Ripples
'As rescues go I'd not have included that one amongst the most spectacular but Lyndsey wasn't to know that. If I'd known what was going to follow, I think they'd have been dropped out at twenty three thousand feet. Instead, we put down at the nearest town and, as Thunderbirds One and Two headed home, they were already on their way to the nearest telecast station to make their report to the world. The brown stuff hit the fan a week later when a full team of scientists and reporters reached the remains of the lost and last pyramid of Kamandadees.'
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"Oh Scott, come and see," Tin-Tin turned from the telecast and beckoned to Scott as he entered the lounge "they are investigating the pyramid".
"Or what's left of it" added Virgil from the couch.
Scott joined the other members of his family gathered around the television where the telecast was received live from a news helijet as it descended to the site of the ruined pyramid, shattered by the explosion of poisonous gases a week before. On the ground there were a score of vehicles and a dozen tents scattered around the site and people moving slowly over the terrain.
"Yes folks," the face of a red-cheeked TV reporter filled the screen "here we are at the ruins of the Lost Pyramid of Kamandadees as reported by the explorers Lyndsey and Wilson a week ago. Below you can see the large team of scientists already investigating the remains of this last great wonder of the world. It was blown to pieces by a massive explosion as the intrepid explorers and a member of the International Rescue organisation tried to escape their captors deep within its depths."
The reporter continued to prattle on as the camera returned to the scene playing out on the rapidly approaching desert floor. There was a steady stream of figures carrying items from the ruins of the pyramid to a number of the tents erected a short distance from the bounds of the fallen monument. The helijet slowly circled the ruins, giving the viewers an idea of the full extent of the now demolished pyramid. Several of the figures were examining blocks of material and items scattered in the sand while others clambered through the ruins of the destroyed building. The camera followed the men and zoomed in on them as, with a sudden movement, a previously hidden opening became obvious and two men emerged bearing something between them.
"Wait folks, I think they've found something interesting." The voice of the reporter broke in again as the members of the Tracy family sat forward in their seats. "Yes, yes I think they're calling for help. Several men are moving in to help. Could it be treasure? Jewels? What an event viewers! What timing! To be here on site when they find. . . what? Oh, yeah, sure." The view of the scientists had been obscured by the rubble of the remains as the helijet finally sank to the sand and now the screen returned to the reporter who was struggling with his safety harness "Viewers, we are just putting down the jet. As soon as we can we'll go over to the ruins and see first-hand what has been found. Stay with us and share in this monumental event."
"Trust KBZN News to mention treasure." growled Jeff "As if there aren't more important things. Those hoodlums who shot Scott out of the sky had weapons, war planes and poisonous gas. They'd better be careful .."
"Hold it Dad" broke in Gordon from his seat next to Jeff, "look there!"
The camera of the news station was still shooting and, through the window of the helijet, it picked up the scene of two men leaving the ruins. Hanging between them was the unmistakeable shape of a limp, human body. As they cleared the end of the ruins and started out towards the tents two more appeared, with an identical burden, to be followed shortly by a third set. The group in the lounge was silent but the news reporter was not so sensitive to the moment.
"Are those... are those bodies?" The reporter struggled with the door of the jet as he continued his commentary. "Right folks, lets go and see what these people looked like.. ack" A hand appeared at the bottom of the screen "Bill, give me a hand up." 'Bill' reached down and pulled the reporter to his feet and then steadied the camera as he too alighted from the helijet. Minutes later the camera was panning down the inside of one of the tents. Lying in a neat row were a series of still, dust-covered bodies. The row was added to as the Tracy family watched. Scott counted more than enough bodies to account for many of the men who had been his captors the previous week but his brain froze in shock as he realized the still forms had changed from those of fully grown men to those of a number of women and then, to the half and barely grown bodies of many children and babies.
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"Gentlemen, gentlemen." The gavel of the First Minister of the United World Government came down on his desk with a resounding crash but the cacophony of raised voices continued unabated. Slipping his hand beneath his desk he briefly pressed a hidden button then quickly raised both hands to cover his ears. As the ear-piercing tone faded a few seconds later the other members of the World Government slowly dropped their hands and looked mutinously towards the elderly man seated at the top dais. "I will have order and respect in this chamber. If respect is not given to this chair I will suspend this sitting and clear the chamber. Now, please, take your seats."
Muttering to themselves the statesmen resumed their seats. One remained standing in place.
"Minister for Zubratnic" resumed the First Minister "you still have the floor but I warn you, the language you used earlier towards other members of this Government will not be tolerated. Either modify your tone or leave this chamber."
The Minister for Zubratnic, a thick-necked, bulky man who could once have been described as 'well-muscled' but who was now showing the results of too many good dinners and too little exercise, bobbed his head to the First Minister in acknowledgement but his face betrayed no evidence of remorse.
"Thank you First Minister. To resume then, the pyramid protected a race of men previously unknown to the rest of the world. Now, they are dead – every last one of them." He paused and looked around the chamber, deliberately catching the eyes of the other men there. "One man, a member of a supposedly peaceful organisation, destroyed their home while supposedly 'rescuing' two others who, by their own admission, had no need for his help at that time."
A low murmuring of voices began among the listeners as the Minister continued. "This organisation of International Rescue call themselves peaceful and then carry out acts like these. Oh yes.." he turned and gestured to one or two decriers "you call them rescuers and saviours but let me ask you, let me ask you " he shouted, making his voice heard above the rising hubbub around him "how many more lives could be saved if every country had a set of those wonderful machines?" That got the attention of the chamber at last and silence fell. "How many machines are there? Hmm? Let us count them." He ticked off his fingers as he counted. "One. The silver one that always gets to rescues first, usually with one man aboard. Two, the huge green one that carries smaller equipment. That one has been seen with up to three men on it. Three, the little yellow submarine, carried in the big green machine. So small it only carries one. Fourth, the magnificent digging machine, used to rescue those buried in rubble and finally, apart from one or two smaller vehicles, the space rocket."
He looked around at his peers who were watching him silently. "Five main machines, four, maybe five men at any one time. But THEY will not share their technology. Oh no, it is too much for us to have. It is too dangerous for them to share it with us. We may be seduced by its power, corrupted by it and use it for evil. Only THEY are good enough," His audience were with him now, listening closely, one or two nodding their heads. "but think what could be achieved if there were other copies of these machines. How many of your people have died under the rubble, waiting for them to arrive from their SECRET base, who could have been saved if your own country had a set of these machines that could have reached the poor unfortunates much earlier than did the vaunted International Rescue." His lip was turned upwards in a sneer. "So much for a 'peaceful' organisation that seeks only to 'save' lives and yet, will not enable others to help themselves and who, in the course of 'saving' the lives of the two explorers, attack and completely wipe out an entire race of men"
He looked around, as if to gauge the reaction of his listeners. "Well, the people of Zubratnic see International Rescue differently to the rest of the world. To us, such actions are not undertaken by 'saviours'. In the last years of the last century such acts as they have performed were given a name, an ugly name, the name of Genocide." At this point some delegates jumped to their feet, gesticulating and shouting at the man from Zubratnic. Others sat in shock at their desks. "Earlier I used some words to describe how I felt about the lack of action taken by this Council against the members of International Rescue, and against one member in particular. I stand by my words. As Minister for Zubratnic and as an officer of this Council I call on International Rescue to give up the member of their organisation responsible for this outrage. He should be taken before the Global World Court and tried for the crime of genocide. If this council will not support this call, as it has already indicated, then the people of Zubratnic will take this responsibility upon themselves."
A hubbub once more arose from the chamber, questions on every tongue. "International Rescue are no longer welcome in my country. If their aircraft cross our airspace they will be shot down." There was uproar all around him, all the other members were shouting, some supporting, some decrying the Minister's stand. "As for the pilot of Thunderbird One, responsible for the genocide against the peoples in the lost pyramid of Kamandadees – if he falls into the hands of the people of Zubratnic, he will be tried in my country for his crimes and the due punishment carried out."
With this closing statement the minister for Zubratnic gathered his papers from his pedestal and stormed from the Chamber, ignoring the uproar behind him. As he passed through the Council doors he was joined by two other figures that had slipped, unobserved, from their seats at the end of his speech and together the three of them, heads together in conversation, moved away into the depths of the building.
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"So that's it father "Scott finished "Everyone's out and Thunderbirds One and Two are good to go."
"Good Scott. We'll see you back at base, and remember . . . ."
"Sure Dad, we'll keep clear of Zubratnic. Virgil will go north then turn east. I'll head south then east and I'll see you in an hour at most."
"F.A.B." The older man signed off as Scott turned back to the controls of his craft.
"Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two."
The face of his younger brother appeared in the communications screen. "Thunderbird Two here Scott. Ready to go?"
"F.A.B. Virgil. Let's go home." Scott watched as Thunderbird Two ponderously rose into the sky. He was just about to engage his own engines and gave a final glance out of his porthole to check the nearby officials were still far enough away to be safe. It was as well he did as, hurrying towards him, was one of the officials he had been dealing with during the rescue. Suppressing a sigh of resignation he activated the external microphone.
"Please stand clear of the craft. Thunderbird One is about to take off"
The man increased his speed, waving his arms. "Stop, please stop. We need help."
"What help do you need?" questioned Scott as the man came to a halt in the shadow of his aircraft.
"Our friend...his head hurt. Fall down. Doctor, ...doctor he say our friend must hospital. We no car. Please. help." The broken English was heavily accented but clear enough. Within seconds Scott had informed Thunderbird Two and Tracy Island of the delay, left his craft and was striding across the dirt of the old mine towards the old buildings which had been forced into service as an emergency station during the progress of the rescue. He entered the building at top speed, heading to the old medical room where the rescued men were taken while he was packing up mobile control. He barely noticed the shadows moving from the side of the door as he entered the building and the brief, flaring pain in the back of his head was all he felt before the floor of the building rose up to suck him down into darkness.
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"With the help of our friends over the border we have this fiend in our possession". The camera panned out to show a black haired figure in a chair, straps around his chest and his lower arms strapped to the rests of the chair. His blue uniform clearly identified his organisation but the majority of his face was obscured by a large black blindfold as the voice of the Minister for Zubratnic continued in the background. "His trial will start in two days and, once his judges have heard the testimony against him, his sentence will be given." The camera angle returned to the Minister who addressed the screen directly. "To International Rescue I say this: Do not attempt any rescue – any attempt will be met by the immediate execution of this criminal. Our neighbours allowed you to reclaim your vehicle – that is all you will be getting. Do not ask for more."
As the lights faded from the telecast cameras Babar Korsak, Minister for Zubratnic, stalked to his captive's side.
"And so" he hissed in Scott's ear "now the world will see that Zubratnic is a power to be reckoned with. We will not sit back and allow anyone to, how do you say, to tweak their nose . .yes, we will not allow anyone to tweak their nose at us."
He straightened and barked an order. The guard standing by the door to the cell opened it to admit three men to the room. The foremost of these, dressed in a white lab coat, carried a large silver case which he deposited on a nearby table. As his two associates began tying additional restraints around Scott's wrists and ankles he extracted a hypospray, fitted a canister to it and turned towards the young man who was now struggling furiously against the bindings restraining him.
"I will not say that this will be painless, because it will not." Babar Korsak continued "Over the years we have found pain to be an entirely helpful sensation during interrogation and these drugs have been intentionally designed to increase the level of pain they inflict in direct amount with how much they are resisted. So, it is no use trying to resist - the only thing you will gain is what you seek to avoid." He turned and stalked to the door, pausing to look over his shoulder with a final comment as he reached it "In two days time it will be announced to the world that you were shot as you tried to escape on the way to your trial. In less than two days I will possess the identities of International Rescue and the location of your secret base. With that information I will destroy your friends – and take their technology for my own. Then, let the World Government defy me if they dare."
With a final nod to the white coated interrogator he left the cell. The last thing he heard as the door closed behind him was the hiss of the hypo-spray as the drugs entered Scott Tracy's bloodstream.
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The young guard shifted uneasily from one foot to another as he cast a nervous glance at his superior officer. The older man was stretched out in his chair, feet resting on the table and head leaning back against the wall. His flabby face was relaxed in sleep and from his open mouth came occasional grunts and whistles. The agonized screams of the prisoner had stopped some hours before and his tormentors had left, taking with them their box of instruments and leaving instructions that neither food nor water were to be administered to the captive. Since then there had been silence.
The city had a strange atmosphere tonight and it made the young man even more jumpy than normal. It was bad enough being here on duty overnight anyway – the time when many of their captives slipped out of this prison in the only way open to them and when, at times, he seemed to feel their souls passing through his body, chilling him to the bone. Tonight, tonight there was something else.
As he walked through the city on his way to the jail he had felt it – an atmosphere so thick he could almost cut it. Several times on his walk down the streets near his home he felt eyes upon him – as if every window held a face. When he looked he saw nothing except the occasional movement of a curtain in a draft but still, he felt it. It was as if the whole city was holding its breath while the barbarian Korsak disgraced their nation by his treatment of the International Rescue operative here, in the main prison.
He stood at his post, watching his officer sleep and listened. Listened for what, he could not say, but for something. And then, in the first hour of the new day he heard it, a low rumbling, the muted footfalls of many feet and the subdued murmurings of voices. Careful not to disturb his superior the young man tiptoed across the floor to a window that looked out to the city. In the streets there was a moving of shadows, many shadows, with the occasional flare from a flash light to show the way. He could not count numbers but there were many, he could tell that. Among them were other, larger shadows, accompanied by a low, ground shaking rumble that he recognised – the weighty movement of heavy, armoured vehicles. All were moving in one direction – towards the palace.
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Barbar Korsak belched loudly as he set his empty glass on the table. It had been a good dinner – even if he had eaten it alone. His pregnant wife had begged off with yet another headache and his lead Generals had matters elsewhere to attend to. No matter – he enjoyed his own company more anyway and he had spent the time imagining the look on the face of that weak imbecile from neighbouring Mirzemnia when he, Babar Korsak, took over the premiership of the World Government.
Pushing back his chair from the table he lit up a thick, brown cigar and left the expansive dining area, heading towards his state rooms. He was halfway up the grand staircase when the sound of a disturbance from the grounds drew his attention.
"What the...? You! Open the doors and see what is happening!" he snapped, gesturing to one of the armed guards standing sentinel on either side of the main doors into the entrance hall.
The guard obediently swung open the large front door to reveal a mass of humanity rapidly approaching the steps to the Palace. In the foremost rank he could see some of his generals, weapons drawn and pointing at the man at the front of the crowd. Babar Korsak nearly dropped his cigar in amazement as he recognised Kasimir Sagan, the 'weak imbecile' he had been thinking of only moments earlier, then a cruel, sadistic smile crept across his features. Relaxing slightly he leaned over the balustrade, dangling his cigar carelessly as he watched his visitor.
"So, Minister Sagan, we meet again. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
The Minister for Mirzemnia came to a halt in the middle of the entrance hall and clicked his fingers. The generals behind instantly shifted their aim and, instead of the Minister for Mirzemnia, targeted Babar Korsak and the guards in the hallway. Kasimir Sagan's face was deadpan as he replied.
"Pleasure? Perhaps not. By order of the United World Government I declare your seat on that Council to be rescinded, operative immediately. Furthermore, your leadership of this region has been declared void and responsibility for the people of Zubratnic has been handed to your generals who will, in due time, ensure elections are carried out to appoint a replacement. Finally, I place you under arrest for the crime of unjust detention of a member of the International Rescue organisation" As two of the generals mounted the stairway Sagan turned to a soldier who had just entered the building. "Call International Rescue. Tell them to come and get their man."
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The underside of Thunderbird One was illuminated by the beams of many lights as it came in to land on the roof of the central prison. Seconds later a blond, young man hurried across the roof to where a small group of military personnel waited. Exchanging few words in greeting they turned to the door and descended into the prison. To Alan Tracy it seemed an age but in reality it was only a couple of minutes later that he stood in a cell door and looked at the still figure slumped in the chair, a young guard by his side holding a glass of water to his mouth. The next second he was on his knees by his brother's side.
"Scott? Scott, can you hear me?" Gently he raised Scott's chin until his head was resting against the back of the chair. "Scott?" He laid a hand on his brother's face then withdrew it – shocked at the heat radiating from the still form.
There was a low moan from the seated figure but no other response. Making a swift decision Alan took one of Scott's hands and tried to lift him from the chair but was resisted by the restraints that still bound him.
"Help me get him out of here" he snapped and immediately the young soldier got out a knife and began cutting the bonds. Alan raised one of his brother's limp arms, draped it around his neck and half-dragged him out of the chair.
"Won't tell...thing." Alan wobbled precariously as his brother tried to rip himself out of his grasp.
"Scott, Scott it's alright, you're safe. We're getting you out of here." Alan glanced sideways in time to see his brother's eyes open and desperately try to focus.
"Alan?"
"Yeah, Scott, it's me. Now, can you walk?"
For a second or two Scott stared at him, unblinking then he grinned lopsidedly. "Yup." Leaning heavily on his youngest brother Scott Tracy staggered unsteadily across the room. After a couple of steps the young guard, propping his weapon against the door upright, swung Scott's other arm over his shoulder and took some of the weight. With a tight group of guards behind them, the three staggered like drunken men through the corridors of the prison and up to the roof. As they crossed the roof towards the magnificent machine, the sky around was lit by numerous fireworks and the tracer lines from automatic weapons being randomly discharged from the streets of the celebrating city.
"Nearly there big brother. Just hold tight while I get the ladder." There was no reply from the figure by his side who leaned heavily against the guard supporting him. Heat and sweat were soaking into Alan's uniform from his nearly unconscious brother. Wasting no more time on words Alan manhandled Scott up the ladder and settled him into one of the extra seats in the small cabin and strapped him in. Seconds later the aircraft was lifting from the flat roof of the prison.
"Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two"
"Thunderbird Two here. Have you got him? How is he?"
"I've got him Virgil. He's ok for now. We're just leaving. I'll be with you in six point five minutes and you can see him yourself."
Rapidly the machine rose from the roof of the prison and headed northwards. In the passenger seat Scott was struggling against unconsciousness.
"Al, . .. .. where . . .?"
Alan turned from the controls, glancing worriedly at his passenger.
"In Thunderbird One Scott. Just sit tight – we're nearly there."
"Where?"
"Mirzemnia. Virgil and Gordon are waiting for us over the border. We'll be there in . ."
He broke off as a loud explosion sounded nearby.
"What the . .? Attack, we're under attack." Scott struggled with his restraint harness. "Take her up, gain height."
"Relax Scott. Sit still." Alan reached over and grabbed his brother's arm. "We're fine – the locals are just celebrating."
"Celebrating?"
"Yeah. The Generals staged a coup – Korsak's gone." Alan grinned "They thought you were more valuable than their leader and contacted the World Government to say they'd hand you over in exchange for Korsak's head." Alan's smile turned to a frown as another explosion caused the scout jet to wobble in its course "Though they're getting a little over exuberant."
"Not fi . . works." Scott renewed his struggles with the harness, his hands having difficulty co-ordinating "Missiles!"
"Missiles? No, they can't be..." All levity gone now Alan turned back to the controls in earnest but as he did so they were ripped out of his hands as the ship lurched suddenly to one side.
"Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two, we are under attack!"
Alan gripped the controls and struggled to regain control as the 'bird rolled from side to side. Virgil's worried face appeared on the communications screen.
"Alan, we're coming to meet you. Gain height and increase to maximum speed."
"F.A.B. Virgil. I'm trying but the controls are sluggish. I think I've taken some damage to the stabilisers."
"Are you in danger? Are you loosing height?" Gordon was on his feet behind Virgil's chair, his face pale with worry.
"No," replied Alan "it's not too bad, she's just handling like a pig. I'm limited for manouverability."
"Hang on Alan. We're on our way."
As the communications screen winked out Alan's attention was caught by a movement out of the corner of his eye. His brother was still weakly picking at the restraint harness and trying to get out of his seat.
"Scott, I'm not about to swap seats at ten thousand feet so sit still and keep that harness on!" Alan snapped and was surprised when his brother slumped back in his seat and complied.
Sparing a moment from the controls Alan took a closer look. Scott's mouth was lolling open and his head rolled to and fro across the back of the seat with the movement of the aircraft. His eyes were only half-open and unfocused. Alan reached across and checked the restraint harness, tightening it slightly before brushing a hand across his brother's cheek. Grimacing in worry he returned his attention to Thunderbird One and started coaxing even more speed out of the injured machine. Now away from the city area it was clear the explosions were indeed the result of missiles aimed at the International Rescue craft. His eyes blazing in fury at the betrayal Alan called back to his older brother.
"Virgil! What the hell's happening? I thought we were clear to come in?"
It was not Virgil who responded
"You were clear Alan. I've been in contact with World Council – Minister Sagan has taken control of Zubratnic as arranged but the border areas were manned by some units still loyal to Korsak." His father's steel grey eyes looked back at him from the monitor. "Stay high and take what evasive action you can. Thunderbird Two will be with you in less than a minute and they'll give you cover until you reach the border. Keep the channel open."
"F.A.B. father."
Sweat was pouring off Alan by the time Thunderbird Two approached as a patch of blackness across the night sky. As it passed Alan saw a trail of red fire streak away from it into the darkness behind Thunderbird One.
"Alan, the border's just ahead. I'll be right back with you before you know it," called Virgil as the two machines crossed in the night.
After a brief acknowledgement Alan brought Thunderbird One back to level flight and set his course for the friendly skies of Mirzemnia. A sudden silence fell and within a couple of minutes the welcome sound of Thunderbird Two's motors became clear.
"Alan, we're right here. You've cleared the border. Are you okay?"
"F.A.B. Virgil." Alan glanced across to his oblivious brother. "I'm fine but I'm not sure about Scott."
"Why? What's wrong."
"He's so hot Virgil – he's burning up."
"Is he conscious?"
"Barely – he's more out than in."
"Right, stand by." Virgil turned his head and spoke over his shoulder to Gordon. then back at his youngest brother "Alan, there's a large tract of open land about two minutes away from your current position – put One down there and we'll transfer Scott over to Two and Gordon can monitor him until we get home."
"Negative Virgil." Alan's tones were clipped and strained. "Thunderbird One has three times your speed. I want to get Scott home so Brains can help him."
"Negative Alan" Virgil frowned down at his brother's likeness "Thunderbird One is damaged and Scott is hurt. I'm not having you flying him all the way home in a damaged 'bird. Put down as ordered"
"No!" before Virgil could reply Alan continued "The 'bird's not too badly damaged – stability isn't ideal but I've got the hang of it now and all engines are fully operational. There are no alarm signals. Scott needs help soon and I can fly One without major problems. I'll see you there."
Virgil's face darkened as the communications channel was cut and Thunderbird One continued into the distance.
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Jeff Tracy's head came up off his arms as the eyes of his youngest son's portrait flashed in time to a series of low bleeps. He flicked a switch.
"International Rescue Base – go ahead Alan."
"Thunderbird One approaching base. Request permission to land."
"F.A.B. Alan but don't even attempt a vertical landing. Take Thunderbird One to the landing strip – Brains is waiting for you. As soon as Scott's on his way to the sick room I want you to take Thunderbird to Mateo Island. I'll have Gordon pick you up from there as soon as Thunderbird Two gets home.
Alan hesitated only a second before replying "F.A.B. father."
Minutes later the silver rescue jet was flashing away to the south west as an anti-grav stretcher carried Scott Tracy to the infirmary.
Scott had felt ill before but this was the sickest he could remember feeling for many years. He had a recollection of pain, a lot of pain, coursing through his body, like fire through his veins. He remembered biting his lip to keep himself from screaming – and then screaming anyway. He was burning up – he could feel it. His life was being melted out of him like wax flowing over the edge of a candle. Somewhere in the darkness he heard a familiar voice call his name but still his life continued to melt away.
When he next became aware of anything, he was cooler but still far too hot. He was stifled by layers of warmth covering him. He pushed away with his hands, trying to remove the covers. Gentle fingers stayed his hand and a sudden coolness covered his brow.
"Sssshhh Scott, sssshhhh. Rest. Lie still," the voice was comforting and roused Scott to full consciousness.
"Tin-Tin?" Scott's voice was hoarse, his mouth dry and his tongue felt woolly and swollen. He opened his eyes slowly to find a delicate shadow bending over him.
"Yes Scott, now rest. Your father is asleep and..."
"No he's not," the gruff voice of Jeff Tracy interrupted and Scott blinked to make out the figure of his father sitting up on the neighbouring bed. "How do you feel son?"
Scott paused, assessing himself before replying. His head ached, his joints felt as if he had been tied into knots for many hours and his muscles felt as if he had just completed the fastest marathon of all time. Worst of all was the heat.
"Hot" He managed the word then tried to swallow. Before he could open his mouth again Tin-Tin lifted his head from the pillow and placed a cup at his lips. Gratefully Scott took a mouthful of water, holding it in his mouth to allow it to soak his tongue and mouth. Swallowing he looked up at his father. "Why's it so hot?"
Jeff and Tin-Tin exchanged a look before Jeff pulled up a chair and sat at his son's bedside.
"You've been ill son. You were interrogated by General Korsak's men" explained Jeff "They used a pain inducing drug to get you to reveal the secrets of the organization."
Scott passed his hand over his face, rubbing his eyes wearily "Yeah, I remember. He was going to kill me once he had the information and tell everyone I was trying to escape."
"One more thing they can charge him with," growled Jeff.
Scott swallowed hard then added "I didn't tell them." Jeff waved his hand in a dismissive gesture but Scott caught it and held it still, holding his father's eyes with his own "Father, I didn't tell them. They kept on asking but I didn't tell them anything. I didn't let you down."
Jeff reached across and smoothed a lock of hair away from Scott's eyes. "I know son, I know. The generals let us have a copy of the interrogation tapes." Jeff blinked his eyes, blocking out the memory. "You just rest now. The Sunprobe launch is set for tomorrow. After that Virgil will fly you to Calgary."
"Calgary! Why?"
"The drug they used had side-effects. It messed up your body's chemistry. That's why you feel so hot. Your muscles and joints probably ache a lot as well."
"Oh great. Just great" muttered Scott, closing his eyes again. "So where does Calgary come into this?"
"Brains says this drug only clears the body's systems slowly, over a number of days. Until that happens your body's metabolism will continue to fluctuate. Mostly you'll just feel very tired and lethargic with a few aches and pains but your temperature control mechanism will be worst affected. Overheating will be a problem. Obviously being on the island won't help that. Calgary is in winter at the moment. Agent 22 is based there and can put you up for a few days until you're back on form."
"Agent 22?" Scott's eyes opened in interest "You mean Martel Dubois?"
"That's him" smiled Jeff "I hear the skiing is quite good this year and you've not had a vacation for a while. Interested?"
"Interested? In a few days skiing with Martel Dubois? Are you kidding?" Scott's eyes closed as he continued speaking "Haven't seen him in years. Not since .. ." Scott was silent for a few seconds and his voice, when it came again, was slurred with sleep "not since . . . set the hanger on fire . . .good days. . . .skiing . .. . holiday . .. ."
Jeff waited until he was certain his son was asleep before he stood up from the side of the bed. "I'll be in my room Tin-Tin." he muttered as he turned towards the infirmary door. "Wake me if anything happens."
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"I still can't believe Scott didn't even ask about Thunderbird One until he was in Calgary." said Gordon as he tightened the last of the bolts. "The way he normally looks after this 'bird you'd think it was a woman not a pile of bolts."
"Yeah, well that was the effect of the drugs Gordon," said Virgil "He was half out of his mind with delirium when Alan brought him back – he didn't even remember the rescue." Virgil wiped his hands on a piece of rag then stepped back on the scaffold to get a look at their work. "Well, that's it. All finished. When Scott gets here tomorrow he won't notice a thing."
"Yeah, right," said Gordon "Except that Thunderbird One is on Mateo Island instead of Tracy Island." Gordon rubbed his hands on his overalls and grinned at his older brother "So you think he won't insist on carrying out flight tests the minute he gets his hands on her again?"
"'Course he will." said Vigil "but at least he won't be disappointed. She's as good as new again thanks to that new part in the stabiliser control. Now, lets get back home – I heard Grandma say she was making a chocolate cake today and Alan was nowhere in sight. Play our cards right and we can get there before he does."
Grinning the two brothers headed up to the landing platform.
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'I had a really great time with Martel Dubois. Five days skiing, drinking and reminiscing about old times. Despite his prosthetic legs he's more active than a lot of people half his age and he's got the face to go with it. He seems to have dealt well with his change in life – I think it would kill me if I had to give up flying.'
Scott paused and looked away from his computer, out over the calm blue seas surrounding his island home, before returning to his journal.
'I felt so well those last couple of days in Calgary it was as if I'd never been ill. It wasn't until I got back to Mateo and stepped out of the jet that the heat hit me again - I needed my head examined flying back to a tropical island in a brown outfit. Seeing Thunderbird One again and getting back in the cockpit of that beauty distracted me until I got back home to find the kids all out on a rescue. I sure am glad I decided to wait till tomorrow to do the complete flight tests – Dad gave me a strange look when I suggested taking Thunderbird One over to Anderbad to help look for Penelope. What was I thinking! "Just let me fly there in Thunderbird One. I can be there in a couple of hours." I said, when the train was already in the tunnel and only a couple of minutes away from Penelope's position! I'm surprised he didn't order me straight down to the infirmary.'
A drop of sweat rolled down Scott's face and he brushed it away with an impatient hand. He got up, walked over to the broad windows and closed the blinds, shutting out the hot rays of the sun. Returning to his desk he poured a glass of water from a jug sitting nearby and downed it in one swallow. Again he returned to his journal.
'The longer the day goes on, the more the heat affects me. I've no intention of mentioning it to father – it's getting better and I don't want to get grounded now Thunderbird One is back in action – but I'm sure glad I've got access to a cold shower whenever I want one.
'Well, the kids will be back from Paris tomorrow, Tin-Tin too. I'm sure she and Alan are having a great time there right now. Just in time to watch the telecast from Sunprobe when the main module meets up with the probe itself. Rather them than me – I think I'd melt long before I got even half-way to the sun. Well, perhaps I'll feel better after another night's sleep.'
Scott quickly read over his entry then saved it. He downed another glass of water, turned off his computer and grabbed a towel from his bed, heading for his third shower of the day.