I strode into the lounge, and almost froze. Dad and Scott were deep in a discussion, and they didn't look like they'd appreciate an interruption. But rescues took precedence over everything else, so I walked in and took a seat on the couch.

They both looked over at me, but before either of them could say anything, Alan's portrait lit up. Dad automatically hit the button. Again before either my father or brother could say anything, Alan jumped right in. "Dad, we've got a problem up in the Northwest Passage. A freighter's gone aground, and is breaking up. Conventional rescue is grounded due to weather. Twenty-five crew."

Oh great. The Arctic. I was shivering already. Scott started moving to his entry point before Dad even had a chance to reply. "All right, son, tell them we're on our way."

Wow. That was fast. Dad hadn't even hit the alert button yet. Virgil was going to have to play catch up. Not my problem, though. I headed for the elevator to Thunderbird Two's hangar.

Scott had reached the hidden entrance to Thunderbird One's hangar, but for some reason, he hadn't reached up to trigger the entrance. Instead he was watching me. Oh, no, I was so not sitting this one out. I tried just walking past him, but I got stopped by my father's voice. "Hold up there a minute, son."

I turned back to my dad, doing my best to keep the sinking feeling in my stomach from showing on my face. "Yes, sir?"

He eyed me. "Son, you were flat on your back three hours ago."

"Yes, sir, I don't deny that, but the rest did the job. I'm fit and ready."

Dad started to shake his head, unconvinced. My jaw started to tighten. If he grounded me, there was no recourse, and I knew from experience that nothing I said would change his mind. I think we were both surprised when Scott spoke up. "That's good enough for me. You know your limits better than we do. But if it starts to flare up, I'll expect you to tell me immediately."

"I will." I said firmly. The worry didn't leave Dad's eyes, but he nodded his head. I hustled away to keep him from changing his mind.

I entered the elevator that would take me to the floor of the hangar. It was a very pedestrian way of boarding a Thunderbird. Scott got a turntable and extending walkway, Virg got a super slide, Alan and John got a nifty automated couch. What did I get? An elevator. I'd tried to talk Brains into a bungee cord, but no, I got an elevator. One of these days I was going to put flame decals on it. Or maybe skulls.

And another thing. One of these days I'm going to figure out how John programmed the elevator to play that lame-ass muzak, and I'm going to rip that program out by the roots. And I wasn't deluding myself. Just because I'd been listening to 'The Girl From Ipanema' for the last two years didn't mean I wouldn't figure it out eventually.

I trotted across the hangar floor to a side hatch on Thunderbird Two. Entering, I headed up ship to the crew quarters to do the ol' presto-chango from Gordon, Handsome Olympic Hero, to Gordon, Handsome International Rescue Hero.

I was just pulling on my boots when I felt the rumbling vibration that signified the pod conveyor was in motion. That meant Virgil was on board and probably doing his own presto-chango act. I finished settling my sash and headed out the door.

I would have liked to head right to pod four to get my baby, Thunderbird Four, prepped and ready, but Virgil was a stickler for procedure, and that meant me strapping in for the take-off in the cockpit. I entered the hatch just as Thunderbird Two latched onto the pod with some loud thumps.

Virgil glanced up from his controls, and I could see mild surprise in his eyes. He looked me over as I took my place and buckled up. I ignored him. He could examine his troop all he wanted, but he wasn't going to find anything lacking.

When I was ready, I stared at him with what I hoped was cool nonchalance. Whatever he saw satisfied him, because without a word, he nodded once and settled in to getting us into the air. "Thunderbird Two to base, we're ready, Father."

"You're in the clear. God speed, son."

"Thank you, Father." Virgil flipped a few switches, and Thunderbird Two lumbered out of her lair. I watched out the window as the row of palm trees, intended to mask the size of the runway, fell back in their specially designed concrete planters.

I wasn't just admiring the view. It was part of my job. Early on, one of the planters had malfunctioned, and the tree left standing had damaged Thunderbird Two's wing, because Virgil hadn't noticed in time. Now, the truth of the matter is, since that time, Virgil has watched those palm trees like a bird watches a snake. But if I were to take my eyes off them, and Virgil caught me, Alan would be looking for a new best friend.

We hit the launch point, and the elevators built into the runway tilted to lift Thunderbird Two to a forty five degree angle. It seemed kind of stupid to me. Thunderbird Two could lift straight up into the air on her impellers. But Virgil had argued that using the main jets would get her moving faster, and cut time getting to the danger zone.

I suppose that technically that was true, but there hadn't been a lot of rescues where thirty seconds would have made the difference. The crux of the matter was, Virgil really liked the G-force slam that took place when we went from zero to five thousand miles per hour in a straight pull.

I was less crazy about it. Don't get me wrong, flying with Virgil is like riding in a Cadillac, all easy turns, and smooth as silk handling. I just don't get the whole air jock thing. You get up there, and there's nothing. Especially at the height Thunderbird Two flies at.

It's not like being on the water, where you can really feel that you're alive. Or when I'm deep-diving in Thunderbird Four. In the ocean, you can just feel the energy around you. There's no part of it that isn't just throbbing with life. The tides are like the heartbeat of the planet, you know?

But up there in nowhere land, there's nothing. Just endless emptiness. I don't count the clouds. I never look at them. It's kind of like, clouds are where heaven is, right? And what's heaven, but a place to go when you're dead? I'd had a nodding acquaintance with the ol' grim reaper, and I'm not eager to seek him out anytime soon.

Virgil took a deep breath next to me, and I took that as my cue to settle in. The rocket engines built up to banshee shriek and Virgil finally released the brakes, and off we went. Kind of like being shot out of a cannon. A very big, loud cannon.

We got up into the dark emptiness, and Virgil hit the communicator. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird Five, Alan, I'm ready for the co-ordinate feed."

"FAB, Virgil. Map 1, grid reference 000408 slash 16. Hope you're wearing your thermal underwear."

Virgil frowned as he confirmed the co-ordinates. The actual feed was by computer, but a verbal confirmation was a redundancy that just made sense. "Co-ordinates confirmed. So what's the action?"

"A freighter, the Maersk Doha II, was making a late run through the Northwest Passage. She got caught in a storm and ran aground off, uh, Prescott Island. She's loaded with 4,500 tons of biotoxic waste from ADCF Labs. Twenty-five crewmembers. The crew isn't in immediate danger, but with the storm, there is a concern that the containers with the waste will rupture, and apparently, it's like death on a stick. The storm is keeping the Canadian Coast Guard from getting there, so we need to get in and evacuate the people."

Damn it. I couldn't help to start seething. The Northwest Passage had only opened up at the start of the century before the world wised up and began to pay attention to global warming. It was various countries' refusal to acknowledge their responsibility to the planet that had eventually led to the development of the World Government and its various policing agencies, including W.A.S.P.

One of the reasons I had fought so hard to join W.A.S.P. was because I hated the exploitation and degradation of the ocean's ecosystems. It was only due to WorldGov's efforts that in the past five or so years we had started to see a turnaround. Endangered species were making comebacks all over the world, and not just in the oceans.

The poison-spewing, petroleum-based machines and power plants that had ruled the economy for over a century and a half had been replaced in all but a few backward countries with efficient wind and solar powered plants. I am proud to say that Tracy Enterprises has always been on the forefront of the change.

Alan's racing career had, in part, been a showcase for the Tracy Enterprise XC292 engine, an engine more powerful than any racing engine before it, but totally self-contained, running on a tiny amount of irradiated something or other that Brains had come up with. Since its introduction six years ago, it had become the standard in the automotive industry.

Even Thunderbird Two, for all of its power, had a smaller carbon footprint than the Lexus my dad drove when I was a kid. Anyway, the Northwest Passage ran through one of the most fragile ecosystems in the world. If I had my way, we'd say screw the crew, and work to contain the damage from the containers.

Unfortunately, this was another battle I couldn't win. International Rescue's function was to save human lives, pure and simple. If a pod of Narwhal died off, or walruses went extinct, well, that wasn't really our fault now, was it? Damn, damn, damn.

"Hey, let's not get wound up before we get there, okay?" Virgil said quietly. He hadn't even looked over at me, and he knew this was upsetting me.

"Virg, please. We can't just ignore this." I knew I was whining, for all that I tried to keep my voice low and calm.

He glanced over at me, and I could see understanding in his eyes. I wasn't the only one who treasured the environment, we all did, but sometimes it seemed as if I was the only one willing to stick my neck out over it. The understanding didn't translate into agreement. "Why don't you just go get the winch prepped. We'll probably be able to pull the crew up without Thunderbird Four getting wet."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to demand. What I did was nod and walk away. It wasn't Virgil's fault that some damn corporate executive was more interested in profit than protecting the environment.

I headed downship to the forward winch compartment. I slipped on a pair of heavy work gloves, and started unpacking and setting up the rescue basket. It just wasn't fair. There had to be something we could do about that waste. And why was it being transported through the Northwest Passage anyway?

I pulled out one of Brains' stress monitor devices and ran it over the winch and all of the connections. It wasn't like there weren't alternatives. There was that furnace that Brains had come up with. It could burn just about any waste and it was a common piece of equipment available just about anywhere in the world.

The monitor beeped, and I squinted at the screen. One of the connectors had a hairline crack. It was unlikely to fail, but there was no point in taking chances. I went to a supply locker and pulled out a replacement. I ran the monitor over it to be sure, then went back and used a power wrench to start disassembling the connection.

And why didn't narwhals count as people? There were all sorts of studies proving the intelligence of dolphins and whales. Why couldn't International Rescue rescue the animals too? It just wasn't fair.

I continued working until I was satisfied that everything was as ready as it could be, then I moved to the pod and started prepping Thunderbird Four. Yeah, it was unlikely we'd need her, but I didn't want to be caught unprepared.

I sat in Four running my start up checks, brooding over the unfairness of it all. I prefer the term 'brood' to 'sulk.' Has a more literary feel to it. And yes, I did, on occasion, read books. Anyway, I was finishing up when Virgil contacted me. "Gordon, are you ready?"

"I'm always ready, Virg, you know that."

"Uh-huh. Well, we're landing in about five minutes."

Huh? "Landing? What for?"

"Scott's put down on that island. He's going to come aboard to help with the winch."

"Right. FAB." I signed off and sat back.

To tell the truth, I was relieved. It had been at the back of my mind as I'd set things up that this would be a hell of a lot easier with John's help. I mean, I could technically handle it alone, but that meant I'd be relying on the people on the ship to handle the rescue basket on their own.

The thing about this kind of rescue is, it looks simple on the surface, but in truth, it is about as dangerous as anything we do. The rescue basket looks flimsy and fragile, but it's made of high tensile steel. If it gets whipped around in a storm, it can take a man's head off. With Scott on board manning the winch, I could drop with the basket, and make sure everyone got off the ship safely.

Good to his word, it was about five minutes later that I felt a change in the vibrations of the ship. That indicated that Thunderbird Two had gone from rear engines to her impellers, smaller VTOL engines located on all four sides of her belly that allowed Virgil to hover, and take off and land vertically.

I headed for the portside forward personnel hatch. No magic, no mind reading. I just knew that Virgil would land to the right of Thunderbird One, just as I knew that Scott would go to the forward hatch. Creatures of habit, my brothers.

Sure enough, the hatch opened as I approached, letting in a blast of frigid air, and a fair amount of blowing snow. Scott stepped through, ruddy-faced despite the heavy weather coat. He stamped his feet and shook himself, all the time grinning and sparkly-eyed. "It's nippy out there!"

I grinned back as we both braced against Virgil's lift off. It was hardly necessary as, like I said, my brother's flying was as smooth as silk. Scott slapped me on the shoulder and said, "Let's get this show on the road."

But then he headed in the wrong direction. "Uh, Scott? The winch is this way."

He never slowed, calling over his shoulder, "Change of plan. Come on."

Okay. Well, I was good at following, so I went along with him. To my surprise, I could feel Thunderbird Two landing again, and even more surprisingly, I heard the multiple thumps of the pod being released. "Scott, what the hell's going on?"

Scott boarded one of the freight elevators. I hopped in with him, and saw him key in the uppermost level of the ship. He looked over at me and said, "We've got three containers to worry about. Fortunately, they were the last ones loaded, so they're all on the top level. We're going to use the magnetic grabs to move them over here to the island. Then you'll use Thunderbird Four to evacuate the crew while Virgil transports the containers to the waste facility in a town called Kugluktuk."

I think I just stared at him, because when the elevator opened, and he started to move out, he barked, "We haven't got all day, Gordon."

I shook myself and hustled after him. I was like, in shock. "Does Dad know about this?"

"What? What are you talking about? Of course he knows about it."

I could see Scott was getting a bit irritated at me, so I just got to work, running the diagnostics on the huge magnetic grabs. But as I worked, I couldn't seem to wipe the smile from my face. Scott didn't notice, or if he did, he decided not to comment on it.

We used to only have one set of these grabs, located near the main winch room. They could be used with the pod in place. But as time went on, Virgil had argued for these bigger, more powerful ones, and had eventually gotten them.

I could still remember the nightmare when we had first used them on a rescue. Oddly enough, it hadn't been all that far from here, up on the Beaufort Sea. We'd actually used the grabs to transport Thunderbird One after she had fallen through the ice and was too damaged to fly.

These grabs could easily handle the containers on a ship. Using monitors placed in the pod bay, I maneuvered the big grabs out of their storage compartments. I had the whole area lit up because it was still dark out, although it was getting close to dawn, local time.

I could feel Scott hovering behind me. He's a real control freak, and I knew if I made any mistakes he'd be there like a shot, taking over. But for all that, he was also one of the best commanders I'd ever worked for, and I'd served under some of the finest in the world.

He stood behind me, letting me get on with the job, and I was determined to make him proud. And in plain fact, I was more than adequate when it came to remote manipulation. In Thunderbird Four, it was my meat and bread.

Virgil came on the intercom, "You two ready back there?"

Scott responded, "We're all set. Have they lit up the containers?"

"Yes, Scott, they've marked them with beacons for us. Sending the imagery through."

A secondary monitor lit up, and there she was. All in all, she seemed to be in pretty good shape. She was listing about 2 degrees, and she was being ruthlessly pounded by the surf, but she'd gone aground basically straight on, and her prow had absorbed most of the damage. To my eye, she looked seaworthy. All it would take was a couple of tugs to pull her off the shore, and she'd be up and running.

Of course, that assumed the tugs could get there before the ice closed in. The storm was blowing pretty fiercely, and one of the big gambles with the Northwest Passage was when it would close up. We like to think we've tamed the global warming problem, but in truth, weather patterns across the world were still pretty chaotic.

None of that was my problem, though. The ship was a typical medium-sized freighter, loaded with maybe 150 forty-foot long containers stacked three deep on the deck. The deck was floodlit, and three of the forward most containers were marked with flashing lights at all four corners.

I flexed my fingers as I prepared to take on the job. Scott startled me, saying, "You sure you can handle this?"

I glanced at him with a fierce grin. "In my sleep."

He responded dryly, "Asleep on the job. Just what I needed."

"Just sit back and relax and watch the master at work."

"No, I think I'd rather stay here and watch you."

I snorted and opened my communications line. "Al, put me through to the load master, would you?"

"FAB." Alan's reply was all business, and I heard a click.

"Uh, hello?"

"Hello. This is International Rescue. My name is Gordon. Who am I speaking with, please?"

"Jassim Al-Bakri. Call me Mike."

I smiled. "Okay, Mike, we're going to pull off those containers."

"Yes, I understand."

Chatty fellow, wasn't he? "Okay. The way we're going to do this is I'll drop magnetic grabs down and latch on, then I want you to release the locks, and we'll extract straight up."

"Good. Starboard side first."

Straight to work. My kind of guy. "Understood. Dropping grabs now."

I hit the control to drop the grabs down. I could hear Scott behind me, keeping up a steady stream of instructions to Virgil to keep us in the ballpark. It was kind of like playing one of those big claw games at the arcade, except that it took three people to play. And the prize was a big ol' box o' death.

There was a moment when the grabs started to sway. Handling Thunderbird Two when she wasn't carrying her pod was hard even in clear weather, and I had to tip my hat to Virgil's ability to get the ship to behave in these near blizzard conditions. I paused until the sway stopped, then lowered away. Between the three of us, we got the grabs perfectly placed, and I watched the monitor as a group of sailors swarmed over the container, releasing it from its bonds.

"All clear." Mike stated as calmly as if the action was taking place in a calm port rather than in the middle of a storm.

I heard Scott behind me, saying, "Okay, straight up, now, Virg."

I kept my eyes on my monitors and the stress readings. The container didn't weigh anywhere near the maximum tolerance of the grabs, but with the wind blowing, I wasn't prepared to take any chances. As soon as the container cleared the ship, I retracted the grabs as quickly as I safely could. The trip to the island was so short that I didn't have the grabs fully retracted before Scott gave the order to drop them again.

With Virg holding Two rock steady, I lowered the container down to the ground. I set it down so softly it wouldn't have turned a whisker on an Arctic hare. We moved back to the ship and got the second and third containers just as easily as the first.

The whole operation took a little over an hour, and by the time we were done, the night sky had gone all gray with the oncoming dawn. It was going to be a dark and gloomy day. I stood up and carefully stretched my back to be sure I was still fit. Not a single twinge.

I turned and found Scott giving me the eye. I just raised my eyebrows at him, daring him to say anything. He stared intently for a moment more, while I tried not to squirm, then he turned on his heel and led the way up to the cockpit.

I could both hear and feel Thunderbird Two settling over the third container in preparation for transferring it to the waste facility. I entered the cockpit behind my brother to find Virgil hard at work, setting the grabs.

I could have done that for him, but I didn't even offer. I said Scott was a control freak? He was nothing compared to Virgil where Thunderbird Two was concerned. He might be willing to let me work the winch and grabs when he was flying his ship, but in this case, where it was on the ground? Not a chance.

I looked out the windshield and shivered. It was nice and balmy here onboard Thunderbird Two, but I wasn't going to be staying here. I could see Thunderbird One about 100 feet away, and of course, the other two containers were black silhouettes against the snow. Wait a minute… "Hey, where's the pod?"

Scott glanced up at me, then turned back to Virgil. "You going to be okay on your own?"

"Absolutely."

With a nod he turned back to me. "Go get your sweater. You don't want to catch a chill."

Apparently I didn't need to know where the pod was. Well, they couldn't keep me in the dark for long, unless Scott was planning on handling Thunderbird Four himself. Which, of course, I'd let him do. Just as soon as we saw a porker flying by.

I hit the locker room, and pulled out my heavy Arctic coat, along with gloves and a knit hat. The uniform cap was fine and well in sunny weather, but I wasn't about to freeze my ears off just for International Rescue fashion.

I headed for the same hatch that Scott had entered by, and sure enough, he was there waiting for me. He glanced at my toasty warm hat, and I waited for the lecture about wearing the uniform on duty, but to my surprise, he didn't say a word. He just opened the hatch and led the way outside.

Oh man, it was freezing out there. The snow was heavy, almost slush, and the air was biting cold. We sloshed and slogged our way over to Thunderbird One. I was grateful that Scott had kept her in ready mode, with the heaters running full blast. Looking at Scott's red ears, I'm betting he was just as grateful, and probably jealous of my warm hat.

Of course, Scott being Scott, he'd never admit to anything as plebian as being cold, and he just got strapped in for liftoff, trusting me to do the same. It was a short hop to the shore of the island, where I saw Pod Four perched at the edge of a small drop off. It was only a few yards back from where the surf was pounding away, driven by the wind.

I nodded approval at the positioning, and headed for Thunderbird One's hatch. I heard Scott a step behind me and I looked back, curious to see what he was doing. He returned my look and cocked his eyebrow, waiting for my comment. Okay, I can play along. "What are you doing?"

"I'm coming with you."

Well now, that just made no sense. "On Thunderbird Four? What for?"

He rolled his eyes at me. "No, not on Thunderbird Four. To the pod. You're going to ferry the crew to the pod, and I'll get them settled."

Sometimes I think that freaky weird psychic thing Scott has going on with Virgil is a big disadvantage. I mean, usually, he is an excellent communicator. His instructions are clear and concise, and I'm totally confident that I know exactly what he wants. Other times, like now, he'll be absolutely obtuse, and I won't have a clue. I think it's because he can tell Virgil things without ever opening his mouth, and he forgets that the mental talking thing doesn't work with the rest of us.

I gave him a stern look to remind him to talk to me and then I led the way. Scott had landed within a few feet of the pod, which was just as well, because the snow had started to drift up against the sides. The blast from his landing had scoured it away, and we were able to make it to the pod's main side hatch without any trouble. I keyed it open and led the way aboard.

Unlike Thunderbirds One and Two, the pod was currently unheated, and I shivered as my breath misted in front of me. First order of business was to get the heaters up and running. Scott might be an iron man where cold was concerned, but we were expecting company, and a frosty welcome was just plain inhospitable.

I hit the control panel and got the thermal blowers going and looked around for my brother. He had already started setting up the safe room, an area at the back of the pod designed to temporarily keep passengers comfortable until the pod was reunited with Thunderbird Two and her passenger holding areas. I watched for a moment, then headed over. I pulled the hat off my head and handed it to Scott. "Here, you need this more than I do."

He glanced at it, then grinned, taking it from my hand and immediately pulling it on. "Thanks. It'll be nice to feel my ears again."

I grinned back, pulling on my uniform cap. "You're welcome. I'm heading out now. Watch out for the exhaust."

"Okay. Be careful out there."

"Always." I headed over to Thunderbird Four. It's a funny thing. Scott is always saying stuff like be careful. Alan takes offense every time, saying that Scott doesn't trust him. But when he says it to me, I just feel good. It's one of those dumb little ways that I know he gives a damn about me, you know?

Anyway, I boarded Thunderbird Four and slid into my seat. All my earlier prep work paid off, because the systems were warmed up and ready to go. I flicked a few switches, and the pod door started to drop to become a ramp. I opened up my communications system. "Thunderbird Five, I am in launch mode."

"FAB, Thunderbird Four." Alan's voice was exasperated. "Maybe you'll have better luck than me."

"What do you mean? What's wrong?"

"Well, now that the toxic stuff is gone, the captain of that ship says he and the crew are staying put. They don't want to leave the ship."

"Aw, damn it. That's just plain stupid. Put me through to him, would you Al?"

"Sure thing. His name is Captain Al-Bakri."

"Wait. That was the load master's name, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but this is a different guy. Maybe they're brothers or something."

"Yeah, okay. Go ahead and put him through."

"FAB."

I heard a change in background noise and knew I was on with the captain. I decided to play dumb. "Captain Al-Bakri, this is Gordon of International Rescue. I'll be approaching your portside boarding hatch within five minutes. I can evacuate four people at a time. Please be ready."

"As I told the other man, we do not wish to evacuate. Please do not trouble yourself any further." Alan was right. This wasn't the same man.

"Captain, your ship is aground. With this storm, the passage may be blocked until next spring. It's unsafe for you to remain here. Now, please, let's just get this over with."

"I have been instructed by my employers to stay with the ship. I understand your concern, but it is unnecessary. The ship is secure, and my people are safe enough. When the storm is ended, my employers will send people to assess our position. If the passage is blocked, so be it. We will take measures to weather the winter. If not, my employers will send a tug to pull us off the bar."

I hated to say it, but the captain was making a lot of sense. This ship was a multi-million dollar investment, and chances were the freight was worth a ton of money too. And if the crew wasn't in immediate danger, once the storm was over, they could be removed by helijet if necessary. Still, I had to make sure. "Okay, I understand, sir. Do you need the entire crew, though? With the ship on the rocks, we could take off all your unnecessary personnel."

"I thank you for your offer, however, my employers have authorized a generous bonus for any who stay. None of my crew are so wealthy as to be willing to give up the money that has been promised."

"Ah. I understand. Well, is there anything you need before we leave?"

"You have already provided a tremendous service. I have been fearful from the moment those containers of that filth were brought aboard. I praise Allah that you have removed them."

I couldn't help myself. I had to ask. "Why did you take them onboard anyway? You had to know the danger they presented to the ecosystem out here."

"Yes, I knew. This is a land of great beauty, and I weep for every piece of rubbish that I see. My employers pay a very high price for the right to traverse these waters. When the chemical plant that created that waste was shut down by the Canadian government, and we were asked to transport the containers, my employers felt we had no choice."

The captain's explanation put a whole different light on the situation, and the resentment I didn't even know I was feeling evaporated leaving me with a much lighter heart. I realized my tone had been accusatory, and I was quick to apologize. "Captain Al-Bakri, I'm sorry if I was rude. I didn't realize the situation."

There was silence for almost a full minute, and my heart sank, but then he replied in a low voice. "You have no need, Gordon. I think you and I are of a like mind about these things. Go in peace."

Uh, yeah. If only it was that easy. "Thank you, Captain. Calm seas and fair winds." I switched over to internal communications. "Thunderbird Four to Scott. Hey, bro, you can stop what you're doing. I'm not bringing the crew over."

I winced waiting for the reply. Sure enough, Scott barked, "What? Why not?"

"The ship's in good order, and with the toxic waste gone, the crew has decided to ride out the storm on board."

"Not happening. Where are you?"

I took a breath and reminded myself that Scott's ire was not really directed at me. "I'm heading back to the pod."

"Belay that and stand by." Scott clicked off in order to do his own negotiating with Captain Al-Bakri.

I settled Thunderbird Four into station keeping, and tried to have a little faith. The thing was, none of my brothers really understood the way sailors thought. I completely got the crew's desire to stay with their ship, especially when it was in danger, but I wasn't sure Scott would be as understanding.

As I waited for the outcome, my thoughts drifted to the problem of what to do about John. Now, that was something I just didn't get. I was known to be touchy and a grouch when I wasn't feeling well, but nothing, and I mean nothing, would ever make me snap at Grandma the way he did. And to run off like that? Absolutely unbelievable.

And where did that leave me? Did I go to Dad with what I knew about the woman John was seeing? And what about that woman? What could she be like that she could make John forget everything and take off when he was so obviously sick? What if he decided to marry her or something? Would that mean he'd leave International Rescue and go off and what, work at some observatory? Where would that leave us?

God, I really didn't like these thoughts, and when Scott interrupted them, I was relieved. "Gordon, return to the pod. We're going home."

I kept the smile out of my voice. "FAB."

Scott had sounded a bit disgruntled, and I suspect that Captain Al-Bakri hadn't so much convinced him as simply refused to buckle under to Scott's orders. I headed back to the shore, and once I was lined up with the pod, I entered the command, and let the computer run the retrieval program. I sat back and kept an eye on it, but it was a delicate procedure, and I let the on board computer handle it.

Back on board pod four, I shut down Thunderbird Four and headed for the hatch. Personally, I would have preferred just to sit in my cozy little ship, but it was unfair to leave the work of dismantling the safe room to Scott.

I hopped down from the launching rack and headed to the back of the pod. Sure enough, Scott was hard at work, taking down the secured seating. I joined him and started to work. After a short while, I couldn't take the silence any longer. "It'll be okay, Scott. Captain Al-Bakri knows what he's doing."

"Captain Al-Bakri is getting a bonus." Scott said in a tone of disgust. "Dad got on to the ship owners, and it turns out they offered the whole crew a bonus to stay on board."

"Yeah, I know. He told me."

"No amount of money is worth a human life, Gordon."

I could have argued with him, tried to get him to see it from a sailor's point of view, but I just shrugged. I had bigger fish to fry. "Scott, about Johnny…"

Scott slammed the door to an equipment locker with more force than necessary. "Yeah, what about him?"

Okay, the ice here was super thin, but still I pressed on. "Um, well, I wanted to let you know, he met someone. He met a woman at that wedding he went to, and he went back to the mainland last night to meet with her."

I kept working, but I was hyper aware of my brother standing frozen next to me. "Last night? How the hell did he leave last night?"

Oh boy. "Um, well, he uh, used the stealth shield to mask his take off. He left while you and Dad were in the hangar with Virgil."

"And you knew this?" He asked in that deadly calm tone that was as scary as hell.

I turned and faced the music. "Yes. He asked me to cover for him, but I didn't have to, because Virgil took you to the hangar."

Scott's jaw was working, but I could see he understood I was just backing John up, the way I always backed my brothers up. After a moment he calmed down enough to ask, "Anything else?"

"Well, he's been sick since yesterday afternoon. I mean, really sick, not just sniffles or anything. Scott, I'm not excusing the way he acted at dinner, but I thought you should know all the circumstances."

Scott nodded. "I appreciate that, Gordy. I was really pissed at dinner, but I've pretty much realized something had to be seriously wrong for John to act like that."

Over the sound of the storm, I could hear Thunderbird Two returning. Sure enough, Virgil's voice filled the air. "Thunderbird Two to Scott. I'm landing for the third container. How's Gordon doing with the evacuation?"

"He's not. The crew has decided to stay behind."

"What? Why, in God's name?"

"Money."

Oh, that was so totally unfair. "Scott, if Thunderbird One was damaged, how much money would Dad have to offer you to get you to stay with her?"

"What? What the hell are you talking about?"

I sighed. "Don't assume that people can't get attached to their ships just because they can't fly, Scott. Those men are staying because the Doha is their ship. The money is great, but I guarantee you that they would stay even if they weren't offered a dime."

I knew it was true even as I said it. Sailors have loved their ships since time immemorial. Captain Al-Bakri's feelings for the Doha was no different than mine for Thunderbird Four, or Scott's for Thunderbird One. It was just human nature.

I don't know if he bought it, but Scott rolled his eyes, and said no more. Virgil's tone was carefully neutral when he replied, "Okay, so I'll be back in about fifteen minutes to pick up the pod. Scott, you going to head home?"

There wasn't really a question. "No, I'll hang around until you're back."

Scott didn't like to leave until he was sure everything was okay. He'd stay until Thunderbird Two was on her way home before he'd take off himself. Of course, he'd beat us home by an hour even if he left an hour after we did. That suited him. He could watch us take off here, and still watch us land at home. The control freak in his natural habitat.

By the time Thunderbird Two had returned from delivering the last of the containers, Scott and I had pod four shipshape and locked down. With a high five for a job well done, Scott left for Thunderbird One, and I made my way up to the cockpit for the trip home.

Virgil looked wasted, and I realized that unlike me, he'd been up for a day and a night. It was pointless, but still I offered, "Hey, man, you want me to fly us home? You look like you could use some sleep."

"Thanks, but I can handle it."

"Okay, well, I'm right here if you change your mind."

"I appreciate that. How's your back?"

"It's fine. The wonder pills worked."

"Good." Virgil looked over at me. "So, what did you decide?"

"About what?"

"About telling Dad whatever it is you've been keeping quiet about John."

Never let it be said that Virgil is subtle. "I told Scott about it. He'll let Dad know."

Virgil nodded. "Care to let me in on it?"

Well, I'd already told Scott and Alan. Might as well make a clean breast of it. And really, I was glad for the chance. On the way home I told Virgil all about it, including the killer looks John had given me, and how they had frightened me. Throughout it all, he listened quietly, nodding his understanding.

It felt good to let it all out. I mean, with Al, it was like, I don't know, a couple of co-conspirators, if you know what I mean. But with Virgil, it was like, well, like how I imagined going to a confessional in a Catholic church would be. I just let it all out, and waited for my brother's absolution.

When I finished, he mulled it over for a while before saying, "I think you're right, it's the illness that's causing John to act this way. Once we get him home and healthy, he'll be fine."

"Yeah, but Virg, what if he won't come home? What if he marries that woman or something?"

"Then we deal with it. Don't make it sound like the end of the world, Gordon. This is John, after all. What do you think, that he'll get married and leave and never be a part of the family again? Not going to happen. He wouldn't let it happen." Virgil shook his head emphatically. "If he moves away, we'll find a way to handle the workload. But he'll still be our brother, he'll still be a part of the family."

"But what if his wife doesn't, you know, like us or something?" Gawd, was I actually whining?

Virgil snorted. "Women just naturally like Tracy men. With me and Scott, it's our good looks and style. With John and Alan it's that damn blond hair. With you, it's…" He thought about it for a moment. "It's Dad's money. I mean, come on, when was the last time you met a woman who flat out didn't like you?"

Oh, if he only knew. Still, his crack made me feel better. "True. You can keep your little fantasy about you and Scott. You're the ones who have to worry about women. I'm just naturally lovable, but you two aren't blessed with my excellent personality. And you sure as hell are delusional about your looks."

Virgil laughed softly. "Yes, well, we'll just have to muddle through somehow. You know, it's not like you to worry so much."

I nodded. "I know, but Virg, there was just something about that look he gave me that just scared the crap out of me."

"Don't put so much stock in it, kiddo. I seem to remember last year when you had that virus you were shooting looks that could wither flowers on the vine. Just give this a chance to blow over, and things will work out fine, okay?"

You know, it was good advice. I really was blowing it way out of proportion. I don't know what the hell was wrong with me. I was getting downright paranoid, and I can say I didn't like it one damn bit. I took a deep breath and let it out and nodded. "Yeah, okay."

It kinda felt like a weight was gone from my shoulders. I mean, I was still worried about Johnny, but who wouldn't be? The guy was sick as a dog, and really needed to come home, crawl into bed and let Grandma take care of him. But between Virg and Alan, I was finally able to let go of my, um, queasiness over that stupid split-second look.