NON-PARTICIPATION II by PURUPUSS RATED FRC

Dr. Chris Brown is off on another adventure with International Rescue. The same story as Participation II for those who can't access a word processor.

Author's Notes: This version is for those of you who can't cut and paste into a word processor. If you can, my story Participation II is the same story, but the reader has to do some work to enjoy it. (fingers crossed) I can't claim any of the Thunderbird craft or characters - however if Virgil is ever available... Trixie is mine. I quite like her as a character and might use her elsewhere. Happy reading!

Non-Participation II - One.

Ah. There's nothing like a walk in the park to get rid of the stresses of the day, is there? A light breeze blowing through the trees, birds singing, the happy sounds of children playing. 'Yes', I thought, 'I needed this walk.'

I sat down on a park bench and surveyed the scene about me. It was a warm spring day. The flowers were blooming, the sun was shining, and I'd nearly succeeded in forgetting about the nightmare back at home.

My attention was taken up by the sight of a frail old lady making her way unsteadily along the path.

She drew level with me. "Excuse me," she said politely. "Would you mind if I were to sit here?"

I moved over to make room. "Of course not! Please sit down."

"Thank you." She gratefully sank onto the seat and rested her gnarled old hands on the head of her cane. "It's a lovely day."

"Yes it is," I agreed.

"I often fly, way up in the sky," she said.

"Stormy seas make me weak at the knees," I said.

"Tales are told of those young and bold," she said.

"Those of an age can still turn a page," I said.

Anyone listening to us must have wondered if senility had affected us both. What they wouldn't have known was that we were both agents for that top secret organisation - International Rescue. When meeting, we would exchange code phrases so that we could identify each other. It was totally unnecessary, of course. We knew each other on sight and had been friends since we'd both been trapped on the ill-fated 'Golden Empress'.

We burst out laughing together. "How are you Trixie?" I asked her.

"Fine, thank you, Chris. And you?"

"Oh, fine. I had to get out of the house for a bit, though. I needed the fresh air."

"How are the self-defence lessons coming on?"

I pulled a face. "I'm doing well with the yells. If a yell was all that was needed to scare away the bad guys, I could fight off an army!"

She laughed...a bright, fit contrast to the persona that had greeted me earlier.

I pointed at her cane. "What's with the walking stick?"

She tapped the side of her nose with the eagle's head handle. "All part of the cover, my dear. We can't have our enemies thinking that I'm anything other than a little old lady, can we?"

The idea of eighty-four year old Beatrix Trickey being JUST a little old lady tickled my fancy so much that I couldn't help laughing at the idea.

"Besides," she added, "dear Brains has incorporated one or two gizmos into this little piece. For instance, what is the handle?"

"A Thunderbird?" I hazarded.

"True. But it is also a pepper sprayer. Lift the top, pinch it 'just so' and pepper spray shoots out of its mouth. I won't demonstrate now."

"No, thank you," I said, reflecting that in the middle of a public park was not the place to start spraying pepper spray. "What else can it do?"

"You slide this catch back here and there's a little tool kit."

"Handy."

"Yes. And I found a new use for it today."

"Tell me."

"It makes a wonderful golfing putter." She reversed her grip and took a gentle swing.

"Somehow I don't think Brains will be too impressed by your latest innovation," I told her as I took the cane to have a closer look.

"Speaking of Brains, how is he?"

"Last time I saw him he was being worn to a frazzle."

"Brains? He's usually so competent and unflappable."

"Well he brought some 'help' with him."

"Has he brought Tin-Tin? She's such a lovely girl. She can't be causing problems, can she? She's always seemed so capable."

"Oh, it's not Tin-Tin that's the problem. He's brought Alan and Gordon as well."

"Two of the Tracy Boys...you are privileged! So, what is this new equipment?"

I hesitated as someone walked past. I had to remind myself that we were in a public place, not a secure environment. "To tell you the truth, I don't know. Brains did explain it to me, but it went in one ear and out the other. I'm sure it'll make sense once it's all been installed."

"So what's the problem he's having?"

"Everything Alan is touching is turning to custard."

"Alan!" Trixie's face held a dreamy look. "I haven't met him, but I've seen his photo in motor racing magazines. Isn't he simply too gorgeous? If I were sixty years younger..."

I'd seen little looks pass between Alan and Tin-Tin. "Trixie, even if you were sixty years younger, I think you'd have some competition."

"Really? Who?" Then realisation dawned "You don't mean Tin-Tin? Oh, how lovely. Come on, it's been ages since I've seen any of them. I'm not going to let this opportunity pass." She stood up suddenly and started striding off down the path.

"Um, Trixie?" I held out her cane. "It'd look more authentic if you were to use this rather than me."

She laughed. "Chris! You are quite right." She thanked me, took the cane and transformed herself back into the wizened old woman.

Non-Participation II - Two.

I opened the door to my home, hoping that I would be returning to it in better condition than when I left. I timidly stepped inside.

This first room looked thankfully unharmed.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I walked through to the next room. Trixie followed closely at my heels.

This room was a mess, but intact. Wires and bits of electronics were strewn everywhere. Brains was seated in the middle of what looked to be an untidy, multicoloured bird's nest. He looked up and blinked at us owlishly. "Oh, Chris. You're b-back. H-Hello, T-Trixie."

"Hello, Brains, dear. How are you?"

"F-Fine t-thank you," he frowned. "And you?"

"Box of birds, Brains. Box of birds," Trixie alliterated.

"H-How's things g-going, Brains?" I discovered that nerves had given me a stutter to rival his.

Fortunately he didn't seem to notice even though his frown deepened. "T-This is t-taking longer than it should."

"Anything I can help with?" Trixie volunteered cheerfully.

"N-No thank you, T-Trixie," he replied quite seriously. "I-I have enough 'Help'."

He said 'help' as if it deserved a capital H.

There was a crash from the direction of my bedroom.

Playing French Elastics with the electronic wires I ran to my most private sanctum. "Oh sh--!" I fought to stop myself from saying what I was thinking.

Gordon and Tin-Tin were in there, hands on hips, looking upwards, ignoring the pile of wood, plaster and dust that covered my newly made bed and freshly vacuumed carpet.

I followed their gaze and noticed a large hole in my ceiling. As I watched, a blue overalled leg withdrew from the hole to be replaced by a grimy face topped with tousled hair which should have been blond, but was instead grey with dust.

"This ceiling's none too firm," Alan said before noticing me. "Oh. Hi Chris," he added sheepishly.

"Alan!" I said in exasperation. "What have you done?"

"Sorry, Chris. My foot slipped."

"But my bed...my room...my ceiling..."

Tin-Tin must have realised that I was beginning to feel quite agitated about the whole business. "Come on, Chris. Let's go have a cup of coffee. We'll leave the boys to clean up."

"Why me?" Gordon asked petulantly. "It wasn't me who didn't watch where I was going."

"Please Gordon," Alan pleaded. "I'm not going to be able to do it by myself."

"I-I'm going to call Mr. Tracy," Brains said curtly and strode off down my hallway.

I was in a bit of a daze and left Tin-Tin to find the necessaries for the cuppa in my kitchen, while Trixie did her bit to 'comfort' me. "So, Chris, how come you have the privilege of being the guinea pig with this new equipment?"

"My house has got the newest wiring, since I'm the newest agent." At that moment I was wishing that I'd never heard of International Rescue. "Brains thought it would be easiest to modify."

"Lucky you," she said dryly.

Tin-Tin forced a cup into my hands. "Drink this," she ordered gently. "You'll feel better."

"Thanks." I took a sip and pulled back quickly. "It's a bit hot!"

"Sorry. Shall I--"

"No, it's fine, Tin-Tin. I'll leave it for a bit."

"Alan!" I heard Brains yell from the direction of the vidphone. "Your F-Father wants a word with you."

Tin-Tin grimaced. "Brains isn't very happy with Alan at the moment," she confided in us.

"He's not the only one." I said.

She misunderstood my meaning. "Yes. Mr. Tracy will be annoyed, too."

We strained to listen to Jeff Tracy's conversation with his youngest son. We couldn't hear it clearly, but got the idea that Alan was to come home. Now!

"But Dad!" Gordon was complaining. "That means I've got to clean up the mess. And it wasn't my fault!"

"I'm sorry, Gordon," I could hear Jeff apologising. "I'm sure Alan will make it up to you... somehow."

I knew of Gordon's reputation as a practical joker, and could already see the wheels of revenge turning over in his mind. I wouldn't want to be in Alan's shoes.

"Alan, you can take Thunderbird Three and relieve John from Thunderbird Five as soon as you get back."

"But Dad!" It was Alan's turn to protest. "I'm not due to replace him for another day."

Gordon looked disappointed, I assumed because it meant that his revenge would have to wait.

"Alan!" Jeff wasn't about to argue with his son. "Put Chris on the line, will you?"

"Yes, Sir," a chastened Alan mumbled and looked over to me. "Chris."

I put my cup on the table and went over to the 'phone. On the monitor I saw the patriarch of the Tracy family. "Hello, Jeff."

"Hello, Chris. I'm really sorry about the damage. Don't worry, I'll make sure it's repaired so it's as good as new."

"Thank you, Jeff. But in the meantime, where am I going to stay? My bedroom has a hole in it!"

"I could pay to have you put up in a hotel, but those places are so impersonal. How would you like to stay with us for a few days?"

I was dumbstruck. I was going to stay on Tracy Island? The base of International Rescue? "Oh, Jeff! That sounds great!" I hoped I didn't sound too enthusiastic, but in reality I felt like a kid who'd been given an early Christmas present.

"Good, that's settled. Start packing, Alan will be leaving in one hour."

"Um, Jeff?" Trixie slid up beside me so that she could see her employer on the vidphone. "Could I come too?"

"I don't know, Trix."

"Brains, Tin-Tin and Gordon can install the new equipment in my home while they're here," she said quickly. "It would make more sense than having them come back again at a later date."

"Welllll..." Jeff appeared to deliberate. "Are you sure you trust them? You've seen what's happened to Chris's place."

"Jeff, I'd let Alan do the whole job by himself if it meant I had the opportunity to visit International Rescue's base." Alan looked hurt. "I'm only kidding, dear." She gave him a grandmotherly kiss on the cheek.

"Okay, Trixie. You can come, too. Can you be ready in an hour?"

"Of course I can."

"Okay, you two, see you soon." Jeff signed off.

Trixie clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, wonderful."

"What should we take?" I asked.

"It's a tropical island." Trixie said. "I'm off home to pack my bikini." She was out the door in a flash.

I saw looks of anguish pass between Alan and Gordon as they conjured up an image of the eighty-four year old in her bathing suit. Then Alan brightened. "Hey, things aren't all bad. I'll be on Thunderbird Five!"

"Don't be mean," Tin-Tin scolded him. "She was only joking."

"You sure?" Gordon asked.

"Of course," Tin-Tin said confidently.

I knew Trixie. I wasn't so confident.

Non-Participation II - Three.

After hurriedly packing, and taking the time to safely store some of my more precious and fragile items, I found myself with Alan and Trixie at the airport.

Alan left us while he went to do the necessary bits and pieces required before we were able to leave in the Tracy jet.

"Do you think we'll be safe?" I asked Trixie. "You've seen what he's done to my house."

"Don't worry about it," she reassured me. "Jeff wouldn't let him near the plane if he wasn't sure that he could pilot it safely."

Alan came back whistling quietly to himself. "Ready?" he asked.

"Ready and waiting," I replied.

"I'll take Trixie's bag," He offered. "Do you mind bringing your own, Chris?"

"Not a problem." I didn't think I'd be staying for long, and doubted that I'd need my winter woollies, so I'd packed light. I picked up my bag and followed Alan and Trixie across the concourse.

Alan was a gentleman, assisting Trixie into the plane, showing us to our seats, and making sure that our safety harnesses were done up correctly. "Can I get you anything before we take off?" he asked anxiously. I had a feeling he was trying to make amends for the damage he'd done to my home.

"No, I'm fine, thanks, Alan. How about you, Trixie?"

"I'm fine, too. Come on, Alan, quit stalling, I'm dying to see your place."

With a grin, Alan climbed into the pilot's seat.

We'd gone through all the formalities and had cleared New Zealand's airspace when Alan started making conversation.

"So, Chris, how are you enjoying being an agent of International Rescue?" he said over his shoulder.

"At the moment, it's fine. I haven't had to do anything except learn a few new skills. That first aid course you guys put me through was a real eye opener."

"I hear you passed with flying colours."

I felt embarrassed. "I did quite well, yes."

"I haven't heard - has International Rescue required your services at all?" he asked.

"No. Things have been pretty quiet. Trixie and I thought that we heard someone plotting against you when we were in the park the other day, but it was just some children playing."

We were quiet for a while.

"Is everyone at home at the moment?" I eventually asked, looking for something to say.

"You mean apart from Brains, Gordon, Tin-Tin, me and John up in Thunderbird Five? Yes. Virgil and Scott had some work to do on their respective Thunderbirds. Dad's just got back from a meeting in New York. He took Grandma along with him to do some shopping. Kyrano's garden's at a crucial stage and he didn't want to leave it. Normally Gordon and I wouldn't both be off the island at once, but Brains needed the help. Not that I was much help," he finished bitterly.

Suddenly I felt sorry for him.

"You know, I haven't met Virgil or John yet," Trixie said.

"I know Virgil," I said. He'd rescued me from that madman when I'd been kidnapped. I was looking forward to seeing him again. "But I've only spoken to John over the radio."

"He's the quiet one, always stargazing," Alan informed us. "That's why he's suited to being cooped up in Thunderbird Five."

Alan didn't strike me as being quiet. "So why is it that you are the one replacing him?"

He shrugged. "I'm an astronaut."

"And a racing car driver!" Trixie exclaimed. "You must love going fast."

"Nothing like it." His face held a devilish grin. "The speed, the danger." He checked the radar. "How'd you two feel like a bit of aerobatics?"

"Ohhh, yes!" Trixie enthused.

Me - I was not so enthusiastic.

"Right, is everything secured? You're both strapped in tight?"

We assured him that we were.

"Here we go." He turned the yoke to the right and the jet rolled over till we were flying upside down. We stayed like this for a moment and then we were climbing up towards the heavens.

"Wheeee!" Trixie yelled.

We spun about the vertical and reversed our direction into a dive.

I'd had enough. "Uh, Alan?" I started checking the back of the seats closest to me.

"Yes, Chris?"

"Do you have any...you know...air sick bags?"

He looked horrified. "Sorry, Chris." He steadied the plane and handed me a bag. "I got carried away." I tried breathing deeply to ease my tortured stomach.

Trixie looked mildly disappointed that her fun had ended.

"Are you okay, Chris?" Alan asked.

I was still feeling green about the gills. "I'll live."

"Ah, you won't mention this to Dad, will you?" He was looking like a guilty schoolboy now.

"As long as you promise not to do that again while I'm on board."

"I promise!" he said with evident relief.

The rest of the flight was a sedate affair. Trixie dozed off to sleep, snoring gently.

"Chris?" Alan whispered.

"Yes, Alan?" I said equally quietly.

"If you'd like to come up here into the co-pilot's seat, I'll show you one of the reasons flying's so great."

Mystified, I undid my safety harness and made my way into the cockpit.

The scene ahead took my breath away.

We were above the clouds and the sun was low in the sky. But what caught the eye and the imagination was the array of colours scattered out from that fiery ball. Reds, oranges, yellows, even purples were displayed out before us, an artist's palette of unimaginable beauty.

"Wow!" was all I could say.

Alan grinned. "Amazing isn't it? No matter how many times I see this, I always get a kick out of it. You just don't see views like this from the land, or from space either, for that matter."

"But the view from space must be something else again," I said. "It's something that I've always wanted to do... to see the Earth as so few people have seen it."

"I get a kick from that, too. I'm up in Thunderbird Three, heading back from a rescue on the moon, or near the sun, and I look at Planet Earth and wonder how anyone can even consider desecrating it, when the rest of space is so inhospitable. From out there Earth seems so small, just a blue-green marble on a black table top. And yet, that's my home, the place that can produce scenes like this."

I looked back out over the multi-hued clouds drinking in the sight, trying to etch it forever into my memory.

Finally the colours disappeared. I heard Trixie stir and made my way back into the cabin.

"Have I missed anything?" she asked sleepily.

I couldn't disappoint her. "Alan and I were talking about what it's like to be out in space."

Trixie pulled a face. "That's something I've never wanted to do. Call me silly, but the idea of actually being out in space, where there's no air, frightens me."

I was surprised. Trixie was always keen to try anything.

Eventually a dot appeared on the horizon.

"There it is!" Alan said. "Tracy Island."

Trixie strained to get her first glimpse. "It seems so small. However do you find it in this big ocean?"

"Oh, we don't always. Sometimes we miss it," Alan teased her.

It was with great relief and more than a little excitement that we finally touched down on the volcanic isle. Both Trixie and I were peering out the windows, taking in the vistas of this tropical paradise that was to be our home for the next few days.

Jeff Tracy was there to meet us. "Welcome to International Rescue's base," he greeted us. "Did you have a good trip?" He'd noticed the securely sealed bag I held in my hand.

I saw Alan stiffen slightly as he unloaded our cases, but I'd thought about how I'd answer this question without implicating him. "Could have been better, Jeff. I guess I'm not the best traveller, but I've got no complaints about Alan's piloting abilities." Out of the corner of my eye I saw Alan relax.

Obviously Jeff hadn't been the father of his sons for all those years without learning about their traits, and I guessed that he'd seen Alan's reaction to his question when he said, "You mean he took you on a bit of a roller coaster ride."

I couldn't lie. "Only a small one. And I never felt in any danger."

"And I loved it!" Trixie said. "So don't you tell that young man off!"

Jeff chuckled benignly. "Okay, I won't." He took my bags, leaving Alan with Trixie's. "Come on, I'll show you to the house. We're still getting your rooms ready."

Non-Participation II - Four.

It was paradise, a tropical paradise.

Stretched out on a deck chair, gazing out over the blue Pacific Ocean; in the shade of a palm tree feeling the warmth of the sun beat down through its leaves, I was nearly able to forget about the bombsite that was my home.

Alan and Scott had left for Thunderbird Five almost as soon as we'd arrived on the island. They'd sat down on one of the couches in the living room, Jeff's mother had told us that our rooms were ready, and when I looked back both of the Tracy boys had disappeared. It was unnerving to say the least.

Mind you, the launch of Thunderbird Three had been something else. It was with awe that Trixie and I had stood on the balcony and watched the great space ship launch itself from the bowels of the earth.

"From this angle it looks as though it passed straight through the centre of that round building." I'd commented to Jeff.

"It did," he'd told me.

Virgil had appeared, seemingly from out of nowhere, wiping his hands on a greasy cloth. "Chris! Great to see you again," he'd enthused. "Nice to meet you, Trixie. Excuse me while I go wash my hands." He disappeared off down the hallway.

Kyrano, Jeff's manservant and Tin-Tin's father, had shown us to our rooms, directed us to the amenities, given us a welcoming drink and left us to freshen up.

Mrs. Tracy had given us a brief tour of the house and shown us nothing of International Rescue's operations. The only sign we'd seen of anything out of the ordinary were the five portraits of Jeff's sons dressed in their uniforms. As we'd admired these pictures Trixie had whispered in my ear, "If only I were sixty years younger..." She and Mrs. Tracy had instantly become firm friends and were in deck chairs a few feet away having a good gossip. Mainly about the Tracy boys and how hard it was to get them married off.

Now, as I relaxed, it was hard to believe that all this advanced technology was under our feet, out of sight to prying eyes. Surely there was nothing secretive about this billionaire's home!

The sound of a piano playing floated down from the main villa. I remembered that Virgil was reputed to be quite a pianist and wondered if he was the musician. I eased out of my deck chair, determined to find out.

He was seated at the white baby grand. "Hi, Chris." He didn't stop playing. "How are you?"

"I'm fine thanks." I replied. "How's the hearing?"

"Pardon?" Virgil answered, and then grinned. In the few times that we'd communicated since we'd met, it had become a standing joke between us, and as the music flowed from his fingers, I once again felt relieved that it was only a joke.

"I hear Alan's made a bit of a mess at your place." He finished some jazz and started a classical piece.

I screwed up my face. "That's putting it mildly. When I left, poor Gordon and Tin-Tin were repairing the hole in my bedroom ceiling and Brains was sorting out some wiring. I understand Alan had separated it all, to make things easier for Brains, without realising that Brains had already assembled it. I won't go into what else he's broken."

"I'm really sorry about all the trouble he's caused," Virgil apologised. "He's not usually that accident prone, otherwise Father wouldn't let him be part of the team. He can be quite useful - sometimes." I could hear a mixture of older brother pride and resignation in his voice.

"So what do you guys do to fill in your hours?" I asked. "I mean, living on a tropical island doesn't sound like hard work."

He didn't let up on his playing, seeming to be quite content to practise and talk to me at the same time. "Oh, we keep busy. We're always running simulations on our various bits of equipment to keep us up to speed. Or we're doing maintenance - I was just repairing the winch mechanism on Thunderbird Two. When we have spare time we all have our little hobbies. Mine are playing the piano and painting."

"You paint? Any of these your work?"

"Oh, a couple." Now that I looked I could see the initials V.T. in the bottom of many of the artworks.

"Hey. You're good!"

"Thanks. John's always writing up his astronomical findings. He gets a great view from Thunderbird Five. Alan's often off searching archaeological digs on the island, or reading one of his motor racing magazines, or--"

"Or spending time with Tin-Tin?" I hazarded.

Virgil chuckled. "You guessed. If you were to ask either of them they would say there was nothing between them, but we all know different."

"I guess Gordon's pass time is dreaming up practical jokes."

"Yeah, or putting them into action."

"I think he's plotting one now, for Alan's benefit."

"As revenge for being left to clean up your place? That sounds like our Gordon."

"So what does Scott do to relax?"

Virgil stopped playing. "You mean besides eat? Here's Thunderbird Three now. You can ask him yourself. Have you met John yet?"

"Only over the radio."

"They'll be coming to this room as soon as they land, so you'll get to see him face-to-face soon."

I wandered out onto the balcony to see the return of Thunderbird Three. It came thundering out of the sky, seemingly determined to plough nose first into the ground and then stopped a few hundred feet above the island. It rotated vertically and then slid gracefully, tail first, into the round house.

When the noise from the space ship had died away I wandered back into the lounge. Jeff Tracy was already there talking to Virgil. Trixie joined us, eager to meet John. She flopped into a couch. "Boy, it's hot out there."

"Ah, Trixie?" Jeff said to her. "You might want to consider changing seats. That one's going to be used in a moment."

Mystified, she stood up and then seated herself in a nearby armchair.

I watched her and then turned back. "Hey! Where did the couch go to?"

Two heads, one blond, the other significantly darker, rose up out of the hole vacated by the couch. They were seated on the piece of furniture.

"Hi there," Scott said.

We were staring at them open-mouthed. "What on... I would never have picked that!" I exclaimed.

"Crafty, isn't it?" the one I knew to be John said. "Nice to finally meet you in person, Chris, Trixie."

He shook Trixie's hand and I couldn't resist smiling as I could see going through her mind 'If only I were sixty years younger.'

Non-Participation II - Five.

The following day promised to be similar to the one previous. The sun was still shining, the breeze still cooling, the Pacific Ocean still inviting.

Only the conversation at the breakfast table showed that this was no ordinary day and no ordinary household.

"How'd your winch repairs go?" Scott asked Virgil while reaching for another piece of toast.

"Okay." Virgil chewed on his bit of toast meditatively. "It works, but there's something not quite right."

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"Oh it works fine; does all it's supposed to, but it hesitates a fraction of a second before operating."

"How much of a delay?" Jeff asked in concern.

"Not much."

"It's probably nothing," Scott said. "You're probably just being overly cautious."

"We could take her for a test run. I'll see if there're any problems under actual flight conditions," John offered.

"Okay," Virgil agreed.

During this exchange Trixie and I had sat there, following the conversation like a tennis match. At this point Trixie decided to serve a volley of her own. "Can I come, too?"

"I don't know, Trix." For the second time in as many days Jeff tried to turn her down.

For the second time in as many days Trixie wasn't about to let him. "Please, Jeff. I've only ever travelled in Thunderbird Two's passenger hold. I'd love to see her in action from the cockpit. It must be so exciting being at the nerve centre of such a powerful craft." She aimed this last comment in Virgil's direction, and batted her eyelashes hopefully.

He was concentrating on fishing something out of his cup.

Jeff shrugged. "I guess it'd be alright. As long as Virgil doesn't mind. He's the pilot."

"Sure, I don't mind," Virgil shrugged. "How about you, Chris? Would you like to come, too? We won't be doing anything too hair-raising. First sign of a storm, we'll head for home."

The first time I'd travelled in Thunderbird Two we'd been hit by lightening, and both times I'd done my best not be a security hazard. It sounded like this time I'd get the opportunity to sit back and enjoy myself. "I'd love to, thanks."

"Okay," Virgil took a last mouthful of drink and stood up. "We'll leave in half-an-hour. Meet us in the lounge."

"Great!" Forgoing the rest of our breakfasts, Trixie and I took off to get ready.

We were in the lounge a full five minutes before Virgil and John arrived. John was already in his uniform.

"You two are keen," he said with a grin. "I don't know why. She's only a cargo transporter after all. Now, if you were going to see Thunderbird Five, I could understand the enthusiasm."

"Hey! There's nothing wrong with Thunderbird Two," Virgil protested. "Without her International Rescue would be nothing."

"If it wasn't for Thunderbird Five, you wouldn't know where to go to anyway," John was stirring.

Virgil knew it. "I'll tell you where to go shortly."

"Now, boys." Jeff chided them gently. "You'll have guests on board this time, so behave yourselves."

"Of course we will, Father," Virgil said.

"We'll be perfect gentlemen," John reassured him.

"And if they're not, I've got my cane to keep them in line." Trixie waved her walking stick in the air.

"Well, then, what are you standing around here for? Get going!" Jeff ordered.

Virgil and John gave him a mock salute. "Yes, Sir!"

"Hang on a minute," Virgil said. "I'd better go on ahead and get set up. Once I'm chan...sorted then you can come on down."

"Fair enough," John conceded. "We'll take the long way down and I'll show Trixie and Chris Thunderbird Two's hangar.

"Goodie, goodie!" Trixie clapped her hands together like an excited schoolgirl.

"Mind those two boys look after you," Grandma Tracy said. "They're not to do anything dangerous while they've got guests on board."

"We won't, Grandma." Virgil gave her an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

"No. I'll keep an eye on him," John was still stirring. I guessed he was enjoying being with his family after being away for so long.

"How about keeping an eye on our guests and keeping them out of my way?" Virgil suggested. He was standing with his back to the painting of a rocket that was at least twice his height.

"Okay. If you two wouldn't mind taking a couple of steps back, his lordship will make his grand exit."

Virgil sighed and looked heavenward. "You wouldn't consider coming in John's place, would you, Father? He's in a funny mood at the moment."

"No, I wouldn't," Jeff growled benignly. "He needs the practise more than me."

"Fair enough," Virgil said. "See you three down there." To our immense surprise the painting tipped backwards and sent Virgil head first, down a chute.

"Shoot," said Trixie. "That was some exit."

The painting righted itself and once again concealed the door.

"You know," I said to Jeff, "I hadn't given it any thought, but I would never have found any of your access ways."

"Good," he said. "That's what I like to hear. It means we've done our job right."

"Hang on," said Trixie. "Thunderbird Three is via the couch, Thunderbird Two is via the painting. How do you get to Thunderbirds One and Four?"

John looked at his watch. "We haven't got a lot of time. You could either stay here and try to work it out yourself or..." He started heading in the direction of a door. "...come with me and I'll show you Thunderbird Two's hangar." He found himself being pulled by the hand as Trixie dragged him in the direction of the door.

I turned to Jeff. "I'd better go with them. John might need a chaperon. I'll see you later."

He chuckled. "Okay, Chris. Enjoy yourself."

Non-Participation II - Six.

Thunderbird Two was huge. Each time I'd seen her I'd been struck by the sheer bulk of the plane. John took us by monorail through her hangar, pointing out where the equipment and machinery was stored and showing us the pod conveyor belt system.

As we watched, the conveyor belt started moving until Pod Five came to rest underneath. Then Thunderbird Two slowly sank down over the Pod and we heard the clamps snap into place.

We made our way down to the passenger doorway of Thunderbird Two and John gained admittance. He led us to a lift and the three of us crowded in before being taken to the flight deck. I could feel Trixie's fingers digging into my arm in excitement.

The lift doors opened and we were facing the cockpit of Thunderbird Two. This time I took my time in looking around, as I'd tried to ignore it all last time I was here. Lights flashed and glowed, motors hummed and something was beeping. I wondered how any one person could take in all the information that the control panel provided and still be able to concentrate on flying their 'plane. It wasn't as if Thunderbird Two required a co-pilot!

"Ah, you're here." Virgil came out from behind his pilot's seat. He was now wearing his version of the International Rescue uniform with the yellow sash. John's, I suddenly realised, was a kind of pale purple in colour.

Virgil indicated a seat and then assisted me with my harness. "You should be an old hand at this by now," he joked.

"I don't mind a second opinion," I assured him.

John made sure that Trixie was secure and then went to his own seat a short way away from ours. As he buckled in and Virgil returned to the pilot's chair, Trixie lent over towards me confidentially. "There's nothing as good as a handsome man in uniform... except maybe two."

Really, the lady was incorrigible.

"Thunderbird Two to Base. Request clearance to exit hangar." Virgil was given the all clear. "Everybody set?" We all murmured that we were. "Right, off we go."

Ahead of us the door of the hangar sank into the ground and we started rolling forward. I felt a moment's trepidation when I suddenly realised that the wings were never going to clear the palm trees planted neatly in rows along either side of the air strip. That was until both rows fell away backwards and bounced gently as Thunderbird Two passed by.

Trixie and I looked at each other in amazement.

We trundled sedately along our avenue of horizontal palms.

Then we stopped.

I thought something must have gone wrong. That maybe there was another aircraft nearby and Virgil didn't want to draw attention to Thunderbird Two.

These thoughts ran through my mind in the split second between when we stopped and when the nose of Thunderbird Two started to point skyward.

We reached the launch ramp's zenith and stopped again. Virgil double-checked with his father that we were clear to leave and then fired the engines.

The sudden acceleration forced us backwards into our seats. I found myself gripping the seat edge, while Trixie had regained her firm hold of my arm.

Once Thunderbird Two had levelled out we both relaxed our grips. I rubbed my arm, sure that I was going to be the proud owner of some interesting bruises.

Virgil didn't take Thunderbird Two out very far before switching to hover mode. He and John had a quick conversation about some technical details and then John started operating the winch.

"You're right, Virg," he agreed. "There is a slight delay in response time."

"Good. I was worried that it was me."

"No... not this time." John threw the switch again. "There's definitely something not quite right with the mechanism. It works all right...except for the delay. You've checked all the relays?"

"Double and triple-checked them."

"The cogs?"

"Replaced them all and checked the measurements with a micrometer."

"Chain tension?"

"As per specs."

John scratched his head. "Well I don't know. Sounds like this is a Brains job to me."

"Yeah, well, he's not here, and I don't like having our equipment not up to scratch."

"Have you tested her under all conditions?"

"I've only been able to test it on the ground till today. I selected Pod Five with the 'Firefly' and 'Firebus' to give Two the extra weight she needs for full testing, but it hasn't made any difference. It's got me beat!"

"It's got to be something in the computer. Have you changed the software at all?"

"Software's Brains' department," Virgil said. "He hasn't mentioned any upgrades to me, but he's had that much on his mind lately, with Chris's refit, that it's possible he did something and didn't mention it."

I felt slightly guilty at the thought that, however indirectly, I may have had something to do with Thunderbird Two's problems. Though I couldn't really see what the problem was. From what I could tell the winch operation had seemed fine to me, but clearly it wasn't up to International Rescue's strict specifications.

"Well I don't know," John was saying. "You know me, my forte's communications. You're the one with an Engineering Degree."

"I know," said Virgil in frustration. "I was hoping that you might come up with an idea I hadn't thought of, or at least say something that'd set me on the right track."

"You've checked all the components."

"Yes."

"And run a diagnostic through the computer."

"Yes."

The two men continued talking. Hashing and rehashing theories and possibilities as to what could be causing the delay in the winch operation. They ignored us and after a while Trixie and I became bored and started talking together. So much for the excitement of being a member of International Rescue.

We all became quiet suddenly when another voice intruded on our conversations. "Base to Thunderbird Two. Base to Thunderbird Two."

Virgil switched his attention to the radio. "Go ahead, Father."

"We've got a call out, boys. It's in Auckland, New Zealand."

Trixie and I looked at each other. That was home!

"There's been an explosion and people are trapped..."

I had visions of some of Alan's 'help' causing my house to explode.

"... Scott's left already..."

As I looked out the cockpit windows I could see the silver rocket plane that was Thunderbird One streak past.

"...Bring Chris and Trixie home immediately and get what equipment you need..."

Virgil found himself being pushed out of the way as Trixie tried to make herself visible in the video link.

"That's our home town, Jeff. We might have local knowledge that the boys can utilise," she said urgently.

"Trixie, it's just not safe."

Virgil managed to regain control of his communications link. "Father, we've already got the 'Firefly' and 'Firebus' on board. We'd only be wasting time if we head back to Base now."

"You're willing to take Trixie and Chris with you, Virgil?"

"I am."

"Alright, as long as both of you promise not to leave Thunderbird Two. A - because you'll be safer in there, and B - as you said, it's your hometown. You could be a security risk if someone you know sees that you're associated with us. Do you understand? Trixie?"

"Yes, Jeff. I understand. I'll stay here."

"Chris?"

"I promise not to leave Thunderbird Two's cabin."

"All right, then," Jeff said reluctantly. "And be careful...all four of you."

Non-Participation II - Seven.

Neither Trixie nor I were surprised to find out that the explosion had occurred at a recently built factory. Local gossip had it that the company that owned the factory were in the business of making extremely dangerous chemicals, and had paid a lot of money, not necessarily ethically, to get the plant built.

In my opinion the factory was, at least, an eyesore. At most I believed that it was an environmental and community disaster. Promised jobs to the local work force had not materialised as much of the plant was automated, and those jobs that needed the human touch were filled by outsiders. The giant smoke stacks emitted tons of goodness knows what into the air, and I hated to think what was being done to the local waterways.

A part of me was glad that it was this particular factory that was affected, but I couldn't help worrying about those who were trapped, and, in the long term, what environmental damage was being done.

We'd made it to Auckland in less time than I'd expected. Trixie and I directed Virgil to an adjacent park. Thunderbird One was already on site and we could see Scott manning "Mobile Control" from the back of a flat deck truck.

Deftly Virgil landed Thunderbird Two on the green turf. Once this park had been a place to be enjoyed, now a large ominous pipe snaked its way around the edges and disappeared under the ground. Parents no longer trusted the area as a place where their children could play safely. It was only rarely that you would see someone exercising their dog on its green lawns. Last time I'd been here this park had held a desolate air.

Thunderbird Two's motors had barely shut down before John and Virgil were out of their seats. "Right, you two," Virgil said. "I'm leaving you in charge of Thunderbird Two now, okay?" We nodded our agreement. "And don't touch anything. Especially that button there." He pointed at a large red button shielded by a clear plastic cover. "Okay, Trixie?"

"Anyone would think that you didn't trust me Virgil," she pouted.

"Anyone who can talk my father into changing his mind twice--"

"Three times," John cut in.

"Three times," Virgil continued on, "has the strength of character, or just plain pig-headedness, to think that they can do what they darn well please. And I don't particularly want my Thunderbird damaged. Got the picture?" He appeared stern, but his eyes were smiling.

Trixie nodded solemnly.

"And whatever you two do," John added, "please don't go outside. You'll put all five of us in danger if you do that."

"Okay, John." I said. "We promise."

"Cross my heart." Trixie crossed herself somewhere in the vicinity of her liver.

"I'll go start getting ready," John said.

"Be with you in a moment." Virgil pushed a couple of buttons on his computer. Video screens came to life showing the inside of what I assumed to be the pod. "Just to keep you from being bored, I'll link our video cameras through to here, so you can see what we're up to. They're mounted on the front of both the 'Firefly' and 'Firebus' and we've got them attached to our fire suits."

"Thanks, Virgil," I said to his retreating back. But he'd gone.

As Trixie and I watched from Thunderbird Two's cabin windows we saw Scott jump down off the truck and meet Virgil and John in a hasty conference.

Trixie watched the three of them intently. "I wonder what it's like to have a 'Toy Boy'," she said meditatively.

"Trixie!"

She gave me a big grin. "Am I shocking you, Chris? Don't worry, it's just my idea of fun."

"Fun?"

"I learnt a long time ago that life was for enjoying. So that's what I try to do. And part of that enjoyment comes from making other people laugh. And there's nothing as funny as an old lady lusting after handsome young men."

I could think of funnier things but kept silent. Her next statement surprised me.

"Have I ever told you about my husband?"

"No."

Her eyes followed Scott as he made his way back to his base on the truck. "Ryan Albert Trickey. I knew from the moment that we met that we were soul mates. I loved him with all my heart. I know that he felt the same."

I wondered why she was telling me this.

"He was a firefighter," she said meditatively as she opened a secret compartment in her cane and withdrew a photo. "He was a lot like Scott. Tall, dark, handsome, strong, a natural leader, caring, but always ready for a joke. I loved him so much and whenever he was on night duty I used to lie in bed alone and worry... worry that maybe tonight he wouldn't come home."

I was silent as I looked at the photo. He did look like Scott - without the dimples.

Trixie paused for at least a minute as she gathered together her thoughts and emotions. "One night he didn't come home."

"Oh, Trixie, I'm so sorry."

"So was I. I was sorry for myself for a long time. He'd been assisting at a road accident. The driver of the car was trapped and Ryan was in the car beside her, steadying her, comforting her. Doing what he did best - helping strangers."

"What happened?"

"A speeding driver didn't see them or the warnings. He came upon the accident scene too fast. He ploughed straight into the back of the crashed car and sent it flying forward into the car in front. The original victim sustained more injuries, but survived. Other firefighters were injured, some seriously. The speeding driver got a few cuts. Ryan was thrown through the windscreen and between the two cars. He died at the scene."

Mere words didn't seem adequate at this time. I put my arm around her.

"Thirty-four years we'd been married. Thirty-four wonderful years ended in a flash, all because of one person's stupidity." There was bitterness in her voice. "I hated that man, hated him for taking the most important part of me away from me. And then I began to feel depressed. Why me? I missed Ryan so much. I thought I couldn't go on without him. Do you know I had a bottle of pills in my cabinet? I used to look at them and think 'it would be so easy to be with him. No more pain.'"

I was shocked. I'd never thought of Trixie as being anything but bright, cheerful, easygoing. "But you didn't," I said.

"No, I didn't. One day I was in the park. I don't even remember how I got there, or why. There was a young lady walking along, minding her own business, and two hooligans came along and started hassling her. I could see she was quite frightened, but at first I did nothing. Why should I get involved? It was nothing to do with me. It wouldn't bring back my Ryan. Then one of them grabbed her around the neck and started pulling her towards some bushes. Clearly they thought a little old lady like me would be too intimidated to do anything. The poor girl was terrified."

"But they didn't know you, did they Trixie?"

"No," she said in satisfaction. "They didn't know me. I let out a scream and ran towards them yelling 'Fire!'"

"Fire?"

"People are always curious about fires. Anyway all of a sudden we were inundated with people from all parts of the park. The hooligans forgot their plans and ran straight into the arms of a waiting policeman."

"Who says there's never a cop about when you want one?"

"Exactly. The police were very nice and took my statement, but what really changed my life around was the look on that young ladies face...of relief, of gratitude. And also the thanks I received from her family. I realised then that my life had a purpose. That if I'd...taken the alternative...anything could have happened to that young lady. That now I could, in some small way, carry on Ryan's work. It's why I jumped at the chance to join International Rescue."

"I'm glad you did," I said simply.

"I went home that afternoon and looked at all the photos I had of Ryan...of our wedding day, honeymoon, the birth of our children, and everyday shots of everyday events. Do you know? In every one of those photos both Ryan and I were smiling. We were having fun and I suddenly thought 'Ryan would still want me to have fun.'. If I were ever sad, he would try to cheer me up. He didn't like me to be unhappy."

"He sounds like he was a wonderful man."

"He was. There's not a day, in the forty years since, when I didn't wish that he were back with me. But I've grown stronger and I can cope now. The one thing that I really miss are the dances."

"Dances?"

"We used to love go out to dances. Waltz, Foxtrot, Jive, anything that required a partner we loved to dance. Since he died I haven't danced once, not a proper dance. These modern dances you could be having a fit and no one would know the difference."

"You could still go."

"I was talking to the boys' grandmother earlier today." Trixie was looking out the window again at the Tracy men and not listening to me. "She was telling me how every time they go on a mission she's terrified that they won't return. They don't tell her all that happens, but she knows how dangerous their work is. She said it'd kill her if anything happened to one of them. Don't tell anyone else, but she also told me that every time she gets a medical check up, she gets them to check her heart. It's perfectly healthy for a woman her age, but she worries that with all the stresses in her life she might be damaging it. She thinks that if she developed any problems she'd have to move back to America. I told her that she'd be under more stress if she did that, because she'd only get the limited amount of information from the news bulletins, and they never have the full story. And she wouldn't have the therapy of looking after her family!"

"That poor woman--" I started to say.

There was a slight jolt and we realised that Thunderbird Two was starting to rise up on its hydraulic legs.

"She knows that International Rescue is her family's life, and if, for any reason they were unable to do their work, it would kill them." Trixie ignored the motion. "It was like that with my Ryan. I know that he loved me enough that if I'd asked he would have given up being a firefighter for me. But I also know that if he'd done that, not being able to do his job would have killed him, as surely as that speeding driver did."

"Trixie," I said quietly. "Why are you telling me this?"

"So you'd understand, that despite the fact that I flirt with those boys, no one, no matter how smart, how handsome, how brave, could replace my Ryan."

"I understand."

She sighed. "I haven't spoken about this to anyone for years, and here I am recounting the story twice in one day. Mind you," Suddenly that roguish grin was back on her face. "if I'd never met him and I was sixty years younger..."

Non-Participation II - Eight.

"Mobile Control to Thunderbird Two." Scott's voice sailed out of the radio.

We both jumped. "How do we operate the radio?" I wondered out loud.

"Don't worry I can hear you," Scott said. "I'm just going to keep you up with the play. There's about ten people trapped in a bunker at the centre of the factory. The walls of the bunker are solid concrete about a metre thick. They can't get out because the explosion happened directly outside their only exit. AND," he said with emphasis, "the plant's owners installed a 'security' mechanism whereby if there was any form of disruption, all locks would be instantly fused shut."

"Security!" I exclaimed. "Whose security?"

"Obviously not their employees'," Scott said grimly. "As an additional 'security' measure the owners ensured that all systems in the plant would shut down automatically. That includes ventilation."

"Nice!" Trixie commented sarcastically.

"Virgil's going to go in first in the 'Firefly' to clear the way for John. John's going to operate the 'Laser Cutter Vehicle' to cut a hole in the door to get them out. While he's doing that Virgil'll come back and get the 'Firebus' to collect the victims. I'll keep us all on open communication so that you can hear what's going on, too. From now on though, I'll only contact you directly if it's essential, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Scott," I said.

"What do you suppose the 'Firefly', 'Laser Cutter Vehicle' and 'Firebus' are?" Trixie asked me.

"I have no idea. I've only ever seen the 'Mole'. And it looked weird. I wonder what the others will be like."

One of the video images that Virgil had set up for us, started vibrating, telling us that we would soon find out.

We craned our necks to peer out of the flight decks windows. We could see Scott, still seated at Mobile Control, looking towards Thunderbird Two's open pod, but as yet no sign of any of International Rescue's fabulous equipment.

I glanced at the video monitor. The image moved and then tilted down suddenly as the machine negotiated the pods ramp.

"There it is!" Trixie exclaimed.

At first all I could see was a huge bulldozer scoop, but as the machine trundled away from Thunderbird Two I could make out its squat shape and yellow and red colour scheme. It turned to make for its objective, and above the caterpillar tracks it ran on, I could make out the word 'Firefly'.

"How's he going to get in there?" Trixie asked. "There isn't a gate big enough here."

Without stopping, or even slowing down, Virgil drove the 'Firefly' directly through the security wall of the plant, pulverising the concrete as he went.

"Oh!" Trixie exclaimed. "Well, that was easy."

The 'Firefly' disappeared behind a building and we turned our attention to the video screens. Ahead of us the fire raged.

"'Firefly to Mobile Control." We could hear Virgil's voice.

"Mobile Control," Scott acknowledged.

"I'm inside the complex. There're pipes everywhere. I'm going to have to plough through some of them. Can you get me any info as to which I should be avoiding?"

"F.A.B." There was a short pause. "The smaller ones are for water, coolants and electrical ducting and have been shut down. Anything over a metre in diameter should be avoided as being possibly explosive or corrosive."

Virgil was silent for a moment as he digested this information. I looked at his video link. I could see the pipes he was referring to. Most appeared to be at least a metre round. Eventually he spoke. "Scott, I'm gonna need more help than that. Going by what you've just said, MOST of these pipes are dangerous. Can't someone do something about them?"

"Negative. That's one system the owners didn't want shutting down."

"Well, no one said this job was going to be easy," Virgil sighed. "Guess I'll just have to make my own bridge." Through the video camera we could see him start to scrape the debris he'd just created near one of the larger pipes.

Another of the other video images started to move. John was shifting one of the other bits of equipment outside, ready for use. Once again, Trixie and I strained to see this new mechanical marvel.

This one was quite small, at least compared to the 'Firefly', and its colour was solid rescue red. The operator sat in a small cabin above the machine's caterpillar tracks. The only remarkable item was a long probe thing that stuck out in front of the operator.

"It doesn't look much like a bus," Trixie thought out loud. "It must be the 'Laser Cutter Vehicle'."

As John climbed out of this machine and ran back towards Thunderbird Two, I had to agree with her.

Looking back at the 'Firefly's' video I could see that Virgil was still piling up bits of concrete. It seemed that every time he got it to a reasonable height the weight of the 'Firefly' would cause the 'bridge' to sink back down again.

International Rescue's final masterpiece of engineering was being manoeuvred out of the Pod. It was the 'Firebus'.

It was yellow and red.

It had no windows.

It looked like a bus.

"Well, that's exciting," I said dryly to Trixie.

There was a slight jolt and Thunderbird Two started descending, we assumed back over Pod Five.

"Going down," Trixie said impishly."Next floor, fire sale."

"I wish they'd think to warn us first," I said a trifle crossly.

"Oh, Chris," Trixie laughed. "You've got no sense of adventure."

"Firefly to Mobile Control." We could hear Virgil's voice.

"Mobile Control," Scott acknowledged.

"What are these buildings in my vicinity?"

"Canteen, locker rooms, administration rooms..."

"Anything dangerous stored inside?"

There was a slight pause. I guessed that Scott was conferring with someone nearby. "Negative."

"Good!" We watched the video image as Virgil reversed the 'Firefly' and then rammed a building head on.

Looking out the cockpit windows we saw one of the concrete monstrosities collapse.

Trixie and I started clapping and yelling, urging Virgil on.

"Firefly to Mobile Control."

"Go ahead, Virgil."

"Could you tell the cheerleading squad to quiet down? I can't concentrate with all that noise. I don't want any of these buildings falling in the wrong place."

We could hear Scott chuckling as he replied with a "F.A.B." He then added, "Did you two hear that?"

We quieted down.

Bits of Canteen, locker rooms, and administration rooms were piled up on either side of the obstructing pipe. The pile of debris grew higher and higher.

"Right," we heard Virgil grunt. "I'm going over."

"F.A.B., 'Firefly'. Good luck," Scott told him.

Non-Participation II - Nine.

Both Trixie and I held our breaths as we watched the video image from the 'Firefly' move forward, up and over the obstructing pipe.

"Made it!" Virgil sounded relieved. "Preparing to fire shell, now."

The video image jolted about a bit as the 'Firefly' was manoeuvred to its optimum position. Ahead we could see a square concrete bunker, dripping with flame and some unknown chemical. Around it, twisted pieces of metal glowed white-hot. If there was an entrance way within our viewing circle, it was hidden behind clouds of smoke and falling ash.

We were unprepared for the explosion. The video image recoiled from the force of the blast. After several minutes the smoke and ash cleared enough so that we could see the bunker.

We could now see the blackened framework of what had once been a door.

"How's it look, Virgil?" Scott asked.

"I think the bunker's still intact. Better send in the 'L.C.V.' now."

"F.A.B."

"And Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't think I'd better chance driving over my little modification again until we've cleared everyone out. I'll stay here and keep the fire away from the door and the 'L.C.V.'. Can you take care of the 'Firebus'?"

"Okay, Virg. John's on his way now. I'll get the 'Firebus' in position. Mobile Control to 'Laser Cutter Vehicle'."

"Go ahead, Scott" John said.

"Did you hear the change of plan?"

"Yep, sounds like a good idea."

"Give me a yell as soon as you want me to move in. Mobile Control to Thunderbird Five."

"Thunderbird Five," Alan acknowledged.

"I'm leaving you in charge. I'm going to have to take control of the 'Firebus'."

"Okay, Scott. Anything I should know about?"

"No. So far everything seems to be relatively under control. Oh, you might want to keep an eye on our two passengers, though."

"Right." Alan had no sooner finished speaking when Scott had leapt from the back of the truck and, dodging John in the 'Laser Cutter Vehicle', ran over to where the 'Firebus' was sitting unattended.

"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird Two. How's it going?"

"Hi, Alan. We're just fine," I said.

"I thought you might be a bit bored," he said.

"No, not yet," Trixie told him.

"You may be. That's one of the problems with these rescues, if you're not directly involved. They can take a long time while we seem to be getting nowhere."

"Any word on those trapped?" I asked.

"No. We've got no communication with them, unfortunately. Just another system the owners saw fit to shut down."

"Well I hope they can live with themselves after this," I said bitterly.

"How come the people of Auckland allowed this place to be built?" Alan asked us.

"We didn't," I told him. "It seemed to be a fait accompli before anyone knew anything about it."

"There were plenty of protests," Trixie remembered. "But we were all told that all the conditions had been met and that permission had been given, and that nothing could be done."

"So the people of Auckland have had to put up with this eyesore for the last three years," I added.

"I'll bet heads will roll after this," Alan commented.

"Just as long as it's the right ones," I said.

The video image that was connected to the 'Laser Cutter Vehicle' moved forward. From our vantage point up in Thunderbird Two, we watched as the 'L.C.V.' turned into the hole in the wall previously made by the 'Firefly'.

The 'L.C.V.'s video image was a lot jumpier as it made its way over debris that the heavier 'Firefly' had negotiated with ease. It reached the debris 'bridge' and gingerly made it's way up and over. The 'Firefly' came briefly into view. Virgil had reversed it and from a hose arrangement on the back, water was spraying over the bunker's door, keeping the flames at bay.

John stopped so that the 'L.C.V.'s probe was pointing at the door. We heard a hum as a secondary motor started up. A bright light came shooting out of the end of the probe, striking the door. Sparks flew and the probe started moving upwards, cutting an exit for those that we hoped were still alive inside.

It was an extremely efficient machine and the time passed surprisingly quickly. It seemed to us that it only took the length of time for the 'Firebus' to negotiate its way to the bunker, for the 'Laser Cutter Vehicle' to complete its task.

John moved back, not trusting the 'bridge' to hold the weight of his vehicle.

The 'Firebus' moved in. From its camera we could see it pull at the door that John had just cut. The slab of steel came free and was moved to one side. The bus's entrance was positioned at the front of the vehicle, which meant that Scott only had to nose into the wall of the bunker.

We watched from his helmet cam as he hopped out of the 'Firebus' and ran inside the bunker.

Ten people were scattered about the room. Ten heads were raised in amazement as they realised that their ordeal was about to end.

"International Rescue," Scott greeted the first person he reached. "Is anyone hurt?"

"International Rescue?" The rescuee appeared stunned. "Hurt? Uh, no."

"Great. Let's get everyone on board." Scott started ushering the bewildered people into the 'Firebus'. Then he checked that the room was cleared. Satisfied, he climbed back into the 'Firebus', closing the door behind him. This time he took a seat at the opposite end, where a matching set of controls was situated. The 'Firebus's motor started up.

"John, you'd better go first," Scott started issuing orders. "You're lighter and less fire-resistant than we are."

"F.A.B.," John replied, and from the 'Firebus's video camera we saw the 'L.C.V.' trundle up and over the dangerous pipeline.

"Okay, Virgil. I'll go next and you can follow up," Scott instructed.

"F.A.B."

It wasn't long afterwards that we saw the 'Firebus' emerge from the complex. Scott drove it over to a waiting ambulance and started assisting his human cargo from the International Rescue machine into the more conventional vehicle. John parked the 'Laser Cutter Vehicle' beside and jumped down to assist his colleague.

I hadn't realised that anything had gone wrong until we heard Virgil yelling. The weight of the 'Firefly' had proved to be too much for the flimsy bridge he'd built earlier. Helplessly, Trixie and I watched as the 'Firefly's' video image tilted alarmingly to the right. We knew that the pipeline must have been fractured. We heard Virgil gun the machine's motor to try to get away from the impending danger. We saw a fireball explode up into the sky.

The video link to the 'Firefly' went black.

"Virgil!" Trixie said softly, concern clear in her voice.

Non-Participation II - Ten.

Both Scott and John were away from their machines and didn't hear Virgil's warning calls, but made a dash for the radio in the 'Firebus' when they saw the fireball. "Virgil!" Scott panted over the communication link. "Can you hear me?"

We could only hear the crackle of static and the roar of explosions as they followed the pipeline through the complex. Each blast seemed to be louder and more ferocious than the one before.

"Come in, 'Firefly'!" Scott ordered.

We held our breath.

I was receiving more bruises from Trixie. "Oh, Chris!" She whispered. "Do you think he's alright?"

I couldn't answer. I didn't know.

Scott tried again "Virgil! Come in, Virgil! Can you hear me?"

"I hear you, Scott," Virgil's voice came as a welcome relief to us all. "I was concentrating on putting out the fire but nothing seems to be working."

"Then get the heck out of there!"

But Virgil had anticipated Scott's order and his bulldozer scoop could be seen emerging from the complex.

Beside him the pipeline ruptured again, sending the great machine rocking. Explosions continued out of the weakest points of the pipeline, the pipeline that ran around the edge of the park.

The pipeline that Thunderbird Two had landed beside!

"Chris!" I heard Virgil yell my name. "Push that red button!"

"What!?" I hesitated momentarily.

"Push the red button NOW!" There was a real sense of urgency in his voice.

That, coupled with another explosion closer to us, spurred me onto action. I quickly flicked back the clear protective cover and slammed my hand down onto the button.

The resulting roar made me think that I'd been too late. I was forced down into the pilot's seat as Thunderbird Two was thrown skywards.

It took me a moment to realise that we'd taken off and were gaining altitude.

Another fireball rose into the air, grazing our starboard wing.

As we gained altitude the G-forces pushed me back into the seat. I could feel the blood rushing through my head. That coupled with the pressure build-up in my ears made it very difficult to hear clearly. I swallowed and felt one of my ears pop.

"Chris!" Trixie yelled excitedly. "You're flying Thunderbird Two!"

"No, I'm not! She's flying herself!" I retorted as the other ear popped and I found that could hear more clearly.

"Push the red button again!" I was glad to hear Virgil's voice again. Fighting against the G-forces I punched at the button.

We stopped.

It all became relatively quiet.

I took some deep breaths to calm my nerves and looked back at Trixie. She was sprawled across one of the seats. "Are you okay?" I asked in concern.

She sat up slowly. "I think so. What happened?"

"We've taken off. We're flying...or more correctly, hovering." I looked at the video screens. The men of International Rescue appeared to be trying to contain the fires. "Looks like we're going to be here for a while."

"Mobile Control to Thunderbird Two."

"Go ahead, Scott," I said.

"Are you two alright?"

"Yeah, we're fine," I told him.

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait until we've got things sorted down here, okay?"

"Okay, Scott. At least we're out of harm's way," I told him as he signed off.

"So," Trixie sighed. "What do we do now?"

"I guess we wait."

Non-Participation II - Eleven.

We'd been sitting there for about fifty minutes feeling bored. Nothing new appeared to be happening on the ground and we'd run out of things to say.

I was sitting in Virgil's seat mulling over a variety of disparate things. One thought popped into my head.

"Trixie?"

"Yes, Chris?"

"Before, when you were telling me about Ryan..."

"Yes?"

"You said you'd been married for thirty-four years."

"That's right."

"You also said that it's been forty years since he... passed on."

A small smile started to play about the corners of her mouth. "Well actually, it'll be forty-one next month."

"Trixie, you told me you were eighty-four. That would mean that you were ten when you were married!"

"Ah, you've discovered my guilty secret." She gave me a conspiratorial wink. "I'm really ninety-four."

"Ninety-four! I hope I'm as bright and fit as you when I'm that age. But why the lie?"

She pouted. "It's a lady's prerogative to lie about her age."

"I thought it was a lady's prerogative to change her mind."

"Actually, it's a lady's prerogative to have as many prerogatives as she chooses. But please, Chris, whatever you do, don't tell anyone my real age."

"But why? I think you're pretty fantastic."

"Do you think Jeff Tracy would have an agent who's ninety-four years old? I love working for International Rescue and would hate to have anything as trivial as my age jeopardise that."

I could see her point. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you, Chris. You are a dear."

We could hear snatches of conversation from down at the face of the blaze. It appeared that finally SOMEONE had managed to drain and disconnect the large pipes and the fire was finally coming under control.

Another ten minutes passed and all the excitement was over. The three Tracy men gathered around Mobile Control, obviously unaware that we could hear their conversation. From the 'Firebus's camera we could see them all looking upwards at a small dot in the sky. That dot was Thunderbird Two.

"Nice one, Virgil," John commented dryly. "Now how do you plan to get them down?"

"At least they're safe," Virgil said. "There's no telling what could have happened if they'd been caught in that explosion. You might have had to walk home."

"No way. I'd hitch a ride in Thunderbird One. You'd take me, wouldn't you, Scott?"

Scott ignored the question. "There's no reverse button, is there?"

I could see Virgil shaking his head. "No, and I don't intend to talk them down either."

"So the only option is an air-to-air transfer," Scott said.

John slapped Virgil on the back. "Good luck! I'll direct you from here."

"You'll direct him from on board Thunderbird One," Scott told him.

"It'll be a bit cramped," John pointed out.

"Once Virgil's on board Thunderbird Two it won't be too bad," Scott informed him.

Virgil sighed. "Right, let's get this over and done with and then we can head home."

We didn't hear directly from Scott until all three were on board Thunderbird One. He gave us a brief rundown of the plan. "How's the wind up there?"

"It seems to be pretty quiet," I told him. "But how can you tell?"

"There's a gauge on the left side of the control panel," he directed me to the exact spot. "What's the reading?"

"Three knots."

"That'll do. Now don't open the hatch until we give you the word. Okay?"

"F.A.B., Scott."

I heard him chuckle as I used the International Rescue code for affirmation. "Hold tight. It won't be long now."

We saw Thunderbird One glide up beside Thunderbird Two's cockpit windows and then it was once again out of sight, only this time above us.

Scott left the radio on open communication. "Ready, Virgil?"

"Ready."

"Opening hatch."

"Move right two metres, Scott."

"Right two metres," Scott repeated.

"Stop! Back a metre...that's great."

"Have you double-checked his harness, John?"

"Double and triple-checked it, Scott. We know the routine."

"Just checking."

"Okay. Can you hear me, Chris?"

I was somewhat startled to hear Virgil speak my name. "Y-Yes."

"Great. I'll wait until I'm just above and then get you to open the hatch, any questions?"

"N-No."

"Be seeing you soon."

Though the airwaves were quiet we could almost hear the tension between the three brothers. They'd made it sound as if an air-to-air transfer was a piece of cake, a task undertaken every day by International Rescue, but I had a feeling that it was a lot more difficult than they were letting on.

"Chris, open the hatch."

I did as Virgil instructed.

"He's through, Scott," John said.

"I've released the harness," Virgil said a moment later. "You can lift away." A short time later he was in the cockpit with us. "Great piloting skills, Chris. We'll get you your pilot's wings yet." He slid into his rightful place in the pilot's seat and skilfully brought Thunderbird Two back to land.

For someone who was so protective of his 'plane he was taking the events of the last few hours very calmly.

It seemed that we'd no sooner touched down than John and Scott were with us on the flight deck. "Are you both alright?" Scott asked.

"Wonderful!" Trixie crowed. "I haven't had this much fun and excitement in a long time."

I was more pleased to have my feet back on the ground, well at least Thunderbird Two sitting on the ground.

"I'm fine..." I started to say. Then I stopped. "What's that beeping noise?"

A light was registering on the control panel. "It's the automatic camera detector!" Virgil said in concern.

"Someone's photographing the craft!" Scott dashed to the window. "There he is!" He pointed to where some bushes edged up against the factory's security fence. A thickset man was standing there, dressed in camouflage pants and khaki shirt. He held a large camera in his hands.

"I'll call the police," Scott grabbed up the radio.

Trixie and I looked at each other.

"Let us go after him!" Trixie said.

I nodded my agreement.

"What? No way!" Scott said.

"It's what your father has trained us for and what he pays us to do," I reminded him.

"But you said yourselves this is your hometown. If you are recognised and traced back to International Rescue--" John said.

I interrupted him. "I think we've got that covered." I sat on a seat and removed my shoe. Flipping a small catch I slid the heel around to reveal a hidden compartment. I removed two small capsules. Breaking open one of the capsules I removed a gossamer thin mask that changed my skin tones, eye colour and with a bit of padding, changed the shape of my eyes and nose. I slipped it on over my head. The other capsule contained a pair of gloves in the same skin tone. They fitted on my hands like...well, like a pair of gloves.

Trixie had retrieved her capsules from a compartment in her cane and was also in disguise. "Just as well we're both wearing long sleeves," she commented.

The three International Rescue men were staring at us open-mouthed. "That's kind of creepy, seeing how easy it is for you to change your appearance," Virgil said.

"I bet you can guess where Brains got the idea from," I informed him.

"The Hood?"

Scott looked back out the window. "He's still there. I don't like this. I think we should leave it to the police."

"Scott!" Trixie and I said in exasperation.

He knew he'd been beaten. "All right, you'd better get going. And be careful! John! Go get the 'Firebus' and give these two a bit of cover as they leave Thunderbird Two. We don't want ANY security slip ups."

Non-Participation II - Twelve.

At first it seemed like a game. Theatrically we ran from bush to tree, trying to remember our recently learned tracking skills. If the Tracy men were watching us from Thunderbird Two, they must have wondered about the advisability of sending us out on this mission. We felt like we were part of some children's adventure book, like 'Five Go to Mystery Moor,' or as Trixie put it, 'Two Go to Auckland.'

I was the first to spot our quarry. I gestured to Trixie. "There he is." We ducked down behind a bush. Trixie reversed her cane, opened a couple panels and transformed it into a periscope, able to see over the bush. I was beginning to feel a little jealous. I wished I had a gizmo as useful as her walking stick. I decided that I would mention it to Brains later on.

"He's going around the corner," She whispered excitedly. "Come on!"

We dashed to the corner of the concrete security fence and peered around. I radioed Scott. "He's gone in a gate in the factory's perimeter fence."

Scott sounded worried. "I don't like this, Chris. I think you'd better both come back."

"We're fine, Scott. We'll keep going." I shut him down in mid protest.

We crept over to the gate. It was unlocked and showed no sign of having been forced.

For the first time I felt a sense of unease.

Cautiously we entered the complex. "We're inside," I told Scott.

"What!" he exclaimed. "For a firm that's so hot on security, that's too strange."

I had to agree with him.

The further into the plant we got, the more nervous we became. We'd moved from a children's story book to an adult's thriller.

"Look, I'm not comfortable with this and neither are you," Scott protested at one point.

"How'd you know?" I asked.

"Because it's the third time in five minutes you've called me. Now get out of there!"

"No, Scott. We'll keep going. It's our job."

"Chris--" But I'd cut him off again.

We were now in one of the buildings that Virgil had partially demolished to make his bridge. Beams were scattered at unusual angles and bits of wall and ceiling were hanging loose. Smoke still hung in the air. The whole place didn't look too stable.

"Where is he?" Trixie whispered.

"Right behind you!" The voice in my ear was accompanied by a burst of pain as he twisted my arm up my back.

It was at that moment that instinct took over. I hadn't realised that my self-defence lessons had been so complete or ingrained. Without really thinking about what I was doing I let out one of my famous yells and retaliated.

The next few moments were a blur. When everything had quietened down I was standing over our quarry who was lying unconscious at my feet, a gun fallen from his outstretched hand.

"Way to go, Chris!" Trixie whooped as we gave each other an exuberant high five.

My feeling of elation was tempered somewhat when I looked down at the man on the floor. "But he's not the one we were following."

"No!" said a voice from behind us. "That was me!"

Non-Participation II - Thirteen.

At the sound of that voice I froze. It was a voice I knew only too well. I'd heard it often enough, usually in my dreams...my nightmares.

It was the man who had kidnapped me.

The Tracys had a name for him. "The Hood."

This had stopped being a game. We'd been dragged back to reality.

Both Trixie and I turned slowly. I didn't recognise the face, but there was no mistaking that terrible, guttural voice. I remembered something else about him. Those eyes - those terrible, glowing eyes that held a hypnotic power. I resolved that if I did nothing else, I would not look into those eyes.

I felt a cold sweat break out over my face. Despite my mask's breathable nature it felt as though it was clinging clammily to my features.

"Raise your hands slowly," he ordered. He had an obscenely large gun pointed in our direction.

I complied, hoping desperately that my disguise would work and that he wouldn't recognise me as Dr. Chris Brown, that person that he had supposedly killed.

"Oh, dear," Trixie said breathlessly. "My heart...it's the shock...if I take my hands off my cane I'll fall, I know I shall."

"Very well, old woman. You may use your feeble support. But you!" The gun swung back in my direction. "Keep your hands up."

I raised them even higher, my thumb flicking out a stone on the ring that I wore.

"Good." He grinned evilly. "Is this what you are after?" He held up the camera.

I decided to give him the truth. Well at least part of it. "We saw you taking the photos of the International Rescue craft and thought that maybe you didn't realise that they don't like people doing that. We only wanted to tell you. I didn't realise it was a capital offence." I couldn't believe that I was speaking so clearly, so calmly.

"So public-spirited," he said mockingly. "What a shame that it comes at such a terrible cost. What a shame you won't live to see what I shall achieve. I shall make great use of the photos in this camera. It holds great power, in fact the power to take over the world."

"Take over the world? But that's impossible...with just photos?" I gabbled, playing for time.

"Silence!" he roared. And then he laughed. That horrible, evil laugh. The man on the floor groaned and the laughter died away. "Fool!" The Hood spat contemptuously. "He has failed me and there is only one reward for those who fail." The gun swung from me to the poor unfortunate on the floor. He took a step forward in order to get a cleaner shot.

I was horrified. A man was about to be murdered in front of my eyes and there was nothing I could do.

With a speed that surprised me, Trixie raised her cane's handle up to the Hood's eye level. Those large, horrible eyes received a large, horrible dose of pepper spray.

I backed away quickly to avoid getting any spray drift.

A shot rang out.

I felt a hot breeze brush my arm.

The Hood, screaming, clutching at his face in pain, tears streaming out of his eyes, backed into one of the fallen beams. As his large body leant against it, it splintered and gave way.

More beams started to fall. Dust and debris filled the air. Ominous creaking sounds increased in volume until they became a deafening roar.

I was dimly aware of Trixie yelling something at me about safety.

I looked up at the crumbling ceiling just in time to see an iron beam fall towards me.

Non-Participation II - Fourteen.

I don't think I was knocked out, but I was certainly dazed when everything quietened down.

I could dimly hear voices - men shouting.

"Over here! I've found Chris!"

Bits of wood and plaster were hurriedly brushed away from my face. I blinked through the layer of dust that stuck my eyelashes together and looked into a very worried pair of brown eyes.

"V-Virgil?"

He grinned in relief. "We've got to stop meeting like this," he joked.

I tried to sit up and found my progress impeded by more bits of wood across my torso.

"Hey! Take it easy," Virgil ordered. "Are you injured?" He and John removed some of the larger planks.

"No...no, I don't think so." I managed to sit up with Virgil's assistance, and then sucked in my breath as a wave of pain washed up my left leg. "M-My foot." A large iron I-beam obscured my view of the limb.

"Hang on." Scott and John each grabbed an end of the I-beam and, with a lot of effort, and a couple of mini jacks, managed to lift it clear.

Now that the pressure was off, the pain lessened and I was able to think more clearly. I grabbed at Virgil's arm. "Trixie, where's Trixie?! You've got to find her, Virgil."

The anxious look returned to his face. "Where was she, Chris?"

"Um... Over there, on the other side of that guy I knocked out." I pointed vaguely in the general direction.

Virgil glanced at his brothers.

"I'll look after Chris," John offered, "you go find Trixie."

As Scott and Virgil picked their way through the debris, John gently examined my foot. "You'll live," he said. "I think it's only bruised, but we'll get it x-rayed just to make sure. Do you feel up to walking out? I'll help you."

I was feeling stronger now; all my concerns were for my friend. "Yes, yes!" I said impatiently. "Have they found Trixie?"

Virgil and Scott were feverishly pulling debris away from a cupboard door. They threw back the last obstacle and, pulling with all their might, managed to wrench the door open.

Trixie was inside, still standing, but crying hysterically.

Virgil stepped inside the cupboard and put his arm around her. "Shush, Trixie. We're here. You're safe now."

She buried her face into his shoulder and said something which I couldn't catch. He put his other arm around her and held her tightly, protecting her from her fears. He continued to talk to her gently, calming her down.

There was nothing Scott could do there, so he wandered about the room finding first my 'victim', and then the Hood. He picked up the camera and took something from his pocket. Holding it against the camera, it emitted a blue light.

John must have noticed my puzzled expression. "It electromagnetically wipes all the photos," he explained. "Have you rested long enough? Do you think you could stand now?"

With his assistance I got to my feet. I gingerly put my full weight on my left foot and then fell against John as the pain caused my leg to give way. "It's okay," he said soothingly. "I'll help you."

I glanced over my shoulder. Virgil had managed to coax Trixie out of the cupboard and they were slowly negotiating the debris field. One hand was supporting her; the other held her cane.

"You four head back to Thunderbird Two," Scott said. His voice sounded loud in the funereal silence of the room. "I'll take care of...things...here."

As we left the room and entered the comparatively clear passageway, I explained to John what had happened. As I recounted how close we'd come to being murdered, I shuddered. John held me tighter. "It's okay," he said. "Scott'll get the police in and they'll take care of him. We'll head back to the island and you'll be well away from him."

At that moment Tracy Island sounded like heaven.

Trixie had perked up a little when she and Virgil had made their way back into Thunderbird Two's flight deck. John had already arranged a foot rest for me and had got an ice pack for my foot. It had been with great relief that I'd ripped the mask from my face and hands. I felt as if I could breathe again.

"How are you, Trixie?" I asked as she removed her mask.

"Oh fine, fine." But there wasn't the usual spark in her voice. She idly examined her damaged cane. "I'm afraid it's rather bent. I hope dear Brains doesn't mind making me another one." With difficulty she opened one of the secret compartments. "Oh no!" She took out her prized photo of Ryan. It was crumpled and a large tear ran diagonally through his handsome face. At that moment she appeared to shrivel up and become just another little old woman.

Non-Participation II - Fifteen.

The ride home from Auckland in Thunderbird Two was a sombre one. No one spoke much; we were all deep in our thoughts. The Tracy boys didn't communicate much with each other; Trixie was gazing sorrowfully at the damaged photo. And I...I kept on remembering that horrible voice, that face, that I'd hoped I'd never see or hear again. The memories rushed in and out of my mind in time with the pounding pain in my foot.

We arrived back at the same time as Thunderbird One. "Must have been waiting for us," Virgil commented.

We were all very quiet when we arrived back in the lounge at Tracy Island. Trixie quickly made her excuses and headed to her bedroom.

I rubbed at my arm. I was going to be very sore all over tomorrow. Then I stopped. Something felt strange about my sleeve. I inspected it and found a large hole. The edges were scorched...a bullet hole.

I must have turned pale.

"Chris!" John said in concern. "Are you alright?"

"Uh, yeah, yes. I've just found this." I showed him the hole.

"It didn't nick you, did it?" There was a frown on his face.

"No, no. It's only my foot that's really sore."

"I'll help you to the sick bay," John offered.

"John," his father rumbled, "I'd like you to stay here for a debriefing."

Gordon, Tin-Tin and Brains had returned while we'd been away.

"I'll take you, Chris," Gordon offered.

"Gordon, I think you should stay, too."

"But I didn't take part--" Gordon started to protest.

"Gordon!" Jeff put an end to the discussion.

"I'll help." Tin-Tin offered and then glanced at Jeff as if she expected him to protest again.

Brains examined my foot and, as expected, found nothing seriously wrong. "I-It's only a bad bruise. If you'll find it easier to walk, you can b-borrow a cane." He found one similar to Trixie's.

"So have you finished at my place?" I asked them.

"It looks wonderful," Tin-Tin enthused. "You wouldn't even know that we'd been there."

"There's o-one more thing to be done," Brains admitted. "B-But I only thought of the i-idea while we were there. S-So I didn't have the necessary equipment to make the adjustments. I-It'll take me a day or so to put it together and th-then, when we take you and Trixie home, I c-can install it. It should only take me half an hour...or so."

"Hop off the table, Chris," Tin-Tin suggested. "Let's see how well you can walk."

I managed a few faltering steps.

"R-Rest the foot as much as possible," Brains said.

I went and changed out of my newly-ventilated top and then decided that I needed some fresh air and sun. The only way that I knew to get to the poolside was through the lounge.

I was already in the room before I realised that a voice was raised in anger. Jeff Tracy was berating his sons.

I watched what was happening through a dividing trellis screen. Jeff was standing in front of his earthbound sons, his face red. I could see that Alan had joined in the debriefing via his portrait. All of the younger Tracys looked uncomfortable and Scott looked particularly chastened over the ear-bashing they were receiving.

"I don't understand, Scott. I thought you had more brains than that. I can't believe that you let them go in alone."

"I--" Scott started to say, but he was overrun by his father.

"You knew there were dangerous chemicals in there, not to mention a dangerous villain and yet you did nothing."

"He didn't--" It sounded as if Virgil was trying to stick up for his brother.

"I trust you all to behave in a responsible way, like responsible adults, and what do you do? You let a ninety-four year old woman and a--"

I'd heard enough. I stepped into his field of vision. "It was our choice, Jeff."

He froze. The expression of anger didn't leave his face as he turned toward me. "What?"

I swallowed. "It was our choice," I repeated. "We were only doing our job, just as your sons did theirs."

He looked as if he was physically trying to reign in his anger, and yet strangely I wasn't frightened. Then he spoke. His voice was dangerously quiet. "This is a personal matter, Chris."

"Really? You were discussing the rescue. That makes it an International Rescue matter, doesn't it? And I'm a member of International Rescue." By the look on his face I began to wonder for how much longer.

His sons shifted uneasily. Up on Thunderbird Five, Alan pretended to read a printout.

Jeff took a breath. "Dr. Brown, May I remind you--"

This was a bad sign. He'd gone formal on me. I decided to repay the compliment. "Mr. Tracy," I interrupted him. "As we explained to Scott before he agreed to let us go, you've paid good money to train us for this situation. It's what you hired us for. It's what you've given us the tools to deal with. And we HAD things under control, we did our job, we maintained International Rescue's security, we stopped the Hood. As you would have known if you'd included Trixie and me in your debriefing. It was only when the Hood knocked into a beam that we got into trouble. And that was when your boys..." I looked at the five younger men. They were hardly boys. "...your sons did their job and rescued us from the collapsed building." I stopped and shifted my weight onto my good foot, leaning on the cane.

The younger Tracys glanced at each other nervously. Gordon tried to suppress a cough.

Jeff Tracy smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Thank you for your input, Dr. Brown. I'm sure that after your ordeal you would like a rest. Why don't you go and sit outside in the sun?"

"Since you seem to believe that you don't need my services, I will do that." I squared my shoulders, and with as much dignity that I could muster, limped off down the stairs to the pool.

Despite the heat in the sun, I shivered as I settled into a deck chair. I may have been International Rescue's newest agent, but I had a feeling that I was going to be their first ex-agent. I wondered what the practise was in neutralising people who knew their secrets. With all their advanced technology I wouldn't have put it past them to have a brainwashing or brain wiping machine. I shuddered again and laid my head back, trying to push away my fears and ignore my throbbing foot.

Non-Participation II - Sixteen.

Through my closed eyelids I sensed that the light from the sun was suddenly blocked off. I opened my eyes.

Jeff Tracy was standing before me. "Come with me," he ordered. I hesitated and he grabbed me by the arm and, ignoring my protests, dragged me off the deckchair and back up the steps to the villa.

As I hobbled along, trying to keep up with him, I looked about wildly trying to find someone to help me, someone to explain what was going on, and someone to tell me what was going to happen.

The house appeared to be deserted.

We stopped momentarily outside the door to Brains' laboratory. I hadn't been inside and it was with some trepidation that I watched Jeff key in the access code and the door slide back.

I only had enough time to realise that this room was deserted also, before I was once again dragged against my wishes. We made our way around work benches, Bunsen Burners, test tubes and other scientific paraphernalia.

We stopped outside another door. Jeff released his grip on me and I stood there, shivering quietly as he keyed in the access code, placed his hand on a palm reader and said into a microphone, "Elimination!"

It was the only thing he'd said since he'd first grabbed me.

The door slid open. Behind it another slid upwards. Behind that a third swung inwards to allow us access.

Wherever we were going, it was well-protected.

Once again I was grabbed by the arm and pulled against my will. We entered a long dark hallway. I became aware that the hall was sloping downwards.

We reached some steps. Without stopping or checking to see that I was alright, Jeff ploughed onwards and downwards. We were going underground.

As the stairwell twisted and turned it grew darker and colder. I put my hands on the stone wall to steady myself and my fingers came away coated in slime.

I didn't like this place.

I was frightened.

We reached the bottom and Jeff threw me forward. I landed on the cold stone floor and lay there gasping slightly.

A light came on. So bright that at first I was blinded. I put my hand to my eyes to protect them. As they adjusted to the light I lowered my hand and looked around.

I was in a room, a white room.

There was only one item of furniture present in this room. It was a chair with a devilish array of wires and straps.

A sound from the other side of the room made me turn.

The five Tracy boys were standing with their backs to the wall. Gordon, Alan, John, Virgil and Scott. They all had their hands behind their backs. They all looked uncomfortable. Extremely uncomfortable.

Jeff Tracy stepped into my line of vision. He said nothing but made a gesture.

I let out a startled cry as two pair of hands grabbed me by the arms and dragged me backwards towards the chair. "What's going on?" I asked Kyrano and Tin-Tin.

They smiled at me as they tied the straps that would hold my arms, feet, torso and head immobile.

"Tin-Tin," I pleaded again. "What's going on?"

She said nothing, but stood back to allow Brains to pick up a metal band, linked to an array of multicoloured wires. This he placed on my head. I winced as he started turning small screws that dug into my skin.

"B-Brains?" I stuttered.

"Quiet, Chris," he ordered.

When he'd finished he stood back with a satisfied expression. "We're ready, Mr. Tracy."

"Thank you, Brains," Jeff Tracy smiled at the young scientist, but there was no mirth in his face. "Mother!"

Mrs. Tracy stepped forward and handed her son a gun.

I swallowed again. This wasn't looking good.

But to my surprise, Jeff suddenly turned his back on me. In one fluid motion he raised the gun and fired!

Gordon slumped to the floor. There was no sign of injury, but I knew he would never move again. His brothers looked at his still body in horror and then back at their father in fear.

"That..." said Jeff as he swapped the gun with a larger one handed to him by his mother.

The next round caused Alan to drop like a stone.

"...is what..." Jeff was exchanging guns again. This one was larger. With a bit more of an effort he levelled it at John and pulled the trigger. John spun around before hitting the floor. I could then see that his hands were tied behind his back.

"...I do..." The next gun was a bazooka. The force of the projectile knocked Virgil off his feet and into the wall behind. He slid to the ground and didn't move.

I couldn't look away. The straps held my head firm.

"..to Failures!" The next gun was a monster. He pointed it at Scott. Even from my vantage point I could see that the eldest son was shaking.

"Father--" he protested.

Whatever he was going to say was obliterated in a shower of iron, wood and plaster as the gun took out not only him but also much of the surrounding wall and ceiling.

Iron I-beams rained down upon the five youngest members of the Tracy clan.

Ignoring this carnage, Jeff handed the gun back to his mother who carried it with surprising ease and propped it up against the wall.

Then he turned back to me.

I waited for what was to come next.

He pointed out his arm and another chair slid into view. A chair similar to the one I was currently incarcerated in. Seated in it was Trixie Trickey. Unlike me she was not bound to the chair, but she showed no inclination to move. She stared out into the middle distance with no recognition of her surroundings or her own predicament.

Jeff Tracy waved his hand in front of her face and nothing registered on those ninety-four year old features.

"Now it's your turn, Chris," he said, mocking me. "Do you still want to be part of International Rescue, Chris?"

Brains stepped forward with a hypodermic needle and rested his hand on my arm in preparation for the injection. I became aware that there was a hole in my sleeve, ready for the needle.

Jeff was still taunting me. "Well, Chris? Chris?"

His voice changed. It softened and sounded younger. "Chris. Chris. Wake up, Chris."

With a jolt I opened my eyes. Gordon had his hand on my arm. "Pleasant dreams?" he asked with a grin.

"Not particularly." I noticed that the shadows had lengthened considerably. I'd obviously slept for a long time.

"I've come to tell you it's dinner time. And to see if you would like a hand."

I felt stiff all over. "I'd love one, thanks." I swung my feet to the ground so that I was sitting up and then hesitated. "Am I still welcome at the table?"

"You mean Dad? Even if you aren't, you're still a guest at our house and Grandma would make sure that he minded his manners."

I tried to be independent as I made my way back up the stairs, but decided that I hated using the cane. "Guess it's the wrong size for me."

"Here, take my arm."

Dinner was very tense. Trixie didn't join us. Mrs. Tracy said that she'd felt tired after the day's events and had decided to retire early.

No one said anything much. At one point Gordon tried to ease the atmosphere by telling a joke. If we'd been eating pancakes it couldn't have fallen flatter.

After dinner I, too, excused myself. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically. The idea of sleep wasn't particularly enticing, but it was either a case of lie down or fall down.

As I lay back on the soft bed I reviewed the days events and wondered what tomorrow would bring.

Non-Participation II - Seventeen.

When I awoke the following morning I was feeling somewhat refreshed. Sure, I was still stiff from the previous day's activities, but at least I'd slept without any nightmares.

I got washed and dressed and then looked at my door thoughtfully. I was hungry, but I didn't relish the thought of sharing breakfast with Jeff Tracy. I had a feeling that he might well feel the same about me.

I raised the blinds, pulled an easy chair up to the window, propped my multicoloured foot up on a stool and settled back to enjoy the view of the Pacific washing up on the white sands.

There was a knock on the door.

Grunting with the effort I got up and hopped over to the door.

Gordon was standing there grinning at me. "Morning, Chris. I thought that maybe after breakfast you'd like to have a look around Thunderbird Four."

"Thunderbird Four? Gordon, I'd love to! But, breakfast."

"He's already had his and is in the lounge," Gordon reassured me.

Not long afterwards I was tucking into a delicious meal, courtesy of Kyrano.

Gordon had managed to score me a cane that suited my height better and I was finding it easier to get around. He took me down into Thunderbird Two's hangar and we walked along the edge of the conveyor belt until we were beside Pod Four. We gained admittance to the pod and then I found myself facing International Rescue's submarine.

"Well?" Gordon said proudly. "What do you think?"

"It's very... yellow!"

He looked slightly hurt. "Trust me, when you're in the middle of a hurricane, surrounded by hundred foot seas, you want to be as visible as you can be."

That made sense.

Once inside, I tried to make amends by showing how impressed I was by the little sub. And I was impressed, too! Gordon reeled off a list of numbers giving the craft's statistics and capabilities. It sounded impressive, although to a landlubber like me, rather incomprehensible.

I was seated in the pilot's, or should that be skipper's chair, when a thought came to me.

"How come you got roped into yesterday's debriefing?"

Gordon frowned. "I dunno, I think Dad wanted to make sure that what happened at Auckland wouldn't happen again. And going by the chewing out he gave the others, I don't want it to happen again either! It wasn't very nice for any of us and I was only a spectator!"

"I admire and respect your father," I told him. "But yesterday I think he went too far." I looked at my watch. "Oops. I'd better head back. Scott promised to take me on a walk around the island at ten-o-clock and it's five to now."

"A walk?" Gordon looked concerned. "On that foot?"

"That's what I said. But he said we could 'grab the hover bikes,' whatever they are."

His old grin was back. "Good idea. You'll love them."

I'd arranged to meet Scott at my room and I made my way through the house taking care to avoid the lounge.

I was walking past Virgil's room when I heard a commotion.

"Aw, come on, Virg, just a peek."

"No, Scott. It's not ready yet."

"I know that," Scott persisted. "I just want to see how you're getting on."

"You're not going to see it until I'm ready for you to see it!" I was surprised to hear a touch of anger in Virgil's voice.

"Just a quick look and I'll be gone." Scott wasn't giving in that easily.

"No, Scott. Now get out of my room."

"Please, Virg."

"Get out!"

"Virgil."

"OUT!" Scott was propelled with great force out of the room by an obviously angry Virgil, and the door was slammed shut behind him.

Scott found himself facing my rather surprised face. He grinned. "The artistic temperament," he said by way of an explanation, while indicating with his thumb in the direction of Virgil's room. "Are you ready?" I nodded. "Okay then, we'll just get some 'emergency supplies'."

'Emergency supplies' seemed, in Scott's book, to consist of a large variety of food appropriated from his Grandmother's larder.

It took me a while to get used to driving the hoverbike. Instead of conventional handlebars I had to deal with a joystick arrangement. And it was an eerie sensation riding along with nothing actually touching the ground. But, as Gordon had said I would, I loved it.

It took us a couple of hours to reach our destination - the summit of the volcanic peak that was Tracy Island's crowning glory. As I sat on a rock looking out over the scene before me, I had to admit that the journey had been worth it.

Scott laid out lunch and I limped over to a seat by the picnic. "So tell me," I asked before I took a bite out of a delicious looking savoury pie. "what would you guys do if this thing decided to blow?" I indicated the volcano's crater.

"Call International Rescue?" he suggested, smiling. "It won't happen. Brains has checked this place out pretty thoroughly and he thinks that it's been so long since this field was active that the earth's plates have shifted a couple of hundred kilometres south. If anything's going to happen, it'll happen there."

"He THINKS?"

Scott shrugged. "Well, it's an inexact science, and just to make sure, he's got seismographs scattered all over the island. But I think we're pretty safe." He threw some crumbs over to a waiting bird. The bird pounced on the morsel and was then joined by at least fifty of its friends. We sacrificed the remainder of our buns.

"I wanted to say thanks for sticking up for us," Scott said after our feathered attendees had realised that there was nothing else on offer and had flown. "Not that we deserved it."

"Scott, I didn't stand up to your father just to save you guys from being treated like naughty schoolboys. I said it because it's the truth!"

He smiled gently. "Yeah, well thanks. I haven't seen him that angry since... I don't know when. Must have been after something Alan or Gordon had done."

"Not the perfect oldest son?" I said ironically.

"Oh, no. Definitely not him," Scott's smile broadened. "I've never seen anyone stand up to him like that before. It must have taken some intestinal fortitude."

"After facing the Hood with a loaded gun pointing in my direction, your father seemed like a pussycat."

"A Pussycat? I've heard him called lots of things, but never a pussycat. Still...that figures." Scott looked at his watch. "We'd better start heading down. There are a couple of other places I'd like to show you."

It was an enjoyable afternoon and Scott showed me places on the island with a beauty I'd never experienced before or imagined. He also gave me a tour of the other structures that the Tracys had erected on their island.

All too soon our tour was over and we were stowing the hoverbikes in Thunderbird Two's hangar.

"Good, there you are," John hailed us from the door leading to the rest of the house. "It's just on dinner time. If you want to get washed and head on up, I'll go drag Virgil from his room."

"Has he been there all day?" Scott asked.

"Yep. Didn't even come out for lunch. He's going to be starving, so make sure you get yours before he arrives."

"How's Trixie?" I asked.

His smile disappeared. "I don't know. She's stayed in her room all day. Grandma took her in some lunch but she didn't eat any. Grandma's trying to coax her out to join us now. I hope she's successful."

As I washed up for dinner I wondered about what I'd just been told. Clearly Trixie was still in shock after yesterday's events. For a ninety-four year old woman it wasn't to be totally unexpected that she would want to rest up all day.

But why was Virgil laying low? Had he received an extra stern telling off from his father that I didn't know about? If so, why? Or maybe he felt guilty about what had happened to Trixie and me; after all he was the one who'd decided that we could go along with them. No, surely not. But I left my room filled with unanswered questions.

I took my seat at the other end of the table from Jeff Tracy. Trixie was already sitting there and Mrs. Tracy was making a fuss over her, but to my consternation Trixie was barely acknowledging the other woman.

John and Virgil were the last to arrive. They greeted the general assembly with a big grin each and slid into their seats.

"You've been painting!" I said to Virgil.

"How'd you guess?" he asked.

"'Cause you've got a big blob of yellow paint in your hair!" John removed some of it from his brother's head and then wiped his fingers on his napkin.

"John Tracy!" His grandmother scolded in exasperation. "Not on the good linen."

"Sorry, Grandma," he said a little abashedly.

Virgil had fished a paint stained rag from out of his pocket and was trying to remove the remainder of the paint from his hair. He only succeeded in making it look worse. He gave up and wiped his hands on the rag before handing it to John. "It's Gordon's fault," he grumbled. "I was just at a tricky bit and he comes barrelling in."

"I didn't ask you to stab yourself with the brush though, did I?" Gordon said teasingly.

"You didn't tell me I'd got paint in my hair either!"

"Why weren't you wearing your beret? And anyway, I always thought you liked yellow. If we're called out now you'll be colour co-ordinated. Yellow sash, yellow trim, yellow hair..."

Virgil opened his mouth to retort but was interrupted by a rumble from Jeff. "Boys! That's enough!"

The Tracys were clearly concerned about Trixie. They kept on telling her jokes, asking her questions, telling her stories. Trying to get her involved. The Tracy boys even tried flirting with her - unsuccessfully.

Non-Participation II - Eighteen.

After the meal I decided to help Tin-Tin and Kyrano clear the table. It was the least I could do after all the kindness and consideration they had shown me over the last few days.

Jeff Tracy got up and stalked out of the dining room without a look in my direction. That suited me, if he wanted to keep out of my way, then I was more than willing to keep out of his.

Gordon and Brains left for another part of the house. I thought they were still working on the modifications to whatever it was that Brains was installing at my home.

Mrs. Tracy eased Trixie from out of her chair and guided her towards the lounge. "Come on, dear. Let's go and have a rest and a good old chat shall we?" Trixie didn't acknowledge the invitation. I watched as my friend walked zombie-like out the door.

Only Virgil, Scott and John were left sitting at the table. They'd watched Trixie leave with obvious concern on their faces.

Virgil turned to his brothers. "Okay. Time for Plan B!"

John nodded his agreement.

"Plan B?" Scott said slowly. "I thought you hadn't finished it yet."

"That's not Plan B," Virgil told him. "That's Plan C."

"Yeah," John agreed. "You've got to set Plan B into operation."

Realisation seemed to dawn on Scott's face. He leant back holding his hands up in protest. "Oh, no. Not that."

"C'mon Scott! It's for Trixie," John urged him on.

"She might not appreciate it!"

"She will!" Virgil insisted.

"Why me? John's better."

"No, I'm not. And you know why it has to be you."

"I knew I'd regret telling you that."

Both Tin-Tin and I were listening to the conversation surreptitiously.

"Well, it's true. I've seen the evidence." Virgil was pushing Scott metaphorically.

"It's not a good time." Scott protested.

"When would be a good time, Scott? I think now's a good time. I need a break from what I've been doing and when I take a break I play the piano."

"You've just had a break. You've just had dinner!"

"I've also been working all day while you've been swanning off on your hoverbike. I'm not ready to go back. Grandma's got her in the lounge. Now would be a perfect time."

"Just think of it as another rescue," John told Scott.

"Then I should be the one giving the orders, not you two."

It was fascinating watching the two younger men gang up on their big brother. Tin-Tin and I had given up any pretence of work and were openly listening.

"What's the matter, Scott? You can't be afraid of her."

"No, I'm not afraid of her John. It just...it doesn't seem natural. And if Gordon sees me I'll never live it down!"

"So! There's only one of him," Virgil said

"Yeah and there's two of us, and together we can make your life a darn sight more miserable." John added.

Scott sighed. For the second time in as many days he'd been beaten. "Alright. But if anyone laughs, or teases, or it goes wrong, you two have got to stand by me and take the blame. Okay?"

"Okay!"

"Deal!"

Both Virgil and John had big grins on their faces. Scott gave them a weak grin in return and took a deep breath. "Right, let's get this over with. Play a couple first to get us in the mood, okay, Virg?"

"Right." The three Tracy men left the dining room.

Tin-Tin and I looked at each other and then put down the objects we were holding. We had no idea what was going on, but we were determined we were not going to miss out on finding out!

We followed the three oldest Tracy boys into the lounge. I made my way over to the seat beside the piano. A) Because I wanted to be as far away from Jeff Tracy, seated in his usual place at his desk, as possible. And B) because I liked listening to Virgil play and I had a feeling that the action was going to happen here on this side of the room.

Scott was standing behind Virgil at the piano, going over some music together.

John took a seat nearby.

Mrs. Tracy had seated Trixie beside her on a couch. She was talking animatedly, but I noticed with concern that Trixie was only giving half-hearted replies in return. I hoped that what ever the Tracys had planned would work.

The first two tunes were Virgil's rendition of modern hit songs. As I listened to them I had to think that Virgil's version was a darn sight better than the ones I heard on the radio. "You should think of recording those," I told him.

Then the tempo of his playing slowed and Virgil started playing a waltz. Suddenly, showing no sign of the hesitancy displayed earlier, Scott stood up and bowed to Trixie. "Mrs. Trickey. May I have the pleasure of having this dance with you?" he said extending his hand.

She hesitated and I thought that maybe she'd refuse. But then she blushed and placed her hand in his. "I'd love to," she said.

He led her to the centre of the floor and together they started to dance. I had to admire Scott's ability as a dancer. For a big man he moved very gracefully as he steered his partner around the room.

As they waltzed past me I noticed that Trixie's eyes were closed, a look of rapture on her face. I fancied that she was imagining that she was once again in the arms of her Ryan.

I looked over at Virgil. As he played his eyes were on the pair, keeping with their tempo, and he was smiling. He glanced at me briefly and gave me a wink.

Gordon wandered into the room. "What on earth...?" and was shushed by his Grandmother.

Tin-Tin looked at Alan's portrait dreamily.

John had a grin that threatened to split his face in two.

Jeff's expression changed from one of surprise to one of pleasure.

We were all enchanted.

The music ended and Scott held Trixie briefly, allowing her to come out of her reverie. "Thank you, Scott." She said quietly. "Now if you'll excuse me..." She walked, with dignity, out of the room.

Scott came and sat next to me.

"You've just made an old lady very happy," I told him.

"That was the plan," he said and then looked slightly embarrassed. "Virgil had left the radio on open communication during the factory fire at Auckland."

Virgil came over from the piano and leant on the back of our chair, so he could join our conversation. "I didn't want you two pushing any buttons, unnecessarily."

"Except large red ones?" I asked.

"Especially large red ones," he laughed.

"I've been wondering," I said. "Just what IS that red button anyway?"

"It's a kind of ejector seat arrangement," Virgil explained. "Except instead of launching only the pilot, it sends Thunderbird Two skyward."

"But wouldn't it be wise to have a reverse switch?" I asked.

"We don't normally have passengers," Virgil reminded me. "It's only for emergencies, when we don't have time to go through the normal lift off procedures. The idea is that whoever sets it off is usually a competent enough pilot to be able to land Two again."

"Oh! I see."

Scott continued explaining about the radio. "Anyway, I heard most of what Trixie was saying about her husband, and I told Virg and John, and we thought she might appreciate the dance."

"That was a lovely idea," Mrs. Tracy told them.

"I always knew those dancing lessons would come in handy one day," Jeff said. "Though it was a struggle getting you boys to attend them at the time."

Scott screwed up his face. "I hated them. I always told the other kids we were going to Karate class. It was in the same building," he explained to me.

"The thing I didn't like about the classes was the pianist!" Virgil exclaimed. "He kept hitting the wrong notes and his technique was all wrong!"

"Being able to dance always impressed the ladies though, didn't it?" Jeff said.

"Well, yeah," Scott agreed. "We can appreciate the lessons now." His brothers were nodding in agreement.

"So you were listening to all of our conversation were you?" I tried to sound like I was scolding him, but couldn't help laughing. "I'm trying to remember what we said. Something about having a Toy-Boy..."

"Toy-Boy?" Scott exclaimed. "I missed that bit."

"What," John said slowly, "was she saying about Toy-Boys?"

I chuckled guiltily. "It's what started the conversation. We were watching you three and Trixie wondered what it would be like to have a Toy-Boy." Various anguished expressions appeared on the younger Tracys faces. "She was just teasing. She said that no matter how much she flirts with you guys no one could replace her Ryan. Now what else did we discuss?" I started to tick it off on my fingers. "Me being shocked over the Toy-Boys comment. Ryan Trickey...losing him...his love for the job...and...oh, dear!" I'd remembered what Trixie had told me about her conversation with Mrs. Tracy. "How much DID you hear?"

Scott glanced at his grandmother who was now concentrating on her knitting. He lowered his voice. "Everything."

Virgil knelt down so that his head was closer to ours and he didn't have to talk so loud. "We've always known that Grandma worries, but we've never realised to what extent."

John came over and sat on the coffee table beside us. "Is this a private conversation or can anyone join in?"

Gordon sat beside him. "What are you three conspiring about?"

"Boys! That's a table not a chair. It's not strong enough to hold the two of you." Mrs. Tracy scolded.

"C'mon, lets go down to the theatre," Scott said in his normal voice. "We can discuss this there," He said more quietly.

"Do you want me to come?" I asked in a near whisper.

"Sure," he agreed. "You can pick the movie."

I'd seen the theatre when Mrs. Tracy had shown us around, but hadn't actually been inside. It was an intimate cinema with enough seats for the entire family plus a few guests. We all took a seat.

"Alan should be part of this," John said. Before I knew it Alan was beamed down to us from on board Thunderbird Five via the cinema screen.

"Okay. Now that the movie star is with us, would someone explain to me what's going on?" Gordon asked.

Scott explained about his overhearing of our conversation.

"So why the secrecy?" Gordon asked with a frown.

Scott gestured to me and I explained to Gordon what Trixie had told me about their grandmother. "Of course, don't forget you're getting this third hand now."

"Whew!" Gordon sat back. "So what can we do? I don't like the idea of Grandma worrying like that."

"I don't know that there's a lot you can do," I said. "As Mrs. Tracy told Trixie, who told me, she knows how much your work means to you guys. All I can suggest is that you keep reinforcing how much she means to you. And make sure that you say good-bye before you go off on a rescue."

Scott was nodding thoughtfully. "That makes sense."

"Probably the same goes for Jeff," I stated.

There was shocked silence.

"Dad?" Alan said in a voice that was more of a squeak.

"He might be the commander of International Rescue, but he's also your Father. You can't tell me that he doesn't worry. In fact, if you think about it, there's probably not a resident on Tracy Island who doesn't have the same feelings. And I'm including each of you guys in this."

They all looked at each other. I had no idea what was going through their minds, but I thought they were probably analyzing what I'd just said. Maybe even comparing it to situations they'd already been in.

"I see what you mean," Alan said. "No matter what a pain you guys can be, I'd sure hate to lose one of you."

"Yeah, we'd miss your ugly mug too," Gordon told him.

"Well Chris, you've certainly given us something to think about," Scott said and stretched his legs.

"And I've got a job to carry on with." Virgil stood up and gave his brothers a meaningful, but to me meaningless, glance.

"How's it coming?" John asked.

"Oh, getting there." He tapped Scott on the shoulder. "I could use some help now."

Scott groaned. "Haven't I done enough already?"

"No. Come on, I need your talents."

Reluctantly, Scott got to his feet. "Okay," he sighed. "See you later, Chris."

"Don't let those three get you into mischief." Virgil winked at me and left the theatre.

I gave John a quizzical look. He grinned. "So, Chris, I take it you don't want to look at Alan all night, so what movie do you fancy seeing?"

"Charming," Alan complained. "I know when I'm not wanted. I'll go back to my lonely work and leave you three to enjoy yourselves."

"Awwww," was the only response he got from his brothers.

He sighed theatrically. "See the sympathy I get. I don't think they'd miss me at all. 'Night, Chris."

"Good night, Alan."

"So," John repeated, "what would you like to see?"

"What have you got?"

He brought up a list on a computer screen on the back of the chair in front of him. He started scrolling through. "Take your pick."

I stared at the list. There appeared to be millions of names. "I wouldn't know where to start."

"We'll break it down into more manageable lists," John said. "What type of movie would you like? Who's your favourite actor?"

I eventually made a decision and the three of us settled down, with popcorn and drinks, to enjoy the movie.

Non-Participation II - Nineteen.

The movie finished. "Fancy another one?" Gordon asked.

"No, thanks." As we exited the theatre I checked at my watch. "It's too early to go to bed." I looked without enthusiasm towards the lounge. I knew Jeff would still be there, catching up on some Tracy Industries business. Honestly, the man was a workaholic.

"Fancy a bit of stargazing?" John asked companionably.

"Why do I get the feeling that you guys are trying to keep me and your father apart?" Then I shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

"I'll leave you two to it," Gordon said. "The only stars I'm interested in are starfish." I bade him a good night.

John led the way to his room, but we didn't enter. Instead he opened the door to a nearby cupboard and felt inside. A light came on and he placed his hand over a shiny patch of wall. The back wall of the cupboard swung open.

Amazed, I stepped through into a lift. We started descending.

"Aren't we heading in the wrong direction to be looking at stars?" I asked.

John laughed, but didn't reply as the lift doors opened. We stepped out into a car of the monorail system. I took my seat and John operated the controls that sent the car hurtling forward.

He settled down in a seat facing me. "Even out here on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean," he explained, "we've got too much light pollution coming from the house and the other buildings nearby. There are also minute vibrations from all our machinery that upset my equipment. So the observatory is on the far side of the island. And this is much more comfortable than hiking in the dark."

"And easier on my foot."

The monorail slowed down and came to a stop. We alighted.

The observatory was one place that Scott hadn't showed me today. It looked like a standard observatory, a big domed roof with a slit in it.

John started setting up his equipment. "So, Chris, what do you fancy seeing tonight?"

"You're the expert. You tell me."

He punched in some co-ordinates and the dome starting rotating, along with the telescope. Then he indicated the eyepiece. "If you look through there you'll get a good view of Alpha Centauri."

I looked at the yellow, glowing dot. "So what's so special about that?"

"It's the group of stars closest to Earth, apart from our sun, of course."

"Of course."

"You may be able to pick out that it's made up of three stars. One marginally bigger than the sun, one marginally smaller and another about the tenth of the size."

"No, I can't see that."

"You would be able to from Thunderbird Five."

"So where out there..." I gestured towards the heavens, "...is it?"

He brought up a sky map on a video screen. "There," he pointed. "That's the constellation known as 'Crux' or the 'Southern Cross'. And there..." he moved his fingers slightly, "are the two pointers pointing to the 'Southern Cross'. The one closest to the 'Cross' is Beta Centauri and the farthest is Alpha Centauri."

"It looks so small from here."

"It's just over four light years away. The 'ancient mariners' used to use it to navigate. In the northern hemisphere you can find north by the North Star, but here in the southern hemisphere we don't have such a marker. BUT, by using these two constellations it's fairly easy to find the south celestial pole." He drew a line bisecting the two Centauri stars and another through the long axis of the 'Southern Cross'. Where they met, about four times the length of the 'Southern Cross', was south.

"That could be handy to know," I said.

"Would you like to see some of the planets?"

"I'd love to."

The telescope shifted its position. "There," John said. "What's that?"

I looked at the orb through the eye piece. I could see faint rings surrounding it. "Saturn?"

"Actually it's Uranus. It's the rings that fool you, don't they?"

"I didn't realise that Uranus had rings."

"All the big planets do, but Saturn's..." once again the telescope moved and stopped. I could now see a large globe with clear, bright rings, "... are the most well-known. Galileo discovered them."

We continued on in this vein, with me asking questions and John giving clear, concise answers. I could see that he was in his element and was enjoying giving out his knowledge.

"I'll bet you get great views from Thunderbird Five."

"I'll say." His face grew radiant. "I thought I was lucky when we moved here, but up in Thunderbird Five we're above Earth's dust and pollution and the stars are that much brighter and that much clearer. It's given me the opportunity to further my research in a way I'd never be able to on Earth."

"I'd love to see it," I said wistfully and turned to look back into the telescope.

"What time were you planning on heading to bed?" he suddenly asked.

I shrugged "I don't know."

"'Cause it's two-o-clock in the morning."

I stared at him. "You're kidding!"

"Nope. I guess we'd better shut everything down." I stood back and let him do his work.

We arrived back inside the villa. "Good night," I whispered.

"Are you alright going back to your room?" he asked.

"I've been here long enough that I should be able to find my way," I told him. "Thanks for an interesting evening. I'll see you in the morning."

"'Night, Chris."

I made my way quietly back to the guest quarters. I hesitated outside Trixie's room, wondering how she would be in the morning.

I continued on to my room.

I was about to open the door when a whisper startled me.

"Chris."

I spun round. "Je...uh, Mr. Tracy!"

"Sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

I was unsure as to why he was there. I propped myself against the door frame and looked at him. "Why are you up at this time of night?"

He gave a wry grin. "To make sure Virgil got some sleep. He's been known to get so engrossed in his painting that he's either worked all night, like I think he did last night, or he just dozes off over the canvas. Sometimes to the detriment of his painting."

"And tonight?"

"He'd obviously sat down to look at his work and fell asleep in his chair. I took the paint brush out of his hand, - he's got red paint in his hair now -, put a blanket over him and he didn't move a muscle." Jeff Tracy gave a quiet chuckle. "I don't know how he does it. When he's on a rescue he seems to be able to go for days without sleep."

"Must be the adrenaline."

"Yes, and he paints to relax, so I guess it has the opposite effect."

There was an awkward silence.

I eventually broke it. "That doesn't explain why you're in the guest quarters."

He looked uncomfortable. "About yesterday..." I assumed he meant the argument the day before. "You were right; I should have gotten you and Trixie to join us in the debriefing. I apo...I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."

"Or your sons?"

"Or my sons," he agreed. "You did what I'd trained you for and they did what they'd been trained for. I can only say that I got a fright when I realised what could have happened to both you and Trixie. I started International Rescue to save lives, not to endanger them.

He shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the other. "I've been trying to talk to you about this all day, but you seemed to have been always out with someone."

"I got the feeling your sons were trying to keep us apart."

"Giving me a chance to cool down. Quite probably. Gordon told me that you'd gone to the observatory with John and I knew you'd be late back. So I stayed up and waited."

"I'm glad you did, Mr. Tracy."

"Come on, now," he said with a wry grin. "We don't need to be formal do we? I'm sorry for the way I treated you and I hope we can continue to be friends and that you'll still want to work for us."

"I was thinking that maybe you wouldn't want me to work for you anymore!"

He looked shocked. "Oh, no! That thought didn't even cross my mind. I value my agents, especially the good ones."

The good ones?

"Well, I've kept you up too long. You'd better get off that foot. Good night, Chris."

"Good night, Jeff."

I slept well that night.

Non-Participation II - Twenty.

Despite the late night, I had a restful sleep and awoke feeling bright and fresh. I felt as if all the worries of the world had been lifted from my shoulders.

I had no concerns about attending breakfast and quickly got dressed and headed into the dining room.

"Morning, Jeff!" I said.

"Morning, Chris."

Scott, Gordon, Brains, Mrs. Tracy, Kyrano and Tin-Tin were already there. I saw them give each other mystified looks but didn't enlighten them.

John came in. He looked a touch tired.

"Had a late session, did you?" Gordon asked with a grin. "Chris looks fresh enough, did you two part company early?"

"No. We finished at two," John told him. "Then I read for a bit."

"What time did you put out the light?" Jeff asked him.

"Umm. About four."

Jeff shook his head in exasperation.

Gordon got up to pour himself a coffee, just as Trixie bounced in. "Morning, Sunshine," he said.

"Morning, Moonbeam," she replied jauntily.

I smiled. It looked as if Trixie was going to be all right.

I was in the middle of a discussion with Jeff when Virgil made an appearance. He was still in the clothes he wore yesterday and it was obvious that he'd spent the night in them. He was unshaven and a thick blob of red paint was dried in his brown hair. His eyes were so bleary that I doubted that even if he'd made the effort to look in a mirror, he probably wouldn't have seen how bad he looked. "Mornin,' all," he said thickly as he rubbed at a kink in his neck.

"Another late night special," Scott chuckled.

"How's it going?" Tin-Tin asked.

"I'm close, really close."

"Close to what?" Trixie asked.

Before Virgil had a chance to reply, Jeff butted in. "Why don't you go back to bed?"

"I will when I've finished." Virgil tried, and failed, to suppress a yawn.

"If you continue on now, you'll spoil it," Jeff told him. "There's no hurry."

"That's not what you told me two days ago," Virgil protested.

"Well, things have changed. So go get some sleep!"

Virgil looked as if he didn't even have the energy to stand up, let alone walk back to his room.

"Come on 'Rip Van Winkle'." Scott took his younger brother's arm. "Do you want me to tuck you in?"

"When I'm awake enough, remind me to think up a suitable reply to that." They both headed off out of the room.

Jeff turned his attention to Trixie and me. "When you are both ready, I'd like to have a meeting with you to discuss what happened in Auckland. If that's alright with you both."

"Good idea, Jeff," Trixie said perkily.

I didn't say anything, but couldn't help grinning.

The meeting went well. We explained about the events leading up to our having to be rescued from the building. "I was a bit of a mess after that," Trixie admitted.

"But we made it okay!" I said. "I'm glad I remembered my ring. The Hood never guessed that I'd sent out an alarm signal." I looked at the item of jewelry. "I'll have to get Brains to put a new stone in it though, so I'm ready for next time."

Jeff held out his hand. "I'll give it to him when we've finished."

I handed over the ring. "Thanks."

"Have I missed out on something?" Trixie asked.

"This ring..." Jeff held it up "...is a homing device. Chris flicked one of the stones out, thereby switching it on."

"Ohhh, can I get one of those?"

Jeff chuckled. "I'll have a word with Brains." Then he sat back in his seat. "I'm impressed. You both did really well, I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Jeff," I said, suddenly feeling shy with his praise.

"I also called this meeting because I thought you should be brought up to speed with what happened to the Hood and his minion."

Trixie and I lent forward expectantly.

Jeff continued on. "Scott called the police, who took those two into custody. Fortunately, with half the building collapsed about their ears, the police of Auckland didn't examine too closely why the two of them were unconscious." I blushed under his gaze.

"How'd he explain the Pepper Spray?" Trixie asked.

"He played dumb. Said he hadn't been present when it happened. The police took one look at the guns beside the pair and decided that they needed to concentrate their efforts on other matters rather than International Rescue's involvement. Scott just said that they'd seen the building collapse and had gone in to investigate on the off chance that someone was trapped. He also identified our friend as being the one who'd been photographing our equipment. If they find any evidence of you two there shouldn't be anything to identify you or link you to our organisation.

He paused for a moment. "The Hood's clever." His tone had changed and a shiver went up my spine. "The police had him in the hospital to ascertain the extent of his injuries." Another pause. "He overpowered the medical staff and his guard and has escaped."

Fear surged through my system. The Hood was free! And in my hometown!

Trixie, however, was unperturbed. "So! He's hasn't seen our faces. He doesn't know who it was that beat him."

"He knows my face," I said weakly. "He's seen me before. He thinks I'm dead, but if he sees a dead-ringer for me, he might think it's a close relative and that I may have passed on my knowledge of International Rescue before I died...or realise that he'd been tricked." I couldn't bear thinking about an angry Hood.

Jeff could see I was concerned. "I shouldn't worry too much," he said soothingly. "Based on past situations, we've discovered that once the Hood has been beaten he tends to crawl back under whatever rock it is that he came out from. That, coupled with the fact that the police of Auckland are after him, makes me think that he'll hightail it out of there."

I wasn't terribly reassured.

"If it'll make you feel better," Jeff offered, "you can stay here a couple more days."

Trixie was on her feet, leaning over the desk, kissing him. "Jeff! We'd love to."

He looked extremely startled at the reaction. "Uh...um...I'm glad you're pleased, Trixie." He tried to recover some semblance of dignity. "Are you happy with that, Chris?"

"Oh, yes, Jeff!" I babbled eagerly, pleased at the opportunity to give the Hood as much time to get away as possible. "I'm more than happy with that!"

"Do you need me any more, Jeff?" Trixie asked. He shook his head no, rather emphatically. "Great! Then I'm off to enjoy this wonderful tropical sunshine." She practically bounded from the room.

"Now I know how my boys feel," he muttered more to himself than to me, as he wiped his face. Then he pulled himself together. "So, Chris. Anything else you want to cover? Any questions?"

"Only one, Jeff," I said slowly, wanting to know the answer, but not quite sure that asking the question was going to be the right thing to do. "The other day...during your 'debriefing'." He nodded, with a slight frown on his face. "You called Trixie a 'ninety-four year old woman'. How'd you know? She's been trying to keep it a secret from you."

He gave a brief laugh. "You don't think I'm going to ask someone to join International Rescue without doing a full check on them, do you? I did with you, and I did with her. Right down to seeing her birth certificate."

"And you don't mind?"

"It does worry me. But Trixie's shown herself to be more than capable. It's also why I hired you, to keep an eye on her. To keep her out of trouble. She thinks she's watching out for you,,."

"...And I think I'm looking out for her," I completed his sentence. "I don't seem to be doing too well."

He laughed again. "You're doing just fine."

Non-Participation II - Twenty-One.

We'd spent the day relaxing in the sun. Trixie even tried her hand at swimming in the pool. When she'd stripped off her robe, she revealed herself to be wearing a very demure, one piece, bathing costume. Much to Gordon's relief.

We were heading back inside to get changed for dinner when Virgil finally emerged from his room. He looked a lot more refreshed and was now sporting a green blob in his hair.

"So who startled you this time?" I asked.

"Huh?" I indicated the paint. He ran his fingers through his hair and sheepishly looked at the paint on them. "No one. I can only blame myself. Must have been when that fly was buzzing around."

"Well go wash it out." A voice from behind us made us turn. "I'm not going to have a son at the dinner table with us looking like a parrot."

"Yes, Father." Virgil turned to go and then stopped. "By the way, I've finished."

Jeff's face lit up "You have? That's great. When can I see it?"

"I've got the paint dryer working on it now. Should be totally dry by the time we've finished dinner."

"Perfect." Jeff was in a genial mood. "Come on, Chris, time for dinner."

I was hoping to get the opportunity to ask Virgil what it was that he was painting, but was foiled by Jeff guiding me into the dining room.

It was the best dinner we'd had on Tracy Island in days. We were all relaxed and happy. No cares, no callouts, no crises.

Trixie flirted with the Tracy Boys, and they flirted back. Much to her pleasure.

I tried to get Brains to explain again what he'd done to my house, and by the end of it was still confused. I decided to wait until I got home.

Mrs. Tracy told Jeff off for bringing his newspaper to the table.

Jeff told Gordon off for reaching for the salt.

Gordon complained that Scott had more than his fair share of the dessert.

Scott blamed Virgil for the fact that his coffee was too cold, when in fact it was John who'd poured it for him.

Brains was staring into middle distance, dreaming up some new contraption, while absentmindedly spooning his sugar onto the table cloth. Kyrano slid Brains' mug over so that it would receive the sugar.

Tin-Tin, Trixie and Mrs. Tracy discussed the latest gossip in a women's magazine.

In other words it was a normal dinner in the Tracy household.

After dinner Trixie and I offered to clean up. We'd been here long enough to know where everything went and how the dishwasher was operated. We felt it was time we did something to earn our keep.

Everyone else quickly vanished from the dining room.

"I could get used to living here," Trixie admitted as she put away the last plate.

I wiped down the table. "Well, make the most of it. We've still got at least one day here."

Scott appeared at the door. "We're all in the lounge if you would care to join us."

I put away my cloth and followed Scott and Trixie out the door.

Everyone was in the lounge.

"Good. You're here," Jeff stated. "Make yourselves comfortable."

We did.

"You've probably be wondering why Virgil's been locked away in his room for these last few days," Jeff said. "Well, it hasn't been because I've confined him to quarters." I wondered if he'd guessed my thoughts of two days ago. "We wanted to say thank you to you both for what you've done, and to make amends for what happened to you."

"It wasn't--" I started to say, but he held up his hand and I stopped.

"We thought we'd like to give you something to show our appreciation. So Virgil's been working on Trixie's gift. Virgil?"

Virgil stepped forward. It was then that I noticed that an easel was set up. The canvas that was displayed on it was facing away from us, so that we couldn't see the picture on it. Virgil blushed slightly and said "It was a bit of a rush job, so I hope it's okay." He pushed a button and the easel rotated so that the canvas was now facing us.

Trixie gasped.

It was a portrait. A portrait of herself, from about forty-one years ago, and her Ryan.

She stood and moved slowly towards it, not taking her eyes from it.

"Is it okay, Trixie?" Virgil asked anxiously. "We got Brains to scan some of the photos you had in your house, and Scott did one sitting so that I got the light just right, and--"

He was nearly knocked off his feet when Trixie threw her arms around him in an embracing hug before turning back to gaze at the picture. "Oh, Virgil! It's wonderful. It's just how I remember him. I can't believe how much it looks like a photograph. You're wonderful." She turned back to the assembled group. "You're all wonderful. To think of this...to do this for me...thank you." A single tear rolled down her cheek, and she turned back to the painting.

'Nice one, guys!' I thought to myself.

Jeff cleared his throat. "Now, Chris. We had more trouble thinking about what we were going to do for you."

"You don't have to do anything." I told him.

He ignored me. "Then a couple of the boys mentioned something that you seemed quite keen on doing."

I tried to wrack my brains to work out what that was.

"How would you like to see Thunderbird Five?" he concluded.

I was dumbfounded. Thunderbird Five? He was asking if I would like to see Thunderbird Five? I knew Jeff wasn't too keen on using the International Rescue craft for 'joyrides' so being offered this opportunity was special. Very special.

"Oh, Jeff!" I eventually managed to gasp. "I'd love too. It would be...be..." I couldn't think of a suitable word. "...magic!" was all I could come up with. "Thank you!"

"Good. John and Scott will take you tomorrow. 9am sharp! If you are agreeable."

"Oh, yes!" I nodded so emphatically that I pulled a muscle in my neck.

Non-Participation II - Twenty-Two.

I'd gone to bed early last night, in the hopes that I would catch up on some of the sleep that I'd missed out on the night before. I should have known that I'd be too keyed up to get a good night's sleep. I'd tossed and turned imagining what it would be like to go out into space.

Last night and this morning had seemed to drag on interminably. At last it was nine-o-clock. In a state of high excitement I took my seat between Scott and John.

Jeff Tracy beamed at me. "Enjoy yourself, Chris. Give our love to Alan."

"I will, Jeff."

We sank down into the floor. I was always amazed by the contrast between the luxurious furnishings of the house above us, and the strictly utilitarian décor of the International Rescue hangars.

I was even more amazed at the sheer size of Thunderbird Three. I'd seen it in flight, but getting this close was something else.

We stopped underneath the giant spaceship and our couch rose up into Thunderbird Three's interior.

Scott stayed with me in the passenger cabin while John took a lift up to the flight deck. Once we were both securely strapped in, Scott told John we were ready.

"Lift off in T minus ten seconds," John replied.

"People actually say that?" I said with a grin to Scott.

"Only when they're trying to impress."

John was counting down. "Four - Three - Two - One."

Beneath us the mighty rockets surged into life. The spacecraft shuddered as the forces built up... and then... we were airborne!

From where we were seated I could see nothing. The increasing g-forces held me in my seat. And then, suddenly, I felt free.

"Leaving Earth's atmosphere," John intoned.

"Great." Scott undid his safety harness and stood up. I followed suit.

We both entered the lift that John had just used and rode upwards. I was tingling all over. Whether from the effects of the lift off, or just plain excitement, I wasn't sure.

John was seated at the control panel of Thunderbird Three. "Any problems with the lift off?" he asked.

"None!" I told him.

"That's good. Take a look out the window."

I did as he instructed and gasped at the sight. Already the colour of the sky was changing from blue to black. We'd blasted off in broad daylight and here were the stars beginning to shine.

But the Earth - the EARTH. I was getting views of it I'd only seen in pictures or in my imagination. Whole continents were spread out beneath me, growing ever smaller. Islands shrunk until they were the size of pinheads, before fading from view altogether. In one glance I could take in New Zealand, Australia, and Asia. I could see places I'd never been, and places I'd never go. I could see forests and rivers and lakes and deserts. I could see the scars left by man.

"Oh wow!" I kept saying. "Oh, wow! Oh, wow!"

I became aware of Scott standing at my shoulder. "If you look over there..." he pointed away from where my eyes were glued, "...you'll see Thunderbird Five."

I looked. Thunderbird Five was a totally different shape to what I'd expected. I'd thought it would be something like the International Space Station, cylindrical not round.

"Oh, wow!"

Docking was smooth and hassle-free. Then the three of us passed through a hatch and into the gravity compensation area. It was an interesting sensation as gravity appeared to move through ninety degrees until we were at the same orientation as the interior of Thunderbird Five.

Another hatch swung open.

"Welcome to Thunderbird Five, Chris," Alan Tracy greeted me.

"Oh, wow, Alan. This is fantastic!"

"Thank you," said both Alan and John at the same time. They turned to face each other.

"I suppose you think you're going to give Chris a tour around." Alan said.

"Why not? It's my ship," John retorted.

"Yeah, and you've just shown mine."

"Not in detail, Alan. You can still show Chris around most of it."

They started a mini argument about who was going to show me around Thunderbirds Three and Five.

"I'll get the supplies," Scott said to no one in particular. "Then we can have lunch."

I'd expected freeze-dried food, but everything appeared to have been picked or baked freshly.

"We've got a fully-stocked larder and a hydroponics garden up here," John told me.

Scott helped himself to a freshly-baked bun. "Also, when she heard we were coming up here, Grandma decided that it was time Alan had some home baking supplied to him. She was up half the night cooking."

"You know," I said, "she's her own worst enemy."

"Yeah, we know," Alan agreed. "But have you ever tried to tell her anything?"

His older two brothers grimaced at the memories.

"So what's everyone been up to at home?" Alan asked casually. The thought crossed my mind that he was really asking about Tin-Tin.

His brothers acted dumb. "Virgil's been busy painting Trixie's portrait," John told him. "He's done a brilliant job, too."

"Grandma's been cooking up a storm, keeping our guests fed," Scott said.

"Dad's been working hard when he hasn't been tearing strips of us." John made a face.

"Oh, yeah," Scott said. "And Gordon's been helping Brains."

"Gordon's been helping Brains? You mean he's been in the lab?" Alan looked alarmed. "With access to all those electronics and chemicals and stuff?"

"Yeah," Scott said thoughtfully. "Though come to think of it he hasn't been there all the time. I've noticed him hanging around your room. Haven't you, John?"

Somehow John kept a straight face. "Yes, I have. That box he had looked mighty interesting too."

Alan swallowed. A reaction more due to nerves than the sandwich he'd just consumed.

After lunch I was given a tour of the space station. Both Alan and John kept on trying to be the one to explain everything to me. Scott just looked on with an expression of quiet humour on his face.

When we'd finished with Thunderbird Five they started showing me around Thunderbird Three. Compared to the size of the space ship the actual cabin space was very small. "The rocket power plant is the biggest part of her so that we can build up enough energy to leave Earth's gravity," Alan explained.

After they'd shown me everything they felt I should see I wandered back over to the window and looked outside again.

"So, John," I said. "Where's 'Alpha Centauri' from here?"

Once again he brightened and led me over to his telescope. "Here. Let me show you."

After John had given me a visual tour of this part of the universe, we all sat down to have a cup of coffee. Scott looked at his watch. "We'd better start thinking about heading back."

"Oh!" I must have looked disappointed.

"Sorry," he apologised, "but we've left International Rescue rather short-staffed. I don't fancy the idea of Gordon having to take command of Thunderbird One."

"Anyone would think that you didn't trust him," I teased.

"Dad might put him in charge of Thunderbird Two and let Virgil pilot One," Alan said.

"Last time I saw Virgil he was out catching some sun and catching up on his sleep," John told him. "Father might think twice about putting him in charge of our fastest craft."

"You know," I said, "that was really nice of you guys to arrange that picture for Trixie."

"Yeah," Scott said dryly. "I kinda got the feeling that she liked it. I haven't liked the way she's been looking at me since."

I couldn't help it. I laughed. So did Alan and John.

"And how about you, Chris?" Alan asked. "How have you liked your present?"

"I've had a whale of a time," I replied. "I've got to thank you all for letting me come up here. It's something I've often dreamed of, but never thought would happen."

Scott stood up. "Well, I'm afraid the dream's almost over. We'd better get going. Alan, we'll leave you the dishes."

"Gee, thanks."

"Our pleasure," John told him.

"I'll leave you your father's love," I told Alan. "It was the last thing he said before we left."

"Oh!" Alan appeared surprised. "Tell him I return the compliment."

As I settled back into my seat on board Thunderbird Three I reflected that, as much as I'd enjoyed my time on Thunderbird Five, I would hate to be stuck up there alone with only the never-ending chatter of the radio to keep me company.

Scott and John had let me start the return journey on the flight deck and as I looked out a window I noticed something strange. It took me a while to realise what it was. The Earth was getting smaller.

"Aren't we going the wrong way?" I asked.

John grinned. "Alan mentioned that you said you'd like to see a certain blue-green marble. We thought we'd take a detour before we head for home."

We travelled a couple more minutes before John swung Thunderbird Three around so that she was beam on to our home planet. Alan was right. From this distance the Earth had the appearance of a marble, made of little more than coloured glass. Fragile and beautiful.

I sighed. "That's a view I'll never forget. Thanks, guys."

Thunderbird Three's motors started up again and we started the final race for home.

As we passed Thunderbird Five, John made radio contact. "Thunderbird Three to Thunderbird Five. Undocking procedure complete."

"F.A.B., Thunderbird Three. I'll alert Base that you're leaving now. Have a safe trip home."

I looked towards Scott for clarification of the message. "We didn't tell Father we were going to take that little detour."

I mouthed an 'oh' before turning to catch my last ever view of Thunderbird Five.

"Thanks, Alan," John was continuing the radio conversation. "See you in a few weeks. Take care, brother."

"You too, John."

Non-Participation II - Twenty-Three.

It was with a real sense of sadness that Trixie got our things together for the trip back to Auckland, New Zealand, two days after my visit to Thunderbird Five.

I packed my bag, taking the most care with a postcard sized picture Virgil had painted for me. It was Earth from space. New Zealand was in the centre of the picture. I knew exactly where I was going to hang it in my home, a tangible reminder of the incredible events of the last few days.

Virgil came into my room. "All set?" he asked as he hefted my bag off my bed.

"I can carry that," I protested.

"I know you can," he replied.

"But Grandma would never let us live it down if we didn't make the effort," Scott spoke from where he was leaning against the doorway.

"Notice I'm the one carrying it while he looks on!" Virgil pretended to sound resigned to the injustices of life in the Tracy household. "Just par for the course. Leave me to do all the hard work, while he stands around and gives the orders."

"Okay, okay!" Scott protested. "Give it here, I'll carry it."

"Nope, I've got it now. You can go get Trixie's." There was a twinkle in Virgil's eye.

"John and Gordon have gone to help her, and I would have thought you'd want to bring out your latest masterpiece yourself," Scott said.

"I am," Virgil winked at me as Scott frowned uncomprehendingly. "But the portrait's wrapped up safe and secure. It'll be alright."

"And Alan's far enough away that he can't damage it," I joked as we exited the room.

We met Gordon, Trixie and John in the hallway. Gordon was carrying Trixie's bag and John had a large flat package.

"Did I hear Alan's name mentioned?" Gordon asked.

"Yes. Thought of your revenge yet?" I asked him.

He looked thoughtful. "I've got one or two ideas, but I haven't really had a chance to concentrate on it. But don't worry! By the time he comes home I'll have something really suitable planned."

"Why don't you just cut a hole in his ceiling?" I joked.

The thoughtful look increased. "Chris! You may have something there..."

"But I was only kidding!" I protested. Despite all that Alan had done to my home, I wouldn't wish that on him.

Gordon grinned. "So was I. Come on. I'm your pilot for the return trip."

"You poor thing!" John said to me. "You thought Alan's maintenance was bad, you want to see Gordon's flying skills."

"Yeah," Scott agreed. "For a pilot he makes a great aquanaut."

"Do you guys feel lucky?" Gordon asked. "I've got a few weeks before Alan gets back, that's plenty of time to get in a couple of dry runs of my master plan beforehand."

"Notice I didn't say anything about your flying abilities," Virgil said.

"Greaser," said John.

"That's only because you didn't get the opportunity," Scott told him.

Virgil's grin told me that this was the truth.

"I'm going to miss all this," Trixie said. "You boys have made us feel so welcome, like we're part of the family. And here you are, being perfect gentlemen, carrying our things for us. And Scott is waiting to escort us to the plane. You'll take my arm, won't you, Scott?" His brothers snickered as Trixie slid her arm through Scott's and batted her eyelashes at him. Scott looked less than comfortable.

"You could be onto a good thing there, Scott," Virgil teased. "I'm sure Trixie would love to take you home."

"Yeah. You'd take good care of him, wouldn't you Trixie?" Gordon piped up.

"You'd have to watch him though," John added to Scott's discomfort. "He's not happy unless he's giving orders, you'll have to tell him who's boss."

Scott shot them a look that clearly said "Shut up!"

Trixie giggled. "You boys are such teases. You've made my Scott quite uncomfortable." She patted his arm and then released it. "You are a dear to put up with me like this, Scott. Don't listen to them, I wouldn't take you away from your home. You're too valuable here. I'm just an old woman who likes a bit of fun."

Gordon groaned. "Darn. Another chance missed."

As we walked down the hallway I remembered something. "Say Virgil, did you manage to work out what was wrong with your winch thingy?"

"Software!" he said. "Brains had put in too many dots in the programme or something. He's fixed it now."

We'd arrived in the lounge. The rest of the household was already there. Jeff Tracy stood to say goodbye. "Thank you, both of you, for all you've done. You've certainly livened up the place."

"It's been fun," I said. "Well most of it."

Trixie agreed. "I know my Ryan would have been as proud to meet you all as I am proud to work for you. It's so wonderful to see that International Rescue is such a loving family group. In all the time I've been here I've never heard a raised voice or cross word."

There was an awkward silence. No one dared look at anyone else.

Jeff eventually cleared his throat. "Well, I know Brains is keen to get the final stage of the work on your homes complete, so you'd better get underway. Have a safe trip home."

"Thank you, Jeff. I'm sure we'll be safe in Gordon's capable hands." I winked at the redheaded Tracy.

"Just watch out in case he forgets himself and thinks he's piloting Thunderbird Four," Scott said. "Remember Gordon, you want to stay above the waves, not below them."

Gordon resumed his 'thoughtful' look. "Brains will be thinking about his next gadget and won't be in a talkative mood on the way home. It'll be pretty boring so I'll have plenty of opportunity to get in some thinking myself, and some planning. I should have Alan's surprise all worked out by the time I get home...ready for a practise run." He grinned evilly at Scott.

"You've had it now, Scott," John laughed.

Scott gave his own meaningful grin to Gordon in return. "And Alan will have advanced warning of what's in store for him if anything untoward should happen to any of us."

"Drat! Foiled again!" Gordon looked unconcerned "Come on, you two. All aboard."

Gordon and Brains went on ahead to load our possessions into the plane. We bade our final farewells to the rest of the residents of Tracy Island and started moving towards the plane ourselves.

When we reached the edge of the runway we turned and waved back to those standing on the balcony.

"You know, Chris," Trixie said. "I could get used to living here. A tropical paradise, all this luxury, such wonderful, caring people, all this space." She looked at me and I detected that old impish twinkle in her faded blue eyes. "I wonder if Jeff's ever thought of marrying an older woman!"

"Trixie!!!!!!!!"