FAMILIAR STRANGERS by PURUPUSS RATED FRT

When something unexpected happens to one of the team, how will they all cope?

At the time that Closetfan was posting 'Funeral For a Brother' on fanfiction.net, quiller and I were having a conversation (as much of a conversation as you can have via email on different sides of the globe) and saying how it was one of those stories that you couldn't wait for the next chapter because it captured the imagination.

We also discussed how different authors would treat the same basic subject in totally different ways. I had my ideas and quiller had her own. Our ideas were not necessarily better, but totally different to Closetfan's treatment of the subject.

And we left it at that.

And then one day, I think it was a boring day at work, all of a sudden I had the outline for a complete story. Based on the basic premise of Closetfan's tale, but still different. Well when you get inspiration like that your muse won't let go until you've got it down on 'paper', so here it is.

I've deliberately not re-read 'Funeral for a Brother' so that Closetfan's story won't influence me, but having said that I'm not denying that elements of it may have stuck in my subconscious and I may have felt they were good enough to be used again. If that has happened, my apologies, Closetfan, and please consider it to be a compliment. 'Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.'

Thanks to quiller and Calliope for their help and ideas.

Of course I can't lay claim to anything directly related to Thunderbirds, other people have that pleasure, but I am grateful to all those involved with its conception and execution 40 years ago. They've given me, and others who write fan fiction, a wonderful, mind stimulating hobby.

On with the story...

One

Gordon looked out of the windscreen of the Excavator. The surrounding terrain seemed so brown and lifeless. On the surface the destruction appeared to be complete.

It wasn't until rescue organisations had arrived on the scene that it became obvious that somehow, miraculously, people had survived.

In this part of the world, people had little. They lived how they could and where they could. In this particular settlement, where they could had been on the top of a cliff. A cliff that appeared to have been made entirely of mud and clay.

This rainy season had hit fast and it had hit hard. The ground had little time to absorb the deluges that had poured onto it day after day. The mud that made up the cliff had become sodden and unstable until one day, only yesterday; it had been unable to withstand the pressures any longer. It had collapsed into the valley below, taking over half of the town with it. A nearby river had been dammed and diverted its course, so now it ran alongside the unstable hillside, eroding it away. Not only had half the town lost its homes and lives, the remaining houses were sitting on a ticking time bomb. The residents who had survived would have to suffer the distress of not only losing their family, friends, and neighbours. They would be losing their homes as well.

People, who had been going about their normal, mundane routines, had suddenly found themselves sliding helplessly down the hillside. Some had been buried in the mud and rock that had once supported them. Others, miraculously, had survived. It was these that International Rescue had spent the last 36 hours trying to save.

Other rescue organisations were on hand as well, cleaning up the dirty, battered bodies of the locals who had survived, and arranging the disposal of those who hadn't.

As Gordon watched an obviously full body bag being carried into a tent that was being used as a mortuary, he felt an intense sense of sadness for those who had lost their lives so quickly and cruelly. But it would have been worse for those who had remained alive when that great mass of earth had ceased its downward movement. For those who were trapped it meant a long, slow, agonising death. Unless rescuers, such as International Rescue, were able to get to them first.

It was the fact that International Rescue was able to help a good many of these people that kept Gordon in this game; that kept him from only seeing the death and destruction.

International Rescue had done all it could, but Scott had just radioed in saying that their high-tech scanners weren't picking up any more life signs from the vicinity of that great pile of mud, rock and debris.

"It doesn't seem right, does it," Gordon said to his brother. "We come in, rescue those we can and then leave, leaving the hard clean up jobs to everyone else. I feel guilty sometimes."

"I know what you mean," Scott agreed. "But we can't hang around here any longer than we have to. We might be needed somewhere else in the world within the next 24 hours, and we've got to be ready. And it's not only our equipment that we've got to prepare is it? It's us as well. You sound as tired as I feel. It's not as if we've got another team to take our place."

"There's always Alan, Tin-Tin, Grandma and Kyrano," Gordon suggested flippantly. "I can picture Grandma at the controls of Thunderbird Two."

Scott chuckled. "Try suggesting that to Virgil. There's no way he'd let Grandma anywhere near Two's pilot seat..." He paused briefly. "On a more serious note..."

"Yep, Scott."

"Can you clear the road out of here for the authorities? Once that's smoothed down, we'll pack up. Virgil's on his way back from his last trip now."

"F-A-B."

Scott changed frequency. "How far out are you, Virgil?"

His brother was sounding as tired as the rest of them. He'd made at least 30 flights in the last 36 hours. "About five minutes, Scott. Have you got any more for me?"

"No. That's it. I've got Gordon tidying up the road a bit. Once he's finished that you can load the Excavator up and head home."

"Okay. In that case, once I'm down I'll give you a hand packing away Mobile Control."

Scott appreciated the offer. Mobile Control was mobile in the same way that the earliest portable computers were less portable and more luggable. The unit had it's own transportation unit, but that worked best on flat, even surfaces. On terrain such as he was looking at now, Mobile Control seemed to get a mind of its own and it was always a struggle for one man to steer it back to Thunderbird One. With two it was relatively easy.

Virgil remembered something. "Remind me, when we get home, to talk to Brains about designing a smaller ambulance style aircraft."

"Why? Wasn't Thunderbird Two up to the task?" Scott asked, knowing his brother wouldn't be able to resist a bite.

"No, she's handling like a dream, as she always does," Virgil replied a trifle curtly. "But I've got to admit that for a couple of patients, she's a little more plane than we need. Especially when the car parks are full. I think that a smaller craft, with VTOL capabilities, one that could fit inside the pod, and that could carry, say four or so beds, would be ideal in situations like the one we've just had."

Scott had to agree. When International Rescue had initially arrived on the scene he'd put Virgil and Thunderbird Two into immediate service as an air ambulance. For those injured, a quick flight was infinitely preferable to a long, bumpy drive on almost non-existent roads.

The first few flights had been hectic and full. Thunderbird Two would no sooner touch down when Scott would be marshalling the next wave onboard, eager to get them to full medical treatment. As time had gone by, fewer and fewer patients had required the emergency airlift. Virgil's last trip had transported only two patients – the last surviving victim of the mudslide and a member of the Red Cross who'd fallen and broken a leg.

"How would you carry a plane?" Scott asked. "The Excavator takes up a lot of room."

"I was thinking that maybe we could suspend it from the roof of the pod," Virgil suggested. "What do you reckon?"

Scott thought for a moment. "The idea's got possibilities..."

"I don't know why I'm mentioning it to you though," Virgil said. "You'll only forget. If it's not to do with Thunderbird One, you've got a memory like a sieve."

"Well yours can't be that good if you're asking me to remind you about Thunderbird Two," Scott replied genially. "Why don't you tie a piece of string around your finger. At least then you'll remember that you've got to remember..."

"Hang on, Scott," Virgil interrupted.

"What's up?" Scott caught the serious tone in his brother's voice and reverted back into business mode.

"I don't know. I thought I saw something on the cliff face. I'm going to try to get a better look."

In the distance Scott could see Thunderbird Two lose altitude and go into a hover.

"No. It's no good. I can't get close enough to see," Virgil said in frustration.

"What do you think it is?"

"Could be anything. Probably nothing."

"But you want to check it out anyway?"

"Uh, huh. I'll have to land to get a closer look."

"F-A-B. Let me know if you need help. I won't knock down Mobile Control until I get the all clear from you."

As he watched Thunderbird Two land close to the slip, Scott knew that it was more than idle curiosity that had caused Virgil to want to investigate whatever it was on the cliff.

'Gut instinct'. There was nothing scientific about it, but as they'd spent more and more time in the rescue business, it was something they'd all developed and come to rely on. It was the thing that when all your instrumentation told you you should be going left, would tell you to go right. In that situation, nine times out of ten, right was the way to go.

Five minutes later Scott had a call from Gordon. "How far do you want me to clear?"

"How far have you gone?"

"I've reached the road... if you can call it a road."

"Well, short of laying concrete all the way to the city, that's the best you'll going to be able to do. Pack it away, Gordon."

"F-A-B."

Ten minutes later and Gordon was back at Mobile Control. "It's going to be a hang of a job cleaning the Excavator."

"A bit muddy is it?"

"Yep." Gordon examined his oldest brother critically. On this rescue Scott had spent most of his time at Mobile Control directing proceedings, with occasional excursions to assist with digging that required more finesse than the Excavator could achieve.

To an outsider the Rescue Co-ordinator's role may have seemed to be the cushy job, but Gordon knew that during the last 36 hours many life and death decisions had been placed in Scott's lap. Scott was the best person Gordon knew at making these decisions, but even he would feel the strain of holding people's lives in his hands after 36 hours.

Scott looked drained and Gordon said as much.

"Thanks! And so do you!" Scott said in mock indignation before managing a tired smile. "Virgil sounded like you look and I feel. It'll be good for us all to get home..." His smile dissolved into a frown. "I would have thought he would have reported in by now..."

As if in response Mobile Control sounded a communication alert.

"Speak of the devil," Gordon said.

Scott picked up his microphone. "Go ahead, Virgil."

They were both shocked to hear an anguished cry from the speakers of Mobile Control.

"Virgil!" Scott yelled into the mike in alarm. "Virgil! Can you hear me?"

There was no reply.

"That was Virgil, wasn't it?" Gordon asked urgently.

"Something's wrong." Scott didn't wait for an acknowledgement, instead he slammed down the button which locked Mobile Control and headed off at a run, with Gordon at his heels, to where he knew his brother had last been seen.

Scott was the first to arrive at a huge mountain of muddy debris. Ignoring the dirt that was spraying up onto his uniform, he quickly skirted it, hearing Gordon's footsteps slosh through the mud behind him.

"What's happened?" Gordon panted.

"Dunno."

Together they ran around a boulder.

Together they skidded to a halt.

Ahead of them lay a muddy figure.

It was lying deathly still.

"Not him is it," Gordon gasped.

"Don't think so. You keep looking." Scott ran over to where the figure was lying. He heard Gordon run up behind him. "What are you doing?"

"I had to be sure."

"Well it's not," with typical speed, Scott had already ascertained the situation. He'd decided no matter how much he needed to keep searching for his brother, there were some things that shouldn't be delegated. "Keep looking," he told Gordon.

"Right," Gordon grunted and continued the search.

Scott felt a lump form in his throat as he looked down at the still figure. Sometimes he hated his job.

The way her body lay battered and broken and her hazel eyes gazed sightlessly at nothing, he knew she was past all help. Despite the futility of the gesture he searched for a pulse in her throat.

He was not surprised that there was no sign of life.

The little girl couldn't be more than nine. The way her body was still warm told him that death was very recent.

Sadly he pushed a curl off her face and then closed her eyes.

"Can I help?" a voice asked.

"No," he said quietly, still looking at the young face. "There's nothing we can do."

"Are you a doctor?"

"No. But I've seen enough death to know what it looks like!" It came out angrily and he instantly felt ashamed of himself. The punch bag in the gym at home would be getting a workout tonight. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to sound like that."

"It's okay. Do you mind if I give an official opinion?"

"I don't mind. I'd be happy if you found me wrong." Scott rubbed his eyes wearily and heard the other person crouch down and begin their examination.

"What happened?" the doctor asked.

"I guess she fell." Scott stood and looked up at the top of the cliff. It was easier to rein in his emotions that way. From here he could see the edges of some dwellings that had only just managed to avoid falling with the others. "Maybe she wanted to see what was happening, and she got too close to the edge. Lucky she didn't fall into the river, we'd never have found her," he indicated where a muddy mass of water surged past between where they were standing and the cliff face.

"Yes... I'm afraid your diagnosis was correct."

Finally Scott looked at the voice's owner. It was a woman about his own age, with a Red Cross/Crescent insignia on her lapel. He was sure that the sadness he saw in her eyes was mirrored his own.

"Maria!" There was a scream from behind them. "Maria!" Ignoring the two adults who stood beside, a weather-beaten woman ran up and pulled the child into her arms. "Maria," she sobbed again and rattled off something incoherent in her own tongue.

The doctor said something in soothing tones in reply.

"Her mother?" Scott asked.

"Yes," the doctor confirmed quietly.

Scott felt he should say something comforting to the distraught woman, but realised he didn't know the appropriate words to say, in any language.

His wristwatch telecom started beeping and he suddenly remembered their initial quest. "Have you found him?"

"Looks like it. He's unconscious."

"Do what you can. Activate your homer. I'll get help." Scott looked anxiously at the doctor. "Are you free at the moment?"

"Yes," she replied in puzzlement.

"Good! Follow me. We may need your help." At a run he left the mother, still holding her daughter close, still wailing and rocking her distress. His watch dial had changed into a direction finder and it was homing into Gordon's signal.

The doctor followed as closely as she could.

Gordon crouched by his brother's side. Reassuringly Virgil stirred. "Virgil? Can you hear me? You're going to be okay." He began his examination, still talking, still trying to reassure his injured sibling. "Everything's going to be fine, Virgil."

He stopped talking when he heard footsteps. "Scott! We're over here!"

His eldest brother surged into view, slightly out of breath from the long run over uneven terrain. "How is he? Virgil? Are you okay?"

"He seems to be flicking in and out of consciousness. Apart from that I can't find anything majorly wrong."

Deciding that Gordon was doing all that could be done at the moment, Scott stood back and checked that the doctor was still coming. He took in the scene. Virgil was lying on his back a short way up the side of the slip. From the grazes on his hands and face, mud on his uniform and the freshly dislodged earth above him it appeared that he had fallen from higher up the landslide.

Gordon had clearly come to that conclusion too as he was readying a neck brace.

Scott gestured urgently to the doctor and then returned to his prone brother's side. "There's a doctor coming," he said gruffly.

Gordon glanced at him briefly. He knew that tone of voice. It meant that Scott was starting to feel that things were slipping out of his control. It had been a tough 36 hours for Scott... then there'd been that little girl... Gordon had known as soon as he'd seen her that she was dead... and now Virgil. When Scott sounded like that, to strangers he sounded cold, unfeeling, and officious. To his family it meant that a mask had been dropped over his emotions and he was to be supported as much as possible. "He'll be okay, Scott. If he can survive being shot out of the sky by a USN ship, he can survive a tumble down a mud heap."

Scott grunted a reply as the doctor arrived. She took in the patient's uniform. Her eyes compared the 'hand across the world' badge on his yellow sash with the logo on the neck brace. "He's a member of your team? What happened?"

"We don't know," Scott said.

"We're assuming he fell," Gordon supplied. "I can't find any evidence of any injuries. The brace is just a precaution."

"Good. What's his name?" She noted that the two International Rescue men hesitated. "No need for full name, rank and serial number. His first name will do."

"Virgil," Scott supplied.

"Okay, Virgil, lets see what's wrong with you." The doctor made a quick, efficient examination of her own. "You International Rescue agents know your stuff. I'd agree with your diagnosis, but I'd like to check him out more fully back in the field hospital."

"Gordon! Go get the hoverbike and stretcher!" Scott ordered.

"Okay... I'll be back soon, Virgil," Gordon said reassuringly. "Don't go anywhere..."

"Gordon! Go!" Scott barked.

"I don't like the way he keeps on losing consciousness," the doctor said as they waited.

"What does that mean?" Scott asked.

"We won't know until a full examination has been made," she shrugged. "And I doubt I've got the equipment to do that."

"Can he be flown? Is he stable?"

"I'll confirm that back at the hospital. I suppose you've got better facilities back at your base."

Scott nodded, his eyes on the pale face of his brother who was showing signs of reawakening.

A humming sound in the distance, growing louder, alerted them to the fact that Gordon was arriving on a hoverbike, towing a hover-stretcher behind him. He pulled up so the stretcher was parallel to Virgil, and jumped off his 'bike. "Any change?"

"He's maintaining consciousness," the doctor informed him.

"Good. We'll have you complaining about me flying Thunderbird Two home yet, Virgil," he said cheerfully.

"Gordon! Concentrate!" Scott ordered.

Gordon winked at the doctor, who was having trouble working out these two men, and helped Scott get the stretcher set up and Virgil moved onto it.

With great care they transferred him to the carriage behind the hoverbike and strapped him in. The hover-stretcher was a bivalve shell design with the top hinged section made out of a tinted, transparent material. They closed it over their stricken brother.

"Helps reduce dust and mud," Gordon explained to the doctor. "There's an oxygen feed, so he'll get plenty of air."

"You drive, Gordon," Scott instructed. "Doctor. You sit behind him. You can hang onto the backrest. I'll sit behind you and keep an eye on Virgil."

"Okay?" Gordon queried as the doctor looked slightly alarmed at the orders she was receiving. "Don't mind him. His bite is worse than his bark. He's worried."

How worried Scott was, was evidenced by the fact that he made no comment on his brother's statement.

The ride back to the field hospital was rapid and smooth. Throughout the entire journey Scott's eyes didn't leave the occupant of the stretcher.

The doctor clung nervously to the back of Gordon's seat. She was glad when they arrived. Now it was her turn to take control. "Bring him inside," she instructed.

Soon Virgil was lying on an examination bed inside the tent. The doctor made a more thorough examination, removing the neck brace and returning it to Gordon. "As long as he takes it easy he shouldn't need that."

Eventually she finished and walked over to where Scott and Gordon were standing anxiously off to one side. "There's no visible sign of anything wrong..." She hesitated. "Is he normally this quiet?"

The Tracy brothers glanced at each other nervously. They'd noticed that Virgil hadn't spoken since he'd regained consciousness. "Not this quiet, no," Scott replied.

"I see," the doctor's face betrayed none of her thoughts. "Maybe he needs to see a couple of friendly faces. See if you can get him to talk."

Willingly they hurried over to the bed. Scott remained on the left while Gordon scooted around to Virgil's right.

"How do you feel, Virgil?" Scott asked.

Virgil turned his head so he was looking at his brother but said nothing.

"What happened, Virgil?" Gordon enquired.

Virgil shifted his gaze back to his younger brother and remained mute.

"Virgil?" Scott said, concern starting to spill into his voice.

"Come on, Virgil. This silent treatment is almost frightening," Gordon tried to sound light-hearted and failed.

The silent treatment continued.

Gordon looked at Scott. Their eyes met briefly and carried the message of concern that they both felt.

"Please say something, Virgil," Scott pleaded.

Virgil looked back at Scott and finally broke his silence...

"Who are you?"

Two

"Who are you?"

Scott felt his mouth go dry at his brother's words. "What?"

Gordon gave an uneasy laugh. "I know I've got a sick sense of humour, Virgil. But even I don't think this is funny."

Virgil wasn't laughing has he moved his gaze to Gordon. He frowned. "Who are you?" he repeated.

Once again Scott and Gordon looked at each other. This time their concern was clear to anyone who was looking at them.

"Let me in there." The doctor gently eased Scott out of his seat so she could see Virgil better. "What's your name?" she asked quietly.

Virgil thought for a moment. "Virgil?" he said uncertainly.

"That's right," she replied with a reassuring smile.

"He's just heard it about 100 times," Scott interjected.

The doctor ignored him. "Do you know what day it is?"

"N-No."

The doctor tried again. "Do you know where you are?"

"No. Where am I?"

"In a hospital."

"Why are the walls made of cloth?"

"It's a field hospital, Virgil." The doctor had one last attempt. "Who do you work for?"

Virgil bit his lip and shook his head.

"Oh, heck," Gordon sat back. "What's happened to him?"

"I don't know," the doctor admitted. "I'm into mud and blood medicine, not neurology."

"Can you remember anything?" Scott was leaning over the doctor's shoulder.

"N-No. Sorry. What's my last name?"

"Uh," Scott looked anxiously at the doctor and cursed International Rescue's need for secrecy. "I can't tell you now. Later, when we're alone."

"Why?" Virgil asked, bewildered.

The doctor turned to Scott, and he took a step back to give her room. "I'd like to give him another examination, if you'll both excuse me."

"Uh. Yeah. Okay," Scott stammered and he followed Gordon back to their place at the side of the tent.

"What's happened?" Gordon hissed.

"I don't know," Scott admitted. "Could you see any injuries?"

"No head ones, apart from the grazes. Do you think it's amnesia?"

"Seems like it," Scott grimaced. "Look. Once he's got the all clear to go home, I'll take off and bring Alan back. You do what you can to get him comfortable in Thunderbird Two and then Alan can sit with him while you fly home. Are you happy with that?"

"Suits me. I'd be happier if it were Virgil piloting Thunderbird Two though."

"You and me both," Scott agreed. He turned quickly when Gordon nudged him. "Doctor?"

"I'm sorry," she started with. "I don't have the proper medical equipment here to make a full diagnosis."

"But it looks like amnesia?" Gordon asked.

"I would assume so. Hopefully it's only temporary. I'd suggest shipping him off to the nearest hospital, but whatever treatment your organisation can get him is bound to be better than what they can. Do you want to take him home?"

"We were discussing that," Scott told her. "I'm going to fly back to base to pick up a relief pilot. We'll shift Virgil into the sickbay of Thunderbird Two and Gordon will stay with him until we get back. That way he won't be left alone for too long."

"There's only three of you here?" she asked incredulously. "I'd assumed there would be a small army."

"No, ma'am. Only us three," Gordon told her.

"Amazing..." she said reflectively, "and you've done so much..." she shook herself out of her reverie. "That sounds like a good plan... Keep talking to him," she told Gordon. "Tell him things he should know. About his family, background, and work. Try to jog his memory. Tell him things you couldn't tell him with me here," she gave a wry grin.

He managed one in return. "Looks like Virgil's the ultimate secret keeper at the moment."

"Gordon!" Scott scolded, sickened by the idea.

"Well!" Gordon said indignantly. "Are you going or not?"

"Yeah," Scott said. He walked back to Virgil's bedside. "I'm leaving, Virgil," he told the patient. "I've told Gordon to look after you. They're going to shift you into Thunderbird Two."

"Thunderbird Two?"

"It's, ah, she's," Scott felt as if his throat was clamping shut. "You tell him, Gordon. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"F-A-B."

Gordon and the Doctor got Virgil safely into Thunderbird Two's sickbay. Once she was convinced her patient was safe the Doctor stood back and surveyed her surroundings, taking in the sterile conditions and high tech equipment. "Wow. This place makes the tent look like a fleapit. I can see he's in good hands."

"Oh, yes," Gordon said confidently. "We take care of all our patients. And if that patient happens to be one of our own he gets five star service all the way."

"I can believe it." The Doctor looked at her watch. "I'd like to stay and see what I can do to help, but I've got to see about ensuring the survivors are going to be okay. You know, check sanitary arrangements, that kind of thing. I'd better be going."

"I'll show you out," Gordon offered. "I'll only be a minute, Virgil. Don't worry."

"Goodbye, Virgil," the Doctor said softly. "I hope things work out for you."

"Thank you," Virgil said. The words came out more as a croak than as recognisable speech.

"You're welcome," she replied, with a comforting smile.

Gordon showed her to the door.

They were at the hatch leading from Thunderbird Two to the outside world, when she stopped. She felt in a pocket. "Look. I know how your organisation feels about secrecy, but if it's at all possible I'd like to know how he gets on." She produced a card, which she gave to Gordon. "My email address is on there. If you're allowed, will you contact me?"

"I can't see any problems with that." He took the card and looked at the name on it - Doctor Kershaw. He suddenly realised that up to that point he hadn't known her name. "I only hope I can give you good news."

"I do too. International Rescue has helped so many people today, it doesn't seem fair..." There was a shout from the vicinity of one of the tents and they could see someone being assisted inside. "I'd better go."

"Thank you," Gordon said sincerely. He gave her a quick wave goodbye and hurried back to the sick bay. "That wasn't too long, was it?" He said, trying to sound cheerful. "Now we'll have to wait. It'll take Scott about an hour to get back. Then Alan can sit with you and I'll fly us home."

"Scott won't fly with us?" Virgil asked.

"If you want him to he'd probably gladly stay with you."

"No! You won't let him, will you... Gordon?"

"You don't want Scott?" Gordon couldn't understand this attitude.

"Can't you stay with me?" Virgil asked plaintively.

"Me?"

Virgil nodded.

"But I'm your co-pilot..." Gordon started to say, then something clicked in his brain. "Better the devil you know than the devil you don't, huh. Even if you think you don't know me that well. Okay. I don't mind. In the meantime we'd better start on the doctor's prescription. What can I tell you?"

"Who am I?" Virgil asked anxiously. "You say my first name's Virgil, but what's my last name?"

"Tracy."

"Tracy?"

"Yes. Your name is Virgil Tracy."

"Why couldn't you tell me before?"

"Because you belong to... we belong to... you, Scott and I belong to International Rescue..."

"International Rescue? What's that?"

"We're an organisation that rescues people. If anyone is in danger, anywhere in the world, we can usually rescue them. But our equipment is top-secret. If some bad guy got his hands on it he could cause a lot of harm to a lot of people. So we don't tell people who we are and where we live."

"Where do we live?"

"On Tracy Island, in the South Pacific Ocean."

"Tracy Island?" Virgil recognised the name.

"Yep. There's Scott, John, you, me and Alan. We're International Rescue. Our father is International Rescue's Commander."

"Our father?"

Gordon nodded. "That's right, Virgil. I'm your brother."

"You're my..." the realisation appeared to hit Virgil hard.

"Are you okay?" Gordon asked worriedly.

Virgil was staring at him as if he were something from out of space. "My brother?"

Just under an hour had passed.

A light flashed simultaneously with a buzzer.

"There's the doorbell," Gordon said cheerfully. "I'd better go put the welcome mat out." He hesitated. "Will you be okay here alone for a couple of minutes?"

Virgil nodded slowly.

"I won't be long," Gordon promised. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yes."

Gordon met Alan just inside the access way to Thunderbird Two. "Where's Scott?"

"Packing up Mobile Control. He wants to be able to check up on Virgil and then head straight home... How is Virgil?"

Gordon shook his head. "No change. He knows more than he did before, but only because I've been yammering away for the last hour."

"What have you told him?"

"Oh, about the family. A bit of our background. His education. International Rescue. I was going to start telling him about some of our rescues on the way home..."

Alan nodded.

"I've also told him that your hobbies are flower arranging and tapestry work, and that Scott is a homicidal maniac that we let out for good behaviour."

"Gordon! You didn't!" Alan was annoyed. "This is serious. You realise he'll probably believe you!"

"Of course I didn't," Gordon said in irritation. "It was a joke! Credit me with more sense than that, Alan." He turned angrily on his younger brother. "Do you know how hard this last hour has been? I've been rabbiting on about our family and his life to someone who should know more about it than I do! I've had to tell him about things that he already knows! I've had to repeat that he's got four brothers and that you and I are the youngest at least 10 times!"

"Oh," Alan said abashedly. "Sorry."

Gordon sighed in regret. "It's okay, Alan. Sorry I yelled at you. I guess the shock's starting to hit me. I keep hoping it's a nightmare and I'm going to wake up soon."

They reached the door to the sick-bay. "Gordon?" Alan said slowly. "D'ya think we could swing it that you'll fly Thunderbird Two and I'll take One home?"

"Why?"

"Because that was not one of Scott's better flights. I think he'd be happier sitting here with Virgil."

"He might be, but I don't know that Virgil would. I promised him that I'd make you fly Two and I'd stay with him."

"And he agreed to that?"

"Yeah. Frightening isn't it. Not like the Virgil we know."

"Sounds like even Virgil doesn't know the Virgil we know," Alan said sombrely.

"Do you think Scott will be okay flying Thunderbird One?" Gordon asked in concern.

"I would think so, he's just got other things on his mind. You know Dad was all set to come back with us? He would've if Scott had stayed on the dirt long enough. I barely had enough time to board myself." Alan looked in askance at the door. "Do you think it's wise for me to see him now? Maybe it'd be better if I waited until we got home."

"Don't you want to see him?"

"I don't want to see him like this."

"Alan," Gordon said sympathetically. "You're going to have to face this now. Maybe it'll be the catalyst he'll need to come right. If you wait he'll be facing you along with most of our family. He's frightened enough as it is, don't force him to meet a whole group of people he doesn't even remember."

"I don't think I ever remember seeing Virgil frightened," Alan said quietly.

"Me neither. But he is now. And I've left him alone too long. Are you coming?"

"I guess I've got no choice have I."

"Sorry, Alan. I think it'll be for the best. Are you ready?" Gordon asked.

"Can you ever be ready to be re-introduced to your brother?" Alan replied.

"I would doubt it," Gordon told him. "Come on."

The door to the sickbay slid back.

Gordon plastered a smile onto his face and re-entered the room. "How's it going, Virgil?" He looked back to where his other brother was hesitating in the hallway. "Come on!" he mouthed.

Alan took a deep breath to steady his nerves and forced himself into the room. "Hiya, Virgil." He stopped just inside the door.

Gordon grabbed Alan by the sleeve, pulling him closer to the cot. "Do you know who this is?"

Virgil looked at Alan, frowned, and shook his head.

Alan felt as if his stomach had dropped through the floor of Thunderbird Two. "I'm Alan."

"A-Alan?"

"That's right," Gordon nodded helpfully. "Remember I told you about Alan."

"He's the youngest?"

"That's right," Gordon said reassuringly. "What else can you remember?"

"He's going to fly us home?"

"That's right, Virgil," Alan nodded vigorously. Too vigorously. "Once Scott's been in to see you again, we'll head home and you can see the rest of the family."

"Scott." And both his brothers caught a hint of dismay in Virgil's voice.

As if on cue, Scott entered the room. "Any change?"

"No," Gordon replied.

Scott leant on the end of the bed. "How're you feeling, Virgil?"

"Okay," Virgil said uneasily.

"We were telling him that we'd head home once you'd seen him," Alan gabbled. "He knows I'm going to fly Thunderbird Two and Gordon's going to sit with him."

Scott frowned. He looked at Virgil in concern. He could see the fear in his eyes. He came to a decision. "Alan. How about you flying Thunderbird One, and Gordon can take Thunderbird Two. I'll stay here with Virgil."

Alan and Gordon glanced at each other uneasily.

Virgil tensed up.

"Ah, we were discussing that," Gordon began.

"And we don't think it's a good idea," Alan added quickly.

Scott redirected his frown to the two youngest. "Why?"

"Um... ah..." Alan stuttered.

"You're a better pilot than Alan," Gordon began.

Eager to make as little fuss as possible, Alan agreed.

"You'll get more speed out of Thunderbird One," Gordon continued on. "You'll get home ages before we do, and you can explain the situation to everyone. You know more about it than Alan does."

"Yes! That's right!" Alan was nodding vigorously again.

"And you can take Virgil's medical notes. It'll give Brains plenty of time to examine them before he sees Virgil." Gordon held out the slim folder to Scott.

Scott looked at him curiously, before taking the folder. "Well... I guess that makes sense... Are you okay with this, Virgil?"

Virgil relaxed and managed a small nod.

"Okay..." Scott made a reluctant move to the door. "I guess we'd better get cracking... Can I do anything before I leave."

Gordon sensed Virgil tense up again. "No, everything's fine, Scott. Get going and we'll see you at home."

"Okay," Scott repeated. He hesitated at the door. "You'll be okay, Virgil. Alan's a good pilot and Gordon will take care of you." He smiled an uncertain smile and left.

Eager to escape, Alan followed him closely. "We'll be taking off in five minutes," he called over his shoulder.

Gordon started storing things away in preparation for the flight. Then he began to strap Virgil into the cot.

"What are you doing?"

Gordon stopped and looked at Virgil. "Putting your safety harness on."

"Is that necessary? Isn't he... Alan? Isn't he any good?"

Gordon grinned. "That sounds more like the Virgil we know and love. You're never happy letting anyone else fly your plane. Alan's a good pilot. You're in safe hands." He double-checked Virgil's harness, before sitting in a neighbouring seat and doing up his own safety harness.

"Then why do we have to be strapped in?"

"Standard safety practise. Just in case there's a malfunction."

"Malfunction?"

"Relax. You've got nothing to worry about. It's a precautionary measure."

"Flight Deck to Sickbay." Virgil jumped when Alan's voice appeared out of nowhere.

Gordon patted him reassuringly on the arm. "Go ahead, Alan."

"Are you ready for lift-off?"

"We're ready down here."

"Okay. I'm requesting clearance and then we're heading home."

Gordon kept on talking to Virgil during the launch. Trying to keep him calm. He could see that his brother was becoming more and more jumpy. He started telling him about International Rescue's first rescue...

"Gordon?"

"Yeah, Virgil?"

"Would you mind if you didn't tell me anything else new at the moment? My head hurts."

Gordon undid his own safety harness and shifted his position so he was sitting on the edge of Virgil's bed. "Sure. Not a problem. I'll stay here, and if you have any questions you can ask me. Okay?"

"Okay." Virgil closed his eyes. He lay still, trying to pretend that he was sleeping. Sleep! How could he sleep when his mind was whirling with so many unanswered questions and facts that seemed to merge into one another, none of them really making any sense?

At least his headache had nearly gone.

Who were these people? Three of them said they knew him. The woman had seemed to be nice, but hadn't appeared to know him at all.

Who were the men?

His brothers?

Gordon: Virgil decided that he quite liked Gordon. He had an easy smile that Virgil found comforting. He was friendly and reassuring with an air that eventually everything would be okay. He felt he could trust Gordon.

Alan: Seemed to be little more than a teenager, though Virgil supposed he must be older than that. Had Gordon mentioned an age? Virgil thought so, but couldn't remember. Alan had seemed to be almost frightened, an emotion Virgil could currently relate to very well. Once Alan ceased to be frightened perhaps he could like Alan.

Scott: He wasn't sure about Scott. Obviously the oldest, with a domineering attitude. Officious was the word to describe Scott. A bit too fond of ordering his brothers about for Virgil's liking...

Brothers? These were his brothers? And wasn't there another?

And they were all part of some secret organisation... Virgil didn't like the sound of this. Why the secrecy? Because some 'bad guys' might get hold of their equipment? What was so special about a few planes...?

Gordon sat there in silence, a worried frown on his face. He hadn't enjoyed this last hour. He hadn't enjoyed it one bit! How would the rest of his family react? Alan had possibly given an indication. Uncertainty coupled with a certain amount of fear.

If Virgil's condition wasn't temporary, then this was going to place a large strain on all the family. Gordon looked at his brother who appeared to be trying to sleep. Never mind the family, what was it like for Virgil? What was it like to suddenly realise that you had no idea who you were and who the people were around you? What did it feel like to be told that you had a large family that you had absolutely no recollection of? How did it feel to be told that you were part of a secret organisation, and that no one knew precisely what had happened to you to make you lose your memory?

Gordon's musings were halted when Virgil opened his eyes.

"Gordon?"

"Yes?"

"What did you mean by 'my plane'?"

"Huh?" Gordon scratched his head as he tried to recall previous conversations.

"You said that I wasn't happy letting someone else fly my plane."

"Oh!" Gordon understood. "I guess, technically speaking, none of the Thunderbird craft belongs to any one individual. But each of us Tracy boys has a particular craft that we're in charge of and we've come to think of that craft as being our own. For instance, mine is Thunderbird Four."

"Thunderbird Four," Virgil frowned in thought. "Was that the space ship?"

"No, that's Thunderbird Three. That's Alan's."

"The transporter?"

"No, that's this one. Thunderbird Two. Thunderbird Four is the submarine. Thunderbird Two carries it in its pod. I'm an aquanaut."

"Aquanaut," Virgil tried the word out.

"Yep. You and Scott are pilots. John and Alan are astronauts. And Scott helps co-pilot Thunderbird Three."

"Scott," Virgil repeated. "He's... bossy isn't he?"

Gordon laughed. "He can be. But that's his job when we're on a rescue. He's the Rescue Co-ordinator. If he sounded a little terse it's because he's had a tough couple of days with this last rescue."

Virgil didn't look convinced.

"Trust me. Right now Scott's worried sick about you... We all are."

Virgil shifted uncomfortably. "Am I going to get my memory back?"

"I don't know. We don't know what's wrong. We don't know how far you fell, or how hard. The field hospital didn't have the right equipment to do a proper examination. Once we get home Brains'll check you over."

"Brains," Virgil frowned in thought again. "He's the engineer?"

"Bingo. Give the man a prize!" Gordon said gleefully.

"Then why's he going to 'check me over'?"

"He's got a medical degree as well. There's not much he doesn't know about."

"Do you think he can fix this?" Virgil tapped his head.

Gordon hesitated before answering. "I don't know, Virgil. This is something new to all of us. I don't know if he'll have the answers." Then he gave a reassuring smile. "But you can rest assured that he's not going to be happy until he finds one. If Brains can't fix you, no one can." Gordon sounded confident, but for once in his life he did not have complete faith in Brains' abilities.

Three

Scott Tracy sat at the controls of Thunderbird One. His body was on automatic pilot as his brain tried to make sense of what had happened back at the disaster zone.

What had happened to Virgil? What had caused his amnesia? And, more importantly, what was the cure?

Scott had had a quick flick through Virgil's medical file that they'd been given by Doctor Kershaw. He knew her name as it was lettered neatly at the beginning of the document. There wasn't a lot else that the papers had told him. No visible sign of any major injuries. Vital signs were normal. Everything was normal...

Everything except this inexplicable memory loss.

Another thing was worrying Scott. The way his brother had looked at him back in Thunderbird Two. Scott wasn't sure what that expression was, but he knew one thing...

Virgil wasn't happy to see him.

Gordon and Alan seemed to have a better idea of what Virgil was feeling. They'd talked glibly and they'd talked fast.

They'd talked him out of staying with Virgil.

Why?

They must have known that he'd willingly relinquish control of Thunderbird One in order to sit with his injured brother.

It was a family joke how close the pair of them were. Someone was always commenting on the almost telepathic bond the pair of them had.

Scott didn't know about telepathy, but he did know that he knew Virgil better than any of his other brothers.

And now Virgil didn't know him at all. He didn't know himself either.

The thought sent a cold shiver down Scott's spine.

A proximity alarm told him he was nearing Tracy Island. In no time he'd reduced speed, rotated the rocket plane to the vertical and slid her home into the swimming pool. He took his time prepping Thunderbird One for her next flight though, unwilling to face his family and explain to them how little he knew.

It was going to seem an age before Thunderbird Two would arrive home.

As the peak of Tracy Island filled the cockpit windows of Thunderbird Two Alan could see the Tracy Villa. Figures were standing on the patio watching him come into land. He counted five people before the scene slipped out of view behind the cliff face.

He'd taken extra care on this flight. Like his brothers he knew how to pilot each machine in International Rescue's fleet, but he didn't have the experience in Thunderbird Two that he did in his own Thunderbird Three. While not unfamiliar, the placement of the controls of this plane were not as ingrained into his brain as those of the spaceship.

Despite the care he'd taken he'd still occasionally found himself losing concentration as he'd thought about his brother in the sickbay behind him.

Amnesia! That couldn't be right, could it? Virgil had amnesia?

Then Alan would remember the blank look that Virgil had given him. The look of absolute fear as his brother had realised that here was another stranger... One that he'd been told he should know.

Alan shook himself. He'd lost concentration again. This wasn't the time to do that, ten metres above the ground. He pushed his worries into the background and safely bought Thunderbird Two down to Earth. Following the laser guidance system he reversed the great plane back into her hangar.

The door to the hangar slid shut, hiding away its precious treasure.

Alan turned on the intercom microphone.

"We're here."

In the sickbay Gordon and Virgil heard the announcement.

Gordon undid his safety harness and stood up. "There you are. That wasn't too bad was it?" He started unbuckling Virgil's harness. "Here, sit up... take it slowly."

Virgil complied.

"You're shaking! Are you cold?"

Virgil shook his head. No he wasn't cold. He felt sick.

Sick with fear.

Gordon sat back down in his seat so that he was at Virgil's eye level. "We'll take our time, okay. We won't leave until you're feeling ready. I've got plenty of time, there's no rush."

"Thank you," Virgil managed to say.

"Just remember that everyone here is your friend. There's only ten people on the island. We all want to help you."

Virgil nodded an acknowledgement.

"Do you want to ask any questions?"

"No."

"Can you remember everyone's names?"

"Yes."

"Don't worry. You'll soon be able to put names to the faces. And with any luck, seeing everyone will bring your memory back."

The thought bought a hopeful gleam to Virgil's eye.

There was a knock on the door and Virgil appeared to shrink visibly.

Gordon suddenly felt annoyed. He was trying to take things slowly and let Virgil proceed at his own pace. Probably Alan had got impatient that they hadn't left the sickbay yet. "Hang on," he said. "I'll go see who that is."

Virgil rubbed his sweating palms on the blanket that he wore about his shoulders and listened anxiously as Gordon answered the door.

"Oh!" Gordon sounded surprised. "It's you! I thought it'd be Alan."

A deeper, older voice answered. "No. I thought I should see him alone before we re-introduce him to the rest of the family." There was a pause. "Any improvement?"

"No," Gordon replied.

"How was the trip?"

"Uneventful. Do you want to come in?"

There was the sound of footsteps before the door slid shut.

Gordon was the first back into view. "Virgil," he said uncertainly as an older man with greying hair and sombre eyes followed him in. "Do you know who this is?"

Virgil looked at the stranger, who shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. He saw Gordon lay a reassuring hand on the stranger's shoulder. "No."

This one word had an effect on Gordon, who swallowed hard and appeared to suddenly find the top corner of the room very interesting.

"You don't know me, Virgil?" The stranger's voice was strong, but underneath Virgil could detect a tremor of disbelief.

"No... I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault," the stranger told him. "... I'm your father."

Virgil looked at him blankly. "My father?"

Gordon nodded as Jeff replied. "That's right, Virgil. I'm your father. I'm Jeff Tracy."

"Oh." A quiet exclamation escaped Virgil's lips.

"Gordon," Jeff turned to the redhead. "Perhaps you'll give Virgil and me a few minutes alone."

Gordon glanced at Virgil before replying. "Yes, Sir," he said. "I'll only be in the corridor, Virgil," and he gave Jeff's shoulder a comforting squeeze before departing the room.

Jeff sat on a seat on the far side of the room.

Gordon escaped to the hallway and leant against the wall trying to regain a sense of equilibrium.

He'd been there for about five minutes when Alan arrived. "Any change?"

"No."

"Oh, heck."

"Yes," Gordon agreed.

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing, Alan." Gordon wearily passed his hand over his face and sighed.

"How are you?" Alan asked with genuine concern.

Gordon couldn't think of a word that would adequately explain what his feelings were, so merely shrugged.

Jeff came out of the medical room. He looked a trifle pale. "It's a strange sensation isn't it, talking with someone you know intimately, but they don't know you."

"Tell me about it," Gordon agreed. "I'd better get back in there."

"Hang on, Gordon," Jeff stopped him. "I've told Virgil what we're going to do. When he's ready, you and I'll take him up straight to the infirmary. Brains can check him over first. Once he's finished his examination, if necessary, we'll introduce Virgil to the rest of the family."

Scott strode up the hallway. "You're all still here? How is he?"

"No change," Gordon said succinctly.

"Scott. Alan. Take Thunderbird Three and go and get John," Jeff ordered. "Bring him back here. Virgil should meet all his brothers."

They nodded their agreement.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll see how he's getting on." Gordon slipped back into the sickbay. Scott looked after him as if he wished he could follow.

"Get going, Son," Jeff said gently.

"Come on, Scott," Alan tugged at his brother's sleeve. "The sooner we're there, the sooner we'll be back."

"Okay, Alan," Scott agreed reluctantly. He looked back at the sickbay door longingly. "Tell him..." he started to say, and then shrugged. "Tell him we'll be back soon."

"I will, Son. Get Tin-Tin to talk you through the launch."

"F-A-B," Alan replied.

Tin-Tin met them with the inevitable "How is he?"

They replied with the inevitable "No change."

"We're to go get John," Alan told her.

"I know," she admitted. "Your father asked me to help with the launch."

The two men took their seats on the couch.

Alan looked down at his uniform. "At least I don't have to worry about getting changed, right, Scott?"

Scott appeared to have woken from a dream. "Huh? What's that, Alan?"

Alan gave Tin-Tin an 'oh brother!' look. "Nothing. Don't worry about it," he replied. "Send us down, Tin-Tin."

She said a soft "F-A-B" and they slid downwards out of sight.

When they reached the lounge bay in Thunderbird Three Alan stood. "Buckle up! ..."

No response.

"Scott! Are you listening?" Alan touched his brother on the shoulder.

"Uh. Sorry, Alan. I was thinking."

"He'll be okay. Can you imagine Virgil giving in to this? He'll probably have a good night's sleep and wake up as good as new. Now buckle up!"

Scott gave him a wry grin. "Yeah... You're right. Just as well someone's got his wits about him. I'll see you shortly."

It wasn't until Thunderbird Three was powering out of Earth's gravitational pull that the two brothers came together again.

"Have you spoken to John?" Scott asked.

"Yep. He's packed and waiting. He's already got Thunderbird Five switched onto automatic transmission."

"I hope we're not going to be needed for a while. Whatever happens this is going to take the family some time to get over."

Alan agreed.

They were silent for a moment.

"It was so weird," Scott suddenly said. "He hadn't said anything... I was starting to get worried... And then he looks at me and the first thing he says to me is 'Who are you?' ... Who are you! I've known him all his life!"

"I know, Scott," Alan said quietly.

"And he didn't know me!"

"I know," Alan repeated.

"You could have bowled me over with a feather!"

"I'll bet."

Scott bit his thumbnail reflectively. Then he looked up. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why didn't you and Gordon want me to stay with him?"

Alan pretended to check Thunderbird Three's controls as he gave himself time to think. "It wasn't that WE didn't want you to stay with him..."

"Yes?"

"I think it was more that... Gordon felt that Virgil was... more comfortable with him at that point. He'd had an hour to get to know him. How long had he 'known' you for?"

"Maybe five minutes in total."

"See. He'd been talking with Gordon for an hour. I guess that when you suddenly don't know anyone an hour must seem like a lifetime."

"Why didn't you tell me this? Why spin me all that blarney about me being a better pilot?"

Alan sought to move off the topic somewhat. "Does that mean you think I'm better?" he gave his most engaging grin.

"No it doesn't," Scott growled. "And don't change the subject."

"We didn't want to upset Virgil and... I guess we didn't want to hurt your feelings," Alan said lamely.

"I thought you knew me better than that."

"I thought you'd be glad," Alan admitted. "I didn't want to stay, I wanted to get out of there. I didn't care if I was flying Thunderbird One or Two just as long as I didn't have to stay with Virgil in the sickbay."

Scott looked at Alan with mild disgust. "You would have left your own brother alone?"

"He wasn't alone! Gordon was willing to stay... All right I'll admit it. I didn't want to face him. I was scared of what he was like. Gordon had to pull me into the room to say hello. I was glad it was Gordon staying with him. I didn't think I could cope."

"You would have left him? I thought you had more guts than that. I would have willingly stayed! And I would've if you and Gordon hadn't conspired against me." Scott folded his arms angrily and swung around in his seat so his back was to Alan.

"Try to understand, Scott," Alan pleaded. "We did it for Virgil!"

"Yeah, right," Scott said sarcastically.

"I would have felt the same if it had've been any of you guys. You've been there all my life... to have one of you not know me..."

"Shut up, Alan," Scott said.

"Scott..."

"Shut up," Scott repeated.

"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird Three..."

Alan was relieved to hear John's voice. "Go ahead, John."

"I've got you guys on my scanners. You've made good time."

Apart from essential conversation the docking procedure was made in almost total silence.

John noticed the uncomfortable atmosphere when he boarded and felt a surge of alarm. "What's wrong? Is there something I haven't been told!"

"I've been told more than I wanted to hear," Scott snapped. "You can co-pilot, John. I'll be on the passenger deck."

"What?" John watched his departing back open mouthed. "What's with him? Is Virgil alright?"

"He's fine. Apart from the amnesia he's fine," Alan reassured him.

"Then what's with Scott?"

Alan felt his face burning. "I told him that Virgil didn't want him to sit with him."

"You did what!"

"Well Gordon thought that Virgil would have preferred that he stayed with him. After all he'd kinda got to know Gordon. He didn't have that long with Scott."

"Is that what's upset Scott?"

"That... and I told him that I was relieved that I didn't have to stay with Virgil on the flight home," Alan said shamefully.

John rolled his eyes. "And you're surprised Scott's annoyed with you."

"Tell me, John. Are you happy about your upcoming reunion?"

"With Virgil?"

"Yes."

John thought for a moment. "I can't say I'm looking forward to it. I don't know what to expect."

"I didn't either. He looks like he always did, except that he's frightened. It sounds like him... Not that he said much."

"And you ran away?"

"Don't you start," Alan said testily. "I've just had the lecture from Scott."

"Well, what did you expect, Alan. You know how close those two are. Scott's thinking of Virgil. Rightly or wrongly he thinks he could have helped. You're only thinking of yourself."

"Are you sure Scott's not doing that? Are you sure his pride isn't hurt because someone else was looking out for Virgil for a change?"

"Forget Scott and forget yourself for a moment. Think of what Virgil's going through. Try to imagine what it's like for him. I've been thinking of nothing else while waiting for you guys."

"I have been thinking about that!" Alan snapped. "I spent the entire flight home in Thunderbird Two thinking about that. And I can't begin to imagine what it's like. Why does that suddenly make me the villain? I'm trying to be honest and I'm being treated as if it's a crime!"

John held up his hand in a gesture of peace. "Okay, Alan. I'm sorry. I guess we're all on edge over what's happened. Let's get your 'bird underway then I'll go and talk to Scott."

"Right." The undocking procedure proceeded smoothly.

John took the lift down to the passenger deck. The door slid back to reveal Scott seated on the lounge couch gazing at nothing. He didn't acknowledge John's entrance.

John sat down and looked at his brother. "Hey!" he tapped Scott lightly on the leg. "Talk to me."

Scott looked at him dully. "About what."

"About what happened."

"I don't know what happened. He was fine. Maybe a bit tired, we all were, but fine. He was flying Thunderbird Two and he thought he saw something, so he went to check it out. About ¼ hour later he contacted Mobile Control. I went to answer and he said nothing. Just yelled. This awful yell."

"Was he in pain?"

"I don't think so. More like terror... or horror."

"Why?"

"I don't know. We found him unconscious near the bottom of the mudslide. He'd regained consciousness by the time we got him back to the field hospital. The doctor couldn't find anything wrong."

"How'd you discover that he had amnesia?"

"He was quiet the entire time he was conscious. Didn't say a word. Gordon and I were trying to get him to talk and then he looks at me..." Scott turned a pained expression to John, "... and asked me who I was."

"Can he remember anything?"

Scott gave a bitter laugh. "You'd better ask Gordon. I haven't been allowed near him."

"Come on, Scott. You know them better than that. They're thinking of Virgil..."

"Alan's thinking about himself."

"No he's not, not totally... I've just tried to explain to him things from your point of view, and now

I'm going to explain to you Alan's... and to some extent mine."

"Yours!"

"Think about it, Scott. None of us have come across anything like this before. If he'd been injured we'd be able to deal with it. There'd be something we could focus on. If he had amnesia due to a head injury, we'd concentrate on the fact that once the head injury was healed he'd be okay. Heck, if he was dying I'd be sitting here feeling utterly miserable, and trying to think of everything that I wanted to say to him before he went. But this is different. You've told me that there is nothing physically wrong with him and yet we know that there is something wrong fundamentally. And we don't know what is causing it. And I don't know how to deal with it."

"You face up to it!"

"When you're slapped in the face maybe. Like him looking you in the eye and asking who you were. For me, I've had hours of sitting there alone, thinking and wondering and working myself up into a lather over it."

Scott managed a chuckle. "John, I can't imagine you getting worked up into a lather over anything."

"We'll I've come pretty close this time. Now tell me what the real problem is."

Scott tried to look confused. "The real problem?"

"Yeah. The real problem. You wouldn't normally get so het up over Alan's scaredy cat admissions. You'd support him and try to talk him round. So what's the problem?"

"You'll think I'm being stupid."

"Let me make the decision on that."

Scott sighed, folded his arms, unfolded them, crossed and uncrossed his legs.

John waited patiently.

"I think... I'm sure that Virgil didn't want me to stay with him. That he didn't like me."

"What? Didn't the Sundance Kid want to play with Butch Cassidy?"

John was pleased to see Scott smile a goofy grin. He and Virgil had gone through a stint of always playing cowboys when they were kids and their father had given them that nickname. For a while it had stuck. Occasionally John had been roped into their game. Literally, as they would tie him to a tree. John never complained about the treatment as long as they left his arms free to turn the pages of the book he would inevitably be reading.

He continued to try to boost Scott's spirits. "How can you be sure that he didn't like you? He didn't have long enough to 'get to know you' again."

"He gave me a look that said 'Oh no. Not you'. And then he relaxed when I agreed to fly Thunderbird One home."

"A look."

"Yes."

"You're getting upset over a look?"

"Come on, John. I know Virgil..."

"Yeah, and he doesn't know you, or himself, at the moment... When did you last get some sleep?"

"Uh, before we left on the rescue. We were woken just before midnight."

"Right. That's getting close to 48 hours ago. And, apart from when he was unconscious, Virgil would be the same?"

"Well... yes."

"Okay. So you're tired. Virgil's tired. You're worried. He's frightened. Neither of you are thinking straight. Once you've both had a good sleep, maybe he'll come right. If not you'll both be able to start afresh. So stop worrying about it for now."

Scott thought about what John had said for a moment. "Yeah," he eventually said. "Yeah, you're right, John. I'm worrying over nothing... Well not the important things."

"That's the story." John looked at his watch. "Look we must be nearly home. Why don't you join us up on the flight deck? You can pass the remainder of the time upsetting Alan by breathing down his neck and checking he's doing everything properly."

"Okay." Scott stood, stretched, and followed John over to the lift. "You know. That's got to be one of the strangest sensations I've ever experienced. To suddenly realise that he didn't know me from a bar of soap!"

"Well try to remember not to have a shower with him. Come on, Butch."

Scott chuckled. "I thought you were the one getting into a lather."

Alan was surprised to see them both emerge from the passenger lift. "I was just about to page you."

"Saved you the effort then didn't we," John said easily.

"Alan," Scott began awkwardly. "I'm sorry... about before. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I guess we're both in shock over what's happened."

"Uh. Oh. That's okay, Scott. I understand," Alan stammered.

"Do you want to co-pilot?" John asked Scott.

"No. I'll sit over here and watch you both. You two get in some practise together." Scott turned and headed to a passenger seat off to one side of the deck.

Feeling relieved Alan mouthed 'thanks' to John.

John replied with a grin and a wink.

Four

Jeff and Gordon still sat in Thunderbird Two's medical bay with Virgil.

Gordon marvelled at the way his father seemed to know instinctively the best way to handle the situation. Jeff was seated as far away from Virgil as was possible in the small cabin and had spent most of the time talking to him gently. Letting Virgil to ask questions when necessary and gradually allowing him to relax and become more comfortable in his presence.

Eventually Jeff decided that things were proceeding well enough that it was time that they made a move. "Are you ready to go up to the house, Virgil?" he asked quietly.

Virgil hesitated and then reluctantly nodded. He eased himself off the bed as Gordon and Jeff stood. Gordon moved to Virgil's side and Jeff opened the door.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," Jeff said. "We won't meet anyone on the way. We'll go the back way straight to the infirmary."

"Come on," Gordon said. "I'll stay with you."

"Thank you," Virgil replied.

Jeff pressed a button on his watch to tell Brains that they were on their way and to warn everyone else to keep clear.

Virgil held his blanket closely about him as they walked from Thunderbird Two to the nearby lift. Jeff and Gordon noticed that he didn't look back to see the craft that had brought him home.

The ride upwards in the lift was swift. No one said anything. The car stopped and the doors slid open.

They were greeted with a white, sterile room. Jeff stepped in quickly to show there was nothing to fear. Virgil and Gordon were more circumspect.

"Why don't you sit over there, on the bed, Virgil?" Jeff suggested. "I'll go see where Brains has got to."

Gordon pulled up a seat so it was next to the bed and sat down.

"What's he going to do?" Virgil asked.

"I don't know..." Gordon started to say when the door slid back.

Instead of Jeff or Brains it was an elderly lady who bustled into the room. "Virgil! I've been so worried! Are you all right?" She strode straight up to him and cupped his face in her own two wrinkled hands. "You remember your old Grandma don't you, Darling?"

Unable to move away, Virgil had no option but to look into the kindly, careworn face. Then, ever so slightly, he leant backwards so that she was no longer touching him.

Her face fell as she realised her mistake. She dropped her hands so they were constrained by her apron pockets. "Oh, Virgil. I'm sorry. I... I should have realised."

"This is our grandmother," Gordon supplied helpfully. "Remember I told you about Grandma."

"H-Hello," Virgil said uncertainly.

"Oh..." and Gordon was surprised to see tears well up in his grandmother's eyes. Before he had a chance to speak she started babbling. "Oh look at me standing here. You boys must be starving. You won't have had a decent meal since before you left for the rescue, and that was days ago. I've got something cooking on the stove and I can't let it burn. It's your favourite, Virgil, and I'd hate to see it ruined. I'd better go and see to it now. I know Kyrano will keep an eye on it, but there's some things that it's better if I did for myself. He's a good man Kyrano. You'll like him, Virgil. I'd... Excuse me." She turned and fled, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket as she did so.

Virgil looked at Gordon. "I've upset her," he said sadly.

"It's not your fault."

"No. But I'm the cause."

Once again the door slid open. This time a bespectacled young man dressed in a lab coat entered. "Gordon," he acknowledged. "V-Virgil."

"This is Brains," Gordon told Virgil. "I know he looks like Doctor Frankenstein, but don't worry, he's harmless."

The idea of being similar to the fictional scientist tickled Brains' funny bone and he started giggling.

Virgil decided that Brains wasn't a threat and relaxed somewhat. "You look nothing like Doctor Frankenstein," he told Brains. "At least... what I think I remember Doctor Frankenstein looked like."

"Ah," Brains said in interest. "S-So the amnesia isn't total."

Virgil shook his head. "I can remember some things. But nothing important."

Brains sat on a chair at the end of the bed.

Gordon decided that things were progressing smoothly. "I'll go," he offered and stood to leave.

"Don't go!" Virgil grabbed him. "Don't leave me! Please!"

Gordon looked at him. Whereas a moment ago Virgil had seemed to be quite relaxed, now he'd suddenly tensed up again. The fear in his eyes had returned.

Gordon glanced at Brains.

The little scientist seemed quite unperturbed by Virgil's sudden emotional change. "Th-That'll be quite in order, Gordon."

"Okay. I don't mind." Gordon sat down again and once again Virgil relaxed.

"What happened to you?" Brains asked.

"I don't know," Virgil admitted. "The first thing I remember is lying on the ground and Gordon talking to me."

"Uh, huh," Brains said non-committedly. "When did you, ah, realise that you couldn't r-remember anything?"

Virgil thought. "Things were pretty confused at first. Then I realised that this guy," he indicated Gordon, "appeared to know me. But I didn't have a clue who he was. Then I realised that I didn't know who I was either."

"Why didn't you say something?" Gordon asked.

"I was hoping it was temporary."

"What c-can't you remember?" Brains enquired mildly.

"Who I am. Anything about my life. I don't know any of these people that Gordon tells me are my family. I don't remember... what did you say it was called, Gordon?"

"What?"

"The organisation."

"International Rescue?"

"Yeah. I don't remember anything to do with International Rescue. Gordon tells me I'm a pilot. That I fly a Lightning..."

"Thunder," Gordon supplied.

"Thunderbird. Thunderbird Two wasn't it, Gordon?"

"That's right."

"And you're the aquanaut and your craft is Thunderbird Four."

"Yep."

Virgil turned back to Brains. "And you're the engineer, but you've got a medical degree."

Brains nodded. "Th-That's right. Did you remember that or is it what G-Gordon told you."

"Gordon told me."

"Do you remember a-anything of your life?"

"Only what Gordon told me."

Brains looked at Gordon.

"I've been busy," Gordon explained.

There was a knock at the door.

"C-Come in," Brains called.

The door slid back and Jeff entered, pushing a covered trolley in front of him.

"Ah, g-good." Brains took the trolley off him. "Th-Thank you, Mr Tracy."

Jeff turned to leave.

"Hang on, Dad." Quickly, before Virgil had a chance to grab him again, Gordon dashed over to his father. "Have you seen Grandma?" he asked quietly.

"Not since before you arrived."

"She came in here. She thinks she made a mistake doing that. She was quite upset, Dad. I think you should check how she is."

"Okay, Gordon. Thanks. I'll give her a couple of minutes to compose herself and then I'll go and see her."

"M-Mr Tracy?"

"Yes, Brains."

"Would you care to stay?"

"I don't know? Would you mind, Virgil?"

Virgil shook his head.

Brains indicated the trolley. "I've asked your father," Virgil glanced at Jeff as if to confirm that this was the man they were talking about, "to get together some o-objects. I'd like you to tell me if you know what th-they are."

Virgil nodded his understanding.

Brains lifted the cloth on the trolley and removed an object. He handed it to Virgil who took it and examined it closely. "It's made of metal isn't it?"

"Th-that's right," Brains confirmed.

Virgil carefully felt the four tines. They were pointed but not too sharp. The other end was flattened. He shook his head. "No. I don't know. What is it?"

Gordon stared at his brother in alarm.

Brains continued on as if he'd said nothing out of the ordinary. "It's a fork. Do you know what you use it for?"

"No. I guess you hold the flattened end and stab or scrape with the prongs."

"Y-You can do. It's an i-implement for eating."

"Oh," Virgil looked at the fork sadly. "I should have known that shouldn't I."

Brains didn't answer the question, instead handing over another object.

"A stapler!" Virgil said delightedly. "I'm right aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," Brains acknowledged. "Wh-What about this?"

"A paperweight?"

"Uh-huh," Brains agreed.

The alarm clock, envelope and wallet were all identified.

Virgil was looking marginally more cheerful.

Then Brains held out a book.

Virgil frowned in confusion as he took it. Carefully he opened it and examined the pages. He looked up. "No. I don't know this one."

"It's a book."

"A book," Virgil repeated. "What does it do?"

"Do you know what the m-marks are inside?" Brains asked.

"Marks? What marks?"

"These black squiggle things," Gordon pointed out the words on a page.

"No. What are they supposed to be?"

Gordon looked at his father who was leaning against a bench. The latter's face was unemotional. "You can't recognise them?"

"I'm sure I should, but no. What are they?" Virgil was starting to sound a trifle aggrieved.

"You can't recognise words... letters?" Gordon's voice had raised an octave in pitch.

"No!" Virgil slammed the book shut angrily. "What are they?"

"I-It's a method of communication, Virgil," Brains said quietly. "We'll explain th-them more fully later." He glared at Gordon, clearly telling him to calm down.

"I'm, ah, sorry, Virgil," Gordon stammered. "I wasn't expecting that."

"I'm not expecting any of this!" Virgil snapped. Then he sighed and tried to get his emotions under control. "What's next?"

Brains took out a wooden box. It's exterior was covered in different coloured splotches and smudges.

Gordon glanced at his father whose face was still expressionless.

Virgil took the box. "Someone's made a mess of this." He examined it, not giving the initials 'V.T.' in gold a second glance. "Can I open it?"

"O-Of course."

Virgil struggled with the catch for a moment. "This isn't meant to be opened easily." The catch gave way to his ministrations and he lifted the lid. Inside, laid neatly side-by-side, were a number of tubes, some nearly new, some clearly well used. He lifted a couple out. "Each of these have different coloured labels," he commented, before wrinkling up his nose. "Smells funny."

"That's linseed oil," Brains supplied.

"Do you know what these tubes are?" Gordon asked.

"No. What?"

"Paint." Gordon looked back towards where his father was standing.

Jeff had gone.

He knocked on the door. He heard a scuffling sound from inside and then an unsteady voice called "Come in."

Jeff slid back the door.

Inside her room his mother was bustling about with a duster. "Oh, it's you, Jeff. I'm busy. I thought it was high time I cleaned my room," she concentrated on a set of shelves so that her back was to him. "I spend so much time looking after the rest of the house, that I never get the chance to look at this place. It's filthy!"

"You could eat off any surface in here," he reprimanded her gently. "Gordon told me you saw Virgil."

Slowly she turned and he saw that her eyes were red. "I made a mistake, didn't I?"

His heart went out to her. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I couldn't believe that he wouldn't remember me. I-I felt so sure that he'd see me and remember..." She sniffed.

"He's having trouble remembering a lot of things at the moment."

"I touched him. It was only a touch..." automatically Mrs Tracy demonstrated the gesture in the air.

"And?"

"And he pulled away. He pulled away from me. Oh, Jeff..."

"Come here," he said and drew her into a hug. "It's okay, Ma. You didn't do anything wrong. You've probably made it better."

"Better? How can this be better?"

"Because now there's one less person Virgil's got to be introduced to. Instead of four people at once it's only three..."

Brains had exhausted his supply of objects. He noted a few comments on a clipboard.

Gordon watched him. Virgil plucked nervously at his blanket.

"Any ideas, Brains?" Gordon asked.

"N-Not yet." Brains put the clipboard to one side and took a box off a bench top.

Virgil looked depressed until he saw what Brains had taken out of the box. "What's that?"

Brains was holding a contraption that appeared to be a mess of wires, electrodes and other villainous looking bits. He plugged one end into a large box.

"That always gives me a bit of turn too," Gordon said mildly.

"You're not using that thing on me!" Virgil was off the bed and edging towards the door.

"Whoa. It's okay, Virgil. It doesn't hurt. It looks pretty terrible, but I guarantee there's no needles or knives or anything disgusting involved," Gordon impeded his progress. "I told you that Brains won't hurt you. I'll make you a promise. If he hurts you, I'll hurt him."

Virgil looked at Gordon uncertainly. "You mean that?"

Gordon looked him in the eye. "I mean it."

"Okay..." With some reluctance Virgil returned to the bed.

Brains sat in his seat again, still holding the contraption. "This is one of m-my own inventions, Virgil. I-It's scans brain activity. I-I already have a record of your n-normal brain waves. I want to see if th-there's any change. If there is then I've got a ch-chance of working out what's wrong."

"What do I have to do?" Virgil asked warily.

"I-It sits on your head. Y-You don't have to do anything," Brains told him.

"Want me to wear it first?" Gordon asked brightly.

Uneasy, Virgil nodded.

"Very well," Brains placed the contraption on Gordon's head.

"I've been crowned," Gordon told Virgil. "You should bow before me."

Brains flicked a switch. The attached box started whirring and lights flashed on and off.

"Well? Are you detecting any signs of life?" Gordon asked.

Brains giggled. "J-Just."

"Nice," Gordon said in mock disgust. "You try to help and you get insulted." He turned to his brother, the connecting cable nearly tangling with the legs of his chair. "See. Nothing to it."

Brains switched off the machine and removed the scanner from Gordon. "Are you r-ready, Virgil?"

Virgil didn't look too sure. "I guess so."

The procedure passed painlessly. Brains compared Virgil's original test with the new one. He frowned.

"Well?" Gordon asked in impatience.

"Th-There's no difference."

"What does that mean?" Gordon asked.

"I-I'll have to think about that. I-In the meantime I've several other non-invasive scans I want to carry out, Virgil..."

Brains had performed every test he could think of. With a sigh he shut down the last piece of equipment.

Neither Virgil nor Gordon asked him if he'd discovered anything useful. The expression on his face said it all.

"Now what?" Gordon asked.

"N-Now we wait," Brains said. "Maybe the amnesia will c-cure itself overnight. If it doesn't I'll keep on researching p-possible cures."

Virgil pulled his blanket closer about him and rocked gently back and forth.

Gordon gave him what he hoped was a reassuring rub on the back. "Now what?" he repeated.

Brains faced Virgil. "Now we introduce you to the r-rest of your family."

Virgil looked at Brains and tried to suppress the feeling of fear that threatened to burst out of him. "Do I have to?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"John'll be disappointed that you don't want to see him," Gordon said equally quietly. "He's left Thunderbird Five especially to see you. And you like Kyrano and Tin-Tin. They're not, strictly speaking, family, but they are good friends. As near to family as you can get. Once you've seen them you've seen everybody and then it won't seem so frightening."

Virgil sat motionless.

"Okay?" Gordon asked.

Virgil nodded slowly.

"That's good. We can get it over and done with," Gordon said with a cheerful grin. He stood and Virgil slowly followed suit.

"I'll go ahead and let e-everyone know you're coming," Brains offered.

"'kay," Gordon acknowledged. "Coming, Virgil?"

They slowly made their way towards the door, Virgil clutching his blanket about him as if it were a shield against what he was about to face.

The lounge seemed to be a mile away. They eventually reached the entrance. Gordon gave Virgil a reassuring smile and stepped through the door first.

Virgil followed slowly. He found himself facing a sea of unfamiliar faces. He wished that the floor would open up and swallow him. Nervously he took a step backwards and found his way blocked.

He spun round to apologise to the person. "Sorry..."

"How're you feeling, Virgil," Scott asked anxiously. "How is he, Brains?"

Virgil was feeling crowded by this man. He took a step back from Scott.

Jeff grasped his eldest by the shoulders and gently eased him backwards. Scott cast him a hurt look.

Virgil drew his blanket closer about his shoulders and turned back to face the people in the room.

He realised that whereas he'd initially assumed there were at least twenty people present, there was in fact only five and a series of portraits on the walls. Brains he knew. He recognised one of the two blond men as being Alan.

The other walked towards him. "Virgil?" he said uncertainly and held out a hand in greeting. "I'm John."

Virgil shook his hand solemnly.

"And this is Tin-Tin," Gordon indicated the room's sole female occupant.

Tin-Tin gave him a timorous smile and flapped her hand at him in a gesture that was part wave, part nervous twitch.

"And this is Kyrano," Gordon completed the introductions.

Kyrano bowed low. "Mister Virgil," he said serenely.

Virgil didn't know how he should respond.

"Go in, Virgil," he heard Jeff's deep voice from behind him. "Go and have a look around."

Reluctantly Virgil obeyed.

He looked at the furnishings. His face registered no emotion as he looked at the artworks, the furniture, the piano...

"How're you feeling... now?" John asked awkwardly.

"Okay... I guess," Virgil answered quietly. His eyes fastened on the row of portraits. He took a step closer to examine them. He looked at each one in turn.

Then he turned back to his family. "Those four are of you four," he indicated his brothers.

They nodded.

"Then who's that?" an arm came out from under the blanket and pointed at the middle portrait.

There was an awkward silence.

It was Gordon who found his voice first. "That's you, Virgil."

"Me?" Virgil turned back to examine the portrait more closely. "Is that what I look like?"

No one felt able to answer him.

Virgil decided that he couldn't face looking at his own, unknown, image anymore and turned away. He spied another portrait. One of a young, blond woman, clad in pink. "Who's that?" he asked. "She's not a sister is she, Gordon?"

There was a chuckle from somewhere in the room, which was hastily silenced.

"No. That's Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward," Gordon explained. "I think I told you about her."

Virgil's brow furrowed. "She lives in... England?"

"That's right."

Virgil examined her picture a moment longer before he found himself drawn back to the row of portraits.

"Why don't you show him the Operation Cover-up ones, Father?" Scott suggested.

"Good idea, Scott," Jeff moved to his desk and activated the button that changed the photos.

Startled at the unexpected way the paintings slid away, Virgil took a step backwards. His foot got caught in his blanket and he fell over.

At once eight pairs of hands reached out to assist him.

"No!" he cringed, moving away from them. He pulled his blanket closer about him.

"Move back everyone," Jeff ordered quietly.

Everyone complied.

Everyone except Gordon, who seemed to have accepted his role as protector. He crouched down in front of his brother. "Are you okay?"

Virgil nodded in a numb manner.

Scott crouched down at Gordon's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Virgil. I should have thought..."

Virgil pulled his legs in closer, drawing away from Scott.

"Scott." The name was said quietly, but Scott heard the admonishment in his father's voice. He stood and took two steps backwards, bumping into someone in the process.

He turned and apologised. "Sorry, John."

John gave him a look of sympathy. "You weren't kidding, were you," he said in a whisper.

Gordon was trying to convince Virgil that he wasn't under attack. "It's okay, they only want to help you."

Virgil looked up at the row of concerned faces. "Sorry," he said quietly.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," Gordon told him. "Come on. Stand up."

Virgil complied.

"Dinner's ready," a voice was heard in the hall. "Where is everyone...?" her voice petered out as Grandma Tracy saw the group of people standing in the lounge.

"Thank you, Mother. We'll be there in a moment," Jeff said. He looked back at Virgil who wasn't looking happy about the new development. "You must be tired, Virgil. You and Gordon and Scott haven't had much rest over the last couple of days. Why don't you take him to his room, Gordon, I'll bring along something to eat shortly."

"I'll do..." Scott started to say and was silenced by a look from his father.

"Okay," Gordon agreed. "Come on, Virgil."

Like the parting of the Red Sea everyone moved back to allow Virgil and Gordon to pass through.

Once they were out of earshot Scott turned to his father. "I can take him his meal."

Jeff shook his head. "Not tonight, Scott. Let him get comfortable with being home first. Tomorrow, if necessary, you can show him Thunderbird Two."

"Hopefully that won't be necessary," Alan commented.

Gordon led the way down to Virgil's bedroom. He slid the door back and stepped inside. "Maybe this place will jog a few memories!"

Hesitantly Virgil stepped inside. Nothing was familiar. Nothing brought a warm feeling of security. It all felt cold and strange.

"Nothing, huh," Gordon commented.

"No," Virgil said and jumped as the door slid shut behind him.

"Well, this is your room, so I'm not sure where you keep everything," Gordon said, "but I can point out the highlights. Tell me if I'm stating the obvious. This is your bed, your closet, your dresser... I guess you keep your pyjamas in one of these drawers. You would have left the ones you were using in Thunderbird Two." He started pulling drawers open looking for the required clothing.

Virgil had found the mirror. He stared at the reflection. It was the same as the portrait in the lounge. More tired maybe, scratched, more unkempt, and definitely more fearful than the calm features that hung on the wall, but still the same face. He felt his cheek, the bristles of the growing beard scraping his fingers, and watched as the figure in the glass mirrored his actions.

"I guess that's the biggest shock of all," Gordon said quietly.

Virgil managed a wry grin. "It's up there."

Gordon moved so he could see his own reflection. "Man I'm a mess. I think I'll skip dinner, grab a shower and head to bed myself. But first I'll show you your ensuite bathroom." He opened a door that led off the bedroom and stood back so that Virgil could walk into the room unimpeded. "Ah, I don't have to explain what's in here do I?" he asked hopefully.

Virgil shook his head. "I know what everything is. I just don't recognise the room"

"Good," Gordon mimed wiping sweat off his forehead. "I was getting ready to dash out and grab Dad. There's some things he's had more experience at than I have."

There was a knock on the door.

"I'll get that," Gordon offered.

Jeff was waiting in the hall, two plates of steaming hot food in his hands. "My hands are full, Gordon. Will you get the table?"

"Sure," Gordon ducked into the hall and reappeared carrying a card table. He placed this in the centre of the room, before ducking out again.

With a sigh of relief Jeff placed the two plates on the table. "They were getting hot," he explained to Virgil.

"You'll need a cloth on there to protect the table," Virgil noted.

Jeff looked at him in surprise. "I've got one in the hall. Gordon! Bring in the tablecloth will you!"

Gordon re-emerged carrying two chairs on which was balanced a basket containing tablecloth, cutlery, mugs and a vacuum flask. In a short time the table was set.

"Right," Jeff grunted. "I'll leave you boys to it."

"But..." Gordon hesitated. "I thought you'd want to stay."

Jeff placed a hand on his shoulder. "I think Virgil would be more comfortable sharing this meal with you."

"If you wouldn't mind, Gordon," Virgil said. "I know you weren't planning on having anything to eat tonight..."

"No, that's okay," Gordon said hastily. "The smell of the food has made me hungry anyway."

"I'll see you boys tomorrow," Jeff smiled at Virgil before leaving.

"He seems nice," Virgil commented.

"He is..." Gordon started to say and stopped, confused by the incongruousness of the statement.

They sat down at the makeshift dinner table to start their meal...

Five  

That first meal was a quiet one for the Tracy family. Everyone was engrossed in their own thoughts. Thoughts which no one felt like communicating to the others.

Scott was the first to escape the silence. Normally a big eater, tonight he found that he had little appetite.

He retired to his room fully intending to turn in early. He sat on his bed and pulled off his shoes.

He was surprised when there was a bang on his door, which then slid open and admitted Alan and John.

Normally he would have protested at this invasion of his private sanctum, but didn't have the energy or inclination to complain. "What's up, guys?"

Alan threw himself into a chair. "This is horrible," he opened with.

John settled on the window seat. From here he'd be able to see the stars emerging. "Yeah. Like he's a stranger."

"Stranger to himself too," Scott commented, propped a couple of pillows against the wall and made himself comfortable on his bed.

They were silent for a moment.

"Did Brains find out what's causing it?" Alan asked.

"No. He couldn't find anything wrong," Scott said.

"That's the worst bit," John said reflectively.

More silence.

"D'ya think he'll find a cure?" Alan asked.

"Possibly," Scott said.

"I hope so," John added.

Silence again.

"It'll cause a shake up," Alan said.

"Uh, huh," John agreed.

Scott grunted an acknowledgement.

The silence continued.

"Will Dad send John or me back to Thunderbird Five?" Alan wondered.

"He hasn't mentioned anything," Scott said.

"I was going to ask tomorrow," John added.

Silence.

"Who'll pilot Thunderbird Two?" Alan asked.

"Alan!" Scott said in exasperation. "No one's had a chance to consider that yet."

"We'll need to be ready if we get a call out," John noted.

Scott leant back on his pillows. "I hope we don't get a call out for weeks. I haven't got the energy at the moment."

"Gordon looked pretty exhausted too," Alan pulled out a drawer and rested his feet on it.

The door slid open and the object of their discussion entered the room and flung himself unceremoniously on the foot of Scott's bed. "Is this where you guys are?"

"Hey," Scott protested without conviction. "You'll get the duvet dirty."

Gordon looked down at his uniform. "How long have I been wearing this thing? At least two days." He sniffed a sleeve and wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"How's Virg?" Scott asked.

Gordon shrugged. "Pretty quiet... That's an experience I could have done without. Having to explain to him what a knife and fork were and how to use them."

"You're kidding!" Alan exclaimed.

"Nope," Gordon said tiredly. "He remembers what a bed is, and everything in the bathroom department so I cleared the dinner things away and left him to it."

"Gordon," John said reproachfully.

"Well, what else could I do? We're both exhausted and need a good nights sleep. He doesn't need me to explain that to him."

"What else can he remember?" Alan asked.

"Bits and pieces. Some of the things he remembers are pretty surprising. Like he was able to name the World President."

Alan was stunned. "What!"

"But he's got absolutely no recollection of anything to do with us, the family."

"How's he coping?" John asked.

Gordon frowned. "I dunno. Like I said he's quiet. If he remembers something he seems to cheer up. Then he discovers something he can't remember and he goes all depressed again. The only thing that remains constant is that he's frightened. I can see it in his eyes."

"It's a frightening thought, not knowing who you are," Scott noted.

"Yeah," Alan agreed.

"I can't imagine what it's like for him," John said.

"Me, neither," Gordon yawned. "Well, I'm going to bed." He closed his eyes. "I don't think I'll bother taking my uniform off."

"Your holster will be a bit uncomfortable," Alan noted.

"Don't care. Right I'm off..." Gordon didn't move a muscle. "I'm moving now..."

His brothers watched him lie there motionless.

"I'm walking out the door... down the hallway... turning into my room... falling into bed..."

Scott nudged him with his foot.

Gordon cracked an eye open. "How come my room looks like Scott's?"

"C'mon," Alan stood and hauled his exhausted brother to his feet. "Let's get you to bed."

"Why do we do this, Alan?" Gordon asked as he was assisted from the room.

"Do what?"

"Risk our necks to rescue people?"

"Oh, for fame, fortune, glamour, and girls."

"Oh, good. I'm glad there's a good reason."

Scott and John managed a chuckle as the door slid shut behind their two youngest brothers.

John slipped into the chair that Alan had just vacated. "How are you, Scott?"

"Me? I'm exhausted. I feel like Gordon. I don't think I'll bother getting changed. I'll just pull the sheets up and go to sleep."

"I didn't mean that. It must have been a rough rescue."

"Yeah..." Scott leant his head back so it was resting on the wall and he was gazing at the ceiling. "Apart from the obvious - it was. I hate mudslides. There were so many decisions that could have gone either way. Life or death. There's a couple that I'm still not sure that I did the right thing..."

"There were only three of you. You couldn't be everywhere at once. You all did your best, and you helped save a heck of lot of people. We've got enough problems now, don't let the past get to you."

"I know that. I know all the clichés. But I guarantee I'll still be awake tomorrow morning with endless questions spinning round and round in my head."

"You and me both," John admitted.

Scott looked at him. "How come?"

"It's always the same that first night back from, or back on, Thunderbird Five. Different sounds, smells, lights. It always takes me a night to readjust."

"I didn't know that!"

"I've learnt the hard way. Now I always make sure that I get a few naps in the day before I'm due to end my duty on Thunderbird Five... That is when I know I'm due to leave Thunderbird Five," John finished reflectively.

"This is a shocker isn't it," Scott said.

"Uh, huh," John agreed and paused. "I hate to admit it, Scott. But I think you're right. I saw how he looked at you. Virgil's not a fan of yours at the moment."

"But why? I haven't done anything to him. I haven't had the opportunity!"

"I don't know. I wish I did, like I wish I knew what had caused his amnesia in the first place. All I can suggest is that you don't rush things. If you're going to spend some time with him make sure someone else he 'trusts'..."

"You mean Gordon."

"Maybe. He seemed pretty comfortable with Dad. Just make sure that one of those two is there at the same time. Let him know you're not a threat and that you want to help. Give him a chance to get to know you again." John stood and stretched. "You look beat. I'll let you try to get some sleep. Maybe we're worrying for nothing and he'll wake up tomorrow as if nothing's happened."

"I hope you're right."

John slid the door open. "Try not to let things worry you, Scott. If this amnesia hangs around for a while, we're all going to have to be strong enough to support each other. And that means being wide awake tomorrow."

"Yeah," Scott grabbed his bedclothes and pulled them over his body. "Night, John."

"Night, Scotty." John turned out the light.

As he'd predicted sleep refused to come to Scott. After several hours of tossing and turning he gave up and decided to work off some of his nervous energy. He headed down to the gym.

After half an hour of pounding at the punch bag he gave up. His body felt ready to drop on the spot, but his mind was still wide-awake. He decided to head back to bed for the second time that night, hopeful that he might yet manage a couple of hours sleep.

The way back to his room was past his brother's bedrooms. As he passed Virgil's a sound made him stop.

He thought he heard someone cry out for help.

Not bothering to knock he slid the door open.

Virgil was in his bed, desperately fighting against some invisible aggressor. His bedclothes were knotted up on the floor. Every now and then he'd let out a yell of fear.

"Virgil!" Scott raced to his brother's bedside. "Are you alright?" He touched Virgil gently on the arm.

With another yell Virgil awoke. He looked Scott in the eye. "Don't hurt me!"

"Virgil. It's me! It's Scott!"

"Leave me alone!" Virgil pushed away from his brother. He fell out of his bed, landing on the floor heavily.

Scott clambered across the bed. "Are you okay?"

Scott leaning over him was too much for Virgil. "Don't hurt me! Keep away," he whimpered trying to crawl away from the 'aggressor'. His desk blocked his flight.

"Virgil. I won't hurt you. Don't you recognise me?" Scott climbed off the bed so he was closer to Virgil's eye line. "It's Scott."

"Don't touch me..."

"Scott! Leave him!" A voice barked from behind them.

"I'm not..."

"Come here, Scott!" Jeff barked again.

Reluctantly Scott climbed back over the bed away from Virgil. His father, Alan and John were standing there, concern etched into their faces.

Jeff moved forward. "It's okay, Virgil. I won't hurt you," he said soothingly.

Virgil scrambled to his feet. "Don't come any closer!" he held out a hand defensively.

Jeff stopped.

"Where am I? Tell me where I am." Virgil begged. "I don't know this place."

"This is your home, Virgil," Jeff told him.

"No...! No it's not...! I don't know it... This is not my home! What's happening?"

Jeff took another step forward.

"Keep back. Don't come any closer!" Virgil grabbed a cushion and threw it at his father.

Jeff ducked the cushion and stopped walking.

Alan fled down the hallway. He barrelled into a room.

The room was in darkness. He switched on the light.

There was a snore from the bed.

"Gordon!" Alan raced up to his brother's recumbent form and tugged on his shoulder.

"Wassup...? Alan?" Gordon woke out of a deep sleep and looked at him blearily, blinking against the bright light. "Is it a rescue?"

"No!"

"Is my bed on fire?"

"No!"

"Then leave me alone. I'm sleeping." Gordon closed his eyes and nuzzled back into his pillow.

"Gordon! Virgil needs you!" Alan pulled at the bed's occupant again.

Gordon didn't open his eyes. "Then let Scott look after him. I need my sleep." He rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head.

In desperation Alan threw back the covers, grabbed his recalcitrant brother by the leg and pulled him further down the bed. When that didn't have the desired result he grabbed the mattress with both hands, and tipped it so his brother rolled onto the floor.

Gordon let out a yelp as he landed on the floor in a pile of bedclothes. "Alan! What are you doing?"

"Have you got amnesia too? Virgil needs you."

Now that he was fully awake Gordon understood. "Where is he?"

"His room."

Gordon was on his feet and running down the hall.

Things in Virgil's room were still at a stalemate. Virgil was desperately trying to keep his family at bay.

Gordon slipped between his brothers. "Virgil?"

Virgil had been trying to defend himself with a book. He lowered his arm.

Slowly, Gordon started walking closer. "Virgil, it's me. It's Gordon."

"Gordon?"

"That's right. You remember me don't you?"

"Where am I, Gordon?"

"At home. This is your room. Remember I showed you last night."

"My room?"

"That's right."

"I was under attack."

Still treading softly, Gordon frowned. "Who by?"

"I – I don't know. I don't remember." Virgil allowed Gordon to gently grasp him by the arm and lead him, away from their family, over to the window seat.

"Come on, boys," Jeff said quietly. "We'll leave them to it."

Obediently John and Alan left the room.

Scott hesitated a moment. He looked at his brothers, now silhouetted by the window, looked back at his father, and then shuffled out of the room.

Gordon heard the door click shut behind the last of his family. "Look at you," he said to Virgil. "You're soaking in sweat. Go have a shower, I'll get you some clean pyjamas and then you can tell me what happened."

"Shower?" his brother asked dazedly.

"You do remember how to have a shower don't you?" Gordon was suddenly fearful that he'd overestimated Virgil's knowledge.

Virgil nodded dumbly.

The rest of the Tracys assembled in the kitchen.

"Thank heavens your Grandmother's room isn't in the main house," Jeff said. "I wouldn't have liked her to have seen that."

"Good idea, Alan," John congratulated him. "Just as well he responded to Gordon."

"I nearly couldn't get him out of bed. He was that zonked he didn't even hear Virgil and Scott yelling. I had a hang of a job trying to convince him to come and help."

"Just as well you managed it," Jeff said. He looked at his eldest. Scott was sitting at the dining table quietly. "What happened, Son?"

Scott didn't hear him.

"Scott?" Jeff pressed.

"Scotty?" John touched him on the arm.

"Huh!" Scott awoke from his reverie. "What?"

"What happened?" Jeff asked again.

"I swear I didn't touch him...! Well only once on the arm... but it was only to wake him..."

"Calm down. No one's blaming you," Jeff said reassuringly. "I'm sorry I shouted at you. I didn't mean for it to come out like that. Why'd you try to wake him?"

"I'd been in the gym," the rest of the family looked at each other at this admission. "I was heading back to bed when I heard him call out for help... Only it wasn't my help he wanted."

"Nightmare?" John asked.

"Looked like it."

"He's living a nightmare at the moment," Alan said. "It's not surprising that he's dreaming them as well..."

Virgil finished his shower and slowly dried himself with the towel that Gordon provided. When he was dressed in clean, dry pyjamas he emerged back into the bedroom.

"How're you feeling now?" Gordon asked him.

"Okay, I guess," Virgil replied.

There was a knock on the door.

Frowning at the interruption, Gordon went to the door and opened it, ready to shoo whoever was there away.

The hall was empty.

At his feet were a mug of hot chocolate and a note. He picked them both up.

'Yours is in the kitchen,' the note read. He scrunched it up.

"Here ya are," he said to Virgil. "Nothing like a hot chocolate to calm the nerves."

"Hot chocolate? What's that?" Virgil asked.

"A drink," Gordon handed it to him. "You get that down you and I'll straighten up your bed."

"Thank you," Virgil said gratefully and wrapped his hands around the mug. "It smells nice."

"Tastes even better."

Virgil took a tentative sip. "You're right. It's a bit hot though."

"Give it a moment to cool down." Gordon got some dry sheets and quickly remade the bed. "Now I've done all the hard work," he said, "you'd better get in there."

Still clutching his drink, Virgil complied.

"Feeling better?" Gordon asked.

Virgil nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Not a problem. Do you want to talk?" Gordon settled on the end of the bed. "What happened?"

Virgil frowned in thought. "I think I had a dream."

"What about?"

Virgil's frown deepened. "I don't remember. I just remember being frightened... And then I think I woke up and... what's his name? Scott? Scott was there and I didn't recognise him. I thought he was an extension of my dream."

"The only time Scott's a nightmare is at breakfast, when he hasn't been able to get a good nights sleep and the toast's burnt," Gordon grinned.

Virgil leant back into his pillows. "I've made a fool of myself haven't I?"

"Hardly."

Virgil's eyelids were growing heavy. "Remind me to apologise to everyone tomorrow."

"You won't have to do that. This amnesia is new to all of us. You're just trying to cope with an unfamiliar situation. We're trying to cope too. None of us know what we should be doing. We're all learning at the same time... Virgil?"

Virgil was asleep.

Gordon carefully prised the mug out of his brother's hands and placed it on the bedside cabinet before pulling up a blanket and tucking it in.

"Night, Virgil," he whispered. "Pleasant dreams. Let's hope tomorrow's better."

Quietly he tiptoed out of the room.

His brothers and father looked up when he came into the dining room. "Where's my hot choc?"

"Here," John heated it for him and handed him a mug.

"Thanks," Gordon took a mouthful and sighed in contentment. "That's good."

"How is he?" Jeff asked.

"Asleep. Thinks he's made a fool of himself. I told him he didn't need to apologise, but don't be surprised if he does tomorrow." He had another drink.

"What happened," Alan asked.

"Nightmare," Gordon explained. "He can't remember what. When he woke up he thought Scott was part of it."

"Dad too," Alan said. "He attacked him."

Gordon looked alarmed. "He what?"

"Only with a cushion," Jeff reassured him.

Gordon sipped at his drink again and then rested his head on his arms on the table. "He didn't even remember what hot chocolate was."

The announcement was met with silence.

What more were they going to learn?

More importantly...

What more did Virgil need to learn?

Six

Virgil awoke the following morning and tried to remember who and where he was. With an effort he recollected what he'd been told the previous day.

He lay there. He wished he'd asked Gordon what the routine for the morning was. Get dressed and then have breakfast? Or eat first and then get dressed?

He sat up and looked around the room. It was strange.

A stranger's room.

Was it his?

He spied the mug that had held his hot chocolate and picked it up. There was still some drink in the bottom and he sipped at it.

It wasn't nearly as nice cold.

He decided that whatever the routine, there were some things that couldn't wait and got out of bed and went into the ensuite.

When he returned to the bedroom he stopped in the middle of it, looking around.

A cold feeling seemed to fill him.

He didn't belong here.

None of these things were his.

But where should he be?

There was a knock on the door and it slid back to reveal Gordon holding a large bit of cloth.

"Morning, Virgil," he said cheerfully. "How're you this morning?"

"'Kay, I guess," Virgil mumbled.

"Any improvement in the amnesia?" Gordon already knew the answer by the way Virgil was looking lost.

"No."

"Well don't give up hope just yet..." Then Gordon bit his lip. "Um, we've agreed not to tell Grandma about what happened last night. We don't want to worry her. Okay?"

Virgil nodded.

"Here's your dressing gown. We'd both left ours onboard Thunderbird Two, so I've just nipped down and got them. Put it on and we'll go and get some breakfast."

Slowly Virgil complied. Feeling more than a little nervous he followed Gordon out of the room and down to the dining room. He hadn't been here before, well since his 'accident', and he stood for a moment in the doorway looking about him and trying to find anything that would make this room seem familiar.

People who supposedly were his family were already seated at the table.

"Good morning, Virgil," the man he'd been told was his father greeted him. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Okay."

"How's the memory? Any better?" the older of the two blond men... John, asked him.

"No," Virgil told him.

"Bother," John replied.

"Come and have some breakfast," Scott offered.

Virgil hesitated a moment wondering where he should sit.

"Grab a seat," Gordon said. "It's first in first served in the mornings."

Virgil chose a seat beside Gordon.

Scott gave him what he hoped was a friendly smile.

Alan wandered in yawning. "Man! What a night!" He was shushed by Tin-Tin who had been briefed and looked guiltily first at his grandmother and then at Virgil. "How are you, Virgil?"

"Okay." Virgil repeated.

Mrs Tracy placed a plate in front of him. "There you are, Virgil. Eat up." She retreated back to the safety of the stove.

Virgil looked at the plate. He didn't recognise anything on it. He looked at the cutlery provided and cautiously selected a knife and fork. He cut into a piece of toast. Then he looked up.

Everyone was watching him.

As one they sheepishly looked back at their own plates.

His face burning he speared the toast with his fork and ate it.

"Here, spread some butter on it with your knife," Gordon shifted the butter so it was in front of Virgil. "It'll make the toast taste better. If you scrape your eggs onto the toast it'll be better still."

"Eggs?"

It was a long breakfast for all concerned.

Virgil was glad to escape back to the bedroom. He felt as if he were a sideshow. He wished he could go somewhere where there weren't people watching him.

Now he had the problem of finding some clothing so he could get dressed. He thought that maybe he'd make a start by cleaning his teeth, and having a wash and a shave. He retired to the bathroom.

There was a toothbrush here, soap, and a razor, but were they his? He didn't feel that he could, or should use these objects resting serenely in their respective containers.

They belonged to someone else.

He sat on the edge of the bath and let a feeling of hopelessness wash over him.

"Well, we made a complete hash of breakfast, didn't we," John stated. "He must have felt really uncomfortable."

Jeff agreed. "Could you make a picnic for two for lunch, Kyrano?"

Kyrano bowed low. "It would be my pleasure, Mr Tracy."

"You can have lunch with him, Gordon. Get him out of the house and away from us. He's going to have a full on morning and might appreciate the fresh air."

"Oh," Gordon said. "D'ya think I should? Wouldn't it be better if he got to know someone else, like Scott?"

Jeff vetoed the suggestion. "Once he's got through today, we'll think about doing that. I think that for today it'd be better if we don't make things too stressful for him."

"Or any more stressful," Alan added.

Scott hesitated outside Virgil's room. Then he steeled himself and knocked on the door.

There was no reply.

He knocked again with more force.

When there was no response he slid the door open and took a step inside. "Virg...? Are you in here, Virgil?"

He had to wait a moment before Virgil emerged from the ensuite. He looked as if he were trying to pull himself together.

"Ah, um," Scott stammered. "Sorry I came in unannounced... I did knock, but I guess you didn't hear me."

Virgil eyed him uncertainly.

Scott thrust a box out at him. "I got you some things from the storeroom. I thought you might like some new stuff to use."

Virgil hesitated briefly and then took the box.

"I promise it won't bite," Scott told him.

Gingerly Virgil opened the box. His eyes lit up when he saw its contents. He looked back at Scott with genuine gratitude. "Thank you."

"Do you... Would you like me to take the old stuff away?"

Virgil pulled a new toothbrush out of the box. "Would you mind?"

"No. I'll go get them now... if that's okay."

Virgil nodded and Scott scooted into the ensuite, quickly gathered up Virgil's old gear and wrapped them in a towel.

He re-emerged carrying his swag. "I forgot to get you your aftershave. Do you want some of the same or do you want me to bring back a selection to choose from?"

"The same's fine. I like the smell of that."

Scott was glad to see that his brother was starting to relax. "Okay, Virg. I'll be back in a mom..."

"What did you call me?"

"Ah... Virg," Scott said, nonplussed.

"What?" there was an edge to Virgil's voice that hadn't been there before.

"Virg," Scott repeated uncertainly.

"Why?"

"Um, I don't know. It's kinda a nickname," Scott said awkwardly. "I've always called you it." He had a horrible feeling that he'd undone all the progress he'd just made.

"And I let you?" Virgil asked in obvious amazement.

"You've never complained... I always assumed you didn't mind..." Scott was feeling as if he'd insulted a stranger. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise that you didn't like it."

"Maybe I got used to it," Virgil suggested. "It sounds rather strange now."

"I'll try to remember to not use it," Scott offered. "Look... I'll go get rid of this... Okay...? I'll bring back the aftershave... You can start getting washed... Back soon..." He escaped out into the hallway, then practically ran to the storeroom and replaced the items that were still usable.

He stopped a moment and told himself to calm down.

He told himself it was his imagination.

He told himself he had nothing to worry about.

He grabbed a new bottle of aftershave and headed back to Virgil's room.

On the way back he caught up with Alan and Gordon. "Fellas!" he grabbed hold of their shirts, holding them back.

"Hey, you'll crease it!" Alan complained.

Scott released his grip.

"What's up?" Gordon asked.

"If you're talking to Virgil, call him Virgil will you," Scott requested.

"Huh?" Gordon stared at his brother.

"What else do you expect us to call him?" Alan asked. "Phyllis?"

"No, I mean, don't call him Virg."

"Why?" Gordon asked.

"I've just found out that he doesn't like it," Scott explained.

"Now, or he's never liked it?" Gordon frowned.

Scott shrugged. "I don't know. Has he ever complained to either of you two? I know I'm the worst for calling him that, maybe he hasn't wanted to hurt my feelings."

Both of his brothers were shaking their heads. "Not that I can remember," Alan offered.

"It must be the amnesia," Gordon said in a conciliatory tone. "He's just learning that his name is Virgil and then you throw him by calling him something else."

"Yeah," Alan agreed. "Imagine it. You suddenly discover that your name is 'Virgil' of all things, and then someone goes and calls you 'Virg'."

"What's wrong with Virgil?" Scott asked.

"Well... I mean... It's not a good, down to earth name, like Alan, is it? It's a bit... flowery."

Scott frowned at his brother.

"Give him time, Scott," Gordon tried to sidetrack the potential argument. "He'll either regain his memory, or else he'll get used to being called Virg again." He noticed the wrapped up towel. "What have you got there?"

"Some of Virgil's old stuff. I'm getting rid of it."

"Why?" Alan looked at the package.

"I've replaced his toothbrush, toothpaste, shaving kit, soap, comb, flannel and towel," Scott told them.

"Why?" Gordon repeated Alan's question.

"So that he's got something that he can say is definitely his," Scott explained simply. He looked at the aftershave in his hand and remembered the look Virgil had given him as he'd hurried out the door. He held the bottle out to Gordon. "Give him this will you."

"Don't you want to take it to him?" Gordon asked.

Scott hesitated. "No. Better if you give it to him."

"Okay," Gordon looked at him curiously.

Virgil had been immensely grateful for the new toiletries. He got washed and then dressed himself in some clothes that Gordon had laid out for him when he'd brought in the aftershave.

He looked at himself critically in the mirror. His hair was a mess and he had no idea how he normally wore it. He tried to remember how he'd looked in the portrait, but couldn't recollect how his hair had been styled. Combed forward looked wrong. So did combed back. He ran his fingers through it and thought the result was the best of a bad lot. Then he wondered why he was worried about something as trivial as his hair.

It was time to discover the rest of the house.

Jeff took him on the initial tour showing him the conventional rooms of the Tracy Villa.

In each room he stopped and let Virgil take his time looking around.

In each room Jeff was hopeful that Virgil would find something that would trigger his memory.

Each room was a new experience for Virgil.

"These are books, aren't they?" he asked in the library.

"That's right," Jeff confirmed.

"Can I look at one?"

"Of course. Feel free."

"Brains said they were a method of communication." Virgil took a book down and looked at it. "I can't for the life of me see how."

"These marks are letters, which in turn form words," Jeff explained. "See this word says 'house'. This one is 'green'. They are strung together to form a sentence."

"I used to know that didn't I," Virgil said. There was a trace of sadness in his voice.

"Yes, you did," Jeff agreed. "Don't worry. If your memory doesn't come back we'll be able to teach you again. I've already ordered some books to help."

Virgil indicated the great wall full of a variety of literature. "Can't any of these help?"

"Possibly, but they might be a bit hard to start with. The ones I've ordered are a bit simpler." Jeff gave a small grin. "Actually, don't tell your brothers, but I've ordered some that are supposedly 'The True Adventures of International Rescue'," he mimed the quotation marks. "It'll be interesting to see what they say. We can teach you to read using them. In the meantime... we'll move on into the study." He led the way.

"Who studies in here?" Virgil asked, gazing at the imposing desk, computer, videophone and leather covered chairs.

"It's mine," Jeff explained. "I come in here when you boys are making too much noise for me to concentrate on my work."

"You make it sound like everyone's under ten years old," Virgil commented.

"Well I won't say that your brothers don't sometimes behave like ten year olds," Jeff laughed, "but I was thinking more of equipment testing and training. Having Thunderbird One lift off past your window ten times in one afternoon can try anyone's patience."

Virgil looked at a photograph in a frame standing on the desk. "That's us, isn't it?"

Jeff moved closer so he could see the photo of himself and his five sons. "That's right. I had it taken the day we started operation as International Rescue. Of course no one else would recognise its significance, but it's special to me. It was the last time for a long time that the six of us were all together."

Virgil looked at him quizzically.

"Someone's always up on Thunderbird Five," Jeff explained.

"But no one is now," Virgil noted.

"True," Jeff agreed. "I don't like leaving Thunderbird Five unstaffed, but... I do enjoy having you all around me." He sighed. "I'll have to make a decision about when John is going to go back..."

John and Alan were to be Virgil's guides for the more unusual rooms in the house.

Alan showed Virgil the workshop and laboratory. Brains was seated at his desk, morosely perusing research material on the computer and frowning at what he was finding.

"Found anything of interest, Brains?" Alan asked.

"N-Nothing that can cure amnesia," Brains replied. "Have you any ideas as to what c-caused it, Virgil?"

"No," Virgil replied. "I've been trying to remember, but..." he shrugged.

"You c-can't remember anything of what happened to you before G-Gordon found you?"

"No," Virgil shook his head again. "It's as if I was in the dark and Gordon somehow turned the light on."

"Pity he couldn't have illuminated things a little brighter," Alan commented. "Can you show Virgil something, Brains?"

Brains thought for a moment. "There's a CAD you were w-working on."

Virgil stared at him. "CAD?"

"C-Computer Aided Design," Brains informed him. "Here let me sh-show you." He sat in front of a computer monitor. "You were working on a development plan for a piece of equipment..." a few taps of the light pen and a wire-frame picture of a machine appeared on screen.

"What's it going to do?" Alan asked.

"It's kind of a Swiss Army Knife," Brains explained. He tapped the light pen again and the wire-frame was clothed in what appeared to be a metallic skin. The image was now nearly photo perfect as he caused the virtual machine to swing through 360 degrees. "We're trying to make it as multifunctional as possible. So far it has a plough, drill, shears, saws, cannon..."

"Does it go underwater too?" Alan asked facetiously.

Brains took him seriously. "We did consider that, but decided it would be too heavy... Now to add a light source..." He clicked the light pen a couple of times and a spot of light appeared on the machine, following the contours as it rotated. "I could play with this for hours," he admitted. "Changing colour and texture, but you had the talent, Virgil, to make the machine come to life."

"I did?"

Brains nodded. "The next step is to make a holographic image and put that into an emergency scene and see how the craft performs. If that is satisfactory, we'll make a working prototype."

"You've stopped stuttering!" Virgil suddenly exclaimed.

Alan cleared his throat awkwardly. "Maybe we'd better go, Virgil."

"I-It's all right, Alan. I don't mind. I st-stutter when talking to people, but when I'm dealing with my experiments, I lose it."

"Oh," Virgil had reddened slightly. "Thanks... Sorry... I..."

"Come on, Virgil," Alan pulled him out of the lab.

Alan next led Virgil outside to the vegetable gardens and glasshouses. Inside one they found Kyrano busily tending to his plants.

"Watchya doin', Kyrano," Alan asked.

"Mister Alan, Mister Virgil," Kyrano bowed slightly. "I am deciding what we should have for lunch. Does anything interest you, Mister Virgil?"

"Ah, nothing in particular," Virgil said uneasily. Everything looked the same, green and leafy, to him. "I'm sure whatever you pick will be okay, Mister Kyrano."

Kyrano smiled gently. "You call me Kyrano, Mister Virgil."

"Why? You called me Mister Virgil."

"It is right."

"Why?" Virgil asked again confused. "You're older... I mean... more senior than me. Why do you call me Mister?"

"It is right," Kyrano repeated again, serenely.

Virgil looked at Alan.

"Don't ask me," Alan replied. "We gave up ages ago trying to convince him just to call us by our first names. It's not as if we regard him as only a servant, he's part of the family."

Kyrano bowed again. "I thank you, Mister Alan."

Alan gave Virgil a 'what can you do' look. Then he spied Tin-Tin. "Ah, Kyrano. Perhaps you'll explain to Virgil what some of these plants are... I'll be back in a minute." He scooted over to where she was tilling the soil around some lettuces and crouched down beside her. "Hiya."

She gave him a warm smile. "Hello, Alan."

"I'm giving Virg a tour of the house..." Something clicked in Alan's brain. "Hang on. I've got to remember to call him Virgil, not Virg."

"Why?" "We've just found out that he doesn't like it. Scott's got himself into a right tizz because he called him Virg. I don't know what the problem is. It's only a name." "I suppose that when you don't know anything about yourself your name could become very important to you," Tin-Tin said as she demurely removed a weed that had dared to poke its leafy head above the soil. "Yeah, I guess you're right," Alan said thoughtfully. "I hadn't thought of it like that. I've been trying to imagine what amnesia's like, but I can't. Not really."

Her smile saddened slightly. "Does he remember anything?"

He lost his own smile. "No... It's really weird explaining things to him. I showed him how a welder works. I can remember him showing me, and then fixing up my finger after I'd burnt it on the torch."

"How's he relating to you?"

Alan shrugged. "Seems okay, though it's definitely not as it used to be. You feel like you can't tease him."

"Just as well," Tin-Tin commented. "You were horrible sometimes. And Gordon was worse!"

"He's getting on well with Gordon."

"And Scott?"

"I dunno," Alan said slowly. "Gordon seems to think that he's not too keen on Scott at the moment."

"I'd wondered," Tin-Tin said. "Any ideas why?"

"No... We'd better continue on. John's taking over at eleven." He stood. "Catch you later?"

Tin-Tin gave him that special smile that she reserved only for him.

He was still smiling himself when he and Virgil left the greenhouse.

"Are you and Tin-Tin... an item?" Virgil asked.

Alan choked, stopped, and stared at his brother. "Why'd you say that?"

"The way she looked at you, and the way you looked at her."

"Oh," Alan said non-committedly as his face flushed red. "I guess she's pretty nice."

"You're lucky," Virgil said.

Alan stared at him a moment, wondering exactly what his brother meant. "Lucky? Uh, yes. I guess I am."

"Do I have anyone special?"

"No," Alan admitted. "Well, no one I know about."

They met up with John in the doorway to the villa. "I'm going to show you the recreation rooms," he told Virgil.

The shooting gallery made Virgil feel uneasy. "Why does International Rescue need this?" he asked.

"Some of our equipment means that we have to be accurate shots," John explained. "Things like grappling hooks and lasers and so on. We have guns for self defence too. We also quite enjoy having sharp shooting competitions with each other. You're a pretty good shot."

"I am?"

"Here," John removed a gun from the cabinet and handed it to Virgil. "Have a go."

Virgil looked at the gun. "You show me first."

"Okay," John retrieved another gun and took aim at a target. There was a soft pop and a computer screen showed the image of a target. A black mark was shown on one of the outer rings. John examined the image. "Could be better," he grunted. "I'm out of practice. That's the problem with being trapped on Thunderbird Five for a month. Your turn."

Virgil copied John's stance, raised the gun to eye level and pulled on the trigger. The computer image came up on the screen.

"You missed," John said.

"That felt awkward," Virgil told him.

"Try using the other hand," John suggested. "You're ambidextrous, maybe you'll find it easier shooting the other way."

Virgil took his advice and reversed his position.

"Now, don't pull the trigger, squeeze it," John instructed.

Virgil did as he was told and was surprised when instead of the target appearing on the computer monitor, a star was splashed on screen.

"Bulls eye!" John congratulated him. "Well done! Come on. Next stop: Tracy's Malaysian Theatre."

In the theatre Virgil surprised John by remembering the names of several movies.

"But you hated those!" John exclaimed.

"Did I? I wonder why I can remember them," Virgil frowned in consternation.

"We haven't time to watch any now," John was looking at his watch, "it's almost time for lunch. Remind me and I'll dig out some of your favourites later."

The final destination for the morning was the gym. Scott was already in there, using the punch bag as if it were his worst enemy after a big argument.

"Look around, Virgil," John offered. "If you have any questions just ask." He waited until Virgil moved away before he walked over to Scott.

"Hiya, Johnny," Scott grunted.

"What are you doing?" John asked quietly and braced the bag for his brother.

"Working out."

"Why?"

"'Cause I felt like it." Scott attacked the bag with two heavy jabs.

"If you carry on like this you'll be solid muscle and too heavy for Thunderbird One to lift off the ground. Now tell me what's wrong."

"Nothin's wrong." Scott took a swipe at the bag just as John gave it a push. It swung into Scott, catching him unawares. He grabbed it to stop himself from being pushed over, and hung off it. "What did you do that for?"

John checked that Virgil was still circumnavigating the room. "Nothing's wrong?" he asked flatly. "Spill it, Scott."

Scott looked over at Virgil too. "He doesn't like being called Virg."

"Huh?"

"I took him some new gear. He seemed to really appreciate it. We were getting on like a house on fire... until I called him Virg."

"What did he do?"

"Nothing really. But I could see that he got his back up over it." Scott rubbed his nose on his boxing glove. "I've put my foot in it."

"Not necessarily."

"What if he's never liked being called Virg?"

"You're worrying about the past again, Scott. Don't! He would have told you if he didn't like it. Now if you've got the energy come and give a demonstration of some of this gear..."

Eventually it was time for lunch. Virgil would have preferred to have ignored his rumbling tummy and not faced the ordeal, and was relieved to hear Gordon say, "you and I are going on a picnic together, Pal."

Gordon led the way towards the lookout. From here they could look down on the Tracy Villa and some of the other buildings. Virgil gazed in appreciation at the golden sands and blue waters. For the first time today he felt he was able to relax.

Gordon opened the pack that contained their lunches and looked in at the meal supplied by Kyrano. "There's enough to feed an army in here," he said, his voice muffled by the bag. "Hang on! What's this?"

"Don't ask me, I won't know," Virgil said morosely and wandered over to have a look.

Gordon pulled out a sketchpad and pencil. "Kyrano wouldn't have packed this."

"What is it?"

"One of your sketchpads."

"One of MY sketchpads?"

"Yeah," Gordon handed the two items over.

Virgil took them and examined them closely. "What do you do with them?"

Gordon was silent for a moment, examining a wheel of cheese intently.

Virgil thought he hadn't heard the question, so repeated it.

"It's," Gordon's voice cracked and he cleared his throat before continuing on. "You use the pencil to draw on the pad."

"Draw?"

"Make a picture."

"I don't understand."

"Give it here," Gordon took the pad and pencil. "See how the pencil makes a mark on the paper?" He started sketching. "I'm drawing. I'm drawing a picture of the scene."

"That's drawing?" Virgil looked over his shoulder.

"Yes. I'm drawing a drawing," Gordon told him. "But not a good one." He handed the pad back to Virgil.

Virgil looked at it. "What is it?"

"That's the house," Gordon pointed out an irregularly shaped box. "That's the ocean, the beach and that," his finger moved to what looked like some poorly drawn spiders impaled on sticks, "are the palm trees."

Virgil looked at the picture, then at the scene, and then back at Gordon. "It looks nothing like it!"

"I know! I'm not an artist. You are."

"I'm an artist?"

"That's someone who can paint and draw and make it look like what it's supposed to be. Go on, I'll finish setting up, see what you can draw."

"Okay," Virgil said uncertainly. He turned the page of the sketchpad so an unblemished sheet was topmost, looked at the pencil and then turned his attention back to the scene that Gordon had just drawn. Cautiously he made his first mark.

"Father?"

"Yes, Scott?"

"Has Virgil ever complained to you about me calling him Virg?"

Jeff stared at his son. "Once. But that was years ago!"

"Oh," Scott said quietly.

"Some of the other children at school teased him over it. Why are you asking?"

"He says he doesn't like it," Scott informed him. "I hadn't realised. What if he's never liked it?"

"He would have told you if he didn't," Jeff said confidently.

"But would he? I know that... for some strange reason... he's always looked up to me."

Jeff smiled at the awkward admission. "I honestly believe that there would have been some point where he would have told you not to call him that, if it bothered him..." He hesitated. "This isn't only about his name, is it?"

Scott sat on the end of the couch and looked at his hands. "He doesn't like me much now, does he?" He sounded as if he was hoping that his father would rebuke the statement.

Jeff couldn't. "He's getting to know you again. He's getting to know all of us. Give him time, Scott."

"But how much time is he going to need? This all feels so wrong! I... We... We were a team! I know I can rely on the other guys, but with Virg..." with an effort Scott remembered, "Virgil there was never any doubt when we were on rescues. I always had this certainty that he would come through, no matter what I asked him to do. I knew I could always count on him to support me. He knew I was always there for him. And now... now he'd rather spend time with Gordon."

"And you're jealous?"

Scott sighed. "I don't know that it's jealousy. More... More that I feel I've lost something. As if someone's cut off my right hand. I can see it lying there, but I can't use it!"

"Not a very palatable analogy, but I think I understand." Jeff looked at his oldest. It was a long time since he'd seen him so despondent. "I wish I could do something to help... offer some advice... but I'm lost as much as you are. All any of us can do, is what I said before. Give him time... or hope that the amnesia cures itself."

Gordon took his time preparing the meal. He was curious as to how well Virgil was drawing, but felt if it was anything less than up to his brothers' usual standard he wouldn't be able to take the shock. Then again if it was up to his standard, how come he couldn't remember that he could draw?

Gordon shook his head at the unanswered questions, and pretended to clean out the mugs that had been carefully packed away in their dirt resistant container.

Eventually he ran out of things to do. "How's it going?" he asked.

"Okay, I guess," Virgil handed over the drawing. "How is it?"

Gordon stared at the picture. Although unfinished it was better than his own. A darn sight better. "Virgil! This is good! And I mean really good!"

"As good as what I used to be able to do?"

"I'd say so. Wait till the others see this. But first! Lunch!" He held out a filled roll.

Virgil took it and started looking about.

"What have you lost?"

"A knife and fork."

"You don't need to use them at every meal. Just use your fingers."

Once he'd satisfied his hunger Virgil picked up the pad and pencil again, eager to see what else he could create. He tried quick sketches of individual things, such as the picnic pack, a rock and a bug that was crawling across the rug.

Gordon looked at his watch. "We'd better start thinking about heading back. Scott's going to show you Thunderbird Two this afternoon."

"Oh," Virgil said unenthusiastically.

Gordon looked at him curiously. "You don't like Scott much do you? Why?"

Virgil thought a moment. "I'm not sure. He's always ordering people about... I find him intimidating."

"Intimidating!" Gordon said in amazement. "Scott? He's a big pussycat. Tries to pretend that he's all teeth and claws, but scratch him in the right place and he'll go all gooey eyed, and start purring."

"At the risk of asking a leading question," Virgil began cautiously, "where would you scratch him?"

"Ask him anything about planes and flying," Gordon suggested. "And if you really want to make him drool in ecstasy, ask him about Thunderbird One."

"The rocket plane."

"That's right."

They walked back to the villa.

"Did you have a good lunch, boys?" Jeff asked.

"Yes, thank you," Virgil replied politely. He began to examine some of the artworks on display.

"Check that out," Gordon tossed the sketchpad onto his father's desk. "I'll go put the pack back in the kitchen."

Jeff picked up the pad and stared at the top sketch. He was still staring when Gordon re-entered the room. "Who did this?"

"Oh. Don't look at that." Gordon reached over and tore the top page off. "That was my effort." He screwed up the bit of paper and threw it in the bin.

"That's a relief," Jeff said quietly and then stared at the second picture. "That's definitely Virgil's work."

"Uh-huh," Gordon agreed. "I should have taught him how to write his initials so he could've signed it like he always does... did... used to."

Jeff flicked through the pictures. "They may not be as polished as usual, but he hasn't lost any of his talent."

"But he didn't have a clue what I was talking about when I told him he could draw. He didn't know he could do it."

Jeff looked at him. "You're kidding!"

"Nope. That's why I did the first drawing, to show him how it's done, or more correctly not done."

"These are very good, Virgil," Jeff called across the room.

Virgil smiled shyly. "Thank you," he said in a formal manner.

Seven  

Scott didn't know if he was looking forward to this afternoon's tour or not. Gordon had found him in his bedroom and told him Virgil was ready to see Thunderbird Two...

"Just one thing, Scott..."

"Yeah?"

"I asked him..." Gordon couldn't think of a way of phrasing it delicately. "I asked him why he didn't like you. He said that he found you intimidating."

"Intimidating?"

"That you're always ordering people about."

"Intimidating...? Am I?"

"Of course you're not," Gordon tried to reassure him. "Virgil hasn't got to know you properly yet. Just go against the habit of a lifetime and try not to tell us what to do all the time."

"I don't," Scott said indignantly.

"Yes you do. Ask anyone in the family."

"Intimidating," Scott repeated. "I would never have thought..." He sighed. "Well I guess we'd better make a start... Let's go, Gordon."

Gordon stared at him pointedly.

"Are you ready, Gordon?" Scott amended.

"Better, but you've got to work on it."

"What am I supposed to say? 'Alan, would you mind taking the Firefly into that blazing inferno to rescue those people, please?' They'd be dead by the time I'd said that. Not to mention that it sounds stupid."

"Don't be silly. It's your job to order us about on rescues, and, until he's better, Virgil won't be joining us on those. We just don't need the big brother treatment at home."

"Big brother treatment!" Scott said incredulously. "I don't...!" He stopped himself. "Okay. I'll try to remember. Let's get this show on the road. Come on, Gordon."

Gordon looked at him.

"...If you please."

They joined their father and brothers in the lounge.

"You're not all coming," Scott asked, and then worried that it sounded like an order, added, "...are you?"

"Are you kidding?" Alan said. "I'll bet that one look at Thunderbird Two and Virgil'll remember everything. And if he doesn't I want to see his reaction when he sees her."

"Do you mind, Virgil?" Scott asked.

Virgil shrugged non-committedly.

"Good. Because I'm coming too," John told him.

"Looks like you've got quite a party, Scott," Gordon told him.

Jeff rode along with his sons in the monorail to Thunderbird Two's hangar.

"You would have seen the runway from the lookout," Scott told Virgil. "The hangar is hidden at the end of that."

Virgil nodded his understanding.

Scott stopped the monorail just before it entered the hangar. "It's through these doors. If you look through... If you'd care to look through the windows on the right you'll see it."

Virgil turned to look out the windows...

The entrance hatch cycled back and the monorail slid through...

Everyone waited breathlessly to hear Virgil's reaction...

"Which is it?" he asked.

There was a stunned silence. Everyone suddenly realised that they'd been secretly hoping that Thunderbird Two would be the key that would unlock Virgil's memory.

Then they realised that he didn't even know what he was looking at.

Virgil looked at Scott expectantly.

"Ah, that's it there," Scott pointed out the window. "The green plane."

"That's it? It thought it was too big to be a plane. It's huge!"

"76.2 metres long, 18.3 metres high. It's got to be big so it can carry our equipment. She can carry up to 100 ton."

"Remember, I told you it carries Thunderbird Four," Gordon piped up.

The monorail took them down to floor level.

"Everybody out," Scott said, "...please." He started to lead them across the hangar floor stopping by a control bank.

"It looks even bigger from down here," Virgil commented.

"What do you think, Virgil?" John asked.

"It's... It's..." Virgil struggled to find the right words. "It's very green."

"If you want to complain to the person who chose the colour," Alan said flippantly, "wait till next time you're looking in the mirror."

His father gave him a warning glare.

Virgil looked at Thunderbird Two critically. "Those leg things don't look that secure."

"They're stronger than they look," Scott said. "And they're designed like that for a purpose. John! Push the... Ah, would you mind pushing the button that will lower Thunderbird Two, please?"

John gave him a strange look and pressed the button.

Virgil watched, fascinated, as the mighty plane settled down over her pod. "Wow!"

"Go and... Why don't you go and have a closer look, Virgil," Scott suggested awkwardly.

"Yeah. Come on," Gordon said eagerly and started leading the way.

Scott tried to follow, but was held back by John and his father.

"What are you doing, Scott?" Jeff whispered.

"Trying to show him Thunderbird Two," Scott said in bewilderment. "What do you mean?"

"He means that you're sounding like a prize idiot," John told him.

"Not the way I'd phrase it, but..." Jeff's words tailed off meaningfully. "What's the problem, Son?"

Looking shamefaced Scott told him. "Gordon said that Virgil doesn't like me because he finds me intimidating."

"Intimidating!" Jeff said in amazement.

"That I order everyone about."

"So you do," John agreed. "But that's you. We expect that from you, not this... this..." he threw his hands up in an expressive gesture as words failed him.

"See, you agree with him."

"So you're trying to make Virgil like you by not being yourself," Jeff said.

"That's dumb, Scott. Really dumb," John stated.

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" Scott asked.

"Relax and be yourself!" John advised.

"Let him get to know the real you," Jeff added. "He liked you before when he knew you. Give him a chance to get to know you again."

"It's been less than 24 hours," John reminded him. "He's hardly seen you in that time. So relax!"

There was a shout from over by Thunderbird Two. "Hey, Scott!"

"What, Gordon?"

"I thought you were supposed to be taking this tour. There's a man here with an aviation question."

"There y'are," John said. "Right up your street. Go and impress him by being yourself."

"Okay." Scott jogged over to the little group waiting under Thunderbird Two's port wing. "What can I do for you?"

"Why are the wings pointing forwards?" Virgil asked.

"She flies better that way. We'd got her basic design down the way we wanted, with the removable pods, but she wasn't performing adequately in tests. We were just about to scrap the design and start again when you were doodling on the plans and reversed the angle of the wings. She looked a better form and worked like a charm. Come over here and I'll show you the original designs." Scott led the way over to the workroom that was situated off to one side of the hangar.

John winked at his father.

Scott was digging through a filing cabinet. "Here we go... That was the original plan. A more conventional rear-loading cargo hold."

Virgil looked at the plan. "But then you wouldn't have the flexibility to use the plane elsewhere while your equipment was offloaded. And that style of plane relies on a runway..." he petered out in amazement. "How did I know that?" he asked himself.

"Exactly," Scott agreed, "that's why we developed the detachable pods and modified her to utilise VTOL jets." He produced a second plan.

"VTOL?"

"Vertical take off and landing."

"Oh."

Scott decided that they'd seen enough of Thunderbird Two on paper and it was time to get back to the real thing. He led the way back into the hangar.

Virgil looked up at the scarlet projections at the rear of the craft. "What engines does it use?"

"Two variable-cycle gas turbine engines, 12 variable-cycle turbo-ram cruise/trim jets, four VTOL jets and four vertical take-off chemical rockets in the landing legs." Scott told him.

Virgil looked at him. "I suppose that used to mean something to me."

"Well..." Scott said awkwardly. "What do you think, now that you've got up close?"

Virgil craned his neck, trying to see beyond the outstretched wings. "It's so big, it's frightening."

"Frightening?" Alan asked.

"Yes. Kind of like an iceberg. You know how you can only see the top third... or whatever it is..."

"Eighth," Gordon supplied.

"Yeah. But the bottom seven eighths is the bit you've got to watch out for."

His family were staring at him in bewilderment.

Virgil shrugged and took a step closer. He stretched out a hand to touch Thunderbird Two's outer shell, and then withdrew it. He looked at Jeff. "May I touch it?"

"Of course you can."

Virgil placed his palm on a section. "It's cold! For some reason I was expecting it to be warm."

"She's made of cahelium, which is heat resistant," Scott said. "But you always spoke of her as if she were alive. Maybe that's why you were expecting her to be warm."

Virgil made no comment.

"Do you want to go inside?" Scott asked.

"May I?"

Scott led him round to the door and gained access. "The doors on all our craft are programmed that only members of International Rescue can open them." He confidently stepped inside.

Virgil followed with considerably more trepidation.

First stop was the interior of the pod. "Now you can see why she has to be so big," Scott explained.

Virgil stared about him with wide eyes. "Wow! It's like being inside one of those Russian dolls. You know, the doll within the doll..."

Gordon tugged him on the sleeve. "Come and look at Thunderbird Four!" he said eagerly.

"Your submarine?" Virgil obediently followed him across the floor of the pod.

"What do you think?" Gordon asked proudly, indicating the yellow sub.

"Ah, um, okay, I guess," Virgil stammered. "What does it do?"

"Oh," Gordon was momentarily crestfallen. "Lots of things."

"It looks... good," Virgil tried, "but I suppose it's more impressive in action."

"Yeah! That's right," Gordon perked up again. "She can dive down to 1½ leagues and cruise underwater at 160 knots."

Virgil gave a low whistle. "That is impressive!"

"I know she's only small, but she packs missiles, rams, laser cutters and grabs," Gordon said excitedly.

Virgil reflected that small was a relative term. Thunderbird Four was considerably larger than him, but definitely small compared to Thunderbird Two.

"Come and have a look inside," Gordon invited, and bounded up to the entrance hatch with the confidence borne of long experience.

Virgil was more circumspect. He looked at the rest of the group before following the aquanaut.

John looked at his watch. "How long are you going to give him?"

"Yeah," Alan asked. "Once you've got Gordon wound up over Thunderbird Four he'll hold Virgil captive in there for hours."

Scott gave a wry grin and looked at his own watch. "He's got exactly five minutes. We're here to see Thunderbird Two, not Thunderbird Four."

They counted down the minutes. At the end of the time limit Jeff turned to Scott. "Let me give the order this time." He turned back towards the armourglass veiwport, through which they could see Gordon animatedly explaining to Virgil some of the highlights of his craft. "Boys! Time to move on."

Gordon's head popped up through the topmost hatch. "Aw. Just five minutes more?"

"Come on, Gordon. We're here to see Thunderbird Two," Scott reminded him.

Gordon pouted. "I was just telling him about the time I rescued those guys from the Fireflash."

"You can tell him that anywhere. He doesn't have to have a live demonstration," John stated.

Virgil had clambered out of the port hatch. He wandered around the sub to meet up with the rest of the group, looking about him as he did so.

Gordon saw him. "He got away!"

"Told you," Alan said quietly. "Held captive."

"Are you going to join us for the rest of the tour?" Scott asked the aquanaut. "Or are we going to leave you to enjoy a little quiet time with your lady love?"

Virgil looked at him in curiosity.

"Thunderbird Four," Scott explained.

Now Virgil looked astonished.

"I'm coming," Gordon grumbled. "Just give me a moment to put the teletype and my wetsuit away."

"Got a rubber fetish too," Alan snickered.

Virgil was beginning to get that familiar confused feeling again.

"We'll meet you in the winch room, Gordon," Scott called.

There was an indistinct reply from inside Thunderbird Four.

Gordon caught up with them as they were exiting the winch room. They continued the tour through the rest of the craft ending up in the cockpit.

"You must remember this!" Alan was almost pleading.

Virgil entered further into the room. He slowly walked over to where his pilot's seat would normally have resided and looked at the controls and gauges that he'd been told he knew intimately.

His family waited with baited breath.

Slowly Virgil reached out for the control yoke.

He stopped short of touching it.

"It's okay, Son," Jeff encouraged him.

Virgil looked at him as if to confirm the implied permission and then placed both hands on the yoke. He tentatively tried turning it.

He released his grip and turned back to the expectant group.

He folded his arms, hugging them close to him.

"Nothing," he said.

An air of depression appeared to settle on the group. Their hopes had been dashed.

Virgil was aware of their collective mood. "Now, I've upset you all. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Jeff told him.

"No. But I'm the cause," Virgil said despondently.

"Wrong angle!" Alan suddenly exclaimed.

Everyone looked at him.

"He's looking at it from the wrong angle," Alan gabbled. "He's not sitting down!"

"You're right!" Scott agreed. "Get the testing seat, Alan."

"Right!" Alan took off. He returned a short time later with a pilot's seat. "Help me, John."

"Why wasn't it there before?" Virgil asked.

"The pilot's seat is part of the chute that comes down through the roof," Gordon explained. "This one's for testing purposes."

"Through the roof," Virgil repeated slowly.

No one took the time to explain. They were in too much of a hurry to get the seat set up.

At last they stood back to reveal the newly installed seat.

"There y'are, Virgil!" Alan exclaimed. "Try that."

Virgil did as he was told.

Things didn't seem to be any better.

"Look, why don't we take him for a flight," Scott suggested.

"Just a short one," Jeff warned.

Virgil started to get out of the pilot's seat.

"No, stay there," Scott said. "I'll fly her, but I can control the initial stages from here." He flicked a switch that brought Thunderbird Two to life.

Virgil watched fascinated as lights flashed on on the control panel and the equipment about him started humming.

Scott stood just behind him. "Right. All systems are green..." He checked the radar. "We're clear... Now to move onto the runway... Excuse me, Virgil." He reached across his brother towards a button. "I've just got to open the hangar door. It's hidden by the cliff face..."

...Cliff Face ...

Words seemed to reverberate in Virgil's mind. He suddenly felt constrained by the proximity of the control yoke, the computer console, Scott...

With a yell he leapt out of the pilot's seat. He found himself pressed up against the cool of the windows of the cabin and turned back to see five anxious faces looking at him.

He ran a shaking hand over his forehead and eyes. "I'm sorry... I don't know why I did that..." He gulped.

"Are you alright, Virgil," Jeff asked solicitously.

Virgil nodded. "I-I'm... tired..." He looked up. "W-Would you mind if we continued this later?"

"If you'd prefer to, that's fine," Jeff reassured him.

"Sure," Scott said with forced cheerfulness. "I'll take you for a flight tomorrow."

"Would you mind if I went back to the house?" Virgil asked shakily.

"Come on," Gordon offered. "I'll show you the way."

They were no sooner out the door, when Scott started defending himself. "I swear I didn't touch him! I wasn't even looking at him!"

"Calm down, Scott. We were here. We know what happened," Jeff said soothingly. "No one's blaming you."

"Then what happened?" Alan asked.

"He was fine, wasn't he?" John said.

"Seemed to be," Alan said. "It must be Scott. He got too close. That's gotta be it!"

"Alan!" Jeff said warningly.

Scott looked depressed.

"It's not your fault, Son," Jeff reiterated.

"So now what do we do?" John asked.

"Now we give Virgil some time alone. He hasn't had much sleep since before the rescue. He probably is tired..." Jeff thought a moment. "I'll think I'll go and see Brains, then we need to have a meeting and discuss International Rescue. Alan, will you go and tell Gordon when he's finished with Virgil?"

"Sure thing," Alan made a movement as if he were going to leave the cockpit, hesitated, gave Scott a comforting pat on the shoulder, and then left on his errand.

"And I thought things were going so well," Scott said despondently.

The meeting took place in the study. They were idly discussing things while they waited for Gordon to make an appearance.

"Maybe I'd better be the one that goes back to Thunderbird Five," Scott suggested.

John stared at him. "Why!"

"It's obvious I'm making Virgil uncomfortable. He gets on better with you and Alan. Let him get used to the household routines and then we can worry about how he reacts to me."

"Now you're being really silly," John said.

Jeff was shaking his head. "No, Scott. While Virgil's out of action I want the best men available for each craft. That means you piloting Thunderbird One, and John on Thunderbird Five."

"I'll go back to Thunderbird Five," Alan volunteered.

"It's not your turn, Alan," John reminded him.

"No... But I think I'd be happier there," Alan admitted. "This is too weird for me at the moment." The others looked at him. "Don't shoot me! I'm being honest, okay!"

"Okay, Alan," Jeff acknowledged. "Your viewpoint is noted."

"I don't mind staying," John offered, with a sideways look at his older brother.

"No. I think we should stick to the established routine," Jeff said. "Keep things as normal as possible, for Virgil's sake. It's only three weeks until you two are due to change rotation, so we'll keep to schedule. Any comments?" He looked at his sons.

They made none.

"Right," Jeff took that as an affirmation. "Tomorrow you head back to Thunderbird Five, John."

"Yes, Sir."

Gordon entered the room. "I told him that he needed some sun, so he's having a nap on a deckchair." He looked at his family. "Any idea what happened back there?"

His answer was a collective shaking of heads.

"I asked Brains," his father told him. "He's as flummoxed as the rest of us."

"So, what's the situation?" Gordon asked. "Do we carry on as if nothing's happened?"

"More or less," Jeff agreed. "John's heading back to Thunderbird Five tomorrow. You'll have to take control of Thunderbird Two. If we get a rescue that requires Thunderbird Four, Alan will pilot Thunderbird Two."

"Okay," Gordon agreed easily.

"I know this past day has been difficult for us all," Jeff said. "But, for Virgil's sake, we've got to try and behave as we normally would."

"That's not going to be easy," Scott noted.

"I know. We've already got changes that are affecting us all. We've got to try to minimise the affects of those changes. And try to find something that will restore Virgil's memory..."

Later that evening found the Tracy clan in the villa's theatre.

"Why are we here?" Virgil asked.

"I thought we'd take the opportunity to reacquaint you with some of your past history," Jeff told him.

"He means home movies," Alan groaned. "How embarrassing."

"Where shall we start?" Jeff asked.

"How about the beginning?" Gordon suggested.

"He won't remember being born," John said. "Try something later, Dad."

"Okay. I'll pick something out at random."

The lights were dimmed. They settled back to watch the large screen.

The first shot was of a tree. The tree was standing at an odd angle. It suddenly swung upright as the camera's orientation was corrected.

A small boy ran across the screen from right to left, his shock of red hair contrasting sharply with bright yellow t-shirt. He disappeared out of shot.

"Hi, Gordon. Bye, Gordon," Alan said.

An older boy with dark brown hair wandered on and set about laying a blanket on the ground in front of the tree.

A hand, holding a cloth, appeared and wiped down the camera lens. Then a face squinted into the lens, withdrawing before the camera had a chance to focus on it.

Most of the Tracys watching burst out laughing.

"Nice one, Dad," John commented.

On screen the older boy had disappeared. He was back a short time later, carrying the redhead, who was now wearing flippers and a swimming mask. The elder positioned the younger on the blanket and proceed to divest him of his nautical gear. He then attempted to carry the flippers and mask out of shot.

Young Gordon burst into tears and held out his hands for his toys.

"That's Gordon all right," Scott commented. "Other kids his age had security blankets. He had flippers."

Trying to keep the peace the older boy returned the flippers to young Gordon who happily clutched them to his chest.

"Isn't there any sound?" Mrs Tracy asked.

"Later," Jeff grunted.

The older boy had disappeared again. When he returned he was dragging another, this time blond haired boy, who was slightly younger than himself. The blond boy was obviously protesting as he clutched his book.

"You were a real bookworm, weren't you, John," Scott said.

"Still am," John conceded.

The older boy tried to remove young John's book.

"Let me guess," Virgil said. "That's got to be Scott."

The family laughed at the comment.

Jeff noticed that Scott's laugh rang hollow.

Young Scott had managed to claim John's book and had taken it out of shot. John poked his tongue out at him, waited till his back was turned and then dashed off to reclaim the book again. He returned to his place on the blanket, settled down cross-legged and proceeded to immerse himself in the hardback.

The camera wobbled unnervingly.

Young Scott had returned carrying a baby. The blond haired tot was placed on the blanket. He began to crawl at speed towards the camera.

"Always the camera hog weren't you, Alan," Gordon teased.

"Oh, you were so cute!" Grandma Tracy leant forward, and pinched Alan on the cheeks.

"Thanks, Grandma," Alan said flatly as he rubbed his face.

Scott, the boy, was trying to convince Alan, the baby, to stay on the blanket.

A young woman, in her early thirties, with chestnut brown hair wandered into view. A little boy with similar coloured hair was clutching at her hand. He spied Scott, who had removed John's book again, and ran over to him, smiling in delight.

"Who's the woman?" Virgil asked.

"That's your mother," Jeff told him quietly.

"I haven't met her yet have I. Where is she?"

The room fell into silence. Silence that was broken as young Jeff Tracy discovered the sound controls on his camera. "... has sound."

"Jeff!" Lucille Tracy scolded lightly. "Didn't you read the manual first?" She picked young Alan up and cuddled him.

"Didn't have time," young Jeff conceded.

Lucille pouted, showing that she didn't totally believe him.

"You stand there, Ma," young Scott instructed.

"Of, course, Darling," she agreed. "Come on, Jeff. We want you in this photo too."

"Father, you stand beside Ma," young Scott said and Jeff Tracy, younger, darker haired and without the facial creases of maturity and worry, finally come into view. "You can hold Gordon. I'll look after Virgil."

The chestnut haired boy took his hand and looked up adoringly.

Virgil looked at the figure on screen. So that young boy was him. But why was no one was willing to answer his question about their mother?

Finally everyone on screen was settled to Scott's satisfaction. Jeff, holding Gordon, and Lucille, holding Alan were standing on the blanket. In front of them stood Scott, Virgil and John, who'd finally been persuaded to leave his book alone. Jeff juggled Gordon, retrieved a remote control from his pocket, gave the command "Smile!"... And the picture froze.

A photo, recording their happy family for ever more.

The screen went blank and Jeff turned off the projector.

They sat in awkward silence.

John was the first to speak. More out of a need to release the tension than for any other reason. "You were always up with the play when it came to the latest technology then, Dad?"

"Was this before or after you went to the moon?" Alan asked.

"A couple of months before," Scott told him.

"And they let you go?" Alan turned and stared at his father in dismay.

"Alan! Sit down!" His grandmother swatted him gently on the back of the head.

"I believe, Virgil, that you asked a question," Jeff said quietly.

Once again the room fell into an uneasy silence.

Jeff continued on. "Your mother died a short time after that film was taken. She, and your grandfather, were killed in an avalanche."

"Oh," Virgil said, at a loss to say anything else.

"It's part of the reason why I thought of creating International Rescue," Jeff finished his explanation.

"Oh," Virgil said again.

"I'm sorry, guys," Gordon said. "That's one bit of information I didn't think to tell him."

"It's okay, Gordon," Scott said. "You couldn't think of everything."

Virgil wished he had.

Eight  

It was Scott who first heard the yells that night. His instinct was to get up and help, but decided that, this time, it wasn't the right thing to do. Especially when he heard Gordon's feet pounding down the hallway.

He lay there listening, counting down the minutes, which blended into hours until he heard a door slide shut and footsteps patter back to the room further down the hall...

Next morning Gordon dragged himself to the dining room table.

Scott looked at him in sympathy. "0120 hours wasn't it?"

"Uh, huh," Gordon confirmed.

"And you didn't get back to bed until 0335."

"Yup." Gordon looked at Scott. "You got your stopwatch operating or somethin'?"

"No. I couldn't sleep. Have you checked on him this morning?"

Gordon nodded. "He's getting changed. I said I'd give him ten minutes and then come and check up on him." He yawned.

John slid into his seat at the dining table.

"How'd you sleep last night?" Scott asked him.

"Okay, until Gordon did his midnight flight."

"Don't blame me," Gordon protested.

"I'm not. Just making a comment. Another nightmare, huh?"

"Yep."

"Was it the same dream?" Jeff asked as he lowered his paper.

"Dunno. He couldn't remember it again. I think it must have been, judging by the way he was screaming. Whatever it is – it's terrifying if it frightens Virgil that much." Gordon looked at his watch. "I'll give him another five minutes and then go see how he's getting on."

"What's today's itinerary?" Alan asked.

"First thing is for you to take John back to Thunderbird Five," Jeff told him. "Then we'll play things as they come. Virgil hasn't seen Thunderbirds One and Three yet..." He stopped. "It feels strange saying that."

"Are we taking him with us?" Alan asked.

Jeff shook his head. "No. Let him get used to the island first. The way he reacted in Thunderbird Two yesterday, I'm worried about how he'll react to Thunderbird Three. You can't exactly stop mid-flight and let him out for a breath of fresh air."

"Why did he do that?" Alan asked. "He's never suffered from claustrophobia or aerophobia before."

"Maybe he's suddenly developed brontoornithophobia," Gordon suggested.

His family looked at him in bewilderment.

"I'm not even going to try to pronounce that," John said, "let alone understand it. What's that?"

"Fear of Thunderbirds," Gordon explained.

"He didn't have any problems with Thunderbird Four," Alan reminded him.

"Just means he's got taste," Gordon said smugly, "and hasn't got hydrophobia."

"Thank heavens for that," Scott exclaimed. "I couldn't cope with him having rabies as well."

"What's the term for having a phobia of phobias," John asked. "Because I think I'm getting it."

"Phobophobia," Gordon told him.

John groaned.

Someone new entered the dining room.

"Hi," Virgil said shyly.

Gordon stood and held a chair out for him. "Grab a seat."

"Thanks," Virgil sat down and looked at the people about him. "Don't let me interrupt you. What were you talking about?"

"Phobias," Gordon blithely told him.

"And we'd finished that conversation," Jeff said warningly. "How are you feeling this morning, Virgil?"

Virgil shrugged. "Physically... fine."

"What would you like to eat, Dear?" his grandmother asked him.

"Oh... Ah. I don't know. Whatever you give me will be fine, thank you."

This morning's meal was more relaxed than its predecessor.

Everyone assembled in the lounge when it was time for Thunderbird Three's departure.

Before he headed into the room, John made a point of saying goodbye to Virgil. "You make sure everything's back to normal by the time I get back, okay."

Virgil nodded. "I'll work on it."

"Good." John gave his younger brother an uncertain smile. "Look, it feels weird saying this, but give Scott a chance. He's not all that bad. You like him... we all do. He comes across as being bossy, but he's had to be... since Ma died..."

"John!" there was a call from the lounge.

"Coming!" John called in return. Then he turned back to Virgil. "I haven't got time to explain now, but give him time. You'll learn to like him again." He gave the smile again. "If you want to talk, get someone to show you how to operate the communicator... I should have done so myself. I invented it."

"You did?" Virgil asked, amazed.

John looked at him sadly. "You helped me with the assembly... I..." he caught himself. "I'll see you in three weeks. Take care."

"You too, John."

John joined Scott and Alan on the couch. Surprised at this development, Virgil went and stood beside Gordon who was leaning against Jeff's desk.

"Have you got everything, John?" Jeff asked.

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. We'll see you in three weeks then. Have a good trip, Boys."

Virgil was startled to see the couch suddenly disappear into the floor.

Gordon grinned at him. "If you think that's funny, wait till you see how you board Thunderbird Two when you're going to pilot her."

"Where did they go?"

"There's an access tunnel that runs under half the island to the Round House. C'mon," Gordon led the way onto the patio. From there the Round House was visible on the skyline. "It'll take them about five minutes to get ready."

"Why the Round House?" Virgil asked.

"You'll see."

They waited patiently. Eventually they heard Jeff give the clearance for launch. He joined them on the patio.

The roar of the sound waves reached them slightly after their first glimpse of Thunderbird Three. She powered upwards through the Round House, straight as an arrow, on an unerring course to her target.

Virgil watched open mouthed.

He was still watching when Thunderbird Three was little more than a speck in the sky.

When he eventually looked back down both Jeff and Gordon were watching him in amusement.

"Did you like that?" Jeff asked.

"Uh, huh," Virgil articulated. "That was... amazing." He looked at Gordon. "It must be fantastic to fly in. Is it?"

"It's alright," Gordon replied laconically. "But I've found if you've been in one spaceship, you've been in them all. Now if you want real excitement you've gotta go in a submarine... But you'd probably prefer Thunderbird Two..."

"Hold on, Gordon," Jeff said cautiously.

"Could I?" Virgil asked eagerly

"What?" Jeff asked.

"Could Gordon take me for a flight in Thunderbird Two?"

"Are you sure about this, Virgil?"

Virgil was nodding vigorously. "That's if Gordon doesn't mind."

"I don't mind. What do you think, Dad?"

"Well... Okay. But I'm coming with you."

"Good," Gordon said. "You can take him down in the passenger lift."

"I'll let your Grandmother know where we're going," Jeff said. "You can prep Thunderbird Two while you're waiting for us."

"Which pod?" Gordon asked.

"She's already over pod four, so we may as well use that."

"Right," Gordon strode over to the painting of the rocket and stood with his back to it. "See you down there, Virgil."

"Okay..." Virgil started to say and was stunned when Gordon tipped backwards and slid off the painting. He frowned.

"What's wrong, Virgil?" Jeff saw his expression.

"I don't know. I had a strange feeling..."

"Déjà vu?" Jeff asked hopefully.

Virgil's frown deepened before he shrugged. "I don't know. It's gone now."

Jeff activated the in-house intercom and his mother's voice was heard. "Yes, Jeff?"

"Gordon, Virgil and I are going for a flight in Thunderbird Two. We won't be long."

"Thank you, Darling. Have a good trip."

Jeff straightened and looked at Virgil. "Ready?"

Virgil nodded eagerly and then looked askance at the painting.

Jeff chuckled. "Don't worry. We'll go the more traditional way, there's a lift over here." He led the way to the concealed doors.

Gordon was in uniform when they arrived. He was also seated at the controls. Virgil cautiously stepped off the lift's platform and looked around. He was glad to note that he wasn't experiencing any of the violent reactions he'd felt yesterday.

Jeff watched him closely and relaxed when he realised that his son didn't appear to be under any stress. "Sit here, Virgil, and put on your safety harness."

Virgil looked at Gordon and managed a grin.

Gordon got the message. "Standard safety practice," he reminded him. "I can fly Thunderbird Two okay, can't I, Dad."

Jeff was tempted to make a flippant comment but decided that it would be wiser to be honest. "You're perfectly capable, Gordon."

"Thank you."

"But you're not as good as Virgil was."

Gordon turned to look at his parent. "Well thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Just stating a fact. And it's also a fact that no one can pilot Thunderbird Four as well as you."

Mollified, Gordon's face broke into a big smile. "That goes without saying."

"I really used to fly this plane?" Virgil asked.

"Yep. No one could handle her better," Gordon said. "Not even Scott, and you couldn't get a better pilot than Scott."

Jeff agreed.

"All set?" Gordon asked.

"Yes," Virgil said eagerly.

"All set," Jeff confirmed.

"Right. Off we go." Gordon started giving a commentary on the procedures. Just as Scott had done the day before... "All systems are green..." He checked the radar. "We're clear... Now to move onto the runway... We open the hangar door..."

Jeff surreptitiously watched Virgil for any signs of discomfort. There were none.

Virgil watched fascinated as the great door ahead of them swung outwards and the sun streamed into the hangar.

Thunderbird Two moved forwards.

The palm trees fell backwards and bounced gently.

Virgil uttered a small exclamation and turned to Jeff with a questioning look.

"It's part of our camouflage," Jeff explained. "With the palms standing the runway is too narrow for a plane as big as Thunderbird Two. It's all part of our cover."

Virgil experienced that uneasy feeling again.

It was a feeling that was forgotten when Thunderbird Two stopped its forward momentum and started tilting upwards towards the sky. Now Virgil was feeling the thrill of anticipation.

"Prepare for launch," Gordon commanded and Virgil felt the power of Thunderbird Two's aft jets burst into life. Then he felt gravity force him back into his seat as the mighty craft left the ground at speed.

Gordon took them to 1500 metres and switched to hover mode. He turned in his seat. "How was that?"

"That," Virgil said with feeling, "was amazing."

Gordon winked at his father. "That's nothing compared to how you used to feel about her."

"What do you mean?" Virgil asked in confusion.

"He means you're just as bad as your brothers," Jeff told him. "In your case no other craft could better Thunderbird Two in usefulness, reliability or flexibility."

"For some strange reason you thought Thunderbird Two is the best looking craft too..." Gordon chipped in. "Though I can't see it myself."

"I did?"

"You did."

Virgil turned to look back at Jeff for confirmation, but the older man just chuckled.

"Take a look outside," Gordon offered.

Virgil fumbled with the catch on his safety harness for a moment, before releasing himself and standing up. He walked over to a window and looked out.

Far below him he could make out the irregular dot that was Tracy Island. He could also see a few neighbouring islands, but little else in the way of landmass. He suddenly felt very isolated.

"Where are we again?" he asked.

"In Thunderbird Two," Gordon said with a frown.

"I realise that. I meant which ocean is it?"

"Oh!" Gordon's frown cleared. "South Pacific."

"South Pacific," Virgil repeated as he looked back out the window. "That's a big body of water."

"It's ideal for our purposes," Jeff explained. "We rarely get any aircraft or shipping going past."

Virgil felt that uneasy feeling return.

"Let me show you what she can do," Gordon said brightly. "I won't do anything fancy, just give you an idea of her speed, so you can stay standing there."

Virgil watched as Tracy Island slipped away from beneath them. As the place he'd been told was home disappeared so did the uneasy feeling. He was starting to get a real sensation of speed as the angle of the sun changed. He remained glued to the window in fascination, watching the world pass by.

Then he felt Thunderbird Two's angle change and he turned back into the cabin to see Gordon rotate the control yoke slightly. They were returning back to base.

Jeff saw him watching the pilot. "If you want a closer look, I'm sure Gordon won't mind."

Gordon glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah, sure. You can hang onto my seat."

Virgil did as he was instructed and watched how the various gauges and readouts responded to Gordon's slightest command. For a moment he felt envious. Why couldn't he do that?

Then he remembered that he'd been told that he could fly this plane... That he did have the skills...

So why couldn't he remember?

They were coming in low and slow over Tracy Island. "Would all passengers please return to their seats and fasten their safety belts," Gordon intoned.

Virgil did as he was instructed.

The landing was smooth and precise. Gordon was about to send the plane backwards into its hangar when he had an idea. "Do you want to taxi her in?"

Virgil wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. "What?"

"Do you want to put her away in her hangar? There's nothing to it."

"Are you sure?" Virgil asked.

"I wouldn't ask if I wasn't. Come on!" Gordon relinquished the pilot's seat.

Virgil didn't need a second telling. He slipped into the seat and looked about him. "Now what?"

Gordon pointed out a lever. "That's reverse. The further back you pull it, the faster you'll go... And those two gauges show you where you are in relation to the sides of the runway. Lasers will guide you in, so there's no chance of going off course."

"How will I know when to stop?"

"See this light here," Gordon pointed it out. "That'll come on when you're in position."

"How much leeway will I have?"

"Heaps."

"And I just steer with the steering wheel?"

"Yep."

Virgil gripped the control yoke. "Ready?"

"Ready when you are."

"Okay... Here we go..." Thunderbird Two started to reverse.

Virgil took no notice as the scenery slowly slipped by. His full concentration was on the gauges and lights in front of him. A couple of times he corrected his course, but otherwise had little trouble.

Eventually the light telling him to stop was ignited. He pushed the reverse lever forward and Thunderbird Two halted. Now he took the time to look outside and was somewhat surprised to realise that they were inside the hangar.

Gordon clapped him on the back. "How was that?"

Virgil sat back and gave him a smile that stretched from ear to ear. "That was fantastic!"

Gordon gave him a smile in return and winked at their father.

John checked out the interior of Thunderbird Five. "Looks okay. I haven't had any unexpected visitors popping in."

"Who were you expecting?" Alan asked. "Your local alien?"

"You never know," John grinned.

As Alan returned to Thunderbird Three, John turned to his older brother. Scott was looking decidedly unhappy. "What's up, Scott?"

"I... I wish you didn't have to come back here this time."

"This time? Does that mean you've been glad to see the back of me every other time?"

"No," Scott managed a wry grin, "of course not. It's just... I've appreciated the support you've given me these last couple of days."

John looked at him sympathetically. "Well if you want to talk, you know where I'll be. It's not as if I'll be heading out on a hot date or something."

Scott chuckled. "Thanks, John. I appreciate that."

"In the meantime, go back, take him for a ride in Thunderbird Two, show him how good his plane is, and you'll probably find that everything'll be fine between the pair of you."

"Yeah..." Scott decided that he needed a more positive outlook. "Yes! You're right. I'm worrying unnecessarily again."

"Of course you are. Now get going and give him a ride he'll remember until he gets his memory back and thinks of something better."

Scott was still chuckling as he walked down the connecting tunnel that led to Thunderbird Three.

After an uneventful flight home, the oldest and youngest Tracy son emerged through the floor into the lounge of the Tracy Villa.

"Any problems?" Jeff asked.

"I think John was hoping to find some company onboard Thunderbird Five," Alan told him, "and was disappointed when there wasn't anyone."

"Company?" Virgil asked.

"He was hoping some alien had popped in for a coffee,"

Virgil frowned in confusion.

"It was a joke," Alan explained. "What have you guys been up to? Had a good morning?"

"Brilliant!" Virgil told him. "Gordon took me for a ride in Thunderbird Two."

Scott was stretching after being cramped up on the couch for the last couple of minutes. "He did what?" His face fell.

Virgil was still on something of a high after his trip, and didn't notice. "He let me back it into the hangar too."

"You enjoyed that, huh?" Alan asked.

Virgil nodded emphatically. "It was fantastic! How fast did we go, Gordon?"

Gordon had noticed Scott's reaction. "3000 kilometres per hour," he said with considerably less enthusiasm.

"Amazing," Virgil said. "I would never have thought that any plane could go that fast. Especially one that looks as un-aerodynamic as that."

"It'll go faster," Alan told him.

"Alan," Jeff said, "why don't you and Virgil go and tell your Grandmother and Kyrano you're back and see what's for lunch."

"Okay," Alan agreed. "Come on, Virgil. You can tell me about your trip."

Virgil followed him talking excitedly.

The rest of their family remained silent until they were out of earshot.

Gordon was the first to speak. "I'm sorry, Scott. I didn't think! He was that enthusiastic after seeing Thunderbird Three launch, that I thought he'd like a flight in Thunderbird Two."

"He obviously did," Scott said quietly as he prodded at a loose thread in the back of the couch.

"I was worried about how he was going to react during the flight," Jeff admitted. "I didn't remember that you'd promised to take him today."

"It's okay," Scott said dully. "Gordon's Thunderbird Two's co-pilot. It's his job to fly Two when Virgil's not available. I was overstepping the mark when I said I'd take him yesterday."

"No you weren't," Gordon protested.

"Don't worry about it," Scott said to him. "It's only one flight. There'll be others... If you'll excuse me," he looked at his watch, "I've got a few minutes before lunch. I think I'll put in some time in the gym... Give me a call when lunch is ready, Gordon."

"Not a problem," Gordon said unhappily.

Nine  

Virgil was startled, firstly to hear an alarm go off, and secondly to see everyone run at speed in the direction of the lounge. Heart pounding he followed.

When he reached the room he was surprised to see them calmly regarding the row of portraits.

He was even more surprised to see that one of the portraits had come to life.

"John?"

He was ignored.

He recovered enough to realise that one of his family had taken up position between two light fittings. His afternoon of surprises was clearly not complete as the wall swallowed up Scott before his eyes.

Virgil was so shocked by this apparition, that Gordon tilting out of sight barely made an impact on him.

Alan, followed by Tin-Tin, ran over to the concealed doors that hid the passenger lift and disappeared from sight.

Virgil, not for the first time, felt an uneasy feeling. As he tried to analyse exactly what it was that was troubling him, he didn't notice a roaring sound from outside the building, muffled by the glass patio doors. By the time the sound had permeated his brain and he'd thought to turn and see what was happening, all he could see was what he assumed to be sea mist.

He looked back at the portraits. Now Scott's portrait had become a live video feed. As he watched Scott glanced into the camera and then returned his attention to piloting the craft under his control.

Then the eyes in Gordon's portrait started flashing and Gordon joined his brothers and father in conversation. In shot, behind Gordon, Virgil could see Alan. It looked odd to see the middle portrait static as the three surrounding it moved and communicated.

Virgil wondered if his portrait had ever come to life, if he'd ever used it to communicate with anyone.

With an effort he brought his attention back to the conversation that was occurring between Jeff and his sons.

"How far behind are you, Gordon?" Scott asked.

"I'm still in the hangar, Scott," Gordon replied. "Our radar picked up an unidentified craft shortly after you left."

"I didn't register anything," Scott said with a faint tinge of alarm.

"It was coming from due south," Gordon reassured him. "You were off the scope by the time we saw him. They had no chance of seeing you."

"Good," Scott said briefly. "Are you clear yet?"

"Nearly..." Gordon was clearly concentrating on some bit of equipment. "There! He's gone. Leaving hangar now."

"Concentrate on what you're doing, Boys," Jeff said. "Call me when you've got further information."

He received a "F-A-B" in triplicate and then all three men disappeared, to be replaced by their impassive photos once again.

Jeff turned in his chair and started as if surprised to see Virgil standing there. "Did you see Thunderbird One launch?" he asked.

Virgil shook his head wordlessly.

"If you're quick you'll see Thunderbird Two take off. She'll be getting ready at the end of the runway." Jeff unlocked the patio doors and led the way out into the bright sunlight. "There she is," he pointed.

Virgil stood by his side and watched as the green plane taxied sluggishly down the runway. From here, the only indication he had of its great size was from the palm trees, which had fallen back. He watched the plane stop near the end of the runway and then tilt upwards. After a suspenseful moment's wait there was a bright flash from the rear of the craft and it was powering skywards.

A short time later he heard the roar of Thunderbird Two's jets.

"What did you think?" Jeff asked.

Virgil was still gazing into the distance; following the path of the plane that he'd been told was 'his'. "Okay I guess. I preferred flying in it."

Jeff chuckled. "That sounds like you. Though you were never happy having someone else fly you in Thunderbird Two."

Virgil continued to watch Thunderbird Two disappear into the distance. "They will be careful, won't they?"

"Of course they will," Jeff tried to reassure them, relieved that his son appeared to be showing genuine concern. "They always are."

"Always?" Virgil asked. "Look at what happened to me."

"We don't know what happened to you," Jeff reminded him gently. "But whatever it was, I would lay odds on that it wasn't your fault." They turned to go back inside. "How are you coping, Virgil?"

Virgil shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I don't have much option do I."

"No. I guess not..." Jeff returned to his desk, but didn't sit in his chair. He looked at his middle son. "Look. I'm going to ask you to do something, that I probably have no right to ask, since, in effect, you don't know me from Adam."

"Huh," Virgil frowned. "Who's Adam?"

Jeff gave a little smile. "It's a figure of speech."

"Oh," Virgil's frown cleared. "I knew that. I'm sorry, I guess my brain's overloaded at the moment. What do you want me to do?"

"Give Scott a chance. You two have always been close. I don't expect you to be best friends straight away, but if you could try to get to know him better, I know you'll like him."

Virgil was silent.

Jeff sat on the edge of his desk. "To tell you the truth, I've often wondered why you two get on so well. You're two totally different personalities, and there's enough of an age difference to keep you separated... I have a theory though..."

Virgil listened politely.

"After your mother died, I suddenly found that I had to care for five young boys, largely alone, until your Grandmother moved in with us. It was a daunting prospect, but I was determined to keep the six of us together." Jeff stopped and thought. "It wasn't easy those first few years. Both Alan and Gordon were little more than babies and needed plenty of attention, which meant you three older boys had to take the back seat a lot of the time, especially while I was working on making the company viable. Scott and John were both old enough that they were able to look out for themselves to a certain extent. But you... you were old enough that you didn't need the constant care of your younger brothers, but you weren't old enough to be independent. I tried to give you, all of you, the time you deserved, but it seemed that, every time, either Alan would start crying or Gordon would fall over and hurt himself."

Virgil waited while Jeff thought about what he was going to say next.

"It was at this time that Scott decided to take you under his wing. He'd spend time with you, make sure you were washed and dressed, help you with your schooling, teach you things that I wish I had had the time to teach you. Do you know, and I've never told anyone this, I was actually slightly jealous of Scott?"

"Jealous?" Virgil asked.

Jeff nodded. "Yes. I remember one day you came home excited because you'd been picked for the basketball team at school. But it wasn't your father you wanted to tell first; it was your big brother. It made me realise what a close relationship you two had. And that yours and mine wasn't as close as I would've liked."

Virgil suddenly felt sorry for him.

"As you got older Scott would take you to your music lessons. Not only that, he'd stay with you. There's not too many teenage boys who'd be willing to do that. He always said that it was because it gave him some time away from Alan and Gordon and he was able to concentrate on his homework. I think he genuinely liked sharing your lessons with you and listening to you practice.

"Later, when Scott was training to get his pilot's license, you'd spend hours with him, testing him on the theoretical questions. He had the natural aptitude for flying itself; you won't find a more gifted pilot; but he found the more mundane aspects a bit of a challenge. He was always too impatient to get into the skies. It was your patience and willingness to help him that helped him gain his wings. It had the positive spin-off too, that when you decided you wanted to get your pilot's license, you were already well grounded in the theory.

"In fact," Jeff continued on, "it's your piloting abilities that say as much about your similarities and differences as anything. Scott's an intuitive flyer. That's what makes him able to handle Thunderbird One with such ease. He knows instinctively what's going to happen and reacts accordingly. You tend to be more... reasoned. You analyse what you are going to do and why. You're still an amazing pilot... the things you could get Thunderbird Two to do, things that I would have thought impossible... but your abilities are based on rational thought, not instinct. And... if you tell anyone this I'll deny it... if I had to get to hospital in a hurry, and had to choose between you or Scott flying me there, I'd choose you. Scott would get me there quicker, but I'd have a more comfortable flight with you."

"But you wouldn't choose me now, would you," Virgil noted.

Jeff's expression saddened slightly. "No I wouldn't..." He stood suddenly, eager to change the topic. "I've got something to show you. I'll let John know where we'll be and then we'll go through to your studio." He reinstated the link to Thunderbird Five.

"Dad," John acknowledged. "Hiya, Virgil. "How're you enjoying the rescue? Are you bored yet?"

Virgil smiled. "I'm not bored, but I can't say a rescue's very exciting."

"No. Well Scott's still five minutes away from the danger zone. Not that he'll be able to do much until Thunderbird Two arrives and that'll be at least 30 minutes later. He'll get the logistics worked out and decide on a plan of action while he's waiting."

"He gives the orders does he?" Virgil asked John.

"Yes. And he's the best man for the job. I wouldn't want it, but he thrives on it."

"I can believe that," Virgil said dryly. "Is this the communication system you invented?"

"Yep. What do you think?"

"Impressive."

"Thanks."

"I'm going to show Virgil the Traceset, John. When you have news you can get me on my watch."

"Sure thing, Dad," John replied. "The Traceset's a good idea. He'll love it."

"He did before," Jeff agreed. "Let me know as soon has you've heard from Scott."

"F-A-B."

"F-A-B?" Virgil asked. "What's that?"

"You tell him, Dad," John said. "You coined it."

"Thanks, John. We'll talk to you soon." As soon as John's portrait reverted to normal Jeff began walking towards the door. "F-A-B, means that the message is understood and going to be actioned. The letters don't mean anything. I wanted something unique and I knew you boys would like something that sounded a bit mysterious and would keep the world guessing. It's certainly done that. The number of suggestions I've seen in the press..." He stopped at a cupboard and removed a large box. "This is a Traceset. Would you mind if we set it up in your studio?"

"I don't know what it is," Virgil noted, "but I don't see why not."

Once in the studio Jeff opened the box. Interested, Virgil looked inside. It appeared to be a jumble of bits of metal, in various sizes and shapes, some solid, some seemingly riddled with holes.

Jeff started removing a few of the bits from the box. "Back when my company was first starting out it was called Tracy Engineering. Naively my partner and I thought that since a famous astronaut headed the firm, people would be knocking on our door to give us work... It didn't happen."

"Who was the famous astronaut?" Virgil asked.

"Me."

"You?" Virgil stared at the other man.

Jeff nodded. "I walked on the moon before they started turning it into a tourist trap. It was a novelty then. While I was still with the Space Agency I was paraded everywhere as if I were something special. Then your mother died and I left the Agency... No one wanted to know me after that. I went from hero to zero in a matter of weeks."

"What's it like on the moon?"

"Grey, cold and dusty. The best thing about it was the view of the Earth. That was my first real understanding of how fragile life is... My second was your mother's accident."

"What was her name?"

"Lucille."

"Lucille," Virgil repeated. "It's a beautiful name."

"She was a beautiful lady. She meant the world to me... to all of us. She gave me five wonderful sons and I'm proud of them all."

Virgil suddenly felt very inadequate. In order to cover his awkwardness he held up a piece of Traceset. "So what do you do with this?"

"You join the pieces together to make things."

"Such as?"

"Whatever you feel like making. I got the idea from a similar set my grandfather had when he was a boy. As I was saying here we were, two owners, a company, staff, building, machinery and no work. We were haemorrhaging money. I was desperate. Then I remembered this toy of my grandfathers. One night I created a few pieces and then I took them home. I figured that if my five energetic sons enjoyed playing with it, then I was onto a winner."

"And...?" Virgil asked.

"And, you all loved it. So we went into production. It was never a huge seller, but it kept the wolf from the door, and gave us a foot in the marketplace. Parents would buy it for their children and then want to deal with its creators on their own projects."

Virgil looked at the box of metal and wondered what was so special about it's contents.

"Here," Jeff took the piece that Virgil was holding and held it next to the piece in his own hand. "You fasten two pieces together with a bolt to create a longer piece, or if you prefer an angle. You can attach wheels," Jeff pulled one out of the box and attached it, "or sprockets, or gears," he pulled examples of each item out of the box. "It's down to your imagination what you can do."

Virgil was looking slightly confused.

"Scott always made a 'plane of some description. John would try to make a telescope, so I cannibalised an old pair of binoculars," Jeff retrieved a box and opened it, pulling out a drawstring bag. He tipped the contents onto his hand – four circular glass lenses. "Gordon would try to make a submarine or a boat and then complain that they would sink," he chuckled. "Alan always made racing cars and then would tear about the place wrecking the furniture."

Virgil waited expectantly.

"But I never knew what you were going to make. You'd make any of those things or something completely unexpected. I remember, once you'd been on a school trip to the construction site for a road tunnel. You came home and built a machine for drilling 'tunnels'. You built a body on wheels and put a series of gears, of decreasing size, on the front and said it was actually a screw for drilling. That was where the basic idea for The Mole came from."

"The Mole?"

"We haven't shown you that yet, have we? It's International Rescue's drilling machine. Slightly more effective than what you designed with this, but still the same basic principal." Jeff looked about in the box. "There's a wrench in here somewhere."

"Wrench?"

Jeff held up the tool. "Do you want me to show you how it works?"

"Yes, please."

Jeff realised that he'd been hoping that Virgil wouldn't need his assistance. He pushed down his feeling of disappointment. "Let's tip everything onto the floor. I wanted to show you in here, because you can leave your project unfinished, go do something else, come back, and you won't have upset your grandma with the mess."

Virgil smiled, but made no comment as the pieces of the Traceset were strewn onto the floor of the studio.

Jeff looked at his watch. "I'm going to check in with John and see where Scott is. I'll be back in a moment, unless you want to come with me and see what's going on?"

"Didn't John say Thunderbird Two wouldn't be there for some time?"

"That's right."

"I'll wait till they get there. I'd like to try this Traceset out."

"Okay, Virgil. I'll be back shortly." Jeff was true to his word. "Scott's arrived. He's evaluating the situation now."

"What's happened?"

"A car's gone over a bluff and is stranded half way down. There's at least two people trapped on board."

"Tricky?"

"Could be. Depends on how secure the car is. Scott will have all the information they need and a plan formed by the time Thunderbird Two arrives."

"What do you normally do while all this is going on?" Virgil asked.

"Me? I stay here and worry about you all." Jeff sat on the floor beside Virgil. "How far have you got?"

Virgil showed him. He'd attached wheels to a platform.

"What are you making?"

"I have no idea," Virgil replied. "I'm only fiddling at the moment."

"Let me show you how a gear works," Jeff offered. Efficiently he assembled the chain and gear mechanism. "See?"

"I see!" Virgil exclaimed. "You could use gears to link a variety of wheels together so they won't move independently!"

"That's one application. See what others you can find."

Virgil smiled, delighted by the discovery. "I think I like the idea of you being my father."

Stunned by the statement Jeff wasn't sure how to reply.

Virgil didn't notice. "What do I normally call you?" he asked, glancing up at Jeff and then back down at his project. "Scott calls you Father and the others call you Dad."

"What do you call me? Usually Father, occasionally Dad."

Virgil concentrated on adding a gear mechanism to his machine.

They spent a companionable fifteen minutes working on individual projects, Jeff occasionally stopping to give Virgil some advice. He eventually stiffly stretched out his legs. "The floor's not as soft as it used to be," he grumbled.

"How's that for a first attempt?" Virgil proudly held up his contraption.

Jeff tried not to think that this was far from Virgil's first attempt at using the Traceset. "Looks good." He took it from his son to examine it closer. "Ah... What is it?"

"A plane... I think."

"Why have you got hooks on the top?" Jeff asked.

Virgil frowned. "I don't know. I thought they should go there. I don't know why..."

There was a beeping sound from Jeff's watch. "That's John telling me that Thunderbird Two's arrived." Jeff climbed back to his feet, grunting as he did so. "It was a lot easier getting off the floor when you were boys. Are you com...?"

Virgil was already on his feet.

"How's it look, Scott?" Gordon asked as he steered Thunderbird Two towards the danger zone.

"Precarious. I've sent the Aerovideo to keep an eye on things. The local rescue authorities have managed to get a man down there. There's two trapped inside the car, both badly injured. He's doing all he can, but he can only reach one of the victims. The car's too unstable to risk him climbing inside or across."

"What's the plan?"

"Lower Alan down to the other side of the car. He can assess the situation, especially the condition of the second victim and guide the grabs. I think you should be able to use the Grav-Weight to stabilise the vehicle before you use the grabs to bring it up to the top of the cliff again."

"F-A-B. Approaching now."

Scott stood up from his seat at Mobile Control and shielded his eyes against the sun as he watched Thunderbird Two swoop in. He raised his microphone. "Bring her in low, Vir..." he started to say and then stopped. "Sorry, Gordon."

"That's okay. I'd rather he was in the pilot's seat myself..."

Already in his protective suit, Alan stared out the windows down into the canyon. He gave a low whistle. "Look at that drop!"

Tin-Tin stood at his shoulder. "You'll be careful won't you, Alan."

He gave her an assured smile. "Sure. No sweat." He looked back out the window. "There's the car. Must be at least 35 metres down. They were lucky they didn't fall all the way."

"They won't be feeling lucky," Tin-Tin noted. "Not until you've got them to safety."

"Come on," Alan said. "Time to get kitted up... See you soon, Gordon," he called over his shoulder.

"'kay," Gordon replied, his concentration focused on getting Thunderbird Two into position.

They both made their way down to the winch room where Alan strapped himself into his harness and then waited patiently as Tin-Tin double-checked that all was secure. He in turn checked that her safety harness was correctly worn and attached to Thunderbird Two by a lifeline.

"Are you okay with this," he asked.

She nodded reluctantly. "I hope I don't do anything wrong."

"Relax. Gordon's got the hard job keeping Thunderbird Two in position. Just make sure that you lower me down steadily. Don't slam on the brakes." He gave her a reassuring kiss on the cheek. "You'll be fine, Honey. This job's a piece of cake. We'll be home before you know it."

"We're in position," Gordon announced over the intercom.

"F-A-B," Alan replied before turning back to Tin-Tin. "Ready?"

"Yes, Alan."

The temperature in the winch-room dropped several degrees as the wind whistled past the panel that opened in the floor.

"Lower me down." Alan stepped out into nothingness. He kept up a running commentary as the winch lowered him down towards the stricken car. "Glad the wind's not too strong. The ledge the car's on doesn't look too stable. It's not that big either." His words were transmitted back up to the winch-room and cockpit on Thunderbird Two and to Mobile Control. From there they were sent further afield to Thunderbird Five and halfway around the world to Tracy Island. Alan had an audience of eight.

"Nearly there," he continued on. "Slow down, Tin-Tin... Half speed... Half again... Get ready to brake... Touchdown!" he felt the comforting solidarity of the metre wide ledge. A small remote camera, the size of a model plane, zoomed in close. "Get that Aerovideo out of my face, Scott!"

"Don't undo your harness," Scott warned. "I want you tethered to Thunderbird Two at all times."

"I won't," Alan tried to make it sound like a statement, rather than a grumble. "Hi, there," he greeted the local rescuer who was on the opposite side of the car to him. "My name's Alan."

The other man seemed surprised at the unexpected introduction. "Oh, ah... Mine's Benny."

"Pleased to meet you, Benny." Without touching the car, Alan bent to look inside. "How are they?"

"Not good. I've managed to get an IV into this one, but I can't reach the other."

"Right. We'll stabilise the car first and then see what we can do about our victims." Alan carefully placed a small plaque on the boot of the car and then redirected his comments to his microphone. "Tin-Tin, I've positioned the locator. Home in on that and send the Grav-Weight down."

Up in Thunderbird Two, Tin-Tin understood. "F-A-B, Alan."

As they waited Alan took stock of the situation. "Do we know their names?"

"No," Benny shook his head. "No one's reported them missing and, of course, I haven't been able to search for I.D."

"Well, we'll worry about that later." Alan looked up. A flat plate, about half the size of the bonnet, was being lowered towards them, zeroing in on the signal given out by the tiny electronic transmitter Alan had placed on the boot.

Benny wondered what this Grav-Weight was meant to do. It looked too small and flimsy to be much use.

Alan watched closely as the Grav-Weight drew closer and closer to its target. "Five metres, Tin-Tin."

Thunderbird Two gave a lurch upwards!

It wasn't much, only a metre or so, but it was enough to sweep Alan up into the air and knock Tin-Tin off her feet.

Scott watched Alan's sudden flight anxiously through the picture transmitted by the Aerovideo. He grabbed the microphone, "Alan...! Gordon!"

Back on Tracy Island, his yell brought the lounge's occupants to their feet.

"Jeff!" Mrs Tracy gasped.

"Hang on, Mother. I'll contact John and see what's going on."

Virgil closed his eyes, hoping that more misfortune hadn't hit this family. He struggled to picture Gordon, Alan, Tin-Tin... and Scott.

Dangling helplessly underneath Thunderbird Two, Alan was echoing his oldest brother. "Gordon!"

Up in Thunderbird Two Gordon heard the twin exclamations as he uttered a mild curse. "Are you okay, Alan?"

"Yeah I am. What happened?"

"Wind gust," Gordon admitted briefly. "Hang on. I'll lower her down again."

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

Tin-Tin was lying on the floor of the winch-room. Her upper torso was hanging over the opening and she was looking down to the canyon floor, seemingly miles below. It was only the lifeline that had stopped her from plummeting into the depths of the canyon and certain death. She struggled to her feet. "I'm okay," she gasped.

Keeping a careful eye on the altimeter, Gordon lowered Thunderbird Two the required metre to bring Alan back down to the ledge.

"Are you okay?" Benny asked anxiously.

"Yep," Alan said nonchalantly. "These replacement pilots." He indicated upwards and chuckled as if it were some kind of joke. "Continue lowering the Grav-Weight, Tin-Tin."

Benny looked up at the bulk of Thunderbird Two suspended over them. "Trainee?" he asked nervously.

Alan realised that he'd worried the man unnecessarily. "Our regular pilot's got... is on sick leave. Don't worry. Gordon's an experienced pilot. He knows what he's doing."

The Grav-Weight had nearly reached its goal.

"Take it slow, Tin-Tin," Alan ordered. "Let it down a notch... Now another... One more... Contact!" With a 'chink' rather than a 'clunk' the Grav-Weight settled on the boot of the car. "Activate gravity field."

Tin-Tin threw a switch and a low frequency hum emanated from the Grav-Weight. Benny watched in astonishment as the car settled backwards. Suddenly the situation seemed to be less precarious... if you didn't take into account the front wheels hanging over the edge of the ledge.

"That should hold it for a little bit," Alan said and opened the rear door of the car. He climbed inside and began to check the unattended victim.

"How safe is it?" Benny asked.

"Safe enough for one of us to clamber about inside," Alan told him. "If you could stand back and let me know if there's any sign the ledge is going to collapse. I'm glad to see you've still got your safety line on."

"What are you going to do?"

"Get an I.V. into this guy and then get the next stage in their evacuation underway." Alan was delving into his first-aid kit.

He'd soon completed his task and climbed out of the car again. He looked at Benny. "I think we'll get you out of the way for this next bit. Can you tell your team to pull you up?"

"Thank you for your help," Benny said gratefully before radioing the message to those waiting at the top of the cliff. Soon he was being dragged out of harm's way.

"Send down the grabs, Tin-Tin," Alan ordered and looked up to see a huge panel slide back in Thunderbird Two's undercarriage. A large claw mechanism was lowered through the hole.

"Hold her still, Gordon," Scott instructed.

The grabs were opening slowly as they continued their decent. Alan kept a wary eye on them. They were big, much bigger than him, and the slightest nudge from one of the talon's would send him spinning off the ledge. Worse would be if they nudged the car enough to tilt it on its axis and sent it the remainder of the way to the canyon floor. Even the Grav-Weight wouldn't be able to hold it.

Tin-Tin kept a steady hand on the grabs' controls. In contrast, Gordon kept a fierce grip on those belonging to Thunderbird Two. He was sweating under the strain and was keeping an almost obsessive watch on the various gauges.

"Steady, Tin-Tin," Alan intoned. "Slower... Slower... and... stop!"

"Will they sit under the body of the car, Alan?" Scott asked.

Alan crouched down to examine the clearance. "Should do." He stood back. "Okay. Everything's fine down here. Close the grabs slowly."

Tin-Tin did as she was told. With the screech of metal against metal, the end of the pincers slipped under the car, supporting it in the grabs firm grip like a giant hand clutching an egg.

"That's far enough," Alan said.

The grabs stopped closing.

"Activate magnetic field," Alan ordered.

Electromagnets on the end of each of the grabs' fingers hummed into life. There was now little chance of the car slipping.

"Retract Grav-Weight."

The plate on the boot released it's grip and slid quickly back into Thunderbird Two's undercarriage.

"Give me a bit more slack, Tin-Tin," Alan instructed. I'll ride up inside the car and keep an eye on our victims' condition."

"F-A-B, Alan."

"Is there any chance of the grabs slipping?" Scott asked. "I don't want you in there if there is."

"Nothing to worry about, Scott. Just remind Gordon to keep clear of the edge."

"I heard you, Alan, and don't worry. I know exactly where everything is."

"Good," Scott acknowledged. "Okay, Gordon. Alan's in the car. Lift away."

"F-A-B." Thunderbird Two began to rise higher into the sky.

"There's a clear area in the car park. Set it down there," Scott ordered.

"I see it."

"Once you've done that, Alan can release his harness, you can retract his lifeline and the grabs and then bring Thunderbird Two into land on the playing field nor-nor-west of your position."

"Got it," Gordon stated.

"Did you understand that, Alan. Do not release your harness until the car is on the ground," Scott instructed.

"Understood," Alan said briefly.

"Tin-Tin. As soon I give the word, retract the grabs and Alan's harness. Once they're back on board close all hatches."

"F-A-B, Scott."

Scott watched in satisfaction as Thunderbird Two easily lifted the car over the lip of the cliff and lowered it to the ground, precisely beside two waiting ambulances. "Okay, Alan. You can release your harness."

Alan did so, throwing his harness out the window and then turning his attention to the two victims.

"Retract harness and grabs," Scott ordered.

The harness snaked upwards on the end of its lifeline and the grabs opened fully, before they followed the harness back into Thunderbird Two's belly. Scott watched the hatches close behind them. "Gordon! You're cleared to land." He dropped his microphone into its holder in Mobile Control and locked the entire unit down. He then jogged over to where Alan was standing beside the car, ready to assist the paramedics who were assessing the two victims. "Good work, Alan."

"Thanks," Alan acknowledged.

Scott turned his attention back to the activity inside the car. "How do they look?"

"Not good. The driver wasn't wearing a seat belt. It's only the steering wheel that stopped him being thrown through the windscreen. It's also the steering wheel that's done the most damage."

"And the passenger?" Scott watched as a backboard was slipped behind the driver.

"Out cold. I couldn't give them enough of an examination to find out why."

Carefully the passenger was extracted from the car and onto a waiting stretcher.

Alan jumped when someone clapped him on the shoulder. "Nice one, Alan."

"Thanks, Gordon. I hope it was enough."

"Well done, Tin-Tin," Scott congratulated her as the driver was wheeled away.

"Thank you." She watched the departing ambulance. "Will they be all right?"

"We'll probably never know unless John picks up a radio message," Scott said. "But at least we've given them a chance..."

Later, after the evening meal, Gordon threw himself onto the couch. "That was a mission today. I'll tell you something, the Thunderbird Two simulator's no substitute for the real thing."

"Want me to take you out for some test flights tomorrow?" Scott offered.

"I'd appreciate that," Gordon picked up the latest issue of a scuba diving magazine. "That wind gust caught me by surprise. Virgil would have compensated no problem."

Virgil chose that moment to wander into the room. "I would have compensated for what?"

"For that wind gust that lifted Thunderbird Two during the rescue."

"A wind gust was big enough to move a plane that size?" Virgil asked in amazement.

"This one was," Gordon opened his magazine.

Virgil looked about the room. Alan and Tin-Tin were sitting together on the balcony, talking and laughing quietly. They looked too intimate to consider joining them. Gordon was reading, as was Jeff. Scott and Brains were playing a game of... something. His grandmother was knitting, and Kyrano was pouring cups of coffee. "You all look relaxed," he said.

Gordon lowered his magazine. "Yep. We need it after a rescue. A chance to unwind."

"What do I usually do?"

"Oh, um," Gordon thought for a moment. "Draw, paint, play the piano, listen to music, read..."

"Oh," Virgil acknowledged and thought for a moment.

"What can't you remember, Virgil?" Gordon asked.

"How'd you know I'd forgotten something?"

"Because you've got two frowns. One says you're confused about something and the other says you've forgotten something. You've got your 'I've forgotten' frown on."

Virgil displayed a third frown, which showed that he wasn't very keen on the first two.

"So..." Alan said. He and Tin-Tin had decided that the evening air was a little cool and had come inside. "What have you forgotten?"

"What's a piano?"

The room froze. It was as if an icy chill had descended upon them all.

"You know, that's really annoying," Virgil said testily.

"What is?" Jeff asked.

"I ask what something is, or how do you do something and you all go quiet on me. I know I should know these things, but I don't know them and it's really frustrating when instead of telling me what I should know you all clam up."

"Sorry, Virgil. It's always a shock. We don't know what you know and when we realise that what you don't know is what we take for granted that you should know, then..." Alan frowned himself. "I don't know..." He petered off in confusion.

"Right! Now that that's cleared up," Virgil tried not to sound annoyed with them all, "will someone please tell me what a piano is?"

"That's the piano," Gordon told him. "The white thing over there." He pointed at the baby grand.

"Oh." Virgil wandered over and looked it. He circled it warily, touching it with caution.

"I've got a recording of you playing somewhere here..." Jeff was scrolling through his computer's database. "Ah, here it is," he set the music to play. Soon the familiar sounds of a piano filled the room.

"That's me?" Virgil asked, amazed.

"That's you," Jeff confirmed.

"Wow, I'm good!" Virgil couldn't help exclaiming.

His comment brought forth a gale of laughter from his family.

He frowned, hurt. "You're laughing at me!"

The laughter stopped.

"Sorry about that," Gordon apologised. "Sit on the stool and have a play."

Virgil sat as he was told. "How does it work?"

Gordon stood beside him. "Lift the lid. No, not the big one. The long one at the end."

Virgil gingerly swung the lid open. He looked at the keys. "Now what?"

"Press a key," Gordon told him.

"I can't see a key here. Where is it?"

"Press one of those black and white things."

Virgil pushed one and jumped when it emitted a sound. He pushed another, amazed at the note the came out. He pushed three together and a discordant noise ran through the room.

Mrs Tracy uttered a strangled sound and dropped her knitting. She departed the room at speed.

"Mother!" Jeff exclaimed and followed her out the door.

"What did I do?" Virgil asked. "Have I upset her again?"

"It's not your fault," Scott reassured him.

"No, but I'm the cause," Virgil sighed. "What did I do this time?"

"It was your piano playing, Virgil," Gordon told him sadly. "You love playing the piano. You're good at it, as you just heard." Everyone else nodded their agreement. "I guess that seeing you asking how to play was too much for her."

"Oh," Virgil was a downcast figure as he looked at the keyboard.

"Do you want to know how a piano works?" Gordon asked, hoping to cheer his brother up.

"I guess," Virgil said non-committedly.

"You press each key, or a combination of keys, to create a tune." Gordon played a scale woodenly. "I'm no good. Come on, Scott. You're Virgil's understudy."

"Me?"

"Yes, you," Alan backed up Gordon.

"I'm not that good," Scott protested.

"I never said you were good. But you're better than the rest of us," Gordon told him. "Now get over here." He gave his big brother a meaningful stare.

"Thanks for the recommendation." Scott stood. "Will you excuse me a moment, Brains?"

"O-Of course," Brains acknowledged.

"I don't want to interrupt your game," Virgil told Scott as he vacated the piano stool.

"It's okay." Scott held his hands over the keys and then placed them back into his lap. "What should I play?"

"One Virgil's favourites?" Tin-Tin suggested.

"You've got to be kidding! That's way out of my league."

"The Th-Thunderbirds March," Brains suggested.

"Huh," Virgil said, recognising the name. "What's that?"

"Something you wrote for Father," Scott explained. "For International Rescue's launch."

"I'd like to hear it."

"Okay... How does it go? Do you have the music under here?" Scott lifted the lid on the piano stool and looked inside. He rifled through the sheet music. "Ah! Here it is." He pulled out a sheet of paper and examined it quickly. "I like the drawings you've done on here..."

"Quit stalling," Gordon told him. "Let's hear it."

"Okay. I'm warning you now, Virgil. I'm not very good."

"Oh, for Pete's sake. Just play it will you." Alan was sounding peeved.

"Right." Scott flexed his fingers, cracked his knuckles and began.

Virgil listened, fascinated, as the large white object projected a piece of music into the room. He stared at Scott with newfound respect.

After the last notes died away Scott looked up from the piano. "How was that? Terrible?"

"Not terrible," Gordon told him.

"Yeah. Just really bad," Alan added.

"Thanks," Scott said sarcastically.

"Don't listen to them, Scott," Tin-Tin told him. "You played very nicely."

"No, it was rubbish," Scott admitted. "Compared to how Virg... Virgil would play it, it was rubbish."

"I can play that?" Virgil asked. "Can you show me how?"

"Have a seat," Scott offered and removed himself from the piano stool. "We'll start with the basics. This key," he pointed at the keyboard, "is middle C."

"Why?"

"Oh, ah. It's the middle key on the keyboard, I guess."

Brains got up and quietly left the room.

"Why 'C'?"

"Well, there's seven basic notes. A, B, C, D, E, F and G, forming a scale..."

"But there's more than seven keys..."

Tin-Tin decided that she had something that she needed to do in her bedroom.

Scott continued gamely on. "See how the pattern of keys repeats itself? Each key has the same name as the equivalent key in the next octave..."

"Octave?"

"A group of those seven notes..."

"But you said seven notes? Wouldn't an octave be eight?"

Scott was beginning to feel out of his depth. Alan didn't help by following Tin-Tin out the door. "We'll forget all the theory, just remember that this key is A, this one's B, this is C..."

"What are the black ones?"

"Well... That one's C sharp, or D flat..."

"But they're not flat, they're raised higher than the white keys," Virgil felt a black key, "and it's not very sharp. And why have they got two names?"

"It's what they are called, okay," Scott struggled to maintain his patience. Gordon choosing to leave the room didn't aid his cause. He wished he could follow his brothers out the door.

"I'm sorry. I'm annoying you," Virgil said quietly.

"It's not your fault."

"But I'm the cause."

Scott clenched his jaw tightly to stop himself from screaming. "Look we'll forget about the black keys. We'll start with your scales. Place your thumb on middle C..."

Virgil did as he was told.

"Ah, better make that your right thumb."

Virgil changed hands.

"Keep your wrist level. Sit up straight. Feet flat on the floor... Elbow at right angle... Man! I sound like our music teacher!"

Vigil followed the instructions. It all felt natural to him.

"Good. Okay," Scott continued on. "Now play the note with your thumb... First finger... middle... ring... and little... Now reverse that."

Virgil played a scale.

"Good. Keep that up for a bit. Then try it with your other hand..."

"Where is everyone?" Virgil had suddenly noticed that the room was empty.

"I guess they had something else to do," Scott lied.

Virgil saw through the lie. "They didn't want to listen to me, did they? I've upset them."

"It's not your fau..." Scott decided he wasn't going to fall into the trap. "Don't worry about it, okay. Have some practise. Play the scales for a bit. Try them on different parts of the keyboard. When you've done that, see what you can play. You've got a musical ear and you might find that it comes naturally. I'll leave you to it."

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

"I, ah, I'm going to head down to the gym. I'll come back and check on you shortly." With feelings that were one part relief and three parts guilt, Scott escaped.

Ten  

The sun was rising from behind the peak of Tracy Island casting an orange glow across the green of the tropical forest. Already the temperature was comfortably warm.

Virgil was sitting on a bluff, looking wistfully out to sea. He felt no comfort as he remembered both the previous evening and the following night. Once again he'd been woken dramatically by his nightmare and once again he had no idea what the dream had been about. Alan had suggested that he should keep his sketchpad by his bed and draw whatever he remembered as soon as he awoke. The problem was that he'd been so distressed at that point, that all memories of the dream had been driven away. The sketchpad still lay beside his bed, top page unblemished, pencil still sharp.

He sensed rather than heard someone come up behind him.

"Morning," Gordon said.

Virgil didn't look round. "Morning," he replied dully.

"Breakfast will be ready soon."

Virgil grunted a reply.

"Something wrong?"

"Thinkin' about last night."

"Dream or piano?"

"Both."

"Oh." Gordon sat down beside him.

"You all walked out on me!"

"I know we shouldn't have," Gordon admitted, "but... Your piano playing is as much a part of our family life as..." he tried to think of a simile, "living on this island. I guess it was too much for all of us, not only Grandma. Did you continue practising after we left?"

"No. I didn't feel like it. I didn't like the idea of chasing you all out of the lounge."

"Are you going to try again today?"

Virgil shook his head. "No."

"You can't give up! You've never given up. On anything! You especially can't give up on your music!" Gordon was practically pleading. "It'd be like cutting off your hand, it's such a part of you."

"It's not a part of me now though is it. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't remember. And I don't want to upset anyone."

Gordon had a flash of inspiration. "There's a keyboard in your studio. You could practise on that until you get your confidence back."

"Great," Virgil said flatly. "Something else I've got to relearn."

"Scott would show you."

Virgil gave him an unenthusiastic look and then looked back at the ocean that was now less purple and more blue.

"Give him a chance," Gordon begged. "He's okay."

Virgil continued his inspection of the blueing ocean.

"Hey," Gordon said gently. "I'm the one who's supposed to look out to sea when I'm feeling down."

Virgil sighed and flopped back so he was staring at the sky.

"And John's the one who feels better looking at the heavens..."

Virgil turned his head so he was looking at Gordon. "And me? What am I supposed to do when I'm 'down'? I don't even know that!"

"You listen to music."

"Music." Virgil resumed his despondent inspection of the skies.

"You'll learn again," Gordon insisted. "You've got a natural talent. Come on! Cheer up. You're more like Alan than Virgil at the moment."

"Maybe I'm more like Alan because I don't know what Virgil's like," Virgil stated. "What makes Alan feel better when he's sad?"

"Annoying us all with his sulking."

Virgil didn't even smile. "And Scott?"

"Bossing us all around..." As soon as he'd said the words Gordon wished he hadn't. "I'm kidding. He takes out his frustration in the gym... That's why he's spent so much time in there these last couple of days... He reminds me of a cat we used to have. He'd get frustrated if we were ignoring him or weren't feeding him. Then he'd find a bit of paper and start ripping it into confetti. Grandma would have a blue fit when she'd see the mess he'd made."

This recollection evoked no reaction from his brother.

"Come on, Virgil. What's really bothering you?"

Virgil hesitated before answering. "Who are you?"

Gordon tried to work out if this was some kind of a joke. To his shock he realised it wasn't. "What? I thought I'd explained all that."

"You've told me that you're a family. You've told me that you're my family..."

"That's right."

"You've told me that you're an organisation that has these fantastic machines that fly anywhere in the world to help anyone who needs it."

"Yes?" Gordon was wondering where all this was heading.

"Just the five of you?"

"Six! Tin-Tin helps occasionally..."

"I was including Tin-Tin."

"I was including you."

"Just one family of four brothers..."

"Five," Gordon interrupted.

Virgil continued on as if he hadn't. "...And Tin-Tin..."

"And Brains occasionally," Gordon reminded him.

"It sounds too implausible," Virgil stated.

"Why?" Gordon couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

"You say you're able to do these amazing things. Things that sound impossible."

"When you've got the right tools anything is possible." Gordon protested. "Why would we lie to you?"

"You tell me."

Gordon was at a loss as to what to say or do. He decided that the first step would be to cheer Virgil up. Surely he'd see sense when he wasn't feeling so dejected.

Gordon Tracy resorted to his greatest weapon. He sighed melodramatically. "Okay. If I tell you the truth will you promise not to tell the others I let the cat out of the bag?"

"You're obsessed with cats, do you know that?" Virgil looked at him warily. "You'll tell the truth?"

"Do you promise?"

"Yeah. Okay," Virgil agreed

"We're aliens."

Virgil lifted his head off the mossy ground, looking at Gordon incredulously. "Aliens?"

Gordon nodded earnestly. "From outer space."

"From outer space," Virgil echoed.

"From the planet Coelacanth."

"A coelacanth is an ancient species of deep sea fish," Virgil told him.

"Our planet is in the constellation of Pieces." Gordon insisted. "We've come to your planet with our advanced technology to lure you Earth People into a false sense of security before our people invade and take over the world."

"Okay. I'll bite. Where do I fit into all of this?"

"You're a pawn in our plan. We've removed your brain so you will do our bidding."

"I'm almost prepared to believe the removed brain bit. What are you going to get me to do?"

"Something important."

"What?"

"I want you..." Gordon said dramatically.

"Yes?"

"To..."

"Yes?" Virgil said impatiently.

"Take me to your leader!"

Virgil stared at him. Then he laughed.

Gordon was greatly relieved to hear the sound. "I'm serious!"

Virgil laughed again. "Yeah, sure."

"Don't tell the others I told you," Gordon warned.

"Why? Are you frightened they'll die laughing?" Virgil sat up. "Don't worry. Your 'secret' is safe with me."

"Good. Now how about breakfast?"

"Yeah, why not?" Virgil stood, brushing bits of vegetation off his trousers. "Thanks, Gordon. You've cheered me up."

"All part of the service. Now as a repayment, will you please try to talk to Scott?"

Virgil sighed. "Yeah... okay."

They began the walk back down to the villa.

Gordon was thinking about what had just happened. He didn't want to show it, but he was concerned. He debated briefly with himself and decided that he wouldn't mention it to anyone else. They had enough worries, without him adding to them.

Virgil's next statement drove all previous thoughts from his mind. "Are Alan and Tin-Tin serious?"

"About each other? As serious as Alan can be over anything that doesn't have a motor and go faster than a Tiger Moth bi-plane. They pretend they're just friends, and we play along to keep them happy. Why?"

"Just wondering..." Virgil said quietly. "Tin-Tin seems nice..."

Gordon stopped abruptly. "Whoa! Hang on, Virgil. Tin-Tin's strictly off limits to the rest of us. We regard her as our little sister. Nothing more!"

Virgil held up a placatory hand. "Calm down. The thought of a relationship hadn't even crossed my mind. It was just a comment."

Gordon looked at him warily. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. If for no reason other than the idea of dating someone who knows more about me than I know about myself is not appealing at the moment. Besides," he chuckled, "where could we go?"

"Oh..." Gordon looked at his brother shamefully. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

They continued walking. Gordon, trying to think of a safe subject to talk about, said, "I didn't know you knew what a coelacanth was."

"I wouldn't worry. I don't know what I know. I wouldn't expect you to."

"No. I mean I didn't know that you knew what a coelacanth was before you had amnesia. You've never shown any interest in sea life..."

Virgil stood outside the door to the bedroom. He took a deep breath and knocked. A voice said, "Come in!" and the door slid back.

Scott was seated at his desk. He looked surprised to see Virgil standing there. "Hi."

"Hi," Virgil said awkwardly.

"Uh," Scott tried to think of something intelligent that would explain Virgil's presence. "Do you have a message for me?"

"No. I... I thought..."

"Would you like to come in?"

Virgil flashed a nervous smile and took a step into the room. The door slid shut behind him with a snap, causing him to jump.

"Sorry about that," Scott said. "There's something wrong with the mechanism. I keep meaning to fix it, but I never seem to find the time."

"Oh," Virgil said.

"Have a seat," Scott indicated a comfortable chair. "Can I do something for you?"

Virgil accepted the invitation and sat down, twisting his fingers together nervously in a subconscious gesture. He appeared to want to speak, but was unsure what to say.

Scott waited.

Virgil glanced at Scott and then looked at the floor. "Gordon and Fath... Da... People tell me that you and I were close."

Scott looked at the file in which he'd been writing. He slowly closed it. "I'd like to think we were."

What followed was an awkward silence.

"Um. Thank you for showing me the piano last night," Virgil eventually said.

"Uh. The piano? Not a problem."

Scott looked at his hands and frantically thought.

Virgil looked at his hands and frantically thought.

"Um. Did you enjoy playing the piano?"

"Uh. The piano? I didn't sound as good as you did."

Scott reflected that it must have been the first time ever.

The awkward silence returned.

"Gordon says there's a keyboard in the studio," Virgil said.

"Do you want me to show you how to use it?" Scott asked wondering if this was the real reason for his brother's visit.

Virgil nodded and once again the silence hung heavily in the room.

Eventually Virgil moved as if to stand. "I'm sorry. I'm wasting your time. I'll go."

"No don't! Let's talk," Scott begged.

"No, I've interrupted you," Virgil insisted.

"I've finished this," Scott picked up his folder and thrust it into a drawer, closing it quickly. He didn't realise he'd jammed the papers so they were partly protruding.

They both sat there wishing they could think of something to say.

Virgil was the first to speak up. "What were you doing?"

"What this?" Scott indicated his desk and then noticed the file. He removed it from the drawer and tried to straighten it out again. "Making some notes about yesterday's rescue. I like to sleep on it. See if there's anything we did really well, or could improve on."

"And was there?"

"Well, things by and large went well. We got the victims out."

"Have you heard how they are?"

"John picked up some radio report about them both being in a critical condition, but apart from that, no."

"Oh." Virgil was quiet for a moment. "Did you have any concerns...? About the rescue?"

"The only concern was the way Gordon reacted to the wind gust. "

"The wind gust? But surely he couldn't control that."

"No. But he could control what he did in response. He risked Alan's neck..."

"What happened to Alan wasn't Gordon's fault." Virgil was sticking up for his protector.

"Yes it was," Scott said evenly.

"What?" Virgil frowned.

"Gordon didn't react to the wind gust the way he should've."

"How'd you know?" Virgil asked defensively.

"He told me."

"He told you?" Virgil's defensive attitude changed to one of surprise.

"When it comes to International Rescue, Gordon's a total professional. He knows that in our business you can't afford slip-ups like that. It could cost someone's life. He was lucky it wasn't Alan's this time."

"How do you mean?"

"If it had have been a sideways movement instead of straight up into the air, he could have slammed Alan into the rocks, or the car. If it had happened when he was lifting the car the force of the collision could have been enough to destabilise Thunderbird Two's flight. The occupants of both the car and Thunderbird Two could have been killed."

Virgil thought about this for a moment. "But how was it Gordon's fault?"

"All our flying craft have sensors designed to detect wind gusts. They allow us, or the onboard computer, to compensate. Gordon wasn't concentrating on his wind gauges. When the gust hit, he overrode the computer causing Thunderbird Two to gain altitude. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to be dangerous."

"How can you prevent something like that happening?"

"It's a familiarity problem. Gordon's not as used to flying Thunderbird Two as..." Scott refrained from saying 'you were'. "It's one of the disadvantages we have in each of us specialising in one particular craft. We forget the nuances of the other vehicles in our fleet. So I'll take him out on some familiarisation exercises in Thunderbird Two this afternoon. Get him back up to speed."

"You'll show him what to do," there was a faint edge to Virgil's voice.

"And sometime soon he'll take me out to re-familiarise myself in Thunderbird Four. And Alan will give us both training in Thunderbird Three. We'll regard what happened yesterday as something of a wakeup call. As Gordon said, the simulator's no substitute for the real thing. We all need get in practise in each other's craft."

"All except me."

"Yeah... well..." Scott said awkwardly and his flow of speech dried up.

They lapsed back into the uneasy silence.

Scott reflected that he had just explained some of the intricacies of Thunderbird Two to someone who under normal circumstances should know more about them than he did. He felt that it was Virgil who should be doing this afternoon's re-familiarisation session, not him.

Virgil reflected that he didn't know why he was here with this man, except to please Gordon, and wondered if he should try to make another exit.

Scott made another attempt to get the conversation flowing again. "Is there anything I can tell you about yourself? I've known you longer than Gordon has."

"I don't know. I don't know, what I don't know."

Scott worked his way through that sentence. "It can't be much fun for you at the moment."

"No."

"If I can help you only need to ask."

"Thanks."

Scott couldn't remember things ever being this awkward between the pair of them before.

Virgil couldn't remember.

"Can I tell you about your schooling?" Scott asked hopefully.

"Gordon covered that."

"Hobbies?"

"No."

"Jobs?"

Virgil shook his head.

Scott thought desperately, and then brightened when an idea came to him. "I know something Gordon won't have told you about, because he won't know," he said triumphantly.

"What's that?"

"I can tell you about the day you were born."

Virgil decided to listen politely.

Scott gave a rueful chuckle. "Obviously I was pretty young when I was told that I was going to get another sibling. I was upfront about it. I wanted a little sister. I demanded a little sister!" He slapped his desk in emphasis. "Don't ask me why? I think that because I already had a little brother in John, I wanted a set. Probably I knew some other kid that had one of each. I went through Ma's entire pregnancy insisting that she give me a sister..." He flushed slightly. "Uh, you do know what I'm talking about... don't you?"

"I remember that much," Virgil reassured him.

"Good," Scott said in relief. "Anyway Ma kept on telling me that she couldn't guarantee that the baby would be a girl, because she didn't know what it would be herself. And then, on the 15th of August 2041, Grandma told me that the baby had been born."

"A boy," Virgil said.

"Yep. I was really disappointed when I was told that I had a new baby brother. I sulked all the way to the hospital." Scott grinned at his own foolishness. "So I had another brother. Big deal. I didn't want it. And if Ma wasn't going to give it back, I decided that I was going to ignore it... forever. That'd teach Ma for not giving me a sister."

"What changed your mind?" Virgil asked in interest.

Scott realised that his brother was beginning to relax, and relaxed himself. "Grandma took me into Ma's room. She was in bed holding the baby. At least that's what I thought she was holding. All I could see were blankets. 'Do you want to see your brother?' Father asked. 'No,' I replied. 'He wants to say hello to you,' Ma said. 'Don't care,' I said, 'he can go back where he came from."

"Well, at least everyone knew where you stood," Virgil chuckled.

"Oh, I made that clear enough. Then Ma said, 'Would you like to hold Virgil?' and I'm thinking 'What is a Virgil?'"

Virgil laughed.

"Anyway, Grandma convinced me to sit in one of the chairs, and Father took those blankets from Ma and put them on my lap. I held on tightly, but I was not going to look! I was going to ignore this Virgil! Then you made a snuffling sound and I looked down to see what kind of creature you were. This big pair of eyes were looking right at me as if to say 'Oh, it's you, Scott.', and then you closed your eyes and went to sleep... I suddenly realised what it meant to be a big brother. As far as I remembered John had always been there, so he didn't count. But to have someone who trusted me enough to protect him, on his first day in the world, that he would fall asleep in my arms... It felt pretty special. It was at that moment I was glad I didn't have a little sister."

"You've got a good memory," Virgil commented, "if you can remember all that in such detail."

"Well," Scott said, "I was reminded. Remember? At your 25th birthday party, Father..." he paled. "Oh, heck. I'm sorry. Virg... Virgil..." Scott clenched his fists tightly in a gesture that said he wanted to crawl up into a ball and hide.

"It's okay. You're lucky you're able to forget..." then Virgil chuckled. "That's ironic isn't it. Me saying that."

Scott managed a chuckle of his own. "I'll tell you something else Gordon won't have told you about. I'll bet he hasn't told you about Gordon."

"Yes he has."

"Not the stories I know, I'll bet..."

Half an hour later found them both laughing hysterically.

"... So while Alan's trying to convince the teacher that the mouse was a fake one, and that she was mistaken in what she saw, Gordon's sneaking behind her trying to catch the live one. He didn't have a chance."

"He got caught?" Virgil asked through his laughter.

"She heard him, of course, and caught him red handed. It's a bit hard to explain away a live mouse in one hand and a home made fake mouse in the other."

"Did they get into trouble?"

"I'll say. The way Father went on you'd think it was a capital offence. Mind you the school wasn't too pleased at having the mouse stolen from the biology lab, cotton wool taken from the first aid room, and yarn swiped from the sewing room. The paint all over the floor and walls of the art studio from where the teacher had dropped them when she first saw the mouse didn't help either. Gordon's explanation that he was helping Alan with an art project only got him into more trouble, since Alan wasn't taking art at the time. Gordon had to clean up the paint spill, had detention for a month and was grounded at home for just as long. Alan's punishment was detention and grounding for a week. It didn't put Gordon off practical jokes though, and it didn't stop Alan from helping him either."

Virgil shook his head ruefully and wiped tears of laughter out of his eyes. "They're a couple of characters aren't they. They've been trying to make me believe all sorts of weird things. They even tried to tell me that International Rescue's got a plane that flies out of the swimming pool."

Scott grinned. "We do."

Virgil looked at him in amazement. "You're kidding me!"

"Nope. Want to see?"

"Of course I do! Which one is it?"

"Thunderbird One," Scott said proudly.

"Your plane?"

"That's it."

"Why through the swimming pool?"

"Would you think of looking for an aeroplane underneath a swimming pool?"

"No," Virgil admitted. "How do you get it out?"

"Didn't you see me launch yesterday?" Scott asked.

Virgil shook his head. "No. I was still trying to get my head around John's picture coming to life and the wall eating you up."

Scott laughed, rising as he did so. "Come on. I'll show you Thunderbird One. I can explain everything down there..."

Eleven  

As Scott waited for Virgil to rotate from the lounge into Thunderbird One's hangar, he reflected on the warm glow that he'd been feeling since Virgil had first shown an interest in his plane. The feeling had intensified when he'd seen his father's smile of relief when they'd told him what they were going to do. He knew everything was going to be all right between him and Virgil.

An electronic buzzer warned him that the wall panel was about to rotate.

He waited a moment and grinned at Virgil's surprised face when his brother first laid eyes on Scott's pride and joy. His grin threatened to split his face in two when Virgil's first response was to stride over to the edge of the platform, grip the guardrail tightly, and gaze down into the depths of the hangar below. "Wow!"

"What do you think?"

"Impressive. I guess it's not as big as Thunderbird Two, but this close and from this height..." words failed Virgil.

"She's a little smaller. She's built for speed, not for transporting equipment."

"Speed! It looks fast standing there! How fast can it go?" Virgil turned back to look at Scott.

"24,000 kilometres per hour max."

Virgil looked up at the ceiling of the hangar, hewn out of the rock that formed Tracy Island. He frowned briefly, trying to get his bearings. "That's the wall we came through," he turned his back to the wall, "so the pool must be there..." He pointed and looked towards where he supposed the pool should be. "How does Thunderbird One launch from here?"

"She's on a track system that goes deeper into the earth until she stops on her launch pad, which is under the pool."

"Okay. How do you actually fly through the swimming pool?"

"It retracts when I'm ready to take off. We've got a hidden reservoir for the overflow."

"How about when you return to base? Where do you land?"

"I bring her back to the vertical and then 'drop' back through the opening left by the pool."

"You land it through the pool! That's amazing!" Virgil exclaimed. "I didn't think the pool was that big. You must be a fantastic pilot."

"Not bad," Scott said modestly. "We can all do it, but I've had the most practise obviously."

Virgil looked back up at the red nose cone of Thunderbird One. "How tall is it?"

"35 metres nose to tail."

"35 metres... That's quite a drop." Virgil placed his hands back on the guardrail and admired Thunderbird One's lines. His eyes lowered down to the large '1' painted on the base of the plane.

"Yep. That's why the rail's there. You'd better hang on..."

...Hang on ... Hang on...

Words – sounds – echoing...

Scott didn't see Virgil's grip tighten on the rail. "...it's a long way to fall..." he continued.

...Fall... Fall... Fall...

Echoes – fear – horror...

"I'll take you across if..." Scott looked at Virgil, whose face had gone white. "Are you okay?"

Virgil took a step backwards away from the dizzying drop.

"Virgil?"

Virgil shook his head dazedly. "I..." He swallowed and took another step back. "I've got to get out of here."

"Virgil?" Scott asked again confusedly. "What's wrong?"

"Let me out!" Virgil dashed over and grabbed at the twin light fittings frantically. "Let me out of here!"

"Calm down!" Scott said in alarm. "Let me open it for you." He pushed a button and the wall swung open.

Virgil was through before the door had completed its revolution. The light streaming in through the patio doors called to him like a beacon. Ignoring the occupants in the lounge he made a beeline to the welcoming sun.

Scott followed him almost immediately into the lounge "Virgil!"

"What happened!" Jeff asked.

"Dunno..."

Virgil reached the patio and gripped the balcony rail tightly. He closed his eyes and allowed the warm sun to caress his face. He breathed deeply trying to get his racing heart back under control.

"Virgil?"

The sound of his name from behind him caused him to open his eyes. As he did so he looked down into the courtyard below.

Down.

Once again that inexplicable emotion welled up inside him. He didn't hear Alan repeat his name. He didn't feel Jeff place a concerned hand on his arm. He only knew one thing...

He had to get out of here!

He had to get somewhere safe!

He had to get somewhere familiar!

Virgil turned and ran back into the house.

"Virgil!" Scott called after him helplessly. "What's wrong?"

Down below in the pool, Gordon heard the commotion. He looked up in time to see Virgil flee, and Alan lean over the patio rail to call down to him.

Not bothering about getting dressed or even grabbing a towel, he launched himself out of the pool and raced up the steps to the house.

There was no one in the lounge so he hurried towards Virgil's room.

Jeff, Scott and Alan were standing outside.

"What's wrong?" Gordon asked.

"I don't know," Scott said unhappily. "I was showing him Thunderbird One. He seemed fine. I thought he was enjoying himself. He looked over the guardrail and made some comment about the height. Then he just freaked out."

"Any ideas why?"

"No," Scott shook his head.

"Okay. I'll go see what I can do," Gordon sighed. He opened Virgil's door and cautiously looked inside. "Virgil?" he called quietly.

No response.

He took a step in and shut the door behind him. He couldn't see his brother anywhere. "Virgil?" he called again...

"It's me isn't it," Scott said dejectedly. "Something always goes wrong when I'm about."

"It's not your fault," his father tried to reassure him.

"Then I'm the cause..."

"Don't you start," Alan said. "Where were you when he 'freaked out'? How close?"

"I was on the platform and he was holding onto the guardrail."

"So you were at least two metres apart. How can it be your fault?" Alan said reasonably.

"How else can you explain what just happened?"

"I don't know. But I do know that it's nothing to do with..."

"You don't know!" Scott's said heatedly. "I don't know! We don't know! We're as bad as Virg... Virgil! Why can't I remember to say his name properly?"

"Calm down, Scott," Jeff said in a soothing voice.

"Calm down? You saw him!"

"Gordon will..." Jeff started to say

"Gordon! Not me you notice! It always used to be me. Now he doesn't even trust me!"

"He doesn't know you..." Alan tried to say.

"He doesn't want to know me! I'm..." Scott stopped himself before he got too emotional. "I'm going to the gym!" He hurried off down the hallway...

Gordon took the lack of response to be an invitation to move further into the room. He had decided that the studio would be a good place to search until a sound made him look by the bed.

Jammed in between his bed and bedside cabinet was Virgil. He had his legs pulled up to his body and his eyes were shut tight.

"Virgil?" Gordon asked in a quiet voice. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Virgil opened his eyes and looked fearfully at his brother. "I don't know."

"Something must have happened. Why'd you run?" Gordon crouched down, leaning on the bed.

"I... I don't know. Scott was showing me Thunderbird... One, and I was fine. I was enjoying myself... Then I looked over the rail and had this sensation of... of falling. I couldn't stay. I had to get out of there."

"I wonder why," Gordon mused. "You've never had any problems with vertigo in the past. What were you doing?"

"Nothing. Just looking."

"Did Scott say or do something?"

"No. He was nowhere near me. I think he was telling me about Thunderbird One... I don't remember." Virgil pressed his head backwards into the wall. "I can't remember. Why can't I remember? What's happening to me?" he asked plaintively.

"I don't know. I wish I did. We all do."

Virgil closed his eyes again. "Do you have any idea what this is like? Do you know what it's like to have amnesia?"

"No," Gordon admitted again. "I've tried to imagine, but I can't. Not really. The closest I can come to it is after my hydrofoil accident."

Virgil cracked open his eyes and looked at him. "Hydrofoil accident?"

Gordon sat on the floor using the bed as a backrest. "Yeah. It was a short time before International Rescue was started. I think Dad was still in the early planning stages. I was with WASP, the World Aquanaut Security Patrol, at the time and a hydrofoil blew itself apart, with me in it.

"It did what!"

"I was unconscious for ages. They didn't know if I'd live, and if I was going to live, whether I'd be a vegetable or be able to walk again, or what!"

Virgil looked at him in concern, his own problems temporarily forgotten.

"When I did eventually regain consciousness all my muscles had atrophied. It was as if they'd forgotten how they were supposed to operate. I'd lie there thinking, 'now arm you are supposed to move like this'," Gordon demonstrated by moving his arm upwards, "but it wouldn't move. It took a lot of work by a lot of people to get me mobile again. And a lot of blood, sweat and tears on my part."

"But you're okay now?"

"Oh yeah. Fit as a fiddle. Otherwise Dad wouldn't let me be on the team."

"So that's how..." Virgil stopped embarrassed.

"Yes?" Gordon asked curiously.

"It wasn't through International Rescue that you got those scars."

Gordon looked down at his torso. "Nope. Well that one was." He indicated a small scar on his forearm. "I was cleaning down Thunderbird Four's tail fin and fell off. I impaled myself on a bolt in the pod," he grinned disarmingly.

"I wondered how you got them, but I didn't like to ask."

"Don't be afraid to ask anything. You've got to ask questions. You'll never find anything out if you don't."

"Don't say never. I refuse to even consider that this amnesia is permanent."

"Fair enough. But in the meantime ask! How else are you going to learn? As my brother you already know most of it anyway. And..." Gordon's grin intensified, "as your brother it's my right to tell you where to go if I don't want to tell you something."

Virgil managed a smile of his own and stretched his legs.

Gordon was relieved to see him start to relax.

The relief reverted back to concern when Virgil pulled his legs back up again. "Scott probably hates me now," he said sadly.

"Scott! Hate you! Never," Gordon said dismissively. "He's out there wondering what he did wrong and kicking himself for it. He's probably in the gym using himself as the punching bag."

Virgil sighed. "I'm upsetting a lot of people aren't I?"

"It's not your fault."

"No. But I'm the cause."

Gordon was getting heartily sick of that turn of phrase and tried not to show it. "You know you and Scott are good friends."

"So I'm told. That's why I asked him to show me Thunderbird One. I wanted to try to get to know him better – And I think I was... I didn't expect this to happen."

"I'll bet he didn't either..."

The punch bag railed backwards under the force of the blow. It had little time to recover before it was forced away from the perpendicular again.

Another blow... and another... and...

"Scott?"

"Grandma? What are you doing here?"

"I came to see how you were, Darling. I heard what happened."

Scott hit the bag.

"Now stop doing that and come and talk to me."

"What's there to talk about, Grandma? He doesn't like me, pure and simple. Nothing to talk about." The punch bag was punished again.

"You don't believe that do you?"

"What else can I believe? Every time I go near him something happens."

"Now don't exaggerate and come and sit next to me!"

When Grandma Tracy used that tone of voice, the safest option was to obey. Scott removed his gloves and sat on the form beside the diminutive figure that was his Grandmother. "I thought he was beginning to like me."

"He always has liked you, Scott. He's just getting..."

"To know me!" Scott threw the gloves angrily against the wall. "Everyone tells me that! How long does it have to take?"

"I don't know."