Rescuing the Living

by Purupuss

If "Rescuing the Dead" is impossible, how much more difficult will it be to rescue the living?

Merry Christmas, Everyone

This story is a sequel to "Rescuing the Dead" and you will need to have read that first to be able to enjoy the magic of a Tracy Christmas.

Sadly, I cannot lay claim to any of the characters, machines, or locations from the TV series Thunderbirds nor Thunderbirds are Go. All other characters, situations, and errors are mine. Unless Gordon's Gremlins have got in there and changed things without my knowledge.

As usual, thanks to quiller for her proofing time.

Please ask for my permission before listing "Rescuing the Living" on a C2, or any other site other than Fan Fiction dot net.

Thank you.

Enjoy and have a wonderful new year.

F-A-B

:-) Purupuss

---

Rescuing the Living

Jeff Tracy surveyed the five strapping, well-laden young men standing before him. "You look like you're ready for anything."

Scott, and his brothers, were already eagerly anticipating the adventure that lay ahead. "We are. You can never be too prepared."

"Especially when there's a chance that we could lose communications," John added.

Jeff waved his pen at him, saying in mock sternness: "Just make sure you're back by dinnertime. Penny's arriving this afternoon and you don't want me to have to send Grandma out to collect you."

"No way!" Virgil agreed. "If that happened, we'd be eating bread and water instead of Christmas dinner tomorrow."

"And we'd be lucky to get the bread," Gordon chipped in.

"Then you'd better get moving," Jeff told his sons. "And be careful."

Alan grinned. "Always."

Jeff gave a grunt that said that he didn't really believe it. "Just don't make me have to rescue you all."

"Why not?" It was Scott's turn to grin. "If International Rescue gets called out over the next few hours, it'll only be you, Grandma, Brains, Tin-Tin, and Kyrano available. You need the practise."

"Like fun."

Alan chuckled. "It would do you good to see some real action."

"I've seen enough 'real action' in my lifetime," Jeff reminded him. "What I don't need is to have to rescue all five of my sons... Now get out of here."

They got out of there.

Christmas traditionally being a time for family, it had been decided to put Thunderbird Five onto automatic relay so that the five Tracy brothers could enjoy some time together. And so, the previous evening, John had told Thunderbird Five to divert any messages requesting International Rescue's assistance directly to base and had boarded Thunderbird Three for the trip back to Earth. On the return journey he, Scott, and Alan had discussed what activities to do Christmas Eve and had decided that a little exploring of some of Tracy Island's unmapped lava caves was in order.

It was towards the entrance of one these, that the five of them headed.

Arriving at their initial destination, Scott suggested that they have a break, rehydrate, and double-check their gear.

Normally, he would have received light-hearted complaints about being bossy and over-cautious, but this time his younger brothers obeyed without complaint. They were going into uncharted territory, would be squeezing through narrow confines and finding their way about in near total darkness, and they all wanted to ensure that they could do so in relative safety.

Twenty minutes later, they were ready for the next stage of their adventure.

The first section was comparatively easy to traverse; uneven underfoot, but well explored by them all.

Then they got to the point where the cave system branched off in numerous directions.

Scott pointed his torch onto his map, then he redirected the beam towards a small gap in the wall. "That's the one we want."

Alan crouched down next to the slit in the rock. "It's going to be a squeeze."

"What's the matter?" John chuckled. "Eaten too much of Grandma's pre-Christmas cooking?"

"Just because you have a giraffe's skeletal structure doesn't mean that we all do. Why don't you go first?"

"Don't mind if I do." Swinging his pack off his back, John pushed it into the hole before wriggling his way forward.

Scott waited until his brother's feet had disappeared before he turned to the youngest Tracy. "Okay, Alan. You're next."

There was no hesitation and soon Alan had vanished into the blackness, closely followed by Virgil and Gordon, with Scott following up behind.

Naturally, John was the first to emerge out of the crawlway and into the larger space. He clambered clear, standing to one side that that he could assist the rest of the team. It wasn't until Scott had joined them that he took the time to look around.

The sides of this cavern were jagged and sharp; remnants of the lava flow that had carved this tube millennia earlier.

"Hey, look." Shining his torch on a small, colourless, leggy creature, Virgil bent closer for a look. "A cave spider."

"Wonder what's to eat down here?" Gordon mused. "Must be some heavy-duty cannibalism going on."

"No..." Scott's torch had picked out another equally drab invertebrate. "Here's some kind of insect."

"And..." Alan's torch traced a small even-sided, conical hillock up to the ceiling. "There are bats roosting. I wonder how they get out. We're quite a way underground."

"Well, leave them alone," Scott instructed. "We're not here to disrupt the local ecosystem..." His torch flashed over the hillock. "Let's see if we can find another exit without having to call on the Mole to burrow through the guano pile."

It took ten minutes of searching before Gordon found a chimney that dropped deeper into the earth. As a reward, he was allowed to lead the way...

-I-R-

-F-A-B-

They'd been descending for about four hours, each taking turns to lead, when they finally exited a narrow lava tube and found themselves in a large, smooth-walled chamber.

"Looks like a good place to stop for lunch before we think about heading back," Scott suggested. "Everyone agreed?"

They all agreed.

Finding a relatively level rock, Virgil sat down, stretching his legs out before him. "I would call that a good morning's work."

Gordon flexed his back. "And a good morning's workout."

Alan, already digging into his lunch, looked up. "I wonder how deep we are?"

"Don't talk with food in your mouth," John instructed as he checked his watch. "Deep enough that Thunderbird Five's out of range."

Alan swallowed. "Missing your girlfriend already?"

"Nope. Just noting that we're well and truly on our own."

Scott held up his tracker. "At least we know how to get out of here." He chose a seat. "The rocks in this chamber are a lot smoother than the rest we've travelled through. What do you think? Lava activity? Or worn away by water?"

"Maybe both?" Virgil suggested. "This may have been part of the seabed when the volcano erupted."

"Except that when lava hits seawater it tends to cool in ripples. Like custard that's been snap frozen when it was poured out of a carton."

"Very poetic."

"Custard out of a carton!? You Philistines!" Gordon pretended to be horrified. "Kyrano would make you wash your mouth out with baking soda."

Scott ignored him. "Whereas these rocks appear to be more level."

"At least that makes them comfortable to sit on." John wriggled on his seat. "Some of those other chambers could double as acupuncture clinics."

"Well, we've got to head back through those acupuncture clinics. So, eat up and let's get moving."

The five of them settled down to their midday meal and had nearly finished when they became aware of a disturbing noise.

A disturbing, dusty, and very loud noise.

Like his brothers, John was immediately on his feet, the beam from his torch visible in the dust that had exploded out of their only exit. "That was not a sound I wanted to hear."

Virgil's torch followed the pebbles that were strewn across the floor. "Rockslide?"

"Yep." Alan coughed. "Darn dust gets everywhere."

"Why'd it have to get into my lunch." Gordon screwed up the remains of his meal and tossed it into his bag, before joining his brethren. "Is it blocked?"

Kicking some of the rubble clear, Scott crouched down and peered along the tube that they'd transited earlier. "It's not looking hopeful."

"Move over." Nudging the eldest aside, John got onto his hands and knees. "I'll crawl along it and check it out."

"Could be dangerous."

"Staying here forever doesn't sound particularly good for our health either. And, as Alan pointed out this morning, we giraffes are lither than the rest of you..." John glanced over his shoulder. "Get ready to grab my feet and pull me back if necessary." His torch shining its beam ahead of him, he clambered into the tube, pushing rock debris out of his way.

His knees were still visible when he stopped advancing. "I think I've reached a dead end... I can't feel any openings..." They watched as his feet rotated until his toes were pointing upwards. "Not even a pinhole."

"Come back, John," Scott commanded. "We'll reconnoitre and see if we can find another route."

"Hang on..."

"Yes?"

"I may have found something..."

"What?"

John shimmied back into the main chamber. "What could be, in effect, the keystone. If we could pull that clear, and if it falls the right way, and if it creates a hole big enough to crawl through, we might be able to get out.

"Sounds risky…"

"So? What's new in our world?"

Scott's grim grin acknowledged the truth of his brother's statement. "Let's see if there are any other exits first. Everyone fan out and see if you can find anything."

With nothing else practical to do, Virgil had been examining the rocky surface adjacent to their entrance. "There's nothing over here."

Neither here, there, nor anywhere they decided after each of them examined the walls of their cell, finding nothing that gave them hope for a means of escape.

Finally, Scott called them back together. "Okay, so there's nothing at ground level. Anyone see any potential exits higher up?"

Alan shook his head. "Nothing obvious, but the roof seems to go for miles." Shining his torch towards the ceiling, the beam disappeared into the blackness.

John redirected his torch back to their original entrance. "So, it's back to the keystone?"

Scott sighed. "Guess so."

"Maybe we'd better set our locator beacons off first? At least if something happens Dad will have a chance of finding our bodies."

"John...!" Four less than impressed faces scowled at him.

"What?"

"Is this the spiel you give victims from Thunderbird Five?" Gordon grumbled. "That they're going to die if we don't perform a miracle?"

"Face it. We're all adrenaline junkies who get off on the buzz of danger. It's why we all signed on to International Rescue when we created it. And we all knew that there was a chance something like this could happen when we arranged this trip. The only people we can blame for being trapped here is ourselves."

John's brothers had to concede that he had a point.

Swinging his pack off his back, Virgil withdrew the small tracking device. "Mine's on."

Alan flicked a switch. "Me too."

"And me." Gordon shoved his into his pocket.

Scott saw John turn his tracker on as he did the same to his own. "And that's all of them. Any chance that, since they're working together, they could amplify their signal, John?"

"No. Remind me to make that adjustment when we're topside."

After his earlier negativity, no one commented on his optimism.

"Should we save our flashlights?" Virgil switched off his torch. "John needs one and we don't want to work in the dark, but we don't need them all burning up their power reserves."

Alan extinguished his torch. "If we're still down here when our batteries run out, we're going to have more to worry about than lack of light."

Unravelling the rope that had been clipped to the outside of his pack, John went to kneel.

Scott stopped him. "Let's not make this any more dangerous than it needs to be," he said as he unclipped his own rope. "We'll harness you into this. Then, if things go pear shaped, we've got a chance of pulling you out."

"I'm not complaining about that."

As John wrapped a rope about his torso and tied a bowline, Scott held the other end out to his two youngest brothers. "You two stand back there and be ready to pull. You," he looked Virgil in the eye, "and I will stay here. Get ready to pull on his legs if need be."

Unfazed by his proximity to danger, Virgil nodded his agreement.

"What about the dust?" Alan pulled a large square of material from a pocket. "We may need masks."

"Not a stupid suggestion." Gordon folded his bandana in half from corner to corner and tied it about his lower face in the style of a western outlaw. "Let's tame this bronco."

Scott finished tying his mask in place and crouched down next to his brother. "Ready, John?"

"Ready." John crawled into the narrow tube.

They waited.

"I'm trying to tie the rope about the keystone." John's voice sounded both muffled and hollow. "I don't want the rope to slip, and I don't want to dislodge it yet."

Kneeling, Scott leant into the crawlway. "Anything we can do to help?"

"You can pull me out when I give the word... ... Nearly got it... ... Right... I think that's secure." John's legs wriggled and his two elder brothers helped to haul him out of the tube.

He dusted his hands down. "Now for stage two." As his brothers lined up behind him, he took a good grip of the rope that snaked into the rockface. "Ready when you are..."

"On the count of three..." On Scott's command, and working as the team they were, the five of them hauled on the rope. At first, they didn't seem to be achieving anything, but on the fifth "Pull" they were rewarded by a faint hint of movement. Without exception, they all hoped that it wasn't a warning that the rope was slipping off the keystone. They pulled again.

And again.

And ag...

There was another roar, dust filled the air, the tension on the rope dissipated, and all five found themselves lying on the stony floor in a bruised pile, coughing away the dust that coated them and their masks.

Gordon rubbed his sore posterior. "Glad we're not in one of the acupuncture chambers."

More interested in seeing how well their tug of war had worked, his brothers clustered around the tube opening...

Or, more correctly, where the opening had been before it had been choked with rocks.

With a loud and heartfelt curse, John kicked a loose pebble against the wall.

"It was a valiant attempt, John," Alan consoled him. "We've just used up today's share of good luck."

Scott rubbed his grimy arm across his forehead. "Looks like we're exhausted all our options." He sat down. "All we can do now, is wait until someone starts to wonder why we haven't returned and comes looking for us."

In silent, yet frustrated agreement, each of his brothers claimed a rock of their own, switched off all their lights except one, and settled down to wait...

-F-A-B-

It was peacefully quiet, Jeff mused as he stretched out on the lounger. He'd had an excellent lunch, a precursor to even more festive meals tomorrow, he was up to date with his work, no one needed International Rescue's services, the Thunderbirds were mechanically sound, and his sons were all fit and well and making the most of the rare opportunity to spend time together.

Aside from the melodic sounds of nature, Tracy Island was quiet. No one was hammering something into place, no one was test driving a pod vehicle, no one was doing bombs into the pool, and no one was playing the piano or other musical instrument. There were no shouts of instructions, competitive cries, nor yells of "I'll get you...", a phrase which usually finished with "Gordon!"

It was as if the entire world had decided that the Christmas holiday had started early.

Life was good...

-F-A-B-

"Alan...?"

"What Gordon?"

Twisting on his increasingly hard seat, Gordon frowned into the darkness. "Can you hear something?"

"Hear something?" Virgil checked his watch. "It's too early for someone to be looking for us yet. They won't even be beginning to worry about us."

"Just a minute..." Alan, who'd been sitting closest to Gordon, moved even closer. "I can hear something."

Curiosity, and a need to get off their stony chairs and restart their circulation, ensured that everyone moved closer to the youngest two Tracys.

Scott strained to listen but had to admit defeat. "What can you fellas hear?"

Gordon turned to face him; his face creased in concern. "Water."

"Water?!" Scott switched on his torch. "Where's it coming from?"

Five beams of light moved around the cave, bouncing off the walls and reflecting dust motes.

"There!" Gordon's light pointed into the depths of the cavern onto something that moved and sparkled. "Maybe it's a way out?"

Hopeful that he was right, the brothers concentrated their efforts on the back wall; even going so far as to form a tower to try to examine its highest reaches.

"Nothing," Alan grunted, as he hopped back into the ground. His feet slipped a little on the rocky floor, made slick by the incoming liquid. "How fast do you think the water's coming in?"

Virgil directed his torch along the ground beneath them. The light glinted back at him. "Too fast."

"Let's think positively," Alan told him. "It might flush the rocks out of the tube, or it might find an exit that we missed."

"Or it might continue rising... Do you think that if you were to use our flashlight's batteries you could boost the transmission capabilities of our watches, John?"

"Good thinking, Virg; but no. Our watches' batteries are already more powerful than our flashlights because they need more power to enable them to transmit video signals around the world."

"But not through solid rock."

"No."

Scott began stalking around the chamber, sloshing through water that was already up to his ankles. "I can't see any outlets..." He turned back to his brothers. "I'm open to any suggestions."

The only response was a cavern of depressing silence, masked by the gentle ebb and flow of a slowly filling chamber.

Then...

"I may have an idea..."

Fighting against the rising water, Scott approached his brother. "Let's hear it, John."

"Right…" But for some reason, John seemed reluctant to offer up his hope for salvation. "I want you all to remember that there are no guarantees that my plan will work."

"There never is in our game," Virgil reminded him.

"It may give us all false hope."

"Better than no hope."

"And..." John bit his lip. "And I want you all to hold off on making any comments about sending me to the funny farm until after this is over."

"Funny farm?" Gordon stared at him. "Why? What are you going to do?"

"This..." John took a deep breath. Then he began to call loudly, speaking phrases in a foreign language that only occasionally sounded familiar to those listening. They did, however, recognise that he repeated one word: "Natia."

"John...?" Alan frowned at him. "What are you doing?"

"Calling for help. E mafai ona e lagona aʻu, Natia?"

"Calling for help?" Alan muttered into Gordon's ear. "He's lost it."

"He can't handle not being able to see the stars."

John glared at his youngest brothers. "I have a perfectly rationa... ah… reasonable reason for what I'm doing." He shivered. "Natia?"

Virgil shone his torch about them. "Where'd that breeze come from?"

"Yeah," Scott agreed. "It felt like a ghost walked over my grave."

"Closer than you think," John told him, before adding something in the other language.

His brothers felt chills run down their spines when what could have been a whispered voice responded.

John grinned. "Am I glad to hear you. Would you be able to show yourself?"

"Are you sure, John? Your brothers, they have not seen me before."

Despite the direness of their situation, John chuckled. "Except for Scott and Alan." The two brothers, recognising their names, glanced at one another. "Yes, please. They need to be able to see you to understand what I am asking."

"Very well." At first red highlights seemed to appear out of nowhere, but then wispy, shimmering figure appeared in the darkness. "Talova'a ia te outou uma."

Dumbstruck and dry-mouthed, John's brothers stared at the apparition.

"The accepted response is to say: Talofa," John told them.

Alan turned wide eyes in his direction. "Talofa to what?"

"And the correct way to ask that is 'Talofa to whom'. This is Natia. She's..." John hesitated as he tried to frame the correct wording. "She's a friend of mine."

"A friend," Gordon squeaked.

Realising that they were wasting time, John decided against clarifying things. Instead, he turned to his ghostly acquaintance. "We're in trouble. We're trapped in this cave, we're likely to drown, and we can't get a message to Dad. Would you be willing to tell him we need help urgently?"

"I am willing," Natia confirmed, "but how can I assist? Will he understand me?"

"Probably not, so, if I tell you some words to use, do you think you'll be able to repeat them to him?"

"I will try."

"Thank you."

"What is it you call him? Da'ad?"

"Better if you were to say Jeff."

Hearing their father's name, once again the other brothers looked at one another.

"Gg'ff?"

"Close enough." John thought, trying to keep the words needed to a minimum. "You'll need to get him to follow you, so say: Follow me."

"Faw..."

"Fol... low..."

"Fol... lo..."

"Good. 'Me'." John pointed to himself.

"Meh."

"That'll do. Do you want to repeat that? Jeff. Follow me."

"G'ff. Fol-lo meh."

Despite the water soaking his shins, John grinned. "I'll have you speaking English yet."

"What's the use of him following, erm, her?" Scott queried. "Your... She..."

"Natia."

"Natia can clearly go places where Dad can't, and a lot quicker. He can't just materialise here."

"Don't worry, I have that in hand. Natia. You know where my room is?"

"Yes."

"Lead Jeff there. Do you remember the word exchanger that I showed you?"

"Yes."

"Take him to it. The last word you'll need, hopefully, is translator."

Natia's indeterminate features frowned. "I do not know how to say this word."

"We'll break it down. Trans..."

"Tanss"

"Can you say the R sound?"

"You remember that it is not in my language."

"I know. Just do your best."

"Twanss."

"Better... Late"

"Let."

"Tor."

"Ta."

"Great! Now put them all together. Trans-late-tor."

"Twanss-let-ta."

"Good. Do you want to say it again?"

"Twanss-let-ta."

Virgil frowned at the linguist. "It doesn't sound much like translator."

"Close enough..." John corrected. "Now, Natia. Say translator when you're standing next to it. Dad will understand that he will have to turn it on. Then you'll be able to tell them that we're trapped in this cave and that water is flooding it, and the translator will speak your words in English. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"I knew you would. Do you want to say those words one last time?"

"G'ff. Fol-lo meh..." There was a pause as Natia considered how best to get her ghostly tongue around the unfamiliar sounds. "Twanss-let-ta."

John smiled. "You're brilliant!" He looked down at his legs, which were wet to the knee. "Can you go now?"

"Yes, John, I will go. Be brave." And the ghostly spectre vanished.

There was silence for a full minute, before Scott finally spoke. "All right, John. Explain… What just happened here?"

"I've sent for help. That's what's happened..."

-F-A-B-

Jeff checked his watch. If they hadn't lost track of time, the boys should be on their homeward journey by now. Not one to spend large portions of the day lazing around, he decided that he'd go and see if his mother or Kyrano needed a hand preparing for tomorrow's festivities.

"G'ff."

Hearing the unexpected and unknown sound, Jeff froze. What had made that noise? And why had it not sounded dissimilar to his name?

"G'ff. Fol-lo meh, G'ff."

Now he was seeing things. Was that a humanoid shape standing before him? A humanoid shape with red highlights?

The next: "Fol-lo meh, G'ff," seemed to come from the vicinity of whatever this humanoid shape with red highlights was.

Jeff Tracy rubbed his eyes.

The wispy shape was still there.

"I'm seeing things."

"Your sons are in danger."

Those sounds, whilst unintelligible, sounded like a language he'd heard before.

"Fol-lo meh, G'ff."

"Follow?"

"Fol-lo meh"

But Jeff didn't follow. He sat there pondering his next course of action. Call Brains for assistance? Run for safety? Wait to wake up from what had to be a dream?

The ghostly figure moved towards the house, its arm flexing as though beckoning. It was looking frustrated. "Fol-lo meh, G'ff," it said, before adding a new word: "Twanss-let-ta."

Twanss-let-ta? What the heck was twanss-let-ta?

Desperate to make him take notice of her, Natia saw the pitcher of water that had been sitting on the table next to his chair.

Jeff watched as she reached out and touched it, the liquid rapidly freezing. Stunned by this sudden transformation, he too froze.

"G'ff!" Whatever it was sounded insistent. "Fol-lo meh, G'ff."

Slightly fearful of what it could mean, Jeff stood. "I will follow you."

The figure floated before him, climbing the stairs with an ease that Jeff could only envy.

But once in the lounge, he stopped. Maybe he should call for assistance?

The wraith turned back. "Fol-lo meh, G'ff," it repeated, sounding impatient. Followed by: "Twanss-let-ta."

Jeff followed it.

-F-A-B-

"All right, John," Virgil gave another involuntary shiver, this time caused by the water reaching his nether regions. "Tell us what just happened. Who, or what, is Natia?"

"I suppose you'd have to call her a ghost."

"A ghost...?"

"Yes. I've known her for..." John thought briefly. "A little over a year?"

Scott stared at him. "And you didn't tell us?"

"Would you have believed me?"

"Ah..." This gave Scott pause for thought. "Probably not."

Despite their predicament, John smirked. "But you believed at Hallowe'en, didn't you?"

"Hallowe'en?" Gordon's jaw dropped. "So that voice I heard was Natia's?"

"Yes. And it was her handprint on Virgil's arm. And she was the one who walked through Scott."

"And shoved my hairbrush off my table?" Alan clarified.

"Yep."

"You lied to me!" Gordon protested. "You told me that you hadn't..."

"Used any form of pre-recorded or synthesised voice. And that was the truth. It was Natia repeating what I'd taught her to say."

Despite their predicament, Gordon had to admit to a certain level of admiration for the trick. Not that he'd tell John that. "Well, I hope she remembers what you've just told her to tell Dad."

"And more importantly," Scott added, splashing water about as he rubbed his arms for warmth, "that he listens to her...

-F-A-B-

Jeff followed the ghostly apparition through the corridor that bisected their living quarters and towards his sons' suites. Part of him was hoping that someone, preferably Brains, would see what was happening and explain what was going on. The other part hoped that everyone stayed well clear, so there was no chance of anyone getting a catastrophic fright... Or telling him what seemed to be the most likely explanation for all this: That he'd lost his sanity.

The ghostly figure stopped outside John's door. "Fol-lo meh, G'ff," it said, and appeared to walk through.

The door stayed shut.

Using his override code, Jeff let himself in.

"Twanss-let-ta," his guide told him.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what you're saying."

"Twanss-let-ta." The ghost wafted through John's suite and into the technology room. "Twanss-let-ta," it repeated.

Jeff looked to where it was pointing. If whatever it was couldn't understand him and he couldn't understand whatever it was, then perhaps the translator was meant to facilitate communications? "Do you want me to turn the translator on?"

"Twanss-let-ta."

Jeff turned the translator on. "It won't know what language to use to translate until it hears you say something in your language."

The ghostly being spoke its strange tongue.

Within a split millisecond, the translator had done its processing. "Not registered as known language," it announced, and Jeff felt disappointment. "Has commonalities with the Samoan language. Translation: I do not know what you are saying? Can you understand me now?"

Jeff smiled. "I can understand you." The translator translated his words into Samoan.

He saw an almost beatific smile appear on the wraith's face. "And I can understand you.

"What are you?"

"I am un-departed."

"Undeparted?" Equating the sum of that word with two and adding on the two that equated to the wraithlike figure before him, Jeff came up with the obvious answer of four. "You're a ghost?"

If he was shocked by this realisation, it was what came next that really threw him.

"Your sons are in danger."

"What!?"

"Your sons are in danger."

"Sorry, I did understand you. How are they in danger?"

"They are trapped in a cave. Rocks fell." The ghostly arms made a gesture that was part descriptive and part dance. "Water is flooding the cave."

Jeff nearly repeated his "What!?" mistake. "Is anyone hurt?"

"I do not think so."

At least that was a positive. "Are you able to lead me to them?"

"John sent me to do this."

"John?" Jeff seemed to be only able to speak in questions at present. "How did he contact you?"

"We are friends."

Whilst this sounded unbelievable, Jeff knew that this wasn't the time for analysis and discussion. "Do you know how far they are underground?"

"They are many, unknown word, deep."

"I think I'm going to need the Mole... And assistance." Jeff sent the alarm out to all above ground on Tracy Island and grabbed the translator. "We'll meet everyone in the lounge, erm... Do you have a name?"

"Natia."

"A pleasure to meet you, Natia. I'm Jeff." It was only later that Jeff wondered at the strangeness of being pleased to meet someone who'd died an unknown number of years earlier. "Perhaps you'd better hide until I've explained who you are? We don't want to frighten anyone."

"I understand. John did want to not cause his grandmother discomfort."

Thinking that he was the one discomforted by what was happening, Jeff began to run.

Tin-Tin was already in the lounge when he got there, startled when he dashed past her and instructed his desk to descend into place. "Have International Rescue had a call out?" She glanced towards the communication portraits, seeing a row of familiar faces gazing mutely down on her.

"In a manner of speaking." The translator was placed on the flat surface and Jeff began the processes that would enable them to extract the Mole from the pod bay and drive it out of the hangar.

"Jeff?" His mother, looking less than pleased, entered the room towelling flour off her hands. "You'd better have a good reason for interrupting my baking."

"I think I have, Mother."

Mrs Tracy saw the symbol for the Mole appear on screen and grasped its significance. "Oh, dear. Will the boys be back in time to deal with it?"

"No... Ah, Brains. What do you know about the geology of the island?"

Freshly arrived from deep in his laboratory, Brains blinked at his employer. "Which island?"

"Tracy Island. What's the volcanic substructure like?" Jeff saw another person enter the room. "Good, Kyrano, now that everyone's assembled, we can start." Then he stopped, realising what he was about to tell everyone. "Firstly, um, I think you'd better all take a seat..."

His mother, however, remained resolutely standing. "There's an emergency someplace and you're telling us to relax?"

"Sit down, Mother!"

Jeff's mother, along with everyone else present, looked shocked at his uncharacteristic outburst. They all sat down without further comment.

"Sorry." Jeff took a stabilising breath. "I've received word that the boys are in trouble. There's been a, erm, rockfall which has blocked their exit."

As he'd expected, his announcement caused some consternation, but no panicked reactions.

"Did you, ah, receive a radio message from them?" Brain queried.

"Not a radio message, no..." Jeff paused, wondering how he was going to broach this. "I'm going to introduce you to someone, and I want you all to..." He paused again, not knowing what he wanted them to do. Keep calm? Not scream? Avoid collapsing into a swooning faint? As if. "Keep open minds..." He switched on the translator. "Natia? Would you, erm, show yourself, please."

Wondering who he could be talking to, those in the room heard the translator speak a Polynesian language.

Then it responded in English. "I will."

At Jeff's side, behind the desk, a wispy shape appeared. There were audible gasps from those in the room as the shape became more defined.

Even though speed was important (not that the Mole had manoeuvred itself into position yet), Jeff felt the need to make a proper introduction. "Everyone, this is Natia. Natia, I would do individual introductions, but we don't have time and I feel you already know anyway."

The ghostly shape at his side gave a ghostly smile as the translator translated: "Good day to you all."

Scientific curiosity brimming over, Brains sat forward. "A-A-And N-N-Natia is...?"

"She's a friend of John's. And... I guess she's..." Jeff gave what he hoped was an unconcerned shrug. "A ghost."

"What?!"

Feeling that his credibility level had probably just dropped a few notches, despite the evidence wafting at his side, and aware that he had more important things to worry about, Jeff kept talking. "Natia tells me that the boys are in trouble." He picked up the translator. "I've programmed the Mole to meet us in Bay 2.3 and I suggest that we all head down there now. I can give you more information when we're moving."

Their concerns for the five Tracy Boys more immediate than their concerns for Jeff's sanity – as well as their own – got everyone moving.

-F-A-B-

The water was up to their necks.

Desperate to keep his mind off what was happening, it was Alan who allowed his curiosity to get the better of him. "So, what's Natia's story?"

"I don't really know," John admitted. "She speaks an ancient form of Polynesian, which I think must have evolved into Samoan and similar languages. But over the centuries some words have been lost and new ones created, so there's a lingual gap. She's tried to explain to me how she became a ghost, but I haven't been able to interpret what she's said. Something to do with drowning, I think."

"That's ironic."

Deciding that it was his turn to ask an obvious question, it was Virgil who spoke next. "How'd you meet her?"

"I was at the observatory, and I couldn't work out why my telescope's lenses kept fogging up. It turned out that she was watching me and wondering what I was doing and had 'climbed' into the telescope to see what I was looking at. In the end, I think curiosity got the better of her and she asked me. Just as well the observatory has a curved ceiling, otherwise you would have found me lying on the floor with a major case of concussion and a John Tracy-sized dent in the roof... Since then, she's often joined me there and we talk."

Gordon lifted his chin above the water. "And plot against us?" He spat out some water.

John, his extra height giving him more clearance, laughed. "It was only the once. And I told her that she was only to haunt you guys and not to overdo it. She says that she enjoyed herself."

"Lucky her..." Accidentally swallowing some water, Alan coughed. "We're going to have to start floating soon."

"Let's make sure we stay together," Scott instructed. "Get into a circle and join arms. If we lie with our feet floating outwards, we can utilise our combined surface area to help stay afloat."

"Like an otter raft," Gordon offered, turning his back on the rest and linking his arms through Alan's and Virgil's.

Hoping that they wouldn't have to test the theory for too long, the five of them allowed their feet to drift upwards...

-F-A-B-

Jeff started the Mole's mighty motors. "Everyone strapped in?" he called over his shoulder.

"Don't you worry about us, Jeff," his mother scolded. "You just concentrate on saving our boys."

Jeff had every intention of doing so. "Where are we going, Natia?" he asked, projecting an electronic map of the island onto the screen.

An indistinct finger pointed. "The cave's opening is here."

"I know. Can you show me where they are now?"

The spectre regarded the image on screen. "No."

"Never mind. As we get closer, we should be able to pick up some signal from them. Do you know if they set off their locator beacons?"

"I do not understand."

"Never mind. We'll soon find out." There was a lurch, and everyone was shunted in their seats. All except for Natia who remained placidly floating in mid-air, unaffected by the roughness of their journey. "Are you monitoring for any signals, Brains?"

"I-I am, Mr Tracy."

"Will we be able to reach them in the Mole, Mr Tracy?" Kyrano enquired. "The terrain is rugged."

"We'll get there." A palm tree was flattened.

"Tell us everything, Jeff," his mother commanded. "How did you meet, erm..."

"Natia."

"Yes."

"I was enjoying some downtime after lunch..."

"While Kyrano and I were slaving away in the hot kitchen."

"And I was just about to come in a see if I could help you, when I heard Natia say my name and ask me to follow her."

"G'ff. Fol-lo meh," Natia said proudly.

"If Gordon had been above ground, I probably would have thought that he was playing a trick on me." Behind him, Jeff heard sounds of affirmation as everyone agreed that this was the most likely conclusion. "It wasn't until Natia caused the water in my pitcher to freeze, that I realised that she wasn't my imagination. So, I did as she asked and followed her. She led me to John's room and told me to turn on his translator..."

"Twanss-let-ta," Natia enunciated.

"Exactly. As she was standing next to the translator and was pointing at it, it was clear what she was trying to tell me. The translator doesn't know exactly what language she's speaking but decided that it was close to Samoan."

"John says my language has changed over the many centuries since I passed. Many of my words are no longer spoken."

"If anyone would know that, it's John," Tin-Tin admitted.

"How are the boys in trouble, Natia?" Grandma enquired.

"Rocks have fallen and they cannot leave the cave they were in. Water is filling the cave."

"Water!"

"May be the island's aquafer," Brains offered.

The potential loss or contamination of their drinking water wasn't Grandma's priority at this moment. "Was anyone hurt?"

"I do not believe so."

"Thank heavens for that."

"How high was the water, Natia?" Jeff asked.

"It had reached John's knees."

"Do you know how fast it was rising?"

"It covered his ankles when he called me. We were speaking for unknown word?"

"Sorry, Natia. The translator didn't understand. I'm guessing that you weren't talking for a long time?"

"No. We were not."

"They may need assistance getting to the Mole." Tin-Tin released her safety harness. "I shall get into my scuba diving gear."

"M-Me too." Hoping that they were being unnecessarily cautious, Brains released his own harness. "And I'll g-get the oxygen cylinders ready."

"Be quick," Jeff ordered. "The terrain's uneven and we've got several drops ahead. I want everyone strapped in."

Acknowledging his concerns, Tin-Tin and Brains hustled into their waterproof gear. Kyrano even relaxing his normal deference long enough to help his daughter do up the fastening at her back.

Soon they, and the oxygen cylinders, were restrained once again.

And just in time. With a: "This is a steep bit!" from the driver; followed by an even more urgent: "Hang on, everyone!" the Mole's nose dipped suddenly as its caterpillar tracks almost fell over a short cliff. Once again, Natia remained placidly unconcerned as the console rotated through her body and everyone else was thrown about.

"Can't you pick a smoother route, Jeff?" his mother complained, rubbing her shoulder where it had collided with Brains' head.

"We're driving off-road on the side of a volcano, Mother, of course I can't."

The Mole's nose pointed skywards, shunting everyone back again.

Brains, gamely hanging onto the transponder, saw a blip. "I'm picking up a signal!"

Instantly, everyone's focus switched from Jeff and the ghostly figure at his side, to the man locked onto their goal.

Grandma grabbed his arm. "Where, Brains?"

"Close by. Prepare to start drilling, M-Mr Tracy."

Jeff readied himself to make a course correction. "What bearing do we need to be on?"

"Th-Three five eight degrees... Seven minutes... Fifty seconds."

Jeff made a small adjustment to the left. "Locked onto the signal!" he crowed, and their forward motion ceased. "Starting drill."

Those inside the mighty machine became aware of a strong vibration. As the body of the Mole began to tip, this time in a more controlled fashion, their seats rotated, allowing them to remain upright. The vibrations increased as the drill fought against the volcanic rock, and then they were moving forward again.

The vibrations reduced to almost background levels.

Grandma was finding the tension unbearable. "How long until we get there, Jeff?"

Jeff glanced at the various instruments telling him all he needed to know. "Ten minutes. We need a plan."

"Drill in there and get them out."

"It's not that simple. Depending on the water pressure, they could be knocked against rocks, injured by the Mole's drill, or caught in the vortex when the water escapes the cavern. Jeff cast a brief, grim, glance over his shoulder. "Looks like we're going to be testing your latest addition, Brains."

"All my tests show that it sh-sh-should work."

"I know. That's why we installed it. I'd just be happier if we'd had a few training runs, or if it was one of the boys controlling operations. They've had more experience than I have."

"We have faith in you, Mr Tracy," Tin-Tin reassured him.

"Thanks, Tin-Tin." Jeff glanced at Natia. "Would it be presumptuous of me to ask you to go and check up on them?"

When Natia responded, the Mole's human occupants heard the onboard translation computer speak. "Your translator does not understand the words that you say, but I understand your meaning. I will return soon."

The wispy shape faded into nothing.

Barely a minute had passed when the figure returned.

Jeff did his best to bite back the question that was desperate to be asked.

Fortunately, Natia did not keep him waiting. "I asked him how he is, but John did not respond to me. He and his brothers do not move. The cave is full of water."

Water that was probably as cold as the ice that seemed to fill Jeff's veins. "Are they in an air pocket?"

"I am sorry. I do not understand."

Behind him, Jeff heard someone say his name in a voice that sounded so strained and desperate that it was almost alien to him. "Don't worry, Mother. We're not giving up on them yet… Drilling drainage."

Those on board the craft felt the mighty machine slow to a halt. There was a tense few minutes when nothing appeared to be happening. Then, with a: "That'll have to do," Jeff coaxed the Mole forward again.

"What did Mr Tracy do, Brains?" Tin-Tin whispered.

"I-Installed a pipeline big enough to drain excess water, which the Mole is pumping through a network of tubes around the engine. The heat generated by the Mole causes the water to evaporate out of the exhaust tube at the rear. Now we'll advance until the Mole's forward hatch is free of the cave's walls and we'll be able to bring the boys onboard…" Brains glanced at the elderly lady sitting next to him. "And r-revive them."

"Opening the forward hatch."

Once again, Tin-Tin and Brains released their safety harnesses, hustling towards the exit hatch that led into the dark dampness of the cave.

Jeff was equally quick at vacating the pilot's seat, but he dashed back to the oxygen cylinders, unclipping them and carrying two closer to the hatch. Following his friend's lead, Kyrano did the same as Jeff returned for the fifth and a box of survival blankets.

Mrs Tracy gave a start when an indeterminant figure claimed the seat next to her, and shivered when a ghostly hand covered hers. "Thank you for your help, Natia."

The computer translated the words, and Natia smiled. "I have done all I can. Soon you will be able to help John and his brothers."

"I sure hope you're right." Grandma automatically patted the hand that covered hers and felt the unexpected sensation of her warm palm touching her own chilled skin. "I hope you are right."

-F-A-B-

Many metres above and kilometres north of them the hot summer sun warmed the wings of the approaching sleek, pink, aeroplane.

"H-Odd that no h-one responded to your call, m'Lady," Parker commented.

"It is indeed. I do hope that this does not mean that the boys will be unavoidably detained this Christmas. Of course, it may be that they have other things on their minds. Jeff did inform me that they were planning a spelunking expedition."

"A what?"

"Pot-holing, Parker. I believe that there are numerous caves on Tracy Island that have never been explored and the boys were hopeful that they could rectify that somewhat today."

"Leaving the rest of 'em to man H-International Rescue?" Parker laughed. "H-I can just imagine Mrs Tracy. She'd be bustlin' h-about; makin' sure h-everyone was h-okay. Tryin' to keep their h-energy h-up by feedin' 'em 'ot h-apple pie. H-And motherin' the lot of 'em."

Lady Penelope allowed herself the luxury of a small smile at the image.

"Be nice h-if the world could let H-International Rescue h'enjoy the Christmas 'olidays without h-any rescues," Parker continued. "H-If they h-are h-orf savin' somebody, H-I 'ope they're quick an' successful. H-It would put a real downer h-on Christmas if they weren't..."

"It would indeed, Parker. It would indeed..."

-F-A-B-

Christmas was far from the Tracy family's mind as they waited for the victims of International Rescue's latest mission to be hauled into the Mole.

Tin-Tin was the first to drag a bedraggled, dark-haired, limp body to the Mole's hatch, and Jeff Tracy frantically pulled his eldest son into the light of the drilling machine's cabin and rolled him into the recovery position.

"Here!" An oxygen mask was pushed into his hands.

Accepting the apparatus without so much as a glance at his mother, Jeff pressed the mask over Scott's face and started the oxygen flow.

Over at the hatch there was more activity as Kyrano assisted Brains to drag John on board.

Assured that he'd done all he could in the short term, Jeff returned to the entrance and helped his mother lift Virgil out of the water and onto the smooth floor. He bodily dragged his son back into the cabin, avoiding Kyrano who was reaching through the exit for Gordon. Clambering back through the hatch, Brains helped the older man haul the younger over the ledge, before he turned back to catch Alan under the arms to help Tin-Tin heft him inside.

It was only when the exterior hatch was closed, each victim was being fed oxygen through a mask, and each body was being warmed by a survival blanket, that Brains finally had a moment to take stock. How were his friends? How serious was the situation...? Bending closer to the sole unattended patient he laid his fingers on the neck, feeling a reassuringly strong pulse. "Scott?" He noticed that the survival blanket clad body was shivering. "I need somebody to raise the cabin temperature."

"I will." Being closest, Tin-Tin dialled up the thermostat, before crouching back down next to her patient. She dried moisture away from the water-wrinkled face. "Can you hear me, Alan?"

Jeff, tending Virgil, felt his ears prick up when he heard a cough. "Who was that?"

"Scott," Brains informed him and leant closer to the recumbent figure. "Can you hear me, Scott?"

There was another cough, and a weak nod.

"You're going to be all right. Just lie still, I'm going to check on your brothers..." Brains looked across the recumbent torso. "Would you mind keeping an eye on Scott while I examine Gordon, Kyrano?"

"Of course." But their cramped exchange was forgotten when a second cough was heard close by.

And a third.

And a fourth. And a fifth.

Jeff Tracy allowed himself to relax a little when he heard the wonderful sounds of his sons gasping in the reviving oxygen. He smiled across towards his mother and saw the relief in her eyes.

Scott rolled onto his back and attempted to lever himself onto his arms. They gave out and he found himself staring into a pair of blue-spectacled, worried, eyes. "How's 'veryone?"

"A-Alive."

"Sure?"

"Scott Tracy! How dare you doubt Brains!" his grandma scolded. A scolding that barely disguised her relief that they were able to have this conversation. "You should be worrying about your own health. Not your brothers'."

"Go check on 'em, Brains." Closing his eyes, Scott relaxed back. "I'm all right."

Thinking that this diagnosis probably wasn't far from the truth, even if he had every intention of confirming it when they returned to the surface, Brains left the eldest in Kyrano's care and moved across to the next patient. "G-Gordon?"

Gordon rolled onto his back. "Hi, Brains."

"How are you?

"'m not sure what was worse. Having my face pressed against a cold, hard, wet, rock ceiling, with nothing to breathe, or suddenly dropping several metres and spinning in a whirlpool, but…" Gordon cracked an eye open. "I'm okay."

"Good. Lie still and relax." Brains moved on to where Jeff was holding a son in a position that was something close to sitting upright. "How are you, V-Virgil?"

"Did you use th' new system, Brains? Did it work okay?"

"He's more worried about the Mole than his own health." There was a definite hint of exasperation in Jeff's voice.

Brains the engineer and Brains the friend could see merits in both men's attitudes. "The Mole worked perfectly. She was operated by an expert."

Jeff managed a wry grin. "See... I told you, Virgil, it worked fine. That's why you're all..." Unable to help himself, he cast a worried look about the cabin to reassure himself. "...alive."

"Any problems, let me know." Stepping around some wet bodies, Brains approached Alan, who was being held semi-upright in Tin-Tin's protective embrace. "H-How are you feeling, Alan?"

His need to be seen as strong and independent overriding his enjoyment of being held in his girlfriend's arms, Alan leant away from Tin-Tin. "All good, Brains. Nothing to worry about." He coughed into his mask.

"Now, Alan, don't rush anything," Tin-Tin told him. "You can sit here until Brains has given you the all clear."

Apparently more than happy with her prescription, Alan snuggled back into her arms.

Trying to hide his smirk, Brains approached the last bedraggled member of the group. "How are you feeling, John?"

"I guess that, if you're asking me that, I'm not dead."

Brains smiled. "No. You're not."

"In that case I'm feeling..." John was about to say "great," but decided that that wasn't exactly truthful. "Better than I was..." He shrugged off his top before wrapping his blanket back about him. "It's hot."

"That's to make sure you don't get, ah, hypothermia," Brains reminded him.

"Yeah. I know." John smiled up at the wraith that hovered next to him. "Thanks, Natia."

"You are welcome, John."

"Sorry I didn't answer you, but I was trying to save what little air I had left."

"I understand."

John grinned. "At least you didn't get your feathers wet." He indicated the red trim that adorned Natia's tapa cloth clothing.

Gordon sat up. "Anyone got anything to eat?" he asked. "I didn't finish my lunch before it was coated with a seasoning of dust."

"There's plenty to eat at home," his grandma reminded him. "And I think we should be heading back, don't you, Jeff? Lady Penelope will be waiting for us."

"Penny..." Jeff groaned. "I totally forgot that she and Parker were arriving today."

"I'm sure that they will both forgive you in light of what's happened."

Relieved that this rescue was all but over, Jeff clambered into the pilot's seat and set the Mole into reverse...

-F-A-B-

They were approaching the island.

"M'Lady…?"

"Yes, Parker?"

"H-Ain't that a 'ole in the forest?" Parker pointed to a spot off the runway where some palm trees had been forcefully toppled.

Curious, Lady Penelope altered her flight path; doing a loop above the damage, so they could get a better view of the gash in the landscape. "It is indeed."

"H-Odd..." Parker kept his eye on the deforestation as they came in to land. "Looks like somethin' 'eavy ploughed through. Like the Firefly or somethin'."

The aeroplane taxiied along the runway, before slowing to a stop.

Lady Penlope unclipped her safety harness. "Leave the bags, Parker. I believe that this is worthy of investigation."

"H-I h-agree. H-It's too fishy by 'alves." Parker joined his mistress as she hurried back to the crushed foliage.

He bent down to examine the indentations in the sandy soil. "Looks like catapillar tracks."

"Which could belong to a pod vehicle."

"Yeah. But why would the Tracys go for a drive, through the forest, on Christmas H-Eve!? Last minute trainin' session?"

"That would almost be logical, if they were not most careful about concealing International Rescue from the outside world... Silence, Parker..." Lady Penelope held a delicate hand in the air to ensure his obedience. "Can you hear something."

Parker had no need to strain to hear to the roar that was growing louder. "'Ear h-it? I can feel h-it." He stood. "H-And h-it's gettin' closer."

"It sounds like one of the pod vehicles..."

"Best get h-out h-of the way, m'Lady..."

But even as Parker was speaking, he had to scramble clear as a large, snub-nosed, pointed-tailed, mechanical beast dragged itself out the forest.

Dwarfed by the massive machine, the pair stood to one side as the Mole reversed onto the runway, spun about ninety degrees, and came to a standstill alongside them.

A hatch opened in the Mole and a platform extended out from beneath. A single person stepped out and began the trip down to ground level.

"Penny," Jeff apologised, before the platform had touched down. "Please accept my apologies that no one was here to talk you in. We had..." He paused to consider his words. "A situation."

This Lady Penelope was willing to believe. However, as curious as she was, she was mindful that certain niceties had to be observed. "I am sure that whatever the, ah, situation was, it was of more importance than our arrival."

"Unfortunately, it was. I'll tell you all about it..." Jeff frowned at his recollections. "...most of it, when we're back in the house. And I'd like to get up there in quick time. If you'd both hop on, " he held out his hand to assist her ladyship onto the platform, "we'll get moving. I want to get the boys to the infirmary ASAP so Brains can check them over."

This was a disquieting statement; one which caused Lady Penelope to accept his assistance and Parker to board the platform without hesitation.

They were both happier to see that all five Tracy boys were sitting on the floor unaided, even though the young men were wrapped in survival blankets and looked half-dressed, bedraggled, and subdued. This, plus the fact that both Brains and Tin-Tin were wearing obviously used wetsuits despite travelling inside a drilling machine, made the seriousness of the situation, if not the situation itself, clear.

However, not everyone was happy.

"The boys want to get out here and walk up to the villa," Grandma informed her son. "Tell them they're not to, Jeff."

"What!? No. No way!" Jeff gave an emphatic shake of his head. "You boys are staying put until we tell you you can get out."

"We told them that, Mr Tracy," Tin-Tin informed him. "They refuse to listen."

"We've had enough of cramped, enclosed places." Scott's tone reflected the powerlessness and lack of control that he'd felt earlier. "The walk will do us good."

"You were barely conscious when we pulled you into the Mole, let alone able to walk," his father reminded him. "You're staying here until we get into the hangar."

"We're wet," John protested. "It'll give us a chance get some sun and dry off."

"Yeah," Virgil agreed and sniffed his bare but damp arm. "That water stinks."

Gordon screwed up his nose. "It was probably filtered through a pile of bat guano."

"You can have a shower after Brains has checked you over," Jeff informed them.

"But it's not that far," Alan persisted, conveniently forgetting that 'not that far' included a steep hike up a hill. "Brains could come with us."

"I'm sure Brains would rather be checking you over right now." His father scowled at him. "But after what you've been through, what we'd all like is for you all to get a clean bill of health before you go gallivanting about the island. Once Brains has given each of you the all clear, then you can get as much sun as you'd like... On the balcony!" Shutting the door on the outside world, and the argument, Jeff slid into the Mole's pilot seat and started the engine.

-I-R-

-F-A-B-

That evening and the following morning, after confirmations of a clean bill of health and once fears of secondary drowning had passed, the Tracy boys took it slowly. There was none of the usual rambunctious Christmas excitement as the family congregated for the annual seasonal holiday.

Despite this, all were happy.

"John..."

"Yes, Grandma?"

"Do you think you could ask Natia if she would be willing talk to me?"

"I'm sure she won't mind, but why?"

"I want to thank her for saving your lives yesterday."

This seemed to be a reasonable request, but still John hesitated. Would Natia hear him if he called her from the lounge? She had heard him when they were deep underground, but it somehow seemed... weird... to do so now... Here... In front of his grandma and within earshot of the rest of his family and friends…

Still... As it was Grandma who'd asked... "Let's go through to my room and you can use the translator."

He was relieved to see his grandmother give a nod of approval at the tidy state of his living quarters. "Through here." He led the way to where he'd replaced the unit and flicked a switch. "It's turned on."

"Good. Would you call her please?"

"Natia!"

This time there wasn't the reticence that the ghost had shown when she'd revealed herself to his brothers in the cavern. "Hello, John."

"Hello, Natia. Grandma would like a word with you."

Natia turned her wraithlike but expectant face towards the elderly lady.

"Hello, Natia," Grandma said, and heard the translator say: "Talofa, Natia."

"Talova'a, John's grandmother."

Grandma smiled at the translation. "I wanted to, on behalf of John and myself, and all our family, thank you for saving my grandson's lives yesterday."

Natia bowed her head. "I am pleased that I was able to help."

"Today would not be as happy as it is, if it wasn't for you. I would therefore like to ask you if you would be willing to join us at Christmas dinner today... As our guest of honour."

Natia frowned. "I do not understand."

"She means," John interpreted, "that when we have the main festive meal today, she'd like you to be there as our most important guest." Then he switched back to English. "Are you sure, Grandma? Natia can't eat like we can."

"I know," the translator translated. "And I wish I could show you my thanks in a more tangible way, Natia, but it's the best I can think of. I would understand if sitting at the table while we eat would make you feel uncomfortable."

But Natia smiled. "I am pleased by this offer, and I would like to attend."

"Good. John can explain everything to you. I'll make sure that he's sitting next to you. We eat in..." Grandma looked at her watch. "Ten minutes."

John grinned. "That means I've got ten minutes to get ready." He grabbed a warm jacket from his wardrobe.

Ten minutes later, he was standing at Natia's wraithlike side, outside the dining room. "Don't worry. This is a relaxed affair."

"I do not understand."

"We have traditions, like the Christmas crackers I told you about, but we don't do anything formal. Don't feel that you're going to upset anyone by doing the wrong thing. It's supposed to be relaxed and fun."

"Thank you for allowing me to watch your traditions, John."

"I just wish you could join in with them. I'd like to see you in a silly hat."

Natia giggled.

Grandma was removing her apron when she exited the kitchen. "Good. Go through, Natia."

John smiled at his friend. "Follow me."

The three of them entered the dining room... To the surprise of at least two people.

And the embarrassment of one other. "Mother!"

"What, Jeff?"

"I..." Jeff glanced between the indeterminate shape of Natia and the more solid, but shocked, English couple. Even Lady Penelope seemed to have lost some of her poise at the vision before her. "I, erm, wasn't expecting Natia to join us."

"And how is that a problem?"

"I, ah... I may have kept a few facts from Penelope and Parker."

"Facts? Facts like: that you only found out that your sons were drowning because a ghost told you?"

"Ah... Well, I did say that we received an alert from Natia, but I may have, erm, insinuated that, ah, Natia was a communications device invented by Brains."

Brains, rather than being the inventor of a long-range, subterranean radio transmitter or someone who was about to tuck into a delicious festive feast, was looking like a person who wanted to get a better understanding of the paranormal vision before him.

"Then that's very disrespectful of you, Jefferson," Grandma scolded. "Natia deserves better."

"I know she does, and I'm sorry, Natia, but..." Jeff glanced back at his flesh and blood guests. "I didn't know how to tell the truth without sounding... ... And I didn't lie when I said that Natia had alerted me to the danger… I just, kind of, inferred something else... Sorry, Natia." He looked shameful.

With a stern look, Grandma shooed him towards his seat. "You'd better go and sit down before dinner gets cold," she instructed. And made a little giggling motion towards Natia when he, head down in contrition, obeyed.

Natia smiled at the interaction. "My grandmother was like this with my father," she whispered to John as he placed the translator by her place at the table.

John shivered and pulled his jacket closer about him. "Must be part of the job description."

"I do not understand."

Their discussion was interrupted by a small explosion and the sounds of laughter. Alan and Tin-Tin had pulled a cracker between them; Tin-Tin coming away with the bulk of the cylinder.

She put her party hat onto her head. "Come on, everyone. Pull your crackers." She unravelled the piece of paper that was wrapped about an unidentified object, exclaiming in delight at the small white figurine that was revealed. "A polar bear!"

"What is a polar bear, John?"

"A white bear that lives where it's super cold."

"What is a bear?"

"Erm..." Momentarily stumped, John tried to think of an explanation that would make sense.

"Here..." Tin-Tin passed her gift down the table. "You may show her."

"Thanks. This is a polar bear, Natia. It's the largest meat-eating animal on the planet. They can grow to be bigger than this table."

Natia indicated the figurine. "From this small?"

John laughed. "No. Their cubs are about this big." Making a guess, he held his hands a body width apart.

There was a sudden scraping of a chair as, with a: "'Scuse me. I have someth...," Brains dashed from the table and out of the room.

Grandma tutted her disapproval. "That boy would forgo food althogether if we gave him the chance."

"I doubt he'll be long, Mother," Jeff stated. "He enjoys Christmas dinner too much to miss your cooking." Holding his cracker out to Parker, the two men pulled.

Natia was gazing around her, her eyes wide in childish wonder as she took in the scene that she'd never seen before. She began to ask questions about the objects around her and enquire what the decorations represented.

John had often thought that she must have been quite young when she died, and her curiosity and enthusiasm for learning about his world seemed to confirm it. What was this shiny object next to each dish, and what were the four thin sticks sticking out of it for? Why were these pictures all covered in white blobs and was it the same as that in the sand bowl over there? (She pointed at the crystal sugar bowl.) What was the animal with long legs and branches on its head? Who was the man with the white bushy beard? And why was he wearing what appeared to be red, thick, heavy clothing when it was mid-summer?

John answered patiently and in good humour, frequently assisted by his family and the translator.

Alan, having scored his own hat from the cracker he'd pulled with Virgil, nudged Tin-Tin. "Read out your joke."

"All right. What do you get when you cross a pinecone and a polar bear?"

What followed were a lot of bemused heads scratched beneath silly paper hats.

"Don't know," Gordon admitted. "Tell us, Tin-Tin."

Tin-Tin giggled. "A fur tree!"

Scott helped himself to a handful of nuts. "I see your Christmas cracker jokes are up to their usual standard this year, Penny."

Lady Penelope had finally got over the shock of having a poltergeist sitting at the far end of the table "It appears to be a tradition designed to ensure that no one misses out on the joke."

At least, almost no one missed out.

Natia turned to John. "What is a pin-con?"

"A pinecone? One of these." He picked up a brown, multi-layered decoration. "It's what protects the seeds of a pine tree."

"I see. It is like the fruit of the Fala – only brown and hard."

"The tree next to my observatory? That's right. Many pine trees used to be call fir trees. And the hair that covers polarbears is called fur." He decided against explaining the differences in spelling. "So, if you put a polar bear and a pine tree together you get a fur tree."

"Oh!" And Natia laughed. Her laughter was infectious, and the family joined in.

Everyone stopped laughing when Brains returned, placing a couple of hastily assembled objects on the table in front of the ghost.

"Why have you given Natia one of our triggers, Brains?" Virgil asked. "Are you planning on doing an experiment?"

"I-I, er, yes. In a manner of speaking."

"Experiment?" John sprang to his friend's defence. "You're not experimenting on Natia."

"No, no, no!" Brains turned scarlet. "I don't want to hurt you, Natia. I've adjusted one of our triggering devices so that you can use it. Th-The experiment is whether or not it will work."

Seeing the collective frowns around the table, Natia indicated the objects before her. "I do not understand."

"I-I have filled this balloon with water..." Brains squeezed the green partially-filled bladder between two uprights hastily welded into the trigger. Then he plugged a cable from the uprights into what appeared to be a third vertical section, with a rough V cut into it, rising out of a servo that travelled along a small track. "Now, if I slide one end of the cracker into this notch... Excuse me Natia," he apologised as he literally reached through her to push one of the cracker's pinched sections into the V. "...a-a-and, if y-y-you could h-h-hold the other end, John..."

Recognising that this stutter was as a result of Natia's ghostly cold touch and not Brains' usual speech impediment, John hurriedly grabbed the closest end of the cracker in the accepted manner. "Done it."

Stepping away, Brains rubbed his arms to warm up. "Good... Now, what I w-would like you to do, Natia, is touch the balloon."

Natia looked at the engineer. Then she looked at John. "I do not understand. What is a..." She paused to think. "Ba-lon?"

"They're balloons." John pointed at the festively coloured wall adornments. "Those ones are filled with air."

"Why?"

"Erm..." John was briefly stymied by the question. "They look nice?"

"I think I've got an unused one in here..." Gordon reached into his pocket and pulled out a limp piece of red rubber. "When they're full of air, they're fun to hit around, Natia." He held the balloon out to John. "Don't worry. I haven't blown into it."

"I hope this is what you say it is and isn't a whoopie cushion." John accepted the balloon. "They come in all sorts of colours as well as red and green, Natia. And this is how you blow them up."

The family had the unexpected enjoyment of seeing Natia's eyes grow wide whilst she watched the inconsequential scrap of colour increase in size and shape.

"And then..." John tied the balloon's tail and hit it across the table towards Scott. His brother batted it back, and it veered off to the side, losing momentum in front of Virgil who slapped it clear. It wafted closer to Alan who flicked it further down the table.

Where it was caught by their father, who, with a: "We can play with it later," tossed the balloon behind him. "What's your plan, Brains?"

"Natia's going to pull the cracker."

"I do not understand."

John grinned. "I think I do." Taking up his end of the cracker again and holding it firmly, he pointed at the water-filled balloon. "Touch that. We want the water in it to freeze."

Trusting him, Natia placed both hands in the balloon. As its watery contents froze, they expanded, pushing the two uprights apart. This triggered the servo beneath the upright holding the cracker and the end moved away from John.

There was a pop, and the cracker tore in two, Natia scoring the larger share.

"You win!" John crowed as Natia clapped her delight. "You can wear the funny hat." Unrolling it, he placed it over her head, where it floated down through her body and came to land on the chair.

Natia laughed.

"Let's see what your gift is." Hiding the joke to give him time to decide if it was multilingual and multigenerational, John unrolled the prize. "There you are." He laid it on the placemat before her. "The red stone matches your feathers."

"Oh..." Natia breathed. "It's beautiful." She reached out to touch the brightly coloured jewel and was disappointed when her hand passed through it. "What is it?" she asked.

"A ring," John picked it up. "You wear it on your finger... If you have one small enough," he added as it stubbornly refused to slide over his nail. He tried his little finger and it made it as far as his second knuckle. "Kind of like that." Having held his hand so she could see the jewel in situ, he unscrewed it from his pinkie and placed back on Natia's plate. "You would have probably been able to wear it easily."

Grandma interrupted the discussion. "It's time to eat. While the meal is being dished out, perhaps you will explain our relationship with Natia to Penelope and Parker, John?"

"Never mind Penny and Parker," Jeff growled. "You'd better explain it to all of us."

"Sure..." John began. "As you can imagine, the first time she appeared before me, I didn't know what to think. Prior to that, if you'd asked me, I would have said that I didn't believe in ghosts. But I guess that there's nothing more empirical than seeing the evidence appear before your eyes. I suppose that it was a little over a year ago when she first made contact. Right, Natia?"

"A sun cycle? Yes."

John began his tale, giving more detail than he'd told his brothers yesterday, stopping when a plate full of aromatic food was placed before him. "Mmn. That smells great, Kyrano. Can you smell it, Natia?"

"I can, and I wish I could eat it."

"Do you mind if we continue?"

"You should not be hungry because of me."

"Thanks..."

"Before anyone begins," Jeff got to his feet. "It's traditional for us to have a toast, and it gives me great pleasure to make it... Natia, by saving my sons' lives, you've given us the best Christmas gift we could have hoped for, and we all thank you." He raised his glass. "To Natia."

As one, and without hesitation, (although John whispered the guest of honour that she should remain sitting), everyone else got to their feet and raised their glasses towards the head of the table. "Natia."

As they all reclaimed their seats, Natia leant closer to her friend. "I do not understand, John. Didn't you say that a toast was cooked bread?"

"Same word, different meaning, but they are linked way back in history. This toast is a tradition to honour an important event or person and we usually use it to wish each other a merry Christmas. But this year's toast is even more special." Even though Natia's smile said that she appreciated the sentiment, John doubted that she understood the nuances of the tradition.

Hoping to finish most of his meal before his seating companion made it cold and inedible, he picked up an item of cutlery. "This is how we use a fork. See?" He speared a roasted potato onto its tines and cut the vegetable into pieces with his knife.

"Miss Natia..." Kyrano, standing by her side, bowed his head deferentially. "In my culture it is customary to offer food to those who have departed this life. Permit me to make this offering to you." With another bow, he placed a plate with a small selection of the delicacies on offer before her.

As a gesture of thanks, Natia bowed her head in return. Wishing to honour him as he'd honoured her, she reached out, placing her ghostly hands on the food.

Then she said something.

"Unknown words," the translator intoned, and even John looked confused.

Conversely, Natia looked pleased... Delighted... Even elated. "I see them..."

"Who?" John looked to where she was looking, which appeared to be somewhere in the distance beyond his father's shoulder. He saw nothing unexpected. "Who can you see?"

"My parents..." Natia rose to her feet. "My family..." She stretched out both hands, palms uppermost as if reaching for the unseen figures. "They have come for me."

"You're leaving?"

"Yes. I must." Natia managed to tear her gaze away from the vision that held her enthralled. "You have helped me return to my family, John."

"I have? How...? I mean... That's good, but..." Then John smiled "I shall miss your friendship, Natia, and the Hallowe'en hauntings that we had planned in the future, but I'm happy for you. Go to your family and be happy."

"Maybe one day we shall meet again."

"Maybe..." John chuckled. "But hopefully not for a long time."

"Goodbye, John. Goodbye to you all..."

No one managed as much as a "bye" when the ghostly figure appeared to waft off the ground and, fading until even her scarlet feathers had vanished, floated through the table and out the window.

And Natia departed...

...

There was silence.

...

Scott was the first to speak. "Well. That was a Christmas with a difference," he remarked.

There were generalised murmurings of ascent.

"Are you okay, John?"

"Huh? Me?" John gave what was supposed to be an unconcerned shrug. "Of course, I am. It's what she's always wanted, so I'm happy for her." He reached across and switched off the translator.

There was more silence.

Jeff cleared his throat. "We're letting this amazing dinner get cold, and we owe it to the chefs to enjoy it whilst it's at its best."

Slowly, gradually, everyone tucked in, regaining their high spirits.

Most of them...

-F-A-B-

"I think you've picked the perfect spot, John," Virgil commented as he gazed out over the vista that lay before them.

"I hope so. She once told me that her village was down there." John gestured towards the bay.

Alan looked down into the crystal blue waters. "Guess it's been swamped by sea level rise."

"That's why the island was deserted," Scott reminded him. "It's only because we had the tools and the technology that we managed build on the flanks of a volcano."

"Tell you what, John," Gordon offered. "We'll get out our scuba gear and explore later. You might find her house."

"I think her house would have been long gone before her village was inundated." But John smiled. "But I think I'd like that, Gordon. Thanks."

Jeff Tracy crested the rise, closely followed by the rest of the family. "Are we all here? Good."

"Why are you here?" John protested. "I wasn't planning anything formal."

"Natia saved your lives," his father reminded him. "She deserves a memorial." He placed two objects on a flattened rock by the edge of the point that looked over the Pacific Ocean. The first was the ghost's name, laser etched into a piece of wood. The second a shallow metal dish with a squat spike protruding from its centre. "To keep it safe," Jeff explained as, with reverential deference, Kyrano placed a small mound of rice in the dish. "We can make it all more permanent later. Maybe arrange some protection from the elements."

John gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Dad." Stepping forward, he slid the ring from the cracker over the spike. "That's yours, Natia." He stepped back, joining the semicircle that enveloped the shrine.

Each member of the family said nothing as they allowed their thoughts to reflect on what had been a remarkable and unique Christmas.

They were so quiet and still that a small bird fluttered down and approached the shrine. Seeming to be intrigued by the colours in the ring, it pecked at it, its red wing feathers echoing the jewel's similarly coloured stone. It sampled the rice, tossing grains clear of the mound. Then, unafraid, it hopped closer to the semicircle. It stopped at John's feet, and looked upwards, regarding him with a beady eye.

Barely daring to breathe, let alone move, he returned its gaze.

With a "Cheet" it fluttered away.

"I think you've just been given a thank you, John," his grandmother commented.

John nodded. That's what it felt like.

"Time we went back down," Jeff announced. "Unless anyone wants to stay?"

"Nope," John told him. "We've got a scuba trip to plan."

"Just stay out of any caves this time," Jeff growled. "That's even if you're acquainted with any other friendly ghosts, John."

John laughed. "I've only ever met the one. And if I ever want to see her again, all I'd have to do is get Gordon to camp up here a night or two. His snoring's loud enough to wake the dead."

"I do not snore!"

The end

Merry Christmas and happy New Year, Everyone.