Underwater Empress



Thunderbirds does not belong to me, it belongs to Gerry Anderson and Carlton and this is purely written for my own enjoyment and anyone else who likes International Rescue and the characters within. Big thanks to Amy Pilling who first put this on her site, and to all members of msn.TBWorld for their encouragement last year!

Copyright: Joanna Neilson, 2001



Part 1: Disaster

"Scott, it's too dangerous, get out of there!" Virgil yelled furiously into the radio as he watched his brother working below. Scott didn't answer. His muscular frame strained to keep a grip as he fought against the violent salt waves; his handsome face grimaced with determination. The Thunderbirds had been called - at the last minute- to an atomic oil refinery out in the middle of the Indian Ocean, which was under threat from an incredibly violent typhoon. The crew, all three of them, had evacuated just in time, and International Rescue had been called when it was realised that the giant nuclear powered turbines had become ruptured. A huge flood of lethal radioactive sludge would be emptied into the ocean, destroying all life in the water and causing irreparable damage.

Right now, Virgil couldn't have cared even if the whole world would be affected. Scott was alone beside the huge turbines, attached to the side of the vast structure by super strong wires and magnets. He was trying to turn off the worst of the damage, to limit the amount of sludge that could escape and then seal the whole damn mess. When the weather cleared it would be possible to airlift it somewhere safe.

Meanwhile, Scott was being lashed by the waves that threatened to swallow his whole frame. Gordon was waiting for him in Thunderbird Four nearby, while Virgil hung outside the edge of the storm in Thunderbird Two, watching anxiously on Thunderbird Four's video screen. They all knew that the mission was taking too long - far too long. Virgil repeated his instruction. "Get out of there, Scott. Now! You've sealed the worst of it; it won't be long before the typhoon moves away!"

Scott's voice crackled over the radio sounding stressed but assured. "Give me just five more minutes, Virgil! I have to get the last of this leak locked down!"

"Scott, there's a good chance that this storm'll get even worse in about five minutes." Gordon broke in, also sounding strained. "If you don't get out of there soon I won't be able to pick you up, not even underwater! You don't have enough oxygen left to outlast the storm and wait for a rescue!"

"I'm nearly there!" Scott shouted from inside a mask made of special new clear material absorbed the torrent of water splashing across his face, allowing him to see clearly. Working in weather like this would have been almost impossible without it. He was breathing from a lightweight air canister that lasted about two hours. Scott was now 1.45 hours into the supply. It was a further two minutes before he shouted, "I'm done! Gordon, get ready to get me off this wreck!"

Thunderbird Four bobbed up at the base of the enormous turbines. Scott began to climb down towards him, carrying the heavy welding equipment but losing one of the welding-gas tanks on his way. The storm lashed even more fiercely, which Scott couldn't believe, and even though he couldn't hear them through the roaring wind, Scott knew Thunderbird Four's engines would be at full throttle as it bobbed and churned in the daunting waters below. He was running out of time.

He loosened another support wire to allow him to slide down more quickly. That was when, suddenly, there was a loud bang that shook the structure and threw him sideways. The magnetic bolts and handholds had been switched off briefly to speed his descent. He hung by the two swinging wires, kicking and fighting to switch on the controls for the magnets while somehow, at the same time, trying to hook another wire around a nearby leg of the oilrig. He half succeeded in swinging a wire around, but then the second disaster occurred. A wave as big as the whole of the sky came crashing over him as his brothers both yelled a simultaneous, useless warning in his deafened ears. The wave ripped him bodily from the side of the secure turbine and suspended him in its irresistible body before dragging him under the white surface with it, smashing him against the sharp liquid so he felt a truck had hit him. He was unconscious before he even began to sink.

Virgil had to wait a further four minutes while Gordon struggled for control of Thunderbird Four. He didn't mince his words. "Any sign of Scott?"

"Err, negative. Nope. No sign! He got swept away like me by that wav..."

"He has less than ten minutes of oxygen left!" Virgil snapped. "Get back there and start looking!"

His fingers tightened on the controls as he tried to drown his fears in the depths of his brain. Through Thunderbird Four's camera link he's been able to see what happened to Scott. Enough to see him torn from the side and carried helplessly like a puppet by the sheer force of the wave. Like a beast, it had picked Scott up in its jaws and was probably even now chewing on his bones far below them. Virgil concluded he had too many thoughts, and ran his hand through his darkish brown hair, now slick with his sweat. The minutes ticked by like the fastest in the world. "What the hell caused that explosion, anyway?" He muttered. Lacking anything practical to do he went back over the tape of events. Scott climbing down towards them, when he'd foolishly switched off the magnets to speed it up. The wave coming towards him was clear, but first there had been a blast that had sent Scott flying loose and vulnerable into the path of the giant wave. Virgil rewound it. Then it clicked. The gas tank had exploded, smashed and ruptured against the side of the rig after Scott had dropped it. Virgil continued to watch to get an idea of where Scott might have ended up. But then the picture went as Thunderbird Four was swept away too. Sick fear started to knead at Virgil's tight stomach wall. He barked angrily into the radio, "Dammnit, Gordon! Move!"

Scott drifted beneath the pounding dark waves; barely aware he was alive. He drifted lower still as his lungs began to struggle for oxygen, and his body became a leaden mass that the greedy depths were pulling deeper and deeper. Helpless to resist it, he twitched in protest. A growing urgency woke him fully into the nightmare. Weakened from the lack of breath, he frantically kicked his legs only to find he couldn't get anywhere. He hung in the water, trying to inhale, failing to, his head and chest burning with the effort. The opaque red sheet flowed before his eyes, and then it all went black.

Virgil's hands shook and his brain was numb with dark denials. Gordon had been searching for ten minutes; well over Scott's expected oxygen survival time. The typhoon rumbled ahead of him, and for Thunderbird Four it was impossible to easily negotiate the churning water even below it. Scott could have been carried anything from a hundred yards to a hundred miles away by now. The impact must have knocked him cold, because he hadn't activated the remote locater attached to his lifejacket yet. He had taken off the life jacket, Virgil remembered with a groan. Ten minutes before because it was getting in the way.

"Virgil..." Gordon inquired. He obviously didn't want to know. Didn't need to say it. Fifteen minutes had elapsed, five minutes of dubious air. Scott wasn't on the surface, and that was another bad sign. Looking across to the distant rescue site, Virgil realised that the storm was moving again. The area would be calm in about ten minutes. Virgil considered this, and sounded more optimistic as he replied to Gordon.

"Keep looking, bro. He has more lives than a cat. We'll find him, trust me."

"F-A-B" Gordon said, almost believing it.

*

Scott felt something push between his lips. He was too exhausted to resist, and when sweet air poured into his nose and mouth any fight in him was quashed. He blinked, and a terrible pressure in his brain felt as though it would explode. His protests were stifled by weariness, and the world around him spun. He lost track of time, only aware of breathing slowly and the throbbing in his skull. Soon, even that was gone. At some undetermined hour his eyes flickered again and a dim light greeted his eyes,

He moved his head slightly, the sensations of being warm and dry soaking his muscles and filling him with delicious relaxation. It sent a warm glimmer up his spine. He stretched out, his body now his again. Each limb, each joint, was supple and soothed. Dimly he realised he must have been given some kind of drug, and he forced his drowsy eyes to examine his surroundings more closely.

"You're awake." a female voice announced. Scott, his brain still processing the room he was in, acknowledged with a grunt that the room was surrounded by water, and that the speaker was a slim silhouette against one of these walls.

The oxygen mask over his mouth meant he could only mumble a dull affirmative. The silhouette walked towards him. She looked down into his face as she leaned over. Removing his mask, she said,

"My people found you. You were dying. If it wasn't for them, giving you their bubble to use, you'd have drowned. Aren't you grateful for that?" Scott grunted again. As his eyes grew accustomed to focusing, he made out her face. A fragile, childish face with a slender jeweled crown on dark, greenish hair that was piled high above her. Her neck was elegant and he followed the line of it down to the top of her swan white gown. She smiled as his eyes flicked upwards hastily again.

"I'll take that as a yes." she purred. Scott felt her cold, pale hand trace his brow. "We have something very special planned for you. You can do something for me in return for my act of saving your life."

At that point the door opened and an older man about his father's age entered. He wore long robes and had a rather stupid beard. He looked at the young woman as if he were her father. "Empress, the Council wish you to join them to discuss your marriage plans..."

"Oh, Hermes." the girl sounded petulant now. Childish, "What a time to ask." she smiled over at Scott. "He's enjoying my company."

"Empress, I must insist you come now."

"Very well." she sighed. She winked at Scott. Her eyes were big and shimmered blue, like the Atlantic Ocean. She left a second later. After a while, Scott eased up onto his arms and swung carefully off the bed. He rested his hand on his forehead, wincing as the dull ache returned. His head filled with images, the harsh sea, and the smell of his protective suit...Where was his suit? Where the hell was he? He only now realised he was naked beneath the covers, and pulled the sheets self-consciously around him, staring at the fish in their underwater universe outside. The only way out was through the mirror door that the woman had left by. He got up, scratching his neck and scalp. He felt surprisingly fresh, or clean at least. He stretched across his back and then hopped on one leg, then the other like an athlete training before a race. He walked towards the mirror door, and could find no way of opening it. There didn't seem to be a handle. He hammered on the door, anxious now.

"Hello? Hey! Anyone hear me out there?" There was no reaction for a couple minutes, and he sat back on the bed. Then the door made a clicking sound and opened. A smallish, stocky man came in flanked by two guards. The guards wore tall blue headpieces like slimy versions of bearskin helmets. The little man was dressed in black robes. Scott remembered how to start conversations. "Who are you? Where am I?"

"You are in the kingdom of Aeden. You were rescued by the Empress Shiana's people." the rather short man peered up at Scott on the bed and Scott pulled the sheet around more tightly. The man nodded. "I am Barronnell, the court tailor. I took the liberty of making you some clothes to wear when you present yourself to her highness." He snapped his fingers and a servant brought in a pile of neatly folded clothes, and another brought in a pair of sandals made of a seaweed rope material. Scott decided he was through being bashful and put them on quickly. He needed help with the extravagant fastening the robe, anyway, although his outfit also included a pair of soft dark blue trousers, over which he wore the greenish robe.

"We were unable to learn your name, Terran. What is it?" Barronnell asked.

"Scott. Scott Tracy. I need to contact my family. They must be worried sick by now."

"I can't make any promises." Barronnell said, "The Empress will decide what to do with you."

Despite the warmth of the underwater room, Scott suddenly felt a chill. As if he wouldn't see land again. Barronnell gestured for Scott to follow him, and he was led through the complex by two guards. Barronnell left for another room. Scott gazed at his surroundings in wonder. The corridors were large and spacious, but with mostly transparent outside walls made of a strange, jellyfish substance. The corridors led into larger caverns surrounded by oysters, or overlooked deep chasms lit only by ferocious sea- beasts with glowing eyes. Scott saw that the light was caused by giant sets of smooth clusters of...something hanging from smooth ceilings. Scott's guts did a double flip. He realised how deep he was, all alone down here, and totally at the mercy of this Empress. The girl who had come to him in his room...

The Empress' throne room was a glorious piece of natural art. Coral had been persuaded to flower and was immersed in elegant rock pools where glistening water exploded in a myriad of colours. The coloured rocks went way above the throne itself, and Scott guessed the whole place was some sort of converted set of caves. Green seaweed hung damply above her against the wall like cascading banners. She sat in her throne dressed in the same white gown, shimmering like mother of pearl. Even from the back of the room he could make out her large blue eyes, fixed on him as he approached. On either side were rows of important looking men and women, and he guessed that this was the council. He returned his gaze to the Empress, who was making a conscious effort to sit up straight and folded and refolded her long hands nervously in her lap.

Scott was ordered to kneel before her, and the two guards flanked him as he waited for her to speak. He knew he was more or less a prisoner awaiting sentence. There was a long silence. He could hear his own heart beat. For a moment, he longed to shout and run to the top of the steps leading up to her throne and shake her. Just as it became unbearable, she spoke.

"Scott Tracy. The Kingdom of Aeden welcomes you into its sanctuary. We hope you feel gratitude and respect for our aid in your distress."

Scott kicked his brain and his mouth into action. He realised he still had a pleasant hangover from that damn drug they'd given him, especially as he raised his head and tried to stand. He was pushed to kneel back down by the guards. He kept his head raised, and said clearly enough for the whole room to hear.

"Your Highness, I cannot think of words enough to express my gratitude for your people's swift action. I would like to repay you to the best of my ability and will gladly help you in any way I can. I owe you my life, the most precious thing I possess. For that I shall be forever grateful."

Scott had spoken directly to her, sensing that she was the figurehead and that through her he thanked the people who had actually saved his life. It wasn't the greatest speech in the world, but he felt it punched all the right buttons. And it came from the heart. Now he just had to ask to go home.

The Empress walked towards him. "You may stand, Scott Tracy." Scott gladly got to his feet. She looked him in the eyes, and then spoke to him and the whole room. "According to the laws of this kingdom, we now own your life until you can repay this great debt. You are now property of the Kingdom of Aeden, until I release you. As I am Head of State, you are now mine."

Scott's brain finally began snapping all the pieces into place. Everything that he'd heard in the last hour. He didn't like what he was hearing. The Empress ordered, "Come up here, Scott Tracy."

Scott was nudged forwards by the guards. He walked slowly up towards her, wondering what exactly she wanted. The steps below were clear white marble, inset with glittering fish mosaics. The Empress' silver blue eyes gleamed when he reached the top. She took his left arm, and held it as she turned to face him. Sweating, Scott heard her next words from within a growing state of shock.

"By the powers vested in me as ruler of this Kingdom, I decree that we shall be husband and wife by this time tomorrow." she smiled at him; he was caught somewhere between paralysis and abject fear. "As my husband, you will find yourself well cared for."

Scott began to mumble something but was drowned out by spontaneous cheers and shouting from the council below. His head spun and he was convinced he was still dreaming. He got a grip and used his strength to grasp her arm in return. Over the shouting he said to her firmly. "This is ridiculous! Let me speak to my family! I have to get back to the surface!"

She smiled out at the crowd and leaned her lithe form against his. Without really looking at him she pulled him gently forwards to the front of the throne's platform, and said, "Don't argue here, Scott. It won't do you any good. It's an honour to be married to me. You'll realise that once you've been here a while longer."

"Explain to me why the hell I should do as you say?" The livid expression on his face didn't faze her at all. She replied calmly,

"Give yourself a day or two to get used to the idea. Rest and enjoy it here. Think about life with me." she reached up and kissed him. Scott pulled away, angry. She laughed and waved to the crowd. She took his arm and they walked to the foot of the stairs. Guards surrounded them again as they made their way to her royal chambers. Scott glanced around desperately for avenues of escape, but knew he was completely trapped. Feeling claustrophobic, he continued the procession. He wondered what his brothers were thinking, and how long he'd been down here. He was terrified they would think he was dead.

*

Virgil's face was as black as a thundercloud. "I can't stop looking now, Father. It's still more than possible he survived. He could be on an island somewhere!"

His father viewed him on the video screen with equally heavy features. "You haven't had a break in two days, Virgil. Now rest. The coastguards of every island within five hundred miles are helping out and Alan and Gordon can handle things for a bit on their own. But you'll be a danger to yourself if you don't rest. Now get to the cabin and let the others worry."

"But if Scott sends out a distress signal..."

" Then John'll pick it up in the satellite and we'll tell you. Scott will be found, Virgil. Now do as I say." Jeff glared pleadingly at him, and Virgil relented at seeing this deep concern beneath the anger. He nodded.

"Okay, Father." he let out a hard breath. "O, okay. I'll leave the radio channel open. I'll be ready if...When they find him."

"Exactly. Goodnight, son."

"Goodnight, Father."

Jeff switched off the screen and the static pictures of Virgil in uniform reappeared. He was alone on the island except for Kyrano, Brains and his mother. Tin Tin had left with Alan in his jet. Thunderbird One would be collected from the heliport tonight. Gordon was with the coastguard despite his back injury. This injury had prevented him from fixing the turbines on the oilrig. Scott had taken his place, being the next best aquanaut they had. Jeff wondered idly if Gordon would have suffered a similar accident, had he gone instead. Jeff sighed quietly and glanced at the darkness outside. Dark all over the ocean. He looked unwillingly at Scott's portrait, painted by Virgil ages ago. He considered the chances of Scott surviving alone out in the big dark ocean. No air. Sharks. Possibly unconscious. Jeff refused to think about it anymore. This decision meant he was fast asleep in less than a minute.

Virgil woke suddenly from an unformed dream. He snatched up the radio. "Anything, John?"

John's voice crackled, sounding equally dozy. "Negative, Virgil. Just the usual reports. We rescued a couple fishermen, but no Scott. Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

"Yeah. I've been out about fifty minutes." Virgil yawned despite himself. "I'll go back to sleep for another hour. You hear anything, call me. Okay?"

"Yeah. Don't worry." John switched off and left Virgil alone in the darkness of the cabin quarters. He shivered. The night felt cold, despite him being fully dressed and with full warm air conditioning. He lay back, his brain ticking over. He knew there was no choice but to wait, and to believe in Scott's uncanny abilities to stay alive. He sighed, turning over again and not feeling sleep steal his awareness again.

The ocean slept. Beneath it, Scott faced the Empress in her private chambers feeling more than a little frustrated. She sat in a soft seat made of a similar jelly-type substance, which squashed to make a comfy yet firm seat when you sat down. Scott tried again.

"I don't want to marry you. It's nothing personal, but I don't even know you. I never asked to be rescued by your damn kingdom."

The Empress laughed softly. She poured him a glass of greenish liquid and gestured for him to sit down.

"Drink up, my dear. If I thought that you meant any of that I'd kill you – but I saw how grateful you are to be alive."

"Then kill me. You can't do this. Why do you want to marry me, anyway?" Scott sat heavily in the chair opposite and took the drink from her. He sniffed it cautiously. The Empress prodded him with a small foot.

"Well, for a start you're better looking than the Prince of Calshoom."

"Who's that?"

"My Council wishes me to marry an ugly old man. Apparently it will be good for my people. I have no wish for him to corrupt my being."

"Trust me, you don't want me as a husband. I've got a lot of bad habits." He sipped from the glass. The liquid was oddly sweet, and it was water, freshwater but an unusual colour. He finished the glass.

"You have no choice, Scott. You will marry me."

"This is ridiculous!" Scott slammed the glass down on the shell table. "You don't seem to understand! I'm a Terran, from above water! I can't even breathe down here without help! What good would I be as your…Consort anyway? Besides, your rules shouldn't apply to me!"

She sipped coolly from her glass, but sounded brat-like again when she said,

"I have nothing to do with Terran politics. This is my kingdom and you will do as I want!" Her eyes narrowed spitefully, "Besides, no one knows you are here. They all think you drowned, don't they." She sat back, apparently sure that he would do as she said now. Scott became angrier.

"That's why I have to contact them! I won't let you use me as a…a pawn so that you can get out of a crappy marriage."

"Scott, I can give you everything. Peace, security, complete safety. I won't even mind if you get fat and old on the luxury and servants…"

Scott laughed bitterly, "You can't bribe me into this, Empress! I'm not marrying you and that's it!" He turned and strode towards the door. Two guards in mother-of-pearl armor blocked his way with large pikes made of shell and bone.

"You can't go until I say so." The Empress got up and laughed at his expression. She waved her hands at the walls around her. They were clear, and a huge garden of colourful coral and fish stretched out behind her. "You could escape through there, but you cannot escape in water this deep. It would kill you."

"How did I get here, then?" He'd been meaning to ask, but with one thing and another…

"We use bubbles made of this membrane to keep the integrity of things we find. We use them to kill fish in the air inside. Some of my people evidently caught you, attached you to one of these things, then put you safely inside until you came here."

"So you do need to breathe air."

"But we can cope fine in the deepest water." Empress Shiana walked to him and gripped the edges of his robe. She looked up at him. "Scott, don't you want to join me, in ruling this world?"

"I don't intend staying any longer than I have to." He pulled away, and she put a light hand on his arm.

"I could make you change your mind." She drifted towards the wall. Stepping through it, she drew a bubble from behind a large anemone, and pushed it against the walls to Scott. Understanding what she meant, Scott pushed his way inside. It was made of the same material as the wall, seeming to keep its integrity as he went inside it and it floated forwards.

He noticed how Shiana seemed more girlish, and was happier out in the water. Scott got used to the odd weightless sensation, not so different from space, and he let her guide him around the garden, the rocks and crannies. Scott was impressed, although he had a feeling that Gordon would appreciate this more than him. He turned his attention to Shiana herself. She was pretty, he'd give her that, but too much of a brat for his liking.

She floated beside him. Scott smiled. She darted away, her loose white robes trailing behind her. Scott drifted in the bubble and watched the colours rush past. It made him dizzy, or maybe it was the after effects of the drug he'd been given. Black started to appear at the edge of his vision. He wavered, then felt the garden slipping past him, and reality becoming fuzzy and too bright until he finally sank into a darkness he couldn't escape from…

Virgil returned to the rescue operation refreshed after his sleep. He felt bad about it, but there hadn't been anything more that he could do. He called the nearby coastguard. He was pleased to hear that it was Chloé, a woman that he and Scott had worked with on more than one occasion.

"Sorry to hear about your brother, Virgil." She said.

"We'll find him. I was wondering if I could join you. You're searching the exact spot where we lost him, right?"

"That's right. And your little brother's all in. Time to switch over?"

"Uh huh. I'll be swinging by to pick him up, and then I'll come and help you search instead." Virgil checked the chronometer. "I'll be there in ten minutes. See you then."

"Sure thing, Virgil."

Virgil brought Thunderbird Two around to the area that Chloé was covering. He wondered just how far away Scott could be.

*

Consciousness returned as he heard a voice, Hermes, he thought, mutter,

"He's sick. Probably got some obscure Terrainean disease that we don't know about. We must get rid of him, Shiana."

"Oh, rubbish." Now it was Shiana's voice. He felt her cool hand on his forehead, and realised that he was sweating heavily. "He's made of stronger stuff than that. Those people had him checked him for disease, anyway, the marine day before he was brought to me."

"But this weakness is only the start, Shiana. The last thing your people need is a repeat of the plague that separated us from the rest of the Ocean. He is a liability, and furthermore he has nothing to offer your people. Refusing to marry the Prince shows a general lack of responsibility…"

"Do you want me to call Shiggeru?" Shiana's voice was tart, "I'm sure that it would persuade the people to follow me as faithfully as they have always done. And if you continue to speak to me in that way, I'll make a spectacle of your death at Shiggeru's maw."

"Be reasonable, Empress." Hermes sounded almost amused, but with underlying frustration.

"I am not marrying that old fossil!" She snapped.

"That 'old fossil' is our only way back to prosperity. The people are starving, Shiana. We must trade for new stock, as we are exhausting our own. We are forbidden to leave the area, we must get help soon."

"What do I care if a few people starve? There's plenty for everyone who matters."

"Yourself."

"The council. You, and my friends." Shiana corrected him irritably.

"But the people…"

"You wouldn't understand." She hissed, "Why shouldn't I marry the Terran? He looks much nicer than any consort you've paraded before me, and he won't want to control anything."

"Because he'll be dead. You'll kill him down here, Shiana. Terrans were not made for long times underneath the sea. Although at this rate, he won't last long anyway."

"He can't die. I won't let him. He's mine, he can't die unless I say so." She sounded petulant, like a child refusing to give up on a favourite animal. He murmured,

"I don't want…to die…"

"Scott! How do you feel?" Shiana asked excitedly. He blinked and her oddly fierce face came into focus. He blinked in the clinical light of the room. He was back in the quarters he had first woken up in. The ones with no way to unlock the doors from the inside. Her face became angelic, and her Atlantic blue eyes looked into his. He replied huskily.

"Thirsty as hell. What…Happened?"

Hermes handed him a glass of clear liquid, which Scott drank down slowly. He was conscious of Hermes watching him closely. He murmured, "I guess this means that a wedding's off tomorrow…I'm sorry, I really am."

The Empress stroked his shoulder, leaning close to him.

"We'll postpone it until you're well." She looked at him in the bed. Scott met her gaze evenly, even as his stomach started to hurt. "I want to be sure you're fit for our wedding."

"You're still crazy. I'll never marry you." Scott inhaled, partly to relieve the cramps in his stomach, partly out of exhaustion. "You have to let me go home. If I'm ill, I need a doctor…"

"Oh no, Scott." She leaned in close to his face, blocking Scott's view of Hermes, who maintained a disapproving presence in the background. She traced his lips, not predatory but with a sort of shy curiosity. She kissed him gently, and continued to, just on the lips, while he lay there weakly. She lifted her head back and breathed, "Do you feel more convinced, now?"

He smiled with narrowed eyes and said through lips that were suddenly tight with pain, "I've had better."

She slapped his face. Scott winced, but made no move. She glared at him, in a huff now. A glance back at Hermes showed that he found the episode very amusing, although he pretended to hide it. She glared at him, then Scott.

"Get well, Scott, or I might let you meet Shiggeru!" She flounced out of the room, and Hermes followed. The door swung shut behind them, locking him in. Scott continued to lie there, very still, fighting down the nausea and cramps that paralysed him. Eventually the pain receded to a dull throbbing in his diaphragm, although he felt sick as he moved slowly to get up. He forced himself to his feet, licking dry lips. The Empress had tasted of salt. The Empress. Scott wondered derisively just how clear his head was. A beautiful, rich and powerful woman wanted him. All he had to do was agree, and he would be set up for the rest of his life. Another wave of nausea overrode his body, he grunted as it passed. He'd never been the type to sit back and do nothing, and then there was the tiny matter of calling home.

He shuffled over to the mirror door. He pushed at it. It didn't budge. Then he felt around the edges. There was a definite gap, something he could get a small knife into and maybe force open that way. He wished he had his uniform on him instead of the robes. He glanced around the room for something he could use to pry it open with, and his eyes fell on a desk made of porous rock. In it was a collection of shells, but his eyes lit up when he saw a thin blade-like shell from a fish of the same name. Hoping it wouldn't be too brittle, he picked it up and started to work on the door, using the blade to pry away the membrane that was fastening it shut.

He was anxious about his family, and although sick with the mysterious nausea, he gritted his teeth with desperation and carried on. He needed to get home, to tell them he was okay. He worked on, ignoring his bleeding fingers as he gripped the shell.

*

Virgil was working with the coastguard he'd contacted before. Gordon was fast asleep in the quarters of Thunderbird Two, which he had left in a secluded spot on a nearby island. The sea had been calm ever since Scott's disappearance. It was hot and beautiful, and as they sped along in the small hydrofoil boat sweat trickled down his neck. He wasn't in full uniform, just a simple t-shirt. Virgil watched the tracker that trailed along behind them in an effort to pick up Scott's transmitter. Alan flew above in Thunderbird One, also searching, while Tin Tin stood by in Thunderbird Two to wake Gordon if Thunderbird Four were needed. Brains was on the island, but was busy working out tide times and possible places that Scott could have ended up. If there was the smallest chance that Scott was alive then he wanted to make sure they found it.

Virgil looked over at Chloé, a lean-muscled black woman. She wore khaki shorts over a black swimsuit. Virgil knew her but Scott had been more familiar with her. Virgil got the impression that Scott had done more than just mission control with her. He looked out to sea, the speedboat cutting through the glacial waves. Alan roared above. Frustration mounted; no one had dared to suggest that Scott was anything but 'still out there'. Virgil had the feeling they were all acting on borrowed time.

Scott gave a small grunt of satisfaction as he slowly cut through the membrane holding the door fast. He eased the halves apart, now using the shell to lever open the door so that he could get a grip on it with his fingernails and get out. He stepped outside. There were no guards. No sign of anyone. He was unaware that they were all called away to deal with an attack on the palace gates. He'd been lucky.

Scott padded down the corridor. To his bare feet it felt like sea sponge. After thirty feet he paused to get a grip on his swaying head, fighting to stay upright. The nausea was suddenly worse. He gulped air, fought the cramps, and forced himself to keep walking. What he needed to do was get one of those guards, knock them out, steal their uniform, and… He nearly walked directly into Barronnell. The little man practically bounced away from him. Scott grabbed him by the shoulders as he tried to run, and shook him.

"Don't shout, or scream, and I won't hurt you." He snapped. "Stop struggling!"

Barronnell went limp, trembling. Scott spoke more gently. "I'm sorry, friend, but I really need to get outta here. Where's my equipment? The stuff I was wearing when I was in the water?"

"If the Empress finds out I helped you, she, she'll send me to Shiggeru!" Barronnell was shuddering and spluttering with fear. Scott didn't feel so good himself. He went for the tough approach again.

"Okay, then you leave me no choice." He lifted Barronnell by the scruff of the neck and held the sharp shell neck to his throat. "Do you really want this instead? Shiggeru might be bad but I assure that'll be a piece of cake compared to me after the last three days I've had."

Barronnell jerked in Scott's strong grip. Scott grimaced as the little man started to exclaim. "Y, yes, I remember now! I remember! Your clothes were brought to my workshop so that I could measure you…the r, rest of it is in there too."

"My communicator?"

"I think so."

"Right. Now this is what we're gonna do. You're gonna take me to my equipment, then you'll get me one of those bubble things and let me get the hell out of here."

"I, I can't help you escape! She'll feed me to…"

"Shiggeru, I know. Seems everyone's afraid of that guy. I'm sorry to do this to you, fella, but the faster you help me the quicker I can get out of here. No one will ever know, I promise."

"Please find someone else!"

"I'm sorry, pal, but I have to leave now. And you'll have wasted a perfectly good face."

Scott sighed quietly as Barronnell believed his threat and nodded urgently, then said, "Follow me." and headed off. Scott went close behind him, his stomach cramping up again. He maintained his grip on Barronnell's collar, just tight enough to remind him that he shouldn't try to run away. He was sorry to do this to the little man, but he kept that to himself. It was quiet in the long, lucid corridors of the palace. He was curious.

"Where is everybody?"

"There's an attack going on. I was on my way to my apartment, to take shelter."

"We're at war? With who?"

Barronnell sniffed,

"They're rebel scum. People who claim that our Empress isn't doing enough to help them. They want her to marry the Prince of Calshoom…" Barronnell's voice trailed. Scott grinned painfully,

"It's okay, I heard. She won't marry an old man to save her people. Although I can see her point of view…"

"He's hideous! It's unfair to her!"

"Well isn't there some other way to save the people?"

"Aeden has been isolated for fifty marine years since the Death struck the Kingdom. If she marries the Prince then we can start trading again, and replenish our fishing grounds. It isn't any of their business, though. The Empress will do what's best for us."

"Well I sure don't think that marrying me is gonna help you guys." Scott gulped at another cramp that shot through his diaphragm. He grunted, "Are we nearly at your workshop?"

"Yes. Just around this cave…"

"Y'know, if she played her cards right, she could get rid of him on the wedding night…" Scott muttered. Barronnell shook his head.

"She doesn't have to do anything. It depends entirely on the contract."

"Doesn't she need children?"

"What does that have to do with the marriage?" Barronnell asked curiously. Scott grinned, but painfully, his guts felt like jelly.

"I see." He saw thick membrane covering one cave-like structure "Is that it?"

"Uh, yes, yes it is."

"Well it'd better be. Otherwise…I'm gonna be very upset…"

"Through here." Barronnell opened the membrane and they went into the room. Inside it was cave like, lit by more of the strange glowing globes.

"Where's my stuff?" Scott asked. Barronnell lifted an armful of clothing and technical equipment that Scott recognised as his wetsuit, and his now useless breathing gear. He went over to it, looking for his mask. He staggered as another wave of nausea threatened to black him out. Scott reached for the mask and after fiddling with the dial inside, spoke into it,

"Calling International Rescue…"

Virgil was cruising past yet another island paradise, unable to enjoy the heat and sun as worry gnawed at his stomach. Chloé tried to look reassuring,

"He could have been washed up on any of these islands, Virgil."

"Yeah. How many more to search?"

"In this area another thirty. Maybe your brothers will have more luck." She was referring to Alan, who had been flying from island to island ahead of them, asking the natives for further information. Gordon had also returned to the search, and was with another coastguard searching an area that was further off. It had been four days now. Virgil leaned over the rail and wondered exactly what he was going to do if it took longer,

"I won't believe it. He's gotta be around here somewhere." He murmured, "C'mon, Scott, give me a sign…"

Scott sat down on one of the jelly-bags and waited for a response. So far underwater, he was afraid that there was no way for any message to get through. Then his heart lifted, and he heard the muffled voice of, "John!"

"Scott! Where the heck have you been we've been searching for days are you okay…?"

"Slow down, John, I'm all right…" Scott realised his hand was trembling, but not with excitement at a familiar voice. He tried to ignore it. "I'm in an underwater city called Aeden…"

Virgil and Chloé were reaching another island when Virgil's radio buzzed,

"Come in, John…"

"Wonderful news about Scott! Here he is!"

"Virg? You up there too?"

"Scott! Where the blazes are you?"

"Now, I'm all right, Virg. I'm in some underwater place called Aeden; guess you'd better ask Gordon exactly where, he might be able to get help from the WASPs. Y'see, they won't let me leave." Scott's voice was hoarse even over the radio, "You sure you're okay?" Virgil's eyes exchanged worry with Chloé. "You sound like you're hurt."

"It's nothing. Are you tracking this? I've set the emergency beacon going."

"John'll track you, Scott. What do you mean they won't let you go?"

"The Empress has decided I owe her and I'm supposed to marry her…" his voice trailed as Virgil started to laugh, "Yeah, I know. It's hilarious. I'll laugh with you when I'm back, but this Empress chick is serious! I need diplomatic help or something…"

"Uh, right, er…Sure, Scott." Virgil wiped moisture from his eyes, his voice swelling with relief, "Dad'll want to speak to you, but don't worry, we'll get you out of there."

"That's great, Virgil, I…" Scott's voice stopped suddenly, and Virgil heard muffled shouting.

"Scott! What's going on?" he heard Scott saying,

"Barronnell, wait!" and then there was a jarring smash, then silence from the microphone. Virgil shook it, then put it down. Chloé spoke first as Virgil folded his arms, frowning.

"Scott's still alive! I knew it! What about those people he says have caught him – an Empress? Think they're really sea people?"

"If Scott says they are, he's not likely to be wrong. What I'm gonna do now is call in the search and see if John got a fix on that signal. Then the WASPs can help out; I bet they know more than we do…"

"Tell Scott I was thinking of him." Chloé grinned. "Even if he does marry a princess."

"Uh huh." Virgil gazed out to sea as the launch headed back towards Thunderbird Two, "First we have to find him. He's down there, though. I only hope that we get there in time!" and he smiled for the first time in four days.

*

"I'm very disappointed in you, Scott. Barronnell is going to be severely punished for this."

"Barronnell? Why on earth…?"

"He betrayed me. You will watch his execution."

"No!" Scott struggled, and then sank to his knees, crippled by cramps that surged through him, he repeated weakly, "No. Please. Don't hurt him…"

"I'll deal with you later." The Empress stood on the dais of her throne, regarding the council and him haughtily. Guards below her were holding Scott and Barronnell. Scott winced – Barronnell was a nervous wreck. He lifted his head,

"Empress, let me take his place…"

"The execution will take place tonight! Lock up the traitor! And bring my consort to my chambers!"

Barronnell shrieked as he was dragged off, with Scott trying to transmit how sorry he was. Barronnell yelled at him,

"This is your fault! No! No!"

Scott tried to stand but his legs had stopped working. He felt the guards lift him up, and the Empress swept after him as he was carried to her chambers. Halfway there he gave up the struggle and was extremely sick all over the floor of the throne room.

"Scott couldn't have picked nicer people to be rescued by." Troy Tempest swung his legs up on the table and reclined in the chair with his arms by his head. "We'll swing by and pick him up tonight."

Seated opposite the Captain at the large square table, Virgil and Gordon exchanged glances in which Gordon indicated that he knew about Tempest and that Virgil knew what he meant. They'd gone to Marineville in the Thunderbirds and had been taken to see the Commander Shore. This had resulted in a shouting match between Alan and the Commander until Virgil had intervened, and Gordon had been the voice of reason. Eventually it had been arranged – Stingray would take two of the brothers and an Ambassador to see the Empress of Aeden, and release Scott. Virgil and Gordon had been designated to go, and now they were eyeing the Captain of the super- submarine with more than a little trepidation.

"I don't think it's that simple. Where's the Ambassador?" Virgil frowned, leaning over the table.

"She'll be with us in a minute. She's very experienced with undersea races; we should have no trouble." Tempest turned to the girl in the green dress who had been sitting silently beside him. "Isn't that right, Marina?"

She nodded. Virgil looked at her curiously. She was beautiful, her liquid brown eyes making her seem somehow sad but resilient. Her attention was solely on Tempest, however.

"How soon can we leave?" Gordon asked. Troy shrugged,

"We have to prep Stingray, get permission from a World Government department, and the Ambassador has to prepare. Say twelve hours?"

"If that's the best you can do…" Virgil nodded but the frown didn't leave his face. Troy suddenly looked angry.

"You don't seem pleased that we're helping you get your brother back."

"I don't see why we should wade through all this red tape." The Thunderbird pilot answered sharply. "Scott's been missing for nearly five days now, and we still might not get to him in time. He sounded ill over the radio, and I don't like the way he was cut off. He could be in real danger."

"So you're just gonna go and bust him out? Oh, that'll really help our relations with the undersea kingdoms!"

"That's enough, kids." A pretty redhead that they had noticed in the control room came in bearing coffee, "I'm Atlanta Shore. I hope you guys aren't going to be like this in Stingray. It won't impress the Ambassador."

"Humph." Tempest folded his arms and sat back in the chair again. Virgil also sat back and Gordon sighed.

"The Ambassador's arrived. Play nice, Troy." She added into the Captain's ear. Virgil smirked and Atlanta shot him a glance that told him the instruction was meant for him, too. Virgil saw Gordon was grinning at him.

"Here she is." Atlanta said, leaving the room. The men sat up and a tall blonde woman came in. She sat down, dropping a pile of folders and a flat-screen computer onto the table. She smiled crisply at them,

"Right, gentlemen, how can I help you?" She asked.

Scott had been dumped in a set of chambers beside the Empress' own rooms. He lay on top of the covers, twisting from side to side when the pain became too much, lying still when the surroundings threatened to spin out of control. The air burned his throat, and he wondered blearily if he had caught some obscure underwater disease. His guilt about Barronnell was giving him nightmares, during the few moments when he was able to sleep. He groaned, guts tying themselves in knots, and he felt them do another loop. As he leaned over the side ready to throw up again, he was vaguely aware of someone entering the room as the dim light increased briefly.

He couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. The person gently shook him, and Scott squeezed his eyes even more tightly shut. He heard a voice saying gently,

"Wake up, Terran. I have a deal for you!"

Scott's eyes fluttered, and he saw a kindly man's face through the haze. The man spoke again, "I have a message from the Prince of Calshoom. He says the Empress' aide is poisoning you so that she must marry him. But Calshoom has heard who you are and thinks you can be of greater help to us."

"P, poison?" Scott rasped. The person wiped his face soothingly,

"If you help us, we can stop you having to marry her, and save your life."

"N, no!" Scott coughed, and the person poured some water into his mouth. Scott tried to finish saying, "The tailor…Barronnell, its all…my fault…" he descended into a paroxysm of wheezing, his throat started to close down on him. The person gripped his arm,

"The Prince will do his best to stop the execution, but you must listen to me. Do you agree?" Scott frowned, his eyes filling with tears of pain. The person gripped his arm firmly, "Listen to me, Terran, you are in the advanced stages of poisoning. Now do you agree to do whatever he wants in return?"

Scott nodded urgently, unable to speak as the choking took hold of his throat. He blinked, and then gasped as the stranger poured something into his mouth and forced him to swallow. It was bitter and slightly slimy, he made sure Scott had finished swallowing and let him go. Scott sank back, already grateful to feel the pain receding. The person whispered, "Prince Calshoom will save the little tailor and you. Say nothing of me. When you have recovered fully in twelve hours the Prince will let you know his plans."

Scott gave a faint grin in reply.

*