Tracy Island...
Jeff settled in as Brains entered the lounge. "Hello, Brains. Taking a break while Tin-Tin is away?"
"Y-Yes." Brains took a cup of coffee from Kyrano, nodding his thanks. He took a sip before setting the cup down and taking off his glasses. He used forefinger and thumb to massage the bridge of his nose. Jeff glanced over at him, a concerned frown creasing the spot between his bushy brows. Brains's lids drooped as he rubbed his thick lenses with a handkerchief before resettling his glasses on his nose. Their curvature failed to hide the dark circles beneath. His scrutiny of the engineer was interrupted when Kyrano offered him a cup of coffee. He took it, murmuring his thanks.
Brains retrieved his cup, taking another sip. "Wh-What does this one, uh, look like?"
"Routine, actually. A little boy has tumbled into a storm drain, and the weather's about to get nasty. The folks in his village don't have the equipment to get him out, so they called us. The boys are at the danger zone now."
Brains nodded. "G-Good. No sign of, uh, sabotage or anything like that?"
Jeff shook his head. "Nothing like that, thank God. Just a lost soccer ball and a stuck little boy."
As the rescue wasn't yet underway, Brains took a deep breath and addressed his employer. "Ah, Mr. Tracy? Virgil and Gordon were a-asking questions about the, uh, project today."
Jeff's glance at him was sharp and wary. "What did you tell them?"
Brains fidgeted a little. "J-Just that you would, uh, tell them when you were, uh, ready to d-do so."
"Good." Jeff's face cleared. He even smiled a little. "I'm glad you understand. I want their total focus on rescues." He gestured with his head towards Scott's portrait. "Now, let's see what Scott has to tell us."
As Jeff turned away, Brains's face fell. His shoulders slumped. As he eased himself onto a sofa, he mentally kicked himself for not being more forceful, wondering what he could say to change Jeff Tracy's mind and bring his sons in on this major project now.
The danger zone...
The call had come from a small North Korean village. Four-year-old Jintao had tumbled deep into one of the town's storm drains while chasing his soccer ball. It had stopped just out of reach near the edge, but when the boy grabbed for it, it had fallen into the open drain and he had followed. The pipe was too small for anyone to climb down. The villagers had no equipment to see or speak to the boy, and heavy rains were on the way.
As soon as he arrived, Scott sent their new mobile camera down into the pipe to assess the situation. The new device was a little smaller than a volleyball and studded all over with tiny camera lenses. A ring of light surrounded each lens, providing illumination in the darkest places. The anti-gravity field emanated from thin grooves that divided the sphere into eighths, enabling it to move easily. The images showed the boy had been stopped by a tree root that had broken through the PVC pipe. He was wedged in at an awkward angle with the soccer ball beneath him. The first pictures showed him conscious and crying.
Bringing up a schematic on Mobile Control, Scott showed Virgil and Gordon what he wanted them to do.
"We're going to have to attack this from below Jintao's position. Grab him from there and pull him down into a tunnel." He glanced up at the gathering storm clouds. "I've plotted the best route for the Mole, but it can't get too close. You'll have to dig to get to the drainpipe, and then use the lasers to cut a hole."
"Do you think there'll be working room in the pipe for head and shoulders?" Gordon was already wearing his protective suit, his bright orange hard hat tucked under one arm.
"Doesn't look like it. From what the camera shows, there was enough room for little Jintao to slide in easily, but not much more. It's a miracle he got caught by that root. Otherwise he would have fallen the entire length of the pipe."
"F-A-B." Virgil gave him a thumbs up before clapping Gordon on the shoulder. "We'll make it work. Let's go."
They ran to the pod, slipping inside through the smaller access door. A few moments later, the larger door slowly lowered, and the throaty roar of an engine sounded. The gathered crowd gasped, making other sounds of awe and wonder as the Mole trundled out on its trolley's caterpillar tracks. It made a wide turn to the right before lumbering out of sight down the town's one paved road.
"Where are they going, sir?"
The man who asked the question was Kwan, a local IR agent who had been summoned to act as liaison. The child's parents stood near him, relying on him to translate the nuances of their language for the International Rescue man. The father draped a protective arm around his wife, whose hands clasped tightly together. The tracks of long-dried tears still marked her face. The father, it seemed, spoke little English, though the mother understood more. However, since Scott couldn't understand her through her accent, he was glad for Kwan's intervention.
Scott beckoned the trio to join him behind Mobile Control. Touching a screen, he showed them a simulation of what was about to happen. "You see, since this is a relatively shallow tunnel we are digging, we have to start farther away from the drain."
He waited for Kwan to translate before picking up a stylus and touching the screen. The viewpoint on the simulation zoomed in. He indicated a spot with the tool, explaining their strategy. Both parents nodded, paying close attention as Kwan translated. The father's wan, polite smile deepened as Scott's words brought him hope.
"Ah, it is awesome!" the mother said slowly, her eyes tearing up again. Her husband's smile softened as he caught her gaze and squeezed her gently to his side.
Scott gave them a decisive nod and an encouraging, mega-watt grin. "I've got some pretty amazing men working with me." He turned halfway back to his console. "Now, I have to check in with our base. Please excuse me."
The father nodded, drawing his wife away from Mobile Control. Kwan turned around to eye the crowd, daring them to bother the IR operative. Scott put on his headset.
"Thunderbird Five from Mobile Control. What's the weather doing?"
"It's not looking good." Alan checked the satellite images he was getting from the area. "You should begin to feel some light rain any time now. The heavier stuff should reach you in about twenty minutes."
"Sounds like we need to get this done fast."
"Mobile Control from Base," Jeff's voice called.
"Reading you five by five, Base."
"It might help if you could get that drain covered. Divert the water to keep it as dry as possible."
Scott thought a moment before rising to inspect the drain again. It was uncovered; one of the townspeople had told him (through Kwan) that it had recently been cleaned out as far as they could reach with the equipment they had. They'd been arguing about a plan to rid it of roots further down. The grate hadn't been put back because, when it rained, it often became so covered with debris that it was useless.
He shook his head, frowned at the darkening sky and muttered, "Have to cover that drain before the rain hits." As if to make his words reality, a droplet of water hit his cap and rolled off, feeling cold as it coursed its way through his hair. Another drop hit, causing the crowd around him to look up, holding up their hands. Some made their way to shelter as little Jintao's mother started to cry again.
He glanced from Mobile Control to Thunderbird Two and back again. A plan formed as he considered his options. Locking down Mobile Control, he sprinted back to Thunderbird One and opened the lower hatch to pull out a thin white bundle. Running back to the drain, he set up the lightweight tent emblazoned with IR's logo. Placing it right over the drain, he oriented it so that two corners were perpendicular to the street before ducking inside. Using a knife, he cut out the center of the floor so he could access the drain and the automatic camera still hovering within, providing the boy with calming light.
Kwan stuck his head in. "The parents want to know what you are doing."
Scott explained his plan. "The tent will help, but I have to find something to divert the water that'll soon be running down this road."
"Ah, I see. I will tell them."
"Tell them to come inside." Scott finished his cutting job. "They might as well keep dry and stay close. I need to move Mobile Control into shelter. If you could help me with it, I'd appreciate it."
"Certainly." Kwan again turned to say something to those without. He held open the tent door to let the parents in. They came in timidly, looking around as if they shouldn't be there. Scott smiled, waving them in. Kwan got them settled on the floor before he and Scott left to move Mobile Control into the pod.
After they moved the unit into the pod, Scott scanned the interior. Since they knew they'd be working in a rainy situation, they had loaded up some highly-absorbent materials made from the latest generation of polyacrylamides, a material that could absorb hundreds of times its own weight in water. He selected a spool of thick, flexible, tube-like stuff, hefting it over one shoulder. It was lightweight, but he knew it wouldn't stay that way for long. Outside, both rain and wind began to pick up.
Once back at the tent, he started at just past the widest point, measuring out the water absorbing cable. "Hold onto that end!" he called to Kwan.
Between the two of them, there were soon three layers of polyacrylamide tubing on the road, shaped into blunt wedges. They enclosed the tent, each layer about a meter closer than the one before. As an added precaution, Scott lined the outer edges of the tent floor with the stuff. He nodded with satisfaction. "That should do it."
He beckoned to Kwan, handing him an earpieces with a boom mic attached. "I've got to tend to Mobile Control and see how the Mole is doing. This one is for you. I'll need you to be my liaison with the parents. I'll give you updates as I have them." He handed him a second unit. "Give this to one of the parents. The flying camera is equipped for sending and receiving sound. With this, they can talk to Jintao. It may help keep him awake."
"Okay!" Kwan took the device, gave Scott a sharp salute, and hurried off to the tent, jumping over the lines of defense. Already the first bit of hose was slowly expanding as rain from further up the road headed for the drain and was absorbed before it reached the tent.
Scott ran back into the shelter of the pod. He took off his hat, shaking the water from his hair on the way to Mobile Control. "Now to look in on the little guy and check in with the Mole."
Thunderbird Five
"Alan. What can I say about Alan?" Rhea sat back, her fingers steepled. "He's been phasing out his racing lately. When he has been racing, he's also been field testing various engineering designs for Tracy Ventures, things that can be later adapted for other uses. He's been playing a lot of tennis and golf, too. In fact, I think he's in the line-up for one of the charity golf tourneys this year." She shrugged. "I guess, out of all my brothers, he's the one who's closest to fulfilling the rumors about the playboy lifestyle."
"Phasing it out." Alan snorted softly as he paused the interview. "Just wait until Parola Sans comes up. She'll be eating her words." He glanced over to the weather satellite. "Scott's getting drenched now. I'd better give him a call." Flipping a switch, he activated his microphone. "Mobile Control from Thunderbird Five, do you read me?"
"Reading you five by five, Thunderbird Five." Scott boosted the volume on his headset. "Man, it's loud in here! How long is this supposed to last?"
Alan gave the weather images another glance. "It should ease in about fifteen minutes, but don't expect it to stop. This is a sizable front coming through. What's the status on the Mole?"
"I'm about to find out. I'll patch you through on the tri-channel." Scott touched a couple of switches. "Mobile Control to Mole. Come in, Virgil."
"Mole here, reading you three by three, Scott." Virgil frowned and exchanged glances with Gordon. "What's all that racket in the background?"
"Rain on the roof. Never realized how much these pods could echo." Scott shook his head. "What's your status?"
"We're two minutes from our target and slowing."
In the background, Gordon could be heard saying, "Ten meters ... seven meters ... full stop!"
"How close are you?"
"Final distance is two meters, just as I planned." A quiet satisfaction was evident in Virgil's voice. "Now we'll back up a few meters so we have room to work and get out the hand equipment. I'd give it another forty-five minutes at least."
"F-A-B. I set up the tent over the drain and have buttressed the area with polyacrylamide tubing to keep it dry. So far, so good – no sign of dripping in the pipe. The little guy looks scared, though. He may have heard the Mole coming."
"We'll get to him as quickly as we can," Gordon chimed in.
"F-A-B. I'm leaving the channel open. Keep in audio contact so I know what's going on."
"Be careful down there," Alan added. "This rain's going to soak the ground but good."
"F-A-B." Virgil squelched the temptation to say more. "We're on our way. Mole out."
In the Mole, both men settled air tanks on their backs, each making sure their lines were properly connected to their full face masks. They put on color-coded hard hats, strapping high-intensity headlamps into place. Clipping a more powerful flashlight to their tool belts, they headed for the large storage lockers behind the main cabin. Together, they wrestled a bulky piece of equipment to the door that would allow them egress. It looked like a modified snowblower, but with taller, sharper blades and a tank arrangement before the outlet spouts. Gordon climbed down the portable ladder to the ground in the little cavern they'd made while Virgil used a powered block and tackle on a telescoping arm to lower the machine to the ground. A spade, a laser cutter, and a hand-held thermal imager completed their equipment. By the time Virgil reached the ground, Gordon had already started up the mini-excavator and was hard at work.
The mini-excavator ate into the moist earth, cutting up roots, picking up rocks, and sending them through a chemical bath before shooting them out around Gordon on both sides. The materials stuck to the walls and ceiling, contracting to half its bulk before hardening to a near-cement consistency. The result was a lumpy, crusty, concrete tunnel, one that would hold for a time while the operatives worked. Virgil smoothed it down in spots with the spade, careful to follow right behind Gordon. He couldn't help getting hit by some of the spray, which coated his suit with a light, sandy crust. It didn't take much to remove, just a couple of sweeps from his gloved hands, but he was too busy aiming the thermal imager over Gordon's shoulder to worry much about it.
"Not far, not far," he said as they climbed past the wide cone left behind by the Mole's propeller wings. "Just another meter or so, then it's spade work."
"Am I on target here? Do I need to adjust this up or down?"
"Up a little, I think." Virgil checked the readings again. "Yes, up about ten degrees."
Gordon leaned on the handles, lifting the cutting edges upward. The display, mounted between the base of the handles, helped him judge the distance. The hole was smaller now, only the height of the excavator's blades. Soon, they would have to resort to shovels.
"Okay, stop!"
At his brother's call, Gordon cut the motor to the blades. Once all the excavated material had been spewed out, he shut that off, too. He blinked in the sudden semi-darkness left behind by the mini-excavator's bright headlights. "Let's get this back to the Mole and pick up the other shovel."
Gordon pulled the machine back, leaning it up so Virgil could close the blades off with a safety cover. Between the two of them, they hauled it back to sit beside the Mole while picking up another shovel.
"This is the hard part," Gordon remarked, "Looking for that pipe and digging a hole big enough to do what we need to."
"That's why I gave Scott the time I did. I knew this wouldn't be easy."
By this time, they were crouching at the end of the tunnel they'd dug. With a sigh, Gordon shoved his spade into the damp earth, pulling it out before dumping it behind him. Virgil checked the readings on the thermal imager and shoved the dirt further back.
For twenty minutes or so, they dug, taking turns to spare their strength and their backs. The laser cutter sliced through roots as thick as their arms. They pulled out at least one rock the size of a basketball. Finally, Virgil's spade scraped across something hard that wasn't rock or root.
"We found it!" His voice sounded eager as he swiped off the dirt. "Yes, this is it! Quick, Gordon! How much do we clear away?"
Gordon wiped dirt from the imager's screen. "According to the readings, we're about a quarter meter down from where he is."
Reaching up, Virgil cleared a little more with his hand. "Here. This must be the root he's sitting on. Let's get this cleared. We've got to widen the hole. We can't pull him out unless we can get around the root."
"F-A-B." Gordon folded back his thick gauntlet. "Mobile Control from Gordon. Scott, did you get that?"
"Mobile Control here, reading you four by four." Scott could barely see Gordon's face as there was no illumination inside the face mask. "I heard what Virgil said, but need further clarification."
"We've found the pipe. We're digging out some more space so we can cut a hole and pull him out directly."
"Can you do that without cutting him?" Scott frowned. This was an unexpected change to the plan he'd devised. Gordon relayed the question to Virgil.
Virgil huffed as he cleared out dirt on either side of the root. "How thick is this pipe? I'd rather cut an opening right next to him. As long as I can get a hand hold in there and pull–" He paused to wipe a sudden shower of dirt from his face mask. Gordon sighed and once again acted as relay.
"Why not go into the pipe below him as outlined? Or even above him?" Scott manipulated the automatic camera, turning it while changing the camera lenses to a different mode, one that could detect the differences in the composition of any given material. It would take five minutes or so to complete his scan and come up with the results, but it would give Virgil the information he'd requested.
He glanced out the main door. The rain was still coming down in sheets. From where he sat, he noticed that his first line of defense around the tent was filled to capacity. It would still divert the water, but whatever got past it would be taken care of by the next level. His eyes flicked upwards toward the clouds, which were growing darker with approaching night, and he thought briefly about the waiting parents.
Gordon's voice came over the speakers again. "Scott, Virgil doesn't like the fact that we'd have to cut through the root and get the ball out before reaching him if we come at him from below. Digging up above him is going to take longer, and the ground will be more unstable. In fact, I'm going to take his place right now and dig some more. You two can hash this out in person."
With that, Gordon's image cut off just as Scott heard Virgil call. "Mobile Control from Virgil. Do you read?"
Now Scott was annoyed, first by Virgil's proposed change in plans, and then by Gordon's abrupt cut off. However, he swallowed his annoyance. He was the field commander. He didn't have time for it. "I read you four by four, Virgil. Now, what's this about pulling him out directly?"
"Gordon's given you the whys and wherefores. I think it'll be quicker and less stressful on the kid to cut a hole right where he is." Virgil glanced over to where Gordon was crouching, shoving the sharp edge of the spade upward to bring down showers of dirt and rock. "If we remove the root, then the ball, he might think he's going to fall further in. No reason to scare the kid more than already he is. We'd have to bring down more dirt in order to have the standing room to pull him out from above. We're in tight quarters as it is."
Scott checked the scan. "Okay. Go with it. The pipe is fifteen millimeters thick."
"F-A-B, Scott, and thanks. We'll give you an update in fifteen, if not sooner. Virgil out."
Scott sat back, shaking his head. He glanced outside again; the rain looked as if it had let up a little. "The parents are due for an update. I'll bring them a light while I'm at it."
He turned the scan back to simple video. Flipping a switch, he locked down Mobile Control to go in search of a battery-operated lamp.
"Right here." Gordon pointed to the spot where the root, as thick as his upper arm, had gone through. "We can clear out some of this cracked and broken stuff on top. It'll keep us from having to cut so much at the bottom."
"Good idea. Clear it away while I set up the laser. This'll be tricky work."
For a few moments, shards of thick piping dropped, one by one, onto the pile of dirt they'd made. Virgil paid strict attention to the laser, calibrating the length of its beam to exactly thirteen millimeters. He glanced down at a gauge clipped to his shoulder and frowned. "Gords?"
"Yeah?" Gordon stopped wiping the pipe with his gloves. He'd managed to scrabble out enough room for one of them to half-crouch, half-stand sideways.
"Keep digging. I'm going back for a couple of air tanks and a marker." Virgil put the laser down next to the thermal imager.
"Can you bring a medikit back with you? We may need it." Gordon surveyed his handiwork, scowling.
"Yeah, I'll bring that, too." Already Virgil was going over a mental step-by-step of what he was going to do. "Be back soon."
"Right! I'll have this cleared a little more by then." Gordon picked up the spade, not even checking to see if his brother had gone. Sticking it up into the mass of roots and rocks, he began scraping again, this time back towards the tunnel. Every few minutes, he'd shovel the stuff he'd scraped off behind him. He wished he could wipe the sweat from his brow, but both faceplate and helmet prevented it. He glanced down at his own air gauge."Hm. Time for a breather."
When Virgil came slogging up the tunnel a few moments later, the solidified debris crunching underfoot, he found Gordon sitting with knees drawn up, his head resting on his arms. "Gords?"
Gordon lifted his head. "Oh, hey. Just resting for a moment. Got those air tanks?"
"Right here. I'm all set." Virgil hefted the tank. "Need any help getting this changed?"
Gordon groaned as he got to his feet. "Nah, I can do it. There might be enough room to work in now."
"Great!" Virgil handed the tank to his brother, then looked around. "Where's the thermal imager? And the laser gun? I don't see them."
In the midst of changing tanks, Gordon stopped, pulling out his flashlight to look around "I dunno. I don't remember seeing them."
"Dammit, Gords! You buried them!" Virgil knelt by a slightly larger pile of dirt, shoving it aside. "Didn't you watch where you were throwing this stuff?"
The aquanaut groaned. "What was I supposed to do? I didn't know where you'd put them!" He crouched down by Virgil. "Here, let me help!"
"No, just get that tank on and pray they'll still work." Virgil thrust a hand back at his brother before bending once more to the task.
Gordon shook his head, returning to hook up his fresh tank. "The laser should be fine. The thermal imager, too. Brains designed them to take a beating." He completed his task and breathed deeply. "Ahh. That's better. Now I can help find them."
"I've got them." Virgil irritably shook the dirt from the laser cutter before handing it to his brother. "Here, finish cleaning this. I'll take care of the imager."
They worked in silence for a while, using their hands within the clumsy gauntlets to clean their equipment. Finally, Scott's voice broke in. "Virgil and Gordon from Mobile Control. Status report."
Virgil answered, "We've had a little equipment snafu here, but it's fixed now. We're ready to roll."
"F-A-B." Scott frowned, wanting to ask what kind of equipment trouble they were having, but squelched the question, filing it away for the debrief. "The rain is slacking off a bit, but I'm seeing some drips getting in. The buffers I set up may have reached their limits. Let's hurry things along, guys."
"F-A-B." Virgil moved into the narrow space with the thermal imager. "I'm marking my cut lines right now. Get back to you soon. Virgil out." He cut communications with Scott. "Gords, double check the readings on that laser. I don't want to cut this kid."
"F-A-B." There was no sign of sulkiness in his reply, but a resigned tone. "Thanks, bro."
"For what?"
"For not telling Scott what kind of 'snafu' we had."
"Don't thank me yet. You know it'll come out during debrief." Virgil hummed a little as he made the first long line on the pipe, using the imager to view both the boy's body through the pipe and his own hand as it drew the luminous marker down. When it was done, he huffed a little. It wasn't straight, which irked him, but he knew he had no time for finesse. He quickly drew lines across the top and then the bottom, another long line down, one at the midway point, and he was through. He ducked back down, handing the imager to Gordon.
"Time to cut."
Gordon gave him the laser. "It's set for thirteen millimeters."
"Good. I'll do the sides before I score the center as a fold mark. Then I can cut handholds above and below before pulling the pipe out." He took a deep breath to steady himself. "Here we go."
Holding the laser firmly in both hands, he began to follow the glowing lines he'd drawn. He had to stand to one side a little as the space wasn't wide enough for him to hold the laser directly in front of him. Sweat beaded on his brow as he worked, his only focus the line on the pipe, his world narrowed down to there and then and that short, glowing red beam. Beads of plastic congealed on the edges of the thin cuts, hardening to dull gray pearls. He ducked to avoid the root, knowing that removing it could shift the balance of things within the pipe and make all their work for nothing. When he'd finished with the score across the middle, he relaxed and took a couple of deep breaths.
"Virgil and Gordon from Mobile Control. Are you cutting?"
Virgil's heart contracted with panic. "Yes. Is the kid okay?"
"Seems to be, but I think he's heard you. He's stirring." As the rescue progressed, little Jintao had become more and more listless, even with his parents talking to him. There could be a dozen reasons for the listlessness, all of which made Scott antsy, especially since he could do nothing about any of them.
The relief in Virgil's voice was plain. "Whew! Okay. I'm going to cut out my handholds and then pull this section off. Gords, have the medikit ready."
"F-A-B." Gordon was already taking out the bits and pieces they'd need right away: a shiny silver blanket, an oxygen mask with tank, a child-sized neck brace, and a full-sized backboard that folded out, locking into place. The kit held other equipment, but they could do nothing more until they were in the Mole with better light and more room to work. It would be enough right now to transport their rescued child out of the dark.
Virgil took another deep breath to steady himself. He increased the length of the laser to sixteen millimeters, just enough to cut through. He sliced through the top of his improvised door, creating a rectangle wide enough for his hand. Below the boy was trickier but easier at the same time as sections of broken pipe were already pulled away. His handhold took on a different shape. It was harder to see and to work. He had to crouch somewhat, moving to the side and slightly back into the tiny cavern. The sweat hindered him as it ran into his eyes, stinging. At last, the lower handhold was complete. He found himself breathing heavily as the relief he felt almost weakened him. He shut off the laser, handing it without looking to Gordon.
"Let me try first."
Gordon's offer startled him. He crouched all the way down, turning to look at his brother, an amorphous figure barely discernible in the gloom. The headlamp looked dim after the brightness of the laser.
"I can hear your breathing. You're tired. I'm fresh. If I can't shift it, you can try once you've caught your breath."
Virgil hesitated for a moment. He'd come this far, so he wanted to see it through. But his brother was right; he was tired. The tension of cutting had left him with joints that felt rubbery.
"All right. Go to it."
"F-A-B."
They changed places awkwardly, both trying to move at the same time. Finally, Gordon fell back to let Virgil through before climbing up into the small space. He shone his larger flashlight around, taking a good look at his brother's handiwork before making a fist to punch the ragged rectangle at the top. The handhold took two or three punches to clear. The plastic slice didn't fall all the way into the pipe. Gordon teased it out, tossing it towards his feet. There had been a cry with the first punch and another with the second. The third brought a string of high-pitched language, sounding scared. "Damn! Wish I spoke Korean so I could explain what I'm doing."
He leaned over awkwardly to punch the irregular cut at the bottom. Once he removed it, he shifted his position to give himself more room. Without any warning to his brother or the boy, he grabbed the handholds and pulled. The narrow space made him pull sideways and down, both hands reaching over the root. He gave a sharp yank, followed by a steady pressure, hanging on until he felt his fingers slipping. He readjusted his grip. Another sharp yank yielded him an equally sharp crack as some of the upper edges began to separate. There was another yell from the boy before Scott chimed in.
"Virgil and Gordon from Mobile Control. It's beginning to break! Keep it up, guys! Keep it up!"
"F-A-B," Gordon said through gritted teeth. His grip began to falter again, so he straightened once more to renew it. Giving another hard jerk, he heard more cracking, felt more giving way. He put his weight into it. The pipe began to pull towards him, so he got his fingers into the crevice that he'd made. One last powerful wrench with all his strength behind it, and the pipe peeled back like a door half off its hinges.
"Got it! Virgil! Come give me a hand!"
Before his brother could lever himself off the ground, Gordon wriggled in under the door he'd created. There, in the dim light of his fading helmet light and the illumination provided by the automatic camera, was a wide-eyed little boy, who let out a whimper of fear. His back was braced against the left side of the pipe. One leg was folded under between his rear and the ball. His right arm now dangled by his side; the left elbow was jammed into his ribs and held there by the pipe. The left leg seemed to be caught by the ball, too, but Gordon couldn't see just how. Dark hair was plastered down by the little rivulets that darkened the walls. Scott's defenses against the rain were weakening.
Gordon turned his flashlight on his own face, hoping that the boy could see that there was a man, not an alien behind the faceplate. A tug on his pant leg told him that Virgil was standing by, but was unable to move into the space. "I'll pull him out partway. You cut that damned root out so we can work!"
"F-A-B!" Virgil sounded rejuvenated and ready to go. This last phase of the rescue had given him a much needed boost in morale and energy. He ducked back in to find the laser, setting the cutting beam for a much longer blade.
Meanwhile, Gordon removed his gauntlets, hanging them on his equipment belt. He eased his fingers gently down the boy's cold, limp right arm, trying to ascertain if anything was broken. The child's lower lip wobbled as fat tears ran down his cheeks, adding to the tracks already there. He didn't cry out, which Gordon took for an encouraging sign. He slid a comforting hand through the boy's wet hair, then draped the skinny arm around his neck. Nudging the boy's torso forward, he scraped his knuckles on the pipe as he worked his hand behind the youngster. There came a point where he couldn't go any farther – to do so would be to bend the boy double – so he left his hand where it was and waited for his brother.
By this time, Virgil was working on the end of the root nearest the pipe. He cut carefully; any variance and he'd end up slicing Gordon. He knew that once the root was cut, there was a good possibility it would shift under the boy's weight.
"You ready?"
"F-A-B."
The root was already shifting, splitting, one side heading down outside the pipe, the other within. Virgil chanted, "Three ... two ... one ... done!"
As he shouted, the root gave way inside the drain and, with it, the soccer ball dropped. Gordon clutched for the boy, who screamed in pain as the ball released the pressure on his legs.
"Got him! Cut the rest of this pipe away!"
Virgil reset the laser's length so he could follow Gordon's instruction. The child was still screaming, whether from pain or relief, Gordon couldn't tell now. He seemed to be shouting something in Korean.
"Thunderbird Five from Gordon!"
"Thunderbird Five here, reading you three by three."
"Alan, I need a translation, now!" Gordon held his wristcomm close to the boy's head as Virgil pulled the pipe off, tossing it into the wider part of their tiny cavern. With more room to move, Gordon eased his way out. He and Virgil laid the howling child down on the backboard, covering him with the blanket, fastening still limp limbs with firm straps while immobilizing his head and neck with the soft collar.
Alan recorded a bit of the screamed syllables and sent it through Thunderbird Five's translation programs.
"Gordon from Thunderbird Five."
"Go ahead." The screams had turned into hiccuped crying, muted now as the oxygen mask was slipped into place.
"You're not going to believe this, Gords. He's screaming, 'My ball! My ball!'"
Gordon shook his head slowly and snorted. "Figures."
Tracy Island
"The Mole is on its way back to Thunderbird Two, Base." Scott's face was hard to make out in the pod's lighting. Outside, it was full dark now. Jintao's parents stood by Mobile Control, waiting to see their son. "I've retrieved the flying camera. Tell Brains it performed above and beyond specs."
Jeff glanced over to the sofa where Brains lay, curled up and fast asleep. "Tell him yourself during debrief."
"F-A-B." A noise caught Scott's ear. He glanced up to see the headlights on the Mole's trolley in the distance. "Here come Virgil and Gordon. I need to break down the tent and move Mobile Control out of the way. We should be airborne within a half-hour."
"F-A-B, Mobile Control. Good work. Base out."
"Poor Brains."
Jeff glanced up to see Patricia draping one of her crocheted afghans over the engineer. "You're working him far too hard, Jeff. In fact, you're working both of them too hard."
Jeff sighed. "Mother–"
"Don't you 'Mother' me, Jeff Tracy." She had her arms firmly folded while the look she gave him interrupted him as easily as any word could have. "You expect a flight to New York and back to give Tin-Tin a proper change of scenery? Some time to rest and relax? You're quite welcome to work yourself to the bone if you want to, but–"
"Mother." His firm tone now cut her off. "It wasn't my intention for a quick turn around on this trip. I expected Tin-Tin to have a couple of days in New York for shopping or sightseeing. Unfortunately, that decision was taken out of my hands entirely by Rhea and whoever tried to kidnap her. They are all far safer here, and the sooner the better." He finished off his last cup of coffee. "I'll make it up to her later."
There was a silence as mother and son glared at each other. Patricia broke it.
"When will the boys be home?"
"I'd say within two hours. John and Rhea should arrive soon after that."
"Then I'll make sure dinner is ready for the boys. We can warm it up for the others when they get here." She glanced down at Brains, whose glasses sat askew on his face as he slept. "I'd like to take those things off so they don't get damaged."
"Leave them. Removing them might disturb him. I'm sure they've been through worse."
"You're probably right." She sighed, turning to leave. "I'll let you know when dinner's ready."
"Thanks, Ma."
He watched her go. When she was out of sight, he shifted his gaze to his engineer. Leaning back in his chair, he watched Brains sleep and pondered what his mother had said.
Inspired by the rescue of Jessica McClure in 1987. Many thanks to Ruth H. and ThatGirlSix for their encouragement and beta.
