Let's Call The Whole Thing Off

"Scott?"

"Yes, Tin-Tin?"

"Please hand me that end of the garland?"

Scott stooped down to pick up the red and gold garland with the fiber optic lights hidden in its depths and handed it up to Tin-Tin. She was perched on a ladder, well within reach of the top of the artificial spruce tree that the Tracys had put up for Christmas for as long as International Rescue had been running. She draped it over the branches near the top of the 12 foot tree and motioned for Scott to take the rest around to John, who was perched atop another ladder on the other side.

Scott handed the garland up to him, then went around the ladder and waited for John to place the garland as far around the upper branches as he could reach. Then Scott took the excess again and passed it along to Tin-Tin once more. He knew he would be slowly circling the tree for awhile yet, until the long strands of garland had completely encircled the tree from top to bottom. Then the fun of hanging the ornaments would begin.

It was two days before Christmas and preparations for the holiday were in full-swing. Virgil was playing Christmas carols and other holiday oriented music on the piano to the exclusion of all else. Gordon had been conscripted to help in the kitchen under the watchful eyes of both Grandma and Kyrano. After all, no one wanted a repeat of two years ago when Gordon had ruined all the apple pies by substituting salt for sugar. Grandma still hadn't forgiven him for that stunt, and Scott was surprised that she was even letting Gordon anywhere near the kitchen again. Then again, Scott had been enlisted last year and had quickly been shooed out when his near total ineptitude with things culinary had been revealed.

Out of all of the Tracy sons, only Alan and John showed any promise at the stove and oven, though Gordon had the ability to cook if he could restrain the prankster in him. Scott supposed that the blond brothers' aptitude was a result of having to fend for themselves on the space station. On the rare occasions that he had been obliged to substitute for one of them, he would have starved if not for the breakfast cereal and microwavable soups in the galley's cupboards.

This one area in which I wish I were more like Dad, Scott thought. He knows his way around a kitchen. He had to learn, for our sakes.

At that moment, Jeff and Virgil came up from the storage areas with the boxes of ornaments. Brains followed, looking hot and tired.

"B-braman is loaded in, uh, Thunderbird Three," Brains announced. "H-he's ready for d-duty on Th-thunderbird Five." The scientist plopped down on the green couch in front of Jeff's desk.

Jeff put down the storage tote he was carrying and flipped a switch on his desk. "International Rescue base to Thunderbird Five. You there, Alan?"

"Thunderbird Five to base. I'm here, Father. And raring to get back dirtside!" Alan's smiling, eager face replaced his portrait.

"Are you ready to bring Alan home, John?" Jeff asked. John looked over and gave Jeff a pained look.

"Do I have to, Dad?" he whined unconvincingly, his face barely holding back an impish grin.

Jeff rolled his eyes and shook his head just a bit. Then his face took on a speculative look.

"If you don't want to go, I will."

The lounge was suddenly silent. Scott looked to Virgil, Virgil looked to John, John looked to Tin-Tin, Tin-Tin looked to Brains, and Brains looked back at Scott. Then they all looked over at Jeff.

His speculative look became one of annoyance as he watched the younger people.

"What?" he asked, sounding peeved. "I can fly Thunderbird Three. I've spent plenty of time in the simulator reacquainting myself with her systems. It's not an emergency, just a quick run to Thunderbird Five and back. Surely the old man can handle that?" His tone turned from peeved to jocular with the last statement.

"Sure, Dad, why not?" Scott said, causing the others to look at him in varying degrees of puzzlement and disbelief. "You're perfectly qualified to pilot Thunderbird Three. What do you think, John?"

Put on the spot, John hemmed and hawed. "I suppose so, Scott." He turned to Jeff, "I'm surprised by your offer, Dad. I was only teasing about going up to get Alan."

"I know, John. But I'm serious. It's been a long time since I've flown into space. I'd like to go again and this is the perfect opportunity." Jeff smiled widely at the thought. He turned to his engineer. "Brains, would you feel comfortable with me at the controls? Tell me truthfully; you won't offend me."

What do I say to that question? Brains thought bleakly.

"I-I w-would b-be o-okay, uh, w-with y-your p-piloting, M-Mr. T-Tracy." Brains stammered. Damn this stutter! Makes it sound like I'm more nervous at the thought of him piloting. And I don't want him to think that!

Jeff gave him an amused look. "Then it's settled. Alan, you can expect Brains and me at about 1500 hours," Jeff said, turning to Alan, who had heard the entire conversation.

"Uh, F-A-B, Dad. 1500 hours." Alan said, slightly stunned.

Jeff sat next to Brains on the couch, putting one ankle on the opposite knee and his hands behind his head, grinning. He looked over at Scott.

"Scott, would you do the honors?"

Scott started. "Oh, of course, Dad." He made his way behind the desk and pressed the button that lowered the couch into the floor.

There was silence in the lounge until the empty replacement couch came up. Then the people in the lounge exploded with questions.

"What was that all about, Scott?" "Why did you let him go?" "You're encouraging him?" "Do you know what you're doing, Scott?"

Scott held up his hands. "Pipe down everyone! I have my reasons for doing what I did."

"They had better be good ones, big brother," Alan said, glowering from his live feed picture. "That's my Thunderbird he's piloting!"

"Think about it, everyone. There's really no reason for Dad not to go up and pick up Alan. He's right about being qualified to do it." Scott said, trying to convince his brothers and Tin-Tin of his good intentions. "Actually, he's more than qualified. And it might give him enough excitement to satisfy his longing to go out on rescues."

The lounge was silent again.

"You have a point, Scott," John finally admitted. "This probably is the safest way to deal with that itch of his."

Virgil chimed in, "Yeah. Our Operation: Change of Mind isn't working very well. He's taken every challenge we've given him and he's kept up with us. Hell, he has even seemed to enjoy himself!"

"Maybe we should just drop it," Alan said.

This time, Scott was the one with the protests. "What do you mean, Alan? Let him go out on a rescue? That's nuts!"

Gordon came in from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishtowel.

"What's nuts?" he asked, looking around at the tableau. "Where's Dad?"

"On his way to Thunderbird Five," John hooked his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the Round House.

"Thunderbird Five? How'd that happen?" asked Gordon, surprised.

"He decided he'd go when John was teasing about not wanting to go," Tin-Tin explained.

"Yeah, and Scott encouraged him!" Alan added.

"And Alan thinks we should drop Operation: Change of Mind," Virgil informed him.

"Hmm." Gordon replied, looking thoughtful. "It's not a bad idea."

"What do you mean, Gordon?" Tin-Tin asked.

"Well, why are we trying to change his mind? What are our reasons for not letting him go out on a rescue?" Gordon asked, looking around at everyone. "We've all assumed that just because he's getting older, he'd be no good on a rescue. But he's been showing us that age hasn't slowed him down at all. Or at least not much."

The radio crackled into life, interrupting Gordon's speech.

"Thunderbird Three requesting permission for launch," Jeff's basso voice came through.

Scott took a deep breath and threw a switch on the communications panel. "Permission granted, Thunderbird Three. Good luck, Dad."

"Thanks, Scott. Commencing countdown, T minus ten seconds. See you all in about four hours. Thunderbird Three out."

Everyone headed for the balcony to watch the launch. Virgil stood beside Scott to watch Thunderbird Three emerge with smoke and flame from the center of the Round House. Scott often wondered if his own Thunderbird looked that majestic as it rose from its launch pad. The few times it had been necessary for one of his other brothers to pilot his rocket plane, he had either been unconscious in the sick room or away from the Island altogether. Except when he took the desk in his father's absence. Then, he was too nervous about the responsibility handed to him to think about watching the launch.

"Well, there he goes," Virgil remarked. "Let's hope this stops him from wanting to go out on rescue."

Inside, Scott wholeheartedly agreed.

Jeff and Brains didn't speak as the couch was deposited on the conveyer car and moved quickly to Thunderbird Three's launch pad. Brains really was at a loss for words, and Jeff's thoughts were elsewhere.

Has this become routine for them, the monthly flight to and from Thunderbird Five? Or do they still get excited as they leave Earth's warm embrace to travel among the stars? He closed his eyes to savor a memory. I still remember the thrill I got when the stars stopped twinkling and became sharp points of light all around me, billions of points of light, so very many more than I could ever see from Earth. And the moon! Luna, you beautiful goddess of the night! To walk on your surface excited me and humbled me all at once. Walking where giants had walked before me. He clenched a fist. To feel that again, that surge of excitement.... He smiled as his reverie carried him to the moon and beyond.

Before he knew it, he was in Thunderbird Three's lounge. He looked over at his passenger.

"Well, Brains. Want to come up to the control room for the flight? You can look over my shoulder and make sure I don't crash into anything," he quipped.

Brains smiled a slightly strained smile. "I-I'll keep you c-company, M-Mr. Tracy. B-But, truthfully, I have every, uh, c-confidence in y-your piloting sk-skills."

They entered the turbolift to take them to the control room of the rocket. Jeff looked around at the room and grinned. He looked in the uniform storage unit and laughed.

"I guess if I'm going to do this with any regularity, I'd better put one of my own uniforms in there. I doubt I'd fit into Alan's or even Scott's!" he remarked with a chuckle. "I guess I can go in civvies today. It's not like anyone is going to see me outside of the family."

Brains filed the comment away in his memory for future discussions about Operation: Change of Mind. It was the first verbal indication he had heard supporting the plans that the Tracy sons were sure their father was contemplating.

Jeff took his place in the pilot's seat and looked over the controls carefully. They look just the same as in the simulator, yet different. Maybe it's the lighting. Or maybe it's because they are real and not simulated.

He began to go through the pre-launch checklist. "Chemical rockets on standby. Fuel levels at 100 percent. Fuel lines open and fuel pumps working at full capacity. Navigation computers engaged. Life support at full power. Artificial gravity at Earth normal."

He turned to Brains, who sat in one of the passenger seats behind him. "Looks like this Thunderbird is go." He opened communications with the lounge. "Thunderbird Three requesting permission for launch."

Scott's baritone answered the request. "Permission granted, Thunderbird Three. Good luck, Dad."

"Thanks, Scott. Commencing countdown, T minus ten seconds. See you all in about five hours. Thunderbird Three out." He closed communications and watched the countdown clock. "Opening launch bay door... engaging chemical rockets... three... two... one... liftoff!"

The hatch beneath the Round House irised open as the red rocket began to move upward, fighting the pull of gravity with its mighty chemical engines. Slowly at first, as engine exhaust was directed out through the blast ducts, then faster and faster, the engines began to win the fight against the forces of Mother Earth, the spaceship accelerating to an eventual speed that would take it out of the atmosphere and into space.

Jeff watched the Island dwindle to a speck in the video on the plasma screen before him. His blood sang and his heart raced at feeling the almost forgotten g-forces that pushed him back into his seat. He was excited, elated, and supremely happy. His grin threatened to split his face, and with reluctance he stifled the urge to let out a loud, "Wahoo!" What would Brains think of that? he thought with amusement.

Brains couldn't see the emotions that passed across the face of Jeff Tracy, but he could guess at them. Why haven't we done this sooner? He's probably ecstatic to be space bound again.

"Escape velocity in 25 minutes. Flight time to Thunderbird Five, 1 hour 25 minutes." Jeff said aloud. He swiveled his pilot's chair to grin at Brains. "Come over here and take the co-pilot's seat so we can talk, Brains. It's not often that we have uninterrupted time like this."

Brains unbuckled himself and made his way over to the co-pilot's seat, then strapped himself in again. He looked over at his employer, who had his eye on the plasma screen before him, watching the continents shrink as they gained altitude.

I wonder what he wants to talk about?

"Now, what were we talking about?" Virgil asked when they returned to the lounge.

"Hey! Did Thunderbird Three get off okay? How did Dad do with liftoff?" Alan demanded, his agitation at being in Thunderbird Five and everyone in the lounge deserting him to watch the launch very evident.

"Oh, sorry, Alan. Yes, Thunderbird Three launched textbook perfect. Dad certainly hasn't lost his touch with spacecraft," John said. "The hours he's spent in the simulator have paid off for him today."

"I hope he gets here in one piece!" Alan remonstrated.

Scott glared at him. "He will, Alan. Just keep your shirt on and simmer down," he retorted. He turned to Gordon, who had plunked himself in a chair, draping a leg over the arm of it. "Now, back to what you were saying, Gordon."

"What?" Gordon sat up momentarily, then relaxed again as he remembered his subject. "Oh, yeah. Well, I was saying that Alan might have a good idea in calling off Operation: Change of Mind. I mean, why are we trying to stop Dad from going out on rescues? Do we have any other reasons besides he's getting older and wants to feel young again?"

"Hmm." It was Tin-Tin's turn to look thoughtful. "If you are looking for actual reasons, I may have one. Secrecy. Your father is a very high-profile man. He has been the subject of many articles and vid profiles, and therefore is highly recognizable. If he were to be seen in an International Rescue uniform during an emergency, security would be compromised."

"That's a good reason. Though the same could be said for some of us as well. Alan's racing career has made his face visible, as have Gordon's gold medal, and John's books. Scott and I are the unknown heroes of this bunch," Virgil quipped.

"Still, Virg, he's much more the public figure than any of us are," Gordon argued. He looked around at the others in the lounge. "What else have we got?"

"I don't know about the rest of you, but if he were working with me on a rescue, I'd be watching out for him more than for anyone else," Alan stated. "He doesn't have the experience and that would make me nervous." There were murmurs of agreement all around.

"Plus, he's.... Dad." John added. "We'd want to look out for him. After all, none of us wants to...." John stopped and closed his eyes, sighing deeply.

"None of us wants to... what, John?" Scott prodded.

For a long moment, John said nothing. Then he swallowed visibly, and said in a quiet voice, "None of us wants to lose him. To lose another parent."

There was silence again in the lounge. Then Scott took a deep breath and spoke.

"That's always a possibility. It's a possibility for any of us when we go out on rescues. We've had so many close scrapes, so many brushes with death...." He shook his head. "I understand where you're coming from, John. To lose one of you in the line of duty would hurt, and hurt a lot, but to lose Dad... that would be a whole different sort of pain."

Scott walked around as he continued. "Dad is our anchor. He's our anchor here on Earth as much as Alan and John are our anchors in Thunderbird Five. He's been our anchor ever since Mom died. To lose him, I think, could cut us adrift."

"There's more than that, Scott," Virgil said. He looked around the room, meeting each person's gaze. "International Rescue is his dream. We've all signed on to it, we all believe in it, but it is uniquely his. Could we continue to run it as he would want it run without him? Or would we each try to remake it with our own vision of what IR should be?"

"These are good questions to ask." Everyone turned to see Kyrano enter the lounge. "I have heard much of what you have discussed." He sat down on the couch next to Tin-Tin. "You are dealing with your father's mortality, which is foresighted of you. He will not be here forever. To think about these things while he is alive, and to discuss them with him may be what will deter him from going out on rescues."

"I don't know, Kyrano," Gordon said, his face creased with doubt. "Most men his age, when they are trying to recapture part of their youth, don't listen to their families. They go out and do what they want despite the feelings of their children or wives." He looked down for a moment. "Or, at least, that's what I've been told."

"Do you think Dad would be stubborn enough to stay this course even if we brought our concerns to him?" Alan asked.

Silence reigned again. Then heads began to nod, and a chorus of "yes" went around the room.

"Kyrano, I don't know if you went through something like this," Scott turned to the retainer. "Nor do I know what you did about it if you went through it. But you have always appeared, at least to me, to be a reasonable man. Someone who listens and thoughtfully considers what is said and acts upon it. But you know as well as we do that our Dad is stubborn. There are times when you can talk to him until you're blue in the face, but in the end, he's going to do what he wants. That's why we've been trying to get him to change his own mind about this." Scott blew out some air. "But it doesn't seem to be working."

Kyrano's face flushed a bit. "I did go through something like what your father seems to be experiencing now. But I was prevented from doing anything rash. Had I not been so prevented, I admit I would have carried out the plans I had made at the time despite the wishes of my family." He looked Scott full in the face. "Perhaps allowing your father to go on a rescue should be incorporated into Operation: Change of Mind. Most probably there will be a rescue before you can think up or plan more situations like the scuba diving or the rock climbing to test your father. The actual experience may be what is needed to change his mind."

"No. Absolutely not. It's just too dangerous, for us and for him," Scott said, his own stubbornness coming to the front.

"And if he insists on going? What then?" Kyrano challenged.

Scott blanched. That was what he feared most; his father insisting that he go on a rescue. There's no way in heaven or earth that I could stop him. It would be like withstanding the "irresistible force". No way am I the "immovable object".

He sighed. "We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it. If we come to it." He looked around the room. "So, do we keep Operation: Change of Mind going or not? Let's have a vote."

"I think we should wait for Brains to vote on this," Tin-Tin suggested. She looked over at her father. I wonder what his "midlife crisis" was all about? I don't remember anything of it. I will have to ask him.

"I also think we should wait and see what he's like after piloting Thunderbird Three," John added. "If doing that will fulfill his need, we can let him continue. If not, then we vote."

"Agreed," said Virgil. Gordon nodded at Scott.

"What do you think, Alan?" Scott asked.

"I think that I'll let Dad pilot us back so I can bring Brains up to speed on this," Alan remarked. "I agree with John's and Tin-Tin's suggestion about postponing any decision until we're dirtside again."

"All right," Scott said, a disappointed tone to his voice. "We table the issue until we see Dad's response to his trip in Thunderbird Three." I just hope we don't have a rescue for a couple more days yet. And please, please, no rescue on Christmas!

Jeff was amused at Brains. They had spoken a little about the goings-on at the Villa, then Jeff asked Brains what new ideas he had for the Thunderbirds and for the auxiliary machinery. This opened the floodgates, and Brains began to talk. And talk. And talk. And as he talked, his stutter disappeared. Jeff tried hard to keep up with his head engineer's ideas, making mental notes on some of the more interesting proposals, and asking intelligent (he hoped) questions from time to time. But he now wished he had a recording device of some sort. Brains had so many ideas that it was hard to keep track of them.

"And I've been working on the theories behind instant teleportation. It would be great if our operatives could teleport to wherever the rescue was and be there on the scene almost instantly. But to do it would require much better computer and communications equipment than we have right now and, of course, better sensors. The software itself would be a massive undertaking. Then there's the issue of trying to transport the equipment the same way. The energy to mass ratio would be enormous. But still, I predict it will be a reality!" Brains paused for breath. "Just probably not in my lifetime."

A beeping noise caught Jeff's attention.

"Ah! It's the 10 minute warning indicator." Jeff toggled a switch. "Thunderbird Five from Thunderbird Three. Come in, Thunderbird Five."

"Thunderbird Three from Thunderbird Five, go ahead. I read you five by five," Alan's voice filled the cockpit.

"We are 8 minutes from docking, Thunderbird Five. You ready for us, Alan?" Jeff asked, smiling.

"F-A-B, Dad. Ready and raring to leave this tin can." Alan answered with relief in his voice.

"F-A-B, son. Beginning preparations for docking." Jeff put his full attention on the control panel in front of him. Brains watched with interest as Jeff threw switches and turned dials, muttering under his breath as he did so. "Flywheel drive engaged. Docking sensors on. Firing main attitude control rockets." There was no sense within the cockpit that the ship was changing its orientation from vertical to horizontal, but the instruments in front of him told Jeff that it was.

"Disengaging attitude control rockets." The docking sensor display showed the pilot that they were coming up on the docking ring to Thunderbird Five, but coming up a little bit fast.

"Firing retro rockets, short burst." The sensors showed the slowing of the ship. Jeff unconsciously held his breath as the nose of Thunderbird Three slipped silently and smoothly into the docking tube, buried up to the white ring. Just like a man with a woman. That earthy image came to Jeff's mind as the docking was completed, and he let his breath out in a chuckle, then looked over at Brains. He designed these craft. Was he thinking what I just thought when he was creating this system? Dare I ask?

"Docking complete, Thunderbird Three. Nice job, Dad!" Alan's congratulations sounded out over the speakers.

"Thanks, Alan." Jeff responded, as he removed his safety straps and stood up. "Come on, Brains. Let's get your tin man set up and ready to go. That sounds like one anxious young man over there."

A half-hour later, Jeff was back in the pilot's seat, this time alone. Alan had dragged Brains off into the bowels of the ship to bend the engineer's ear about something or other. Checking up on Tin-Tin most likely, Jeff mused. He fired the retro rockets in short bursts, backing slowly away from the docking collar. The image from docking resurfaced, and he shook his head. I will never be able to call Thunderbird Three "she" again! Not after this trip!

While Brains and Alan were working on Braman, getting him out of his traveling case and putting his new software through its paces, Jeff had taken a look around the station. It had been a long time since he had visited it, almost since it had been built. He peered into each room, making mental notes of things that should be changed or upgraded. The workout equipment looked a little shabby to him, a testimony of his sons' usage of it. He remembered with a start that the station had been built with more than one person in mind. There are six bedrooms up here! And a generous medical bay and galley. So much room. We just aren't using Thunderbird Five to its fullest potential. But to do so would mean hiring other operatives and taking IR out of the family. I don't know that I'm ready to do that.

Jeff used the attitude control rockets to point the red rocket back towards Mother Earth, then fired the chemical rockets again. Slowly the station became smaller and smaller as the spaceship pulled away from it, leaving empty of human occupation. I hope Braman is up to the task. Last thing we need is for him to malfunction during an emergency.

He plotted a course back to the Island and put it into the guidance computers, then sat back.

This has been an eye-opening trip in more ways than one. I've proven to myself that I can handle Thunderbird Three. And I've gotten back into space, which has exhilarated me more than I expected it to. I've gained a new appreciation for Brains' intellect; he really thinks all the time and has so many exciting ideas. Looking over Thunderbird Five has shown me how long-sighted he was in its design. Eventually we will need more operatives to run the station and he prepared for that ahead of time.

He shifted in the pilot's seat. But now I've got to think of the future. I can't expect my sons to live the celibate life I've led since Lucille's death; they'll be bringing home lovers and wives some day. I'm sure a number of those women will become members of International Rescue and will take some of the burden of rescues from them. But that's not enough. I'll eventually have to recruit people from outside the family to help. And not just in the area of the rescues themselves, but in the background as well. Tin-Tin and Brains are just two people; I can't expect them to think of everything we'll need or design and build all the equipment we will require.

Planning for the future. For the day when I'm no longer around. Or no longer able to direct operations. When I hand the reins over to Scott. Or maybe Virgil. Or even John. It depends on who takes on my vision as their own. For all of them to be in charge could mean that International Rescue would be torn apart. No, I'll have to choose which one is most likely to keep my vision alive and intact. Then I'll have to groom one or perhaps all of the others to take over Tracy Industries and leave the one free to direct International Rescue.

He sighed. Now is the time to start this grooming process. I've done little enough so far; just a short week or two during the year when I was swamped at home or sick. After the holidays, I'll start sending one of the boys out to corporate for a stint each month. And I'll rotate whoever is left at home at the desk. Since I'll be participating in rescues, we shouldn't be too shorthanded. Except when Gordon isn't there. Maybe it's time to train one of the others on Thunderbird 4 so we'll have some flexibility. Though I seemed to do pretty well with her when I was in the simulator. We'll see.

With the autoguidance system in place, Jeff stood up to stretch. "I could use a cup of coffee," he said aloud. He spoke into his wrist telecomm. "Alan? I need a stretch and some coffee. You want to take him for a while?"

"Uh, sure, Dad." Alan responded from the lounge, where he had told Brains everything he and the others had discussed. "I'll be right up."

He looked over at Brains. "Now you're up to speed. Scott will probably want to talk about it some more when you get back. And then vote whether or not we continue."

Brains nodded. "I-I have a s-small item t-to, uh, bring to e-everyone myself. A l-little hint y-your father unknowingly g-gave me about his p- plans."

"Oh, brother! That will stir things up even more, I'm sure," Alan remarked as he headed for the lift. "I'll talk with you later." As he entered the lift, his father's request rang again in his head and a puzzled look passed over his face. Him? Dad is calling Thunderbird Three a "him"? Wonder why?

Jeff breathed in deeply and let it out. His palms were sweaty. Now was the moment he was dreading. They were coming in for a landing.

I crashed him three times while in the simulator; twice into the Round House and once within the silo itself. I only got it right and perfect twice. Let's hope I can do it again, this time with the real thing.

"Engaging pitch and yaw rockets for 180 degree turn." One half of the small rockets that ringed the nose of the craft fired, while on the opposite side of the ship, half of the equally small rockets that ringed the base fired. This time there was a sense of motion as the tall spaceship went from nose down to nose up while still hurtling downwards towards the Island.

"Disengaging pitch and yaw rockets. Tractor beam guidance sensor enabled. Main engines firing. He's slowing down. Opening launch bay door." Below the red rocket, the silo hatch opened, welcoming the ship back to its home. Jeff listened to the proximity beeping and watched the image that the sensor put up on the screen before him. Behind him, Brains held his breath. Beside him, Alan held on tightly to the arms of his seat, fighting the incredible urge to transfer control of the vessel to his position so he could complete the landing.

Jeff fired the main engines in short bursts, braking the downward speed of the space-going Thunderbird little by little. Then, just before slipping through the donut hole of the Round House, he fired them in a sustained burst that slowed the ship enough to bring it gently down on top of the three cuplike structures that were the business ends of the blast ducts.

Jeff slumped forward over the controls for a second with a sudden release of tensed muscles, closing his eyes in relief. Brains let out his held breath. Alan's hands relaxed and he clapped his father on the shoulder.

"Great landing, Dad!" he exclaimed, grinning. Jeff straightened up, opened his eyes, and grinned back.

"I'll need more practice, lots more practice, before I ever get comfortable with landing him," he said. He rose from his seat, and so missed the meaningful glance that Alan gave Brains.

The three of them took the lift down to the lounge, where they sat on the green couch. Alan pressed a button under the edge of the sofa, and they were on their way back to the lounge in the Villa. Jeff was exhausted from the tension of the landing but exhilarated about having gone back into space again. That adrenaline sure kicked in on this trip. I could do that every month and still get a kick from it. I expect the same kick when I go out on my first rescue.

The empty couch passed them on the hydraulic lift as they were hoisted up, up, up through the floor and into the lounge. Around them, everyone burst into applause, and Alan and Brains joined in as soon as they saw the others. Jeff scratched his head, a bemused and blushing expression on his face.

When the clapping ended, John asked, "So, how was it, Dad? How did it compare to your trip to the moon?"

Jeff breathed out, hard. "It was exhilarating and exciting and it made me very, very happy, John. It also opened my eyes to a few things that I'll be discussing with you all after the holidays. But right now, I'm glad to be home and I'm hungry! What's for dinner?"

There were laughs and chuckles all around as the three travelers picked themselves off the couch and headed for the dining room.

"All right. This is it. Brains, what did Father say?" Scott jiggled down his pants leg as he settled into the overstuffed chair at the Cliff House.

"First of a-all, he l-Looked in the, uh, uniform st-storage unit and l- laughed. Then h-he said, a-and I, uh, qu-quote, 'I guess i-if I'm going t- to d-do this with a-any, uh, r-regularity, I'd b-better put one o-of m-my own u-uniforms in th-there. I-I doubt I'd f-fit into A-Alan's or e-even, uh, Scott's!' " Brains reported.

Alan piped up. "Yes, and after we landed, he said he would need lots more practice to feel comfortable landing Thunderbird Three."

"So, it seems that he was satisfied with doing the run up to Thunderbird Five and back," Virgil concluded.

"It seems that way," Scott said, frowning. "I just don't think it will keep him satisfied."

"So do we drop Operation: Change of Mind?" John asked.

"Or do we take Kyrano's suggestion and let him go out on a rescue as part of the operation?" Gordon proposed.

Scott was silent for a while and everyone watched him. He was field commander; if their father went out on a rescue, it would be his responsibility to keep Jeff safe.

Finally he sighed, and spoke. "I think we need to keep Operation: Change of Mind going. Do everything we can to deter him from going out. If he insists on joining us for a rescue, I don't see how we can stop him. But until that happens, I feel we need to keep trying to change his mind. For the security of IR. For his own safety. And for ours." He looked around. "Let's vote on it. Brains?"

"I c-concur. The r-run to and fr-from, uh, Thunderbird F-Five would pale a- after a while and p-put your f-father right b-back where he, uh, started." Brains explained.

"Tin-Tin?"

"I also agree. The security issue bothers me a lot."

"Virgil?"

"I guess so. I don't want to be the one keeping tabs on him during a rescue."

"Gordon?"

"Yes. There have been enough reasons given to satisfy me that we have to try and change his mind."

"John?"

"I vote yes. You know my reasons."

"Alan?"

"Hmm. You're right, Scott. I vote yes. Besides, I want to have some of that one-on-one time Gordon and Virgil enjoyed with Dad."

"Kyrano?"

"I do not agree. I feel that if you bring your concerns to your father, he will listen. He will see the love and care behind your objections and that will deter him from going out on rescues. This Operation: Change of Mind is not working. It is only strengthening his resolve."

"And I vote yes, as well. Seven yeas, one nay. We keep Operation: Change of Mind going. Who's next with the physical challenge?"

"I will be," John raised his hand. "If Brains can help me think up a reason to go caving in the lava tubes on the Island."

"I-I will th-think about it f-for you, uh, J-John." Brains promised.

"And I'll try and get him to do the post flight on Thunderbird Three with me." Alan proposed. "It's not as much fun as exploring caves or scuba diving, but I'd have some one-on-one time with him. And I can think up something fun for later."

"Good, that's settled. Now let's get back to the Villa. We have a Christmas tree to finish decorating." Scott said as he rose.

Kyrano took up the rear as the group headed back to the Villa. He shook his silvered head as he thought of what Scott and his brothers were trying to do. None of this will change the mind of Jefferson Tracy. Only knowing the concerns that his sons have for him will bring about any difference in the plans that I am sure he has for himself and for International Rescue.