The end is nigh... But for whom?

This is not the sequel to A Quiet Year, rather it's the story I've been working on for a few quiet years.

I first had the idea back in 2004, but thought that I'd never use it. Then, when it came to writing the sequel I made a start of a couple of chapters before the muse kept on pestering me with this 2004 story. To keep it quiet I wrote that little bit and then got back to the sequel. The muse fed me more of 2004, so I wrote that and went back to the sequel. The muse fed me more of 2004...

I gave up and decided to write it.

The title is Rima (Ree-ma) because that means five in Maori. I chose that because there are five Tracy boys, five Thunderbirds, five major rescue events... and this story was supposed to be the fifth in line waiting to be written after the sequel. It's working title was #5, so I've kept that without making it sound like a movie about a robot.

As usual, thanks to D.C, Quiller, and this time also to Red Hardy for proofing and checking that the Americans sound like Americans. Rima has been proofread so many times that it's a wonder that it hasn't been worn out. Hopefully between the three of us we've obliterated all the typos, but I doubt it. Even last week I managed to find that Lady Penelope was enjoying a "mew" cup of tea. So if you find any mistakes - blame Gordon.

I've decided that as Rima is Purupuss length and you all have a life to live, and because Red Hardy is still ploughing/plowing through it, I'm going to upload every Friday. This may become more frequent if my review withdrawal symptoms becomes too much for me to stand.

Naturally I can claim none of the Tracy clan or their friends as my own; nor Tracy Island, and, of course (as much as I'd love to) none of International Rescue's craft, including the Thunderbirds. Those characters and equipment who are not part of the Thunderbirds canon belong to me.

Please do not post this story in a C2 or any other site without first asking my permission.

:-) Purupuss

"Civilisation exists by geological consent, subject to change without notice." Will Durant (5/11/1885 – 7/11/1981): Writer, historian and philosopher.

Chapter 1 – The End

Monday 17th October 2072

"We can't afford to carry on."

John Tracy studied the shocked, bemused, and stunned faces before him and wondered if any of them had expected this.

They probably wouldn't have dreamt it six months ago.

Six months before that moment when they began their slow downward spiral...

They should have known that something was wrong. Jeff Tracy asking for someone to pilot his aeroplane to a meeting in the States should have sent alarm bells ringing. But the Tracy patriarch had said that he needed the time to go over some files, and everyone had accepted the excuse. Scott had flown him to Tracy Industries' headquarters.

The first sign of trouble had been when John had received that frantic call from his elder sibling. To John's ears, tuned to seven years of listening to his brothers' various emotions played out over the airwaves, Scott had sounded frightened, almost panicked: alien emotions in one of the most calm and controlled personalities that John knew.

It wasn't until much later, when things had calmed down somewhat, that John had heard the full story of what had happened. The flight out had been smooth; and, mindful of his father studying in the back of the aeroplane, Scott had kept conversation to a minimum. He'd had no indication that there were any problems. Even upon landing, all had seemed well. He'd stayed in the cabin of the aeroplane to retrieve his father's bags, while Jeff had gone out to talk to the Tracy Industries employee who'd come to the airport to collect his boss.

Scott had glanced out through the cabin window just in time to see Jeff Tracy collapse onto the concrete. By the time Scott had hurdled the cases and thrown himself out of the aeroplane's door and across the tarmac, the airport's paramedics were already on the scene; working on the casualty and keeping everyone superfluous at bay.

Including Jeff Tracy's eldest son and International Rescue's Rescue Coordinator.

John surmised that this was what had really destabilised Scott's mental equilibrium. It wasn't so much the fact that his father had so unexpectedly collapsed and was being given cardiac resuscitation, but that Scott had been rendered redundant and with no control of the situation. All he could do was send his panicked call to the space station: "I think he's had a massive stroke, John!"

It had taken all of John's own self control to stop him from heading down the same frightened path. The many experiences of having been through similar situations with his brothers helped him to remain calm...

But this wasn't a brother. This was his father.

John had relayed the message back down to Earth to a shocked, but supportive Tin-Tin. And it was Tin-Tin who'd been the only one who kept her cool. She'd taken control; dispatching Alan and Virgil, with Brains for support, off to rescue John from Thunderbird Five; at the same time sending Gordon, Mrs Tracy and her own father to support Scott at the hospital. Then, in the intervening hours as she waited for Thunderbird Three's return, she'd arranged rooms at the hotel nearest to the hospital, organised meals to be sent to the family group, and packed everyone's bags. She then set about tidying Jeff Tracy's Tracy Industries affairs as much as she could; cancelling appointments, and handing files over to the appropriate assistants. By the time the crew had arrived back from the space station she was ready to head to the States.

And there they'd waited for hour after seemingly endless hour. Hoping for the best news and dreading the worst.

It wasn't the worst, but it hadn't been the best either. For the first 48 hours Jeff had been kept in a medically induced coma as the doctors sought to limit the damage to his brain.

John remembered the shock he'd felt when the doctor had confirmed Scott's original diagnosis. He couldn't believe it. For his age his father was fit and active. While Jeff Tracy didn't deny himself the odd luxury, he also made a point of taking care of himself. A stroke shouldn't have happened to someone as young and fit as him.

Then the doctor had asked if there was any genetic predisposition towards cerebrovascular attacks in the family, and John had got another shock when his grandmother had confirmed that there was. "Yes, it runs in the family," she'd admitted. "Jeff's grandfather was paralysed because of a stroke. His great-grandfather died of one, as did his great-great-grandfather. His father died in an accident, which I guess is why Jeff never thought of having tests."

"Does this mean that any of us could be susceptible?" Alan had asked.

It was a disquieting thought to realise that any one of the five Tracy boys could be a ticking time bomb, and they all agreed that complete medical examinations were in order...

Once they knew that their father was going to be all right.

But during those first 48 hours they each had to deal with their own demons. Scott had paced up and down in the corridor outside his father's room, still desperate to gain some control over the situation. Virgil had spent the evening pouring his emotions into the hotel's piano. He hadn't stopped when asked to by the management, who were forced to get Grandma to ask him to leave the restaurant. Even this didn't work and eventually Virgil had been physically dragged away by Scott.

Gordon stayed in the hotel pool; swimming lap after lap...

Alan had spent the time holed up in his room being comforted by Tin-Tin.

John remembered trying and failing to search out peace in a patch of starlit sky. All he could find was a little bit of murky darkness in the skies overhead; the stars having been obliterated by light pollution.

No, John reflected. None of them had handled their father's sudden indisposition well...

"John?"

A touch on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie.

"John," Scott repeated. "What do you mean that we can't afford to carry on?"

John stared at the digital surface of the table that the core of International Rescue was seated around. "I mean just what I said. We don't have the money." He pushed at the image of the top piece of paper and it 'slid' across the table until it was in front of his brother. Then he passed copies of the document to Lady Penelope, Parker, Kyrano and his grandmother, before flicking the last three digital papers with less care to his brothers.

"I don't understand," Alan admitted as he looked at his copy of International Rescue's finances. "These numbers look big enough to me."

"Personally we're not in dire straits," John acknowledged. "If we wanted to continue the lifestyle that the world thinks we live, we could, no problem. But we can't afford to keep International Rescue operational."

"It can't be that bad," Virgil challenged.

"You think so? Let me tell you, Virgil, that by the time you've left this room, slid down your chute, chosen the required pod, lowered the cliff face and trundled out to Thunderbird Two's launch pad, you've just spent more money than the GDP of most of our Pacific neighbours. And that's before you've even fired the launch rockets."

Virgil looked shocked. But then, John realised, once again they all did. As if they hadn't considered the costs involved in operating an international rescue organisation.

Maybe they hadn't.

It wasn't as though running the family business, including International Rescue's finances, had been lumped solely onto John's shoulders. Virgil had always been ready to give advice and assist with decisions relating to engineering. Likewise Scott could be counted on for help with things aeronautical, Gordon for anything relating to water, while Alan was the expert with automotive decisions. But it was John, able to comprehend the relationships between trillions of stars with ease, who'd been the most comfortable manipulating a few billion dollars.

Between the five of them they'd managed to keep the Tracy Industries running on an even keel. It was only over the last couple of months that John had become aware of the slow leak.

"If you look here," he highlighted a graph on his financial statement and the result was mirrored on the others' copies, "you'll see how the value of Tracy Industries has dropped."

Gordon's finger traced the line of the graph. "Since Dad had his stroke."

"Yes. As far as the markets are concerned Jeff Tracy IS Tracy Industries. Without a clear leader at the helm, people are wary of dealing with us."

"So, what can we do?" Grandma asked.

John sat back. "I don't know. That's why I've called this meeting, to see if any of you have ideas. How can we raise more money? Throw in any ideas you have, no matter how crazy they seem, and we'll see if we can make some of them work."

"We could sell something?" Tin-Tin suggested.

"That would help in the short term," John agreed. "The question is; what would we sell?"

Scott was flicking through the document. "Our biggest asset is Tracy Island," he noted, "but without Tracy Island we don't have International Rescue."

Gordon was perusing the page detailing operatives' salaries. "We could all take a pay cut," he stated. Then he stared at a number on the page before looking up at his eldest brother. "Is that what you earn?!"

John ignored the side issue. "If none of us were paid, we could keep Thunderbird Four going and not much more. If you turn to page fifteen and start at appendix part one…" John pointed out the relevant section. "You'll find the breakdown of the expenditure required to operate each of our craft."

Parker was staring over his big nose at the even bigger numbers. "'Scuse me, Mister John, but H-I thought Thunderbird Five would be h-a lot more h-economical to run. Since h-it don't h-actually go h-anywhere. H-It says 'ere that h-it's nearly h-as much h-as the other Thunderbirds."

John managed a small smile. "I can see why you'd think that, Parker, but I've factored in other expenses, such as using Thunderbird Three..." Parker frowned and John continued. "Under Thunderbird Three's appendix I've listed how much it costs to use it solely as a rescue vehicle. Thunderbird Five's expenses include using Three as transportation between base and Five for maintenance and upgrades. If Five were still manned the costs would be even higher because we'd have to make regular runs to replenish supplies and change Space Monitors." A note of sadness had crept into his voice and his grandmother gave him a comforting rub on the back. Since Jeff's illness it had been decided to use Thunderbird Five as a relay satellite - sending calls for help directly to Tracy Island. This meant that International Rescue had more operatives available for emergencies and that, should Jeff's health take a turn for the worse, all five of his sons could get to the States in quick time. It also meant that John hadn't stayed in his beloved satellite for months.

"We could always not do space rescues," Gordon suggested and ignored Alan's "Hey!" of complaint. "We hardly ever have any anyway."

"But we have had them!" Alan rebuked. "Remember when we rescued Rick O'Shea?"

Gordon smirked. "Don't tell me that you wouldn't have rather left him on his pirate satellite TV station."

"If we're de-commissioning Thunderbirds because of lack of use, why not Thunderbird Four?" Alan challenged. "It hardly ever gets used. And just the other week you said you were seriously considering going for that underwater research job. If you did that we wouldn't have an aquanaut and wouldn't be able to use Four anyway."

Surprised, all eyes turned to Gordon who looked uncomfortable. "There hadn't been any action for weeks and I was bored," he admitted. "We've had that shipwreck since then. Look..." he added, hoping to divert everyone's attention away from Alan's unwelcome revelation. "Can we cut back on some of our machines' capabilities?"

"Such as?" Scott asked.

"Uh..." Gordon thought for a moment. He glanced across the table. "As an example: FAB1." There was an unintelligible sound from Parker. "It's a huge car. And increased size equals increased fuel consumption. We could chop it in half. Maybe have four wheels instead of six? That would reduce rubber costs too."

"Next thing you'll have Lady Penelope being driven about in a Mini instead of a Rolls Royce," Alan scoffed. "I'm sure that would be much more economical. Or better still. A pink motor scooter! You can't get much more economical than that!"

It was obvious to all that he was joking, but Alan still received a glare from an unimpressed Lady Penelope. "May I remind you boys," her withering stare moved from Alan to Gordon, "FAB1 is my own private vehicle. I pay for all expenses related to its use. You will not 'chop it in half'."

"We're aware that it's yours, Penny," Scott shot his two youngest siblings down with a stare of his own. "The basic idea's sound; we just need to work out where we can put it into practise. Do you have any thoughts, Virg?"

Virgil had been scribbling ideas onto a sheet of digital paper and just as quickly scrubbing them out. He sighed. "Nothing that equates to the millions of dollars that John's talking about."

"Brains?"

Brains had been staring into space, his huge intelligence running through various equations and hypotheses. He gazed at Scott through enormous, solemn, blue-framed eyes. "No."

"Tin-Tin?"

She shook her head. "I am sorry, Scott. Maybe if I had more time to think about it?"

Scott turned his attention back to the lead in this discussion. "How much time have we got, John?"

"Depends," John admitted, "on the type of rescue. If they were water-based ones within a thousand kilometre radius of Tracy Island we could do hundreds. If it was something along the line of the Sunprobe rescue where we used both Thunderbird Three and Thunderbird Two to the limits of their abilities, we'd probably have enough money to be able to scrape through one rescue and one alone. And that's assuming that we don't use Thunderbird One."

Scott made no comment. "Okay. So what other options have we got?"

"Sponsorship?" Gordon suggested.

"Sponsorship?" Tin-Tin queried. "You would be willing to allow businesses to advertise on the side of the Thunderbirds?"

Gordon shrugged. "I don't like the idea," he admitted. "But you've got to admit that we've got a fantastic billboard in the underside of Thunderbird Two. Everyone looks up to watch us arrive..."

"Whoa! No way!" Virgil exclaimed. "We are not painting anything on Thunderbird Two!"

"Why?" Gordon teased. "Don't you want to advertise that hamburger chain? The logo would look great against the green backgr..."

Before Virgil had the chance to formulate a suitable answer, Scott had negated the suggestion. "Sponsorship is out of the question. Besides, do you know of any businesses with the spare cash to sponsor the kind of money that we would require?"

"Tracy Industries?" Alan suggested. "Then people would be rushing to do business with the business that does business with International Rescue, and we'd get the money we need to continue."

"You may as well paint The Tracy family is International Rescue on a Thunderbird," Virgil responded.

"Should you start chargin' for your services?" Parker asked. "User pays."

"Who would we charge?" John asked. "The two little boys we've just rescued from the mine? The family of those boys? The community those children live in? The country the children live in?"

"Maybe not after the rescue, but what about before? As a type of insurance?" Lady Penelope suggested. "Charge each nation in the world a premium; payable so many times a year."

John shook his head. "The poorer nations could never afford to pay their share, leaving the wealthier nations to carry the burden of supporting us."

"Most of 'em could h-afford it," Parker growled.

"True... Until some of their constituents complain about their tax dollars being used to support 'freeloaders' and a new government's elected and decides to withdraw all their support. It leaves us vulnerable."

"I-Instead of individual countries, er, could we ask the World Government to sponsor us?" Brains asked. "They get levies from i-individual nations. Maybe a, er, portion of that could be allocated to International Rescue?"

There was a general murmuring of assent.

Scott frowned. "The problem with requesting monetary help from countries, even if it's through the World Government, is that we'll appear to become political; and if there's one thing Father insisted on, it was that International Rescue is to be free of political influences. We help anyone and everyone. No matter who they are and how much money they've got."

"Plus," John added, "there's always a chance that those funders will decide that they are entitled to have a say in the running of International Rescue. They might try to dictate who we do, or don't, help. Or tie up the purse strings so tightly that we're more hamstrung than we are now... If that's not a mixed metaphor."

Silence fell over the group as each individual tried to come up with a workable solution.

Up till now Kyrano had been silent; listening and thinking about all that had been said, but now he raised his hand. "May I have permission to speak?"

"Of course, Kyrano," Scott replied. "You're as much a part of International Rescue as any of us."

Kyrano bowed his head in a gesture of thanks. "During the past seven years I have observed the sons of Mr Jeff Tracy at their work." His eyes moved from John, to Scott, to Alan, Gordon and finally Virgil. "You have been dedicated to Inter-national Rescue. You have not sought recognition for your labours and have willingly laid down your lives for those of strangers. You have put your hearts and souls into Inter-national Rescue… But I have seen changes."

"Changes?' Lady Penelope looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"

"No longer do they have the fire in their bellies. No longer do they, as you say, 'champ at the bit' to fly out in their Thunderbirds. When Inter-national Rescue began I saw young men eager to go out and serve. Now, when I hear the alarm of help, I also hear groans of reluctance."

The brothers fidgeted, unable to look at each other or their colleagues.

"I believe that Mr Tracy's money formed the backbone of Inter-national Rescue and his sons the body," Kyrano continued. "But I also believe that Mr Tracy is Inter-national Rescue's heart. While the heart is ailing, the body is weakened. A weakened body is vulnerable to injury and disease. I fear that injury to the body of Inter-national Rescue would kill the heart."

There was silence.

Scott cleared his throat. "So, are you saying, Kyrano, that we shouldn't be asking ourselves how we are going to keep International Rescue going: but whether we should?"

Kyrano inclined his head in assent.

"Well," Scott looked around the group, concentrating on his brothers. "Gordon's gone on record saying that he wouldn't mind a change of scene…"

"I didn't go on record!" Gordon exclaimed, embarrassed by the perceived lack of loyalty. "Alan opened his big mouth!"

"Okay, Gordon, point taken… But what about the rest of us?" Scott looked at each brother in turn. "John? You've had the biggest change to your role in International Rescue since Father's stroke. What do you think?"

"Well, they say a change is as good as a rest…" John paused. "I'm not begrudging having a bigger input into Tracy Industries and I'll admit that I'm enjoying the challenge, even if it's obvious that I'm not in Dad's league. But… If I'm really honest… For me International Rescue is now a 'job', not my 'vocation'. Now, as Kyrano said, I dread hearing this going off…" Pulling the radio receiver that was his direct link with Thunderbird Five off his belt, he placed it on the table before him. "…because it means I'm going to have to interrupt whatever it is I'm doing." He took a deep breath. "I also no longer feel as 'valued' by International Rescue as I was…" There were various exclamations about the table.

"Valued!" Grandma exclaimed. "Of course you're valued, Honey. Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean that my forte is communications and astronomy. While I was on Thunderbird Five I could indulge my interests while International Rescue made use of my communication skills. While I can still use this," he indicated the receiver, "to communicate with anyone in the world who needs us, and I still have the ideas to make improvements to our communications systems; I don't have the time to bring those ideas to life, and International Rescue doesn't seem to need them. It seems to me that my skills are being better utilised by Tracy Industries, and that International Rescue no longer needs me…" He weighed the receiver in his hand and then put it back on his belt.

"We do need you, John," Scott reassured him. "And we appreciate all you're doing to keep Tracy Industries going." He looked down to the other end of the table. "What are your thoughts, Virg?"

Virgil doodled on a blank piece of digital paper. "What are my thoughts?" He hesitated. "I've been thinking that I've flipped an elevator car while a nuclear-powered jet airliner's landed on me; I've been shot down and crash landed; I've been knocked around and knocked out; I've had numerous bumps and scrapes and bruises and so far I've managed to walk away unscathed. I've been lucky. And I've been wondering when my luck's going to run out." He fixed his brothers with a solemn stare. "I've been wondering when our luck's going to run out."

"Haven't we all," Scott agreed. "Gordon? Do you want to say anything?"

"Well, since Alan brought it up," Gordon glared at the offending brother. "I'll admit that I'm not finding International Rescue as fulfilling as I'd hoped. I know that after my accident no one wanted to push me before I was ready; and I appreciate that… But that was nearly ten years ago and I still don't get the action that I expected when Dad first told us about this organisation that he was planning on starting. I knew that there would be few water-based rescues, but… kinda like John, I'm starting to think that my skills would be better used elsewhere."

Scott nodded. "Alan?"

"Uh..." Alan frowned. "It's not something I've considered..." He bit his lip. "I do have things that I want to do. Things I won't contemplate doing while I'm a member of International Rescue." He shot a quick glance towards Tin-Tin. "I'm just not sure that they're a good enough reason to quit."

No one pushed him for further information.

"What about you, Scott?" Virgil asked. "We haven't heard your thoughts."

"There have been times when I've wondered why I bother being part of International Rescue," Scott admitted. "I know that we don't expect payment from those we help, but a word of thanks would be appreciated. But the public seems to expect me to wave a magic wand and work miracles as soon as I arrive at the danger zone, as if it's their god-given right. Then, when I tell them that we've got to wait for Thunderbird Two to arrive, they start yelling at me as if the whole catastrophe's my fault. I mean, I know that's not a good reason to give up, but..." He stopped, aware that he was getting hot under the collar. "It does take away your enthusiasm for the job."

"And then there are all the false alarms we're called out to," Virgil reminded him. "They waste a heck of a lot of time."

"And money," John added.

"Do you get many?" Lady Penelope enquired.

"Many!" Scott gave a bitter laugh. "Too many. Last month some kid had thought it'd be a laugh to call International Rescue out on a wild goose chase. And then what happened when he got caught out?" He threw his hands up in exasperation. "His mother dragged him away by the ear without a word to me. No apology. No thanks. Nothing. She didn't even make the kid apologise... And that's not an isolated incident."

"And then there's the media's response when we don't pull off a miracle," John added grimly. "Believe me; the public expect it of us; whether or not it's humanly possible."

"Yeah." Gordon clenched his fists in frustration. "Remember that newspaper reporter who ripped into us for turning up too late to save that family inside the house that burned down?"

"The local fire brigade turned up before we did," Alan recollected. "And even they were too late. There was no way that we could have done anything."

Grandma huffed. "That report made me so mad! I can understand people wanting International Rescue to help those they care about, but honestly a house fire! International Rescue is there for those who appear to be beyond help, not for minor disasters that the local authorities can deal with!"

In the silence that followed they all tried to rein in their anger.

When he thought they'd had long enough to cool down again, Scott spoke. "Does anyone want to say anything else?"

"Yes." Alan sat up straighter. "We've all got valid reasons for walking away from International Rescue, but I can think of one equally valid reason for keeping it going... Dad." There were nods of agreement from his brothers. "International Rescue was his dream. What would it do to him if we shut it down because of his illness?"

It was his grandmother who responded to his question. "I know that I've been spending most of the last few months with your father, and I haven't spent a lot of time with you boys; but I've noticed the changes in your attitudes towards International Rescue too. And, like Kyrano, I'm worried that you'll become careless. I don't want Jeff upset any more than you do, but I know that if one of you had a serious accident that would upset your father more than if International Rescue ceased operations. He will understand if you make that decision."

Kyrano bowed his head. "Mrs Tracy is correct."

"In that case..." Virgil had drawn a large question mark on his digital paper. "Are we giving serious consideration to shutting down International Rescue?" He pushed home the dot at the bottom.

Scott looked around the group before him before answering. "Yes."

"Then can we take some time to think about it?" Alan asked. "I can't make a decision now."

"I think we all need the time," Scott agreed. "And we're going to need longer than a couple of hours. We'll meet back here this time next week. Agreed?"

They all agreed.

"Let's all hope that International Rescue isn't called out to anything major in the meantime," John muttered as he switched off the digital table.

-I-R-

-F-A-B-

Nurse Georgia smiled at the five young men who approached her station. Then her smile slipped slightly. There was something odd here. The Tracy sons weren't frequent visitors to their father, but when they did visit they were attentive towards the older man. Unlike some visitors who turned up to see the patients, spent a quick five minutes visiting, said they had a few errands to run and that they'd return soon, and then reappeared five minutes before they were due to leave; the Tracys would try to spend every minute possible with their father.

What was really odd was that all five were present. Georgia couldn't remember this happening since the week that Jeff Tracy had been shifted into the long-term care wing of the private hospital. She couldn't even recollect a time when she'd seen two or more of the sons together. Something unusual was definitely happening. Maybe it was something to do with Mrs Tracy having been called away from her son's bedside last week...?

The eldest, Scott, smiled at her; but his smile seemed forced. "Good morning, Georgia. How is he?" he asked.

This was odd too. They always greeted her with the usual pleasantry of asking after her health before they asked after their father. Not that Georgia expected anyone to worry about how she was feeling. In a hospital ward there were people with greater problems than her own. "He's stronger today, Scott. Your grandmother deliberately placed the newspaper out of reach before she left the room and he had to get up and walk across to get it."

Scott smiled again, but Georgia wasn't sure he'd been listening. "Is he strong enough to take some bad news?"

Georgia abandoned all pretence of a smile. "Bad news? Well, yes he is, depending on how bad the news is you're talking about."

"Ah..." Scott Tracy seemed unsure of how to respond. "We've got to tell him that we're going to have to close down one of his pet projects... We know it's going to upset him."

Georgia evaluated her response. "So long as you break it to him gently, he should be all right."

"He might be, but what about us?" Gordon muttered as they walked towards Jeff's room, and Georgia realised that it was the first word that any of Scott's brothers had said. They seemed to be content in letting him take control of the situation... Whatever it was.

Jeff Tracy, lying propped up by a multitude of pillows looked pleased when he saw Scott enter his room. Pleased, then surprised, and finally concerned when he realised that his eldest was followed by Virgil, John, Gordon, and finally, showing some degree of reluctance, Alan. "Wha' y' do' 'ere?"

Grandma stood. "There's not enough room in here for the six of us," she stated. "I'll wait outside." Jeff watched, alarmed, as she squeezed Scott's hand, patted John on the shoulder, and treated her other grandsons to a reassuring smile before walking out the door.

"Wha' 'ron'"

"Father..." Scott pulled up a chair and placed it close to his father's head so he wouldn't have to raise his voice. He looked at the frail, somewhat emaciated man who lay on the bed before him. "We have something we have to tell you."

Jeff looked at his five sons and wished that that horrendous stroke hadn't robbed him of so much of his speech. He wanted to tell them to stop frightening him with their solemn and silent attitudes. "Wha'?"

"We've done our best... And John's been amazing keeping Tracy Industries going..." Scott smiled at John, now seated across the bed. "And we... That's the rest of us... have helped where we could... But..." Scott had always welcomed his role as the leader of his brothers, but this time he wished that someone else had offered to be the one to break the bad news. "We've developed a new admiration for what you've achieved over the years, but... the fact is... we're not as good at business as you... And people... the markets... would rather deal with you than with your sons... or anyone else." He stopped.

Jeff wished that he had the strength in both arms to be able to shake whatever the news was out of his eldest boy.

"We're not in any trouble," Scott waffled, aware that Jeff was getting a wary look that spoke volumes more than any words he was unable to enunciate. "We're all fine, physically and financially..." He managed an unconvincing chuckle. "We're not about to be kicked out into the streets any time soon..."

If Jeff's legs had been strong enough to support him he would have kicked Scott himself to encourage him to spill whatever it was that was troubling them. Either that or he would have liked to have been able to stride out into the corridor to demand that his mother explain what was going on. It had been obvious that she'd known what his sons weren't in any hurry to tell him.

"Everyone's okay... But..."

Jeff held his breath. This was the "but" he'd been waiting for.

Scott took a deep breath. "We can't afford to keep International Rescue going, Father."

"Wha'?"

Scott wasn't sure what reaction he'd expected, but he was sure it wasn't this one. Somehow Jeff managed to meld his weakened face into an expression that was simultaneously accusing, disappointed, shocked, and in denial. "We: and this is a unanimous decision made not only by us five, but includes Brains, Penny, Parker, Tin-Tin and Kyrano... We have all decided that we're not going to carry on. We are going to terminate International Rescue..."

Jeff managed to say one word. "No..."

"It's not a decision we've taken lightly. We've all thought about what we can do to keep it going, but we've come to the conclusion that no matter what we do we can't afford to..."

"No..."

"Please understand that this is not your fault," Scott pleaded. "But if we did continue we'd have to reduce our services and..."

"NO!"

Out in the corridor Grandma and Georgia heard the shout. It was followed by several more.

"They're upsetting him!" Concerned for her patient's wellbeing, Georgia took a step towards the door.

"No!" Grandma caught the nurse's arm. "Please, don't interrupt them. Jeff will calm down in a moment. Once he's thought about what they're telling him he'll understand that it's for the best."

"You know what this bad news is?"

"Yes, I do. And while it's a shock for him now, he will calm down soon..." The two women realised that the masculine voices coming from the room had once again become almost inaudible. "See. He's calming down already."

Using all his strength, Jeff had pushed himself upright with his stronger right arm. "No! You can't! I won't let you!" he tried to say, his words almost incomprehensible; before, frustrated by his lack of speech and already exhausted by that one simple manoeuvre, he flopped back onto the bed.

He hadn't needed words to express his thoughts and emotions.

"Please understand!" Scott begged. "This is for the best!"

"Dad!" John laid a hand on his father's shoulder. "This is not only about the money. It's about us. The five of us!"

Jeff stared at him. Then, without further comment, he relaxed. He regarded his second eldest thoughtfully.

"We're tired, Dad," John explained. "We've been risking our necks to save others for seven years, and we're burned out. We can't carry on. If we do, one of us will get hurt... or worse."

Scott picked up on his brother's theme. "We've been on duty 24/7 for seven years. There's no one to give us a break and there's no one coming through the ranks to replace us. We can't continue on like this, and if we can't continue on then International Rescue can't continue on."

"This is a mutual decision," Virgil stated. "No one has coerced anyone else into deserting International Rescue. We wouldn't."

Alan nodded. "Virgil's right. We thought about it and we've decided that it's what we want. What we all want."

"Not only want," Gordon added, "it's what we all need. We all need a break. We need to lead 'normal'," he mimed the quotation marks, "lives."

Jeff observed each son one at a time. He could see how tired and drawn they all were. Not only that, they looked... old? How much of this was due to concern over their father's reaction to their decision and how much was due to their work? "W'n?"

"We told Penny we'd call her as soon as we'd told you," Scott explained. "She's going to let all our agents know and then go through her contacts to get word to the World President and ask him to send out a press release."

"F'm n'?"

"Yes, from now. Once we've given Penny the word, International Rescue will cease to exist."

Jeff nodded.

Relieved that his father appeared to be accepting their decision, Scott picked up Jeff's hand. "I'm sorry. We know how much International Rescue means to you. It means a lot to us too and it's not a decision we'd make if we weren't one hundred percent sure it was the right one."

Jeff nodded again and Scott felt his father squeeze his hand.

John picked up Jeff's other hand. "Are you all right?" He was treated to another nod and a weak smile. "You're looking tired. Do you want us to leave?" The grip on his hand tightened as if he was being held back, but Jeff gave another, weaker nod.

"We'll come back later." Virgil offered. "We'll have to discuss with you what you want us to do with the equipment anyway."

"Are you going to be okay?" Gordon queried, and smiled when Jeff responded with one of his nods.

"We'd better go. We've got a call to make," Scott noted, his voice sombre. "I'm sorry," he repeated and his hand received another squeeze.

"Shall we tell Grandma to come back in?" Alan asked.

Jeff mouthed the words "thank you," but no sound came out.

They filed out; their heads down and shoulders slumped; past a bewildered Georgia and stopped in front of their grandmother.

Grandma gave them each a hug in turn. "You've done the right thing," she asserted. "The only thing you could do. Remember that." She bustled back into her son's room.

None of the brothers said anything until they got back to the hotel.

Scott slumped against the wall and rubbed his face. "That did not go how I'd planned. I had it all worked out what I was going to say and then when I saw how worried he was I went to pieces."

"You did all right," Gordon reassured him. "I think he would have reacted like that no matter how we told him."

Alan collapsed into one of the chairs. "I can't imagine carrying on, but I can't believe we're finishing. It's been such an important part of our lives for so long."

John collapsed into a seat of his own. "It's been our lives."

No one moved. They were silent for a full minute.

"Who's going to call Penny?" Virgil eventually asked.

"I suppose I'd better." Scott pulled up his sleeve to expose his watch. "Ten oh five. Anyone remember the time we first launched seven years ago?"

"Eight fifteen," John recollected.

"We started with a call from England and we're finishing with a call to England," Alan mused. "I suppose there's some symmetry in that."

"Calling Lady Penelope," Scott told his watch. "Come in, Penny."

Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward's sombre face appeared in place of his watch's dial. "Good day, Scott. How are you?"

Scott wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. "Hi, Penny."

"You have told your father?"

"We've told him. He was upset to start with, but he understands that it's necessary."

"I'm sorry," Lady Penelope admitted. "I'm sorry for us all. But I believe that you have made the right decision."

Scott sighed. "I want to believe that too."

"Give it time." The image in the watch blurred slightly as, in the only hint of the emotions she was feeling, Lady Penelope's powder compact gave an involuntary twitch. "Remember that it is thanks to International Rescue and your reports to the authorities after your rescues that the world is now a safer place."

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it," Scott admitted. "Maybe we will continue to save lives."

"I'm sure you will... Before we conclude the formal part of our relationships; both Parker and I would like to thank you all for allowing us to have a small role in such an admirable organisation. It has been an honour and a privilege."

Scott managed a minute smile. "And it's been a privilege working with you, Penny. Next time we meet it'll be in a purely informal setting."

"I shall look forward to it, dear boy... Ah... Shall I, er, start the wheels rolling?"

"Start them rolling," Scott instructed. "We're going to switch off the receiver so we can't receive any more calls from Thunderbird Five. We don't want anyone to try and reach International Rescue now we're no longer available."

"I shall do so. Keep in touch... all of you."

"F-A..." Scott pulled himself up short. "Will do."

"Good bye, dear boy. Keep your chin up." The watch face became a dial again.

John took the receiver out of his pocket. "I suppose I should shut this down." His finger hovered over the keypad, but he didn't touch it. "This feels so final."

"It is final," Virgil noted. "There's no going back now."

John looked at his brothers. "Do I do it?"

Scott pushed himself off the wall and claimed a seat so he could observe the coup-de-grace. "Do it."

"Right," John sighed. "Here goes..." There was a minute hesitation before he entered the code.

With a final wink of its lights, the receiver went dead.

And International Rescue was no more.

To be continued...