Revitalization

"Brains, have you seen Bekkah anywhere?" Jeff asked, walking into the lab.

"N-no, M-Mr. Tracy. I haven't seen her since, uh, sh-she brought her p- plans to, uh, you," Brains stuttered.

"Hm. Wonder where she got to. Well, I came to talk to you anyway. About her plans for dicetyline blasters. What do you think about them?" Jeff pulled up a stool and sat.

"Well, M-Mr. Tracy. The design is s-sound. I had a g-good, uh, look at the s-specs before she, uh, took them upstairs."

"Yes, I knew she did a fine job on the design work. But do we need them? That's my question."

"I-i think they would be, uh, useful. Especially s-since they will shoot dicetyline, which will, uh, smother any t-type of fire." Brains pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his straight nose.

"Kyrano agrees with you." Jeff sat silently for a moment. "When Bekkah came in and brought me the proposal, I thought it was a hare-brained scheme and we couldn't use them. I blew her off. But she showed such passion about the project that I couldn't say 'no'. And my top two advisors tell me we can use them. So I guess we build them." He looked around the lab as if Bekkah might be hiding from him in it. "I need to tell her so we can get to work on them right away."

"She was up a-all night with those plans. Sudden inspiration s-seems to d-do that to, uh, her. She m-may be sleeping now." Brains moved over to Bekkah's microcomp. He picked up the interface and put the speaker in his ear.

"Computer, uh, show files last created or updated," he said into the mike. A short list of files came up in a window on the screen.

"Ah. Yes. Computer, print out c-contents of file named, uh, blaster materials list." The printer in the corner began to chatter, and a list of materials for Bekkah's latest project was soon in Jeff's hands.

"Thanks, Brains. I'll get started on ordering these things right away. And thank you for your opinion. I do respect it, especially in technical matters."

"Y-you're welcome, M-mr. Tracy." Jeff left the lab.

"Now, tell me whose idea it was to paint these hard hats?" Virgil asked Gordon sourly. His hard hat had been painted a soft yellow, a color that matched his uniform sash.

"Bekkah's." Gordon answered. His hard hat was bright orange, which clashed with his auburn-red hair. It also had the word 'Fish' painted on it in bright green letters.

"If you think yours is bad, you should see John's!" Gordon pulled a lavender hat off the rack where they were stored. The lavender hat had the words "Sky Eye" painted on them in silver letters.

Virgil snorted. "I guess I had better be thankful for what I have." His hat's words were "Mean Green".

Gordon looked again at the headgear. There was a gold one for his father with the words "Da Boss" painted across the front. Scott had a fairly decent blue colored one with the words "Silver Bullet" lettered across it. Alan's was white, and the title "Rocket Man" was emblazoned on the front. Brains had a brown one with letters spelling "Hackenbacker" almost all the way around in yellow paint. Bekkah's was cherry red, her favorite color, with the title "Dr. B." on the front.

"Oh, man. Tin-Tin is not gonna like this!" Gordon took down the hat meant for Tin-Tin. It was obvious that Bekkah had spent a good deal of time on this one; it was painted to look like the flowery pink swim cap Tin-Tin often wore in the pool. It had the words "Pool Princess" written in cursive on the front. Virgil took one look at it and laughed.

"Hide it! Here she comes!" Gordon put the pink hardhat behind his back. Tin- Tin waved at them and went on by. Gordon returned the hat to its place.

"Wish I could be here when she sees that!" he said, laughing heartily.

"Me, too, brother. Me, too." Virgil agreed.

Bekkah woke from her nap refreshed. She headed for her bathroom and showered, washing the night's tension away in the hot water. She washed her hair the requisite two times, rinsed it well, and put it up in a turban. She wrapped a big bath sheet around her, and went back into her room to get dried and dressed. Her telecomm beeped for attention. She selected voice- only and answered it.

"Bekkah, please come to the lounge as soon as you can." Jeff's voice came through the tiny speaker.

"FAB. Give me 10 minutes."

Bekkah came quietly into the lounge. Jeff finished his call and looked up.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked.

"Yes. I've started placing orders for the materials needed to build those blasters of yours." Bekkah looked surprised.

"What changed your mind, if I might ask?" Bekkah queried.

"Three things. Your passion for the project, Kyrano's insight, and Brains' recommendation." Jeff explained. "I must admit, I've never seen you have such passion for a project before. Why this one?"

Bekkah sat down. "It's not just for this project. Over the past few months, I have become passionate about seeing International Rescue be the very, very best it can be. Ready for anything that might be thrown our way. This is just one of the things that will get us there."

Jeff noticed that Bekkah was using the words "our" and "we". She no longer feels like an outsider, he thought. Then it hit him. She is one of us now, he realized. She deserves our complete confidence.

He looked at the woman sitting across from him. He had once been that excited, that eager to get things going, to do the best for the cause. Had his own passion faded? What had happened to the fire that fueled his dream? Had it been snuffed out by the routine of rescue after rescue? I was just like this at the beginning, he thought. Maybe it's time I recaptured some of that feeling.

Jeff looked at the list, then at Bekkah. "The parts will arrive within a week. How soon can you build these things?"

"Give me another week, with plenty of personnel, and, barring rescues, we should have them done."

"Okay. Get cracking on it as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir!"

Jeff sauntered down to the lab.

"Well, Brains. A new piece of equipment will be added to Thunderbird 2. It's been a while since we've done something like this, hasn't it."

"Y-yes, Mr. Tracy. It has."

Brains could see that something had changed in Jeff Tracy. His bearing, the glint in his eye, the very timbre of his voice bespoke an eagerness that Brains had not seen for years. It was as if he were seeing the Jeff Tracy who had first poured out his dream to him, luring him with his vision, the vision of International Rescue. It's about time the fire was relit, he thought.

"J-just like old times, eh, Mr. Tracy?"

"Just like old times, Brains. Just like old times."