Naomi sat on the doctor's seat. Dr Megan Greenwood was checking her right arm out.

"Well your arm is healing nicely," She explained "A few more weeks and your arm will be almost good as new. But the swelling will have to come down if you wish to go back to a job,"

"So I don't have to wear a sling anymore?"

"Well you haven't been wearing one for a few weeks so why should you start bothering now?" Megan laughed "But I would like you to wear on for a few hours every day. It will help in the long run,"

"Who told you?"

"Scott did,"

"That traitor,"

"He told me because he was concerned,"

"I know," Naomi said, smiling "But I'm still going to get him back," Megan laughed.

"I'll tell him to be on guard,"

"I wouldn't expect less," Naomi told her friend "Also speaking of you and Scott. I was wondering if you would like to be my Maid of Honour at my wedding. It's obvious that Virgil will pick Scott as his Best Man,"

"But what about your other friends? You've surely known them longer than you have me,"

"I've already talked to them," Naomi answered "And they agree that if Scott is to be Virgil's Best Man then you should be my Maid of Honour. They all feel like that it would be wrong to dance with a man whose eyes are obviously looking at another member of the wedding party,"

"Well if that is the case – then yes, I'll be your Maid of Honour," Megan replied "But only if you wear your sling for at least three hours every day for at least two weeks," Naomi sighed.

"Fine,"

"Well I'll talk to you soon. Thanks for being a good patient,"

"No problem Dr Greenwood. Thank you for being an amazing doctor," Naomi replied, getting out of the chair.

"Just doing my job,"

It was half past one that afternoon when Virgil came out of his room. He saw his fiancé sitting on the couch, her right arm in a sling and her laptop open.

"Don't come near me until you have had a few showers and a breath mint that doesn't smell like mint," Naomi said, not looking up from whatever she was doing.

"You do realise that breath mints are meant to be mint flavoured," Virgil said as he picked up a glass. He turned on the tap and filled the glass to halfway.

"Well have a Mentos then," Naomi replied "You know I hate the smell of mint,"

"You're the only person I know who doesn't like mint," Virgil said "It doesn't matter what shape or form it is in you always seem to despise that,"

"It was an unfortunate experience with a Tic Tac before I came to America," Naomi explained "But seriously – go and take a shower and have a Mentos,"

"Fine," Virgil said "Just letting you know that Gordon was a lightweight just like you said he would be,"

"But John's still worse?"

"Gordon at least made it through the first bottle,"

"Also – wake him up. He's got to get over it one way or another," Virgil rolled his eyes. Naomi laughed.

"I love you Virg,"

"Love you too Nomi,"

Cameron Muter watched the couple interact with each other. Facial Recognition had come back with a former FBI agent named Naomi Winchester and the third son of Jeff Tracy, Virgil. The papers had announced their engagement a few months prior. Why yes, the two adults would be eliminated sooner rather than later, it was not them who Cameron had come for. Rather he was there for the red haired Tracy. Gordon had slipped through his fingers once before. But not this time. This time, Cameron's damage would be more fatal than just the occasional back pain. But how to do it was a tough question. Another mechanical failure? Or maybe a sniper shoot out. Cameron shook his head. No – This had to be done personally. He couldn't let anyone else do it. Last time he did that, everyone but the person he wanted dead died. Cameron Muter was not going to make the same mistakes again.

He remembered the event like it was yesterday. When his own superiors had told him that one of the cadets that would be younger than the average cadet, S.O. Cameron Muter wasn't sure. Since International Rescue, or the Thunderbirds as many people called them, had sprung up many younger men had applied to become part of WASP. Many of them just wanted to be heroes and many of them did not have skills required for the job. So the superiors gave him the file belonging to Cadet Gordon Tracy. Yes, there were more than a few listed disciplinary actions but there was also good reports. The good out weighted the bad and it seemed that the cadet was very committed to the job. Heck, Gordon Tracy went as far as finishing his final year of High School alongside the First Year training program. So Cameron accepted the fact. Just because Cadet Tracy was the son of a billionaire or younger than most of his squadron did not mean that he would be treated any different from the others.

Gordon Tracy knew how to pull his weight. If anything, the young red head was one of the most proficient of S.O. Cameron Muter's squadron. When it was his turn on any duty, Cadet Tracy would the job done straight away. Any night or dawn watches he was assigned were done with a cup of coffee in his system. None of the others had the pleasure of a late night cup of coffee. They liked to leave getting out of bed until the very last minute – Gordon did not. But most importantly, the squadron liked him. If your spirits were down, Gordon would try to give you something to smile about. A little joke or a smile could go a long way in a place like this. But if some of the older men in the squad caught him in the middle of taking another biscuit from the biscuit box, Gordon just stood there, smiling. His eyes portrayed his personal life. I've done this before. I have three older brothers – you don't scare me. It made the other men feel sorry for any of Gordon's family members. When the first year come to a close, the others were sad to see the red head leave.

Normally the Hydrofoil training didn't begin until you were in your third year, but something had happened in the Third Year training squadron which had forced the superiors to place the Second Year training squadron on the Hydrofoil. S.O. Cameron Muter had not expected to be teaching Gordon Tracy and the rest of his squadron for another two years. But Fate liked to play in mysterious ways. All cadets got turns at being navigator, engineers and pilots. Pretty soon everyone had found which job they liked best and the ship was doing fine. The squadron of fourteen men took turns in groups of seven. Half would focus of the theory side of things – how the hydrofoil worked, what to do in an emergency etc. – while the others would be out at sea with S.O. Cameron Muter training with the Hydrofoil. Gordon's half of the consisted of himself and Billy Blacks as the pilots, Max Singer as the navigator, Aspen Bartlett in control of Sonar and Le Roy Carter, Jack Evans and Alex Smith on the other instruments. The seven men were the younger half of their squadron and were pretty close. But enclosed environments tended to bring up unwanted tension. There was the occasional dispute between Max and Aspen. Everyone knew that they had come from the same area. Everyone knew that there was a girl back home. Everyone knew that she was waiting for only one of them. And it annoyed the other. Most of the cadets had girls waiting for them. Le Roy had announced after their last weekend off that he and his long time sweetheart were planning to tie the knot. Billy and Jack also had long term relationships. Alex, Gordon and Max were the only single men on the ship. Alex had said that he hadn't dated since his girlfriend had been killed in a freak avalanche when they were in High School. Gordon and his last girlfriend had broken up after graduation. It had been coming for a long time though. Gordon was just surprised it had taken them so long to do so. Looking back, Cameron Muter knew that if what had happened had not happened that these cadets would have made great husbands and fathers. They were already great men. The other half of the squadron was just as great. Most had already tied the knot – only two were left single.

It was towards the end of year that cadets on the Hydrofoil got to go out for more than just a few hours. Both halves had told their wives, girlfriends and family that they were going out to sea for a few days and would be uncontactable. They had said good bye and 12 hours later all fourteen men of the Second Year training squadron were aboard the hydrofoil for the three day course. The two halves would take turns in the control room and sleeping. Their supervising officer would often come into the sleeping quarters or control room to see how everyone was coping and working. Each shift was four hours long. If you had the 6am-10am shift you were lucky. It meant that, if you wanted, you could play card games or just talk with the others instead of getting some sleep. Your next shift would be the 2pm-6pm one and you could always sleep on the next four hour break. It's just how it worked.

But the inner workings of the Hydrofoil itself were wrong. Someone had tampered with both the navigation box and the tail flap. For most of the sub's journey the course would follow the regulated training run but 15 hours into the trip, disaster would come closer. The sub would veer off course and the navigator wouldn't notice. As far as they were concerned, the sub was heading in the right direction. And even if they did discover that they were on the wrong course, it didn't matter. A gear was missing from the tail flap. That gear – if removed gave the pilots 15 hours of control before their course became permeant. Cameron knew all of this. He was the one who came up the plan. He wasn't the one for did the deed though. No, Cameron paid a very accomplished assassin to do it. He didn't mind the fact that it was quite possible that he would not survive the crash. Cameron had faith in his master. He had faith that he would be rescued.

Would Cameron have said yes to being controlled by someone if he knew that this was the way his life would go? Maybe. S.O. Cameron Muter had always wanted to do this type of thing when he was kid. Being a saboteur of America's enemies' plans was the greatest thing in young Cameron's mind. It still was. But as he grew older, his focus changed from being a saboteur or a secret agent like James Bond to being in command of a submarine. After finishing his degree in mechanics, Cameron Muter had signed up for WASP – the World Aquanaut Security Patrol. It was as strict and demanding as the Army, Air Force and Navy but had a wider berth of jurisdiction. While WASP was primarily American, many other countries such as Australia, New Zealand, England and France had a say in what WASP did. Typhoon in the Pacific? New Zealand arranged a small squadron to help with cleaning up in the ocean. More research into reefs? Australia sent a four maned sub to the Great Barrier Reef to collect it. The American Army, Air Force and Navy didn't have that capability. The other countries had their own armies to use. The American counterparts weren't needed when someone else was already there. Cameron Muter was happy that he had picked WASP over the Navy. Once he finished his own training, he was sent on a few missions before returning to train cadets. No one controlled him. He was just S.O. Cameron Muter. And it remained that way for years until the Thunderbirds showed up. It annoyed Cameron. Out of the blue these men in blue and masks appeared with their machines. They got jobs that could have easily been done by the Navy. Or WASP. Or the Army. Or the Air Force. What gave them the right? They had no ties to any country. They certainly did not work well with the military. They were always masked. Who could trust these men when they could not see their faces? When they did not know where their loyalties lay? It was absurd. The only good thing about International Rescue and Thunderbirds was the fact that it brought in more people into the different branches of military. And so Cameron suffered in silence for six months. His fellow rank would talk about the latest rescue over early morning coffee. While yes, they had their own doubts about International Rescue, they all seemed to believe that they were there for the good of the world. And it was just not on.

In came in a dream. Someone offered Cameron a way to stop the IR. Be a part of the future. Should he have asked for details? Yes, but Cameron did not care. He just wanted the Thunderbirds gone. And with one simple word, Cameron was taken over by The Voice. Cameron did not know the name of The Voice but he trusted him. He trusted The Voice to bring down International Rescue. All he hoped was the chance to do some of his own bringing down. Within months he got his opportunity. The Voice had told him who was under the masks. Cameron should have guessed sooner. The Tracy family all had various experiences which would make the operation so effective. The oldest son, Scott, had been in the Air Force. Cameron had heard whispers of the amazing feats he had accomplished in Military meetings. The perfect candidate for the pilot of Thunderbird One. Both Jeff Tracy and his second son, John, were astronauts. Thunderbird Five was the space station. Undoubtedly manned by John who had spent three years in space. To get up there you would need a rocket. Or Thunderbird Three to be precise. The third son, Virgil, had spent three years at the Denver School of Advance Technology. He probably designed half the equipment used. The Tracy family also had motive. Lucille Tracy, wife to Jeff and mother of five, had died in an avalanche. With proper equipment, she could have survived. So when the file of Gordon Tracy was given to him, Cameron was hopeful. Maybe his master would allow him to take care of the fourth son. Maybe this could be the first step in tearing down what the Tracy's had built.

The Voice had let him. He arranged the assassin. He made the plan. He got to organise when Gordon Tracy's team was in the Control Room to have the best effect. Yes, he was destroying 13 other innocent lives in the process but it was going to be worth it. When it finally did happen the only person to get out of the crash was Gordon Tracy. Everyone else died. At least, that's what was told on every new station across the world. Everyone thought that the supervising officer, Cameron Muter, was dead. He was not. His faith in his master was well placed. The Voice had come through. The Voice was angry at first. Who wouldn't be? Cameron had failed to kill the one person he needed to. But soon, The Voice gave him another assignment. Who wouldn't love keeping tabs on the Tracy family rumours and Tracy Enterprises? So that was where Cameron stayed. Keeping an ear to the floor and his eyes to the sky.