TWO:

"If we can't protect the technology in the current climate, maybe we should be asking ourselves if we should be operating at all?"

Silence descended once more.

Not the pregnant, expectant silence of before but one that was heavy, oppressive and all encompassing.

"You're suggesting we cease operations all together?" Scott recovered first; his tone rising in clear surprise. Of all the things for Virgil to come out with, that was one he hadn't given much consideration to.

"Don't get me wrong, guys, I don't want that to happen. I'm just saying is all…." Virgil clarified and evidenced the truth of his words with a meaningful look around his family. "We're talking about a duty we have to the rest of the world to be responsible with the technology. If we can't protect it then maybe the responsible option, the safest option, for the world is not to have access to the technology."

The tick of the clock continued to be the only sound. To Virgil, it seemed like even the local wildlife had become mute, horrified at the notion.

He tried to fill the gap. "I don't want that any more than you guys but….I guess what I'm saying is that we can't operate if we can't protect the technology, which is pretty much what we've just said, so…." He trailed off.

"So?" Scott prompted. "So what you're saying is we just stop?"

"Maybe," Virgil looked away, raising his shoulders in a shrug. "Or…"

Gordon could see his brother was struggling and took over, "Or maybe we need to do a better job of balancing the risk against the benefit; the risk of the technology being used in warfare with what protection we can provide ourselves, against the benefit of saving lives."

"Which, at the end of the day, is what we're about," Virgil agreed, thankful for Gordon's assistance. Never one to come up with a problem without at least the suggestion of a solution, he carried on, "We've always prioritised our most advanced technologies in the ways they can help us save lives, maybe we should be looking at how they could save our lives?"

Jeff was nodding and taking notes. "I can see where you're at," he agreed. "It's a valid point. I hope working together with Tin-Tin and Brains, you three can address some of those security concerns over the next few weeks."

He paused for a moment and Gordon chimed in again. "If we can upgrade security to a level where we can offer some assurance that we're not going to lose control of the craft," He shrugged, his orange tie falling on to the table. "I don't see why we can't continue operations. But, like I said, we need to be prepared to defend ourselves, and the technology."

Jeff was nodding again, towards Virgil this time, "Whilst I also understand the legitimacy of what you're saying about being able to protect the craft, Virgil, I think Gordon's right. If we can upgrade our security procedures and processes towards a more robust approach and, of course, we'll all in agreement, we can continue operations. But, we need to be confident that when we go out there, we can defend ourselves."

"Death is inevitable in war," John countered. "We're back to marking a line in the sand we don't cross- where should it be and how can we even begin to do that?" He raised a hand to run across his face; an act of frustration and exasperation. "Who are we to make that judgment, with our western connotations of right and wrong? I mean, can we make these decisions for the rest of the world without consultation?" He let out a breath through pursed lips. "Who are we to say that the rest of the world isn't ready for the technology we have or that they wouldn't use it responsibly?"

Gordon groaned and rubbed at his eyes, equally as irritated as John, "For Pete's sake, John, this is an operational discussion. Not an academic debate."

"Hey, I'm entitled to my opinion," John fired back before the words had left Jeff's mouth. "I'm not sure I'd want someone else's death on my conscious, no matter what the circumstances." He paused to try to calm himself but he wasn't entirely sure he was successful. "You're talking about playing God, International Rescue is about saving lives, not taking them," he said tightly.

"Are you forgetting I did exactly that?" Gordon's tone was becoming defensive, irritation bordering on antagonism. "And I was wearing an International Rescue uniform at the time too!"

"That was different," Scott levelled the debate out, hoping this wasn't going to get out of hand. "That saved hundreds of lives and that guy was causing the CPU on the Fireflash to fail intentionally."

"You can't know that," John was playing devil's advocate. "You didn't stop to ask him; he could've been fixing it."

"John," Jeff's collected tone broke up the debate completely. "We're getting a little off track here."

"John's right though," Virgil agreed, providing John with some degree of support. "It's bad enough that people die when we can't save them, without deliberate acts of violence."

Gordon raised his hands up in the air, "You're kidding right?" He addressed John, not content to let it drop. Scott grazed his top lip against his teeth, patience started to strain. "You're looking at this all wrong, you're over-thinking it. Scott and I know what it's like; when it's kill or be killed." His tone was blunt. "You pull the trigger. To hell with your text books, or the World Security Council."

Scott ignored the contempt in the aquanaut's tone. "So, if we make the decision to carry on operations, with upgraded security and the ability to defend ourselves, would you be comfortable going in to a war zone?"

Virgil faltered, "I… I guess…. I guess so. I'm not sure."

Jeff and Scott met eyes across the table, both sensing that Virgil was holding back.

Scott took up the gauntlet. "Like Gordon said, there's also the possibility that we become targets ourselves, particularly as there's going to be significantly more of them than us." Scott paused, spending a few moments studying Virgil's body language. "If we're going to continue operations, we need to be prepared for how we'll respond to that." He eyed his closest brother for the smallest of signs or signals but none were forthcoming. "Gordon's right, if it comes to taking a life to maintain the security and safety of our technology; we have to be prepared to do that."

"I can't believe we're discussing actually killing people, here." John raised a hand to his eyes, rubbing them in incredulity and shaking his head as if this experience was some kind of hallucination that he might wake up from at any moment. "To protect our technology?" He let out a short burst of laughter bordering on hysterical. "What you're talking about …" he hissed out, and then checked himself, taking a deep breath and starting again. "What you're talking about," he continued in a more level tone, "is essentially no different to most terrorist organisations."

"John…."

Scott didn't get the chance to finish his sentence.

"I'm sorry you guys," John looked around the table, "But I am the only one thinking this is crazy?" He looked at each of the participants to this discussion in turn, his expression only becoming more disbelieving: "You're sounding less like International Rescue and more like…." He struggled to find a suitable analogy, "the … the Tracy Family Mafia!"

Alan barked out a mocking laugh and then hurriedly bowed his head in the face of Scott's glare.

"John…" Jeff was reproaching, "I think that's a little dramatic."

"John," Scott tried the sensible approach, purposely keeping his tone low and resolving the debate before John could get a word in against their father. "We have to be prepared for it. Doesn't mean we're going to go out there shooting everyone that comes within 5 miles of us."

"Look," John scrubbed a hand across his face yet again and sat forward, causing his head to fill the screen, "We have to be realistic here…" he trailed off, realising that he was definitely in the minority and that he needed to choose his words carefully. "What happens when one of us shoots someone? How does that look to all the Governments and Heads of States we're relying on to not act aggressively towards us?" he tried to keep his voice even, tapering his own feelings as this discussion, oh so ludicrous to him, appeared to be a very real possibility for his family. "Or even the people we're rescuing? And how do we stand legally?" He raised a hand, held it in mid-air for a moment as if he hadn't meant to raise it at all and then let it drop. "Not to mention morally. Voltaire said: it is forbidden to kill, therefore all murderers are punished … …. unless they kill in large numbers and to the sound of a trumpet. But we're not moving to the sounds of anyone else's trumpet are we?"

"That's exactly the kind of conversation I'll be having with the World Security Council, John," Jeff tried to appease him whilst Gordon mumbled something about John not being a good mover full stop which elicited a giggle from Tin Tin and another glare from Scott. Far from breaking the tension, John's face seemed to darken. Jeff ignored them and passed over the interruption, "And that's the very purpose of this meeting, to raise exactly these points so as we can think about them, talk them through and come to a decision."

"Best defence is a good offence," Gordon repeated. "In case no one's noticed this, we all carry laser firearms already. Did you think they were there just to balance out the weight distribution of a sash?" His sarcasm was unbecoming and despite being born from exasperation, was inappropriate.

"Gordon," Jeff shook his head in gesture that was unmistakeable a warning. This meeting was becoming increasingly difficult to control. He appreciated it was a sensitive subject and to some extents a very personal one, hence he'd allowed some leeway but now things were starting to get out of hand.

John heaved a sigh that rustled the speakers and looked away from the screen. When he turned back, he appeared more collected but his eyes were still wide with alarm. "You're condoning murder," he said, disbelief still weighing heavily in his tone.

"No," Scott tried to remain calm in the face of his brother's clear frustration. "We're talking about using force to defend ourselves. We would only use ultimate force if we absolutely had to."

"That's a snap decision," John countered, dismissive of Scott's argument. "People have years of training to make those kinds of judgements, how do you know whether the guy running towards you is aggressive or petrified? We all know if people are in a situation so bad they need International Rescue, they're not exactly going to be thinking rationally."

"We'll just have to trust our judgement on that," Jeff took the final word sensing more conflict was looming. "The question is whether you're prepared to make that call out there." He looked around the table. "Not just Virgil, any of you."

Tin-Tin was shuffling in her chair nervously and looking at Alan, who was nodding his head.

"I am," Alan declared. "If it means International Rescue can continue, I think we have to."

John opened his mouth to argue and Gordon leant forward in a position of opposition again.

Scott could see the potential for yet another derailment and quickly diverted the subject, "I think that's something we should all take some time to consider. We're agreed for now that International Rescue will continue. We've got some big decisions to make but they're not ones any of us should rush in to."

"Agreed," Jeff offered his eldest son the slightest inkling of a smile; Scott was clearly of the same mind-set as he was as far as controlling the meeting was concerned.

Jeff could see it was time to draw things to a close.

"I'd like to arrange a follow up meeting this time next week to make some decisions but Scott's right, you all need time to consider the things we've talked about today."

"What about any calls that come in within the next week?" Gordon pointed out. "Surely the risk is there now." He looked towards his father. "Maybe we could make some operational changes," he suggested, "temporarily".

"Do you have any suggestions, Gordon?" Scott took a more active role.

"Well, we could double crew if and when we attend anything over the next week," Gordon raised the suggestion. "At least there'd be more of us on the ground." He hesitated for a second. "And I know this is a touchy subject," he said as a precursor, "but we could get a few hours training in, to make sure we're familiarised with what limited weaponry we do have on the craft."

"Well, I'm no combat pilot," Virgil scoffed. "I think the Sentinel proved that."

Scott's head swivelled to face Virgil, alarmed at the undertone of derision in that comment but now wasn't the time to call him on it.

"Perhaps it would be better for Scott to take Thunderbird Two directly to the scene," Virgil proposed. "He's more…."

"Virgil…" Scott attempted to interrupt.

"… experienced and it would reduce the craft on the ground if we didn't use Thunderbird One," Virgil finished.

"It would also reduce the speed of attendance at the danger zone and the ability to fully consider all the angles for any potential rescue operation," Scott countered. "Not to mention the fact that Virgil is far superior at handling Two than I am," he was staring at his brother in surprise but Virgil didn't acknowledge him.

"So we need to balance the risk of One falling in to the wrong hands against the benefits she brings to any rescue," Jeff summed up. "I'll consider it. It's an option," he mused. "What about weaponry?"

"Ah … actually," Brains raised a finger, "I'm glad you err… s-said that. I'd like to err….w-withdraw the err… laser guns," he advised the other occupants of the room.

"Ahh, yes," Jeff continued. "Brains circulated a memo just before we came in to the meeting, I doubt anyone's seen it yet." Several blank expressions suggested that was indeed the case, and so Jeff explained further, "There are reports from Sweden that Laser Guns can cause radiation exposure in those who use or carry them. Brains and I have agreed to withdraw them until he'd had a chance to run some tests." He saw the horrified expression on Gordon's face. "I'm not suggesting you shouldn't carry firearms, just not lasers. And, just until Brains has made absolutely sure they're safe."

"Laser guns are far more accurate," Scott highlighted, a hint of unease creeping in. "We're talking about going in to a warzone, and now we're going without the most accurate form of personal defence we have." He paused. "Not to mention the fact that we're all out of practice; I can't shoot a live firearm half as accurately as I could a laser."

"Speak for yourself," Gordon's smirk became arrogant but Scott was content to let it go, taking it as an indication that the debate hadn't upset his brother unduly. Anyone else around the table, he couldn't be so sure.

"It's unfortunate that it's happened at the same time as the conflict in Gallium," Jeff recognised. "But I want to be sure that there's no risk with you using them." He paused to look at Scott and nod his head in acknowledgement, "And I accept there's a training need there. That's why I'll be expecting you all to get some hours in down at the range."

Jeff looked around the table one by one, taking a moment to examine them all.

"I didn't expect to come to any conclusions today about the things we've discussed," he began in closing, "but I want to give you all time to think about what's been said here. I appreciate we've only skimmed the top of the iceberg but I think that's plenty to be thinking about for now. Talk about it amongst yourselves if you want, you all know my door is always open." He consulted his touch pad, "I'll check everyone's schedules but I'd like to meet back here in one week to make a decision about how we go forward with this. Until then, International Rescue will operate as I see fit." There were a few nods around the table. "Brains," Jeff turned directly to him, "I want those updates in place as soon as possible." The chief engineer nodded his assent. "Scott, I want you to organise for some personal protection classes, hand to hand combat, tactical planning, that kind of thing. Get on to Penelope and revisit the personal training package she put together when we went live. Talk to her; she'll be able to provide a different angle for you to consider," Scott too, nodded his agreement. "John," Jeff tried not to hesitate when he saw the look of disgust in John's eyes, "keep your ear to the ground, anything you think I should know about, call it straight through whatever the time of day."

"Yes, sir," John's reply was the epitome of professionalism, despite himself.

"Is there anything else anyone would like to raise?" Jeff asked.

A few seconds ticked by.

"Actually," John spoke up, despite several rolls of the eyes from the earth bound occupants in the room. "I wanted to talk about the radio protocol."

"Agreed," Jeff didn't even need to hear him out. "John raises some valid points; we're far too slack with our radio communications, which is highlighted by the situation in Gallium. John's sent some guidance to all of you last week with varying ranges of compliance but from now on, I want you all to be more precise, observe call signs and keep it succinct. Scott can work on a proper protocol. Once it's signed up, I expect you all to give it your full support and cooperation."

"Already on it, Father," Scott patted the folder in front of him.

Several murmurs of agreement were forthcoming and John's mouth still hung slightly open at the ease of that motion being passed.

"I want you to all think about your positions here," Jeff summed up. "You all decided to become a part of International Rescue eight years ago and for that, I'm eternally grateful. But the time's come to reconsider that position." He looked down to his hands and when he raised his head, he appeared sombre. "International Rescue, if it continues, isn't going to be the International Rescue we're been operating for the last eight years and I appreciate this isn't what you agreed to." He paused, considering his next words. "Now's your opportunity to walk away. You've all given eight years of your lives to this organisation and I couldn't have asked for better from any one of you." He stopped and took a deep breath in, blowing it out slowly. "Thank you."

The meeting drew to a more natural close as Virgil stood up and walked out. Jeff's eyes went to Scott, who was clearly concerned and nodded to the door indicating that, yes, he should follow.

Scott did so, as close as he dared through the maze of corridors which ran through the Villa until he reached a big metal door leading to the Service Bay, which promptly slammed shut in his face. He stood there for a few moments, debating on whether to enter anyway, but came to the conclusion that Virgil would probably benefit from some time. Taking a meander back up to the ground-levels of the Villa, Scott found himself heading back towards his father's office, via the coffee machine in the Kitchen. On arrival, he poked his head around the door and raised one of the mugs he was carrying.

Jeff looked up briefly from the video call he was engaged in and waved a hand signalling Scott to come in. "Thanks, Will, I'd appreciate that," he offered the screen a sad smile. "I'll speak to you this afternoon. Bye."

Scott watched his father remove his spectacles and run a hand across his eyes. "Thanks, Son, I could use this." Jeff took the proffered mug.

"Everything okay?" Scott asked as he dropped in to one of the comfy chairs.

"International Rescue isn't the only organisation in question here," Jeff replaced the spectacles and looked at his eldest son.

"Stock falling?" Scott was surprised. Given their military links in the business world, although prosper didn't seem the right word, Scott had been pretty confident that a War wouldn't adversely affect the Business. It was a well-documented fact that war meant money. "I know things aren't good right now, with the economy as it is and everything, but we've been okay so far. And, surely a war would…" he didn't finish that sentence, fearful he may sound crass.

Jeff opened his mouth to respond but was distracted as another call flashed up, his attention diverted back to the screen. "Virgil, everything okay?"

"I'm down in the service bay and I've just noticed that one of the tracking rods on the Mole has some corrosion on it," Virgil's voice filtered into the room, distorted by the echo from the bare walls. "I'm going to change it but it'll be out of service for the next few hours."

Jeff frowned, "How bad is it? I'm a little concerned that wasn't picked up on the post-use checks."

"Well," Virgil explained, "You can hardly see it; the programme would only pick up on corrosion affecting performance or having a weakening impact of 1.75% or more. I doubt it would be enough." He paused and Scott imagined he was shrugging. "As I noticed it, I just figured I'd change it before it gets any worse."

"Okay, Virgil," Jeff seemed to accept that there was nothing procedural amiss. "Let me know when it's complete." He reached forward to end the call and directed his attention back towards Scott. "Did you get to talk to him?"

Scott shook his head, "When the Service Bay door slammed shut in my face, I figured I'd give him some time to think things over first."

A smile pulled at the corners of Jeff's mouth, despite the seriousness of the situation it was reassuring to hear the easy way his two eldest sons communicated. And to know that John wasn't all that different.

"Did you talk to John?" Scott enquired as if he was reading his mind.

Jeff rolled his eyes as if the question was unnecessary. "Busy signal. I figured the same as you." He heaved a sigh. "You are going to speak with Virgil?"

"Yeah," Scott confirmed with a nod, even though it wasn't really a question at all. "He just needs a little time," he said confidently.

"Good," Jeff looked across at Scott and adopted a serious expression. "I don't need to tell you how important it is that both Virgil and John are on board, for International Rescue to continue."

"We both knew they'd be the most difficult to convince," Scott reminded his father, slouching a little in his seat. "Judging from today though, I think you've got the most difficult task."

"Hmm…" Jeff acknowledged. "I think you're probably right." He raised the mug in his hands. "Perhaps we should have a word with Gordon too," he sipped, "I know he feels strongly…"

"That's to be expected given his career," Scott butted in as he stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankle.

"… even so, that wasn't his finest hour." Jeff paused a moment to consider how much Scott had on his shoulders at the moment. "I'll talk with him."

"Gordon understands a command structure," Scott pointed out. "I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't approach you."

As if he was listening, there was a gentle knock on the door and Gordon appeared.

Unseen by Gordon, Scott looked pointedly in his father's direction as if to validate the comment he'd just made.

Gordon clearly felt he was intruding. "I'll come back later, it's not important."

"Actually," Scott moved to stand up and placed his own mug down decisively on the coffee table. "I think I'm going to give Virgil a hand with that tracking rod, it'll get done twice as quick with two of us."

Jeff offered him a nod of acknowledgement, admiring Scott's perception and ingenuity. With that, Scott made his way out the room, and down the corridor where Gordon's opening gambit of: "I wanted to apologise for this morning, it's just I …."could be heard.

XxxxX

The Service Bay at the back of Thunderbird Two's hangar was cool when Scott entered, unlike Virgil who was clearly struggling to remove the damaged component from the Mole single-handedly. The sweat was dripping from his brow and he'd resorted to pushing his whole weight on the rod in an effort to dislodge it, grunting intermittently. Scott took a moment to consider that perhaps this kind of physical aggression was a good outlet but as the rod came loose and dropped at one end, he quickly stepped forward to take the weight.

The momentum of Virgil's body weight sent the other end forward too but Scott caught it.

"Thanks," Virgil panted, looking up at his brother in surprise that the whole thing hadn't clattered to the floor.

"No problem," Scott gestured with his head to the side of the bay and without further comment they moved as one, carrying the rod and placing it on the floor. "Dad said you were down here," Scott picked up a rag and wiped his oily hands.

"You didn't work that out for yourself after following me all the way down here?" Virgil was no fool.

Scott smiled. "I got the impression you didn't want company."

Virgil shrugged, "What changed your mind?" He turned away from Scott as realisation hit, "Ahh, Dad wants you to convince me."

Scott was beginning to feel like he was walking a very fine line between being his father's puppet and his brother's confidant. The joys of middle management. "I just figured I'd give you a hand."

Virgil had already turned back to the Mole and was lowering himself to the ground to take a good look at the housing unit. "With changing a tracking rod, or reviewing my career plan? Come on, Scott, might as well get it over with. Let's hear it."

Scott's forehead furrowed. "Are you reviewing your career?" He was beginning to think maybe this wasn't going to go quite as smoothly as it could have.

Virgil didn't look at him.

Scott was just considered that maybe he should let the subject drop when Virgil spoke again, head partially obstructed by the Mole.

"Do you think I'm a hypocrite?"

Scott leant against the wall, still wringing his hands in the rag despite them being oil free now. "A hypocrite? Why would I think that?"

"I don't necessarily object to these people getting killed," Virgil's words were strained but Scott reasoned it was due to the force he was exerting through the spanner he was wielding. "I just don't want to be the one to pull the trigger."

"Having a moral conscience doesn't make you a hypocrite, Virgil," Scott replied, in the hope he was being tactful.

"Does it make me a coward?" Virgil's voice was muffled by the Mole.

Scott thought perhaps he'd misheard. "What?"

"I said," Virgil leant back on his knees, removing his head from inside the housing but still not facing Scott. "Does it make me a coward?" he repeated.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Scott was alarmed at the amount of introversion that went in to that statement. In all their lives Virgil had never once given any indication that he thought his career choices were any less worthy than his brothers. "You're one of the bravest men I know."

Virgil scoffed, "You and Gordon, you're ex-military," he began. "Even John and Alan trained with NASA, alright it's not the military but it's pretty close." He finally turned around to face Scott, sitting on the floor with his back against the Mole. "Me? I'm just an engineer, Scott."

Scott moved so as he was leant with his back against the wall. "You're not 'just' anything," he told his brother firmly, shocked at the direction this conversation had taken. "You're a damned good engineer and you're an even better pilot."

"Hmm…" Virgil took some time to consider that and although he didn't disagree out loud, Scott could see it he was thinking it. "I'm not like you though," he said, his tone now soft and melancholy, "I don't think I could do it."

Scott didn't need to clarify that they were talking about killing someone.

"And I accept," Virgil continued to explain himself, his eyes focused in his lap where his fingers were turning the spanner over in a continuous, repetitive motion. "The risk has always been there but the probability of it happening has always been low, now…" he shrugged, "it's less of a probability and more of a certainty."

"Trust me," Scott replied, offering his brother some consolation. "If someone had a gun to my head, you'd pull the trigger."

"Would I?" Virgil looked up at his brother, the uncertainty all over his face. "What if I hesitated?" He was clearly distressed at the thought. "What if I hesitated and it cost you your life?"

"We make life and death decisions every day," Scott reasoned. "That's no different to prioritising a rescue plan, knowing that there will be people we can't rescue."

"Sure it is," Virgil responded. "Those people would've died anyway; their families are victims of natural disasters or terrible accidents. They're not murdered. There's a difference between not being able to save someone and taking their life."

"A fact they must've considered before they joined up," Scott pointed out.

"Not necessarily, there's still conscription in Russia isn't there? Besides, they're just following orders," Virgil returned, evidencing just how much he'd thought about this. "And what about their families and their children? I know how I would've felt if that message had come about you or Gordon."

"There's always going to be those casualties, Virgil," Scott tried to explain in a rational way. "It's a war, people are going to die."

"So why do we have to be the ones to kill them?" Virgil's frustration was evident in his tone, not just at the situation but at himself.

"Okay," Scott could see he wasn't going to win this debate. "So, what's the alternative? Walk away now?"

"Maybe," Virgil admitted reluctantly, going back to turning the spanner over in his lap.

"What then?" Scott tried to quell his growing unease by taking a deep breath but it didn't seem to have any effect. "You think you're just going to walk in to a job? A normal life? A relationship?"

"I don't know, Scott," Virgil shrugged, feebly.

"Not working isn't an option for you, you'd go insane," Scott was certain, he hoped he didn't sound as desperate as he was feeling. "Do you think anyone's going to want to employ someone with an eight year gap in their CV?" he shook his head. "Or someone they think's been sitting around on a tropical island for the last eight years making the most of his father's money?"

"I could work for Dad for a little while," the conversation was giving Virgil time to think things through out loud. "Or Murdoch James would offer me a place with them in England? He's always trying to get me to look over designs for him," Virgil smiled and Scott's was surprised at the amount of pride in that comment, "and I've built up a good relationship with him since I've been working that contract with them."

"You said yourself," Scott pointed out, anxiety creeping in and rising higher by the second. "You couldn't sit around knowing we have the technology to save people but not using it."

Virgil appeared surprised at Scott's jump of logic. "Doesn't mean I have to be the one using it," he paused for a moment and then his eyes lit up. "Hey, I could help Brains out more. Take a more active role behind the scenes with International Recue."

The pit of Scott's stomach was dropping closer and closer to the ground.

He played his ace.

"Virgil," he sighed, a little unevenly. "You know…. This is your choice and you've got a lot to think about here, we all have, but …" he hesitated. "I'm telling you now, there's no way in hell I'm going out there without you." Scott watched the disbelief pass across his brother's face. "Dad was right; this has to be a unanimous decision. If one of us walks away, we all walk away."

Virgil grimaced. "No pressure then."

Scott made one last-ditch attempt, "International Rescue is in your blood. It's been your life's work." He rotated his neck, hoping to ease the tension and then got to his feet, "You were there for the conception, the birth, the teething troubles…"

"You make it sound like a child." Virgil interrupted.

"Well I guess in some ways it is," Scott shrugged and moved across to the shiny new tracking rod leaning against the other wall. "We've all given up our conventional lives for International Rescue, dedicated ourselves to the Organisation in one way or another."

Scott heard rather than saw Virgil come to his feet behind him and move to pick up the other end of the tracking rod.

"If any one of us decided not to continue, International Rescue would be over."