned to his seat beside Virgil's bed and picked up his son's hand and held it close. "I'm sorry, Virgil, so sorry."

Jeff's system had run through so many emotions today that he felt drained. Now that the shock of Scott's behaviour was starting to wear off, guilt was returning.

Last time he'd been here it'd been when both sons had just been admitted to hospital. He'd been torn between wanting to be with both of them and had decided that Scott would need him more. After all Virgil only had a broken arm! During that first day he'd visited Virgil periodically, but had spent most of his time with Scott. Virgil had said that he'd understood and agreed with his father's decision. But now, Jeff thought as he gently removed a stray strand of brown hair that had crept over Virgil's closed eyes, now he wasn't sure that he'd made the right decision. Was it right that Virgil should have been left alone for so long? What if all this had happened when he was alone? What if no one had found him in time? What if...?

What if he'd never formed International Rescue? Then both these boys would be fit and well and back at the island. Virgil would be playing the piano and Scott would be able to see the world.

But then, Jeff reflected, if he'd never started International Rescue things would have been so different. Scott would have been rising through the ranks in the Air Force. Virgil would have been enjoying an engineering career. John would have been devoting his time to his astronomical work. Gordon would probably still be with the World Aquanaut Security Patrol, despite the hydrofoil accident. And Alan would have been jetting around the world competing in various Formula One races. They would have gone their separate ways and he wouldn't have enjoyed the close relationships that had developed over the last few years.

And what would I have been doing? Jeff asked himself ruefully. I wouldn't have bought my island. I would have been working my butt off in some stuffy office in a crowded city in the States. I'd probably have had a heart attack by now. Instead of nearly having one every time something happens to my sons.

A small moan focused his thoughts away from himself. "Virgil?" He willed those eyes that were so much like Lucille's, to open again. "Come on, Son, it's time to wake up."

Those eyes flickered open and then closed again. "Don't wanna to go school today, wanna sleep longer?" Virgil murmured indistinctly.

Jeff grinned. He'd heard those words many times over the years. "You don't have to go to school today, Virgil." He ran his fingers through his son's hair.

"F-Father?" Virgil was dragging himself back to a state of wakefulness. "W-What happened?"

"You had a reaction to the medication. It made you sick."

"Sick." Virgil appeared to doze off again, before rousing himself a bit more. He removed his hand from Jeff's grasp and tried to pull the oxygen mask off his face.

Jeff encouraged him to leave the mask alone, by grasping the hand again more firmly. "How're you feeling, Son?"

"Terrible," Virgil said honestly, his eyes closed. "My head h-hurts, my arms hurt, my chest h-hurts. W-What are you doin' here?" He continued groggily. Then his eyes snapped open. "It's Scott isn't it! Is he okay?"

All the stresses of the last few days suddenly came to the fore. Jeff snapped. "I wish for once, you boys would look after your own health and quit looking out for each other. Then we wouldn't have half these problems." He saw Virgil's startled expression and softened his tone. "Sorry, Son. Scott's fine. It's you I'm here to see."

"Me?" confusion was evident in Virgil's eyes.

"What's all the noise about?" Another groggy voice was heard from behind Jeff.

"Virgil's woken up..." Jeff was startled to suddenly find Scott standing at his shoulder.

"Virgil! How're you feeling?" Scott asked.

Jeff could no longer handle worrying about two sons at once. "Get back to bed, Scott!" he ordered.

"But..."

Virgil decided that he had a headache that couldn't stand his father yelling again. "I'm okay, Scott. Go back to bed," he said weakly.

"You sure?"

"Scott!" Jeff snapped.

"Please," Virgil pleaded. "I've got a headache."

"Sorry," Scott said quietly.

Once again Jeff ran a gentle hand through Virgil's hair. "Go back to sleep." Virgil closed his eyes.

Jeff looked at his son. He knew he should contact home, but didn't feel inclined to release his grip on Virgil's hand. "Scott," he whispered.

"Yeah."

"Will you do me a favour please?"

"If I can."

"Will you phone home...?"

"... And let them know he's okay. Sure!"

"No..." Jeff said slowly. "Will you let them know where I am?"

Scott froze, his hand halfway to the buttons on the videophone. "What!"

"I, ah, left home without telling anyone where, or why, I was going."

Scott shook his head but refrained from further comment.

"Was I that bad?"

Jeff turned back at the sound of Virgil's weak voice. "I thought you were asleep."

"Too much talking. How sick was I?"

"You gave us a quite a fright," Jeff said gently.

"What caused it?" Scott asked. "They're bound to ask."

"An allergic reaction to some of his medication. The doctors have replaced it with something else now. You're going to be fine, Virgil."

The rhythmical breathing that answered him told him that, this time, Virgil had fallen asleep.

Scott dialled the number that he knew so well.

The 'phone was answered by Gordon. He sounded wary. "Hi, Scott! Um, if you want to talk to Dad, he's - ah - not about at the moment."

"I know that, Gordon. He's here."

"He's what!" The redhead's temper came to the surface.

"He's here, with us..."

"There! With you!" Gordon was shouting. Then he paused, struggling to regain his composure. "Why?"

"He got a call from the hospital that Virgil wasn't doing too good."

"Virgil! Is he...?"

"He's going to be fine. He's sleeping at the moment. So keep your voice down so you don't wake him, okay."

"Okay." Gordon took a deep breath. "I can't believe Dad did that. He didn't tell anyone he was leaving. Didn't tell us why. Just took off. He could have informed John while he was in the plane, for Pete's sake!" The agreement to keep quiet hadn't lasted long as Gordon worked himself back up into a fury again. "If any of us had done that he would have hung us by our heels from the radio mast for a week!" Scott silently agreed with the sentiment. "Scott - he didn't tell us about Virgil! How could he!?"

Although he empathised with his younger brother totally, Scott decided to try to cool things down. "Calm down, Gordon."

It didn't work. "Doesn't he realise that we've all been worried sick about him? We've searched the house and grounds three times! I was just about to get Thunderbird Four out and do a circuit of the island in case his body had washed up on shore!" Jeff's head snapped round at the unguarded mention of the craft, a worried frown on his face.

But Scott was equal to the situation. "Well just be grateful that you didn't get the yacht out and that you're not going to have to clean her down again."

Gordon realised his slip. "Yeah, you're right, Scott." he said sheepishly. "I guess I was getting overexcited."

"Well go tell everyone that everything's okay. Father's fine, Virgil's fine and I'm fine. There's nothing to worry about."

"Okay, Scott. Thanks for putting my mind at rest. I'll talk to you soon."

"Look forward to it, Gordo."

After he'd terminated the call Gordon lent on the desk for a moment trying to get his emotions back under control.

Alan burst in. "The jet's gone, but there's no sign of a flight plan... What's wrong?"

"He's at the hospital, Alan."

"He's what?" Alan's jaw dropped.

Gordon realised that he'd been misunderstood. "I mean he's at the hospital visiting Virgil and Scott."

"Oh! Good." Alan relaxed and then frowned. "Why? And why didn't he tell anyone he was going?"

"I think it slipped his mind."

"Slipped his mind! How can a simple thing like letting one of us know where he was going slip his mind? What did he say?"

"I only talked to Scott. He said something about Virg not doing too good. Whatever that means. It must have been pretty bad for Dad to forget the rest of the family."

"What's this about Virgil?" Grandma entered the lounge closely followed by the rest of the household.

"Scott said he's okay now..." Gordon got John on the line and then explained all that he knew.

"That son of mine's going to get a piece of my mind when he gets home," Grandma Tracy declared.

"Join the queue, Grandma, join the queue!" Alan fumed.

Twenty Five

Jeff taxied his plane into the hangar. He checked it over, ensuring it was ready for the next flight, taking longer than was necessary. He wasn't looking forward to seeing his family again. He had a feeling they would be none to pleased with him.

At last he'd exhausted all his excuses. Time to face the music. With more than a little trepidation he rode the lift up to the lounge.

As he'd expected they were all there waiting for him. All in identical poses - standing, arms folded, frowns staring at him. He glanced at the wall of portraits and wasn't all that surprised to see John there - standing, arms folded, frowning down on him.

There was nothing Jeff could say that would explain his actions. "Sorry," was all he could manage.

He was expecting Gordon to blow his stack again, but the young man held his tongue. Jeff fancied that his mother had given the rest of his family a good talking to and warned them not to say anything they might regret. Indeed she took a step forward now. "How's Virgil?"

Somewhat relieved Jeff relaxed. "The doctors say he's going to be fine. When I left he was sitting up in bed wondering what all the fuss was about."

"And what was the fuss all about?" she asked.

"The antibiotic they had him on..." Jeff felt about in his pocket and pulled out a bit of paper, which he handed to Brains, "...caused a severe allergic reaction. Do we carry it in the Thunderbirds, Brains?"

Brains studied the piece of paper. "Pohutalin. W-Why yes, all our medical kits carry it..."

"Then get rid of it. I don't want it on the island," Jeff said a trifle sharply.

"B-But, Mr. Tracy..."

"Brains!" Jeff said in a tone which wasn't to be messed with.

Wordlessly Brains folded the paper and placed it in his own pocket.

"So Virgil's going to be fine?" Mrs. Tracy asked calmly.

"Yes. It was close but yes he is."

"Close?" Alan asked tensely. "How close?"

Jeff had a feeling he was skating on thin ice. "Close enough that I didn't think of anything but getting to him. I know I was wrong." He spread his hands to ask forgiveness. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry!" Alan exploded. "You left without letting us know where you were going, you didn't tell us that Virgil was in trouble, you say it was 'close,' and all you can say is sorry?!"

"I know it's not much."

"Not much!" Gordon's fuse had been lit too. "He's our brother, Dad, or had you forgotten that he's pretty special to us too?"

"No I hadn't forgotten ... at least not..."

"You could have radioed me once you were airborne!" John snapped and Jeff was surprised at the tone of anger in his normally quiet son. "I was trying to hone in on your position on the island, and you weren't registering anywhere! Do you know how worrying that was?"

"It must have been very..."

"We were worried too," Tin-Tin said severely. "We've been searching everywhere for you!"

"And now dinner is going to be late!" This was what equated to an angry outburst from the usually diffident, inscrutable Kyrano.

"W-W-W..." Brains was that annoyed that he couldn't even formulate one word.

"I'm sorr..."

"Don't bother, Dad," Gordon yelled. "If you meant it you would have thought of us before you left!" He turned on his heel and stormed out closely followed by Alan, Brains, Tin-Tin and Kyrano.

Jeff looked at John who abruptly severed the connection.

Jeff smiled sheepishly at his mother. "I guess they don't understand. They don't know what it feels like to be called from the hospital and be told that your son may be dying."

She took his arm. "No they don't, Jeff. Any more than you know what it's like to be told that your brother could have died and your own father didn't see fit to tell you." She paused. "Or to find out that your grandson could have died..."

"Sorry, Mother. You're right. I got that call and all I could think of was that I had to get to the hospital as soon as possible. I nearly lost both boys on Tuesday. I couldn't stand the thought of losing Virgil now. I just didn't think of anything else."

"Or anyone else."

"No," he said guiltily. "I admit it. I made a mistake. I'm sorry, Mother."

"It's going to take a while for Gordon, John, and Alan to believe that you mean that. They were all set to have it out with you as soon as you got out of the plane. If it hadn't been for Scott..."

"Scott?"

"He rang as soon as you left the hospital and told them to take it easy on you. That you'd been through enough."

"He's amazing. Sick as he is he's still looking out for everyone else." Jeff sighed. "You know, it's hard sitting here at home, when I know one of the boys has got into trouble during a rescue..."

"Yes, I know."

"But it's infinitely more difficult to be there and see these strangers struggling to save your son's life and all you can do is stand there and watch."

"I can believe that ... And it was a struggle, was it, Jeff?"

He was very quiet now. "Yes it was. He came so close to dying. It was like reliving Lucille's death all over again. When I saw..." His voice broke with the emotion the memories brought back. She slipped her arms around his shoulders and gave him a reassuring hug. After a moments struggle he continued on. "But Virgil's a fighter, thank goodness. I don't know how else he managed to bounce back so completely."

"How's Scott?"

He was grateful for the change in topic. "As well as can be expected. He found Virgil unconscious and raised the alarm. They had to sedate him to get him out of the way. While he was knocked out they checked his face. Most of his burns are clearing up well, and they are pretty hopeful about his eyesight, although..."

"Yes?"

"You know Doctors. They always try not to get your hopes up unnecessarily."

"So there's still a chance that he'll lose his eyesight."

"Yes there is."

"Oh, Jeff," she sighed. "How would he take it?"

"I don't know, Mother. Up till today I would have said that he'd cope, but you didn't see him when they brought him back into the ward. He just about went to pieces because Virgil hadn't regained consciousness and he couldn't see him. These last few days must have been pretty hard on him. I hadn't realised how hard."

"Well we'll know in three days one way or another."

"Yes ... Three long days."

Jeff was catching up on some of the paperwork that he'd missed that morning. He was going to have to do some major explaining to the company executive he'd missed the meeting with. He hoped that his excuse would be good enough. It certainly hadn't been for his family.

"M-Mr. Tracy?"

Jeff looked up "Yes, Brains?"

"M-May I have a word with you?"

"Of course. Have you removed the Pohutalin from all the craft?"

"That's wh-what I wanted t-to t-talk about. N-N-No I haven't."

Jeff patiently laid down his pen and folded his hands in front of him on the desk. "You don't normally go against direct orders. You must have a good reason."

"I-I believe it would be foolhardy to remove the Pohutalin..."

"That stuff is too dangerous, Brains," Jeff said sternly. "You didn't see the reaction..."

"P-Please, M-Mr. Tracy," Brains interrupted him. "L-Let m-me finish. All of your boys, i-including Virgil, have been exposed to Pohutalin before, with no ill effects."

"Go on."

"It is also r-recognised as being one of the m-most effective antibiotics available at the moment."

"So what caused the reaction?"

"I-I believe I, and Alan, may have h-had s-something to do with it..."

"You, Brains?" Jeff raised an eyebrow.

"I-I've been running tests and I-I believe that the ingredients in A-Alan's transmitter, the one Virgil had to eat, may have been a c-catalyst..."

"You mean that our edible transmitters may be dangerous?" Jeff was understandably concerned at the idea.

"Oh, n-no. On the contrary. But I n-never seriously expected a-anyone to eat the orange, liver and beetroot flavoured transmitter. The chemicals I'd used to s-simulate the flavours were b-basically harmless. But combined together. W-With another factor..."

"Which was, Brains?"

"I-I've analysed the w-water that was trapped in Virgil and Scott's uniforms. I-It contains trace elements that could only be found in th-that part of the world and that deep into the earth. Virgil would have ingested a lot of the w-water and a-absorbed some of the trace elements through the s-scratches to his skin."

"So you are saying that the hospital got the diagnosis wrong?" Jeff asked patiently.

"Not totally. The c-combined c-chemicals in the transmitter, together with one particular trace e-element, would have started the allergic reaction. Indeed, S-Scott told me that Virgil felt ill upon eating the transmitter. Th-That should have alerted me to the potential problem. I'd already administered some P-Pohutalin before Virgil, ah, Virgil's system rejected the transmitter." He screwed up his face at the memory. "The hospital's continued usage of P-Pohutalin merely s-sustained the reaction. They made th-their diagnosis based on the f-facts they had available to them."

"Are you sure?" It sounded too much like a coincidence to Jeff.

"I-I would have to do further tests, w-with Virgil's assistance..."

"After what's happened he might not be that keen on the idea," Jeff noted.

"M-My tests, up to this p-point, lead me to believe that f-from the moment all three elements combined in his system, Virgil's body started to... to..." Brains sought the right phrase, "Shut down."

Jeff went cold at the thought. "So why didn't the hospital pick this up sooner?"

"I-I don't know, Mr. Tracy. The symptoms may have been v-very similar to other problems th-that they were trying to treat. Without seeing his c-case notes, I can't say."

"He did seem to be very tired," Jeff remembered.

"Th-That would be a logical symptom."

"Is there any chance that he could have some kind of sensitivity to Pohutalin after all this?" Jeff wanted to know.

"Not necessarily, but I-I couldn't say conclusively. N-Not without further..."

"Not without further tests. Okay. Thanks, Brains. So I guess your recommendation is that we continue carrying the Pohutalin and, until you've proved your theories, we pray that Virgil doesn't need any?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Tracy. It is the most efficient drug o-of it's type available at the moment. It's saved more lives than..." Brains let the sentence hang in the air. "U-Until something better is available..."

"All right, Brains. I'll bow to your logic for the moment."

Relieved that he hadn't had his head bitten off Brains turned to go. He wasn't about to get away that easily.

"Brains? You said that you didn't expect anyone to eat that batch of transmitters. What was Alan going to use?"

"I-I'd made another batch f-for Alan."

"That reminds me. I haven't told that boy off yet for switching those transmitters over." Jeff stood. "What he did had serious repercussions."

"I-If I may say so, M-Mr. Tracy. Now is not the t-time to be punishing A-Alan for making thoughtless mistakes." Brains waited nervously for his employer's reaction.

Jeff sat down again and looked at the young engineer ruefully. "You're right, Brains. My own slate isn't exactly squeaky clean at the moment. And Alan realises his mistake. There's no point bringing it up again."

To Blind Ambition -- Blind Fury Part Two >>