The men of International Rescue are faced with a new challenge.

Written to prove to myself that I can write a publishable story without decimating the Tracy Family.

All members of the aforementioned Tracy family, sadly, don't belong to me; instead they belong to Granada (I think, or has it changed again?) I'm not sure who currently owns the rights to the character in the other show mentioned, but whoever it is I acknowledge them.

Ellen/Little Calaeno/Euterpe/Marina is my creation.

Thanks once again to Quiller and D.C. for proofreading.

Enjoy.

Purupuss

---

Baby, Baby

'Seven on the Richter Scale earthquakes, and shopping malls don't necessarily go hand in hand,' Gordon Tracy mused as he clambered over some rubble. Just ahead of him Virgil stopped, checked a scanner for any life signs and then started to move again.

"Anything?" Gordon asked as he tried to peer over his brother's shoulder.

"Nothing normal," Virgil replied. "I'm picking up a reading of something small over to our left."

"Here?" Gordon skirted some debris and stopped.

"Yeah. You're close!"

In the distance they could hear the roar of the Firefly shifting rubble so that John could gain access to another part of the building. Doubtless Scott was in the Domo nearby waiting to assist him.

Gordon surveyed the surrounding area. All he could see was concrete, steel and iron. And, if you didn't count the mannequin hanging grotesquely out of that shop window, there wasn't anything remotely human visible. "Where here?" he asked turning back. His uniform snagged on a metallic outcrop and he heard a ripping sound. "Great," he said flatly as he examined where the 'hand across the world' logo had partially parted company with his orange sash. "I've almost torn my badge off. I wonder if I could ask Grandma to sew it back on again for me."

"I'd doubt it." Virgil had come up beside him. "You know what she said last time you tore your uniform."

"That it's high time I learnt some domestic skills," Gordon imitated his Grandmother's voice.

"Worry about it later," Virgil advised. "I want to find what's causing this reading!"

They scrambled a bit further on before they came to a closed door. Fallen debris was blocking immediate access.

"In here?" Gordon asked.

Virgil checked the scanner. "I think so. Where are we going to position the jack?"

Gordon removed the item in question from his backpack and examined a large beam critically. "I'd say here would be a good spot."

Working together they set up the jack and managed to remove the beam. Other bits and pieces of rubble were easier to remove by hand.

Soon the door was clear. Gordon swung it open and shone his torch inside. "I can't see anyone."

"What's the room?" Virgil's view was blocked by Gordon.

"It appears to be some kind of small storeroom," Gordon's voice was slightly indistinct as he leant in further. "Hang on…! Can you hear something?"

Virgil got as close to the aperture as he was able. "No… Wait a minute! Yes. A kind of snuffling…"

"It's coming from this," Gordon bent down to examine a wicker basket that appeared to be filled with blankets.

The blankets moved.

"Well?" Virgil said impatiently. "What is it?"

"I don't know."

"It might be a cat, under all those blankets."

Whatever it was moved at the sound of Virgil's voice.

Gordon stretched out his hand gingerly. "Do you think it'll bite?"

"You won't know until you uncover it."

The blankets moved again. This time more vigorously. Gordon drew back.

He looked up at his brother. "Got your first aid kit handy?"

Virgil patted a belt bag. "Yep. I've got everything from a sticking plaster to a pressure bandage. Anything more serious and I'll have to call for help!"

"Thanks for the reassurance!"

"Well! You're making a meal out of this. It's not big enough to hurt you."

"I'll remember your kindness when I'm lying here in a pool of my own blood… Okay…" Gordon took a big breath. "Ready… Set… Go!" He pulled the top blanket back hurriedly.

A little face, surrounded by lace, looked up at them.

Eyes, like those of a china doll, stared up at both men.

A little pink mouth smiled a gummy smile at them.

Gordon sat back. "A baby!"

Virgil frowned. "What's a baby doing in a storeroom?"

Gordon shone his torch about the room again. "And where's it's mother?"

Virgil was checking the scanner again. "There's no one else in the vicinity, living or dead."

Gordon looked down at the baby. "Well, you're a mystery."

The baby cooed up at him.

"Now you know it hasn't got the teeth to bite, why don't you check to see it's okay?" Virgil suggested.

"Okay," Gordon reached out both hands, trying to decide the best way to grab hold of the infant.

"For Pete's sake!" Virgil said in exasperation. "It's a baby not a bomb. It's not going to explode."

Gordon sniffed the air and screwed up his nose. "I think it already has… Come on," he picked up the whole basket. "I think we need some expert help with this."

Outside they met up with John and Scott. "What have you got there?" John asked. "Doing some early Christmas shopping?"

"Yeah. And it's a gift for Scott!" Gordon thrust the basket into his oldest brother's hands.

"Huh?" Scott looked at him and then into the basket. "A baby?"

"Really?" John looked in. "So it is! Where'd you find it? Where's it's mother?"

"And why do you think I want it?" Scott added, sniffing with distaste, as old familiar smells brought back long forgotten memories.

"One: In a storeroom. Two: We have no idea. And three… You've had more experience with babies than the rest of us. It needs changing," Gordon gave a disarming grin.

Scott looked pointedly at Gordon. "That was twenty odd years ago! You and Alan have grown somewhat since then."

"It'll be just like riding a bike, Scott," Virgil grinned.

"But I'm needed out here!"

"Everything's under control, Scott," Gordon said. "We'll be okay. The baby needs you more than we do at the moment."

"What am I, a nursery maid?" Scott protested.

"You could have fooled us into thinking so sometimes," John stated. "We'll cope. I'll let the local authorities know that we've found it and then they can send someone to come and collect it. In the meantime we promise that if we need your help we'll come and collect you."

"Okay," Scott said reluctantly. "I'll use Thunderbird Two's sickbay to change it."

"Great!" Virgil screwed up his nose. "Make sure you dispose of everything in the toxic waste unit."

Scott took a step towards Thunderbird Two and then hesitated. "Promise you'll call me…"

"…The minute we have a problem," his brothers chimed.

Scott departed, muttering under his breath about how he was a Rescue Co-ordinator and not a nanny.

Inside Thunderbird Two's sickbay, he raised the bed up to a more convenient height and placed the basket on it. "Just you wait there," he told its occupant. "I need to get some things together."

In a short time he was back with a box containing baby care products. "We cater for all ages and stages," he said as he lifted the baby out of its basket and laid it on a plastic sheet on the bed. "I'll soon have you sorted." He started to remove the soiled nappy and stepped back hurriedly when the full odour hit him. "Heck! I'd forgotten how that smell makes your eyes water!" He hurriedly bundled up the old nappy and thrust it into a waste disposal unit. "That's better."

He picked up some baby wipes and returned to the infant. "So, you're a little girl. That's kinda outside my realm of experience… I've got four brothers, you see," he explained as he cleaned her. "I used to help change the two youngest. That's why they decided I should be the one to change you." He picked up a clean nappy.

Once the immediate task was complete he gave her a quick check over for obvious injuries. As with everything in his life he was quick and efficient in the process. Soon the baby was re-clothed in her original outfit.

"There," he asked. "Is that better?"

She gave a goo and smiled at him.

"You are kind of cute," Scott admitted. "Are you hungry?"

Unsurprisingly he didn't get a reply, so he started preparing some formula anyway.

After a time he became aware of a feeling that he was being watched. As the sensation grew more intense he turned and found that the little girl was staring at him. He returned to his work. A minute later he looked back to find two little eyes still locked on him. He gave her a brief smile before turning back to his task. When he next looked over his shoulder she was still regarding him intensely.

"Are you watching me?" he asked.

As if in reply she gave a little coo.

He checked the temperature of the bottle was correct and then turned back. She'd managed to sit up and was inching her way towards him… and the edge of the bed.

"Whoa!" he said. "I can see I'm going to have to keep my eyes on you." He gave her the bottle, which she grasped and sucked at disinterestedly.

"Let's see if I can find your name and who your mother is." Scott started going through the bedding, glancing occasionally at his charge. Eventually he had to admit defeat.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked as he noticed that the bottle now lay unattended. "Okay, I'll put this over here and it'll keep warm until you're ready for it." He removed the bottle intending to place it in a special warming unit.

The baby stretched out her hands.

"You are hungry?" He gave her the bottle back.

She pressed her lips together and moved her head away from the bottle's nipple.

"You're not hungry?" Scott once again removed the bottle.

Once again little arms reached out for him.

"Do you want to be picked up?" he asked. "Okay, hang on, I've got to write out a report first."

"Goo" she said in a demanding fashion.

"Typical woman; wants everything now," Scott said, pretending to complain. "Okay, up you get." He lifted her off the bed, held her in his left arm, and picked the report form in his right. He sat in a chair, and using the bed as a table, began to write.

'Sex: Female.'

'Age: Approximately eight months.'

'Name: Unknown.'

'Found: Kwikmart Mall – in a storeroom in the north-eastern segment of the complex.'

'Injuries: None visible.'

'Treatment: Changed. Fed prepared formula, little consumed.'

'Notes: Whereabouts of family unknown.'

He reread his report and then looked back down at the little face. Blue eyes that had seen fear, pain, hopelessness, death and hope, relief, joy and life met blue eyes full of innocence.

Scott looked back at his report. 'Name: Unknown.' "That doesn't seem fair," he commented looking back at her. "You must have a name…"

The baby smiled up at him.

"You are pretty," he admitted. "You remind me of a girlfriend I once had. She was pretty too. Her name was Ellen. Shall I call you Ellen? And you can call me Uncle Scotty."

'Ellen' smiled at him and buried her head into his shoulder.

Scott melted. "Now aren't you a little sweetie… 'Ellen'."

'Ellen' cooed happily.

"Tell Uncle Scotty something about yourself," Scott said. "Your name is 'Ellen', right?"

"Goo," said 'Ellen'.

"Are you married?"

"Ga-ga-ga."

"Dating?"

"Ga-ga" She pulled at his pale blue sash.

"Where do you work? What hobbies do you have?" He tickled her cheek and she giggled endearingly.

Scott laughed. "Do you want me to tell you about me?"

"Ooo," said 'Ellen'.

"Well… You already know I have four brothers. What else can I tell you…? I fly a plane. One of the fastest planes on Earth."

"Ooo," 'Ellen' repeated.

"It flies up out of a swimming pool." Scott demonstrated with his hand.

'Ellen's' eyes followed the movement…

---

John stood outside the partially closed door to the sickbay. He was pretty sure that he would be the only one unhappy with the predicament he now found himself in. Gordon and Virgil had been more than pleased to send him away on his errand, as their snickering as he'd departed had testified. And he was convinced that Scott would be more than a little relieved…

John frowned. From within the room he could hear the sounds of a baby laughing and pseudo plane noises. He quietly slid the door open.

Scott was standing with his back to the entrance. He was holding the baby in both hands. "…And then we fly up into the air!" he exclaimed, gently throwing the giggling tot skywards. "Then Thunderbird One swoops down towards the sea… Nnnyeeeaaarrr." He mimicked the swooping action with the little girl, turning as he did so, and pulled up short when he saw his brother. "John!"

"Scott," John smirked.

"She… I… She…"

"So it's a girl is it? Was she helping you arrange your flight plan home?"

"We, ah… I was keeping her entertained," Scott stammered.

"So I see."

"She was bored."

"Oh, of course."

"What can I do for you?" Scott asked hastily, as he put the baby back in her basket. "Do you know where her mother is?"

John reverted to business mode. "No. The authorities say no one's reported a missing baby, but then whoever left her there may have been injured."

"Are they sending someone to pick her up?"

John shook his head. "They're too busy. They're 'sure we'll manage until they free someone up'."

"They're sure we'll manage? What do they think International Rescue is? A baby-sitting service? I should radio them back and tell them… The baby squirmed under his hand and Scott looked down. "… But then she's not a problem. She's a little sweetheart. Aren't you, Darling."

Sickened, John shook his head. "Scott!"

"What? Oh… Why are you here? You could've radioed me that we've got to look after her."

"We've got a problem," John admitted. "The three of us have each come up with a solution and each of those solutions has some merit. We need you to go down and come up with a fourth solution and decide that that's what we're going to do."

"Can't you guys, for once in your lives, make a decision without involving me?" Scott demanded.

"We did think of tossing a coin," John said archly. "But we didn't have one with three sides… Come on, Scott. You're the co-ordinator. You're the one who should be making the decision. We need you out there! You said to come and get you if we needed you and we need you!"

Scott looked down at the baby and found it hard to tear himself away. "But I need to stay here with her," he protested.

"That's why I was despatched," John said. "Gordon and Virgil voted unanimously that I should take over from you. They reckoned that I, at least, could remember what a baby looked like."

"Okay," Scott said reluctantly. "You won't find her any trouble. She's a little angel."

"Yeah, sure," John drawled. "I'll be careful of her wings and I'll polish her halo."

"Don't be like that. And don't leave her unattended on the bed. She kind of crawls on her butt. She hasn't had much to drink, but I've left her bottle on the heater. If she needs to be changed again…"

"We'll be all right! I'll keep an eye on her. She can lie there in her basket and I'll find myself something to read. You can come back when you've got everything sorted."

"Okay…" Scott leant over the basket. "I'll be back soon, Sweetheart. Uncle Johnny will look after you."

"Uncle Johnny!" John stared at his departing brother's back. Then he looked at the basket's occupant. "What have you done to him?" he asked. "I never knew a man could become clucky… Uncle Johnny indeed…" he slapped his own forehead. "Listen to me! I'm talking to a baby!"

"Goo," said the baby in reply.

John went to a nearby cupboard and perused the books in there. He chose a manual on baby care. "Won't hurt to have a bit of a refresher. Looking after baby girls is one of those things I don't get to do that often... Kind of like brain transplants."

"Ga," the baby said.

"Ga to you too. Do you want something to drink?" John fetched the bottle and placed it in the basket.

The little girl grabbed it with enthusiasm and began to slurp hungrily.

"Boozer," John said and picked up Scott's report.

The tot stopped drinking.

"It was a joke," John explained and glanced at her. "What are you looking at?"

The baby was clearly staring at something intently.

"What is it?" John looked in the same direction but couldn't see anything.

The sounds of drinking started again.

John turned back to the report.

The slurping stopped. Once again the little girl was watching something. A bright spot of light was moving on the wall.

John moved his wrist and the spot moved accordingly as the light reflected off his watch. "You're watching a shooting star, is that it?" he exclaimed. "Grandma always called them fairies, but I knew they were shooting stars."

"Sa-Sa," said the baby.

"That's right, stars. Do you like stars? I do. I like stars that glitter in the sky, and some that aren't so bright."

"Sa-Sa," said the baby again.

"Let me show you," John found some discarded foil and tore it into pieces. Then he extended a bracket arm that was attached to the wall beside the bed, so that it was positioned above the basket. Normally the arm would be used to hold medical equipment such as IV bags, but now John was using it to hang shiny bits of aluminium foil. A couple of pens formed crosspieces upon which more bits of foil were hung. The little girl watched him as she sucked industriously on her bottle.

Soon a mobile comprised of seven shiny balls was suspended above the baby. She dropped her bottle, clapped her hands in delight and reached out for the lights that were reflecting off the foil. Then she sat up and tried to grab them.

"You like that do you? That's 'Pleiades' the Seven Sisters."

"Oooo."

"You'll see a representation of it many times. It's quite a well-known logo. The Japanese word for the constellation is Subaru."

"Ga," she said.

Each of these stars has a name," John explained. "This is Alcyone, this is Electra, the big one is Asterope which is actually two stars, then we have Maia, Merope, Taygeta and finally Celaeno. Celaeno isn't really that small, she just looks it when you don't have a telescope. Their parents are Atlas and Pleione, but I haven't made them."

He sat on the bed beside the basket and lifted her out, positioning her on his knee so she could reach the mobile. She immediately put 'Electra' in her mouth.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he said gently pulling the foil ball away. "Apart from the fact that you might choke on it, chewing foil makes your fillings hurt."

She smiled a gummy smile at him and reached back for a 'star'.

"That was a stupid thing to say," he admitted.

The baby leant back so her head was resting against his chest and gave what sounded like a contented sigh. John smiled at the warm feeling that welled up inside him. "I guess you are kind of cute. Would you like Uncle Johnny to tell you a story?"

"Mmmm," the baby said and tugged gently at John's purple sash.

John slid his finger under her tiny hand and she gripped it tightly. "I don't know that I remember any… Shall I make one up…? Okay… Let's see… Aren't all stories meant to start with once upon a time? In that case… Once upon a time there were seven sisters. Their names were Alcyone, Electra, Asterope, Maia, Merope, Taygeta and the littlest was called Celaeno." As John recited each name he pointed to the appropriate star. They were found in a place called Taurus. One day Taurus started shaking." He shook the mobile. "The six older sisters were scared. They didn't like it when their world shook. But little Celaeno wasn't frightened. Little Celaeno was brave. She told her big sisters not to worry, nothing would harm them. As long as they believed in the shooting stars that flew around them they would be safe."

Little eyelids began to droop.

"Little Celaeno knew that the shooting stars were the lights of an organisation that would help them. The name of the organisation was…" John thought briefly, "…'Interstellar Rescue'!" He smiled at his own cleverness. "Hey, I'm enjoying this. Maybe the next book I publish will be a children's story. What do you think 'Little Celaeno'? …"

'Little Celaeno' began to snore quietly.

"…Or maybe not, if that's the effect it has on you."

'Little Celaeno' shifted slightly so she'd be more comfortable, totally content in the man's arms.

"Ah, aren't you sweet," John cooed. He began to rock her gently.

---

"John," Scott said through a thin line of static. "We need your help."

John carefully shifted the baby girl so that he was able to get a better view of his brother in his watch. "What's the problem?" he whispered.

"Is she asleep?"

"Uh, huh."

"Okay," Scott lowered his voice. "We've got a communication problem, as you can probably see."

"Is it serious?"

"Not at the moment. But it's only just started. I want to nip it in the bud before it becomes an issue. You're the man to fix it."

"But I can't leave her alone."

"I know, and I can't leave Mobile Control at the moment. Virgil's in Equipment Bay Three. Get him to look after her."

"Will he know what to do? It's not as if he can tighten a bolt on her or something if she becomes upset."

"If she's asleep what is there to know? They'll be fine, John. As soon as one of us two can be freed up, we'll take over again."

"Okay," John said reluctantly. He looked down at the sleeping form in his arms. "Come on. Let's go see Uncle Virgil."

'Uncle Virgil' had his nose buried in an equipment locker when John found him.

"Virgil!" John whispered.

"What?" Virgil straightened and looked at John. Then he saw the baby in John's arms. His eyes narrowed. "What is THAT doing in here?"

"THAT happens to be a little girl."

"Fine. Just remember that if SHE makes a mess in MY plane, YOU can clean it up."

"She won't make a mess," John insisted.

"Sure… Do the words 'Alan' and 'Gastro-enteritis' mean anything to you?" Virgil asked.

"Do the words 'Virgil, get over it?' mean anything to you," John rejoined. "Alan was only a baby then…"

"And he threw up all over my head. It was not a pleasant experience. She is 'only a baby' now and I do not wish to repeat that experience!"

"You're a bit older now," John said. "How is she going to throw up over your head, especially if you're the one holding her."

"I don't know, and I don't want to find out," Virgil grumbled. "And I do not want to hold her."

"Well you are going to have to while you look after her," John stated.

"What!" Virgil was horrified.

The baby stirred.

"Shhh," John said hurriedly. "She's asleep."

"I can see that," Virgil hissed. "Why do I have to look after her?"

"Because something's wrong with the communication system and I have to fix it," John explained. "That's unless you can tell the difference between a balanced modulator and a beat-frequency oscillator."

"Why me? Why not, Scott? The way he's been going on about her you'd think he'd fathered her."

"Because Scott's tied up at Mobile Control. The only other option is Gordon and can you really see him in the role of baby-sitter? Come on, Virg. You'll be fine. You won't find her any trouble. She's a little angel," John said, subconsciously echoing Scott's earlier statement.

Virgil groaned. "So I'm left holding the baby… Literally! You promise you won't be long?" he asked cautiously.

"Promise. As soon as I've got this problem sorted I'll be back quick smart."

"Well… okay." Still unwilling, Virgil gingerly took hold of the baby. "Here," he whispered, "you'd better take that back with you," he pointed at the piece of equipment he'd been searching for.

Before picking it up John ran his finger gently across the baby girl's cheek. "So long, Sweetheart. Uncle Virgie will look after you."

"Uncle Virgie!" Virgil protested. "I don't mind you guys calling me Virg, but I draw the line at being anyone's Uncle Virgie. It's not even as if she's a relation!"

"Relax," John soothed. "Call yourself what you like and I'll be back as soon as I can manage it." He picked up the bit of equipment and walked out of Equipment Bay Three, leaving Virgil shaking his head in exasperation.

"What am I supposed to do now?" Virgil asked no one in particular. He carefully adjusted his position so that the baby girl was held more securely in his arms. "At least you smell better than you did before."

The baby squirmed slightly but remained asleep.

"I suppose I could run some diagnostic programmes. Just promise me that you're not going to throw up all over the control panel." Virgil quietly tiptoed through his 'bird and slid open the door to the cockpit. Once again adjusting the baby's position so that he was holding her securely in one arm, he sat in his pilot's seat and brought the onboard computer to life. The control yoke slid towards him.

"Oooooo."

Virgil looked down. Big china doll eyes were looking at the flight console and then back up at him with an expression that he interpreted as 'Wow'!

"You like this do you?" he asked.

"Ooooo," she repeated and reached out for the control yoke.

"That's mine," Virgil said proudly. "This is Thunderbird Two's flight deck."

She looked up at him and touched him on the nose before turning her attention back to the steering controls.

"Look how small your hand is!" Virgil placed his own beside the baby's. "I think you're a little young to try flying her."

"Goo."

"Do you want to pretend?"

"Goo."

"Okay," Virgil twisted her round so that she was sitting on his knee. "If you turn it this way you go starboard… that's to the right, and turning it this way makes you go port, or to the left."

The little girl bounced up and down excitedly and banged on the control yoke.

"You realise how privileged you are?" Virgil asked her. "There's only ever been eight people who've sat here. You're the ninth. You're part of a select group."

"Ga – ga," she leant backwards, reached up, and touched him on the nose again. "Oooo."

Virgil chuckled. "Come on, if you're awake I think you'd be better down in the sickbay. John will know to look for us there." He retracted the control yoke and then, holding her carefully in both arms, stood in preparation to leave.

An aftershock hit!

Caught off balance, Virgil staggered backwards and fell into his seat, clinging protectively to his charge.

Startled by the unexpected violent motion, the little girl began to scream.

"Shh. Hush! It's okay…" ignoring his own bruises, Virgil tried to placate her. "You're all right. You're inside Thunderbird Two. She'll protect you… I'll protect you. Don't cry…"

To his dismay her crying continued unabated.

"Please don't cry," he pleaded again anxiously. "What can I do to help you calm down…?"

She gave him no hints as she continued to bawl.

Desperate to find something soothing, Virgil resorted to that which he knew best - Music. He began singing 'Brahms' Lullaby' in his soft voice and rocking the baby in time with the gentle tune.

Almost instantly it appeared to have the desired effect. Full-blooded cries became gentle sobs. Tears reduced their torrential flow and became trickles.

"There you are," Virgil took a tissue from a nearby cupboard and gently blotted the tears away. "You're all right. I bet you wish your mother was here though, I know I do." He wiped her nose.

She hiccoughed.

Virgil chuckled at the sound.

The baby hiccoughed again.

"Somehow I don't think a fright is the thing to cure you of those," Virgil stated. "Shall we try to go to the sickbay now?" Cautiously he stood while she hiccoughed away unconcernedly.

The little girl began to suck on his yellow sash.

"I guess you are kind of cute," Virgil admitted as they walked past some Equipment Bays. "I could make a tune from your hiccoughs." He began to hum in time with her and the little girl squealed in pleasure.

"Do-Do-ra-mm," she said.

"I think you mean Do-re-mi," Virgil suggested. They came to the team's private lockers. "Hang on," Virgil opened his and pulled out a small piano keyboard. "Lets see what music you inspire, 'Euterpe'."

'Euterpe' hiccoughed.

"I call you 'Euterpe' because she was one of the nine muses of Ancient Greece," Virgil explained as they walked into the sickbay. She was the giver of pleasure and the muse of music. I like music. Do you?"

"Hic," said 'Euterpe'.

"I thought you might say that." He placed her into her basket. "You lie there while Uncle Virgie gets the keyboard ready."

'Euterpe' began to whimper.

"It's okay," Virgil crooned. "I'm here." He smiled down at her and received a smile in return. "I'll lower the bed so you can see me." He did so. "Is that better?" He lowered the arm holding John's mobile as well. "I can guess who made this."

'Euterpe' began to play with the 'stars'.

"How's that?" Virgil asked. "Comfy?"

'Euterpe' hiccoughed.

"I thought you'd stopped that," Virgil noted. "Oh, well. May as well make use of it." He extended the microphone that was part of the keyboard. "This samples any sounds you make…"

"Goo," said 'Euterpe' and hiccoughed. "Ga-Ga-Mmm-Do-Do."

Virgil chuckled at her chorus. "Now, let's see what we can compose from that…"

---

Gordon clenched his fists in frustration. At this precise moment he would rather be outside, trawling through debris than in here. Heck! He'd rather be sewing, or rather trying to sew, his badge back onto his sash. He sighed. He knew that there was nothing he could do about the situation. He was part of the team and sometimes that involved doing things that you'd rather not be doing…

He slid the door to the sickbay open. "Hiya, Virg."

Virgil looked up in surprise from where he was tickling the giggling tot's tiny feet. "Gordon?" He pushed a button on the keyboard and the tune it was playing was silenced.

"So that's your secret, is it?" Gordon asked. "All these years I thought you were an expert pianist when in reality all you've done is push a button and let the piano play the music."

Virgil ignored his sarcasm. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to relieve you," Gordon said flatly.

"Relieve me? Why?"

"Because they need you out there and they thought I was expendable."

"Expendable?"

"That's a nice way of saying useless."

Virgil frowned at the description. "What's happened, Gordon?"

"This communications problem of John's. He thinks that some electrical fault in the Domo is causing interference. He needs you to check out the electronics."

"So why did they send you? Why not Scott?"

"He's talking with the local authorities, trying to find out where the kid's mother is."

"Oh," Virgil smiled down at the little girl and tickled her under the chin. "You'd like to see your mother again wouldn't you," he cooed.

"Virg?"

"Do you want Uncle Gordy to look after you, or would you rather I stayed?"

Gordon gaped at him in shock.

"Uncle Gordy is a nice man."

"Uncle Gordy…?" Gordon shook his head at the realisation that Virgil wasn't in a hurry to leave, "Virg? Did you hear me? John needs your help!"

"Yeah, I heard." Virgil still seemed reluctant to go. "You take good care of her, okay? She's a little sweetheart…"

Gordon stared at his big brother in horror. "What is it with this kid? Is she some kind of witch who's put a spell on you guys? In the beginning none of you wanted anything to do with her, now you're all acting as if she's the best thing since the aqualung."

"That's because she's better than an aqualung," Virgil told him. "Will you be all right with her?"

"She's a baby. How much trouble can she be?"

"You won't find her any trouble. She's a little angel," Virgil said, echoing John's sentiments. "But if she starts to get a bit upset push this button," he pushed a pink button on the keyboard and the tune that he and the baby had composed started playing unaided. He pressed it again and it stopped.

"Okay. I can manage that. Now get going!"

Virgil ignored him. "Her bottle's here," he pointed it out, before redirecting Gordon's attention to a box, "and if she needs changing…"

"I'll call you or Scott," Gordon said quickly. "If you're lucky you'll be here in time for the happy event."

"Will you be okay," Virgil asked anxiously.

"We'll be fine. Now go!"

Reluctantly Virgil left.

Gordon looked at the baby. "Right, Kid! Where's your magic wand, because you're not going to put that mushy spell on me! I'm going to sit over here, and you're going to lie in your basket and sleep. Understand?"

"Goo," she replied.

"Good!" Gordon took a seat on the far side of the room and sat down.

It wasn't long before he became bored… and restless. He started prowling about the room. On his second pass of the basket he stopped to examine the mobile. "I can guess who made that. Only John would consider making stars. Scott would make 'planes and Virgil would… I don't know what he'd make, but I know it'd be a bit more artistic... I wonder…" he examined one of the balls. "If I were to squish them a bit, add tails and some fins… They might look like fish… I wonder what could I use?" He let go of the ball and it swung back, causing the others to move and flash in the light.

The baby kicked her feet in delight, and moved her arms playfully.

"That's quite a good backstroke motion you've got going there, Kid," Gordon noted. "Or if you were on your tummy you've got the beginnings of a strong butterfly. That's my forte!"

"Oooo," she said.

"Yep! I got an Olympic gold medal for it too. I had to parade in front of all these hundreds of people…" Gordon pretended to march in front of the bed. "And then stand on the dais, and then they hung the medal around my neck…" He mimed bending down to receive his gold, "and everyone was cheering me…" He waved his arms at the imaginary crowd and made a noise like an excited gathering.

The baby squealed in delight at his performance.

"And then they played the national anthem as they raised the flag!" Gordon stood with his hand on his heart and made mock trumpeting sounds that didn't sound dissimilar to America's national song.

The baby clapped her hands.

Gordon bowed low. "I thank you, Your Ladyship. I am honoured by your affirmation."

"Goo!"

"I think you'd like swimming. Especially underwater. You'd be amazed at what you see. All these different fish and seals and corals and all kinds of stuff…"

The baby watched him intently.

"You might see a puffer fish!" Gordon held his hands by his ears, wiggled his fingers and puffed up his cheeks, as his eyes grew wide.

The baby clapped her hands.

"Or a penguin." Gordon held his arms stiffly at his sides, hands at right angles, and waddled about.

"Oooo," the baby laughed.

"Or a seal." Gordon flopped his arms together in front of his body and made a barking sound.

She laughed some more.

Enjoying his audience's reaction, Gordon continued playing. "How about a moray eel?" His arm wriggled above her. "Or a shark?" Both arms clamped together just above the baby's nose, in an approximation of a pair of jaws. She giggled. "Or a starfish?" Gordon placed his hand on the edge of the cot and 'walked' his fingers across her torso until he was tickling her tummy.

The baby curled up in fits of laughter.

Gordon laughed too. "I guess you are kind of cute." He picked up Scott's report and read it. "Name unknown, huh. I can't keep calling you 'Kid', so what should I call you? … I know!" He settled on the bed beside her so that she was able to look straight up at him as he talked to her. "When I was a boy one of my favourite TV shows was a marionette show. It was about this organisation that had this fantastic submarine. One of their team was a girl who belonged to a race of people who lived under the water. She had long hair and I thought she was cute. She was able to swim underwater without needing oxygen. She didn't need any breathing apparatus and was able to breathe like a fish, which I thought was pretty minty. I was jealous of her because of that. Her name was Marina. Do you like the name Marina?"

"Goo," said 'Marina'.

"Right," Gordon smiled. "Marina it is."

'Marina' kicked her feet.

"So now what do we do?" Gordon asked. "What do girls like to do?"

"Goo," said 'Marina' again.

"Well that tells me a lot." Gordon frowned in thought. "What… do… little…?" His frown cleared. "I know! Girls play with dolls. Was there one in your basket?" He had a look through the bedding, 'Marina' giggling as he gently felt under her. "Nope. I can't find anything."

"Oooo," said 'Marina'.

"You can say that again."

'Marina' obliged. "Oooo."

Gordon chuckled. "I wonder if I could make you one. What do you reckon?" He started looking through the sickbay cupboards.

'Marina' began to whimper.

"Hey! It's okay." Instantly Gordon was at her side. "Uncle Gordy's here. I'm not going anywhere. What say I play you a tune on Virgil's piano?" He pushed the button and the tune started playing. "Is that okay?"

'Marina' gave him a gummy smile.

"Okay. You lie there and listen while I look around… Don't go anywhere." Gordon resumed his search.

The baby lay in her basket and played with the silver balls of the mobile.

Eventually Gordon had gathered together enough materials that he was able to construct a crude doll. "It's not fantastic," he admitted as he drew a face on the 'head'. "But it'll do. How's that?" He held the figure out towards the baby.

She reached up for it and took it from him.

"You like that, huh?"

She put it in her mouth.

"Why do kids do that?" Gordon asked no one.

'Marina' sat up and continued playing with the doll.

"I'd better put this stuff away." Gordon cleared up the remains of his craft materials.

He was just returning the last of them to a cupboard when he heard a soft plop. The doll lay on the floor under the basket.

"Did you drop it?" Gordon picked it up and returned it to the baby.

She grinned and threw it out of the basket again.

"Are you trying to hurt my feelings and tell me you don't like it?" Gordon retrieved it again. She took it from him happily. And then threw it out again.

This time it rolled under the bed. "Okay, I'll get it," Gordon grumbled lightly. He ducked under the bed, grabbed the doll and then popped up so he was level with the little girl. "Boo!"

'Marina' laughed and clapped her hands.

Gordon ducked down and bobbed up again. "Boo!" he repeated.

The tot squealed with laughter.

Gordon repeated the manoeuvre. "Boo!"

"So you've finally found someone your mental age to play with."

Gordon looked around. "Scott! I didn't hear you come in."

"You were too busy playing. How is she?"

"She's fine. Aren't you, sweetheart?" Gordon cooed at the basket's occupant.

Scott chuckled. "She's got you under her spell too, has she?"

"Why are you here?" Gordon stood.

"The local authorities have radioed through. They've found her mother and are bringing her round now."

"Oh," for a moment Gordon looked downhearted. "I guess that's good. Come on, Honey," he lifted her out of her basket. "There's someone who wants to see you. Bring her stuff will you, Scott." He walked out the door.

Scott picked up the baby's basket, nearly empty bottle and his report. "What am I, a packhorse?" he muttered.

Outside the sun was shining. The Tracy men gathered around Gordon and the baby girl who was chewing on his loose sash badge. "Where's her mother?" he asked.

"Not here yet," John replied.

There was a shout from the edge of the cordoned off area. A young woman, her left arm in a sling, came running across to the group. "My baby!"

Gordon had no option other than to hand the little girl to her. The baby was held securely in her mother's good arm and submitted to the kisses of relief, gooing contentedly.

"Darling!" Tears were cascading down the woman's face. "I was so worried. I was scared you'd been hurt. Are you all right?" She pressed her face up against her daughter's.

"She's fine," Gordon reassured her.

"Are you sure?" the mother asked anxiously.

"We're sure," Scott confirmed. "It wouldn't hurt to get her checked out by a doctor, but I think the only thing wrong with her is that she's got an infectious smile."

The baby girl gave a gummy grin and received four goofy ones in return.

"Thank you!" The mother looked at each member of the team in turn. "Thank you all. I've been terrified that something had happened to Lucille. And then when they told me that International Rescue had found her I didn't know what to think."

"Lucille? Is that her name?" Virgil asked.

The mother nodded.

"We knew a Lucille," John said, thinking of his mother. "She was every bit as beautiful as this little sweetheart." There were nods of confirmation from the other Tracy men.

"Thank you," Lucille's mother said again.

"What happened?" Gordon asked. "We found her in a storeroom."

"I was shopping for a new pram," the mother explained. "That's why I was carrying her in that thing," she pointed at the wicker basket. "When the earthquake hit things were falling everywhere and I couldn't stand. I was beside this storeroom and I thought it would be safer than in the mall corridor. I put her in there and covered her with my body. Something hit me on the arm and broke it." Awkwardly she indicated her injured limb. "When the quaking stopped I stood up and I think I must have taken a step backwards, because I suddenly found myself being dragged down the corridor by a mob of panicking people. I was screaming that I had to get my baby, but no one was listening to me, and I couldn't fight against the crowd. I saw the storeroom door slam shut and was terrified that no one would think to look in there."

"Just as well our scanners were working," Virgil said.

"Thank you," the woman said again, and beamed at him before continuing on with her story. "When we reached safety, someone noticed my sore arm and took me to the triage area. I tried telling people that I had to go back and get my baby, but no one was listening. They were all too busy. It wasn't until I was in the hospital and they were setting my arm that anyone had the time listen to me. You've no idea how relieved I was to hear that she'd been found."

"Goo," said Lucille.

The Tracys chuckled. "You're pleased to see your mother, aren't you?" John tickled her under the chin.

"I hope she hasn't given you any trouble," Lucille's mother said.

"She hasn't been any trouble. She's a little angel," Gordon replied, his finger caught in Lucille's chubby hand.

"I wish there was some way I could repay you."

"There's no need," Scott assured her. "We were glad to help… It might pay to keep a shotgun behind the door when she grows up though. The way she's captured these guys' hearts makes me think she's going to be fighting off the boys when she gets older."

Lucille's mother laughed and Lucille echoed her.

"It's not only us she's bewitched," John told Scott. "She's got you under her spell too."

"Yeah," Scott admitted as Lucille sucked on his fingers. "She's done that." He sighed. "Come on, Guys. Time we got back to work."

"Aww," Virgil protested as he picked up the handmade doll off the ground and gave it back to the baby. "There you are, Sweetheart."

"We shouldn't take up any more of your time," Lucille's mother said. "Thank you for everything."

"Here," Gordon severed the last few threads that were holding his International Rescue badge in place. "Take this and when she doesn't believe that she was saved by International Rescue you can show it to her."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep," he replied.

"Thank you," she said again. "Thank you for saving my little girl. And thank you for everything else you've done today."

"Just doing our job," Virgil said and picked up the basket.

Scott reached in and retrieved a couple of items. "That was full," he indicated the bottle of formula, "so she's had that much to drink, and there's a copy of our report in there too."

The basket was handed to a waiting policeman.

"You're all wonderful," Lucille's mother gushed. "Come on, Darling. Say goodbye to these nice men."

"Bye, bye, Lucille," the Tracys chorused, waving at her.

She flapped her arm in reply before being carried away in her mother's arm.

The brothers all looked at each other.

"I guess we pack up now," John eventually said.

"Yep," Scott agreed.

"Did you get that communications problem sorted?" Gordon asked idly.

"No, but we think we know what the problem is. We can fix it back at base," Virgil told him.

"Good."

They were silent for a time.

"It'd be nice to have a baby at home, wouldn't it," John said.

"Yeah, but when are any of us going to get the opportunity to become Dads?" Scott asked.

"It's hard enough finding a girlfriend," Virgil added. "Work gets in the way."

"There is one option," Gordon had a sly grin on his face. "And it would mean none of us would have to deal with the sleepless nights or messes or any of the associated unpleasantness."

Scott looked at him sideways. "What are you thinking of?" he asked warily.

"It's simple," Gordon insisted. "Who of us Tracy Boys is already in what seems to be a serious relationship?"

They looked at each other. "Alan!"

"We can't push him," Scott noted. "I'll bet they haven't even considered marriage."

"We can drop hints," John said.

"And make sure he and Tin-Tin have quality time together," Virgil added. "I'll dig out some romantic piano pieces to play."

"You can't rush things like this," Scott protested. "He's little more than a kid himself."

"Don't you want to be an Uncle?" Gordon asked. "Imagine being called 'Uncle Scotty'."

Scott looked at him briefly and then he strode over to Mobile Control. Curious, his brothers followed him. He initiated a communications link. "Mobile Control to Thunderbird Five."

"Thunderbird Five." They all heard Alan's voice. "What can I do for you?"

"We're packing up now. Let base know will you."

"Sure, Scott."

"Good. Oh, and there's one other thing…"

"Yes?" Alan asked.

"Tin-Tin's been talking about wanting to go to a show that's on before you get back home. "How'd you like it if I were to relieve you for the week before you're due to come home and then you could take her."

"You'd relieve me?" Alan sounded disbelieving. "You'd volunteer to spend time on Thunderbird Five?"

"Yep."

"Alone?"

"Yep. Anything for my kid brother."

"Scott… Are you all right? Nothing's hit you on the head has it?"

Scott laughed. "Believe me, Alan. I'm fine. Ask any of the guys. We just want what's best for you, that's all."

"Is this Gordon's idea? What's the catch?"

"No catch, Alan. I just know Tin-Tin would like to go to this show with you. You don't want to let her down, do you?"

"No… No of course not… If you're sure..."

"I'm sure. I'll clear it with Father when we get home. I'll call you then. Okay?"

"Okay…" Alan was still sounding bemused. "I'll talk to you later… Thanks, Scott." He signed off.

Scott looked up at his brothers, all of whom were grinning. "Operation Uncle Tracy is Go."

The end.