BLIND AMBITION - BLIND FURY by PURUPUSS RATED FRPT

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

Seventy Six

Tin-Tin gave a little scream and Mrs. Tracy hid her eyes when they saw both men slip.

Jeff held his mother close and watched the unfolding drama, his jaw clenched firmly as he offered up a silent prayer for help.

Kyrano comforted Tin-Tin. "Hush, my daughter. All will be well."

"They've slipped!" Alan said in alarm. "We've got to get in there!"

"I can't bring her in any lower," Gordon told him via the intercom. "I'll cook them if I use the jets. I'm going to have to back up and come in horizontally."

Virgil felt himself slipping closer to the cliff edge. He managed to snare one arm around a handy rock to halt his slide. Fortunately it held firm. Scott's sudden downward lunge had wrenched painfully at his other arm, and it was with surprise that he realised that the limb hadn't been pulled out of its socket.

The sudden downward force had caused Scott to swing around again, so that he was now facing the cliff. The arm that wasn't held tight in Virgil's grasp flapped free and it took all of his effort to gain some control of it and bring it up so that it was able to grab Virgil's wrist. "Phew!" he said. "That was close!"

"That was close," Virgil replied.

Scott looked up. Thunderbird Two was now directly overhead, but too high up to use the winch. He looked at Virgil. His brother was red in the face from the exertion, and he could tell that he wouldn't be able to hang on for much longer. Scott was feeling the same.

"Virgil," he said. "If you're going to slip over the edge. Let go of me and save yourself."

"I won't let go of you."

Gordon backed Thunderbird Two up, reduced height and then flew in again. Now the cable that held the elevator car was within reach. "Down you go, Alan."

"F-A-B."

Brains operated the winch at the fastest speed he could maintain safely.

Those on the beach watched the elevator car emerge from Thunderbird Two's undercarriage.

"They're going to make it," Jeff said hopefully. "They've just got to."

Even as he spoke the rock that Virgil was tenaciously clinging to started to move. He felt himself once again slip closer to the edge.

"Virgil!" Scott pleaded. "Let go of me! Save yourself!"

"No!"

Looking over the safety partition on the elevator car, Alan saw the movement. "Quick, Brains! They're slipping!"

Brains threw caution to the wind and put the winch release onto maximum.

The elevator car dropped like a stone.

"What are they doing?" Jeff asked in anguish as he saw the car fall and then snap to a halt, swinging with it's arrested momentum. Now he could no longer see his two sons clinging to the crumbling cliff face.

"They will not fail," Kyrano reassured him. "Your sons and Mister Brains have triumphed in worse situations than this."

"I sure hope you're right," Jeff muttered through clenched teeth. "I don't like being a spectator like this."

Alan had been thrown against the back of the car. "Boy, Brains! That's some brakes you've installed there," he said as he struggled to his feet and braced himself against the swinging motion. He looked out over the partition. "Hang on, Scott!"

"What? You too?" Scott gritted out.

"Give me another metre, Brains," Alan called into the intercom. This descent was gentler. "Right! Stop there! Now bring her forward!" The elevator car moved forward so that its bottom lip was flush against the cliff. Alan grabbed Scott's waist. "Okay guys, you can let go." He pulled Scott into the car and sat him down against the back wall. "Are you okay?"

"I am now," Scott managed a weak grin. "Get Virgil in, will you."

"Hey. I'm in charge here, so I'll give the orders. You're the victim, so relax." Alan grinned as he activated the intercom. "I've got Scott. Bring her up a bit and I'll pick up Virgil too." The car scraped upwards against the cliff face. When it was high enough he assisted Virgil inside. "Are you okay?"

Virgil was rubbing at his abused arm. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks, Alan." He looked at Scott. "How are you?"

Scott flashed him a smile. "Alan, I feel as if I've got lead weights attached to my arms. Tell him I'm okay."

"He's okay, V. Some guys will do anything to get out of a meeting..."

Down on the beach they watched as the elevator car gained height. They were more than a little relieved when the cliff was once again revealed.

Jeff squeezed his mother tightly in celebration and then relaxed the embrace. "They made it! I've got to hand it to them, they really do know what they are doing."

"Of course they do Jeff! They're your sons. They'll never give up," his mother reminded him.

"Yes..." he mused as he watched Thunderbird Two fly back towards the runway. "...They'll never give up."

Gordon landed Thunderbird Two, taxied her back into the hangar and then set the diagnostics programme into action.

He was surprised when he finally turned around to see Virgil sitting there alone.

"Hi," he signed uncertainly. "How'd I do?"

"With what?"

"Flying Thunderbird Two."

"I've got no complaints with your piloting abilities."

"Thanks." Gordon looked at his brother. He looked... sad. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know, Gordon. I honestly don't know."

Gordon waited to see if he would expand on this statement. "Scott's lucky you were passing."

"I wouldn't have seen him if I hadn't been watching a seagull."

"Like I said, he's lucky," Gordon signed cheerfully. "So... How's it feel to be rescued by your own plane?"

"But it's not mine now, is it," Virgil replied. "We've just proved that I'm no good on rescues anymore. If it hadn't been for that gull I would never have seen him. I didn't even know Thunderbird Two was there until its shadow fell on us."

"But you did see him! You probably saved his life."

"Maybe." Virgil stood and rotated his shoulder gingerly.

"You'd better get that arm looked at," Gordon insisted.

"No. It's okay. Just a little sore." Virgil looked about the cabin. "I guess she's yours now. Look after her. Treat her like you would a beautiful woman."

"I will." Gordon couldn't believe the way the conversation was heading.

"On second thoughts. Treat her better. I know you," Virgil managed a small smile.

"It's a deal," Gordon managed a smile of his own. "Do you want to take the pilot's chute back up?"

Virgil shook his head. "No. I think I'll go back in via the maintenance hangars, I want to see Brains and he'll either be in the infirmary or the lab."

It was in the lab a few minutes later that Virgil found Brains, on the videophone talking to Bunny Bunsen. "Sorry. I won't interrupt you."

"Virgil!" Brains had to go after him to get his attention. "I-It's okay. W-We were discussing you anyway."

Virgil gave a wan smile. "That's a surprise," he said ironically. "Hi, Professor."

"Hello, Virgil. How are you?"

"I've been better."

"Wh-What can we do for you?"

"Nothing really. I just don't feel 100 percent."

Brains frowned. "H-How do you mean?"

"I'm feeling a bit stiff, which is understandable, a bit nauseous and slightly giddy. And the tinnitus is pretty loud. I'd put it down to being pulled about in the rescue, but the last time I felt like this was just before that... bad attack. I thought I should warn you in case there's another one coming."

"Y-You didn't m-mention any of these symptoms before."

"Sorry, Brains. But I honestly didn't remember. At the time I thought it was because of the stresses of Tin-Tin's rescue, and then after everything turned to custard, I simply forgot."

Brains was taking his pulse. "Seems n-normal. Wh-What do you think, Bunny?"

"I think we need more tests! The full range."

"Wonderful," Virgil groaned. "I'm going to feel like a pincushion by the time we've got this sorted, aren't I."

"I want to know blood pressure, heart rate, breathing rate. Blood tests. Breathing tests. Do tests with the CAT scanner, electroencephalograph... Yes the electroencephalograph tests are very important. Get one now, and again later, if 'things turn to custard'..."

"Fine," Brains was taking notes.

"Wait a moment," Virgil sounded slightly alarmed. "I'm only getting that 95 percent accuracy with the Comm-specs, Brains. What did the professor say?"

Brains read from his notes. "Blood pressure, heart rate..."

Virgil waved that aside. "No. What's the long word?"

"Electroencephalograph."

Virgil shook his head. "I still didn't get it... Electric...?"

"Elec-tro-en-ce-pha-lo-graph."

"Sounds terrible!"

Brains smiled. "Don't worry, we've already used it on you a couple of times. It records brain activity."

"Oh... Why do medical terms have to be so long winded?"

"And if I-I asked you what a potentiometer was, what w-would you say?"

"I'd say, say it slower so I could read it."

"Po-ten-ti-o- ..."

"Potentiometer!" now Virgil got it. "I'd say it was an instrument that measures or controls electric potentials or electromotive forces by reference to a known or standard voltage."

"And isn't th-that longwinded?"

Virgil managed a smile. "Yeah, I guess it is." He took off his Comm-specs and ran his arm over his eyes. "I'm starting to get a headache. I don't know if it's from all this reading or if I'm ill."

"Better get started, Brains," Professor Bunsen said. "Send through the results as soon as you get them, then I can start analysing. See if I can find out what's causing this."

"Y-Yes." Brains touched Virgil on the arm, and indicated the Comm-specs. Reluctantly Virgil put them back on. "Y-You'll either have to wear them, or I'll h-have to get one of your brothers to translate," he reminded him.

Virgil sighed. "I'll wear them for the moment."

"G-Go through to the infirmary and I'll m-meet you there." Virgil stood and turned to leave. "A-And, Virgil!" Brains managed to stop him. "I-I'm going to tell your father, to w-warn him."

Virgil looked as though he were going to protest but then nodded.

When Brains reached the infirmary he had both Jeff and Scott Tracy in tow.

Noticing that his brother didn't have the Comm-specs on Scott signed, "How're you feeling?"

"I've been worse. Why am I not surprised that you're here?"

"I was in the room when Brains told Father. We thought we might need someone to translate. I can leave if you'd rather."

"No. Stay. I'm surprised you can even use your arms. How are they?"

"Sore, but not too bad. I've skinned my hands a little." Scott displayed the sticking plasters that adorned his hands. "But I'd rather be in here helping you than sitting out there wondering what's going on."

"Thanks."

"Just repaying the favour."

"What tests are you going to do, Brains?" Jeff asked.

Brains led him over to the table that held his notes so that he could explain.

Scott took the opportunity to talk to Virgil. "How are you really?" This time he didn't speak as he signed the words.

Virgil took the hint and also signed without speech. "I'm really not feeling that bad. Under normal circumstances I'd just put it down to what's just happened and ignore it."

"Brains said you'd felt like this before."

"Yes. You know the night of the storm, when you came to see if I wanted any dinner," Scott nodded, "I was feeling a little 'seedy' then..."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just thought it was a result of all the stresses of Tin-Tin's rescue that afternoon. I didn't think it was anything to worry about."

"But you're worried now?"

Virgil glanced over to where his father and Brains were talking with their backs to him and Scott. "Yes I am. I don't want to go through that again."

"How long after I saw you was it before you started feeling really bad?"

"I couldn't sleep that night, but I'd say it wasn't until just before breakfast that it started to get unbearable."

"So we're looking at maybe ten hours before things get bad."

"If they get bad, yes."

"Have the Professor and Brains come up with any alternative treatments?"

"Not really. We decided that maybe if it happened again they'd sedate me for a time and hope that the tinnitus would improve while I was out to it."

"Well it's better than the alternative."

"Is it? Does it really matter now?"

"Yes it does! We don't want to risk further damage in case the Professor or someone works out what the problem is."

"But if they sedate me, I'll be unconscious. At least with the original treatment I can still do something useful..."

"Don't worry about that."

"...And I could enjoy some time without the tinnitus."

"It really is that bad isn't it," Scott signed, his expression grim.

"Yes it is!"

Scott sat in thought a moment. "V... You know how people think we've got this telepathic connection."

Virgil chuckled. "Yes."

"Do you?"

Virgil was surprised at the question. "Well, I can't say that I've ever had your thoughts suddenly appear in my mind, but I think I know you pretty well, and can tell what you are thinking, and I'd say you feel the same about me... Why?"

"I was talking to you, while you were hanging on to me, and you were answering. I know you couldn't hear me. I could barely hear myself over Thunderbird Two's engines."

"Now you know what it's like," Virgil managed a grin. "What did we say?"

"I told you to let me go if I was going to pull you over."

"Like I said. I know you. I could see you talking and then you loosened your grip. I knew you'd rather go down than drag me with you, you idiot."

Scott smiled at the affectionate insult. "Not quite as exciting as telepathy, is it?"

"No."

"What do you think those two are saying, Brains?" Jeff whispered.

"I-I don't know, Mr. Tracy," Brains sighed and looked at the list of tasks. "I wish I knew where to start looking for answers."

"Well you'd better get on with it."

Three hours later and they were none the wiser. Virgil was obviously deteriorating although he tried to remain cheerful.

"What's causing this, Brains?" Jeff asked. "He was fine earlier."

"I-I don't know, M-Mr. Tracy. I-It could be as a result of ph-physical stress. L-Last time it was Tin-Tin's rescue, this t-time it was Scott's. Or it could be emotional. L-Last time he was worried for T-Tin-Tin and Scott, and this time..."

"And this time it was Scott, and himself."

"E-Exactly."

"Is, what ever it is, likely to settle down over time?"

"P-Possibly. Also if we could narrow d-down the cause then we could m-minimise his exposure to the c-catalyst."

"And if it is caused by stress of some type then there's no way he can continue on as a front line operative of International Rescue."

"Yes, M-Mr. Tracy," Brains said sadly.

"Do I have to stay here any longer?" Virgil asked, "or can I go back to my room?"

"We've finished all the t-tests," Brains told him with Scott's assistance. "You d-don't need to stay. But before you go. Wh-What do you want me to do if it gets too bad?"

Virgil glanced at Scott once again before replying. "What do you recommend?"

"S-Sedation."

"Okay. We'll try that this time."

Scott relaxed.

Six hours later and Virgil was unable to relax. He banged on Brains' bedroom door. "I'm sorry to wake you..." he began when the door was opened.

He didn't hear, but understood when Brains said, "It's okay. C-Come on."

Seventy Seven

The next day everyone, especially Virgil, had been greatly relieved when he'd awoken from the medically induced sleep feeling much healthier and happier. They were all sitting together enjoying breakfast.

Scott gave a laugh.

"Well, share the joke," Gordon demanded.

"I was just remembering," Scott told him. "You know how you're supposed to see your life flash before your eyes when you're going to die."

"I thought that was when you were drowning," Alan said.

"Maybe that explains it. It didn't happen to me, but I suddenly saw my epitaph..." he took a breath to say the words, and then sagged, "... and I've forgotten it. The first time in my life that I come up with something creative, and I forget it," he finished forlornly.

"Do you want us to put you back so you can remember it?" Alan asked.

"No!"

"Your epitaph?" Gordon asked. "What something like..." he screwed up his face in thought. "...Ah! I know...

Scott Tracy Was a hero Fell down a cliff And now he's zero."

"No it wasn't!" Scott protested indignantly.

"I like it!" Alan beamed delightedly. "How about... um...

Scott Tracy Wasn't too bright Didn't know he needed wings When he wanted to take flight."

"I wish I hadn't mentioned it," Scott muttered.

Everyone started talking at once. Each trying to come up with their own epitaph for some other member of the family.

They stopped suddenly when there was a loud whistle.

"Well that worked!" Virgil said when he noticed them all looking at him. "You're all giving me a headache. The Comm-specs can't cope with you all talking at once and I'm just getting this fast moving jumble of letters. One at a time, please!"

"Okay!" Alan reached into the fruit bowl. "Who ever has the orange can speak."

"You've got it," Gordon told him. "Your turn."

"Oh. Maybe this wasn't a good idea... Okay!

Here lies our oldest brother Flown to pastures new He didn't know where the edge was When he stopped to enjoy the view."

"Oh bother!" Scott muttered. "Pick on someone else will you."

"I've got one!" his grandmother exclaimed. "Give me the orange!"

"Mother!" Jeff said in surprise.

She grinned impishly.

"S.T. R.I.P. F.A.B."

"Grandma!" Scott said in shock.

"I don't mind while they're in fun." She shook a finger at him. "But don't ever let me see your epitaph for real. Now who wants the orange?"

"Me!" Gordon took the fruit. "Here lies the pilot of Thunderbird One,"

Scott groaned.

"He liked to keep control, But couldn't keep his footing, And slid off down a hole."

"I've got one," Tin-Tin had an angelic smile, but also a twinkle in her eye.

"Here lies Gordon, Loved the sea to the end, But couldn't quite believe, The shark wouldn't be his friend."

"M-May I-I?"

"Brains?" Tin-Tin handed over the orange.

"I-I like the rhythm of r-rhyming poetry, there is a c-certain logic to it," he blushed. "I-I dabble occasionally."

"You do?" Jeff said.

"I-It's not very good."

"I'd like to hear some."

"Well... Th-This is a bit rushed..." Brains swallowed and then recited perfectly clearly...

"Here lie the Tracys Never to wake Their Grandma fed them Too much cake."

Tin-Tin laughed and clapped her hands. "I love it!"

"N-Next?" Brains held out the orange.

"Here," Alan took it.

"Here lies Kyrano His soul's not at peace The angels wanted him To prepare them a feast."

Kyrano smiled and bowed slightly.

"Who've we missed?" Gordon asked. His eyes fell on his father and an evil smile spread across his face. He took the orange.

"Oh no," Jeff moaned.

"Jeff Tracy had a plan, To save the world from strife, Till the day a paper cut, Robbed him of his life."

His Grandmother laughed. "I told you all that office work wasn't good for you Jeff."

"My turn," Virgil was grinning as he took the orange.

"Here's the remains of Scott Tracy, Our brother and our friend. Lived life as if in a story, With a cliff-hanger at the end."

"That was it!" Scott exclaimed. "Not phrased that way, but that bit about the cliff-hanger, that's what I came up with."

Gordon didn't worry about claiming the orange from Virgil...

"Here lies Virgil Tracy, His requiem has been played, He wrote the tune and lyrics, But didn't hear the serenade..."

He tailed off as he realised what he'd said. "Sorry, Virg."

There was an uncomfortable silence as Virgil stared at Gordon, before he began to recite...

"Gordon Tracy Is no more Thought Thunderbird Two Was Thunderbird Four He survived the crash He was unscathed Till his older brother Saw the mess he'd made."

He quietly placed the orange on the table.

"Ah!" Gordon said sheepishly. "Point taken."

"Good."

"If I may," Kyrano said diffidently, "I would like to try."

"Please do, Kyrano," Virgil handed him the orange.

Kyrano reverentially took the orange.

"Jefferson Tracy Philanthropist By the peoples of the world Sorely missed."

"That was good enough to be used as the real thing," Alan commented.

"Not during my lifetime," Jeff growled.

"That's the idea isn't it?"

Kyrano returned the orange to the fruit bowl.

The family returned their attention to their meal. Alan lapsed into thought.

"Virgil?" he asked, and kicked his brother lightly under the table.

Virgil looked up. "Yes?"

"Gordon and I were wondering... Is it similar to being in Thunderbird Five?"

Virgil frowned in confusion. "Is what similar to being in Thunderbird Five?"

"Your deafness and the tinnitus?"

The dining room went silent as Virgil stared at his youngest brother. Then he slowly smiled. "You know, in some respects that's quite a good analogy."

"How?" Jeff asked.

"The isolation. You know there's people out there, but you can't quite communicate with them, except with technology..." he indicated his glasses. "And there's the continuous noise which is the only thing that disturbs the silence. On Thunderbird Five it's the radio, with me it's the tinnitus." He resumed his breakfast. Then he looked up again.

Everyone was staring at him.

"What?" he asked in exasperation. "Have I got marmalade on my face or something?" He rubbed at his nose.

To his brothers, Brains and Tin-Tin, all of whom had spent time alone on Thunderbird Five, it was an all too clear example of what life was now like for Virgil.

For the other members of the family group it was some inkling of what life must be like for the residents of the space station.

The lightness and laughter that had existed only moments earlier had evaporated.

Jeff stared at the piece of toast that lay on his plate. What have I asked my boys to do? he wondered silently to himself. What kind of father am I to expect my sons to live in that isolated environment for weeks at a time. He pictured John, alone in the galley, eating his unappetising breakfast of space food and suddenly lost his own appetite. It's a form of child abuse! he reasoned. Sure my children are old enough to make up their own minds... but would they? Are they that frightened of me that even as grown men they are still subservient to my wishes? He looked around the table his eyes resting on Gordon, then Alan and finally Scott. All were staring at Virgil with an expression of something close to horror. And what kind of father am I to expect them to go out and risk their lives, to sustain horrible injuries? His eyes moved over to Virgil, who'd resumed his breakfast. To destroy their lives. All because of my dream... I'm lucky... we're all lucky that none of them have been killed... But is it only a matter of time before we compose an epitaph for real?

Seventy Eight

It was a glorious day.

The sky was blue.

The odd fluffy cloud sauntered past the window.

Scott Tracy pushed the lever forward and felt the forces build up beneath him.

He checked the gauges.

All normal.

He pushed the lever a fraction further forward.

There was a slight swaying motion.

Thunderbird One lifted up off the ground.

He smiled to himself. "Just like riding a bike. You never forget."

Thunderbird One gained height.

He ran his eyes over the instruments again.

All normal.

He swung Thunderbird One around so that he could see the scene he was departing. From this vantage point he could make out the extent of the devastation.

It had been a big earthquake. About 7.5 on the Richter scale. High-rise buildings had been toppled. He cruised low over the landscape, double checking that International Rescue would not be required elsewhere.

He was just about to depart the scene when his instruments started blaring a warning.

At the same moment the ground was rocked by a massive aftershock.

The shockwaves were felt by Thunderbird One. The rocket plane shuddered violently. Scott fought the controls to keep his craft on an even keel.

"What the..." he tried to gain height, but Thunderbird One wasn't responding to his commands.

She began to tip to port.

"Come on!" he urged as a warning light told him that he'd lost communication with the port wing. He had no way of knowing if it was extended or had swung back into Thunderbird One's fuselage. It may have even detached itself from the craft.

Thinking quickly, he deduced that, whatever the problem, the port wing couldn't be fully extended, and flicked the switch that would retract the starboard one.

He felt the juddering increase as the wing retracted into its housing.

By now he was completely inverted, his body straining against his safety harness as he struggled to retain his grip on the controls.

A building flashed by the cockpit windows.

The ground sped past 'above' him.

Gently he applied more power to the aft jets and prayed that they would at least allow him to gain more altitude.

A proximity alarm alerted him to the fact that he was getting dangerously close to a stand of skyscrapers directly ahead.

He mentally crossed his fingers and pushed forward on the controls.

Thunderbird One responded by screaming skywards.

When he reached 10,000 feet he eased off and managed to reorient the craft so that she was hovering horizontally, but he wasn't having to fight against gravity.

He took a breath to try to get his racing heart back down to something resembling normalcy and the opened his radio communication.

"Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Five."

His brother responded. "Thunderbird Five. Go ahead, Scott. Thunderbird Two reports you've got a problem."

"The port wing computer's not responding, Alan. The wing's either locked in the home position, or I've lost it altogether."

"Thunderbird Two reported that your port wing's retracted. How's she handling?"

"It was a bit hairy for a moment there, but she's fine at the moment. I think I can get her home safely."

"Are you sure you don't want to land and check her out?"

"Negative. Controls are responding A-OK. Better to get back to base where Brains can have a proper look at her."

"F-A-B. I'll alert Thunderbird Two to act as escort. If you need to ditch in the ocean they'll be on hand to pick you up."

"Thanks, Alan."

"Keep in contact and let me know if there's any change."

"Will do."

"Just make sure you get that 'bird home safely. Thunderbird Five out."

Although he didn't have too far to travel, it still seemed to be an age to Scott. Eventually he saw the familiar peak of Tracy Island.

"Thunderbird One to Base."

"Base to Thunderbird One. Any problems, Scott?"

"Negative, Father. Thunderbird One's handling well at speed. She's a bit unsteady at lower cruising speeds."

"How are you planning on landing her?"

"Without the wings I don't have the stability to bring her down horizontally. I'll have to bring her in vertically. If I could slot her through the pool into her hangar it would make repairs easier."

"Do you think she's responsive enough to attempt that?"

"So far I've had no problems. I think we'll be okay."

"All right, Son. I've got Thunderbird Two standing by to effect a rescue if need be. Everyone else has gone to the bunkers."

"That's reassuring."

"Just standard procedure," Jeff reminded him. "Keep this channel open. Let us know the first sign of trouble."

"F-A-B."

With infinite care Scott rotated his plane till she was in position above the open swimming pool. He gave his instrument panel one last check. "Right. I'm coming in now."

"F-A-B," his father intoned. "Good Luck."

"Thanks." Scott pulled back on the lever that started Thunderbird One's decent. She started dropping lower, getting closer and closer to her objective.

The altimeter read out his height. 200 feet, 100, 50, 25, 10, five, four, three, two, one, zero, minus one, minus two, minus five, -10, -25, -50, -100, -200 feet.

"Touchdown!" Scott exclaimed. He felt the clamps click home onto Thunderbird One's aft jet unit. They began the ride back up to the loading bay. He unclipped his safety harness.

"Well done, Scott," Jeff stated. "Excellent flying."

"Thanks."

"How would you feel about having a go with the real thing?"

"What!" Scott vaulted out of the simulator and ran into the control room, skidding to a stop in front of his father. "Are you serious?!"

"Well, Brains says your sight's good enough, and anyone who can handle Thunderbird One through the scenario we just put you through deserves the opportunity."

It was like watching his son on Christmas morning all over again as Scott's face lit up. "You're not teasing me are you?"

"Of course not. Go get ready... that's if you really want to..." Jeff had barely finished saying 'get ready' before Scott was out the door. He turned to Alan. "I guess he wants to."

Alan grinned and shut down the Thunderbird Five simulator.

"What's all the excitement about? Is there a rescue?" Virgil asked Gordon.

They were in the hallway and everyone was heading at speed in the direction of the lounge.

"Scott's going to fly Thunderbird One!"

"What! Really! That's great!" Virgil's face brightened at the thought. "Solo?"

"No. Alan'll go as backup. But Scott'll have the control."

"He'll be that excited he'll probably take off without Thunderbird One," Virgil commented.

"We're all going to watch the launch from the lounge." Gordon watched his brother closely. "Are you coming?"

The smile slipped from Virgil's face. "No. It'll be too crowded. I'll watch from my window."

"Mind if I join you?"

The smile returned. "Sure!"

Scott's heart was pounding nearly as hard as it had been when the simulator had first alerted him to problems with 'Thunderbird One.' "Come on, Alan. Get in here!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Alan grumbled lightly. "I had to shut down the simulator computer. Someone neglected to shut down the Thunderbird One console."

"Oops. Sorry," Scott apologised. "I'll make it up to you later. Have you got your safety harness on?"

"I can't get this buckle..."

"Alan!" Scott complained as he turned and saw his youngest sibling firmly strapped in, arms relaxed behind his head.

"Okay. I'm ready."

"I can see that." Scott set Thunderbird One on her downward slide into her launching bay.

Gordon looked at his watch. "They must be in the launch bay by now."

Virgil placed his palms on the window. "If you rest your hands on the glass you can feel the sound waves from the jets." Gordon followed suit. "There! He's started them."

Gordon felt and heard the roar of the jets simultaneously.

Despite his excitement, Scott tried to remember the protocol. "Thunderbird One. Requesting permission to launch."

"Thunderbird One. Permission granted."

"Ready, Alan?"

"I've been ready for the last five minutes!"

Scott took a deep breath and pulled back on the controls. He felt the jets explode into life. He felt the forces on his body as gravity forced him back into his seat. He'd experienced this sensation many times over this past year, but this was the first time in that year that he'd been in control.

The thought sent a thrill through his body.

"Go, Scott!" Virgil cheered as the red nose cone appeared through the swimming pool.

"Let 'er rip, Brother," Gordon exclaimed. "Let's see what you can do!" He glanced back at Virgil noting the ecstatic expression on his older brother's face. Virgil flashed him a thumbs up signal, which Gordon returned.

"There he goes!" Jeff said. "Straight as an arrow!"

"Alan's going to be in for a rough ride," Tin-Tin stated.

"H-He'll love every minute," Brains smiled.

"I hope they'll be careful," Grandma Tracy added a grandmotherly warning note.

They reached 100,000 feet before they levelled off.

"I thought maybe you were planning on popping in to see John," Alan quipped.

"Nope. Next time. Switching to horizontal flight." Scott skilfully rotated Thunderbird One so that she was coasting parallel to the earth's surface. "How about a quick trip to the States."

"What are you planning to do when you get there?"

"Turn around and come back again."

"Exciting," Alan said dully. "You're the pilot."

"Yes I am! Accelerating to 15,000 miles per hour..."

An hour later and Jeff was sitting at his desk sipping a cup of coffee when Scott's portrait came to life. "Go ahead, Scott."

Scott's face was all smiles. "Thunderbird One. Requesting permission to land."

"Thunderbird One. You are granted permission."

"That!" Scott exclaimed when they got back into the lounge. "Was absolutely brilliant!"

"That," Alan echoed. "Was absolutely boring."

"What did you do?" Tin-Tin asked.

"15,000 miles per hour at 100,000 feet!" Scott was still in high spirits. "Brilliant!"

"In a straight line. No spins, no barrel rolls, nothing!" Alan stated. "Boring!"

"I'm saving something for next time," Scott protested. "Actually I thought I'd play it safe. But can I have another go tomorrow?" he looked at his father hopefully.

"I don't know, Scott..." Jeff said thoughtfully. "You know International Rescue's policy on joy rides in the Thunderbirds."

"It's a training flight!"

"Oh, well. If you put it that way." Jeff grinned suddenly. "I'm pulling your leg. Of course you can. I want you to get as comfortable with your 'bird as you ever were."

"Fantastic!" Scott practically floated from the lounge.

Alan sighed. "I guess this means I'm relegated to being a bit player again. Or worse... having to be a passenger in Thunderbird Two. It's going to be like riding in a snail after spending all that time in Thunderbird One!"

Gordon grinned. "Don't let Virgil hear you say that." Then he stopped, embarrassed. "Why'd I say that?"

"What does he think of Scott flying again?" Alan asked.

"He was thrilled for him. We were high-fiveing each other as you were disappearing into the stratosphere. How was Scott?"

"Like a little kid. Anyone would think he'd never flown her before. It was like all his Christmases and birthdays rolled into one He'll never get to sleep tonight."

Seventy Nine

Late that evening Scott went back to his bedroom. It had been a big day and he was exhausted, although still somewhat keyed up after his flight in Thunderbird One. His eyes were tired and just the thought of resting them made his eyelids droop.

He'd closed the door behind him and made his way over to the bed when it'd dawned on him that he hadn't bothered turning on the light. He hadn't needed to. He grinned to himself as he reached over and flicked the switch beside his bed.

The sudden glare hurt his eyes and he shut them momentarily before cautiously opening them again.

Propped up against his pillow, the size of a large book, was a flat, rectangular parcel, wrapped in brown paper.

Mystified, he gingerly picked it up and turned it over.

There were no descriptive markings on the wrapping.

He turned it over again and looked at it speculatively. Then he began to unwrap the parcel.

The brown paper fell away to reveal a layer of tissue paper. He ripped this away, revealing yet a second layer of tissue. Soon this too was discarded on the floor.

The back of a framed picture was presented to him.

Hesitantly he turned it over.

His breath caught in his throat.

It was a portrait.

A portrait of his family.

He didn't need to look at the signature to identify the artist. The style and brushwork were clearly Virgil's.

Scott's eyes flicked over each face in the painting, marvelling at the detail. A photograph couldn't have been more accurate.

His Father's face was in the centre of the picture. In front of this image were seated Virgil, Gordon and Alan. Scott was to his left and John to his right. They were all dressed in International Rescue blue, but their distinctive sashes were missing.

Behind them, her arms embracing them as if she were protecting them all, was his mother - Lucille Tracy. The golden glow from her aura reflected on her family.

She was as beautiful as he remembered her.

They all looked so happy together, a complete family embracing one another.

There was a silver nameplate on the bottom part of the frame. Scott opened the drawer of his bedside cabinet and took out a magnifying glass. Holding it over the plate, he read the engraved lettering of this incredible painting.

Forgiven

There was a gentle knock at the door.

He managed to find his voice. "Come in."

The door remained shut.

He got off his bed an opened the door.

It slid back to reveal Virgil. He smiled shyly. "I see you found it."

"It's incredible."

"Well, initially, I thought a painting was more appropriate to mark you regaining your sight, than composing a tune would be. I had it ready to give to you after your operation, but then you weren't too well, and after that your sight wasn't that great, and then by the time you could see things up close, other things happened and it never seemed to be the right time..." His words were cut off by a by a bear hug from Scott. "Hey! You're choking me!"

Scott released his grip. "Virgil... Thank you."

"So, you like it?"

Scott couldn't take his eyes off the painting. "I love it. This means... so much. In more ways than one. Do you mean it?"

Virgil nodded and then spoke in his soft voice those words Scott had longed to hear for nearly a year. "I forgive you for what you said to me. I know you didn't mean it."

"Thank you," Scott repeated again.

There was a sound in the hall. "I thought you boys had gone to bed," Jeff stated.

Scott reversed the picture so his father could see it. "Have you seen what Virgil painted for me?"

"No." Jeff took the portrait. They noticed that his hands lost their steadiness as he took in the detail. "Virgil..." he looked up. "This is amazing. It's quite possibly the best thing you've ever painted."

Virgil reddened modestly.

"There's no possibly about it, it's definitely your finest work. Mind you I haven't seen most of what you've painted over the past year." Scott's already wide smile, widened some more. "I'm flattered that you think I'm worthy of receiving it." He took it back off his father and looked at it in awe. "It's us to a T. It's incredible."

Virgil went even redder.

"You know," Scott said thoughtfully, "as much as I'd like to keep this in here, all to myself, I think it's something the whole family should be able to share. Would you both mind if I found somewhere in the lounge to hang it?"

"Good idea, Scott," Jeff agreed. "Are you okay with this, Virgil?"

Virgil shrugged non-committedly. "Sure. I don't mind."

"Do you want to help me find somewhere to hang it?" Scott asked him.

Virgil hesitated. "No. I'm sure you'll find somewhere suitable."

Jeff yawned. "Well I'm off to bed. I'll see you boys in the morning. Good night."

"'Night!" Scott was still gazing at his painting.

Jeff looked at Virgil. "Good one," he signed.

Virgil smiled. "Thanks. 'Night."

Jeff retreated to his room.

"It's been a big day," Virgil commented.

"Hmmn?" Scott looked up. "Uh. Yes it has. Look, I know where Grandma's hidden the chocolate cake. What say we go and have a midnight snack to celebrate?"

"It's only 11 pm."

"Okay, an 11 pm snack."

Virgil grinned. "Okay. I know where she'd hidden the cake too."

In the kitchen Scott found the chocolate cake and took it to the dining table. He was in the process of getting a couple of plates when he heard a sigh behind him.

Virgil was staring into the cutlery drawer.

Scott walked over so that he was able to lean against the counter beside the drawer. That way Virgil's Comm-specs could pick up his speech. "What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing." Virgil took a couple of forks out of the drawer and shut it. "It's just every now and then I remember something that I can't hear. I had a sudden wish to be able to hear the cutlery clanking together. I've never thought anything of it before and then all of a sudden I miss it!"

"I know what you mean," Scott admitted. "Years ago John had swiped Gordon's spear gun and was hiding from him in my bedroom. He managed to rip the wallpaper with the gun. It really irritated me, that rip. I'd wake up in the morning, resolve to fix it before the end of the day, leave my room, forget about it, come back in the evening, and there was that rip still in the wallpaper. Still irritating me! And then I lost my sight. And one of the things I initially missed seeing was that annoying rip in my wallpaper. It's also one of the first things I forgot. I remembered how the important things looked, like you guys, but I forgot the unimportant ones, like that rip. Now I can't decide whether to repair it or frame it!" He took the plates to the table.

Virgil followed him over and took a seat. "So it does get easier does it?"

"Easier? Maybe. You grow to accept it, and, like I said, forget the unimportant things." He cut two generous wedges of cake and placed them on the plates.

"It's not as bad for me as what you went through though is it."

"I don't know. I don't know what you are going through. You haven't said much. I'd imagine it's totally different."

"I would think so. Initially you were helpless. I'm not."

"But you've lost one of your senses. That's got to be a shock. How are you managing to keep so calm over this."

"I think it would be a bit hypocritical for me to go to pieces after I told you to get your act together."

"But that was after I'd learnt to cope, when I'd regained some control." Scott touched Virgil on the arm to ensure that he had his full attention. "It's okay to be scared, or angry. It's only natural. Remember I've been there, done that, didn't think much of the view."

"So what are you expecting me to do?"

"Yell, scream..."

"...Break the furniture."

"I don't think you'd be popular, but everyone would understand. Or there's plenty of places on the island where you could go and yell your head off and no one would need hear you."

"Including me."

There was no answer to that statement.

"What would it achieve, Scott?"

"You might feel better."

"Honestly, I don't know that it would!"

"There must be something you feel like doing."

"No."

Scott looked at his brother. "You're a worry."

"A what? Don't talk with your mouth full. The Comm-specs can't understand you. I read it as 'florry.'"

Scott swallowed the mouthful of cake. "Sorry. A worry."

"Well, that's better than a florry."

"Whatever that is," Scott grinned.

"Can I ask you a hypothetical question?" Virgil looked earnestly at his brother.

"Shoot."

"If you were out on a rescue, and you had the chance to rescue one person, but in doing so you knew there was every possibility that you'd be permanently blinded again. Would you do it?"

"Possibly, probably or definitely blinded?"

"Um... probably," Virgil decided.

Scott thought about the question. "Speaking hypothetically. Yes. I think I would. I know I can cope being blind. But having said that I'd take every precaution to avoid it happening again." He waited to see if Virgil was going to comment on his answer. When it became clear he wasn't, he returned his attention to his cake.

"Do you know what I really miss hearing?" Virgil asked suddenly.

Scott looked at him. "Is this a trick question?"

"Laughter."

"Laughter?"

Virgil gave a small smile. "Yes, laughter. I suddenly realised how much laughter there is in this family."

"Such as?"

"Gordon laughing to himself, and you just know that next time you put your boots on there's going to be something disgusting in there that he's swiped from the lab... Alan and Tin-Tin giggling together when they think there's no one else about... John, when he's just come home after his tour of duty in Thunderbird Five, and is trying to get used to being around people again. You..."

"Me?"

"That snort you do when something's happened that you think you should be all 'big brother serious and reproachful' over, but you really think is quite funny. And then you try to disguise it as a sneeze. That's the kind of thing I miss."

"I do that?"

"You do that!"

"Oh," Scott mused. "Laughter."

"You thought I was going to say music, didn't you."

"I did actually."

Virgil cut into his cake. "I do. I miss it terribly. I go into my bedroom and go to turn on the stereo and it's not there. And that hurts. But I miss hearing you guys more."

"I know what you mean..." Then Scott gave a chuckle. "Way back when I'd just come home from rehabilitation, I asked Father if he knew what I'd wish for if I was going to be allowed to see just one thing. I'm pretty sure he was expecting me to say Thunderbird One."

"And you weren't?" Virgil asked in surprise.

"No I wasn't."

"Well what did you wish for?"

Scott looked at his brother. "I wished to see you. To show you that I didn't mean what I'd said." He looked Virgil full in the face. "I got my wish."

"Just shows you should be careful what you wish for then, doesn't it," Virgil grinned embarrassedly.

"I'm glad I got my wish... It's a bit hard getting used to seeing you behind those glasses though." Virgil removed the Comm-specs and looked at them. "There're not exactly a fashion statement are they. Still, they work." He rubbed his eyes. "My eyes get a bit tired after reading all day though."

"Can I try them?" Scott took the Comm-specs and put them on his own face.

Virgil burst out laughing. "Is that what I look like?"

"How do they work?" Scott started to say and then stopped when he saw his words appear before his eyes. "That's so weird. Doesn't it drive you crazy seeing everything you say?"

"No. I'll bet you're not reading anything now. It's the way Brains has programmed them."

"Clever." Scott handed them back. A devilish look crept into his eye "So if I were to say 'the quick brown fox h..."

Virgil laughed again. "I wonder what Penny would have said if we'd explained it to her."

"She'd have probably laughed too. It's Parker would have been horrified that we'd even think of saying such a thing to 'M'lady.'"

"He'd think we were a pair of uncouth Yanks."

"Ever met a 'couth' one?"

"No. I don't think there is such a thing." Virgil took off the Comm-specs again to examine them. "I wonder how these would cope with Parker's speech. All those dropped aspirates must be murder to read. I'd have to get Brains to do something about it. He reckoned he could remove his stutter." He replaced the specs.

"We're lucky we've got Brains..."

"You mean with a capital B don't you," Virgil chuckled. "I've found a glitch in the Comm-specs, they spell Brains with a lower case B. Different meaning altogether."

"Yeah," Scott grinned. "I'm not too sure if we've got the lower case B one. No, what I was saying was that the upper case one has really helped us both over the past year or so."

"And without him International Rescue would never have got off the ground. Literally."

"Yes." Scott had a mouthful of cake and took another look at the painting, which he'd placed on the table. "Forgiven."

"The title came much later, after I'd finished the painting. It seemed appropriate... for both of us."

"I can't believe that you'd be willing to give such a masterpiece to me, after what I did."

"I know you didn't mean it. The problem was that I'd only just convinced myself that no one else would think that the accident was my fault, including Ma, when you said that very thing."

"I'm sorry..."

"And then I started thinking, if Scott thinks that, maybe Ma did too. That's what really hurt."

"She wouldn't. I'm positive she wouldn't," Scott reiterated.

"I told myself that you didn't mean it. That you were just angry... But every now and then over this past year you'd say something, or do something that made me wonder..."

"I did!" Scott said, alarmed.

"Under normal circumstances I would have thought it was just normal banter, but it set me wondering..."

"Such as?"

"You hitting me!"

"But you forgave me for that!"

"I did. It was afterwards that I started wondering if maybe it was more than just frustration that caused you to lash out."

"Is that all?"

"No. I know this is going to sound soppy, but do you realise that tonight was the first time that you've given me a hug in years?"

"A hug? I gave you one before my operation."

"No. I gave it to you."

"There's a difference?"

"Yes."

"But you know I'm not into that physical affection stuff. None of us are."

"I know. But when you came home after being in rehab everyone else got one. Even Brains and Kyrano. You put me into a headlock. Normal behaviour. Just what you'd usually do. But for a moment I wondered was it because you were behaving as normal, after all it'd only been a couple of weeks since we'd last seen each other and we'd travelled home together.... Or was it because you really didn't want to get that close to me."

"Normal behaviour."

"I know. But for a moment I wondered."

Scott looked at him, a pained look on his face. "I hate the idea that I hurt you so much... so much that you couldn't believe in me. Under normal circumstances that's the last thing I would want to do. Unfortunately that day in rehab circumstances weren't normal... You disappeared for a few hours afterwards. Where'd you go?"

"I went down to the beach. You know the one that's two miles away from the facility. I don't even remember walking there."

"I'm sorry," Scott repeated.

"I know. And I forgive you."

"If you knew how I've long I've wanted to hear you say that. I thought you were still hurting, every now and then I'd sense that something was wrong, but I couldn't believe that you wouldn't say something. No one else appeared to notice anything wrong, so I thought maybe it was my imagination, that I was still feeling guilty. Until the day before my operation when Kyrano asked if we were okay... I guess it's true what they say about there being none so blind as those who won't see. That described me perfectly. That's why I wanted to talk to you. I wasn't worried about the machine. I was worried about us. You gave me a hang of a fright when you blew up at me."

"I know. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry for the way I've been behaving."

"You've been avoiding me."

"Yes I have. I was that embarrassed over what I said to you that night, I didn't think I could face you. "

"You were embarrassed!" Scott was amazed. "I thought you still hadn't forgiven me. "

"You did!? No, my talk with Father sorted me out on that score. I thought maybe you wouldn't like me anymore. "

"Not like you! Is your self esteem that low that you'd think that I could ever not like you?"

"But I've always looked up to you. And then I go and tell you that I hate you. I know how much those words hurt me... and I didn't like the idea that I'd done the same to you."

"Virgil...!" Scott sighed. "Why didn't we talk earlier? "

"I tried. A couple of times I tried. But something always happened. Tin-Tin would fall into the ocean or I'd manage to get myself blown up." Virgil gave a wry grin.

"I tried to talk to you too. I even got Father to help. He got everyone out of our hair so that we wouldn't be interrupted, and I locked the door behind you so you'd have to stay and listen."

"And I wanted to apologise then, for the way I was behaving. I was sitting there thinking 'come on, Virgil, say it,' you'd stop talking and I'd go to open my mouth, and you'd start off again!"

"And then the alarm went off."

"And then the alarm went off..."

They were silent for a moment.

"You know the last thing you said to me after you'd 'kidnapped' me... You didn't mean that did you," Virgil said hesitantly, toying with his slice of cake.

"That you hadn't... that I hadn't said all I wanted to say?"

"No, before the alarm went off."

"Um... what did I say?" Scott frowned as he tried to remember.

"Don't worry about it. It doesn't matter," Virgil said hastily.

"No... what did I say," Scott was still frowning.

"That... when you look at me you don't see Ma..." Virgil began reluctantly.

"Oh that!" Scott's face cleared. "It's true. I don't see Ma. I see you. I see my hero."

"You were only saying that weren't you?"

"No I wasn't! That's the truth! I don't tell lies."

"Do you want to amend that comment?" Virgil asked wryly as he helped himself to some more cake.

"Uh, yeah, I guess I'd better. I don't tell lies unless under extreme provocation when everything is out of my control."

"But why me. I thought maybe Father, or someone in the Air Force, or someone else. Anyone but me. I'm not heroic!"

"You're a member of International Rescue! Of course you're heroic! Why are you MY hero? Because of the way you don't give up. Because of the numerous times we've been out on a rescue and things have seemed hopeless and you've still been willing to risk your neck and get stuck in. Because of the way whenever things have been hard for me you've been there to support me. Everyone else seems to lean on me, and there's been times I've needed to be able to lean on someone else. Because of the way you helped me through Regnad and later in rehab. Because, no matter what I've done to you, you've still been there for me. Because you've got talents that I'd kill to possess."

"Talents?"

"I'm jealous of your skill with your painting and drawing, and... forgive me for saying this... playing the piano. I'm proud to call you my brother!"

"Oh," Virgil said quietly. "Thank you."

Scott felt the need to fill in the silence that followed and helped himself to the last of the cake.

"I guess I don't need to give up totally on International Rescue do I," Virgil said quietly.

"No of course not."

"But I can't help with rescues anymore."

"Not necessarily!"

"Face it, Scott. If I can't hear I'm useless! Take yesterday... When I think how easily I could have walked right past you and not even realised you were in trouble. You could have died and I wouldn't have known."

"But I didn't die. You saved my life!"

"No, I'll have to accept that can't take part in rescues anymore. But I can help Brains and Tin-Tin with research and development. Or I can take charge of the maintenance. That way when you guys come home from a rescue, you can relax and get in your debriefing, and I can check over your craft and prepare them for the next call out."

"That's a good idea!"

"And perhaps... sometimes... if it's a simple transportation job... I could still fly Thunderbird Two?"

"It's a thought."

"Or, outside of International Rescue, I could be personal pilot to Mr. Jeff Tracy."

"You'd spend more time in the passenger seat. You know he likes to fly himself."

"Yes. I guess that's not an option."

"I don't know. Talk it over with him. There might be times when he'd like to be able to concentrate on work, or he might appreciate the company."

"I'm going to miss being out there on rescues with you guys."

"And we'll miss you." Scott sat back. "You've been really thinking about your future haven't you?"

"Yes."

"That's what you need to do. Think about what you can do, we'll help with what you can't and don't sweat the small stuff."

"Then I shouldn't worry about losing my music..."

"I didn't say that..." Virgil dropped his fork on the plate. "Why do I feel as though someone's died?"

"Come on, Virgil. There's not a person in this place who doesn't know how important your music is to you. I remember being dragged along kicking and screaming to piano lessons. You went willingly. Were all making excuses why we shouldn't go and you're sitting in the car yelling at us to hurry up so you wouldn't be late. I'm surprised we didn't send Father totally crackers... not to mention what the neighbours must have thought with all that yelling." Virgil groaned. "What was that epitaph about us eating too much cake? I think it's about to come true." He looked at the platter that now held nothing but crumbs. "Grandma's going to be annoyed with us tomorrow."

"We'll clean up and she won't even know it was us who did it. We can blame Alan and Gordon." Scott started clearing the table.

"That wouldn't be fair though, would it?" Virgil rose to help.

"Is it fair that they keep on calling us old?"

"No... I wouldn't mind, but I'm not that much older than those guys! How come they treat me as if I'm..." a grin formed on Virgil's face, ."..as old as you?"

"Hey watch it! Or you might find yourself being labelled as the sole cake eating culprit..." Scott's grin matched Virgil's. "...Or a florry."

"Better than a worry."

They finished the washing up and guiltily replaced the dishes.

Scott picked up his picture. "What say we go and find somewhere to hang this now."

"No. It's too late. We'll wake everyone with the drill."

"We don't have to hang it now. I just want your advice as to where's the best place to put it."

"I'm sure wherever you come up with will be fine," Virgil protested.

"Come on, Virgil! It's time you started thinking about joining us in the lounge again. You can't avoid it forever."

"What do you mean?"

"Now don't go all defensive on me. It's been pretty obvious to everyone that you've been steering clear of the lounge... and what's in there."

Virgil went quiet.

"If I tell you something silly about me and my blindness, will you consider going into there now?" Scott asked quietly.

"How silly?"

"Really silly."

Virgil managed a slight grin. "You've got me curious now."

"Is it a deal?"

Virgil hesitated. "Yeah, okay," he said reluctantly.

"Okay then." Scott took a deep breath.

Virgil waited.

"I haven't looked in a mirror since I got my sight back."

Virgil stared at him. "You what?!"

"I haven't looked in a mirror."

"It's been months! Why? How?"

"I've been blind for a year. I've seen how you've all changed in that time, maybe not a lot, but you all have. You're all that little older. It's been a hard year and I can see it in your faces..."

"And?"

"And... I don't know if I want to see it in mine."

"But how have you managed to avoid using a mirror?"

"I haven't needed one." Scott gave a slight chuckle. "Obviously I can cope without using one. Shaving's not a problem, and neither's doing my hair or anything else that you would usually use a mirror for. When I get up in the morning it's still dark, so I don't turn the light on. My bedroom mirror was plastered with Braille messages, and I haven't removed them. I look away when I go past any other mirrors."

Virgil stood for a moment in shock. "Scott," he said seriously. "That has got to be one of the most amazing things I've heard." He shook his head. "Also one of the most ridiculous. You haven't changed that much."

"Yes but any change has been gradual for you, you've had a chance to get used to it. For me... it's as if I've leapt forward a year into the future."

Virgil looked at him. "Hang on a moment." He left the room for a few minutes. When he came back he carried an envelope. He sat down in one of the chairs, opened the envelope and rifled through the contents. "Ah, just what I want." He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it over to Scott. "That's an old photo of you."

Scott took the photo and looked at it. It was a head and shoulder shot of him and Gordon. They were both laughing at something. "I don't remember this one. When was it taken?"

"Two days before your operation."

"When I was blind?"

Virgil nodded. "Any difference?"

Scott studied the photo more closely. "No... not that I can see... But then you can never tell with a photo can you."

Virgil handed over the envelope. "There's more in there. See what you think."

Tentatively Scott took the envelope. He stared at it for a moment, then his curiosity got the better of him. He placed the painting on the dining table, removed the envelope's contents and started going through the photos.

Virgil watched his face as a grin grew in size.

"Who took these?"

"Grandma. Who else?"

"I should have guessed." Scott glanced at Virgil as he removed the top photo and placed it at the back of the pack. He looked back down and his grin disappeared. "You sneak!"

"So. Have you changed?"

Scott placed his hand over the paper-sized mirror and frowned at his younger brother. "What'd you do that for?"

"So that you could see that you've got nothing to fear."

"I'm not frightened... I just don't want to look..." Scott said lamely.

"Okay then," Virgil held out his hand, "give me back the mirror."

He wondered for a moment if his bluff was going to be called, before Scott looked back down at his hand hiding the glass. He shifted his grip so that the mirror was reflecting the ceiling. "There's nothing to be frightened of, is there?" he said quietly.

"Nothing!" Virgil stated firmly.

Slowly Scott rotated the mirror so that it was pointing at his face. Slowly the smile returned. "Hey! Not bad. Hello handsome!" He shifted the angle of the mirror so he could get a better look. "I guess I've still got it."

"What? That ego the size of North America?"

"No. I have a very kind, supportive, thoughtful, younger brother. Thank you."

Virgil smiled. "You're welcome."

Scott had another look at the photos before he placed them back into the envelope and picked up the painting again. "So! Are you coming into the lounge now?"

Eighty

Scott flicked the switch that turned on the lights in the lounge. He walked in confidently and placed the portrait on his father's desk. "Right! Where do you think...?" He turned round. Virgil was nowhere to be seen. "Where is he?" He strode back to the doorway.

Virgil was standing just inside the room. "I'm here. Are you happy? Can we go to bed now?"

"No! Come on. There's nothing in here that's going to bite you." He returned back to where he started.

Reluctantly Virgil took two steps forward and stopped. Scott was by now back at the desk. He turned and strode back towards his brother. "Come on," he said firmly. "You can't go through life without coming in here."

"I've managed okay these last few weeks."

Scott didn't give him any further say in the matter. He dragged him to the centre of the room. "There! See! You're alright! Now where are we going to hang this painting?" He kept a firm grip on Virgil's arm.

He'd positioned Virgil so that he was facing the piano. A plain white dust cloth had been placed over it, but despite that its outline was clearly visible. He felt his brother stiffen at the sight of the instrument and felt sorry for him, but reasoned that Virgil needed to face up the realities of life in the Tracy household. If for no other reason than to release the emotions that he was trapping inside himself.

He released his grip when Virgil took a step forward.

Slowly Virgil walked towards the piano. Hesitantly he reached out towards it before finally placing a hand on the cloth. The hand clenched into a fist and he drew the cloth off gradually until the white, wooden surface was exposed. He hugged the cloth close as he stared at the instrument, before once again placing his right hand on it. His fingers traced the piano's outline until he reached the keyboard.

He sat on the piano stool.

Scott walked over so that he was able to lean on the piano, within range of Virgil's Comm-specs. "Are you okay?"

Virgil nodded numbly. He dropped the dust cloth onto the floor beside the stool and placed both hands on the keyboard lid. He held them there for a moment before he swung the lid back.

The black and white keys stared at him. Mocking him in their silence.

"You don't have to do any more," Scott stated.

Virgil removed the Comm-specs and dropped them on top of the dust cloth, effectively breaking off communication with his brother. He wanted to proceed at his own pace.

With heavy heart Scott watched him as several times he reached for a key, drawing back each time before he made contact.

Virgil steeled himself and pressed middle C with his right forefinger. Then he looked at Scott. "Did it make a sound?"

"Yes," Scott nodded.

Virgil placed his left hand on the top of the piano and pressed middle C again with his right. This time he felt the vibrations run through the instrument.

He withdrew his hands.

"Do you remember when Father bought this?" he suddenly asked.

"Yes I do. You were over the moon, and the rest of us were totally unimpressed. I wondered why he'd want to waste money on a new piano, when the old upright was perfectly adequate. Then I heard you play it for the first time and realised that, while I'd always known you were good, I was now getting an idea of how good you really were."

"Do you remember what I played?"

"Not really," Scott said apologetically.

"This." Virgil placed his hands on the keyboard and began to play.

He played the piece right through from beginning to end, his eyes closed as he imagined the sounds that flowed from his fingers.

To Scott, it was a poignant moment as he watched his brother play the lilting melody. He wished he had a magic wand. Something, so that he could enable Virgil to enjoy the music just as he was.

As the final notes dissipated Virgil placed his hands back in his lap. He looked at Scott. "How did it sound?"

"Great. Most people would be happy to be able to play like that."

"But would I be happy?"

Scott had to be truthful. "No."

Virgil slammed the keyboard lid down with an air of finality and lent on it, his chin resting on his clenched hands, staring at the white finish.

Scott wondered what he should do.

He watched in horror as Virgil started to cry.

The last time that Scott Tracy had seen any of his brothers cry, they'd all been children. They'd grown up to be strong, and in some respects hardened against the cruelties of life. You had to be hard in the rescue game or else you'd soon find yourself a cot case. Being hard didn't mean you were immune to the sorrow and fury of failures and missed opportunities, but it helped you to cope... Usually.

Each member of the household had their own mechanism when they needed to vent their emotions.

Scott realised that Virgil had lost his principal outlet.

Virgil pushed himself back on the stool, away from the piano. "This is why I didn't want to come in here," he said angrily as he vainly tried to wipe away the tears that continued to flow.

"That's why I dragged you in here now, when there's no one else about," Scott said helplessly, "so you'd get it out of your system. But I didn't think that you'd..."

Virgil leant forward, so his forearms were resting on the closed keyboard and his forehead was on his arms. His sobs became louder.

Scott moved towards him tentatively. "I'm sorry." He touched his brother on the back.

"Leave me alone!" Virgil sat up and pushed Scott away.

"Don't push me away... Let me help," Scott pleaded. He placed his arm about Virgil's shoulders. "Please let me help you!"

This time Virgil allowed Scott to draw him into a comforting embrace. Although uncomfortable with the physical contact, Scott held him close.

"I'm scared," Virgil managed to say.

"I know. It's okay. It's okay to be scared..."

"I'm really scared!"

"I know."

"Is everything all right, Scott?" He heard a deep voice come from the shadows behind them.

"Everything's fine, Father. Go back to bed," Scott replied, trying not to change his tone or manner.

There was silence from the shadows.

Finally Virgil felt that he'd got it together enough to push Scott away again. "I'm sorry." He wiped his eyes.

"That phrase is getting a real work out tonight," Scott smiled. "It's not necessary this time. You said yourself it felt as if someone had died. You're grieving."

"Where's my Comm-specs?" Virgil asked looking about.

Scott retrieved them from the top of the dust cloth.

Virgil wiped his eyes with his handkerchief before he put them on. "Don't want them going rusty," he joked weakly.

Scott smiled again and waited till the glasses were operational. "Do you feel better now?"

"No," Virgil said truthfully. He looked downwards. "I'm scared, Scott."

"I know. It's okay to be scared."

"Send me into a collapsing building. Not a problem. Shoot Thunderbird Two out from under me. No worries." Scott gave a little grin. "But this!" Virgil continued on... "This... I feel as if I'm being attacked from inside my head. As if there's someone inside my brain chipping away at my sanity. I don't know that I can cope..." He whispered something that Scott couldn't hear.

"What was that, Virg?"

"I think I'm going crazy, Scott," Virgil repeated softly.

"Will we ever notice the difference?" Scott joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Virgil's expression didn't change.

"Are you serious?"

Virgil nodded.

"Why!"

"Lots of reasons."

"Such as?"

"Look at me! I'm falling to pieces! I've suddenly turned into a big baby? I haven't cried like this since... since... the avalanche, and here I am bawling my eyes out twice in as many months."

"I know. But you've had your reasons. That doesn't make you crazy."

"And..." Then Virgil looked at his brother. "How do you know?"

"That night... I... I wanted to talk to you... so I went to your room... but I could hear you... so I came back out here," Scott said hesitantly.

"Oh," Virgil said quietly. Then he stood abruptly and walked over to the window so he was looking out over the beach and the black ocean. He turned back so he was leaning against the glass, facing Scott. "What's happening to me?"

"You're not crazy. You're only human. At least you're brave enough to let someone else see you cry. Not like me..."

"You!? I don't remember ever seeing you break down. Well not like this. You got angry."

"And took it out on everyone else. That's because I pushed everyone away. I didn't let anyone see me cry."

"When did you...?" Virgil was confused by this admission. "That first month in rehab. There wasn't a night when I didn't have a soggy pillow. I was lucky it didn't go mouldy on me..."

"I didn't realise."

"No. I couldn't risk anyone thinking I wasn't big, and tough, and in control. That I was scared, and confused, and wanted to go home to where everything was safe and familiar. I wanted to be protected by my family. I was away from you guys... I felt isolated..."

"I feel that now, and you're all here."

"I know. But remember, we are here for you."

"Are you? You realise that all it would take is for you to take a step back and I wouldn't have a clue what you were saying."

"I can sign..."

"It's even worse when it comes to Father, and Grandma and the others. I feel totally isolated from them." Virgil turned back to the window and looked out at the stars. "It's driving me crazy."

Scott went and stood beside him so that they could talk. "Believe me. You are not going crazy."

Virgil opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it again.

"You've got other reasons for thinking that haven't you." Scott pressed him.

Virgil nodded and took a breath. "Brains and the Professor can't find a reason for my hearing loss."

"I know. It's got us all beat."

"They think it might be something psychological."

Scott stared at his brother. Then a smile slowly formed on his lips. "But that's great! There could be a cure after all..."

"NO!" Virgil exclaimed. "Don't you understand? We can't do anything!"

"But why?"

"I'd have to tell someone about International Rescue."

"I'm sure Father wouldn't mind. Not in this instance..."

"And it could destroy all our hard work!"

"Not necessarily! Maybe one of our agents is a psychologist?"

"Who'd have to keep records. Okay, we find someone who is loyal to International Rescue and our ideals. But what if someone finds out they're helping me, someone out to get International Rescue's secrets..."

"Now you're being silly. How could anyone find out?"

"A burglary, a computer hacker, a fire and some innocent person helps to save the records and just happens to mention what they inadvertently glanced at to someone not so innocent. It's a weak link, Scott. I'm the weak link."

"And if that happens we'll just shut down International Rescue."

"And how many lives could be lost because we're not there to save them. And it's not only that, is it? Someone finds out that we're International Rescue. We may be isolated on this island, but we're not completely out of reach of the outside world. A plane, a fast boat, and we could have trouble..."

"We can take them."

"Here we can. But do you want to be locked away here for the rest of your life? And it's not us they'd be after would it. They'd want Brains, since he designed the technology. They'd want Father who had the money..."

"They wouldn't help them." Scott stated confidently.

"So they'd look for leverage. Some way to force them into doing what they don't want to. They'd work on us five..."

"And wouldn't get anywhere!"

"I agree. But would you want Tin-Tin and Kyrano to go through that? And what about Grandma?! If anything happened to her it would be my fault!"

"You've really thought about this haven't you?" Scott said quietly.

"You're not to tell Father, Scott! He goes through enough guilt every time one of us gets injured. This'd kill him. And destroy International Rescue. You said yourself that you'd risk being blinded again if it meant saving a life. That's just what I'm doing now!"

"Oh, Virgil..." Scott hoped his father had taken his advice and gone to bed. He didn't want him to have heard this exchange. "I'm sorry."

Virgil gave a grim smile. "Who's wearing out that phrase now? Look forget all this. Maybe I'll get lucky." He looked desolate.

On impulse Scott pulled him into a hug before releasing him. "I promise I won't say anything. But I will talk to Brains. The poor guy's been on edge for days and now I know why. But I want you to promise to talk to me if you ever need to, okay? Don't hide away or bottle it up. Talk to me!"

"You know how hard that can be," Virgil said ironically. "How long have we been trying to talk to each other? It's been months!"

"Yes," Scott sighed. "We could have some secret phrase that only us two will know. So then we can make time together."

"Something that would sound innocent to everyone else."

"I know!" Scott snapped his fingers. "You could say that you feel like having some chocolate cake!"

"And if I really do?"

"Tell Grandma."

Virgil smiled. "Don't you ever be afraid to ask me for 'chocolate cake' either. I think we've both needed tonight's talk."

Scott agreed. Then he yawned. "What's the time?" He looked at his watch. "Three twenty! No wonder I'm tired. It's been a big day."

They wandered back down the hallway. Scott eyed the shadows and listened for any sound from his father. He heard nothing.

When they got to Virgil's bedroom door, he stopped Scott from entering by signing without speaking. "I'm not that big a baby that I need you to tuck me in," he grinned sheepishly. Mindful of the others in the household, Scott signed silently too. "I haven't thought of you as a baby since you were five..." he smiled. "Five?" "Up till then you were definitely an annoying little baby, always pestering your big brother. Until you got stuck in, helping to dig the snow away..." His face pained at the memory. "That was when you grew up in my eyes. That's when I began to see you as an equal." He looked at his painting for a moment. "Do you know what I've had to live with since Ma died? That she only knew me as a bratty kid who was always in trouble."

"I don't think so," Virgil replied. "I think she knew your true nature. And... this is going to sound silly, but I think she's keeping an eye on us. I think she's proud of you."

"No," Scott said thoughtfully. "I don't think that's silly. I think you're right. Except she's proud of all of us."

"Thank you for talking, and listening." Virgil opened his door. "I'll talk to you in the morning. Good night."

"Night."

Eighty One

Virgil awoke to the familiar sound. He groaned and pulled his pillow over his head in a vain attempt to block the noise out.

He was surprised when it worked.

Cautiously he removed the pillow and looked about him.

Everything seemed as it had been when he went to bed in the early hours of the morning.

He looked at the clock.

It read ten thirty.

He'd slept in. It was a wonder someone hadn't been in to see if he was okay. Scott had probably told them to let him sleep.

He smiled to himself. Despite the late night he was pretty sure that Scott would have been up at his usual time of 5 am. Maybe he would have allowed himself the luxury of an extra half hour sack time, but that would be all.

He wondered if Scott had turned the light on this morning.

Virgil sat on the edge of the bed and in doing so knocked his book to the floor.

It fell silently and lay there, pages exposed. He picked it up and put it back on the table.

As he did so he experienced a strange sensation. Almost as if he'd heard something.

He dismissed the idea, deciding that he was still half asleep and went into the bathroom to try to wake himself up.

He turned on the tap.

The sound of running water greeted him.

He stared into the hand basin, not believing what his senses were telling him.

He looked at his reflection. "Am I hearing?" he asked himself.

He couldn't hear the words.

He knocked on the mirror.

His image knocked silently back.

He picked up his toothbrush and tapped the glass.

He definitely heard something.

He tried tapping other things. The metal taps and enamel basin produced the desired result, but wooden and plaster fixtures were silent.

He dropped the toothbrush back in its holder and thought.

He needed a more scientific test. Something that could produce different pitches...

"The police have tracked them down," John said. "The Officer who called me back was very apologetic... and grateful that we were willing to help."

Everyone else in the family were looking at him and starting to relax.

"That's good, John," Jeff said. "Glad to know we're not required this time..." He noticed that his son didn't appear to be listening. "John?"

John appeared to be staring over their heads. "What's he..."

The piano began to play a scale.

As if they were one person they turned to face the instrument.

Virgil was sitting there. He played the length of the keyboard from bass to treble and then reversed his course. He reached a note midway down the treble scale and played it a few times. "No. I lose it there," he said to himself.

"I think he's lost it, full stop!" Alan looked horrified. "I've seen it coming since he went mad at Scott."

"Alan!" Scott admonished him, worried that his brother's words were true.

"Alan! Don't be mean!" Tin-Tin scolded.

Virgil looked up. "Tin-Tin! Say that again."

"What! I-I said... Why?"

"Tin-Tin!" Virgil ran over to her, picked her up in a hug and twirled her round. "I heard you! I heard you speak!" He started laughing. "I love you! Forget Alan, marry me!"

"Virgil Tracy!" she laughed, blushing. "You're being silly. Put me down! I won't marry you!"

He put her down. "That's got to be the most wonderful thing I've ever heard," he said, smiling.

Scott tapped him on the shoulder and Virgil turned. His eldest brother had a grin that stretched practically from one ear to the other. "You can hear?"

"I can't hear you," Virgil admitted. He went back over to the piano and sat down. "I can hear these notes clearly." He played a scale. "The tinnitus muddles them from here. And I can't hear anything below this note." He played another and turned back to Tin-Tin. "Your voice is the right pitch for me to hear. So's the klaxon. That's what woke me..." Suddenly he frowned. "Shouldn't you guys be heading off? I'm holding you up..."

"Tell him Tin-Tin," Gordon said. "He's not going to want to watch any of us sign."

"It was a false alarm, Virgil," she told him. "Some youths thought it would be funny to call in International Rescue. The police have caught and arrested them."

"That's good."

Brains stepped in. "Tin-Tin. T-Tell him I'll want to m-make some tests later."

Tin-Tin translated. Virgil screwed up his face at the thought. "Nothing that involves needles is there?"

"No," Brains shook his head.

"Good!"

Grandma Tracy stormed into the room. Her face wore a frown. "Own up! Who's eaten my chocolate cake?! We were going to have it for morning tea!"

Scott looked guiltily away from his grandmother.

Virgil didn't have any such inhibitions. "Grandma! I can hear you too!" He left the piano stool and gave her a kiss. "This is great!"

"What! Virgil? You can hear?"

"I can hear you and Tin-Tin. The guys voices are too deep."

"That's wonderful!"

"Isn't it!" He was beaming.

His father came over to him. His eyes were shining. He looked relieved too. "I'm happy for you."

"Not as happy as I am!"

"Mother. Tell him to get dressed and he can have breakfast."

"Virgil, go get dressed. You'll have to have a normal breakfast. You could have chocolate cake but someone's eaten it all."

"That's okay." Virgil looked at Scott and winked. "I've had enough chocolate cake for the moment anyway."

Scott returned the wink before Virgil left the room to get changed.

"What did he mean by that?" Grandma asked. "Does he know who's stolen the chocol..."

"Don't worry about the chocolate cake," Jeff told her gently. "I think it's done more good than you could imagine. We'll find some other way to celebrate tonight."

Eighty Two

Virgil spent the day exploring the island, discovering what he could and couldn't hear. Occasionally he would return to the piano and test the treble notes again, trying to see if his hearing range had increased. It was mid-afternoon before he let out a cheer. "I can hear that one!" He played the note below the earlier one. He made up a little tune in the upper register of the piano.

"This is great!" he stated for the hundred and first time that day.

"Jeff Tracy!" His mother was standing in front of his desk, her hands on her hips in a pose that told him that she meant business. "Just what is Brains doing in the dining room? Apart from getting in everyone's way that is."

"Just a little project I've got him working on, Mother. I think you'll like it."

"But there's wires and electronics all over the place. Not to mention the dust! Do you know he's drilled a hole in the wall?"

"I thought he might have to do that. Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it! Well if you don't mind sawdust in your chicken, then fine! I think the rest of us would prefer it to be ungarnished!"

"I'm sure he'll be finished by the time dinner's ready."

"He'd better be, Jeff. Or this won't be much of a celebration!"

Virgil wandered in. Reluctantly he was still wearing the Comm-specs so that he could communicate with the male members of the household. "Grandma. Even furious you sound great!"

She gave him a peck on the cheek. "Well I'm glad someone seems to be listening to me. Are you sure your deafness isn't catching. Your father prefers to ignore me."

"Mother! I've listened to every word! And I've told you not to worry. Brains will have the room cleaned up ready for the table to be set. Trust me!"

Muttering to herself she stormed out of the room.

Jeff smiled at Virgil. "How's it going?"

"Do you know how wonderful bird song is?" Virgil was still smiling himself.

"I can't say I've ever taken much notice."

"You want to. It's only when you lose these things that you really wish you had taken notice when you could enjoy them."

"There's some sense in that," Jeff said thoughtfully.

"Are Scott and I still on to see about recruiting that new agent?" Virgil asked.

Jeff appeared to hesitate. "We'll leave it a couple of days. See how your recovery progresses."

Virgil didn't hear the negative tone in his voice.

It was after dark by the time the evening meal was ready.

"There you are, Mother," Jeff said triumphantly. "I told you Brains would have everything cleared away in time."

The dining room was spotless. The only sign that Brains had been working in there was a large, framed white square hanging on the wall, just by the head of the table.

"Just what is that in aid of?" she snapped peevishly.

"You'll see," he promised. "It won't be long now."

The rest of the family came filing in.

Alan caught Scott and held him back. "Can't you do something about Virgil?" he whispered. "He's been following Tin-Tin around most of the afternoon!"

"Why? Are you worried he's serious about that marriage proposal?" Scott asked laughing. "Don't worry about it. He'll probably hear your voice next and then he'll be following you instead."

"Thanks for the warning," Alan said grumpily.

"So, what have you been up to, Brains?" Gordon asked.

"You'll see soon. Th-That's if it works," Brains was sounding a little grumpy himself.

"Why wouldn't it? I've never known anything of yours to fail," Gordon sounded surprised.

"I-I haven't had a chance to t-test it properly."

"Well just as long as it doesn't blow up in the middle of dinner," Gordon stated. "I'm hungry and dinner tonight should be something special!"

"Are we all here?" Jeff asked as he stood at the head of the table. There were murmurings of agreement. "Right. Well as this is a meal to celebrate Virgil regaining..., starting to regain his hearing..."

Virgil grinned as Gordon clapped him on the back.

"... I thought it would be nice if the entire family could be present. Especially in light of our conversation yesterday, so I asked Brains to work on something today..."

"I h-hope it works," Brains muttered to himself.

Everyone else tried to work out which conversation in particular Jeff was talking about.

"... And so..." Jeff turned to the framed square. "Base to Thunderbird Five. Come in, John."

The white square faded out to be replaced by John, seated in the galley in the space station. "About time!" he complained. "My dinner's nearly cold."

"We've decided that there's no reason why the whole family couldn't eat at the same time, spend quality time together."

The meal started being dished out.

"Hey! That's brilliant," Alan enthused. "I always thought mealtimes were the worst up there."

John was already well into his dinner. "Doesn't improve the flavour of what you're eating though."

Brains was indignant. "That is the best, m-most n-nutritious foods I could c-come up with."

"And it's not bad, Brains. But nothing beats home cooking," John informed him. "How's the hearing, Virgil? Any improvement?"

"A little. But I've still got to wear these things." Virgil indicated the Comm-specs. "I'll be glad when I don't need them anymore."

"And what's wrong with th-them?" Brains was getting more uptight by the minute.

"Nothing, Brains, nothing," Virgil said hastily. "They're wonderful! Just not as good as hearing you guys talk with my own ears."

"Hmph." Brains wasn't greatly mollified.

"Mister Brains?" Kyrano asked gently. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing," Brains snapped.

"He was talking to Professor Bunsen earlier," Tin-Tin explained. "Now that Virgil's getting his hearing back the Professor has started calling Brains..." she received a glare from the scientist, "... that name again."

"Tell him you don't like it," Jeff suggested. "He should understand."

"Do you want me to tell him?" Virgil offered.

"How come he's got such a soft spot for you?" Scott asked.

Virgil shrugged. "Beats me!"

"That man is the most irritating, irrational, egotistical, embarrassing person that I've ever had the misfortune to know," Brains snapped. "And if he tells me one more time to let him fix my stutter I'll take that rabbit suit of his and insert it, ears and all, right up his test tube and pour hydrochloric acid on it..." he tailed off when he saw the surprised looks on everyone's faces.

"I don't think you'll need to worry, Brains," John told him. "He's already fixed it. You didn't stutter once then."

Gordon decided the atmosphere needed lightening up a bit. "Hey, this is a celebration isn't it? So lets have some festive lights. I'll go get them!" He was out of the room before anyone was able to protest.

He was back a moment later with a gaudy lamp. The lampshade was designed to rotate giving the impression that fish were swimming on the walls.

His brothers all groaned.

"This'll be great!" he protested. "Just wait." He plugged it in...

The room was plunged into darkness.

A chorus went up. "Gordon!"

"It wasn't me!" he protested. "The fuse must have blown."

"I kn-new I hadn't run enough tests," Brains muttered. "The power usage is still too great."

"Fix the fuse, Gordon!" his father ordered. "Okay," he sighed. "Where's the torch?"

"You know where it's kept," his grandmother told him sternly.

He was feeling about in a lower cupboard. "I can't find it."

"What do you mean you can't find it?" Alan asked as he stood to help. He bumped into someone. "Sorry, Kyrano. I can't see a thing. Where are you, Gordon?"

"I'm... Get off my foot!!!"

"Are you looking in the right cupboard?"

"Of course I am...! I think."

"Well have you looked in this cupboard?" Alan swung open a door.

There was a sharp intake of breath.

"Sorry, Gordon." Alan said apologetically. "I didn't realise you were standing so close. On the positive side Virgil should be able to hear you now."

"Alan!" Gordon ground out. "Go sit down!"

"Come on guys!" Virgil complained. "My dinner's getting cold."

"Well don't stop eating it," Scott suggested.

"I can't see it to eat it," Virgil informed him. "Thank heavens the Comm-specs don't rely on electricity."

"I'm not having any problems. This is just like old times! Will someone pass me the carrots?"

"Scott!" His Grandmother scolded. "How many times do you have to be told not to talk with food in your mouth?"

He swallowed hurriedly. "How'd you know?"

"I could hear you, Scott Tracy! I'm not deaf."

"And I still am, and I knew too," Virgil was starting to sound a little testy himself. "You're spraying food all over me!"

"Sorry, Virg."

"If you're finding this so easy, why don't you go fix the fuse?" Gordon said.

"I don't know," Scott griped good-naturedly. "A little bit of darkness and you all go to pieces. Leave it to me, I'll go mend it." He took a sip of his drink. "And don't anyone touch my plate. I know exactly where everything is."

A short time later the power was reinstated.

Scott returned to the table. "Who took my plate?"

"We wanted a chance to catch up with you," Alan informed him. "You were already onto seconds."

Gordon continued to look for the torch. "It's not in here! Who shifted it?"

"Now that's irresponsible," Jeff thundered. "The torches should always be kept in their proper places in case of emergencies. Someone could get hurt!"

"Someone was!" Gordon was moving very slowly and gingerly.

"So where is it?" Jeff demanded.

"Don't look at me," Scott stated. "I haven't used one in over a year."

"Skite," Virgil told him.

"Do you know anything, Virgil?" his father asked.

"Me? No. If I need a torch I grab my own. It's got a bweter beam."

"Last time I saw it, I used it to try to find a spoon that had fallen behind the stove," Grandma Tracy stated.

"And did you put it back?"

"Don't you take that tone with me, Jefferson Tracy! Of course I put it back!"

Her grandson's grinned at their father's discomfort.

"Alan!" he said, trying to regain some composure.

"I haven't touched it... No wait a minute. I borrowed it when Tin-Tin lost her ring in the pool..."

"And why did you need the torch for that?" Gordon asked.

"It was night-time."

Tin-Tin blushed.

"And why," Gordon grinned, "were you two swimming in the dark?"

"We weren't swimming!" Alan protested. "She'd lost it earlier and had only just realised!"

"Yeah, sure..."

"I remember..." Tin-Tin said quickly, "...I gave the torch to Father to return. He needed it for something."

"That is correct," Kyrano nodded his head in acknowledgement. "I wished to ensure that something was returned to its rightful place." He eyed Alan meaningfully. Alan reddened slightly. "I was going to return it myself, but, if you remember, Mister Tracy, you and I had a little talk in your room."

"I remember," Jeff growled.

"I believe," Kyrano continued, "that you offered to return it. You were planning on getting yourself a drink from the kitchen."

"Did I?" Jeff frowned in thought. "I don't remember..."

"Jeff! Was it you who ate my chocolate cake?"

"Mother. I can honestly say that I didn't even get to see your chocolate cake!"

"So the torch might be in your room?" Gordon said perkily, his 'injury' forgotten. "I'll go and look!"

"Not while we're all having a meal!" his father tried to tell him, but he'd gone. "I can see how that boy managed to win his gold medal."

"Talking of us all 'having a meal,'" Virgil noted. "Why don't we try to get John back?"

Jeff called him up again.

"About time," he said huffily. "I was beginning to think you were tired of me already. What happened?"

"Gordon blew a fuse and Dad had hidden the torch," Alan piped up.

"Oh, yes," John said wryly.

Gordon came back. "Found it! Beside your bed, Dad." He grinned happily.

Jeff cleared his throat. "Let that be a lesson to you, Alan. If you take something, make sure you're the one to put it back. Don't trust it to someone else."

"Yes sir," Alan said, but it was with the air of someone who'd scored a point over his parent.

Eighty Three

Virgil steered the car into a parking spot and turned off the motor. "Well, this is it."

Scott was looking about him. "This is amazing. It's actually quite similar to how I imagined it."

"Does it bring back a few memories?"

"Yeah. Of one of the most frightening times of my life. I'm lucky this rehabilitation centre's one of the best."

They got out. of the car and headed over to the reception area.

"Did you get the impression that Father wasn't too keen on us making this trip?" Scott asked.

"No... But then I still can't hear him."

The double doors slid back automatically and they entered the air-conditioned foyer.

Scott stood looking around while Virgil went over to the reception desk. "Hi, Trish. How are you?" he smiled.

"Virgil! Lovely to see you again. I'm fine thanks. Dusty's expecting you, I'll give her a call."

He looked at his watch. "We've got a couple of minutes before we're due to see her, so there's no hurry." He poked his head into the room. "Hi, Julia," he waved.

"Hello, Virgil!" She stood and walked over to the reception desk so she could hear him better. "How are you both?"

"At the moment Scott's in better shape than I am," He admitted and then turned back to his brother. "Hey! Don't be rude, come over and say hi."

"No need to yell. You're the one who's deaf," Scott reminded him.

The two women stared at him. "Scott! You can see?"

"You got it," he smiled. "Nice to meet you again and to finally see you."

"But how?" Trish asked.

"We struck it lucky and found this professor who was able to repair the damage," Scott explained. "The guy's a complete nutcase, but who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially now that I can see the horse," he finished with a grin. "That's why we're here. We thought we'd tell Dusty in case she hears of anyone else who could be helped by the treatment."

"That's wonderful," Trish enthused. "I'm thrilled for you, Scott."

"Virgil?" Julia asked hesitantly. "Why did Scott say that you were deaf?"

"You're not going to believe this," he said with a small smile. "Scott's just getting his sight back and I'm in an explosion of my own and totally lose my hearing. But it's getting better!" he added quickly when he saw their horrified faces. "I can hear things in the higher register such as female voices, but I struggle with those in the lower register, like male voices. Today's the first day that I've been able to hear Scott, and that's only if there's no background noise."

"I've got a sore throat from all the talking he insisted that I do on the flight over," Scott grumbled good-naturedly. "Ever heard of too much of a good thing, Virg?"

"And I couldn't hear most of it because of the background noise from the plane," Virgil informed him.

"Now you tell me...! Well, we'd better get onto business," Scott stated. "Would you mind letting Dusty know we're here, Trish?"

"It'd be my pleasure."

They both moved down to one end of the reception desk.

"Julia?" Virgil said. "Do you mind if I ask you a couple of things?"

"Of course."

"Do you suffer from tinnitus too?"

She nodded. "For me, at times, it sounds like a lawn mower's going on in the neighbours. Do you suffer from it?"

He nodded. "Sometimes it's like a jet plane taking off."

She made a face. "Sounds terrible! I hope it improves."

"So do I. Another question. When I was staying here, did I ever ignore you or treat you like you were stupid."

"No you didn't. I noticed that. You were one of the few guests here who always tried to include me."

"Good," he said in evident relief. "You've no idea what a struggle its been just dealing with my family. Let me amend that to, you probably have some idea. But I hated the thought that I may have behaved in the same way to someone else."

"Isolating isn't it," she agreed. Then she looked over his shoulder. "Here's Dusty now."

"Thanks. Catch you later." He walked over to where Dusty was walking towards them. "Dusty! Good to see you."

"Virgil! You're looking well. And how are you, Scott?"

"All the better for seeing you!" he exclaimed. "And you're much prettier than I ever imagined you to be. For some reason I'd always pictured you as a blonde." He kissed her gallantly on the hand.

She stared at him.

"Ah, Scott," Virgil struggled to stop himself from laughing. "This is Dusty's husband, Don." He indicated a well-built man, who was even taller than Scott.

"Uh... H-Hi. Nice to meet you," Scott stuttered out. He grimaced as Don's hand squeezed his own outstretched one tightly.

"Scott," Don said tightly, his voice deep and mildly threatening.

"Translation time," Virgil said easily. "Sorry Don, your voice is too deep for me to hear at the moment. I'm deaf."

"Deaf?" Dusty exclaimed. "What happened to you? And what did you mean by..." she glanced at Don. "Can you see,. Scott?"

"I can see,"

" he grinned. "It's part of what we want to talk to you about."

"You can see?" she was amazed. "But I thought it was permanent!"

"So did we. We'll explain it over lunch. We thought we'd have a picnic on the beach. We've got everything in the car."

"But what about Virgil's hearing?" she asked confused. "That generator didn't explode again did it?"

"No. A fuel tank did," Virgil explained with a wry grin. "I can hear you, but I can't hear Don. Sorry," he said apologetically to the big man.

Don frowned at him.

"I'll just sign out," Dusty said. "Then we can get going."

"Fine," Scott agreed.

"I'll come with you." Don followed her closely.

Scott pulled Virgil to one side. "You could have warned me," he hissed. "Why?" Virgil hissed back. "You knew he was coming. I didn't tell you to make a fool of yourself."

"So now he either thinks I'm trying to hit on his wife, or that I'm a prize idiot."

"Well, Dusty and I know that you weren't trying to hit on her..." Virgil grinned.

"Thanks," Scott said sarcastically.

In the other room Don turned to Dusty. "I don't like this!"

"What? He was only being pleasant. Scott's always been a perfect gentleman towards me."

"Didn't he hit his brother?"

"Don!" she said in exasperation. "You know the circumstances behind that."

"Didn't one of them draw that picture of you?"

"That was Virgil. Scott was blind then, remember?"

"I don't like this!" he reiterated again. "I don't trust those two. They're a couple of spoilt, rich, brats who are used to always getting their own way. I'd bet that they've never done an honest day's work in th'eir lives and would never think of lifting a finger to help another soul. They've probably got some slave at home who does their slightest bidding as soon as they snap their fingers. What ever this 'mutual arrangement' is that they want to talk to you about I want you to turn it down!"

"Don! At least listen to what they've got to say."

"It's this living away from civilisation on that tropical island that does it. They're probably out of touch with the real world!"

"Don!"

"And what's that place like anyway! Their equipment must be pretty shoddy. If Scott's blinded and now his brother..."

"Virgil," she said patiently.

"Virgil. What a queer name!"

"Their father was an astronaut. He named his sons after the early astronauts."

"How does a fuel tank explode? Their old man doesn't seem to care much for them if he lets two of his sons get seriously injured!"

"Their 'old man' is Jeff Tracy the philanthropist! I wish you'd met him, because I know you'd like him, and then you'd also know that he cares for them all." She folded her arms tightly. "Now, have you finished? Because I am leaving, hopefully to have a pleasant lunch with two very nice men. As you know! It's not as if you've never met them before. Now are you coming?"

"Of course I'm coming! I'm not leaving you alone with those two for one minute."

"I wonder what's taking them so long?" Scott looked at his watch.

"Probably wondering what kind of household we live in," Virgil said. "Don's probably told Dusty not to trust you."

"Me! What about you?"

"I didn't try to hit on her."

"And neither did I! I was being... Dusty, Don! Are you ready?"

She gave him a big smile. "Ready when you are, Scott." Behind her Don glowered at them both.

"Bye, Trish. Bye, Julia." Virgil waved towards the reception desk.

"Don't be strangers," Trish called back.

"Okay."

"Bye, Julia," Scott gave her a wave.

She waved in return, her cheeks reddening slightly.

Once the four people had exited the building Trish and Julia rushed to the window.

"Aren't those two just so toe-curlingly handsome?" Trish said as she watched the Tracy brothers leave. "Wouldn't you love to be having a picnic with them?"

"Uh huh. Handsome, intelligent and caring... what a combination," Julia sighed.

"I wonder why they don't have steady girl friends."

"Maybe they do. How well do you know them?"

"Not that well," Trish admitted. "But I'd like to know them better." They watched Scott and Virgil have a discussion over who would drive the car. "Those two are so close that if you didn't know they were brothers, you'd be worried."

Another woman entered the room.

"Sereena!" Trish called. "Come here. You're just in time to see the Tracy brothers before they leave. Pity you missed talking to them."

"Look at you both, drooling over them," Sereena scolded lightly as she headed over to stand beside them. "You're like a pair of giddy schoolgirls!"

"You can't talk," Trish informed her. "You were always very quick to get Virgil his morning cup of coffee."

"Well. He was always too busy looking after Scott, and had a sore arm. I felt sorry for him," Sereena said lamely.

"Quick!" Julia said. "You're going to miss them."

Trish flung open the window. "Virgil!" she yelled. "Sereena wants to say hi!"

Before getting into the car he turned and waved back towards the reception block. "Hi, Sereena."

"Hi, Virgil," she smiled, blushing furiously, before scolding her friend again. "You're mad, Trish."

"Brought some colour to your cheeks though, didn't it."

Sereena looked back out the window again. "What's Scott doing in the driving seat?" she asked worriedly.

"Isn't it great," Julia exclaimed. "He's got his sight back."

"Really! That's fantastic."

"And now poor Virgil's been injured in another explosion," Trish said sadly. "He's partially deaf."

"Deaf!" Sereena exclaimed.

"Those poor boys," Julia was looking out the window. "Just makes you want to mother them doesn't it."

"Or something..." Trish added with an impish grin.

Giggling, the three of them waved at the departing car.

Eighty Four

They pulled up at the beach two miles from Rehab and got out of the car.

"I'll find us a good spot," Virgil offered. He wandered off down the sands.

"Okay," Scott ack,nowledged. "Will you give me a hand, Don?"

Don's expression threatened to give him more than just a hand.

Scott popped the boot and started retrieving its contents. He handed Don some chairs and a table, along with an umbrella arrangement, before hefting out two large picnic baskets.

Dusty reached in and pulled out a blanket. "I can at least take this."

Scott looked at the picnic baskets. "I don't know what Grandma packed in here. But I guarantee it'll be enough to feed an army. We'll need help." He looked down the beach. "Virgil! Give us a hand will you?"

Virgil was standing, gazing out to sea. He didn't respond.

Scott stared at him, his frown more of concern than anger. "I'm never sure if he can't hear me or is just ignoring me," he muttered.

"How bad is he?" Dusty asked.

"Better than he was when we though it was permanent, which was only a week ago," Scott said grimly. "We're hopeful that he'll make a full recovery. Excuse me." He walked down the beach to his brother. "Are you okay?"

"Pardon? Sorry, Scott, the surf's a bit loud."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just remembering..."

"Maybe we should go somewhere else."

"No. It's okay. I've got Brains' 'Babelet.'"

"I didn't mean that..."

"Don't worry, Scott. Like I said, I'm fine. That's all in the past."

Dusty leant on the car and watched them. "Look at them. How can you say there's anything sinister going on there?"

"I didn't say sinister. I just don't trust them."

"Oh, Don!" she sighed in exasperation.

"Promise me that you'll listen to them and then tell them thanks but no thanks," he begged.

"I'll listen, and I'll listen with an open mind. Then I'll make a decision," she told him.

"Dusty..."

Scott and Virgil arrived back at the car. They each picked up a picnic basket and a couple of chairs.

"Okay, where?" Scott asked.

Virgil looked at him blankly.

Scott put down his load again. "Where are we going to have lunch?"

"Oh, sorry. Over there." Virgil led the way.

It was a warm day, with a hint of sea breeze to keep the air from getting too warm. Virgil had chosen a spot out in the open. They had plenty of space to talk without being overheard.

Working together Scott and Virgil quickly erected some shade, while Don unfolded the chairs and table and Dusty laid out the blanket.

Hard work done they settled down in the shade to unpack their lunch.

Dusty's eyes grew wide as she saw the food emerge from the baskets. "This is too much!"

"Told you Grandma packs enough to feed an army," Scott reminded her. "I think she thought all five of her grandsons were coming on this outing." He pulled out an object the size of a clipboard and as thick as a pencil. "That's yours." He handed it to Virgil.

"Good, thanks." Virgil took it and pressed it in a couple of places.

"Is it working?" Scott asked him.

"Yep."

"Okay... I think that's everything. Dig in everyone. We can discuss business later."

It wasn't exactly a relaxed meal. Don obviously still didn't trust them. Dusty was trying to keep things chatty but kept on glaring at her recalcitrant husband. Virgil couldn't hear most of the conversation and Scott kept on trying to prove that he only regarded Dusty as a friend.

They explained about Scott's recovery. "That's one reason why we wanted to see you, Dusty," Scott explained. "Why should I be the only person able to use this technology? Father's willing to pay for anyone who can't afford it. We thought you could tell us the best way to get word out there that this treatment is now available."

"I'll have to think about that. I think I've got a list of contacts in my office."

They also gave a sanitised version of Virgil's accident.

"How come you two are so unlucky?" Dusty asked.

Scott shrugged. "Just lucky I guess." He put his plate back on the table. "Which brings us to the main reason why we invited you here, rather than just discussing this back at work." He glanced at his brother. "Is it all clear, Virg?"

Virgil pressed his strange object another couple of times. "All clear." He pulled a sketchpad and some pencils out from his basket.

"What are you doing?" Scott asked.

"You're the 'company representative,'" Virgil reminded him. "I'm on sick leave. I'm just here to catch up with old friends."

Scott glared at him, before turning back to Dusty. "I know we come across as a pair of spoilt, rich kids, who've never done a days work in their lives..." Don shifted uncomfortably, "...but believe me that's a long way from the truth. We've done a bit of checking on you, both of you, and our organisation believes that we would benefit from your services."

"Doing what?" Don asked threateningly.

Scott looked about him. "This feels strange, talking about it. Are you sure everything's okay, Virgil?"

"Stop panicking. This gizmo of Brains' will pick' up anyone within 100 metres as well as any recording devices. You know that."

Don and Dusty looked at each other warily.

Scott took a deep breath. "Okay. We haven't been totally truthful with you about our lives or how we got our injuries."

Don sat back. "I knew it! I knew there was something fishy. Come on, Dusty, we're going!"

"No!" she stopped him. "I want to hear this."

"Please don't go, Don," Scott pleaded. "At least hear me out. I promise there's nothing illegal or immoral involved."

"Sit down, Don," Dusty said quietly. "They've given us a wonderful lunch. You at least owe them the courtesy of listening to Scott."

He stared at her and then, with obvious reluctance, sat down again.

"Thank you," Scott smiled.

"Person at three o-clock," Virgil said quietly.

"Coming this way?" Scott asked.

"Yes... No... No it's okay, they've gone up to the car park."

Scott waited a moment until he was sure the area about them was clear again. "Our family..." he began slowly, "... form the nucleus of an organisation that you've probably heard of. One that regards secrecy as vitally important to our continued existence. Even if you decide not to accept our offer, I'd like you to promise that you won't mention this conversation to anyone."

"I promise," Dusty said instantly.

"Dusty!" Don protested.

"He said it's nothing illegal or immoral. It can't hurt can it."

"Please Don," Scott asked, "if you're not willing to agree to this then I can't carry on."

"Please, Don," Dusty echoed.

Virgil stopped his sketching.

"Okay... I promise," Don eventually said.

"Good," Scott smiled. "I'm sure you won't regret this." He took a deep breath. "We're with International Rescue."

Don burst out laughing. "Now I've heard everything."

"Don!" Dusty scolded.

"International Rescue?" Don smiled. "Come on. What are you really on about?"

Scott stared at him. So did Virgil.

"Are you serious?" Dusty asked.

Scott nodded. "I'm the pilot of Thunderbird One, and Virgil pilots Thunderbird Two. At least he will when he's got his hearing back."

Virgil smiled at the thought.

"That's how come we've both been seriously injured. We were both out on rescues. It was true that I was blinded by a generator, but it was one big enough to power an entire laboratory, and Virgil's 'fuel tank' contained several hundred thousand gallons of fuel. It's why Father went home so early and why none of the rest of the family came to visit. Father's the chief of the outfit and his five sons are the core operatives. We each have our own Thunderbird craft."

"You're kidding," Don still didn't quite believe what he was hearing. "So what's that got to do with us? Surely you don't want Dusty heading out on rescues, risking her neck?"

"No. Nothing like that," Virgil stated.

Don stared at him. "How come you understood me?"

"This," Virgil indicated 'Brains' gizmo.' "We call this a 'Babelet.' It can be programmed for a number of different things. At the moment it's recording everything that is being said and translating it into a pitch that I can understand, via an ear piece," he tapped an ear. "I've heard most of your conversation."

"That's amazing!" Dusty said.

"There's another trick it can do," Virgil continued on. "Maybe if you talk to someone else you'll believe us." He pressed the Babelet in another couple of places. "Virgil calling base. Come in please."

A strange light came out of the Babelet and reflected onto his face. A familiar voice could be heard. "How's it going, Virgil?"

"Slight problem convincing them, Father. I thought we might need a bit of help."

"Let me talk to them."

Virgil reversed the Babelet so that it was facing Dusty and held it out to her.

She took it reluctantly. "Mr. Tracy!"

"Hello, Dusty. How are you?"

"F-Fine. H-How're you?"

"Can't complain, and no one would listen if I did. Have my boys told you that we're International Rescue?"

"Yes... You really are?"

"I know it's hard to believe, but yes we really are, for better or for worse. You can understand why I'm sure Scott insisted on secrecy?"

"Yes I can."

"Good. Have they explained what we'd like you to do?"

"No."

"There's nothing to it really. We have a network of agents throughout the world. Some are highly specialised, but most just keep their ears and eyes open to hear if there's any possibility that someone could be trying to find out more about our organisation. You, both of you, carry on with your normal day to day life and report back to me if you hear anything suspicious."

"But why me?"

"Because we know you and we trust you. And because we currently have a vacancy in your area. The previous agent unfortunately died. I guess it wasn't unexpected though, he was 87 years old."

"And I don't have to do anything special?" Dusty asked doubtfully.

"No. We'll have to install some communications equipment in your home, but that's all. Unless you want further training..."

"What kind of communications equipment?" Don asked.

"Oh, sorry, Mr. Tracy. This is my husband Don," Dusty adjusted the angle of the Babelet so that Don could see Jeff Tracy more clearly.

"Nice to meet you at last, Don. Sorry I'm not there in person, but Virgil's on leave and could be excused, and Scott wanted to see what the place was like and meet everyone again. Someone's got to stay behind and mind the fort," Jeff grinned. "Don't worry about the equipment. You won't have wires and electronics cluttering up the place. I guarantee you won't even know it's there until you need it."

"I don't know what to say," Dusty said.

"Think about it. Scott'll give you something so you can contact us when you've made a decision. In the meantime I'll leave you all to enjoy your afternoon."

"Thank you, Mr. Tracy," Dusty said.

"No. Thank you for what you've already done to help my family." The Babelet went grey.

Dusty handed it back to Virgil. "This is amazing."

Scott was ferreting about in a hamper. "It's not in here. Is it in yours, Virg?" He looked at his brother. "Virgil?"

"Hmmn? Pardon?" Virgil looked at the Babelet. "Hang on..." he grinned. "Dusty turned it off." He winked at her and pushed at the Babelet in a couple of places.

"Sorry," she said.

"That's okay. Easily done... That's better. Now what did you say, Scott?"

"Have you got Dusty's communication device in your hamper?"

Virgil looked. "Here it is." He pulled out a teaspoon with a crest on the handle.

"Are you sure that's it?" Scott asked. "It looks like a real one?"

"Of course it looks like a real one," Virgil said a trifle testily. "That's the whole idea."

"No, I mean it looks the same as the others we've been using."

"Here," Virgil sighed and handed it over to his brother. "Check it."

Scott did so. "Oh yeah, that's it."

"I don't know why you didn't believe me. There's nothing wrong with my eyes."

"Sorry, Virg."

Virgil grinned at him.

"All you do," Scott lent over the table so he could show Dusty and Don, and then decided it would be easier to actually squat down between them, "when you want to contact base, is twist the crest a quarter turn clockwise." He did so. "Hiya, John."

Johns face appeared in the bowl of the spoon. "Hi, Scott. Watchya doing?"

"Introducing Dusty and Don to the wonders of Brains' technology. This is the second oldest in the Tracy brothers line up, and our space monitor on board Thunderbird Five... John."

"Hello, John," Dusty said a trifle nervously.

"Nice to meet you, Dusty. I've heard a lot about you."

"So when you want to contact us, you get hold of John like this and he'll put you through to base. See you later, John." Scott twisted the crest again and gave the spoon to Dusty. "Okay?"

"I think so," she took the spoon and placed it carefully into her handbag. Then she looked at her watch. "This has been a very... interesting afternoon gentleman, but I've got to get back. I've got a session in quarter of an hour."

"And you can't keep your clients waiting," Scott smiled. "No telling what they'll break."

All this time Virgil had been drawing busily on his sketchpad. He ripped off the top sheet and handed it to Don. "There. I think that's a bit better than the last one."

Don took the drawing. It was of him and Dusty together. Don looked at it. "Man you're good!"

"Thanks."

"Thank you, Virgil," Dusty said. "Do you want to have a look around the facility again before you leave? Your old room's currently vacant. And you'd both better say goodbye to the admin team before you leave. You've got quite a fan club there."

The Tracys laughed embarrassedly. "Yeah, I guess we'd better," Scott said sheepishly.

"You know, Virgil," Dusty continued on hopefully. "Sereena's unattached."

He hit his ear lightly. "Funny. I think my hearing's just gone again. I didn't hear that."

Eighty Five

"What are you doing?" Scott asked as he wandered into Virgil's room.

"Just finishing this painting off. I'll be glad to be done with it."

"Then why don't you leave it?"

"I don't know. I have a feeling that I should finish it."

"Virgil?" Scott asked. "Why did you spell danger with a lowercase d and a capital R?"

"Where?" Virgil asked absently as he concentrated on the artwork.

"In your painting."

"I haven't," Virgil frowned in confusion.

"Yes you have."

"It's my painting. I should know what I've put in it and I haven't written danger anywhere... in anything... for days... maybe even months."

"But it's in your painting!" Scott protested. "I can see it in the mirror."

"That's quite a narcissistic tendency you've developed there, Scott. Always looking in mirrors..."

"I wasn't looking at my reflection. I was looking at your painting. You wouldn't let me otherwise."

"That's because everyone considers themselves to be a critic and always think they can improve on what I'm doing before I've finished it."

"I don't do that!"

"Are you kidding?" Virgil laughed. "You're one of the worst. You're already doing it with this painting. Face it, Scott, you're a control freak!"

"That still doesn't explain why you've painted the word danger with a lowercase d and a capital R."

"I haven't!" Virgil repeated in exasperation.

"Look!" Scott grabbed him by the arm and pulled him so he could also look in the mirror. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Virgil looked at the reflection of the painting and his face sagged in disbelief. Without a word he walked back over to his easel and pushed the button that would allow it to rotate so that Scott could see it.

Scott's face looked equally bemused as he examined the painting.

Two birds of prey, one with his eyes blindfolded, the other with its ears bandaged were flying into a pit in the ground. From the pit fire and smoke billowed, obliterating the background. An arrow pointed into the pit. On the arrow was printed a single word...

Regnad.

"I never realised," Virgil stared at the word. "I never even thought..."

"Regnad is danger backwards," Scott frowned. "If I'd known I would have steered well clear."

"No you wouldn't."

"You're right," Scott gave a wry smile. "I wouldn't. Neither of us would have."

Jeff Tracy came to the door. "I'm glad you're both here. I want a word with you in my room."

"Now?" Scott asked.

"Now."

Scott and Virgil looked at each other and shrugged. Virgil slipped off his smock and hung it on its hook. He took one last wondering look at the painting and followed his brother out of his room.

Jeff was looking out the window when they got there. There was a cardboard box on his bed.

Scott recognised it.

Virgil didn't. "What's up, Father?"

"How's your hearing, Virgil? Can you hear me okay?" Jeff sat in a chair so his bed was between the three of them.

"It's fine. The tinnitus has almost gone and Brains' last test showed my hearing's nearly back to what it was before the accident."

"Good. I don't want any misunderstandings. Close the door, will you? Then you both may as well sit down."

Mystified Virgil complied.

"I owe you boys some apologies. I'll start with you, Virgil. Well, I guess it's really to both of you. The night before you started getting your hearing back I decided that I wanted a midnight snack." He gave a self-conscious smile. "I'm quite partial to your grandmother's chocolate cake myself. When I heard the piano I stopped to listen. When I realised it was you playing I had to stay and find out what was going on."

"How much did you hear?" Scott asked.

"Let's just say that I won't tell your brothers what it means when you two want chocolate cake."

"Oh," Scott said quietly. "I'd hoped you'd gone to bed when I told you to."

"You knew he was there?" Virgil was leaning forward, his forearms resting on his knees so that he was staring at the floor and not his father.

"He asked if you were okay."

"No. Actually I asked if everything was all right. Call me a nosey old man if you like, but I was worried about my sons. I wanted to be there if either of them needed my help."

"So you heard everything?" Virgil asked the floor.

Jeff nodded. "I'm sorry. I had no right to listen to your private conversation. I wished I hadn't afterwards... I didn't get any sleep that night.... I was trying to decide my best course of action. Say nothing and pretend I didn't know what was going on? Talk to Brains? Talk to either or both of you?"

"What did you decide?" Scott asked.

"I chickened out. I decided to wait 24 hours and then decide. You've no idea how relieved I was that I didn't have to make that decision."

Virgil was silent.

"You may notice that, despite your fears, I'm still alive, though I will admit to feeling sick when I heard what you had to say. It's true that I worry about you all. But I still wish you'd talked to me... How long did you think you could keep something like that secret?" Jeff asked them both.

Scott looked at Virgil. "As long as was necessary," he said determinedly.

"A secret like that could have done as much damage to International Rescue and this family as any of the scenarios you put forward."

"We did what we thought was best... for everyone," Scott was still the spokesman. "If we'd told you, what would you have done?"

"I haven't fully thought about it. I don't really know. At least the three of you wouldn't have had to shoulder the burden alone."

"I know Brains was relieved when I talked to him the following morning," Scott said. "He kept putting forward theories and hypotheses. I didn't understand most of it, I think he was just relieved to get it off his chest."

"I know," Jeff stated. "He told me when I went and thanked him for being loyal."

Virgil finally looked up. "You thanked him?"

Jeff nodded. "After it was apparent that you were getting your hearing back, I thanked him. I didn't want him thinking he'd been disloyal to me, or International Rescue."

Virgil sat back. "I'm sorry. It seemed to be the only course of action. I didn't like doing it, but I couldn't see any other option. I wasn't even going to tell Scott, but after we'd started talking it seemed impossible to stop."

"Good stuff that chocolate cake," Scott said ironically. "Cures all ills."

Jeff smiled and then cleared his throat. "Second apology! And this is to you, Scott."

"Me!"

"You may not even remember, but I've felt guilty about this all along... Do you remember...? When you were in rehabilitation... That day..."

"Yes?" Scott prompted, confused.

"It was after..." Jeff hesitated, looking at Virgil.

"What I think he's trying to say," Virgil stated. "After lunch on the day you told me you hated me, I rang home. I was talking to Father when you came into the room. We didn't tell you he was still on the line." Jeff nodded in agreement.

"And heard everything we said?" Scott hazarded.

"Yes," Jeff said. "I'm sorry."

"I remember," Scott said. "I remember everything about that day, worst luck. But I don't think we said anything too serious did we."

Virgil shook his head. "No. You apologised and asked me to forgive you. And at the time I was unable to."

"Pity we didn't have the chocolate cake then," Scott opined. "We could have saved a lot of problems if we'd talked straight away."

Jeff agreed silently, before he continued on uneasily. "Also, Scott, there's something else you're unaware of... That week I stayed with you... At night I left the door open between our suites so that I could hear you if you needed a hand..."

He paused, unsure how to proceed.

The room was quiet. Scott stared at his hands.

"I'm a terrible father!" Jeff said suddenly. "My son was going through the worst time in his life, and I couldn't even find the courage to offer him comfort. I could hear you crying and I didn't know what to do. So I ignored you! Just like I did with Virgil's problem that night!" Angrily he stood and strode back to the window to look out into the bright sunshine.

"Don't you ever say you're a terrible father!" Scott said almost as angrily. "I have never thought that, and I never will. Even if you had've come into my room I probably would have pushed you away. I didn't want to be comforted. I wanted to be cured. And no one could do that for me... I thought!"

"But perhaps I could have made those first days easier... let you know that I did care... that I did want to help, and then... then... then maybe you wouldn't have needed to... act the way you did."

"I knew you cared. But if I'd known you knew that I'd... I probably would have been that embarrassed even Butch wouldn't have got me out from under those covers."

Virgil looked at him "You can be a self conscious idiot at times, Scott," he said lightly. "I'll bet you weren't the first person in that place to feel out of control. And you certainly won't be the last."

"I know that now. But at that point my world was disintegrating and I was clinging to the one bit of self-esteem that I had left."

Virgil gave a sad smile. "I can relate to that."

Scott looked back at his father. "Sit down... please."

"Yes, relax, Father. Neither of us think any less of you than we did before. If anything, the fact that you are telling us this makes me think more highly of you," Virgil added.

Jeff eyed them both before moving from the window. But he didn't sit down. "You might change your mind in a moment. Third apology! And this one's to you again, Virgil." He indicated the cardboard box. "This is yours."

"Mine?" Virgil looked at the unfamiliar box.

"I ask that you don't blame Scott. I'm sure that he would have done what you asked, only I told him not to. If you want to get angry, get angry at me."

Virgil was beginning to get an idea of what the box contained. He stood and walked over to it. "This is a different box."

"We thought we'd play it safe and Scott destroyed the box but not the contents."

"So you've seen what was in there," Virgil said quietly.

"Yes," his father told him.

"Sorry, Virg. But once I knew I couldn't destroy them."

Virgil opened the box and took out the top certificate. "Thank you," he said gratefully. "Both of you."

Scott smiled in relief.

"Do me a favour, Virgil," Jeff said. "Frame some of those and put them on your wall. Be proud of them."

"You know," Virgil took a few more out, "I might just do that." He lifted out some more and then froze. "So you've seen everything that's in here?"

"Uh, yeah," Scott said embarrassedly.

Virgil removed the paintings. "I haven't looked at most of these in years. I'd paint one, and then shove it away out of sight with the others." He screwed up his face. "Some of these are pretty terrible!"

"I don't know," Scott was looking over his shoulder. "I like that one." He pointed at the drawing Virgil had done when he was five. "You've really caught her likeness."

"The memory was freshest then," Virgil said seriously.

"So," Scott asked lightly, "are you doing one for her this year?"

"I've already finished it." Virgil admitted.

"Really? It wasn't in the box," Jeff stated.

"No. It was a bit different this time, so I decided to honour her memory by giving it to someone else." Virgil looked at Scott.

"That one you gave me?" Scott asked faintly.

Virgil nodded.

"Gosh... thanks..." was all Scott could manage.

Virgil replaced the paintings and certificates. "I guess I'll take these back to my room." He picked up the box and gave his father an ironic grin. "That's unless there's anything else you want to talk about? Any other secrets that should be out in the open?"

Jeff gave a chuckle shook his head. "Now where have I heard that before? No, that's all I have to say. Thank you both for listening and for being understanding."

They moved for the door.

"Boys!" Jeff suddenly said. "I'm calling another meeting this evening. Please, this time, don't go for a walk beforehand."

"Okay."

"Message received."

Eighty Six

Scott and Virgil were sitting on the patio looking out over the setting sun, listening to the waves on the beach. They were waiting for the time for the meeting to arrive.

"It's been ages since we've both been able to enjoy this," Scott said. "Mmmn." Scott looked at Virgil. "Penny for your thoughts."

"Huh? What's that about Penny?"

Scott gave a mock sigh. "I don't know. You've finally got your hearing back and you're not even listening to me!"

"Sorry. I've been thinking."

"That's dangerous."

"There's five of us Tracy boys..."

"Have you only just worked that out?" Despite the impending meeting Scott was in a genial mood.

"...And five senses, right?"

"Right," Scott wondered where all this was heading.

"And you'd lost your sight, and I'd lost my hearing..."

"Yes..."

"So who's next?" Virgil asked seriously.

"What?"

"Three brothers. Three senses. Who's next?" At that moment Gordon came out to join them. He was holding his arm gingerly.

"What have you done to yourself?" Scott asked.

"I was watching a fascinating TV show on the Great Barrier Reef," Gordon said as he rubbed his arm carefully. "I got so caught up in it that I didn't realise that I was laying on my arm. It's gone numb! I can't feel a thing!"

Scott and Virgil smiled at each other. "Three down, two to go," Virgil said.

"What?" Gordon asked.

"Congratulations Gordon, you've just become a member of an exclusive club," Scott told him.

"What?" Gordon asked again and then grimaced. "It's not numb now. I'm getting a case of pins and needles that you wouldn't believe." He moved and then bit his lip against the pain. "What's this club?"

"The Senseless Tracy Club," Virgil told him.

"Huh?"

"Don't worry about it Gordon. Just stand there and ache." Scott levered himself out of the chair. "Come on. Time we prepared ourselves for this meeting."

They wandered into the lounge

"How the heck can you lose your sense of taste or smell...?" Virgil asked no one in particular. There was a sneeze behind them.

"Gesundheit," they heard Gordon say.

"Remind me to dank dat kid brudder of ours," John moaned. "We were only togeder den minutes when I came 'ome and 'e gives me a stweaming code." He blew his nose.

"Remind me to thank him too," Gordon said screwing up his nose. "You stink!"

"Id's Gwandma's code remedy."

"Guaranteed to cure any cold," she said cheerfully as he felt her grandson's forehead. "At least you don't have a fever."

"He still stinks," Gordon said obstinately.

"I'mb dot worried about dat," John said with a faint air of triumph. "I can'd smell id."

Once again Scott and Virgil smiled at each other "Four brothers down. One to go!" Virgil was starting to enjoy this game.

The chairs were drawn up in a semi-circle around Jeff's desk. They chose their seats at one end of the semi-circle. Gordon, moving cautiously, chose a seat beside them and then loudly insisted that John sit as far away from him as possible.

"Come here, Darling," Grandma Tracy patted the seat beside her. "You can sit next to me."

"Danks, Grandma. Ad least someone still loves me."

Tin-Tin came in. "Pooh! What's that smell?"

"John!" his three brothers chorused.

She sat next to Gordon.

Kyrano sat next to his daughter.

Brains drew the short straw and ended up sitting next to Grandma Tracy.

Alan came in. "I'm not well," he moaned. "I shouldn't be at this meeting."

"Rubbish!" his Grandmother informed him. "Your cold's almost gone."

"Only almost," Alan was in a black mood.

"For Pete's sake, Alan. It's only a cold. Anyone would think you were at deaths door," Scott scolded him.

"I think I am," he said mournfully. "Where am I sitting?"

"Next to John!" Gordon informed him. "The smell of his liniment will help your cold."

Alan screwed up his nose in distaste. "Thanks."

"How come you're both on Earth? If you ask me, anyone who gets a cold should be banished to Thunderbird Five," Gordon stated firmly. "Somewhere where the rest of us aren't affected by the stench of that liniment!"

Jeff Tracy was the last to arrive. "Mother! Couldn't you have fixed him up after dinner? I'm not going to feel like eating with that smell." He opened some windows even more.

"Who's going back up to Thunderbird Five after the meeting?" Grandma asked. "Neither of those two should fly in their condition."

"We'll worry about who's going to Thunderbird Five after the meeting," Jeff informed her.

Scott, Virgil, Gordon, Brains and Tin-Tin looked at each other uneasily.

Alan sneezed.

"Gesundheit," everyone said.

Everyone except John. "Serve you righd."

"Charming!" Alan griped. "I get no sympathy. I still can't taste anything," he continued to moan. "That's what I hate about colds. I lose my sense of taste for too long..."

Virgil started to laugh.

Everyone stared at him.

"Sorry," he tried to keep a straight face.

It didn't work.

He started laughing again.

"Virgil," Scott scolded him. "Behave." He gave a snort and sneezed himself.

"There!" Virgil said triumphantly. "You just did it!"

"Did what?" Scott asked in curiously.

"That snort-sneeze-laugh thing. I told you you did that!" Virgil was still laughing.

"I didn't!"

Gordon was smiling, as was the rest of the family. "Yes you did. You think that this, whatever this is, is funny!"

"Well... maybe..." Scott made the mistake of looking at Virgil.

They both cracked up.

"Boys. Settle down," Jeff said.

It didn't work.

In fact they laughed harder.

"Whad id fuddy?" John asked.

"You mean apart from the way you're talking," Virgil managed to gasp out. "Five down. Five members of the 'Senseless..."

"Don't say it!" Scott pleaded between laughs.

"You two are a worry!" Tin-Tin stated.

"Better than a fl..."

"Don't say it!" Tears of laughter were running down Virgil's face.

"I wish you guys would let us into the joke," Gordon frowned at them.

By now neither of them could speak.

"Boys! I want to get started on this meeting!" Jeff said sternly. "If you don't behave I'll separate you. One of you can sit next to John!"

"Danks!" John said indignantly. "Dow I'm a punishment!" He stood up. "I'mb goin' to wash id off!"

"Don't you dare!" his grandmother scolded him.

Scott and Virgil leant on each other for support, still laughing hysterically.

"John sit down!" Jeff ordered. "And you two stop laughing!"

Scott struggled to get himself under control. "Sorry," he said wiping the tears out of his eyes. "It's been a long year. And not always one where I've felt like laughing."

"You've no idea how good it is to hear laughter," Virgil added. "Even my own. I'm sorry," he cleared his throat, "I'm okay now."

Brains sighed. "At th-this rate, it'll be Christmas before we even g-get started."

"Christmas," Scott said wistfully. "I'll be able to see the lights this year. I really missed that..."

"Hear the Carols..." Virgil added.

"See my family unwrap their presents..."

"Quiet!" Jeff ordered, frowning at the pair of them.

"Sorry," Scott said. "We got carried away."

"We'll shut up," Virgil offered.

"Good!" Jeff said. "Because I want to discuss a serious matter. I want to discuss the future of International Rescue..."

Eighty Seven

"I want to discuss the future of International Rescue..."

The words had a sobering effect on them all. They sat quietly to listen to what was coming next.

"A few weeks ago I was going to shut International Rescue down... But then I realised that this shouldn't be my decision alone." Jeff cleared his throat. "I guess I don't need to tell you all why I want to have this discussion. The last eighteen months or so have been hard for this family... And I'm including you three," he indicated Brains, Tin-Tin and Kyrano with a sweep of his hand. "You are a part of this family and I don't ever want you to think otherwise... As I was saying, we've had events happen that have had far reaching effects on us all."

Everyone looked at Scott and Virgil.

They looked somewhat self-conscious.

"We can only count ourselves lucky that things haven't been worse. That, at long last, things have reverted to what we can loosely call normal. Everyone is fully functioning, fit and healthy..."

John sneezed.

"Gesundheit." Jeff continued on, "we all know that every time the team goes out on a rescue there's always going to be a chance that someone could be badly hurt or killed. We discussed this before we started operations, and I'm sure you've discussed it amongst yourselves since. We've had all too frightening reminders of what can possibly happen and I want us all to re-evaluate whether we continue with this venture.

"If we shut down International Rescue, it will obviously be a big upheaval for us all. There will be no need for us to continue to live on Tracy Island, so we may move back to the States. Everyone will have to decide what they want to do with their lives. We may split up and find ourselves living in totally different parts of the world away from each other. You would have the opportunity to live 'normal' lives, maybe getting the opportunity to experience the joys and grief that I've experienced over the last 34 years with you five boys.

"It's a lot to think about, which is why I don't want anyone to make their decision right now. Go for a walk, sleep on it, do whatever you do that helps you think... Take as long as you need... Then I'm going to ask everyone to vote in a secret ballot."

He sat back to see if there were any comments on his speech.

Everyone sat in stunned silence.

Jeff held up a Babelet. "I've set this up with the voting form. It's got three statements and I want each of you to think about and decide which statement you want to tick. Once everyone has voted then I'll collate them all and make my decision."

"What are the statements?" Alan asked quietly.

"Number one says: 'I believe International Rescue should continue.' Number two is: 'I believe International Rescue should continue, but I would like to change my role in the organisation.' Number three:" Jeff paused for a moment. "Number three: 'I believe International Rescue should be shut down.'"

There were murmurings from the group seated in front of him.

"The Babelet will stay in the theatre so that each voter is assured of privacy. Whenever you feel you've made your decision then please vote. But don't feel pressured into making your decision today. This is something that requires a lot of thought."

"What if someone votes for number two?" Gordon asked. "You'll have to know who that person is to find out what they want to do, or not do, as the case may be."

"I'll let you know once all the votes are in, and ask that person to make themselves known to me in private."

"Ad if someone vodes for dumber thwee?" John sniffed.

"It will depend on the number of votes I get. If it's only one person we'll have another meeting and discuss the option. If it's a majority..." Jeff's face held a grim expression, "I'll shut International Rescue down."

Outside a gull screeched.

Inside there was silence.

Scott cleared his throat. "I don't need to consider this. I already know how I'm going to vote. There's been times when I couldn't see myself doing anything BUT working for International Rescue. There were also times, when I was blind, that I wished I'd never heard of International Rescue." He picked up the Babelet and looked at the three questions. "I guess you could say that I, and Virgil, have been the worst affected over the past eighteen months, that International Rescue has affected our lives the most. And during that time I've often thought about this very question... should International Rescue continue? Did I want to continue? Did I want to risk another in my family going through what I went through? And... now that I've got my sight back again, do I want to risk my neck anymore...?" He made a tick. "There's my answer." He pushed the submit button and went to put the Babelet back on the desk.

Virgil held out his hand for it. "I've been sitting here wondering if maybe my hearing had gone funny again. Judging by everyone's faces I guess not." He looked at the words on the Babelet. "Like Scott I've often considered whether International Rescue should continue, especially while I was deaf. I've also considered what other roles I could have in the organisation." He looked at his family. "I would hate to go through another year like the one we've just had. It'd probably send me crazy." He gave a small smile as he made his tick and submitted his vote.

Gordon took the Babelet off him. "I know I'm a joker, that I don't always seem to take life seriously, but that's because I love life and want to enjoy it. Believe me, my hydrofoil accident gave me a respect for life that I didn't have in my earlier years. Every day I'm thankful that I'm still here, that I can walk and talk," he grinned, "and torment the rest of you. Before International Rescue started I thought long and hard about whether I wanted to be part of it, and since then, after every rescue I've revisited the same question." He made his mark.

"Push the scramble button will you, Gordon," Jeff instructed. "I want to keep the votes secret."

Tin-Tin looked at the Babelet. "Do you want us to vote too, Mr. Tracy?"

"Yes please, Tin-Tin. This is something that affects the whole family. But you don't have to now..."

She'd already taken the Babelet from Gordon's hands and cast her vote. "I know it's easier for me," she said. "I'm not out on rescues as often, so I'm not often in as much danger as the boys. I also know that should something happen to one of them, it would be like losing a brother. And I should hate that." She gave a shy smile and pushed the scramble button.

"May I, my daughter?" Kyrano took the Babelet. "Mr. Tracy. I am honoured that you consider me to be part of your family. I am also honoured that you respect me enough to take my thoughts and feelings into consideration. I love your boys, and Mister Brains, as if they were my own sons. Some of the pain you have felt this past year with Mister Scott's and Mister Virgil's disabilities I also have shared. I have often thought how I would feel should it be my Tin-Tin who was afflicted in a similar way. I have my opinions as to whether International Rescue should continue and I shall vote now." He placed his tick and pressed the submit button.

Amazed at the way his family were deciding so rapidly, Jeff watched as the Babelet passed into Brains' hands.

"Whenever I-I've conceived a new machine or device, I-I've tried to think of every contingency, to try and keep the operator and victim as safe as p-possible. I-I'm a genius, but even I can't keep International Rescue's operatives safe at all times, short of getting them to wear f-full body armour from the moment they step out of their Thunderbird, wh-which wouldn't be practical. I am aware that th-there is a possibility that one day, despite my best efforts, s-s-someone may be injured seriously while using something I've invented. It is a th-thought that hangs heavily on my mind." He voted as he said this, pushed the submit button and then scrambled the votes.

He went to put the Babelet on the desk but Mrs. Tracy stopped him. "Jeff. You are asking me to decide whether or not I'm going to agree to allow my grandsons to continue to risk their lives in order to help complete strangers?"

"That's right, Mother."

"Good." She placed her tick and stabbed at the submit button.

"Here, Gwandma," John took it from her and sniffed. "Mosd of you 'ave no idea 'ow frustrading id can be, being up in Dunderbird Five, lisdening do whad's happenin' down here, and nod being able to do anydin.' Especially when one of you is in twouble. How aware I am dat id wouldn' take much for me to be todally isolated from you all. One communication breakdown and I'd be stuck up in space alone." He coughed. "I know how I want to vote." He did, trying to stifle a sneeze in the process.

"Guess I'm lucky last," Alan took the Babelet. "If I wasn't involved with International Rescue I know exactly what I'd be doing, and who I'd be doing it with..." he looked at Tin-Tin out of the corner of his eye. "There are times when I really miss the thrill of the race, whether I was in front, or in the pits unable to go anywhere due to some malfunction, there was always the excitement of the sounds, the smells, the speed..." He placed his tick and submitted. "Whatever I do, I need that excitement."

"Push scramble please, Alan," Jeff instructed.

"Done!" Alan handed the Babelet to his father.

Jeff grasped the instrument. "I can't believe how quickly you've all voted. Does anyone wish to change their minds?" He looked at each individual carefully. They all shook their heads.

He stood. "Right. I'm going to pack. I'm going up to Thunderbird Five..."

"You!" he received a chorus from his family.

He smiled grimly. "Yes me! I want to experience first hand just what it's like up there before I place my vote. I'll stay there until Alan is fully recovered from his cold. The solitude will give me the peace I need to consider my decision, and also I'll be able to catch up on some of my Tracy Industries backlog."

"But, talking about Tracy Industries," Scott asked uneasily, "who's going to take care of business?"

"I will. Most of my meetings are done by video conferencing. The people I meet with have no idea where I'm based. I could be on Mars for all they would know."

"And if International Rescue gets a call out?" Gordon asked.

"I'll co-ordinate from Thunderbird Five."

"So we're still in operation then," Alan said.

"Until I've made my final decision, yes. Now, if you'll excuse me I'd better get packed. Scott and Gordon, will you both take me in Thunderbird Three? We'll leave in two hours." They nodded dumbly. "Sorry, Virgil. I'm not willing to trust your ears to space travel just yet."

"Uh, oh, that's okay," Virgil acknowledged dazedly.

Jeff held up the Babelet. "Last chance?"

No one took him up on the offer.

He put it under his arm and walked out of the lounge.

"Whew!" Scott rubbed his face. "That was a turn up for the books! I think I need some fresh air." He stood and walked out to the patio and then down the steps.

He'd reached the beach when he heard some steps behind him. "Hi, Virg."

Virgil fell into step beside him. "What did you put?"

"Do you need to ask?" Virgil smiled tightly. "No."

"Same goes for you, huh?"

"Uh huh."

"Wait up guys!" They heard Gordon's voice behind them. "What do you make of that?"

"What? Quitting International Rescue or going to Thunderbird Five?" Virgil asked.

"Both!"

Scott shrugged. "He's had a big fright over the past year... we all have."

"And Dunderbird Five?" John asked.

"He wanted to get away from your smell," Alan told him.

"Danks."

Gordon rotated his shoulders, feeling the tropical sun beating down through his shirt. "I can't imagine living anywhere else now."

"We won't know if we'll have to," Virgil stated. "The vote could go any way."

They were silent for moment.

Scott felt the need to do something vigorous, to feel alive. "Race you to the end of the beach."

"You're on!" Alan and Gordon were grinning; their old competitive instincts back to the fore.

"Nod me," John groaned. "I'll watch."

"You're getting old, Johnny," Gordon taunted him. "You'll just have to watch us beat the other old fellas."

"Old fellas!" Virgil exclaimed. "Right! You've got my dander up now! What's the course?"

"Here's the start," Scott drew a line in the sand, in line with where John was now sitting. "What say we go from here, around that log, and back? John, you can be the judge."

"Fine," John said. "I can manage dat. And Scott, you'd bedder win, jus' to deach dhe kids a lesson."

"I'll do my best, John."

"I thought he was the judge," Alan said. "That means you are supposed to be impartial."

"I am. I don' care who wins. Eider Scott or Virgil, I don' mind."

They lined up.

"Everyone ready?" John asked.

"Ready."

"Ready."

"Ready."

"Ready."

"Go!"

They were off in a spray of sand.

John coughed away the sand. "Danks guys!" he called after them.

Neck and neck they raced up the beach. The log was getting nearer. Scott lengthened his stride, put his hand on the log to assist his turn and started heading back.

Virgil moved marginally wider to ensure that he wasn't caught up with Scott's legs. This forced Alan and Gordon to move wider still, increasing the length they had to run.

Gordon tried to push Alan out of his way and managed to briefly get entangled with his younger brother. "Get out of my way!"

They were all back on the homeward straight.

John was on his feet. "Go, Scott! Go, Virgil!" he pulled his jersey off to use as a flag.

Alan and Gordon were gaining.

Scott and Virgil, faces set in determination, increased their speed.

"Go!"

At the sounds of yelling Jeff Tracy looked out his window. He grinned when he saw his sons racing together.

"C'mon, Virgil! C'mon, Scott!"

The finishing line was getting close.

So was the finish.

Scott threw himself over the line in the sand.

So did Virgil.

John excitedly waved his 'flag.' "The winners!"

"Yes!" Scott and Virgil high-fived each other and John.

"It wasn't a fair contest," Alan moaned. "I'm sick!"

"Then you shouldn't be racing should you," Virgil told him.

"And you got in my way, Alan!" Gordon said sulkily.

Scott put his arms condescendingly around his two youngest brothers shoulders. "Never mind, kiddos. One day you'll be big and strong like us."

"What say we challenge you to a swimming race?" Gordon asked.

"Are you kidding!" Virgil exclaimed. "With age and experience comes wisdom. You'd beat us all with your legs tied to the diving board."

"Go Kart race?" Alan offered.

Scott and Virgil started walking back down the beach shaking their heads. "No way! Come on, John. Lets go celebrate!"

"Scuba race?" Gordon called hopefully.

He received a dismissive wave by way of a reply.

"Bunch of big kids," Jeff said to himself.

"And you love them all." He started and turned when he heard the voice. His mother was standing there.

"Look at them!" Alan and Gordon had tackled their older brothers and now all five were wrestling in the sand. "They remind me of overgrown puppies... How often do the five of them get the opportunity to be all together and just have fun?" He turned back to the window. "I'd do anything to protect them."

"Even if that means forgoing your dreams? Shutting down International Rescue?" she asked.

"If that's what the majority want, yes."

"Why do I get the feeling that you've already decided how you're going to vote, Jeff. That you don't really need to go to Thunderbird Five to think about this?"

"Because I have made up my mind!"

"Are you going to tell me what you've decided?"

"No."

"It doesn't matter," she took his arm and looked out the window to where her Grandsons were tussling with each other. "I already know..."

Jeff smiled at her and then looked back out the window. His two youngest sons had clearly decided that his oldest needed to wash away the sand that now coated them all. They unceremoniously threw Scott into the pool.

Then they turned on Virgil.

The way he was backing away, hands held up defensively he was clearly advising them that his ears weren't ready to be immersed in water yet.

They backed him into a shed and shut the door, placing a chair in front to keep him there.

Laughing, John fell off the sun-lounger from where he'd been watching proceedings.

They turned on him.

He ran...

End

Scott buckled up the safety harness in the pilot's seat of Thunderbird One.

That had been an easy rescue, as rescues go. Maybe he'd take Thunderbird One for a burn on the way home, give her a chance to stretch her wings...

"Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two. Everyone set?"

"Nearly, Scott," his brother's voice sailed out of the radio. "We've got one more detail to take care of then we'll be heading off."

"Everyone in one piece?"

"Everyone's just fine. We've all got the required number of hands, feet, ears and eyes."

Another brother's voice came over the airwaves. "We're all shipshape and Bristol fashion, as Gordon might say..."

"No I mightened," Scott heard Gordon retort.

"Okay, I'm taking off now. I'll see you back at base."

"F-A-B, Scott. See you soon."

Virgil turned to his brothers. "Okay, Radio TB2 is about to go on air. Any requests?" He was in a buoyant mood.

"'Splitting Headache' by 'Severed Limb'?" Gordon asked cheerfully.

"Oh, no!" John groaned. "Not that. Do you know how often I have to hear that on Thunderbird Five? It's rubbish!"

"No it's not!" Gordon objected, "It's great!"

"And I don't have it in Thunderbird Two's computer," Virgil told him. "So you'll have to choose something else."

"Are you sure?" Gordon asked slyly.

"Why, what have you been up to?" Virgil asked warily as he ran through the music database. "Who said you could load your music onto my computer?!"

"I thought Thunderbird Two was mine for a while there. So I thought I could load whatever I liked."

"Well it's not yours. Why have you password protected it?"

"So you wouldn't try to delete it. C'mon, Virg. You said we could choose what we want. I want to hear that."

"Okay," Virgil said grudgingly. "Sorry, John. What do you want to hear?"

"Do you need to ask?" Gordon said with a mock groan.

"No. We've got time for one planet. Which one, John?"

"'Mars.' I feel like listening to 'Mars.'"

"Finally communicating with those Rock Snakes are you?" Gordon laughingly asked.

Virgil was scrolling through the database. "Holst... The Planets... 'Mars.' And I choose..." He entered his selection. "Are you both ready?"

He received twin affirmative murmurs. He set Thunderbird Two's VTOL jets into action.

Gordon's piece of 'music' started playing.

Virgil grimaced as he activated the radio. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird Five."

"Thunderbird Five. Go ahead, Virgil."

"We're leaving danger zone now, Alan."

"Good. Hey is that 'Splitting Headache' I can hear? Good choice, Gordon."

"Thanks."

"It's already giving me a splitting headache," John moaned.

"We'll get it out of the way and then we won't have to listen to it again," Virgil tried to reassure him.

"Don't know about that," Alan informed him. "It's top of the charts. I hear it at least once every five minutes on Thunderbird Five's radios."

"Brilliant," John said unenthusiastically. "Do you think it'll be out of the charts by the time I get back up there."

"Probably not!" Alan said brightly. "I'll leave you guys to your entertainment. Call me up when you're nearly home."

"Okay, Alan. Talk to you later. Out." Virgil disconnected the radio conversation. Then he groaned. "You know, I was hearing better sounds when I was deaf and could only hear the tinnitus!"

Gordon started singing along. "I want to die, my head is full of tacks, I've got a splitting headache from where you hit me with the axe."

John put his fingers in his ears.

Virgil could only tolerate it for the first verse and the chorus. He turned it off.

"Hey! You murdered it!" Gordon complained.

"It was a mercy killing," John assured him. "That guy was in pain."

"Sorry, Gordon. I couldn't concentrate on piloting Thunderbird Two and listen to that as well."

"The problem is that you guys are too old. You can't appreciate good music."

"I can," Virgil told him, "and that's not music. Good or otherwise. I'm still trying to work out precisely what it is."

Gordon started to sulk. "It's not fair! I'll have to listen to what you've chosen!"

"Bring your headset next time and you can listen to it to your hearts content," John suggested. "In the meantime Virgil and I have voted that we don't want to listen to that. You're outnumbered."

"You can't really like it, can you?" Virgil asked as he made a slight adjustment to Thunderbird Two's course. "There's no tune, the vocalist can't sing and they yell the same words over and over again. It's repetitious!"

"I'll bet they said the same thing about the 'Halleluiah Chorus,'" Gordon said petulantly. "Have you listened to its lyrics lately?"

"At least it has a tune."

"A repetitious one."

"Can we listen to 'Mars' now?" John asked, trying to prevent an argument.

"Okay, John." Virgil activated the computer again. "I'll be pleased to listen to that..."

Scott checked his computer. He was in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Miles from habitation and any human life. He grinned to himself and pulled back on the throttle.

Thunderbird One screamed skywards. He felt the g-forces build up before he reversed direction sending her spinning into a dive.

With a whoop of joy he straightened out before sending the craft into a barrel roll.

Once again he headed for the heavens, watching as the sky darkened from pale blue through darker shades, growing closer to Earth's upper atmosphere.

His ascent was topped with a parabolic arc and he briefly experienced the sensation of weightlessness, then he was accelerating back down towards the ocean below.

The white caps were just below his fuselage when he finally straightened out, skimming along the top of the waves.

"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird One."

"Thunderbird One!" Scott couldn't keep the smile out of his voice.

"You okay? I'm picking up some drastic altitude changes."

"Just playing, Alan. For once I'm enjoying myself."

"Why didn't you do that when I was with you?"

"What? When you were unconscious?"

"No I mean..." Alan realised that Scott was pulling his leg. "So you're glad to be back in the saddle!"

"You got it! Nothing like being in control of a plane, just being in control, and watching the world flash by..."

Jeff Tracy sat at his desk.

He was holding the Babelet.

He scrolled through the completed voting forms. Despite his desire to keep the results secret he still knew exactly how each member of the family had voted. He could tell by the manner in which the ticks had been placed.

Kyrano's tick was small and in the corner of the box, as if he were reticent about voting.

Tin-Tin's was a delicate, ladylike tick.

His mother's was strong, though slightly tremulous, a result of the arthritis that she refused to allow to beat her.

Brains had ticked his box twice. Even in the written form he stuttered.

Gordon had drawn a smiley face.

John's tick had skittered across the box, a result of him trying to hold back the sneeze.

Alan's had been done at speed - racing from one side of the box to the other.

Virgil had used his left hand, and as was his wont when ticking with his left hand, had done the tick backwards... with a flourish at the end.

Scott's was strong, sure, confident and in control.

Jeff looked at the last tick in the group. He knew who this one belonged to because it had been initialled.

J.T.

Jefferson Tracy.

He, he had to admit, was not surprised that each tick had been in the same box, each vote had been for the same result.

Each person had voted for the same thing.

I believe International Rescue should continue.

Jeff smiled and laid down the Babelet.

International Rescue would continue!

Thunderbirds Were Go!

Remember: Kindness is a language that the deaf can hear and the blind can see. Anon.

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