G'day. Another day. Another chapter.
Everyone knows the rules. I own nothing.
ENJOY!
...or not...
Indiana was sitting in Jeff's office. Jeff was sitting behind his desk and Scott and Virgil were standing nearby.
"Anyone heard from Gordon and Alan?" Indiana asked worriedly.
The Tracys had noticed an improvement in Gordon's mood when he and Indiana returned from their day-long dive around Tracy Island. But Gordon stated that one thing that would help him come to terms with everything would be being able to see everyone. They were organising a meeting at the official memorial for the disaster. Gordon wanted to go. Jeff agreed, seeing it's what he needed to do, but he didn't want him to go alone. So, Gordon agreed to take Alan.
"Alan called not that long ago," Scott informed her, "Gordon's… doing as well as can be expected. But I think being at the memorial, talking with the families, sharing the grief, it'll do him some good."
"It will," Indiana reassured him, placing a comforting hand on his arm, "He needs this."
Whatever words everyone had died the second they heard the tell-tale beeps. They were all used to it now. They have gotten several calls for help since their first mission. Mostly additional help with natural disasters. Indiana accompanied the Tracy brothers on several of those, especially one rescue where they were sent to a rural area decimated by an earthquake and there was a shortage of doctors. While the Tracy brothers assisted with recovering victims, Indiana coordinated the medical triage.
"Go ahead, John," Jeff answered the call.
"I've just picked up some U.S. Army transmissions, father. One of their new Sidewinders seems to have fallen into an underground fire and one of the officers has gone down to take a look."
"Okay, John. Let's have a listen," Jeff requested.
"Switching it through now."
Indiana stood up as she heard the crackles through the radio. What she didn't realize was she had reached for Scott's arm. Scott responded by placing a reassuring hand on hers. He didn't realize his actions either.
Jeff sure did.
"100 feet down. Can't see a thing. The smoke is too thick."
"Okay, Blocked vision. Thick smoke," Indiana recited, "That's a pretty bad fire. It'll be pretty hot. He can't stay down there long."
"270 feet. Jeez! My blood seems to be boiling!"
"Oh no," Indiana muttered.
"What do you mean?" Scott demanded.
"He's burning," Indiana clarified, "Not to mention what else could be happening to him."
"The smoke's too thick. I'm gonna have to go down all the way. I'll only have a second. Be ready, Charlie boy."
They listened to the rest of the transmission in silence. Nobody could think of what to say. Nobody could think of anything worth saying. Particularly when they heard the voice on the radio cry out in agony, begging to be lifted out of the hole in the ground. Thankfully, Jeff cut off the transmission at that point.
All of them were affected by those sounds. And from the look on Indiana's face, a trauma surgeon, that wasn't something you adapt to quickly.
"I think this frequency should be put on priority monitoring," Jeff declared, "The situation could get pretty desperate."
Scott was always a man of action, and this next question proved that: "Why don't I shoot out there, father? See if they want any help?"
"No, Scott! We can't go shoving our noses into this uninvited. For all we know, the Army might be engaging in a top-secret operation," Jeff objected, "John?"
"Yes, father?"
"John, I want you to keep this frequency clear," Jeff ordered, "Down here, I'm gonna put Scott on emergency standby."
"F.A.B., father."
"Indiana, get changed into your uniform. I want you to fly out with Scott in Thunderbird 1 if we get the call," Jeff instructed.
Indiana nodded mutely as she hurried to do just that.
"Scott, get down to Thunderbird 1 and get ready for launching," Jeff continued giving orders.
"I'm on my way," Scott nodded as he rushed away.
"If the Army decides they want our help, we don't want to keep them waiting a minute longer than necessary," Jeff proclaimed.
Scott couldn't get over how shaken Indiana looked as he changed into his uniform. Before he went to pick up Indiana from Rochester, he had done his research into where she worked. Kessler Trauma Centre was attached to Strong Memorial Hospital, which, in itself, was part of the University of Rochester Medical Centre. It was also a teaching hospital, which was how Indiana completed her residency there.
Also attached to Strong Memorial Hospital was the Kessler Burn Centre. Much like with the trauma centre, it was the only dedicated burn centre in the Greater Rochester area. Indiana mentioned doing a lot of collaboration with other doctors and other departments in the hospital. And Indiana frequently worked in the emergency department.
She would have seen a lot of burn patients.
He supposed every doctor had a sight they couldn't handle. In a way, he was glad he never went into medicine. He didn't know if he could handle seeing what Indiana would've seen every day. Especially if it involved children.
He'd be wanting to visit his own kind of justice if children ended up in hospital for reasons unrelated to illness.
Before long, he heard the hum of the hatch into Thunderbird 1 opening. He saw Indiana standing in her International Rescue uniform. He knew that her uniform would be similar to the one made for Tin-Tin. The main difference was the colour of their belts. While Tin-Tin's would be a pale blue, similar to Scott's sash, Indiana's was a metallic silver.
At least she remembered her gun. He was a bit worried she was going to try to leave it behind. Even if she was slowly coming round to the idea of carrying it, she still wasn't feeling comfortable about it.
"Hey. This is your first rescue that doesn't involve a natural disaster," Scott pointed out as he helped Indiana into the craft, "And your first time going to the danger zone aboard Thunderbird 1."
"Oh yeah!" Indiana suddenly cried out in recollection, "Anytime I've joined you guys in the field, I've gone in Thunderbird 2. Honestly, I never thought Thunderbird 1 was capable of taking passengers."
"She is," Scott reassured her, "Just not that often."
Scott showed her where she would be sitting. Thunderbird 1's pilot's seat was raised, whereas the passenger seat was a bit closer to the ground. At least, closer in comparison.
Now, Indiana was only slightly above average in terms of height (at least, the average height for a woman; according to statistics, if she had been born a man, she'd be average height), and yet, when she sat in the passenger seat, she had to resist the urge to dangle her feet like she saw a lot of her younger patients do when they sit on the exam table.
Scott must have noticed this because he felt the overwhelming urge to snicker. The only thing that stopped him was the look Indiana threw at him.
Something the boys quickly learned about Indiana. She had the medical knowledge – and the will – to carry out any and all creative threats she comes up with. Apparently, there are hundreds of ways to make a colonoscopy and a prostate exam more unpleasant than they already are.
Raising his hands in a gesture of innocence, Scott quickly moved to buckle himself in the pilot's seat as Indiana secured her own seatbelt. Now that Indiana was aboard, he could move Thunderbird 1 into its launch position. Once there, all he had to do was wait for word that he could launch and wait for the pool to open.
But again, Scott was a man of action, and if there was one thing he hated, it was waiting.
So, Scott needed to find a way to distract himself during what could end up being a long, tedious wait. At least he wasn't suffering alone this time.
"Hey. Tell me something, Ana," Scott requested, "What kind of dangers would those men be facing? The men trapped in the machine and that man who went down to take a look?"
"Well, the guy who went down into the pit to take a look might be pretty badly burned," Indiana mused, "I don't doubt that they would've fitted him with what they had – a mask and the like – to try to reduce the risk as much as they could. But the mask would only be good at filtering out the smoke and helping the guy breathe while he was down there. It wouldn't have kept him cool."
"And I suppose with the men, it depends on how well built that Sidewinder is," Scott observed.
"It'd be built pretty well, but as the heat rises, even that will eventually get to the point where the hull starts cracking. The heat will also wreak havoc on their systems. So, even if they have air conditioning or something, it won't last forever. At the moment, the most danger the boys are in are from extreme heat and smoke inhalation. And any injuries they may have sustained in the fall," Indiana added the last remark, "Unfortunately, until we get to the danger zone and learn all the variables, I can't give a straight answer."
"Well, at least you can give me some idea," Scott hummed, "I've had to make calls with less information, and I can't make them unless I know all the stakes."
"Well, at least we know the U.S. military provides good medical coverage," Indiana quipped, recalling something she said during the first mission.
Now that time, Scott allowed himself to laugh. He knew he wouldn't be in any danger for laughing this time.
Indiana decided at this moment to put her hair up in a ponytail. This was something she always did when she knew (or, at minimum, highly suspected) that she would end up doing some form of work. Otherwise, she normally wore her hair down.
Once again, Scott was treated to the view of a scar she had near her right temple. It had faded with time, but under the right lights, and if you were really looking for it, it was still noticeable. Even then, Indiana was usually careful with how she styled her hair to keep it hidden.
"Hey, uh, I've been meaning to ask," Scott trailed off, "That scar on your head there. How'd you get that?"
Indiana let out a sigh, "I'll tell you the full story later. Maybe even on our way back to base if we go. Needless to say, my mother was involved."
Deep in his gut, Scott suspected that was what she would say. Indiana didn't talk much about her mother, preferring to talk about her father and siblings instead. The little she did say about her mother was when she talked about their estrangement and the judge's decision to award Indiana's father full custody when their divorce was finalized.
But the scar confirmed the worst of his fears. Her mother was abusive.
He couldn't dwell on his fights for long, for Jeff's voice broke through the radio.
"Scott, it's action station! Thunderbirds are go!"
"F.A.B.!" Scott responded before turning to his passenger, "Ready to go, Ana?"
"F.A.B.," Indiana responded in kind with a smile.
Indiana inhaled sharply as she felt the rockets come to life beneath her feet. Within moments, she felt the familiar, yet unfamiliar sensation of being airborne as Thunderbird 1 flew out of the pool and took to the skies. She was no stranger to flying – she was a licensed pilot, after all (which helped a lot with her rural outreach) – but this was her first time flying in Thunderbird 1. It certainly felt different than flying in Thunderbird 2.
For one thing, Thunderbird 1 was capable of greater speeds.
Indiana barely registered Scott reporting into base that he was changing into horizontal flight. With the click of his controls, she could feel the seat adjusting automatically as Thunderbird 1 levelled off
"Hey. You handled that like a champ," Scott praised her, "No green gills. I don't have to worry about you throwing up in my ship."
"You do know I have a pilot's license, right?" Indiana reminded him, "I was fine in Thunderbird 2. What I'm more worried about is Thunderbird 3."
Scott let out a small chuckle. It was a legitimate concern. He knew plenty of pilots that wouldn't have handled space travel well.
Fortunately, he had seen that John had transmitted the coordinates they were travelling to. He observed that they were heading to the African jungle. He figured it would be somewhere remote to allow the Army to conduct their tests.
"International Rescue Space Station, this is Thunderbird 1. Have you had any more information, John?" Scott asked his brother.
John was quick to respond, having anticipated his brother's call.
"Information to date tells us that this machine fell into a crater some three hundred feet in depth. It is a blazing inferno. The machine weighs some five hundred tons and its on its side, which means it can't move. Origin of crater unknown."
Scott took a moment to consider his options. It was a very quick moment – so quick, some wondered if there was a moment at all. But to Scott, it also felt like an eternity.
Okay. John had stated the Sidewinder was on its side, which seemed to be the cause of a lot of its troubles. If it had landed on its feet, they at least had a chance of climbing out by themselves. With the conditions of the crater, they couldn't just drill down there into the Mole, cut into the Sidewinder's hull and escort the men out that way. If they were going to get the men out alive and unharmed (or, at least, not harmed any further than they might be now), they would have to get the Sidewinder out of the pit first.
But how could they do that if they don't know anything about where they're operating?
Scott finally made his decision, voicing aloud, "That means we'll need the heavy gear; and since we don't know much about this crater, we ought to have Brains along."
"Do we know anything about the conditions of the trapped men?" Indiana cut in.
"Oh. Hey, doc. Uh, not much is known, unfortunately. From what I've managed to gather, they seem to just have a few scrapes from when the Sidewinder fell into the pit and were temporarily unconscious. They don't know much more than that."
"Okay," Indiana nodded, "Good thing I have everything stocked in Thunderbird 2's infirmary for smoke inhalation."
Humming in agreement, Scott pressed the button to call Tracy Island to report in.
"Go ahead, Scott."
"Latest information from space station indicates need for Thunderbird 2 carrying Pod 5. And we'll need Brains along," Scott reported in.
"Right, Scott."
Nothing more was said, but Scott knew his request would be carried out. The contents of Thunderbird 2's pods changed around based on the equipment that would be needed, but each of the six pods is built to carry specific equipment and contains some mainstays. For example, Thunderbird 4 is often stored in Pod 4, and the Mole, the equipment they needed for this rescue, was in Pod 5.
What was also in Pod 5 was a built-in laboratory. Since Scott had requested that Brains join them at the danger zone, he knew that it was very likely Brains would need the laboratory in the field. Hence why he requested Thunderbird 2 carry Pod 5 specifically.
Scott and Indiana passed the time to the danger zone with a content silence. They needed to maintain their focus, so they couldn't do what they often do and talk about everything and nothing at the same time. However, they don't know much more about the danger zone than what John reported in, and he hadn't radioed in with follow-up reports since Scott radioed in when he left. There was no use flogging a dead horse, so to speak.
Before long, Scott and Indiana had spotted the position of General Peters on Thunderbird 1's radar. Had the time flown that quickly?
"Thunderbird 1 to General Peters," Scott radioed in, "I've studied your position on radar. I'll be with you in four minutes."
"It can't be too soon for us, pal! Oh, the heat from that crater is fantastic! You're gonna find it tough going!"
Indiana couldn't help but muse on something she had observed about the Tracy family. They live for tough going. In fact, that was why International Rescue existed. They provided the help people needed in a timelier manner.
There was never any doubt as to if the U.S. Army had the equipment to rescue the Sidewinder themselves. It was certain they did. But what was equally certain was they never would've gotten the equipment out there in time. It would take several weeks. By the time they got the equipment out there, Indiana doubted there'd be anything to recover. The crew would be long dead, and she didn't know if the Sidewinder would be intact. She would happily leave that for Brains to determine. He was the engineer, after all.
Scott and Indiana thought the time it took to sight them on radar went by quick. So, the four minutes between when Scott radioed General Peters and when they were preparing to land near the crater felt like four seconds in comparison.
"Jesus!" Indiana gasped out as she looked out Thunderbird 1's observation window, "Look at all that smoke!"
Scott looked, and he couldn't help but be amazed as well. Tall plumes of thick, black smoke billowed out of the crater and high into the sky above. That told Scott that a volatile fire was pleasant in the pit. The black smoke also told him that there were heavy fuels not being fully consumed in the fire. It was clear that the men trapped in the Sidewinder were trapped in dangerous conditions.
But just how dangerous were they?
"General Peters from Thunderbird 1. Is there any news from the trapped men?" Scott asked urgently.
"I'm afraid not. Their radio failed ten minutes ago."
Now, Indiana had mentioned before they left that the intense heat in the crater could also cause several systems in the Sidewinder to fail. The negative affect of heat on electronics is well documented. They weren't overly surprised to hear that the radio had failed, but they were dismayed. If the radio still worked, they could get first-hand accounts of their conditions from the men themselves. The shape they were in. The shape of the Sidewinder. The conditions in the pit. Anything.
But now, they had to rely on what was almost second-hand information. Scott just hoped some things weren't lost in translation.
Scott and Indiana decide to disembark from Thunderbird 1 and talk to General Peters face-to-face. It would also allow them to get a look at the crater themselves rather than through a screen or radar. When they disembarked, they exchanged brief introductions with General Peters and Lieutenant Ralph, who seemed to be the General's right-hand man in this situation.
Indiana let out a whistle as she approached the crater, "This didn't come up in any prior area surveys?"
"No, ma'am," Lieutenant Ralph shook his head as he showed Scott and Indiana the more recent map surveys they had conducted, "We surveyed this area for several months before we commenced testing on the Sidewinder. Had we known, we would've ordered the men to take an alternate route."
"So, Sidewinder was going to rendezvous with a relief helijet to take the crew back to base when this crater emerged seemingly out of nowhere," Indiana surmised.
"That's correct. We looked out the window and the Sidewinder had disappeared in a cloud of smoke," Lieutenant Ralph confirmed, "It wasn't until we flew out here that we realized why."
"Now, what's the score, General? How long can those fellows hold out?" Scott demanded.
"They've got full air conditioning and a cooling plant," General Peters reported, "But it can't last more than another two hours."
"Right," Scott nodded, "Other members of our organisation will be arriving soon with heavy rescue equipment. Meanwhile, I'll set up a remote TV camera so we'll be able to take a look at what's going on down there."
With those words said and a plan of action set (or, at the very least, the beginnings of one), Scott and Indiana set off to return to Thunderbird 1. It was at this moment that Virgil radioed in from Thunderbird 2.
"Thunderbird 1 from Thunderbird 2. How does it look?"
"I'm about to send the remote camera into the crater," Scott answered, "It'll give us an idea of what we're up against."
"Right, Scott. See you."
"Camera's all set," Indiana reported, having taken the time to set it up while Scott talked to Virgil.
"Right. Send it down, Ana," Scott instructed.
Indiana pressed the button and the remote camera appeared from a hatch atop Thunderbird 1. The small drone quickly made its way down to the crater in front of them. It didn't look like much, but it was a vital tool Scott was glad Brains thought to include as one of Thunderbird 1's gadgets. It came in handy in situations like this, when they needed visual of what they were dealing with, but there was no way to obtain that visual safely.
"Hey! That thing will burn up!"
"It's okay," Scott quickly moved to reassure the panicked general, "The camera's specially constructed to withstand extreme heat."
By this stage, the camera started making its way down into the crater.
"Good. It's working fine," Scott sighed in relief before asking Indiana, "Is this transmitting to Thunderbird 2?"
"It is now," Indiana nodded as she pressed some buttons to transmit the footage before remarking, "Wow. My best friend would have a field day with this."
When Scott looked at her in confusion, Indiana was quick to clarify, "My best friend, Arizona Adams, is a geologist. From the footage here, looks like this was an abandoned mine. This would've fallen within her specialty. Geologists are sometimes called in to help with environmental protection and land rehabilitation after mining."
Scott hummed, "Maybe we should talk to dad about making her an agent for the organisation. It'd be handy to have a geologist on-call in case we encounter situations like this again. Brains is knowledgeable, but I don't think he would object."
"I work with Brains a lot in his lab. I think he'd like to have someone to learn off of," Indiana remarked, "We do a lot of collaborative learning. We learn off of each other and exchange knowledge all the time."
"That's good to know," Scott mused.
Before long, they heard the familiar sounds of Thunderbird 2's vertical thrusters. This signalled to them that Virgil and Brains had arrived at the danger zone.
"Thunderbird 1. Virgil here. Landed at rescue zone. What's the next move?"
"Ana and I are on our way over. Tell Brains to standby. This is a tough one," Scott warned him.
"Right."
"Okay. Pull the camera back, Ana. I think we got all the footage we need," Scott requested her kindly.
Nodding, Indiana pressed the home button for the camera to guide itself back to Thunderbird 1. Satisfied with the knowledge that the camera was on its way back, and the footage it captured had been transmitted to Thunderbird 2 for Brains to review, Scott and Indiana made their way to Thunderbird 2 as the flap to Pod 5 opened. Knowing that Brains and Virgil were waiting for them, they went right in.
They were now watching the footage together. Something they were quick to notice was the structure of the crater and the military wreckage that littered the different levels.
"Look, Brains!" Scott cried out as he pointed to some wreckage as it appeared on the screen, "What's that?"
"Erm, that's it. That confirms it," Brains declared.
"Well?" Scott pressed.
"Well, way back in the past, this must have been an open-cast mine. When it was exhausted, a large crater would have been left," Brains began explaining.
"And it was used as a dump for military equipment after the Second World War!" Virgil cut in.
"Explains the Army wreckage," Indiana quipped.
"Well, I still don't get it," Scott grumbled.
"I'll show you on this diagram I've drawn," Brains reassured him.
The four of them moved over to another section of the lab, where Brains showed them the diagram he had drawn of the crater and the Sidewinder's position within the crater.
"The pit was filled in and over the years, a new crust of topsoil has formed. Spontaneous combustion caused a slow, smouldering fire, consuming the dumped equipment," Brains clarified.
"Spontaneous combustion?" Scott repeated in confusion, "How would that work here?"
"A lot of the wreckage could've been self-heating over time. It certainly explains the reports about the high temperatures within the crater," Indiana mused, "If a lot of these objects in the crater have a low ignition temperature, it wouldn't take much to spark a fire."
"Exactly," Brains nodded, "And then, the weight of the Sidewinder caused the thin crust of topsoil to collapse at its weakest point. We have to remove the remainder of the crust so that the Sidewinder can be dragged up the side of the pit."
"We'll have to be careful with where the charges are placed, though," Indiana quickly warned the boys, "We plant those charges in the wrong place, we could bury those men alive or even blow up the Sidewinder itself."
"So, someone goes down into the crater to plant charges at strategic points, gets retrieved with the Mole, and then the Sidewinder can be pulled up the side with the Recovery Vehicles," Scott surmised.
"I can operate the recovery vehicles," Virgil immediately declared, "It might be best if Indy went down to plant the charges."
"Ana?" Scott voiced in surprise.
"Dr. Evans knows how to operate the charges," Brains voiced his support for the plan, "She also knows where the weak points are so we can blow off the crust without endangering the Sidewinder."
"Virgil can go down," Scott immediately began protesting.
"Virgil needs to be up here to operate the recovery vehicles as soon as you get me out," Indiana shook her head, "Scott, this isn't my first rodeo. I can do this. You know I don't want to sit on the sidelines."
Scott looked like he wanted to voice more objections – several more, in fact – but they couldn't afford to waste time. The men trapped in the Sidewinder won't hold up much longer. In fact, if Scott had to guess, he'd guess the Sidewinder has already started cracking under the extreme heat, allowing even more heat and smoke to spill into the cabin. Sure. The men can try to plug the fractures and cool the walls to slow down the fracturing. But they would only be delaying the inevitable.
So, that was why Indiana was dressed in the heat protection suit with the charges ready to go, being lowered into the crater by the Army Helicopter. As soon as he saw Indiana being lifted into the air, Scott immediately made his way to the Mole.
"I thought he'd put up more of a fight," Virgil remarked quietly to Brains once Scott and Indiana were out of earshot.
"If lives weren't at stake, he would have," Brains pointed out, "I-If Dr. Evans wasn't the b-best person for the job, I wouldn't have suggested her. I also kn-know she wants to do w-what she can w-when she can. She doesn't like sitting on the sidelines."
"That doesn't mean Scott has to like it," Virgil drawled.
Still, seeing Scott and Indiana interact like that, Virgil came to a decision. When Gordon and Alan came back to the island, he was going to talk to them about that little pool they started and place his own bet. He wouldn't be surprised if Brains did the same.
"I've made it to the bottom, Scott."
Scott let out a heavy sigh of relief when he heard Indiana's voice crackle through the radio.
"Right, Ana. Can you see the Sidewinder?" Scott asked urgently.
"The smoke's too dense. Can't see more than a few feet ahead of me. Geez, it's hot down here! I'm gonna start laying the charges. The sooner I'm out of here, the sooner we can get those men out."
Nodding, Scott changed frequencies to radio General Peters, "Okay, General. Now, you can cut the cables and get clear of the smoke. Ana's at the bottom."
He was certain General Peters would be surprised by the request. They had been fully prepared to pull Indiana out of the crater after she planted the charges. But Scott had other plans.
He was going to get Indiana out himself.
"And how are you gonna get her out of there?!"
Scott heard Brains' voice answer, "We have a machine called The Mole, General. Scott's about to operate it. You'll see it in action."
It was as though Brains' words served as a stage direction, for no sooner than Brains had made the declaration, the Mole began emerging from Pod 5. The trolley began wheeling the machine towards the spot it would start drilling.
"Thunderbird 2 Lab from Mole. Proceeding to drilling position," Scott reported.
Within moments, Scott was at the spot where he would start drilling. But he wouldn't actually lift the Mole into its drilling position until he received word from Indiana that she was planting the final charge. The time it took seemed to stretch into eternity. At least, that's what it felt like for Scott before she radioed in.
"Mole from Indiana. One more charge to lay, Scooter."
Scott allowed a small smile to grace his face at the nickname. Indiana wasn't the first person to call him Scooter. In fact, it had been a family nickname for most of his life. But the nickname almost seemed to die out with his mother, for she was the one who used it the most. His father, grandma and brothers used it sparingly.
He could only think of one other person who frequently called him Scooter. Well, more frequently than the others, at least.
"Good. I'll be with you in a few minutes," Scott promised.
Scott immediately pressed the button that would allow the trolley to lift the Mole up to its seventy-degree angle. The drill attached to the Mole came to life as he did. Once sufficient power had been achieved, the engine kicked in, forcing the Mole to slide off its trolley and start burrowing into the ground. The caterpillar tracks on either side of the vehicle would enable the machine to continue moving as it burrowed. More importantly, it would allow the vehicle to return to the surface independently.
"Thunderbird 2 from Mole. Burrowing at a seventy-degree angle. Do you read me on tracker screen?" Scott asked.
"Loud and clear, Scott. Right-right, four degrees."
"Four degrees. F.A.B.," Scott nodded.
Using the controls, Scott made the turn Brains instructed. But just as he reported his success in making the turn, the structure began to shake around him.
"I've come up against an obstruction!" Scott cried out.
"It's hardcore granite, Scott. Detour two degrees left, then resume original course."
Hardcore granite. That made sense. The teeth in the Mole's drill can cut through a lot, but it can still encounter resistance from time to time. Even if Brains was able to reduce a lot of the resistance, he couldn't eliminate it entirely.
But he'll take what he can get.
"Mole from Indiana. Final charge laid."
"Okay, Ana," Scott nodded, "Approaching side of crater now."
"Three degrees left, Scott. Then, you should be through."
"Thanks, Brains," Scott acknowledged the transmission before voicing his observation, "Going much easier now. Will be breaking into pit in a few seconds."
"Fine, Scott. Ready to detonate explosives on your instructions."
Indiana heard rumbling. She had heard a lot of it during her brief time in the crater, but this rumbling was different. Sure enough, the source of the rumbling became visible to her. She could see the drill of the Mole beginning to break its way through the wall of the crater.
The presence of the machine provided Indiana with immense relief. Even with the suit on, the heat was unbearable and she almost felt like she was swimming in her own sweat. She couldn't even begin to imagine how the men trapped inside the Sidewinder were feeling. She was suffering from brief exposure. Those men had to suffer through several hours with failing resources.
"Okay, Ana. Come aboard."
"I'm on my way," Indiana nodded.
Indiana made her way through the crater towards the open door of the Mole. She tripped over a rock on the ground, barely managing to catch herself in time. When she entered the Mole, she heard Scott report to Brains over the frequency that she had made her way aboard and Brains instructed them to prepare for withdrawal. Indiana decided to take up the rear cabin position, thankful for the cooler environment.
One thing she had decided while she was down there? She REALLY hated this suit.
"Okay, Brains. Are you ready, Ana?"
"I'm taking up rear cabin position now," Indiana responded.
"Okay. I'm operating reverse motors."
Once again, Indiana heard the hum of a Thunderbird machine coming to life around her. This time, the Mole moved backwards. The caterpillar tracks attached to the vehicle would push the Mole back towards the surface and onto its trolley. The Mole was slow compared to the Thunderbird machines, but she supposed it was a Pod Vehicle. There was no way they'd be as fast as a Thunderbird craft.
She felt a shift as the trolley lowered and the Mole righted itself. Before long, the Mole was reversing back to Thunderbird 2. As Indiana removed her helmet, she heard Scott give the instructions to detonate the charges she had planned.
"Okay, Brains. We're clear of the area. Go ahead."
"Detonating charges now!"
As Indiana made her way out of the rear cabin, sliding the heat suit off her shoulders along the way, she heard the explosions from the crater. She only hoped that they worked.
She could imagine the reactions of the men inside the Sidewinder (if they were still conscious, that is). Since their radio had failed, they couldn't warn them of the impending explosions. They couldn't tell them what their plan was.
So, she could imagine the men wondering if the great rescue plan involved blowing them to pieces and recovering what was left, before bemoaning the limited time they had left before their cooling plant stopped working.
General Peters made sure to make his displeasure known.
"What's holding you guys up now?! My men have less than two minutes left!"
"We're doing the best we can, General," Brains responded calmly, "Lab to Recovery Vehicle One. Are you in position, Virgil?"
"Nearly ready, Brains."
"You alright, Ana?" Scott asked worriedly as he helped her out of the heat suit.
"I'm fine," Indiana panted, "I just need some water and I'm good to go. Also, I hate that suit."
Scott didn't even bother trying to contain his laughter this time as Indiana immediately stomped off to get said water and gather her equipment.
"Recovery Vehicle One, power okay. Remote Control Vehicle Two, operation positive. Moving out now."
"Looks like the charges did their job, Ana," Scott remarked as he joined Indiana, "The crust is clear. Virgil's moving to rescue those men now."
"Right," Indiana nodded as she began to gather everything she would need to treat smoke inhalation and heat stroke, as well as a first aid kit to bandage any cuts they may have.
"You sure you're okay?" Scott asked her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, "You're still hot."
Indiana balked at Scott's words, so he quickly had to stammer out a clarification, "I-I mean, y-you still f-feel hot. You know, you're still… overheating."
Indiana gave him a kind smile, "I'm fine, Scott. It was just really hot down there. It makes me more eager to get them out of there."
Scott offered Indiana a smile in return as he slung an arm across her shoulders, pulling her into him. He felt Indiana wrap her arm around his waist, returning the embrace in kind.
Unbeknownst to them, Brains was watching their interactions. Purely from a scientific viewpoint, of course. He normally didn't give much stock in interpersonal interactions.
And yet, he suddenly found Virgil's idea of taking part in that betting pool Gordon and Alan started all the more appealing.
"Recovery vehicles in position. Recovery vehicle engines in transmission."
Indiana didn't need to be outside to know that the lines were attached to the Sidewinder and the recovery vehicles had begun reversing, dragging the Sidewinder up the side of the pit towards safety. However, Indiana couldn't help but worry. She would argue it was her job to worry. She knew that, with how far technology had advanced in the last few decades and Brains' amazing mind, they had a greater chance of saving those men than anyone else.
But even the greatest weapon has its moment of failure.
Sure enough, Scott, Brains and Indiana heard Virgil cry over the radio that the remote-control vehicle had started skidding. They thought – more like hoped – that would be the worst of their problems. The skidding would be the only obstacle they had to overcome. The vehicle would regain its traction and they could pull the Sidewinder out without further complications.
But life rarely works like that.
"One of the lines has failed. I'll have to wind it in and fire again."
They waited with baited breath for word. They needed to hear that the line was successfully reattached. They needed to hear it wasn't damaged. They needed to hear Virgil had started pulling the Sidewinder out again.
"Firing again. Let's hope it's not damaged."
Scott suddenly noticed that Indiana appeared to be unsteady on her feet.
"Line in place. Starting motors again."
Indiana's legs almost gave out beneath her. They would have if Scott hadn't been there to steady her. Scott had to put in a serious effect to hold back the laughter that desperately wanted to escape. Indiana was so worried about the outcome, she forgot to breathe.
Internally, Indiana grumbled about how this would soon make the rounds among the Tracy brothers.
She was never going to hear the end of this.
"I got them! The Sidewinder's out!"
Treating this as a call to action, Indiana slid her white doctor's coat on, grabbed her kit and raced out of the lab.
No one was sure of how much time had passed between the rescue and this current moment. Something that everyone knew was the events that had transpired in between the two moments. They had gotten the crew – later identified to be Colonel Sweeney, Frank and Johnny – out of the Sidewinder and into the medical helijet that had just arrived.
As promised, Indiana provided the men with medical attention, starting with Colonel Sweeney. He suffered from heat exhaustion, smoke inhalation, and a variety of cuts and bruises, including the pretty nasty cut on the forehead Indiana guessed occurred when the Sidewinder fell into the pit. Like Colonel Sweeney, Johnny suffered from heat exhaustion and smoke inhalation as well as an assortment of cuts and bruises, including the nasty cut on his cheek.
Frank suffered the worst of them. While Colonel Sweeney and Johnny showed some response to Indiana's exams, even if they were unconscious, Frank's response was minimal at best. He would need extremely close monitoring.
When Scott walked in, Colonel Sweeney was just starting to stir. By the time Scott took his seat, the Colonel was wide awake.
"How you doing, fella?" Scott asked.
"Just great, mister," Colonel Sweeney gasped as he struggled to sit up, "You must be the guy that hauled us out of that pit."
"Well, one of them. The others are about to leave," Scott corrected him.
"Well, I'll never know how to thank you, buddy. You saved our lives," Colonel Sweeney proclaimed, admiration gleaming in his eyes and practically shining on his marked face.
"The Colonel's right," Johnny agreed from his own cot.
He went to sit up, but a glare from Indiana as she continued tending to Frank forced him back down.
"You bruised your ribs," Indiana reminded him.
Johnny winced. He had forgotten that part.
"Well, I can't take all the credit," Scott objected, "Some of us pulled you out of that pit, but if it weren't for Dr. Evans, you would've been goners for sure."
"I'm glad we could help," Indiana smiled fondly, "Now, your only job is to get well again."
"How's the other man, Ana?" Scott asked worriedly, gesturing to Frank, "He seems to be out cold."
"He'll need extra monitoring," Indiana sighed, "I've given him oxygen and fluids. I couldn't detect any hidden injuries."
"He inhaled a lot more smoke than we did," Johnny told her.
"He'll be okay. I'll personally see to it," Colonel Sweeney vowed, "I guess he would've liked to have been awake to say this, so I'll say it for him. Thanks. Thanks for all of us."
Satisfied with the knowledge that the three men were now in good hands, Scott and Indiana departed the helijet so they could be taken to their base for further treatment.
"Scott from Thunderbird 2. About to lift-off. See you back at base."
"F.A.B," Scott acknowledged the transmission.
The vertical thrusters than lifted Thunderbird 2 off the ground. Turning in the air, the green machine began its journey back to base. The helijet departed soon after, taking off in the opposite direction. They were heading to the nearest military hospital. Indiana did wonders with those men when they were recovered from the Sidewinder, but they were still going to need extra care and attention.
"Sidewinder saved and no casualties!" General Peter cried in amazement, "How can I ever thank you?"
"All part of the service," Indiana chuckled.
"But if you want to help," Scott began, "just make sure no one tracks our aircraft. It is vital that our operation remains a closely guarded secret."
"That, Scott, is the least we can do," General Petters nodded.
"Thanks," Scott said one final time before walking away.
"Thank you!" General Peters called after them.
As Scott and Indiana prepared to climb back into Thunderbird 1, they had to hold back their laughter (they seem to be doing that a lot lately) when they heard General Peters proclaim, "Boy, what I'd give to have those guys on my force!"
They managed to hold back their laughter until Thunderbird 1 had taken off. But what finally cost them their valiant battle wasn't necessarily General Peters' last words.
It was the fact that Thunderbird 1's vertical thruster set a dead tree on fire.
Eventually, the laughter died down, and Scott remembered what Indiana had promised him.
"So, that scar," Scott began.
"I did promise," Indiana chuckled slightly, "Well, to be honest, I don't know a lot about it. There's this gap in my memory. There's this whole summer I can't remember. The summer before my junior year. The first thing I remember is waking up in the hospital following this accident. Apparently, I fell down the stairs."
Scott's grip on the controls tightened to the point his knuckles turned white. He heard the stories. Seen a few first-hand. One classmate kept missing school because he kept 'falling down the stairs'. A lot of the kids teased him for being so clumsy. Some of them were quite brutal. (Scott made the odd comment, but he was good-natured about it. The classmate in question was actually a good friend.)
Then, it came out that all those times he 'fell down the stairs' or 'walked into a door' was when his father decided to beat him when he wasn't beating his wife. When Scott realised what had happened, the first thing he did was tell his parents. He was a child. He didn't know what to do with this information. In fact, he couldn't believe, as a child of two loving, devoted parents, this could happen.
The next thing he knew, his friend was no longer at school. It wasn't until they bumped into each other at college that Scott found out what happened to his friend. Jeff had called the police on his father (apparently, Lucy had to talk him out of inflicting his own kind of torment on him) and Scott's friend was removed from his father's care. His father was sent to prison and he was sent to live with maternal relatives away from their home in Kansas.
Unfortunately, they had been too late for his friend's mother. She didn't die as a result of the beatings. Or, rather, she didn't die right away. She had been beaten so bad that she spent the remainder of her life in a vegetative state.
He now knew from Indiana that was a fate worse than death.
Scott knew of Indiana's mother. Both from the background check his father ran on Indiana before she was recruited to the organisation and from the little bits of information about herself Indiana let slip. He knew that when Indiana said she fell down the stairs, she actually meant her mother beat her bad enough to put her in the hospital.
"Nobody would tell me fully what happened. My mother didn't want me to remember she was the one who put me in the hospital. My father and siblings had more genuine motives. The doctors had cautioned them that pushing things too far would jeopardize my recovery," Indiana explained, "That it would be best for things to come back naturally."
"Did they?" Scott asked, "Did the memories ever come back?"
"Not everything," Indiana shook her head, "Everything that did come back doesn't make sense. Honestly, being on the island helped a lot. It helped me remember a beach."
"They have beaches in Boston," Scott pointed out, "You could've spent a lot of time at the beach that summer."
"Not in Boston," Indiana shook her head, "I know the beaches in Boston very well. The beach wasn't there."
"Well, do you have any clue where it could be?" Scott queried.
"Before I started medical school, I visited home. I found a family photo and a postcard. They were from Outer Banks, North Carolina," Indiana revealed.
Scott felt his heart freeze. North Carolina. This was starting to sound heartbreakingly familiar.
"What were the other things you couldn't piece together?" Scott inquired.
He was almost amused when Indiana started blushing in response.
"I, uh, I think I met someone," Indiana admitted sheepishly, "My dad told me I used to sneak off a lot during that vacation. He followed me one day and caught me spending time with a boy. From the sounds of it, I had a summer romance. And I can't remember any of it."
Scott froze. Outer Banks. North Carolina. Summer spent at the beach. Romance.
No way…
"Do you remember him?" Scott pressed, "Anything about him?"
"No," Indiana shook her head, "I never heard anything about him. Dad told me he thinks my mother intervened to make sure I never did. Sounds like something she would do. It's not an exaggeration when I say she took great pleasure in destroying anything that made any of us happy."
They didn't say anything more until they arrived back at base. When Thunderbird 1 returned to its silo, Indiana decided to wait outside near the entrance for Scott while he changed back into his regular clothing. Unlike the boys, Indiana and Tin-Tin don't keep their uniforms stored aboard any of the craft, for there was never any guarantees concerning what missions they would go on and who they would fly with.
Maybe Scott can convince his father it would be a good idea to let Indiana store her uniform aboard Thunderbird 1.
When he finally emerged from Thunderbird 1, he saw her fiddling with an object. He didn't even realize she had taken anything with her.
But when he got closer, his heart stopped.
It was a rock.
"Hey, uh, where'd you get that?" Scott asked in what he hoped was a casual tone.
"I don't know," Indiana shrugged, "Maybe it's from that summer I can't remember. I just know it meant something to me."
The rest of the day passed by in a blur. They came in and gave their after-action reports. Jeff informed them that General Peters had radioed in again to thank them for their help and to update them on the crew's condition.
Indiana's diagnoses were spot on. Frank ended up waking up when they arrived at the hospital. Everything indicated that the three men would make a full and speedy recovery. Now, all that remained was for the Army to decide the fate of the Sidewinder program.
When everyone prepared to turn in for the night, Scott sat himself on the bed. All the boys had a lockbox like the one Jeff had to store their valuables. Mementos. Keepsakes. Stuff they wanted to keep from their brothers.
Entering the combination, Scott opened the box and examined its contents. Baseball cards. Precious memories with his mother.
And a rock.
He picked up the rock and remembered how he got it.
Begin flashback
They were running around. Laughing. Splashing about in the waves. Exchanging a kiss or two.
Before they knew it, they found themselves at a tidal pool. There, they found two rocks. Two heart-shaped rocks that looked exactly identical.
They decided to keep these rocks, as a memento from their time together. No matter what happens, they would always remember this summer. They would always remember their time together.
They would always remember the love they shared.
End flashback
Desperately, Scott sorted the rest of the contents in that lockbox, looking for something in particular, eventually finding it hidden under those baseball cards he recovered earlier.
A death notice. It had been emailed to him mere weeks after they returned home from their summer vacation. He came home from school one day and checked his emails as he started his homework. He wanted to see if she had emailed him, as they promised they would keep in touch when they returned home. He hadn't heard from her in so long.
Instead, this greeted him. She had died. It was a freak accident. Her funeral had already taken place. Her family had decided to cremate her and scatter her ashes to the wind, a symbol of her spirit.
Her family inadvertently found his email address when they finally found the strength to go through her belongings. They felt he had a right to know what happened to her, even if they didn't understand the significance of their relationship.
His grandma had to console him through his broken heart. At his request, his father and brothers didn't know anything. They knew he had never been the same since that fateful summer, but they all figured Scott would go to them when he was ready.
That day never came. Not fully, anyway. He told them small bits and pieces, but never the full story, and never enough where, if they all came together and put together the pieces he told them, they had the full story.
He had tried so hard to move forward with his life. To recover from the heartbreak. He went to college. He joined the Air Force. He saw combat. Then, he went on to join his father in an organisation that hoped to spare a lot of people from the pain they had to go through.
And now, they recruit someone carrying the same rock he shared with his lost love.
What could this mean?
DUN DUN DUN! Yes. What could this mean?
You'll have to wait to find out. Because I am evil.
BYE!