This story was the winner of the 2014 Tracy Island Writers Forum FicSwap Challenge. The request I received was: "I would like to see a story in which a member of the (extended) Tracy family must temporarily take over the tasks that belong, according to canon, to another member. For instance John has to do an underwater mission with all that goes with it in TB4."

Scott Tracy was tired, hot, hungry and very aggravated with the fork lift he was driving. They still hadn't managed to fix the problems with the air conditioning, so the hangar door was open to let in the cool breezes that usually blew from the ocean – except of course there weren't any today, and all this physical activity had him bathing in his own sweat.

He swore as the gear shift froze in neutral again. As he wrestled with the lever, the sweat beading his forehead gathered into a rivulet and ran down into his eye, half-blinding him just as he stamped down on the clutch and put some serious force behind the shift to first. And that's when the transmission slipped, shooting the fork lift forward into the pallet stacked high with various parts and equipment brought over that morning from Mateo.

It was all going over, and Virgil was right in its path.

Scott never knew exactly how he crossed the space between the fork lift seat and his brother, but the next thing he knew he was barreling into Virgil and they were both tumbling across the concrete.

Just a little bit too late.

The neatly stacked pile teetered, tottered, and began to fall. Crates struck the floor hard, splitting open, scattering small parts and shooting ball bearings in every direction across the vast cavern floor like a pinball machine gone berserk. Nuts and bolts pinged and bounced as the forklift continued to plow manically forward through the stack, only pausing momentarily and reluctantly when its forks caught in one of the giant wooden wire spools. The machine wobbled dangerously back and forth, tires smoking, until it shook itself free, shooting forward, cutting donuts in ever widening circles until a wheel caught in the pod tracks that ran from the pod storage on one side of the bay, to the pod bay area on the opposite side of the cavern.

The madly spinning tires scooted the vehicle a few feet sideways down the track, finally shook loose again and shot out the open bay door into the brilliant sunlight like Butch Cassidy with a sheriff's posse on its tail.

Quiet returned to the loading area as a stunned Scott lay on the floor staring at the ceiling far above him, trying to figure out exactly what had just happened. He turned his head to his left where Virgil was lying. His brother wasn't moving and when Scott tried to reach out to him, the world went white for a moment.

OK…OK… he thought to himself. Breathe, don't throw up, just breathe. When the intense, nauseating pain in his left arm subsided, he slowly and carefully rolled just a bit in that direction and reached across with his right arm to press the emergency button on the wrist communicator. Then all he could do was wait for the cavalry to arrive.

Half an hour later, Scott's broken left arm was waiting to be set as soon as Brains had run an MRI on a now conscious Virgil. "I'm sure it's only a, uh, a mild concussion but I want to make sure we haven't ah, ah, missed anything," Brains reassured Virgil and the rest of the onlookers who had gathered in the infirmary.

"We'll be right back, Virgil," Tin-Tin said as she and Brains went down the hall to prepare the MRI machine for Virgil's scan.

Penny, who had arrived on the island mid-morning for a short vacation, stood beside Scott's bed and surveyed the damage. "Dear boys, you gave us all quite a start. I must say, it's a memorable beginning for my vacation, though." She turned, accidentally bumping one of the pillows cushioning Scott's arm. "Oh Scott, I am so sorry. Did I hurt you?"

She was met with a decidedly goofy smile from Scott who shook his head no…and then shook it no again as he gazed around the room like he'd never seen it before.

"Hmm. I must say, Jeff, Brains' new painkiller seems to be working very well indeed," Penny observed.

"Naah, those two'll do anything to get out of an honest day's work," Gordon quipped from the doorway. He was met by the same disconnectedly happy grin from Scott, which stopped him for a moment. "Oh, that's…weird. Gotta hand it to you guys for the ball bearing booby trap that nearly took Dad out, though. That was a masterpiece. Which I am now off to clean up," he added hastily as Jeff turned a glare in his direction.

Scott's wandering gaze finally stopped on Virgil who was lying prone on a gurney with Grandma finishing the mop up on his face and neck. He was still in the t-shirt he'd been wearing, covered with blood from the profusely bleeding scalp wound. Grandma was shaking her head as she worked. "Come to the South Pacific, my son says. You can sit in the sun and take it easy, he says. No pressure, he says…"

Virgil's eyes remained closed, but he smiled. "Grandma, you wouldn't know what to do with yourself if you didn't have to put a band aid on us once in a while."

She swatted him gently on the arm. "Well, you needing a band aid is one thing…taking ten years off my life is another, young man. Reminds me a little too much of that time you tried to fly off the barn roof."

"Good thing his head is so hard," said Jeff, not doing such a great job of masking the fear he'd felt when they'd first arrived in the hangar to find his two eldest sons flat on the floor looking like survivors of a bombing.

Brains and Tin-Tin reentered the room just in time to catch Jeff's remark.

"Tin-Tin, let's get Virgil down the uh, uh hall and see just how hard his head really is," Brains said.

They all heard the responding "Ha!" from Virgil as they wheeled him out of the room and down the short hallway.

Jeff returned to his office in the lounge after he got the all clear on the Virgil's MRI scan. Virgil would still need to be watched for several hours for the symptoms of concussion, but both Brains and Tin-Tin were on hand for that, and there was work to do, as always.

Well, let's just hope we aren't needed on a call until we're back up to full strength, he thought, sitting down at his desk.

As if on cue, John's portrait on the wall began blinking. Great. Just...great.

"Base from Thunderbird Five. Come in, Father."

There was no avoiding it. Jeff hit the com switch and John's portrait switched to the live feed. "Go ahead, John."

"Father, I've just received a distress call from a group of people who say they're trapped in the basement of the small manufacturing plant. They say there was some kind of shaker, an earthquake, maybe, and then they couldn't open the doors to get out. I asked them if they'd contacted anyone and they said they had, but for some reason no one seems to have been able to get them out.

"I've checked with the seismic reporting stations at the ANSS Pinedale Array in Wyoming, in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, and Cedar Bluff, Kansas, and they confirm there was a small localized quake, only about a 4.0-4.2, which shouldn't have created this kind of problem. But the trapped people are saying they're noticing signs of instability and they're afraid the building is going to fall in on them at any moment."

"Well, get in touch with the main office at the plant and find out exactly what's going on. What about local fire and rescue?" asked Jeff.

"I'm monitoring local communications and there doesn't seem to be much going on." John paused, brow wrinkling in a frown. "Something here doesn't make sense."

Jeff nodded. "You're right – it doesn't. Find out what you can and we'll get ready in case we need to help them."

"FAB." John left the connection open while he starting contacting local authorities and obtaining coordinates for a possible rescue mission.

Jeff hit the klaxon that would tell the rest of the organization there was an emergency. As he waited for them to arrive, he flipped the switch that produced a vid-screen from the desk top and began studying the information that John was beginning to download.

Penny was the first to arrive, having already been on her way to collect her luggage from the lounge. "Mrs. Tracy is staying with the boys in the infirmary," she said as she took a seat on the nearest of the two large sofas.

Right behind her came Brains and Tin-Tin and then a moment later, Gordon. "What's the situation, Father?" he asked.

"We've received a distress call in the U.S. that John is still gathering information on," Jeff began. He picked up the glasses on the desk beside him and looked at the information scrolling across the vid-screen. "Muelheisen Snap and Fastener Factory and...Goat Cheese?"

"The goats are Stevenson's," John said.

"What?"

"Stevenson's Goat Cheese and Milk Products."

"There's a joke in all this somewhere," Gordon said. "But I just can't quite put my finger on it."

"Snaps…fasteners…cheese… How does that even work?" Jeff said, looking at John.

"Apparently they have separate entrances," John deadpanned then moved on smoothly. "OK, I found someone at the City Hall…Irene Talbot, city clerk, police & fire dispatch and part-time assistant to the local livestock inspector."

"Livestock inspector?" Jeff was starting to look lost.

"Aaaaand we're back with goats," grinned Gordon.

"She wears many hats, it seems. But she knows just about everything that's going on in town, and she says no one has called from the plant. In it or underneath it. She's getting a hold of their volunteer fire chief to find out what, if anything, is going on. She did confirm that the factory does have a large basement area that is part of the goat cheese company. They use the area for ageing their cheeses as well as refrigeration units for storage. Some days they have tours but let's hope this wasn't one of those days."

"Did the town sustain any damage from the earthquake?" asked Jeff.

"Apparently not," John said. "Irene seemed a little surprised I even knew about it. They could feel some sway and a few things fell off a couple of shelves but nothing more than that, really. Not the sort of thing that brings a building down. I don't know what to make of it. The town is small and only has a volunteer fire and rescue group. If there's real trouble, they're a fair distance from any major metropolitan help."

"Are you still in touch with the people who say they're trapped?"

"Yes, sir. And the GPS readings from their mobile devices are all reading from the same location and are stationary."

Just then the lounge doors swished open and a wild-eyed Scott stumbled through, dragging Grandma, who was trying to hold on to his good arm. He swung around, flinging Grandma off at right angles toward Penny's sofa, and charged straight to the revolving wall panel that would take him to his ship. "Thunderbird One is go, Dad! Tell them I'm on my way!" he declared to the room in general, backed into place, and tried to reach up for the wall sconces. He stopped in confusion as he couldn't raise his left arm, which was in a sling and strapped securely to his body.

Gordon and Brains had recovered from their surprise and were rushing across the room to grab him. By the time they reached him, Scott was hanging on to one sconce with his good hand and had turned to kick at the wall panel. Gordon yanked his hand from the sconce and he and Brains both got an arm around him to turn him back into the room.

"I think you need to sit down, Scott," Gordon said.

"I think I need to sit down," Scott echoed...and abruptly dropped to the floor.

"Kyrano!" Jeff bellowed.

"Kyrano left for the World Hunger symposium in the Hague this morning. Don't you remember, Dad?" Gordon was helping Brains lift an uncooperative Scott from the floor

The look on Jeff's face said he did not.

"Gordon!" Scott said with a big, glassy-eyed smile. "Are you home on leave already?"

Without missing a beat, Gordon said smoothly, "Yes, I am. How about coming on over here with me and I'll tell you all about boot camp."

"OK!" Scott replied cheerfully. Gordon got Scott's good arm over his shoulder and steered his eldest brother to the sofa on the far side of the room.

Brains watched Scott go with a bemused expression. "Hmmm…that new painkiller certainly seems to have some unanticipated side effects."

"Unanticipated side effects," John said. "Not that we've ever had that happen around here before."

"Can we all please get back to the people who are trapped in the basement of a building in...in...where the hell are they, John?" Jeff burst out in frustration.

"Now Jeff, losing your temper won't help," said Penny soothingly.

"I'm not losing my…" he heard his own raised voice, took a deep breath and lowered the volume. 'I am not losing my temper, Penny."

A suspicious snort was heard from the direction of John's picture. It morphed abruptly into a cough as his father's steely gaze turned in his direction.

From the sofa, Scott's voice could be heard growing louder "Grounded? Why? Who said that? Nobody told me..." He tried to raise his left wrist to look at his communicator, and stopped, staring at his splinted arm. "Whoa! When did that happen?"

Brains had removed his mini-smartpad from a pocket and was busily noting the 'unanticipated' side effects. "We'll have to see if this is an anomaly confined only to certain individuals…" he murmured under his breath. "Hmmm…I'm afraid there will need to be further tests…"

Gordon didn't like the way Brains was suddenly looking across the room at him.

John cleared his throat. "Uh, Dad, who's going to fly One?"

"Alan, of course," Jeff barked.

"Dad…Alan's at the Dakar Rally, remember?" Gordon put in.

The look on Jeff's face said he did not.

He recovered quickly. They'd be on him like wolves if he didn't, and he knew it. "Right. I knew that. Well then…I'll fly One!" he finished, a little too loudly.

Sudden silence descended on the room.

"What?!" he huffed to the group.

"Nothing, Dad...it's just...that thing can be like riding a barrel through the rapids..." John said. "Are you sure...?"

"And Gordon will fly Two," continued Jeff, studiously ignoring John. "Get the mini-moles loaded in the pod. If it turns out we are needed, we'll need to be ready. I have a feeling about this one."

"Yes, sir." Gordon shot a glance at Scott, who was carefully examining the cast on his left arm as if he was stoned. He shook his head and left the room, headed for the elevator to the monorail.

Jeff turned back to John. "Get the coordinates and satellite photos, find us a place to land. Hack something if you need to. Just get me whatever information you can and be ready to start feeding it to me in One. Call that woman, what was her name? Talbot? Call her and find out what's going on and get back to the people in the basement and get an assessment of their current situation. And make it…make it…"

"Snappy?" supplied John helpfully.

"Snappy!" Scott echoed, face lighting up. The word seemed to make him extremely happy.

John tore his eyes off the sight. "I'll...yeah. I'll go...do that," he said, moving abruptly out of camera range.

"Ah, Mr Tracy, I, uh, will come with Gordon, since we're, a-a little short staffed at the moment," Brains volunteered, rather cheerfully.

"And I'll be you," Tin-Tin said sweetly to Jeff.

"What? What does that mean?" Jeff demanded.

"I'll be you. I'll man the desk."

"Oh." Jeff mumbled, deflated. "Yes. Of course."

Tin-Tin pushed Scott back down on the sofa, preempting his attempt to follow her as she stood up. "But we'll need to have Virgil and Scott up here so it will be easier for Mrs. Tracy and I to keep an eye on them. Penny, you'll help us, won't you?"

But Penny was looking at Jeff, brow furrowed. "No, Jeff, this won't do," she said suddenly. "It won't do at all."

Jeff stared at her blankly. "It won't?"

"Jeff, you are one of the most recognizable people in the world, let alone the US. You can't possibly go out looking like...you. We must get you a disguise."

Something in the way she was sizing him up made him unaccountably nervous. "Penny, don't be ridiculous – we don't have time for this nonsense, and besides, no one will be looking at me!"

"Oh, do be serious, Jeff. The field commander is the liaison between International Rescue and everyone on the ground at the danger zone. Everyone will be looking at you." She crossed the room to where her luggage still sat, picked up a small case and returned.

"You're in good hands, Jeff, don't worry. This won't hurt a bit." And with that she slipped her arm through Jeff's and pulled him toward the hallway. The others listened to their argument as they turned the corner out of sight.

"And I'm going with you," her voice came floating back.

"You are not…" they heard Jeff protest, but she interrupted him immediately.

"Oh, yes I am. You need me out there keeping an eye on you."

"Keeping an eye on me?" they heard him splutter. "I am in charge of this operation, Penny!"

"Exactly, Jeff. You are far too used to people hopping to your orders, and I know how you get when you think you're dealing with idiots. And trust me, when you're out in the field in an emergency situation some of the most intelligent people act like idiots."

"You are not going. I don't need you to go and that's final." His voice was rising again.

"Your ears are turning red, Jeff."

John snorted from the live feed.

"What has that got to do with anything?" Jeff exploded from the hallway.

"You start shouting at people when your ears turn red. Trust me. You'll be glad I came."

They heard the bathroom door swish shut. "Mom and Dad are fighting," Scott said with exaggerated solemnity. Then he let out a giggle.

"Oh, boy," John said, shaking his head. "Brains, don't give me any of those until you've got the formula down, OK? In the meantime, somebody get this on film."

"John!" Tin-Tin admonished...but she was smiling.

Ten minutes later, Penny returned with the transformed Jeff.

Grandma's hand flew to her mouth to cover the laugh she couldn't quite stifle.

Scott looked at his father without recognition for a long moment, then shook his head and frowned.

"Don't even start," Jeff said when he saw John open his mouth to comment.

Gone was the distinguished former astronaut and billionaire businessman everyone knew and loved. His head had been shaved bald and he now sported a very natural looking black goatee and mustache. He looked like a very intimidating biker, especially with the scowl he currently wore.

"Well how does he look?" inquired Penny.

"Scary," replied John, sincerely.

Jeff glared at him.

John held up both hands. "But in a good way," he added hastily.

At that moment Brains and Tin-Tin rolled Virgil into the lounge. They stopped abruptly at the sight of Jeff's disguise.

Virgil shaded his eyes and squinted. "Practicing your intimidation tactics for Lady P's next fundraiser, dad?"

"That's an excellent idea, Virgil," smiled Penny, patting Jeff on the arm as she moved into the room.

John's voice from the live feed was suddenly all business. "Father, it looks like you were right. They need International Rescue and they need us now."

Thunderbird One arrived at Pearson's Township in a little over one and a half hours. She would have been there sooner but for the predicted couple of "barrel-in-the-rapids" moments, which of course forced Jeff to slow down enough that he could avoid either crashing or extreme embarrassment. Or both. He hoped he'd managed to convince Penelope that the last unplanned vertical plunge had just been his way of putting the ship through her paces.

John had informed the locals of Thunderbird One's estimated time of arrival, so the volunteer fire and rescue personnel were milling around in front of the building when she roared overhead. Jeff took her in a wide circle, looking at the modest plant spread below him, shaped in a U with a courtyard between the two legs. The town was just west of the building and the blacktop road ran in lazy curves from there to the plant, where it ended in a paved parking lot on the south side of the building, which looked like it had to be the front. The courtyard faced the larger employee lot in the rear of the building. The building itself was surrounded on the three sides by mostly open pasture, the exception being a securely fenced area with pens that appeared to have access to the east leg.

"Thunderbird Five from Thunderbird One. We have reached the danger zone. John, you should have a good close up of the area from my flyover. I'm setting One down at the back of the building in the open pasture area. Have Thunderbird Two set down in the parking lot.

"FAB. Still in touch with the people in the basement. They still have light and water and they know we'll be getting to them shortly. They're not panicking but they're telling me they're seeing more cracks forming above them. I get the feeling they'd like us to hurry."

"Hurry it up, Virgil!" they could hear Scott's still-loopy voice from the lounge on Tin-Tin's mike.

"I'm right here, Scott, see?" Virgil's voice sounded a bit frayed. "Go sit down. Go."

"Gotta hand it to Brains," John mused. "He may not always get things right the first time but the results sure stick around for a while..."

Jeff counted to ten, mindful that Penelope was with him.

The building looked sound from the air. For a moment Jeff doubted the whole thing...maybe all these problems were the universe's way of telling him he shouldn't have taken on this rescue mission in the first place. That was what Lucy probably would have said. But then he shook it off...there were people in trouble and they had a job to do. Onward and upward.

He brought One around in an arc, firing the VTOL jet and setting her down at the edge of the field nearest the parking lot. The belly hatch opened and the ladder deployed automatically. Jeff stood up, clad in his blue IR jumpsuit, adjusting his headset over his left ear.

"Thunderbird Five from Thunderbird One, remote camera on standby."

"FAB, Dad. Deploy the camera."

They had decided in the air that the best way for John to help his father would be to use the remote camera as his eyes on the ground. Jeff toggled the switch that would open the outer hatch to and let the remote fly free. He watched on One's external screens until he saw the camera float down into view, stop in the air and revolve slowly back toward the ship.

"I have visual. You're good to go, Dad. I'll keep up with you and Penny."

Jeff exited the hatch and climbed down the ladder with the case containing Mobile Control slung over one shoulder. When he reached the ground he turned his face upward to watch as Penny emerged and climbed down the ladder. When she reached the last rung, Jeff gave her a hand for the last step down.

"Holy –" John remembered everyone could hear him and bit back the second word. Penelope was completely unrecognizable. Twenty years older and forty pounds heavier, dressed in utilitarian trousers and jacket, she had topped off the disguise with dark, mannish glasses and a short, salt and pepper wig that would have made an East German women's gymnastics coach weep with envy. It looked like she'd even padded her cheeks to make them rounder.

"Thank you, John," she said. "What about you, Jeff? Do you like it?"

The sound of her elegantly modulated voice coming from behind those glasses was too much for Jeff. He mumbled something he hoped was appropriate and just stared.

The moment was broken by a scuffling sound over the headset and then the tinny sound of Scott's voice. " Dad, when you get on the ground, you have to set up a mobile command post, and coordinate with..." Tin-Tin's voice came from further away, interrupting him. "He knows that, Scott. Give me back the microphone…" More scuffling noises and a muffled, " Give me that, Scott, or I will have to hurt you!" Then, "Ow – hey!"

After a moment of silence, Tin-Tin came back and said, "I'm sorry Mr. Tracy. He got away from us for a moment there. Everything's under control now."

The best in the world, Ned Cook called us once. Jeff pinched the bridge of his nose and realized he was developing a headache.

Seeing a small knot of people heading their way towards him, Jeff adjusted his cap with the point at a low angle closer to an eyebrow in the forlorn hope of covering more of his bald head. He leaned toward Penny and whispered, "You owe me," then turned to face the oncoming group.

The leader was a man in a shiny silk suit, followed closely by two other men in much less expensive apparel. Shiny Suit had his hand out and immediately grabbed Jeff's as soon as he got within range, pumping it enthusiastically. It was like shaking a wet fish; Jeff pulled his hand away as quickly as he could, suppressing a shudder. "International Rescue!" Shiny Suit was lamenting. "Oh dear, oh dear. We really didn't need you – I'm sure our City Fire Department will be able to handle this situation with no problems at all. Icertainly didn't call you, you know. Just want that on the record. The head office is not going to pay for this unauthorized service, I'm afraid."

"International Rescue does not charge for its services," Jeff said, affronted. Then, "What do you mean you don't need us? We got a distress call from people in the basement of this plant that say they are trapped. As far as we know, they are still trapped."

He swatted at the remote camera, which was drifting a bit too close to his head. It made an agitated whirring sound as John hit reverse. Jeff ignored it, glaring at Shiny Suit, who shrank back visibly from the sight. "Are you in charge?" Jeff demanded. "What's your name?"

"Sydney. Howard Sydney – plant manager for the Muelheisen Snap and Fastener Factory." He grabbed in the direction of Jeff's hand again but Jeff evaded him smoothly.

"What about the goats?" came John's question through Jeff's earphone. "Gordon wants to know about the goats."

The camera was drifting too close again. "Stop that!" Jeff barked impatiently.

"Sorry." The camera gained height again.

"Excuse me?" said Mr. Sydney. "Stop what?"

"Not you – him." Jeff jerked a thumb in the direction of the floating camera, not realizing that it was now on the other side of him. "How do the goats fit into the picture?"

"Goats?" Sydney looked blank for a moment. Then, "Oh, those goats. That's just a small operation we've rented one wing of the building to. Muelheisen Snap and Fastener Factory occupies…"

"And the people trapped in the basement?" interrupted Jeff

"Well, that is to say…well, there are some people, a few…actually the goat people – none of ours. At least I don't think so. Really, those goats are getting to be quite a nuisance." He paused. "They didn't call you, did they?"

"The goats?" Jeff's newly darkened eyebrows rose toward what used to be his hairline. He took a deep breath. "Mr. Sydney, I'll ask you once again. Are you telling me there are indeed people trapped in the basement of this facility?"

"Well, I doubt they're really trapped," Sydney blustered. "I'm sure the doors have simply jammed and won't open and when we didn't just drop everything and run to find them the second they called, they simply panicked. Our facilities people were working on it. But now that the fire department has arrived, everything will be just fine. I really apologize for these people bringing you all the way here from...wherever it is you came from."

Jeff held up his index finger. He spoke into his headset mike. "John, when was the rescue call placed to the local fire department?"

"Right after I called to tell them IR was on its way."

"I see." Jeff narrowed his eyes at Sydney. "Now, Mister Sydney, suppose you explain to me exactly how –"

"Meester Seednee!"

The sudden deep, breathy, Marlene Dietrich-accented voice right next to Jeff's ear made him jump back with a startled huff of breath. Penelope moved smoothly past him and extended her hand. "Meester Seednee, I am Valentina Trinkenvasser. Zo pleeesed to make your acquaintance. Vy don't you tell me all about your most eenteresting factory?"

Sydney stared at her as she swept toward him, allowing her to slip her arm through his and spin him around. "Ears, Jeff," Penelope mouthed back over her shoulder at Jeff as they departed.

"Oooh, she's good," said John in Jeff's ear.

"Shut up," Jeff growled. He stalked after Penelope and Sydney, the rest of the group trailing behind like ducklings.

Jeff stopped at the first vehicle and looked more closely at the rescue personnel, who were about what he'd expected – a motley collection of volunteers with outdated equipment. They were gathered around the front door of the building, which was apparently stuck. He watched two different men launch themselves against the doors only to bounce off again like tennis balls.

One enterprising, if decidedly short young fellow then showed up with a fire ax almost as big as he was, telling everyone to stand back. But before he could swing, Mr. Sydney started yelling at him. "Here now! You, stop that! You're going to create a lot of damage here, and I want to know if the city plans on repairing the door you're about to destroy!"

"But, Mr. Sydney," the man protested, "The building settled in that last little shake and all the doors and windows are stuck. We can't get anything open. We're going to have to break something to get in."

"Now, see, that's a problem, right there. I don't see why you can't just take them off a hinge or something. Those doors are brand new and cost the earth. The head office is not going to like this one little bit. It's bad enough that we're going to have to patch all those cracks!"

As if it heard him, the ground gave a sudden sharp jolt. "Aftershock," John supplied unnecessarily in Jeff's ear, almost drowned out by the eerie grinding roar from the earth. Squeaks and groans emitted from the building as metal beams and wood torqued under the pressure.

Loud bleating sounds announced the arrival of at least a dozen very frightened goats, being chased by a handful of men and women in coveralls and hair nets. Running flat out away from their pursuers, they were almost upon the group of rescue personnel before they saw them. They broke and scattered in all directions from this new threat, and chaos reigned for several minutes as the human contingent downed tools and tried to help catch them.

A very small brown goat darted between Jeff's legs, nearly tripping him, as it shot toward Thunderbird One and disappeared behind it.

Jeff had had quite enough. He snapped his fingers at two of the men in turnouts who were dashing toward him in pursuit of two larger white goats. "You two! Forget the goats." He pointed back at the door. "Fastest way in is through the sidelights. Grab your axes and get in there and see if you can break through the entrance to the basement."

The two hesitated, looking at Mr. Sydney first.

"NOW!" bellowed Jeff.

The two firemen wisely did as they were told. They trotted over to the building and aimed their axes at the vintage chicken wire glass sidelight on one side of the double entrance doors. Ignoring Sydney's cry of "Noooooooo," they cracked through the thick glass, shattering it into jagged shards that hung precariously in the opening on broken wires. They finished hacking out the shards to make a clean opening and squeezed though.

"Sydney, that glass should have been replaced thirty years ago. It's a safety code violation," Jeff rapped.

Mr. Sydney looked like he was nearly in tears. "That was antique…those sidelights were the last original windows in the building," he practically moaned. "Young Mr. Muelheisen asked us to keep that when the new doors went in. Oh, he's not going to like this at all... And all those cracks...and the new paint... We're not budgeted for that, you know!"

Jeff just stared at him in disbelief.

"Ears, Jeff," Penny said quickly.

Jeff took a deep breath and looked around, spotting a man with the word "Chief" emblazoned on his fireman's hat. He signalled him to come over. As he waited he growled, "Sydney, get me a table, a couple of chairs, something, anything so I can set up my communications center…and make it snappy!"

Saying that felt good. He was starting to understand why Scott said it so often.

Mr. Sydney immediately turned to the two subordinate, less shiny suits that had been following him since the beginning, and snapped his fingers. "You heard him. Find some chairs!"

They looked at each other then took off running in two different directions. Jeff watched silently as one of them tripped over a goat and fell.

"International Rescue?" The Chief had arrived at Jeff's side, providing a welcome distraction.

Jeff shook the man's hand. It was reassuringly dry. "Is there anyone still in the building?" he asked. "Besides the people in the basement, I mean."

"Safety wardens have accounted for the factory side. Everyone got out above ground on the goat side. There wasn't really any damage that anyone could see but when they tried to go back to check the basement, they couldn't get in. It looks like the building just...leaned a little, and every door and window in the place jammed."

The two firemen re-emerged from the sidelight and ran toward the spot where Jeff and the Chief were standing. The one with 'Neumann' stenciled on his turnout gear said, "We reached the doors to the stairway and broke through, but the entire supporting wall spanning the stairway has collapsed. The way's totally blocked."

"Was that the only entrance and exit to that space?" Jeff asked in disbelief. He looked at the fire chief and asked, "When was the last safety inspection for this plant?"

The chief responded, "Well, Mr. Sydney told me he had the state building safety inspectors in year before last when they were doing retrofitting…"

Jeff turned to the plant manager, who was hovering nearby. "Mr. Sydney, patching cracks is going to be the least of your problems if we don't get those people out of the basement. And someone will be looking into that inspection…and the retrofitting," he said darkly.

Another loud creaking made them all look back at the building. It was more than just 'leaning a little' by this time. It looked like both ends of the center section of the building were beginning to pull away from wings on either side, and sinking suspiciously in the center like a soufflé deflating. The wall between the main building and the east wing now looked lower than the west wall.

"Thunderbird Two from Mobile Control, what is your ETA?"

"Mobile Control, Thunderbird Two – we are approximately ten minutes out," answered Gordon's voice. "Are we cleared for landing?"

"You will be," Jeff said. He surveyed the chaos of goat-chasing people in front of him. "Listen up, everybody! We need to clear the parking lot. Thunderbird Two will be landing in eight minutes. We have to get these vehicles out of here right now!"

There was a moment when everyone froze. Then even more confusion than before, as some people dropped the goats they'd already caught and ran to their vehicles, and others stopped to chase the animals that had now been turned loose. Two men ran at the same goat, which dodged sideways, causing the men to crash into each other and fall in a heap on the ground.

"Oh, for Pete's sake…" Jeff said.

He shook it off with an effort. "I need everyone who isn't necessary for search and rescue to move away from the building!"

It was quickly obvious that no one really knew exactly who was necessary and who wasn't. Some people stepped back, others moved forward, and then some of them reversed direction. "I said move back!" Jeff yelled, at which they all obeyed, even the ones in helmets and turnout gear.

Jeff ran his hand down over his face, saw Penny looking at him and tapping her fingertips to her ears. He closed his eyes and counted to ten under his breath.

"Uh oh," the Chief said. Jeff glanced at him, following his gaze to the shiny black town car that had just pulled up. A short man in an even more expensive suit than Mr. Sydney's emerged from the car, followed by another entourage of less expensive apparel. It was beginning to look like a pattern.

Trailing the town car was a small white van with the call letters of a television station on the side.

Jeff rolled his shoulders once, took a deep breath and stopped a man who was dragging a goat past him. "Do you think you could find a chair or table for me to set up on? Anything?"

"Sure," the man said turning the goat loose and shooting off in the opposite direction he'd come from, disappearing around the building.

The short man in the expensive suit finally reached Jeff, grabbing his hand and shaking it vigorously just as Jeff was trying to swing the equipment case off his shoulder. The short man ducked, the Chief caught the case and between them they managed to avoid a collision. "Hello! Mayor Anderson here, welcome to our city! It's quite an honor to have International Rescue here," he exclaimed as he moved in quickly, stood on tiptoe to put an arm around Jeff and waved the photographer to take a picture.

Penelope moved quickly between the photographer and the two men. "Zorry," she husked, "No peektures." She turned to the reporter, a husky young man with an odd cowlick. "But I vill give eenterview, yes?"

The reporter looked a bit like a mouse being mesmerized by a snake. He allowed himself to be led away, the photographer trailing after them. Penelope pointed the photographer at the doomed building. "Ve must get peektures of theese before eet falls down," she said. "Pulleetzer, no?"

The mayor abandoned Jeff, following the photographer.

"Dad," Scott's voice came through the earpiece abruptly, " Did you get the blueprints? You gotta get the blueprints. Only thing is, I don't remember why... Virgil, what does Dad need the blueprints for again..? "

"You have reached Virgil's voice mail," Virgil answered him in an ominous monotone. "Virgil's not available right now. At the beep, Virgil wants you to get –"

There was the by-now-familar scuffle, a couple of thuds, and then Tin-Tin's voice. "Sorry about that, Mr. Tracy."

"Tell Scott to go lie down!" Jeff hissed.

"Love to, Dad, but I don't think he'd listen to me right now," John said. "Try Tin-Tin."

"I was talking to Tin-Tin!"

"Well, excuuuuuse me," John huffed.

"Well, don't speak unless you're spoken to," snapped Jeff. He finally gave up waiting for someone to bring him furniture and sat down heavily on the ground. He tried crossing his legs, but forgot that it had been a while since he'd tried to do that, and gave up after a couple of attempts. He finally compromised by spreading his legs out in a V in front of him, set the mobile unit on the ground between his legs and opened the top. He powered the unit up and opened the screen. "OK, what have we got on this plant?"

Silence.

"John, what have you got on this…"

"Oh, were you speaking to me?" inquired John, with exaggerated politeness.

Jeff ran his hands through his non-existent hair and counted to ten for what felt like the fiftieth time since he'd landed in this Godforsaken place. There isn't an aspirin big enough...

Penny came back at that moment, followed by the mayor and an anxious Mr. Sydney.

"Mr. Sydney, we need the blueprints of the plant," he started, but was distracted by Scott's voice, coming through the speakers on the Mobile Control unit now as well as his earpiece. "Where are the gas lines? Tin-Tin, did you tell him to ask where the gas lines are?"

"Tin-Tin…make it stop! Make. It. Stop!"

John began to giggle. Unfortunately, that came through the speakers as well. Sydney looked thoroughly confused.

"Mobile Control from Thunderbird Two, be with you in two minutes...are we clear to land?"

Jeff gathered what was left of his dignity, glaring pointedly at Sydney. "I don't know. Let's ask Mr. Sydney, shall we?"

"Sydney? What are they doing in Sydney?" Scott sounded very worried.

"TIN-TIN!" Jeff roared. Two goats bleated in terror and ran. "Gordon," Jeff continued, in full rant now, "Just SET HER DOWN. On top of the cars if you have to. I don't CARE."

"Now, see here," the mayor started. "I know you're a big deal, and all, but..."

"Oh dear, no." Sydney was shaking his head. "We can't have that. Young Mr. Muelheisen won't like that. He won't like it at all!"

An earsplitting whistle cut the air. Everyone froze, humans and goats alike. They all turned to see Penelope standing on the hood of a nearby truck. "MOVE ALL ZE CARS OUT OF ZE PARKING LOT NOW!" she bellowed. "AND MAKE EET SNAPPEE!"

There was a moment's hesitation, then a river of people flowed toward the cars and trucks and the vehicles began to move.

"Didn't see that coming," said John, with a faint note of admiration.

Penelope winked, then turned to let a young fireman help her down off the truck.

Jeff hunched over the Mobile Control unit, squinting at the screen. Finally giving up in disgust, he unsealed a pocket on the front of his jumpsuit and withdrew a pair of glasses. As he set them on his nose and returned his attention to the screen, he saw the small brown goat had returned and was trying to chew the bottom edge of his pants leg. "Shoo!"

The goat ignored him. Jeff pulled the cap from his head and swatted at the animal. "Shoo! Go away!" The goat sank his teeth into the cap and pulled, hard. Jeff pulled back, the goat pulled harder, digging his hooves into the ground. "No you don't, you son of a..."

The sudden back spasm caught him by surprise. The goat danced away, chewing Jeff's hat as he ran.

Jeff swore, loudly and colorfully. He glared up at Sydney. "Do you have plans to this building? Yes or no?"

"Well, technically…yes," Sydney said.

"And technically means…?"

"Well they exist… They're...just not where I can get my hands on them."

"Why not?" snapped Jeff.

Sydney lowered his eyes as he mumbled, "They're in the...uh...basement."

"This basement, here? The one with the people who aren't really trapped?" Jeff ground out.

Sydney nodded.

Jeff's voice was rising again. "Don't be an idiot, man, they have to be on line somewhere, this is the twenty-first century! Call your corporate office! You do have a corporate office, right?"

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of calling the corporate office. They wouldn't like it at all. Young Mr. Muelheisen would be so upset. And he only just got that nice new pacemaker."

"They'll be a damn sight more upset if this building collapses on their employees and they find out you were responsible for not getting them out. If you want to keep your job, CALL THEM."

Sydney gulped. He pulled out a phone from his pocket and walked away, shoulders drooping with reluctance.

"John!"

"Yes."

"Are the town's utility maps available online?"

"Thought you'd never ask. No. They don't. But Irene Talbot should be arriving any minute. She said she'll bring what you need."

"And you couldn't tell me this before because...?"

Something tugged on his leg. Jeff turned back to see that the goat had returned. "Shoo, get away!" he waved his arms at the little goat who hopped sideways and then behind him, apparently thinking that Jeff was playing with him. He bleated loudly, butting his head against Jeff's arm.

"Will someone get this goat away from me?" Jeff pleaded to no one in particular.

Overhead, the whine of Thunderbird Two's turbines split the air. The small goat ran in terror as the green giant dropped out of the sky, her four VTOL jets blasting clouds of fire and smoke. She settled gently to the just-cleared parking lot as the awed onlookers gawked.

The ground trembled again. Jeff thought for a moment it was just Two landing, but then as the engines died away, he heard the building rattle and glass tinkle as it hit pavement. Small bangs and crashes followed from inside. The structure had developed a pronounced sag in the middle now. "Thunderbird Two from Mobile Control. Glad you're here...we're running out of time."

"FAB," Gordon responded.

The giant green machine rose smoothly on her hydraulic struts, and the pod door began to lower to the ground. Gordon and Brains both emerged. They looked around, spotting Penelope first, then seeing Jeff sitting on the ground. They hurried over.

"Dad," John said, "The people in the basement are reporting that a section of the ceiling just collapsed where the entrance was. They've lost power, so no light or air. They're reporting injuries from that last jolt but I but I don't know how many wounded or how badly."

At that moment a dented blue pickup with a wired-on front bumper careened up to the area where the Jeff, Penny, rescue personnel, the mayor and Mr. Sydney were all standing, performing a showy turn-and-slide to a stop. The passenger door opened, decanting from the cab what Jeff could only describe as a Woman of a Certain Age. She wore tight blue jeans and red cowboy boots to match her lipstick, her hair was dyed black with a large red rose tucked behind her ear, and the buttons on her western shirt were unbuttoned low enough to leave very little to the imagination. And then there was the jewelry...lots and lots of jewelry. From the driver's side came a man who had to be seventy if he was a day. His seamed face broke into a gap-toothed smile as he surveyed the huge International Rescue ships parked in front of the ever-increasingly sagging building.

The woman immediately spotted Jeff sitting on the ground and went directly to him, a smile on her painted lips, laugh lines making a mesh of wrinkles around her eyes.

She held out a hand with red dragon lady nails to Jeff and gave him a firm shake. "Mr. International Rescue? I'm Irene Talbot. Your boys told me you need some good intel on this building and I brought you what you need." She gestured to the old man who had followed her. "This here's Old George, and he can tell you the location of every gas line, sewer line, power line and clothes line that runs in, around, and under this dump, can't ya, George?"

"Sure can, Irene," came the reply. He looked at Jeff. "I worked for the city for fifty-five years. Their maps ain't worth the paper they're printed on where this place is concerned but I know where everything is." He produced a rather large piece of paper that had been folded and stuffed in his pocket.

Old George lowered himself smoothly into a crosslegged position beside Jeff (Jeff marveled at his flexibility and made a mental note to get Kyrano to give him some of that yoga instruction when he got home). The creased paper was unfolded and spread out before them. It turned out to be a city utilities map with slash marks through some of the printed information, and different lines obviously superimposed on the original plans.

Irene, in the meantime, had moved to stand beside Jeff. It wasn't lost on Penny that the woman was checking Jeff out and was obviously liking what she saw. Irene looked up and caught Penelope looking at her, and Penny was treated to a look she didn't see very often from another woman – the "you're no competition" sneer.

"Whoo hoo," John snerked in Penelope's ear, turning the remote camera in midair to look at her. "Did you see that?"

Penelope rolled her eyes at him. The camera turned its back on her and floated back over to get a look at the plans over Jeff's shoulder.

Brains, Gordon and Jeff studied the map quickly. Old George had drawn in all the information in a surprisingly good draughtsman's hand and answered all the questions needed. He informed them the basement ran partway under the courtyard close to the main central section and would seem to be the shortest, most direct way to reach the basement. Also the most stable way, Jeff hoped.

The building groaned again, more popping and cracking coming from inside. It was now visibly leaning.

"We need to get those people out and we need to do it now," Jeff said. "Brains, run the ground penetrating radar probe over that area of the courtyard and find us the best area to go through. Gordon, get the mini-mole and the supports out and bring them round."

"FAB," they answered in unison and ran back to the pod sitting under the watchful bulk of Thunderbird Two.

Irene walked to the front of the Mobile Control unit that Jeff was again concentrating on, and casually leaned over. "Ahem," she said, sexily.

Jeff looked up, coming face to face with about an acre of cleavage. "Whoa!" he blurted out in surprise, recoiling.

John heard the "whoa" and tilted the remote camera up from the plans, getting the same eyeful on extreme closeup. "Jesus H! Zoom out, zoom out!"

Penny turned away, trying to suppress the laughter.

Irene saw Jeff looking over at Penelope. Shaking her head in disbelief, she said, "Sugar britches, don't tell me that's your girlfriend!"

"Well…" Jeff trailed off.

"Oh honey, handsome fella like you...you could do so much better." Irene stood straight again, one hand on her hip, the other toying with a large silver and turquoise medallion resting at her cleavage. "Let me know if you change your mind, sweet cheeks. You know where I live." She paused then leaned down again and whispered, "842 Elm Street," before sauntering off with plenty of swing to her hips.

"Don't worry, Dad, I got it," John deadpanned.

Penny made a strangled sound they both heard over their headsets. Both men turned toward her, John manipulating the camera, and saw her leaning against one of Thunderbird One's struts. Her back was to them and her shoulders were shaking.

"Aw, Dad, now you've made her cry," John said.

At that Penny let out a shriek that was so obviously laughter that Jeff folded his arms and scowled.

The crowd had grown to watch the rescue operations unfold. There was a collective ooh and ahh when the Mini Mole rolled out, followed by a float pallet loaded with jacks and supports. All were controlled by Gordon, who followed behind with the remotes.

Jeff called the Chief over. "Chief, I'll need you to assist my men as they tunnel. We don't have too far to go to reach the group in the basement area but the building is becoming more and more unstable, so the going will be slow to keep vibrations at a minimum. As we tunnel, we'll need your help clearing out what we're tearing through. We will be setting up the jacks and supports as we go to make a safe path to get everyone out. Get your team organized and follow directions from my men."

Mr. Sydney stood watching with a gloomy expression as a crowd of volunteers followed the fire department lead. The Mini Mole began to tear through the courtyard paving, in a steep angle toward the building. Volunteers lined up like a bucket brigade to help move materials away from the opening that was being made.

"Gordon, what's your status?"

Gordon's response was hard to hear in the din caused by the Mini Mole chewing its way through the earth, cement and rebar. He sounded surprised. "Going faster than it should have Dad. Way faster. There should have been a lot more rebar and concrete in this structure. It's a wonder it didn't fall over sooner.

John interrupted, "Gordon, part of the floor has caved in on the east side. They can hear you but they're saying everything feels like it's beginning to collapse.

"Brains, Gordon, did you copy?" Jeff asked.

Tin-Tin broke in. "Mr. Tracy, I just spoke with the company headquarters and they are sending inspectors down tomorrow. They've contacted the nearest hospital to stand by in case anyone needs to be lifted out by helijet."

"Thanks, Tin-Tin. How's Scott?"

"He finally fell asleep on the sofa. We just left him alone."

Jeff smiled.

At that moment a cheer broke out from the group by the opening. A moment passed, and then one by one, tired, grubby workers stumbled out through the opening. Some were leaning on the volunteers. Another pause and the float pallet appeared with two people on it.

"Looks like our work is done here," Jeff said. "Brains, as soon as you bring the Mini Mole back out we'll pack up and head home."

Mr. Sydney appeared before him, holding out a hand. "Your card, sir?"

"My...what?"

"Your business card, sir. Your people have caused a lot of damage here, you know. The factory, the goat cheese facility, the broken fence, the goats...Mr. Stevenson, he tells me your machines scared his goats so much they won't give him any milk for a while, and he's lost most of the inventory in the basement. He and Young Mr. Muelheisen will want to know where to send the bill for all this."

"What the hell..?" John said in Jeff's ear.

"Oh dear," said Penny under her breath.

"What. Do. You. Mean. Bill?" gritted out Jeff.

Sydney continued, oblivious. "Well, there are some substantial holes in the blacktop where your craft landed that will have to be filled in. And the hole in the building…well that is a very serious foundation repair job. We have city emergency response people who need compensation. Young Mr. Muelheisen has registered his concern that his company is not going to be happy with such a large claim against their insurance. I'm sure he'll want your organization to do its part in sharing the cost."

At that moment another small aftershock rumbled through the ground beneath them. It was answered by a thundering roar as the building collapsed into a pile of rubble.

There was a moment of awed silence.

"I tell you what, Mr. Sydney," Jeff said, slowly and clearly. "I'm going to do you a favor. I'm going to pretend you didn't say any of what you just said to me. And in return, you can pretend that I'm not going to send a report to the state safety board detailing every code violation, every sub-standard material and shoddy construction practice that went into the refit on this building. And while you're about it, you can also pretend that no one is going to ask what happened to all the money for that alleged retrofit, which I'm willing to bet never actually happened. And if you're really, really lucky, when the word gets out, maybe none of the people who were trapped in that building will sue you for everything you will ever have!"

The little brown goat wandered up to the stunned Sydney, looked up at him and baaaaaaaed. "My sentiments exactly," Jeff said. "Boys, Penny, let's get out of here.

Then he realized his legs had gone to sleep, and he had to ask Gordon to help him up off the ground.

The next morning Jeff found Scott still asleep on the sofa in the lounge. Tin-Tin and Grandma had been so grateful he'd finally passed out that they'd decided to throw a light blanket over him and leave him right where he was.

Scott opened his eyes and slowly sat up, his arm in its sling against his body. "How are you feeling, son?" Jeff asked.

"Like it was a really, really good party, but I missed most of it." Scott winced, raising his good arm and massaging his temple with his fingers. Jeff laughed.

Scott focused on him properly for the first time. He just looked for a moment. "So I didn't dream it," he said at last. "You really went out there in my 'bird...looking like that."

Jeff rolled his eyes. "I'll tell you, though...I don't know how you do it."

"I don't know how you do it either, Dad."

They both stopped and chuckled.

Jeff rubbed his hand over his bald head and said, "Let's not do it again anytime soon, OK? C'mon, I just saw Virgil in the kitchen. Let's go get some breakfast."

"Deal," said Scott. "Why mess with perfection?"

Jeff grinned. "Why indeed?"