Hey! Here's that pesky little disclaimer:

I don't own them, Carlton and Gerry do. I'm not making money off of them. I'm just having fun with them. And many, many thanks to Boomercat for the 'oodles' of help she's given me so far, especially on this chapter! :-)

Chapter 9--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, FAB, 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 he

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