International Rescue and the Tracy boys are the wonderful creation of Sylvia and Gerry Anderson and the best programme that was ever made.

Chapter 7

It had been a touching moment, witnessing Jeff with his eldest son, and it brought a lump of emotion to Jenna's throat. "You're very lucky, Scott Tracy, to have a loving family around you," she thought wistfully to herself.

"Right, let's get our boy introduced to the 'Iron Lady'," Mike said, as if setting Scott up with a blind date. Jenna had to smile and shake her head at Mike's ever so casual expressions. The 'Iron Lady' was Mike's affectionate term for the metal frame he attached to the patients head. On it could be fixed his precision instruments, to hold them in place at just the right angle for him to carry out the delicate surgery. I suppose, in truth, it did look like some medieval torture device; which was why Mike had given it the nickname of 'The Iron Lady'. He produced the device from the box that he had kept with him and fixed it in place.

Mike and Jenna went to scrub-up; Brains already having done so earlier. Coming back to the table, Mike turned to Brains. "OK, Brains, you told me you could make the room sterile; let's see what you've got," Mike smiled, intrigued at how Brains would achieve it. With not having a separate room in which to prepare the patient before bringing them into a sterile theatre and having had other people in this theatre; the room now needed to be made sterile. Brains smiled quietly to himself as he keyed in another code to the control panel in front of him. The door hissed as it sealed shut, another hiss and that was it!

"T-That's it, M-Mike," announced Brains. Mike laughed, shaking his head. "You never cease to amaze me, young man. Are you sure you won't change your mind and come to work for my happy little band of workers?" he said, looking at Jenna.

Brains' eyes creased up, the only indication he was smiling behind his mask. "T-Thank-you M-Mike but I'm quite h-happy with this little b-band of workers," he nodded towards Scott, meaning the Tracy family.

Jenna put the CD in the player housed in the wall. "What've you got for me, Jen," Mike asked. "Please don't tell me its Heavy Metal!" he said, alarmed.

Brains laughed outright. The very idea that Scott Tracy would listen to head banging Heavy Metal was a source of amusement to him. "N-No, that's more likely to b-be G-Gordon and A-Alan," he informed them.

"Don't worry, Mike," Jenna assured him, "It's Jazz, contemporary Jazz. I think you'll like it."

Mike looked down at his deeply unconscious patient. "Hmm, the young man's got taste," he said, admiringly.

"He certainly has," Jenna thought to herself.

The soft, soothing strains of music filled the room as Mike announced, "OK, let's get this show on the road."

Back in the lounge the long wait began. Jeff sat down heavily at his desk, momentarily looked at the contents in his hand before putting it in an envelope and shutting it in a drawer. He looked around the room at the anxious and worried faces. After studying the portrait of his eldest son, then looking at John's portrait he knew what he had to do. Out on the balcony Gordon was staring out to sea; it always had a calming effect on him, helped him think. Calling Gordon in from the balcony, Jeff informed them he had come to a decision. Puzzled and questioning faces looked at their father. In light of what had happened and being unable to concentrate on any rescues until he knew Scott was out of danger …"and I guess you boys feel the same way so I'm suspending all operations. International Rescue is shutting down until further notice and I'm bringing John home, " Jeff announced. The family all nodded approvingly; they all felt John should be here right now. Turning to Alan he said, "I know you've already been out today, son, but I want you to go and get John. Virgil can go with you and you can let John pilot TB3 on the way home. You can be back before the operation has finished. Now off you go." "And take care," he added.

"F A B," the two boys responded as they sat on the couch that would take them to Thunderbird Three's Silo.

Turning to the comlink on his desk Jeff said, "Base to Thunderbird Five, come in John."

John's anxious face filled the screen; that had changed from his portrait to a live feed from TB5. Pale from worry, his father having told him the news while Alan was on his way to collect Mike and Jenna, he had been waiting for an update. He had been as shocked as everyone else to hear of his eldest brother's rapidly deteriorating condition. Even though he longed to come home, to be near his brother, he hadn't put any undue pressure on his father by asking him; knowing his father had a lot on his mind. Tentatively, he answered the call, wondering if it would be bad news. "Thunderbird Five to base. What's the latest news Dad? How's Scott?"

"Hi Son. Mike's just starting surgery now and it's going to take awhile. That's why I've decided to bring you home. Alan and Virgil are on their way up for you now. I guessed you would rather be at home with your brothers so I'm shutting down International Rescue until we know Scott's out of danger. Put TB5 on automatic and I'll see you when you get home," Jeff answered.

"F A B," John replied, "and thanks, Dad."

Surgery had commenced at around 6.30pm and had taken at least 4&1/2 hours. It would be another1&1/2 hours before Jenna could make him comfortable in the infirmary.

"You did a good job, Mike," Jenna congratulated him, wiping his brow. She now covered Scott's open wound with a gauze dressing.

Mike wanted to wait at least 1/2 hour before closing Scott up to make sure his pressure didn't climb again and there may be more blood clots to remove. Once he made sure his patient was going to remain stable then he would finish the procedure. "Brains, keep an eye on those vitals, please," Mike asked. "And especially the brain pressure readout, " he added.

Now he took the time to discuss Scott's aftercare with Jenna. The next two days would be critical, he told her but he was going to be here in case they had to go back in again. She was to keep him on the ventilator to give his body a chance to rest and after the fourth day they would attempt to take him off it and get him breathing on his own. Mike was going to go back to the hospital for two days and then fly, himself back out in time to take him off the ventilator. She could then gradually reduce his sedation, allowing him to wake up. Mike said he would also leave her a list of medication that Scott would need, what pain relief he could have and how much.

After finally closing him up Mike was able to say, "OK, Brains. Let's bring him up and test those reflexes."

"S-Sure M-Mike," Brains replied, gradually reducing the anaesthesia until it was off.

Mike now spoke to Scott directly, telling him what he was going to do and what he wanted Scott to do. "All right, Scott. Now I want you to move your right hand and fingers for me," Mike said firmly. Nothing. "I know you can hear me, Son. I want you to try really hard, " he repeated. Mike was also testing to see if Scott could understand simple commands and had the ability to carry them out. It was always a very tense time for all the team concerned as there was always the possibility of paralysis of one or more limbs. After what seemed like a long few moments, Scott's right hand flinched and his fingers twitched. There was an audible sigh of relief. "That's good, Son," Mike encouraged. "Now I want you to do the same with your left hand." Again, it seemed like quite a while before Scott responded but his hand and fingers moved. Mike was patient. After all, his patient was very sleepy so it took a while to get through. He did the same with his legs. "Come on, Scott. Just one more try for me and then I'll let you go back to sleep," Mike promised.

Mike finished testing his reflexes and was satisfied all was well. Jenna was now able to give him enough sedation to keep him comfortable while he was on the ventilator. The head brace was removed and Mike put in feed tubes through his nose, which went down into his stomach, as he was going to be out of it for some time and needed nourishment.

They were now able to move him into the infirmary. Jenna carefully started undoing the straps that had held Scott down, wincing as she observed the angry red marks they had left on his body as he strained against them. She would put a soothing balm on those once she got him in next door, she thought.

Brains unlocked the anti-grav stretcher from the examination table much to Mike's amazement at yet another one of Brains' simple yet effective inventions. "That's a real bonus for patients who can't be moved about too much, Brains. I've gotta hand it too you again," Mike enthused. Brains was clearly embarrassed by the praise and although flustered, promised Mike he would design him a couple of anti-grav stretchers that he could use on his operating tables if he sent him the specifications.

Carefully, they manoeuvred Scott into the infirmary and over to the designated bed; while Jenna wheeled the portable ventilator beside him. Between them they laid him carefully on the bed.

"I guess it's time I went up to see Jeff," Mike announced. "He'll be getting anxious. Are you coming, Brains?" "Will you be alright now, Jen?" he added with concern.

"Yes of course, Mike. You two go on," Jenna assured him. "Scott and I will be just fine, won't we?" she added, looking down at her sleeping patient.

Once they had gone she set about making Scott as comfortable as possible; pulling the crisp, white sheet up to his waist. A fresh IV bag with medication was hooked up along with the food. She noted his vitals on the chart taking special note of the brain pressure readout from the strap device that was on his forehead. Jenna talked to him all the time in a soft, reassuring manner, telling him what she was doing and where he was. Bringing back a soothing ointment from the Prep Room she sat on his bed and tenderly applied it to the red marks on his body. She applied a lip balm, tracing his dry lips with her finger. Still sitting on his bed, she lifted his wrist; pressing her fingers to his pulse point she counted off the beats. Even though he had a pulse monitor on his finger she always preferred to do it this way; it gave the patient the comfort of touch she always said. Though, in the soft glow of the room as she watched him sleep, she lingered longer than she had to.

"Well, Mr Tracy, I do hope you're not going to give me any trouble," she said as she smiled down at him, referring, not only, to any medical emergencies or dramas he may throw at her but also to the deep stirrings she felt in her heart.