NEW MEMBERS FOR INTERNATIONAL RESCUE by GILLYLEE RATED FRT

As the time goes by the men from International Rescue will find love.

Authors notes: Revised and rewritten. With many thanks to everyone who kept nagging me to keep this story going. In particular Sam, beta reader, grammar coach, spelling checker, writing tutor and friend.

Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two

Prologue

And you can't hover there, either...

"Vi!" hollered Gordon from the pool, shattering the peaceful silence in the lounge of Tracy Villa, "Vi... yo... Vi!"

Virginia looked up from her computer printouts and exchanged glances with Jeff Tracy.

"VI... VI... VVVIIIIII!"

"I think my son wants a word with you," said Jeff, smiling.

"Sounds like it," she said and got up from her chair, "I better find out what he wants before we're all deaf."

"VVVIIIIII, OH, COME ON NOW... VI!"

Vi went out on the balcony and walked up to the banister.

"What's up, Gordon? Why the racket?" she called down.

"OH VI, I'M BORED STIFF... COME DOWN AND LET'S DO SOMETHING TOGETHER!"

"I'm here to work... not to entertain you!" she called back, leaning her arms on the banister. The sun shone on her red hair and made it sparkle.

"WHO'S TO KNOW...?"

"Everybody in here and half the island of Moyla," she grinned and started to turn back to the lounge.

"HEY, GLORIA... WHAT LIGHT SHINES YONDER...?" came from below.

Virgil snickered from behind the piano and Vi turned back, frowning her eyebrows, "Gloria...?"

"YEAH, WHAT'S HIS NAME AND GLORIA... YOU KNOW... THAT PLAY THEY MADE WEST SIDE STORY FROM! REGULAR LITTLE BALCONY SCENE WE'RE HAVING... OH, COME HERE AND HAVE A SWIM WITH ME!"

Vi burst out laughing, her green eyes sparkling with merriment. "A utter waste of tuition money, Mr Tracy," she said to Jeff, "what's his name and Gloria!"

Jeff grinned back at her. "Do you think you can do something about that excess of energy?" he said.

"Short of strangling him?" she sighed and looked at the big pile of printouts, "I really should..."

"No strangling, no drowning... and you should take a break, you know, you've been going over those printouts for days on end," said Jeff.

"VI... VI... VI!"

John opened one eye as he was reclining on the couch. Just back from his tour of duty in the space station, he was always a bit grumpy the first day or so, while readjusting to Earth's atmosphere.

"Please, Vi, sort that kid out! I've got a splitting headache. Or else I'm going back up," he said to his wife.

"Oh, no!" called Scott and Virgil simultaneously, "Not that other brat back."

Alan had been extremely tiresome the last days and his eldest brothers had endured the most of it.

"Have you any idea how bad it is, to have both Gordon and Alan here when they are in this kind of mood?" Scott pleaded and Virgil said, "I've only just got rid of my headache!"

The two brothers looked at the young woman still standing by the balcony doors.

"Please..."

She glared at them. "The things I do for International Rescue!"

"VI... VI... VI!" came from the pool again.

"OH, ALL RIGHT, I'M COMING!" she screamed down, in sudden irritation and stomped out of the room.

Jeff snorted. "In my book Vi and Gordon together is no improvement," he growled.

A peaceful silence enveloped the four men.

John stared at the door Vi had disappeared through with a thoughtful look on his face. Both Scott and Virgil noticed it and they exchanged looks, Scott raising an eyebrow, Virgil grinning broadly. It still amazed them that the quietest brother of them all had found himself a loud and boisterous wife like Vi, whereas the loud and boisterous Gordon was engaged to the quiet and dreaming Christina. The former harbourmaster's assistant from Moyla was now at Tracy College doing the astronaut training and hating every minute of it.

"Chris is homesick for the sea," Scott said. "Poor little mermaid cooped up in a landlocked state."

"She'll manage," Virgil said. "Redheads always do!" he chuckled.

"And what are you gloating about?" Ashley came in and slouched down in a chair next to the piano.

"Nothing, honey," Virgil said to his ginger haired wife and went over to sit on the arm of her chair. "How are you both feeling?"

Ashley was now eight months pregnant and soon she would have to leave for the mainland for the delivery.

She mussed his hair and said, "Baby is very lively and I feel like a bloody elephant."

Virgil buried his face in her hair. "I adore elephants, didn't you know that?" he murmured.

"Don't you guys know what it's gonna be?" John asked surprised, "I thought that..."

"Oh, we know..." Ashley interrupted him.

"...But we're not telling!" Virgil completed the sentence as Ashley hissed suddenly in pain.

"What..." Virgil looked anxious.

John laughed as he looked at his sister-in-law, "I can literally see that child bounce up and down."

"Yeah, I now know what it must be like to be a rugby ball," she winced and struggled back on her feet, "And now it's started jumping on my bladder. Owww!" She rushed out.

Jeff dropped his paper, "Aren't you two cutting it rather fine? She should've gone to Penny's at least two weeks ago."

Virgil shrugged helplessly, "Hey Dad, I'm only married to her."

All the men laughed.

John sat up. "Hey, Virgil, did you get anything on that latest rescue?"

"Yeah, the tiniest pair of Nikes I ever saw."

During a rescue, a couple of months before, Virgil had inadvertently told a fire fighter about Ashley's pregnancy. Word had spread around the world. And the police, fire brigades and other rescue-workers in the rescue zones had begun to shower him with toys and baby clothes. They had now enough clothes to start their own baby-shop and enough stuffed animals to fill a zoo. Including an enormous spotted panther that made Virgil shudder every time he looked at it. Ashley was, alas, quite taken by that horrible thing and had insisted on having it in their bedchamber. It had been responsible for one of their few major rows and although Virgil had resorted to such drastic measures as going back to his old room, Ashley had been the triumphant victor of the 'Battle of the Pink Panther'. Virgil had hated sleeping apart from his wife more then he was willing to admit.

For a short time, he'd hoped that his youngest brothers would think of a prank that would destroy that thing. But Gordon and Alan were too much in awe of Ashley's capabilities of retaliation when she'd been the victim of a practical joke. Hoisting all her bras to the top of the flagpole had resulted in her washing their white underwear with one new bright red T-shirt and then making sure that everyone on the island knew about their pinkish boxers. And when they had changed her shampoo with hair dye, she'd struck back with blue ink in the shower-gel bottle. Only that had sorely backfired on her, as Jeff had been the first to use that bottle. But everybody else had enjoyed the sight of a blue Jeff, even Chris had smiled and started to talk about the blue-skinned warriors of Queen Boudicca. And even Vi had known better than to fool around with her best friend's beloved toy.

Ashley came back in, one hand on her belly and the other rubbing her back, "Say, where's everybody?"

"Vi and Gordon are in the pool," Scott told her.

"Bit quiet for Vi and Gords in the pool," she said.

"Yes," Jeff shot up from his chair, "and when those two are quiet..." He went out on the balcony and looked down. "They're NOT in the pool!"

"Uh-Oh!" Ashley and Scott said.

"Trouble in paradise," moaned Virgil.

John got up and walked over to his fathers' desk. Bending over it, he switched the locator switch. "They're in the boathouse," he said.

"Oh well, I suppose they can do no harm there," said his father and wandered back in.

Ashley opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but closed it and sat down, smiling.

"And what are you smiling about?" chided Virgil.

"Nothing, honey," she shot back.

"I don't trust that gleam in your eye. In fact, I never did," he told her.

"Soooo and why did you marry me then?" she drawled.

"Well, I had to, didn't I?" he gestured to her swollen belly.

"And whose fault was that?" she asked archly, her grey eyes locked on his face.

"Oh, I never got that guy's name. Did you?" They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Scott was stunned, 'What guy...' he thought as Ashley started fidgeting again.

Virgil got up. "Come on," he said, "Bed for you." He helped his wife up and they left the room.

Scott looked at his father, "Dad... what did they mean with that 'guy'?"

Jeff grinned and said, "It seems that a rescue mission intervened with their, uhm... method of, ah..."

"Birth control," John sounded clear and to the point.

"Phew, they had me thinking for a moment..." Scott was relieved.

"Cut it out, boys. And I'm sure glad that you're more careful, John!" Jeff growled, "I don't want this organisation and this island turned into a kindergarten."

"What, me? I've never... Vi and I..." John's voice trailed away, "She wants a full dozen, so I'm behind in the... erm... production. But not for long now."

Scott threw a cushion at his brothers' head, "A bun in the oven?"

"Yup," John threw the cushion back.

Jeff closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm not sure that I'm up to yet another wilfully redhead in the family."

"Ah, but you see, Dad," John said mischievously, "you got us used to a, erm, stern leadership."

And Scott mused, "Do we know any more red-haired females?" His voice trailed away as the image of Serina appeared before his eyes. Not a redhead, but a freckled Nordic blonde. And when it came to wilfulness he was sure that Serina could, as John once put it, 'slam an automated sliding door'. He had met the tall pilot in Australia 2 years ago. It had taken them a long time before they were willing to admit to one another and themselves that they meant a lot to each other. Scott was starting to wonder if she would consider giving up her work and live on the island. Deep in thought he shook his head. Sometimes he was sure she loved him like he loved her, and at those times he wanted to ask her that...but part of him still feared her answer would be 'no.' So he hadn't risked it yet.

Diner was as usual a lively affair. Vi and Gordon had returned late to the villa, looking rather smug. And Tin-Tin and John were trying in vain to find out what was going on. Ashley and Scott had a heated argument with Brains about some changes he made in the flight controls of Thunderbird One. Kyrano and Grandma were talking simultaneously to Jeff about the cooker that had to be replaced and soon. Only Virgil was quiet, enjoying the din around him.

"What's cooking?" Gordon looked hungry.

"Chicken souvlaki," said Kyrano, "and yes, Mr Gordon, Mrs Ashley made the salad."

"Hurray!" yelled Gordon and knocked the vinegar bottle off the table. Earning him a box around the ears by his grandmother and a kick in the shins from Tin-Tin.

"OWWW... AHH! OUCH!" bellowed Gordon, hopping round the kitchen on one leg, "AHH! OWWW." Scott grabbed him and pushed him back on his chair before anything else was broken.

"Sit," he hissed. "And don't you dare to move one muscle!"

"Let that kid eat!" said Ashley, arching her back. She was rather fond of Gordon.

"If he starves to death," growled Jeff, "maybe we can have some peace in here."

Virgil and Tin-Tin were picking up the splinters and cleaning the floor.

Ashley stood up and went to fetch a new vinegar-bottle, while she told Scott and Brains why she had her doubts about the adjustments they had made. "The response time is lengthened and you can't have that in a bad weather situation and when..." she whimpered, making Virgil look up at his wife. Her nap in the afternoon didn't seem to have her done much good and even in her sleep, he'd seen her wince in pain. And suddenly he became very worried.

"Ash?"

She didn't hear him.

"Ashley!" he said louder. She turned around.

"Ashley, I don't like this any more. I want you off the island and near a hospital."

"And I don't want to be with Penny an hour longer than I need to," she glared. "She'll never forget for a moment that I was a countess and I can't stand that 'us royalty' air of her. And then that filthy, milky tea," she shuddered.

"Whatever, but you're leaving, tonight! Even if I have to tie you to the landing gear of the jet. And you can make your own tea!"

Dumbfounded she looked at her husband. "Aww Virg, what a way to treat your wife and child."

"I'm serious, honey!"

She sighed and started to say, "Well, if it'll..."

...When Alan suddenly called in from the space station.

"Dad, we've received a call from the island Nissiros in Greece. There's been a landslide and two buses full of kids are teetering on the edge of a volcano crater."

Ashley asked, "Are those buses at the top or further down?"

Alan checked his notes, "About one-third down, on the inside."

"All right boy, tell them we're coming," Jeff said.

"FAB."

Jeff looked at his daughter-in-law, "Know the place?"

"Yes, a dormant volcano just south of Kos," she said. "There's a small road leading into the caldera. A spectacular trip, but I wouldn't want to drive a bus there!"

"Can I land on that road?" Virgil asked.

"Oh no, and you can't hover there either. That road is too small, you wouldn't get close enough, but the crater is enormous, you can land there and drive the recovery vehicles up. No, you will need one above those buses."

"C-c-can T-thunderbird l-l-and a-at t-the t-t-top?" Brains asked her.

Ashley frowned, "It's a long time since I've been there," she said, "but I don't think so."

Jeff looked at Brains. The young scientist stroked his chin,

"M-m-maybe V-virgil c-can a-a-airlift o-one o-of t-the v-vehicles?" he said.

"Yes, but you can't drive them both, Virg," she told her husband.

"Well, then John has to do the radio-controlled one," Jeff said.

"Those poor children," Ashley whispered and suddenly started crying.

"Come on boys, get a move on!" Jeff said.

Scott, Virgil and John rushed off, Virgil briefly hugging his wife, before disappearing.

"Dad?" he whispered.

His father nodded, "I'll keep an eye on her, son. Don't worry."

A short time later the roar of the Thunderbird machines was heard, dying away in the distance. Kyrano and Tin-Tin began clearing the table, everybody had lost their appetite. Grandma and Vi, fussing over the still crying Ashley, helped her out of the kitchen. Vi looked over her shoulder and exchanged glances with Gordon. He smiled ruefully and went outside, leaving his father and Brains still seated at the dinner table.

With a tight face Virgil sped away, pushing Thunderbird Two to and beyond her limits.

'Children,' he thought, 'children! In a few weeks I'm a father. Oh God, what if we can't save them! And Ashley... I've never seen her cry before... Honey, I want to be with you now...'

With an effort he tried to push those thoughts away. Calm, calm and determination were the only things that could save those children.

"John?" he croaked, his throat suddenly very tight, "John, why don't you go and familiarise yourself with the controls?"

"Yeah, I'm on it," John jumped at the chance of doing something constructive. But before he'd reached the door he turned round and said, "Virgil, you think we can pull this one off?"

"We've got to, we've simply got to!"

"But..." John looked very unhappy.

"JOHN, WE'VE JUST GOT TO DO IT!" Virgil yelled, feeling despair overwhelming him. And then suddenly remembering what Scott had told him about Vi and John, "When is your little one due?"

"About six months," John said, "And how I'm going to keep Vi out of action is beyond me."

Virgil grinned, "Tie her down. I'm going to do that with Ash, if she ever gets pregnant again. Tie her down and gag her."

"Why didn't we marry a couple of quiet women, who'd cook us dinner and make apple-pie?" John asked.

And Virgil answered, "I'd be bored to tears with a wife like that. Now get going."

John left in a hurry.

Ten minutes later the radio crackled: "Base and Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird One, base and Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird One, come in."

"Yes, what is it, son?" Jeff said and Virgil replied with "Receiving you five by five, Scott."

"Dad, Virgil... I'm in the danger zone. I've just attached a line to one of the busses to keep it from toppling over."

"Phew," breathed Virgil, "That'll make it a bit easier for us, then."

"Well, I'm not so sure," Scott sounded very strained and worried. "Those buses are very close together and the bus I'm holding... Well, I got just before it went over! It's sort of dangling... And the kids in the other bus are panicking, that bus is rocking..."

"Virgil. What's your ETA?" Jeff barked.

"Five minutes, I need five minutes," called Virgil back. "Which one should I do first? John, get ready!"

Virgil could see the crater now, it was enormous. At the bottom he could see hundreds of people milling around five smaller craters and a small cafeteria. He shook his head. 'Later,' he told himself. 'Later maybe, I'll have time to sightsee.'

He landed and raised the Thunderbird, so John could drive the recovery vehicles out of the pod. Then he took off and airlifted John and one of the recovery vehicles to the top of the volcano. He waited for a minute to see John start to drive down to the buses. Then he flew back and landed again in the caldera, got into the other recovery vehicle and raced up the mountain road.

Scott was beginning to worry, the weight of the bus was more than he had expected. And there was something else too, something that didn't feel right, he couldn't put his finger on it, but it bothered him.

"Virgil! John! Today would be a good idea! I want this rescue over with."

"I'm going down as fast as I can," answered John.

And Virgil muttered, "What happened to 'make it snappy'?"

"I've got a bad feeling about this," said Scott. "I don't know what, but something is not right."

Virgil had reached the danger zone. He could see Thunderbird One straining to keep the bus from going over the edge and saw John appearing from behind a corner. "Spectacular views," he said.

"OK John, on the count of three. One... Two...NOW!" They fired the magnets. "Scott, cut that cable!" And together they strained to pull the bus back up on to the road.

"Don't reverse any more, Virgil," warned Scott, "You're going over yourself."

With a lurch the bus was heaved on Terra Firma.

"Phew." Virgil wiped his forehead with his sleeve, "One down, one to go!"

He started to move toward the second bus.

John was muttering and cursing over the radio, "I can't get a clear view of that second bus."

As Virgil got in position, Scott came on the line: "If Virgil can hold her alone for a while, I'll go down to Thunderbird Two and airlift it out of the way."

"FAB, I'll manage," Virgil called, firing his magnets and starting to pull. "I can do it... I can do it... I can do it..." he whispered continuously, feeling his caterpillar tracks begin to slip.

"Scott has reached Thunderbird Two now, Virgil," John told him, "He's up in the air. I'm standing by."

Thunderbird Two swooped down on the first bus and grabbed it. And Virgil suddenly had a vague feeling something was wrong with his Thunderbird, but as John was firing his magnets at that moment, he put it out of his head.

After bringing the second bus in safely, he realised that he was shaking. He slumped over the controls. John came running, shouting, "We did it, we did it!" He pulled his brother from the vehicle, punching him. "We did it, Virgil!"

Virgil hugged his brother, "Yeah, we did it."

Scott was screaming his head off over the radio. But suddenly they realised the base was silent. "Base from Thunderbirds One and Two, did you hear that."

Silence.

"Base from Thunderbirds One and Two..." Virgil tried it too.

Again, silence.

"Base from Thunderbirds One and Two, come in, base from Thunderbirds One and Two, do you receive us?"

"Thunderbird Five, from Thunderbirds One and Two."

"Hey, great job, guys," said Alan.

"Alan, we can't raise the base. Do you..."

They all jumped when they heard their father's voice, "Erm, sorry about that. Look, boys, I think it would be better if, erm, Virgil took Thunderbird One back to base."

"Why is that, Dad?" Scott said, surprised.

Jeff interrupted him. "I said, Virgil in Thunderbird One and maximum speed, son!"

Virgil felt dread kneading through his entrails. "Father, is Ashley...?"

"Ashley is fine, son, but you don't want to miss the birth of your first-one, believe me."

"But, but it's too early!" yelled Virgil.

"It's OK," said his father soothingly, "but come here NOW."

Scott and John grabbed their dumbfounded brother by the arms and dragged him bodily over to Thunderbird One.

"Do you think he can fly?" worried Scott.

"Of course," grinned John, "Virgil's at his best under strain!"

They manhandled the dazed Virgil into the seat and strapped him in. "Come on bro, snap out of it and move!"

They jumped out and beat a hasty retreat.

"See, he's alert enough to wait for us to get out of harm's way," John said, satisfied.

"And by the time we're home we will be uncles," grinned Scott.

"To Thunderbird Two then, Uncle Scott."

"After you, Uncle John."

They walked back to Thunderbird Two. Suddenly Scott stopped dead in his tracks and stood gaping. "Will you take a look at that?"

John looked up and his mouth fell open. "Gordon!" he said.

"Vi!" said Scott trying to stifle a laugh. "So, that's what was bothering me the whole time."

"Hehehe," chuckled John, "Does this mean we pulled off the rescue in THAT thing? "

Scott couldn't answer, he was in stitches. "Oh my, wait till Dad sees this."

The majestic green Thunderbird machine was covered with pink paint, which was covered with pink roses.

For the second time that day, Virgil was racing at maximum speed. And although his speed was now three times as fast, he felt as if he was hardly moving.

'A month early!' he thought wildly, 'that's wrong, that's wrong and she's still on the island!'

Brains had a medical degree, but what did he know about delivering babies, premature babies?

He grabbed the radio, "Father!"

"All is well, son, take it easy, take it easy," said his father. "The doctor is here, everything is going great. Just remember to wait for me to open the pool before you land."

"Yes Dad," mumbled Virgil. "Dad?"

Jeff roared with laughter, "You take after me more than I thought," he told his nervous son. "I went to pieces every time, too, with you lot."

"So, I'm not gonna get used to this?" said Virgil.

"No," said Jeff, "At least, I didn't."

Virgil saw the island lying ahead of him and thought suddenly of the doctor, "Dad, that doctor will see me come in!"

"Vi and Tin-Tin will take care of that, son," his father reassured him. "Permission to land, daddy."

"Changing from horizontal flight, granddad," said Virgil.

"Ouch!" said his father, laughing.

Virgil stumbled out of the revolving wall panel in the lounge and bumped into Gordon.

"Sickroom," called his younger brother after him, "Oh well, I think Virgil's already there."

Virgil ran on and into the sickroom and skidded to a stop just before he hit the wall. "Ashley!"

"Damn you, Virgil Tracy!" screamed Ashley, "If you think that I'm ever gonna let you touch me again, then... Aargh."

"Ashley?"

Tin-Tin smiled and signalled him to the bed.

"Here," she said, giving him the damp washcloth she had in her hand. "Wipe her forehead."

"I don't want him next to me... Aargh," screamed Ashley again. Virgil looked hurt. He looked at his wife pleadingly.

"Now, stop screaming and start pushing," said the doctor firmly.

"I'm pushing!" she yelled.

Tentatively Virgil sat down on the bed and let her body lean against his, relieved that she seemed willing to let him do that.

"Feathers," said Tin-Tin and began puffing.

Ashley began puffing too, grabbing for his hand. "Oh, here's another one," she panted, crushing his fingers.

"Now PUSH," the doctor said again. "And again..." Ashley nearly doubled over. "And again... I can see its head."

Ashley collapsed in Virgil's arms, "I can't, I can't," she gasped. "I can't."

"Come on, honey," Virgil urged and found that he was too puffing in sync with her. He saw the next labour contraction ripple over her belly and helped her up. "Now push."

"Aargh..."

"Push." Virgil saw a head appear. "Push."

"Aargh..." The doctor was easing the shoulders out. "Push!"

"Aaarghh..."

And suddenly the child slithered out of its mother's body and the mewling crying of a newborn baby was filling the room. The doctor was holding up the child "And it's a bouncing girl," he announced.

Virgil hugged Ashley close. "Oh, honey, honey."

Ashley was struggling upwards. "Oh, let me see her, is she all right?"

"A-okay," beamed the doctor, putting the little girl in her mother's arms.

"Oh, look at her, Virg, look at her, isn't she beautiful?" Crying and laughing the young parents looked at their daughter and each other.

"She is almost as beautiful as her mother is," said Virgil.

It was 4'o clock in the morning on Tracy Island, but Jeff was still awake in his bed. The doors to the balcony stood open and the night wind moved his curtains softly. He could hear the ocean beneath the house. All was quiet and peaceful, but he could not sleep.

Thoughts and memories whirled around in his head. Yesterday had been a hectic day. Alan having a shouting match with his eldest two brothers during breakfast, before he went to relieve John in the satellite. Vi and Gordon's prank... He grinned, he was curious how Virgil would react when he saw his beloved Thunderbird Two covered with pink roses. Scott and John and been in stitches when they had returned from the rescue operation. They had only noticed it after the rescue. Jeff stifled a laugh. 'I wish I could've seen it,' he though, 'a pink rosy Thunderbird hovering in a volcano.'

But yesterday had also been the 23rd anniversary of the death of his wife, his beloved Lucille, the mother of his 5 sons. He sighed.

Lucille, the boys and his parents had been in Aspen for a short skiing holiday. But as usual his work had seemed more important than his family and he was planning to follow a day or two later. The day he was going to join his family, the weather reports were very bad. And just as he'd decided that it was too dangerous to continue, he'd heard a newsflash about an avalanche, an avalanche near Aspen. And he'd pushed on. Against his better judgement, he kept hoping that the fact that he couldn't raise his family on the radio only meant that one of the boys had been toying with it. But as he'd overflown the house, the bitter truth had hit him. The house was completely destroyed, it had been right in the middle of the path of the avalanche. And his wife, the youngest two boys and his parents had been inside. It was a miracle that his oldest three sons managed, barehanded, young as they were, to save their brothers and grandmother - but for Lucille and his father it had been too late. Yesterday, twenty-three years ago...

But yesterday had also been a day of joy, because his first grandchild had been born. The daughter of Ashley and the son who looked so like Lucille that it sometimes hurt to look at him...

Virgil had put that little bundle in his arms and a still very tired looking Ashley had whispered, "Lucille Tracy, meet your grandfather." And he had cried.

And now she was sleeping a few doors away. Although...besides the sounds of the wind and the waves, he could hear a new sound. The forceful crying of a hungry baby. He sat up and listened.

"So I'm back with the baby crying," he said out loud. "Dirty diapers... teething problems... tummy troubles...but as a Granddad I can stay in bed and complain in the mornings about the noise." He smiled and lay down again. The noise increased in volume. 'Wow,' he thought, 'nothing wrong with her lungs,' and fell asleep.

Chapter One

Come on, it's our only chance...

Scott, Virgil and John were aboard a 737-700 on the way from Tokyo to Christchurch.

Scott was returning from visiting Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, International Rescue's most important agent, in England. Brains had come up with some gadgets no Rolls Royce could do without and Scott had helped Parker, Lady Penelope's trusted butler and chauffeur, adapt FAB One. Virgil had visited some of International Rescue's Asian agents and John had been on vacation. And now they were going to New Zealand. And from there to home.

The wait at the airport had been strenuous. A Japanese holiday was coming up and it seemed as if every Japanese man, woman and child wanted to be in a different place that day. Every time someone bumped into them or stood on their toes, they burst out in an orgy of bowing that, of course, needed returning.

"One more bow and I'll slip a disc," Scott complained as he and Virgil fought their way to the bar. "And as the family musician, I ask you... what do you think of that music?"

"As the family musician, I ask you... what music? I only hear screeching!" Virgil bumped into an elderly woman and began his apology bows. She returned the bows and with every bow, she dropped a parcel. He started to pick them up for her, which resulted in another round of bowing. "Great work-out," he said.

When Scott and Virgil reached the bar, they found John already there behind a glass and chatting with the bartender.

"Hi guys, name your poison," he said.

"Brandy," Scott said.

"Me too," Virgil added.

And in what to their ears sounded like fluent Japanese, John placed the order.

Scott said, "Hey John, I didn't know you spoke Japanese."

"Oh, well, I hear a lot of languages," shrugged John. "Did you hear that our plane is delayed at least three hours?"

"No, why is that?" Virgil asked.

"Engine trouble, they had to return to Christchurch," John said. He raised his glass. "Mud in your eye."

"Likewise," Virgil said.

"Yeah," Scott mumbled. "Great, I don't like somebody else flying me, I don't like those slow cruising speeds and I don't like planes with engine trouble."

"How was your vacation?" Virgil asked John, ignoring Scott.

"Fine, fine," John said. "I went to a Tibetan monastery. The monks there have invented an interesting Kung Fu variant." John was an adept in many martial arts. "You would've liked it, Virg," he said. "They train you with music, so you get the movements smooth and flowing," he grinned. "Break a man's neck to Ravel's 'Bolero'!"

"I prefer to make people happy with music, not kill them," Virgil said.

"Hmm, but there are lots of negative emotions in music too," John mused.

Virgil grinned. "Tell me about it," he said. "So what you did was some form of capoeira?"

"Ca... what?" asked Scott.

"No, it looks similar, but capoeira is with dancing, this is with music," said John.

"Oh, of course," muttered Scott into his glass. "And you don't dance to music."

Dreamily, John said, "Some pieces of music remind me of people or vice versa. I always hear the 'Ballet of the Unhatched Chickens' when I see Gordon and Alan together."

Virgil roared with laughter and Scott said, "When do you see those two together?"

"Hey, I've had them up in the space station with me a couple of times," John protested.

"Oh, you know," Virgil said wiping the laughter tears from his eyes. "Those two are more, musically speaking, like this Japanese racket."

John stared over his brother's shoulders, "And there is Albinoni's Adagio!" he breathed.

Virgil looked around. A small attractive woman with green eyes and a mop of astonishingly red hair made her way to a table near them. Dressed in black jeans and a green T-shirt, she danced around the milling people, balancing a tray with a salad and a bottle of water in one hand, and reading the newspaper that she held in her other hand. Virgil looked at his younger brother, "Whoa, Adagio. Now this is serious, John!"

They all watched the woman for a while in silence. Suddenly she looked up and a look of horror came over her face.

"Get behind me, Satan!" she cried.

A woman with ginger-red hair, dressed in a pilot's uniform, her cap under one arm, clutching a briefcase and a pile of papers under the other, made her way to the first redhead.

Automatically Virgil counted her stripes; co-pilot, a New Zealand company, but her accent was from south of the Mason-Dixon line as she greeted the other woman.

"Vi Jones, fancy meeting you here."

The redhead grabbed her water bottle and shaking it, she cried out, "This isn't water, it's vodka - and it was full!"

The ginger-redhead smiled. "You would be on the floor if that had been full! I need an extra flight attendant."

"No, you don't. Plane is more then half empty. And you've got the relief crew on board."

"Three first-class VIPs. I need you on that plane."

"Paula can take care of them, Ashley Lee! Besides, since when is it the job of the co-pilot to complete the cabin crew?"

"Because I'm going to bail out, so I need you. You can help the captain fly that plane to Chee-Chee."

Vi frowned. "Bail out? Where and why?"

"Little island near Moyla," Ashley said. "And because I flew here with Big Daddy in the hot seat and have to go back with him."

Vi was still frowning. "I thought no one lived on those islands near Moyla," she said.

Ashley shook her head, "One of them has inhabitants," she said. "I've seen lights there at night. I bet you it's filled with gorgeous guys. Come on, Vi, little trip to Chee-Chee and only three customers."

"They'll be old, fat, bald executives," Vi protested.

Scott grinned.

"They'll be rich!" Ashley said.

"They'll be drunken rock musicians."

"I'll chuck them overboard," Ashley offered. "And take you with me to 'gorgeous island'. After I had my fill, that is."

"Oh my," whispered Virgil, "those poor women."

"Why?" wanted Scott to know.

"Well, you must've guessed by now which island they're talking about," Virgil chuckled. "And when they get there, they'll only find Gordon and Al!"

He and Scott grinned, John smiled.

At the other table, Vi was still protesting. "They'll be Tibetan Yak breeders!"

"I know several decent Tibetan Yak breeders. Kind to animals and old women," Ashley said. "Vi, we need an extra and I want you! I'll make you my macaroni pie when we get home."

"With all the trimmings?" Vi wavered.

"With all the trimmings!"

Vi sighed. "OK, I'll come."

"Great!" Ashley hugged her. "Don't forget to call personnel and tell them you volunteered. Well, I'm off to the weather boys, then." She got up and walked away.

"Don't forget to fill her up," Vi called after her.

Ashley waved. "I'll even clean the windshield."

"Are we sure we want to get on the plane? With those two aboard?" Scott asked his brothers.

"Yes," John said simply.

The plane was more than half empty, in fact three-quarters empty and they were the only first-class passengers. Vi, now in a perky uniform, had recognised them and had gone to the cockpit.

"Decent Yak breeders, no need to come out, I can handle them," they heard her say.

Donning a headset attached to a white inboard telephone, Vi started to go through the pre-flight routine, welcoming all the passengers and telling them of the safety measures. With a fixed smile and glassy eyes, she showed them the safety belt, the oxygen mask, the life jacket and the instruction card, chucking every item over her shoulder into a cupboard with practised ease was done with it. Then she went aft to check the exit, as another flight attendant came forward to check the door in the first-class compartment. Vi came back and picked up a red telephone: "Flight-crew, everything's checked." She sat down, strapped herself in and opened up her newspaper.

After a seemingly endless wait, the plane finally took off. And soon Scott and Virgil discovered that, although the redheaded flight attendant gave them a lot of attention, John was still getting more.

"I could do with another coffee," whispered Scott, who was sitting next to Virgil, looking longingly at the coffeepot.

"Not a chance," Virgil grinned back, watching the redhead and John chatting away. She was leaning against the seat in front of him and resting the unattainable thermos jug on her hip.

"Well, I'm glad we've got some entertainment," said Scott. "This flight is boring me to tears."

"Only because you're not the one behind the controls," Virgil told him.

The door to the cockpit opened and Ashley walked out.

"Yak Airlines!" sniggered Scott as she passed them, coolly nodding with a professional smile that didn't reach her grey eyes, and went on to the back of the plane. She seemed preoccupied, and didn't seem to recognise them. Then again, Scott remembered, she had been sitting with her back to them in the terminal.

"Did you see those eyes?" sighed Virgil.

Scott grinned and started humming a sentimental love song that had captivated Tin-Tin recently. They must've heard it hundreds of times over the last couple of weeks. Virgil glared and showed him his fist.

Scott acted shocked. "Virg!"

Vi finally got around to giving them a refill. "Can I interest you in any of the haute cuisine delicacies we've got with us?" she asked.

"What's for dinner?" Scott asked.

She grinned. "Chicken that has died of old age, or a snotty spinach omelette."

"No thanks."

She looked at John. "They don't know it yet, but the flight-crew just went on a diet. Lamb chops and beef... not much either, but the best this airline can do."

"That's just two meals," complained Scott.

"Don't worry," said Virgil. "I'll share mine with you."

John smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Vi."

She went into the pantry. Ashley returned and stuck her head in the pantry. "Any coffee left, Vi?" Her Scarlet O'Hara accent was more pronounced than before.

"Just brewing, Ash."

Ashley leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, stifling a yawn.

"Does 'Big Daddy' want another coffee too?" asked Vi as she came out and gave a steaming mug to the other woman.

"Yes, but don't give him any. He's already hitting the ceiling as it is."

"That bad?"

"Big bloody bastard! You wouldn't believe the trouble I had making him look at that engine. Too bad we've got no ejector seats on this bus."

Vi giggled and sat down in front, kicking off her shoes. Exhausted, Ashley looked down at her enviously as she loosened her own tie. "Company rule about the dress code... er, section 112, paragraph 4711-d. How does it go... ehm... Footwear shall remain fastened to lower extremities at all times."

They both laughed. "What about the company rule about rest periods for the flight-crew?" Vi said.

"Mmm, that must be somewhere at the end of the appendices," Ashley said. "No rest for the lowly pilots when the big cheeses can make some money!" She sat down, sipping her coffee.

"I think this is the only airline in the world where we still have to act out those safety measures," said Vi. "Care to tell me again why we work for them?"

Ashley took another sip. "Money for those much needed repairs," she said.

"You'd think we'd have enough by now."

"No, Vi, what do they pay us? We need a few cargo flights to the Pole, preferably during the night, to get that kind of money."

"And what about the Colonel?"

"Only expenses, Vi. For the rest it is no cure, no pay."

"We could..."

"No, Vi! No!"

Vi sighed, "So I have to stay a perfume-selling waitress in a miniskirt, pumps and a silly hat."

"It would help if you got that licence. So tell me, how did your simulator test go?"

"Crashed. I crashed smack in the middle of Times Square. But they gave me an impossible one."

"Which one was it?"

"Fuel shortage in mid-flight and hydraulics failure. Impossible. The only skill they're testing with that one is dying gracefully."

Ashley smiled.

"Another company rule, 'crash and die without cursing or crying'," Vi went on.

The plane shuddered and Ashley looked up, listening intensively. The hum of the engines and other plane noises remained the same and she relaxed.

"Vi, there's a solution for that one. I did it. And not in the simulator, but for real," she said. "So, you're in a 747-400. You're happily going from point A to B and suddenly you're out of fuel, hydraulics go out of the window and the instruments die! What do you do?"

Scott and Virgil looked at each other. "Interesting. What would you do, Virgil?" Scott whispered.

Virgil grinned. "Call for International Rescue. And you?"

"Bail out!"

They strained their ears - this was a conversation they didn't want to miss.

Vi sat thinking, a frown on her face.

"Forget about the computers," Ashley said. "Nothing works, so there's no data to interpret."

Vi bit her lip. "I'd crash in Times Square."

"What plane doesn't need fuel?" Ashley prompted.

"A glider," Vi said. "But I need some manoeuvrability, and without hydraulics..."

"We'd just hit Times Square again," Ash grinned. "Go back in the air and start over. What do we have in the back of the plane under the cargo hold? Come on, come on, we're losing height."

"That's what we want," Vi said.

"Yes, but in a controlled way."

Vi's face lit up. "The auxiliary..."

"Yes?"

"Without fuel, without hydraulics I lose height, but if the air speed is high enough, that auxiliary thingy kicks in, giving me limited control of the flaps and some manoeuvrability. So I dive down, as if I'm hang-gliding, oh Ashley... this isn't a glider, I can't sit there and put this plane down like a glider!"

"Of course you can!" Ashley said. "They build every plane according to the same principles, just pretend it's a glider. Hell, you've even got flaps to ease you down. Mind you, a landing strip under you would help. If you're at Times..."

Suddenly the plane shuddered again and Ashley jumped up, handed her mug to Vi and sprinted to the cockpit. The plane was losing height rapidly. Vi went to the white telephone. "Time to collect the dishes, girls!" she told her colleagues in the back.

"What the hell is going on?" said Virgil.

"It's one of the engines," said Scott. "Listen, you can hear it's under a lot of strain."

The three men sat listening.

"Question is, what's causing it," said John.

"Question is, what can been done about it," said Virgil.

"Question is, what is done about it," said Scott and started to get up.

Virgil grabbed his arm. "Passengers, Scott," he said. "We're passengers and we can't go and rush into the cockpit at a time like this."

"They could need a hand," protested Scott.

"'Hello, I'm Scott, I happen to be a former Air Force fighter pilot'," said John. "'And coincidently, I'm with International Rescue, so let me take over.' You can't do that, Scott. So sit down and try to relax." He leant over the armrest of his chair, "That hang gliding thing those girls were talking about, is that possible, guys?"

"Never heard a story like that," Virgil said. "And I'm not sure I'd like to try it."

"Oh, I would!" mused Scott.

As Vi was collecting their cups the 'fasten your seat belts' sign came on and the red phone in the front of the cabin started buzzing. They heard Ashley's voice coming over the tannoy.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We've run into some turbulence. Cabin crew to your seats!"

Vi picked up the white telephone and started to tell the passengers to sit down, get the chairs in an upright position and fasten their seat belts. When she was done, she smiled at the Tracy brothers and grabbed the red phone. She listened briefly and her eyebrows shot up. She turned and rushed into the cockpit.

"What the heck is going on?" Scott fidgeted in his seat.

The plane was slowly levelling off, but still shuddering heavily. Suddenly the oxygen masks fell down. The Tracys could hear screaming from the back of the plane.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we're experiencing a small technical fault. There is no need for the masks and no need for alarm."

John said, "Didn't she just say, 'This is your Captain speaking'?"

"Yeah," said Scott, who was craning his neck to see out of a window.

"Those stripes? That's co-pilot ranking, isn't it? Now, why is that co-pilot suddenly calling herself captain?"

"Because we're in big trouble!" Scott said. "There's smoke coming out of the starboard engine!"

"So they promote a co-pilot when an engine smokes? Funny way of running an airline..."

"We've lost it," Scott said.

They could hear another change in the engine sounds.

"Calling International Rescue," Virgil said.

"We are International Rescue!" said Scott.

"Yes, but still we can't just storm in there," John answered just as Vi came out of the cockpit, a look of horror on her face. She grabbed the white phone and started rapidly whispering into it. John was staring intensively at her face and when she noticed that, she turned her back to him. After she finished her call, she went back into the cockpit again.

"Uh oh..." John sighed. "I couldn't get everything, guys. But back there they've got to prepare for a crash-landing."

Virgil looked at his younger brother in amazement, "You can lip-read?"

John smiled. "And I know sign language too," John said.

"We all know how to do that," said Scott, still pasted to the window.

"Mind reading?" asked Virgil, staring intently at his younger brother.

Scott's head snapped around and he stared at John too.

"Yeah, John?"

John laughed. "No, sorry!"

The plane had stopped shuddering and was slowly gaining height again.

"If only we could do something," Scott said.

Vi came back and gave them a feeble smile as she sat down and strapped herself in.

"What's going on?" demanded Scott.

"A minor technical difficulty and..."

"I'm a pilot myself," Scott said. "And I wouldn't say that losing an engine is a 'minor difficulty'."

"You're a pilot?"

"We're all pilots," Virgil said.

"US Air Force!" Scott said. Well, at least he'd been in the USAF once, so it was not a complete lie, he thought.

She picked up the red phone again. "Ashley... those guys I've got here... they're USAF."

She listened to the answer and then emitted a nervous little laugh. "The flight-crew would like it if you were to stick around," she said.

"Not going anywhere," John said.

Virgil felt his ears pop... again.

"We're still climbing," Scott said.

"Yes."

"Wouldn't it be better if we lost some altitude?" Virgil asked her.

She looked uncomfortable.

"What's going on?" John asked her bluntly. "Tell us."

She swallowed hard. "The pilot is dead, he's electrocuted," she whispered. "There's a lot of damage. The controls are a mess."

"So why are we climbing?"

"Ashley can't get the nose down! She loses all control every time she tries. She's talking to the technical boys..."

The red phone buzzed. Ignoring it, she went into the cockpit again.

"What bugs me," said Scott, "is that it'll be Gordon and Alan who'll have to do the rescuing."

Brains had taken over Thunderbird Five, so Jeff had two trained men on the base during their absence.

"Those two in our Thunderbirds..."

"Either way, we're dead meat, you mean," John laughed ruefully.

"Shouldn't we contact base?" Virgil asked them.

Scott shook his head. "Let's not do that yet. One, who do we...they say called us? And two, we can probably handle it. If they let us."

They sat in silence for what seemed a long time.

Vi popped in. "We'd like a hand with this," she said.

"Finally!" muttered Scott.

They rushed into the cockpit. The whole right side was in shambles. The pilot was arched back in his chair, his mouth open in a silent cry. His death hadn't been painless. What was left of the control panel was lit up like an over-decorated Christmas tree and all sorts of acoustic alarms were going off. Scott and John started to wrestle the pilot's body out of his chair.

"What happened?" Virgil asked Ashley.

"I haven't the foggiest," she said, her headset on one ear. "Came in, found him that way," she nodded at the pilot's seat. "Engine on fire and we're nose-diving. Doused the fire, got us levelled out again and now we're slowly but steadily climbing. There's a tendency to roll and I can't get her nose down. Vi, sit down and make yourself useful."

Vi shuddered, looking at the now empty pilot's seat, before sitting down and assessing the damage.

Virgil stood next to Ashley and scanned the instruments. They were at 30000 feet. "What's your ceiling?" he asked her.

"We're almost at the point where I've got to feed us oxygen, but I've lost half of it. And oh, on paper we're good for another 10000 feet, but any higher and I'll have to start worrying about my pension." She pushed one end of her headset closer to her ear, listened and sighed. "They've contacted International Rescue," she said. "They can't come... a major rescue elsewhere. Oh well, forget that pension. It wouldn't be worth much anyway." She started to check more instruments. "Flaps... undercarriage... hmm... hydraulics... yes... Vi, kill that ground proximity alarm, we're sky-high... Well, I think we can put her on the ground, if we can get that nose down..."

Virgil looked at Scott and John. "Any ideas, guys?"

They were silent. Rescuing was easy with all their equipment, but right now all they had were their pocketknives.

Scott scratched his chin as looked over the instrument panel.

"That engine..." he said. "It wasn't on fire for long, was it?"

"Ehm... no," answered Ashley.

He checked a few of the dials that still worked. "Fuel line still intact?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered pointing vaguely to the instruments. "No way to...wait a minute!"

Slowly she made the plane bank to the right, not noticing the look of respect he threw at her. The engine began to sputter. When she struggled to level off, it stalled again. Virgil briefly thought of Gordon and Alan, wondering where they were and what they were doing when a nudge from Scott took him out of his reverie.

"Hey, Virg, d'you think you can bypass the fuel pump?"

"Huh? What? Yes, I think so, if I have some tools." Virgil turned to Vi. "Are there schematics of the plane on board?"

She looked around. "Glove compartment?" she offered.

Ashley sighed. "Vi, stop clowning and get those schematics. And give the man a screwdriver."

"For your information, we ran out of vodka," she said while leaving the cockpit.

When she'd stopped laughing, Ashley pushed some more buttons and suddenly an organ concerto from Vivaldi blared out of a speaker.

"Ah, the CD player works fine!" She gave a satisfied nod, turning the volume down, "Now, let's think..."

"At least Times Square is a long way off," Vi announced, returning with a small toolkit and a roll of papers.

Virgil studied the schematics with John looking over his shoulder.

"I can crash anywhere," Ashley told her. "Look, Ma, no hands."

Frowning, she stared at the nose of the plane, humming with the music. Suddenly she looked up. "More weight in the nose," she announced. "We need more weight in the nose."

"Yeah," Scott said, "and how did you want to achieve that?"

"By asking you to go out and sit there," she shot back, waving at the front of the plane. "Have you been watching our present rate of ascent?" she asked him.

"It's not much, maybe two, three feet a minute," he told her.

"So, we've got some time before we're going to Mars." She put her headset on properly and started talking into the microphone: "Is there a grocery man in the neighbourhood?" she asked. "An empty grocery man... I want a load of water in my front cargo hold." There was a long silence as they stared at her and one another, dumbfounded.

"Oh God, she's having one of her stupid ideas!" Vi whined.

"Just what I said, I want water in the cargo hold to add some weight to the nose, so we can land," Ashley sounded impatient. "No, it'll work, it'll work, believe me! I can't wait for that International Rescue outfit to turn up. I'm going to hit my ceiling soon..."

Virgil was now rummaging through the toolbox. Selecting some, he squeezed between the chairs and the panel. John knelt down between the chairs, dragging the toolbox close. Ashley waited for a long time; the technicians clearly didn't like her suggestions and were coming back with other solutions.

"Been there, done that," she drawled. "Now listen guys, I've tried everything in the book. It's the only alternative left."

Ashley listened to a long reply from the ground. "Well, there is an empty fuel plane at the airport. We're going to try it," she said to the others.

Another long message. "Yes, we can always im- or explode, or just crash," Ashley said. "Or do you want me to open the first commercial flight to the Moon? Fill that plane up and get it over here!"

"What exactly do you want to do?" Scott asked her.

She grinned. "Can any of you put a broken-down ol' 737-700 on the ground?"

"Only in Times Square," Vi said. She leant over John. "I'm from the Big Apple," she told him.

He laughed. "I'd gathered as much."

"Well, yeah..." Scott's voice trailed away. "Hey Virg, hurry it up, will you?"

"I will if you get your feet out of my face," snapped Virgil, still tinkering with the wires.

"I can't help it, that's where my feet ARE!"

"You're not sounding convincing," Ashley said to Scott, ignoring their bickering.

"Yeah, yeah, I can do it, but I still don't get it."

Ashley pointed to a hatch in the floor. "Access way to the front cargo hold," she said and pointed to the roof. "Escape hatch. Fuel plane comes along, I open both hatches, you grab that hose and start filling the hold, nose comes down and we find ourselves a little airfield where we can land."

"You're nuts!" John gasped.

And Virgil said, "Of all the stupid things..."

"It will work, trust me," Ashley said to Scott. "Only snag is, it'll be getting a little bit cold in here. And there will be some lack of oxygen. So, I probably won't be in any condition to land this piece of junk. Vi can, in theory but she'll need a little hand holding and that's where you come in."

A feeling of dread was kneading Virgil's insides. "You'll suffocate," he said to her. "You'll freeze to death."

"I'll wear my mittens," she said. "Come on, it's our only chance! And at least it will keep me from getting scared." She ran both hands through her hair. "Who am I kidding?" she said to Scott. "I'm scared as hell."

Virgil looked helplessly at Scott and John. John was frowning, but Scott looked with growing enthusiasm and some respect at the woman. "You know, maybe it could work." He grinned and looked at Vi. "And I'm a great hand holder."

"Oh God, here comes the next impossible simtest, I'll hit Times Square again! There are some thick jackets aboard and some breathing apparatus..." Vi said. "I'll get them, but what do I tell the passengers?"

"Routine refuelling, nothing to worry about," said Scott.

Vi stared at him. "On a commercial flight?" Her voice squeaked at the end.

Scott spread his hands. "It was a slow leak. What could we do?"

Vi left the cockpit, muttering to herself about how next time she'd volunteer for something saner, like an expedition to the South Pole without cold weather gear.

Ashley called after her, "Start a movie. How about that one where they hijack Air Force One?"

She and Scott smiled at each other. "Good choice!" Scott said, grinning. And then the starboard engine, after a few minutes of spluttering, came back to life.

As soon as Vi came back in with jackets and oxygen tanks, John opened the hatch in the floor and went down.

"I'm still not happy about this," Virgil told Ashley as he helped her with her jacket. Ever since that moment in the cabin where he'd suddenly become aware of how pretty her eyes were, he had found himself growing more and more attracted to her. The idea of her committing suicide in such a bizarre manner didn't appeal to him at all.

John stuck his head up out of the hatch. "You want us to fill up this hold or the one underneath it?"

"The one underneath," she said, and looked at Virgil. "Where's your sense of adventure, fly boy? I thought that you Air Force blokes would love this."

"I for one don't want to miss the fun," Scott said, grinning with anticipation. "Now, all we can do is wait for that fuel plane."

Scott was roping himself to the wall. "Move it, Virg. That fuel plane is here."

Virgil went down the hatch to the first hold; while John climbed down the ladder to the one beneath it. He looked up at Virgil and waved. "Thunderbirds are Go," he whispered.

"Everybody ready? Vi, get out of here," yelled Ashley. "Fuel plane, I want instant penetration, you hear! No foreplay."

Virgil could barely hear them answer over the crackling radio. "Spread your legs, pussy..."

Ashley laughed. "Be gentle with meeeee..." she crooned and hit the button that opened the escape hatch.

The force of the wind and the cold were unbelievable. Even Virgil, partially sheltered in the upper hold, had trouble moving around and through watery eyes, he saw Scott struggle to the escape hatch and try to get hold of the hose. "Keep her steady," Scott barked.

Ashley didn't reply, Virgil saw her start to shiver. As Virgil went up to help Scott with the hose that was whipping around, it nearly beheaded him.

"Watch it," Virgil said as they both struggled with it. They got it down the hatch at last and Virgil followed it down. John reached up from the second hatch below and started pulling.

"Start pumping!" Virgil heard Scott yell. "Hold on to it."

Water began flooding in and he and Virgil had to lie on the hose to keep it down. Beneath them John was struggling through the fast rising water, "C-cold!" he chattered and climbed the ladder a few rungs.

"M-m-more w-water! M-m-more w-water!" Ashley yelled.

Virgil pulled John out. Soaked from the waist downward, John quickly wrapped himself in an alu-foil blanket.

"A-a-almo-mo-st th-tht-th-ere..." Ash was barely conscious. John tried to wrap her in a blanket too but the wind kept tearing the light material away from her. She was shaking as if in the throes of an epileptic fit.

"Fill that upper hold too," Scott ordered.

Suddenly the plane lurched, the hose ripped itself from their hands and swung around like a wild beast. It struck Ashley a glancing blow across the back and she slumped forward. The plane's nose began to tilt down and they went into a dive. Scott and Virgil fought to get the hose back under control and after what seemed like forever, they finally succeeded.

"Get it out, get it out, pull away!" yelled Scott and pushed the hose out of the top hatch. He closed the hatch and ran over to Ashley. "Help me, Virg," he said through gritted teeth. They lifted her out of her chair and Scott took the controls. "Now get everyone strapped in, we're going in!"

John and Virgil stumbled with Ashley through the door to the first-class cabin. Vi ran past them into the cockpit, sat down next to Scott and started reading out the few available data for him. To Virgil's amazement, she seemed calm. She sounds like she crash-lands every day, he thought.

Virgil helped John put Ashley in a seat and went back to the cockpit. He wasn't going to leave Scott alone if he could help it. Vi heard him enter and threw a quick look over her shoulder.

She smiled at him. "I'll pretend it's a simtest," she said. "I have to, or else I'll become hysterical. I'm too young to die."

"Get out, Virg," said Scott. "There's no place for you to sit here."

"I could... the data?" Virgil pointed at Vi. "Then she can..."

"I think she knows this type of plane better than you do," said Scott. "Please, Virgil, where are you gonna sit, in my lap?"

Virgil grinned. "No offence, but she's cuter." And he went back to the cabin.

Sitting down next to Ashley, who was breathing in ragged gasps and shivering convulsively Virgil wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He saw John get into the crash-position, and pulled Ashley even closer.

"O-ouch!" she moaned.

"What is it?"

"St-st-stal-lacti-ti-tes..."

"What?"

"St-st-stal-lacti-ti-tes... o-on m-m-my ti-tits, y-y-you're br-br-breaking th-them," she said.

Virgil burst out in a nervous laugh, feeling his tension suddenly lessening. And then they could hear Scott call out, "Here we go, folks, hold on tight."

"T-tell m-me a-again h-he c-c-can fly," whispered Ashley.

"Hey, we told you. US Air Force, remember?" said Virgil.

"H-he c-c-could b-been a c-c-cook," she said.

The plane went down like an elevator, hitting the ground with a bone-shaking thud. The screeching of the tires told them that Scott was applying the brakes, but they were still going way too fast.

A muffled bang, and then another, resounded through the plane.

"Sh-shit, h-he's r-r-rui-ui-ning my ti-tires..." complained the woman in Virgil's arms.

"We'll get you new ones," Virgil promised her, smiling, holding her even closer.

"Hhmmpf."

The plane finally lurched to a standstill, and Scott yelled, "Everybody out!"

John and Vi were already busy with the door and the emergency slide. Virgil released Ashley, reluctantly. It had felt good having her in his arms.

Scott passed them. "I'm going to see if they need help back there," he said, then stopped and bent down to Ashley. "Great idea. What made you think of that?"

"Mo-movie..."

Perplexed he looked at Virgil.

Ashley panted and spluttered, "I-I s-s-saw i-i-it i-in a-a-a mo-mo-vie o-o-once."

Virgil felt his jaw hitting the floor. "A movie! A movie?"

She closed her eyes. "C-c-an I l-l-ose m-my con-consci-cious-sness now?"

Scott rested his head in his hands. "She-saw-it-in-a-movie!" he said slowly. "Jeez, Virg..."

"Wait till Dad hears about this," Virgil said. "He'll blow his top."

"Yes, but fortunately she was right, it worked. Well, I'll help you to get her out."

John jumped out of the plane and hollered for one of the ambulances that stood waiting by the runway.

"Come on, come on, time to leave the plane," Vi called out, standing near the door.

Scott helped Virgil get Ashley to the slide, and then he rushed off toward the aft cabin of the plane. Virgil slid down the ramp with Ashley in his arms.

"Thank you for flying with 'Kiwi International Airlines'," Vi called out after him.

 Chapter Two

Ashley would be an asset...

Gordon was floating in the pool. It was great having the whole place to himself for once. Scott, Virgil and John were away, Brains was up in the space station, Tin-Tin was moping in her room. She and Alan had had a row during lunch and he was now taking it out on the china and the dishwasher. Grandma and Kyrano were on the mainland doing the monthly shopping and his father sat grumbling in the lounge. It hadn't been the best of planning that had removed the oldest three brothers from the island simultaneously and Jeff Tracy knew he had only himself to blame. And that stung.

Not that Gordon wasn't also feeling a little tense about the circumstances. If they got a call for help, Alan and he would have to respond, and he was hoping the emergency, if it came, was an underwater rescue. That would mean that Alan would have to fly Thunderbird Two. Virgil didn't like it if someone else flew his bird, and he would go over it with a fine tooth comb to find the smallest damage. And if he found something... well, Gordon would prefer being out in the middle of a tropical storm to being on the receiving end of his normally placid brother's rage. On the other hand, Alan wasn't good at low altitude hovering, and the idea of sitting locked up in Thunderbird Four in the pod, waiting for Alan to lower Thunderbird Two... Arrggh! Well, he thought, it had been quiet lately, so why couldn't it stay quiet until the guys were back?

'Yes, that would be for the best,' he decided, and got out of the water to spend a quiet evening with the others. Jeff was more dyspeptic than ever, and Tin-Tin and Alan were still not speaking to each other.

At eleven o'clock, just as he was going to his room, Brains called in.

"A small sub sank to the, ah, bottom of the o-ocean, just 300 miles southeast of, ah, our i-island," he said, keeping the message short. "Just needs, ah, lifting, but because there's an, ah, o-o-oxygen leak..."

"Only we can do it in time!" Jeff said. "OK, Brains, tell them we're on our way. Boys!"

Gordon and Alan went their different ways to the hangar. Alan took the chute hidden behind the rocket picture - not Virgil's best painting, Gordon suddenly thought - and he took the elevator to the monorail and then the passenger lift. As he hit the flight deck of Thunderbird Two, Alan was still changing into his uniform.

"Ridiculous set up," Alan complained. "You're dumped in that chair, then the wheel hits you in the stomach and then you've got to get out again to change."

"Well, maybe you're fatter than Virgil," Gordon said, "or he's a quicker dresser, but I've never seen him half-naked in Thunderbird Two."

Alan glared at him. "And that's another thing, what if Tin-Tin had come with us?"

"Well, that would have done wonders for her mood!" Gordon told his youngest brother. "Boxers with teddy bears? Wait till I tell the others!" he gloated.

Alan sat down and started the engines.

"Don't forget to open the hangar door," Gordon said sweetly.

"I won't. But only because Virg..." his voice trailed away.

Poor Alan, he didn't like to handle Thunderbird Two either, Gordon thought, feeling suddenly sympathetic. "Sorry, Al," he said. "I'll keep quiet about the bears."

They got into the air without any problem and were soon at the danger zone.

"Well, Gordon, it's time to get into your tuna can," Alan said, sounding a bit tense.

Gordon got up and looked out of the window. "Hm, er, Alan, shouldn't you lose height a little bit first?" he said.

"Yes, yes, but not with you breathing down my neck!" Alan snapped.

So Gordon went down to the pod and climbed into Thunderbird Four. Now this was the part he liked the least. For starters, he could never forget the time they were setting up the 'family business' and were testing their new equipment. He had sunk (fortunately, in shallow water) on one of the first test dives, and when Virgil flew out to get Thunderbird Four out of the water, he had lost the pod. Well, that crater had later become the pool, so something good had come out of it, but still, a pod when airborne wasn't Gordon's idea of a fun place. And secondly, he didn't like the dropping down - he would rather jump out. And now Al was behind the controls, and would he go as low as Virgil did? So Gordon strapped in, grabbed the wheel and closed his eyes. With a pounding heart, he sat waiting.

"Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird Four. Are you ready, Thunderbird Four?" Alan asked formally.

"FAB, Thunderbird Two," Gordon said and steeled himself. He heard the clamps release, and felt the pod lurch a little before it fell down into the sea below.

It wasn't as bad as he had expected, and, rather relieved, Gordon opened the pod door, lowered the ramp and took his ship down. It took just a couple of minutes to find the sub. The bottom of the sea was sandy and even and the vessel sat on its keel. Circling it, he saw there was very little damage to the hull.

"Thunderbird Four to Base and Thunderbird Two," he said. "Brains was right. It just needs lifting. Give me a couple of minutes to decide where and how to attach the cables."

He got an 'FAB' back from his father and brother. One more circle round the sunken submarine made him see how to fasten the lifting cables. Half an hour later Alan had hoisted the sub out of the water and was on his way to New Zealand with it.

He was flying back to where he had left Gordon, when Jeff's voice came over the radio, "How are you doing, boys?" he asked. No 'Base to Thunderbird' prefix to his words - and he hardly ever called in just to ask if they were all right. Gordon stiffened.

"What's wrong, Dad?" Alan asked, sounding exactly like Gordon felt.

And Jeff sounded, uncharacteristically, distressed when he said, "The plane your brothers are on is in deep trouble."

"Dad, shall I..." asked Alan.

"No, no, Alan, there's nothing you can do on your own." Jeff sighed.

"What happened?" Gordon asked.

"They're not sure," Jeff told them. "Apparently there was some kind of explosion and it killed the pilot, the co-pilot wasn't in the cockpit at the time, so she can only guess what happened. But anyway, they can't come down or even level out. They can only go up. And the plane will reach its maximum altitude soon."

Clearly a job for International Rescue. Scott, Virgil and John were even there already, but unfortunately without their rescue gear. And from the sounds of what their father was saying, there was no way Gordon and Alan could reach them in time, even if they were, more or less, in the vicinity. There was simply no time to get back to the island, fetch the necessary equipment and go to the plane's current location.

"No, get Gordon and come back to the island," Jeff said. "We'll have to leave this to that co-pilot and let's hope for the best. Your brothers will certainly lend a hand if they can."

"Yes Dad. Dad?" Alan whispered.

"I know, son. I know!"

In silence Gordon waited for Alan to return.

He got Thunderbird Four back into the pod and closed the door. Climbing out of his ship, he began pacing the floor - soon having to open the pod door again to relieve the feeling that he was about to choke. The whole situation was unnerving. He had often waited on the island while his brothers were out on a rescue mission but then they had the Thunderbirds with them. And the other rescue material. Scott would have been able to review the situation and come up with a plan. Now they were left to their own ingenuity. Of which they had a lot. But still... 'Will Alan be my only brother now? Am I the eldest now?' Gordon thought, hitting the roof of his Thunderbird with his fists out of frustration. "No! They're going to make it, I know they will. There won't be any new members needed for International Rescue."

He stood by the open hatch and looked with unseeing eyes at the ocean, thinking about his older brothers...

Scott... Virgil... John... They had taught him to ride a bike, drive a car, fly a plane. Gordon had had his first beer with John when they were 15 and 18 years old. The memories came quickly now. Scott kicking his and Alan's butts twice when he caught them smoking in Granddad's barn, 'First for the smoking and second for doing it in the barn.' Virgil teaching him to play the guitar, the long videophone talks with John when he was living in a dome on the ocean floor. John had sensed his loneliness. And now they did the same when John was up in Thunderbird Five. They'd become so used to their midnight talks that when both on the island, Gordon would often go to John's room for a chat. All three of them cheering their heads off, when he won his gold medal at the Olympics. Virgil staying up all night to repair Mom's car when Gordon had wrecked it and that time he and Virgil went to the Follies in Paris.

'Who'd ever thought that Virg would...'

Gordon had kept his mouth shut about it, with difficulty, only promising Virgil that, 'If you ever marry, I'll tell her about it the night before the wedding.'

And Virgil had laughed and said, 'I'll keep my marriage a secret, then.'

Scott had been with Gordon when he had his first diving experience. What a disaster that had been! Gordon wouldn't have thought then that he would ever make an aquanaut. Still, it had been a great story to tell his shipmates at WASP.

Gordon started to laugh when he thought back to that - and then shed a few tears. All those rescues they'd gone on together, the time they saved him from death when that avalanche had destroyed their house, that avalanche that had killed their Mom. The time he had been in the hospital for months after his hydrofoil accident and the long and painful road to recovery after that. If it hadn't been for Scott, Virgil and John, he would never have walked again, or swum, or...

... in the rehabilitation centre Gordon was fidgety. Normally he welcomed the 'end of the training day' muscle relaxing massage from one of the physiotherapists but today he was in a hurry to get back to his room. Scott had called him the week before and told him he would come over for a quick visit as he had a few days leave from the Air Force.

Gordon's thoughts wandered as the knots in his back muscles were attacked by the strong hands of Brad, the therapist of that day. 'Table, why is it called a massaging table? Why not a bed? It sounds so uncomfortable lying on a table. Ouch, ah, that felt good!' A muscle relaxing sent a shivering sensation along his spine. A knock on the door was followed immediately by it being opened.

'Why do people bother to knock in hospitals and such? They never wait for you to say, "Come in.".'

A voice said, "A visitor for you, Gordon! You mind, Brad?" Quick footsteps entered the room. Lifting his head Gordon saw a shape blurring past his eyes, changing into Scott going down on his haunches and saluting.

"Lieutenant."

"Captain." Gordon tried to get his arm around and lift it to return the salute.

"As you were!" smiled Scott and rose to his full height. "Hi," he said offering his hand to the physiotherapist. "Sorry to barge in like this. I'm Scott Tracy, Gordon's brother."

"Hi. Brad Kennedy. And you're welcome to stay. We're nearly finished anyway."

"How's he doing? Whoa, that's some scoliosis! Gordon, your spine looks like a corkscrew. Is that a paralytic scoliosis, er, Brad?"

"No, it's a... you know about these things, er, Scott?"

"Yeah, a little bit. I took a course once."

"Oh, well, if you feel this arcus here..."

'And that,' thought Gordon as a technical conversation began, 'is another thing I don't like about hospitals. All that talking in lingo over my head.'

Back in his room Gordon stretched down on his bed. "So," he said, "and where did you become a sports masseur?"

"Oxford," said Scott.

"Ah yes," said Gordon leaning back. "Oxford is famous for its well-educated sports masseurs."

Scott shook his head. "Not really, but I had some free time and, well, I thought taking a course was a good idea."

"Sure, but massage?"

"Oh, I wanted to take English literature."

"Isn't there a difference between literature and massage?" asked Gordon innocently.

"Yes!"

"But didn't you notice you weren't in Lit class?"

Scott's eyes shot daggers at Gordon. "Of course I noticed! But it was interesting and I decided to stay."

"Ah, because the 'teacher'," Gordon sketched inverted commas with in the air, "was a tall blonde with legs up to here." He held his hand before his chin.

"The 'teacher' was an older man in a lab coat buttoned up to here." Scott held his hand under his eyes.

"Sure, Scott, sure. But I still don't understand how you ended up in a massage class when you wanted to do take literature."

Scott sighed. "Is it important, Gordon?"

"It is," said Gordon. "I'll be lying awake for hours, wondering about it. I'll forget to take my painkillers, I'll show up at the wrong hours for my..." He almost missed the fleeting uncomfortable look on his brother's face. "Wait a minute, wait a minute, that's it, isn't it?"

"Gordon, I don't want to talk about it. It's totally unimportant."

Gordon grinned. "You signed up for literature class, got a roster for all classes and misread it, didn't you?"

"Gordon..."

... Suddenly Gordon realised that he was hearing the radio in Thunderbird Four, and rushed over to it.

In Thunderbird Two, Alan sat thinking about his brothers, too. If... his brothers... half of the International Rescue team were... were dead... then... then... they couldn't go on. He couldn't go on. Not without his brothers. On the other hand... they had the equipment... they couldn't let people die while they had the tools to rescue them. Scott... Virgil... John... they wouldn't want that. Together they had saved hundreds of lives. And now they were could all be dead or dying. In an ordinary airliner flown by somebody else, not even during a rescue. 'Scott, I bet you'll be really pissed about that,' Alan sighed.

Alan tried to imagine what it would be like working with others. For there had to be others. Even if they automated Thunderbird Five and Brains and dad worked with them... No, he couldn't. Clenching his jaws he shook his head. 'But they're going to make it, I know they will. There won't be any new members needed for International Rescue.'

Then he heard the radio.

It was Jeff. "Gordon! Alan! Brains says that they're going to try something!"

"What?" Gordon and Alan both yelled.

"They're going to fill the plane with water to add some weight, so they can get the nose down and land," Jeff told them.

Gordon thought about it. "Can that work?" he asked Jeff and Alan.

Jeff said, "According to Brains it can work," and then added, "in theory."

Alan said thoughtfully, "But how does he figure they can..."

"The co-pilot has come up with some crazy idea and persuaded the airline to go along with it. And there are three 'USAF Pilots' aboard who are willing to help," Jeff told them. "But I must admit, boys, that Brains is stuttering even more than he usually does, so..."

Gordon heard Alan laugh and he said, "You can't make heads or tails of what he's saying!"

Jeff laughed too. "That's it, yes. I'll keep you two up-to-date. Brains is listening in on the radio transmissions."

And so Gordon sat glued to the radio in Thunderbird Four, as Alan did in Thunderbird Two. And waited.

"That fuel plane has arrived..."

A long silence.

"It's in a nosedive, it's out of control..."

Gordon almost had a heart attack.

"No, no, it's under control now, it's going in for the landing..."

He held his breath.

"They're down..." Jeff yelled. "Oh God, they're down and... and... yes, they're all right!"

For the next couple of minutes all three of them were yelling and laughing and talking at the same time, till Jeff suddenly roared, "QUIET! Hold it a minute, boys."

They waited. Then: "All right, boys, Scott just radioed in, they're fine, cold and wet, but OK." Gordon felt the relief spreading through his body at his father's words. "They'll tell us all about it when they're back. Phew..." Jeff sighed. "...For a moment there, I thought..." his voice trailed away. "Well... never mind, come home as soon as you can."

A short time later Alan was back at the pod's location, and he was so elated by the good news that he'd forgotten that he wasn't fond of low altitude hovering and just scooped Gordon out of the water. Even as the thought occurred to Gordon, he realized that he had forgotten to be afraid of the thought of Alan lowering Thunderbird Two down on him. He rushed up to the cockpit and hugged his youngest brother, chair and all.

Quickly Alan looked over his shoulder. "You were worried," he said.

"You were, too," Gordon answered.

Alan nodded. "Gordon, I've never felt so helpless."

Gordon slapped his back. "Me too, Al, me too. But keep your eyes in front. What would Virgil say, if he saw you now?"

Alan grinned from ear to ear. "He'd kick me around the island," he said. "And isn't it wonderful that he can still do that?"

They flew back to the base and Alan made a perfect landing. And back in the house they and Jeff sat for hours discussing the events until their father sent them to bed. "Get some rest," he said, yawning so widely he looked as if he was going to split his head in two. Gordon was sure he couldn't sleep, and said so.

"Go to bed," Jeff said, hugging both sons. "I'm proud of you."

So Gordon went to his room, and slept as soon as his head hit his pillow. And he didn't hear Scott, Virgil and John come home. Nor he did hear them debriefing with Jeff. Nor did he notice that Scott came into his bedroom and stood watching him for a few minutes before straightening his blanket out. Turning around, Scott's eyes fell on the clothes that Gordon had left lying on the floor. Sighing Scott bent down to pick them up and threw them on a chair before quietly leaving the room.

Somebody wringing out a wet washcloth in his face woke Gordon up.

"Aarrgh," he yelled, sitting up bleary-eyed. "What the heck?"

Focusing his eyes, he could make out Alan, dangling like a helpless puppy between Scott and John, and a stern looking Virgil standing next to the bed, looking down at him.

"Guys!" he cried out. Jumping up, he tried to hug Virgil as he was nearest, but Virgil evaded the attempt by stepping aside.

"Did you two do the post flight checks?" he asked. "Did you two do the refuelling?"

"And how about the clean-up? That pod is a mess, not to mention Thunderbird Four," Scott told them.

And John said, "I don't know what this place would come to, if we weren't around."

He and Scott shook Alan 'till his teeth rattled.

"Check," Virgil said, prodding Gordon painfully in the sternum with his finger. "Refuel, clean, NOW!"

Scott and John dropped Alan on the floor. All three turned round to leave the room.

"Filthy little brats," Virgil said, smiling.

"Dad needs us to keep them in check," Scott agreed.

And John said, "Oh, they're not so bad."

"That's because you're lucky. When you're here, you've only got Gordon to worry about," said Scott.

And Virgil sighed deeply. "Whereas Scott and I have to deal with both of them!" They left, shaking their heads.

Gordon stood next to his bed looking at Alan, who was still lying on the floor. "They're back!" he said.

"Yup," said Alan, sitting up. "Now, will you please tell me again why I thought that was a good thing?"

Gordon washed and dressed and went with Alan to the kitchen for something to eat. The others were already there.

"Ah, breakfast," Alan sighed.

"Lunch," Scott corrected him.

John smiled at his youngest brothers. "Maybe we could find it in our hearts..."

"To cut them some slack," finished Virgil and patted Gordon on his shoulder. "So, we had you two worried, did we?"

"Oh yes," Gordon said, slapping Virgil's back with a mischievous look in his eyes.

As Virgil turned partially away from the table to avoid the slapping, Gordon reached over his brother's shoulder and snagged a drumstick from Virgil's plate.

"Hey!"

Gordon grinned. "Flying with Alan made me realize the pilot of Thunderbird 2 has to watch his weight," he said around the chicken.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," said Scott. "But you're right about the weight, Gordon."

"I'm not overweight," protested Virgil.

"No, but there's such a thing as the maximum payload for TB2, Virg."

Virgil pointed with his fork at Scott. "You're so dead."

Alan broke them up and said impatiently, "Debriefing time, tell us the whole story." He reached around Scott and John, who both quickly put their plates out of his way.

"Get your own food, Al," said John.

"OK, well, er," Virgil began, "we're not sure what went wrong, but there we were in a plane with a dead pilot and a whole pile of broken instruments..."

"And a very attractive co-pilot!" Scott interrupted. Virgil blushed.

"Yes," Scott said to John, "you wouldn't have noticed that..."

"Why wouldn't John have noticed that?" Gordon interrupted him.

And Scott grinned and said, "Because the flight attendant was very attractive, too."

Both Virgil and John flushed. Gordon and Alan looked at each other. This was interesting.

"And this co-pilot and flight attendant..." Alan prompted.

Scott leaned back in his chair, he was enjoying himself too. "Oh yes, Ashley and Vi," he said. "Well, I would say mid to late twenties, wouldn't you?" he asked Virgil and John but they were studying the ceiling. Scott winked, "One grey-eyed ginger-redhead and a green-eyed redhead with freckles."

"Mmm," Gordon said, watching Virgil and John shift their attention to the floor.

Alan sniggered. "So they needed some strong, silent men."

John was now looking at the fridge as if he'd never seen one before, and Virgil had discovered something intensely interesting on his plate.

"Er, no," Scott said to his youngest brothers. "In fact they were both great, and then Ashley got that idea about the water."

"Yes," Gordon said. "But how did you pull it off? Dad and Alan said a 737-700 couldn't refuel in the air."

Scott nodded, "Yes, well, Ashley opened the escape hatch and we three struggled with that water hose while she flew the plane."

"In a decompressed cabin?" Alan said. "No air, and freezing cold?"

"Commercial planes have oxygen too, you know! John got soaked down in the front cargo hold," Scott said. "And that's where Vi and Virgil came in. They had to defrost John and Ashley!" He started laughing. "Well, and I landed the plane. And after all that, we found out that Ashley really had no way of being sure if her idea would work, because she'd only seen it in an old movie...and Vi thanked us for flying 'Kiwi International Airlines.'"

"Cool," Alan said.

"Yeah, you know, I think that Ash would be an asset to this organisation," Scott thought aloud. "A good pilot..."

"Attractive," Alan said.

"Quick thinker..."

"Attractive," Gordon said.

"Can handle stress..."

"Attractive," Gordon and Alan both said.

"Not the panicking sort and er, yes, attractive."

"Will you cut it out!" Virgil glared.

Scott scratched his head. "Only, I can't think of a use for a flight attendant for the organisation. Even if she's just as attractive."

"Vi has a pilot's licence," John protested. "Not for that type of plane, though but she could've flown and landed that plane, if she had too."

Scott, Gordon and Alan started laughing.

"In fact, she and Ashley own their own company. Flying freight to research stations in the Antarctic."

"Ah," said Scott, "and when did she tell you that? Before or after you two insisted on escorting them to the hospital?"

Virgil and John got up. "I think it's time for Gordon and Alan to look after Thunderbirds Two and Four," John said.

"Yes," agreed Virgil, "And maybe Scott ought to go along!"

"Best way of making sure it's done properly," John agreed.

"Precisely," Virgil said.

So Gordon and Alan went down with Scott to the hangar, and after a couple of minutes Virgil and John showed up too and gave them a hand.

And as benignly as they could, they suffered their brothers' relentless teasing. But eventually they decided to turn the water hose on them. The others defended themselves with the Firefly and by the time Jeff came down to find out what was taking so long, Thunderbird Four could almost float in the water on the floor of the hangar. Jeff just shook his head.

"I'm glad you're all safe and sound," he said, "but don't you lot push it! I want this clean and dry by dinner time."

"Yes, Dad," they said, and Scott added, "Maybe you could hire some extra help. I know some young women who would be good, I'm sure, at keeping some noses to the grindstone!"

"Don't you start again," begged John, and Virgil went crimson again. He was getting good at it, Gordon thought, catching Alan's eye, who began to sing.

"The sky is blue... AND I-I-I LURVE YOU!" he hollered. "ROSES ARE RED... AND I-I-I WANT YOU IN MY... what?" he asked innocently as Jeff ran for cover.

Later that evening they were sitting together in the lounge. Gordon had beaten John twice at chess and Virgil had been playing the piano, but had made so many mistakes that he was now searching through his sheet music to find something simpler to play. Scott was talking to Jeff. The others couldn't hear what they were talking about, but Scott was being insistent about something. Jeff kept shaking his head, till Gordon was afraid it would come off and roll across the floor. He grinned at the idea.

"What are you laughing about?" Alan wanted to know.

"Nothing," he told him. "Hey Virgil, did I tell you about that perfect pick up Alan did?"

Virgil looked up. "Did he?" he asked.

"Yes," Gordon said. "And a perfect landing, too."

"Oh, which reminds me... when was the last time you did some low altitude hovering, Gordon?" Virgil asked him. John sniggered.

Gordon groaned, "Me and my big mouth!"

"Good idea," John said. "You could take them both out for a practice tomorrow."

Alan sat up, "Oh, but I must relieve Brains..."

"I don't mind doing that," John told him.

"Dad!" cried Alan.

Jeff looked round, "What is it?"

"Virgil wants us to practice in Thunderbird Two, but you must want Brains back here!"

Jeff looked at them all, last to Scott. Scott mumbled something unintelligible.

"No," Jeff said. "I think that's a good idea. And I'm sure John doesn't mind going back."

"Oh no, it would be a pleasure!"

"Fine, that's settled then," Jeff said.

Alan glared at Gordon as Virgil and John smiled smugly at each other. John raised his thumb and Virgil snorted.

Jeff got up. "Well, I'm hitting the hay," he said. "Scott, we'll talk more in the morning, but I'm not sure I agree with your suggestion."

Scott shrugged his shoulders. "At one time or another we are just going to have to, I think," he said quietly. "When do you want John and me to leave for the space station?"

"In the morning. John?" said Jeff.

"Fine by me," John said, and then looked over at Virgil. "Grill them, bro!"

"Leave that in my capable hands," Virgil quipped. "Perfect pick up, huh, Alan? Perfect landing? I can't wait to see that."

Virgil lay in his bed. He stretched luxuriously, it was good to feel warm again. He thought back to the day before...with the hatches open it had been so unbelievably cold in that flight deck and then the wind-chill factor...it would've made it even colder. He did some arithmetic, and the outcome staggered him. She unquestionably did not give up easily. What was her name again? Ashley? Ashley Lee! She had been so self-assured. Jeff had said 'reckless' during the debriefing, but Virgil didn't think so. There was nothing else they could have done... she could have done... What was it what Scott had said, 'An asset to the organisation'? Oh, if only... but the thought of Dad taking on extra personnel... he fell asleep dreaming of a ginger-red haired grey eyed woman who flew with him in Thunderbird Two.

John finished his packing and yawned. His mind wandered off. Vi Jones! Times Square! Funny kid... strange that a pilot was willing to fly as a flight attendant! And that somebody who was so fond of her hometown was willing to live halfway across the world in New Zealand! He was glad that he had asked her for her e-mail address. And even gladder that she had given it to him. In fact she'd given him her business card. 'A.V. Freight Carriers.' What was it she'd called it? 'The flying K-mart. Sprinkling the South Pole with breakfast cereal and toilet paper!' She'd told him, 'Sometimes we have to defrost the engine with a flame-thrower! And we bogged down in a spot of soft snow once and had to free our skis with an axe...' Enthusiastically she'd talked about the beauty of the Antarctic. Yes, it would be enjoyable keeping in contact with her.

Jeff had gone to bed, but found he couldn't sleep. So he'd got up again and was now sitting on the balcony looking down at the pool. The discussion he'd had with Scott kept coming back into his mind. 'If we had died out there, what would you have done with the organisation?' Scott had asked him. And then Scott had tried to convince him that they needed more personnel. Jeff didn't like the idea, but on the other hand... 'We've got lots of agents who already know quite a bit, if not all about us. We could train some of them to handle our gear.'

Jeff stood up and went over to his computer. He opened the file with all the agents' data and browsed through it. 'Too old... too young... married... no technical background.' One name drew his attention. Tapping a pen against his teeth he thought about it. 'Wise? I don't know about that but a possibility.' Scratching his chin he pondered when another name came to his mind. 'A nice little job for Penny,' he thought shutting down his computer. "Well, Scott, you wanted help, you'll get it," he muttered.

Vi pulled up in front of the house and looked at her friend. "Come on, Ash, we're home!"

Ashley got stiffly out of the car. "Ouch, I'm sure that guy broke some of my ribs," she moaned. "I don't care what the doctor said, they hurt like hell."

Vi grinned. "I didn't hear you complain when you two snuggled up together," she said, searching in her pockets for the front door key.

"I was half unconscious!" Ash protested.

"Anyway, it was great to see some military pilots at work... Oh Ash, wasn't he gorgeous?"

"Who? The rib-cracker? He wasn't bad. Great to have around when a fuse blows."

"I meant John," said Vi.

"Who?"

"John! That blonde one."

Getting the groceries out of the car they went into the house.

"First or last?" asked Ash.

"What?"

"First or last under the shower?"

"Oh. You go first. I'll put the groceries away."

After Vi had finished showering, she found her friend in the kitchen rummaging through the refrigerator and the cupboards.

"We forgot the milk," said Ashley. "Can you go and ask our dear neighbour if she has some for us?"

"Who? Me? Ask Mrs Wilson for something?" asked Vi. "Can't we just have a sandwich?"

"Please? And a couple of eggs too!"

Vi sighed. "Morituri te salutant," she said dramatically and left.

When she returned with the milk and eggs the pasta was already boiling. Ashley looked over her shoulder. "You look very healthy for a dead swordfighter," she said, and began washing and cutting the mushrooms.

Vi snorted. "We ought to make shopping lists," she said. "And if God had meant us to fly He would've given us wings. And we must get married and have a handful of kids."

"Ah, Mrs Wilson is at it again."

"She has a new cat too. Big orangey tom. Friendly fellow," said Vi sitting down on the table. "That tall dark guy, he looked kind of familiar. Can I help?"

"You can cut the leek and the onions. What guy?"

"Why do onions always make your eyes water? The tall dark one. I want twelve of them." said Vi, getting up.

"Twelve tall dark guys? Aren't you a bit greedy? You have to peel them under water," said Ashley and began to fry the mushrooms. "The onions I mean."

"That's not so easy to do," said Vi. "We haven't got a pool and I can't go to the QE2 Leisure Centre every time I want to peel an onion!"

Ash laughed. "You're nuts! But what's with those twelve tall dark ones?"

Vi sighed. "You're not listening. I want twelve kids. And before you start... not necessarily with that tall dark one." She added the cut onions and leek to the mushrooms Ash was still frying. "Although I did like the way he filled his 501s, didn't you?"

"I was flying a plane," said Ash, adding water and the almost al dente pasta to the mixture. "A plane with an engine down among other things. Hardly the time and place to think about children and jeans and how well they're filled. You can cut the tomatoes and the mozzarella now, Vi."

"He looked like the colonel, the guy I worked for, he's loaded," said Vi. "I mean, he looked like the colonel must have looked when he was younger."

"So?" asked Ashley, breaking two eggs and beating them with some milk before pouring the liquid in the pan.

"So? Maybe he was his son." Vi put slices of tomato and mozzarella on top of it all. "And maybe he's still unmarried. You can marry him then." She put the lid on the pan. "End of the money problem!"

"I'm surprised you didn't check the passenger lists," said Ashley.

"Gosh, would you believe I never thought of that!"

The women stood in silence waiting for the dish to finish.

"Oh, I don't know," Ash said scooping pieces of the pie on two plates. "A billionaire's son would lounge around a pool drinking cocktails, wouldn't he? He wouldn't do something worthwhile like being in the USAF. Besides, I liked that other one better. And he was already lying at my feet."

"I don't think my colonel would let a son lounge around a pool," said Vi.

Life went on in the world and on Tracy Island. John and Alan rotated duty periods up in the space station, there were calls for help, maintaining the equipment, meals, times for relaxation and sleep. But there was a noticeable difference in the atmosphere.

Jeff had long videophone conversations with Penny in his room, so the others could not overhear. He left the island often for a few days, sometimes alone, sometimes with Brains.

John was quieter than ever, and Gordon had eventually given up trying to talk to him.

Virgil became increasingly grouchy, and his youngest two brothers kept a safe distance from him, dreading the missions they had to do with him. For he acted like a bear with a sore head and was, during missions, more monosyllabic than ever.

Ashley was flying their Twin Otter from Cape Adare to McMurdo Sound.

"Being a pilot means more than knowing when to push what button," she said to her red-haired friend. "It means getting the feel of the aircraft and..."

"...And knowing the names of the auxiliary thingies," said Vi. "But it beats wearing a stupid hat while pointing out where the barf bags are. But what I would really like to do is design software. I could make your job easier, Ash."

"Make my job easier? God help me, I can imagine your software! 'Switch on the thingamabob when the something rises above the whatsit.' No, thank you, my dear."

Vi grinned and watched the Ross Sea ice shelf whizzing past under the plane.

"What do the weather boys say?" asked Ash. "It looks as if it's going to whiteout. The Transantarctic Mountains are getting hazy."

"They say it's going to be a warm day with a lot of wind." Vi summarized the weather report. "Ideal conditions for a whiteout. And that radio sucks. Must be solar flares breaking up transmissions."

"Great," Ash said through gritted teeth. "So, we've got a problem, because how am I supposed to find Mount Erebus when I can't see where I'm going?"

"On instruments?" suggested Vi.

"I like a visual as well," said Ash.

"Ah, the old-fashioned eyeballing it. Anyway, I would prefer it if we didn't find Mount Erebus," Vi said, leafing through the howgozit on their fuel consumption. "Planes and mountains are no combination that I like. And my mom wouldn't approve if you'd smeared me all over the place either."

"And let us beware of the wrath of Mrs Jones. OK, Vi, any suggestions?"

"Let's see, we're near Franklin Island."

"Is there a strip?" Ash asked.

"Yes, but riddled with sastrugi! As in incredibly bumpy."

"Damn!"

"Return to Adare?" Vi suggested. "No, shit, we're past our point of no return. Detour to Koettlitz Glacier, land and wait it out. We've got eight drums of JP4 in the back, we can refuel. But we have to decide quickly."

"We've got no JATO bottles left," Ashley said. "No way we could get back in the air without them. Not at that altitude."

"Ah." Vi leaned back in her chair. "Crash into Erebus or crash-land in a sastrugi field with those drums of JP4. What a choice."

Ashley grinned humourless. "Something made the choice for us. Look, there's nothing out there."

Everything and everywhere around them was white. Ashley was already losing all sense of direction.

"We can always call International Rescue," Vi said, smiling, before turning serious again.

"I doubt that they can do anything in a whiteout either and with our luck they would have another mission going on, just like the last time. Right now, I'd settle for those Air Force guys." Ashley reduced speed as much as she dared. "Now what do we do? Keep on flying or try to land?"

"You're the pilot," Vi said. "But we've got more of a chance of surviving a crash, erm, an emergency landing than a collision with a mountain."

"I don't even know if I'm flying upside down or not," Ashley complained. "My instruments say we're not, but other than that... You'd better start to scream for help, Vi. I'm taking her down."

Vi nodded grimly and took the radio. "I hope somebody can hear us. Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is Twin Otter Papa Sierra Tango Two Niner. Are commencing an emergency landing on Ross Sea ice shelf near Mount Erebus in whiteout conditions, last known confirmed position..."

To Be Continued...