Thanks, Tikatu, Bow Echo and Whirl Girl! And, Happy Easter, you guys! =)
9
Thunderbird 2.2, near a slowly dying oil rig-
Josh Kelly manhandled the balky controls, swooping low over the spot where Jan's Bird had gone down. He was a large young man, bronze-skinned and normally cheerful. Now, though, his manner was gruff, and his dark eyes concerned. Didn't have to yell at Caleb, though. Their rescue diver was already out of his seat, and hurrying down to the cargo bay.
"Find her!" Josh called over one broad shoulder, eyes on the turbulent, tilting horizon. "But be careful down there, Water-Boy. Need both of you back in one piece!"
Caleb paused long enough to strike a dramatic pose, boasting,
"Have no fear, Caleb's here! Back before you know it with Jan, sunken treasure, and a couple of luscious mermaids, to boot!"
Josh rolled his eyes. Would have thrown something, but his hands were busy, and besides, no one else could find and save Jan. Her cockpit survival pod should have detached from the wreck and come bobbing right up to the surface. It hadn't, meaning that someone would have to go down there, after her.
"Just be careful," Josh told him, worriedly. "Something's not right with the Birds. I can feel it."
Already headed out through the hatch, the dark-haired, freckled young diver called,
"Lest you forget, Joshua… Caleb Gonzalez is indisputably THE man. Back up in a flash with grateful cutie in tow, covered in glory!"
And then he was gone, pounding aft for his red-orange rescue sub, and action, at last. Josh would have liked to ask International Rescue for help, but most of their Birds weren't present, and besides… it felt weird. His team was supposed to be putting IR out of business, not begging the oldies for help. Still, if the real Thun… that is, if Thunderbird 2 showed up, he might say hello, and permit an assist. You know… just to be neighborly.
Down in the brightly-lit cargo bay, Caleb let himself into his red little sub, which could operate at great pressure (better than that soon-to-retire other guy's, he was certain). Had some cutting and towing abilities, too, making her perfect for undersea rescues. "Lulu", he'd christened her, after painting a pretty, fish-tailed girl on the side.
Like the others', Caleb's uniform was vivid, "notice me" yellow, and highly specialized. A little uncomfortable, too, as diving gear was no joke to spend hours in. Still beat life-guarding at Wavy-World, though. Just getting away from that constant, blaring theme music made it all worthwhile.
Now, the diver slid into his sub, fired her up, and strapped in, grinning all over his face. All his life, he had never met a problem he couldn't solve, or a girl he couldn't get, so Caleb anticipated nothing but a heroic cakewalk, here. Just like the sims, yo.
He felt it, when Thunderbird 2.2 cut speed and tilted forward to give him a ramp. The huge, tracked, cargo bay door dropped open, letting in darkness and wind. Caleb cut his lights on, waiting for Josh's signal before releasing the sub's clamps. They detached with a series of sharp, ringing snaps, and then Thunderbird 4.2 started to move, sliding downward… and then back again, when a sudden fierce wind caught her big sister, and forced the Bird's nose up.
"Cody!" he heard Josh bellow, "You're supposed to be keeping the weather in check!"
"Doing my best, Josh," their teammate replied, sounding tense. "This system is massive, and the carrier's only designed to make rain. Fischler's upgrades aren't accomplishing much."
Frankly, Caleb didn't give a care what their mad scientist had come up with. All he wanted was to hit the surf, and go save Janice. Then, the big Bird righted herself and tipped forward again. This time, his sub made it all the way out. Dropped like a rock through screaming wind and lashing spray, till she hit the surface like a spiked volleyball. Caleb was still blinking and shaking his head, when Thunderbird 4.2 slid underwater, jeweled with lights like an angler-fish.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
High up above, on the bridge of a flattish, grey, GDF Cloud-Carrier-
Cody Beech was the first to reach out, though the prospect made him quite nervous. Didn't have much of a choice, though, given how stunningly pear-shaped things had got, all at once. So, it was with distinctly mixed feelings that the young man… a first-in scout, of sorts… switched his comm to IR's public channel, and invoked John Tracy.
An icon flashed up on his view screen (because the man was occupied, probably) and then a calm voice said,
"GDF Cloud-Carrier, if you have an emergency, I'll get someone over from Thunderbird 3. Do you require evacuation, or medical assistance?"
Cody shook his head, getting white-blond hair in his eyes. Then, in case Tracy couldn't see him, either, he said,
"No, Sir. I'm fine."
A brief burst of static interrupted their link, and then Cody heard,
"Sir is my dad, or Lee Taylor. I'm John. What do you need?"
"I, um… I'm Cody Beech, S… John. I'd like to ask for your help finding our commander, Janice." With whom he wasn't supposed to have gotten this close. He'd been warned that H-Typical females could be very enticing, but the reality… bold, athletic, funny and beautiful… made it tough to keep a clear head.
"Understood, Cody. Thunderbird 2 is… make it five minutes out. As soon as she gets here, we'll put a sub in the water. Shoot me whatever you've got on your commander's last known position, velocity and angle of entry."
Strange. For a Tracy, he sounded almost… normal. Not weird and degraded, at all. So, Cody said,
"Yes, S… John. Transferring data… now. There's one other thing, if you don't mind."
"Yeah. Fire away."
"?" Thought Cody, then realized that he'd just been given permission to make his request. So, sitting alone on the beeping, humming bridge of his temporary weather base, Cody said,
"I think that there may be something wrong with our Birds, John. Something written into their coding. Could you look it over? I've been searching, but…" But I'm not John Tracy, and people will die, if I don't get this sorted.
"I'll have a look, Cody. Or, a friend of mine will. In the meantime, keep that storm off our backs, and we'll call it even. Deal?"
"Deal. And… thank you, Sir."
XXXXXXXXXXX
Thunderbird 3, up in the air, over Cutwater Destiny-
"Steady that rig," Scott had told him, and Alan had every intention of obeying his glorious leader's commands. Only, there was another rocket in the sky along with him, with the guts to have '3' painted, big and bold, on its bright orange side. So, yeah… that was a thing. Shifting his comm setting, along with his air speed and altitude, the boy said,
"Hey, Bizarro-me! Want to help out, over here? I could use a hand with this thing, if you're not, like, busy."
Got only a click of the mic in response, but that other rocket cut down through the cloud-lashed sky to join him.
"Don't you talk?" Alan joked, adding, "You take the right side, and I'll take the left, Mister Mime."
After a brief silence, the boy heard a small voice saying,
"I can talk." A girl. Sounded young, too. Pretty, maybe?
"Uh… yeah. So, I'm Alan. Does, um… does your Bird have grappling arms? 'Cause, you could grab hold of the platform with arms, or, y'know… a force shield."
Aware of how eager and stupid he sounded, Alan winced. Well, he could still fly like a champ. Nosing forward and down, Alan brought Thunderbird 3 perilously close to the raging ocean. Probably, the platform looked very high to the folks who were trapped there. Alan felt like he was skimming the wave tops, and about to go swim with the fishes. Saw the space elevator clamping onto that tacked-on viewing tower. And then, sounding like it had taken all that she had just to speak, that voice said,
"I know who you are. Everyone knows Alan Tracy. Um… Piper. Austin." And, all in a rush, "…is my name, I mean."
She sounded shy, and that, in turn, brought out the protective hero in Alan R. Tracy.
"Hey, Piper! I'm Alan. Okay, yeah, I already said that. Be careful, the waves are pretty high. Just, you grab the right side, and we'll combine our fields to keep the platform steady. Sound like a plan?"
"Uh-huh. If they'll work together. Force fields are a big pain in the butt, sometimes."
"I know, right?" Alan groused. "When it's not glitching, it doesn't want to work, period. Need a frickin' PhD to keep up with all the adjustments!"
Piper giggled over the comm, sending that awesome warm flush of, 'She likes me. She thinks I'm funny!' coursing right through him. Alan felt about forty feet tall.
Together, they dropped down to the level of that swaying concrete drill platform, where still more people… the original 'victims'… were huddled inside the old crew quarters. Up close, like this, Alan could see the mangled remains of a GDF transport shuttle. Didn't look big enough for all those people, plus the ones up top, but he couldn't see any others. Just twisted steel and crushed equipment. Since the rig had been decommissioned for years, there weren't any life rafts or flotation devices aboard. Awesome.
Someone inside the crew quarters was frantically waving a light, so Alan blinked his in response. Said Piper, a little hesitantly,
"Alan…?"
"Yeah?"
"Think we could… I dunno… pick those guys up, once we're locked onto the platform? They gotta be pretty scared, y'know? I'd sure want someone to come and get me."
Suddenly bold, Alan shifted his comm to visual. Wanted to see her, is all. Turned out, she had cool purple hair, blue eyes and shy, darting glances. Better… more… than just pretty, she was all Piper, with a cute, intelligent face. Anyone could only be pretty, but nobody else was Piper.
"We'll get 'em," he promised her. "Cause, we're, like, a team, right?"
She smiled, which made her nose scrunch up.
"Uh-huh. Team Rocket."
No way…! All this, and Pokémon, too? Fifty feet tall, with super-powers and stuff. If Piper had said, "go to the Moon and get me a sandwich!" Al would have asked her, "PB&J, or Nutella?" Instead, he got 3 oriented properly, then extended the grappling arms and took hold of the concrete deck's down-tilted edge. It rocked and swayed alarmingly, groaning out loud and shaking his Bird.
On the other side (and his view screen) Piper's Bird was taking hold of the up-slanting edge. When she'd got a firm grip, Alan said,
"Okay, cutting my shields on. You ready?"
"Ready-Freddie," she responded, smiling and looking away, again.
"Cool. Hit it, Piper!"
Two bubbles of closely channeled energy flared outward; one a soft, soap-bubble blue, the other more greenish. They crackled and sparked where they came together, then flowed and combined, reinforcing that big, concrete deck.
"Should we try to straighten it?" Piper asked him, as people began rushing out of the crew building.
Alan shook his golden-blond head.
"I don't think so," he told her. "We might just over-stress the support legs, or something. One of them 's already damaged, and I think the rig's finished. Let's concentrate on keeping it up for as long as we can, and getting those people off of there."
"Okay," she said, like there was no question he knew what he was talking about. A hundred feet tall, and immortal. Also… yeah. Kind of in love.
XXXXXXXXX
The observation deck, about one hundred-and-twenty feet overhead-
Scott had jet-packed close to that wet, slanted surface, bellowing orders and taking command. As Thunderbird 3 and its cheap-jack clone took hold, down below, Scott shouted,
"In the center, people, as well as you can! Get away from the sides!"
He had to stay in the air, pretty much, because people wanted to rush him, like he was the one floating board in a global flood. Hard to see through the wind and spray and the harsh, searing light of that lowering claw, but Scott searched the crowd for Penny and Parker. Saw the driver's impassive, prize-fighter's face almost directly. Then, not far off, Penelope's.
Only, she didn't call out when he shouted her name. Merely nodded; every inch the sodden-but-prideful aristocrat. (Scott would have jetted down and scooped her right off of there, only she wasn't looking his way. What the h*ll?)
People screamed and quailed as the claw swung ponderously over their heads, prongs spread wide. His brother was wet-slick and glowing with cybernetics as he arced through the air alongside the elevator, still guiding its path. Cell phones were out, and pictures being taken. Videos, too, most likely. But, hey… if it made them look good, and got WorldGov off their backs, Scott was all for a little free good publicity. (Maybe she had something in her eye?)
"What's that thing hanging from?!" somebody yelled, as the claw hummed downward those last fifteen feet, and then clamped hungrily onto the tower with a noise like a junkyard electromagnet. John didn't answer (his brother liked people in theory, hated them in crowds). Helping him out, Scott amplified his helmet comm and said,
"Folks, we need you to remain calm, and not move around too much. The elevator's attached to Thunderbird 5, in orbit. We'll get you to safety, as soon as Thunderbird 2 makes it in. This platform is now sec…"
That, of course, was when the other shoe dropped, from quite high, indeed.
