When I woke up the next morning, I moved very cautiously at first, but everything was in working order, so I got up and stretched. I was a bit annoyed with myself because instead of getting up when I had first awoken, an hour ago, I had rolled over and gone back to sleep. Now I didn't have time before breakfast to go for a swim.

The day was likely to be wall-to-wall fun, working hard to make up for John, and for a moment, I regretted my ready agreement the night before. But it was only for a moment. Robbed of my swim, I made do with a longer than usual shower, then got dressed and headed for the kitchen.

Entering the room, I spied my Grandma at the stove. Couldn't help it. Just had to grab her and swing her around. I ended by dipping her deeply. "Good morning, gorgeous!"

Now, while she always pretended to take offense when I did it, the twinkle in her eye was always worth the spoon whacking that I got. She didn't disappoint, pursing her lips to hide the smile. "Gordon! Let me up! Lord, what am I to do with you?"

"Feed me? Give me a piece of that chocolate banana cake for breakfast?"

"Hmmph," she snorted, straightening her clothes. "Cake is not for breakfast. You go sit, and I'll bring you some eggs."

"And bacon?" I asked wistfully. Grandma had banned bacon from the house a couple of months ago after reading yet another health scare.

"I've got fruit, and some nice potatoes. You don't need meat at every meal."

I sat down after pouring myself a cup of coffee. "Yes, I do," I muttered under my breath.

"Me too," Dad said softly, looking up from his news pad, sympathy in his eyes.

"I heard that. Be thankful for what you have, please." Grandma gave us both The Look. I, for one, ducked my head and kept quiet. Dad's no fool. He went back to his news and the room grew quiet.

Soon, Grandma was next to me, sliding eggs onto my plate. "Now, where are your brothers?"

I didn't have a clue. While it wasn't unusual for Virgil to be slow getting to the breakfast table, Scott was almost always the first one up. He'd always been able to get by on just a few hours sleep, which was lucky, because he'd always been an insomniac.

Still, I felt a certain need to make a comment. "They went on a bacon run."

Dad tried to smother the snicker, but he wasn't very successful. Grandma straightened up. "All right, you two. I'll have no more of that at this table. If you don't like what I cook, just say so, and I'll pack my bags and go home today."

My heart seized up in my chest. "Grandma, no! I was just teasing! I love your cooking!"

"Mom, this is your home! Please, don't say things like that!"

She maintained her rigid posture for a moment longer, then relaxed. "You just need to understand that I don't deprive you of things like bacon to be mean. I just want you to be healthy and strong."

'We know that, Mom. We know."

"Grandma, you're the best cook in the world. But even if you burned water, I still wouldn't want you to leave. I need you here."

"We all do. This place just wasn't a real home until you came."

"Oh, settle down. I'm not going anywhere. If for no other reason than it wouldn't be fair to poor Kyrano. You'd all ride roughshod over him."

I took a deep breath, letting the anxiety drain away. "I'm sorry, Grandma. I won't ask for bacon again."

"Bacon? There's bacon?" Virgil trudged into the room.

I winced, but Grandma just turned back to the stove. "No dear. Get your coffee, and I'll have some nice eggs for you in a jiffy.

Virgil got his coffee and sat down. After a few moments, he frowned. That cheered me right up. I could tell from the look on his face that he was trying to decide if the bacon had been a dream. I ate my eggs and hash browns, which were really good, by the way, and kept quiet as a mouse. I didn't want to risk any more of my grandma's wrath.

Dad apparently felt the same way, because he was quiet too. I was almost finished before Scott put in an appearance. I took one look and my heart just fell. He looked like John had that afternoon after he'd come back from the wedding.

I wasn't the only one to notice, of course. He'd barely cleared the doorway before Grandma was at his side.
"Oh, sweetheart! Are you okay?"

Scott was as macho a guy as any I know, but for all of that, he was a sensible man. "I don't know. I think I might have caught whatever it is that John has."

"Well, sit down here, and let me get you something. Can you eat? Some eggs? Or maybe just toast?"

Scott glanced up at Grandma, and seemed to see the deep worry on her face for the first time. "Grandma, don't worry. It's not that bad. I'll have what everyone else is having. Just let me get my coffee."

"You sit right there. Are you sure you want coffee? Maybe tea would be better."

"Grandma, please, don't worry. I'm fine, really. I don't need tea." If I hadn't been worried about him, I would have grinned. Scott regarded tea like I did lamb shanks. He'd drink it if forced, but it wasn't anything he'd seek out.

Grandma put her hand on his forehead, then turned the movement in to a caress that was so familiar that I could practically feel it on my own cheek. "Well, you don't feel hot. All right, maybe you just need something in you."

She turned back to the stove, and Dad started in. "Son, I want you to go to Brains as soon as breakfast is over. We need to nip this in the bud before you infect your brothers."

There was a breathless moment as everyone froze, but Scott was not John. With a rueful smile, he said, "Yes, I agree. Maybe he can give me something that will keep me from going all psychotic."

Okay, now, how could I pass something like that up? "Too late."

Scott's eyes narrowed at my comment, and he said calmly, "Lean over here, let me breathe on you."

I put up my hands in surrender, leaning back in my chair. Dad sighed, "All right. Scott, once you've gotten with Brains, I'll want you to hit the sack. This is going to play havoc with both you and John sidelined. Gordon, it's time to put your training on Thunderbird Three to the test. I'm recalling your brother for the duration."

"Thanks, Grandma. Dad, I'm not that sick. It's more like a hangover than anything else. I don't need to go to bed."

"Son, your brother got sicker and sicker. I believe at least part of that was because he didn't take care of himself properly. I'm not going to let that happen to you."

Scott frowned. "At least let me go up and get Alan."

As much as I disliked flying that big ugly rocket on my own, I agreed with Dad. I needn't have worried, though. Dad was right there. "No, son. We've already discussed letting Gordon take the next run up to Five. This is the perfect opportunity."

This was news to me. I pushed down the slight resentment at them talking about me behind my back, and nodded. "Yeah, Scott. The perfect opportunity. Besides, you go, and Alan'll be sick before you get back."

"Scott, just let it go for a day," Virgil said softly.

Scott glanced over at my brother and finally relaxed. Some of the tension left his back and he said, "Okay, okay. But don't blame me if they decide to take Three off to the Bahamas or something."

That was my cue to bat my eyes and look innocent. My brothers and dad all rolled their eyes. Dad shifted, getting up. "Well, I'd better go let Alan know the news. Son, as soon as you're ready, I want you to go to Thunderbird Three. I want to walk through the pre-flight with you."

"Yes, sir." I turned back to Scott. "You sure you're going to be okay?"

Scott looked over at me, bleary-eyed. "As soon as the gorilla doing the rumba in my head stops, I'll be just fine. Be careful, kiddo."

Despite his assurance, I noticed he was just pushing the eggs around on his plate, not really eating. Virgil was awake by this time, and he gave me that look of his that said he'd take care of Scott for me, so I nodded and headed out.

I went to my bedroom, deciding that the shorts I was wearing weren't right for the job I was about to do. I put on some jeans, then decided on a pullover sweater. I don't know, I guess it was psychological, but Thunderbird Three always seemed cold to me. Or maybe it was the outer space part that did it.

Anyway, once I was dressed, I sat on my bed looking around for anything that I might be missing. After a few minutes, I acknowledged what I was doing for what it was. I was putting off the inevitable. Shaking my head at the foolishness of it, I got up and headed for the lounge.

Dad was at his desk, so I went right over and plopped down on the couch. My primary parental unit sat with a grin on his face. "You ready, son?"

"I'm always ready, Dad. Let 'er rip." I put on my best game face. I knew Dad saw this as an opportunity for me to find my true calling. He'd never quite believed that I didn't hanker for outer space like he did. Sometimes it was hard to be the only fish in a family of hawks. Especially because the hawks seemed to think I was a goldfish. They never quite got that I was a shark.

Anyway, as the couch sank into the floor, I held my nose with one hand and held the other up high like I was sinking for the last time. Dad grinned even wider. As soon as I was out of his sight, though, I lost the brave front.

It's not that I'm afraid of space, far from it. It was just that it was like the sky, only more so. I said the sky was empty? Well, space is even emptier. No life, no chance of life, just an endless black horizon punctuated by cold white lights. I mean, what was the point?

Of course, I couldn't tell Dad that. As the couch moved into the hangar, I looked up at Thunderbird Three. I looked up… and up… and up. That's another thing. Thunderbird Four was just the right size. Nice and cozy. My brothers' ships were all these gigantic compensations for personal physical failings. And what was with the red? Didn't the damn thing stand out enough without being the color of a clown's nose?

I sighed as the couch completed its journey, lifting me into the belly of the beast before locking down with a series of thumps. I got up and headed up ship in the elevator, coming out in the control room. Smelled funky in here.

I wrinkled my nose as I sat down and buckled up. Then unbuckled and got back up. I went over to a cabinet and opening it, reached in and pulled out a binder. Okay, so I hadn't kept up on the training the way I should have. What were the chances that I'd be needed to pilot Thunderbird Three? Yeah.

Well, if there was one thing that John was good at, it was writing out easy step by step instructions. And before you get all paranoid, let me point out that 90% of flying this bird was handled by the ship's computers. Personally, I was pretty convinced the damn thing didn't need a pilot at all for something as simple as flying to and from Thunderbird Five. Of course, voicing that heresy where my brothers or dad could hear would be a quick, but painful, suicide.

I did a quick read through, just to refresh my memory. That was all I really needed. Especially since my dad was going to give me a pop quiz. Comfortable that I could handle it, I opened up the comm system. "Thunderbird Three to base, I'm ready for pre-flight."

"All right son, by the numbers."

"Yes sir. Uh, exterior pump disconnect confirmed… Containment fields, green… Booster temperature within range… Life support systems online, and green… Communication system, uh, link with Thunderbird Five is ten by ten, antennas locked on… Onboard computers, green across the board… Navigational computer set and locked… Hangar door open… Onboard clock is running, flight recorder on and green… weapons systems charging, photon torpedoes at 80% and rising."

Dad chuckled. "I trust you're wearing your Buzz Lightyear underwear?"

"I never leave home without it. Thunderbird Five requests clearance." I was relieved that I'd passed the test. And once again I thanked my lucky starfish that we had a guy like Brains on our team. When we'd started International Rescue a few years ago, the preflight checklist for Thunderbird Five was ten times as long, with lots of easy to forget things like purging various pumps and stuff. It was Brains' evolving designs that made the preflight on TB3 actually easier than on our family jet.

"You are clear for flight, Thunderbird Five. Godspeed, son. I'll be right here if you need me."

"Thanks, Dad." I hit the switch and held on tight.

Even in the soundproofed control room, the rocket roar was deafening as Thunderbird Three gathered herself for flight. It always seemed to go on forever before the ship started to move, and this time was no different. I held my breath waiting for something to happen, flight or obliteration, one or the other.

Fortunately for me, it was flight, and the big rocket suddenly flung itself into the sky. My brothers actually enjoyed this, bragging about how many gees they could each pull. Personally, I preferred being able to breathe without feeling like there's a sperm whale sitting on my chest.

I gritted my teeth until the whale finally got bored and bailed out. I sat waiting for my stomach to catch up. It didn't look like it'd happen anytime soon. Oh well, I figured it would show up sooner or later. I checked the boards but, like I said, the computer was actually doing all of the work. I was looking at forty minutes of boredom before I made it up to Thunderbird Five.

Of course, I didn't have to stay bored… "Thunderbird Weenie to Thunderbird Five, come in, Alan."

"Gordy, you really shouldn't put yourself down like that. I mean, sure, you're a weenie, but admitting out loud like that just isn't professional."

"Well, if you're going to be like that, I'll just go to the Bahamas by myself."

That got him. "What? The Bahamas? What are you talking about?"

"Scott suggested that you and I go to the Bahamas, and Dad didn't disagree."

My brother's face fell. "You mean we're shutting down? We don't have to shut down. We can handle it without Scott and John. I mean, how many times do we ever need more than three people on a rescue anyway?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I guess the real issue is there's nobody to fly Thunderbird One with Scott out of commission."

Alan went very still. I tried to keep a blank face. I figured there was a fifty-fifty chance of him blowing sky high, which would be entertaining to say the least. Unfortunately, although he turned bright red in anger, I could see the moment he caught on. His head jerked a bit, then his eyes narrowed as he looked at me. Suddenly, he reached forward and shut down the monitor.

Rats. He was checking with Dad. Ah well. His counter attack should be just as entertaining. He let me stew for a good twenty minutes before he called back. "Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird Three, Gordon, come in."

"Hey. Listen, I'll be on final approach in about ten minutes. Have you packed your toothbrush and jammies?"

"No. Gordon, I called down to base, and Dad and Virg are sick. Dad says you're to stay up here with me until they get a handle on whatever this is."

Oh, that was a good one. He had just the right amount of sincerity. But I wasn't born yesterday… "Oh God! You're kidding! Damn."

"Yeah. It won't be so bad. It's not like you'd be stuck here with John or something. We'll have a party, okay?"

"Well, no. The last place I can go is there. Al, I've been exposed. If I come up there, we could both get sick. No, I need to turn around. You'll be okay up here."

"Wait! You can't go back! Dad said!"

"Obviously he's not thinking straight. Don't worry, when I point it out to him, he'll understand. Now, I just need figure out how to get this monster on manual override. Listen, I'm going to have to really concentrate here, so I'm signing off."

I flipped the switch on his panicked protest. I sat back and looked over my control board. What I needed was something that would register on Five, but wouldn't actually affect the flight. I didn't want to actually switch to manual. I could handle it, but why do that, when doing something like activating the meteor detection and repeller module, which was the toggle right next to the manual override switch, would give Alan just that perfect sense of incompetence?

I flipped the toggle, waited a few moments, then flipped it off. Then flipped it on and off again. I startled a bit when an alarm went off, but it was just the autopilot alerting me to upcoming maneuvers. Even better. Just for effect, I flipped on all the exterior lights. Of course, the communicator light was flashing the whole time.

I opened up the line. "Hey Al, which one turns off the autopilot again?"

Instead of the panic I expected, my younger brother was laughing his head off. "Okay, okay, I give, I give! You win!"

I grinned at him. "Was there any doubt? I'm in final approach."

"Yeah, I'm ready for you. God, Gordy, the meteor detector?" Alan wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes.

"Is that what that was?" I asked innocently, sending my brother into another spasm of laughter.

"Man, I've been up here too long if that lame ass move could make me laugh like that."

"Yeah, there was a touch of hysteria there, kiddo."

"Hey, the whole idea of you flying up here alone is hilarious. I would have given good money to see the look on your face when Dad told you."

"I was stoic," I said deadpan, causing more laughter.

I couldn't help grinning. Alan's laughter was always infectious, and in truth, I didn't mind taking a hit to the ol' self esteem if it gave him something to laugh about. "Okay, coming up on docking, in three… two… one. I have latch on… and seal. Get over here and take this beast off my hands."

"On my way."

I released my harness and moved over to the communication console. By the time I'd re-buckled the harness, the hatch opened and my brother came striding in. He stopped dead a few steps in. "What the hell is that smell?"

I looked up at him. "You know, I thought it smelled funky in here, but I figured it was just something about outer space."

Alan rolled his eyes. "You're kidding, right?"

"Hey, it's not my 'bird, man. How should I know what it's supposed to smell like?"

"Well not like this!" Alan looked around the control room, then moved over to a cabinet, and pulled it open. A wave of odor wafted up. Alan waved his hand in front of his nose. "Crap. The recycler is busted. This garbage has been in here since John and I switched."

My eyes were watering. "Geez, Al, shut it. It stinks."

"Yeah." Alan shut the cabinet, which only was partially effective in removing the odor from the air. Shaking his head, he came over and slipped into his chair. "Bringing air recycling up to full. That should help until we get home."

"Aw, no Bahamas?"

Alan expertly undocked and moved Thunderbird Three to the correct path for re-entry, all the while shaking his head, asking, "What is it with you and the Bahamas?"

"Didn't Dad tell you?"

"I didn't ask."

"Sick as he was, Scott still wanted to come up and get you. Dad told him no, and he said not to blame him if you and I took Thunderbird Three off to the Bahamas. I thought it sounded like a good idea."

Alan wrinkled his nose. "Too many people. The whole place is nothing but a tourist trap."

I couldn't help but remember a certain time on leave. "I don't mind being trapped."

"Yeah, well, if a sea rescue comes in while we're away, Virgil will be handling Thunderbird Four."

"Oooo, a low blow! Oh, okay. Home, Jeeves."

Alan snorted and shook his head. Unlike me, he didn't trust the autopilot, and he had to concentrate on the flight. I sat back and relaxed. Alan noticed, and frowned. "Make yourself useful. Call base and let them know we're on our way."

"Okay," I responded mildly. I reached up and hit a switch. "Thunderbird Three to base. Dad, we've left Thunderbird Five and we're on our way home."

"Very good. You didn't have any trouble docking?" Dad asked, trying to hide his relief.

"No, none at all. In fact, I'm pretty sure I did it better than either John or Alan could have."

The indignant denial next to me was worth seeing my dad relax. "Well, that's nice, son. We'll see you shortly."

Dad signed off, and I turned to my seething sib. "Gimme a break, Al. I only said that to let Dad know everything's okay. He's been under pressure lately."

Alan let out a breath, but nodded. "Yeah, okay. But when was Dad ever not under pressure?"

"Yeah, but with mini-Dad under the weather, he's feeling the pressure more than usual."

"About that. What do you think it is? Is it the same thing John has?"

"I don't think there's much doubt about that. John was fine, then he took a nap, and woke up sick as a dog. Same thing with Scott. When I saw him walk in this morning, he looked just like John did the other day."

"So, did he give you a killer look?" Alan asked, casually, his eyes on his board.

I could have done without that reminder. I snapped a bit harshly. "No. Why would he?"

"Easy. It was just a question."

I deflated like a puffer fish with a hole in its belly. "Yeah. Sorry. No, Scott seemed fine. He was going to get with Brains after breakfast, see if this is something more than the flu."

"And John just stayed on the mainland." It wasn't a question, but I could hear the confusion in my brother's voice.

"Scott says the woman John found is taking care of him. He seemed to think this woman was really something special. He pretty much described her like a cross between a movie star, a nuclear physicist and a saint. He actually said if she hadn't been into John he'd have made a play for her."

"Is it just me, or does there seem to be something wrong with this picture?"

"Naw. I mean, before Scott got home yesterday, I was feeling a tad paranoid, you know? But Scott was comfortable with the situation, so who am I to worry?"

"I don't know, Gordy, I just feel like the sky's going to fall in on us."

"Well if it does, we'll get us an umbrella, okay? I'm not going to worry about it."

My brother let out a breath, nodding his head. "Yeah, okay. So, what do you say to some diving off the point?"

"Sure. We can fit it in between greasing the pod conveyor tracks and fixing the damn recycler."

Alan sighed, apparently just now realizing just how much work we had ahead of us. He turned back to his controls, and I settled in, knowing this was probably the closest thing to fun he was going to have for some time to come.