Sorry I didn't upload yesterday, but it was the day of the town's Santa Parade. We started assembling the float at about 8.30am, finished at 4.00pm and drove down to the start position. Having waited for about an hour, we enjoyed the parade, dismantled the float, walked down the road to the prize-giving (we got a certificate of participation), came home and had dinner at about 8.30pm. After our evening meal and having watched a couple of TV programmes, I didn't feel like spending heaps of time at the computer. And then this morning was more deconstruction of the float.
Here's today's 'dramatic' episode.
FAB
:-) Purupuss
Triple Jeopardy – Chapter 31
If Lady Penelope had been the petulant sort, she may well have stamped her foot in frustration. Her return to Mitch Satin's office had coincided with twin disappointments. Saint Michael's owner was still unconscious… And Terrance Whitney was missing.
Several times before, Lady Penelope had met people who were so bright that they'd burnt a fuse. Surely the genius Whitney wasn't stupid or unworldly enough to go exploring through the featureless maze of Saint Michael's without some form of guidance?
Had he found a map?
With some uncharitable thoughts about men who couldn't do what they were told, even when it was for their own good, Lady Penelope consulted her holographic display, checked that Mitch Satin wasn't doing anything inconvenient like dying, replaced her surgical mask back over her face, and began searching again.
She stopped in the corridor outside the office door. Now… Which way would the tiresome Terrance have gone? Assuming that he had found a map; Lady Penelope consulted her own; which way would he have proceeded?
Making her choice, she proceeded cautiously, walking with featherlight tread, but ready to assume a robotic march should she meet anyone human or otherwise in the corridors. Above her, unconcerned about what was happening to the increasingly damp world beneath them, androids continued their never-ending circuit of the complex.
Lady Penelope reached a T-Junction. To her right was the island's airport and probable discovery by Generalar Villallobona's men. Assuming that Whitney had gained access to a map, it was unlikely that he would have proceeded that way. This meant that, also assuming that she and Whitney had been of the same mind when they left Satin's office, (a distressing thought), he had probably turned left.
There were a lot of assumptions and not many facts.
Deciding to rely on her feminine intuition, a.k.a gut instincts, Lady Penelope turned left. Reaching another T-junction, she decided that she may as well continue in this vein and turned left again.
She stopped.
Something wasn't quite right. Someone had been here. Water had been splashed up against the wall.
Treading cautiously, Lady Penelope advanced. The splashes grew higher…
And then stopped.
Something… (or someone?) …of interest was behind this door.
She could just fling it open, but that would expose her to whatever was hidden beyond. Better to take some precautions.
The water on the floor was a good centimetre deep, and she was loathed to bathe the electronics of her powder compact in it, so she retreated a short way until she found a cupboard filled with cleaning implements. Taking a lightweight bucket, she retraced her steps until she was back where she'd started. Positioning the bucket upside-down next to the far wall, she placed her compact onto its base, angling the mirror until it was facing the door.
She was taking a risk. She wouldn't be in full view when the door was opened, but the oddly placed bucket and the even more oddly positioned powder compact were clear giveaways that something was amiss. She would have to trust that surprise would give her that necessary extra moment's advantage over the room's occupant.
Crouched, with her back to the wall; so she was able to see what was revealed by the compact's mirror, but was not in the immediate eye-line of who or whatever was inside; she opened the door…
"Alan!"
Alan Tracy, curled around Angelique's trousered legs in the only bit of space available to him, couldn't have even fallen out of his cupboard and onto the soaking lino if he'd wanted to. All he could see was an upside-down bucket and a mirror reflecting directly into his hiding place.
Then another pair of trousered legs stepped into his field of view. Craning his neck up past Angelique's arm, synthetic skin, and blouse material, Alan saw a masked face.
He frowned. There was something familiar…
The mask was removed.
"Penny!"
"Whatever are you doing, dear boy?" she enquired. "You appear to be quite entangled."
"There's not enough room in here for two," he admitted, putting his weight onto one leg and twisting his body as he tried to withdraw the other leg from where it was wrapped behind the android's calves. "When we realised we weren't alone, we figured that the best option was to hide until we found out if it was one of Villallobona's men or not. I didn't think Angelique would mind."
"Angelique?"
"Nurse T Michaela."
"And who are we?"
"John's in the closet next door," Alan admitted, hopping on his weightbearing leg as the other refused to be disentangled from the nurse's slacks.
"Then I daresay he is even more cramped than you were." Lady Penelope took two steps to the side and pressed the button that released the other door. "Good day, John."
"Lady Penelope?"
Lady Penelope watched as the taller and leaner Tracy disentangled himself from the android. "Are you on a first name basis with your nurse too?"
"Me? No. But Alan's going on a date with his. I don't know what Tin-Tin's going to say."
"That wasn't a date," Alan protested, as he finally freed himself from Nurse T Michaela's clutches. "It was an invitation out for a coffee."
Grinning, John winked at Lady Penelope. "So this explains how you knew we were on Saint Michael's; but why are you here? Parker said you were on Whitney's tail."
"I am, and I had rescued him from Villallobona, but the Tiresome Terrance; being like most men and not having the brains of a scone with the intelligence to realise that if they climb out of the baking tray they may find themselves in the fire; has decided that he can find his way through Saint Michael's without any assistance."
The two Tracy men decided that they had enough brains between them to realise that she was not in the mood to be corrected and that to do so could have dire consequences.
"I am concerned that he has been found by Villallobona's goons," Lady Penelope concluded. "He, and his inventions, have already caused enough trouble. How is Thunderbird Two, by the way? She climbed at an alarming rate after being hit by Whitney's weapon."
"From what we've heard, just made it down safely," John told her. He frowned. "Whitney invented the device that made that pressure wave? As a weapon!?"
"My informants tell me so."
"It scored a hit with Thunderbird Two, and would have got Thunderbird One if you hadn't prewarned Scott."
"Always a pleasure to do my bit for International Rescue. Now, why are you boys on this unpleasant little island?"
"Someone, who we're now assuming was Mitch Satin, the owner of Saint Michael's, called International Rescue because there was a fire on the island, and he had a VIP…"
"That's 'very important patient'," Alan interrupted.
"…who needed rescuing. After Villallobona let loose his pressure wave and the buildings started collapsing, we thought we'd need to rescue our mystery caller. We weren't anticipating that there would be anyone else…"
"Human."
"…on the island that needed our help. Do you have an idea where Mr Satin is?"
"Unfortunately," Lady Penelope started walking, "I know exactly where he is, and there is no one's help that he needs more, than that of International Rescue… An android fell on him," she indicated the parade of robotic creations above them, "and he has been unconscious ever since. He needs prompt medical assistance."
"That's going to be tricky," Alan admitted as the brothers followed their friend. "We've only got Thunderbird One available to us. She's not really equipped for carrying more than two passengers, let alone ambulatory work."
"How did your patient arrive here?"
"President Essmour Heeron?" Alan shrugged. "Plane, I guess."
"Mr Satin was concerned that a customer's aeroplane was being destroyed by the so-called fire."
"So called?!"
"It was a ruse perpetrated by Generalar Villallobona to alarm Mr Satin. I believe that it worked. Should the pressure wave not have caused any damage, then that aircraft may be available to us."
"Except that the hangar that was on fire was next to the airfield where Villallobona's hanging out with his men."
"That could be managed…" Lady Penelope stopped walking and slid open a door. "No sign of the tiresome Terrance," she sighed, as she stepped into Satin's office.
The sight of the room's owner lying immobilised on a hover stretcher, spurred Alan and John into action. In short time they clipped monitors to his fingers, had checked his vital signs, and were doing what they could to assist him.
"Well, he's not dead," Alan grunted. "But he's not in good shape. How long has he been unconscious?" He sent Mitch Satin's vital statistics through to Brains with a request for analysis.
Lady Penelope examined the chronograph on her wrist. "It must be close to an hour."
"That's not good."
"No."
John raised his communication arm. "Better let base know where we're at… Saint Michael's calling International Rescue."
The response was almost instantaneous. "This is International Rescue. Go ahead, John."
"Alan and I are here in the office of the owner of Saint Michael's, Mitch Satin. Mr Satin has been injured – possible brain injury – we are waiting for Brains to give us more information. Lady Penelope is also present."
"Penny? What's she doing there?"
"After Terrance Whitney. Apparently, he's also on this island, so that's three people we're going to have to evacuate."
"How? Thunderbird Two's out of action, and Thunderbird One's not equipped to take that many."
"We know. Penny's wondering if President Heeron's aircraft might be a suitable substitute."
"Is Generalar Villallobona still present?"
"As far as we know."
"Then be careful, John. And make sure you're all wearing your hearing protection all the time. That weapon of Villallobona's…"
"You mean Whitney's weapon."
"Whitney's weapon?"
"According to Penny, he designed it."
"Well, watch it. That first blast deafened Virgil…"
"Deafened him?!" Alarmed by the news, John glanced at his companions.
"Brains has checked him over and he assures me that it's only a short-term condition. And Scott's breathing was affected by having to go to Mach 4 to escape the blast, so I'd ordered him to have a check-up before he flew again. Fortunately, Brains says that he's A-One. But it's clear that Villallobona has no qualms about using this weapon against Thunderbirds. What he would do to any of you if he thought you were acting against him; I dread to think."
John heard a beeping. "Alan's getting a report from Brains about Mitch Satin's condition, Dad."
"Then I'll sign off. But tell him to patch his report through to me as well."
There was silence as International Rescue listened as Brains, without a stutter or stammer, told them that Saint Michael's owner's life signs were not good, that he potentially had bleeding of the brain, and that the sooner he reached proper medical care, the better.
"Would it be possible to connect to one of the medical staff to ask for their assistance?" Lady Penelope mused. "Perhaps your friend, Alan?"
The young man shook his head. "I told Angelique to disengage herself from the network and to warn her associates to do the same. I didn't want to risk feedback from Whitney's weapon harming someone."
"Could we ask one of President Heeron's team to tell us what their aircraft is?" John suggested. "If we're going to have to attempt to liberate it from under Villallobona's nose, we need to know that it's up to the job."
"L-Leave that to me," Brains promised. "I will see what I can ascertain."
"Thanks, Brains."
The radio waves were silent.
"I do not believe that Mr Satin can wait for confirmation that President Heeron's aeroplane is the lifesaver that he needs before we begin its liberation," Lady Penelope stated. "You shall both wait here, and I'll shall try to gain access to the hangar. You can send me a message if I am to proceed or if I should turn back."
"Penny," Alan protested. "Let one of us come with you."
"That would not be wise, Alan. Neither of you," Lady Penelope indicated the two International Rescue men's uniforms, "are dressed inconspicuously. I, however, can walk anywhere in this complex with impunity. It also would not do for International Rescue to be complicit in the theft of an aircraft, nor the abduction of one of Villallobona's team."
"You mean Whitney?" John guessed.
"I mean Mr Whitney."
"Penny, leave him. Aside from the fact that Mitch Satin is our priority, Whitney nearly killed three of our brothers and two of our closest friends. He's deafened Virgil, and I don't think any of us could imagine how devastating it would be to Virg if he could never listen to music again. Whitney also left the five of us trapped on a deserted island, practically exposed International Rescue to the world, and almost plunged an entire region into war because he could have killed the president of a country and her bodyguards."
"All of this is indirectly Mr Whitney's fault."
"Maybe it is… All I'm asking is that you don't place his life over that of Mitch Satin, who's done nothing against anyone except be excessively greedy. Remember that Saint Michael's saved Scott's life."
"I remember."
"And Mitch Satin needs urgent medical treatment. Don't forget that."
"I shall not forget, John." Lady Penelope gave an even nod. "Just as I will not allow my personal feelings towards Terrance Whitney to jeopardise Mitch Satin's health. But I ask you to remember that our calling means that we must also save the life of any person, no matter who they are. If Mr Whitney has been captured by Generalar Villallobona again, having escaped the man once already, I hold grave fears for his future… And the world's, should he be forced to invent weapons even more devastating than his pressure wave generator. Now…" Replacing her mask, Lady Penelope headed for the door. "I must see if I can liberate this aircraft. Please let me know the instant you hear back from Brains."
"We will," Alan told the closing door. Then he turned back to his brother. "Permit me to shake the hand of the bravest man I know."
"Bravest man?" John's arm was limply pumped up and down as his brother slapped him on the shoulder. "Why?"
"I don't know who else would have the guts to stand up to Lady Penelope like that."
"Well, you know…" John assumed a veneer of cocky assuredness. "…sometimes she needs to be kept in line."
He blanched, almost diving for cover behind the hover stretcher when the door slid open and Lady Penelope re-entered the room with more speed than she normally would have considered decorous.
"What's happened?" Alan queried, concerned by her speedy return.
"Villallobona's men are out there, en masse. Even in my disguise, I do not wish to approach them. They are an uncouth lot, and I would not put it past them to show a little bravado in front of their associates and hassle a lone nurse."
Alan lowered his voice so it couldn't be overheard by the intruders. "Don't tell my you're afraid of a group of men."
"No…" Lady Penelope admitted. "But unwanted altercations do tend to be time-consuming. And as John so eloquently said…"
John gulped.
"…time is not on Mr Satin's side."
Alan glanced at the closed door. "Why are they wandering through a collapsing building?"
"I heard one of them make a comment about searching for materials. I suppose that they believe that they can make use of the building's framework for their nefarious plans." Lady Penelope looked around her. "What a shame there are no windows here…"
All further speculation ceased when Alan's watch beeped…
-F-A-B-
His report on Mitch Satin's less than ideal condition complete and forwarded, Brains considered how he was going to undertake his next task.
He was still considering this when he stepped outside onto the sandy soils of the tropical island.
Three pairs of concerned eyes looked at him, as the two Tracy men and Tin-Tin wondered what had held him up inside Thunderbird Two. Had something happened to Virgil?
Brains decided that telling as much of the truth as he dared would offer the path of least resistance. "I-I have been in communication with Saint Michael's," he admitted, and saw Scott's frown of concern as the eldest Tracy glanced at his watch. "The owner of the island is injured and needs urgent medical help."
"Can't Saint Michael's provide that?" President Heeron enquired.
"You are probably not aware," Brains began, "as this is not something that Saint Michael's likes to broadcast, but all of Saint Michael's medical staff are androids remotely controlled by human medical personnel." This time a different trio of eyes widened. "There is no one capable of offering the appropriate level of help on the island."
"Can't the humans help remotely?"
"International Rescue's advice was that they break all communications with the island, until such time as it's safe to reconnect."
"Because?"
"Because…" Brains thought quickly. "The 'outside influence' that disrupted Thunderbird Two's systems has the potential to produce feedback that could injure the, ah, human medical personnel." He saw Scott's minute nod of approval.
But President Heeron was tenacious in her questioning. "But someone must be on Saint Michael's if they want International Rescue to airlift the island's owner to a proper hospital."
"Th-There is, and they are very concerned about Mr Satin's condition. The longer he is without medical attention, the greater the risk of permanent brain damage."
The president of Erikeep's gaze swung between Gordon and Scott. "Then why aren't International Rescue rushing to the rescue?"
"I-I have yet to examine Thunderbird Two for any damage after the Generalar's attack…" Brains saw Gordon's eyes narrow at the revelation. "W-We do not know if she is airworthy."
"And Thunderbird One isn't equipped for ambulatory work." Scott diverted the president's attention away from International Rescue's engineer.
Brains brought it back again with a nod. "M-Mr Satin needs to be kept as immobile as possible during the airlift and, ah, subsequent flight to hospital." He turned to Scott with a speculative expression on his face. "Unless Thunderbird One were to carry one of Thunderbird Two's stretcher cars beneath her?"
They all watched as Scott considered that option, and others. Then he sighed. "It wouldn't work. It would seriously disrupt One's aerodynamics and potentially destabilise the flight. Not to mention the loss of speed and manoeuvrability. She's designed to be first on the scene to ascertain what equipment is needed, not to carry equipment."
"That is why I have another suggestion." Brains turned to the Erikeep team. "A-Am I to assume that you arrived in your own aircraft and that that aircraft is still on Saint Michael's?"
Lorlyn nodded. "Yes. I flew it, with President Heeron and Kiskki on board."
The blue spectacles turned towards the president. "And you were bedridden throughout this flight?"
"Yes. Doctor's orders were that, in order to speed up my recovery after my operation, I was to have complete bed rest for the 48 hours prior to surgery. I had official functions up till the last moment and I daren't leave Erikeep without my leadership for too long; there are too many hostiles on our borders. So, I spent twelve hours in bed at home and stayed in bed throughout the flight. The remaining 24 hours bedrest I spent on Saint Michael's."
"In th-that case… President Heeron: will you permit International Rescue to use your aircraft to airlift Mitch Satin from Saint Michael's?"
Once again, the president's eyes flicked between Gordon and Scott. "How?"
"We have operatives on Saint Michael's caring for Mr Satin. If you will give them your permission, they will fly your aircraft."
"You are in charge of Erikeep One," Essmour reminded Lorlyn. "Are you happy with this?"
"International Rescue saved your life, Ms Heeron," Lorlyn reminded her leader. "If they feel that they can make the flight safely, and you are willing to trust them, then I am willing to trust them. They must be some of the best pilots in the world."
None of the International Rescue team decided to tell her that, as far as they knew, whoever flew the aeroplane would be first and foremost an astronaut, not a pilot.
"What type of aircraft is it?" Scott asked.
"A TA-Epiprocta 816 hoverjet."
Scott nodded his understanding. "VTOL. Seats ten. Long range; although not long enough to reach Erikeep. Top speed Mach naught point eight."
"Wow." Lorlyn looked impressed.
"Yeah." Gordon chuckled. "He's a real blast at parties. Most people wish they had an Epiprocta of their own to escape in by the time he's finished."
Glaring at his brother, Scott got to his feet. "I'll tell our team on Saint Michael's that they have your permission, let them know what your bird is, and find out just what their plan is." He retreated to Thunderbird One's cabin.
Alan received the call. "Go ahead, Scott."
"Brains has convinced Heeron to let you use their craft. It's a TA-Epiprocta 816."
"Okay, Mr Airplane Encyclopaedia. What's that?"
"Medium to long range VTOL hoverjet. It'll get you to Japan or Hawaii, but not Erikeep."
"We don't want to go to Erikeep. We want to go to the nearest hospital capable of treating head injuries."
"What's your plan?"
"It's Penny's plan," Alan admitted.
"Penny's?"
"She tracked Whitney here. It's his weapon that blasted Thunderbird Two. As she said, she's dressed as a nurse and is the only one who can walk through this place without raising suspicion. She'll be doing the piloting."
"And once she's got the Epiprocta?"
"Guess we'll have to cut through the ceiling and lift Satin out that way."
"You don't have the cutting tools, do you?"
"We'll think of something."
"All right, this is what we'll do. I'll fly Thunderbird One back to Saint Michael's. Gordon and I can cut your exit and then we'll act as a decoy while Penny evacuates the rest of you."
"Sounds risky."
"One can go over Mach 1, the Epiprocta can't."
"Good point. I'll tell Penny…" Alan glanced across to the lady in question, who nodded to show that she was listening, "to alert you as soon as she's ready to lift off in the Epiprocta. You can be her diversion too."
"F-A-B. We'll be listening for your call. Thunderbird One: out."
Jumping down out of his rocket plane, Scott jogged over to the group seated at the picnic table.
Gordon eyed him and his hurried approach with an inquisitive expression. "What's the story?"
"You and I are going into standby mode. Get the cutting gear out of Thunderbird Two. As soon as we hear from the Epiprocta, we're moving in to cut the roof clear. Then the Epiprocta can airlift Mitch Satin to the nearest hospital."
Gordon knew enough of the situation to understand that there was more to their role than his brother had let on. But he said and did nothing other than to give a nod of acknowledgment and jog away on his errand.
Scott checked his watch. "Your flight should be here in three quarters of an hour, Ms Heeron. We probably won't be back by then, so I'll wish you a safe flight home and a speedy recovery. If you require anything, my associates…" He indicated Tin-Tin and Brains. "…will be more than happy to assist you." He turned back to his associates. "I'll leave you two to keep an eye on things here."
Knowing that the "things" he meant was currently asleep in Thunderbird Two's pilot's quarters, Tin-Tin nodded her assent. "We shall."
Scott had only just reached Thunderbird One's cockpit when Gordon joined him with an armload of cutting equipment.
"I checked on Virgil," the latter announced when the equipment was stored away and the door to the outside world was closed.
Scott was doing his final pre-checks. "And…"
"And he's snoring so loud that if he wasn't deaf, he'd probably wake himself up… He will get his hearing back, won't he?"
"Brains seems confident that he will."
Thunderbird One's VTOLs rocked the island's landscape…
-F-A-B-
"Now that we know that the Epiprocta is a viable craft for airlifting Satin out of here, we've got to get you to her," Alan reminded Lady Penelope.
"Indeed, Alan. The question is how: without alerting Villallobona's henchmen to my presence. The lack of windows in this facility is seriously trying."
Alan grinned. "I have an idea. It's something I've wanted to try since I stayed here. Do you want to check that the corridor's clear?"
"Of course."
"Hang on!" John stopped the other's advance. "Take this, Penny."
She regarded the small object he held out to her. "What is it?"
"My victim locator. It'll tell you if anyone human is nearby."
"An asset indeed. Thank you, John." Lady Penelope opened the door and stepped outside as an android might do when exiting a room. "The hallway is clear."
"Good… I'll be back in a second," Alan told John. "You can keep an eye on Satin."
"Will do."
Slipping through the door, Alan double-checked that the pair of them were alone. "Now… Angelique said that some were losing power, but that others…" With an almighty leap, he jumped into the air and grabbed hold of an upside-down android's head. It gave a burble of complaint, but didn't otherwise react to the sudden and unexpected downward force.
Hanging on for a couple of seconds to ensure that his theory would work, Alan travelled a few metres down the corridor before, as silently as humanly possible, he dropped back onto the floor. He crouched there for a moment, listening for any sign that his landing had been heard.
When he was satisfied that his experiment hadn't alerted anyone to his presence, he returned to the masked 'nurse'. "Think you could hang on?"
"Of course."
"Good. If you can get high enough, no one's likely to see you. It's a fact that people rarely look upwards… That's us normal people, unlike astroboys like him in there." Grinning, Alan jerked his thumb in the direction of the door that hid his brother.
"I know."
Alan figured that a master spy probably would. "Do you need a hand up?"
Even a master spy appreciated a little assistance from time to time. "Yes, please, Alan."
Glad that John wasn't there to see him… If an innocent remark about a cup of coffee could be taken out of context, he didn't want to think what comments laying hands on Lady Penelope's torso could bring… Alan grasped his friend about the waist and boosted her skywards.
Climbing higher, so that no part of her body was hanging below the An-Staff's heads, Lady Penelope travelled down the corridor and disappeared around the corner…
To be continued…
