BLIND AMBITION - BLIND FURY by PURUPUSS RATED FRPT

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

Fifty One

"Mind if I watch you, Kyrano?"

Kyrano smiled. This ritual had always started with those same words. Even now that Mister Scott couldn't see him at work, he still checked if it was okay to sit nearby and talk.

"I should be pleased, Mister Scott."

"Thanks." Scott sat on the stool at the end of the kitchen counter. He'd quickly discovered that he'd got as much pleasure from the sounds and smells of cooking as he had from watching. And he still enjoyed these conversations with Kyrano. The older man always looked at the world from a different viewpoint.

"You and your brothers. What did you do today?" Kyrano asked.

It was always the same question but the answers were always varied.

"I've been helping Gordon test some of Thunderbird Four's equipment. He's been having problems with one of the grabs. I'm amazed at what I can hear that our diagnostic equipment doesn't pick up. Something was catching as the grab started opening and I heard it. I think we've got it fixed. Alan's been working in Thunderbird Three. Just cosmetic stuff mainly. And Virgil's been helping Brains and Professor Bunsen fine tune the machine."

"Only one day to go, Mister Scott."

"Yep. I'll be glad when tomorrow's over and done with. Then I'll know one way or another."

"But you are not worried?" Kyrano said perceptively.

"To tell you the truth, no I'm not. As much as I hope the operation's successful tomorrow, I won't be devastated if it's not. I've got used to being blind. I can do more than I originally believed I'd be able to and I know that I can cope. The only things I'll be really disappointed in missing out on will be seeing my family and friends." Then Scott frowned. "Can I ask you a question, Kyrano?"

"Of course, Mister Scott."

"How does everyone look? It's been a year, has anyone changed drastically?"

"We are all a year older."

"Yeah, I realise that, but is there anything major. You know... is Alan bald, has Gordon developed gills, do I look like the Phantom of the Opera?"

"The Phantom of the Opera?" Kyrano was confused.

"I've never worried about it and have never thought to ask, but the burns that I got at Regnad..." Scott felt his face, "I can't feel anything, but is there any scarring?"

"No, Mister Scott."

"And my eyes. How do they look?"

"They have not changed. They will look worse tomorrow after the operation."

"I guess you're right."

"Mister Scott?" Kyrano cut some carrot sticks and placed them at Scott's elbow. "May I ask you something?"

"Sure," Scott said, surprised. He picked up a carrot stick and bit into it.

"Forgive my asking, but is all well between you and Mister Virgil?"

"Why do you ask, Kyrano?" Scott asked warily.

"I have noticed that there are times when Mister Virgil appears to... distance himself... from you."

Scott put down his snack. "So you noticed that too. I'd hoped it was my imagination."

"It is infrequent, but over the past few months it has become more frequent."

"Since we met Professor Bunsen?"

"Yes."

"That's what I thought."

"You believe you know why?"

Scott nodded slowly. "Unfortunately I think I do."

Kyrano waited, preparing the sauce as he did so.

"When I was in rehab there was one day," Scott started slowly, "that was really bad. Well at the beginning they were all bad, but this day was the worst. And I took out my frustrations on Virgil."

"It was the day you hit him?"

Scott nodded. "I'm not proud of what I did, I'm even less proud of what I said."

Once again Kyrano waited.

"I told him I was glad I couldn't see him."

This shook even the usually unshakable Kyrano. "Mister Scott?"

"You never met my mother did you, Kyrano. But you've seen photographs. You've seen how similar she and Virgil are."

"I've seen."

"Did you ever hear the story of how she died?"

"Only that it was in an avalanche."

"Yes. The whole family were going on holiday. Virgil was supposed to have travelled in the car that she and Grandpa and Gordon and Alan were in. But he'd been painting a picture for Ma and had got all covered in paint. It's that one of 'Thunderbird Two,'" he mimed the quotation marks, "in Father's office. So it was decided that he'd travel with us, and it would give Ma and Grandpa a chance to get to the cabin before Alan and Gordon woke up." Scott gave a wry chuckle. "Do you know I hated the idea? I was this big, tough ten-year-old and did NOT want to travel with my five-year-old kid brother. Of course I was told to make the most of it. We left nearly an hour after them, by the time Grandma had got Virg cleaned up. They were the first vehicle through the North-West Pass." He sighed. "The noise of their car caused the avalanche."

Kyrano diced a vegetable and said nothing as Scott struggled with the memories.

"Virgil's blamed himself for the accident ever since. And none of us thickheads even realised until last year. Of course it was just bad luck that our family was in the wrong place at the wrong time, it was nothing to do with him holding them up."

"Does Mister Virgil still blame himself?"

"No," Scott asserted, and then he hesitated. "Well he said he doesn't. It's one of those things we haven't discussed."

"Mister Scott. Why are you telling me this?"

"Why? Because what I said to my brother, who was trying to help me and support me in my darkest hours, what I said to him was that he reminded me so much of our mother that I hated looking at him. That every time I saw him I remembered that her death was his fault. How's that for a loving remark from a grateful big brother," Scott said bitterly.

"What did he do?" Kyrano gave the sauce a stir.

"He was out of there. I didn't see him for hours afterwards. I really cut him to the quick. And I don't think he's ever forgiven me. Not that I blame him. And despite that, you know that he'd ,said that if anything happened to him he wanted to donate his eyes to me."

"I had heard."

"That's one thing that made me think that it was my imagination. That a guy wouldn't make an offer like that if he disliked me. But now I think, that if that were how I were to regain my sight, I'd never see him again anyway."

"You are wrong, Mister Scott," Kyrano said quietly. "You would see him every time you looked in the mirror. They would be his eyes looking back at you."

"So they would," Scott said thoughtfully. "Creepy thought isn't it."

"You should talk with him."

"You're right, Kyrano. I'll do it after dinner. But where do I start?"

"Mister Scott. You should start with 'I am sorry.'"

"I've apologised many..." Scott started and then he heard footsteps.

Virgil breezed into the kitchen. "How's it going, Kyrano. Is he holding you up again?"

"Mister Scott was telling me what it was like in rehabilitation, Mister Virgil."

Virgil made a face. "That's a cheerful topic. I won't take up too much of your time. I just wondered how long dinner was going to be."

"Dinner will be ready in half an hour," Kyrano informed him gravely.

"Good," Virgil said cheerfully. "To tell you the truth it was just an excuse to get out of the hospital. Brains is about ready to blow his stack."

"Has something gone wrong with the equipment?" Scott asked with concern.

"No, that's fine. We're just running some final tests and the Professor keeps on making snide remarks to Brains, as if he has doubts about Brains work. What's silly is that he only has praise for me and I'm the weak link."

"Hardly," Scott said.

"That's the way I feel. I know I'm no dunce, but alongside those two I feel positively backward," Virgil gave a little chuckle.

"Say, Virgil," Scott said hesitantly. "What say after dinner you and I have a talk?"

"A talk?" Virgil frowned. "Sure... what about?"

"Um. This equipment. You can tell me how it works."

"I don't know that I understand the medical side of it..."

"I don't need to know the gruesome details. Just the basics."

"Wouldn't it be better to talk to Brains or the Professor?"

"Brains would do his best, but he'd still stutter his way through and it'd be full of scientific words that I didn't understand. And I hate to think what the nutty Professor would come out with. At least with you it'd be in plain English. I want to know something about this machine that going to help me see again."

There it was. Scott sensed a sudden tension from Virgil. It lasted only a moment.

"Okay. I'll do my best. Give me a yell when you're ready. In the meantime I'd better get back to the hothouse and make sure they haven't killed each other. We don't want any blood shed before the operation's even started." Virgil swiped one of Scott's carrot sticks and left the kitchen.

"It happened again, didn't it," Scott said soberly. "When I said about the machine helping me to see."

"Yes it did happen."

"What did you see, Kyrano?"

"Sadness, Mister Scott. The same expression you got when you spoke of your mother's death... for one moment, Mister Virgil had."

"Why do I have the feeling I've left this talk too long? Father said a year ago I should have talked to Virg about this."

"Mr. Tracy knows?"

"Only when I mentioned it to him then. He hadn't noticed anything amiss, and he hasn't mentioned it since. He's not as perceptive as you are."

"Perhaps you should speak of this to him again."

"And have him say 'I told you so'?"

Kyrano started unwrapping a package.

"So, what are we having for dinner?" Scott asked suspiciously.

"Fish. There was a new shop in the market."

"Something doesn't smell right."

"I chose this piece myself." Kyrano examined the fish closely. "It was the freshest..."

Scott heard the change in the other mans tone. "Has the fishmonger swapped it?" he asked.

"Yes," Kyrano said sadly. "I shall not be going to that shop again. Now I have nothing prepared for dinner."

The familiar sound of the klaxon was heard.

"I shouldn't worry, Kyrano," Scott said as he jumped off the stool and raced out of the kitchen. "There's not going to be anyone here to eat it anyway..."

Scott could hear John's calm voice explaining the situation as he arrived in the lounge.

"...The explosion has blocked off all exits. There's one victim trapped inside. All available rescue services are tied up at a major fire on the other side of the city. They're not prepared to release a tender to save one person when there's twenty lives at stake..."

"They don't want our help there too, do they?" Jeff asked.

"No. They've got that situation under control... they say."

"You sound unsure, Son."

"It sounds suspicious to me. I've been scanning the emergency broadcasts and I can't find any other emergencies. I think that because this place is top secret they don't want the local rescue services tramping all over everything. Who better to keep your secrets than an organisation that's trying to remain secret itself."

"You could be right, John. But it doesn't mean that we won't help. Tell them we're on the way." Jeff turned back to those assembled in the room. "Alan's on his way up, Scott. Are you sure you want to go on this rescue?"

"Just try and stop me," Scott grinned as he grabbed the wall lamps. "If I'm going to be grounded for a couple of weeks, I'm going to make the most of this trip." He activated the mechanism.

He felt the rotation cease and stepped forward. He felt no compunction about stepping onto the platform that would carry him across to Thunderbird One. Brains had installed a safety mechanism that would tell him when he was getting too close to the edge. He'd never needed it. He'd always known the safety margins available to him.

He was strapped in and had got more information from John by the time Alan arrived. "About time, Kiddo. I was about ready to take off without you."

"Tomorrow maybe. Today I'm in the pilot's seat." Alan sat down and fastened his safety belt.

Thunderbird One started to move...

Fifty Two

As they approached the danger zone they could clearly see their objective. A thick plume of inky black smoke rose up from what they assumed was a building. There was little wind and Gordon watched the tall pillar of smoke rise up into the sky. He gave a low whistle. "Nasty."

"No sign of any fire," Virgil noted as he brought the 'plane in closer.

Thunderbird Two touched down - outside the security cordon of the complex. "I'm surprised they've even asked us to help," Gordon stated as they exited the craft.

They were met outside by Scott and Alan. Both looked angry. "Were getting no help from the authorities!" Scott fumed. "They've agreed to let us take Mobile Control into the complex, but only because I pointed out that it was impossible for me to work from out here. They probably think that being blind I'm not a security hazard. And we can't send the 'Firefly' in because they won't give me any plans or any details of the building. It's 'too confidential.' I don't know how they expect us to find him."

"They did say that he was in Laboratory One, and that the power's out. There's no lighting." Alan had the expression he'd get whenever he'd lose a car race due to some bureaucratic bungling. "Which is no help whatsoever. We're talking about a man's life, and they're worried about security!"

"So what do we do?" Gordon asked.

"The only thing we can do," Scott told him. "Virgil. You take Thunderbird Two up again and try and get a bearing on our victim. Alan and Gordon will have to use our handheld scanners and follow your directions."

Virgil looked at the pillar of smoke without enthusiasm. "That's going to be like flying into a tar pit! What's in that smoke?"

"We don't know. It's top..."

"...Secret. Thanks, Alan. I've got the picture," Virgil sighed. "Lets hope it's nothing corrosive. I'll grab some samples while I'm up there. If there's any environmental impact the World Government's going to want to know about this. Let me know when you guys are ready to go in. I don't want Two in there any longer than she has to be."

"Guess we'd better get suited up," Gordon started heading back into Thunderbird Two.

Grumbling something that sounded like "They expect us to risk our necks and don't do anything to help," Alan followed him.

"It'll take them a couple of minutes. I'll take you back to Mobile Control," Virgil offered.

"Thanks." They'd gone a couple of steps when Scott spoke again. "I guess this means we won't have a chance to have that talk tonight."

Virgil looked at him quizzedly. "Are you really that worried about the equipment?"

"No," Scott said quickly. "I just wanted to talk."

"You never know. We might strike it lucky and be leaving within the hour."

"Yeah," Scott said without optimism.

They arrived back at Mobile Control and Scott reactivated it. It started beeping and whirring, analysing what information it had - which wasn't much. As he listened to the cacophony of sounds Scott gave a wry grin. "Are you sure you didn't have a hand in this. It sounds like you've tried to write an electronic symphony."

Virgil laughed. "I did help with the tone scale, but that's all. You can blame Brains for the orchestration." He looked over towards Thunderbird Two. "Here they come. I'd better get going. I'll talk to you once I'm in the air." He jogged back over to his plane.

"I hope we get the chance to talk once we're home too," Scott said quietly as he heard the footsteps recede.

"Okay," Gordon said as he arrived at Mobile Control. "Where do we go now?"

"You know as much as I do," Scott reminded him, before speaking into the microphone. "Okay, Virgil. The guys are ready."

"F-A-B," Virgil's voice intoned out of the speakers and they heard Thunderbird Two's VTOL jets burst into life.

"I guess the first thing we've got to do is find the door," Alan stated. "They did tell us that it was about six metres in from this wall." He indicated roughly the region where they would have to start looking.

"Have you both got plenty of oxygen?" Scott enquired with some concern.

"Yep. We've already checked each other's equipment," Gordon reassured him. "We'll be okay."

"Good. Oh, well. Good luck fellas."

"Thanks, Scott."

"See you soon." He heard his brothers voices start to fade away as they moved towards the smoking building. He could smell the acrid fumes and wondered exactly what was in that shrouded building that he'd just sent his brothers into.

"We've found the door," Alan told him via Mobile Control's speakers.

"F-A-B. Move in, Virgil."

"Moving in." With some trepidation, but no hesitation, Virgil flew into the inky, writhing tower. Soon all exterior visual references were gone. He brought Thunderbird Two into hover mode and checked a monitor. "I see him." A green dot was showing on screen. He could also make out two other dots, one orange, one white, that told him where his brothers were. "He's ahead of you and to your right." He watched the dots move into the building.

Down below, the interior of the building was pitch black. They switched on their torches. The beam of light was unable to penetrate through the thick smoke. Unperturbed by this, Gordon turned on the direction finder that was incorporated into the visor of his fire suit. He could see a grey glow and little else. He fiddled with the controls to improve the picture.

The glow brightened, but otherwise there was no improvement.

"Gordon," Alan said quietly. "My direction finder's not working. I can't see the walls or obstacles or anything!"

"Me neither," Gordon told him. "Try switching it off and on again."

That didn't work.

"How's your contrast and brightness?" Alan asked.

"I've got them on full," Gordon replied, perplexed. "I'm not seeing anything!"

"Something's got to be interfering with the signal," Alan said.

Gordon switched his direction finder off with finality and surveyed his surroundings.

He could see nothing.

"I don't like this, Alan," he said uneasily. "I think we should get out of here and check the equipment out."

Up above them Virgil watched the two dots retrace their steps. "Scott, what's wrong? They're coming out!"

"Coming out?" Scott repeated in consternation.

"I'm coming in to land," Virgil stated. By the time he'd done so, and run over to Mobile Control, Gordon and Alan had already explained their predicament to Scott and John, who was listening in via the radio link.

"It's that dark, it's like we were blind!" Gordon exclaimed, and then started. "Sorry, Scott."

But Scott hadn't heard him. He was deep in thought. "Gordon!" he'd made a decision. "Go get my fire suit."

"But..."

"Go!" Scott ordered. Gordon took off at a run into Thunderbird Two's hold.

"Just what are you planning to do, Scott?" John asked in concern.

"I'm going to go in and rescue that guy."

"Scott!" He heard various exclamations of protest from his brothers.

He held up his hand for silence. "You've got to admit that at the moment I'm the best qualified to undertake this rescue."

This statement was met with an uneasy silence.

"Do you think this is wise?" Alan asked quietly.

"What other option do we have?" Scott asked. He heard Gordon come running back with the required protective equipment.

"What are you going to do?" Gordon asked.

"I'm going to do the rescue."

"But, Scott..."

Scott ignored him. He was still in control. "Alan! I want you to man Mobile Control. Keep everyone up with the play as to what's happening... John! You can radio base and let them know what we're doing... Virgil! Is Thunderbird Two's imaging system still working?"

"It should be..."

"Good. I want you to be my eyes. Let me know where our victim is in relation to my position." Scott pulled the fire suit up over his shoulders and sealed the front. "Gordon! You can lead me over to the entrance..."

Virgil gripped Scott by both shoulders. "Are you sure about this?" he asked quietly.

"Yes I am. I'm also sure that if I don't get a move on we're going to be retrieving a dead body from in there."

"Be careful," with these parting words Virgil headed over to once again prepare Thunderbird Two for lift off.

As Scott pulled the hood over his head, Gordon affixed a "Sonar Sender" to his brother's collar. "You know this isn't designed for this situation."

"Yeah I know. I'll just have to hope that Brains made it strong enough."

"Knowing Brains you could put it in one of Thunderbird One's jets on full throttle and it'd still come out working." Gordon checked the seal on Scott's suit before pulling his own hood over his head. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Okay." Gordon led Scott over to where the entrance was shrouded in thick black smoke. Then he hesitated. "Let me come with you."

"Thanks, Gordon, but, no offence intended, you'd be more of a hindrance than a help. I'll be able to move quicker without you holding me back."

"If you're sure," Gordon said quietly.

"If anything goes wrong, or I ask for help, or I lose contact with you guys, I want you in there straight away. You'll have to follow Virgil's directions to find me. Okay."

"Okay," Gordon said with more resolve. "Come on then. I'll take you as far as I can go safely."

"That's fine with me."

It wasn't long before Gordon was totally disorientated in the blinding smoke. "Sorry, Scott. This is as far as I can go."

"Thanks, Gordon. I'll see you soon."

Reluctantly, Gordon felt Scott move away down the smoke filled corridor. He then retraced his steps back into the safety of daylight.

Fifty Three

The beginning was fairly easy going. The only obstacle in his path was the black, sinister smoke, and to Scott this wasn't an obstacle. "Where do I need to go, Virgil?"

His brother's voice came out of the speakers in his hood. "Keep heading in the same direction. You've got to go another two thirds as far."

"F-A-B."

There was silence inside the building and no communications over the airwaves, but still Scott was listening. The tiny "Sonar Sender" attached to his collar was emitting tiny pulses that he was receiving via even smaller earpieces in his both ears. To Scott this was one of the best inventions Brains had ever made. Between his cane and the "Sonar Sender" he was aware of every obstacle in his path.

Another feature that Brains had added in was that he'd programmed the sonar to receive signals from each family member's watch. Each signal was unique to that individual and caused the earpieces to emit a tone that was just as unique. It meant that at meal times Scott had to turn the "Sonar Sender" off or else the cacophony of sound would send him batty, but it also had the bonus of alerting him to the presence of any of his family within a radius of five metres. Once alerted, his own hearing would tell him if the person was moving stealthily or normally.

Gordon wasn't aware of this feature. It was the reason why he'd never managed to catch Scott out.

Scott moved on with assurance. He knew the way ahead was clear.

"What does he think he's doing?" Jeff yelled. "Scott doesn't have recent rescue experience! He could kill himself!"

"He's aware of the danger, Dad," John tried to reassure him. "But, to quote him, he's the best qualified to undertake the rescue. The others aren't used to getting around in complete darkness."

"Is it really that dark?"

"According to Alan, yes."

Jeff slammed his fist onto an intercom button. "Brains! Get up here now!" he shouted angrily.

Brains and Professor Bunsen answered the call immediately. They came running into the lounge. "What's wrong?"

"The direction finders aren't working," Jeff frowned at Brains. "Scott's gone into the building to rescue the victim. What's gone wrong with them, Brains?"

They stared at him.

"Scott's d-done what!?" Brains stammered.

"But he could be killed," the Professor complained. "I'll never find out if my machine works or not."

"He is tr-trying to save a l-life," Brains said contemptuously.

"I realise that, Robot Head, and I admire his motives, but couldn't one of the others have gone instead?"

"No," Jeff struggled to calm down. "Scott's in charge. He made the call. He's doing what he believes is best, what has the best chance of success."

"And what's his chances?" Bunny Bunsen asked.

"I don't know," Jeff snapped. "But what's gone wrong, Brains. I want answers. I don't like International Rescue being caught on the back foot like this."

"I-I d-don't kn-know M-Mr T-Tracy." His employer's fierce stare was making Brains uncomfortable and exacerbating his stutter. "I-It w-would b-be v-very unu-usual f-for more th-than one d-direction f-finder to f-fail at th-the s-same t-t-time. S-Something m-must b-be b-blocking th-the s-signal. W-What d-does th-this c-company d-do?"

"We don't know, Brains," John informed him. "They've been uncooperative from the start."

The "Sonar Sender's" signals changed. Scott reached out and felt a wall ahead. "Virgil. I've reached a dead end. Which way do I need to go?"

Virgil checked the monitor that showed Scott's location relative to the victim's. "He's ahead of your position and a little to your right."

"Thanks." Scott felt along the wall and found a corner. He followed it round and found a ridge that could have been a doorframe. His fingers tracked over it and found something protruding. He grasped and turned it. To his relief the door opened. He stepped forward and closed the door behind him again in the hope of minimising the smoke in this new room. "Where to now, Virgil?

"You're more in line with him. You need to keep going in the same direction you were before."

Scott felt along the wall for a couple of steps before he felt confident that he was once again heading in the right direction.

Outside, Alan and Gordon were cooling their heels. John was with them in spirit as he waited impatiently on board Thunderbird Five.

"I hate this," Gordon moaned. "I should be in there with him."

"If he needed your help he would have asked for it, Gordon," John reminded him. "Just be ready in case you've got to go in."

"How's your oxygen supply?" Alan asked.

Gordon checked the gauge. "Full."

"Got a couple of spare canisters."

Gordon patted the straps of the backpack he wore. "Yep."

They waited some more.

Jeff couldn't wait any longer. "Base to Thunderbird Five."

John's image replaced his portrait. "Dad?"

"Any news?"

"Virgil says he's getting closer. He should be with the victim at any moment."

"Good! I won't be happy until he's out of there."

"We all agree with you on that one, Dad."

"Scott." He could hear Virgil's voice. "You're in line with our victim. You need to move about three metres to your right."

Scott took two steps and found himself up against a wall. "I'm going to have to find a door." He felt along the wall until he found the obvious outline of a door. He found the handle but didn't turn it. "This is International Rescue!" he yelled through the obstruction. "Can you hear me?"

He heard a scuffle on the far side of the door. "Yes! Yes! I can hear you!"

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"What's your name?"

"Percy."

"Okay, Percy. Is the door locked?"

"Yes."

"Can you open it?"

"No."

"Can I open it from this side?"

The voice sounded a little perplexed. "No. It's on automatic lockdown. If you could cut away the lock you'd be able to get in."

"Okay," Scott acknowledged. "Percy! I want you to get as far away from the door as you can, and get down onto the floor. Have you got any water in there?"

"I've got my drink bottle, if I can find it in the dark."

"Good. Wet a bit of cloth and hold it over your face, like a mask. I don't know how much smoke will get in there when I get inside and I don't want you breathing any more than you need to. I have a protective suit for you, with an oxygen mask. As soon as I get the door open let me know where you are. Are there any obstacles in my way?"

"No the floor's clear."

"Good. Stand back!" Scott got the spare protective overall out of his bag and strung it across the backpack's straps so it would be within easy reach when he got inside. Then he removed the laser and once again felt the door's handle. Satisfied that he'd found the right place he started to cut through the door.

At least I don't have to worry about safety goggles, he thought grimly.

The laser made short work of the lock. He stood back and kicked at the door. It swung open.

He stepped into the room.

"I'm over here," he heard Percy call. He made his way over to the victim. He felt his cane touch him.

"Here!" he pulled the overall out from the backpack's straps. "Can you get into this? Put the hood on first."

Percy complied. "Have you got a torch?"

"Ah, no. Our equipment means we, ah, don't need torches." This was one piece of equipment that Scott hadn't thought of bringing. He could hear the man struggle into the overalls.

"This is impossible when you can't see what you're doing," Percy complained.

Not really, Scott thought to himself with a grin, as he assisted where he could.

"Done!" Percy exclaimed. "Now what?"

"Give me your arm and we'll get out of here."

"I'm glad you know where you're going. I don't have a clue."

Just the blind leading the blind. In the cover of darkness, Scott was still grinning to himself. He was enjoying being in action again. "Can you hear me, Virgil?"

"Loud and clear."

"We're on our way out. Are we headed for the door?"

"F-A-B." Virgil watched Scott's blue mark and the victim's green one move in tandem towards where he now knew the door to be. Then they started moving back along the hallway.

Everyone was unprepared for the explosion.

Scott found his grasp ripped from Percy's arm as he was thrown back against the wall. Stunned he lay still for a moment until the sounds of falling masonry caused him to curl into a ball to try to protect himself.

A pillar of flame appeared from within the black pall of smoke and shot towards Thunderbird Two. Virgil didn't have time to think. He threw the motors into action and sent Thunderbird Two screaming forward away from the imminent danger. The starboard wing was singed as the flames shot skywards. Warning buzzers started blaring at him from his control panel.

John stared at the video screen as Mobile Control's camera started shaking uncontrollably. He saw the shockwaves of the blast throw Alan off the stool, and Gordon dive to the ground covering his head. Then he couldn't see anything as black smoke obliterated his view.

"Alan!" he yelled. "Gordon! What's happening?"

Fifty Four

Virgil brought Thunderbird Two around so she was facing the danger zone and examined his control panel anxiously. The warning alarms that had gone off had all been silenced. Most of them had been the result of his sudden acceleration. Only one warning light remained on. The gauge that kept a close watch on his starboard wing's temperature. As he watched the temperature decreased and the warning light winked off.

Satisfied that he'd sustained no real damage, and could safely remain airborne, he turned his attention to the scene in front of him.

It looked no different to how it had been before. That thick, black cloud of smoke still hung over the building obliterating the view. He had no way of knowing how things were below that cloud. He switched his attention to where he'd last seen Mobile Control.

John anxiously scanned his video screen for signs that the smoke was dissipating. He was relieved when a hooded figure swam into view. "Alan! Are you guys alright?"

"Yeah. We're fine, John. Few bruises, that's all."

"What happened?"

"Something exploded. Hang on, I've got to try to reach Scott."

John waited impatiently for some sign that his older brother had survived that explosion.

Scott uncurled slowly, feeling bits of debris fall off him. It's like Regnad all over again, he thought. Apart from a general soreness he appeared to have escaped any real injury.

"Percy?" he asked. "Can you hear me, Percy?"

There was no reply.

"Percy?"

He received a reply, but this was from the speakers within his hood. "Scott, are you reading me?"

"I'm here, Alan, and I'm okay. I don't know about our victim though, I'm going to have to try to find him. What happened?" Scott was feeling about for his "Sonar Sender." It had been detached from his collar during the melee. He found it hanging from its safety chain and, with difficulty because of his gloves, reaffixed it. Satisfied that it was still working he felt about to find his cane. His searching hands were unable to seek it out.

"We don't know. Something exploded."

"Are you guys okay?" Scott was searching for Percy now.

"We are. Thunderbird Two's a mile away. I guess he took evasive action, hang on he's calling us. Go ahead, Virgil."

Alan didn't shut down the link and Scott could hear him conversing with Virgil. "So you've got no damage, Virg?"

"Nothing we need worry about. I'm going to get back into position."

"Sorry about that, Scott." Alan's voice became clearer. "He's fine. He'll give us a reading on your victim's position shortly."

"Percy."

"Huh."

"Percy. Our victim's name is Percy." Scott's hands were still feeling over the rubble, trying to find the missing man. His "Sonar Sender" picked up something with a softer texture than the rest of the rubble. He felt his way closer and touched something that yielded.

It was an arm.

He felt his way up the arm and found the switch that activated the Vital Signs Monitor. "Alan. I've turned on Percy's VSM. How is he?"

"I've got a reading, Scott. He's out cold, there's a slight reduction in blood pressure, but otherwise seems fine. Are you going to be able to get him out of there?"

"I don't know that I can carry him over all this rubble alone, and I've lost my cane. Anyway, I don't want to risk moving him any more than I have to. Better tell Gordon to get suited up and bring a stretcher."

"He's already got that under control. How's the "Sonar Sender" holding up?"

"Another of Brains' miracle gadgets. It's working like a charm." Scott started to clear the debris away from on top of Percy.

"Thunderbird Two to Scott."

"I'm here, Virgil."

"So I see. I've got you on my scanners. Both of you."

"Did you hear what I was talking to Alan about?"

"Yes. I guess I'd better direct Gordon to your position."

Gordon stopped at Mobile Control one more time before he headed into the inky blackness of the smoke filled building. "Any last instructions, Alan?"

"Yeah. Be careful. Virgil's going to guide you."

"Good." Gordon pulled his hood over his head and made sure the collapsible stretcher was strapped firmly to his backpack. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck."

Gordon approached the writhing mass of black smoke with some trepidation. He'd felt a profound sense of unease when he last entered that black hole with Scott, and now he was going to have to enter alone and find his way to his brother. "Nothing to it!" he told himself, but his own bravado was failing him.

Nervously he took his first steps through the smoke.

The blackness was oppressive. Gordon remembered that Scott had said that this hallway was clear of debris. He moved forward hoping that that last explosion hadn't brought anything down to block his way. He wished he'd had the foresight to bring something that could have acted as a cane of his own. Anything to give him the reassurance that he wasn't going to bump into something ahead.

Reassurance came in a different form. "You're doing well, Gordon? You're covered a third of the distance already." Gordon wondered if this was how Scott had felt a year ago in Regnad when Virgil had guided him through those subterranean corridors. If the sound of his brother's voice had brought the same sense of relief.

"That far? I thought I'd only gone a couple of metres." Despite the good news Gordon had to fight the temptation to turn and head back to safety.

"Nope, you're halfway now. You're doing better than Scott did."

"Only because he trail blazed for me." - Keep talking to me, Virgil, Gordon prayed.

As if he'd heard the prayer Virgil did so. "What equipment have you got?"

"The usual, plus the stretcher." Gordon's palms were sweating.

"Plenty of oxygen?"

"Yep," Gordon moved to wipe sweat from his forehead and found his arm impeded by his hood.

"That's two thirds of the way. What's it like down there?"

"Black. I feel as if I'm in some kind of black hole. That's the only way I can think of to describe it." Gordon was feeling as if the entire universe was pressing down on him.

"I wonder what went wrong with the sensors."

"Yeah. I bet Brains is tearing his hair out at the moment." - Of all the things to fail! Why'd they have to fail? Gordon thought. Why am I doing this?

"There must be a logical reason. You've got about a metre to go."

Gordon slowed down and reached out in front of him. He felt the wall.

"The door should be off to your right. It's in the right wall in the corner."

Gordon found the door. He turned the handle and pushed.

It moved, but only enough to be annoying.

Gordon placed his shoulder to the door and pushed again. The door moved marginally more and then stopped. "There must be some debris in the way," he said frustratedly. "I'll need help." He changed the channel to three-way communication. "Scott. Can you hear me?"

"What's up, Gordon?"

"I can't get this door open. Can you clear some of the debris away?"

"Are you there already? Hey, Gordon. Well done!"

"Thanks," Gordon could hear Scott stumbling over the debris and Virgil directing him to the door. "I can hear you, Scott."

There was a stumbling/falling sound and a soft "oof" in their speakers. "Are you okay?" Virgil asked worriedly.

"Yeah. Didn't see that one." Scott was on his feet again and feeling his way for the door. He found the gap that Gordon had just made and put his hand through. He found Gordon's arm.

To Gordon the touch of another human being felt like he'd been thrown a life preserver. He grabbed Scott's hand and held it momentarily.

"I know just what you mean," Scott grunted in reply to Gordon's unspoken sentiment. "Now to try to clear some of this rubbish."

"This must be what John feels like," Virgil grumbled. "Absolutely helpless."

"Not helpless and not useless," Scott told him. "Keep talking."

"Please," Gordon couldn't help adding.

"I wonder how the Tigers are getting on." Virgil found a topic that had helped him cope while he was trapped in Regnad. One that he knew would occupy Gordon's thoughts.

"The Tigers?" Gordon managed a laugh. "They haven't a hope. The Sharks'll walk all over them."

"Never! Trainer is back to full fitness."

"So is Marks. He's the best in the league."

"Rubbish. English would match him any day."

"I'd like to see him try..."

"Try and push now, Gordon," Scott interrupted. "I'll pull on this side."

They got the door open a bit further. "Hang on, Scott," Gordon said as he slipped his pack off his shoulders. "You take my bag and the stretcher and I'll see if I can slip through."

"We'll need the opening big enough to take this fully extended," Scott said as he took the stretcher.

"I'll help you clear some more of the debris," Gordon said and he squeezed through the opening. "What's that they say about many hands?"

Just finding a piece that he could move, was a challenge to Gordon, but he seized upon it gladly as it helped keep his mind of the pressing blackness.

"How's it going, guys?" Alan's voice asked.

"We're about to try to open the door a little more," Scott told him. "How's Percy's VSM reading?"

"There's no change."

"Good," Scott acknowledged. "Have you got a good grip, Gordon?"

"Yep," Gordon said determinedly.

With a groan the door opened a little more.

Gordon gave another pull and his gloved fingers slipped off the edge. He landed with a painful thud amongst the ruins. He felt Scott squat down beside him.

"Are you alright!?"

Gordon felt a hand reach out for him. He took a breath to push down the bruising pain. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, trying to sound cheerful. He shook the outstretched hand and managed to stand again. "Guess we need to clear a bit more."

"Okay," Scott conceded.

Together they managed to move a large beam. The door now swung easily on its hinges. Scott pushed it open to its limits and then retrieved the pack and stretcher. Rather than give it back to Gordon he swung it onto his own back. "Keep your left hand against the wall," he instructed his younger brother, "it's relatively clear on this side. Virgil will tell you when you've gone far enough."

"Okay," Gordon's voice sounded shaky.

"I'll try to give some warning of what's ahead," Scott offered.

"Thanks."

"You haven't got far to go, Fellas," Virgil informed them.

Gordon tripped over a couple of beams on his way to Percy, but continued on doggedly. He knew he'd arrived at his destination when he cannoned into Scott.

Scott moved forward slightly and removed the pack from his back. "There's at least two big beams we've got to move before we can get to him. If I show you where they are, do you think you'll be able to help me?"

"That's what I'm here for."

Scott guided Gordon to the first of the beams and showed him where to grab hold. "You're going to have to move it to your right, okay?"

"Okay," Gordon was determined not to let him down. He was here to do a job.

Scott found his way around to the other end of the beam. "Ready?"

"Ready."

"Lift!" With a grunt they lifted the beam off the prone body and managed to move it clear.

"Only one more to go," Scott said reassuringly as he assisted Gordon to the next beam.

This was slightly heavier but didn't have to be moved as far. It was with relief that they dumped it back on the ground.

"Whew," Gordon rotated his shoulders to loosen them. "Next time I'll bring a crane."

Scott was retrieving the stretcher, which he extended to its full length and placed beside Percy. "Where are you, Gordon?"

"Over here."

Scott found him and took him around so he was standing beside Percy's legs. Then he made his own way so he was standing besides the man's head. "Okay. We don't have to shift him far. I've managed to slip the stretcher under his side."

Gordon reached over and found the stretcher. "Okay, I've got it."

They slid Percy onto the stretcher and then strapped him on.

Scott found his and Gordon's packs. He handed one to Gordon. "I'll go in front and then the stretcher will guide you. Okay."

Gordon swallowed. "Piece of cake." He put on his pack.

Scott patted him on the shoulder and then led him to his end of the stretcher. He then made his own way back to the other end.

Before Scott readied himself to lift the stretcher he changed the radio to two-way communication. "Virgil?"

"Yeah, Scott?"

"I'm on two-way. I'm going to have to concentrate on the 'Sonar Sender.' I've lost my cane, not that I could use it and carry the stretcher anyway. All Gordon has to do is follow my lead."

"Are you going to be able to get out okay?" Scott could hear concern in Virgil's voice.

"We'll be fine once we get through that door. But Gordon's struggling with all this. I want you to keep talking to him and keep him focused. Just like you helped me at Regnad."

"It was slightly different then."

"Yeah I know. But you've got a reassuring voice. I should know. You can help him."

"Scott..." a plaintive voice interrupted their conversation. "What's the hold up?"

Scott switched back to three-way communication. "Sorry, Gordon. Have you got the handles?"

"Yes."

"Lift!"

Percy was hoisted into the air.

Virgil was frantically trying to think of something he could say to Gordon. It had to be something relevant to the rescue, but he didn't want to worry Gordon any more than necessary.

"Come on, Virgil. Think!" he said impatiently.

At that moment Gordon was concentrating on trying to maintain his footing and listening out for Scott's directions. Something gave way under his foot and he slipped, dropping his end of the stretcher.

"Are you okay, Gordon?" Scott asked anxiously.

"Yep," Gordon said through gritted teeth. "I'm going to have a whacking great bruise on my leg, that's all. How's Percy?"

Scott hadn't let go of his end of the stretcher. "How's Percy, Alan?"

"No change."

"Good," Gordon grunted as he found his feet and then the stretcher handles again. "I'm ready, Scott. Move on."

"You're getting close, Fellas." Virgil reassured them. "You're nearly to the door and then you'll be on the home straight."

"How far?" Gordon asked.

"Five metres maybe."

"That far!"

"Relax Gordon. You'll be there before you know it. Tell you what, what say we organise an obstacle course when we get home. You can challenge Scott to a race. I'd bet you'd give him a run for his money."

"No thanks, Virgil. I aim to hang onto my sight for as long as possible. Sorry, Scott."

"That's okay, Gordon. I aim to take care of mine after tomorrow. There's a bit of a beam here you'll have to climb over."

Gordon tried to estimate where this beam was but still managed to bang his shins on it. Gingerly he stepped over. "How far now, Virgil?"

"Two metres."

"We seem to have a clear run here. Must be where we cleared the debris away," Scott announced. "I think I've got a reading on the door. We'll put Percy down here and swap ends. Hang on. I'll come and get you."

Gordon resisted the temptation to throw his arms around Scott when he felt his brother reach him. The sensory deprivation was really getting to him and the touch of another human was the only thing that stopped him feeling that he was going mad. "It's going to be easy from here on isn't it?" he asked eagerly.

"Sure," Scott said confidently. "No sweat."

"Nothing to it," Virgil confirmed. "You'll be able to do twice the speed you did getting in from here on."

They managed to twist the stretcher around so that they were able to get it through the door. They were finally in the clear hallway.

"Do you want me to lead again, Gordon?" Scott asked.

"Uh. Yes please."

"Start talking, Virgil," Scott instructed.

"What's the first thing you're going to do when you get back to base, Gordon?" Virgil asked.

"Something that involves a lot of light. I don't know, maybe just sit on the beach and watch the ocean."

"That's a surprise," Virgil said with a slight trace of sarcasm in his voice.

"Well, why'd you ask me then?"

Whatever reply Virgil had in mind was cut off.

Cut off by the explosion that rocked the very room they were in...

Fifty Five

The stretcher Percy was lying on was wrenched from their hands by the force of the explosion. Instinctively Scott dove over the injured man to try to protect him from any potential threat.

Gordon was thrown against the wall and then flung to the floor. Already unnerved by the alien environment he was working in, this new threat was too much. He curled up into a ball and started yelling.

As the noise from the explosion and falling rubble died away Scott became aware of this strange new sound. "Gordon?" He gingerly lifted his weight off Percy. "Alan! What happened?" He started feeling his way over the newly displaced debris towards his brother.

"I don't know. There was another explosion somewhere in the complex. Are you guys alright?"

"I am, but I don't know about Gordon." Scott knew he'd reached his objective when he brushed against something soft and then a hand grabbed his arm. "Gordon! Are you okay?"

Gordon's grip was like iron. "Scott! I've got to get out of here! I've got to get out now!"

"Gordon! Calm down! It's okay."

"No it's not. I can't take this. I've got to get out!" Gordon stood, took a step and overbalanced on the uneven floor. He fell with an alarming crash amongst the rubble.

"Gordon! Are you alright?" Scott was feeling about for his brother again.

"No I'm not. I've got to get out!" Gordon yelled hysterically.

Scott was hit by a flailing arm. Is this how Virgil felt dealing with me? he asked himself grimly. He grabbed the arm and held the hand tightly. "Gordon, listen to me! Are you hurt?"

"H-Hurt? N-No. I've just got to get out of h-here!"

"Gordon. I need your help to get Percy out of here."

"Can't help. I c-can't help."

"Calm down, Gordon." Scott begged. "Please calm down."

Alan was listening to this exchange. "Scott! Do you want me to come in there?"

"No I don't!" Scott yelled and then calmed down himself. "Sorry, Alan. But you don't have the experience either. I couldn't deal with the two of you." He took a breath. "How's Percy?"

"Percy? He's fine. There's no change to his stats. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know, Alan. I've got to get Gordon to calm down then we've got t get out of here. Virgil! Are you listening?"

"I'm here, Scott."

"Help me."

"Help you? How?"

"Talk to, Gordon. You kept me calm in Regnad."

"But I was with you then!"

"Virgil! Just try it will you!" Scott was hit by and managed to grab Gordon's other flailing hand.

"Gordon. Please try to calm down," Virgil said lamely. Then an idea came to him. "John. I could use your help here."

"What can I do?"

"You're good at this. Help me talk to Gordon. I'll put the circuit onto three-way."

John bit his l.ip. Gordon was at his calmest about water. "Try to get him to imagine that he's underwater."

"Imagine that he's..." then Virgil shrugged. At least it was an idea. He donned a headset so that he could talk directly to Gordon without his brother hearing any other conversations that were being carried out. "Gordon, can you hear me? Listen to me. I'm going to paint you a picture."

"I can't see it!" Gordon panted in reply.

"No. It's going to be a verbal picture. I want you to imagine it. Close your eyes, Gordon."

"It's already dark!"

"Doesn't matter. I want you to imagine what I'm going to say to you. You're swimming... You're scuba diving. The fire suit you're wearing is actually your wet suit. Your pack is actually your oxygen tank..."

The word oxygen sent warning bells ringing in Scott's brain. How much did they have left? He'd been using his the longest. Percy had a smaller canister. Gordon's hyperventilating would mean that he would be using his oxygen supply quickly.

"Gordon!" he interrupted. "I need to let go of your hands for a short time."

"No!"

"Please, Gordon. I'll be as quick as I can. Just listen to Virgil and John okay?"

"I want to get out. I've got to see something."

"Talk to him, Virgil!" Scott released Gordon's hands and stepped back quickly to avoid being grabbed again.

"You're going deeper into the water. You're not sinking; it's a controlled descent. You're diving into the... the..." Virgil's mind went blank. He flicked a switch so that John and Alan could hear him, but Gordon couldn't. "Quickly! What's the name of that trench in the Pacific Ocean? You know the really deep one."

John was onto Thunderbird Five's computer. "I don't know. I'll look it up," He said urgently.

"Come on, Johnny. What's it called?"

"The Mariana Trench," Alan said calm,ly.

They were stunned for a moment. "How'd you know that?" John asked.

"Gordon showed me a book on it the other day."

"Good. You can do this then," Virgil said eagerly.

"No way! I only remember the name 'cause it's the same as a new model of car."

"Great!" Virgil muttered before reinstating his link with Gordon. "Sorry, Gordon. Slight technical hitch with Thunderbird Two. You are descending into the Mariana Trench. You can feel the water about you. It's supporting you, calming you. You can feel the currents massaging you. The water is from changing from cobalt blue mixed with white and a touch of lemon, to French Ultramarine. Now there's a touch of Viridian Hue and black as the water gets darker and..."

"What are you on about?" John asked.

"I'm describing the colour changes," Virgil explained.

"I don't know what you're saying. You can't expect Gordon to understand," John told him.

Virgil huffed to himself, before continuing on. "The water's changing colour from pale blue, to a deeper blue to dark blue. It's getting darker and darker, but you don't mind. You feel perfectly safe..."

Scott was feeling about in his pack. He retrieved a spare oxygen cylinder and made his way over to the stretcher. "What's Percy's oxygen levels, Alan?"

"They're low, but not critical."

"Okay. I'll change his cylinder first. Then I'll try to change Gordon's."

"What about you?"

"I've still got some. I'll get a spare out of Gordon's pack when I change his."

"Well don't leave it too long. You've still got to get them out of there."

"Has Brains worked out what's happened with the sensors?"

"He thinks there must be something in the smoke that's blocking the signals. He wants us to run some tests before we head home. We might have to wash Thunderbird Two down before we leave if it proves to be some kind of contaminant. We don't want to be spraying harmful stuff over half the planet."

"Thunderbird Two?" Scott said absently. He was concentrating on removing one oxygen cylinder and replacing it with another.

"Last time I saw her she was as black as the ace of spades. Virgil's going to have a fit when he sees her."

"There's fish swimming about you," Virgil was running out of ideas.

Gordon was starting to calm down. "What kind of fish?"

"Oh," Virgil was stumped. He didn't know. "Angel fish?" he hazarded.

"You don't find them here," Gordon informed him.

"How about starfish?" John suggested.

"A starfish," Virgil repeated to Gordon. "One of those translucent ones that gives off it's own light."

Gordon must have been satisfied by this, as he made no comment.

John was bringing up the subject on the computer. "Good choice, Virgil. Tell him he's surrounded by lots of them. I'll get you more info."

Virgil didn't get the chance to continue as Scott interrupted. "Gordon. I'm going to replace your oxygen cylinder and then get a spare out of your pack. Okay?"

Gordon was sounding closer to his normal relaxed self. "Okay, Scott. Now what else can I see, Virgil?"

Scott felt around until he found where Gordon's oxygen cylinder was housed in his suit. He got a spare out of his own pack, bled some oxygen into Gordon's mask to keep him going during the changeover, and then quickly removed the old cylinder and replaced it with a fresh one.

It wasn't till he'd finished that he realised how easily he was managing all these tasks. The thought surprised him somewhat. He was finally getting the hang of this blindness lark just when he was going to regain his sight again. He grinned at the thought.

A beeping sound wiped the smile from his face.

The signal told him that his own cylinder only had fifteen minutes of air left.

He found Gordon's pack.

It was open.

He felt inside.

It was empty.

He didn't have time to ponder how this had happened. Clearly everything had fallen out when Gordon had fallen over. Scott felt about, but couldn't find any of the lifesaving cylinders.

He only had twelve minutes of air left.

He had to get out of there.

"Virgil. Get John to talk to Gordon. I need your help. Switch to two way."

Virgil complied. "What's up?"

"We've run out of oxygen cylinders."

"What! How!"

"Gordon's pack was open."

"Gordon left his pack open? He must have been really stressed to forget that. How much oxygen have you got left?"

"Enough." Scott prayed he was telling the truth. "But I'm totally disoriented. Which way's out."

Virgil looked at the screen that represented the positions of the three men in the building below Thunderbird Two. "Take a step to your left." Scott complied. "Okay. That's the way you've got to go."

"Good, thanks." Scott stepped up to where he thought Gordon was. "Gordon? Are you ready to move?"

Gordon stopped telling John about the sunken ship he was currently exploring in his mind. "Move?"

"Yes. We've got to get out of here."

"I don't think I can."

Scott knelt down. "Come on, Gordon. This is your big brother you're dealing with. I've always looked after you haven't I? Who took you to swimming practise every morning? Who made sure you always had your lunch before you left for school? Who stuck up for you when the bigger kids called you 'Matchstick.'"

"You," Gordon said quietly.

"Who caught you sneaking out of Old Man Burstead's place with an armload of apples?"

"That was John."

"Right. And who was it who calmed Father down before he told you off for stealing."

"You."

"Have I ever let you down?"

"No... I'm sure it was John who told on me."

"You can ask him later. But now I need your help. Percy needs your help. And by helping us you can get out of here."

There was silence.

"Are you with me, Gordon?"

"I'll try."

"That's all I'm asking for. Come on. Get onto your feet and let's get out of here." Scott felt Gordon stand up. "Have you got the stretcher?"

"I've got it, Scott," Gordon's voice was quiet.

Scott found the other end. "Right! Lift!" Another signal went off in his helmet. Only ten minutes of oxygen left. If they weren't out by the five-minute warning he'd have to get Alan to come in with a replacement. "Come on, Gordon. Let's get out of here!"

They started moving forward.

Scott found himself counting down his steps as he got closer to the exit. ...Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

"We are going the right way aren't we, Scott?"

"We must be, Gordon, Virgil would tell us if we weren't." 'Twenty, twenty one, twenty two.' He tried to stop his incessant counting.

A brief blip warned him that his oxygen levels were down to seven and a half minutes.

"How far, Virgil?" he asked urgently.

"Maybe five metres. I've told Alan to make sure he's suited up and has a spare oxygen cylinder for you. You've only got to say the word and he'll be in there."

Once again Scott silently thanked his lucky stars that Virgil was there.

"How much oxygen have you got left?"

"Enough."

"Scott!" Virgil sounded stern. "We're on two-way here. Tell me! How much oxygen have you got left?"

"About seven minutes."

"Seven minutes! I'm sending Alan in now!"

"No, Virgil! Don't! I'm having enough trouble worrying about Gordon. I couldn't deal with Alan freaking out as well."

"He doesn't have far to go..."

"I'm wasting oxygen discussing this with you. If we're not out by the five-minute mark I'll tell you and you can send him in then. Till then don't worry him!"

Virgil was unconvinced. "Okay..." he said reluctantly. He turned his attention to the chronometer on Thunderbird Two's control panel and started counting down the seconds. Twenty two, twenty one, twenty, nineteen...

He jumped when a warning buzzer sounded from the speakers. He'd left the link between himself and Scott open. It was the five-minute warning. He slammed the switch that connected him to Mobile Control. "Alan! Get in there! Scott's only got five minutes of oxygen left!"

Alan sprung to his feet and started sprinting to where he knew the doorway, still hidden behind the writhing clouds of black smoke, should be.

He couldn't find it.

"Virgil!" he yelled. "How do I get in?"

"You're right there, Alan. It's right in front of you!"

"I can't feel it. I'm sure Gordon left the door open."

"What can you feel?"

"Debris. That last explosion must have brought the wall down!" Alan had slowed down his frantic searching and was feeling the wall more systematically. "I've found a hole."

"How big?"

"I can fit my arm through it."

"And an oxygen cylinder too?"

"I think so."

Thank heavens for small mercies, Virgil thought. "Scott. You're right at the exit now."

"Good," Scott acknowledged.

"The exit's blocked."

"Not good!" Scott felt a surge of alarm.

"Alan's found a small hole. He can put an oxygen cylinder through it. Can you find his arm?"

"Gordon! We're putting down Percy," Scott instructed.

"What's wrong?" They'd kept Gordon out of the loop to stop him from worrying.

"Sorry, Gordon. The exit's blocked," Scott said. Don't panic, Gordon, he thought.

"What? Do the guys know?"

"Alan's outside. He's found a small hole."

"How small?"

"Gordon! I'm just about out of oxygen. Alan can get a cylinder through the hole, but I need your help to find it. Can you help me?"

Gordon felt his way along the edge of the stretcher until he reached the end. He reached out and felt Scott's shoulder. "Tell me where to look."

"Move to your left and feel around there. Alan? How high is the hole?"

"Um. About my waist level."

"Gordon. You're level with Alan," Virgil told him.

Gordon felt the wall and found a hand sticking through. "Nice to meet you."

Alan withdrew his hand and replaced it with the spare cylinder. "Have you got it?"

"Got it!" Gordon felt his way along to where he thought Scott was.

"I'm coming in to land," Virgil announced. "I'll get some gear out to break through that wall."

Gordon found Scott. He pressed the cylinder into his brother's hand. "Can you manage this?"

"Yep." Scott was feeling light-headed, so he moved quickly. He'd already got the spent cylinder ready for removal. He quickly detached it and dropped it to the ground. Then he readied the fresh cylinder.

His gloved fingers lost their grip on the oxygen supply. "I've dropped it!"

"What!?" Instantly Gordon was on his hands and knees feeling about. He found a cylinder. It was too light to be full. He tucked it into a pocket and continued his frantic search.

Scott braced himself against the wall. It was getting hot in this suit. His mouth was dry. It was also becoming hard to remain focused. He became aware that it was becoming more difficult to breathe.

His legs gave out and he slid to the ground. Come on, Gordon!

His thoughts were echoed by Alan's voice. "Come on, Gordon!"

"I've found it!" Keeping a firm grip on the cylinder Gordon felt about blindly and came in contact with a knee. He traced it up Scott's leg until he found his torso. "Hang in there, Brother!" He found the oxygen supply line and managed to attach the life-giving cylinder. "Scott. I've done it! Are you okay?"

Scott was too busy getting a lung full of fresh oxygen to answer. He managed to squeeze Gordon's arm in recognition of what had been achieved.

"Gordon!" Virgil yelled. "How is he?"

"I think he's okay," Gordon replied.

"Yeah. I'm okay," Scott gasped. "Just getting my breath back. Thanks, Gordo.'"

"Any time."

Outside their brothers were setting up the rescue equipment. Alan readied a laser while Virgil positioned a giant fan. "I don't know if this is going to work..." he said as he switched it on.

Miraculously the breeze from the fan cleared the smoke away from where the door used to be. Now with full visibility it took only a matter of minutes for Alan and Virgil to cut through the debris. They rushed inside.

Alan found Gordon. "Go on. Get out of here. We'll take care of things."

But Gordon was determined to finish what he'd started. "I'm okay. Let's get this guy out of here." He headed to his end of Percy's stretcher. "Are you ready, Alan?"

Alan had positioned himself at Scott's end. "I'm ready. Lift."

Virgil reached Scott's side. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Scott got to his feet. "I wouldn't mind being guided out of here though."

Virgil could see that everything else was under control. "Hang on, I want to get a couple of samples of the debris for analysis. We've got to find out what was jamming our scanners." He picked up some lumps of material for Brains and then returned to Scott. "Take my arm. Where do you want to go? Do you want to go to the sick bay?"

"No. I don't need to do that. You can help me to Mobile Control."

Alan and Gordon took Percy to the gate of the security cordon, passed him over to the care of the local Paramedics and watched as he was carried away to a waiting ambulance. Then they turned to head back to Mobile Control.

Alan was surprised when Gordon grabbed his arm.

"My legs have just turned to jelly. I think I'll sit down for a bit."

Alan aided him to the ground. "Are you okay? Do you want a Paramedic to look at you?" he asked in concern.

"No. I'll be okay. I just need a moment to regain my composure." He lay down.

"Can I do anything, get you anything?" Alan crouched beside his brother.

Gordon shook his head. "I just want to enjoy a little light for a minute or so. It was so dark in there. Unbelievably dark." He turned his head so that he could see Scott sitting at Mobile Control. "I don't know how he's coped this past year. Goodness only knows how he managed to get through Regnad. I think I would have gone mad."

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do?"

"No. I'm fine, thanks, Alan," Gordon said quietly.

"Okay. I'll be over at Mobile Control if you want me."

"Thanks."

Scott was talking to his father when Alan reached him. "Hang on. Here's Alan. I'll ask him."

"Ask him what?"

"How's Gordon?"

"Pretty shaken up. He's having a lie down. His legs gave out on him. He says he's fine though. Where's Virgil?"

"Brains wants to know what it was that caused the sensors to fail," his father told him. "Virgil's running some tests on the smoke and anything else he can find."

"Good. We don't want our equipment failing again."

"I think Gordon would agree with you." Scott stood. "I'll have a word with him. Where is he, Alan? In the sick bay?"

"No. He's just over there."

Gordon was still lying on the ground when Scott reached him. "How're you feeling Gordo?"

"I'm shakinglike a leaf Scott! I never want to go through an experience like that again. I don't know how you've survived the past year. I would have gone mad by now."

"A year ago and I would have... I did say the same thing. But you learn to cope. Think about it Gordon, I'd say that I would go crazy if I was stuck in a wheelchair for months, with every chance of never being able to walk again. But you did it. After your hovercraft accident you had to live like that and you coped. You came to accept it didn't you."

"I see what you mean. But I don't know that I did accept it, I fought to be able to walk again."

"But if you'd failed, you would have coped wouldn't you."

"Well... yes I guess I would have. I would have had to."

"It's been the same for me."

"How come you're so strong and I'm such a wimp?"

Scott crouched down so that he didn't have to talk so loud. "Two things, Gordon. One - you're not a wimp. You got in there unaided and helped me get Percy out to safety. And two... You didn't see me at my worst, and believe me, my worst was worse than you just were."

"You?"

"Me. Look this isn't the place to discuss this. What say I travel back with you guys in Thunderbird Two and I'll tell you about it?"

"I'd like that."

"Okay. Do you feel up to giving us a hand, starting with helping me back to Mobile Control? I'm a bit lost in strange surroundings without my cane."

"Yeah, I'll help. If I can get my legs going in the same direction!"

Scott laughed as he assisted his brother to his feet. They started to walk back to Mobile Control.

"Gordon. I wanted to say thanks for helping me out back there. You were literally a lifesaver."

"It was my fault you ran out of oxygen. It was the least I could do."

"What! You're actually volunteering to ride in Thunderbird Two when you could be in Thunderbird One!" Alan was amazed. "You're going to let me fly her solo?"

"Make the most of it, kid. After tomorrow you're not going to get a look in. I want my 'bird back!"

"I'll leave the keys on your pillow for when you wake up."

Virgil emerged from Thunderbird Two and made his way over to Mobile Control. "Mind if I have a word with base?" he asked Alan who was still seated at the console. "I've got the results from the tests of the residue on Thunderbird Two." He looked at his sooty black plane and made a face. "I've got a heck of a clean up job when we get home."

Alan slid out of his seat. "Help yourself."

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

"Hi, Virgil. Have you got the test results?"

"Yes. Can you put me through to Brains?"

Brains bespectacled face appeared on the monitor. "W-What have you found out, V-Virgil?"

"Plenty of carbon and not much else. Thunderbird Two is covered in charcoal! The spectrograph isn't reading anything dangerous so I think we'll be safe flying her home. What do you reckon?"

"I c-concur, Virgil. But please make sure you have an unc-contaminated sample for my analysis. If there is anything th-that is capable of bl-blocking our signals I want to know wh-what it is."

"Don't we all, Brains. Don't we all," Virgil agreed. "I've already got a sample stashed away for you. Tell Father we'll be leaving shortly."

"F-A-B."

As Brains' face disappeared from the monitor Virgil turned away from Mobile Control. "Well, Gordon. How're you feeling now?"

"Not so shaky," Gordon admitted. "We've got a passenger for the homeward flight."

"We have?"

"I told Gordon I'd travel with you guys and we could discuss what happened," Scott told him. "You don't mind?"

"Of course not," Virgil smiled. "I've had enough watery tales for one day, and that's all Gordon will want to talk about with me."

Fifty Six

Thunderbird Two was well into the trip home.

"I don't know how I could have come to have left my pack open," Gordon apologised. "I don't even remember opening it. I'm sorry, Scott."

"Don't worry about it, Gordon. We made it out safely, that's all that matters at the moment."

"But I still feel bad. What if it happens again?"

"It won't. I'm sure it won't," Scott reassured him.

"I don't know how you managed to cope at Regnad," Gordon said. "I mean you were blind and trapped. At least we knew how to get out back there."

"Yes but don't forget I had Virgil with me and he could see where we were going and he was able to guide and protect me. You had to rely on me giving you directions almost remotely. I know how important that human touch can be and how frightening it is when you lose it. That's when you start to panic."

"But you didn't panic... Did you?" Gordon was amazed at this admission.

Scott was nodding. "When Virgil was unconscious I just lost it. I felt totally isolated. And helpless. Really helpless. And it's not a pleasant feeling is it."

"No," Gordon agreed. "But after you were rescued. When you realised that your blindness was permanent, you managed to cope okay didn't you."

Scott was shaking his head now. "Not at first. I just wanted to give up. That first morning in rehab I was determined that I was going to stay in bed all my life. Stay where I was safe. It was only when Father told me that one of the male nurses would come and dress me that I thought I should try to retain some dignity... Say Virgil?" he addressed the general direction of the pilots seat. "Did you ever meet 'Butch'?"

"Yes I did. Why? He wasn't the one who was going to get you up was he?" Virgil started to laugh.

"Yes," Scott said slowly. "Why are you laughing?"

"You obviously never met him. He's lucky if he's five foot tall and he's as thin as a rail. You floored me with your punch, if you'd hit him you would have sent him sailing into the next county. Mind you your fist probably would have sailed over his head anyway."

"I was duped," Scott was amazed.

"I don't know," Virgil said. "He didn't stand any nonsense. He would have got you up somehow. Probably with a jack and a crane."

"So why did you hit Virgil?" Gordon asked the logical question.

"I think..." Scott said slowly, "that I was punishing him for not letting me die, for ensuring that I was going to have to put up with emotional pain for the rest of my life."

"Oh well. As long as there was a logical reason for it," Virgil said lightly. "I'm glad you didn't hit me for no good reason."

"Sorry, Virgil."

"Don't start that again. You've already apologised."

"Emotional pain?" Gordon asked, curious.

"Yeah. Those first three weeks I seemed to feel nothing but pain. Aside from the physical pain of my burned face and the bruises and grazes I kept on getting, there was the pain of not being in control. And the pain of not seeing any future for myself. I was a pilot and here I was unable to fly..."

"You proved yourself wrong there," Gordon noted.

"Yes I did, didn't I," Scott sounded surprised at the realisation. "And I thought I was useless to International Rescue. All I could see myself doing was being hidden away on the island being spoon fed by Grandma."

"So how did you cope?" Gordon was intrigued.

"I didn't. I think I rationalised that if I was hurting this much then I should try to hurt others around me. Maybe then, I don't know, I think I thought that perhaps I could transfer some of my pain to someone else. Or else I reasoned that if I was feeling this bad then why shouldn't everyone else. I wasn't good company then, was I, Virgil."

"No," Virgil said. The humour had gone from his voice.

"I don't know how, or why, you stuck it out."

"I promised you I wouldn't leave you," Virgil reminded him in a monotone.

"So how bad did it get?" Gordon asked. "It must have been pretty bad if hitting Virgil was an option."

"I did worse than that," Scott said quietly.

A slight jolt rocked Thunderbird Two.

Scott felt it.

Gordon didn't. "Worse? What was worse than that?"

Scott suddenly wished that he hadn't suggested having this conversation onboard Thunderbird Two. It would have been better if he'd left it till they'd reached home and then he and Gordon could have talked in private. Virgil, he knew, was listening to every word. "Did I ever apologise to you, Virgil?"

"Many times," Virgil said flatly.

"Did you ever forgive me?"

There was a moment of ominous silence.

"No."

"Huh?" Gordon's eyes were wide with curiosity. "What did you do?"

"I, uh, I can't remember exactly," Scott lied.

"Can't you, Scott?" Gordon was astounded by the bitterness in his brother's voice. "Do you want me to remind you?"

"No."

Gordon continued to look at his oldest brother, his eyes still wide. Scott had managed to antagonise Virgil? He struggled with the idea. Scott's expression was a mixture of desperation and disbelief.

"For your information, Gordon, and yours, Scott. I can remember exactly what you said. Every single vile word."

"Virgil, don't..." Scott begged. "I didn't mean..."

"'I hate you, Virgil. I hate you because you killed Ma. She died knowing you killed her.' That's what you said. You also said. 'I'm glad I can't see you. You look so much like her that every time I saw you I remembered her and how you killed her. And now I don't have to look at you!' That's what you said, Scott! Do you remember now?!"

"I remember," Scott said dully. "I'm sorry..."

"Virgil!" Gordon exclaimed alarmed by the sudden tension in the cockpit. "Scott!"

It was as if his brothers weren't aware that he was there.

"How do you think that made me feel?" Virgil asked venomously. "I was trying to help you, Scott, and that's all you can say to me! How you hated me? Well right now the feeling's mutual."

"Virgil..." Scott said weakly. "I didn't mean it."

Gordon was relieved to see the peak of Tracy Island swing briefly into view through the cabin windows.

Professor Bunsen, Jeff and Alan were standing on the balcony watching Thunderbird Two's return.

"What an amazing plane," the Professor commented above the roar of the horizontal jets. "So much power."

"Too much power," Alan commented. Thunderbird Two swung around so that her nose was pointing away from the cliff house. The VTOL rockets burst into life. Thunderbird Two briefly rose higher. "He's using way too much power."

Jeff had a worried look on his face. "Something's wrong. Virgil hasn't radioed in requesting clearance to land."

"Perhaps he's not piloting it," Professor Bunsen suggested.

Jeff shook his head. "Gordon knows the protocol. Surely they're not letting Scott fly her."

Alan shook his head. "Thunderbird Two? While Virgil's on board? There's not a chance."

Despite their concerns the actual landing was perfect. Thunderbird Two began to taxi back into the cliff.

"I'm going down there," Jeff stated. "Something's not right."

"I'm coming too," Alan offered.

Bunny Bunsen tagged along out of interest.

"Virgil," Scott was saying, "can we talk about this?"

"Gordon!" Virgil stood and glared at his younger brother. "Get him off my plane now."

"But, Virgil," Gordon protested. "Do you want a hand cleaning Thunderbird...?"

"Now!" Virgil thundered.

"Come on, Scott," Gordon said quietly. "Take my arm." He activated the switch that sent the passenger lift down to them.

When it arrived it was occupied. "What's wrong, Boys?" Jeff asked.

"All I want to do is get my 'bird ready for her next flight!" Virgil snapped. "Can't I be left alone to do that?"

To Jeff and Alan's eyes Gordon was looking a little pale. "What if I help you, Virgil," he offered. "Dad and Alan can take Scott back up."

"Just so long as he goes!"

"Virgil, please. Let's talk about this," Scott begged. "You know I'm sorry."

"What's going on?" Jeff tried to get some answers.

"Oh for Pete's sake." Virgil had reached the end of his tether. "I'm outta here. I just hope that International Rescue isn't going to be needed for the next few hours 'cause Thunderbird Two's not going to be ready!" He sat back down in his pilot's seat and began the backwards ride out of the cockpit, feeling all the time that it was a vaguely ridiculous way to storm out of a room.

They watched the panel in the ceiling of the cockpit close after him.

"Amazing," Professor Bunsen breathed.

Scott sank down onto a passenger seat. "He hates me. I can't believe it. He said he hates me!" Then he stood up. "I'm going to have to talk to him."

Gordon caught his arm. "I'm sorry, Scott. I wish I hadn't brought it up."

"It's not your fault," Scott said grimly. "The blame rests firmly with me. I should have done something months ago. I guess I'm blind in more ways than one." Ignoring the others he got into the passenger elevator and sent it travelling back up to the lounge.

"Gordon," Jeff tried again patiently. "What's going on?"

Gordon explained what he knew; including repeating word for word Scott's statement that Virgil had quoted. "I've never known Virgil to be like this before. One minute he was laughing and talking with us, and the next... it was like he was a totally different person. Dad! Did you know about this?"

"I didn't know the full story. Virgil only gave me the 'highlights.' He didn't tell me the comment about your mother blaming him. That's ridiculous of course." Jeff ran his hand over his eyes. "He seemed okay about it later on, so I left it. I shouldn't have." He sighed. "This is partly my fault. I think perhaps it'd be better if I talked to Virgil. The mood he's in he's not going to want to listen to Scott." He called the passenger elevator back down.

"I'll take care of Thunderbird Two," Gordon offered. "I'd also like to take Virgil's place on Thunderbird Three in the morning, if that's okay. I couldn't have coped this afternoon if it hadn't been for him talking to me. I at least owe him that."

Jeff gave him a slight smile. "I'd appreciate that, Son. I'm sure Virgil will too." He stepped into the lift.

"Wait for me." Bunny Bunsen was watching events unfold with obvious fascination. He stepped into the lift beside Jeff. "This is fascinating! The interactive dynamics of a patriarchal masculine familial entity in turmoil."

"What did he just say?" Alan asked Gordon as the lift rose up out of sight.

"I don't know, but I feel like a bug under a microscope," Gordon replied as he walked over to Thunderbird Two's console. He was surprised to find that despite Virgil's outburst he'd started the diagnostic's programme as well as the exterior cleaning one. "There's nothing we can do here at the moment. I think I'll go get changed and then come back down."

"You were joking weren't you?" Alan asked as they rode the lift back up to the lounge. "Scott didn't really say that, did he?"

"He didn't deny it."

They arrived in the lounge.

The only ones present were Brains, who looked alarmed, and the Professor, who looked miffed that he'd been told not to follow Jeff.

"Wh-What happened?" Brains asked. "B-Bunny said Scott and Virgil were arguing."

"Well Virgil was... pretty annoyed with Scott," Gordon said, trying to play it down while the Professor was present.

"He m-must have b-been," Brains said. "He 'murdered' a piece of m-music."

"He WHAT!?" Alan said. "Virgil! 'Murder' some music! Classical or jazz?"

"C-Classical."

"Ouch!" Gordon winced. "Then he's not annoyed, he's furious!"

"What do you mean 'murdered' the music?" the Professor asked.

"Virgil reckons that if you turn off a piece of music, before the last note is finished, you've 'murdered' it," Alan explained. "He doesn't worry quite so much with jazz..."

"You can never tell the difference in my opinion anyway," Gordon interrupted.

"...But classical pieces are sacrosanct. I snuck into his room once and turned off his stereo when he had some Rachmaninoff, or something, playing, and he literally threw me back into the hall. The bruises lasted a week!"

"Oh," the Professor said agreeably. "Well that makes sense."

Fifty Seven

Scott made his way to Virgil's room.

He knocked ten.tatively on the door. "Virg. Are you in there?"

There was no reply.

He tried again. "Virgil?"

There wasn't a sound from inside the room.

He took a chance, opened the door and stepped inside. "Virgil?" he repeated. "Come on, Virgil, I know you're in here. I can hear you breathing."

"Would you rather I stopped breathing?" Virgil's voice was bitter. Scott could now tell that he was lying down on his bed. "Then when you got your sight back tomorrow you wouldn't have to look at me."

"Of course not! I hope you'll be the first person I'll see." Scott felt to his right and found the chair. "Mind if I sit down?"

"Yes!"

"Please. Let me stay. We need to talk." Scott went to sit down anyway, before standing suddenly and feeling the seat. He removed Virgil's sash and belt and laid them across the chair's arm before sitting down again.

"You've always bossed us around. Well this is my room. You can't boss me in here. I don't want to talk to you."

"Please, Virgil. We can't let this come between us."

"You didn't worry about that a year ago."

"That was over a year ago! Things were different then."

"Only for you. I still feel the same way."

"What do you want me to do? What do you want to do? What would make you feel better? Do you want to hit me?"

"I wouldn't do anything so crass."

"Like I did?" Scott was determined to keep his temper under control.

"You had an excuse."

"There can be no excuse for hurting someone you care about."

"But words are okay are they?"

"Virgil! I've apologised. Please tell me what I can do to make you feel better towards me."

"You can leave me alone!"

"How have you managed to compartmentalise this? Over this past year, you've never treated me any different."

"I've had practise at 'compartmentalising.' My painting and music have always been separate from my engineering skills. Being a Tracy is in a separate compartment from International Rescue, and International Rescue is in a separate compartment from being a Tracy. And don't forget I spent 22 years storing away my guilt over Ma's death. That had a compartment all of its own."

"But you weren't responsible!"

"Wasn't I?"

"I thought we'd ascertained that last year."

"You clearly didn't think so when you were in rehab."

"Why didn't you discuss it with me, or Father, or someone?"

"I didn't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about it now. I want you to leave!" Virgil pushed a button on his remote control. His stereo started playing a strident piece of music. He turned the volume up so conversation was nigh on impossible.

"Virgil..."

"Scott!" Jeff was standing at the door. "Go get cleaned up."

"But..."

"Scott!" Jeff said forcefully. Then he softened his tone. "Go on, Son. I'll talk to him."

Reluctantly Scott got to his feet. "Believe me, Virgil. I'm sorry for what I said. I never meant it."

Jeff was by his side taking his arm and guiding him to the door. "It's a big day for you tomorrow. It'll be the last chance you'll get to have something to eat for a while. Go have your dinner and then get some rest."

Very much against his will, Scott suddenly found himself outside the room as the door closed behind him.

"Virgil! Turn the music off!" Jeff shouted.

Reluctantly Virgil complied.

"What brought this on, Son?" Jeff asked as he shifted the sash and belt to a table and sat on the chair.

Virgil was quiet for a moment, staring at the ceiling. "Gordon was pretty shaken up after helping Scott today. He asked Scott how he managed to cope, being blind. Scott came on board Thunderbird Two with us to explain it to him. Gordon hadn't realised how bad it had been for him at the beginning. I think Scott told him more than he meant to. By the time he'd realised where the conversation was headed, it was too late."

"Did he repeat what he'd said to you?"

Virgil shook his head. "No. I did..."

"Why? It's been over a year. Why haven't you discussed it before now?"

"I wanted to forget." Virgil swung himself into a sitting position. "I didn't want to remember that Scott, of all people, had said those words, about me and Ma." He kicked at the carpet.

"He says he didn't mean it. Don't you believe him?"

Virgil looked his father in the eye. "I believe him. It doesn't make it any easier."

"I don't understand."

Virgil started pacing about his room. His unshod feet not making a sound on the soft carpet. "I don't think I do either. It's as if... as if..."

"Yes, Son?"

"It's as if... No it's too stupid. Too selfish."

"Virgil," Jeff persisted. "Tell me."

Virgil stopped and leant on his windowsill so he could stare out over the darkening Pacific Ocean. He took a deep breath. "It's as if... With Scott probably regaining his sight tomorrow... It's as if this past year has been a complete waste of time."

Jeff frowned. "What do you mean?"

"It's as if all the struggle, all the pain, all the suffering we've put up with over the past year wasn't necessary. As if, if we'd just hibernated for the year, we could wake up tomorrow and it would be all right."

"Whose pain?" Jeff asked shrewdly.

Virgil turned to look at him and then looked down at his own hands as he twisted his long fingers together in frustration. "Mine... I told you it was selfish."

"You've been Scott's main support throughout all this."

"I know. And I've done it willingly. But now... now that it may be all over, I kinda feel that I've got nothing in return." He frowned. "No that's wrong. Nothing to show for it - that's more like it. And it's not only that..."

"Yes?"

"We've all been going on as if tomorrow's a forgone conclusion. As if we're sure that the operation will be a success... and it's not is it! We don't know. I don't think I can go through the emotional turmoil again if it's a failure. I don't know if I've got the strength to support Scott again."

"So you're pushing him away now?" Something didn't sound quite right to Jeff. "Is that why you can't forgive, Scott?"

Virgil was staring at his hands as if he'd suddenly found them of great interest. "No," he eventually said. "It's not that I can't forgive Scott. I can't forgive me."

"You?"

Virgil nodded silently.

Jeff waited.

"Son?" he eventually prodded.

"I know the accident that killed Ma and Grandpa wasn't my fault," Virgil said hesitantly. "But did they know that? Did Ma blame me?"

"Oh, Virgil!" Now Jeff understood. "No she didn't blame you. I'm sure she didn't."

"I wish I was sure."

"What was the last thing she said to you?"

"She asked me to paint a picture for her and Grandpa."

"And after that?"

"To paint what was in my heart."

"And?"

"I was to think of her whenever I looked at them."

"And?"

Virgil was speaking in a whisper. The words were imprinted indelibly in his mind. "And remember that she loved me, she loved all of us."

"She loved you, Virgil. She wouldn't have said that if she blamed you. She knew it wasn't your fault."

Virgil said nothing.

Jeff sat back and looked at his son. He wished he could say something that would make Virgil truly believe what he knew to be true. "After we'd opened those Police boxes I was feeling pretty down. But Grandma told me something that changed my perspective. She said 'everything happens for a reason.' I would have loved your mother to be with us now that we're International Rescue. She would have been an asset to the team. But the fact is if it hadn't been for that avalanche, International Rescue wouldn't be in existence today."

"So now you're telling me that it's okay that the avalanche happened?" Virgil sounded incredulous.

"No. I'm saying while we lost two people important to the family, we've saved a whole lot more people from having to go through the same trauma we did."

Jeff watched as Virgil frowned and tried to make sense of what had just been said.

"You're an enigma to me, Son."

Virgil looked up. "A what?"

"An enigma. I know how the others tick, but I'm never sure with you. I never quite know what's going through your head. You're an artist. Artists are supposed to wear their hearts on their sleeve, and yet you've hidden this away for 20 odd years."

Virgil looked down again.

"And then there's the fact that you don't promote your talents. Your brothers don't have any problems showing pride in their achievements. Scott lived to fly, John writes astronomy books, Alan's got shelves of his car racing trophies, and Gordon's got his gold medal on the wall. Though where he got his love of water from is another of life's great mysteries. But you? Where are your music certificates?"

"In a box under my bed."

"And your paintings. I know we don't see half of what you do. And if anyone asks if you're any good you say something like. 'Not bad.' It's as if you don't know how good you are. And you are good, Virgil."

"I know," Virgil gave something of a wry grin. "They just don't seem to be particularly useful talents."

"Don't you believe it! After a hard day there's nothing I like better than to listen to you play. I find it relaxing," as if to prove a point, Jeff stretched his legs. "You know, I watch you sometimes, when you're painting or playing the piano and I wonder just where you get that talent from. It's certainly not from me. Then I realise that it must have been from your mother and I wonder why it's only you who inherited her talent."

"The others can play the piano."

"Yes. But they only play the notes. You play the heart and soul of the music."

"You sound like Bunny Bunsen. He said something similar when Scott and I went to see him."

"Really. What was that?"

Virgil thought a moment. "That the arts had the power to heal and calm the soul. And that I shouldn't forget that I had that gift."

"He's right. I guess the old oddball makes sense sometimes."

Virgil allowed himself the luxury of a small smile.

Jeff stood and walked over so that he was standing beside Virgil. He looked out over the inky water and watched the starlight play on the waves. "Sometimes, when it's dark, I close my eyes and listen to you play a tune and it's as if your mother is there with me. I can almost feel her standing beside me. And I can feel how proud she is with what we've achieved with International Rescue, and how proud she is of you boys."

Virgil ran his hand through his hair and closed his eyes at the thought.

"I'm telling you all this because I'm trying to pluck up the courage to do something I should have done 20 odd years ago, something that I couldn't do because I was too caught up in my own grief. Something that, perhaps, could have saved you from this pain you're feeling now."

"What's that?" Virgil asked quietly.

"This," Jeff wrapped his arms around his son and held him close. "It wasn't your fault, Virgil," he reiterated.

Initially Virgil tensed up at the unexpected contact. Then, as if he were unsure if it were the right thing to do, he slowly placed his own arms around his father.

Jeff continued to hold him close. "I'm sorry, Virgil. I should have realised what you were thinking when you were five years old. I should have told you it wasn't your fault then. I should have talked to you a year ago and told you that Scott didn't hate you. I should have told you that your mother didn't blame you." He felt his son's strong shoulders start to shake.

Virgil began to cry.

Jeff held him closer. "That's it. Let it go. Let it all out..."

It was a release of 23 years of secrets hidden from the world...

It was a release of years of pain, both physical and mental...

It was a release of years of fear. Fears for his own safety and that of his brothers...

It was a release of sadness at failed rescues and, partially, joy at successful ones...

It was a release of the stresses of the past year...

It was a release of fear of what tomorrow might bring...

It was a release of a fear of death... and of dying.

Jeff allowed his son to work it out of his system, a lump in his throat as he realised the extent of the emotion that Virgil had bottled up inside himself.

"I still miss her," Virgil eventually gasped into Jeff's shoulder.

"I know. We all do."

Virgil straightened up and searched his pockets for a handkerchief. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be!" Jeff said sternly.

"But your shoulder's all wet!" Virgil blew his nose.

Jeff plucked at the clammy material. "Don't worry about it. It's a small price to pay if it makes you feel better. You do feel better don't you?"

Virgil looked at him with red eyes. "Yes I do. Thank you." Then horror took over his features. "You won't tell the others will you!"

"No. I promise I won't mention this to anyone else. And I want you to promise me something, Virgil."

"What's that?" Virgil was wiping his eyes.

"You won't bottle anything up for another 23 years will you? Don't ever be afraid to talk to someone. If not me, then Grandma, or Scott, or anyone!"

Virgil nodded. "Yes. I promise."

"Good. Anything else you want to talk about? Any other secrets that should be out in the open?"

Virgil shook his head. "No."

"In that case, I'm going to get something to eat. Care to join me?"

"No thanks." Virgil looked down at his grimy uniform. I think I'll have a wash and get changed and then I've got something I want to do. Then I guess I'll try and get a little sleep before I go with Alan to get John."

"Don't worry about that. Gordon's volunteered to take your place."

"Gordon!"

"It's his way of saying thanks for helping him this afternoon."

"It wasn't only me. It was a team effort."

"I got the feeling that he wanted to make amends too."

"But it wasn't his fault."

"I know. But he does have the advantage of having had a couple of hours sleep already," Jeff looked at his watch. "You do realise that it's well after midnight."

"Is it?" Virgil looked surprised.

"Yes. So if you want to be awake when Scott comes out of the operation I'd advise you to get some sleep now."

Virgil stifled a yawn. "Okay. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Son." Jeff started to walk towards the door.

"Father!"

Jeff stopped. "Yes, Virgil?"

"Thanks." Virgil gave him a hug of gratitude. Then he pulled back. "Yuck. That shirt feels terrible. You'd better get out of it first."

Jeff chuckled. "Good advice. Night, Virgil."

"Night."

Jeff changed into his pyjamas and robe and then headed for the kitchen. His mother had thoughtfully left two full plates out for the pair of them. He placed Virgil's portion into the fridge and then re-heated his own meal.

That done he decided against eating alone at the dining table and thought it might be pleasant to sit out on the patio.

He was surprised to see the silhouette of a man in the lounge.

He turned the lights on.

"Scott? I thought you'd gone to bed."

Scott was sitting at the piano, his hands placed on the closed keyboard lid as if he were drawing strength from it. "I couldn't."

"I was going to have my dinner on the patio. Care to join me?"

Scott nodded and walked over to one of the chairs that faced out to sea. Jeff sat down in an adjacent seat but didn't start to eat. "So why couldn't you go to bed?"

"I couldn't. Not while Virgil was mad at me."

"I think you'll find he's not mad with you now." Jeff took a bite of a piece of potato while he waited to see if Scott was going to say anything else.

He'd got through a third of his meal before Scott spoke again. "He was crying, wasn't he?"

Jeff swallowed his mouthful. "How'd you know?"

"You were in there for such a long time. I thought maybe with you there I could talk to him. So I went to his room. But I could hear him through the door so I came back out here."

"He was crying. He still felt guilty over your mother's death. I thought our talk last year had got it out of his system."

"And it hadn't?"

"No. What you'd said to him, reminded him that he'd believed it was his fault. He was also frightened that your mother may have blamed him."

"Blamed him!" Scott was aghast. "She'd never do that!"

"I know that, and you know that. But no one ever told a five-year-old Virgil that."

"And a 28-year-old Virgil still believed it?"

"Apparently," Jeff decided that he didn't want the rest of his meal and settled it on the table beside him. "I promised him that I wouldn't tell anyone what happened in there. So unless he says something don't mention it, okay."

"Okay. I understand."

They were silent a moment longer. Then Scott suddenly sprang to his feet. "How could I do it?" he asked. "How could I have said that to him?" He began pacing up and down the balcony. "He was helping me! And all I could do was say the most hateful thing I could think of to him. And despite that he said he didn't hate me." He stopped pacing for a moment. "Until tonight! I reinforced the idea that Ma had blamed him didn't I. How can I expect him to forgive me, if I can't forgive myself?" He started pacing again.

"Is that why you haven't wanted to talk to him about this?"

"All this is my fault! If I hadn't been so stupid, and selfish, and scared. He's right to be mad with me!"

Jeff watched his son pace. The motion was starting to get to him. Scott would walk until he was almost at the stairs that fell away to the pool area, and then turn and proceed back the way he'd come. Jeff was alternating between anxiety that Scott would miscalculate his position and relief when he turned away.

"You knew didn't you," Scott continued on. "Why didn't you tell me off? You must have known how I'd hurt him. I don't understand why you let me get away with it."

"Virgil wouldn't let me," Jeff admitted. "I was ready to go out there and tear strips off you and let him come home again. But he said he was okay, and then that afternoon you both seemed fine together."

"After I'd hit him."

"Yes."

"Some big brother I am. Beating up my own brother and saying hateful things to him when he was only trying to help me."

"Scott! Stop beating yourself up over this. It was a year ago. Virgil doesn't blame you. You can both discuss it later." Scott neared the steps again. "And will you sit down! You're starting to get on my nerves!"

There was a noise in the lounge behind them. Gordon and Alan wandered in sleepily.

"What are you two doing out there?" Alan asked bleary eyed.

"Talking." Scott felt the hands on his watch. "Is that the time! Are you guys off to get John?"

"That's the plan." Alan went and sat down on the sofa.

Gordon remained standing, eyeing his father and oldest brother warily. "How's Virgil?"

"He'll be fine," Jeff reassured him. "If he's got any brains he'll be getting some sleep at the moment."

Gordon folded his arms. "Which it looks like neither of you two have done."

Scott shrugged. "What does it matter? I'll be sleeping through it all anyway."

"Go on boys," Jeff said. "The sooner you get to Thunderbird Five, the sooner you'll be home. And make sure you've activated the automatic relay correctly!"

Alan gave him a mock salute. "Yes, Sir! Any other orders, Sir!"

"Yes," Jeff chuckled. "Don't be insolent."

The sofa slid into the floor just as Professor Bunsen came into the room. "Am I too late?"

"Too late for what?" Scott asked.

"Thunderbird Three's launch. I don't want to miss out on that."

"You won't see much. It's night time," Jeff pointed out.

"I still want to see it," the Professor bounded onto the patio. "Where do I look?"

"Through the Round House," Scott informed him.

Jeff picked up his plate and wandered back to his desk. Alan's image appeared in place of his portrait. "Thunderbird Three. Are we clear to launch?"

Jeff checked the computer. "All clear."

"Thanks. See you soon." Alan disappeared.

There was an exclamation of "Good law" from the Professor as Thunderbird Three forced it's way heavenward through the Round House.

"You know. That's one guy I wish was sound asleep at the moment," Scott said quietly to his father.

"I wouldn't worry. I don't think he'd do anything to jeopardise your operation," Jeff tried to console him, even though he'd been thinking along the same lines.

Professor Bunsen had watched Thunderbird Three's rocket trail disappear into the stratosphere. "That was amazing," he said to the two Tracy men as he wandered back into the lounge. "I'm off back to bed. I'd advise the same for you, Scott. You'll want to be wide awake in twelve hours' time to see yo'ur family again." He disappeared in the direction of his bedroom.

Scott and his father started moving in the same direction. Then Jeff remembered something. "Just a minute. I'd better take my plate back to the kitchen." He returned to his desk to retrieve it.

They were surprised to hear the door from Thunderbird Two's maintenance hangar open. Scott's "Sonar Sender" told him who it was just before his hearing recognised the footsteps and his father said "Virgil? What are you doing up?"

Scott decided to stay where he was. Hopefully out of sight.

"I had to check on Thunderbird Two. You never know when she'll be needed next."

"But Gordon's run the diagnostics programme and checked her over hasn't he?" Jeff asked.

"I checked the maintenance log and he's done everything correctly. But her starboard wing got a bit scorched in the first explosion. Gordon didn't know about that, so I had to double check it wasn't damaged."

"And that couldn't wait till tomorrow, ah, later today?" Jeff folded his arms and stared at Virgil with a frown of displeasure. "You know the rules about working at heights alone."

"I had the safety harness on, and I'll have other things to worry about later," Virgil admitted. "And we never know when International Rescue is going to be needed. I had to know that Thunderbird Two would be ready. I couldn't sleep if there was any chance that she wasn't."

"With the amount of sleep that everyone's getting tonight, if International Rescue is required we won't have any personnel capable of undertaking a rescue anyway. We'd have to send Grandma and Kyrano," Jeff grumbled. "So is Thunderbird Two ready?"

"Yes. The wing just needs a bit of a clean and a lick of paint. In fact all of Thunderbird Two needs a proper clean down..."

"Well that can wait. I'm not worried about Thunderbird Two's aesthetics. All that matters is that she's airworthy. And that you're in a fit state to pilot her. So go to bed, Virgil!"

Virgil noted the plate. "Just as soon as you do. You haven't been to bed tonight either!"

Jeff realised that Scott was hiding and decided not to alert Virgil to the fact. "Come on then. Time we both turned in." He walked out the door, turning the light off as he did so.

Scott waited until he'd heard their footsteps disappear before he followed them out of the lounge.

Fifty Eight

It was finally morning. Virgil was the last to arrive at the table and silently took his seat, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he did so.

Jeff Tracy looked round at his family. None of them looked as if they'd got any sleep the previous night, and Jeff doubted that he looked any better.

In contrast Professor Bunsen was bright, breezy and extremely excited. He tucked into his mornings breakfast with gusto. The Tracy family and their friends were more circumspect.

Alan pushed his still full plate away. "I can't eat. The suspense is killing me."

"Killing you?" Scott noted. He wasn't eating this morning. "What about me?"

"I can assure you that no one will be killed," the Professor said through a mouthful of toast. "By the end of the day, Scott, your vision will be reinstated. And then, dear Robot Head," Brains cringed at the hated nickname, "you and I can get down to discussions as to what I can do to help your marvellous organisation."

"Fine, B-Bunny."

"International Rescue," the Professor breathed. "When these two young men came to my door I would never have picked them to be members of International Rescue."

"You understand why our secrecy is so important," Jeff said warily.

"Of course, of course," Professor Bunsen waved his concerns away. "The technology in your hands is awesome. In someone else's it could be terrible. I could not be party to the ruination of innocent lives." He drained his glass and stood up. "Come on, Scott. Time to act."

"What already?" Scott squeaked.

"Get it over and done with. Then you can reacquaint yourself with your family and friends. Come, Tin-Tin. Come, Robot Head." He swept out of the dining room.

"I swear, M-Mr. Tracy," Brain muttered. "I-If it weren't for Scott, I would h-have walked out by now."

"He is a bit annoying at times," Jeff agreed, "but he'll be good for the organisation. I'll set him up so that he can work from home."

Professor Bunsen poked his head back into the room. "Robot Head!" he said imperiously.

Muttering to himself Brains took his plate to the counter and left to get ready.

Scott slowly stood up. "Well I guess this is it."

Jeff came around and laid his hand on his first-born son's shoulder. "Good luck, Scott. I..." He felt he should say something important but words failed him. Impulsively he wrapped his arms around Scott in a fatherly hug.

Surprised Scott dropped his cane.

Gordon picked it up and handed it to him. "Guess you won't be needing this too much longer."

"I wouldn't need it now if you didn't leave your shoes around the house!" Scott refused the invitation to take the cane. "From this moment on I'm never going to use that thing again."

"Positive thinking, huh," John said. "Imagine! It'll be all over in an hours' time."

"I'll' have to get used to looking at your ugly mug again won't I."

John chuckled.

"See you soon, Scott," Alan said optimistically.

"I hope to be seeing you, Alan." Scott turned slowly to where he knew Virgil was standing. "Well, Virg," he said with false bravado. "Time to see what your machine can do." He held out his hand to his brother. "Wish me luck?" he asked hopefully.

Virgil looked at the outstretched hand and then took it slowly.

They shook solemnly.

It was no good. "Come here," Virgil said suddenly and pulled Scott into a bear hug. "Good luck," he whispered. "I've got a surprise for you when it's over." He released his oldest brother and stood back.

Jeff placed his arm around Virgil's shoulders and gave him a squeeze.

Scott received a solemn handshake from Kyrano and a nervous kiss, with a "Good luck, Darling" from his Grandmother before the Professor stuck his head into the room again. "Scott!"

He disappeared.

"His lordship calls!" Scott said ironically. "Wish me luck everyone." He started walking towards the door before turning back. "Please tell me he hasn't got the rabbit suit on..."

"Of course not!" Gordon told him. "He's a professional. Only don't be surprised if you wake up covered in feathers."

"Feathers?"

"From the chicken suit."

"Gordon, behave!" Jeff scolded.

"I'm glad you talked him out of the pig outfit."

"Alan!" Jeff rumbled warningly.

"You know..." Scott said. "I would have been quite happy to be an only child."

There was a shout from down the hallway. "Scott!"

"I'd better go. Be seeing you... I hope."

The procedure was going to take 30 minutes per eye. That hour seemed to drag on forever to everyone waiting in the lounge.

Jeff turned the TV on to give everyone something to think about.

No one watched it.

The stress was getting to Virgil. He would go to the doorway leading to the hall and look towards the sickbay. Then he'd walk back to the piano, sit down and open the lid. Then, without playing anything, he'd close it with a bang and move out onto the balcony. He could only stand there for half a minute before he was back at the hallway again.

It was on his twelfth circuit of the room that Jeff intercepted him. Placing both hands on Virgil's shoulders he looked him straight in the eye and said, quietly but with emphasis. "Virgil - will - you - calm - down."

"But, Father. I'm worried about the equipment. What if I didn't fix something correctly? Something could go wrong."

"Nothing will go wrong with the equipment. Both you and Brains checked and double-checked each other's work. The machine's perfect." Jeff adjusted his grip so that his hands now held Virgil's shoulders from behind enabling him to steer his worried son to the piano. "Now sit there and stay there." Virgil went to open the keyboard. "And leave it shut!" Jeff snapped, expressing some of the strain he was feeling.

He turned to return to his customary seat at his desk when he heard a sound behind him. He wasn't surprised to find Virgil standing again. "Virgil! Sit before I tie you to that stool!"

"Tell you what, Dad," Gordon offered. "Hold him down on the floor and I'll sit on him."

"I'll help," Alan said.

"Me too," John added.

"Leave room for me!" Grandma Tracy stated, surprising everyone.

Virgil put his elbows on the closed lid of the keyboard and rested his head in his hands.

Someone entered the room.

"We've finished," Tin-Tin said.

She was nearly bowled over by Virgil as he raced out the door.

She had to step backwards just as quickly to avoid being crushed by a mass of anxious Tracys all heading for the sickbay.

Scott was on the bed, asleep.

Brains was looking at some charts.

The Professor stood at the head of the bed with his arms folded proudly. "It was good. I'm very pleased."

Virgil sat in the seat to Scott's left. Brains came over and laid his hand on Virgil's shoulder. "Th-The equipment worked perfectly," he reassured him. Virgil gave him a smile of relief.

"Scott, can you hear me, Son?" Jeff asked

"Come on, Scott. Wake up," Alan pleaded.

"Yeah, wake up, Scott," John said.

"Come on, Scott," Grandma and Gordon said in unison.

"Wake up." Virgil placed a hand on Scott's arm. "Come on, Scott. Wake up!"

Scott began to awaken...

Fifty Nine

"How long do I have to keep the eye pads on now?" Scott asked again as he tucked hungrily into some breakfast.

"I'll see how your eyes look in five hours. Then, all going well, we'll let in the light," Professor Bunsen declared.

"I feel like a kid waiting for Christmas morning again."

"How do they feel?" Jeff asked.

"Fine," Scott admitted. "A little dry maybe, but otherwise fine. There's no pain."

"If they are feeling dry we'd better lubricate them," Professor Bunsen said.

"Hey!" Scott found himself dragged out of his chair and away from his food.

"Don't forget to check his oil and water while you're at it," Gordon cheekily called after them.

"They look excellent," Professor Bunsen stated. "Have a look, Robot Head, and see what you think."

Brains peered through the ophthalmoscope. This adaptation was one of Professor Bunsen's inventions and allowed the user to examine a retina without the presence of any light. "V-Very pretty," he said. "Th-there's no scar tissue at all th-that I can see."

"Can't we turn on the light just a little bit?" Scott pleaded. "Just to see."

"No," Professor Bunsen said.

"How about a torch behind me, directed away from me?" Scott tried again hopefully.

"No."

"A candle?"

"No."

"A firefly in a blackened jar in a paper bag?"

"Be patient, Scott. We can't rush these things."

"A year without sight is hardly rushing it."

"If you've lasted a year, you can last a few hours more."

"In that case can I go? I've got a few things I've got to take care of."

"L-Like finishing breakfast?" Brains asked with amusement in his voice.

"That's top priority!"

Second priority was to find Virgil. Unsurprisingly he was attending to Thunderbird Two's starboard wing.

"Look out, here's the Lone Ranger," Alan called up from his vantage point under the wing.

Virgil peered over the vertiginous drop. "Hi, Scott. How's it going?"

"Slowly," Scott said sourly as he rubbed at an eye pad. "I can't remember a longer six hours. How're you going up there?"

"Slowly," Virgil replied. "She's airworthy, but we should replace at least one of the panels. It'll take me most of the morning."

Scott was disappointed. He'd hoped to find time this morning to have that talk with Virgil. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No. Alan and I can take care of it."

"You can take over Virgil's job this afternoon," Alan said brightly. "You'll have to start pulling your weight around here again."

"Pulling my weight...! Watch it, kiddo. I might not be able to see you at the moment, but that doesn't mean I can't take you down."

"You and whose army?"

Scott managed to snare Alan in a headlock. "Just me."

"Guys..."

"Hark! I hear a voice from on high." Alan released Scott's arm from around his neck. "What's up, Virg?"

"Me at the moment, and I'd love a drink of water. Can someone oblige?"

"You keep watch on him," Scott said. "I'll get it."

Grandma Tracy was arranging flowers in the lounge. She set the blooms in a vase and then looked at them critically. Unsatisfied she removed them and started again, trimming the stems first. Still unhappy with her work she tried a different arrangement. Then she decided that a different vase might look better.

It didn't.

For a second time, she shortened the stems and then tackled the task again.

Maybe it was the position of the vase? She moved it to another part of the room.

No, it was definitely the arrangement. She trimmed the stems a third time before deciding that the first vase was the best choice.

By now the stems were too short.

She sighed.

"Mother, will you relax! It won't be long now."

"How can you be so calm, Jeff?"

"Years of practise of worrying about those boys, Mother."

"But this is different, isn't it."

"Yes it is. And do you know how many reports I've read this morning? And how many I've written? And how many times I've signed something?"

She shook her head. "Knowing you it must be at least fifty."

"None. I've read one report and have read the same paragraph at least twenty times and I still couldn't tell you what it's about. I've started writing and lost my train of thought. It's a document of complete gibberish. And I've signed one thing." He held up a paper napkin. His signature was scrawled across the centre. "I don't think that's going to win Tracy Industries the Carlton contract. I'm not calm. I'm just better at hiding it than you."

"It will be all right, won't it, Jeff."

"Professor Bunsen seems confident."

"Do you trust him?"

"Scott and Virgil do..."

"But do you?"

"Brains doesn't have any doubts."

"Jeff!" she said in exasperation.

He grinned. "Believe it or not, I do. Sure he's odd..."

"Try downright strange."

"... But I've looked over some of his past achievements and they've all been successes."

"And he likes Virgil's music. So he can't be all bad," she said reflectively.

"That's another reason why I'm willing to trust him. The boy needs someone outside of the family group to tell him his music's important."

His mother looked at him with open curiosity, but he didn't enlighten her, instead standing up with a yawn. "I'm going to get myself a coffee or else I'll never make it through the day. Would you like one?"

"Yes, please." She watched him depart the room with a frown of concern on her face.

Sixty

Scott had spent much of the morning trying to remember how things had looked the last time he'd seen them. Some things had been easy, such as his family's faces, but others, like the pattern of the wallpaper in the hallway had been just on impossible.

It was time to see how good his memory had been.

The lights were turned down low.

"Now, Scott..." Professor Bunsen said, "... I'll take the pads off your eyes. Then, when you are ready, you can open them. Then we'll slowly increase the light levels..."

"I have done this before," Scott interrupted impatiently.

The Professor sat back and folded his arms. "And we are going to do this properly this time. And that includes ensuring that you understand fully what's going to happen. Now... Are you listening?"

"Yes," Scott said with a hint of frustration in his voice.

"Good." Professor Bunsen started his recitation again. That finished he shifted forward in his chair again. "Are you ready?"

Scott bit back a sarcastic reply. "Yes."

"Right. We'll lower the light levels more."

The room was totally dark. The Professor donned a pair of night vision goggles. "Robot Head! These are amazing." He looked around the room. "Why I can see almost as clearly as if it were daylight. I can even read the writing on those canisters in the cupboards. Sodium Ni..."

"Hello! Remember me? The patient?" Scott asked. "I'd like to see the cupboards too. Can we get on with this?"

"Of course!" Scott felt the eye pads be gently removed. For all the Professors idiosyncrasies, he couldn't fault the man's care. "Open your eyes when you are ready."

"They're open," Scott informed him.

"I can see that. Robot Head, you must make me a pair of these goggles!"

Jeff heard Scott sigh in exasperation and squeezed him reassuringly on the shoulder.

"Let there be light!" Professor Bunsen said grandly and threw a switch.

There was a whirring sound.

"Uh, Bunny... I-I think you've just turned on the extractor fan," Brains informed him.

"Oops." The Professor gave a little giggle. "So I have." The fan went silent. Another switch was toggled on.

"Give me strength," Scott muttered under his breath, and felt his father squeeze his shoulder again.

Scott remembered the last time he'd been in this situation, sitting in a darkened room with his family surrounding him, waiting for some sign that all would be well. Last time had been a bitter disappointment. In fact it had been worse than that. What would this time bring?

He blinked. Was his imagination running away with him or was he seeing some light?

He held his breath.

Jeff heard the inhalation. "Scott?" he said in concern.

"I-I think I can see some light!"

"You think!" Alan exclaimed. "Can't you be more specific than that?"

"No... Yes! Yes I can definitely see light!"

"Is it getting brighter?" Professor Bunsen asked.

"Yes! I can't see anything specifically, but I'm definitely starting to see blocks of colour."

"Don't forget that it's highly unlikely that you'll be able to see clearly," the Professor reminded him. "Don't get your hopes up too much. Your body's got to readjust to being sighted again. I doubt that you'll be able to focus on much initially." He sat back.

"You moved! I saw you move!" Scott said excitedly. "I can see movement! Gordon, stop waving your hand in front of my face."

"How'd you know it was me?"

"I could smell chlorine. You've been for a swim."

"Scott..." Jeff squatted down so that he was eye level with his son.

Scott turned to look at him and his already broad smile broadened some more. "Hi, Father. You look great!"

"You can see me?"

"Not really. I can make out your shape, though you tend to merge into the background until you move."

Jeff had a smile of his own. "How do your eyes feel?"

"Slightly gritty, but otherwise not bad." Scott stood and turned so that he was facing everyone else. "Where's the rest of my family! I want to see you all. It's been too long."

They were all grinning. The room had an air of constrained exhilaration as if each person wanted to yell and cheer, but didn't want to be the one to make the initial move.

They all watched Scott's eyes, which, although they were bloodshot, for the first time in a long time, looked normal. Instead of staring sightlessly ahead, they were darting about, trying to take in as much information as they could.

"This is brilliant!" Alan exclaimed.

"Brains!" Scott had a thought.

"Y-Yes, Scott."

"Can I borrow your glasses for a moment. Maybe they'll help."

"Of course." Brains removed his spectacles and handed them over.

"I could fix your eyesight, Robot Head." Professor Bunsen told him.

"I-I know you could, Bunny," Brains sighed.

Scott donned the bright blue spectacles and looked around. "Hey, that's much better. I never realised your eyesight was so bad, Brains. Maybe you should let Professor Bunsen look at you."

He received a murderous, shortsighted look from the little scientist.

"So how do we look, Scott?" John asked.

"Gee you guys have aged. You all look so old!"

"Thank you, Scott," his grandmother said grumpily.

"All except you, Grandma." He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "You look as beautiful as you ever did. The same goes for Tin-Tin."

The pretty Malaysian gave a giggle. "Thank you, Scott."

Scott spied her father. "You were right, Kyrano. You've all hardly changed." He sighed. "I guess I'd better give these back to you, Brains."

"I have a spare p-pair you are welcome to borrow. I'll go get them now."

"Thanks. I always liked blue." Before removing the spectacles, Scott took another look at his family. Then his smile faded. "Where's Virgil?"

"Huh. He was here beside me a moment ago," John looked behind him. "Where'd he go to?"

Scott glanced over at his father and then returned the glasses to their owner. "I'll go find him."

The first place Scott headed to was the lounge. As expected Virgil was seated at the piano, keyboard closed.

Scott wandered over to him. "Boy! Are you a sight for sore eyes," he said cheerfully.

Virgil looked away. "Really?" he said quietly.

"Brains is going to lend me a spare pair of specs. I'll be able to see much better then."

"That's nice."

"It's great to see everyone again."

"We're all pleased for you," Virgil was still quiet.

"You left quickly."

"It was a bit crowded."

"You know yesterday, when I said I wanted you to tell me about the machine..."

"I'm sorry. We never did get that talk did we."

"It wasn't that that I wanted to talk about. Brains had already explained it pretty well."

"I thought it was a bit odd. You've never had any problems with Brains' explanations in the past." Virgil was concentrating on the keyboard lid.

Scott frowned and put a hand to his head.

Virgil saw the movement out of the corner of his eye. "Are you alright?" he asked, a sudden expression of concern on his face.

"I've got a bit of a headache," Scott admitted. "I guess the light's a bit bright."

"Hang on. I'll shut the blinds." Virgil did so. "Is that better?"

"Not really."

"Do you want to continue this later."

"No, this has waited too long." Then Scott took a breath. "On second thoughts, this is a killer. Maybe we'd better leave it."

Virgil's concern grew. "Why don't you go lie down?"

"Yeah. I think I might." Scott took a step and stopped. "Uh. Can you give me a hand?"

"Come on. Then I'll get the Professor to have a look at you."

They started off. Virgil had every intention of assisting Scott to his room, but changed his mind as his brother's steps became slower and more leaden. He raised his arm and spoke into his watch. "Virgil to Professor Bunsen."

"Yes! A call for me!" In the hospital the Professor looked at his watch eagerly. He'd been hoping he'd get a genuine call so that he could try his new toy out. He adopted a serious tone. "Go ahead, Virgil."

Virgil's worried face appeared in place of the dial. "Where are you?"

"In the hospital."

"Good I'm bringing Scott there now. He's got a bad headache. Can you send someone out with a wheelchair...?" Scott went boneless and sagged, nearly slipping out of Virgil's grasp, "... uh, you'd better make that a stretcher."

Also in the hospital, Brains and Jeff looked at each other, grabbed a gurney and raced for the door.

Virgil assisted Scott to the floor. "How do you feel?" he asked as he gently laid him down.

Scott kept his eyes tightly closed. "As if Thunderbird Three's trying to blast through the top of my head... and Thunderbird's One and Two are trying to launch themselves out my ears." He grimaced against the pain.

"Okay. Just hang in there, we'll get you some help," Virgil said quietly.

"Not so loud," Scott groaned.

The gurney banged against the wall.

"Shhh," Virgil said urgently as Scott flinched.

The gurney was brought up beside the prone man. "What happened?" Jeff asked as they eased Scott on board.

"Tell you in a moment," Virgil said quickly, conscious that every sound was causing pain to his brother.

His other brothers entered the hallway. "What's going on?!" John asked in alarm.

Alan heard a gasp from behind them. He turned and put an arm around his Grandma. "He's okay..." he reassured her.

"But..."

In the hospital Professor Bunsen was all business. "What happened?"

Virgil pulled him into the hall so that he could restrict the level of noise in the infirmary. He then explained what had happened.

"Interesting..." the Professor said and without further comment returned to the infirmary. "Right! Everyone out!"

Scott let out a moan of pain at the sounds.

"But..." Brains began to protest.

"That includes you, Robot Head." Brains was pushed out the door. "Mr. Tracy..." Bunny Bunsen turned to the family's patriarch.

Jeff was standing there immobile, his arms crossed, a severe frown on his face. "This is my son we're talking about. I'm not leaving."

"Oh, very well," the Professor said irritably and began his examination.

Brains found the rest of the family in an adjacent room. It was the one that now housed the machine that he and Virgil had worked so carefully on. Virgil was scowling at it as if it were the cause of all their problems.

"What do you think, Brains?" Virgil asked tightly. "Do we run more tests, or do we reverse engineer it to see if we'd made a mistake?"

Brains took a seat and looked at the machine more speculatively. "The m-machine worked, Virgil," he said quietly.

"I know that. But look what's happened!"

"What has happened?" Gordon asked worriedly. "He seemed fine!"

"I-I think that we should not be worried."

"Not worried!" John exclaimed. "You saw him, Brains. He was in agony!"

"I-I think what has happened is p-possibly perfectly natural."

"Natural!" Alan exclaimed. "That's not natural!"

"You didn't see how quickly he deteriorated. One minute he was talking to me, the next he's flat out on the floor!" Virgil snapped in frustration. "How can that be natural?"

"H-He has been without sight for a year," Brains explained patiently. "His brain will have 'rewired' itself to take that into account. Suddenly it's e-experiencing 'new' sensations. I-I believe that what Scott is experiencing is his brain trying to make s-sense of this new information. I-In time it will pass."

"How long, Brains?" Mrs. Tracy asked.

"I-I don't know. It is only an h-hypothesis."

Virgil leant back against the wall and ran his hand through his hair. "I sure hope you're right..."

He was interrupted by his father entering the room. Jeff gave a reassuring smile. "Professor Bunsen thinks he's going to be all right. It just his..." he screwed up his face as he tried to remember, "...his synapses linking up te ophthmallum with the cerebellum after a period of inactivity. At least I think that's what he said. I'm an astronaut, not a medical man. The words are probably wrong."

They looked to Brains for clarification.

"I-It's just what I said," he explained smugly.

John smiled. "Boy, am I glad you're here, Brains. I need a translator with that guy."

"So how long does the nutty Professor say it'll be before he's back to normal?" Alan asked.

"He'll keep Scott under light sedation for 24 hours and then he thinks it'll be a couple of months before his vision will be as it was before the accident," Jeff said.

"So, I guess the party's off for tonight then," Gordon noted.

"Afraid so."

Sixty One

After 24 hours Scott was feeling fine. He was up and about and exploring a whole new world of light and colour and movement.

The only dark spot was that Virgil seemed to be avoiding him.

"I don't know..." Scott complained to his father, "... every time I try to talk to him someone else turns up, or he says he has something to do, or else he makes sure he's somewhere where I can't see him because the light's hurting my eyes. I know we've got to talk, but it's impossible when he doesn't want to be anywhere near me."

"I don't think it's that he doesn't want to be near you," Jeff surmised. "I think he's taken your words of a year ago literally."

"That I was glad that I couldn't see him?"

"And he's doing all he can to save you from the... strain... of looking at him."

"The idiot. I thought he knew I didn't mean what I said."

"I did too, but he's clearly taken it to heart."

"I was going to talk to him before the operation, but then we went on that rescue, and then we came back..." Scott shuddered at the memory. "And I haven't spoken to him properly since. And it's been a week! It's as if we're neighbours, not brothers. Just passing in the hallways, saying hello, but not really stopping to talk to each other. I hate this!"

Jeff had noticed that Virgil had been very quiet this past week too. "I don't think he's happy either."

"Could you talk to him first? Smooth the way?"

"I thought I'd done that the other night. What say I arrange it that you'll get some uninterrupted time together."

"It'd be a start."

"Then you've got the hard job. Finding the words to say."

"Not my strong point," Scott said wryly. "I'm a man of action, not words. I wonder if I could convince John to do this for me."

Jeff gave a quiet chuckle. "I don't think it would have the same impact coming from him. No, you'll be fine. You just need the right situation..."

The right situation involved every member of the family being involved in an International Rescue training session.

"Where's Scott and Virgil?" Alan asked.

"They're not always going to be available," Jeff explained. "It won't hurt you to get in some practise without them."

"What do I do, Jeff," Grandma Tracy asked.

"You play a little old lady trapped in the Round House."

"Why?"

"There's been an earthquake and the only exits have collapsed."

"So all I have to do is stand at the window and scream 'Help.'"

"You've got it."

"A starring role, Grandma!" Gordon grinned. "We'll get you out on rescues yet."

"Yeah. I can just see you tearing up to the burning building on the hoverbike, and yelling 'Virgil Tracy! Get away from there! You'll get your uniform dirty!'" Alan laughed at his unsubtle imitation of his Grandmother's voice.

"Com'e on," Jeff said. "Let's get started. Tin-Tin, you can man Mobile Control and Kyrano and Brains can be other victims."

His mother stared at him, hands on hips. "And just what are you going to do, Jeff Tracy?"

"Me? I'm the one who'll feed John and Mobile Control all the information about the rescue as if I'm the fire chief or local rescue co-ordinator. Are you with me, John?"

"I can hear you," his second son replied via a hand held radio. "Ready and waiting to dispatch the gallant forces of International Rescue out to save the damsel in distress..."

"All right. We've got the idea. I'm also the Marshall on this exercise. So I'll take notes on everyone's performance," Jeff declared.

"See how he's always willing to take on the hard, dangerous jobs," Gordon said in a stage whisper to Alan. "Fearless, that's what our father is."

Jeff didn't rise to the bait. "So are you if you're going to start teasing your old man. Right! Lets get started..."

Scott had worked out a plan of his own. He knew Virgil was planning to use some of the unexpected spare time to get in some piano practise and hoped that he would take the path past Scott's bedroom door.

Scott listened until he heard his brother's familiar humming, then, leaving the door to the room open, he started pulling at the furniture in his room.

He heard Virgil stop humming as he drew close to the door.

"Hey, Virgil! Give me a hand will you?"

"Doing what?" Virgil asked warily from the hallway.

"I've lost my wings. I threw them somewhere ages ago and now I can't find them. It's a shame I've 'outgrown' Brains' specs. I need your eyes."

"You threw them!"

"Yeah, I know. It sounds silly now. It was my first day home and I guess I was a little upset."

Virgil took a step into the room. "So where'd you throw them?"

"Um..." Scott sat on the bed where he'd sat a year ago. "I just threw them. They must be behind one of those chests of drawers. Help me find them please?" he pleaded. "My eyesight's not good enough yet."

"Okay." Virgil took another step into the room. He didn't notice the door slide quietly shut behind him or hear the lock slide home. "So they could be behind this cabinet," he tried peering behind the large piece of furniture. "When was the last time you cleaned back here!"

Scott felt as if he'd engineered a kidnapping. He tried to sound relaxed. "I couldn't see the dirt, so I didn't worry. Can you see them?"

"No. Can we pull it out from the wall?"

They each took a corner and pulled. The cabinet moved a little. Virgil peered behind. "I think I can see them. We need to pull this out further."

"Lets get rid of the drawers, that'll make it lighter."

It was then a relatively easy job to pull the chest of drawers away from the wall. Virgil managed to reach behind and retrieve the wings. "There you go. A little dirty, but otherwise unhurt." He wiped the cobwebs off and then started to pin the badge to Scott's collar. "Back where they belong," he smiled.

He stopped when he realised that he was face to face with his brother. "I'm sorry... I'll leave now!" He turned and found the door shut. He tried to open it. "Scott!"

Scott's own smile at being reacquainted with his wings fell from hisface. "Don't go! Let's talk."

"Don't go!? You've locked the door! Was this some kind of trick?" Virgil asked angrily.

"No! Everything I said was true. I'd lost my wings. I'm truly grateful that you've found them for me," Scott removed the treasured item from his lapel and clutched them tightly to his chest. "But I think we need to sit down and talk."

"I'm busy!"

"Please, Virgil! Talk to me!"

"About what!"

"About us! You've been avoiding me!"

Virgil moved over to the window and stood with his back to it. "Okay, talk!"

"Please sit down."

"I'm comfortable here."

"But I'm not. I can't see you properly when you're backlit like that." Scott grabbed his brother by the arm and dragged him over to the chair that was well away from the window. "Sit there where I can see you."

Virgil sat down and stared at the floor.

"Look at me," Scott pleaded.

"Do you really want me to?" Virgil asked quietly.

"Yes I do. I want to see you. I've wanted to see you for the past year. I know that's not what I said, but it's the truth."

Virgil was silent.

"I was angry that day in rehabilitation. Nothing was going right. I was helpless. I was out of control. The only thing that I KNEW I could do confidently was to hurt the people around me. I thought of the one thing that I knew would hurt you and I said it! And I'm really, really sorry."

Virgil looked at his hands.

"Believe me, Virgil," Scott begged, "I didn't mean it! If it had have been Father, or John, or Gordon, or Alan, I still would have tried to find something hateful to say to them. Unfortunately I picked on you."

The ominous silence continued.

"You've been a help to me over this last year. You've supported me, and cajoled me, and threatened me, and made me realise that my life wasn't over just because I was blind. If it hadn't been for you I'd probably be sitting in here all day weaving baskets or something."

Virgil didn't comment.

"I've never believed that Ma's accident was your fault. I've never believed that Ma would have blamed you... that was something I dredged up from the sewer of my mind."

Scott was starting to feel a mild form of panic. He was desperate to break through the wall that Virgil had erected between the pair of them. "And I don't think of Ma every time I look at you. You're an individual, Virgil, and when I see you I don't see Lucille Tracy, my mother, I see Virgil Tracy... I see my brother... I see my hero..."

The familiar klaxon went off.

"Oh no!" Scott exclaimed angrily. "Not now! Somebody up there hates me!"

Virgil stood. "We'd better go," he said quietly.

Scott carefully placed his wings on the bedside table and unlocked the door. "Virgil... please... this isn't finished, let's talk some more later. You haven't heard everything that I want to say to you..."

Sixty Two

International Rescue's other operatives were already in the lounge when Scott and Virgil arrived. They'd been alerted when John's attention had wavered from the exercise to genuine radio messages. Reluctantly Jeff had halted the training session.

He looked with sympathy at Scott, whose face was showing bitter disappointment.

Virgil's face was unemotional.

Jeff turned his attention back to John's portrait. "What information do you have for us, Son?"

"It's an oil refinery," John said slowly, listening to the reports at the same time. The name of the company is..." his face sagged in disbelief. "Regnad Oil."

"I knew today was jinxed," Scott muttered.

"Is it a related company?" Tin-Tin asked.

Jeff was scrolling through the business who's who on his computer. He nodded. "Regnad Oil. Parent company Regnad Corporation..."

"And about 20 kilometres away from the 'top secret, hi'hly experimental laboratory,'" John informed them.

Jeff looked at him and then back at his team. "Do you want to go?"

"You've never asked us that before," Gordon said surprised.

"I've never needed to. I'm happy to leave this one to each of your own discretions."

"I'm going," Virgil announced. "There's still people who may die there."

Alan headed over to Thunderbird One's lamps. "I'll see you there, Virgil."

"You'll need help," Gordon moved towards the passenger lift.

"Can I go too?" Scott asked.

"I don't know, Scott," Jeff said reluctantly.

"I'm not asking to pilot Thunderbird One," Scott insisted. "Alan can still fly me out there and I can still man Mobile Control. From what John was saying we're going to need every available man to fight this fire. Once this is over I can drop in on Professor Bunsen for my check up. It'll save him coming here and annoying Brains."

"All right," Jeff said, still reluctant. "But the first sign of trouble..."

"I promise that on the first sign of trouble I'll get John to take over."

"Go on then."

"Great." Scott had his back to the wall and was spinning out of sight. "See yo..."

The fire at the refinery was not as bad as they'd first feared, Scott was happy to report back. He could almost feel the strain fall away from his father. "Oh by the way. I've met an old friend..."

"Who?" Jeff said warily.

"Doctor Hughes," Scott said with a grin. "You should've seen his face!"

Doctor Hughes had almost been embarrassed about approaching Mobile Control. "It seems we're working together again," he'd said shyly.

Scott had recognised his voice. "Actually I'm quite glad to meet you again..." he pulled his protective sunglasses down to the end of his nose and looked over them, "...and to see you."

Doctor Hughes started and then a smile crept onto his face. "You... you saw... the Professor."

Scott nodded as he pushed the sunglasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "The man's a miracle worker! And completely mad! Only don't tell him I said so. Don't tell anyone!"

Doctor Hughes was nodding vigorously. "I understand completely. Secrecy is most important." He winked at.ScHtt. "But I am pleased that, in some small way, I was able to repay International Rescue for all they've done."

"Not as pleased as I am, I can assure you." Scott had turned his attention back to Mobile Control.

Now, barely three hours later, they were entering the final stages of the rescue... helping the local services extinguish the fire. The only two people who'd been trapped had been rescued successfully and had been taken to hospital as a precautionary measure.

Scott felt pleased with the way things had progressed, and the way he'd been able to use both the conventional and modified aspects of Mobile Control to his advantage. He decided that it would be a good idea to retain this particular model. It wouldn't hurt his brothers and Tin-Tin to learn how to use the improvements either.

"'Firefly' to Mobile Control," Alan's voice called out to him via the speakers.

"Mobile Control. Go ahead, Alan."

"Fire in sector three is out. Do you need me anywhere else?"

"No. Everything's under control. You can stow 'Firefly' away now."

"F-A-B."

His youngest brother's voice was replaced by that of his oldest sibling. "Thunderbird Five to Mobile Control."

"Mobile Control. Go ahead, John."

"How's things looking?"

"Great! I can see the fire and the smoke and the buildings and..."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," John reprimanded him gently. "Things must be winding down if you're not taking this seriously."

"I've just given Alan the go-ahead to put the 'Firefly' back into the pod. Gordon's packing up a few things and Virgil's heading my way as we speak."

"You can see him?"

"I can see his yellow sash."

"Ah. How long before you think you'll be leaving?"

"Maybe half?an hour? It'll depend on whether there's any flare ups, though I'd say anything that could happen now, should be able to be handled adequately by the locals."

"Okay. I'll let base know. Give me a call if there's any change to your E.T.D."

"F-A-B."

Scott's good mood disappeared when Virgil came and stood so that Mobile Control largely hid him.

He tried to regain it. "Well another rescue successfully completed!" he said with forced gaiety.

"Scott," Virgil said seriously. "Do you think there's any chance we could get Gordon to travel in Thunderbird One?"

"Why?" Scott asked astonished at this request.

"Then, um, maybe, you'd like to fly with me in Thunderbird Two? You haven't flown her for a while, and it wouldn't hurt for you to refresh yourself on the controls, and once you've got Thunderbird One back we're never going to be able to get you out of the pilot's seat, and it could be your last chance for a while, and it wouldn't hurt for Gordon to have a refresher on Thunderbird One's controls, and we're all pretty fresh at the moment since it's been such a short rescue..." he took a breath, swallowed... "And..."

A warning alarm sounded on Mobile Control.

They looked at the flashing light and then back over at one of the refinery's smaller containment facilities. Local rescue services were running for their lives from the flames that licked around the base of the cylindrical structure.

"Gordon! Get out of there!" Scott yelled at his brother who was already moving with speed away from the impending crisis. He slammed down the button that activated Mobile Control's hover units.

Virgil pushed on one side of the bulky unit and Scott the other as they fought to get it away from the danger zone.

Alan had seen what they were doing and ran to help them...

Gordon dropped the load he was carrying and turned to assist also...

Virgil looked at Scott...

Scott looked at Virgil...

"Run!" they both yelled...

The explosion was loud and violent. Everyone within 200 metres was knocked to the ground by the blast of searing air.

As the noise subsided, and the dust settled, people starting moving gingerly. Checking themselves for injuries.

Those closest to the explosion cleared the dust from their eyes and looked around them, ears ringing from the blast.

Three members of International Rescue stood and surveyed the damage...

Three members of International Rescue looked to check that his brothers were okay...

Three members of International Rescue ran towards one member of International Rescue who lay unmoving...

Sixty Three

He lay there. Whatever possessed him to try to have a nap beside The Mole? It had to be one of the nosiest machines in International Rescue's auxiliary fleet... No... It was too noisy to be The Mole. Thunderbird One? Thunderbird Two?? Thunderbird Three???

That couldn't be right. There'd be no way he'd try to sleep beside Thunderbird Three while she was launching, or were they just testing the rockets? No, that didn't make sense either.

He raised his hand to his head and winced as it came in contact with a sore spot that had been bandaged.

Despite the protests of his aching head he cracked open an eye.

He instantly recognised his surroundings before he shut the eye again. He was in Thunderbird Two's sickbay.

So that was the noise. It must be Thunderbird Two's engines.

No that didn't make sense either. The sickbay was specially insulated to reduce engine noise to a minimum.

And there was the biggie! Why were the engines going when he wasn't operating them? Thunderbird Two wasn't flying, he could tell by the lack of motion and vibration.

So, what was that motor? And why did they have it operating in the sick bay?

Why was he lying down in here?

He struggled to make sense of the questions that filled his befuddled brain.

Virgil opened his eyes again. Despite the fact that the room was spinning he could see someone preparing something at the workspace beside him.

"Scott," he croaked.

He saw Scott turn and smile with something akin to relief, before a wave of nausea forced him to close his eyes again.

If Scott was saying something to him, it was impossible to hear over the roar of that motor. Why didn't Scott turn it off? He took a breath to steady his stomach and opened his eyes again.

Scott was indeed talking.

"I can't hear you, Scott," Virgil yelled.

Scott frowned.

"That noise? What is it?" Virgil yelled again.

He saw Scott say something but still couldn't hear it. He shook his head in frustration and closed his eyes again.

Scott stood there, trying to make sense as to what was going on. "Virgil?" he asked. "What noise?"

There was no answer from the figure on the bed.

A chill shot down Scott's spine. "Virgil? Can you hear me?"

Still no response.

Hesitantly Scott reached out and touched Virgil on the arm. Obviously unwillingly Virgil opened his brown eyes.

"Can you hear me?" Scott asked again. This time using sign language at the same time.

"No," Virgil signed back.

"I can hear you," Scott told him.

"Then you've got better hearing than I have," Virgil signed crossly. His headache was getting worse.

"What can you hear?" Scott signed.

There was confusion on Virgil's face. "That noise of course."

"What noise?"

"That roaring motor noise. You must be able to hear it."

Scott shook his head.

"I don't understand." The nausea was getting too much so Virgil closed his eyes again. "The room's spinning, and I've got a headache."

"Virgil! Look at me!" Scott tried yelling. But there was no response. "Oh, heck." He said worriedly. "Please not this. Not now!" Once again he tried to get Virgil's attention by touching his arm.

"What!" Virgil said crossly. Then he remembered. "What?"

"Can you hear anything?"

"I told you. I can't hear anything for that noise."

"There's no noise. The room's quiet."

Virgil closed his eyes. Slowly Scott's statement sank in. He opened his eyes again and this time Scott could see fear. "There's no noise?"

Scott shook his head. "No."

"What can I hear? I can't hear you, only this roaring sound." He swallowed to get a feeling of panic under control.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Virgil shut his eyes again. "Wasn't there an explosion?" He put his arm over his eyes to block the light out. "I feel sick."

Scott watched his brother's hand clench into a white knuckled fist, and got two kidney bowls. Before he placed them on the bed he brought the bases together with great force beside Virgil's ear.

There was no response.

"What's happening?" Virgil asked pathetically, oblivious to the clang of the bowls. "What's wrong with me?"

Scott needed to communicate with him, but clearly he wasn't feeling well enough to open his eyes and read sign language. A flash of inspiration came and Scott hopefully ferreted about in a cupboard. "Just what we need," he pulled out a Braille machine and checked it over.

This one had a pad where the reader would place their fingers, and small pins would raise and lower themselves making each letter of the Braille alphabet, thus enabling the typist to communicate with the sightless person. They'd never found a situation where such an arrangement was necessary... until now.

"Where are you, Scott?" Virgil asked, unwilling to open his eyes again. He reached out for his elder brother.

"I'm here." Scott took the hand. "I won't leave you."

"I'm deaf aren't I?" Virgil asked in a plaintive voice.

Scott communicated with him the only way he had available at this moment. He gave his hand a comforting squeeze.

Gordon came into the room. "How is he?" he asked quietly. He noticed that Scott was looking a little grey and that Virgil was obviously conscious. The sight of his brothers holding hands put him on his guard. "How's it going, Virgil?"

Virgil didn't reply.

"He can't hear you, Gordon."

"What!? Why? What's wrong?"

"I don't know. All he can hear is a roaring noise."

"Are you sure?"

Scott nodded. "See if you can get a response."

Gordon found a paper bag and blew it up. He held the inflated bag next to Virgil's head and popped it with a loud bang.

"He didn't even flinch," he noted soberly. "How bad do you think it is?"

"I don't know," Scott said equally seriously. "I guess we won't know until we get him home. I'm going to try to get a bit more information so we can send it to Brains. He's feeling too ill to open his eyes and I don't want to let go of his hand. Get that chair, and put the Braille typewriter on it will you. That's it, beside the cot."

When the machine had been positioned to Scott's satisfaction he placed Virgil's hand in the correct place. "I hope he can remember what he learnt."

"What are you doing?" Virgil raised his head and opened his eyes enough to see the contraption. Then he let his head fall back on the pillow.

Scott tried typing. * Do you understand? *

Despite it all Virgil managed a small smile. "I knew there was a reason why I learnt Braille. I understand."

* Any pain? *

"Headache and nausea."

* Anything else? *

"Everything's spinning and there's this continuous noise."

* You said it sounds like a motor. *

"I feel like we're testing Thunderbird Three's jets in my head."

* What can you remember before the explosion? *

Things were clearer in his mind now. "We were at an oil refinery. I was helping you get Mobile Control clear. We thought there might be an explosion." Then his eyes flew open and he tried to sit up. "Is everyone else okay?"

Gordon moved in and guided him back down onto the cot. "We're okay, Virgil."

Virgil closed his eyes in relief.

* They're okay, * Scott reiterated. *Alan's getting Thunderbird One ready. He's going to swing by and pick up Professor Bunsen. Remember he was going to give me a check up today, so he can check you out at the same time. *

"Great. I'm going to be checked over by the Nutty Professor," Virgil moaned. "I must be in a bad way."

* We don't know yet. It's probably temporary. *

Virgil moaned again and tried to get more comfortable.

* What's wrong? *

"The noise! It's getting worse!"

"I'll radio home and tell them," Gordon offered. "You keep him company."

Scott nodded and picked up Virgil's hand again, rubbing it reassuringly. Then he felt the pressure of his brother's grip increase. "We're going to have to do something to help him."

As if he'd heard him Virgil said. "Can't you do something? This is going to drive me crazy."

Jeff Tracy answered Gordon's radio call immediately. "How is he?"

"He's conscious, Dad..."

Jeff relaxed.

"...But..."

Jeff tensed up again. "Yes, Gordon."

"He can't hear anything. He says he's got this roaring sound in his head."

"Can't hear any..." Jeff closed his eyes and Gordon could almost see the thoughts 'not again' flash through his mind.

"Uh, Dad. Is Brains there?"

Jeff looked at him again. "He's in his lab. I'll patch you through."

Gordon could read concern behind Brains' thick glasses when the scientist appeared on screen. "How is he?"

Gordon explained all he knew. "What can we do, Brains? He says the roaring's getting worse."

Brains thought for a moment. "The tinnitus could have been caused by anything..."

"The what?"

"Tinnitus. It's the technical term for roaring either in the ears or the head. It's not necessarily linked to his, ah, p-perceived deafness."

"There's nothing perceived about it, Brains. I tried popping a paper bag beside his ear and he didn't move a muscle."

"D-Do you know, did he hit his head?"

"Yeah, it looks like he did. He's got a small head injury and there was blood and some of his hair on Mobile Control."

"Ah, th-that could explain the headache, and possibly the tinnitus. The hearing loss could be as a r-result of the concussive nature of the explosion."

"I know my ears were ringing afterwards, but the rest of us could still hear okay. So why's he lost his hearing?"

"I-I won't be able to answer that question until I can examine him, Gordon."

"Okay. Can we give him anything in the meantime? He says the tin-eye..."

"Tinnitus."

"...Tinnitus is getting worse."

"T-Try a mild sedative. I don't want to do too much medically until we know wh-what's wrong."

"Okay, Brains. Thanks."

"M-Make sure the cabin pressure remains c-constant. Call me if there's any ch-change in his condition."

"Will do. Out."

Scott had heard the exchange. He was already going through the medical cabinet looking for the required medication. He found the hypodermic syringe and placed it on the work surface beside the cot. Then, using the Braille typewriter he explained to Virgil what they were going to do. That finished he picked up the syringe.

"Ah, Scott."

Scott looked at the injured man lying on the cot. "Yes?"

"No offence intended, but I'd prefer it if Gordon did that."

Gordon laughed at Scott's shocked face. "I don't blame him, Scott. No offence intended, but I'd feel exactly the same way at the moment. Your eyesight's still not good enough. He doesn't want to end up looking like a pincushion."

"I bet you would've let me do it while I was blind!"

Gordon shook his head. "Nope. I think I would have rather done it to myself."

"Great," Scott muttered. "So much for trust." He handed over the syringe.

Gordon looked down at Virgil who was looking back at him with a half smile. "So, you trust me with this. Do you trust me to fly Thunderbird Two?"

Virgil screwed up his face. "What's the option?"

"We let Scott fly her."

Virgil let out a resigned sigh and closed his eyes again. "I guess we're both in your hands."

Brains contacted Thunderbird One. "Alan. Can I p-please talk to Bunny?"

"Sure, Brains." Alan made the necessary connection to the radio at the passenger seat. "Can you see him, Professor?"

"I can my boy, I can." Professor Bunsen's safety harness was barely restraining him. The prospect of flying in Thunderbird One had made him even more excitable. "Good to see you, Robot Head. How's Virgil?"

"He's c-conscious, but he's lost his hearing and appears to have developed t-tinnitus."

"Lost his hearing!" Alan said in concern.

"How severely?" Professor Bunsen asked.

"G-Gordon seemed to think it was total."

"Total!" Alan echoed. "And what's tinny..."

"Tinnitus... Noises inside the head... What have you prescribed?" Bunny Bunsen was concentrating on the face in the video screen, rather than the pilot.

"A mild sedative, to keep him calm. Ap-pparently the tinnitus is quite severe." Brains gave the Professor a full run down of what he knew.

"Good, Brains. Let us hope that this is only a temporary condition. The world shouldn't lose his music."

It wasn't until they'd signed off that Brains realised that the Professor hadn't used his hated nickname this time.

Bunny Bunsen must be truly worried.

Two other worried people were in Thunderbird Two's sickbay.

Gordon looked at Virgil who was now sleeping fitfully. "If this hearing loss is permanent, it'll kill him."

"No it won't, Gordon. He'll learn to cope."

"Like you did? But without his music..."

"You'd better get up front and start this 'bird up. The sooner we get him to medical care, the sooner we'll know how serious this is. Then, if we need too, we can start worrying about the future..."

Sixty Four

""Blood in the ear canal..." Bunny Bunsen straightened up and reached for an otoscope.

"Ruptured Tympanum?" Brains suggested.

"Looks like it," the Professor grunted. "But that doesn't explain the severity of the tinnitus or the hearing loss. I want to check him out with a cat scan..."

Virgil lay quietly, aware that these two men were trying to help him, willing them to do something to enable him to hear something, anything! Anything rather than that annoying roar.

Thunderbird's One and Two had arrived at Tracy Island almost simultaneously.

Bunny Bunsen had leapt out of his seat and had tried to open the door to Thunderbird One's hatch. Alan had told him to wait until firstly Thunderbird One and then the travelling gantry arrived into position and the door could be opened. The Professor had rushed out onto the platform and had only just been saved from plummeting the 100 odd feet to the hangar's floor by Alan's quick reactions.

Scott and Gordon had wheeled the gurney containing Virgil into the infirmary and had then been banished to the hallway by the Professor.

At a loss to do anything else, Gordon and Alan had returned to Thunderbird One and Two's hangars to prepare the craft for the next time they would be needed.

Grandma Tracy sat in the lounge, her needles clacking together as she knitted frantically, concern for her grandson etched onto her face.

Kyrano and Tin-Tin set about making a meal for anyone who would feel like eating.

Jeff and Scott stood on the patio leaning on the railing.

"I'll want a full debriefing later," Jeff said quietly.

Scott nodded. "Just the five of us, or do you want to wait until Virg can join us?"

"We'll see what the Professor says. I'd rather if you all were there."

"So would I."

Jeff frowned. "Could he hear anything?"

"No... Scott sighed. "Gordon made the comment that if this hearing loss is permanent it would kill him. I said it wouldn't, but I don't know... He'd take it pretty hard."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Jeff looked about to see if anyone was within earshot. "How'd you get on with your talk?"

Scott grimaced. "I talked and he said nothing... and then we had this callout." He gave an ironic laugh. "Do you know what the last thing I said to him was? Before we left my room? That he hadn't heard everything that I wanted to say to him. Prophetic or what?"

"It may not be. At least you boys can all use sign language. It's the rest of us that are likely to have problems communicating."

"I told you you should learn."

"I didn't think I'd need it, especially not for one of my own sons." Jeff thumped his hands on the balcony rail. "No. I'm not going to think like that! He'll be fine."

"I think he did want to talk," Scott said. "He suggested that I travel with him and Gordon go with Alan, just before Mobile Control's alarm went off. He said it was so that I could reacquaint myself with Thunderbird Two, and Gordon with Thunderbird One."

"But you don't think that was the real reason."

Scott shook his head.

They looked out over the calm Pacific.

"I've decided on one thing," Scott suddenly said. "I've decided that it's not Regnad that's jinxed against us. It's Doctor Hughes."

Jeff raised an eyebrow in query.

"He was at Regnad Corp. and I was blinded. He was at the collapsed hospital and Alan gets delayed concussion. And then I meet him again today! If I ever meet him again I'm getting back into Thunderbird One and leaving."

"If you're going to get superstitious then remember these things happen in threes," Jeff reminded him wryly. "His spell's broken. Besides if it wasn't for him you would never have met Professor Bunsen and would never have regained your sight."

"You know, I was going to suggest that we retain the modified Mobile Control," Scott said. "I WAS going to suggest that we train the others up on it."

"Was?"

"You'll have to check it out once we know how Virgil is. But it's been totalled. The explosion wrecked it. We're going to have to go back to the original model."

Jeff looked at his oldest in concern. "Didn't you say you two were trying to get it away from the refinery. How come you're unhurt, Virgil's... well... hopefully not badly hurt... and Mobile Control was 'totalled.'"

Scott shrugged. "Just lucky I guess. We'd both decided to leave it and get out of there when the explosion happened. Maybe I was a fraction quicker than Virgil and he had Mobile Control between him and the explosion. Maybe he'll be able to enlighten us later."

A beeping from the lounge drew them back indoors. John's concerned face looked down on them. "How's Virgil?"

"We haven't had any news yet," Jeff was saying as both Alan and Gordon re-entered the lounge.

"How long is it going to take them?" Alan grumbled as he flopped down onto the sofa.

His question was answered by both Bunny Bunsen and Brains entering the lounge.

Jeff straightened up. "Well?"

"We've currently got him under sedation. He has ruptured both tympanum, and the CAT scan is inconclusive as to what other damage has been done. There may be some damage to the utricle, which could causing the nausea, but there are many factors which may cause this reaction. There's possibly some damage to the cochlea, the auditory nerve or maybe the organ of corti. Any of which could explain the hearing loss. The tinnitus is most likely caused by the inner ear damage, coupled with the ruptured tympanum, although we can't rule out some other factor or indeed damage to the middle ear. It may also have been caused by the head trauma. Or it has been known to occur after some emotional, physical or social disruption in the sufferer's life. You people would have a better idea if that's a possibility than I would. I've taken some tests, which I'll study more closely at home. Your equipment here is too antiquated."

Brains reddened in anger.

"Alan! You can take me home in Thunderbird One now and then I can get started on my analysis straight away."

"Ah, right!" Alan said nonplussed. He looked to his father for confirmation.

"Go on," Jeff acknowledged. "The sooner you're there, the sooner you'll be back again."

"Okay." Reluctantly Alan led the Professor back into Thunderbird One.

Once the door had closed behind them Jeff turned back to Brains. "Now would you mind translating that for us?"

"V-Virgil has burst both eardrums. There is a small ch-chamber in the inner ear called the utricle, which possibly has suffered some minor d-damage. If so it would probably upset h-his sense of balance and coordination for a day or two. It looked as though th-there was some damage to the structures of the inner ear, which could cause the deafness. It's this that is p-probably causing the tinnitus, although it c-could be as a result of hitting his head on Mobile Control."

"I think I understood the words emotional, physical or social disruption," Scott said. "Such as?" he glanced sideways at his father.

Brains shrugged. "I don't know. It sounded to me as if B-Bunny was covering all bases."

"Never mind all that," Gordon said impatiently. "What's the prognosis?"

"I don't know th-that either. The r-ruptured eardrum may take up to three to six months to heal. As for any other injuries... th-that's what Bunny is going to attempt to ascertain."

"So we don't know if the deafness could be temporary or permanent," Grandma Tracy brought the topic back down to a level that they could all understand.

Brains nodded sadly. "Yes."

Sixty Five

The next day Virgil felt well enough to get up. He joined his brothers in the lounge for the debriefing.

"How're you feeling now?" John asked from his vantage point of the portrait.

"Not bad," Virgil admitted. "Though I'd feel better if I knew what was wrong with me."

"Well the nutty Professor's going to be going all out to find out what's wrong," Alan told him. "He was out of Thunderbird One before I'd even got the ladder fully extended."

"Where's Dad?" Gordon asked.

Scott looked at his watch. "He set down this meeting for two p.m. It's only one fifty."

"Who's going to translate what Father says for me?" Virgil asked. "It'll be easier if I know who to look at."

"I'll do it," Alan offered.

"And I'll do Brains, if he joins us," Gordon added.

"Thank heavens you guys can all sign," Virgil said, then he frowned. "I'll tell you one thing though, if any of you start to call me 'Verge,' I'll throttle you. I'm not an extra bit on the edge of things."

"You can't expect us to spell out your name every time," John pointed out.

"How about Verge-L?" Gordon asked.

"No!"

"Verge-ill?"

"Only if you let me call you Gourd-on."

Gordon's face showed what he thought of that idea.

"Hey yeah!" Alan exclaimed. "Big brother can be Scot-T, and the Eye in the Sky can be..."He turned to where John was glaring down on him.

"Don't even think of going there!" John responded threateningly.

"Just call me V. I'll be happy with that," Virgil hastily cut the argument short.

"That's easy. Even Dad should be able to sign that," Gordon said.

Jeff chose that moment to enter the room. He stood behind Virgil. "How is he?" he asked.

"Don't you know it's rude to talk behind people's backs?" Virgil told him.

"How'd you know?" Jeff asked, perplexed.

Virgil watched Alan sign the question. "I could see your reflection in the table. Alan's going to translate for you."

"Good! Thank you, Alan," Jeff sat down. "Well, we'd better get started..."

Early txt day and Jeff was deep in thought. He had an important contract he was trying to put together for Tracy Industries and the numbers just weren't adding up. He looked at the piles of papers sitting on his desk. The excitement and stresses of the last week or so had pushed more mundane business to the background and now he was hoping for a few hours peace and quiet and the chance to catch up.

At first he didn't worry about the rhythmical sounds he could hear from further down the house. They had the same relaxing tempo as a heart beat and helped to centre his thoughts.

Then the sounds became louder.

Music?

Who'd be playing music at this volume? Everyone should be working somewhere in the complex.

The volume increased. His nerves, already stretched due to the backload of work, neared breaking point. Someone was going to get a piece of his mind!

Jeff stood, and in doing so knocked some papers to the floor. Desperate not to lose his tenuous grasp on the paper war he was currently fighting he lunged for them. His outstretched fingers just missed the falling sheets and his other elbow knocked his cup of coffee. Sliding on its coaster, the cup skidded across the desk, splashing its contents as it went. It hit the ornament that doubled as the microphone and tipped, the remaining liquid soaking much of what resided on the desk.

He stared at the mess. Hours of work had just been ruined.

Anger boiled over.

He stormed off down to the source of the noise that could no longer be referred to as music.

He barrelled in through the bedroom door and pulled the power cord from the wall.

"Virgil! What do you think you are doing!?"

Virgil had been standing by one of his speakers. He was startled when his father grabbed him by the arm and jumped backwards, inadvertently pulling the speaker with him. It crashed to the floor.

"Are you trying to deafen us all?" Jeff yelled. "I've just ruined hours of work because of that noise that you call music. What are you doing? ... Answer me!"

Virgil stared back. His face a mixture of bewilderment, frustration and a trace of fear. His eyes watching his father glower at him, trying to make sense of what was being said.

"I-I can't hear you."

Jeff felt as if he'd been slapped in the face. He immediately calmed down. "I'm sorry, Son. I'm an idiot. I forgot."

Virgil still looked bewildered.

"I wish I knew sign language," Jeff said in frustration.

"What?" Virgil sounded equally frustrated.

Jeff indicated the stereo. "What were you doing?"

Virgil appeared to understand. "I was trying to see if I could feel the music. I thought maybe if I placed my hands on the speaker, I could somehow hear it. I thought maybe there was some volume I could still hear..." He sat on his bed, his hands clenched tightly in fists.

Jeff sat beside him and put a fatherly arm around his shoulders. "And can you?"

"Pardon?" Virgil asked.

Brains knocked on the door. "Excuse m-me, Mr. Tracy."

"What is it, Brains?"

"B-Bunny has sent through his initial test results. He's 90 percent confident th-that Virgil will make a full recovery."

"That's good," Jeff beamed. "But why only 90 percent?"

Brains held some papers in his hand, and he looked down at them. "Th-There is one or two factors that he has some concerns over."

"One or two...?" Jeff stood and positioned himself so that he could see for himself the data printouts that Brains was holding.

Virgil remained seated. From there he could see the two men talking to each other. The way they kept glancing at him he knew they were talking about him. He watched their mouths trying to gain some idea of what was being said. Smiles merged into frowns and back into expressions of relief. More talking, and more...

Finally he could take it no longer.

"You're talking about me aren't you! Do you have to do it in front of me? If you can't talk to me couldn't you at least have the decency to do it behind my back. I won't hear you either way, but at least I won't know you're talking."

"Virgil, I'm sorry..." Jeff started to apologise.

"Get out! Get out of my room! And take this with you!" Virgil pulled his stereo off its stand and thrust it into his father's arms, before striding over to his window. He leant on the windowsill and gazed out at the view, breathing heavily.

Jeff handed Brains the stereo. "Put this somewhere safe will you?"

"Of course, Mr. Tracy." Brains quietly withdrew.

Jeff touched Virgil gently on the arm.

Virgil angrily brushed his hand away. "Leave me alone!"

Unable to communicate, and severely chastened, Jeff complied.

He ran into Scott standing in the hallway, arms folded disapprovingly. "You've really done it now haven't you."

Jeff ran his hand through his hair. "I forgot! I can't believe it, but I actually forgot that he can't hear. I was tearing strips off him for having the music too loud and he couldn't hear a word I said."

Scott's frown of anger transformed itself into a frown of concern. "He was playing music?"

"He said he was trying to see what he could feel... and hear."

"Why's Brains got the stereo?"

"Virgil wanted us to take it. The way he ripped it off its stand he's lucky its got wireless connections. I just wish I could talk to him. Do you know how frustrating it is trying to communicate with someone who can't understand you?"

"Every time I'm on a rescue in a non-English speaking country, trying to deal with someone who's anxious and frightened and trying to get International Rescue to help and is gabbling too fast for Mobile Control's translator to even get a handle on what language it is, let alone what is being said."

"What do you do?"

"Smile a lot, and hope they'll calm down enough that Mobile Control can cope, or else I get John to talk to them."

"I didn't do that," Jeff sighed. "I got angry and upset him."

"Should I talk to him?"

"He won't want to see me. You can at least tell him that Professor Bunsen is fairly sure that he'll get his hearing back."

"He is?" Scott's face broke into a smile. "That's great!"

"Yes. There's more he should know, but we'll worry about that later."

Scott's eyes narrowed. "More?"

"Nothing to worry about. When you've finished you show me the signs to use so I can tell him that I'm sorry."

"They're easy enough. This is 'sorry.'"

Jeff tried to make a sentence. "Me sorry."

"You mean, 'I'm sorry.'"

"What did I say?"

"Me sorry."

"Oh... I think I'd better go practise," Jeff looked disappointed. "I can't even get him to look at me at the moment. Please tell him I'm sorry, Scott. I'll try to talk to him when he's feeling better."

"Okay."

Scott entered the room, noticing the fallen speaker. He moved it back into its upright position, wondering if he should place it somewhere out of Virgil's sight.

He decided against it and tapped Virgil on the arm.

"I said get... Scott!"

"Hi."

"Did Father send you in?"

"I heard the end of your 'discussion' and offered to pass on his apologies."

"They were standing there talking as if I wasn't even here."

"He's really sorry."

Virgil leant against the windowpane. "This is so frustrating."

"Apparently Professor Bunsen thinks your deafness is only temporary."

Virgil brightened. "I sure hope he's right..." then he straightened up. "I need some fresh air. Fancy a walk along the beach?"

"Love to."

The Pacific Ocean was a stormy shade of blue, Virgil noted as he gazed out over the breakers. Pacific = peaceful - "I think I can see why Gordon's so drawn to water. If I watch the sea I can fool myself into believing that I'm hearing the waves and not these noises in my head."

"T-I-N-N-I-T-U-S," Scott signed.

Virgil frowned. "What?"

"T-I-N-N-I-T-U-S. That's what the noises are called."

"Oh. So I don't have to call them Fred or something like that. How do you say it?"

"Actually Brains and the Professor each pronounce it differently." Scott thought for a moment. "Tin."

"Tin."

"Eye."

"Eye."

"T-U-S. Like bus with a T instead of a B."

"Tus."

"That's it."

"Tinnitus. Tinnitus," Virgil practised a couple of times. "Am I saying it correctly?"

"Sounds fine to me. How's it sound..." then Scott stopped. "Can't you hear what you're saying?"

"No. All I can hear is the tinnitus."

"You can't hear yourself at all?"

"No."

Scott was obviously shocked. "I hadn't realised! I sort of assumed that you could at least hear yourself talk."

"No," Virgil said sadly. "Nothing." He shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking along the beach. "You know, in one respect you had it easier."

"I had it easier? What do you mean?"

"When you were blind."

"You must be really feeling sorry for yourself," Scott muttered to himself. "How did I have it easier?"

"It was obvious you were blind. No one could forget. You had the cane. You tended to look straight ahead. And when you talked with someone you'd sort of cock your head so that you weren't looking directly at them. Almost, but not quite. Probably because you were using your ears more than your eyes."

"Did I?" Scott hadn't realised.

"Deafness is invisible. Everyone forgets. I see them... they're talking to me and I can't hear them and I see anger or frustration because I'm not responding the way they expect. And then they remember and they either look frustrated or embarrassed... You all do it."

"Yes we do," Scott said shamefully.

"And do you know how lonely this is?" Virgil asked. "I'm grateful that you guys can sign, I think I would have gone mad otherwise. But when I'm with one of the others, like earlier, it's as if I'm watching the TV and the mute's on and I can't find the remote. They try, and then they give up and basically ignore me."

"They don't mean to."

"I know. But it's so frustrating!"

"Well, remember this isn't permanent."

"That's what I keep telling myself. But what if the Professor's got it wrong?"

"You'll cope, like I did. And I'll help where I can."

"Does that mean I can hit you when things get too much?" Virgil asked wryly.

"I'd rather you didn't." Scott was smiling as he replied, but his thoughts were on the unfinished conversation of a couple of nights ago.

"I guess if this is permanent I won't be going on any more rescues."

"Why not? I managed with a bit of equipment modification. There's nothing stopping you piloting Thunderbird Two."

"But communication is so important in International Rescue. What if I'm flying above something that's going to explode? How can you tell me to get out of there? By the time the computers translated your words, and I've read them, I could be blown to Kingdom Come."

"We'll use a red emergency light."

"And telling me which direction to take?"

"To turn to starboard, we can flash a green light."

"And to port?" Virgil asked wryly.

"A red one!" Realisation dawned in Scott. "Oh, okay. Amber for the emergency. My point is it's not impossible. Brains'll think of something."

"Yeah," Virgil didn't sound convinced.

They came to a sand covered log. Virgil automatically stepped over it.

Scott was sent sprawling in the sand. Instantly Virgil was at his side. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Scott glared at the log. "I didn't see that. It's camouflaged."

"You didn't see it! Your eyesight's still not too good, is it?"

"Why do you think I'm not begging to be let loose in Thunderbird One?" Scott stood and dusted himself down before continuing their walk down the beach. "I can see your face pretty clearly... which I'm glad of." He added quickly. "My feet are out of focus, and the summit of the volcano's starting to blend into the sky. Are those storm clouds?"

"I hadn't realised."

"So we've both learnt something about each other today," Scott grinned.

"Yeah. We're a pair of crocks."

"And we're both going to get better. Remember that."

They walked on a bit further in silence. They'd circumnavigated a quarter of the island. They came to some rocks.

"Let's have a rest," Virgil suggested.

They sat so they were facing each other...

Tin-Tin had been looking for them both. She followed the path that ran parallel to the beach. She began to despair that she'd missed them when the path started climbing up towards the summit. Finally she spotted them fifteen feet below her. She moved closer to the edge to try to get their attention...

"You know the other day..." Virgil began uncertainly, "... when you 'kidnapped' me?"

"Yes," Scott said warily. "Sorry about that."

"I wanted to say..."

"Scott!" Tin-Tin yelled, waving her arms madly. "Scott!" She took another step closer to the edge.

The ground beneath her feet gave way. She screamed as she tumbled down towards the churning waters of the Pacific Ocean.

Scott heard her.

Virgil saw her.

"Tin-Tin!"

Sixty Six

They were on their feet and running to the assistance of their friend who was more like a sister to them.

Scott fell several times as his eyes misjudged the unevenness of the rocks he was traversing.

Virgil was the first to arrive.

"Tin-Tin!" he yelled as he scanned the boiling waters for some sign of her. Frustratingly the only reply he could hear was the irritating sound of the tinnitus.

Scott scrambled to his side, breathing heavily, his arms bleeding from several grazes he'd received. "Can you see her?"

"Can you hear her?" Virgil asked urgently, not hearing his brother's question.

"No. Yes!" Scott was just able to hear a yell from inside a cave that was frothing with white water. "She's in there!"

"What?" Virgil asked.

Scott cursed his forgetfulness. "In there." He pointed into the cave.

Virgil paled. "Tide's coming in. She'll never be able to swim out of there alone."

Scott did what he did best; he took control. "Help me down there. I'll go in and help her. You go and alert the others and get a P.F.D."

"Are you crazy! You could be killed."

"So could T-T if I don't try. She could be hurt after that fall."

"Okay," Virgil said reluctantly. "Be careful." He helped Scott into the water, telling him where it was safe to put his feet. "Okay?"

Scott gave him the thumbs up signal. "Go!"

"See you."

It was a battle against the wash of the pounding waves.

Scott knew this particular cave, they'd often used it for training purposes. It was long and dark and curved away to the right. As the darkness increased his hard won skills of the past year started to take over.

Virgil didn't have far to go. Scattered around the base of the island were what Brains had termed "Survivor Stations." Each of these stations contained a personal floatation device or P.F.D. The theory was that should any sailors be shipwrecked on Tracy Island they would be able to remove the P.F.D. and use it to assist any others to make it to dry land. The removal of the P.F.D. would set off an alarm at Tracy Villa alerting the residents to the presence and location of the survivors.

It was a quicker way of alerting the entire family than using their watches.

Virgil was only half a minute away from the nearest Survivor Station. He ripped the P.F.D. free and headed back to the cave. His feet lost traction on the slimy rock and he fell. He quickly regained his footing and managed to get back to the mouth of the cave without further mishap. Having nothing else available he tethered himself to the P.F.D. and threw it out into the middle of the channel leading into the cave. The current swept it into the dark maw of the rock face.

Back in Tracy Villa, the distinctive alarm of a Survivor Station had rung out when the P.F.D. was removed. Gordon grabbed his wetsuit and oxygen tanks, Alan checked the locker that contained hoverbikes and a large inflatable dinghy that had its own hover transportation, and Brains retrieved the medical equipment. They made their way to the assembly area - the lounge. Grandma and Kyrano assembled blankets and started boiling up water for hot drinks.

Jeff was scanning the map of Tracy Island. A light showed him clearly where the alarm had been activated. He looked at the assembled group. "Where's Tin-Tin, Scott and Virgil?"

No one knew.

"Right. Let's get down there!"

The salt water was stinging his grazes. He was being pushed by the waves against the hard rocks. But still Scott continued doggedly on. "Tin-Tin!" he yelled. "Where are you?"

"I'm here." Her voice sounded tiny and afraid in the booming cavern.

"Hang on, Honey. I'm coming."

Tin-Tin was a strong swimmer, but even so she didn't have the strength to battle against the incoming waves. The water was pushing her against the rocks, whose jagged edges, although had been smoothed somewhat by millennia of wave action, were still rough and abrasive through the thin cotton of her dress. "Hurry, Scott!"

"Where are you? Keep talking."

"I-I'm here."

She was closer now and Scott reached out. Her arm felt cold. He moved closer. A wave pushed them together. He heard her give an involuntary grunt as she was sandwiched between him and the unyielding rocks. "Sorry, Honey."

A wave washed over the pair of them. They coughed and spluttered away the water.

Scott felt above her head. "I think there's a ledge along here." He found it and eased her along so she was under it, then he grasped her by the waist. "Next wave that comes in, jump," he instructed. "I'll help you get to that ledge, you can sit there out of the water... Get ready... Go!"

She jumped and found herself pushed upwards, partly by the force of the water and partly by his strong arms. "Made it!" she gasped. "What about you?"

"I'm okay." He fought against another wave. The tide was definitely rising. He estimated that they would have half an hour at the most before the cave would be under water.

They heard a voice above the roar of the water. "Scott! The P.F.D.'s coming in."

"Thanks, Virgil," Scott yelled in reply. "What am I doing?" he muttered to himself before he began to listen intently. The P.F.D. had a little homing signal on it, and he was hopeful that he'd be able to hear it.

His ears picked up a beeping sound and he edged towards it, managing to snare it. Then he made his way back to where Tin-Tin was seated. When he'd left her the water was just covering her feet, now it was up to her knees. "Put this around you."

"What about you?"

"I'll be all right. Just get out of here."

She wrapped the P.F.D. about her. "I'm ready."

He felt it to make sure it was secure, then he gave three tugs on the attached rope.

Virgil felt the tugs. "I hope that means what I think it does," he muttered and wrapping the rope around his left wrist for extra support, started pulling.

Tin-Tin jumped off her ledge and started battling against the surging breakers. The current pushed her against the rocks lining the cave and she used all her strength to push herself along the wall. Wave after wave broke over her, and she tried to time her breathing so that she wouldn't get a lung full of water.

Virgil continued pulling. The rope was starting to bite into his wrist and hands, but he merely kept on pulling, muscles taut against the strain. "Come on, Tin-Tin."

A wave broke over the rocks he was standing on and washed his feet out from under him. He fell heavily but maintained his grip.

Tin-Tin felt the rope suddenly go slack and was swept backwards against the rock, before the rope tightened again.

Virgil decided that it would be easier to remain seated. He braced his feet against another rock and continued pulling. The cold wind was making his ears hurt. His arms were aching and his legs were now taking up most of the strain, but he refused to give in. He wrapped the rope around his hands again and continued fighting against the pounding current.

It was starting to get lighter. Through the water that continuously clouded her vision Tin-Tin was sure she could see daylight. Wearily she pushed herself around a boulder and found herself in the mouth of the cave. It seemed to give her extra strength. She pushed on.

The sight of Tin-Tin also gave Virgil a new burst of energy. He gave an extra strong pull.

Together it was enough that she made it to the rocks at his feet. She clung on with all her might as Virgil clambered down to her before dragging her to safety.

He was surprised when another pair of hands took her from him. Alan was assisting her back to the hoverbikes.

"Where's S?" Gordon asked.

"In there!"

"Where?"

"I don't know," Virgil started to say, but Gordon had already turned back to Tin-Tin.

"Where is he in the cave?"

"Against the back wall. Hurry, Gordon, the water's up to his chest!"

The water was by now up to Scott's neck. He tried jumping in time with the waves to keep his head above water, but was rapidly losing strength due to the exertion and cold. He knew there was no way he could fight his way out alone. He kept listening out hopefully for the sound of the P.F.D. "Come on, Virgil... or someone..."

Jef took Virgil by the shoulders and assisted him away from the tides edge. He found a rock that could double as a seat and sat his son down on it.

Virgil looked past his father. "He's in there somewhere!"

Jeff started unravelling the rope from Virgil's hands, noting the friction burns and cuts. "Gordon will save him, Virgil." He patted him on a wet shoulder reassuringly, reasoning that the action made more sense than mere words.

Gordon was swimming under the waves. Under the water the current was strong and he wasn't having to battle the breakers. A bright torch lit up much of what was ahead of him.

Back on land Alan placed a survival blanket around Tin-Tin's shoulders. She was shivering from shock and the cold wind that had blown up. The back of her dress was torn and bloodied from the scratches and grazes she'd received on the unforgiving rocks. "Can you walk?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Come on, Honey. Your father's over here with Grandma. They'll look after you."

"No, Alan. I'm not leaving until Scott's out of there. He saved my life!"

"I'm not letting you get hypothermia..."

"I'm fine!" she insisted.

"Now you are! But I'm not taking any chances. They'll let us know if there's any news. Now come on!" he said sternly.

Meekly she let him assist her to the two older people waiting anxiously by the hoverbikes.

"My Daughter! Are you alright?!"

"I am fine, Father."

"She needs to get out of those wet clothes," Alan stated. "Her back's a mess."

"Now we'll take care of Tin-Tin," Grandma told him. "You go back and see what you can do to help."

"But Grandma...!"

"Go!"

He started hurrying back feeling that he'd been banished as much to protect Tin-Tin's modesty as anything else. There wasn't a lot he could do back at the cave at the moment.

Scott watched a light move towards him underwater. He'd climbed onto the smallest lip of rock to try to give himself more breathing space. "Gordon!" he shouted through the splashing water. "I'm here!"

Gordon's light found a pair of legs. He stood up.

"Ow!" Scott held up a hand to protect his sensitive eyes from the glaring light and slipped off the ledge.

Gordon caught him. "Put this on!" He handed his brother a breathing mask and small oxygen bottle. "Can you swim out?"

"I might need a little help. This cold sucks the strength right out of you."

"Okay, stick with me."

Outside everyone waited breathlessly. The mouth of the cave was by now almost completely submerged.

Jeff had left Virgil and was now standing beside Alan and Brains waiting for some sign that his other sons were going to make it out of that boiling cauldron of water.

Virgil's legs didn't have the strength to enable him to join them. His eyes moved quickly from the mouth of the cave, to his family's faces and back again... trying to get some information that he was unable to hear. His hands, wrists and ears were stinging in the cold air but he ignored the pain. Then he saw Brains say something into a portable radio and Alan point towards the cave. He forced himself to his feet and wobbled over to the group.

"That's good, Gordon," Brains said. "We can see your light. How is he?"

"Tired," Gordon informed him. "I don't know of any injuries."

Virgil tapped Alan on the shoulder. "What did he say?" he asked impatiently.

At that moment two heads appeared from under the surface. They moved around into an eddy where the force of the water wasn't strong enough to dash them on the rocks. Brains, Jeff and Alan moved forward to help them out of the water.

Virgil stayed where he was. He didn't have the strength to move any further, let alone help.

As Gordon helped push Scott out of the water, Jeff grabbed one arm and Alan the other.

"Tin-Tin! How is she?" Scott asked after he'd removed the breathing apparatus.

"She's fine," Jeff said quickly. "How are you?"

"Wet and cold."

Brains gave him a survival blanket.

Scott looked over to where Virgil was standing and gave him the thumbs up signal.

Virgil managed one in return. Then he looked down at his bloodied and blistered hands. For the first time he realised that they were stinging. He looked back up. The rest of the group were heading back to where the hoverbikes were waiting, laughing and talking amongst themselves. His Grandmother was walking towards them carrying a flask of hot liquid for Scott and Gordon. She was smiling and saying something to the group. Kyrano and Tin-Tin were heading back to the villa.

Suddenly Virgil felt alone and isolated from the rest of his family. He decided to make his own slow way back to the villa.

He was well into his walk along the beach when sand spraying against his leg made him aware that a hoverbike had come up beside him.

It was Alan. "How come you're walking?"

Virgil shrugged. "I felt like it. Work out the kinks."

"Thanks for helping Tin-Tin back there."

"Not a problem. How is she?"

"A little battered and bruised, but she'll be fine. She'll be sore tomorrow. By the looks of you and Scott, she won't be the only one."

"I'm glad she's okay.">

"You and Scott are quite a team."

"I guess so."

"Just as well. The number of times you both get into trouble." Alan was pleased to see a small smile on Virgil's face.

"You're a fine one to be talking about getting into trouble."

"Usually that's Gordon's fault." Alan noticed Virgil's hands. "They look pretty painful."

"They're okay."

"You look all done in, and you're wet. Did you get any water in your ears?"

"No."

"Good. Come on. That storm's about ready to hit and we can't have you getting hypothermia. Hop on the back and I'll take you home."

Sixty Seven

It was dinnertime that same evening. Everyone was hungry. They sat down and eyed up the food that had been placed on the table waiting for the last members of the group to arrive.

"How's Tin-Tin, Kyrano?" Alan asked before taking a sip of his drink.

"She is feeling tired, Mister Alan," Kyrano informed him gravely. "She will eat in bed and then sleep."

Scott rotated his sore shoulders and rubbed at the bandages that protected his grazed arm. "Sounds like a good plan to me. Isn't Virgil joining us this evening too?"

The rest of the group looked at each other.

"Did anyone think to tell him dinner was ready?" Scott asked.

"I rang the dinner bell as usual," Grandma said defensively.

"That's a fat load of good to him," Scott said.

"Scott! Don't talk to your Grandmother like that," Jeff reproached him.

"Well! What do you expect?" Scott huffed. "He was telling me today how frustrating he's finding this, how we all tend to forget that he can't hear. He feels lonely..."

"Lonely?" Gordon exclaimed.

"Yes! Lonely!"

"Is that why he was walking back home this afternoon?" Alan asked.

Scott sighed. "This is ridiculous. Brains, you thought of modifying Mobile Control so that I could carry on with International Rescue. You should be able to come up with something to help him communicate with us on a day to day level."

"It wasn't m-my idea to m-modify Mobile Control,' Brains informed him.

"It wasn't your idea?" This was news to Scott. "Then whose was i.t?"

"V-Virgil's."

"Virgil?"

The rest of the family were nodding.

"He convinced us that it would work," Jeff told him. He received a reproachful look from his mother and took a drink from his cup to hide his feelings of guilt.

Scott threw his napkin onto the table. "I'm going to get him."

Scott found Virgil working in his studio. The easel was positioned so that he could paint the scene outside his window.

The scene of the approaching storm.

"Hi," Virgil said when he saw Scott.

"Dinner's ready."

"Is it?" Virgil added a dab of paint and then put down his palette and brush.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For having faith in me," Scott said emotionally.

"Well you're a stronger swimmer than I am, and I couldn't hear Tin-Tin to find her..."

"No, I don't mean today."

Virgil looked at him questioningly. "I know what the words are you just said, but I don't understand."

"I just found out it was your idea to modify Mobile Control."

"Oh, that," Virgil said dismissively. "That was logical."

"No one else thought of it."

"They would have eventually. They were still finding out what you were capable of. I already knew."

"I don't know about that. I've got the feeling Father wasn't too keen."

Virgil gave a little smile. "He was dead against it initially. But the others were all for it, so he decided to give you a chance. Just as well you proved us right!"

"Thank you," Scott said again.

"Well I said you could do something with International Rescue. I suddenly realised what that was." Virgil noticed that the rain had started to pelt down on his window. "Looks like it's going to be a big storm."

"Yes."

There was a flash of light.

Virgil didn't see him make the sign. He continued to stare outside. "This is good. I can pretend the tinnitus is actually the rain beating down on my window."

"V..." Scott wanted to try and talk.

Virgil placed his hand on the windowpane. "I can feel it vibrating. Was that thunder?" He finally looked at Scott.

"Yes. V..."

There was another flash of lightning. Scott turned away, his eyes blinded by the sudden light.

Virgil began to count. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, te... There's more thunder!" He felt the vibrations through the glass. "The centre of the storm is only two miles away. Isn't this great!"

More lightning.

Scott closed his eyes. "The lightning's hurting my eyes. I'm going back to have dinner. Are you coming?"

"No. I'm not hungry. I want to paint this storm."

"With those hands?"

"They're okay. I can paint right handed."

"Are you sure about dinner?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'll see you in the morning."

"Night." Another bolt of lightning forced Scott from the room.

Virgil sighed. He didn't feel fine. He felt terrible. He was stiff and sore and his hands hurt. The tinnitus was louder than it had ever been and he felt vaguely queasy. On top of all that he was feeling slightly giddy and he could feel the beginnings of a headache. He picked up the palette and painted in a lightning bolt and some rain. Then he put down the painting implements again.

A flash of lightning drew his attention back to the window. He didn't have time to start counting before he felt the vibrations through the windowpane.

The storm was here.

He stared outside. The Pacific Ocean was now obliterated by the driving rain. He could feel the force of it beating against the window and was just able see the palm trees lashing wildly in the wind.

He pressed his forehead against the window feeling the cool glass against his skin.

A single tear ran down his cheek.

Sixty Eight

Most of the family was seated at the dining table when Virgil arrived the following morning. He flapped a hand in greeting at them and grabbed a mug for his morning cup of coffee.

He jumped when someone touched him on the shoulder.

He turned and faced Scott. "Don't do that to me!"

"Sorry," Scott signed. He examined his younger brother critically. Virgil looked terrible, there were dark circles under his eyes and his face was pallid, contrasting with the chestnut brown hair that he hadn't taken the time to comb. "How are you? Did you get much sleep?"

Virgil shook his head forlornly. "No. None."

"How's the hearing?"

"No better." Virgil filled the mug, pushed past his brother and took his place at the table.

Scott filled his own mug and sat down on the other side of the table. He watched as Virgil took a sip at his coffee and grimaced. Scott tasted his own drink and found nothing wrong with it. He looked over at his father who was watching Virgil with a frown of concern on his face. Their eyes met briefly in a gesture of support.

Scott turned his attention to his breakfast. He buttered a slice of toast and then found himself drawn back to his brother.

Virgil hadn't moved. Both hands were grasping his mug tightly, oblivious to the heat the emanated from the vessel. He was staring into the coffee as if he were fighting some inner battle. His family watched him, darting looks of concern to one another.

Alan was the first to make a move. He gently touched his brother on the arm. "Virgil?"

"No!" Virgil shoved his mug onto the table, ignoring that scalding coffee that splashed onto his and Alan's hands. He stood up, knocking over his chair in the process, and rushed from the room, his hands to his head.

Scott was the first to his feet and out the door. Everyone else made as if to follow.

"Stop!" Jeff commanded. "I'll go. The rest of you stay here."

"But..." He received several cries of protest and silenced them with a look. He followed in the footsteps of his two sons.

Scott found Virgil in his bedroom, pacing up and down like a caged animal. He tried to get his attention.

"This is not permanent! This is not permanent!" Virgil was saying to himself.

"Virgil!" Although he knew speaking was pointless, Scott felt the need to vocalise the name.

Virgil threw himself onto his bed and rubbed at his eyes with his fists. "This is not permanent!"

Scott strode to the bedside to get his attention. "V..."

But Virgil was back on his feet again. Unable to rest. Pacing up and down.

Scott intercepted him. "What's wrong?"

Virgil looked at him wildly. "The noise... I can't think... It won't stop..."

"It's getting worse?"

Virgil grabbed his hair in his hands. "Can't make it stop," he yelled. And then started pacing again.

Scott looked worriedly over at his father who was standing in the doorway. "He needs help."

"I agree, son. I'll go have a word with Brains." Jeff hesitated. "Look after him."

Scott intercepted Virgil again. "Come and sit down." He started to guide Virgil towards the side of the bed.

Virgil sank onto it as if his legs had given out on him. He leant forward rubbing his face in his hands, once again grasping at his hair. Scott rubbed his back sympathetically, wishing there was more he could do.

Then Virgil sat up straight. Scott took the opportunity to talk to him. "Try to lie down again."

Virgil complied. For ten seconds. Then he was back on his feet again, pacing up and down, up and down...

"This is not permanent! This is not permanent!"

Scott intercepted him again. "V. Tell me. Are you in pain?"

"Make it stop, Scott," Virgil begged. "Please make it go away."

"I can't..."

With a moan Virgil turned away and began his pacing again, holding his head in his arms.

Scott took the time to turn his attention to his watch. "Scott to Brains."

"Brains here."

"Get down here! The poor guy's in agony!"

"I-I rather doubt that he is in any physical pain. Rather mental and emotional..."

"I don't care what you think, Brains," Scott yelled. "Just find something to help him...! Hey! Stop that!" Ignoring Brains' image he ran over to where Virgil had started banging his head against the wall. He pulled him back over to the bed and sat him down.

"Help me!" Virgil pleaded and started bashing his ears with his fists.

Scott grabbed his wrists, ignoring the bandages on his brother's hands, and, using all his strength, held them still.

"Scott!" Virgil pleaded.

Unable to communicate with him, Scott felt hopeless. "I'm sorry, Virgil," he said, "Brains is coming. He'll help you." He hoped that the words would get through to his brother.

Virgil closed his eyes and started to rock backwards and forwards, still constrained by Scott's grasp. "This is not permanent! This is not permanent!"

"I hope you're right," Scott said to himself quietly, and then with considerably more volume, "Brains!"

"I'm here, Scott."

Scott hadn't heard him come up behind him. "Do something!"

"I-I need to talk to him."

"I daren't let go," Scott ground out. "He'll hurt himself if I do."

"I-I don't know sign language," Brains said in frustration.

"I'll get one of the others." Jeff was gone for a moment. He was back shortly with Gordon and Alan in tow.

The younger Tracy's were both shocked at the sight of their brother, rocking backwards and forwards intoning, "This is not permanent!" over and over again.

"Gordon. Translate for Brains will you," Jeff ordered gently.

"Sure." Gordon touched Virgil on the shoulder. "Look at me, V."

He managed to get Virgil's attention. "Please help me, Gordon!"

"Brains is here. He'll do what he can, but he needs to ask you a few things. Look at me and I'll translate."

Virgil nodded, a sheen of sweat glistening on his face.

"Ask him is he in any physical pain."

Gordon translated.

"Head hurts!"

"Ask him if it hurt before he started hitting it on the wall," Scott said.

Gordon stared at him before translating.

"Yes."

"Th-thank you, Scott. Ask him if there's any change to the noises he's hearing."

"Any change in the noise?" Gordon asked.

"Louder." Virgil closed his eyes. "Much louder."

"Gordon." Brains said seriously. "It is important that you explain this to Virgil correctly. He must understand the implications. Bunny Bunsen has left some medication that will stop the tinnitus..."

"Then why didn't he give it to Virgil earlier!" Alan asked impatiently.

Brains ignored him. "It will anaesthetise h-his aural canal. He will n-not be able to hear anything. But, it will only last for about 24 hours. We w-will not be able to use it again for another 24 hours after that."

"Okay," Gordon nodded emphatically. "I can tell him that."

"Wait!" Brains ordered. "You must also tell him that it anaesthetises everything. The healing process will stop for the 24 hours that the medication is active."

"So it'll slow down his recovery by at least a day," Jeff said in concern.

Brains straightened and looked at his employer. "And may affect his total recovery. He may never r-regain his full hearing."

Gordon stared at Brains. "You want me to tell him that too?"

"P-Please. It is important that he understands fully before h-he decides if he wants to go ahead with the t-treatment."

"Okay." Gordon glanced at his father before he touched Virgil on the shoulder and managed to get his attention. He explained what he'd been told. "Have I covered everything, Brains?"

"Y-Yes."

"Do you understand, V?" Gordon asked.

Virgil nodded and looked at each member of his family. Tears began to run down his cheeks. "I c-can't take this any longer," he whimpered. "I'd do anything."

"Are you sure?" Gordon felt he'd better double check.

"Please. Do it now."

Gordon stood back. "You heard him."

"F-Fine." Brains pulled on a pair of surgical gloves. "Excuse me, Scott."

Reluctantly Scott released his grip and got to his feet. He noticed the white marks he left on Virgil's wrists as he massaged the feeling back into his own fingers. He found himself unable to watch the procedure.

When Brains had finished he coaxed Virgil to lie back down on the bed.

"Thanks," Virgil whispered and closed his eyes.

Brains took his pulse. "He's fallen asleep," he eventually said.

Jeff took a blanket from where it lay on the floor and draped it over his son. As he looked down on the sleeping form he found it hard to believe that this was the same person who'd been so distressed only moments earlier. He reached out and brushed some sweat-matted hair away from the peaceful face. "What now, Brains?" he asked quietly.

"I-I'd like someone to stay with him for the first 12 hours," Brains said. "I'm not anticipating any p-problems, but I want to be sure."

"I'll do that!" Scott, Gordon, and Alan all volunteered.

Jeff shook his head. "I'll take the first shift. Do you want us to move him to the sick bay?"

"N-no. He's settled now. I-if we shift him we'll wake him."

Jeff pulled the chair up beside the bed and sat down.

The rest of the family quietly left the room.

Once they were back in the hallway Scott caught the scientist by the shoulder. "Brains... I'm sorry I snapped at you then. I was worried."

Brains patted the hand that held his shoulder tightly. "I kn-know, Scott. I'm worried too..."

Sixty Nine

Virgil woke up, feeling refreshed and more than a little relieved that, temporarily at least, the tinnitus had gone away. It was unnerving for the world to be completely silent, but compared to the constant noise he'd been experiencing over the last couple of days, silence was infinitely preferable.

As he got out of bed he knocked a hardback book off his bedside table. It silently hit the floor and lay there, pages exposed. He picked it up and put it back on the table.

When he turned back to face the door he was startled to see Scott was standing there.

"Sorry," Scott signed. "I was in the chair. How are you feeling?"

"Better now that that noise has gone away."

"Brains says it'll only be temporary relief. About 24 hours."

Virgil made a face. "I know."

"V. Did you understand what Brains said this morning?"

"That the medication may permanently affect my hearing? I understood. I had no choice. It was either that or go crazy."

"Just so long as you understand, if it happens again."

"I'll hold out as long as I can, but if it happens again, and it's that bad, I'll do it again."

"It's really that bad?"

"It's really that bad."

Scott looked at Virgil in sympathy. "I wish I could help."

Virgil gave a wry grin. "So do I. Well I guess I'd better do something practical while I'm still able to. There was some maintenance I was going to do in Thunderbird Two."

"The family's started eating dinner. Are you going to join us?"

"Is that the time?" Virgil looked at his watch. "Six o-clock! How long was I asleep for?"

"Ten hours."

"I guess I needed it. Now I'm hungry."

Scott smiled. "They always say that's a good sign."

Dinner was a frustrating time for Virgil. If he wanted to have a conversation with anyone apart from his brothers he had to get one of them to translate for him. Several times he was informed that he was shouting, seemingly unable to be able to moderate his speech volume. He gave up and took to signing everything himself, which limited his conversation opportunities while he was trying to eat. He eventually retreated into his shell, ignoring his family.

Jeff looked across at Brains. "Can't you come up with anything to help us communicate with him?"

"I've g-got a few ideas," Brains admitted. "B-But they'll take a bit of t-time before they'll be fully operational."

"Well give it top priority." Jeff looked over at his middle son who was morosely finishing his dessert. "For all our sakes."

Scott leant over and touched Virgil on the arm. "Do you want to go and do that work on Thunderbird Two now? I'll come and help."

Virgil dropped his spoon onto his plate. "Sounds good. Thanks, Scott."

The rest of the family watched them leave.

"At least he's trying to be useful," Tin-Tin said optimistically. "He's not giving up."

"Thank heavens for that," Grandma Tracy agreed. "He needs some sense of normalcy..."

Virgil automatically walked into the lounge and took up position with his back to the painting of the rocket.

Scott was making his way to the passenger lift when something about Virgil's expression made him hesitate. Instead of tipping backwards, his brother's attention was arrested by something in the room.

Scott watched Virgil's expression as a range of emotions flashed across his face. Then, brushing past Scott as if he weren't there, the younger man hurried from the lounge.

"Virgil!" Scott called after him uselessly. He heard his brother's bedroom door close.

Curious as to what had caused this unexpected reaction, Scott stepped over to the painting and, as Virgil had done, placed his back to it.

As he looked in the direction that Virgil had been gazing, Scott struggled to make his eyes focus against the backlight through the patio doors, and briefly wondered if this was as good as his vision was going to get.

Suddenly he could see it. It wasn't as if the object suddenly came into focus, it was more of a realisation of what Virgil must have seen.

The piano.

He hurried to Virgil's bedroom and slid open the door.

Virgil was sitting there, sketchbook in hand, drawing frantically with a piece of black charcoal.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked.

Virgil saw him, but didn't see the question. He angrily threw the pad onto his bed. "Why is life so unfair?"

"I don't know V. I've asked myself that many times, especially over this past year."

"You're probably the only one who understands what I'm going through," Virgil said heatedly.

"Maybe."

Scott picked up the sketchpad. The picture was dark in colour and dark in subject. A bird of prey with villainous claws and beak was carrying a female form into a lightning ripped storm cloud. From the female's limp hand a lyre threatened to fall into what appeared to be going to be a boiling ocean.

Scott dropped the book back down without comment.

"Do you know what I can hear now? At this moment?" Virgil asked.

Scott shook his head.

"Nothing! Not a sound! All my life I've had some sound about me, usually the sound of brother's yelling." Scott gave a small smile at the thought. "Even in situations where there was nothing to make a sound I could still hear something. My heartbeat, clothes rustling, wind, leaves. Something! I've always been able to hear music of some kind or another. I could hum to myself, or imagine... And now nothing. And what do I have to look forward too? Noise! Unbearable, unending noise!" He grabbed at his ears as if he were trying to shut the sound out.

"What does it sound like?" Scott asked.

"Imagine you're still sitting on the sofa under Thunderbird Three and Alan sets off her jets," Virgil grimaced. "And that's a good day. I think it's getting worse, not better."

"I wish I could help," Scott said helplessly.

Virgil took a deep breath. "You can do something for me..."

"Sure."

"Under my bed. There's a box..."

Scott got onto his hands and knees and looked. He pulled out a cardboard box and set it on the bed. "Is this it?"

"Yes."

"What's in it?" Scott pulled back a flap.

Virgil slapped a hand down, pinning the flaps so that they couldn't be opened. "Don't look in there!" He said out loud. He curled his hand into a fist and stared at the box. "I want you to destroy it."

Scott stood back. "Destroy it? Are you sure?"

Virgil nodded, his eyes closed as if in pain when he spoke. "I'm sure."

"Now?" Scott had to repeat the question when Virgil opened his eyes again.

"Now!"

"Okay." Scott picked up the box and then put it down again. "Are you going to head down to Thunderbird Two?"

Virgil shook his head. "I think I'll try to get some more sleep while I'm still able to."

"Can I get you anything?"

Virgil shook his head again.

"Okay." Scott looked back at the box. "Are you absolutely sure about this?"

"Just get it out of here."

"Sleep well." Scott picked up the box and left the room.

He met up with his father in the hallway. "What have you got there?" Jeff asked.

"I don't know. Virgil wouldn't let me look. He wants me to destroy it."

"Destroy it?" Jeff said warily. "Where was it?"

"Under his bed."

"Bring it into my room, Scott. I think we should look at what's in there."

In Jeff's bedroom, Scott placed the box on a chair but didn't open it. "Do you know what's in here?"

"I've got an idea. I hope I'm wrong. How was he when you left?"

"Pretty uptight. You know how we were going to work on Thunderbird Two..."

Jeff nodded.

Scott continued on. "We never got there. He saw the piano and rushed straight back to his room. When I got there he was drawing a picture. My eyesight's still not good, but I'm pretty sure it was an eagle, carrying off a lady holding a lyre. She was dead and they were flying into a thunderstorm."

"Or it could be a Thunderbird carrying off the Muse of Music. So he thinks he's lost his music forever?"

"That's the way I see it," Scott sighed. "He's convinced that his hearing's getting worse, not better."

Jeff pulled back the flaps of the box. It was filled with papers. He removed the top one and studied it. "I thought so. It's his music certificates."

"What! But he worked so hard for those. Why..." then Scott stopped. "No. I understand. I did something similar."

Jeff looked at him in surprise.

"I threw my pilot's wings away," Scott explained. ",ut why destroy his certificates? It's as if he's given up! I didn't do that!"

"Excuse me!" Jeff said wryly. "Who decided he was going to spend the rest of his life in bed on his first day in rehabilitation?"

Scott looked sheepish. "I said that to the wrong person didn't I. Okay. So maybe I did give up, but I knew my blindness was permanent. He's going to get his hearing back!"

"But now he knows that there's every chance that it won't be as good as it was. His music is so important to him..." Jeff removed more papers from the box. "They're all here. Trinity College... American Academy of Music... Hang on. What's this?" He pulled out another piece of paper. This wasn't a music certificate. It was a painting.

Scott looked over his father's shoulder at the painting. "Isn't that Ma? Is that something written there? I can't read it."

"It says 'Happy Birthday Ma. I'm sorry.' It's dated her birthday 2068." Jeff looked back into the box and removed another painting of his wife. "Same words, only this one was painted in 2067."

"Huh?" Scott reached in and retrieved more pictures. Some were done in oils; some watercolours and others were drawn in other media. "These are all done in different years aren't they?"

"Yes." Jeff started to lay them on his bed, in chronological order. When he'd finished he had 22 paintings spread out. The style changed from a childish scrawl to an impressionist style to almost photographic quality. Each picture was a representation of Lucille. Each picture contained those same words. 'Happy Birthday, Ma. I'm sorry.'

"This is amazing," Scott said. "You can see how he's developed over the years. Starting when he was five..."

"The year she died," Jeff said quietly.

"... Right through to last year. They must be his birthday present to her. But why only 22? Did he stop doing them?"

Jeff looked through the certificates in his hand. "There's 23, Scott." He placed the final picture at the end of the series.

Scott squinted at the words on the corner. "They're not the same words are they? I can't read them. I'll have to talk to him about his penmanship when he's feeling better."

"No, they're not the same." Jeff swallowed before reading them out. "'Happy Birthday Ma. Please forgive me.' It's dated 2069"

"After we opened the police file."

"I can't believe how blind we all were." Jeff sank into a chair beside his bed and surveyed the artwork. "We should have realised he felt like this."

"Now what do I do?" Scott asked. "I feel as if I'm betraying his trust, but I can't destroy all this! But I told him I would. What am I going to do?"

"Get another box. We'll put everything into that one and I'll store it in my cupboard. You can destroy this one..."

"...And if he asks I can say I've destroyed the box," Scott finished. "You want me to lie to him?"

"No I want you to tell him a half truth. And when he's better you can tell him the whole truth. With any luck he'll thank you."

Scott was silent for a moment. "I've only just realised... Tonight was the first time he'd been into the lounge since the accident... apart from the debriefing and we didn't have the prognosis then. He's been avoiding the piano."

"He's good at hiding his emotions. He's having a harder time with this than we've realised."

"Do you think...?" Scott began.

Jeff waited. "Do I think what?"

"Do you think this is my fault? That the tinnitus is a result of that 'emotional disruption' that the Professor was talking about? The explosion may just have been the catalyst."

"I wish I could say 'no it's not your fault.' But I don't know, Scott... It probably is a result of physical rather than emotional trauma, otherwise why didn't it happen sooner?"

"But you don't know..."

"No I don't..."

Saddened, Scott went to the storeroom and got another box. When he returned his father was still seated in the chair, mulling things over in his mind. "Scott?"

"Yes."

"You said you'd thrown your wings away. How?"

"I just threw them, in my room. I couldn't see where they'd fallen and at the time I didn't care. They'd gone down behind a chest of drawers. Virgil helped me find them last week, just before I tried to talk to him."

"You'll have to try to talk to him again, Scott."

"Me! Why me?"

Jeff waved his hands. "Because you can communicate with him! By the time I've spelt out every word, we'll both have forgotten what I was talking about."

"Oh," Scott said quietly. "I'll do my best. But the hard part will be finding the right time to talk. Then the next hard part will be deciding what to say."

"You could start with 'I think I understand what you're going through.' You probably do, more so than any of us, no matter how good our imagination is. At least you'll both be on an equal footing."

"Yes," Scott said reluctantly.

"Or, as another angle of attack. You can thank him for helping you find your wings..."

"...And say how glad I am that I hadn't lost them permanently. At least that'd be the truth." Scott heaved his shoulders in a deep sigh. "I guess after all the support he's been to me over the last year, it's the least I can do. I'm not looking forward to it though."

"I know. Sometimes the most important tasks are the most difficult."

"Just another job for International Rescue... Only this time I'm going solo..."

Seventy

At breakfast time the next day Scott went to get Virgil. Out of force of habit he knocked on his brother's door. Then he opened it slowly. The room was dark enough that he had to wait a minute until his eyes adjusted to the gloom.

It looked empty.

Mystified Scott walked over to the bed.

It looked as if it hadn't been slept in.

He checked the ensuite, and studio.

No sign of Virgil.

Frowning he stood in the middle of the room and looked about him.

He was about to operate the vibrating mechanism on Virgil's watch, to alert Virgil to the fact that someone was trying to contact him, when he saw the timepiece on the bedside table.

He picked it up.

Now he was starting to get worried.

He walked quickly down to the dining room.

"Has anyone seen Virgil?" he forced himself to sound calm.

The family looked up. "Not since you two went to work on Thunderbird Two," Alan informed him.

"We didn't get there," Scott said. "He said he was going to try to get some more sleep while he was still able to. But his bed doesn't look slept in."

Jeff looked up sharply.

"What time did you leave him?" Gordon asked.

"About seven o-clock."

"Had anyone seen him after seven?" Jeff asked.

The only replies he received were negative murmurings and the shaking of heads.

"Try his watch," Tin-Tin suggested. "The vibrating setting should at least get his attention."

Scott held it up. "He'd left it on his bedside table."

"Right! He's probably gone for a walk and lost track of the time. We'll start a search," Jeff said with authority. "Scott, you check Thunderbird Two's bay. Alan, you do Thunderbird Three's. Gordon, Thunderbird One. Ma, you search inside the house. Kyrano, you do the grounds. Tin-Tin. You check the power plant. Brains. You can do the maintenance rooms. Everyone! As soon as you've finished your area, see if you can help someone else."

No one bought the 'gone for a walk' excuse. The power plant and maintenance rooms were not places where you would 'go for a walk.' They all scattered to their appointed zones.

Scott was the last to leave. "Where are you going to check?"

"I'll check the path to the west," Jeff said quietly.

Scott wasn't altogether surprised. To the west there were cliffs. Cliffs that dropped down to jagged rocks and pounding seas. "I hope you don't find him."

"So do I, Son. So do I."

Scott shoved the image to the back of his mind and headed to his search area.

Thunderbird Two's hangar was a big cavern. The tiniest sound would echo and reflect off the walls, magnifying and being magnified 100 times.

Scott tried yelling, hoping that maybe Virgil would feel the vibrations of the sound or somehow realise that someone was looking for him. When the sounds had died away he waited, listening hopefully.

The hangar was as silent as a tomb.

Scott told himself off for using that metaphor and decided that Thunderbird Two would be a logical place to start.

Strangely, rather than being raised on her hydraulic legs, ready to accept a pod, the giant aeroplane was sitting on the hangar floor. Scott did a quick circuit of the craft without seeing anything else out of the ordinary.

He let himself inside.

He checked the lab and the sickbay before hesitantly taking the lift up to the flight deck.

He held his breath as the door slid back.

His eyes scanned the cabin until they fell on a half-hidden body.

He raised his hand.

"Everyone! I've got him. He's working in Thunderbird Two."

His father's face appeared on the tiny screen of the wristwatch communicator. "Good. Thanks, Scott. Let him know breakfast is ready will you."

"Sure." Scott smiled as he heard his father's voice betray the relief he was feeling. He walked over to the figure who had his head stuck inside part of the navigation system. "Virgil," he tapped him on the leg.

Virgil jumped and banged his head on the inside of the cabinet. "I wish people would stop doing that," he grumbled. "Now I've got another bruise."

Scott resisted the desire to throw his arms around his grumpy brother. "And how else are we meant to get your attention?"

Virgil shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe set my watch vibrating?" He felt his wrist and then looked down at where his watch should have been. "Bother. I must have forgotten to put it on after I had my shower."

Scott held it out to him.

"Oh," Virgil said sheepishly. "Thanks."

"How're you feeling?" Scott had to repeat the question after Virgil had finished putting the watch where it belonged on his wrist.

"Fine... at the moment." Virgil looked closer at his brother. "How are you? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I've got a bit of a headache," Scott lied, glad that Virgil was having to look at his signing hands rather than his now flushing face.

"Have you had anything to eat yet?"

"No. I came looking for you. I was surprised that you weren't in your room."

"I woke up at about 4 o-clock and decided that I'd had enough sleep. So I thought I'd come down here and do some maintenance. I guess I lost track of the time."

"How's the medication holding up?"

Virgil shook his head. "It's starting to wear off. But at least the tinnitus is bearable at the moment."

"How about having breakfast and then finishing this off after."

Virgil negated the idea. "I want to get this finished while I can still concentrate. Breakfast doesn't require quite so much thought," he said with a little smile.

"Then let me help you."

"I'd appreciate that. Thanks."

Between the pair of them they'd finished the task within half an hour.

Virgil stood and stretched. "I'm glad that's done. One less thing to worry about." He started tidying up the tools.

"V!" Scott tried to get his attention again. "V. Do me a favour will you. Keep your watch on in future. At least then we'll have a chance to find you. It's not as if we can wander around the place yelling for you."

"Yeah. Okay. I was in such a hurry to get down here I forgot this morning. Sorry."

"That's okay. Just remember in the future."

"Why? Are you worried that I'll wander away and jump off the cliffs or something?" Virgil laughed. Then he saw Scott's face redden and realisation dawned. "Scott! ... You didn't! ... I wouldn't!"

"Sorry, V. But you've had a pretty rough 24 hours. We didn't know how bad you were this morning."

"We! You mean everyone thought..." Virgil sat down on a passenger seat in shock at the idea.

"Well maybe not everyone... But you know Father..."

"...who organised a search of the island?"

Scott nodded.

Virgil groaned. "Great. Now everyone's going to be watching me like I'm a candidate for a mental institution or something."

Scott crouched down so that he was at Virgil's eye level. "We were worried."

"I know. And I appreciate the concern. But I'm not suicidal."

"You sounded pretty desperate yesterday morning. You said you'd do anything..."

"...But not that!"

"I'm sorry, V. You weren't in your room... Your bed hadn't been slept in... You'd left your watch behind... I jumped to the wrong conclusion, and so did Father."

"Really?"

Scott nodded. "He was searching the cliffs himself."

"And sent you to search Thunderbird Two in case I'd done myself in here."

Scott nodded again, looking down in embarrassment. His gaze fell onto the bruises on Virgil's arms. "Sorry I had to hang on so tight yesterday."

Virgil rubbed at his wrists and then looked at the marks on them. "Thanks for your help." He gave a rueful smile. "You've got a good grip. Did you think I was going to hit you?"

"No. The thought never crossed my mind," Scott said truthfully. "But I was worried you'd hurt yourself."

"Well I did give myself a bruise." Virgil pulled his hair back out of the way and Scott could see the discolouration on his skin. Then Virgil sighed. "You look hungry. I guess we'd better head up and get breakfast. And everyone will be there looking to see if I'm alright or if I'm going to slit my wrists with the butter knife. How embarrassing."

Seventy One

Jeff was trying to work at his desk when he heard the sound of a drill. A first he ignored it, but soon his curiosity got the better of him.

In the hallway he found Virgil busy with a toolkit, attaching something that looked like a touch plate, to the wall beside his bedroom door. Jeff tapped him on the shoulder.

As usual Virgil jumped, but didn't complain. He spoke, signing at the same time to give his father a chance to learn some sign language. "Hi. Am I disturbing you?"

"W-H-A-T A-R..."

"What am I doing?" Virgil guessed correctly. "Hang on a moment and I'll hopefully be able to show you." The drill made quick work of the last screw and he stepped back. "Go into my room and I'll give this a test drive."

Jeff complied and waited, watching Virgil through the open door. Virgil positioned himself so that he was able to see inside the room and then pressed the touch plate. A red light above the door lit up.

Jeff gave the thumbs up signal.

"I've got fed up with everyone just barging in. Now they can 'knock,'" Virgil grinned.

"C-L-E-V-E-R."

Virgil shrugged. "It's not an original idea, but why try to reinvent the wheel. Mind you I'm sure Brains could come up with improvements. Now it just needs the finishing touch." He placed an elegantly lettered sign above the touch plate. 'To knock press here.' Underneath he added another sign. 'Then wait till you're invited in!' He winked at his father. "Got to keep them in their place."

Jeff looked at the light. "You K-N-O-W W-H-A-T..." He gave up finger spelling and mimed writing on a piece of paper. Virgil got him a pad along with a pen. "You know what your brothers are going to say about having a red light above your bedroom door," Jeff scribbled.

"So let them," Virgil shrugged. "I won't be able to hear them anyway. And you know that red's a better colour at night, not so hard on the eyes."

Jeff nodded his agreement. "How's things at the moment?" he wrote.

"Actually not too bad. I could live with this, if it would stay at this volume. Not that I can do anything about it for the next..." he looked at his watch... "20 hours anyway."

"I hope you don't have to."

"Me too. For many reasons."

Jeff nodded his understanding. "Brains is having a video conference with Bunsen. Coming up with an alternative."

Virgil pressed his hands together in a gesture of prayer and looked heavenwards. Then he grinned at his father.

Jeff mimicked the gesture. Then, wishing he were able to communicate more fully, reluctantly returned the pad and pen to the desk. "See you."

"See you," Virgil repeated.

Jeff left the room, determined to learn a few more words of sign language before the day was over.

Virgil went back into the hall to check that the screws were done up tightly. For the second time in ten minutes he jumped when someone tapped him on the shoulder. "Brains! I wish you'd come up with a better way of getting my attention!"

Brains grinned and beckoned. Virgil took the hint and followed him to the lab. Once there Brains pulled out a stool and indicated that Virgil should sit on it. Then he himself sat on another stool so that they were facing each other, but the corner of the lab bench was between them.

Virgil looked at him with curiosity.

Brains picked up a pair of spectacles and handed them to Virgil.

"It's my ears that aren't working, not my eyes," Virgil reminded him.

Brains said something and guided Virgil's hands so that he put the spectacles on.

"Do you u-understand me?" The words suddenly appeared in front of Virgil's eyes.

"Whoa!" Virgil got such a shock that he nearly fell of the stool. "Brains! Did you say that?"

"What d-did I say?"

"'Do you understand me?' and then 'What did I say?'"

"So you are reading my w-words."

Virgil nodded in amazement. "This is great! How'd you do it?"

"Th-there's two microphones by the hinges, they pick up the voice o-of the speaker, and then translate the speech into text which is p-projected onto the lenses. I've programmed it with each family member's voice pattern so it should have close to a 100 percent success rate. If you talk to anyone else it'll probably be about 95 percent accurate. It should give the impression th-that the text is floating about a metre away."

"Yeah. It's almost as if I could reach out and touch it."

"It's an idea similar to the old virtual reality glasses. Y-You might say I've evolved them into Virgil Reality," Brains laughed at his joke.

"It's amazing! It even picks up your stutter."

"D-Does it? I haven't been able to try them out myself. I c-can't see to read without my spectacles and I can't wear my spectacles and those glasses at the s-same time. So I wasn't sure they would w-work. I can remove the s-stutter."

"Don't. It wouldn't be you talking if you did."

"I w-wish you'd tell Bunny that!" Brains sighed. "He keeps on at me to let him 'fix it.' Are you h-happy with the Comm-specs?"

"Brains, I couldn't be happier!"

"Good." Brains picked up a box the size of a pack of cards. "Clip that to your belt. It's th-the processing unit. I h-haven't had the time to miniaturise the components down to a size that would fit totally onto the spectacles."

Virgil obeyed. "What's its range?"

"About t-two metres. I decided that sp-spectacles would be the best option for you, because then you'll still be able to l-look at the speaker and see their f-facial reactions."

"You're amazing. I'm impressed... and grateful."

"I've programmed it to recognise y-your voice pattern so it doesn't translate your speech. There's also only a 90 degree scanning angle, so you won't h-hear anyone behind you."

"So they can still creep up on me," Virgil sounded slightly disappointed.

Brains smiled. "N-Not if you wear this." He handed over a bracelet.

Virgil took it reluctantly. "I'm getting all the accessories am I?"

"It's a m-modified version of Scott's 'Sonar Sender,' but instead of emitting audio signals, it will vibrate. L-Like the 'Sonar Sender,' I've tuned it to receive signals from each person's w-watch, so you'll know who's nearby."

"What do you mean, like the 'Sonar Sender'?" Virgil asked.

"Didn't Scott tell you?" Brains was grinning. "Each of your w-watches would send an identifying signal, wh-which would in turn cause the 'Sonar Sender' to emit an identifying beep."

"The sneak. No he didn't tell me, I just thought he recognised our footsteps. I'll bet he didn't tell Gordon either. So this bracelet will vibrate differently for each person?"

"Th-That's right, in Morse code. If you get three dots it's S for Scott. A dash and four dots to make a B for me, G for Gordon, J for John, A for Alan, T for Tin-Tin, K for Kyrano..." he ticked the list off. "F f-for your father..."

"And Grandma? You've used G on Gordon."

"H for H-Head of the family."

Virgil laughed.

"O for Bunny, L for Lady Penelope, P for P-Parker... H-Have I missed anyone?"

"No. I think that's it. Whatever you do, don't tell Scott. I might be able to get my own back."

"Th-There's a button here..." Brains pointed it out, "...that you push when you want to stop th-the signal. There's a plain paper b-band around the outside, so that you can decorate it however you wish, t-to make it look less utilitarian."

"Thanks."

"It was T-Tin-Tin who did much of the work on it, and the d-decoration was her idea." Then Brains smiled. "It's nice t-to be able to talk to you again," he said shyly.

"It's nice to 'hear' you. As much as I love my brothers, sometimes it's nice to talk to other people."

"How's the t-tinnitus today?"

"Not too bad. The volume varies - as you've no doubt realised."

"Bunny's trying to c-come up with a s-solution that's a little less... drastic."

Virgil's mood darkened "I wouldn't complain if he did. It's a little frightening to know that my only options are to either put up with the noise, or risk ruining my hearing for ever."

"And if it gets th-that bad again, wh-what do you want us to do?"

Virgil sighed. "I've got no option. You've got my permission to do it again."

"Are you sure?"

Virgil nodded. "As much as I hate the idea, I am sure."

"I-I discussed the possibility of sedation with Bunny, but we came to the conclusion th-that all we would achieve would be to render you unconscious a period of time. When you awoke the problem would st-still be there."

"Or it might be better. I've noticed the tinnitus can change quite dramatically over 24 hours. Do you think next time, if there is a next time, we could try the sedation first? It'd at least allow the healing process to continue on for the day. Then, when I wake up, we can decide then."

"If th-that's what you want."

"It's at least an alternative."

"Have you any th-thoughts on any other equipment that would make th-things easier for you? What do you find m-most difficult? If you c-can give me some ideas..."

"I can't think of anything off the top of my head, Brains. Communication and not being startled every time someone comes up behind me were the big ones, and you've done something about them. I'll see how I go and let you know if I think of anything..." The bracelet on Virgil's wrist began to vibrate - dash dash dot. "Gordon." He turned and faced his brother.

"How'd you know?"

"Magic." Virgil grabbed Gordon by the wrists. "Say something."

"What? How can he understand me without me signing, Brains? And why's he wearing specs?"

"Because these specs are another of Brains' miracle inventions. I can read every word you're saying."

"Read?"

Virgil nodded. "Read."

"Really? Can I try?"

Virgil removed the Comm-specs and handed them to his brother.

"Can you see anything?" Virgil asked.

"No. Nothing," Gordon said, and then, "I saw that!"

"Can you s-see my words?" Brains asked.

"Yeah I can." Gordon reached out as if he were feeling for the words. "I can see my words too. It's weird."

"I'm getting left out again," Virgil complained. "I've got no idea what you two are saying. Can I have them back please?" Gordon handed the Comm-specs back to his brother.

Brains tapped Virgil on the shoulder. Virgil turned so that he was facing the scientist. "I'd like to try another cat scan after d-dinner, if you are willing."

"As long as you give me good news, not a problem."

Seventy Two

"Hey Tin-Tin! Wait up!"

Tin-Tin stopped walking down the hallway and turned. She smiled but didn't speak until he was closer. "Virgil! How are you?"

"Fine. How're you feeling?"

"After three days in bed being pampered by my Father and your Grandmother, wonderful." She gave him a h.ug and a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for saving my life."

"Not a problem. Just another day at the office, I've got to keep my hand in somehow."

"Brains' Comm-specs spectacles seem to be working well."

"They're great! I'm getting a little teasing from Alan and Gordon about getting old, but I can take it." He held up his arm with the bracelet. "And thanks for working on this. If I get my hearing back I might keep it on. It's great knowing who's trying to sneak up behind me."

"When you get your hearing back!" she corrected him. "You haven't decorated it yet."

"No. I can't make up my mind what to do."

"Your brothers would probably suggest that you paint it pink."

"My brothers have suggested that I paint little pansies all round it, just for wearing it."

"And if anyone else suggested that, your brothers would be the first one to jump to your defence."

"Yeah they would," he admitted. "I'm lucky they're there."

"Yes you are. We all are." Then she frowned. "How are you really, Virgil? I heard things weren't too good a couple of nights ago."

"I'm fine now. The tinnitus is bearable."

"I can't imagine what it's like for you."

"Terrible," he said honestly. "But things could be worse. You could have been killed."

"It's thanks to you and Scott that I wasn't." She indicated the lounge. "I'm going to get some sun. Care to join me?"

The expression on his face clouded over when he saw where she indicated. "No. You go on though. I'll see you later."

Scott was standing on the patio, looking down into the pool. His thoughts though, were pondering on how and when he was going to talk to Virgil.

He jumped when someone dug him in the ribs.

"Yes!" Gordon crowed. "At last I've done it!"

"I'm pleased for you," Scott grumbled as he rubbed his bruised sides.

"How come I can creep up on you now that you've got your sight," Gordon asked, "but I wasn't able to when you were blind?"

"Because One: I was thinking, not listening. Two: When I was blind I used my hearing more. And Three:" Scott took his 'Sonar Sender' out of his pocket. He didn't know why he still carried it; he just liked to have it close. "Put the ear pieces in your ear." Gordon complied. "Hear that beep?"

"Yes."

"That's a signal from your watch." Scott looked past Gordon's shoulder to Alan and Tin-Tin walking towards them. "You should be hearing another couple of different beeps now."

"I can! How do you know?"

"Because that's the signals from Tin-Tin and Alan's watches. Everyone's watesch has a different signal, and as soon as you got close enough I would hear your signal."

"So that must be how Virgil knew I was behind him!" Gordon exclaimed as he handed back the 'Sonar Sender.' "His bracelet must tell him who's nearby somehow." A sly look came over his face. "Hey! Let's all swap watches for a bit."

"Don't you dare!" Scott threatened.

"Why not! It's only a joke. You didn't mind me trying to sneak up on you when you were blind!"

"I was accepting my blindness by then and so were you. Virgil's still coming to terms with being deaf. Don't do anything that might upset him!"

"Come on, Scott. Lighten up. He's okay with this."

"Are you sure about that, Alan? When was the last time you saw him in the lounge?"

"That was..." Alan began confidently and then he frowned... "I don't know."

"He was in here for the debriefing," Gordon said.

"And since then?" Scott asked.

They were silent for a moment as they thought.

"But why?" Tin-Tin asked. "I noticed that he seemed a little reticent about coming outside, but I didn't think it was because he didn't like the lounge."

"It's not the lounge, he doesn't like," Scott said quietly. "It's what he can't do in there anymore that's upsetting him."

"Huh?" Alan asked.

"Oh!" Tin-Tin's face cleared. "I see."

"I don't," Gordon said. "What are you getting at?"

"The piano, Gordon," Tin-Tin exclaimed. "He can't play the piano!"

"Of course!" Alan sagged against the banister. "He can't hear the music."

Gordon slapped himself on the forehead. "How thick am I? I should have realised."

"So take it easy on him, okay," Scott ordered. "When it's obvious that he's getting his hearing back then you can play your sick little jokes on him. But till then watch yourselves."

"You'd think the nutty Professor would have at least worked out what was wrong by now," Alan said.

Seventy Three

"Come on, Virgil, make your shot!"

"I can't hear you, Alan, so I'm going to ignore you."

"How come you knew I said something then?"

Virgil looked at his youngest brother who was behind him. "I could see your reflection in the glass of that picture." He lined up a red with the cue ball and took the shot.

It bounced off the cushion and away from the pocket.

Virgil sighed. "I wonder if deafness affects your co-ordination."

"Scott managed to play when he was blind," Gordon noted.

"Not always successfully," Scott reminded him.

Alan sunk a ball and then walked around the table to play his next shot. "Maybe it's your glasses." He suggested as he lined up the shot. It missed the pocket.

"I don't know if I want to take them off," Virgil said reluctantly. "I can't stand the thought of you guys plotting something and me not knowing about it."

"I wouldn't worry about that," Gordon said. "We'd only have to stand behind you and you wouldn't know we were talking anyway."

"True." Virgil turned off the processor and placed it and the Comm-specs on the card table. "That's better. Give my eyes a rest." The shot went in. "That must be the problem." He eyed the table and then decided on his next shot. He leant over the table to take it.

The klaxon went off.

Alan dropped his cue into the rack and ran out the door with Scott and Gordon close on his heels.

The ball went in the pocket.

"I'm on a roll now!" Virgil smiled and straightened up. His smile disappeared as he looked around the room finding it devoid of brothers.

He dropped the cue on the table and leant on the edge, gripping it tightly. "It had better be an emergency," he muttered. "If it's a joke, it's not funny." He picked up his Comm-specs and shoved them into a pocket of his trousers before heading out of the room.

As he'd expected everyone was in the lounge. He stood in the shadows of the doorway and observed the activity.

His father was saying something, obviously issuing instructions.

Scott nodded, replied, and rotated into Thunderbird One's hangar.

Alan was looking at John's portrait and said something.

Brains and Tin-Tin nodded their heads in agreement.

Gordon listened intently, made some comment, listened some more, agreed about something and then took up his position, Virgil's position, with his back to the painting. He tipped backwards and slipped out of sight.

Virgil, head down, retreated to his room.

From his vantage point in the hallway, Kyrano watched him go. He could see that Virgil was feeling this more than he was letting on. He resolved to try in some small way to help.

Virgil stood at his window. From here he could see the swimming pool and the end of the runway. He pressed the palms of his hands against the pane of glass and looked out. He watched as the pool retracted, the water lapping gently as it drained into a hidden reservoir.

He felt the vibrations from Thunderbird One's motors before he saw the red nose cone appear in the hole. He closed his eyes as the rocket plane flared skyward and waited until he no longer felt the vibrations of the window before he opened them again.

Thunderbird One was already only a dot in the sky. He watched it change direction from vertical to horizontal flight.

Now he redirected his attention to the end of the runway. Thunderbird Two was already there, tilting in readiness for lift off. He imagined the conversation that was going on between Gordon and his father.