July 7th, 2070, marked a brand new celebration on Tracy Island.

"Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday dear Adam. Happy Birthday to you!"

A chorus of hip-hip-hooray! followed, as well as the biggest smile Scott had ever seen. Newly one-year-old Adam was grinning from ear to ear, clumsily clapping his hands together and looking up at his father.

"Dada, Dada!"

Alan brought Adam in close to the cake, held between Adam's datuk and great-grandmother, and had an identical smile on his face.

"Okay, Adam," he said. "Time to blow out the candles." He grinned at Tin-Tin. "Mama, are you ready to count, too?"

"Mama!"

The little family counted down and together extinguished the single candle on top of an enormous dinosaur themed cake – a Kyrano masterpiece. After the cheers of joy from the assembled family, Scott folded his arms and nudged Virgil with his elbow.

"A year on and I still can't believe Alan's a dad," he said.

Virgil nodded and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops.

"Neither can I."

Their eyes followed the cake as it was whisked over to a folding table. As Kyrano began to carve it up, they moved forward.

Their progress was stopped, however, when a holocamera was shoved in their faces.

"Smile!"

"Gordon!" Scott groused, pushing the camera away.

The redhead grinned and shrugged.

"I have been tasked with recording this most special of days," he said, his tone grand, "and that is just what I shall do. So smile, or else you'll forever be recorded as grumpy Uncle Scott."

Scott rolled his eyes, trying to keep the smile off his face.

"I'm going to spend some time with someone intelligent," he said. "Where's Lyra?"

He made a beeline for his eight month old niece, leaving a spluttering Gordon behind. Virgil had already escaped to a cake-filled paradise.

"Hey, little lady," he said, reaching out for Lyra.

Jeff reluctantly acquiesced and handed over his granddaughter. As soon as she was in Scott's arms, Lyra beamed and started burbling at him.

"I know, I know," Scott said, nodding. He cast a glance at his father. "I wish I knew what she was saying."

"You will soon enough," Jeff said. "John was the same. From about nine months we could understand him pretty well. Did you know that she tried to stand up yesterday?"

"She did not!" Scott said. "That's crazy."

"Again, John was the same. You too, now that I think about it," Jeff said, tapping his chin.

"You're going to be a little genius, Lyra," Scott said, holding the girl up in the air. "Isn't that right?"

She dissolved into a fit of giggles, one fist pressed against her mouth. I bet you can't wait for those front teeth to come through, hmm? Scott thought. He lowered Lyra again and cradled her with one arm. Her ever-strengthening back muscles allowed her to sit up straight and take in everything around her with her beautiful green-blue eyes. She seemed to be searching for something. Or someone…

"Are you looking for Daddy?" Scott asked.

"Da-da-da-da-da," Lyra said.

"Let's go look at Daddy's picture, shall we?"

Jeff nodded and waved him on. Scott wandered over to his brother's portrait; Gordon, his attention grabbed by the child, followed with the holocam.

While John was on rotation in Five, care of Lyra had fallen to Jeff, who didn't seem to mind at all. However, Scott elbowed his way in as much as possible. There was something about the little blonde girl, all long arms and legs and big eyes, that made him fall in love again every time he saw her.

When he brought her to John's portrait-come-communication device, Lyra's face broke into grin – just in time for Gordon to grab a snap.

"Da-da-da-da!"

"That's right!" Scott said. "Shall we call Dada? I think we'll call Dada, hmm? Gords, would you activate the comm?"

"Sure thing!"

Gordon sprang across the room like an antelope, almost knocking into Virgil in the process. The cake in his hand nearly slipped, but Virg managed to save it.

"Gordon!"

"Sorry!" Gordon said, though there was nothing apologetic about his tone. He activated the desk comm with a flourish. "Thunderbird Five from Base. Come in please, Thunderbird Five. There's someone here who wants to say hello."

Scott watched Lyra's face light up as her father appeared on the screen.

"Thunderbird Five here," John said, a model of efficient professionalism – he was even wearing his hat. "What's the –" Then his tone changed. His eyes softened. He grinned at his daughter. "Hey, my little star-baby!"

"Da-da-da-da-da!"

There was a chorus of greeting – some voices more muffled by cake than others.

"How's the party?" John asked. "Is the birthday boy enjoying himself?"

"The party's going great," Tin-Tin said as she approached, leading Adam by the hand. "Say hello to Uncle John."

"'Lo!" the child chorused.

He reached up to his mother, signalling that he wanted to be held, and Tin-Tin scooped him up just before his little legs gave way.

"Hey, Champ," John said. "Happy Birthday!"

Adam giggled and grinned, then turned his attention to his cousin. The two started to babble, reaching out for each other's arms and hair.

Scott watched as John smiled, even if there was a touch of hardness in his eyes. I wish Five didn't have to be manned, Scott thought, but as Dad says, there's nothing better than human intuition. Yes, Brains was always improving the computer program that controlled International Rescue's space station for the short spells of time that it was left unmanned, but still, the operation required the human touch. And how could we live with ourselves if a call for help was missed because the computer didn't pick up on it? It was a risk that none of the space monitors – Alan, John or Matthew – were willing to take.

Scott's attention was brought back to the conversation when Lyra's heel dug into his stomach. Ouch! Strong kid…

"Thank you very much for the present," Tin-Tin was saying. "His eyes absolutely lit up when he saw it was a dinosaur."

Scott shifted Lyra in his arms. John's present to his nephew had been a four foot tall stuffed diplodocus – the child's eyes had nearly fallen out of his head in awe.

"You're welcome, Tin-Tin," John said. Then he turned his attention to Scott. "How is she, Scott? Everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," Scott replied. "She's still teething but you can feel the little stubs of her bottom front teeth coming through." His tone softened. "Just a few weeks, John, and then you'll be home again."

"I know, I know," he said. Then his attention was diverted to one of the monitors. "I'd better go," he said. "I'm monitoring seismic activity near Muzaffarabad in Pakistan. There hasn't been an earthquake there for several years, but you never know."

"Okay, John," Scott said. He lifted Lyra's hand to wave. "Say bye-bye to Daddy."

"Bye-bye, Lyra," John said. "I'll call you later for your bedtime story." Clearly steeling himself for the pain of separation, John's face became professional again. "I'll keep you posted on the situation in Pakistan."

"F.A.B., John," Scott said.

"Thunderbird Five, out."

The live feed clicked back to the portrait. Tin-Tin placed Adam back on the ground again and stroked Lyra's head as she gave a tiny whimper.

"It's alright, little one," she said. "Your daddy will be home in a few weeks." She looked at Scott. "Adam is the same when Alan is gone. He misses him terribly."

"I guess it's another occupational hazard of the job," Scott said, bouncing Lyra up and down to try to distract her. "Say, how about we get some cake?" he asked.

"That sounds like a plan," Tin-Tin said as she started to walk Adam towards the food-laden table. "Father really has outdone himself this time. How he manages to create such perfect little fondant figures, I'll never know."

"Dibs on the triceratops," Scott said, grinning.

~oOo~

As soon as the live feed clicked off, John threw himself back into his work. It was the only way to handle the situation. There's no point in crying over it, he thought. That's life and that's the way it has to be!

His five years of experience had prepared him well for the pain of separation from his daughter. More often than not, he had taken the lion's share of duty, and had volunteered to man the station for most birthdays and holidays – not necessarily through altruism, but for a desire not to listen to Alan complaining.

That's not really fair, he thought as he tuned his ears back to the band he had been monitoring. Alan's just not the sort of person who does well in solitary situations. He's a sociable spud. I can't really blame him for that.

This was John's first stint of satellite duty since and in truth, he felt a little conflicted about it. I love being back at work, he thought, but I do miss Lyra a lot – more than I would have expected. Images of a certain redheaded Irishman flashed through his mind. John felt his face colour. Lyra wasn't the only person he missed…

Difficult as it was to be separated from friends and family, there was still something reassuring about returning to active duty on Five. It felt as though a door had finally closed on his ordeal at the hands of Grace Thomas. Finally, his life had returned to normal. He chuckled at that. Or at least, as normal as could be expected. He wasn't fully healed – and part of him suspected that after such extreme trauma, he would never truly be the same again – but he had recovered enough to function normally, and best of all, to be trusted to do his job again. I know Father was nervous about my return to Five, he thought, but hopefully now he sees that I'm not going to fall apart at the seams. Sometimes, you just have to bit the bullet and get on with life.

All was quiet for a few hours, and John started to consider a trip to the galley for some food. Just at that moment, the worst happened. The threat of an earthquake in Pakistan became a disastrous reality.

"Wow, that's a doozy," John thought as he watched the seismograph readouts.

Within five minutes, he received the call.

"Calling International Rescue!"

I knew it, John thought as he picked up his mic. That earthquake is bound to have caused a disaster.

"This is International Rescue, receiving you, strength four," he said. "Go ahead."

"Keya ap meyrey meded ker seketai heyne? Help us, please!"

That's Urdu, John thought. Definitely the earthquake in Pakistan.

"What is your situation, please?" he asked.

The harried voice responded again. It was a government official based in the city of Muzaffarabad, whose voice trembled as he relayed information about the disaster.

"Understood, Muzaffarabad," John said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. "We'll be with you as soon as we can. I will relay further information when I have it. Please stand by."

"Shukriya, International Rescue," the man said. "We await your response."

John's movements were fluid and determined as he called up a new comm. channel.

"Base from Thunderbird Five, come in please."

After a beat, his father's face appeared on the viewscreen.

"What's the situation, John?"

"I mentioned earlier that I was monitoring seismic activity in Pakistan, Father," he said. "Well, a quake has struck. Initial readings of about 7.9 on the Richter scale. Two hospitals have collapsed – including a specialist children's cardiac clinic. Many patients are trapped in the rubble. They have crews moving in but they're afraid their equipment just won't be able to get through in time to save the critical patients. We've been asked to assist."

Jeff nodded, his face hard.

"Okay, John. Tell them we're on the way. I'll muster the crew."

"F.A.B., Father," John said. "I suggest bringing the D.O.M.O. and Firefly. It sounds bad."

"Noted, Thunderbird Five. Get in touch with Scott and Virgil once they're airborne. Base out."

John switched channels to return back to the government official who had called for help.

"Muzaffarabad, this is International Rescue. Don't panic. Help is on the way!"