A RESCUE OF A DIFFERENT COLOR

BY SPENSE

TV-Verse

NOTE: Buggy belongs to Boomercat. I'm borrowing with her permission. And this story is for Sam and Lynn, both of whom wanted this particular type of rescue. And Boomercat of course, who, as always, wanted more Gordon.

SUMMARY: Each rescue is unique. But some are more so than others . . .

"Damn-it," Scott Tracy, field commander for International Rescue said distinctly, looking at the Mobile Control unit as though it would help him. "Any ideas?" he asked his younger brother, Alan, hopefully.

Alan shrugged, clearly abdicating any responsibility. "Don't look at me, I know engines. They do what you tell them to."

Scott glared at him.

Alan just gazed back at him.

Scott just wanted to hit him. The look reminded him of far too many times when Alan and Gordon would get into trouble and look at him with the exact same expression, expecting him to bail them out. And it was always something that he had nothing whatsoever to do with. Only this time, unfortunately, it really was his responsibility.

Alan echoed his thoughts. "Well? You're the field commander. So command."

Scott just sighed. Sometimes he could swear Alan had ESP. He looked off over the site. It hadn't seemed so difficult this morning.

TB TB TB TB TB

Things had been slow at International Rescue lately. That was just fine with Jeff Tracy, head of the organization. He and John had some changes they wanted made to Thunderbird Five, so Jeff took a rare opportunity and recalled John from the space station. Instead, he sent Brains up to input the programs that he, John and Alan had painstakingly developed for the space station. It seemed like a good idea. All five of his sons had very little time when they were all on earth-side together. Usually John or Alan were up on the space station.

It was always entertaining to see John and Alan together. They looked amazingly alike sometimes, and thought alike much of the time. They were making the most of the opportunity.

The whole Tracy family had enjoyed the down time. They spent time playing tennis, swimming, working on the Thunderbirds and generally just letting down. So when the rescue call came in, the energy level was high, and all involved were ready to go and gathered in the lounge.

"So Brains, what is it?" Jeff asked.

Brains' picture came from John Tracy's portrait. "Well, uh, it's somewhat hard to tell. The woman kept breaking up. She was on a cell phone with, uh, radio capability. The cell phone wasn't working. She, uh, said it was out of, uh, range, so she was on radio. All I could get was that the ground collapsed, and that they were trapped, and uh, that water was coming in."

Virgil and Scott looked at each other. "Huh. Um, Brains, we're going to need more than that to go on," Virgil finally ventured.

"Sorry, uh, Virgil. I don't have more than, uh, that. I was able to pinpoint the, uh, location from the signal. It's in the, uh, Cascade Mountains, between Lowell and Oakridge in the Willamette National Forest. None of the local authorities have picked up the signal."

John whistled lightly through his teeth. "That's a big area, Brains."

"I can give you the exact coordinates, but, uh, she said she's underground."

Jeff was sober. "The Willamette River runs very near the highway. Especially now that it's Spring and the runoff is well underway. The water table will be much higher than usual. And that water will be freezing cold."

"What do you want to do, Father?" Gordon asked.

This one was going to be a tough call, Jeff knew. But this was exactly why they were in business – for the rescues that nobody could reach, or even knew about it. He thought some more, then came to a decision. "We don't know how many people are involved, or what type of rescue this will be. I'm sending all of you. Scott, off you go."

"F.A.B.," Scott responded and headed to the hidden door in the wall.

Jeff turned to the rest of the crew, noting the raised eyebrows. He gave them all an ironic look. "I thought you were all complaining of boredom. Anybody want to stay back?"

He laughed at the sheepish looks. "Okay, no volunteers. All of you will go on Thunderbird Two. You'll take Thunderbird Four with you just in case. Prepare for a mountain type rescue. If you think you'll need it, take it. We don't know what's involved."

A chorus of 'F.A.B.'s' answered him, and his sons left for the silos.

Grandma and TinTin had entered the room quietly during the briefing.

"All of them, Jeff?" She inquired.

"Yes, all of them. We don't know what's in store."

TB TB TB TB TB

All went fine at first. Scott arrived at the scene first, as always, and determined the placement of the accident. It was a large sinkhole. The woman had apparently fallen in while hiking. Scott had managed to access the frequency she was on (with Brain's help) and had contacted her. The communication was badly broken up because of the variety and quantity of minerals in the area. All he was able to gather was that there was at least one more individual involved as well as the original woman caller. And that there was trouble. Water was filling up the hole.

Scott was frustrated. He still couldn't ascertain the complete nature of her situation. With all the technology they had, they were still having problems with communications. Nature had a way of making the best technology a moot point. When Thunderbird Two FINALLY arrived, he sent John and Gordon down into the hole, rigged with special headsets to filter the communications signal. Virgil manned the winch from Buggy. The giant spider-like machine had been rigged with lifting capability, and was working out perfectly for situations just like this where the ground was unstable.

TB TB TB TB TB

Jeff, Grandma and Kyrano listened in to the radio chatter as Scott directed the set-up of the rescue. There wasn't much Jeff had to do on this one. The boys were working like a well-oiled machine. Professional responses, good ideas, and preparing for the unexpected. He smiled as he listened.

"They're very good, Jeff. You've done an excellent job training them," Josie said. "And raising them."

Jeff thought sometimes she could read his mind. "Yes, they are. Professional and capable." He smiled in satisfaction again as he listened to Scott ordering John and Gordon down into the sinkhole, and Virgil and Alan discussing the winch set-up. Professionals and brothers, and excellent at what they did. He was very, very proud of them.

TB TB TB TB TB

It didn't take John long to see exactly what the problem was. It was readily apparent. The water filling the dark hole was churning and rough, and currently up to their knees. The high beam flashlights strapped to their wrists illuminated the problem very, very clearly. And if that wasn't enough, the young woman in question had explained it thoroughly and concisely. And adamantly. She wasn't leaving alone. Not without her companion.

John's mind was blank. And for a wonder, Gordon was speechless.

"Well John?" Scott's voice was clear through John's ear piece.

"Um, we're not in Kansas anymore," John said slowly, looking at the scene in front of him. He could feel Gordon behind him, not moving any closer. He felt jittery himself.

Scott's exasperated voice came back to him. "I know that. It's pretty apparent. There are lots of evergreen trees. So aside from the geography, what's the situation?"

"Well . . ."

"John!"

"It's a horse."

Silence.

Then, "What?"

John sighed and repeated himself. "It's a horse. You know, a type of mammal. An equine. Four legs, mane and tail, whinnies?"

"And there's a girl too," Gordon added helpfully. "Jeanie."

On topside, Scott pinched his nose in irritation. This was the reason nepotism was frowned on. Brothers could be absolutely maddening. Even the most intelligent of them.

"What did he say?" Virgil's voice weighed in.

"He said a girl," Alan answered through the radio link.

"And a horse," John said again.

"I don't see the problem. Get the girl in the harness and winch her up! Alan, get hooked up to the safety line, and be ready at the edge ."

John sighed. For an intelligent man, Scott could be remarkably dense at times. "Wait Alan. There's more to it."

Topside, Alan stuttered to a stop a few feet from where he'd begun to head decisively for the danger zone. He looked back at Scott for direction, faced with contradictory orders.

Scott took a deep breath and looked at the blinking lights of mobile control. He counted to ten, then said calmly, "Elaborate John."

For his part, John looked at the scene in front of him, studying the soaking wet, determined young woman once again. Gordon was certainly no help. For once, he stayed in the background and let John do the talking. "Jeanie won't leave without the horse. And the hole is filling up fast. The water is up past our knees. We have to bring the horse."

Scott muttered something obscene under his breath. "Fine. Alan can rig a sling harness for the horse, and we'll bring it up first. I don't see the problem. We've done things like this before. Pretty basic if you ask me." Little brothers always made everything more difficult than was usually needed. Even if they were professionals. He was beginning to think they'd left John up on Five way too long. Alan was a pro at figuring out how to stay dirt side. John's rotation was usually two months to every one of Alan's. Scott thought he'd be sure to take care of that particular issue in the future, personally. "So go Alan."

Alan made to leave, but was once again was stopped by John's voice. "No Alan. Wait."

Alan stopped dead with a mental sigh of frustration, and turned back to Scott. The oldest Tracy looked like he was about to blow his top, Alan reflected. Older brothers were the pits. They always expected instant obedience from him (fat chance), but could never make up their mind exactly what they wanted him to do.

Scott made an inarticulate sound of frustration, but John overrode him. The three other Tracy brothers wisely kept silent. This battle of wills between Scott and John didn't happen often, but when it did, it was usually monumental. "It isn't going to be that easy."

"Why!" Scott all but shouted in frustration.

"Because this isn't just any horse."

"I'll say." Gordon's muttering could be heard over the radio.

John looked at the animal in front of him. He expected a horse to be upset in this situation. Horses just weren't meant to be underground in the dark, in water. And with the lights from their flashlights on their wrists and strapped to their foreheads bouncing around, well, it was a situation guaranteed to drive even the quietest, most docile animal out of it's mind. And this wasn't the quietest, or most sensible example of it's kind.

The girl, Jeanie, clung grimly to the slick leather reins of the chestnut horse. It was beautiful. Even in this situation, John could see that. As beautiful as all thoroughbred horses were. And like all thoroughbreds, it was an athlete. And it was fit and in perfect condition.

In response to his thoughts, the horse flung it's head up nervously, and snorted, nostrils flaring. John was immediately reminded of a saying he'd heard years ago when he'd taken riding lessons. 'Once a horse's head is above a certain point, the brain checks out.' Well, there was truth to that adage, and he was pretty sure that this animal's brain had checked out quite awhile ago.

The horse's fine gold-brown coat was slick with sweat and water, and the veins were popped out all down his neck. Jeanie stoked his neck again, murmuring softly, all the while looking defiantly at John. Clearly, she wasn't leaving without him.

"It's a thoroughbred event horse. Jeanie said they were working on conditioning, and out working gallops today when they stumbled into the sinkhole."

"Oh, shit." Virgil's whispered curse was heard clearly in the silence that followed John's comment. None of the brothers were particularly into horses. John and Scott had ridden some at a neighbors in Kansas, and John had taken some riding lessons. But they all knew enough to understand what 'thoroughbred' and 'eventing' meant.

Eventing was the pinnacle of equestrian sport. Shortened from 'Three Day Event', it was a sport which combined three phases. The first phase, the dressage phase, was preformed on the first day of competition. It was a set pattern of exercises on the flat (without jumps) which showed the obedience and training of the horse. The second day, comprised the endurance phase. This phase showed the conditioning of the horse. Although the format was changing, traditionally it was made up of a course of over twenty miles, consisting or roads and tracks (trotting and cantering), steeplechase (galloping over brush jumps just like racing), more roads and tracks, then a cross country course made up of permanent jumps over a couple of miles which tested scope (the ability to jump high and wide). The third day consisted of a show jumping course, testing the soundness of the horse following the rigors of endurance day. It was a sport that originated with the cavalry, and pretty much insured that any horse which participated was fit, conditioned, and usually pretty hot-blooded. Hence a thoroughbred.

Mostly thoroughbreds bred for the racetrack were used for eventing, although this too was beginning to change. Mainly because thoroughbreds could be difficult to handle. Especially when they were well fed, fit and conditioned. Like this one was.

"Damn-it," Scott Tracy, field commander for International Rescue said distinctly, looking at the Mobile Control unit, as though that would help him. "Any ideas?" he asked his younger brother, Alan, hopefully.

Alan shrugged, clearly abdicating any responsibility. "Don't look at me, I know engines. They do what you tell them to."

Underground, John was looking at the situation again, his mind working overtime. 'Shit' indeed. "So what if we blindfold him first, then get a sling on him. Will he calm down enough for us to winch him out then?"

Jeanie nodded, gripping the slick rein a little tighter as the horse flung his head again, snorting. "It should work. Do you have something we could use?"

"Yeah," Gordon said, slipping his sash over his head. "This." He moved towards the fidgeting horse cautiously as John nodded agreement.

"Careful Gords."

"No kidding," Gordon muttered, moving slowly through the churning water, now moving up to their thighs.

Jeanie turned her attention to Gordon, reaching out slowly for the wadded up sash as the soaked redhead moved closer.

As she got her hand on it, the fabric unfurled, startling the already terrified, high strung animal. He bolted forward, knocking into Jeanie hard, throwing her off balance. In turn she hit Gordon, knocking him off his feet into the water. John dove for cover as the horse flung itself forward, trying to escape.

The melee only took seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. Jeanie clung to the reins in desperation, being drug in stumbling, splashing, running steps as the horse circled the small space. She managed to eventually get him stopped, and moved up to his head, stocking the panting, terrified animal. "Shhh Flag, easy, easy. It's okay, calm down."

John, picking himself up out of the water, grateful to find that he hadn't been trampled, and was further relieved to see the horse calming at her voice. The pricked ears still flicked nervously, and his nose lowered enough to bump Jeanie's shoulder. The horse blew his breath out wetly, then picked his head up again to look alertly around. He was still intense, but without the earlier panic.

Thankful, John looked around to sum up the situation again. Then a second time. "Gordon?"

"Gordon!" He called intently, but not loud enough to set the horse off again. "Where are you?"

He was relieved beyond measure to hear a faint voice. "Here."

Taking a quick gaze at the horse, making sure it was still staying put, he followed the voice. Gordon was against the wall of the hole, sitting in water up to his chest, breathing heavily.

John's brow furrowed. "Gordon, are you okay?"

"Back," Gordon whispered. "Not good."

John looked closely at him. Gordon's face was white, and had the tight, pinched, unmistakable look he got when he'd overstrained his back. 'Shit.' That was all they needed right now. "Okay. How bad. The usual, or did you do something different in the wreck?"

"The usual," Gordon whispered. The jolt into the rock had been hard. It wasn't anything new, he could tell, but it was going to be miserable getting out of here. He looked at the horse. He sure wasn't going to be able to help with that. It was going to be all he could do to get to his feet, and he was going to be laid up for awhile, but it was heal. He just had to get out of here, and that wasn't going to be easy.

"All right." John knew how to handle this. They all did. As long as it wasn't anything new. "We'll get you out. Can you sit tight for a few minutes?"

"Yeah, I think so," Gordon said, working on controlling his breathing. "As long as I can keep my back flat and supported."

"Good. I'll take care of everything."

Gordon nodded. "John?"

"What?"

"Sorry." Gordon meant it. The rescue had now become three.

"Nothing to be sorry about. I'll take care of everything," John said with a smile.

"John!" Scott's voice was demanding. "What's happened?"

John signed. "It's Gordon. The horse freaked and Gordon got slammed into the wall. His back's spasming. I need you to send Alan down with the usual, and a sling apparatus for the horse and . . ."

"Cotton!" Jeanie called.

"Huh?"

"Cotton," she repeated. "To stuff in Flag's ears. It'll help muffle the noise of the winch and keep him calmed down."

"And cotton." John continued.

"Cotton?" Scott echoed in puzzlement.

John sometimes just hated being the middle brother. If Virgil had asked for cotton, Scott would have provided it, no questions asked. But no, John wasn't in the older group, and he definitely wasn't part of the younger set, he was just . . . in the middle. "Cotton. To stuff in the horses ears."

"Oh, okay. Got that Alan?"

"F.A.B.," came the quick affirmative.

Knowing he was going to be doing more in a few seconds than just sitting in buggy listening to the byplay, Virgil drew himself up to attention. It was amusing listening to John and Scott. Like two lions circling each other. John was a born leader, just like Scott. And the two of them together was always interesting. Virgil sometimes wondered if that's why his father had assigned John to TB5. Not just because he was a scholar and an astronomer, but because two alpha males in one place wasn't a great idea.

Gordon marched to his own drummer and generally stayed away from the spotlight, so he and Scott and John didn't usually clash. Alan was more along the lines of Scott and John in personality, but he was nine years younger than Scott, and a lifetime of Scott as eldest-in-control and having lived through his older brother's poundings usually made for a habit of obedience. Not always easily, but Alan could usually be made to knuckle under to Scott, and John too, when he put his mind to it. No, the battle for control was usually between Scott and John. Virgil enjoyed it. It was nice to see Scott have somebody realistically challenge him once in awhile. However, on a rescue was not the time or place for a turf war.

"Ok, Virgil, I'm ready to go down now." Alan's voice broke into Virgil's contemplation and sent his hands flying to the control panel of the winch. He leaned over so he could see out the large window in the spider like machine, and watched Alan descend slowly into the hole. He knew his monitors were good, but sometimes he just like to actually view with his naked eye what was happening.

"Careful," John warned. Then to Jeanie, "Hang onto him."

She nodded grimly.

In no time, Alan splashed down, and looked in awe at the magnificent animal in front of him. He whistled slightly. "Wow."

John grinned. "I know." Then he was all business. "Get Gordon up. I'll help Jeanie with the horse."

Alan just nodded and handed him the duffle bag he'd brought down, then turned to Gordon. His heart sank. Gordon looked awful. But then, he'd seen him worse.

"How you doing?" He asked quietly, pulling the winch cable with him.

Gordon gave him a strained grin. "How do you think?"

"That bad, huh?"

"Yep."

"Can you get to your feet?"

"Yeah, if you give me a hand. You know the drill."

Alan did. He took both of Gordon's hands in his own, and waited until Gordon got his feet down flat on the ground, then on the count of three, levered him to his feet. Gordon took a second to get his balance, then took a deep breath.

"With me so far?" Alan asked, searching his brother's face. It was white and strained, but about normal for this situation.

"Uh-huh."

"Okay. Do you need the stokes, or will the harness work?"

"The harness. And you don't need to ride up with me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It's just in spasms. I'll be okay once I can lie flat."

Alan nodded. Gordon had been dealing with this for years. He knew better than anybody else how to handle this. Alan was a close second, having helped out assisting Gordon in his therapy and recovery from the hydrofoil accident that had caused the original injury. "Okay then." He made short work of getting Gordon into the harness.

"John, we're ready. Can Virgil take him up?"

John turned from where he'd been helping Jeanie. He'd moved in closer to the nervous animal, but stayed alert and careful. Jeanie did the work, with John watching interestedly. The cotton did seem to help. The big chestnut horse had settled slightly as the noise around him dimmed, although he occasionally shook his head violently, trying to dislodge the material in his ears.

"Yes. We've got the cotton in the horse's ears. So haul away, Virg."

"F.A.B." Came Virgil voice, and the winch whirred to life.

Alan steadied Gordon as the cable took up the slack. Gordon hissed in pain as the harness began to slowly lift him off his feet.

"Virgil, wait!" Alan called instantly, watching the change in his brother's face.

"No Virg, keep going," Gordon breathlessly counteracted.

Virgil had carefully, and as quickly as possible without jarring his load, slowed the pace of the winch at Alan's demand, but he hadn't stopped it completely.

"Are you sure?" He asked, concerned. Sometimes it made him crazy to be operating the machinery, rather than being down working with the rescuees. It was even worse when it was family.

"Yes," Gordon's tone was clipped, "keep going."

Virgil heard Alan's sigh and grumbled "Alright Virg, go," as he gave in, and with an easy motion, began to up the speed of the winch slightly. It was always interesting to see Alan in the role of protector. It wasn't a mind set he had much cause to use, being the youngest of five. But when Gordon had been injured, another side of Alan had emerged. The older brothers had been away, and Alan had been home, and had taken an active role in his brother's recovery. He was more like Scott in his mother hen role than anybody had ever bargained on - Gordon included. It had been surprising to say the least.

"Are you sure Gordo?"

"I'm doing fine." Gordon's voice was still slightly breathless, and Virgil could tell he was gritting his teeth. He just concentrated on winching him up as smoothly as possible.

Alan watched from the bottom of the hole as his brother slowly rose out of sight. He keep his head tilted back so the light from his headlamp illuminated the dark passage. Finally, Gordon was out of sight, but not out of earshot. Thank heavens for small favors. He then turned his attention to John.

The horse was truly amazing. He snorted and jumped as the beam from Alan's headlamp danced over the dark, shiny walls. The water was higher now, up to mid thigh on the men. It churned with the violence of the movement from both the human's and the horse.

The big chestnut horse danced nervously, not liking the water, or the dark. His ears still flicked quickly, but not as hard as before.

Alan's eyes took in Jeanie as well. Jaw set, she was handling the animal with a sureness and professionalism that was pretty amazing. She had hold of the reins in one hand, and the other was wrapped firmly around the cheek piece and the noseband of the bridle, giving her control of the frightened animals head. She was soaking wet, but Alan thought she'd probably be very attractive when she was cleaned up. He wrenched his mind back to business.

John turned to him, his eyes telling Alan he was grateful for the help. However, Alan himself had severe misgivings about going near an animal like that.

"Al, Jeanie's going to move Flag out to the center and away from the walls. I need you to get on his other side when she does. We're going to blindfold him, then you and I need to hook up the sling."

Alan lifted his eyes to John's, convinced his brother was crazy, but John looked completely serious.

"Okay," he said, not completely reassured of his brother sanity. But there really didn't look to be another option.

In the meantime, Gordon was just clearing the edge of the hole. He closed his eyes briefly against his dizziness and took a steadying breath.

"Doing okay Gordon?" a deep voice came through on his headset, the concern evident in the tone.

"I'm handling it, Father. As soon as I'm lying flat, I'll be loads better."

"Alright. But don't try to do anything else. With all of you out there, we have more manpower than needed. Take care of yourself and sit the rest of this one out." The orders were clear.

Gordon smiled to himself. Like he'd be able to do anything anyway. But before he could say anything, another voice broke in.

"No problem Father. I'm on it. He's not going anywhere except for Two's Sick Bay."

Scott sounded so determined that it made Gordon laugh. It wasn't like he was going to give them an argument. Not feeling the way he was.

"Did you say something Gordon?" Scott's voice was suspicious.

"Me? No!" Gordon's voice was breathless again at the strain and spasms in his back as the winch changed direction from upwards to sideways. But even as lousy as he was feeling, he just couldn't resist a jab at Scott in his protective mode.

"Careful there Scooter," he said carefully around trying to keep his breathing steady, "Anybody'd think you actually cared!" Sentence finished, he was glad to stop talking and start concentrating on touching down. He'd be dammed glad to be lying down here soon.

Scott's growl clashed with his father's firm "enough" although Gordon could swear he heard an echo of laughter in his father's voice.

Virgil listened with a slight grin, not at all distracted from his task by the banter. Trust Gordon to have the last word. He was smoothly maneuvering Buggy's eight legs forward towards TB Two. The machine operated exactly as it was supposed, moving easily across the uneven, unstable ground, the multiple legs acting almost as shock absorbers, giving the round cockpit, and it's dangling passenger a remarkably smooth ride.

It took only moments to travel the distance to Two, and Virgil could see Scott waiting for them. Once he'd maneuvered as close to the open pod as he could get, Virgil began to lower Gordon.

Gordon sighed in relief as soon as his feet touched down, grateful beyond belief for the solid ground and Scott's steadying hand.

The eldest Tracy son unclipped the winch cable, and motioned to Virgil to get back to the rescue site. Virgil acknowledged, and took Buggy back the way he'd come.

Scott didn't waste any time stripping the harness off his brother. But when he made a motion as though to either help Gordon sit down, or possibly pick him up to carry him (stupid as the latter was, when it came to family, with Scott, you just never really knew what was going on in his head), Gordon put a stop to it.

"Don't even think about it, Scott. I don't need a stretcher, and you don't need a back injury too." And before Scott could protest, Gordon glared at him. "Just help me into Two. I'll be okay once I'm flat on my back, and can get some anti-inflammatory and muscle relaxers into me. Okay? Just because you're the oldest, doesn't always mean you know best," Gordon finished, snapping at his brother fiercely.

Scott narrowed his eyes at his brother, and made as though to snap back, but finally just sighed and slung an arm carefully around him. "I still think a stretcher would be a better idea, but you win." Since it was only about six steps to the pod, he decided to let Gordon win a round for a change.

Gordon was panting hard by the time they'd reached sick bay. He thought his way probably hadn't been the greatest idea, and maybe the stretcher would have been better, but they were here now and he wasn't going to mention it.

Scott made short work of getting Gordon settled and getting the needed medication into him. It was a good thing they all kept not only spare uniforms, but also sweats and a change of civilian clothes on Two. They just never knew what they would need or when. And Gordon was grateful for the sweats. They were warm and comfortable after his sopping wet, freezing uniform.

Scott was just tossing the soaked clothes aside when Gordon asked for a blanket.

"I'm getting to that, Gordo. I'll get you covered," Scott grinned. "Give me a sec."

"No, a rolled up blanket for under my knees."

Scott looked curiously at Gordon. "Under your knees?" Now that was odd. With a back injury, the victim needed to be flat.

Alan's voice came out of the radio speakers. His tone was distracted, but he was firmly ordering Scott, no question about it. "Put it under his knees Scott. It helps flatten his back and allows the muscles to relax. Just do it."

Before Scott could snap back, Gordon broke in. "Thanks Al."

"No problem. You doing okay?"

"Uh-huh, now that I'm in dry clothes and Scott's putting the blanket under my knees." He grinned at his eldest brother who was following instructions balefully.

"Dry clothes," Alan sighed wistfully

"Alan, stick to business," Scott snapped. This rescue was turning out to be tougher than they'd ever dreamed. "You and John need to get that horse up."

There was a moment of silence where Gordon really worried that Alan might blow. He knew how much Alan hated it when Scott reprimanded him like he was a kid. But Alan didn't, just answered with a crisp, albeit resentful, "F.A.B."

Scott looked carefully at Gordon's face again. Some of the color had come back. "Huh. You look better. When did you figure the blanket thing out?"

Gordon smiled. "Way back yonder when I was starting to get back in shape. Seems to help the muscles relax."

"Huh," Scott repeated thoughtfully as he covered Gordon up with another blanket. There was a lot about that period of Gordon's life that the three older Tracy's weren't aware of. Scott was in the Air Force, Virgil was in New York on business and John was in NASA. Alan had been the one directly involved. Scott realized yet again just how closely involved Alan was in Gordon's recovery.

Gordon was feeling much better. Now that he didn't have to support himself anymore, his back muscles were relaxing. It was a fact that the only time back muscles did relax was when a person lay flat. Even just sitting up, leaning back against something, the muscles still had to work. The spasms were subsiding now, and he felt warm and comfortable. Couldn't beat this. He looked sideways to see Scott still gazing at him, his lips pursed.

"Go Scott. You need to be out there when that horse comes up. It's incredible. Not your garden variety animal by any means. All hands are going to be needed just to hang onto him."

"Okay," Scott sighed. "You're sure you're alright?"

"Yes, already. Go."

"F.A.B." And Scott stepped out of sickbay on his way to the next stage of the rescue.

Back in the sinkhole, the water was still rising. Jeanie had carefully gotten towel Alan had brought down over Flag's eyes and under the bridle, then secured with her belt under his jaw. The big chestnut horse had stilled immediately after that, only the ears, flickering forward and back nervously, and his head up, tense stance betrayed his anxiety. Jeanie kept a tight hold on the reins, and one hand stroking his neck, murmuring to him. Flag still looked explosive, but not as though he'd detonate at any moment. More like a grenade after the pin had been pulled, but before the explosion, wondering if it was a dud.

"The towel certainly worked better than Gordon's sash," John commented, watching the change in the animal.

"And here's Gordon's sash right here!" Alan crowed in triumph and grasping the water-logged orange fabric he'd nearly tripped over in the ever-deepening water.

"Careful!" John grabbed his arm to slow Alan's triumphant movement. "No sudden moves!"

"John, the horse is blindfolded!" Alan looked at his brother like he was nuts.

"But he can hear really, really well, can't he?" John hissed sarcastically back.

"He has cotton in his ears!"

"But he can still hear!" True statement. Flag's ears were still swiveling at every noise, but less so then before. It looked kind of like somebody had turned the volume down.

Stalemate.

Up top, Scott ground his teeth. One more sentence and he was stepping in. This is why most people refused to work with family. And this was worse because they were all little brothers. Every. Single. #&#. One of them.

He wasn't the only one clenching his teeth. Jeff, listening in back at base, was about the strangle the pair of them.

However, Grandma and Gordon, listening quietly, were grinning, enjoying the skirmish between two brothers who didn't see each other all that often.

Down in the dark, the brother's broke apart and looked back to the horse. No winners. No losers. Back to business, to the separate relief of Scott and Jeff.

"Jeanine, can you maneuver Flag to the center of the hole?" John looked around in concern as Alan stuffed the saturated orange sash into the duffle bag he'd brought down with him. The water was nearing the top of their thighs now, and seemed to be rising quicker. And it was really, really cold.

"I think so."

"Good. Do it. Virgil, go ahead and lower the winch cable. I want it stopped about 10 feet above our heads. There's no way I want to chance it tangling with Flag. We don't need that."

"I'll say," Virgil agreed, and began to lower the cable.

Scott's voice was heard in the radio. "How do you want to play this John?"

Virgil laughed to himself, high up in Buggy. Quintessential Scott. Butting heads with John about who's in charge, but all business when it came to the actual rescue. John was on site, so he called the shots. And that was why Scott was field commander.

"Hang on a second, Scott." John furrowed his brow, thinking hard.

Alan grinned at the familiar gesture, all animosity forgotten. He saw John so seldom that he sometimes forgot the familiar mannerisms until he saw them.

"Jeanie, I'd like you to go up first. You're going to need to handle Flag up on dry ground," John began.

Jeanie cut in decisively. "He's going up first. I'm not leaving him behind in this hole." Her expression was hard. "No way."

John took a deep breath and began with his most persuasive tone. He knew she was concerned about the horse, but he was concerned about her. Her lips were beginning to turn blue. "Jeanie, we need to have you on top. You can handle him, we can't . . ."

"No! He goes first. Besides, he has a blindfold on. You can handle him easily. He's first." Her tone and expression said clearly 'no more argument'.

"Better do what she says, John, the water's rising faster." Alan muttered quietly to his brother.

John gave an unobtrusive nod in agreement. "Okay Jeanie. Flag goes first. I'll go up with him, and Scott can help me on top. Alan will stay with you and get you rigged up while we're lifting Flag. Okay?"

Jeanie relaxed immediately. "Okay."

"Now, lets get Flag to the middle so we can get a clear lift."

Just getting the horse to move was tricky. With the blindfold on, he was clearly unwilling to chance moving. The rising water was upsetting him, but with the cotton in his ears, the roar and echoes inside the sinkhole were substantially muffled.

Jeanie managed to get the big horse moving, using a combination of her voice, touch, and pressure on the reins. He moved with a jerky, lurching movement, clearly unhappy to be moving without seeing where he was going. Finally, he was in position, and Jeanie had the reins over his neck, twisted, and tied up in the throat latch of the bridle, out of the way. She held him up next to the bit, trusting the blindfold to do it's job and keep him from bolting.

"Okay Jeanie, hold him steady. Alan, get the gear and get on his other side," John ordered.

Alan handed John the slings and moved cautiously to the other side of the big, fidgeting animal.

It didn't take them long to rig up the slings. Jeanie held Flag still as John and Alan worked cautiously around the big animal. The water actually worked in their favor for a change. Flag was not happy with the belly sling, and kept trying to kick out with his hind legs, but the churning water kept his movements to a minimum and allowed John and Alan to work in relative safety.

Once the neck sling was on, Alan moved to the side and had Virgil lower the cable the remaining distance and fastened the custom built 'X' bar to the hook. Nodding to John that he was ready, John indicated for him to bring it over. Together, they hooked all four of the heavy 'J' hooks to the slings. This would stabilize the horse in the air.

Flag snorted, knowing something was up. But essentially blind and partially deaf, he stayed put in place.

"Virg, take up the slack. When you hit resistance, stop."

"F.A.B."

John watched in admiration of his brother's deft touch as he followed orders. Smoothly and slowly the cable rose, and the moment it was taunt, he stopped.

"Perfect Virg." He looked at Alan and nodded at him. "Okay Alan. Give me a boost."

Alan looked at the fixed 'X' bar with some trepidation. He knew there was only one way for John to go up with the horse and he didn't like it. But he didn't argue. Instead he just knelt down in the freezing water so John could climb on his shoulders. Alan carefully stood up, and from there, John maneuvered until he stood on Alan's shoulders, grateful for the time he spent in gymnastics among other school sports. Alan stood like a rock as John stepped off his shoulders up onto the fixed point of the 'X' bar.

The high strung animal below him was shifting nervously, knowing something was different, and not liking it. Jeanie stood at his head, talking quietly to him, stroking his neck, helping keep him together. John hooked a safety clip from his belt to the cable, adjusted his grip so he had a secure hold, and said quietly, "Up and away, Virgil. And go easy. Really, really easy."

Throwing Alan a reassuring smile, John felt the cable go taunt, then they were moving. Alan returned the gesture as he pulled Jeanie clear. Below him, the slings tightened and Flag's feet came off the ground. The horse struggled in sudden panic, trying to find his footing. But he was secure in the slings and they were moving slowly upward. Once again, John was incredibly grateful for Virgil's deft touch.

"Alan," John heard Scott's voice through his headset. "Get Jeanie ready to go. As soon as we can, we'll get the cable down to you. What's the water level?"

"Getting higher. It's at my waist now, and seems to be rising faster."

"Okay. We'll have you out as soon as possible."

"F.A.B."

John's eyes blinked in the brightening light. He carefully fended off the walls of the sinkhole, trying to keep himself and Flag clear. The horse had stopped struggling and was thankfully still, legs stretched out stiff.

Suddenly they were clear. Once they were a few yards over the edge of the hole, John opened his mouth to instruct Virgil to change direction. But before he could, he was moving sideways as his elder brother had already changed course. And then he could see Scott, waiting for him, with two short ropes with clips tied to them. John was once again grateful for his brother's analytical brain.

The direction changed again, and now he was moving down. Moments before the horse touched earth, Scott was moving in, talking soothingly to the horse and clipping on one of the ropes to the ring of the bit. It was a good thing he did because as soon as Flag felt ground, he tried to bolt. But Scott had hold of him, and all the big chestnut could do was go in a circle around him.

"Stop him Scott!" John called, hanging onto his perch desperately.

Scott didn't know horses all that well, but he was strong, and was able to manhandle Flag to halt, just long enough for John to disconnect the slings from the 'X' bar, allowing them to fall free to the ground, away from the horse. That set Flag off again, but John was no longer attached. While Scott dealt with the madly circling horse, John rode the 'X' bar away and down to the ground, unhooking and releasing both himself and the cross bar with quick motions.

Once on the ground, he hurried over to Scott who was hanging on for dear life. John managed to get in next to the opposite side of the panicking horse and attached the other rope Scott threw at him to the opposite side of the bit. With a sigh of relief, he reeled in the rope and the two men, one on each side of the animal, were able to keep him in one spot, if not calm.

Virgil, without waiting, was heading buggy back to the hole.

"Alan, we're down. Tell Jeanie that Flag is safe and we've got him handled. Virgil's on his way back for you."

"Good," came Alan's tight reply. "Because the water's coming up really fast now, and we're going to be swimming before long. We're both ready, and we'll be coming up together instead of one at a time."

"Damm," Gordon muttered from his comfortable position on Two. That was not good news. Alan was going to have to jeri-rig one clip for two harnesses. This is not what they wanted to do, but it wasn't the first time it had happened. Rescues seldom went the way they expected them too, especially because IR was only called out on the rescues nobody else could handle.

It was a tense few moments as the cable went down into the hole once again. Alan's relay's were terse and too the point. But all listeners were grateful when the two soaked people appeared over the edge of the hole. Virgil's terse "they're up" sent Jeff back against in chair in relief.

But Scott's muttered "Damm him!" as he saw how Alan had come up made Jeff remind himself to ask Scott about exactly what Alan had done.

Alan hadn't taken the time to rig a clip for himself. He'd just added a rope from his duffle bag as a stirrup for himself, attached it to the clip and hung on, duffle bag over his shoulder and Jeanie safely clipped into the harness.

Catching the narrowed gazes of all three older brothers, Alan decided that riding home in sick bay with Gordon was going to be the smartest option, unless he wanted to get filleted by tongues that had years of experienced practice at taking him down a peg or two.

Jeff, from his vantage on Tracy Island, leaned back and relaxed. Another rescue safely completed. And his sons had done it again, working as a maybe not quite seamless team, but pretty darn close.

TB TB TB TB TB

The wrap up went quickly. Once above ground, they were able to get heavy blankets over both Flag and Jeanie, and she was able to contact her stable. They were only a couple of miles away, and the roads were decent enough that the barn manager was bringing a trailer and would take it from there.

Once picked up and thanks all around, the Thunderbirds were ready to go. Alan, true to form, with years of experience in avoiding older brothers (the only kind to his misfortune), was back with Gordon, changing his clothes and trying to get warm when Two took off.

Once airborne, both Alan and Gordon were surprised to see John arrive back with them. Alan just looked at him warily. John saw the expression and grinned.

"Throw me a towel, will you? And don't worry," he said, catching the towel before it hit him full in the face, "I'm not going to ream you out, although I should. But I just got the lecture in full force from Virgil for my own ride out of the hole. He said I should have sent the horse up alone."

Alan looked surprised as Gordon laughed. "That animal? You're kidding. You had to go to keep him in one piece. Besides, it took two of you to hold him. Virg saw that!"

"Right, but when has that ever stopped him?"

Gordon grinned knowingly at the middle Tracy. "And that's why you aren't riding home in One, I'll bet, even though it's faster."

John just smiled. "I'm not stupid."

Alan burst out laughing. "Man, and I always thought it was just me they picked on."

John laughed as well. "Well, they're my older brothers too, and none of the three of us exactly came out of that sinkhole according to training. And Virgil was muttering something about the fact that you should have come up on a stokes, Gordo. So you're not completely out of the woods yet either, my man."

"So now you're going to be one of us younger siblings instead of one of 'them'?" Gordon asked wryly.

"You got it. At least I can always choose, since I'm the one in the middle."

"So you just pick the side that's to your best advantage, huh?" Gordon snickered.

"One of the perks of being in the middle. One of the very few, I might add."

Alan just laughed. Sometimes it was nice to put things in perspective.

fini