Author's note: A rarity with me, a very short chapter! Thanks to Hobbeth for betareading and being a sounding board, and preventing me from making a terrible gaffe! That's the best kind of betareader! Reviewer responses at the end.

Special note: I've added a very basic layout of the Wharton Academy campus (as I envision it) to my photobucket account. See my bio for links.

Disclaimer: I don't own the canon characters, I'm just writing about them. Please do not copy, print, or hyperlink this fiction without my express written or verbal consent. This includes adding this fiction to C2 communities. I may be reached at my email of record. Any and all original characters are mine and may not be used without my express written consent.

Enjoy

Tikatu

Alan stepped into the games room, scanning the crowd for any sign of his friend. The pinball games were manned by people he either didn't know or had a "I was in his class once" acquaintance with. Fermat must have gotten bored or gone back to his room.

Though seemingly the stereotypical clumsy geek, Fermat's hand-eye coordination was surprisingly advanced. He kept it sharp through his rapid typing and playing pinball. Once on a machine, he zoned out nearly everything else, playing the game as long as the faculty monitors would let him. All the school's machines sported his initials at the top of the high scores list.

Temptation to use the wrist communicator rose up, but Alan batted it down easily. Emergencies only, he reminded himself, realizing he'd lose the watch should he abuse his privilege. Seeing someone he knew from last year's math class, he asked about Fermat's whereabouts.

"Hackenbacker?" the boy replied. "Israni came and got him. They went off together. Talked about hitting the courts."

"Thanks."

Courts, huh? Alan thought as he left the Student Union. With Dev, that's got to be basketball. Though proficient at the sport, Devdan considered his academic studies of more importance than playing for the school team. On the weekends, however, he could often be found playing a pick up game or two on the outside courts.

Alan walked briskly toward the courts before breaking into a trot. It'll be a while before any rescue footage shows up on the televid. I might as well get in a few minutes on the court before it does.

Approaching the courts, he grinned to see Dev score for his side from outside the key, the ball swishing through the hoop and catching nothing but net. The action shifted to the other end of the court as the opposition took control of the ball. Fermat sat on a bench nearby, cheering on his friend while talking to the dark-haired boy next to him. Alan came up behind him. He thrust his fist down over Fermat's shoulder, thumb stuck between his fore and middle fingers. The gesture was the sign language letter "t"; it was a signal between the two boys which meant "Thunderbirds were go". Fermat glanced at it before turning to Alan, an expression of delight on his face. He opened his mouth ask Alan for details, realized who sat next to him, and shut his mouth so he wouldn't compromise security.

Alan sat down on the bare ground next to the bench. "So, who's winning?"

"The o-other guys." Fermat shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Wish I w-were o-out there. But I c-can't, not with this a-a-a... cast. C-Couldn't play p-pinball very well, either." He turned to his neighbor. "D-Dom? D-Do you know m-my friend, A-Alan?"

Dom leaned over a bit to look at Alan, and then shook his head. "I know about him, but we've never been introduced." He held out his hand. "Dom Bertoli."

Alan took the hand and shook it. "Alan Tracy. We've got a mutual friend in Kay Lewis."

"Yeah, he's on the yearbook staff," Dom replied.

They were distracted by Dev making another basket. Alan put his thumb and forefinger in his mouth to whistle loudly while the other two cheered. The game went on, with the other team again in possession of the ball. Alan took a minute to ask Dom, "You okay? I heard about that attack..."

"I'm ... okay." Dom nodded slightly. "They got the asthma under control at the hospital and called my folks. But they're in Ft. Lauderdale and I'm here." He shrugged. "The hospital got permission to release me. I expect my parents up here tomorrow." He turned to Fermat, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder. "Wish I'd had this one along. Kay tells me he scared the guys away when they went after him."

Fermat blushed. "Well, i-it wasn't j-j-j... only me, y'know. A-Alan here b-brought backup."

"Cool." Dom grinned at Alan and then went back to watching the game.

Someone from Dev's team scored again and, suddenly, the game ended. "Who won?" Alan asked.

"The o-other guys," Fermat repeated with a sigh. "46 to 32."

"Well, I'd better be going." Dom stood up and stretched. "Nice to meet you, Alan."

"You, too, Dom." Alan gave Dom a thoughtful look. "Hey, is your roommate Trey Mackenzie?"

Neither Alan nor Fermat could miss the grimace that passed over Dom's face. "Yeah, he is. What about it?"

"Well, I'd like to talk to you about an idea I just got concerning him. It might be good for both of us."

Dom shrugged. "Sure. Why not? We can talk now, if you don't mind walking back to the dorms together."

"Great!" Alan turned to Fermat. "Hey, I'll meet you in your room in a bit, okay?"

"S-Sure," Fermat replied, a puzzled look on his face. "I'll b-be there. G-Got homework to d-d-do."

"See you soon!" the older boy called as he walked off with Dom.

xxxx

"Damn, it's hot!" Gordon groused. He was dressed in a green-trimmed, fireproof suit with air tanks connected to his face plate, spraying dicetyline foam at flames in the path of the Firefly.

"What did you expect, Gords?" Virgil asked from where he was guiding the machine along. "It's a forest fire." He used the bulldozer blade to push aside the charred trees blocking the bumpy, rut-filled, washboard of a dirt road to the camp. "Thunderbird Five from Firefly. John, how much farther?"

"You've got another kilometer, Virge." John consulted his screens; they showed images bounced from a series of IR surveillance satellites to Thunderbird Five. A wildfire raged deep in the forests of Ecuador's Parque Nacional Yaguní. Many small villages ringed the park while a few small camps operated within. This particular camp sat in the fire's projected path and would soon be surrounded. However, the small villages were ill-equipped to do more than keep the fire from their own borders, prompting the camp's sponsors-a missionary agency in Quito-to call on International Rescue.

Jeff quickly decided the easiest way to bring the thirty or so teenagers and their adult counselors out was to clear the access road. The fire had cut across the road at one point; many fallen trees, some still on fire, blocked the way. So Jeff unloaded the Firefly, with its load of dicetyline and two of his sons, at the camp. Three campers with breathing issues were airlifted, along with an adult chaperone, to Puyo, the nearest town with medical facilities sufficient for their care. Finding no good spot nearby to set up a command post, Scott parked Thunderbird One on a larger access road and joined his father in Thunderbird Two, assisting those they were airlifting.

Gordon risked a glance back the way they had come. The three ancient four-wheel drive trucks, each holding eight to ten people, followed slowly along behind them. The air was thick with smoke and still very hot; he hoped that the air tank kits they'd handed out would see the campers and counselors through. Taking a deep breath himself, he turned back, spraying his surroundings with green foam.

"Thunderbird One to Firefly." Scott's voice came over the communications links in both Virgil's and Gordon's helmets. "I'm baaaack!"

"Decided to stop shirking, huh?" Gordon quipped, his voice sounding breathy inside his face mask. "How about coming down here and doing some real manly work? The kind that gets you hot and sweaty."

"I have different and more enjoyable ideas on how to get hot and sweaty, Gords," Scott riposted.

"Oh?" Virgil chimed in. "What's her name?"

"Can the chatter boys," came Jeff's no-nonsense tone. "Focus on the job."

There was a chorus of "F-A-B" from the Firefly and Thunderbird One and a quiet chuckle from Thunderbird Five. Unexpectedly, John's voice, tight and tense, cut in, "Firefly from Thunderbird Five. You've got trouble. The wind has shifted and picked up speed. The fire's now ahead of you on your left. I suggest you pick up some speed, too."

They then heard from Scott, who was flying along the route over them. "Firefly from Thunderbird One. I'd listen to what John says. You have a bridge ahead. Wooden from the look of it, over a good sized ravine. The fire is racing you there."

"You heard the man, Virgil," Jeff said. "John, talk to the drivers behind the Firefly and apprise them of the situation. See if they can pick up speed."

"F-A-B," John replied. He turned and pressed a button. This was one translation job he could handle himself; he was fluent in Spanish. He began to rapidly inform the lead truck of the approaching problem.

Virgil began to coax the Firefly to go faster, pressing the pedal down slowly. Unfortunately, the increase in speed meant the machine hit bumps with greater force-which had a decided effect on Gordon's perch.

"Hey!" he called out indignantly as the platform he stook on swung back and forth sharply. "Don't forget I'm up here!"

"I won't," Virgil answered through gritted teeth. "Just keep putting out that fire!"

They entered an area where the fire hadn't been burning long enough for trees to have fallen across the road-yet. But the fire here was younger, hotter, and burned up the tinder of bushes and leafy ground cover quickly. It moved fast as the winds fanned it, sending sparks to ignite more of the dry foliage. Gordon grimly held on tight and sprayed the green foam along each side, aiming in front of the Firefly and sweeping back. hoping to preserve their remaining dicetyline by not spraying it in the actual road.

Finally, they came to the bridge. Beyond it, the forest was untouched by flame and beckoned like a cool oasis. Virgil took a good look at the span and groaned. "Firefly to Thunderbirds One, Two and Five. We have reached the bridge, but we've got a little problem here."

"Go ahead, Firefly," Jeff said. "What's the trouble? Is the bridge on fire?"

"Negative. The bridge is fine, but-it's too small for the Firefly."

How are they going to get the Firefly across the bridge? What's Alan's idea? Stay tuned, same FAB time, same FAB story!

Now for my reviewers:

Laurelleaves: I'd be rather peeved at someone smoking in my room, for the good words.
Destiny Lynn: Thanks for taking the hint! I'm glad you like humor and the everyday bits of Alan and Fermat's lives. What would I do if I found my daughter the way you described? Probably the same thing your parents did... then I'd want to know what was so funny.
Ellie ET: Thanks for the good words on the homesickness. I'll keep going.
Lorency: Creepy wasn't the word I'd use to describe Sugi, more like, domineering. Everybody wants A.J. to find out about the Thunderbirds! Does Sugi have something to do with the attacks? Wait and see!
Spense: Thanks for the good words on the story. I tend to get a lot of levels going then have to figure out what one I'm on! I'm glad you like the pacing. It does allow for a lot of depth to the characters and their lives.
justdoyourthing: Thanks! I will!
LoLLy: Thanks for the compliments on the story. What happens between Alan and Sugi is yet to come. I like it when the Tracys get along, too. You're right about the smoking being something that the boys aren't supposed to do. Keep reading and you'll find out what will happen!
Sancontoa: You're right about the track team; there wasn't a whole lot of suspense there... I think. As for the Thunderbirds, you've seen them here! And more to come!
Iniysa: Thanks for nice words about the "I love you". Even boys need to say it to their dads sometimes. You want me to whump on Alan? Then how will he do track? Maybe I'll whump on somebody else instead.
Virgil's Grl: Thanks for the kind words. Sorry this chapter took so long and is so short but after my big push on Masquerade, my muse sort of went on vacation (to the Bahamas, I'm sure). You're right about Alan standing up to his brothers, but to him, Sugi is an unknown quantity and not likely to forgive or forget. You have some interesting ideas about who Alan should go to. Thanks for sharing them.
Math Girl: No, money doesn't buy happiness; a lesson that Alan is learning, I think. Hope the rescue is satisfying so far.