Scott put his head around the door of the sickroom. "John, you okay?"
"I'm fine, Scott," he replied, taciturnly.
"Really?"
"Really. Do you want something?"
Scott was a little hurt. John never spoke to him so, but Scott put his feelings aside, thinking that John must have been through a hell of a lot, what with dying and everything.
"Alan wants you to call him."
"Oh."
"Are you coming?"
"Sure." John smiled and followed Scott back to the lounge. He hailed Alan.
"Hi, John! It's good to see you!" he said.
"Hello." Replied John. Alan looked confused; he was expecting a little more response. "How are you?"
"Fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Why does everyone keep asking me if I'm alright? I'm fine. Man!" John paced up and down and punched his palm with his fist.
"Sorry, John, I just wanted to see you."
"Well you've seen me."
"Okay, goodbye." Alan was going to wisecrack about John owing him two weeks of satellite duty, but reserved the comment. He signed off.
"What's wrong, John?" asked Scott, concerned.
"Again with the platitudes!" sighed John.
"You're obviously not okay, or you wouldn't be talking like that."
John squared up to Scott.
"Are you going to hit me, John?"
The wild look in John's eyes vanished, and he exhaled deeply.
"I'm sorry. I just feel-"
"John, I told you to get some sleep!" admonished Jeff, standing in the doorway with Brains.
"You didn't tell me that!" said Scott, annoyed.
"I-" said John, but couldn't complete his sentence. He turned his head quickly to his left, then back again.
"John, are you alright?" asked Scott. John staggered back a few spaces, becoming more and more unsteady. Scott took hold of his waist,
and lowered him carefully to the floor.
"It's alright John. You're going to be okay." Scott soothed, but John's eyes glazed over, and he lapsed into unconsciousness.
"Brains!" shouted Jeff, and he and Brains ran over to Scott. The three looked at each other.
"Sickroom!" yelled Jeff, and Scott picked him up. He was about to run out with him, when he stopped.
"What is it, Scott?" asked Jeff.
"Nothing, Father. He just seems a good deal heavier today."
Jeff smiled on only one side of his face.
"Anything we can do?" Asked Virgil and Gordon in unison.
"Yes, boys. Find out what the hell happened on Thunderbird 5."
"Yessir," they replied.
Brains tried to take some more blood from John, but this time his needle broke on John's skin.
"I don't understand, Mr. Tracy. His skin seems perfectly normal, but the needle can't penetrate it." Said Brains, frustrated. He went up to John's head and shone a penlight into each of his eyes. "Hmmm," he said.
"What is it?" asked Jeff.
"I just don't know, Mr. Tracy. His vitals are all over the place. First his pupils are pinpoint, then dilated. First he has hypothermia, then a fever. One minute he has bradycardia, then tachycardia. I don't know what to make of it."
"Should we get the doctor back, Father?" asked Scott, already making for the door.
"No, Scott. We can't." said Jeff.
"Can we get John to a hospital?"
"No, Son. I think that would be even worse in terms of preserving our secrecy. Also, at the moment, whatever happened to him is contained on this island. We don't know if this is contagious, we don't know if it's some kind of mind control or alien technology. We can't risk exposing people to that!"
"Okay, Father," said Scott, miserably.
"Mr. Tracy?"
"What is it, Brains?"
"Look."
John's face had taken on a terrible expression, as if all of his muscles had been pulled taught. The rest of his body followed suit, and his feet lifted up off the bed as his thigh muscles strained. His body began to shake, and foamy blood poured from his mouth.
"What's happening?" asked Scott, anxiously.
"He's having a seizure!" replied Jeff, and he grabbed one of John's ankles, trying to hold it still.
"No, Mr. Tracy, don't!" said Brains, and placed himself between Jeff and John. Jeff put his hand over his mouth.
"Do we keep hacopam?" asked Brains, consulting the drug packing chart on the wall.
"What's that?" asked Scott, looking in cupboards and drawers.
"It's an anticonvulsant. We may need it!" replied Brains, stuttering more than usual as he tried to concentrate. He found it and loaded it into a syringe. The skin around John's eyes was turning purple, and his elbows and knees were bruised. Brains leaned over him.
"I can't inject it. He's moving too much!" shouted Brains. John's thrashing was causing a lot of noise. As Brains, Jeff and Scott tried to hold on to John's arm, the fit subsided as quickly as it had begun.
"Thank God!" said Brains, and re-sheathed his needle. He put it in the sharps bin, and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. Brains checked John's vitals.
"He's okay."
"What happened?"
"I don't know!" replied Brains, and threw his hands up in despair.
"It's okay, Brains." Scott comforted him.
"Look at that!" said Jeff, pointed at John's face. The three men watched in astonishment as the bruises on John's face and body faded before their eyes.
"How is that possible?" asked Scott.
"It isn't," said Brains, flatly. All of them stayed and watched John intently.
"Thunderbird 5 from base. Come in, Alan," said Gordon, trying to raise him.
"Hello, Gordon!" replied Alan, and exchanged nods with Virgil, who was sitting next to Gordon.
Alan noted the serious nature of his brothers' expressions. "What's wrong?" asked Alan.
"John has taken a turn for the worse," said Virgil.
"What's wrong with him? Is he going to be okay?" asked Alan, edgily.
"We don't know. To both questions." Said Virgil, seriously.
"Have you checked the sensor logs?" asked Gordon.
"Yes. There were several proximity alarms on the night we lost contact with John. All three went off, but the logs didn't show any actual object. Nothing. There was enough damage to suggest something big hit the station."
"Any evidence of intruders?"
"Intruders? No! You don't think I'd forget to report something like that, do you?"
"Sorry. Of course not. Was there anything odd when you got there?"
"Well, I say an object must have hit Thunderbird 5, but loads of circuits were fired. The solar transformer was blown, and a load of the comms equipment was blown. I'm still fixing the secondary systems. Some of the metal bulkhead rivets have welded themselves on."
"Like the place was struck by lightning?" asked Virgil.
"I guess so, Virg. But there's no lightning up here."
"No natural lightning, anyway," said Gordon.
"Do you really suspect foul play?" asked Alan, uneasily.
"We're not sure, Alan. Don't worry too much, just look sharp. All we know is that this is really, really weird," said Gordon, in an attempt to reassure Alan. It was a little successful.
"Better report anything unusual," ordered Virgil.
"As always!" replied Alan, a little chagrined.
"Okay. And better call in every two hours instead of eight, Alan," said Virgil, more softly.
"FAB, Virgil." Alan smiled and signed off. Virgil turned to Gordon.
"I don't know what the hell is going on here," he said. "But I don't like it."
John opened his eyes and looked toward the end of his bed.
"Sickroom again, huh?" he whispered.
"Yeah!" said Scott. "We're just going to move your stuff right on in!"
"Ha ha," said John, with tongue in cheek.
"Are you okay, John?" asked Jeff.
"Thank you, Father, I'm okay. I'm just a little tired."
"You seem to be in a better mood!" said Scott.
"Huh?"
"You've been acting like a real ass!" said Scott. His father shot him a look. He did not like bad language.
"I'm sorry," said John. "I don't remember."
Brains began to check his vital signs. "I need to try and take some blood, John.
"Sure, Brains. Go ahead." Brains gave Jeff a serious look, and took John's right arm. He did manage to get a blood sample, this time. "I need to go and analyse this," he said.
"Can I go back to my room?" asked John.
"Not until Brains gives you the all clear, John," said Jeff. He half expected an argument.
"Okay, Father." Said John. Scott looked at his father, concerned. They both smiled at John, and he smiled back.
Brains went to his lab and put some of the blood onto slides, some into tubes. He ran every test he could think of but found nothing. He looked at the blood under a microscope, but it looked perfectly normal to him. He chewed his tongue impatiently while he thought. At last, he had to entertain the idea that John might be cured. It grated against his instinct, but nonetheless he packed up and headed back to the sickroom.
"Can I see your tongue, John?" asked Brains, and John obliged. It was completely undamaged. He also looked at the back of John's head. The large cut had completely healed. There was no evidence it had ever been injured.
"What does that mean, Brains?" asked John.
"You heal very fast. You bit your tongue when you had your seizure."
"I had a seizure? I don't remember that."
"People often don't." said Jeff.
"But you say you feel fine?"
"Tip-top!" said John, cheerfully. "Do I have to stay here?"
"Stay here tonight, and I guess you can go about in the morning," said Brains.
"No duties, though!" said Jeff.
"Yes, Father."
"Get some sleep."
"Goodnight, Father."
"Goodnight, Son."
Jeff and Brains left the room but lingered in the corridor outside.
"Are you sure he's alright, Brains?" asked Jeff.
"I can find nothing wrong with him now, Mr. Tracy," replied Brains.
"Is it wise to let him out."
"If I can find nothing wrong with him, I cannot treat him. If we let him out and keep an eye on him, we might discover some sort of trigger for his illness. I can't even call it an illness. I don't know what it is."
"Okay, Brains. You'd better get some rest, too."
"Yes Mr. Tracy. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Brains." The twp retired to bed; Brains went to his room and Jeff slept on one of the sickroom beds next to John.