Chapter 7

The call we were dreading comes at half past eleven and we are summoned to the lounge. Mr. Tracy is standing behind his desk looking deadly serious. John is onscreen and in the background we can hear the speakers emitting the distress call, a tinny, crackly voice pleading for help.

"It's that settlement I told you about father," John explains. "They were hoping the wind would slow down or change direction but if anything it's picked up. There's 75 people there and they say no-one's arrived to help them yet. I did contact the authorities and they assured me they're on top of things but they're going to need serious back-up and we can get there faster than they can."

"Okay John," says Mr. Tracy. "Scott, get moving. Gordon, Alan, go with Virgil and take the Firefly. Tin-Tin, clear the boys for takeoff."

The boys are already gone. Scott disappears behind the wall panel into the hangar of Thunderbird 1and Virgil hurtles down the chute that delivers him straight into the pilot's seat of Thunderbird 2. Gordon and Alan sprint to the service elevators. I monitor the radar screen behind Mr. Tracy's desk and check for any aircraft that might be encroaching on our airspace while the Thunderbirds get airborne, then I'm ready to give the boys the all clear.

The house rumbles and the windows rattle as Thunderbird 1 rolls down into position beneath the swimming pool. It feels like an earthquake, but the structure is secure- there is no danger to us. I go to the glass doors and watch the pool roll back, exposing the vast hangar beneath. The hangar glows with a fierce light as the great 'bird's booster engines fire up and the rumbling intensifies. In my head I make the countdown. 5..4..3..2..1..and then whisper "Thunderbirds are go," as the bright red nose cone appears and the huge silver rocket lifts up through the pool opening, screaming skyward at high speed until she's nothing but a small speck in the distance and Scott is gone. As the pool begins to close there is a second wave of rumbling from further around the island. I crane my neck to peer through the glass and watch the fat green beetle body of Thunderbird 2 appear from behind the trees. It always surprises me how that clumsy, strangely loveable machine takes off, but I don't question the technology. I can only marvel at it as Virgil and his two-man crew climb into the air on a much gentler trajectory than their older brother, and wish them all a speedy and safe return.

As the air settles, I go to the kitchen to brew a strong pot of coffee. Mr. Tracy will need it- his boys are out in the field now and he will not relax until they are all home safe and sound. I have the utmost respect and admiration for Jeff Tracy. As well as being like a second father to me, his passion for humanity and his unwavering belief in International Rescue's code of ethics are a constant source of inspiration. He is lucky that all five of his sons share his beliefs and put their all into doing the jobs he set them up to do. Their courage is breathtaking. Whenever I'm annoyed with Alan for complaining about being the youngest, or with jovial Gordon for yet again almost drowning me in the pool, I remember that they put their lives on the line for others, and they would do it every day if they had to. Gentle Virgil, with his solitary pursuits of painting and piano playing, his appreciation of art and beauty, hurls himself down mine-shafts and into collapsed buildings and trudges through toxic waste, and today will no doubt battle through a wall of fire. And Scott. As the man in charge, Scott will be the one to have to order him to do these things, to ultimately bear the responsibility for every decision made, every action taken, knowing that they are not just his colleagues but also his brothers. Sometimes it's best that I don't think about it. Instead I stand impatiently by the gurgling coffee machine, urging it to boil.

An hour later, Mr. Tracy is on his third cup. He paces back and forth behind his desk and visibly jumps when the eyes of Scott's portrait begin to beep and flash. "Come in, Scott." He composes himself in an instant, just as his eldest son's face appears on the screen.

"I'm just arriving now, father," Scott says solemnly. "Even from up here those fires look pretty extensive. I'm going to swing down and take a closer look." I picture Thunderbird 1's wings unfolding, turning her from a sleek rocket into a supersonic jet plane, cruising in a wide arc down towards the earth. I watch Scott's face closely- he is a picture of studious concentration, his eyebrows drawn together, his jaw set tightly. As he pitches the plane lower, his face takes on an orange glow. His lips move. He is uttering oaths under his breath.

"What is it, son?" Mr. Tracy urges.

"I hate to say it, but I don't know if we've made it on time. There are buildings down there but most of them are on fire." Scott narrows his eyes. "Damn. Why the hell didn't they call us sooner?"

"Calm down, Scott. It may not be as bad as it appears. Can you detect any life forms?"

Scott leans forward and switches on the DNA scanner. I don't even know how it works, but it does, and it can even tell the living from the dead. But can it do it through leaping, churning flames? Scott swears again. He is beginning to sweat in the heat. "I have to pull her up. This heat is tremendous. I'll circle again and widen the range." He cuts transmission just as the eyes of Virgil's portrait begin to beep and flash.

"What's the news, Virgil?" I don't know if Mr. Tracy is aware of it, but his tone is always softer when he speaks to Virgil. He motions to me for more coffee-I am ready and waiting to pour him one. Mrs. Tracy comes into the lounge and is standing near Brains. She twists a tea towel in her veiny hands.

Virgil shakes his head. "I don't see how anybody can be alive down there," he says with a frown. "Why the Dickens weren't the emergency services out here hours ago?"

Scott comes back on. "Father, I've picked up signals about five miles from the original settlement. If it's the people we're looking for then they're all grouped together, maybe sheltering somewhere. I can't see any structures or buildings, but there's so much ash and smoke, I...wait a minute." He cranes his neck forward, peering at something on the screen in front of him. "There's a natural structure down there. A rock. A cave! I'm pretty sure it's a cave." He rubs his hand over his face. He is thinking hard. "They live out here, they'll know the land. They'd know the safest place to go, and they wouldn't hide anywhere that would burn if the fire reached them. I reckon it's a cave, but I need to get under this ash cloud to know for sure, maybe find a place to land nearby if I can." He connects to Virgil and passes on the new set of co-ordinates.

"F.A.B Scott," Virgil acknowledges. "We're right behind you."

"And get those authorities on the line. Tell them where we are. They should have done this already. They should have got these people out."

I glance at Mr. Tracy. He looks angry. "I'll wager you anything those people are dirt poor and right at the bottom of everyone's list of priorities. A thousand miles away from the big cities," he growls.

I'm incredulous. "In this day and age, Mr. Tracy?"

"In this day and age, Tin-Tin."

"I thought all human life was precious."

"It is," he says. "Thank goodness that's one thing our organization will never lose sight of."

"Except for people who cross us. They can go to hell!" Mrs. Tracy declares, startling Brains.

"Yes, all right Mother." Mr. Tracy has to turn away to hide a smile.

Scott's connection buzzes with static. "Looking...place to land." His voice starts breaking up.

Virgil's line is still clear. "We'll have to land a lot further away from you, Scott. We'll have to drop Firefly and use her to get closer. We can get the women and kids out first."

"F.A...". That's all we can hear through the static crackling.

"Be careful, Scott." Mr. Tracy raises his voice in case Scott can't hear through the interference. "At the first sign of danger you get yourself out of there. Do you hear me?"

"..A.B, father." The crackle on the line gets worse.

Mr. Tracy rubs his face just like Scott did. His brows are knitted and his jaw is set in the same way as Scott's were. There's a lot of Mr. Tracy in Scott, and that's why he knows he has to trust him. If their positions were reversed, he knows that Scott would do the same.

As I watch Scott's terse face all broken up by static, I almost can't bear to look at the screen as his image fades in and out. "Scott," I blurt out. "Be careful!"

Static crackles and all I hear is my name, "...Tin-Tin," but there's a smile in his voice as he says it. I bite the inside of my lip as the image on screen breaks up further.

"What's causing it, Mr. Tracy?" I ask nervously.

"I guess it's the amount of ash in the air, Tin-Tin," he replies. "It must be pretty darned thick to block out our sensors and equipment."

We can barely see or hear Scott at all, now. We have no idea what he's doing. Seconds, minutes go by. The screen flickers sharply and threatens to go dead. My heart flutters against my ribs like a wild bird in a cage.

Moments later it bursts back to life, and we are all so relieved to see that Scott's image is as clear as a bell. "Scott!" I exclaim. "You're all right!"

"Sure I am, Tin-Tin. I'm through the ash cloud. Brains reminded me to activate the new heat shield reinforcements- I don't know why that slipped my mind."

"Because when Brains was trying to explain all that to you, you were too busy thinking about cup holders!" I am so relieved I want to laugh out loud.

"Hey, after what you did to me this morning, I'm going to make darned sure you install one of those things myself."

Mr. Tracy looks at me, eyebrows raised.

"I made him spill coffee down his shirt," I explain, with my face as straight as I can make it.

"It's the little details that count," Mr. Tracy smiles, "but let's get back to business, shall we?"

"I'm going to touch down now, father," Scott tells him. "I'm as close to that rocky outcrop as I can get. Virgil's about another mile away. It's pretty uneven terrain and there are fires everywhere, but I don't think it's anything we can't handle."

"There's no sign yet of the other emergency services," Mr. Tracy informs us, "but they keep assuring John that they're on their way. My worry is that now they know we're on the scene they'll leave everything to us. I know we can get those people out, but we don't have the capacity to extinguish all those flames. We can protect ourselves, but those people won't have protection of their own. We could really do with that extra manpower."

Virgil comes onscreen. He and Alan are in the cabin of Firefly, dressed from head to foot in silver heat-protection suits. Two pairs of eyes look out through reinforced visors, one pair brown, the other blue. Gordon will have stayed behind in the cockpit of Thunderbird 2. I know he will have been desperate to join in the action, but someone always has to stay behind and man the fort.

Firefly could trundle through the very bowels of Hell and still come out unscathed. I know that Virgil and Alan are safe as they make their way across the rocky ground, but I can tell conditions are bad by the expressions in those two pairs of eyes and the reflected glow of flames flickering on their visors. On the other screen, Scott has landed and climbed down from the pilot's seat and is pulling on a heat-protection suit of his own. He thrusts his arms down into silver padded gloves and pulls the flame resistant zipper up to his neck. He pulls the hood up over his head and fastens it securely to his shoulders. He is now just a pair of eyes himself- eyes full of grim determination. Finally he tells us he's going outside. He switches off Thunderbird 1's intercom and activates his wrist communicator. We hear him open the hatch and his breathless utter of "holy..."

"Is it bad, son?"

"I wouldn't recommend it as a holiday destination," Scott replies. "Not unless your idea of fun is watching your skin melt."

"Do be careful, Scott," I blurt again. I can't help it. He's out there on foot- we can hear his boots crunching over rocks and stones, we can hear when he jumps and when he stumbles. We can hear him breathing hard and fast. We can hear flames crackling. I can't hear his heart, but I'm sure it must be pounding.

"I'm fine, Tin-Tin. This is nothing..." he pauses, then we hear his boots land with a thump, scattering stones and gravel, "...to an old dog like me."

There's a signal coming in from John in Thunderbird 5. "I've spoken to the emergency services," he says. "I don't think they realised how bad things were. Now they're panicking. I guess this is gonna look pretty bad for them, eh dad?"

"Never mind how bad it's going to look for them. The question is, will they be there in time?"

"They estimate half an hour. They've got planes loaded with water. They said they had so many other evacuations they couldn't get to everyone at once. They're thanking us for our efforts."

"Efforts?" Mr. Tracy is indignant. "If only they'd made more of an effort. Okay John, thanks for keeping us informed. I guess you know what's going on?"

"Yes, dad. I can hear everything. Hey, Tin-Tin...don't worry about our big brother. It'd take more than an old bush fire to burn through his thick hide."

Scott tells us he's nearing the cave. "Man, this heat is unbearable," he mutters gruffly. I picture him boiling inside his suit, a sheen of sweat on his face, drips of it trickling into his eyes. "I don't know how they've survived this. If I didn't have this suit on, I'd be dead." Gravel crunches under his feet. He sounds like he's on a slope, skidding down, jumping over rocks, half-falling, regaining his feet.

I don't even want to think about Scott being dead. I bite the inside of my lip and stare at the screen, even though his image isn't on it. He continues to scrape and clatter over rocks. His breathing is hard and heavy. I hope his lungs are all right. I can still hear flames crackling around him. I wonder how close to them he is, whether he could touch one if he reached out his hand.

After several more minutes Scott finally reaches the cave. There are men shouting and women sobbing, and children screaming and crying. "International Rescue!" someone hollers. "Thank goodness you're here!" There are muffled sounds of jostling and I think someone is hugging him.

"Okay people," he says, "we're going to get you out. But first you need to calm down. I need everyone to be calm. It would be helpful if you could get those kids to be quiet."

Virgil comes on to tell us they've arrived. "We need to begin evacuating ASAP. That fire's getting closer and closer. The heat is incredible. To be honest, I'm amazed they're all still alive."

There are shouts of joy as Firefly rumbles up to the mouth of the cave. "Get back!" Scott barks. "I told you to get back. I asked you to calm down. We can't get you out if you keep panicking." His tone is firm, decisive. I wouldn't like to be on the receiving end of it, but there's a tingling sensation in my stomach nonetheless.

"Sorry mate," a man with a thick accent apologises. "We're doing our best, but we've been in this cave for hours and all our water's run out. There's old people and sick people, and the kids are scared to death."

"I understand," says Scott. "Believe me, I understand. But if you want to remain alive, you'll do as I ask. It's essential that I have complete co-operation. The old, the sick, the infirm, the women and the children. They go first. Anyone else attempts to push in and I'll make them stay right to the end. Is that clear?"

"Dead clear, mate," the man replies. Scott's tone has subdued him.

"All right then. Let's get moving. Bring all the little ones forward, and the mothers with babies. Come on, move aside. Let these people through."

"This way, kids," says Alan. "How would you like to go for a ride in the big yellow bulldozer?"

"What about me?" asks an older boy. "I'm sixteen."

"You shave yet?" Scott asks.

"Yeah," the boy proclaims proudly.

"Then you're not a little kid. Stay here."

"But...!" But nothing. He won't get past Scott. Bigger men have tried and failed, believe me.

"That's it, Scott, we can't fit any more in," says Alan. "We'll drop everyone off at Thunderbird 2 and be back as soon as we can."

"Okay Alan. Be quick."

As Firefly rolls out of the mouth of the cave, we hear Scott mutter. "Well, well."

"What's up, Scott?" asks his father.

"I do believe the cavalry has arrived." He switches on the visual channel of his mobile communicator and shows us two helicopters hovering overhead. A moment later there is a deafening roar and a huge aeroplane appears. As we all watch, its bay doors slide open and tons and tons of water pour out. The picture onscreen becomes a frantic jumble of images as though Scott is moving very fast. "What the blazes!" he exclaims. "Did they have to do that right overhead?" He holds the communicator up and shows us the hood of his protective suit. He is soaked. "They got some of the fire, anyway.. Let's just hope they've brought more water."

While Firefly is away, Scott starts organising all the people into separate groups, bringing everyone he deems vulnerable to the front. Some of the old people volunteer to stay to the end. Scott assesses them briefly and judges for himself whether they should stay or not. After a while, people stop questioning him. They begin to trust his judgment and they are wise to do so. Even the teenage boy who was so keen to leave is now saying he will wait until last, to show how brave he is.

By the time Firefly returns, there is no shouting or arguing or pushing in front. In the middle of the second load, an unfamiliar voice appears. "G'day, gentlemen." It's a man's voice, strong, strident and cheerful. "We're Search and Rescue. Sorry we're a bit late. Well, I must say you guys look like you've got everything under control!"

My stomach lurches. This is entirely the wrong thing to say and the wrong way to say it.

"Excuse me?" says Scott. "A bit late? Like, a whole day late?"

"Hey, that's not our fault. We've been working non-stop since the majority of these fires broke out but we didn't get to hear about these people till just a couple of hours ago."

Virgil comes through on his own mobile communicator. "Dad? Did you hear that?"

"I heard it, Virgil," says Mr. Tracy tersely.

"A couple of hours ago?" Scott echoes in disbelief.

"Yeah, mate. That's when we got the call. We've been battling fires in the south for nearly a week, but suddenly this place was a priority. So we got here as fast as we could." He is hesitant now. "Hey, mate. What's up?"

I cringe inwardly. The boys will not be taking kindly to this buddy-buddy attitude in the middle of a rescue operation that could have gone so badly wrong.

"You can call me Scott," Scott says brusquely. "And I'll tell you what's up. We knew about this place- we've been watching this place since yesterday. The only trouble is, we're not allowed to intervene unless we get a direct call for help. We contacted your authorities who assured us they were doing everything they could to get here, and now you're saying you only got to hear about it a couple of hours ago? Do you see that fire out there? Can you feel this heat? These people have been in this cave dying of heat-exhaustion for God only knows how long. Now it turns out they were waiting in vain for a bunch of clowns who only decided to turn up once they knew that we were here!"

This is quite a speech for Scott. I can only imagine how angry he must be feeling.

"Steady on mate...Scott," the Search and Rescue man starts back pedalling. "I'm in the same position as you. We're rescue guys, same as you. We're all just following our orders."

"Well then, follow this order. Go and get your guys, and come and help us get these people out. Now."

"Okay, Scott," Mr. Tracy says quietly. "I know that needed to be said, but we need to work with them, not against them."

"I know that, dad. But if you could have seen that guy's face, bounding in here like he was on some kind of Boy Scout's adventure..." Scott's voice trails off. He's not going to push it.

"It's not his fault, son. He's doing his job. It's the people in charge of him who are to blame."

"I know, I know."

"But, having said that, I probably would have done the same. In fact I thought you were remarkably restrained."

"Thanks, dad." There's an audible smile of relief in Scott's voice.

With the reinforcements that they needed, the boys carry on with their rescue mission. Their voices come through calm and strong amidst the furore. My heart goes out to those people as I listen to them crying with relief, but they're in the safest hands possible now. Scott has reconciled his differences with the Search and Rescue man, and now he's calling him by his first name, Des. Virgil, with his quiet charm, builds up a rapport with the evacuees- he flirts mildly with a woman who comments on his beautiful brown eyes, the only part of him that she can see through his suit. I smile to myself. I have often thought that if any of those boys deserves to be happily married and settled down with children, it's Virgil. I picture him in a lovely big house with a large, well-manicured lawn and fantastic views of coastal cliffs and a rocky shoreline. He will have a beautiful and charming wife and perhaps three gorgeous children who rush up to him with cries of "daddy!" when he comes home. At the top of the house he will have a grand art studio where he will squirrel himself away for days on end, producing fabulous pieces of artwork that sell for thousands of dollars all over the world. He might even start smoking a pipe.

Aware that I'm drifting, I bring myself back to reality. Firefly is making her fifth and final trip. Des's Search and Rescue teams have been able to use helicopter winches to lift some of the less frightened people and the rest have been ferried across to Thunderbird 2 where a convoy of all-purpose vehicles is arriving, Des assures Scott, to ferry them to the nearest medical facility. Water bearing aircraft have made three trips and doused the main body of the fire that posed the biggest threat, and now Scott and Des stand talking as the last of the residents of the now burnt-out settlement climbs up into the cabin of Firefly. "Heads should roll over this," Des says firmly. "We really had no idea these people were here. Which poses the question- is there anybody else out there?"

"Not that we know of," Scott replies.

"That's the trouble with people like these. They lead a pretty cut-off existence. They fend for themselves and they do their own thing. They're pretty much left alone by everyone. I guess that's how they want it, but when things like this happen they get stuck."

"They managed to reach us," Scott says, "so they obviously had means of communication. The point is, they were told help was on its way, which is why they waited. And then they got forgotten about. I'm not saying by you- you didn't even know about them. I'm talking about the people who make the decisions about what's important and what isn't."

"Like five-star luxury hotels and golf courses and people who pay loads of money." We hear them walking to the mouth of the cave. "This is gonna generate a whole lot of bad publicity for the authorities once those folk start talking to the press about how International Rescue had to come and save them instead of their own people."

"Be that as it may, our organization tries not to get involved in politics."

"I wish we didn't have to, either. Well, Scott, I'm bloody glad we got the chance to work together. Bit of a shaky start but we got there in the end. You guys did a great job. That Firefly contraption is something else. I feel honoured to have met you and your team."

"Don't mention it," says Scott. "Thanks for the reinforcements. That water was badly needed." They part company on good terms.

"So, Scott," says Mr. Tracy. "Mission accomplished?"

"Mission accomplished father. I'll stick around if Virgil needs me to, but if not I guess I can return to Base."

Virgil cuts in. "We're okay Scott. We've got all the help we need. I just want to make sure everyone's safely loaded onto those trucks before we leave, but there's no reason why you shouldn't go home now. I don't think we'll be far behind you."

"Okay boys," says Mr. Tracy. "Good work. I'm proud of you."

"Tell them I'll have a big apple pie waiting for them when they get home!" says Mrs. Tracy.

Scott laughs. "I heard that, Grandma."

"Well then, I guess I'd better get in that kitchen and start baking!"