A/N: Unbelievable! I can't believe I forgot to do the disclaimer thingie (I don't own them, dammit!) And even worse, I forgot to thank my ever faithful beta, Sam, without whom this story would suck. Thanks Sam, for reducing the suckage!
The following hours passed slowly. The lounge was deathly quiet and Jeff knew that it was his own fault. Where his sons had always gathered in the lounge in the past, to read, play games, listen to music, they now avoided it like the plague. Jeff sighed. He couldn't blame them. He had been so angry over the last few weeks that he had managed to lash out at just about everyone. Even his longtime friend Kyrano seemed to walk on eggs in his presence.
He looked up as he heard the voice of his youngest in the hallway. "Just hang on a minute…"Alan bounced into the room, excitement on his face, holding a portable phone. "Dad! It's Gordy!"
Jeff took a deep breath to settle his sudden shock at the news. He took the proffered phone, and looked at his fourth born on the tiny screen. "Son, how are you?"
"I'm okay, Dad. How are things there?"
"They're about how you'd expect. When are you coming home?"
"God, Dad, I have no idea. Grandma's on a real tear."
"Well, things must have improved if she's letting you talk to me."
Gordon looked over his shoulder as if to ensure he was alone. "Actually, Dad, she doesn't know. Wyatt Esterhaus showed up and gave me this phone. If Grandma finds out she'll have a fit."
Jeff nodded, understanding. Wyatt had been Scott's best friend throughout school. "I'm surprised she let you see him. She's been keeping Stu Kopecki at bay."
"She doesn't know he came." Gordon grinned. "He climbed up the oak tree and came in through Scott's bedroom window. I was really surprised to see him. Believe me, I thought his tree-climbing days were over. Long over."
Jeff nodded, then got down to business. "Do you know what this is all about? I've tried talking to her, but she has just stonewalled me from the first."
Gordon's grin turned wry. "Yes, sir. I know, but I don't think you're going to like it."
"Son, I am way beyond not liking it. When your brother came home with that box…"
"What box?"
"She didn't tell you? She handed Alan a box as he was leaving and told him that it was for me, and he was not to open it." Jeff pushed down a thread of anger then continued. "When I opened it, I found your watch, your cell phone, your laptop, even your edible transmitter. I called immediately, but she said that you weren't available, and that you wouldn't be available until some changes were made."
"Wow. I didn't know that. I just know that I went to lie down after the trip, and when I woke up, all that stuff was gone."
"Son, I've talked to her almost daily, and I have yet to discover what kind of changes she wants. Every time I ask, she just says I'll figure it out."
Gordon scrubbed his face with his hands. "Ah, Dad, I'm sorry. She's kind of got me over a barrel here. For the first couple of weeks, she pretty much made me stay in bed. She said I'd heal faster if I rested. I was okay with that for a while, but it gets pretty boring. I told her I wanted to go home, and she pulled the little old granny thing on me. Made me promise to stay until she said I could go."
"What are the changes she wants?"
"Um, well, I think she's been reading Uncle Tom's Cabin."
Jeff blinked, then jumped when Scott said in his ear. "Uncle Tom's Cabin? What are you talking about, Gordon?"
Gordon grinned. "Hey, Scott! Long time no see! Thanks for getting Wyatt to bring me this phone."
Jeff realized he had been joined by Scott and Virgil in addition to Alan, who sat quietly listening from the couch. Frowning for a moment, he pushed a few buttons on his desk and another on the phone, and suddenly, Gordon's face peered down from his picture on the wall. "Hey, Virg."
"Yeah, yeah, what's this about Uncle Tom's Cabin?"
"Oh, well, Grandma's kind of decided that we're all poor mistreated slaves and Dad is Simon Legree."
Jeff shifted in his seat, more than a little shocked. "What?"
"She keeps throwing all these statistics at me. She says that we are all working too hard and if we don't stop, we'll be burned out within a couple more years."
Scott and Virgil glanced at each other in consternation. Jeff shook his head. "That's ridiculous."
"What really set her off was when you asked me to work on those reports just before we left. She said that no decent employer would ask his people to continue working when they're injured. I tried to tell her it was only because I was bored with lying around, but she wouldn't hear it. So now, I'm all healed, but I'm still bored. You'd think she'd see the correlation."
"Son…" Jeff paused, frowning, "Did I push you too quickly?"
Gordon shook his head firmly. "No, sir, not at all. I'm not the delicate little butterfly Grandma thinks I am. I was getting bored, and you let me help with something easy. That's all there was to it. I've been trying to convince Grandma of that, but you know how she gets sometime."
"Gordon, what kind of changes does she want?" Virgil asked.
"Well, she says that most people in high stress jobs like ours work four days on, three days off, but she would be happy if we just had weekends off."
"We take weekends off." Scott was indignant.
"No we don't." Alan shook his head. "We don't do repair and maintenance on weekends, but we still are working."
Jeff reflected that it was true. Weekends were reserved for training and paperwork. Compared to the physical labor of maintaining the base, the Thunderbirds and all of the related equipment, weekends seemed casual in comparison.
"If we take weekends off, we'll never keep up with the workload." Virgil said quietly.
"Yeah, I tried that argument too. Didn't do any good. She says if we can't keep up, then there is too much work, and something will have to give. She says she doesn't intend for it to be me."
"What makes you so special?" Alan said, with a touch of resentment.
"Oh, you're gonna love this one. Aside from the obvious fact that I was injured, she says you and John have a built in relief valve in Thunderbird Five. When you're up there, you can relax because there's only so much maintenance you can do. She says Scott is as much a workaholic as Dad, and she doesn't think he'll see the issue clearly. Although, she was saying the other night that she wondered what Scott would have done if his wingman refused to stand down when it was time for leave."
"I'd kick his butt off the base, but there's a big difference between an Air Force base with several thousand personnel and Tracy Island with less than a dozen." Scott said.
"What about me?" Virgil asked curiously.
"Watch your back, brother mine, or you'll find yourself stuck in Kansas too."
"Well, you certainly are not stuck. I'll send Scott in Thunderbird One tomorrow to get you."
Coloring, Gordon shook his head. "I can't Dad. I promised Grandma I wouldn't leave until she said I could."
"Son, that promise was extracted under duress."
"I can't go back on my word. Not with Grandma."
Jeff shook his head. "Son, your continued absence has put all of your brothers under tremendous stress. You know as well as anyone that this job is barely manageable with the five of you. You've been gone almost a full month now, and we are starting to creak at the seams."
Looking guilty, Gordon nodded slowly. "To tell the truth, Dad, I think that is exactly what Grandma has been waiting for. She's thinking that time will achieve her goal."
"The only goal she's achieved is putting all of our lives at risk. The longer you're gone, the harder we have to work to take up the slack. The harder we work, the more tired we get. And you damn well know tired men make mistakes." Scott said harshly.
"What do you want me to do, Scott? Go back on my word? Forget it, it's not going to happen." Gordon replied with some heat.
Jeff had raised his hands to forestall the argument, when John's picture began to flash. A glance at his desk chronometer reminded Jeff it was time for one of John's regular check-ins. Pressing a button, he said, "Go ahead, John."
Seeing his brothers gathered about their father's desk, John cocked an eyebrow. "Are we having a meeting?"
Jeff manipulated a control so that Gordon and John were conferenced. "Hey, Johnny."
John smiled. "Gordon. How're the ribs?"
"They're okay. Mind's going, though. Grandma has me reading Shakespeare."
"Oh my God, you might actually get a little culture."
"Not if I can help it."
"All right, boys, let's get back to our problem here." Jeff growled. "Son, your grandmother is holding Gordon hostage until I somehow magically lessen the workload around here. Now, I know how much this upcoming Galeano event means to you, but…"
"No, Dad. Don't even say it. John's worked too hard and too long to get ready for this." Scott said with firm determination.
"Son, I know how you feel, I feel the same, but…"
"Dad, I can cancel my observation of the Galeano event. If it's between my hobby and International Rescue, I'll just cancel, okay?" John was pale, and there was no doubt in the room that the offer had cost him a lot.
There were sounds of dismay throughout the room. Jeff pinched the bridge of his nose. "John, I know how much those observations mean to you, but I can't see any way we can continue without you here."
No one seemed able to meet the blond astronomer's eye. He had been planning his observations for the last three years, building his own gamma radiation detector. With the event coming up, he had even insisted on staying on Thunderbird Five for three months without a break.
As he had explained it to his family, magnetars, neutron stars with super strong magnetic fields, had only been identified as a separate star type little over a quarter of a century earlier. When 12 years ago Spanish astronomer, Ricardo Galeano, had discovered a binary star system including a magnetar along with a more common white dwarf, the astrophysics community had been galvanized with excitement. And when a team from California's Lick Observatory had proven five years ago that the white dwarf was on a death spiral course to collision with the magnetar, astronomers around the world had hyperventilated in their joy. The collision was expected to release a major burst of gamma radiation, an event so rare and unpredictable that it was hoped that close, accurate observation would advance man's understanding of the origins of the universe.
At the time, John was still a student at Harvard, but he had been as gripped by the opportunity as everyone else. Everyone else in the astrophysics community, that is. His brothers had listened to his excited plans to build a gamma ray detector with bemusement. A sentiment seemingly shared by most of the civilized world. But as always, the brothers closed ranks to support their own.
It was Alan who shook his head fiercely saying, "No. No, that's just not right. There has to be a better way."
Gordon nodded in worried agreement. "Um, I'll try explaining it to Grandma. Scott, you come on up and get me."
Scott stood as if to head out immediately. It was Virgil who stopped Scott with a hand on his arm, saying quietly, "He gave his word, Scott."
John, who was looking on, asked in puzzlement. "What do you mean, Virg?"
"I told Grandma I'd stay here with her until she said I could go." Gordon hung his head. "But I didn't think she'd keep me here this long. Johnny, I would never have agreed if I'd thought it might mean you couldn't do your star crash thingie."
"Gordon, you can't go back on your word. Not to Grandma." John said firmly.
"But what about your gamma rays?"
John smiled wryly. "The nice thing about space, kiddo, is there is always another magnetar or pulsar or quasar to be found. Don't worry about it."
"No, John! That's just not fair! Gordy, tell Grandma John's going to miss his star crash if she doesn't let you come home!" Alan cried out.
"She won't back down. You know she won't. She'll just say it's up to Dad."
"This is impossible." Jeff blurted in exasperation. "Boys, your grandmother is right. You are working too hard. I know that. But at the moment, I can't see any way around it. The machines must be maintenanced. You boys must train. There are only so many hours in a day. Bringing in outside help at this juncture would put our entire operation at risk. I need ideas, and I need them now."
The room went quiet as each of the Tracys tried to think of a way out of their predicament. Shaking his head, Virgil stood up and headed for the hallway. "We need Brains on this."
Alan watched his brother leave then said tentatively, "Well, what if we only worked maintenance on equipment we actually use? You know, just work on them after each rescue."
Scott shook his head frowning. "No. That won't work. Some of the heavy equipment only gets used once or twice a year. I wouldn't trust something that's sat in a corner for six months."
"Okay, then, how about this?" Gordon piped up. "What if we take the equipment we use less and put it on a sixty day schedule? Only work on things like the Mole and Excavator on a monthly basis? If we did that, we could free up Fridays for training, maybe."
"And I could probably work out a rotating schedule for days off." John added.
"Rotating? So like, I'd have Mondays, and Gordon would have Tuesdays?" Alan asked, disappointment plain in his voice.
"Actually, that might work." Scott said thoughtfully. "We'd only have three on duty, but with a day off to look forward too, it might not be so bad."
Jeff sat back in his chair. He listened to his sons hash out a plan, and couldn't help his misgivings. The more he turned his mind to the problem, the more aware he became of the legitimacy of his mother's concerns. When he was young, his mother had been adamant that he would get off the farm. She railed at the morning-to-dusk, seven-days-a-week lifestyle, and had wanted better for her only child, telling him constant work would lead to an early grave.
His wife Lucille had curbed his tendency to overwork by her mere existence. Knowing she was waiting for him at home was a tremendous incentive to leave base when his duty shift was over. It was only with the grief of her passing that he found his solace in work. While the boys were growing up, his mother had an iron control on his work habits, simply refusing to let him ignore his parental duties in favor of work.
It was only in the last several years once he had moved himself lock stock and barrel to Tracy Island that he had been able to totally immerse himself in his work. His passion for International Rescue had flourished in the privacy of his own utopia. It was that same passion that locked his five sons into their current pattern of working 12- hour days to keep up with all of the demands of the job.
The sound of approaching voices drew Jeff's attention. Virgil and Brains entered the room deep in discussion. "That sounds pretty good, actually." Virgil said glancing up at his brothers. "Brains has a plan, guys."
"Let's hear it." Jeff gave all of his attention to the young engineer.
Seeing all of the attention focused on him, Brains nervously pulled off his glasses and fiddled cleaning the lens. "Uh, yes, Mr. Tracy. Over the last several months, I've, uh, been toying with some advanced robotics."
"Robotics? Ah, geez, not Braman again?" Gordon complained.
"Uh, no, Gordon. Braman was my uh, foray into artificial intelligence. This is s-s-strictly robotics. I believe, with help from uh, Virgil and John, and uh, also Alan, I could design and build several robots that would relieve a significant p-p-portion of the workload in uh, maintaining the Thunderbirds and the ancillary equipment."
"Like what work, Brains?" Alan asked.
"For instance, almost every piece of equipment we use utilizes uh, batteries in one capacity or another. In large part, the batteries are uniform, interchangeable from one p-p-piece of equipment to the next. This uniformity will make it possible to design a single robot to charge, replace and maintain all of the batteries for every piece of equipment. I can uh, refine the design to a point that the battery compartments on every vehicle and piece of equipment conforms to a single standard."
John was nodding his head. "You know, I've thought about that in the past… that we could do a better job of designing on the computers… make them more interchangeable. Use a single motherboard design… It'd sure cut down on the maintenance."
"Yeah, and we could fabricate stuff a lot quicker that way. We wouldn't have to change the set up for each different piece." Alan smiled, the excitement beginning to grow.
"Assembly line technology." Jeff said, bemused.
"Well, not exactly uh, Mr. Tracy, but I think that now that we have most of the equipment we want, we can change our focus to streamlining the uh, operation."
Slowly Jeff nodded his head. "Boys, I think we have the beginnings of a workable plan here. Gordon, pack your bags. I'll be flying up in the morning to negotiate your release."
On screen, Gordon froze momentarily, some unknown emotion flickering across his face. He stared steadily at Scott while replying. "Okay, Dad. I'll see you tomorrow."
Jeff frowned at his eldest, who was standing stiffly, looking off into space. "What?"
Scott flicked a glance at his father. "Uh, yeah, Dad. Um… maybe it would be better if I went instead of you."
Jeff shook his head. "No, son, we can't afford to have you away."
Scott raised a wry eyebrow. "Just a couple of hours ago you wanted me to go."
"Yes, I said that, but you know as well as I do that we can't really spare you under the circumstances. And your grandmother is going to take some convincing."
"Yeah, that's why Scott should go." Alan blurted out.
Jeff frowned at his youngest son. A quick glance at the rest of his boys and even Brains showed the truth in their eyes. They may not have agreed with Alan's blatant way of saying it, but they were in agreement with the heart of the statement. With a touch of irony he said, "May I remind you boys I'm considered a pretty fair negotiator in some circles?"
Scott sighed, "Dad, for my money, you're the best in the world, except where Grandma's concerned. When you two butt heads, neither of you even try to control your tempers. You go up there bent on having your own way, and we'll either land up orphans or minus a grandmother."
Jeff looked around. "The rest of you agree with that assessment?"
The six young men solemnly stared at Jeff, then Gordon grinned cheekily, "Yeah, pretty much."
"Well, I'm just going to have to muddle through. Now, let's firm up those plans. If I'm going to take your grandmother on, I want all my ducks in a row."
Scott stared at Jeff as if to divine his level of determination. Jeff stared coolly back, and after a moment, Scott nodded, and with that the stand off was over, and everyone relaxed, and settled down to work out details of their plan.