Unforgotten
AN - Sorry about the cliffhanger! Thank you for the reviews. In response to Harlow: I don't really have an update schedule as it depends on when I manage to write chapters, but I aim for once every other day. Then I get over-excited and upload a lot at once! But if I was writing more slowly it also may be longer. I try to write about three chapters ahead (so I've just finished Chapter 23) - so that I should still update fairly regularly even if I have a bit of a writer's block. Not that it's been a problem with this story so far - I don't think any writing before has flowed quite so easily.
Disclaimer - I do not own Thunderbirds
Chapter Twenty – The Search
"Right John, tell me what's going on." Jeff instructed from his desk. Brains had knocked over the chess board in his rush to get close, his face pale and his hands shaking. Jeff had also called for Kyrano, who had entered and stood with Brains. All three were waiting impatiently for John to tell them what he knew.
Everyone was so focussed on the screen no one thought to look at Scott. All colour had drained from his face and the pencil he held in his hand had snapped, such was the force he was gripping it with. John was the only one who had cast his eyes over at his oldest brother, but he had to leave him to it unless he was going to drag everyone's attention to his reaction.
"The plane took off on time as I reported earlier and Tintin messaged me to say that she and Annie had boarded safely. At approximately two hours into its flight time, all signals from the plane stopped transmitting and it disappeared from view."
"Can you pick it up using one of the scanners?"
"That's the thing father - I can't find it anywhere. As soon as I heard the messages from air traffic control trying to reach it I looked for it, thinking initially that it must just be a radio issue. But it has completely disappeared, I can't find any signal coming from it at all. It's like it never existed."
Virgil looked pale as he asked the question he knew that Brains would be dreading. "Has it crashed?"
"Negative, Virgil. I can't see any indication of a crash site and as it was travelling over land at the time it should have been apparent. As I said, it's like it has simply disappeared."
"Scott, Virgil, get into the air. I want you heading to the location that John gives you, the last known location of the plane. We need to find it. Virgil, take Alan and Gordon with you, the more eyes on this the better."
"F.A.B. Father," Virgil, Alan and Gordon stated. Scott moved impassively to the portrait and pulled on the lights. His family were too preoccupied to realise that he was acting out of character though as he left in silence.
"M-Mr Tracy, can I g-go with Virgil?"
"No Brains," Jeff spoke gently. "I know you want to find the plane and Tintin, but leave this to the boys. I need you here, we'll pull out some maps and using the flight speed and trajectory work out likely search zones that this plane could be in."
"Y-yes, Mr Tracy," Brains looked crushed, Kyrano reached over and put his hand on the engineer's shoulder, a rare tactile moment for the quiet man. The two stood together, both of their thoughts centred on Tintin.
With a roar Thunderbird 1 took to the skies. Scott's thoughts and feelings had been pushed to one side to enable him to act professionally. He abstractly knew that the level of compartmentalisation he was experiencing probably wasn't healthy, but he couldn't afford to dwell too much right now. He had a job to do, he had to find the plane that Angel and Tintin were on and make sure that they were safe. He gunned Thunderbird 1's thrusters as much as he could, aware that he was pushing his machine to the absolute limit. He didn't exactly expect Brains to complain this time.
John came over the radio to give him the location he was aiming for, then left the airways open. Scott reached the danger zone in next to no time, swinging past the last known point of the plane and picking up its course. As he flew along the plane's trajectory, past the point where it had disappeared, he scanned the ground below with instruments and by eye.
The good news is that there was no sign of a crash. Below Scott was a vast stretch of prairie, a crash would be easy to see from many miles away due to the smoke and debris that would be thrown up. The bad news is that there was no sign of a plane.
A thrum of engines told him that Thunderbird 2 had also arrived. Virgil must have been putting his foot down as well to have reached the area so quickly.
"Anything?" Virgil's voice crackled over the intercom. Even from here Scott could hear the worry that he knew would be evident in his own voice as well.
"Nothing," Scott replied. "No crash site, no plane. It's like John said, it has simply disappeared."
"OK boys," their father interrupted from base. "Brains, Kyrano and I have been working out search zones based on what other aircraft were in the area and the specifications of the plane. Scott, you'll be searching zone one alpha, bravo and charlie. Virgil, you get one delta, two alpha and beta. John will send the coordinates through for each of the zones. If we still can't find this thing then we'll expand the search area."
"F.A.B. Father." Scott studied the locations that John sent through, pulling his craft close to the ground and cruising slowly as he did a sweep of the first zone, coming up blank. He moved onto the next zone, also having no luck. The third zone came up negative too. From his communications with Thunderbird 2 he knew that Virgil was also empty handed.
He was beginning to feel a prickle of panic. How could a plane just disappear from the skies? He moved out to the next search zone than John gave him, further away from the original location. His scanners were still picking up nothing. But...wait. There was a glint in the distance. Scott realigned his scanners but they came back negative. Still, he moved closer.
The glint disappeared and he thought he may have imagined it. But as he moved closer still, he could make out the shape of the tail of an aircraft sticking out from the prairie grass.
"Thunderbird 1 to Thunderbird 2 and International Rescue, I've found it! Zone three bravo, heading two two zero one."
"Can you confirm it is the correct plane Scott?" His father's voice crackled over the intercom.
"It's serial number is SPR6789X," Scott read from the tail fin as he moved closer.
"F.A.B. Scott, just confirming with air traffic control."
"If it isn't the right plane than why would it be out here?" Scott asked. "I'm going to go in for a closer look."
"Ok, I don't need to tell you to be careful. Virgil will be with you soon."
Scott engaged the landing gear and carefully put Thunderbird 1 down next to the plane, flattening a large area of grass. From the ground, he could see the tyre tracks and blown grass that indicated the plane had landed and taxied to its current position.
The plane was silent, no indication that anyone on board was looking for help. Scott felt dread settle over him. He picked up a jet pack out of Thunderbird 1 and approached the plane slowly. It wasn't large, but was still quite a long way from the ground. Scott decided to first check out the cockpit to find out what had happened to the pilots.
He engaged the jet packs and flew upwards, hovering by the cockpit window. It was dark and he struggled to make out the exterior. He stuck a suction cup to the window and began to slowly cut around it. Whilst working Scott heard Thunderbird 2 approach and land next to his own craft.
"Thunderbird 2 to Thunderbird 1, what's happening Scott?"
"I don't know," Scott replied, still intent on cutting a hole into the plane. "It's quiet. Too quiet. Can you find out from John how many passengers are meant to be on this thing?"
"F.A.B. Scott." Virgil went quiet, although Scott could see Alan and Gordon approaching with jet packs too. "He says it was nearly full, one eleven passengers, four cabin crew and two pilots."
"I don't like it," Scott muttered, half to himself and half to Virgil. "That many people on this plane should make quite a bit of noise."
He'd finally managed to make a hole big enough to climb in to the cabin through. He pushed the glass inwards, it falling heavily against the instrumentation but not shattering. Climbing through was still a tight fit but he managed it.
As soon as Scott was in the cockpit he swore loudly. He now knew what had happened to the pilot and co-pilot, and it wasn't pretty.
"Thunderbird 2, the pilots have been shot!"
Scott heard Virgil swear down the comms as Gordon appeared in the window. Gordon's grim expression told Scott that he'd heard the communication. "I've told Alan to wait outside," he informed Scott, who nodded in thanks.
"Any chance for them, Scott?"
Scott knelt down next to the forms of the pilots, searching for a pulse. "Negative, Virgil." He sighed deeply, resting one hand on his knee. The pilots were huddled at the back of the cockpit, presumably out of the way of the controls of the plane. Scott gently closed their eyes.
"We need to check the rest of the plane," Gordon said, none of the usual levity in his voice.
Scott simply nodded and stood slowly, looking at the closed door to the rest of the plane as though dreading what he may find. Shaking himself out of it and reminding himself he had a job to do, he started to open the door. Gordon reached around him and slammed it shut suddenly.
"Gas!" Gordon exclaimed, pointing to the white mist that had seeped through from the open door. Scott swore again.
"Thunderbird 2, we're going to need masks," he informed Virgil down the intercom whilst mentally berating himself for not bringing one with him.
"F.A.B. Scott, I'll send Alan up with them," came the speedy reply. The youngest brother soon materialised in the window, holding two gas masks for Gordon and Scott. The blond looked distinctly uncomfortable, glancing at the bodies at the back of the compartment.
"I'm gonna go back and wait with Virgil," Alan informed them. "We'll be around the side if you can get any of the doors open."
"OK Alan, good work bringing us these. Keep comms open."
The youngest looked at Scott. "Yes dad," he replied sarcastically. If Scott hadn't been wound up so tight he probably would have found it amusing, but all he could spare right now was a glare. As though sensing he'd been on the verge of pushing Scott a bit too far in the present circumstance, Alan backed out of the plane without another word.
Scott and Gordon suited up, their protective masks encasing their whole heads. Getting the nod from Gordon, Scott opened the door again. This time he was prepared for the gas that came swirling through past their feet.
The first compartment after the cockpit held the cabin crew. Scott could see two of them lying still near the kitchenette area, where they had apparently been making drinks for passengers judging by the spilt drinks that still steamed from the floor. In alarm he rushed forwards to check them, breathing a sigh of relief when he found pulses.
"Cabin crew are alive," he informed the others. He could see Gordon give a sigh of relief next to him and between them they manhandled the crew into more comfortable positions, seated in the aisle with their backs against the wall.
They moved into the main body of the plane. It wasn't a large plane, arranged with two comfortable looking seats either side of the aisle. Scott and Gordon checked passengers in the first row, again relieved to find pulses. "Passengers alive too," Scott confirmed with his brother's outside. "Just unconscious. Must be the gas."
"I'm on it," Gordon stated, moving to one of the bulkhead doors. He opened it manually, inflating the large emergency slide. As soon as the door was open the gas began to dissipate, sinking out of the plane. Gordon repeated the action on the other side and soon the gas in the plane was at much lower levels.
The effect of fresh air kicked in almost immediately. The passengers nearest the doors began to stir, rousing themselves from their sleep.
"Virgil, Alan, the passengers are waking up and I'm going to start sending them down the slides," Scott informed them. "Can you count? We're after a capacity of one hundred and eleven, plus four cabin crew." Scott could see at least one of the remaining crew members slumped in the aisle of the plane.
Slowly, the brothers on the plane started coaxing the passengers towards the brothers waiting on the ground. It was a difficult task, most people were disorientated, some not even aware the plane had landed. Gordon and Scott took a side of the aisle each, directing the groggy casualties out of their respective doors. One particularly upset man insisted that Scott was trying to send him to his doom, screaming and fighting against him for some time before Scott could persuade him to evacuate the plane.
Once that difficult passenger had gone, Scott could see that only he and Gordon were left on the plane. Judging that the gas had dissipated enough now, Scott pulled off his mask and wiped his brow. "All out?"
"Yep, we're the only ones left on board. Well, us and the pilots." Gordon nodded his head towards the cockpit.
Scott sighed. "We'll let local authorities come and deal with that, it's a crime scene I guess. How were Tintin and Annie?"
Gordon looked confused. "I haven't seen them, didn't they leave your side?"
A swell of panic rose up inside Scott. "Virgil, how many do you have down there?"
"Hey Scott, we must nearly have them all now. We have one hundred and six passengers and three of the crew. If you hurry the last ones down we can start to get people out of here."
Scott could see the moment Gordon realised the implications, his face losing all colour. The redhead sprinted down the aisle, checking the restrooms at the back and then making his way slowly back up the plane to ensure they hadn't missed anyone. "Virgil, count again!" Scott ordered. "There is no one else on board." Gordon's tight shake of his head confirmed Scott's words.
There was a short silence. "Confirm one hundred and nine total, Scott. Three are crew." Virgil's voice was now full of concern.
"Copy that, Thunderbird 2. I'm sending Gordon back to you, get those people into the pod and get them to safety. I'll call local authorities and report the murder of the pilots. I'll call in the hostages too." Scott waved at Gordon, who was trying to signal that he would stay with Scott.
"Your brother will need you," Scott told him firmly. "There are a hundred and nine people there that all need to be taken to safety, it's going to be cramped in Thunderbird 2."
Gordon looked sulky, but he complied with his older brother's request. As soon as Gordon left, Scott got back on the transmitter.
"Thunderbird 1 to Thunderbird 5."
"Scott," John looked pale. "Are you ok?"
"I need you to get me a line with the local police." Scott was all business as he spoke to his brother. "This plane is a crime scene and they need to get over here. You need to let them know there are at least two passengers that have been kidnapped, maybe more. Given the planning behind this operation, maybe alert the defence force too."
"F.A.B., Scott. I'll pass on the details direct, you get out of there."
"I'm going to do one more sweep to see if there is anything Gordon missed." Scott cut off his brother abruptly. Outside, he could hear Thunderbird 2's thrusters power up as she started to ferry victims to the nearest hospital for a check-up.
True to his word, Scott scoured the plane looking for anything that may provide a clue to who had taken Tintin and Annie, but he came up blank. Finally, he had to accept that there was nothing else to find. He handed the plane over to the local police, who had arrived by this point. He also explained to them that two off-duty International Rescue operatives had been on the plane and were now missing. The police were very sympathetic and promised to conduct full interviews with the remaining passengers as part of their investigation.
Finally, Scott took to the air to fly home. The journey was short and he arrived back not long after Virgil and his other brothers. He debriefed quickly, speaking in a detached voice and trying not to look at the devastated expressions on the faces of his family. Tintin being taken was unthinkable and had rocked them to their very core.
Scott cared about Tintin and was equally shocked that anyone would think to harm the gentle girl. But it wasn't for Tintin that he held himself rigid, maintaining his cool exterior as he debriefed. As soon as his father let him go he walked straight to his room and shut the door firmly behind him. He rested against the door, letting his head fall back against it with a heavy clunk.
Without warning, he spun and sent a punch towards the nearest wall. The sudden pain in his hand finally brought him back to his senses, looking down he could see blood from where he had split the skin. He decided the best thing would be to clean, so he stripped and got into his shower. He watched the blood drain away down the sink while the water fell around him, swirling as though it could wash away the events of the last twenty four hours.
Then, and only then, did Scott Tracy let himself break down into tears.