Author's Note: The debriefing, Penny takes up an old habit, Scott listens to his messages, and Rachel finds an interesting photograph. Information on kelp found in the Wikipedia. Thanks to Hobbeth for betareading.

This chapter is dedicated to ArtisticRainey. She knows why.

Disclaimer: I don't own the canon characters, I'm just writing about them. Please do not copy or hyperlink this fiction without my express written or verbal consent. This includes adding this fiction to C2 communities. I may be reached at my email of record. Any and all original characters, including Cindy Lou/Lucinda and her cats (especially the cats) are mine and may not be used without my express written consent.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

Lou's intentions of leaving the Tracys to conduct the rescue debriefing without her were foiled when Jeff asked her to sit in. They discussed it around the dining room table, allowing the hungry rescue team to eat while describing the rescue. A tired and stressed out looking John sat in via Jeff's laptop and a camera that beamed the real time images to Thunderbird Five.

"Did you have any trouble with Harris on the way back to Earth?" Jeff asked.

Brains shook his head. "None. H-He regained, uh, consciousness at one point, b-but was very disoriented and in pain. The, uh, allergic shock p-patient also came to, and I was a-able to keep her, uh, comfortable."

"I hope that the people who were on that stuff will forget what happened," Alan commented. "I think some of them will be really embarrassed by what they did."

Jeff glanced over at Lou, and those around the table followed his gaze. Suddenly on the spot, Lou started, then shook her head quickly. "Uh, no, Alan. They won't forget."

"They won't?" Scott asked, sounding dubious.

"No. The appeal of this drug is it makes whatever sexual activity that occurs look like it's consensual," Lou explained. "Even if one of the parties would normally resist, this drug breaks down that resistance so that they will participate with seeming eagerness. And because the memory of it is clear, there's the perception that the person who has been drugged can't say it was rape." She sighed. "The laws haven't caught up with this one yet, I'm afraid, except to declare it highly illegal. Nor has a totally accurate test for it been created. There are a couple of tests that can detect it, but they must be administered within a short period of time after the effects wear off. They're not foolproof, and for this situation, they have to be." She shrugged. "Like I mentioned to the Commander, I hope they have a lot of 'morning after' pills up there. They're going to need them."

"And possibly a counselor," Scott added. When everyone looked at him, he explained, "Some of those people might have difficulty dealing with an unexpectedly altered sexual orientation."

The groan around the table was universal.

Jeff glanced at each of his operatives in turn. "Anything else?" When there was a general shaking of heads and murmurs of "No", Jeff said, "F-A-B. I'll declare this debriefing over." People began to stretch and rise to leave when the commander suddenly remarked, "Before you go, I have an announcement to make." Attention turned back to him, and those who had begun to stand either finished rising, or sat back down.

His blue eyes traveling around the table, Jeff licked his lips and cleared his throat. "I, uh, I would like to announce that our guest," he gestured to Lou with a hand, "has agreed to become an agent for IR. More details will be forthcoming as they are worked out, but I hope you will all welcome her to our ranks. Okay, you're dismissed."

He glanced around again to gauge the response of his team to the announcement. Alan looked mildly surprised. Brains glanced over at Lou, peering at her through tired eyes. Scott had a thoughtful look on his face, but he nodded, and gave Lou a small smile. John, who Jeff could not see very well from his vantage point, had an expression of pleasant surprise and a grin. He even gave Lou a thumbs up, which made her smile back at him. Virgil, who sat next to Lou, stood and solemnly offered his hand. Gordon, dragged up from the depths of the pod vehicle repair bay to sit in on the debriefing, quipped, "And here I thought you weren't our usual 'babe found on the beach'!"

"She isn't. She went home, remember?" Alan replied as he got up from his seat.

"Yes, I did," Lou affirmed. "And I expect to go home again at some point."

Tin-Tin put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a quiet, "Welcome to the team," as she left the room.

The others followed, giving Lou their own congratulations and welcome in passing. Jeff turned to John. "Anything you need up there, Epsilon?"

"No, Commander. I'm ready to shut down." The space monitor glanced over at Lou again. "You're going to make a great agent. Welcome to the team!"

"Thanks, Epsilon," Lou replied with a smile.

"Thunderbird Five out."

"Brains?" Jeff called, catching the engineer before he could leave the room.

Brains stopped, smothering a yawn. "Y-Yes, Mr. Tracy?"

Jeff went to join the engineer by the dining room door. "No lab for you tonight. It's been brought to my attention that you've got too much on your plate right now and you've been working too hard. Get a good night's sleep, then I want to see you in my office first thing after breakfast to discuss a prioritizing of your current projects and bringing Dr. Macias on board."

"M-Mr. Tracy," Brains began in an apologetic tone. "I'm s-sorry for, uh d-dozing off..."

"No, Brains. I'm the one who should apologize," Jeff said firmly. "And I do. I'm sorry I haven't kept a better eye on your workload and that I've stalled over Dr. Macias." He put a hand on the engineer's shoulder. "With the sheer number of jobs you're juggling now, I shouldn't have sent you on this mission."

"A-Apology, uh, accepted," Brains replied, stifling another yawn.

One side of Jeff's mouth quirked up into a lopsided smile. "Thank you. Now, get a good rest and see me in the morning. That's an order."

"F-A-B," the engineer said with a small smile. He yawned again, and included Lou as he said, "G-Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Brains," Lou repeated a split second after Jeff uttered it. Brains departed, leaving the commander, his new agent, and the family retainer in the room.

"Do you need any help?" Lou moved to pile some of the dirty plates up for Kyrano.

He glanced up at her and smiled. "Thank you, Mrs. Myles. I appreciate your assistance. And, may I say, welcome to the team."

"Thank, Kyrano," she replied, stacking saucers and empty coffee cups. "I hope I know what I've gotten myself into here."

"You will make an excellent agent," the retainer said as he picked up two of the empty serving dishes and piled them on the cart he had brought out. He glanced over at his employer, who was busy shutting down the computer and camera. "I believe I have this under control. Perhaps Mr. Tracy could use your assistance now."

Lou glanced over at Jeff, too, then back to Kyrano. "Are you sure?"

The retainer nodded. "Yes."

She took the pile of saucers and cups to the cart, then joined Jeff at the end of the table. As he removed the camera from its tripod and put it away, Lou took the support itself and collapsed the legs, handing it to him when he looked up from the camera's carrying case.

"Oh, thanks," he said as he took the device and slipped it into its slot.

"You're welcome," she replied. She moved the few steps back to the table and began to unplug the few connecting cables. "Do you burn these sessions to disk as they go along?"

"Yes, I do," Jeff said, taking a cord from her and wrapping it up neatly for storage. "I also edit them into a text only report for our official logs. John sends a copy of the talkback from Thunderbird Five, which is added to the log file, and each operative gives an account from his or her point-of-view, along with equipment repairs and other minutiae. Between all the records we can get a pretty accurate picture of what went on during the rescue." He closed up the laptop. "It helps us keep ourselves accountable to each other, and keeps us from making the same mistakes twice... we hope." He looked around at the dining room. All of the equipment had been packed away, the dishes were stacked on the cart, and Kyrano was wiping down the table. "Well, let's get this equipment back up to the lounge."

Lou had already slung the camera bag over her shoulder. "Yes. Let's."

As they climbed the steps to the upper level, Jeff said, "I hope you weren't... uncomfortable with my making the announcement about your joining the team. I just felt that the time was right to mention it."

"No, that was fine," she replied. "I was a bit surprised, especially since the details hadn't been worked out yet, but it was okay. I was more concerned with what the others thought about my being brought in on the debriefing. After all, at that point, I don't think anyone knew that I had even been asked, never mind had accepted."

"True," he admitted. "But I thought that since you had been such a help during the rescue itself, it was natural that you be in on the debriefing."

"I see," Lou replied. They entered the study and passed through it to the lounge. Jeff strode over to the cabinets behind his desk and unlocked one, then reached out for the camera case. She handed it over, and he slipped it inside. He put his laptop on the recess in the desk, plugging it into its various ports, then sent the desk upwards toward its space in the ceiling.

"Security measure?" she asked as her gaze followed the rising desktop. She stopped to look back at him, raising an eyebrow as she spoke.

"Yes," he replied. "Plus it clears a little space as well."

She glanced up at the desk once more, but made no comment. Jeff had the distinct impression that she was slightly amused.

"Uh, can I walk you back to the Round House?" he offered.

A slow smile spread over her face. "I was hoping you'd ask. And if you didn't, I would have asked you to."

He returned the smile, and led the way to the glass door which opened onto the balcony. She followed, and as she passed through, she asked wryly, "I wonder what your mother will say when she finds out I'm going to be an agent?"

Jeff closed his eyes and put his fingers to his forehead as if in pain, shaking his head slowly. "Let's not think about that now. I'm sure I'll be hearing all about it from her in the morning."

Lou chuckled and took his arm as they descended the gracefully curved staircase to the pool level.

xxxx

Scott didn't even turn on the overhead light as he sat down heavily on his bed. He was bushed. The rescue had taken a lot more out of him than usual, and there had been the added problem of his body reacting in ways that had made him very uncomfortable and, he had to admit, rather disgusted with himself. His disgust wasn't because of the reaction itself, but because of who had engendered it in him.

~That redhead was definitely not my type! She reminded me of the geeky girls who used to try to attract me in high school. All buck teeth, braces, acne, and glasses with not a shred of sex appeal among them! But, God help me, this one was showing just enough skin... in all the right places... with that thong panty... ~ He groaned as he put his face in his hands. ~And what she and her boyfriend were doing! God, it's been much too long since I've done that.~

He flopped back, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to blot out the memory of what he had seen. Finally, he dropped his hands and looked up. As he did, his peripheral vision caught the reflection of a reddish light on the white of the ceiling, blinking in a steady pattern. He turned his head to the left, and realized it came from his satellite phone, which sat on his night stand. He groaned again, then rolled over to reach for the device.

Rolling onto his back once again, he hit the backlight on the tiny screen and thumbed through the caller ID on his few messages.

Click.

"Telemarketer."

Click.

"Who the hell is that?" He stopped long enough to listen to the recording. "Oh. Wrong number."

Click.

"Melissa!"

He sat up abruptly, and listened to Melissa's message. When the recording stopped, Scott looked at his clock. "Eleven-thirty? Good time to call her." He turned on the light, put on a fresh polo shirt, and sat down in his easy chair to return Melissa's call.

xxxx

"Hallo out there."

Lady Penelope glanced over at the figure who was stepping through the sliding doors to the patio. "Hello, Mr. Southern. Care to join me?"

"If I'm not being a bother," Southern said with a smile. He watched as she put a cigarette into a long, black holder, and quickly whipped out his lighter to ignite the end. "I had thought you'd given up smoking," he commented.

"I had," she replied. "But the stress I have been under lately has made it appealing again." She gave him a small smile. "That, and the aroma of fine pipe tobacco that has lingered here in the courtyard."

"My abject apologies, Penelope," Southern said in a sincere tone. "I had no idea I would be leading you into temptation."

"Hmm," she murmured dispassionately. She took a deep draught on the holder, and blew the smoke out softly. Her eyes were fixed on the sky, on the thousands of stars that shone in the blackness above her. The moon was rising, a large yellow crescent climbing above the ridges that made up the valley where Bongo-Bongo lay, shrinking as it gained height. Penny resolutely kept her eyes away from the moon; something within her equating Lady Luna with the object of her spurned affections, who had walked on that austere surface and returned to tell the tale.

The silence that lay between her and her current companion was heavy, as heavy as the warmth still radiating from the tiles and walls of the patio. Southern prepared his pipe, and lit it, the sudden flare of his lighter momentarily capturing the aristocrat's startled attention. He puffed on his bent briar, the tobacco within the round bowl flaring red at first, then settling down into a dull crimson surrounded by blackened leaves.

"You mean to leave in the morning?" Penelope asked, her eyes turned back to the stars.

"I'm afraid so, Penelope. I've been away from my post for far too long and my superiors are adamant that I return." That was putting a good face on it; the last two calls he had received from his immediate supervisor were couched in language far better suited for the gutter.

There was another shorter space, then Penelope asked, "Have you decided what you will tell your superiors?"

"Yes. I have."

Penelope folded her arms, her cigarette holder standing at horizontal attention between the first two fingers of her right hand. "And what, may I ask, will you say?"

Southern removed the pipe from his mouth and said, "That both you and Parker persisted in your story about the pirates and neither of you had any idea how Mr. Riordan's blood came to be on his Excellency's beach." He paused, then added, "And I shall pass your question along to my colleagues in Unity City."

There was a soft exhalation of relief from her Ladyship, and her shoulders relaxed just a touch. She turned to him, the lights from the interior of the house showing her genuine smile as she replied, "Thank you, Mr. Southern. Thank you so very much."

xxxx

Scott's right foot did a muffled tattoo on the carpeted surface of his bedroom floor as he waited for Melissa to respond to his call. He already had his earplug and boom mike in place, the equipment feeling lighter and more comfortable than what he had used a few hours ago. At last the ringing stopped, and a familiar, Eire-accented voice wafted into his ear.

"Hallo? Scott, is that you?"

"Yeah, Mel, it's me. I just got your message."

"Hold up." Melissa took a moment to kiss Quinn on the head, and break up an argument between Kaylie and P.J. before mouthing, "It's the phone", to her mother, and heading out toward the garage. "I'm sorry, Scott. The children were being... children, and I just had to get out and away from the noise. My mum is watching them, so they're all right." She quickly set up the earphone and mike she had purchased for the phone, and slipped into the wooden structure. "You look tired. What time is it where you are?"

"It's late," Scott hemmed. "But it's not a problem. How are you doing?"

She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. "Oh, Scott, you would just not believe what is happening here. I feel like I'm being treated like a child all over again. My Da is already talking about my finding another husband; for the sake of the children, he says. As if a brand new father is going to help them get over the loss of... of Peter." She shook her head. "My family has already decided that I'm to stay here so the children will be close to their grandparents, this despite the fact that I've already told them I want to go back to Unity City!" She paused. "I've had a few rounds with my Da about that, I can tell you."

"Whoa! Whoa! Slow down, Mel!" Scott said, giving her a wide Tracy smile. "Let me wrap my head around this. You say your father won't let you go back to Unity City? What say does he have in it? And what are you going to do about your property there? What about your belongings?"

"He thinks he has a say because we're under his roof at the moment." Mel's chin went up and she tossed her head, pushing back her red curls with a tanned hand. "He wants me to sign a power of attorney so he can hire a lawyer down there to take care of things for me, and plans on hiring someone to crate up our things to ship here. Needless to say, I haven't signed anything."

"That's rather cold of him," Scott said with a frown. "And presumptuous. What do Peter's folks have to say?"

"According to my Da, Peter's people have no say in the matter. He says I am no longer related to them," Melissa said bluntly. Her voice softened as she added, "I haven't spoken with them since the funeral."

"What the hell...? Your father is loopy, and I mean it, Mel! Of course you're still related to them, in every sense of the word, including legally. I mean, the kids are their grandchildren, too." Scott asked. "Do you think they would understand and help you? Could that be the reason why you dad is being so... anal?"

"I don't know, Scott." Melissa's face took on a weary and sad expression. "I thought they were such grand mates, y'know? But now my Da won't have anything to do with Peter's family." She shrugged and looked away, a helpless gesture. "Maybe there's been some change in one side or the other, some falling out over politics or faith. The troubles still run deep here, Scott, and they can divide the best of friends."

"I remember Peter telling me that," Scott replied with a knowing nod.

She straightened up to look at Scott's picture squarely. "It's the reason why, after our marriage, Peter emigrated to Unity City, taking me with him. He didn't want our children to have to deal with the troubles. He wanted our children to live in a place where it didn't matter what your political party was, or your religion, or the color of your skin, and if anywhere in the world is like that, Unity City is."

She ran her fingers back through her hair. "Maybe Da thought that Jimmy couldn't control his son. I mean, Jimmy decided Peter had abandoned the family twice, first with the RAF, then by moving away. That's why they were estranged." She shrugged. "Peter was the younger son, but he was the better educated one, and the Riordan's family business was supposed to fall to him. Until he left, that is. But now, when Jimmy passes on, Sean will take over the business."

Scott gazed at her for a moment, then ventured softly, "Maybe your dad just doesn't want to 'lose' you the way that the Riordan's 'lost' Peter."

"Maybe. But I agreed, and still agree, with Peter's choice. I don't want our children to grow up like I did, where if you're one shade off the political spectrum from your neighbor, it can earn you scorn and harassment," Melissa said stoutly. "I am a citizen of Unity City. And I'll remain one unless someone gives me a compelling reason not to be."

"I get the picture, Mel. And I approve," Scott said, his voice and face sympathetic. "What can I help you with? Besides being a listening ear, that is."

Melissa sighed, and gave him a wan smile. "Oh, I don't know. Just listening to me rant is helping. I do want to know how to password protect this phone. My Da is not above rummaging through my things, and I do not want him trying to harass my friends, or erasing their phone numbers."

"You father is a piece of work, Mel," Scott said, glowering a bit. "I'll tell you how to password protect it, sure. And if you need anything else, just tell me. I mean that, Mel. Even if you need funds to get back to Unity City... whatever it is, I'm here for you and the kids. For Peter's sake."

Mel's smile grew warmer. "That's so sweet of you, Scott. I'll remember it, I promise." She got a mischievous glint in her eye, and she said, "Now, tell me what I want to know."

Scott gazed at her puzzled for a moment, and she pointed at the phone, her knuckle looking large in the screen. He hit his forehead, and said, "Ohhh. Okay. Here's how to do it. First, you click on the menu button..."

xxxx

Jeff and Lou had reached the outer door to the Round House, the one that led into the common room. Their talk on the way there had been mostly business; working their way through some of the details of her coming on as an agent, and discussing how best to bring Deirdre Macias into the loop.

"She's got to have the freedom to tell Reynaldo, and to do it with full knowledge of what they're getting into," Lou told him. "He's going to be a major factor in her deciding to come in. They've got a good partnership going in their marriage, and she will consult him."

"That's part of the reason why I'm hesitant to bring her in as an IR agent," Jeff countered. "I'd rather have her under the Tracy Industries aegis but working on projects that would benefit IR. It would be less dangerous for her and her family."

"She's probably going to need to see the specs of the Thunderbirds at some time, Jeff," Lou reminded him. "And she's sharp enough to figure out what she's looking at. There are enough toys out there that are supposed to approximate your vehicles, or at least Thunderbirds One and Two." She snorted a laugh. "In fact, she complained about the quality of one her mother bought for the kids. Told me flat out that if the real thing looked anything like the toy, it was a miracle that it could fly."

Jeff laughed. "I've seen some of those and bought them for the boys, just to show them how the public sees their craft. Scott was highly offended, but Virgil thought his was funny, and displayed it on his piano for a while. Gordon and Alan were miffed that they didn't have toys approximating Thunderbirds Three and Four, but John was rather relieved that they didn't have Three... or Five," He glanced at her with a thoughtful frown. "I'm surprised that one of the people from whom your late colleague collected information didn't submit sketches or the like to a toy company."

"The toy companies probably would have avoided it like the plague. After all, they wouldn't want to tread on the toes of International Rescue when it came to licensing their image. For all they know, IR could have a crack legal team out there looking for such 'trademark and copyright violations', especially in the wake of those imposters," Lou said with a grin. "Besides, if someone thought they actually had real plans to the Thunderbirds, think of what kind of security mess that'd be." She shook her head. "It's better that they try to approximate the craft and call them different names. Keeps the kids happy and avoids a legal wrangle."

Now they were at the end of their walk and it was time to say their reluctant goodnights.

"See you for our run in the morning?" Jeff asked, his voice getting a little deeper.

"Sure," Lou confirmed, her own voice growing softer around the edges. "Meet you on the beach as usual?"

"As usual," Jeff echoed, nodding.

She reached up and lightly brushed his temple with her fingers, then cupped her hand to his cheekbone as he leaned in to kiss her gently on the lips. His hand rested on the side of her neck as they kissed again, then drew apart.

"Goodnight, Jeff," Lou said. She walked to the door, then turned back to give him a little wave.

"Goodnight, Lou," Jeff replied. He stepped down a few stairs, and glanced back to watch her go inside. Then he jogged down the rest of the rungs, and sauntered back to the main villa, his hands in his pockets and whistling.

xxxx

Early morning in Maine, and Rachel Clarendon was cramming for a test. She had studied some the evening before, but the excitement and relief of her mother's discharge from the hospital had claimed a good deal of her attention. As a result, she felt the need to go over the terms one more time before leaving the house with her father. She flipped through her marine biology textbook, looking for the particular chapter, then realized she'd overshot her mark. Muttering an expletive under her breath, she began to turn back the pages, when she noticed a picture that brought her exercise to a screeching halt.

"What the hell?" she murmured as she flipped one page over, bringing her to the picture that had grabbed her attention.

It was a color photograph of two divers, both male, suspended in the slightly shady waters just below the canopy of a kelp forest. One of them was looking at the plants, gazing away from the camera, but the other faced the lens boldly, the eyes filled with sparkling mischief even behind the face mask. There was no mistaking the build or the bit of coppery hair that was flowing upwards, caught and frozen forever in the picture. The caption read, "Undersea farmers have found kelp to yield a bountiful harvest, especially when one considers the quick growth of the plants and the variety of products that use kelp or kelp ash."

She shook her head in disbelief. "It's him!" she muttered, followed immediately by, "But it can't be him!" Keeping a finger at the page, she turned to the photographic credits at the back of the book, and made a mental note of the cameraman's name.

"Ready to go, Rachel?" her father asked as he poured a cup of coffee into his travel mug.

"Yeah, I'm ready," she replied, closing the book and sliding it into her backpack. "Let me check on Mom before we go."

She darted into the living room, where Shelly had taken up residence on her release. The injured woman was sleeping on the sofa bed to spare her newly reconstructed knee the long climb upstairs. The bed was now put away for the day, and Shelly sat in a recliner, her leg propped up, a small folding table at her right covered with reading material, foodstuffs, the phone, and the televid remote. Her crutches were leaning against the opposite side of the chair for easy access.

"Will you be okay, Mom?" the daughter asked.

"Yes, yes," Shelly said, a bit irritably. "I'll be fine. Donna is coming over in half an hour and she'll help me get ready for my physical therapy appointment. I have the phone handy if I need your Dad. Go on to school."

"If you're sure..."

"I'm sure."

"Okay." Rachel leaned over to kiss her mother on the cheek. "See you later, Mom. I'll call in around lunch time."

"All right, honey. Have a good day," Shelly said with a sigh.

Chuck walked up behind Rachel, and as the young woman left the scene, he leaned in to kiss his wife on the lips. "Stay safe, love. I'll be calling in from time to time."

"I know. I'll talk to you then," Shelly replied. She waved as the remainder of her family walked out the door and on to their usual, scheduled lives.

In the car, Rachel pulled out her textbook and found the picture again. The man looked a bit younger than when she had met him, like he was in his late teens. ~I'll go online and see if I can contact the photographer. I'd like to know more about this Gordon Cooper guy and why he was farming kelp.~

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