Jeff Tracy stood on the balcony of his palatial South Seas villa. The sun was warm, but not too hot; the breeze was gentle enough to be cooling, but not annoying; the palm trees were waving as the fragrances of flowering plants wafted towards him; and the Pacific Ocean was living up to its name – peaceful and blue.

He looked down towards the beach, seeing the activity that was going on down there. He smiled. He would have traded every cent of his vast fortune in exchange for the scene before him.

All was right with the world.

It was a quiet day.

That was until he heard a sound, calling him back inside...

-F-A-B-

Scott Tracy was out for a run.

He felt his bare feet dig into the warm, golden sands as he settled into a steady, relaxing jog. He concentrated on keeping his breathing steady – in and out with no pain or discomfort.

He'd had a long, engaging chat with John earlier, when his younger brother had told him all about the latest in the long line of books he had written.

Alan had snuck off with Tin-Tin for a bit of quiet time together – believing, erroneously, that no one knew where they were or what they were up to.

Gordon was on his computer, surfing the Internet, hunting down the props for his latest practical joke; unaware that John had hacked into his main suppliers' systems and put a block on his accounts.

Grandma was in the kitchen, whipping up one of her world-famous apple pies and, Scott hoped, some world-famous-in-their-home-town ice cream.

Kyrano was in his greenhouses, communing with the earth as he cultivated new strains of vegetables that were healthier and more flavoursome than the rest.

Brains was buried in his lab, challenging his robot Braman to beat him at games of chess, whilst giving over a large portion of his expansive genius to analysing the laws of thermodynamics.

Lady Penelope was enjoying some time out on her yacht FAB2 and had promised Parker that when they reached shore, he would be eligible for some leave – having told George to steer well clear of Monte Carlo and other high money resorts.

And Virgil was working on his Grumman Albatross. Yesterday Scott had taken some enjoyable time out to assist him, and he had to admit that the "pile of rust" was finally becoming recognisable as a flying boat.

Scott felt at peace. His family were well, the Thunderbirds up-to-date with their maintenance, the planet's population had chosen to give International Rescue a week of well-deserved rest, and all was right with the world.

It was a quiet day.

"Race ya!" A chestnut-headed blur passed him at speed; bare tanned legs easily out-sprinting his languid jog.

"Oh, yeah?!" Unable to resist the challenge, Scott picked up the pace.

He'd nearly overtaken Virgil when both their watches emitted an identifiable beep. With no hesitation, nor discussion between them, both brothers changed direction, but not speed, as they ran towards the house.

They converged on the lounge at the same time as Alan and Gordon.

"Boys, this is a big one," Jeff told his sons as John looked down on them all from Thunderbird Five. "We'll need a full crew. Scott: get going. John can brief you as you move to the launch pad."

"F-A-B."

"Virgil: Take Gordon and Alan. We'll have decided which pod you need by the time you're ready for launch."

Virgil strode over to the painting of the rocket.

He was glad that Gordon had given up on his plan to speed up the ride to Thunderbird Two. While there were times when the extra seconds would have been good, Virgil appreciated those few moments of quiet to allow him to prepare for whatever the world was going to throw at him. Whether it was consideration about what machinery he was going to need, or a chance to enjoy the anticipation of some adrenaline-fuelled adventure, he looked on the journey as being a component of being a member of International Rescue.

Today he'd received confirmation of which pod was required by the time he reached Thunderbird Two's flight deck. Telling the computers to load up, he got changed into his uniform; settling his sash and reclaiming his seat just as he was joined by Alan and Gordon.

He looked over his shoulder. "So much for a quiet day."

Up in mission control, aka the lounge of the Tracy Villa, Jeff Tracy checked the radar. The skies and seas were free of intruders. "You're cleared to launch."

He heard two voices; first Scott's, then Virgil's. Each of them saying the same thing.

"F-A-B."

And then they were gone. Flying over the Pacific Ocean to help strangers in a far-flung land for no reason other than they had the technology, the skills, and the courage to do so.

Jeff stood on the balcony of the family home and watched as the dot that was Thunderbird Two disappeared into the distance.

Never give up...

At any cost.

Would his sons arrive home safely?

Jeff didn't know, but he hoped so.

Like he didn't know what the future held. But he did know one thing, and now he said it like a mantra...

"Thunderbirds are go!"

The end

Thank you to everyone who took the time to review A Quiet Day - and especially those who took the time to read all 87 chapters of it!

While I will be moving onto other writing projects, I do still have a couple of Thunderbirds' stories up my sleeve. So watch this space!

Thank you and keep the world, and values, of International Rescue alive.

FAB

:-) Purupuss