A/N: This little story is based on the events of TAG episode Ring of Fire: Part One and the opening scenes of Part Two, after Gordon gets slammed into the bulkhead during the rescue inside the Minerva Reef Research Station. I've used the beginning dialogue and settings from Part Two to set up the scene and make some specific references for this fic, but otherwise the rest of it is my own. Many thanks to both LexietFive for her invaluable plotting skills, and to PhoenixSparrow for her encouragement, you both have such unwavering faith in me.
Anyway, the story is self-explanatory, and it has been a long time since the ep, but I know you're probably familiar with the episodes, so I'll let you get on and read. Please enjoy, and if you are insofar inclined, please feel free to let me know what you think. I'm not really sure when I'm going to get to the next chapter of this, or any of my other WIPs, but rest assured it will be as soon as I possibly can. Life is hard and extremely stressful at the moment, and I know that I'm leaving you guys with yet another beginning to a story, but as always; thank you for reading. Your support means the world.
Disclaimer: I do not own Thunderbirds, in any incarnation; only my OCs, the plot, and the instances within which they occur in my stories. All rights and ownership go to the Gerry Anderson Estate, Carlton International, Granada Ventures, StudioCanal/Working Title/Universal and now, ITV, Pukeko and Weta Workshop. I am only borrowing the Tracy family and I promise to return them - mostly unharmed - when I'm finished.
Gordon had said to John that he was okay when he woke up from the knock to his head after the seaquake. Because he technically had been at the time, and he'd had a job to do. Sure, he'd smacked his skull pretty hard against the steering column, so of course, he was going to be sore, but he had been able to get into the station and rescue the three members of the Minerva crew with ease.
However, what Gordon hadn't told John was that when the station had tipped, he had too; the momentum slamming him forcibly into an outward-jutting corner of the interior wall, first his spine and then the back of his head cracking sharply against it as the increased gravity had taken hold.
Thankful for his pressure suit and the added advantage of his breathing gear and his helmet in protecting him, Gordon was grimly pleased for the fact that he'd not done himself any real damage, but that didn't mean that he wasn't still in pain. That was especially true now, after having swum hard with that last crew member back to his sub in order to detach Thunderbird Four from the station; allowing Scott and Virgil to let go of the structure so it wouldn't drag them under too.
He'd managed not to show the discomfort he was in as he carried the transponder beacon into the lounge after they'd returned home; his head aching properly and his back stiff and sore, even after having absorbed a lot of the impact through the special material of his suit. However, he'd been unable to bring himself to sit on one of the couches, preferring to stand up until now, much as it was making his ankles throb.
He sees John's hologram give him a funny look as he finally makes do with one of the four leather armchairs in the sunken pit that forms Command and Control, but Gordon just shakes his head and positions himself further forward than he'd normally do, his elbows propped on his knees in order to surreptitiously stretch out his spine before settling back with a hidden wince.
Part of it, he knows - as he listens to Scott vent about the Hood's obvious involvement in the manufactured earthquakes issue - is to do with the fact that he's taken his uniform off and changed back into his civvies. The material - specially-designed and created by Brains, with the knowledge of Gordon's repaired body in mind - was intended to be both (obviously) waterproof and protect him against the pressure of the depths, but also to support the weaker parts of Gordon's skeleton, where his legs are prone to seizing around the knees and ankles, and his lumbar region has the unfortunate tendency of letting off blasts of nerve pain at the most inopportune of times.
That isn't to say that Gordon was impaired or disabled by his accident, in any sense of the word, just that his body has some issues in times of high stress, and that some extra tweaking of International Rescue's standard uniform was needed to compensate for that. And now he's taken that additional support off, his body is obviously complaining a lot louder than it would be were he still wearing it.
"So what do you suggest, Colonel Casey?" Virgil asks roughly, as their father's former Air Force colleague stares impassively around at them all. "We sit around and do nothing?" Gordon can see the slow-burning anger that Virgil has been harbouring since their father's disappearance rise to the forefront, and he bites his lip, remembering all too well that terrible day... Even now, all this time later, it still hurts.
"You'll do what International Rescue does best, Virgil - help people in trouble." She says sternly, like that's not stating the obvious. "We'll bring him to justice."
Without another word, Colonel Casey vanishes with nary a chirp of disconnection or even a 'goodbye', and Gordon looks wearily at Scott, raising an eyebrow as he pushes himself upright in the seat, bracing his hands on his knees. "They don't stand a chance, do they?"
Scott gets up in response; his face determined. "If these devices are causing earthquakes, we'll find a way to shut them down!" He clenches his fists, and Gordon shares a glance with his grandmother, who has her brows furrowed, she too is watching Scott in concern.
"We still don't even know what we're dealing with here!" Virgil points out in frustration. Apparently Scott's speech has as much effect in calming his psy-twin brother as the rest of them, i.e, none at all. Next to Virgil on the other side of the pit, Brains looks worried, Gordon notes. The thought alone makes him nervous.
"I can give you a pretty good idea." John suggests, looking between the six of them. Grandma sits silently, watching them interact, as Scott settles back into his seat, and Gordon shoots a look at him that his eldest sibling mirrors. This is concerning. "Seismic activity has been steadily growing since the first 'quake, and it's spreading north along the Pacific plate." John points to all the areas along the bottom of the Ring of Fire where the trouble is occurring, and Gordon feels his gut sink. "This is a global catastrophe in the making."
"D'you feel that?" Scott looks around at them as the lounge shakes slightly beneath them. Gordon clutches the sides of his seat as his left knee lets out a hot spasm with the unexpected movement. "It's another 'quake."
Gordon nods, feeling his lips compress. Too right he felt that; it sent pain firing right up into his spine, that did, and the damn chair is cushioned for heavens' sakes!
"I'm receiving hundreds of distress calls from along the Southern Pacific Rim." John reports suddenly, and as his brother turns his head to look at his holographic display, Gordon's attention is caught by Scott's head nodding sharply, tensing for movement.
John turns his globe, replicated on the glass table in the centre of the circle of couches, zooming in on what Gordon knows is the brightest-glowing coordinates, indicating the greatest danger imposed on the cities in those locations; images and symbols popping up that dazzle Gordon's aching head just a bit more than he is comfortable with. Ibuprofen, he decides briskly, as soon as he can get his hands on it...
"Just tell us where you need us, Thunderbird Five." Scott orders.
"Oh, my!" Brains exclaims suddenly, having been silent almost since Gordon had brought the transponder back. He assumes that the scientist has at least been visually analysing the beacon until he can get his hands on it properly. "The solar collector in Taiwan has f-fallen out of alignment!" The engineer waves his hand over a red-flashing icon, and Kayo and the six Tracys lean forward for a closer look as the image suddenly blows up to ten times its initial size.
"Is that an actual emergency, Brains?" Scott asks, sceptical; blue eyes narrowed, fingers clenching on his knees. Just like Dad's used to do... Gordon thinks sadly.
"Here's how it was before." The engineer begins, standing up and moving forward, and what looks to Gordon like a massive satellite dish, looking as though it's from the 1990s suddenly pops up out of nowhere. "Thousands of individually controlled mirrors concentrate the sun's rays into a frighteningly p-powerful beam."
"We're talking heat so intense, you get the same kind of hydrogen fusion that fuels a star." John adds, his face grim.
"This is the collector now." Brains gestures at the holo-display, and a terrain map with a minimised dish suddenly replaces the larger schematic. "When the sun comes up, those rays will be aiming d-directly at the city of Taipei." As the engineer moves to the side so they can all see, a ray - clearly meant to serve as an imitation of the hydrogen fusion event John mentioned before - shoots across the frame, towards the city that Gordon can see in the right hand corner of the hologram. Immediately, warning icons that are indicative of any number of potential emergency situations pop up, and Gordon finds himself breaking out into a cold sweat. Shit.
"Sounds like we need to move that reflector!" Virgil concludes, leaning forward, dark eyes concerned.
"Gordon, I'm picking up a distress call from a fishing trawler taking on water." John turns suddenly to him, and even through his throbbing head, and his concern over the possible disaster unfolding in Taiwan, Gordon nods, knowing that he's needed elsewhere, regardless of his own thoughts and feelings on the situation, not to mention his aching body. "Tell them I'm on my way!" He pushes himself carefully to his feet, before gritting his teeth as a flare of pain arcs up his left leg, making him flinch. Dammit!
"All right, then. Time to gear up." Scott commands from behind him, and Gordon bites back his discomfort as he forces himself to walk normally. No letting the team down, there'll be time to have a rest afterwards. He'll have earned it by then, he's sure.
"Yes, let's do this!" Alan says enthusiastically, and Gordon hides a grin as his youngest sibling literally makes the floor vibrate in his excitement, seeing the teenager punching the air out of the corner of his eye.
"Sorry, Alan." Their eldest sibling says in apology, passing Gordon quickly. "We need to keep you and Thunderbird Three in reserve." Reaching the rotating platform that will take him across to Thunderbird One, Scott pulls down his twin lamps as Gordon moves carefully up the stairs and heads around the pit in the opposite direction, towards the hidden elevator that will lead him to the main silo where he'll collect Thunderbird Four.
"In case the TV goes out..." Alan mumbles. "I get it."
Gordon feels a passing pang of sympathy for Alan as he places his handprint on the recognition strip that will give him access to the elevator to the silos, but it's gone just as quickly as it came, as the concealed doors open and he steps inside, raising his watch to connect himself to John in Thunderbird Five. His brother's hologram pops up, though he's not actually looking at Gordon, and John spares him a glance from where he's feeding coordinates and uploading what Gordon presumes is the specs for the collector to Scott and Virgil, as the elevator begins its long descent.
"The trawler is a light thirty-footer, Gordon." John addresses him swiftly, his blue eyes - green at most times in the overhead lights of Thunderbird Five due to the contacts he wears for short-sightedness - flickering to meet his with a look of concentration as his fingers skitter across his holoscreens. "There's a crew of four, and the trawler's net has caught on some submerged rocks that weren't picked up by their onboard scanners. They've got a slow leak, and there is only one reported injury - the skipper has cut his hand - but the laceration isn't too deep, and they've applied basic First Aid, so it appears that it's just going to be a pick up of the four of them and drop off at the nearest main docking rig; Auckland, New Zealand. I've sent the coordinates to 'Four's navigation system. They're not in danger yet, according to their captain, but they'll be sunk by the time the authorities can get someone from conventional sea rescue out to them. You should be there within the next forty minutes at top speed. I'll let you know if anything with their situation changes."
"FAB, John." Gordon returns, meeting his brother's gaze levelly. "I'll keep you apprised of what's going on. Thunderbird Four out."
As the doors open and his brother's hologram blinks out, Gordon heads determinedly towards the silo, relieved that this mission looks like it's going to be a relatively cut-and-dry one. Or so he hopes...