The rescue had been long and fraught with danger to us all. But finally it was over. It was night and we were packing up when Scott paused. He had that faraway look on his face that we had come to realise meant something was happening, just not something we could see.
But then he frowned, shook his head and carried on as if nothing had happened. I went to say something, but Virgil shook his head, laying a hand on my arm.
'Leave him, he's stressed out.'
'Stressed out?'
'He's been seeing more ghosts of late.'
That didn't really make me want to leave Scott alone, but sometimes he needed to decompress from all the 'spiritual' tension in the air.
We were all tired from the rescue too, that didn't help. The storm that had caused the massive landslide and kept us busy for three days had yet to abate, but at least everyone was now safe. John and Virgil exchanged glances.
'Scott, it's been a long rescue and the storm is still overhead. How about we take a couple hours to rest up before we fly home?'
There was silence from Thunderbird One, and for one minute I thought that our big brother was going to veto the idea that he was too exhausted to fly, but eventually he answered.
'FAB, John. One hour only, though. I really want my own bed.'
That raised chuckles and our spirits. We hunkered down in the living quarters of Two – tiny beds that pulled out just for such occasions – and I know I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
The rest we didn't find out until later…
Scott settled in One's pilot chair. He could adjust it to sleep in if he wanted, but just as he thought about relaxing he blinked.
In front of him was a girl.
A girl with a sword.
She turned to him and said: 'It's close,' and looked out of One's viewport. Scott always left it open when we all were together like this. He got out of his chair and joined her.
'What are you looking at?'
'You're able to see me?'
The surprise in her voice showed that this was not an everyday occurrence for her. Scott, assuming she was a ghost – and an old one judging from her clothing – replied a little curtly.
'I don't know what century you died in, go on, get out of here.'
To his surprise she didn't disappear. Rather, she drew her sword and held it precisely so that the tip was just between his eyes, before twirling it around and holding it backwards , hilt over his shoulder.
Behind Scott stood a man in a suit. There was blood on his face from his nose and mouth. The hilt was against his forehead. The ghost pleaded with the girl not to send him to hell, but she told him that he was on his way to the Soul Society, a peaceful and safe place. She then slowly sheathed the sword and Scott watched as the ghost disappeared in a cloud of blue-white smoke with a sigh.
'What just happened? What did you do to that guy?'
But Scott's questions went unanswered as a beeping sounded from the folds of the girl's shihakusho. She pulled a purple glowing device out and studied it. There were moving images inside it. She murmured to herself.
'The Grand Fisher? No. Fishbone. It's close and it's huge.'
And then she was moving.
