Thunderbirds Blast Off
By Lee Homer
Disclaimer: The second collection of short adventures inspired by the comic strips. It's a fan adaptation only. All rights reserved. I don't own Thunderbirds.
Deadly Re-Entry
(Come In Thunderbird 5)
Jeff Tracy yawned hard that his jaw ached. He had been slumped over his desk for the better part of a day, staring relentlessly at a dull newspaper. The ocean stirred in the background as the noonday sun prepared to disembark under the waves. As he sat back and rubbed his rugged face, he looked up to see Alan, the youngest of his sons, enter the lounge. A huge smile spread across his youthful face as he rest his palms on the desk, displaying the whites of his knuckles.
"Good evening, Dad, I've come to relieve you," he said warmly. "You look tired."
Jeff smiled, stifling another yawn. "Yeah, it's exhausting work when you've got nothing to occupy you. Still, I'm glad I no longer have to do the night shift. I thought it was Gordon's watch tonight?"
"It was, but I offered to take over so he could catch up on his sleep," Alan explained.
With a solemn nod, Jeff prized himself out of his seat, offering it to Alan. He stretched his aching limbs and left his son to it. Alan sat down behind the desk. The chair was still warm from where his father had occupied it. Jeff turned back momentarily and pointed a finger at him.
"Oh and don't forget to do the morning checks, will you?" he asked him.
Alan waved him off, assuring him that he had everything under control. His first job was to check up on his brothers who each spent the evening, maintaining their Thunderbirds. Scott signalled in first, completing his polishing task. Virgil fixed the deck plates of Thunderbird 2's cabin and Gordon finished applying a fresh coat of paint to Thunderbird 4's hull. As the night progressed and the family slumbered, Alan engrossed himself in a midnight film with nothing more than a pot of coffee to keep him going. He could hear faint footsteps echo in the hall behind, belonging to Brains. Alan half expected him to be up, seeing at the brilliant mind was an insomniac as well as a genius. He'd often while away the hours, completing his experiments or tinkering with Braman's circuitry. Alan couldn't picture a night without sleep. He for one relished it.
After a long and tedious night, Alan found himself admiring the early sunrise from the balcony. Tin-Tin was the first up as she stepped outside, dressed in her silk dressing gown and looper her arm through his. She rest her head on his and smiled. Her dark eyes glistened in the morning glow.
"Morning, Alan, how was the night shift?" she asked softly.
"Pretty uneventful, Tin-Tin," Alan yawned. "No wonder Dad was always miserable first thing. Nothing ever happens."
Tin-Tin smiled at him. "Never mind. Mister Tracy will be up for his breakfast soon. I'm sure you can catch up on an hour or two."
Before Alan could respond, the couple were interrupted by a shrill beeping sound. They headed inside to see the eyes on John's portrait flash in an erratic way. Alan identified it as the emergency call sign as John's eyes flashed an urgent red. With the flip of a switch, the gold eagle winged ashtray flipped up, revealing a hidden receiver. The portrait flicked to a video screen. John's despaired face called out to him perspiration trickled down his red and blotchy face. Red siren lights flashed in the background, indicating a present danger to the space satellite. Alan's jaw dropped as he felt his stomach tense.
"Come in Thunderbird 5. John? What's happening!?"
As John began to speak, the picture fizzed and crackled, distorting the pristine video image. Alan couldn't hear a word he was saying. He signalled the satellite again but received no audible reply. The picture quality deteriorated further when Tin-Tin hurried of the lounge.
"I'll fetch Brains," she said. "Oh I hope, Mister Tracy is awake?"
"Go and wake him anyway, Tin-Tin," Alan said as he slammed his fist upon the desk. "Come on, John! You must be able to hear me!"
The next few minutes felt like an eternity when Jeff and Brains entered the room. Alan diverted their attention to the garbled video feed when suddenly, the picture went blank. What had once been a distorted image of John was now a field of static. Then, the screen went black and Jeff stood there gazing at his reflection. He ran his hand through his grey hair and grumbled.
"Something's happened to John and I don't like it one bit!" he said. "Alan, Brains, you better get up there in Thunderbird 3!"
Taking up position on the couch which acted as an elevator, Alan and Brains descended beneath the floor and into the large underground structure which housed the fantastic Thunderbird machines. As soon as their couch connected with an awaiting trolley car, the pair were whisked along a rail towards the silo which housed Thunderbird 3. Lift-off was mere minutes away. As they prepared to lift off, Jeff continued to raise his son in the space satellite. The unnerving static combined with the concern of his son's well-being sent a chill through his body. He hadn't yet informed the others of this disturbing development, because he didn't know what to tell them. There was nothing any of them could do until Alan made his report. A sudden inkling crossed his mind as he switched the channel to radar screen, housed behind Alan's wall portrait. The dull grey screen with white vector lines and grids showed a map of the Earth's atmosphere. He tensed at the sudden realisation that Thunderbird 5 wasn't where she was supposed to be. The area of space that she once occupied was empty. Where had she gone?
A canvas of stars appeared from the blue veil of Earth's upper atmosphere when Thunderbird 3 arrived in orbit. Alan steered the Orange-red rocket on a fixed course that would usually take them towards Thunderbird 5, but as Brains observed the flight path on a computer screen, he made the same discovery as Jeff. Alan looked over at him, grim-faced. He too tried to reach his brother through the secure radio link.
"I still can't reach him, Brains. Something must have happened to him?"
Brains directed his attention to the display screen.
"That's because Thunderbird 5 isn't w-where she's supposed to be," he explained. "Something must have pushed her out of her fixed orbital path."
Alan's jaw flung open. "Are you sure?"
"Positive, Alan," Brains nodded. "We're approaching her usual position now."
"Then where could he be?" Alan grunted as he tried to quash his anxiety. "We can't communicate with him and we can't find him on the radar. He couldn't have just vanished?"
Brains paused, unable to respond to the question. However, before he could utter a word, a blip drew their attention towards the radar screen. A small white light blinked away with each sensor sweep. The pair looked into it closer, logging its exact fix position. Whatever it was, it was close to Earth, perhaps in a low orbit. Brains murmured something under his breath. It was an audible sigh of concern that didn't sit right with him at all.
"What is it, Brains?" he asked.
"I think we've found John," Brains replied. "And if I'm correct, he's in real danger."
Alan raised an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"
"I've just run a sensor scan on the radar blip," Brains replied. "It's Thunderbird 5's distress beacon. She's somehow left her orbital path and is n-now caught in a decaying orbit. Eventually, s-she will burn up in Earth's atmosphere."
Alan noted the look of sincerity in his eyes. That now had a shot at rescuing John, but time was something they didn't have. As Thunderbird 3 hurtled along her new course towards the trace, Thunderbird 5's unique shape came into view. Her silver, metallic hull shimmered in the raw unfiltered sunlight on the small rounded video screen, Alan smiled and prayed copiously as they neared the satellite's docking ring. In an excited tone, he updated his father on their discovery.
"Base from Thunderbird 3. We've found Thunderbird 5! She's in a decaying orbit, but she's still in one piece. We're going to try and board her!"
"FAB, Alan. Your priority is to check on John's condition. If he's hurt, get him on board Thunderbird 3." Jeff replied with his instructions.
As the two craft drifted closer towards the atmosphere, Alan lined his rocket's nose with the dark docking ring of the satellite's. Carefully and cautiously, he steered the rocket into docking position and with a distinct click, locked it in place. Fearing the worst, the pair left the control dreck with a medical kit. Stepping through the large circular doors which slid open for them, they were amazed to see John standing there alive and without injury. He looked over at them and greeted them with relief and exhaustion, brought on by his frenzy.
"Boy am I glad to see you two!" he said as he shook his brother by the hand. "I was monitoring radio signals when the computers suddenly went haywire! I even lost my communication link."
Brains and Alan looked at each other. The scientist left them for a moment, promptly returning with a tool kit.
"Sounds like an m-malfunction of some kind," he said as he made his way towards the vast computer banks which adorned the walls. "I'll see what the problem is."
As he did this, Alan updated their father via a portable radio. Then, there was a sudden jolt that knocked the three of them flying. John and Alan shared a look of concern, each of them knowing what happened. Tendrils of flame lashed out at the large observation window as it clawed away at the satellite's metal hull. The floor plates creaked and whined, the computerised instruments rattled, spitting out sparks left right and centre, books and cutlery flew in all directions, tables and chairs tipped over. A nauseating sensation hit them too. It felt as if their equilibriums had shifted along with the gravity brought on by the sudden shift. Thunderbird 5 had begun her descent, dragging Thunderbird 3 with her. While the two boys held onto the emergency rail, Brains slid out from underneath a sprawling complex of wires and antennas.
"Alan, get Tin-Tin on the radio," he said. "I'll need her help."
Before Tin-Tin could take the call, however, Jeff's gruff voice addressed them in the gravest way possible.
"Okay boys, listen up!" he said. "You must save Thunderbird 5 at all costs. We've got her on radar down here and she's heading straight for Australia. If she decays any further, we'll lose her and risk the entire operation of International Rescue. It's down to you, boys! The lives of everyone on Earth depend on you."
Ignoring his father's flair for the dramatic, Alan impatiently waited on Tin-Tin. Suddenly, her soft melodic voice echoed over the radio receiver.
"I'm here, Brains,"
"Good, Tin-Tin. Now listen. Here's what I need you to do."
Brains issued his instructions carefully as the family got to work. He instructed Tin-Tin to operate a computer in his lab which would transmit the data needed for the satellite's computers. As she did this, Alan and John got to work on various other repairs. The entire control room looked like a scene from a post-apocalyptic film. The heat from the flames penetrated the hull. The cabin temperature grew too uncomfortable levels. Brains' inquisitive mind took on several jobs at once as he repaired the wiring to most of the satellite's systems. They didn't stop without any concept of time. Tin-Tin relayed the last packets of data when John approached the main computer terminal. He gulped heavily at the timer as the seconds flew by at a lightning pace.
"We've only got a few minutes left before we burn up!" he stuttered. "Perhaps we should abandon Thunderbird 5!?"
"No!" Brains cried as he pulled his body out from underneath the terminal. "I think I've done it! Switch everything on quick! I h-hope it works!"
Amongst the crippling suspense and fear, Brains thumbed the reboot switch. He crossed his fingers and hoped for a miracle. The computers remained inert at first, but with a few computerised clicks, the array of multi-coloured lights sprung to life, singing their rhythmic tune of mechanical beeps and whirs. Then the blank monitor screen flicked on with a blinding flash swiftly followed by the IR symbol, shining proudly on the display. As the mechanical heart of the station began to beat again, they felt the deck plates begin to soften. The intense vibrations ceased and the red light which bathed the room in a hellish glow, disappeared, restoring the room to its natural colours. The clawing flames receded, leaving behind a charred hull with heat blisters and the smell of acrid electrical smoke lingered.
"We did it!" they rejoiced collectively. "We saved Thunderbird 5!"
An hour later, with the aid of Thunderbird 3, Thunderbird 5 returned to her original position above Tracy Island and the South Pacific. Brains remained behind to finish his repairs while Alan departed the satellite with John. The three of them stared death in the eye that day and they couldn't help but think about the home comforts which waited for them back on Earth.
Brains remained in space for three weeks as he undertook the enormous task of overhauling Thunderbird 5. He loved the challenge as it provided him with the opportunity to test out new ideas and technology which he concocted in his lab. As he tinkered away with the antenna circuits, he received a call from Tin-Tin.
"How's it going, Brains?"
Brains replied as he smiled in accomplishment. "I won't be long now, Tin-Tin. I've got one or two loose ends to tie up then she'll be operational again. I'll see you soon."
And on Tracy Island, Tin-Tin happily relayed the update to the rest of the family. Scott, Virgil and John played a game of water polo while Gordon engaged his father in a game of chess. They all stopped their activities to look at her gorgeous smile.
"Good news, everyone!" she said. "Brains has finished his work. Thunderbird 5 is operational again."
John smiled as he climbed out of the pool. "Gee, I can't wait to get back to work."
However, despite his approving smile, Jeff replied; "I don't get it. The computers were fixed yesterday. What have you two been doing for the past 24 hours?"
The smile faded from Tin-Tins face, revealing the fatigue that she tried to hide with copulas amounts of caffeine. She yawned before she could answer the question.
"A terrible computer virus caused the malfunction," she explained. "I've spent the last 24 hours relaying data to Brains. We managed to install a new anti-virus programme for the entire operation."
Jeff didn't reply. With a warm fatherly smile, he put an arm around her and guided her towards one of the couches in the lounge. She lay down upon the comfortable memory foam cushions and rest her head on a propped up pillow.
"And he couldn't have done it without you," he said softly as he draped his cardigan over her like a blanket. "Sleep well Tin-Tin."
END