I could not work out how to break up this chapter, so that's why it was exceedingly long. Sorry if you don't like that.
I own nothing aside from original characters and original plot points.
ENJOY!
Sometimes, Scott hated it when things like this happened.
They had received an emergency call, stating there was a fire in Tokyo. They couldn't get it under control. Lives were at stake. They needed International Rescue.
Yet, when he arrived, the fire was under control. Nobody could explain how, but something happened that turned the tides in their favour. After receiving confirmation that the fire truly was under control and nobody was in danger, Scott made the decision to return to base. He couldn't exactly be mad at them. Initial reports said the fire was bad, and they had tried to get it under control by themselves before making the decision to call in International Rescue.
"That's right, father," Scott explained to his father, "When I got to the scene of the fire, they've managed to get it under control, so it seemed best to leave them to it."
"That's right, son. Not too many casualties, I hope?"
"No, I don't think so," Scott shook his head, "The police controller assured me that it wasn't as bad as first appeared."
"Fine, fine. Well, as soon as you get back, I want you to take Alan up to the satellite. Tin-Tin's packing his bag now."
"Will do, father," Scott nodded before terminating the link and humming happily to himself.
Now, Scott was alone. The serenity of it all gave him the time he needed to think.
And naturally, the first thing on his mind was Indiana. Things have certainly shifted between them, even if they agreed to not label what they had just yet. If only because none of the usual labels sat right with them. He felt like a teenager again, sneaking out to see a girl, when he and Indiana secretly rotated bedrooms to spend the night in. Or when they snuck off somewhere for some time alone.
Neither of them had said anything about their feelings yet, beyond the confirmation that they had feelings for each other. They haven't said those three words, feeling it was too early in the relationship. He didn't think she doubted how much she meant to him, and he knew how much he meant to her. They just haven't voiced it explicitly, wanting to see where their relationship went first before they took any big steps of that nature.
Scott was pulled away from his thoughts when Thunderbird 1 suddenly shook around him. There was a small explosion at the rear where his rockets were.
"WHAT THE?!" he exclaimed.
Indiana walked into the main lounge with a smile.
"Alan all packed, Tin-Tin?" Indiana asked the young Malaysian girl as she too entered the lounge.
"Yes," Tin-Tin nodded, "Is Alan okay?"
"Yeah. I just gave him a clean bill of health," Indiana proclaimed before turning to Jeff, "How's Scott?"
"He actually just radioed in," Jeff revealed, "Turns out our services weren't needed, so once Scott confirmed the situation was under control, he decided to leave it to the local authorities. He's on his way back to base now, so he'll take Alan up as soon as he gets back."
"John will be happy," Indiana quipped as she sat near Jeff's desk, "He loves it up on Thunderbird 5, but he also loves being able to come home."
"I also love having my son home," Jeff remarked.
Then, Scott's voice broke through the radio. But it wasn't a happy report.
"Base from Thunderbird 1! I'm under attack from three unidentified aircraft! I'm taking evasive action!"
If Indiana hadn't already been sitting down, she was confident her legs would've given out beneath her. That was the last thing she expected to hear. Actually, no one expected news like this.
Jeff knew there would be people who wanted to get their hands on International Rescue's technology and use the technology for nefarious purposes, but he didn't think it would put his sons in danger like this.
"I've been hit!"
"Nose up, Scott! Nose up!" Jeff implored his son desperately.
The ringing in Indiana's ears flared up. She clutched the rock she always carried with her, sending up one prayer after another that Scott found a way out of his predicament. That he could get the nosecone up. That he could at least fly back to base.
The irony of it is, Indiana was never really religious. She could count on only one hand the times in her life when she set foot into a church outside a family event. She knew she was baptised (something her paternal grandparents had insisted upon, apparently), but beyond that, she never really belonged to any religious faith.
Indiana swore she stopped breathing when all sounds from the radio cease.
"Oh, Mr. Tracy, how terrible! What could have happened?!" Tin-Tin cried, rising from her seat.
Jeff ignored her, desperately trying to reach his oldest, "Thunderbird 1 from base! Thunderbird 1 from base! Repeat! Can you hear me?!"
The silence was deafening. Indiana didn't even need to hear Jeff say there was nothing. Her heart was getting ripped out all the same.
Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe?
The silence was just as deafening inside Thunderbird 1 as it was on Tracy Island.
Thunderbird 1 had crashed into the ground. Scott managed to get the nosecone up, but he couldn't prevent the crash, no matter how hard he tried. Thunderbird 1 had collided to the ground with a loud bang, skidding across the sand until it collided with a sand dune, accompanied by some small explosions. Scott had fallen unconscious after hitting his head on the controllers. The blood trickled down the handle from the gash he had sustained.
After what felt like several moments, Scott let out a small cry in pain as he forced himself into a sitting position. Weakly, he reached for his radio.
"Base… from Thunderbird 1. Base… from Thunderbird 1. Come in please," Scott pleaded.
Scott expected to hear from someone. Anyone. But there was nothing.
"Ugh, the radio's smashed. Darn it!" Scott cursed before deciding, "Well, I suppose I'd better take a look outside."
Unclasping his safety belt, Scott rose on unsteady feet and approached the hatch. Fortunately, that system was still working. He stuck his head out to take in the sight around him. He saw nothing but sand dunes and the blistering desert sun. There was no sign of life anywhere.
He was in the middle of nowhere.
"No sign of anything, Fine predicament. Five thousand miles from base, and the radio's dead," Scott grumbled.
Scott suddenly cried out in pain. His head throbbed and his gash stung as it was exposed to the desert air.
"That's some crack I've got," Scott muttered, raising his hand to the aforementioned wound.
Then, he suddenly noticed something else. His vision was fuzzy. His world was spinning.
"I think I'm gonna… I think… I'm gonna…"
Scott fought valiantly to stay conscious. In the back of his mind, he remembered what Indiana told him about concussions. He needed to stay awake. He needed to stay aware of his surroundings. But it was like his body had other plans. He slumped over the hatch, half of his body hanging over it.
Then, his world went black.
Virgil rushed in, panting, "I've just spoken to Brains! What's happened, father?!"
"It's serious, I'm afraid, Virgil," Jeff began, "Scott was on his way back from the Tokyo fire when he was surrounded by some unidentified aircraft. It looks as though he's been shot down."
Virgil felt like he had been punched in the gut. Not his big brother. He was a military pilot. A decorated war hero. He knew how to hold his own in a dogfight. This couldn't be happening.
"But the radio! What about the radio?!" Virgil asked desperately.
"Oh, Virgil!" Tin-Tin sobbed, dabbing her eyes with a tissue, "It's gone dead. H-he won't answer…"
Gordon had appeared in the lounge not long after they lost contact with Scott. He busied himself with looking at various world maps, needing to feel useful. He knew what he was doing would be important.
"Well, I've plotted his position, father. He can't have gotten far away from his last contact point," Gordon pointed out.
"Right, Virgil. There's not a moment to lose! Off you go!" Jeff barked.
"Right, father," Virgil nodded, racing towards the painting of the rocket before freezing, "Where's Indiana?"
"She's already in Thunderbird 2," Jeff answered.
Virgil knew the second he entered Thunderbird 2 that Indiana would be in the infirmary, already dressed in her uniform. She'd be scared out of her mind, desperately sorting through the infirmary to make sure it had everything she needed to face any predicament they may find Scott in.
Virgil raced in when Indiana nearly dropped some bandages in her panic. It wasn't like it was syringes, where Indiana could've hurt herself with sharp objects. But it certainly spoke to her state of mind.
"Indy. Indy, stop," Virgil spoke to her gently, clasping her trembling hands.
It was then he took in Indiana's state. Shaking. Hyperventilation. Trouble breathing. Hot flashes. Detached. Panicked. Chest pain.
She was having a panic attack.
"Indy. Indy, I'm here," Virgil immediately moved to reassure her, "I'm here. You're safe. Keep breathing. Just keep breathing."
Virgil remembered his roommate in college. His sister was visiting them on campus one day and she suddenly had a panic attack. She was prone to them following a trauma she experienced in high school. He kept his distance, not wanting to overwhelm the poor girl. But he saw how his roommate calmed his sister.
"Indy," Virgil began as he guided her hand towards the nearby cot, "Feel this. Feel the blanket."
Indiana's hand grasped the blanket. She took note of the light weight of the blanket and its knitted texture. It wasn't scratchy, like a lot of blankets found in a hospital. The blanket was a light blue. Almost like the colour of Scott's sash. The more details Indiana took in about the blanket, recalling them out loud on Virgil's instructions, the calmer she felt. Or, at the very least, it helped her refocus.
Wordlessly, Virgil handed Indiana a bottle of water. With a quiet thank you, Indiana took small sips, relishing the feeling of the cool liquid sliding down her throat.
"You okay for me to get ready for launch?" Virgil asked her quietly.
Indiana nodded wordlessly, not wanting to distract him a moment longer than necessary. Scott needed them.
Eventually, Indiana joined him in the cockpit. Brains hasn't joined them yet. In fact, there was no sign of the passenger elevator making its way down. He must be making sure everything they needed in the pod will be there.
"If you don't mind me asking," Virgil began nervously, "Have you had panic attacks often?"
"No," Indiana shook her head, "Not since the divorce."
"Does anyone know?" Virgil asked her worriedly.
"No, and I want it kept that way," Indiana told him firmly, "At least, for a while. I'll tell everyone else in my own time."
"Okay," Virgil relented, gently squeezing her hand, "You sure you'll be okay?"
"I'll be okay when we know Scott's okay," Indiana answered.
Virgil didn't say anymore. For one thing, Brains and Tin-Tin joined them via the passenger elevator. Virgil and Indiana were surprised to see Tin-Tin with Brains. They couldn't help but wonder how Tin-Tin was able to talk Jeff into letting her go.
For another, he recognized Indiana didn't feel comfortable talking about her history with anxiety (if there was a history). So, Virgil decided to put it to rest for the time being and let her come to him when she felt comfortable. He didn't want to push his friend.
As Thunderbird 2 taxied to its launch point, Indiana sent up another prayer, hoping someone will find Scott before they get there.
Two archaeologists were making their way through the desert in a Jeep. As usual, they were bickering.
"Slow down, Wilson," Lindsey pleaded, "You've got to treat this sand with respect."
"Respect?!" Wilson scoffed, "I hate the sight of it!"
As Wilson drove over a sand dune, Wilson pleaded his comrade once more, "Stop the truck before you kill us!"
"Sit tight, Lindsay! We've been fifteen days in this godforsaken desert! The sooner we're out of it, the better! I'm fed up to the back teeth with this lousy expedition!" Wilson decreed.
"You wanted to come on the trip," Lindsey reminded him.
"I must have been crazy," Wilson grumbled before snapping irritably, "Now, shut up and hang on!"
Lindsey decided he was better off heeding Wilson's advice. He kept silent and prayed that they would get out of the desert alive. And they didn't end up killing each other on the way.
So, Lindsey decided to occupy his thoughts with the scenery. Nothing but sand and desert and a rocket.
Hold on. A rocket?
"Hey, Wilson! What was that?" Lindsey asked.
"What was what?" Wilson demanded irritably.
"I can't see it now. It's gone behind that big sand dune, I guess," Lindsey shrugged.
Wilson looked over towards where Lindsey was looking before. He couldn't see the specific sand dune his fellow archaeologist was talking about before. Well, it wasn't that he couldn't see the sand dune. He couldn't differentiate it among the sand dunes that surrounded them.
"Heh. I can't see anything. Hey, you must be seeing things. It was a mirage. Yeah. That's right. It was a mirage," Wilson decided.
Wilson couldn't help but worry for his friend. They were warned of what could happen if they stayed in the desert for too long. The desert could play funny tricks on the unsuspecting traveller.
Then, they drove past the sand dune and saw the downed Thunderbird 1.
"Now, who's seeing things?" Lindsey smirked.
"Hey! This might be serious! We'd better go take a look!" Wilson decreed.
Immediately, Wilson guided the Jeep towards the downed rocket. It wasn't until they got closer to the rocket that they realized the rocket's significance.
"Hey, Lindsey! What about those markings?!" Wilson asked.
"It's… International Rescue! Wilson, it's International Rescue!" Lindsey cheered.
Wilson thought that he should berate Lindsey for being so cheerful about what they were seeing. Thunderbird 1 had been shot down. That was clear as day. But how was it shot down? Who did it? What was the condition of the pilot?
As he slowed the Jeep to a stop, Wilson couldn't help but whistle, "Gee, that's some craft, isn't it?"
Lindsey didn't say anything to acknowledge his friend's remarks. Instead, his attention was diverted to the hatch.
"Wilson, look! There's somebody stretched out there! In that hatchway in the side!" Lindsey told him, "Hey, he looks like he's in a bad way!"
Their mind made up, Wilson and Lindsey quickly climbed out of the Jeep and raced towards Thunderbird 1.
Just as they did, Scott was beginning to come to. He had hoped that he would be waking up in the infirmary on Tracy Island. He would see Indiana leaning over him with that brilliant smile as she tended to his wounds. He would hear Grandma Tracy fussing over him, insisting that a slice of her world-famous apple pie would help him feel better.
Alas, he was still in the desert.
"Ooh, my head!" Scott moaned.
Then, he saw the two men approaching him.
"Hey, you're hurt!" Lindsey cried.
"I'll survive," Scott mumbled.
"Lindsey, get the first aid from the Jeep!" Wilson instructed.
"Right," Lindsey nodded, racing off to do so.
"What happened, then?" Wilson demanded.
"Well, I was… I was on my way home when these three fighters came out of nowhere and forced me down here," Scott recalled.
"Fighters, did you say? Who could they have been?! There's no human life for miles and miles around here!" Wilson decreed, "We know, mister, because we've been all over these parts!"
Scott couldn't help but ask, "What are you fellas doing in this neck of the woods, anyway?"
"We're on an expedition to locate the Lost Pyramid of Khamandides!" Wilson proclaimed.
Lindsey, who was coming back with the first aid kit, couldn't help but grumble, "You mean, we were looking for the darn thing until you decided you'd had enough."
"Yeah, well, I must… I must admit the locals aren't all that friendly," Scott joked.
"There's something about this part of the desert that gives me the creeps," Wilson cringed.
Scott made to make a remark, but then he felt the shooting pain in his head again.
Wilson took pity on him, "Ah, come on, fella. We're gonna fix you up."
As Wilson reached in to help Scott out of the aircraft, Scott stopped him, "Uh, hold it a second. Just do me a small favour first, will you?"
"Sure thing. You just name it," Wilson nodded.
"Er, radio International Rescue and tell them I'm okay," Scott requested kindly.
He knew that his family would be worried out of their minds, and Thunderbird 2 would have already been dispatched to look for him. He knew it would help his brother to find him if they had a location.
"Certainly. What's the frequency?" Wilson asked.
Scott stammered for a moment, not used to being asked such a question, before ultimately answering, "Well, I-I guess any frequency will do. They'll receive you."
Jeff sat at his desk. He was waiting for word. Scott hadn't contacted them yet, so that meant one of two things. His radio was smashed or he was in a bad way. He hoped more than anything that it was simply a case of the radio being smashed. He wouldn't be able to handle it if it was the alternative.
He also hadn't heard from Virgil to say they had found him. In fact, he hadn't heard from Virgil since Thunderbird 2 took off. But Jeff couldn't be mad at that. He needed to focus on finding his brother.
Alan and Gordon had made themselves scarce. Looking for something to do. They didn't like feeling helpless. Especially when it was one of their own that was in trouble.
But Jeff couldn't leave the lounge. He would not leave until he heard from someone.
John's portrait than began beeping, causing Jeff's heart to freeze and his breath to catch in his throat. Did someone find him? Did Scott manage to find a way to contact Thunderbird 5? Did Virgil radio John and ask him to deliver bad news?
He couldn't take not knowing anymore, so he immediately answered the call, "Go ahead, John."
"Father! Wonderful news about Scott! He's had a bit of a knock, but apart from that, he seems okay!"
Jeff felt like he could breathe again. His eldest son was alive. But he wouldn't believe he was well until he could see him for himself.
"Well… Well, I'm sure relieved to hear that," Jeff sighed in relief, "What happened?"
"Well, I haven't got the full story yet, father, but it seems he had to make a forced landing."
That confirmed Jeff's first suspicions. Scott had been shot down and Thunderbird 1's radio was smashed. He could handle that. They could easily repair the damage Thunderbird 1 sustained. He would rather rebuild Thunderbird 1 than bury his child.
"Well, you can fill in the details later. Do you have his position?" Jeff asked urgently.
"Yes, father. Reference 67-93."
"Reference 67-93," Virgil repeated, "Okay, father, thanks. We're very near that area now."
Everyone aboard Thunderbird 2 felt the same wave of relief wash over them at Jeff's report. Scott had been found by two archaeologists, and they radioed Thunderbird 5 to report Scott's condition and location. From the sounds of it, Scott smashed his head pretty hard, but that seemed to be the worst of his injuries. They were already starting to give him basic first aid.
"Look!" Tin-Tin suddenly cried, "There's Thunderbird. And that's that parked beside it?"
Seeing the Jeep, Brains answered, "O-oh, t-that must belong to those, er, those fellas w-who found him."
"Losing height now," Virgil reported as he initiated Thunderbird 2's landing procedures.
That couldn't happen fast enough. For any of them.
Wilson and Lindsey looked up in amazement as Thunderbird 2 landed before them. Seeing two International Rescue craft in one day. It was a pretty big deal.
They had managed to get Scott out of Thunderbird 1 and helped him to their Jeep. The action of getting him out of the aircraft took a toll on the pilot, so they sat him down and got some water into him. They didn't know how long he had been out there before they found him.
Wilson and Lindsey saw four people disembark from Thunderbird 2. They all hurriedly made their way to the Jeep.
"Scott!" Virgil cried in relief as he embraced his brother, "Thank God."
"I'm okay, Virgil," Scott moved to reassure him.
"I think I'll be the judge of that," Indiana quipped as she moved closer, "Were you unconscious at any point?"
"Yeah. I was knocked out during the crash and these guys found me passed out in the hatch," Scott answered honestly.
"Okay," Indiana sighed, taking a quick look at the cut, "Let's get you into the infirmary. I wanna get an x-ray to make sure there's no fractures."
"We'll give you a hand," Wilson cut in, stepping forward, "He almost collapsed when we got him out of his craft."
"That's normal in a concussion," Indiana reassured him.
Sensing the need for introductions, Wilson introduced himself, "Oh. I'm Wilson. This is Lindsey."
"Tin-Tin and I are going to e-e-examine Thunderbird 1," Brains decided before asking Scott, "I-i-is there anything I need to know?"
"Yeah, I think the radio got smashed," Scott answered.
Brains nodded before he and Tin-Tin made their way to Thunderbird 1. Wilson and Lindsey helped Scott into Thunderbird 2 while Virgil raced ahead to get everything Indiana would need for her concussion test.
"Okay, Scott," Indiana began as she stood in front of him, "I know you're familiar with MACE."
Scott nodded, before immediately regretting it when his head started hurting. MACE stood for Military Acute Concussion Evaluation. It collected information about the event and his symptoms and included a version of the SAC (Standardized Assessment of Concussion) test. Wordlessly, Virgil handed Indiana everything she needed to run the MACE and take notes as needed.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Indiana asked.
"I was on my way home from the Tokyo fire. Then, these three fighters came out of nowhere and shot me down," Scott answered.
"Did you hit your head on anything?" Indiana asked worriedly, gesturing to the cut.
"Yeah. My controller," Scott responded.
"What happened after the injury? Did you see stars? Were you dazed?" Indiana inquired.
"I was knocked out," Scott revealed.
Indiana's brows furrowed before continuing with her examination, "What's the last thing you remember? Let's start with before you lost consciousness the first time."
"I…," Scott trailed off, "I remember trying to get the nosecone up. Then hitting the ground."
"Okay," Indiana breathed shakily, "Then you woke up. What do you remember before Wilson and Lindsey found you?"
"I tried to contact base, but I couldn't get through. So, I got up to look outside. Then the next thing I remember is being found," Scott recalled.
"He was unconscious when you found him?" Indiana turned her attention to Wilson and Lindsey.
"Yes," Lindsey nodded, "He came to just as we were coming over."
"Thanks," Indiana smiled as she made the notes, "I can move on to the cognitive exam."
Much to Indiana's relief, he was able to answer all the questions she asked him about the date and time. He knew what month, the date, the day of the week, the year, and he was able to roughly estimate what time it was. He didn't get it bang on, but the MACE stated that the correct response had to be within one hour of the actual time, and he was within that timeframe.
"Okay. I am going to test your memory. I will read you a list of words and when I'm done, I want you to repeat back to me as many words as you can remember. In any order," Indiana told him before reading the list, "Dollar. Honey. Mirror. Saddle. Anchor."
"Mirror. Anchor. Saddle. Dollar. Honey," Scott recited.
Indiana marked off each word he got correct, "I'm going to repeat the list again. Repeat back to me as many words as you can remember. In any order. Even if you've said them before."
Scott went through the exercise again. He said the words in different order each time, but he always ended on the same word. "Honey."
Indiana then grabbed the small torch she always carried with her, testing his pupil response. His pupils were round and equal in size and they constricted briskly to the bright light. She then had him track her finger with his eyes, which he was able to do.
Indiana had been assessing his speech throughout the whole process. It was fluid and effortless. No unnatural breaks. And he was able to come up with the name of common objects, so Indiana was able to tick that it was abnormal.
"Okay, Scooter," Indiana began as she held out her hands, "Squeeze."
Wordlessly (and with an intense look in his eyes), Scott grabbed Indiana's hands and squeezed them. Satisfied with the strength of his grip (and hoping he didn't notice her hands were clammy), Indiana instructed him to close his eyes and extend his arms forward, parallel to the ground with his palms up. Satisfied with how well Scott did, she ticked normal before moving on to balance.
She instructed Scott to stand up. Once he stood, she told him to put one foot in front of the other, heel-to-toe, extend his arms forward with the palms facing up and close his eyes. She observed him stand like this for ten seconds. Unfortunately, Indiana noticed him stumble slightly and shift his feet. So, his balance isn't the greatest.
Now, she wanted to test his concentration.
"Okay, Scott. I'm going to read to you a string of numbers. When I'm finished, repeat them back to me backwards. That is, in reverse order. For example, if I said 7-1-9, then you'd say 9-1-7. You get me?" Indiana asked him.
"Yeah," Scott nodded.
Indiana read the combination of numbers, ticking off if Scott said them in the reverse order correctly, "2-7-1. 1-6-8-3. 2-4-7-5-8. 5-8-6-2-4-9."
Scott could feel the relief that was radiating of Indiana, Virgil (there was no way he was leaving his brother's side), and Wilson and Lindsey.
"Now, tell me the months of the year in reverse order. Start with the last month and go backwards. So, you'll say December, November…," Indiana trailed off, "Go ahead."
"December, November, October, September, August, July, June, May, April, March, February, January," Scott recited in perfect order.
"Okay. Do you remember that list of words I read a few minutes earlier? I want you to tell me as many words from that list as you can remember. You can say them in any order," Indiana told him.
Scott recalled the words, "Dollar. Saddle. Mirror. Anchor. Honey."
Indiana sighed in relief. So far, it seemed his biggest symptoms were headache, dizziness, balance problems, visual disturbances and ringing in the ears (Scott mentioned that during the balance test.)
"Okay. Excluding this event, have you been diagnosed with a concussion in the last twelve months?" Indiana asked.
"No," Scott responded in the negative.
"Okay," Indiana sighed in relief, "Let's get your x-rayed for any skull fractures, hook you up to an IV, and get that cut cleaned up. Good news is, you won't need stitches."
The campfire that had formed under Thunderbird 2 that night was one filled with laughter and relief. Scott was no longer attached to an IV and had the cut on his head cleaned and bandaged. However, Indiana had decided they should settle down for the night as a precaution, not wanting Scott to fly so soon after sustaining a concussion. Tin-Tin had brought with her some of Grandma Tracy's apple pie, knowing it would cheer Scott up.
Scott was sitting on a deck chair with Indiana and Wilson either side of him. Brains was standing towards the back between Scott and Indiana. Lindsey was sitting on the other deck chair while Virgil sat on the ground beside him. Tin-Tin was standing behind the table set up in front of the group. She was cleaning up after the meal.
"Gee, that apple pie you brought out was good, Tin-Tin," Scott praised before asking hopefully, "Is there anymore?"
"No, Scott. You scoffed the lot," Tin-Tin laughed.
"Besides, three helpings are enough," Indiana cut in, "You're supposed to be recovering, remember?"
"Well, I'm sure you'll agree that nothing's better than home cooking to help you feel better," Scott playfully teased her.
Indiana just let out a small laugh as she helped herself to the last bit of apple pie on Scott's plate.
"Considering the brutality o-of the attack, I-I think you got off quite lightly, Scott," Brains chimed in, "I-I-I, er, I checked the radio, by the way. It's alright n-now."
"Well, thanks a lot, Brains. If these guys decide to attack tomorrow, I think they'll find us more prepared," Scott declared.
"Do you think they might attack again, Scott?" Tin-Tin asked worriedly.
"I don't know what to think, Tin-Tin. The whole thing has got me baffled," Scott sighed heavily.
Indiana reached up and squeezed his hand. A comforting gesture that was greatly appreciated. However, Scott wanted more. He just wanted to hold her. But he remembered what they agreed to. So, it had to wait until they knew they were alone.
"It's this desert, I tell ya!" Wilson proclaimed, "I tell ya, I've had a strange feeling about it ever since we came out to look for this pyramid!"
"Pyramid?!" Virgil and Indiana repeated in confusion.
"I didn't think there were any pyramids in this part of the desert," Virgil remarked.
Lindsey clarified, "Well, some explorers claimed to have caught sight of the Lost Pyramid of Khamandides. Others say that it was just a mirage and that they just imagined the whole thing."
"The sun in these parts can play funny tricks, you know," Wilson quipped, "Isn't that right, doc?"
"Yeah. It's well documented," Indiana nodded in agreement before deciding, "Okay. It's late. Everyone has an early start tomorrow. Let's call it a night."
The next morning, International Rescue parted ways with the two archaeologists. Wilson and Lindsey continued their journey through the desert, while International Rescue returned to Tracy Island.
It was a bustle when they did come back. Jeff had an emotional reunion with his oldest son, now able to see with his own eyes that he was okay. Grandma Tracy had kept herself busy cooking all sorts of delectable treats for her oldest grandson. In fact, after Indiana gave him another check over (and maybe snuck a kiss or two), Grandma Tracy was trying to force-feed him.
"How about some more of that coconut crumble, Scott?" Grandma Tracy offered him.
Scott had to shake his head, "Oh, gee, no thanks, Grandma. I just couldn't."
"How do you feel now?" Tin-Tin asked worriedly.
Alan piped in with his own question, "Say, Scott, have you any idea where those fighters might've come from?"
Sensing that Scott was feeling uncomfortable with the rapid-fire questions, Jeff decided to cut in, "Okay, okay, that's enough questions for the time being. I guess Scott can take it that we're glad he got home safe."
"Well, I've got you all to thank for that," Scott proclaimed, "And those fellas in the Jeep."
"Just imagine them finding you in all that expanse of desert," Tin-Tin remarked.
"I hope they have as much luck in finding that pyramid," Scott quipped.
Scott was grateful for a minute alone without anyone hovering over him. He just wanted a moment to breathe. To reflect on what he just survived.
He also wanted time to get ready. He had to take Alan up to Thunderbird 5. John's return to Earth had already been delayed because of Scott getting shot down. He didn't want to delay his brother's homecoming any further if he could help it.
Virgil walked past. He was changed in his tennis gear. Apparently, he and Jeff were planning to have a friendly game of tennis once Scott and Alan had taken off.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Virgil asked worriedly.
"Yeah," Scott nodded, "Ana cleared me. I feel fine. No need to delay John coming home if we don't have to."
Virgil let out a breath. He knew there was more to it, but he didn't want to push. Scott wanted to process things in his own way. In his own time.
"I was scared, Scott," Virgil admitted, "We all were. Dad didn't know what to say. Gordon, Alan and Tin-Tin wanted to help, but didn't know how. Indy had a panic attack in the infirmary. I certainly didn't…"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Scott cut in, alarm laced in his voice, "Ana had a panic attack?"
"Crap," Virgil quietly cursed as Scott stormed out of the room.
'Nice going, Virgil,' he thought to himself quietly, 'Hopefully, Indy won't have the urge to test her skills in giving prostate exams.'
"You had a panic attack?!"
Indiana winced.
"Virgil told you," Indiana sighed.
"I thought we talked about this," Scott reminded her.
It turned out Indiana told Virgil a little white lie. She had a couple of panic attacks since the divorce and Scott was a witness to one of them. It was after a really bad rescue. He begrudgingly agreed to keep Indiana's history of panic attacks a secret.
"You were concussed after being shot down," Indiana countered, "I didn't want to worry you."
"Honey," Scott began, grasping her hands, "are you okay? Really?"
"I'm fine," Indiana reassured him with a gentle smile, "I'm pretty sure you're meant to go take Alan up to Thunderbird 5."
"I've got a few minutes. Right now…," Scott trailed off with a sigh, pulling her into his arms, "I just want to hold you."
Indiana nuzzled herself into his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It was strong. Reassuring. Much like the man himself.
Scott buried his face in her hair, trying to inhale her scent. Trying to commit everything to memory.
"If it makes you feel better," Indiana mumbled with a smirk, "You can play doctor when you get back."
Thunderbird 3 launched on schedule. Scott was trying to not rush through the procedures. He didn't want to make his baby brother feel like he was eager to get rid of him. But, the prospect of 'playing doctor' certainly made him more than eager to get home.
"Thunderbird 3 to Space Station. Ready for boarding tube," Scott spoke into the radio.
"F.A.B."
Thunderbird 3 then shifted as it docked with Thunderbird 5. While Scott guided Thunderbird 3 through the docking procedures, Alan was retrieving his belongings. When the clang sounded, Alan moved to the airlock.
As the door opened, he turned to his oldest brother, "See you in a month, Scott."
"Sure thing, Alan," Scott nodded, "Good luck."
With a nod, Alan continued travelling down the airlock to meet his oldest brother in Thunderbird 5. But there would be a momentarily interlude before John joined his brother aboard Thunderbird 3. First, he had to do the official handover with Alan.
"Hi, Alan," John greeted his youngest brother, "Hey, it'll be good to get back home."
"Yeah," Alan nodded in understanding, "Anything that needs watching?"
"Keep listening to Band 794, least of Beam 72," John instructed him, "It's very faint. I figure someone's in trouble, but I'm not sure."
Alan voiced his surprise, "Band 794? That's the Sahara area."
"I was figuring maybe it was the two archaeologists who found Scott," John shrugged, "They've been trying to reach their base camp."
"Okay, John. I'll keep watch," Alan reassured him, "See ya."
John gave a wave as the airlock door closed. He then made his way through the airlock towards Thunderbird 3 with a brisk step. He wasn't just eager to get home.
He was eager to see his brother.
"Scott!" John greeted happily as he went to give his brother a hug.
"Hey, John," Scott responded as he patted his brother's back, "Eager to get in the pool?"
"Yeah. I'm also glad to see you're okay," John smiled, "You scared us all, Scott."
"I've heard," Scott drawled slightly as he took his seat, "You're not mad about your return home being delayed, are you?"
"No," John shook his head firmly, "I just wanted you to be okay."
Scott smiled as he and John prepared to return to Earth.
They exchanged easy conversation, catching each other up on what's been happening throughout their month apart. John excitedly told Scott about how his latest book was being well received and he was going to have to spend some of his downtime travelling around the U.K., giving lectures and a few book signings in various bookstore. Scott talked about some adventures that couldn't be discussed over open phone lines; even the heavily encrypted ones Brains had installed.
When Thunderbird 3 arrived back to the island, John told Scott to go up to the lounge without him. He wanted to find Brains in his lab and discuss some potential ideas for upgrades to Thunderbird 5 when he went to change shifts with Alan.
Scott's body hummed in anticipation as he was lifted back into the lounge for the settee. He wondered what kind of excuse he could give that would explain his and Indiana's absence for a long while without tipping anyone off. He did want to be thorough in his examination.
"Ah, there you are, Scott. You're just the person I wanted to see," Jeff remarked before instructing him, "Get down to Thunderbird 1 and standby for launching, will you? One good turn deserves another."
"How do you mean, father?" Scott asked as he stood up, trying valiantly to hide his disappointment.
"Oh, never mind, Scott," Jeff shook his head, "Indiana's already in Thunderbird 1 getting ready. She'll tell you everything."
"Yes, sir," Scott nodded.
Scott had managed to convince his father that there would be some merits to Indiana having a spare uniform stored in Thunderbird 1. Nowadays, anytime she went out into the field, she flew with Scott. So, rather than having to wait around for Indiana to get changed before coming aboard, she could get changed in the rocket as it prepared for launch.
At first, Jeff was aghast. Thunderbird 1 didn't exactly allow for a lot of privacy. But he was under the impression that Scott and Indiana had come up with a system where they had as much privacy Thunderbird 1 allowed when changing. Jeff was better off not knowing otherwise.
"Did John get home okay?" Indiana asked him as she slid the sleeves onto her arms.
"Yeah," Scott nodded, pressing a quick kiss to her temple as he reached for his uniform, "He just wanted to talk to Brains about some potential upgrades for Thunderbird 5."
"So, we won't be seeing John and Brains for a while," Indiana drawled.
Scott laughed as he began getting changed. Once he was changed and taking Thunderbird 1 through her pre-launch procedures, he decided now was a good time to ask Indiana about the details of their emergency call.
"So, what did father mean when he said 'one good turn deserves another'?" Scott asked in confusion.
"Remember what you said to Wilson and Lindsey before we left?" Indiana began.
"Yeah," Scott nodded, "I told them we'd be more than happy to help them out if they ever found themselves in trouble. I take it this means they called for help."
"Yeah. But their radio must've been busted. Alan had trouble making out what they were saying. But he did manage to make out they were dying of thirst," Indiana revealed, "I think something happened to their supplies and they're stranded."
Scott remembered something Lindsey had said about how Wilson tended to be a bit reckless with his driving, so he figured that the trailer carrying their supplies detached from the Jeep and the heat in the desert caused the gas that was stored in the trailer to explode. The explosion would've consumed their provisions.
Including their water supply.
"So, you're coming because they will need medical attention," Scott guessed.
"That, and I wanted to keep an eye on you," Indiana shrugged.
Scott could understand that.
Alan had managed to plot the location the call came from, even if it was very faint, and radio it to Scott once he had shifted Thunderbird 1 to horizontal flight. Alan had mentioned that there was a waterhole in the area. Scott and Indiana hoped that meant Wilson and Lindsey were able to find a source of water.
But even if they managed to quench their thirst, they would still need rescuing. There was no way they had enough fuel to get back to their base camp – or the provisions to last them the journey back, even if they did have the fuel.
While Scott focused on piloting Thunderbird 1, Indiana focused on surveying the area. Having her along was certainly proving beneficial.
"Damn it!" Indiana cursed.
Scott looked out the observation window and saw that Indiana was right to be frustrated. They found the waterhole alright, but it was dry. In fact, it looked like it dried up some time ago.
"International Rescue from Thunderbird 1. Danger zone: negative. The waterhole's been dry for months," Scott reported to base.
"Any signs of life, Scott?"
"You see anything, Ana?" Scott asked her.
"Yeah," Indiana nodded, "I think something caught their attention."
"Ana just spotted some Jeep tracks heading north. We're gonna follow them," Scott informed his father.
"F.A.B, Scott. Keep in touch."
"What do you think caught their attention?" Scott inquired.
"I don't know," Indiana shrugged as she looked at a map she had pulled up, "There's no other waterholes in the area. No manmade structure. Maybe they spotted one of those nomadic communities."
Scott thought that explanation was plausible. He had heard stories about communities that travelled through the desert. Even if they couldn't provide gas for the Jeep, they could provide food, water and basic first aid.
Indiana suddenly developed a bad feeling about their adventure. Something felt off. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she suddenly felt an overwhelming amount of dread settle in her stomach. She couldn't help but feel like they were flying into a trap.
But Indiana dismissed the thoughts, thinking she was just being paranoid because of Scott getting shot down. So, she focused on the view. It looked like any other desert. Sand piled into numerous dunes of various heights. A pyramid in the horizon. No clouds in sight.
Wait. A pyramid?!
Scott must've seen what she saw because he was radioing in, "International Rescue from Thunderbird 1. I've found the Jeep, but get this. It's abandoned outside a pyramid!"
"Are you sure you have the correct location, Scott?"
"Yeah! I know it's sound crazy, but it's a pyramid! I'm going down to take a look!" Scott decided.
The dread only grew as Scott landed next to the pyramid. Scott considered asking Indiana to stay in Thunderbird 1 and monitor communications, but he thought better.
For one thing, she wouldn't go for it. For another, he'd be grateful for the extra pair of eyes, especially since he didn't know what he was walking into. Then again, the fact that he didn't know what he was walking into was what made him want to ask her to stay in Thunderbird 1. But he didn't want the fight, so he let her come with him.
As the two made their way over to the pyramid, they noticed several important factors. It's blistering hot. That was indeed Wilson and Lindsey's Jeep they spotted. It's blistering hot. There were footprints that led from the Jeep to the pyramid. It's blistering hot. There was no door into the pyramid. And, again, it's blistering hot.
"I don't get it," Scott muttered as he reported back to base, "The prints just end at a blank wall! There's no entrance anywhere!"
Scott suddenly felt Indiana tug at his sleeve to get his attention and point at the outer wall of the pyramid. There was a particular stone that was rolling on its hinges away from the two of them, revealing a small, darkened passageway. It was the door.
"Let me guess. If I told you to stay out here, you'd follow me anyway," Scott drawled.
His response? Indiana went to walk in ahead of him, hand on her gun. She was only stopped by Scott grabbing her arm and shooting her a firm look. One rule they had? He always went first to make sure it was safe.
"A door's just opened up. Ana and I are going in," Scott reported.
"F.A.B, Scott, but be careful."
Indiana followed Scott through the passageway and into the dark room housed inside the pyramid. There was little to no light. They heard the sounds of water sloshing in the distance. Statues from the time of the pharaohs remained standing. The pyramid was certainly a fitting tribute for a pharaoh, let alone the God of the Eternal Fountain.
Fortunately, Scott and Indiana didn't notice the skeleton sprawled in a corner.
"Look at the carvings!" Indiana whistled as she looked at a nearby wall.
"Looks like they found the pyramid they were looking for," Scott remarked.
The two of them then heard the rumblings that seemed to seal their fate. They turned around in alarm to see the door was closing.
"Hey! The door!" Scott cried.
Indiana immediately set to work, looking for a way to open the door again. But something made her stop. The sound of voices.
"Lindsey! Look!"
"I don't believe it! Mountains of treasure!"
"Hey. That's Wilson and Lindsey!" Indiana said to Scott.
"International Rescue Headquarters from Scott Tracy. The entrance has closed! We're trapped! But we can hear voices," Scott reported in.
"F.A.B, Scott. Check that place out. If we don't hear from you within ten minutes, I'll get Thunderbird 2 out there. Watch your step."
"Okay, dad," Scott nodded.
All Scott and Indiana had to do was follow the voices.
"We're rich, Wilson! The richest men alive!" Lindsey proclaimed.
"Yeah! Yeah! We could buy the world!" Wilson cheered sarcastically before stating, "Say, we've forgotten something. We're trapped in here! We couldn't open that entrance door!"
Lindsey shook his head in denial, "We can't be… We're too rich to be trapped…"
Wilson and Lindsey stopped when they heard the sound of footsteps. They turned around to see Scott and Indiana standing at the top of the staircase.
"Oh, hi there! International Rescue at your service!" Scott greeted.
Under normal circumstances, the people they were rescuing would be happy to see them. Scott would be able to report in the situation, and possibly suggest Thunderbird 2 came with the Mole to free them if they couldn't find a way to open the door from the inside.
But these weren't normal circumstances, because Lindsey pulled out a gun and cried, "You can't fool me! You've come to steal our treasure!"
Immediately, Indiana moved to defuse the situation, "Wait! Lindsey! You called us for help! That's why we're here!"
A loud bang echoed around them as Lindsey fired his gun. Scott and Indiana were unharmed. Instead, the bullet hit the portable radio Scott was holding, rendering it useless. Immediately, Scott pulled Indiana behind a nearby statue. Wilson, meanwhile, dove for cover behind a pile of treasure.
Even as he sought protection, Wilson still felt compelled to try to reason with his friend. So, he stuck his head up and pleaded with him, "What did ya shoot at them for?! They've come to rescue us!"
Lindsey shook his head in denial, "No! They only want the treasure!"
"YOU'RE CRAZY!" Wilson snapped at him.
Lindsey's response was to fire two bullets at his friend. Wilson immediately ducked for cover. When he didn't get back up, Scott and Indiana feared the worst.
"Don't be a fool!" Scott pleaded with him, "Throw down your gun! You need help!"
"You and your girlfriend are the ones who need help! You're gonna die!" Lindsey proclaimed, pointing his gun at them.
Indiana edged out from behind the statue, hoping to help the archaeologist see reason. She raised her hands as a gesture of reassurance, pleading with him, "Lindsey, you've been through some trauma. Come on. We'll get you some help."
"Then, you'll be able to get my treasure! Won't ya?!" Lindsey proclaimed.
He fired his gun again. Scott immediately moved to pull Indiana behind the statue again, but not even he could move faster than a bullet. Quickly, he checked Indiana over, freezing in horror when he pulled his hand back to find it covered in blood. Looking down, he saw blood staining her uniform and he saw the pain laced in Indiana's face.
Angered, Scott glared at Lindsey, his blue eyes hardened with murderous rage, "Okay. If that's the way you want it, I guess I'll just have to blast you out!"
Scott appeared from behind the statue on the other side with his own gun drawn. Within moments, he found himself in a firefight, one of the few he had experienced since International Rescue started operations. Scott fired the first shot at Lindsey, but since Lindsey had sought cover behind a pile of treasure, Scott was only successful at knocking some treasure off the pile. As he moved to the adjacent statue for additional cover (and to keep the attention on him), Lindsey fired off two shots. Both missed.
Lindsey was taunting him along the way, "You'll have to kill me before I let you have my treasure!"
Indiana gasped, clutching her wound to stem the bleeding as she watched the gunfight unfold in front of her. Much to her horror, the next shot Lindsey fired knocked the gun out of Scott's hands. Regretfully, when Indiana was shot, the gun that was attached to her fell away, landing just out of their reach. Now that he lost his gun, Scott immediately moved to the statue Indiana was hiding behind. He moved her behind him.
Lindsey made for Indiana's gun, taunting them, "Ha-ha! Now, I have you, Mr. Clever Tracy! And your little girlfriend, too!"
As Lindsey taunted the two members of International Rescue, he shot at the statue they were hiding behind, hoping to make it fall.
"Come on out! You can't escape!"
BANG!
"You can't hide behind there, Tracy!"
BANG!
"You know you're gonna die! Don't you?! Right after I kill your girlfriend!"
Lindsey's maniacal laughter echoed all around them before the statue finally fell down, Lindsey having been successful in shooting out the ankles. Realizing there was no way out, Scott pushed Indiana more firmly behind him.
"There's no more protection, Tracy. Now, you will die!" Lindsey decreed, holding the gun to them.
Lindsey may have been successful, if it hadn't been for the appearance of two armed men dressed in Ancient Egyptian garb. Scott, Indiana and Lindsey looked over in surprise at the sudden appearance of the two men. They turned to Lindsey first, since he was the one with the gun in his hand, and fired one simple shot at him. The shot was designed to incapacitate Lindsey, which worked successfully, as the gun fell to the floor and Lindsey fell to the ground unconscious.
Satisfied, they turned to Scott and Indiana and one of the men instructed in a foreign language, "Fakala shada! Cuma!"
With the gestures the guards were making, Scott immediately knew what they were asking them to do. They were going to end up being their prisoners.
"Well, I don't know who you are, buddy, but," Scott began objecting.
"Looks like they want us to go with them, Scott."
Scott and Indiana turned in surprise to see Wilson emerge from his hiding place.
"Ah, don't worry," Wilson said dismissively, "I was only stunned when I fell."
Indiana winced before remarking, "You certainly fooled us."
Irritably, the guard snapped again, "Fakala shada! Cuma!"
Scott implored with them, "You can have me. But the others go free. Please."
The Zombite shook his head and repeated his command.
"I guess we'd better do as they say," Wilson quipped.
While Scott supported Indiana, helping to apply pressure to her wound, one of the guards, later revealed to belong to the Zombite tribe, swung Lindsey's unconscious body over his shoulder before going back the way he came. The other guard remained behind to ensure Scott, Indiana and Wilson followed him.
The three of them were shoved into a monorail that barely had walking space. Immediately, Scott helped Indiana stand against the wall, accepting the jacket Wilson gave him to help. Wilson was horrified when he saw the wound. He couldn't believe the madness his friend had fallen into.
The monorail lurched as it began its journey deeper into the pyramid. It moved a pace that could almost be likened to a snail.
"Gee. I figure we must be in the bowels of the Earth!" Wilson quipped, "Where are they taking us now?"
They watched all the rooms they were travelling through in the monorail. They saw legions of machinery and long lines of pipes in all sorts of patterns.
"If you think, this is where these guys get their fuel and power," Scott voiced aloud, "Like some kind of mineral that gives a highly explosive gas."
"Yeah. And highly lethal too. Take a look at that joker in the gas mask," Wilson remarked.
Scott saw where Wilson was pointing. There was indeed a worker wearing a gas mask. This confirmed that the gas was dangerous if inhaled. How dangerous? They could only guess. They certainly didn't want to find out.
Scott froze when he saw the trio of fighter jets. He would recognize them anywhere.
"He's tanking up those fighters under there. And they look like the craft that shot me down the other day!" Scott proclaimed.
Gasping, Indiana voiced her own fears, "What are they gonna do to us?"
They went through a door that opened upon their arrival. They were now in another room. One that was filled with computers that resembled the Mobile Control setup Scott carried with him in Thunderbird 1. The monorail came to a stop and one guard disembarked while another stayed behind, keeping an eye on their prisoners.
It wasn't hard for the group to pick out the leader. Thick black eyelashes, black moustache that pointed towards his eyes, a beard that reached the collar of his top, the red cape, the red-and-gold hat; it was almost like he was designed to stand out.
They didn't understand a word the Zombites said. The language was foreign in the truest sense of the word. Nothing they said made sense. But they could get an overall idea of what the conversation was about. They were talking about them. They were gloating about their success.
Then, the leader pointed to the screen, shouting an order. Within moments, Thunderbird 2 was shown.
Scott felt his heart sink as he remembered the final words his father said to him. If he or Indiana didn't make contact, he was going to send Thunderbird 2 out after them. His younger brother was unknowingly flying into a trap.
"It's Virgil!" Scott gasped in horror.
"Yeah. Your buddies must have come to look for us," Wilson remarked.
Scott didn't think the situation could get any worse. He was wrong. The leader barked out another series of instructions. Again, he couldn't understand.
But when the screen suddenly changed from Thunderbird 2 flying in the sky to missiles preparing for launch, he immediately knew what was going to happen.
"They're gonna attack, Tracy! We gotta warn him!" Wilson cried.
"Right. Now, this is what we're gonna do," Scott whispered.
Indiana quietly moved to stand near Wilson, struggling to maintain the tight pressure on her wound. She sunk to the ground, Scott having told her that it was best to stay out of the way in light of her injuries.
To his horror, the Zombite guard who stayed aboard the monorail turned his gun to Indiana, who breathing was starting to increase. Wilson struck first. He hit the guard's wrist hard enough to force him to drop the gun before tackling him to the ground. Scott took advantage of the chaos to snatch the gun and start a firefight with the Zombites in the control room.
There was no way to know if it was deliberate or accidental, but one of the bullets Scott fired hit the console, which launched the missiles. Fortunately, the missiles were wide off the mark. Thunderbird 2 wasn't in any danger, but it would alert anyone aboard that something was happening below.
"Quick! Start the car!" Scott barked at Wilson.
The alarms began blaring as Wilson began driving the cart away from the control room. The firefight continued between Scott and the Zombites until the monorail cart was out of sight. Unfortunately, the alarms alerted the other Zombites of their great escape, so any worker they encountered on the way out had their guns drawn.
"Ana! Ana, talk to me!" Scott ordered worriedly.
"I'm okay," Indiana panted.
The monorail found themselves in the refinery, where they encountered the worker with the gas mask. Having been alerted, he had his gun drawn and immediately fired at the monorail. The shot missed, and Scott proved to be the better marksman. The Zombite Worker was incapacitated. Unfortunately, on the way down, his arm snagged a lever and pulled it, causing a large stream of gas to leak from the surrounding pipeline.
"W-what's going on?" Wilson asked nervously.
"Keep going, Wilson," Scott ordered him as he moved towards Indiana, "They're not gonna stop us now."
Indiana started coughing, wincing in pain every time she did. Scott grasped the back of her neck, forcing her to look at him.
"Just keep fighting, Ana," Scott pleaded her, "We'll get you out of here."
Indiana gave him a weak smile. The pain was increasing with every breath she took, so she didn't want to put any energy into providing any verbal reassurances.
"Something's happening!" Wilson cried, distracting Scott momentarily.
"It's the pressure in these fuelling pipes. The gas is escaping," Scott responded, "I'm glad we've got this glass protecting us from the fumes."
When he suddenly noticed how pale Indiana had gotten, Scott barked at Wilson, "Wilson, can't you get anymore speed?! The gas is everywhere! The place is gonna go up at any moment!"
"It's no good, Tracy," Wilson shook his head apologetically, "This is maximum."
"If this place blows, it's gonna go up with one mighty big bang," Scott muttered, "We've got to warn Virgil to stay clear."
As they got closer to where they were taken, Lindsey began to come to. Scott was relieved to see that. He and Wilson were already going to have to help Indiana out. She was certainly in no shape to run on her own.
He didn't know how they would've helped both of them.
"Where… where am I? What's going on?" Lindsey demanded.
"You've awakened not a moment too soon, Lindsey. In a couple of minutes, you're gonna have to run for your life like you've never run before. Right. Standby," Scott told him as he went to help Indiana up.
Indiana cried out in pain and, much to the horror of everyone in the cart, coughed up a bit of blood.
That bullet caused some internal damage. She didn't have a lot of time.
A brief thought crossed Scott's mind. They may have made it back to the pyramid, but how were they going to get out? It was clear the Zombites operated the controls for the entrance. How can they open the door if they're too busy choking to death from the gas?
Back in the chamber, it was as if divine intervention stepped in. The controller fell forward, grasping his throat. Much like with the worker with the gas, his hand caught the button that operated the door and he pressed it on the way down. By the time the monorail made it back, the door was open.
"Hurry it up, fellas! Let's get out of here!" Scott snapped.
Scott and Wilson had slung one of Indiana's arms around their shoulders as the four of them raced to the exit. They barely remembered the way out. They just ran.
By the time they had stepped out onto the desert sand, Thunderbird 2 was preparing to land.
Scott moved his watch to his mouth, activating the built-in tele-call, "Thunderbird 2 from Scott Tracy. Calling Thunderbird 2 from Scott Tracy!"
Gordon's voice broke through first, "Hold it, Virgil! It's Scott!"
Virgil's voice followed, "Go ahead, Scott. We're coming in to land right now."
"No, Virgil! Keep away!" Scott pleaded, "Regain height and keep away from the pyramid! It's gonna go up at any moment!"
"But, but, Scott! Are you alright?!"
Irritated, Scott snapped, "DON'T ASK QUESTIONS! JUST DO AS I SAY AND BEAT IT!"
Fortunately, Virgil decided to heed his older brother's warnings without any further arguments. Thunderbird 2's rear thrusters roared back to life as Virgil aborted the landing sequence and sped away from the pyramid.
Lindsey jumped aboard Thunderbird 1 first, leaning forward to grab Indiana from Scott and Wilson. While Lindsey secured her, Wilson and Scott climbed aboard. Barely taking the time to buckle up, Scott immediately activated Thunderbird 1's thrusters. The seconds that passed as Thunderbird 1 took off felt like an eternity.
But he took off just in time. Just as Thunderbird 1 was clear, the pyramid was rocked by an explosion. The Jeep the archaeologists were using got caught in the blast radius, causing it to explode as well.
"There she goes!"
"Yep," Scott nodded as he levelled off, "The Lost Pyramid of Khamandides is lost forever now."
Lindsey looked out the window and remarked to Wilson, "Take a look at that! What an escape!"
"Yeah. We've certainly got a lot to thank International Rescue for!" Wilson declared.
But Scott didn't have time to celebrate, because for him, there was nothing worth celebrating.
Looking at Indiana, who had now lost consciousness, Scott radioed Alan, "Thunderbird 5 from Thunderbird 1. What's the nearest Level I trauma centre to my location?"
Yeah. I'm evil. I'm already used to it.
But right now, I need some sleep. Or maybe butter chicken.
Or for the cat to stop giving me death stares whenever I type.