Finally, it is time to reveal my devious plan. By killing off Virgil, I can now keep him all to myself! However, I possibly could be bribed by chocolate, if anyone ever wants to borrow him to play with.

Funnily enough, no one's called me evil this time around…

...Yet.

FAB.

;-) Purupuss

It wasn't until Jeff was satisfied that enough accommodation had been supplied for everyone trapped in the hall that he and his mother had bid a sombre goodnight to ACE and returned to their storeroom in Bearston General. Their intention was to stay there until the family joined them and then retire to one of the two motorhomes that they'd procured for their own use. Jeff wondered if they should leave a note in the room saying where they were and retire anyway.

Grandma picked up the cushion that had fallen onto the floor and replaced it on her chair. "I wonder when the boys will be back."

"Mr Tracy!" They jumped as Colin Eden slammed his way in through the door. "Mrs Tracy! I've had everyone looking for you!"

Jeff was too exhausted, emotionally and physically, to respond.

"We made a mistake!"

Jeff barely had the energy to comprehend, let alone comment on what the hospital manager was saying. "Mistake?"

"Virgil! He's alive!" Eden, his eyes almost popping out of his head as he wrung his hands together, started gabbling. "I'm sorry, really sorry. I know that you've been through a stressful time, and I'm sorry the way that Bearston General has treated you, and I'm sure you understand that this been a traumatic event for everyone, and we've done our best to behave professionally, and I'm sorry that you've had to deal with what you thought was your son's death, but mistakes happen, especially when people are under pressure…"

Jeff, feeling a new burst of energy not so much surge as pulse through him, held up his hand, stopping the manager's garrulous speech. "What are you telling us?"

Colin Eden, seeing his entire career pass before his eyes, repeated the most important point. "Virgil is not dead. He's alive. It was an error. One of our clerical staff accidentally listed him as deceased. All our staff have been working non-stop for hours and a few mistakes are only natural, and the error was discovered a short time later and corrected, but by then I'd already been notified. I've set up our computer system to automatically send any reports on Virgil's condition to me; and, of course, I told you as soon as I received that report. When the correction was made, I couldn't find you. I've had all our staff looking for you…"

"Are you telling me…" Jeff's rumble sounded almost subterranean, "that I've just told my sons…" his voice increased in volume and pitch, "Virgil's brothers…!" He rose to his feet. "…and various family friends that my son's dead when the truth is that he's still alive!? That… That it was a clerical error?!"

Eden was ringing is hands again. "Yes. I'm so sorry, and we did try to tell you, but…"

Jeff's mother laid her hand on the small of her son's back. "It was an honest mistake, Jeff."

Sinking back into his chair he took her hand and all the fight seemed to evaporate out of him. "I know…" He looked back at the wide-eyed manager. "It's been a tough day."

"I'm sure it has been. And please allow me to extend the sympathy of Bearston General and apologise that we have added to your burden."

Then Grandma grabbed her son's arm. "Jeff! You've got to tell the boys! What if they have stopped printing the printer?!"

"They wouldn't do th..." Jeff began, but then doubts crept in. His sons had never had to deal with this exact scenario before. "Would they?" He pulled out his mobile phone. "They're still at ACE."

"What if they're just sitting there? You've got to call them now!"

"No." Jeff almost launched himself out of his chair. "Not until I've seen Virgil for myself." He grabbed the box containing the music player and the stress ball. "Show me where he is!" he ordered.

Desperate to make amends, Eden agreed.

He led Jeff down a familiar route to the room that had been Virgil's.

Jeff frowned as Eden pushed open the doors. "We were told he'd been moved."

"Ah… Yes… That was the original intention, but then someone else needed that room more…" Eden looked embarrassed as he held the door open and stood aside.

Jeff entered and looked around the room. "Where is he?"

"What?!" Eden did a quick check of his own. "Nurse! Where's Virgil Tracy?"

She treated them to a bright smile. "He's lucky. They've just taken him into surgery."

"What!?" Jeff felt his heart, which had been getting a major workout over the last however many hours it had been since this nightmare had begun, drop. "We've got to stop them!" He slammed back through the doors. "Which way to the operating rooms?!"

A helpful orderly pointed left.

Jeff ran through the corridors, following signs where he could and gasping out breathless questions when he needed extra guidance. He could hear Eden panting along behind him, but didn't want to take the chance that the administrator would try to stop him. Not that he would let anyone stop him. He had to get to Virgil before all chances of a full recovery were lost.

He found a nurse at a workstation in the surgical ward. "Which room is Virgil Tracy being operated in?"

"Ah…" The nurse checked his notes. "Room six… But you can't go down there!" He yelled after the departing back.

He was about to summon security when he was stopped by the hospital's manager.

With the briefest of checks through the windows in the doors to ensure that he wasn't about to do more harm than good, Jeff burst into theatre six. "Stop!"

"What?" Several masked faces stared at him; the anaesthetist frozen midway through the process of applying a mask to the patient's face.

Furious, the surgeon pulled his hat off. "What's going on here!?" He turned when Eden also entered unannounced. "What's the meaning of this, Colin?!" His mask was ripped clear. "You're contaminating the entire area!"

"I know," Eden soothed. "But it is important he sees his son."

"Important?! Doesn't he think saving his son's life is important?! Does he have any idea what he's just done?"

Jeff didn't listen to the exchange as he bent over the figure lying on the bed. "Virgil? It's your father. Can you hear me?"

"Dad…?" Virgil gazed sightlessly at the burning light overhead. "S'all dark."

Jeff saw a small movement of his son's arm and reached down to hold Virgil's good hand; trying not to think that, unlike last time, it felt as fragile as wet tissue paper. "Virgil. Can you hear me? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

There was a tiny nod. "Y's."

"You!" Jeff pointed at the hapless anaesthetist, who hadn't moved. "Listen to what he says! You're to be his voice."

Bemused, the anaesthetist frowned behind her mask. "I'm what?"

"Whatever Virgil says is the final word. If anyone, including me, tries to do something to him he doesn't want, you are to speak up for him."

The anaesthetist turned wide, bewildered eyes on her colleagues.

"Virgil," Jeff began. "You trust Brains, don't you?"

There was the nod again. "Y's."

"The surgeons here at this hospital want to help you. If you let them operate on you now, they will take away all the pain and discomfort you are in now. Do you understand?"

"Y's."

"But if you let them operate on you now, things will never be the same as they were before. You won't be able to do what you always did. Do you understand?"

"… Y's."

"Brains has discovered a procedure that will enable you to live as you always did…" Behind him Jeff heard a snort of disbelief. "…and do what you always did. But the procedure has never been used before and Brains can't guarantee that it will work. And this procedure won't be able to be done for at least an hour…"

The surgeon turned on his superior. "Colin! I must protest."

Jeff kept his focus on his son and the need to speak clearly. "Brains believes that this operation, even though it has never been done before, will work. Do you understand?"

"Bra'n' say' i' work?"

"Brains thinks it will work," Jeff clarified. "Do you want to be operated on now?"

Virgil didn't take any time to think about it. "No."

"Do you want to wait for the untried procedure?"

This response was equally as sure. "Y's… Trus' Bra'n'," Virgil stated, and Jeff glanced at the anaesthetist to ensure that she'd heard and understood. "Trus' you."

Not expecting those last two words, Jeff felt shocked. Shocked enough to do something that he hadn't done for decades. He kissed his son on the forehead. "Thank you, Virgil," he whispered. "I'll try not to betray your trust."

He straightened. "You heard him! He doesn't want to be operated on now. He wants to wait until the other procedure is ready."

"He doesn't know what he's saying!" the surgeon protested.

Jeff turned to the anaesthetist but didn't say anything.

"He…" The anaesthetist darted confused eyes between all the people in the room. "He sounded like he understood and knew what he was saying."

When it came to the welfare of his patients, the surgeon was a tyrant. "Mr Tracy! To not operate now would be tantamount to murder!"

"Suicide," someone amended and then tried to make themselves invisible against the pale walls of the theatre.

"I'm not saying anything against your surgical abilities nor that of this hospital," Jeff began, trying to sound calm and rational even though he felt like he was about to explode. "But I am Virgil's next of kin and I also have power of attorney over him." That document was in a safe at Tracy Island and had been created in case there was ever a situation where Jeff Tracy would have to reveal his link, although not necessarily his relationship, with International Rescue's operatives. "We don't have the time to retrieve the documentation to prove it, but I can assure you that I have the authority to dictate Virgil's course of treatment and I insist that we wait until the printer and the polymer are ready."

"Mr Tracy!" the surgeon stormed. "Virgil can't wait. You can see that his body is already shutting down!" He was silenced by his boss making a calm down gesture and laying a hand on his arm. Realising that making such comments in front of his patient did not equate with his understanding of the Hippocratic Oath, he lowered his voice. "Mr Tracy," he repeated. "Virgil's sight loss is the first stage in cascading organ failure. He can't wait… Even if this untried procedure is going to be the miracle cure you're hoping for."

The heartfelt statement from someone who knew more about his son's condition than he did was enough to make Jeff's resolve waver. It was one thing to be sure of his decision when he knew that his son would live long enough to make it to the operating table. It was another when he knew that he was about to jeopardise Virgil's life, especially as the pain of losing him was still raw.

Everyone watched as he battled between rational thought and his almost evangelical faith in Brains.

Then his eyes fell on an oxygen cylinder and in his mind he heard a single word said in a strong, sure, resolute voice.

Oxyhydnite.

"We wait," he said and shoved Virgil's box into Colin Eden's hands. "Make sure he gets those. I've got phone calls to make to ensure that he lives."

He strode out of the operating theatre.

Eden looked at the surgical team and handed the box to one of them. "You heard the decision. Take Virgil back to his ward."

"Colin!" The surgeon protested as the theatre staff moved towards the patient. "This is madness!"

"I know," Eden soothed. "But I have to think of the bigger picture."

"The bigger picture?!"

"Yes. This is about more than one man's life."

The surgeon looked disgusted. "The day you put that suit on you became as big a pen-pusher as your predecessor!"

"I'm sorry," Eden apologised. "But this is not our decision. It is the decision of a man who is worried about his son, believes that he can help him, and is also in all probability going to force this hospital to close when he sues us for every penny. In the interests of every other patient in this facility, we have to wait."

-F-A-B-

Suing anyone was the last thing Jeff had in his mind when he re-entered the storeroom and collapsed into the seat next to his mother. "I think I've just killed him, Ma." He buried his head in his hands.

Trying to hide the cold chill that seemed to freeze her body, his mother attempted to remain calm. "Killed him?"

He nodded, scrunching his hair up in his fists as he did so.

His mother put her arm across his shoulders and held him as tight as she could, wanting to take away his pain. "Why do you say that? What happened?"

"He was in O.R. They were going to operate on him. They were going to save his life! … And I… I made them wait."

"Oh."

Hidden behind his hands, Jeff squeezed his eyes shut. "What if I've made the wrong decision? He said he trusted me to look after him. What if I've just betrayed his trust?"

"Virgil said? Just now? What else did he say?"

Jeff remembered the painful memory. "That everything was dark. The surgeon said that was the first stage in cascading organ failure. Then I told Virgil that the surgeons wanted to help him and that they would take away the pain, but that things would never be the same again. And then I asked him if he trusted Brains enough to wait until he could have an operation that would make things the same again…" Jeff's hair was almost pulled out by his anguished fists. "I lied to Virgil. Even if we could guarantee that he would live, there are no guarantees that that's true."

"You didn't lie to him, Jeff."

"He said that he trusted me."

"You gave him hope."

"I told them not to help him. I made them send him back to the ward… What hope have I given him?"

"Jeff…" A sudden frightening scenario of her grandsons being so overcome with grief that they hadn't made a start on creating the 3D printer, and the psychological damage it would do to her son if he knew that precious time had been wasted, stabbed through her mind. "Jeff! You've got to call the boys! They don't know that Virgil is alive!"

"What…?" He seemed in a daze as her sentence penetrated the emotional fog that had settled over him. Then he sat up, rolling his sleeve away from his watch in the same motion. "Come in, Boys!"

But it was only John who answered. "Hi, Dad."

Jeff had one question and he needed to know the answer immediately. "Are you printing the printer!?"

"Don't worry, Dad," John told him, seeing, but not understanding, the stressed look on his father's face. "We are. We thought we should finish making it to honour Vi…," his voice broke, and he cleared his throat, "his memory… We've nearly finished. The others haven't answered because they probably have their hands full loading the body of the unit into the helijet. We've also printed a room to house it, so it's not taking up space in the operating rooms. They're going to fly all that to the hospital while I wait for the robot to finish preparing the electronics. Then I'll pack the robot up so that we're ready to fly out as soon as they get back…" Three lights flashed on around the bezel of his watch's dial. "Ah. Here they are."

His watch face too small to see all four of his sons' faces at once, Jeff transferred the signal to his phone. "He's alive!" he blurted out. "Virgil's alive!"

Each of the four quadrants on his phone's screen showed a blank, bemused, confused, worried face.

"Ah… Dad…" Alan ventured. "Are you feeling all right?"

"It was a mistake! An error! A computer error! I've seen him! I've spoken to him! He spoke to me! He's alive!"

There was silence as each of Jeff's sons considered what he'd said. Each of them was desperate to believe him, but each was too frightened to do so.

Grandma grabbed the phone. "Your father's right," she confirmed. "Virgil's alive and we need that printer back here stat!"

"Right!" Scott told his two youngest brothers, which had the odd effect of all three of them looking away from each other on the phone's screen. "Let's get moving!"

Three portraits disappeared and John's grew to fill the screen. "He's alive?"

"Yes." Jeff looking over his mother's shoulder at his phone, nodded. "I've just seen him."

"But you said he was dead."

"That's what we were told. It was a computer error."

John was silent. His father didn't believe in "computer errors". In Jeff's mind all computer-related errors were human-related errors, caused by either the programmer putting in too many zeros and not enough ones, or some data entry clerk keying in the wrong data. For Jeff Tracy to label this misadventure a computer error was akin to him saying that he wasn't prepared to blame anyone. "Dad…?"

"Yes, John?"

"Am I all right?"

"Are you all right?" Jeff frowned, hoping he wasn't going to have to start worrying again. "Why? Don't you feel well?"

"I feel fine, but… Did my bump on my head make me imagine everything that's happened? That we thought that Virgil had died?"

"Oh, John…" With everything else that had happened since, Jeff had forgotten that for a time he'd been worried about this son. "No. We were told that he'd died."

"Then please tell me that I'm not imagining this bit." John sounded like a young child desperate for reassurance after a bad dream. "Please tell me that he is alive and that I haven't got a delayed concussion or something."

"Not unless there's something you need to tell me," Jeff reassured him. "I have spoken to Virgil and he told me that he trusts us to help him get better…" He managed a smile. "Now… Are you sure you're all right?"

John confusion melted away to be replaced by a beaming grin. "I am now."

"No headaches or anything?"

John's grin broadened. "You don't need to worry about me, Dad. And you don't need to worry about Virgil either. He won't give up. Talk to you soon!" And he was gone.

"John's right," Grandma gave her son his phone back. "Virgil won't give up."

"I hope not…" Jeff did a quick check on the phone. "The polymer's still miles away!" He switched off the device and sat back. "And all we can do is wait!"

"We can tell everyone that Virgil's still alive," she reminded him. "They need to know."

Deciding that this was a job that was going to be more enjoyable than the last time he'd contacted many of their friends, Jeff fired the phone up again.

-F-A-B-

John lowered his arm after speaking with his father. He hadn't told the exact truth, but he thought that the slight pulsing discomfort in his head was due more to stress, tiredness, and hunger, rather than a hangover from his earlier accident.

The robot was still tirelessly laying down the wires and electrodes that would make the 3D printer tick, and so John took a moment to sit back, rest his head against the wall, close his eyes, and think.

Once the new printer was finished and installed, it was going to have to communicate with the researchers in Australia. The problem was, which was the best way to achieve this? The standard method was over the regular phone networks, but John didn't want to take the chance of the connection overloading and dropping out at a delicate point in the operation. This, he knew, was a very real probability in all the communication mayhem that was going on in the wake of a major earthquake.

Another option was to route the communications through Tracy Industries' private networks. There was less possibility of any outages, but that risk was still there.

His preferred option was to direct the link through Thunderbird Five, but even this had issues. The first was the 60,000-kilometre round trip the signal would have to take to Earth and the microsecond delay between its despatch and its arrival at its target. The second was that no one, namely he, John, was in Thunderbird Five to keep watch over the signal and be ready to act should something go wrong. The third was that he needed a dedicated International Rescue radio unit to ensure the link and he didn't have one…

Or did he?

Opening his eyes, John straightened and checked his watch. His brothers had only just arrived at Bearston. They'd agreed that they'd make a start assembling the room that was to house the printer before they returned to collect him. It was going to take some time for the robot to finish its work and then be packed away ready for transportation, and they didn't want to waste a second.

It would be at least half an hour before they returned.

John made his decision. Pulling his watch off his wrist, he extended the band until it was long enough to sit over his head with the watch face staring out from his forehead. Then he went through to one of the other rooms and selected a range of tools.

An earthquake rattling through the complex made him reconsider his decision.

He decided that he needed some fresh air, so he could think clearly. Stepping outside he saw the faint glow of the dawning sun brighten the night sky.

Pushing his misgivings to the back of his mind he pushed a button combination on his watch, turning it into a powerful headlamp. He didn't want to risk twisting an ankle or worse in the earthquake-hewn terrain between the printer building and his destination…

He approached the crucible furnace building.

The Firefly was gone, leaving behind a pile of rubble that had been the source of many of their problems. With all the excitement he'd forgotten that the building had been demolished, along with the corner that had housed the radio unit. Feeling slightly despondent, a feeling which seemed to exacerbate his headache, John looked about, the bright beam of his headlamp highlighting twisted concrete, metal and dirt.

The light bounced off something sky blue and yellow.

With a cry of delight, he scrambled over the pile of rubble, slipping a little as a minor aftershock hit, zeroing in on the International Rescue logo still attached to part of the wall. He was amazed to realise that the unit appeared unscathed. Holding it high as he staggered over the rubble and back to level ground, he made a hurried return to the printer room.

Here, in the more even glow of the lights, he was able to examine his prize closely. He could see nothing that made him think that it was unusable, and the inbuilt diagnostics programme seemed to confirm it. To enable him to fully put aside any misgivings he wired his watch to it and sent a signal to Thunderbird Five.

Thunderbird Five returned the signal without missing a beat.

But there was still one problem. That logo that had led him to the radio. When he took it to Bearston someone was likely to see it and wonder where he'd got it from. Then they would start to wonder how one of the Tracys knew enough about a top-secret piece of equipment to be able to use it.

He returned to the 3D printer room, downloaded a plan from Thunderbird Five, and started printing.

-F-A-B-

"You'll wake the neighbours," Gordon commented as the helijet drew near to Bearston General.

"Nope." Scott almost smiled. "This baby's electric." Maintaining his cruising height, he flicked a switch and the sounds of the jets dulled. Taking care not to jolt their precious cargo, he descended vertically until they were next to a prefabricated building that was almost in darkness.

They barely felt the landing.

Gordon stepped out into the lightening sky. "I was right."

A figure walked towards them, playing a torch over the ground and the logo on the helijet before him. "Is that the Tracys I can see?"

"It is, Mr Harrison," Alan responded. "Did we wake you?"

"Yes, but I wasn't really asleep," Greg whispered, aware that they were near a hospital and a refugee camp. "It's been too upsetting a day… Speaking of which," he cleared his throat. "Please accept my sincerest sympathies."

"We'll do that when we need to," Gordon grinned. "Virgil's still alive."

His face barely visible in the gathering light, Greg stared at him. "What?!"

"Someone got their wires crossed. He's still alive. And this…" Gordon patted the huge package inside the helijet, "is going to make him better."

A beaming grin flashed back at him. "He is!?" Greg exclaimed. "That's fantastic news!" He remembered his resolution to remain quiet. "What is it?"

"A 3D printer that's just been printed by ACE's 3D printer," Alan explained. "Plus, the room it's going to be housed in. Are you any good at jigsaw puzzles?"

"Why? Do you want some help assembling it?"

"We'd love the assistance of a top-notch engineer." Gordon passed ACE's charge hand some of the smaller, less delicate units. "The sooner we get it finished, the sooner we can go and get John and the rest of the machine, and the sooner Virgil will get better."

"How's your father?" Greg asked, accepting another unit. "He looked terrible when I last saw him. But then," he recollected, "he'd come to tell us that Virgil had died. No one could look good in that situation."

"He's hanging in there," Alan collected a couple of pieces himself. "The last time we saw him was on the videcall he made when he told us that Virgil was still with us. He looked pretty stressed." He received a glare from his eldest brother.

"I'm sure he is," Greg agreed. He followed Alan towards the darkened theatre building. "Tell me what you want me to do."

-F-A-B-

Jeff had finished the joyous task of telling his family that his son was still alive. Brains had responded with his habitual dance of delight, much to the bemusement of the two researchers, before accepting Tin-Tin's second hug of the day, this one an ecstatic embrace. Kyrano had almost shown some emotion and Jeff had the feeling that his friend would now be enjoying a quiet celebration on his own. Lady Penelope and Parker were equally restrained at the reception of his news and said that they would "partake in a celebratory cup of tea" until such time when they could join the family for a proper party.

Pleased that he'd been able to relieve his family and friends of some of their pain, Jeff dialled Hamish Mickelson's number.

Edna answered it. "Hello?"

"Hello, Edna." And for the first time in many hours Jeff felt able to smile. "Sorry to call you this early in the morning, but can I have a word with Hamish?"

He was astonished when she responded with a tight, "No," and saw what appeared to be tears well up in her eyes.

"Edna? What's wrong?"

"Oh… Jeff…" She sniffed as she tried to get her emotions back under control. "He's… He's had a breakdown."

"What?!"

"After you'd left, I could see that he was upset, but once we were alone in the motorhome he started talking. He was talking about Virgil, and the earthquake, and the number of people who'd been hurt, and the destruction of ACE, and lying, and you, and how much work's going to have to be done to get the factory operational again, and how he didn't think he'd be able to do it alone. And then he started crying. I couldn't do anything to help him. The doctor's just arrived." She sniffed again. "I'm frightened, Jeff."

"I…" Jeff began. Then a memory clicked. "This afternoon, when the medics checked his arm, did they give him painkillers?"

"Yes. I asked him if it was Delazole at the time, and he said he'd checked before he let them give it to him. He said they said it wasn't."

"Maybe it's a related drug? Have you mentioned it to the doctor yet?"

Edna looked embarrassed. "He's only just arrived, and I was so frightened about the way Hamish's behaving, that I forgot."

"Do you want me to come over and talk to them?"

"Oh, Jeff! I can't ask you to do that. Not with… Not with all that's happened."

Jeff held up his hand. "I'd be glad to. The reason why I rang was to let you know that Virgil's still alive…"

"Jeff!?"

"Hearing it from me in person might be what Hamish needs to calm down…"

Edna seemed disbelieving of his news. "But, Jeff…"

"I'll be over in a minute, Edna. Don't worry. Hamish will be all right. He's as tough as old boots." Hanging up the phone, Jeff stood.

"Jeff?" His mother also got to her feet. "I'm coming with you. Edna sounded like she needs some support."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate that, Mother."

This time they let reception know where they were going.

As they followed the pale line that was the path to where the motorhomes were parked, Grandma slipped her arm through her son's. "What's the story about that painkiller?"

"Delazole. It's the reason why Hamish wasn't accepted into the astronaut corps. A short time before they made the final selection he hurt his arm and needed some pain relief. As a matter of course, they administered Delazole. A few hours later we'd finished for the day and were on the way home when he started raving on about all sorts of little, insignificant things that had gone wrong, and what could go wrong in the future, and how being a pilot was dangerous and that being an astronaut was even more so, and how he didn't want to risk leaving Edna a widow when they'd only just got married. At first, I thought he was joking, but then I realised that he was serious. I got him home safely and he took one look at Edna and burst into tears. Talking to him didn't achieve anything, so I did the only thing I could think of and called the base M.O. The quacks eventually discovered that it was an allergic reaction to the drug… It's a shame, because he would have been an asset to the programme."

"But surely all they'd have to do is administer a different drug if he needed it?"

"There were a lot of equally talented guys all vying for a limited number of seats on a rocket. Why should they choose someone with a known condition, no matter how unlikely it is to be a factor in his work, when there's someone else equally qualified without that condition? I think I was nearly as devastated as he was when he got the news… This is it." Jeff gently rapped on a door, which opened almost immediately. "Hello, Edna." They stepped inside.

They were still in there when the helijet touched down and didn't emerge again until Jeff's sons were returning to ACE.

-F-A-B-

John, the robot wrapped carefully in an anti-static protective covering, had prised the last printout off the print plate, when he was joined by his fair-haired brother.

"What are you doing?" Alan asked.

John showed him the box he'd rescued. "Making sure there's a clear line of communication between Bearston and Australia." He started to fit his printout over the International Rescue casing. "Any news?"

"No…" Alan goggled at the box. "Where did you get that from?"

"It's the one I used to talk to Bruce and the others."

"You went out there? In the dark? Alone!? Through an earthquake zone!? Over all that rubble?! Without telling anyone?!"

The casing snapped home. "Yep."

"Remind me to tell Scott to give you a bawling out when all this is over," Alan stated. Then he grinned. "Until then, what can I do?"

John pointed at a box lined with anti-static foil. "Hand me that. This baby's already had a rough ride and I don't want to risk it going through another." He gently lowered the unit into the box. "Did you see Dad and Grandma?"

"No. We wanted to get straight back. We were lucky because Greg helped us."

"Greg?"

"Greg Harrison. He was able to give us a few tips."

"I'll bet he was happy to hear that Virgil's still alive."

"He was. I wish we could have seen everyone's faces when Dad told them."

"I'll be happier to see ours when we're told he's better."

-F-A-B-

Jeff and Grandma returned to the storeroom and collapsed into their chairs.

Letting out a breath that was part exhaustion and part relief Jeff ran his hands though his hair. "When will this nightmare end?!"

"Soon, Jeff. It can't go on for ever."

"Poor Hamish. You realise that part of his problem is my fault."

"Your fault?"

"Yes. You couldn't meet a more honest man than Hamish Mickelson and he's having to lie on my behalf. I think it's the fact that he's had to lie to Edna that's really killing him. If the doctor hadn't been there I would have told her all about us."

"You didn't cause the earthquake, Jeff. If that hadn't happened none of this would have happened. You can't accept any of the blame."

"Maybe." Morosely he pulled out his phone and checked it. "The polymer's still three quarters of an hour away."

"Would you like something to eat?"

Jeff shook his head.

There was a tap on the door. "Mr Tracy…?" Colin Eden poked his head inside. "Mrs Tracy? Ah… I need to talk to you." He was almost strangling the folder in his hands.

Jeff wished he'd go away and leave them alone. "Yes?"

"I know your instructions were that we weren't to operate on Virgil until you were ready, but I am here to ask… to beg you to change your mind."

Something in his tone made Jeff sit up. "Why?"

"Virgil's body is breaking down and poisoning itself. There is evidence of gangrene forming in his extremities. Please, Mr Tracy," Eden begged, "if we don't operate now, it will be too late! You have my word that we won't do any more than is necessary to keep him alive. We want him to have the best chance of a full recovery too!"

As he felt his mother grab his hand and hold tight, Jeff felt sick. This was the decision that he didn't want to have to make, but he knew that he had to make it and make it soon. Pulling his phone out of his pocket he pushed a speed dial. He barely gave his caller the chance to see him, let alone offer a greeting, before he'd pushed the screen at Eden. "Explain it to him!"

Taking the phone, Eden found himself looking at a blue-bespectacled, bemused, bewildered face. "Ah… I'm Colin Eden. I'm the manager of Bearston General Hospital."

"G-Good day, Mr Eden. My name is Brains."

"Brains? Ah, right." Deciding to ignore the strangeness of the name, Eden began to explain the situation, interspaced by questions from the younger man. A lot of what was said was medical gobbledegook to Jeff and his mother, but they understood enough to realise that the situation was serious, and their options limited.

Finally, Eden handed the phone back to its owner.

"Mr Tracy," Brains looked sombre. "You must allow them to do what they feel is necessary to save Virgil's life. If they don't his chances of survival are low. Even if he lives long enough for the experimental surgery, he may not be strong enough to undertake it."

Jeff nodded. "Thank you, Brains." He shut the phone down and looked at the manager. "Do you need me to sign an authorisation?"

Eden hurried forward, pulling a slip of paper from out of the now dog-eared folder. Trying to hold the page flat, he handed Jeff a pen. "We wouldn't ask this if it wasn't necessary and I promise we won't do more than we have to."

Jeff signed the paper without hesitation. "Please," he said as he handed it back, "if it's at all possible, save his hand."

Eden slotted the paper back into its folder. "We'll do our best. I… I'm sorry, Mr Tracy... Mrs Tracy." He rushed out the door.

Jeff barely had the time to contemplate what he'd done before they were interrupted again. But this interruption was by a group who were much more upbeat and positive.

"Everything's ready!" Scott announced.

"Yep," Gordon grinned. "Tell them to wheel him out ASAP."

"Give me a chance to make the connection…" John was tapping something into his tablet computer. "Which should take about five minutes."

"Do you want me to go and tell them to prep him?" Alan offered.

"No…" Jeff held up his hand. A gesture which instantly put them on edge. "You can't… He's already in surgery."

"What!" Gordon gaped at his father. "Stop them!"

"I'll go," Alan offered again and made a dash for the door.

"NO!" Jeff barked, and they looked at him in astonishment. "No…" he repeated quietly. "The spiderweb polymer's not here yet and won't be here for at least half an hour. If we don't let them operate now, Brains says that he will die."

"What are they going to do?" John asked.

"Enough to keep him alive long enough to undergo Brains' surgery."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning… Amputation…"

To be continued…