I finished Rima, disappointed that I could only reach 59 chapters, but accepted that that was where the story ended. Then one day, and this was even after I'd started writing my next story, my muse offered me a hint of a potential chapter 60: "Go on. You know you want to write it."

"But I've started another story."

"You know you want to."

"I do, but we should be working on the sequel to A Quiet Year."

"I'll feed you that later."

"Have you got enough to give me one more chapter?"

"Of course I do. Go on. Write it!"

And so I wrote it!

-F-A-B-

Chapter 60: Appendix

30 September 2105

25 years later

John Tracy stood at the window looking at the vista, his arms about his wife. "I love this view."

Emma Tracy snuggled in closer to him. "So do I."

"I wonder how much longer we'll be able be able to enjoy it."

Emma twisted in his arms so she could see his face. "That sounds ominous."

John let her go. "With all the changes that are happening, maybe it's time to retire and let someone younger take over." He surveyed Thunderbird Five's control room.

His wife frowned. "You're still fit, John. And remember, your namesake was 77 when he last went into space; that's over a decade older than you are now. And you've had more space experience than he had."

John didn't reply.

"Do you want to give up?"

The response was immediate. "No."

"Then don't! You're not ready for it and International Rescue isn't ready to let you go."

He managed a grin. "I hope you're right. The last thing I want is for the team to be sitting back on Earth trying to work out how to tell me that it's time to hang up my spacesuit. When I finish I want it to be on my terms."

She slipped her arms back about him. "And what would those terms be?"

John thought. "If you couldn't come up here with me. Before I met you I loved my time alone on Thunderbird Five. But since we married, I've hated every moment I've been without you."

Emma gave him a squeeze. "Sometimes it was better that way."

"I know..."

*** 24 years earlier

The announcement that another child was going to be welcomed into the Tracy fold had been greeted with much joy and celebrations; an atmosphere so different to the fear and uncertainty leading up to the birth of Alan and Tin-Tin's first child. John and Emma had been free to look forward to the day when they would become parents.

With it being weeks before the baby was due, Emma's pregnancy being trouble free, and Brains stating that as Thunderbird Three's flight was no more stressful on the body than a flight in a standard aeroplane and that life in Thunderbird Five was no different to life on Earth; the parents-to-be had no qualms about Emma joining John on another tour of duty.

That was until…

It had been the day after another successful job and John, high above the Earth in Thunderbird Five, had been doing what he always did after a rescue; reviewing all their communications to see if there were any little changes, or major ones, that International Rescue could make to improve their systems.

As normal, he was deep in concentration. So deep that the only thing that would register in his consciousness would be an alarm of distress or a radio message from home. Therefore he barely heard Emma speak to him, assuming that her mention of blood was a comment over something as trivial as a paper cut.

It wasn't until she'd said his name the second time that he'd realised that she was sounding a little odd. Surprised, he'd looked around to see her leaning against the door frame; pale and in obvious distress.

His first action was to slam his fist down on a nearby button that sounded a warning on Tracy Island. This would send the entire crew sprinting for the lounge ready to come to his aid and start the automatic systems that readied Thunderbird Three for space flight. If it was nothing, then he would do some major apologetic grovelling later, but if things were as bad as Emma looked, he didn't want to waste a single second.

And things were bad. Very bad.

It was the worst nightmare any expectant couple miles from medical help could face.

Down on Earth, once John had relayed their predicament to his family, things had swung almost seamlessly into action, despite the fact that this wasn't going to be a normal flight. Instead of having her standard crew of two, Thunderbird Three was going to be carrying five people along with a multitude of equipment to sustain the lives of a newborn and its mother.

Alan and Scott had taken up their place on the couch and gone on ahead to double check that Thunderbird Three was ready for instant blast off. Tin-Tin and Gordon had offered to go too; Tin-Tin to give the reassurance of a mother who'd already lived through the experience, and Gordon to relieve John of his duties, leaving the anxious father-to-be to concentrate on his wife and Alan and Scott to concentrate on getting maximum speed out of the spaceship.

Scott's "Little Brother" Stewie, on Tracy Island for a brief break from his studies, was also pressed into service; experiencing many firsts along the way… His first flight in a spaceship… His first rescue with International Rescue… The first time he'd ever put his still growing medical knowledge into practise… And the first time he'd ever delivered a baby. He'd turned white when Jeff had first suggested that, as he had the most up-to-date medical knowledge of anyone, he attend as official paramedic. He then pulled himself together, grabbed a tablet with his medical text books, and spent the entire flight refreshing his memory. Brains had remained on Earth soothing John and Emma's fears and offering suggestions of things to ease the process until help arrived.

The plan had been to transfer Emma, John, and their unborn child to the nearest hospital as fast as possible. Unfortunately the baby had other ideas, deciding to make an appearance only moments after Thunderbird Three docked with her sister ship.

It was then that International Rescue's training came to the fore. The baby boy was put on oxygen and placed into Thunderbird Two's incubator. Emma was loaded onto a gurney, had an IV inserted into her arm and, crying with fear for her baby and herself and with a grip on John's hand so tight that she may as well have glued them together, passed through the access hatch and into the spaceship.

The flight back to Tracy Island was smooth and speedy. Once there it was time for the other members of International Rescue to launch into action. Virgil and Brains had spent the intervening hours preparing Thunderbird Two so there would be no delays when it left for the hospital; while Jeff, with Kyrano's help, had gathered together some items for the distressed couple – especially John, who they knew would have more important things on his mind than maintaining International Rescue's security. The new granddad had also decided that he'd better join them on the trip, if for no other reason than to ensure that his son took the time to change out of his uniform.

After that day of dramas it had been a stressful few weeks as the Tracys waited to see if the youngest member of the clan would be strong enough to live in the world that they'd helped save…

-I-R-

Remembering that time, John leant back against the window. "I still owe Alan and Scott for what must have been the fastest space flight ever."

"Fast? They seemed to take forever to get here."

John chuckled. "We were lucky that Stewie was home on vacation."

"I'll say."

"I wonder who was more frightened: him or me."

Emma raised her hand. "Me."

Her husband treated her to a loving smile. "I can believe that."

Emma hugged his arm. "There was no way I was going to risk going through all that again second time around."

"I wasn't all that keen in risking you or the baby either. And I hated every minute I was away from you when I was on duty." John shrugged. "I guess it gave me an understanding of what Alan went through when he went to Jupiter..." Then he grinned. "I just love the fact that we are the proud parents of the world's first extra-terrestrial child!"

As Emma laughed, a distinctive tune sounded through the complex.

"Speak of the devil." John pushed himself away from the wall and started walking towards the videophone in their private room.

At that moment there was another sound.

Emma started heading in the opposite direction. "I'll talk Howard in," she offered.

A slight frown creased John's brow. "Okay."

He entered their private quarters before, with a broad smile, he greeted the videophone's caller. "Have you left the States yet?"

"No... Not yet... I, er, was going to head for the airport after this call."

"Good." John's smile slipped a little. "Then what can I do for you that can't wait for the few hours until we're all at the same latitude, longitude, and altitude?"

Strangely, his son seemed a little unsure of himself. "I was hoping we could talk."

"Talk?" John felt a pang of anxiety. "What's wrong?"

"Uh... Nothing."

"Nothing?" John frowned. "It can't be nothing or else you would have waited until your mother and I were back dirtside."

"Dad…?"

"Yes?"

John's son swallowed. "Are you disappointed in me?"

John couldn't help but be shocked and surprised by the question. "Disappointed? In you!? Why would I be?"

"Because I don't want to join International Rescue."

"Because you don't want to join International Rescue?" John echoed. "Of course I'm not disappointed. Just because you were born in a Thunderbird doesn't mean that you're tethered to it by your umbilical cord."

His son didn't laugh. "But... I know that you've always wanted me to be a part of the team. You always said I was literally born into it."

"I'm not going to lie and say that's not true; I'd love to work alongside you. But I'd rather know that you were happy, and I know your poppa and uncles feel the same way. To stand up and say that you don't want to be a part of International Rescue, well… that's shown a level of guts that exceeds anything that any of us have ever shown." John regarded the unconvinced face on the screen. "I'd be disappointed if the only reason why you joined International Rescue was because you believed that's what I wanted. I'd be even more disappointed if I'd done something that made you think that you had no option other than to join us. I haven't, have I?"

"No."

"I'm glad to hear that." John had still failed to elicit a smile from the younger man. "Look, I am proud of you, Son. I'm proud that, despite of all the pressure, real or imagined, that you must have been under to follow in my footsteps; despite the fact that at the moment your sister is planning to be part of International Rescue; despite the fact that your cousins are going to be members of International Rescue, I'm proud that you've been strong enough to choose your own path through life. Maybe one day you'll use that degree you're working so hard on and take over the reins of Tracy Industries. Or maybe you'll take on the challenge of starting up your own business. Or maybe you'll do something totally different. It doesn't matter to me. I spent seven years stuck in a job that I didn't really enjoy, apart from working alongside your mother, because I thought that was what was expected of me, and I don't want you to go through that. All that matters to me is that you're happy."

For the first time there was a glimmer of that happiness in the face opposite. "When are you leaving?"

"Thunderbird Three's docking now. The Atlantic team are packing up, and I'll have to go over a few things with Howard before we leave, but we'll be back well before the presentation."

Finally there was a smile. "You'll probably race me in that case. I'll see you when I get home."

"F-A-B." John winked.

The videophone went blank and he regarded it thoughtfully for a moment.

"John?"

He turned to see Emma standing in the doorway. "You knew what that call was going to be about?"

She walked over to her husband. "He didn't want to disappoint you. I tried to tell him that I was sure that he wasn't, but it's been preying on his mind. That's why he didn't do so well in his last exam."

John was aghast at this bit of information. "Because he was worried about what I thought?!"

"Yes. I told him to talk to you so you could confirm what I'd been saying all along, and he thought that it would be best if he did that when you were on Thunderbird Five. He was hoping to catch a ride with Howard, but he's been trying to make up the points he lost in the exam and couldn't get away any earlier... You aren't disappointed, are you?"

"If I'm honest I'd have to say, yes, I am. But I'm disappointed for myself, not for him. I'm also sorry that International Rescue isn't going to have the benefit of someone who I think would be a real asset." John bit his lip. "Did I ever give the impression I expected him to be a part of the team?"

"Not really." Emma shook her head. "Especially once it became obvious that his skills and interests were leading him away from the organisation."

"Good." John decided that this was a discussion that could be continued later and that it was time to get down to business. "Is Howard here?"

"Yes. He's putting his bag into his room."

The couple wandered into Thunderbird Five's main control room just as Howard O'Neil exited his quarters. "Hi, John."

After greeting the younger man warmly John frowned. "Is everything okay? You look like you're limping more than usual."

Howard grinned. "Relax, Boss. I stubbed my toe against the bed."

Relieved, John laughed. "You've been up here often enough that you should remember where that is by now."

With a laugh of his own, Howard ran his hand over his short, patchy, dark hair, before tugging his magenta-coloured sash back into place. "Anything I need to know about? Emma said the Atlantic team were on the way back to base."

"In that case I don't need to debrief you. They can do it themselves."

"Right. Now..." Howard gave an impish grin. "Anything really important I need to know about?"

John responded in kind. "Keep an eye on sector 2343:389/A248. Something big's going down in the vicinity of Betelgeuse. We've been keeping a close watch, but if you see it happen first, you can take the credit."

Howard's face lit up. "Thanks!" He wandered over to the window and looked out at the stars. "I love it up here." He turned back to his co-workers, the impish grin still on his face. "I must remember to thank Scott for crashing that plane."

Laughing, John picked up his bag and turned to Emma. "Is that everything?"

Her eyes twinkled. "I've turned off the power and let the cat out, so I think we're ready to go."

"Good."

"Give my best to the old man," Howard called, as they stepped through the portal. "See you next month."

-F-A-B-

Alice Tracy raised her greasy face out from inside the engine of the Domo and looked at her husband. "That unit needs replacing." A lock of oily hair escaped from under her cap and fell across her face.

"I told you that." Virgil tucked the hair back into place. His own hair was greying, but the thought of dyeing it never entered his head. He was happy with who he was and where he was in his life and he had no desire to change or pretend to be anyone except for Virgil Tracy: member of International Rescue, loyal son, brother and friend, loving husband, and father of two.

"Do you want to make a start now, or leave it until after the presentation?"

"After the presentation. If we make a start now," Virgil grinned, "I'll never get you out of there."

"Okay." Alice rubbed her hand across her cheek, further smudging the grease on her face.

Virgil chuckled. "My wife: the glamorous movie star," he joked as he pulled a rag from his pocket and attempted to clean the smudge away. "If only the paparazzi could see you now."

"They'd know that I've left the glamorous world of Hollywood for the even more glamorous world of International Rescue." Alice claimed the rag before regarding her broken and greasy nails. "Do you realise that I used to get a manicure nearly every day?"

"Do you miss it?"

She kissed her husband, transferring some of her less than glamorous 'greasepaint' to his face. "Not in the slightest."

Voices could be heard echoing through the hangar.

"Gus… Gus!"

"Jenny!"

Years ago, when their two children had learnt of their parents' artistic pasts, they'd instantly dubbed their mother "Jenny" after one of her better known movie roles. Their father, they decided at the time, needed to reinstate the name of his alter ego.

But Virgil had put his foot down. He had no desire to be reminded of the life he'd led a lifetime ago, and so they'd called him the name of "Jenny's" love interest in that particular film. Virgil, after some reminders from Alice that if it hadn't been for his time in New York they wouldn't have met, accepted this compromise and, as time went by, had to secretly come to enjoy it. First: it made him feel that his relationship with his children was based as much on friendship as paternal love and respect. Second: now that they were joining him out on rescues, it made it easier to keep their relationship to each other secret from the outside world. Third: in a household containing eight fathers, it made differentiating who was addressing whom in moments of high excitement much simpler.

Just so long as they didn't call him Gustav...

*** Sixteen years earlier

Bored by their studies and eager to experience the exciting life of their dad and uncles, the two young children had decided to explore the forbidden areas of the complex. Naturally their first adventure was acted out inside their father's pride and joy.

They were exploring the rooms where the older members of their family slept when away from home, when they became aware of a strange vibration running through the craft. This was followed by their world tilting alarmingly.

Fear had flooded their systems. They'd seen Thunderbird Two launch often enough to know what was happening. They also knew that no one was aware that they were inside the craft and that they were about to get into major trouble. Visions of everyone else enjoying Datuk Kyrano's desserts while they sat hungry filled their young minds. That was until the thrust of lift-off threw them against the wall and pinned them there cowering until everything levelled off.

The flight seemed to last forever.

Eventually a new vibration shook them before everything was stilled. Frightened that they were about to be discovered they crawled under a bed and hid.

The wait seemed to go on for hours, but they continued to lay low until hunger overrode their instincts for self-preservation. They agreed that it would be better to face the music now and be fed, than go any further hungry. They headed for Thunderbird Two's flight deck.

Meanwhile back at home Alice had gone from being curious about her misplaced children, to mildly concerned, to downright frantic. The whole household was in an uproar with people checking nearby buildings, cliffs, bluffs, caves, watercourses and the shore. Their concerns reached Thunderbird Five who started scanning the whole of Tracy Island for two small bodies.

The decision was made not to let the two members of International Rescue on active duty know what had happened. They needed their focus to be on saving survivors, not fearing for the lives of two of the most important people in their world.

Finally the rescue was over and Scott, having spent the many hours at the danger zone assisting Virgil, returned to Mobile Control. He was shocked to discover a warning light telling him that Thunderbird Two had been invaded. With no time to waste by alerting base to the possible calamity, he and his brother had advanced on the enemy. What they'd discovered when they'd burst into Thunderbird Two's cockpit, stun guns at the ready, were two small, frightened, wide-eyed children.

Virgil's immediate response to the situation was to explode. He told his children in no uncertain terms that they were irresponsible and inconsiderate and warned them that they were due for dire punishments when they got home. He demanded to know if they'd given consideration to what their absence meant to their mother and the rest of the family. He told them that being a Tracy and a member of International Rescue carried certain responsibilities that they were expected to live up to no matter what their age. He asked them how could they expect to be trusted if they behaved in such an irresponsible manner. He reminded them that the hangars and engineering workshops were dangerous places and that they were not to enter any of them without adult supervision.

He would have continued in this fashion for an indefinite period if Scott, recognising his brother's rant for what it really was, hadn't taken him by the shoulders, gently pointed him towards the radio, and made the quiet suggestion that he call home and let everyone know that everything was all right.

Stunned by their father's reaction the two children were even more shocked to when they saw their mother's frightened, tearful face appear on screen. By this point they were so ashamed that they barely acknowledged their uncle when he placed two booster seats on the co-pilot's chair and, after an enquiry to check that they were all right, strapped them in tightly with the safety harnesses before giving them each an energy bar to eat.

Then they were left alone while the two men departed to pack up International Rescue's equipment. They never heard their uncle ask their father if he felt capable of flying Thunderbird Two home, nor Virgil's reply that he was okay.

"Are you sure, 'cos I'm shaking like a leaf. I'd hate to think what you're like."

And Virgil had known that Scott knew exactly how shaken he was.

When he returned to the cabin for the final journey, Virgil didn't give his children any clue as to the emotions that were churning him up inside. He checked their harnesses, made a perfunctory enquiry to confirm that they were ready to leave, and claimed his pilot seat. After that he never said another word to the two young people behind him. Communications with the other Thunderbirds and base were short and succinct.

The children sat, waited, and accepted that the punishment that they were going to receive when they got home was inevitable. Their father's working jaw muscles and the whiteness of his knuckles on the control yoke seemed to confirm that they were going to be subject to something terrifying.

They felt a little better when, before they'd even had a chance to be released from their seats, their mother had boarded the great transporter and wrapped them up in her arms.

Their father stood back and said nothing.

He remained quiet through what remained of the day, barely interacting with his children. Not that anyone said much during the evening meal. The kids, too terrified of their upcoming punishment to even think about food and despite their earlier hunger, ate little.

Straight after their evening meal they were sent to bed.

They had lain there for what seemed to be hours, unable to sleep, when it had finally dawned on them that they hadn't done one vital thing that would hopefully be the first step in the long process of regaining the trust of their parents and the rest of the family.

They hadn't apologised for their actions.

Climbing out of bed they'd approached the door of their parents' bedroom. Then they'd stopped; hearing their father's voice. A voice that was rendered almost unrecognisable by pain and distress and…

Fear? It couldn't be fear. Their father was brave and strong and never frightened!

"I pointed my gun at children, Alice! And just not any children. My children! Our children!"

Then they heard their mother's calm voice, trying to reassure her distraught husband. "I know, Honey, but you didn't shoot them."

"I had my finger on the trigger. I could have hurt them!"

"You had your gun set to stun, didn't you?"

"Yes..."

"Then you couldn't hurt them."

"We don't know that! We don't know what effect it would have had on them! Those guns were designed for being used on adults, not kids!"

"Virgil, calm down. You didn't shoot them."

"But I could have!"

"You didn'..."

"My own children!"

"Virgil, they're all right. Stop beating yourself up over this."

There was a moment's silence. Then: "You didn't see the fear in their faces. They were terrified… Of me."

"Virgil, come to bed. You've had a stressful 24 hours with the rescue and everything and you need some rest. Things'll seem much better in the morning."

Whether he started doing what he was told, the eavesdroppers couldn't tell. "I've been in frightening situations before. But nothing like that. You've got no idea what it was like."

"No… No, I don't. I was too busy being frightened myself. Frightened that they were lost…" Their mother's voice rose in pitch. "…or hurt, or... or..."

Then they heard their father's calming response. The roles had been reversed. "Come here, Honey. It's okay." There was what sounded like a muffled sob from their mother. "They're okay…"

"I was so scared. I was imagining all kinds of dire scenarios."

"I know you were."

"We searched everywhere and couldn't find them!"

"I know…"

The children decided that that was the moment to knock on the door. They had to wait a full minute before they were invited in.

Their father was there; his face impassive. Their mother was there too; her eyes red. The children stopped; not knowing what to say.

"What do you want?" Virgil's voice was quiet and unthreatening.

"We..." The children felt like they were choking on their own words. "We wanted to..."

"We had to..."

"We know what we did was wrong..."

"We wanted to see Thunderbird Two..."

"We wanted to pretend to be you..."

"But we didn't touch anything..."

"We didn't know that you were going to fly it..."

"We..."

"We..."

Their "we're sorry," was said in unison. After saying those two words more seemed to spill forth and the longer they talked the easier it became. They were sorry that they'd frightened their mother. They were sorry that they'd scared their father. They were sorry if they worried Uncle Scott and the rest of the family and offered to apologise to them as well. They knew that Poppa must be mad at them. They only wanted to explore and be like their dad and now they understood why it was wrong. They knew they deserved to be punished and would accept any punishment given to them. They offered the suggestion that their biannual flight in Thunderbird Two, a much loved birthday treat, be cancelled. They would do anything to make it up to their parents...

Finally their staccato speech, broken by their sobs, ground to a halt.

They waited.

Then Virgil got down on his knees so that he was at their eye level. "Come here," he said, and opened his arms out to them.

Finally they were wrapped in their father's strong, protective embrace. They heard him say: "apology accepted" and a huge weight was launched from their young shoulders. They felt their mother join them in the hug and all was right with the world. They would prove that they could be trusted. They would let their actions say what mere words only hinted at. They would show that they were worthy of the Tracy name and to be a part of the International Rescue.

They would never call their father Gustav…

-I-R-

The older versions of those two young people ran in from Thunderbird Two's launch bay and skidded to a stop. "Shoulda known you guys were in here."

Virgil frowned at his now adult offspring. "I didn't hear the alarm going."

One feigned surprise. "Alarm? What alarm?"

"He means the rescue alert," the other suggested.

"Does he?"

"I'm sure he must do."

"Well, I didn't hear it. Did you?"

"No."

"Guess you must be hearing things, Gus."

Virgil had been following the exchange like a tennis match. He'd once passed the idle comment about the unnerving way that his children seemed to know exactly what the other was thinking and had his own father chuckling. "Welcome to the world I've been living in all your life, Virgil."

Now Virgil folded his arms and tried to look stern. "You know what I'm talking about. It's dangerous running around here…"

"Because of all the machinery," they chorused, having heard the lecture many times.

"There are sharp edges everywhere…"

"And bits of metal…"

"And we get called out to enough emergencies…"

"That we don't need to create our own."

"Very good," Virgil acknowledged. "Now, since you know the drill off by heart, why were you running?"

"'Cos Thunderbird Three's on its way back with Uncle John and Aunty Emma. You two will need all that time to scrape the grease off yourselves. Then you might just be clean by the time we start the presentation…"

"Which'll be right after the plane from England gets here."

Alice had been examining the inner working of the Domo while they'd been talking. "Hand me the electrodriver, Honey."

His focus on the two young people, Virgil hadn't noticed his wife's activities. "Huh?"

"She means this, Gus." With a smirk the instrument was handed over. "You've got to get with the picture."

"Speaking of pictures," the conversation was side-tracked before Virgil could pass comment. "There's an Alice Ross retrospective on tonight."

"Oh, dear," Alice sighed. "Which monstrosities have they chosen?"

"Hailing Dawn and Gaslight."

"Gaslight! That was a terrible movie!"

Virgil winked at his wife. "Apart from the leading lady."

Alice battered her eyelashes at him. "And that was only thanks to her welding tutor."

Their flirtation was interrupted. "What I don't get, Gus, is how come she always seems so much more into it when she kisses the guy on screen than when she kisses you?"

"Into it?!"

Alice ignored her husband's astonished reaction. "I did have some acting talent and a bit of passion was what the audience expected to see. Plus, each and every one of my leading men were so insecure that they needed me to act like I was into it to boost their fragile egos, while your father's secure enough that he doesn't need to have his ego propped up by anyone… Now… I think it's time we went and got washed up." She climbed out of the Domo.

The younger people seemed content with her explanation. "Did Aunty Tin-Tin say when the plane from England was getting here?"

"No. But it should be soon."

"Good."

"I can't wait to see Parker again. Let's go."

"We'd better walk this time."

"That's right. We don't want to cause an accident."

"No. It would spoil the afternoon…"

Virgil watched them go with an expression of bemused affection on his face.

Alice slipped her arms about him. "And," she continued, "I would never let them see just how into you I am." She kissed her husband passionately.

"Are you acting now?" Virgil asked, when they finally came up for air.

She gave a seductive smile. "What do you think?"

"I think it's time we had a shower… together." Virgil smirked. "Then I can show you just how into you I am…"

-F-A-B-

"How's she look, Steph?" Gordon asked.

His wife cast her eye over the readouts from the submarine's log. "Shipshape."

"A shipshape submarine." He grinned. "That's what I like to hear." Reaching across to flick a switch his grin reversed into a grimace.

"Are you all right?"

Gordon eased himself back upright. "I've been sitting too long. I've stiffened up."

"Let me take care of that." Two steps across the cabin and Stephanie was behind her husband, her hands massaging the tenseness from his shoulder muscles.

Gordon closed his eyes and allowed her ministrations to soothe his taut body. "Mmmn. If I'd known you had this skill the Adulium wouldn't have stood a chance." He relaxed.

"Gordon..."

"Mmm?"

"Do you think that...? Perhaps...?"

"What?"

"Your body is trying to tell you something?"

Gordon's eyes snapped open. "What?!"

"I mean that you can almost guarantee that the day after you've participated in a rescue you're going to seize up."

"Rescues aren't exactly picnics you know. They're demanding work."

"I know, but... Honey... You..."

"Don't say it!"

But Stephanie wasn't about to give up so easily. "You've got to consider this, Gordon. Your body has had lots of abuse through the years, especially from the concussive effects of the pod being dropped into the water, and I think it's telling you that it's had enough."

"What if I don't want to listen?"

"Then you'll wind up a crippled old man unable to enjoy life." Stephanie swung his pilot's chair about so that she was able to crouch down to his eyelevel. He looked away. "I want us to be able to enjoy our final years together. I don't like seeing you in pain."

"I'm not in pain. I'm a bit stiff, that's all."

"Some days you can barely walk!" Stephanie started massaging his legs. "Gordon! You've got to look after yourself!"

"I do look after myself."

Stephanie ignored his stubborn attitude. "You may not have to give up International Rescue. Why don't you cut back on the number of rescues you participate in?"

"I can't cut back. We don't use Thunderbird Four that often." Gordon glanced at the control panel as if he were afraid that he was being disloyal to his sub. "And I'm the lead aquanaut, remember."

"The operative word there is lead. You are the best, but nowadays you're not the only one capable of piloting Thunderbird Four... It's not like it was when the kids were born..."

*** 21 years earlier

When Gordon was first told that he and Stephanie were going to be the proud parents of triplets, it had been such a shock that he'd wandered around in a daze for days and had had to submit to comments about how they were breeding their own school and (when Stephanie wasn't present) jokes about how the Adulium must have worn off.

Eventually he'd got used to the idea.

That was until one day late in the pregnancy.

Because there was always a greater chance of early labour during multiple-birth pregnancies, as time had moved closer to "Triple-D-Day", as Gordon had dubbed it, he'd elected to stay home and let someone else take on his co-piloting roles in Thunderbird Two.

Murphy, and his law, wasn't content with this arrangement. Stephanie was close to full term when the emergency call had made its way to Thunderbird Five. A ship had sunk in deep Arctic waters with all hands on board. Word was that most, if not all of the crew had made it to an air pocket in one cabin, and that the ship had settled with this cabin pressed against the sea floor.

Only one organisation could save these men and within this organisation only one craft. And only one member had the skills to steer that craft to the rescue.

Gordon and Stephanie had agreed that he should go.

Thunderbird Four had only just reached the danger zone and was peering through the murky darkness as Gordon evaluated the situation when Murphy slapped a writ on the Tracy family.

Stephanie went into labour.

With Scott and Virgil flying their craft above the Arctic Ocean, John relaying communications via Thunderbird Five, and Gordon beneath the waves, that only left Alan, as pilot, and Tin-Tin, for moral and practical support, to escort the expectant mother to the birthing centre on the mainland.

Jeff had let Scott know what had happened. Scott, wishing he had to make any decision but that one, decided that he would not tell the father-to-be down below. He didn't tell Virgil either, theorising that the more people who knew, the greater the chance that Gordon might realise what was happening and lose concentration when and where he needed it most.

And so, blissfully unaware that his world was about to change forever, Gordon worked beneath the waves in the frigid depths. In the skies above him, Scott kept a parental watch of his own over his younger brother and made plans.

It had been a tricky rescue, one that had taken time and care, but, finally, all the sailors on board had been taken to the safety of another ship standing by. Once again International Rescue had achieved the impossible.

After weeks without any action, the successful rescue had Gordon buzzing more than a bee with a honey stomach full of nectar; so much so that he didn't take in Virgil's announcement that Thunderbird Two was returning to base and Scott's responding: "Negative."

It was only when Scott had ordered his brothers to prepare for an air-to-air transfer that Gordon had realised that something different was happening; but it wasn't until he'd been lowered from the gigantic transporter into her sister ship that he discovered exactly what that something was.

Scott's plan, and Gordon had to admit that it reached his brother's usual high standards (once he'd calmed down enough to comprehend it), was to make use of Thunderbird One's phenomenal speeds to get to the mainland. There Lady Penelope and Parker were waiting in FAB1 in a secluded cove far from prying eyes.

After another, more conventional transfer, Gordon had found him and his wetsuit soaking the seats of a Rolls Royce motor car and wishing that he could have eaten up the remaining miles in Thunderbird One. Lady Penelope, showing her habitual coolness and foresight, had handed him a newly purchased set of clothes and raised a partition between them so that he could change in relative privacy, if not ease.

Parker had done his best to keep to the speed limits for the entire journey and they made good time to their destination; even if it wasn't quick enough for Gordon who, with barely a word of thanks to his friends, launched himself out of the car faster than if he'd been attached to an ejector seat.

Alan was later to recollect that his brother had run into the facility looking like a seal trying outswim a hungry shark. Gordon's first real memory of the whole experience was of Alan lounging casually in the foyer; greeting him with an insolent grin and a laconic: "What's the hurry? Nothin's happening yet." Tin-Tin's overriding memories of the day, as she sat with Stephanie and reassured her that her husband would make it on time, was of Alan pacing up and down the corridor as if he were the expectant father, glancing at his watch as he tracked FAB1's progress, and muttering: "Come on, Gordon."

Once Gordon had taken the instructed deep breath to calm his nerves, Alan had led him down to the birthing suite, stopping outside the door. Then the younger man had turned to his brother. "Make the most of it, Gordon," he'd advised; his serious demeanour a complete contrast to the deliberately infuriating one that he'd used only moments earlier. "It's something you'll never forget. Just relax and enjoy it."

Then he'd pushed Gordon through the door and into an experience that was a million times more enthralling and uplifting than the day's successful rescue.

A few short hours later, Gordon had re-emerged to introduce his family to his three newborn children.

And International Rescue had started searching for a backup aquanaut in earnest.

-I-R-

All that happened 21 years ago and until recently Gordon had been looking forward to working alongside his offspring. But it looked like his body was telling him that that wasn't going to happen.

However Gordon had never let his mass of muscle, sinew and bone beat him in the past, and he wasn't about to let it happen now. At least not without a fight...

So long as it wasn't a fight to the death.

"Even if I wanted to quit... Which I don't," he added quickly. "I can't."

"You can't?" Stephanie frowned. "Why not?"

"Because none of my brothers are quitting International Rescue."

"True," Stephanie conceded, "but they are allowing others to step up. They realise that sometimes it's better to take a back seat."

"They can afford do that. Any of them can fly the Thunderbirds and operate the pod vehicles. Piloting Thunderbird Four's a specialist role. I'm the specialist."

"I know that. For many years they were interchangeable, while you were irreplaceable..."

"And now you're telling me I'm replaceable?"

"Of course not. But you know that Jean and Storm are capable of handling most rescues."

"Most, but not all. They don't have my experience."

"And they're never going to get it if they don't get the opportunity. I'm not saying that it's time to retire completely; just cut back. Give them the easy jobs and save yourself for the tricky ones where only the best will do..."

"Stephanie..."

Gordon's wife ignored his interruption. "As you said it's not as if Thunderbird Four is required all that often. You can still carry on as Thunderbird Two's co-pilot, while leaving them to do the easy marine rescues. That would keep you ready for when International Rescue needs your skills…"

"Steph..."

"And we'll be able to continue our research together. You love doing that, and it's easier on your body." Stephanie ran loving fingers through her husband's hair. "You've got to at least consider it, Gordon."

Gordon snapped. "I have been considering it and it's got to be all or nothing!"

A little surprised by his outburst, and leaning on Thunderbird Four's control panel for support, Stephanie got back to her feet. "All or nothing?" Something in his manner rang alarm bells and she crouched down again so she was closer to his eye-line. "Why?" She took his hand. "Honey?"

Gordon stared at his hand in hers. "Because it's Thunderbird Two's launches that are the killers. Virgil puts his foot down and it's like receiving an electric shock and being slammed by an iron bar all at once. It usually take the entire flight for me to recover... And then I've got to face the pod drop."

"Oh..." Stephanie reached out to touch him on the side of the face. "I didn't realise."

He still didn't look at her. "If I can't cope with the launches then I can't be out there. If I can't be out there then I can't operate Thunderbird Four. And if I can't operate Thunderbird Four then I…" He swallowed as if he was trying to bite back his next words. "I want to quit."

"You want to...? Or you need to?"

"I need to," Gordon whispered, his eyes still down.

"Then why don't you? Are you frightened you'll let the team down?"

"Yes. How can I walk away now with everything else that's going on?"

"They'll understand."

"Will they?"

"Of course they will! They know you give everything when you're on a rescue and that you wouldn't be making this decision without a good reason."

Gordon examined their interlocked fingers. "I love piloting Thunderbird Four... Staying home while someone else took control of her would be like watching someone else take you on a date."

His wife huffed. "Which is never going to happen."

"And…"

"And?"

Gordon sagged in his seat. "I was hoping to be the one to show Sally the ropes when she joins International Rescue. It's not like our kids are interested in specialising in water-based rescues."

"Sally's only just turned 15. She's not old enough to know what she wants to do with her life yet. And by the time she does decide on her future, she might not even want to join International Rescue. And if she does become a member, there's nothing to stop you showing her the ropes. But you want to make sure that you're fit enough to do so when the time comes." Stephanie moved to her husband's side and put her arm about his shoulders. "Talk to your brothers, Gordon, and tell them that this is what you want. Talk to Jean and Storm. You'll work it out between you."

He nodded. "I will."

Stephanie kissed him on the top of the head. "Good."

Pulling his thunderbird locket from under his shirt, Gordon held it up so his wife could see it. "You know, when Dad gave me this before we set out to stop Doomsday, I thought that he was wasting his money because I would never use it the way he intended." Using his fingernail he opened the two clamshell halves and tipped the contents onto his palm. "I'm glad I was wrong." He slipped his wedding ring onto his finger. "Thanks."

The kiss on his lips was more intense than the one on his head. "You're welcome."

Gordon levered himself out of the pilot's seat and started tidying up. "I'm surprised that Virgil's still hanging in there."

"Me too. Has he said anything about quitting?"

"I asked him that and he said he wants to maintain some continuity. I think it's because he wants to work with his kids."

"It can't be because he doesn't trust them. They've only got into trouble once and that was when they were children. Unlike ours..." Stephanie pointed through Thunderbird Four's viewscreen. Grotesque faces were pressed up against the plexiglass.

"Oh, look. It's the three Stooges."

There were times over the past 21 years when the uncles of the identical triplets had wondered if Gordon succeeded in pulling off the ultimate prank. Especially when all three showed that they'd inherited their father's mischievous streak and were prepared to use their similarities to their advantage. Many a time a member of the Tracy household had been convinced that they'd been dealing with one of Gordon's children, only to discover that the one that they thought they'd been working with was doing something totally different on the other side of the complex.

To try and wrestle some control back they had nicknamed the triplets after the world's oceans, but the nomenclature had backfired on them when they discovered that "Pacific" had an unpeaceful tendency to explode in anger. Not only that, but "Indian", which was quickly shortened to Indie, could be cool and moody, while "Atlantic" was invariably warm and engaging.

Taking care to hide his aches and pains from his offspring, Gordon opened the cabin's top hatch and stuck his head out. "What do you guys want and why does it involve making my sub's windows dirty?"

"Aunty Tin-Tin says that Thunderbird Three's halfway back," Atlantic announced.

At least Gordon thought it was Atlantic. There were some days when even he wasn't one hundred percent who was who, especially in the less than optimal light of pod four. There were times when he had to rely on analysing subtle body shape differences and differentiating marks and freckles – like the small scar on the side of Indie's face where it had come into contact with a bit of wood thrown in anger by Pacific. It had been days before the pair had kissed and made up.

But that was years ago. Nowadays the trio were as close as a family could be. Close and determined to be members of International Rescue. So determined that Gordon realised that, out of respect for the recipient of this afternoon's presentation, and to avoid all chances of confusion, each was wearing a kind of uniform of their own devising: jackets emblazoned with their initials. "I see you're dressed for the occasion."

"Unlike you," Indie told him.

Gordon looked at his watch. "We've got plenty of time." He looked over at the jacket with the letter P. "I hope you've got something special made."

Pacific grinned. "Datuk and I have made all of his favourites... Plus one or two surprises."

Gordon nodded his approval. Pacific might not have had the personality to work closely with others or was as willing as the rest of the family to take the risks that were a necessary part of being an International Rescue operative, but if an army marched on its stomach, then International Rescue flew on its and feeding the large team was important. Having an extra cook on the crew also meant that Kyrano was finally getting the freedom to relax and potter about in his garden.

Atlantic was working on a technology degree and Indie was attending an advanced paramedic course. Both were hoping that their skills would make them invaluable to International Rescue and that they would soon be out on the 'front line'.

Gordon hoped this too. But now he knew that he wouldn't be working alongside them.

-F-A-B-

Buried, as usual, deep in his laboratory, Brains looked up from his latest invention and smiled at the lady opposite. Even now, over 20 years into their marriage, he couldn't quite believe that he'd met a woman who was almost his IQ equal and, and Brains found this to be even more of a miracle, he had wanted to get to know better until he'd plucked up the courage to marry her. Even more startling was the 17-year-old who was working in the adjacent room.

As if she felt his eyes on her, Jayne looked at him over her spectacles and returned his smile. "Analysis?"

They often played that game. Whereas normal, everyday, non-science-focussed people would have asked "What's up?" or offered an idiomatic "penny for your thoughts", the couple liked to treat each exchange like a scientific discussion.

"I, er, was analysing the random nature of mutual attraction and its effects on individuals."

"Method?"

"Analysing physical and physiological reactions of the test subject at varying distances between said subject and target."

"Findings?"

"The test subject experienced pleasurable sensations associated with propagation of the species that went beyond that objective and showed a predilection towards maintaining the status quo. Its appreciation of the target shows a leaning towards the desire to continue their symbiotic relationship."

Jayne laughed.

No other woman had interested or intrigued Brains as she had. Tin-Tin had been a much appreciated assistant, but there were times when Brains had the feeling that she hadn't understood a lot of what he was saying. He also knew that her range of expertise was, comparatively speaking, limited.

Jayne on the other hand, was a delight to get into a deep technical, scientific discussion with, because she was in many ways his equal... And if she found he was getting too intense or fixated on the debate, or his extra IQ points were providing him with the winning argument, she was guaranteed to gain the upper hand again by kissing him. He had never realised that the joining together of lips, with the associated potential threat of the transfer of dangerous bacteria and lethal viruses from the exchange of body fluids, could be so enthralling and addictive.

It also helped that even after all these years, to Brains at least, she was stunningly beautiful.

"Dad..."

Brains turned towards the young man standing in the doorway. "Yes?"

"Can you help me with something?"

"Of course, Earnest..."

Brains knew that his son's intellect wasn't in the same league as the boy's mother or himself, but he didn't care. The younger man was no dunce and was proving to be a more rounded individual than either of his parents. He also had the advantage of being totally relaxed in social situations that would have sent Brains running a mile to escape.

"Datuk says that you helped him formulate the process..."

As Brains listened he felt a familiar warm glow inside him. Kyrano permitting his son to call him by the same name as his own grandchildren, and Jeff Tracy insisting that Earnest call him "Poppa", had confirmed just how close the Tracys were to being family. Brains had lost his own family at a young age and the knowledge that, should the unthinkable happen to him and Jayne, Earnest would not be alone in the world was both a relief and a source of gratification.

Earnest wasn't as interested in the sciences as his parents, with one exception. He loved the science of cooking. Earnest by name and earnest by nature, he wasn't only intrigued by the subtle interweaving of tastes and textures to create the perfect dish, but, spurred on by his "Uncles" John and Alan's tales of how the thing they'd missed most of all during their Doomsday deployments was fresh food, he had already embarked on a crusade to discover something better than freeze dried rations. Brains knew that the boy had many years of research ahead of him before he could hope to improve on Kyrano's creations, but already Earnest was learning all he could from his mentors.

And now the young man was explaining some of Kyrano's processes and asking if tweaking them in some way would be an improvement. Brains, with Jayne's input, gave him a measured response, and the boy went away happy and with something new to try.

Brains gave a sigh of contentment. Things couldn't get much better than this. Even if their world was about to undergo a major upheaval.

-F-A-B-

Scott Tracy stood on the balcony of his home and looked out over the Pacific Ocean. The breeze ruffled his snowy white hair, and he smoothed it back into place. He was now at that stage in his life that the media delighted in calling "elderly".

Not that he cared. In their rare bursts of competitive energy he could still keep up with his brothers, even if the younger members of International Rescue left them all in their dust. All that mattered was that he was fit for his age and that his brain was still as sharp as it ever was. Sharp: with the added advantage of years of experience.

A pair of arms slipped about his waist. "Penny for your thoughts."

"Thank you." Chuckling, Scott twisted within the embrace so he could wrap his own arms about his captor.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Just thinking."

"Scott Tracy: Man of action does not just think."

He pretended to pout. "Aren't I allowed a moment's quiet introspection?"

"After a rescue, yes. But your last one was a complete success." His wife laid her head against his chest, enjoying the comforting warmth and feeling of security. In her younger years this was something that she'd lacked in her life and, believing at the time that she had no need for such companionship, it surprised her how much joy it brought her. She felt like a pussy cat curled up in his arms. "What were you thinking about, Honey?"

"Just remembering the past and thinking about the future."

She looked up. "Regrets already?"

"No. This is the right time."

"Are you sure?"

"My mind's telling me this is the right thing to do. My heart's telling me this is the right thing to do. And," Scott grimaced, "often my body tells me this is the right thing to do. There's a reason why I've been spending most of my time at Mobile Control. Besides, if we're retiring Thunderbird One, then it only makes sense that her pilot should retire too."

"Wouldn't you like the opportunity to fly the new One?"

"She's Kim's baby."

"That was not an answer to my question."

"Kim's guided the new craft right through from conception to completion and has had just as much input as I have, if not more. I've no right to assume control just because I've been involved with the organisation for longer. Besides, it's not as if I'm leaving International Rescue. I just won't be working at the coalface."

"No. You won't be at the coalface… or in the coalface… or under the coalface."

Scott chuckled.

"Do you think your brothers will continue with International Rescue?"

"I think Virgil will hang in there until the new Thunderbird Two comes on line. Then he'll be happy to carry on doing maintenance and R&D. John would probably be rather live out his days in Thunderbird Five until he keels over and we roll him out of an airlock and into space. Gordon…" Here Scott lost his jocular manner and frowned. "I think Gordon's struggling physically, but he doesn't want to let anyone down. Virgil's been trying to make the pod drops as non-concussive as he can, but if the seas are rough that's not always possible. And, and don't tell anyone this, I was talking to Virgil during Thunderbird Two's launch yesterday and when they took off I swear Gordon went white from the force of the thrust."

His wife looked at him in concern. "Was he in pain?"

"I imagine so. I would have pulled him out of the rescue, but by then it was too late. I hate to think what sort of discomfort he's in during pod drops. When we redesign Two we're going to have to come up with a better system of launching Thunderbird Four." Scott bit his lip. "One of the first things I'm going to have to do is have a meeting with him to discuss his future with International Rescue."

"What will you tell him?"

"That we don't want to lose him, but that I know that his position is becoming untenable. But I hope that he'll be the one to make the decision that he can't carry on. I don't want to have to tell him that I'm standing him down. He'll hate me, and not just for being a mother hen."

"I'm sure he would realise that you were doing it for his own good, and the good of the team. If he is unable to function properly he could jeopardise the safety of others."

Scott sighed. "Don't I know it. But it won't be the same without Gordon."

"Things are not going to be the same without you. What do you think Alan will do? Will he carry on?"

"Alan…?" Scott gave a derisive snort. "He's just a kid."

"He is much older than you were when you started International Rescue."

"I know, but he's got years left in him yet."

The breeze caught his hair again, and she reached up to smooth it back as he'd done earlier. "I love your hair."

"My hair? It makes me look over a hundred!"

"You are as fit as a man half your age and your hair doesn't make you look old at all. It gave you an aura of maturity and inspires confidence. I'm sure it is part of the reason why you are able to reassure people and keep them calm when you are on a rescue."

Scott had to admit that what his wife said made sense. He'd noticed that people reacted to him differently now than they had when International Rescue had started out 40 years earlier.

"I think it's what first drew me to you. I know you are not just some fly-by-night pilot."

Scott grinned. "No. I fly by day, too." He gave her a gentle kiss. "You asked me what I was thinking about before."

"I did."

"I was wishing that I'd found you earlier."

"We never connected."

"I know, but we wasted too many years not connecting."

"The timing was wrong. I was wrapped up in my world and you in yours."

"I suppose so, but it seems crazy now."

"Yes, it does," she agreed. "I am glad that I, ah, discovered what was so special about you before I left it too late."

Scott smiled. "That's one reason why I'm moving away from active duty. I want to make up for lost time and enjoy your company."

"We may grow tired of each other."

"Never! I love the way that you relax around me. You let me in behind that wall you've erected against the world."

She seemed displeased. "You mean I let my standards slip?"

"No. You let me see the real you that you hide away from everyone else. I feel incredibly privileged."

"And so you should."

Scott laughed.

"Mum… Dad…"

"Out here, Sally!"

Their fifteen-year-old daughter ran out onto the balcony as her parents released their hold of each other. Her hair was dark as her father's had been, but otherwise her looks came from the maternal side of the family; except that beneath her aquatic-themed t-shirt she was beginning to develop in ways that showed the influence of another member of the family. "Aunty Tin-Tin says Thunderbird Three will be home soon."

"When it will be time for the changing of the guard," her mother commented. "I wonder if Tin-Tin shall require any assistance."

"No, she says that everything's under control. We're only waiting on the planes from England and the States to arrive." Sally rubbed her hands together. "I can't wait to see Parker again. I love hearing his stories."

Her mother laughed. "I should be cautious about what he tells you."

Sally looked surprised. "Does he make them up?"

"No... But he has been known to exaggerate the facts."

"Did he really go to prison?" Sally had only recently been initiated into her family's history and her eyes went round at the thought that a convicted criminal had been invited to stay at the civic-minded Tracys' residence.

"Yes, he did. But that was a long time before I knew him."

"Well, I still like him."

"So do we."

Sally made a half turn to leave before she stopped. She turned back to Scott. "Dad..."

"Yes?"

"Could you ask Uncle Gordon to stop singing Mustang Sally at me?"

Scott chuckled. "Is it the song or his singing you don't like?"

"The song's so old!" Sally screwed up her face. "And his singing's awful!"

This time Scott laughed. "He's only teasing you, you know that."

"I know."

"Then why don't you ask him to stop?"

"Because..." Sally looked awkward. "I like him."

"And you don't want to hurt his feelings?"

"Yes."

Scott nodded. "Alright, Hon, I'll ask him to stop singing it."

Sally's face brightened. "Thanks."

Scott had an idea. "I was thinking of flying over to the Atlantic base this Saturday. Would you like to join me?"

"Nope," Sally responded, with a typical teenager's disregard for anyone but themselves. "Uncle Gordon said he's going to take me scuba diving off Moon Reef. He says there's a cave there we can explore."

"Oh..." Scott only just managed to avoid looking disappointed. "Maybe some other time?"

Sally shrugged. "When do you think the plane from England's going to get here?"

"I didn't hear exactly what time it left," her father admitted as he looked at his watch. "Maybe in quarter of an hour?"

"Good. I'll go and wait." Sally flounced out of the room.

With a wry expression, Scott watched her leave; before turning to the lady at his side. "She'd rather go diving with Gordon than fly with her old man! Are you sure that's my kid?"

His wife smirked. "One time when you were on duty on Thunderbird Five, Gordon and I had a tumble together."

"I'm sure that was wet and wild."

Her response was a silvery laugh. "You believe me?"

"Nope. I trust you, just like I trust Gordon. I know neither of you would do anything to hurt Stephanie or me..." Scott pulled her closer. "Plus all those hours at the clinic were a bit of a giveaway."

"They'll be here in quarter of an hour!" They heard the shout from beneath them and looked down in time to see Sally run across to her cousins.

"Ride, Sally, ride," Scott sang and received a scolding.

"You promised Sally that you would ask Gordon to stop that. That does not mean that you have a licence to start."

"Singing without a licence. What a horrendous crime!" Scott grinned. "The only problem is; I'm not going to be able to get that tune out of my mind now."

"Do you think we ought to go and get changed?"

Scott checked his watch again. "Probably. Tin-Tin's got it planned like a military exercise."

"She wants it to be special."

"We all want it to be something special. It just doesn't have to be done by the numbers."

"And this is from a former Air Force man."

"The operative word being former." Scott started walking towards their bedroom. "I don't plan on being that regimented. I learnt long ago that you've got to be flexible in this game. It's worked all these years and there's no need to change now." He got to the door and stopped, gesturing that his wife should enter first with a bow. "After you, my Lady."

"Thank you, kind sir."

He grimaced as he followed her into the room. "Don't mention sir."

She held up two outfits. "Which one do you think I should wear? The pink or the pink?"

"Either. You'll look great in both of them, Penny..."

-F-A-B-

Tin-Tin Tracy stood on the balcony of the Tracy Villa and looked skyward. Had it really been 25 years ago that she's stood on this very spot and strained her eyes as she peered through the rain for the first sight of her returning husband? Then, she'd been pregnant. Today… She looked back down at the scene before her, noticing the changes to the landscape.

As the Tracy family had multiplied further homes had been built around the villa to accommodate the growing number of children. Once 'outsiders' had been admitted into International Rescue's fold it had been decided to house them on neighbouring Mu'a, and the two islands had been connected by an underwater monorail – created courtesy of several training sessions in the Mole. This helped maintain the illusion that Tracy Island was populated by Tracys, while Mu'a was a separate tropical hideaway.

She could see her adult offspring and their cousins waiting by the pool for the expected aeroplane from England. She watched as Earnest pretended to push one of Gordon's triplets (she wasn't sure which one) into the pool and then run away laughing. She couldn't even imagine Brains contemplating such a daring stunt. Another triplet was sketching something – that had to be Atlantic who was the only one with any artistic talent, while the third was in a five-way conversation with Virgil's two children, John's daughter, and Tin-Tin's youngest child.

It didn't seem that many years ago when there were no children on the island and she found herself reminiscing about when she discovered that the first was on the way...

Initially she'd thought it was stress and hard work that was bringing about those changes, but it didn't take her long to realise that it might be the result of something more significant. She remembered the mixed feelings she felt when she saw the first positive test. She and Alan had been trying without success to have a child, and the discovery that they might be going to have one at the worst time imaginable was both a shock and a delight.

It had been days before she'd plucked up the courage to tell Alan that they were going to have a baby. Alan had stared at her and she could almost see the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to process and evaluate what he'd just been told. His silence had seemed to go on forever and for one horrible moment she wondered if he was going to tell her to terminate it.

Then he'd given a bashful grin. "I'm sorry, Honey, but I'm tired and my mind was on fitting out Thunderbird Three. What did you say?"

"I want to see a professional and confirm it, but I think I may be pregnant."

She'd been so unsure of his reaction that she had been unprepared for his exclamation of joy and the way that he'd grabbed her and twirled her about in delight, before placing her back on the ground with an apology and a concerned query to see if he'd hurt her or the baby. He had then proceeded to tell her all the wonderful things that they were going to do as a family.

"Alan…"

They were going to have picnics, and go camping…

"Alan…"

…and he'd build them all go karts and they'd have races on the island's runway, and he'd get to do all the fantastic things that he'd done with his dad.

"But Alan..."

He'd grabbed her by the hand and started to drag her to the door. "Let's go and tell the guys."

"No!"

"What?"

"We can't."

He'd stopped. "You're right. We should tell our fathers first. Can we call mine before we tell yours?"

She didn't want to squash his euphoria, but she knew that she had to bring him back down to their precarious situation on Earth. "Alan, what about Doomsday?"

"Doomsday?"

"We cannot tell anyone. You know what your brothers are like. They will insist that I take it easy and we cannot afford for me to do that; not if we are going to have any chance to get everything ready before we leave for the asteroid."

Alan had lapsed into reflective thought as she'd made her statement and it was a moment after she'd finished speaking before he finally looked back at her. "You can't be serious."

It was Tin-Tin's turn to misunderstand. "I know you want to tell everyone, and so do I, but we cannot now. At least not until we have confirmed that I am pregnant. It might be stress causing a false positive."

He'd shaken his head. "I mean you can't be serious about coming with me to deflect Arnie."

Tin-Tin hadn't even considered not going. "We don't have to change our plans."

"Yes we do." His head shake had become even more emphatic. "You can't come with me." Then he'd raised his hand to caress the side of her face and she still remembered the sadness in his eyes. "I'm gonna miss you so much."

"But I am coming with you!"

"No, Tin-Tin. I can't allow that."

"Alan..."

"I'm going to find Scott now and tell him that you're not going."

"Alan! No!"

26 years later, Tin-Tin was glad that Alan had made that decision. At first she'd been furious with him, but, once her pounding heart and mind had settled after their chase through the complex, she'd known that he was correct. Years later, after she'd stood in Thunderbird Three at Emma and John's side and seen the fear in the faces as their first child had made his premature appearance, she'd even thanked her husband for his clear-headed reaction to her news.

But now in the 22nd century she looked down into the courtyard and saw her father walk out of the villa and across to speak to her children. He was slower than he had been 26 years ago, but he still carried himself erect and with dignity. His love for his grandchildren was obvious to everyone and had started from the moment that he'd first discovered of their existence.

The day after Tin-Tin had told Alan of her possible pregnancy, she'd left the island to have her suspicions confirmed. As an excuse for her departure she'd insinuated to Brains that she'd had been given a task to do by the Tracys, while inferring to her brothers-in-law that she was on a mission for Brains. She'd told Kyrano that she had important International Rescue business to attend to.

None of them had doubted her.

She had never lied to her father before and had wondered if he would be annoyed when she had returned that evening and he learned the truth behind her hasty departure from home.

He had been overjoyed.

His cry of delight had been heard from the hallway and Brains, who had been passing, had stopped to enquire if all was well. Alan and Tin-Tin had made hasty excuses and shut the door in his face before Kyrano had the chance to let their secret escape.

However it wasn't until the battles against Doomsday and Arnie had been fought and won and Alan had returned home that Tin-Tin was able to feel the same level of elation.

Reminiscing about that intense period in their lives reminded Tin-Tin of her future sister-in-law's kidnap and the way her father had risked so much to go to the rescue. The discovery of the identity of the kidnapper had been more than a little disquieting and for years Tin-Tin had carried a not so deep-seated dread that someday her uncle would use similar tactics on her own children. That was until nearly a decade ago.

Kyrano had not been well and Tin-Tin had feared the worst as he deteriorated day after day. She devoted herself to caring for her father, just as he had cared for her when she was a young girl suffering from some childish malady.

One day, two weeks into his malaise, Kyrano had slipped into an almost comatose state and as everyone prepared themselves to say goodbye to a loyal friend and family member, Tin-Tin had stayed by his side, reluctant to miss a second of his final moments.

She was shocked when he'd suddenly sat up in bed. "I am free."

"Bapa?" Tin-Tin had reached out for his hand. "Father? What is wrong?"

He'd turned to look at her and she'd been almost scared by the expression of peaceful joy that had transformed his face. "Nothing is wrong, my daughter."

"Nothing?"

"Never again will my brother use me. Do not fear him any longer, for he is unable to harm you or your children."

For some reason Tin-Tin had had no problems in accepting his statement, however implausible it sounded. "Unable to harm us? Do you mean that he is dead?"

"Yes, Tin-Tin, he is gone. He has died as he lived."

"I am glad." Tin-Tin had known that it wasn't exactly the thing to say to ones father about the recent death of his half-brother, but it was the truth.

"I understand. But I ask that you also pity him."

"Pity him?" Tin-Tin had been aghast by the idea. "How many people has he hurt for his own desires? Father, he was the man behind the bomb on the Fireflash's maiden voyage! He could have killed hundreds, including me. Millions, when you consider the radiation fall out."

"I know this, but he failed. Just as all like him must ultimately fail. But in his selfishness he has not permitted himself to experience the real riches of life. He has never known what it is like to know true friendship. He has never known the joy of holding his daughter in his arms and feeling her love for him and the love he has for her. And for this I pity him. I ask you to do the same."

As she'd explained to Alan that evening, Tin-Tin had been unable to accede to her father's request.

Alan had looked at her. "Why not?"

"He was an evil man. He tried to kill my father and he tried to kill me. If he'd found this island he probably would have killed us all."

"True. And I'm not sorry that he's gone, but your father makes a good point. Can you imagine what life must be like to not have someone to love and who loves you? To not have friends?"

Tin-Tin had tried to imagine what a loveless, friendless, life would have been like, and failed. She wouldn't have given up her life or family for anything.

But she still couldn't forgive the man who had caused so much misery.

Looking down to a group of chairs beside the pool Tin-Tin saw her eldest child deep in conversation with Sally.

Tin-Tin couldn't help but smile at the irony of the scene. She remembered the way that the youngest of the Tracy boys had idolised his big brother. Now Alan's daughter was mentoring Scott's, and the youngest in the Tracy family was gazing at the eldest in exactly the same way.

Then both looked up and pointed. Tin-Tin allowed her eyes to follow their line of sight and was relieved to see a tiny flash of light in the sky. Looking back down she saw her daughter desert her cousin and sprint towards the house.

Tin-Tin sighed. She was going to have to be quick if she was going to get to Thunderbird Three's crew arrival point first.

They arrived in the lounge together; the younger puffing slightly after her dash up the outside steps. "Are they here yet?"

Tin-Tin folded her arms. "You saw Thunderbird Three returning and you know how long it will take them to get here. You have done it often enough yourself."

"It's just that I'm excited about the whole thing. I want to start the presentation."

"I know." Tin-Tin kissed her daughter on the forehead. "And I also know that he will be just as thrilled to receive it."

"When will we do it?"

"Give them," Tin-Tin indicated the couch, "time to get freshened up first."

"Freshen up? Dad's idea of freshening up is to throw on a clean pair of coveralls! And Uncle John's nearly as bad."

"Your dad used to be quite a follower of fashion."

There was a snorted laugh. "I know; I've seen the photographs. Those shirts! And I'm sure he wore that pink tie with everything."

Realising that she was fighting a losing battle, Tin-Tin gave up. "Then at least give Aunty Emma a chance to tidy herself up," she requested. "Besides, the plane from England hasn't arrived yet."

At that moment there was a quiet beeping sound and the couch sunk down into the floor. One minute later it was replaced by its twin, occupied by three smiling faces.

Tin-Tin was about to greet them with a civilised hello, when her daughter rushed forward and, grabbing their hands, pulled her uncle and aunt off the seat. "Mumia says you've got to go and get freshened up before the presentation. You too, Dad."

John resisted the tug. "Oh, she does, does she?" With a sideways glance towards Tin-Tin he sat down again and folded his arms against further attack.

Tin-Tin sighed. "No, she does not. I just thought that you would like to before the plane from England gets here."

"Don't forget Parker's not as young as he used to be," Alan cautioned. "He may want a rest after his flight."

His daughter dismissed his caution with a careless wave. "Please, Uncle John. We want to start as soon as possible."

John looked up at her with an infuriating grin. "I'm not as young as I used to be either and I've just had a long flight from Thunderbird Five. I think I might just sit here and rest."

"Oh!" His niece stamped her foot in frustration.

But John forgot his teasing when a young man strode into the room. Beaming, he stood to greet the newcomer. "You made it before us!"

His son grinned. "Only just. My new plane's like a rocket... Hi, Ma." He kissed Emma.

"It's as fast as Thunderbird Three?" John chuckled. "Has Uncle Scott seen it yet?"

"Nope. I thought I'd better hide it from him until after the presentation. I'm under strict orders that I'm not to do anything to disrupt proceedings."

His cousin glared at him. "And you'd better not."

He gave her a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am," and laughed at her expression of frustration. "You should have seen how disappointed everyone looked when they realised that it was only me in that plane. I reckon that if it had been Parker you would have all forgotten that I was on the way and started without me." He indicated his parents and Alan. "They probably would have started without you too."

"When are we starting, Tin-Tin?" Emma asked. "I wouldn't mind freshening up first."

Tin-Tin looked at her watch. "We'll wait and see how Parker feels after his flight."

There was the sound of pounding feet and Sally ran into the room. "He's here! He's here!"

"He is?!" With an excited yelp, the blur that was Alan and Tin-Tin's daughter made a dash for the doorway.

John chuckled. "She's definitely inherited your gift of speed, Alan." Placing his arm about his son's shoulders they started walking towards the door. "Tell us everything you've been up to…"

Left alone, Alan turned to Tin-Tin. "I like your new dress."

She dimpled at him. "You noticed?"

"I always notice. You still look as beautiful as the day I married you."

"You are teasing me, Alan. I lost that figure years ago. Giving birth to two children ensured that."

"You're still beautiful." He stepped closer, slipping his arms about her. "Thank you."

"Thank you?" Tin-Tin looked surprised. "Thank you for being beautiful?"

"Thank you for insisting that I don't give up on International Rescue. You were right that I wouldn't want any other life."

Tin-Tin laughed. "It has taken you many years to realise that I am right."

"And because of you I've had many years of wonderful memories…" Alan gave a wicked grin before, moving with the sort of speed that he coaxed from Thunderbird Three, he swept her off her feet and into his arms. "Come on. Let's go relive some of them."

"Alan! We've got guests!"

"The kids will entertain them. Let's go entertain ourselves before we're invaded and can't get any privacy."

"There is a lock on the bedroom door. That will give us privacy tonight. Now put me down! "

Alan dropped her back to her feet and then groaned, holding his back. "That's not as easy as it used to be."

Tin-Tin pouted. "Are you saying I am getting fat?"

"Nope. Just that I'm not as young as I was."

His wife frowned. "Are you thinking of giving up too?"

Alan's grin was reassuring. "No chance. Someone's got to keep those youngsters in line."

"Good." She gave him a peck on the cheek. "Then go and get washed. I've left a clean uniform on the bed."

"Clean uniform?" Alan seemed genuinely astonished. "I'm already in uniform, why do I need to get changed?"

Tin-Tin sighed. "Your daughter was right about you… Because you've been wearing that one for hours." She screwed up her delicate nose and sniffed his shirt. "And we've never really successfully deodorised Thunderbird Three after that four months you spent in space."

"Are you saying that I stink?" Alan drew himself up until he was an inch of dignified indignation taller. "I resent that."

Tin-Tin nuzzled his ear. "What would it take to get you out of that uniform?" she whispered.

The wicked grin returned. "Shall we go to the bedroom and discuss it?"

"I suppose we could. Parker will probably want a rest after the trip anyway..."

-F-A-B-

The stampede of young Tracys that ran across the runway to the aeroplane slowed and then stopped when they realised that they weren't the first ones to arrive. Knowing that it was what was expected of them, they hung back and waited.

A door swung open on the aeroplane and, after a moment's pause, a platform extended out from the fuselage, carrying an elderly man; one hand holding onto the handrail, the other using a cane as support. "Good day, m'Lady," he said when the lift touched the ground.

"It is lovely to see you again, Parker." Lady Penelope stepped forward to greet him. "How are you?"

"H-I'm a box o' fluffies. H-And 'ow h-are you?"

"I am well."

"H-And 'ow h-are you..." Parker's eyes twinkled as he turned to the man at her side, "Sir Scott."

Scott groaned. "Parker, please... It's an archaic system that should have been abolished years ago, not extended so that the husbands of aristocratic ladies automatically get a title. America had a civil war with England to get away from such things and I was born American. Just call me Scott. Okay?"

"H-Okie-dokie, Mister Scott."

Scott, realising that that was as good as he was going to get, gave up and went to help the pilot of the air taxi at the refuelling station.

Parker turned back to his former mistress. "You're lookin' well, m'Lady. Married life suits you."

"Indeed it does, Parker."

"How's the nipper?"

"She is not much of a, er, nipper now." Lady Penelope indicated the impatient group and the younger members of the Tracy family decided that that was their invitation to come forward; which they did at speed and with much chatter.

"How are you, Parker?"

"Did you have a good flight, Parker?"

"Will you tell us about the time you tried to steal the Crown Jewels, Parker?"

"Whoa! Give the man some space," Scott ordered. "How about taking his bags up to the house? You can badger him later."

After a few grumbles the younger people obeyed him, leaving the three older members of the group to enjoy a more leisurely walk towards the monorail.

Lady Penelope raised a delicately crafted eyebrow. "The Crown Jewels, Parker?"

"Erm… Yes, m'Lady. Y'see there was this pub in Catford called the Crown. The landlady was fond of 'er bit 'o bling, most of which was nicked by 'er tea leaf h-of a 'usband. H-I, er, nicked 'em back h-again."

"How very civic minded of you. I am sure that Robin Hood would have welcomed you into his merry band."

He gave her a lopsided grin.

Scott opened the door to the monocar and indicated that the others should enter. "You know one of us could have collected you, Parker."

"You was busy yesterday," Parker reminded him. "H-I didn't want to 'old things h-up. 'Sides, h-it's gettin' cooler h-in H-England. H-I was lookin' forward to gettin' somewhere with some warmth."

"Don't forget that you're always welcome to come and live here."

"Thank you, Sir..." Parker saw Scott's warning glare, "Mister Scott. But me h-and a widda woman h-at the rest 'ome 'ave h-an h-understanding..." He winked. "H-If you get my drift."

They got his drift.

-I-R-

-F-A-B-

"Well, that's another successful rescue," Jeff Tracy told the microphone. "You'll pass on my congratulations to the rest of the team?"

"I'll be glad to," the face on the computer screen told him. "We're pleased that we were able to send you off on a positive note."

"Thank you. I've got to admit that I'm looking forward to the rest."

"After what you've done over the years you deserve it, although I'm sure you'll continue to keep an eye on things."

Jeff chuckled. "I daresay I won't be able to stop myself. Scott may have to bolt the door to keep me out of here."

His opposite number laughed. "It's been a privilege working with you, Jeff. And on a personal note, I'd like to say thank you for trusting me to lead this section of your team."

"I know that the Atlantic branch of International Rescue is in good hands. I only wish we could see into the future. Then maybe you'd all be able to join us tonight."

"Duty calls. And we'll be celebrating with you in spirit, if not in person."

"I'll appreciate that. This is Jeff Tracy of International Rescue headquarters, Pacific base, signing off."

"Atlantic base out."

Smiling to himself, Jeff set down the microphone. He may have been close to a century old and had endured a major health crisis during his life, but he was in good shape for his age. Still it was time for him to stand down from International Rescue.

He knew now that both he and Scott had wanted to make these changes for a long time, but that neither had been willing to broach the subject for fear of hurting the other. He'd been worried that his son would think that he believed that he was no longer capable of manning Mobile Control, and Scott had worried that his father would think that he was pushing him out of the organisation.

It was Scott who'd brought it to a head with a casual: "I think it's time I retired from active duties."

"I've been thinking that it's time I retired from being overall commander. Do you want the job?"

"If you think I'm up to it."

"I think there's no one more capable."

And that had been that.

Smiling at the memories, Jeff turned before stopping in surprise.

Every member of International Rescue was standing before him.

After a moment to collect himself he realised that it wasn't every member; just those who'd been with International Rescue since its inception and their families. He noted that those who were formal members of the organisation were dressed in uniform.

"What's all this?" He raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Are you planning on throwing me out early? By my reckoning I've still got," he looked at his watch, "three hours in command."

Scott grinned. "No. I'm not in a hurry to take over, but we wanted today to be special, so we've got a little celebration planned."

Jeff frowned. "I thought that's why we were having a party this evening."

"It is, but this is just from us. The rest of the team will be over from Mu'a later." Scott looked over to his niece as Alan guided his eldest daughter forward.

"Erm... Poppa..." She seemed nervous. "You know the book I've been writing?"

Jeff knew it well. At some point she had got it into her head that his biography needed to be recorded and that she was the one to write it, and so he'd put up with endless hours of her quizzing him about his life, career, and experiences. He'd pretended to be exasperated by the attention, claiming that no one wanted to read about a has-been astronaut and former business tycoon.

Secretly he'd been flattered. "Yes."

"It's been printed." She took two steps forward and placed a copy on the desk in front of him.

Jeff picked it up. On the cover was a montage of photos of him as a young astronaut, a reprint of the photo that adorned the walls of Tracy Industries, and a more recent picture. The title was splashed across the top of the dustcover. Never Give Up At Any Cost. "Well, thank you. You finished this quicker than I thought you would."

"I'm surprised that she managed to stay still long enough to interview you, let alone write it," Gordon chuckled, and Jeff grinned. His granddaughter wasn't known for just sitting around, even if her speed in writing the tome wasn't all that unexpected.

"There's more, Dad," and Alan gave his daughter an encouraging nod.

"More?"

"She's been putting a lot of work into this," Virgil added.

"Uh... Yes." She fidgeted, running her fingers down her uniform sash. "Y'see, Poppa, it seemed ridiculous to do all this work and not write about your most important legacy," she indicated the group around her, "International Rescue. And so I've written another book; a companion book..." She looked over to her mother and Tin-Tin handed her a large folder packed with neatly lined up papers.

Jeff felt a moment's alarm, but was careful not to show it. They all knew the importance of secrecy and none of his sons, nor Tin-Tin, would have permitted any information about the organisation to leak out into the public domain. He watched as the massive folder was placed on his desk. "Looks like I've got some light reading to do."

"There's so much misinformation out there," his granddaughter stated, "and conspiracy theories with people claiming to know who's behind International Rescue and where we're based, that I wanted to record the truth while the people who know it... who were part of it... are still with us. I wanted to take the chance to set the record straight." She placed her hand on the folder. "Everyone here's read it and checked the facts, except for Parker, because we didn't want to take the chance that someone at his home might read it, but he's seen bits of it and there's a digital copy in his room to read while he's here..." she glanced over at the ex-butler and he nodded his understanding. "But this is the only hard copy."

Jeff remembered his interviews. He'd wondered why she'd seemed just as interested in his role in the creation and continuation of International Rescue as the rest of his life, and had put it down to idle curiosity. "Thank you." He opened the folder's cover and read the title page. Never Give Up At Any Cost: The real story of International Rescue. "I hope you can give me a digital copy too, because I'll never be able to hold this."

"We've got that covered," Scott admitted. "But the idea is that once you've read and approved it, we store that," he pointed at the folder, "somewhere under lock and key where no one can get at it, and where it will be protected until such time as you stipulate."

"Yes." Virgil nodded. "Whether it's in fifty years time, or a hundred years time, or two hundred..."

"Or after the last Tracy has kicked the bucket," Gordon added.

"So it will be a kind of..." The author reclaimed Jeff's attention. "What did you say it was, Uncle John?"

"A tontine – only that's not strictly correct because it's not a financial transaction."

Jeff nodded his understanding.

She was continuing. "Yes, a tontine that will only be released after the last of us is dead."

"That's an excellent idea," Jeff admitted.

"And we want you to be the one to decide when that will be. While I was interviewing everyone they remembered something that Datuk said when they were deciding about how they could raise the money to continue after you'd had your stroke." She smiled at her maternal grandfather and Kyrano bowed his head in acknowledgement. "He described International Rescue as a kind of living organism. Brains is obviously its brains..."

"That's true." Jeff looked over at his friend, smiled, and nodded his agreement. "International Rescue would have been dead without you."

Brains flushed as Jayne gave him a squeeze.

"And Datuk said that your sons made up its body and that you were International Rescue's heart."

"I am?"

"Continuing on that logic," Gordon interrupted. "Penny and Parker were the immune system that protected the organism from dangerous bacteria and viruses. And Kyrano was the stomach that kept us nourished." Everyone laughed.

Alan looked across the group to his brother. "What about Tin-Tin?"

"The nervous system supporting the brain."

"And Grandma?"

"The skeleton supporting us all?"

"This isn't an anatomy lesson, Fellas," Scott growled.

"Sorry."

"It was after Kyrano had said that we were the body," Alan indicated himself and his brothers, "and you were the heart, that Grandma told us that if one of us was injured, then the heart of International Rescue would break."

"She could see that we didn't want to be a part of the organisation anymore," John added. "She was afraid that we'd get careless and do something stupid and that someone would get hurt or worse."

"That's one of the reasons why we eventually decided to quit," Virgil finished. "We knew that she was right and we didn't want to risk hurting you by carrying on when none of us wanted to."

"Your grandmother was a very astute, intelligent woman," Jeff remembered.

"She was that," Scott remembered. "So that's why we wanted to have this ceremony now, with just us present. We; that is all the parts that made up the body; wanted to acknowledge you as the heart of International Rescue. I know that even when I'm sitting at that desk, I'll never be able to take your place."

"He'll just be a ventricle," Gordon quipped.

Jeff laughed. "I will give serious consideration into when this should be released," he ran his fingers along the cover of the folder, "but I think we all should have input into the decision." He looked at his family. "I might have been 'the heart' of International Rescue, but I couldn't have kept it beating without all of you surrounding me and supporting me. We were, and we still are, a team..." He gave a wry grin. "Although the way that this body has grown I hope that we've developed muscle and not just gotten fat." He joined in the laughter that his comment generated. "Thank you all. I'm sure that this will make interesting reading."

As everyone moved away, he took his cane and circled his desk to where his eldest granddaughter was standing. "Thank you," he said, giving her a one-armed embrace and a kiss on the cheek.

"You might want to change parts of it, or remove some sections. Like when the Sentinel shot down Thunderbird Two... Of course that does explain why Thunderbird Four took so long to get to New York."

Jeff glanced over at his middle son who was deep in conversation with Brains and Jayne. If that section included Virgil's feelings on trying to nurse a crippled aircraft back to base, it was going to make for interesting reading. "I'll let you know when I've finished the book."

Scott, about to leave the room so he could change out of his uniform, was caught by the arm.

It was Gordon. "Erm, Scott?"

"Yes?"

"Could I have a meeting...? An official meeting with you sometime? Not tonight; tomorrow will do."

"Sure." Scott smiled at his brother, wondering if he already knew what the content of this 'official meeting' would be. "Before lunch?"

Gordon looked relieved. "Thanks."

Scott stuck his hands into his pockets and surreptitiously looked around. "Can I ask you a favour?"

Gordon frowned. "What is it?"

"Can you stop singing Mustang Sally around Sally?"

Gordon grinned. "Is this you asking, or her?"

"Her. She didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"It's a fifteen year habit. It might be hard to break."

"Will you at least try?"

Gordon laughed. "Tell her that she can tell me to shut up if I so much as hum a note."

Scott slapped him on the back. "Thanks."

He was surprised when his brother suddenly yelled: "Hey, Virgil!"

Virgil looked around the heads of several members of his family. "What?"

"Can I cancel my request for tonight?"

"Your req...?" Virgil saw who Gordon was talking to and grinned. "Sure. No problem."

Turning back to Scott, Gordon asked: "Why didn't Sally ask me herself?"

Scott looked over to where his daughter was listening to one of Parker's tall tales. "For some strange reason, she actually seems to like you."

Gordon treated his brother to a cocky grin. "Well, who wouldn't?"

"I suggested that we head over to the Atlantic station this weekend, so I could touch base with the rest of the team, and she was more interested in going to Moon Reef with her favourite uncle."

Gordon heard the almost wistful undertone in Scott's statement and lost his cockiness. "Heck, Scott, I didn't know. If you guys have plans, I can cancel."

"No, don't do that. We can go together some other time."

"No. I'll cancel," Gordon declared. "This is going to be the first time you'll visit the Atlantic Base as their commander. That'll never happen again and she should see how respected her dad is... We can go swimming anytime. I'll tell her something else came up."

"Gordon..."

"It's okay... I guess I get carried away by the novelty of having someone who actually wants to learn from me." Gordon's voice became quiet. "It's not like my three are interested in following in my footsteps."

"Apart from a tendency to getting into trouble," Scott amended. "At least Sally takes her lessons seriously. Unlike some I could mention…"

*** Five years earlier

Scott had been nominated to train Gordon's triplets in the art of flying, soaring, and all things aeronautical, and things had gone swimmingly until one day when he was due to take Pacific for a training flight. He'd climbed into the co-pilot's seat, looked across at his pupil, and seen a tell-tale scar.

He got out of the aeroplane, stormed around to the other door, and yanked it open. "Indie! Out!"

Indie, realising that to refuse was courting trouble, had obeyed.

"Follow me."

It had been a silent procession up to the courtyard where the other two triplets were relaxing by the pool.

Scott had marched over to the one without a sketchbook in hand. "Get down to that plane now!"

"Erm… Uncle Scott…" The sketchbook was returned to its owner. "You're supposed to be teaching me."

Scott glared at the miscreant.

"I-I'm sorry... It was only a joke."

"A joke? I'm teaching you how to keep yourself and others safe in the air and you're making it into a joke?!"

Three sets of eyes stared at the cobblestones beneath their feet.

"If you're not prepared to take these lessons seriously, I'm not prepared to teach you." Scott's glare scolded the three triplets. "Understand?"

"Yes, Uncle Scott."

"Anyone want to pull out now?"

"No, Uncle Scott."

Without a word, Scott had stood back and allowed a chastened and convinced-that-this-session-was-not-going-to-be-fun-and-games Pacific to hurry past him.

The other two knew that they would be expecting similar treatment when it was their turn.

They were not wrong.

-I-R-

Gordon shook his head in exasperation. "That was years ago, Scott! They've learnt their lesson. Get over it."

"It was a stupid stunt."

"And you discovered what they were up to before they got away with it."

"Yeah... Well... They're not totally identical." Scott touched the side of his face.

"They were probably counting on you to realise that it wasn't Pacific in the cockpit. They just didn't expect you to go ballistic on them."

"They should have known better. Flying's a serious business."

"I know. And they know how important it is to you. That's why I asked you to teach them instead of doing it myself." Gordon grinned. "Why settle for second best when you can have the best?"

"Ah, Gordon..." Scott looked over his brother's shoulder. "Perhaps you should reconsider that."

"Reconsider?" Turning, Gordon discovered that the room had cleared and that the only people who remained were their brothers and father; all of whom were listening to every word. Virgil, his folded arms and frown expressing his displeasure, had been standing directly behind him.

"I was giving Scott my ideas for a new training schedule," Gordon lied. "You know. It wouldn't hurt for everyone to have a few refresher courses? Can I sign you up for some swimming lessons, Virg?"

"No, thanks."

"Swimming," Scott snorted. "All Sally thinks about is swimming. She hasn't shown any interest in learning to pilot a plane."

Jeff chuckled. "Give her time," he advised. "Not everyone wants to fly before they can walk like you did."

"Yeah," John agreed. "Before you know it she'll have her wings and will be asking you for the keys to the plane so she can go and visit her boyfriend."

Scott's jaw dropped. "Boyfriend?!"

Alan poked his eldest sibling in the ribs. "You've gone a bit pale there, Scott."

His brother grimaced. "I wonder if it's still possible to buy chastity belts."

"Ask Penny," John suggested. "Chances are she's got one or two lying around the manor."

"They were probably the reason why she learnt how to pick locks." Gordon ducked a clip across the ear from the Lady's husband.

Deciding that this was one topic he didn't want to contemplate any longer, Scott turned to his father. "Looking forward to reading the book?"

"Very much so." Jeff leant on his cane and smiled at his five sons. "Unless it's going to remind me of things that I'd rather forget."

"You might get a shock at what you have forgotten," John told him. "I did. We've been through so much over the years that a lot of it seemed to have crowded other parts out of my brain."

"Same here," Virgil agreed. "I'd read some and a whole lot of memories that I would have sworn were gone forever would come flooding back." He frowned. "With some of our less successful rescues, I wish they stayed away."

Alan, the author's ever-loyal father, puffed his chest out in pride. "I'm glad that she's written about our failures as well as our successes. We don't sound like we're some kind of supermen."

"Aren't we?" Gordon teased.

"I kept forgetting that it was semi-autobiographical," Virgil admitted. "When I was reading about some of our trickier rescues I was thinking; there's no way they'll succeed, and then I'd have to stop and remind myself that we did!"

Scott fingered the pale blue sash that would never again see active duty, "Seeing it all catalogued like that, I'm amazed at what we've achieved."

"Seeing it all catalogued like that..." John grinned, "I'm amazed that we survived!"

Alan turned to his father. "Have you any ideas about when you're going to let it be released, Dad?"

"Not yet. I'd like to read it first."

There was a moment of silence and each man reflected on their own memories of forty amazing years.

Jeff looked between his five sons. "Never again will the six of us be together as members of International Rescue and I'd like to give you all one last piece of advice. This time I've had some say in when and how I'm leaving the organisation, and I'm grateful for that. And I want you all to remember that it's your choice too. Whether you decide to hang up your sash tomorrow," his eyes fell for a moment on Gordon, "or sometime next decade," this time his gaze rested for longer on Alan, "I want you to be first and foremost honest with yourselves. Don't let anyone or anything else influence your decision. You'll know when it's time to retire and I know that you'll support each other as you make that decision."

"You can count on it, Dad," John reassured him.

"I know. Everything's going to be F-A-B..."

-I-R-

-F-A-B-

It was later that night, after an evening of celebrations and commemorations, that Jeff Tracy retired to bed and picked up his digital copy of Never Give Up At Any Cost: The real story of International Rescue. He began to read about the organisation that he'd created some 40 years earlier...

When Jeff Tracy's wife died it turned his whole world upside-down, but planted a seed of an idea that had repercussions for him, his sons, and, eventually the inhabitants of Planet Earth. That idea grew alongside Jeff's fortune until one day it burst into flower...

A flower that today we call International Rescue.

This is the story of Jeff Tracy, his family, and a close-knit team who collectively work together to ensure that, at least at the time of writing this book, Thunderbirds are go...

The end.

-I-R-

-F-A-B-

-I-R-

Author's note:

However I did consider finishing with:

Later that same day, after an evening of celebrations and commemorations, Jeff Tracy retired to bed and spent the night reading about the organisation that he'd created. As he dropped off to sleep the digital book that detailed his life and the lives of those closest to him slipped from his fingers and slid onto his chest...

That night the heart of International Rescue stopped beating.

-I-R-

But I like my stories to finish on a positive note, so Jeff's going to be watching over International Rescue for a few years yet.

F-A-B

:-) Purupuss

Definitely the end.