In the aftermath of the explosion it was suddenly eerily quiet. Even the storm above them seemed to have warily backed off. Scott lifted his head and groaned at the soft ringing that was muting the sounds around him.
Turning carefully to look behind them, he frowned as his eyes rested on the still standing complex. Although shrouded in heavy, black smoke the place was untouched and he adjusted his gaze, seeing the burning remains of a large fighter plane smouldering at the edge of the forest.
The illusion had been good. He had no idea how it had been created. All he knew was that a slight shudder in the hologram – or whatever it was – and a thorough knowledge of his beloved craft's sister ship and he had seen through the deception.
A groan beside him caught his attention and he looked away from the wreckage to watch Mishka slowly lifting herself up onto her knees. She lifted her hand to the back of her head and winced as her fingers felt the dampness of her blood soaked hair. After a brief pause she then took in her surroundings and her eyes met Scott's.
"You okay?" Scott offered huskily, pushing his stiffening body up into an awkward sitting position.
Mishka nodded and looked down at the still form between them.
"I'm fine." John answered their as yet unspoken concern and moaned wearily. "I'm just not moving. Ever."
Scott smiled and reached out to place his hand on his brother's shoulder and leaving it there for both of their reassurance.
"What happened?" Mishka frowned, looking back at the glowing remains of the first few rows of pine trees, the persistent rain preventing an all out blaze catching from the wreckage.
"I'm not sure." Scott replied honestly. He looked up into the cloud and smoke-covered sky and could hear no tell tale rumble of any other craft. "Something blew it up." He offered, in still-bewildered quietness.
"Was it ours?" John asked wearily, finally lifting his face from the rubble around them and turning to his brother.
Scott peered at the wreckage and shrugged a reply. "Without going over there to check … I've no idea …"
"(Why did it come here? Why was it attacking us?)" Mishka blurted out suddenly.
Scott frowned and looked to John for both a reply and a clue as to what she had said.
"(The experiment your people were working has fallen into some bad hands. It needs to be destroyed.)"
Scott watched the horror that grew in Mishka's eyes and was still none the wiser. Although he could hazard a pretty good guess.
"(But this is a government facility!)" Mishka shook her head slowly, her eyes brimming with tears. "(A joint venture between Russian and British and American and - )"
"(I know!)" John heaved himself up from the debris-covered ground and his face crumpled with pain as he got to his knees and fell back on his heels. "I know." His hand went to his broken ribs and stayed there for support as he reached out to her.
"Anybody wanna include me in this?" Scott wondered aloud.
John shook his head to convey reassurance; he was only filling her in on what they already knew.
"Well. How's about we get out of the rain and find some way to call home." Scott clambered to his feet and then helped his two equally stunned and weary companions to stand. John wobbled unsteadily as the three of them then continued their journey to the silos.
The civilian personnel were quiet in their shock and confusion. Scott breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Panic was more than a hindrance in any language. He helped John over to a small, bare bench and then began to scope the place.
It really was as they had described it; abandoned. There was nothing. No means of communication and not even a blanket to combat the chill of soaked clothes and the past hours of captivity. The silo was simply a hole, with the remains of missile support struts and a few old bits of broken machinery that were probably as old as their father's antique Ford.
Scott made his way back to his brother and the group of personnel that huddled nearby. Their frightened faces told him that John had brought them up to speed and he groaned inwardly as he noticed them watching him expectantly. For once, it might be nice if he wasn't somehow automatically in charge.
"I think our best chance is back to the complex. See if we can contact someone." Scott shrugged.
John nodded in agreement and quickly translated for those who needed it.
"There might be people inside." Mishka frowned in concern. "I go."
"Okay." Scott turned to her, seeing the sense in her thoughts and the advantage that her uniform would provide if anyone in the complex were armed and feeling panicky. "But not alone." He looked around at the personnel and nodded to one of the men. "Can I borrow your coat?"
"I should go with you." John urged and began to his feet. He groaned and fell back onto the bench.
Scott tugged the somewhat snug damp lab coat around his shoulders and hurried over to John.
"Or maybe not." John conceded through clenched teeth.
"No." Scott confirmed softly, placing his hand on his brother's shoulder and frowning in concern. He turned to Mishka and she nodded in understanding before then addressing one of the civilians.
"Ustin will look after him." Mishka smiled thinly.
"Doctor?" Scott urged.
"Quantum physicist." Ustin shrugged as he sat down beside John.
Scott smiled and nodded in amusement as he regarded his brother. "That works." He leaned forward and gently squeezed John's shoulder, his brother slowly opening his eyes in response. "You stay here and talk geek stuff."
John managed a small smile of agreement. "Just get us out of here." He husked.
oooo
First stop had been to collect some self-defence. Mishka had led Scott quickly and carefully around to the rear of the complex and into one of the vehicle hangars. There was no pleasant surprise of a remaining truck or car but there was a small armoury. They selected a few choice weapons and headed back to the main building.
It was empty. They scouted the corridors twice just to be sure and checked all the rooms in unison, their slight language barrier suddenly of no concern as their military training took over.
The only place they left unchecked was Scott's former prison. He had seen the state of Smiley and his comrade before he had locked them in and there was little point looking in on them. He managed to convey as much to Mishka and she paused for the briefest of moments to mourn her colleagues. She had seen what they had done, after all.
The laboratories and offices had been abandoned in a hurry. Some computers still whirred with their continued analysis and amid the fully lit rooms lay evidence of a swift departure; overturned cups and scattered files the only clue of the previous activity here.
Scott was amazed at the fact that these guys had been working so late into the night but he guessed that they were being forced to complete their work in a hurry ever since they had been discovered.
The main control room was on an upper level, allowing a panoramic view of the labs and offices and the central glassed off area where the prototype EM generator sat quietly. Subsequent designs were somewhat more compact but this thing looked more like the crazy comic-book gadget that Scott had imagined. And so much more like a weapon. He shuddered and forced his focus to the task at hand, helping Mishka to find a comm. device or a telephone or something.
"Here!" Scott smiled in delight and cleared a space around the radio, admiring the simple form of their saviour.
Mishka frowned in confusion. "We call on phone. Contact government."
"Hell, no!" Scott laughed, "Who knows who's on what side right now." He switched on the radio and began to tune in to the correct frequency. He then noticed Mishka moving closer in curiosity and he spun the dial, smiling as he turned to face her. "Secret code, I'm afraid."
Mishka's frown grew and then realisation began to spread across the dirty, flushed skin of her not completely unattractive face. "You call Thunderbirds."
"Yup."
Mishka smiled suddenly and a gentle laugh filled the office. "They are your friends." She nodded in understanding. "You lied to Ballensky."
"Ballensky?" Scott frowned and then grinned suddenly. "Oh, Smiley? Yeah, I lied." He watched Mishka backing away to give him some privacy and he laughed gently. "A whole heap of lies."
Mishka shook her head in wonder and perched on the edge of the desk, keeping her eye on the door and the complex below as the strange American tuned in the radio.
"Thunderbird 5, come in."
"Scott!"
The excited reply was immediate and loud. Scott sighed in relief and turned down the volume. "Yeah, it's me."
"What? I mean how? I mean - "
"Calm down a second!" Scott's smile grew in fondness. "What's our status?"
"Us? Dude, we're more worried about you. I mean, Dad - "
"Whoa. Slow down." Scott chuckled and glanced warily at his companion. "I'm hoping that help is on the way."
A pause.
"You there?" Scott urged.
"International Rescue is en route. We have a fix on your position. ETA 35 minutes."
Scott closed his eyes, relief spreading through him with sudden warmth.
"What is your status?"
Scott smiled again. Alan had got the hint and was being as professional as he could. It was a relief but it sounded strange coming from his little brother when Scott knew that there was a thousand and one things that Alan wanted – needed – to say.
"We're fine." Scott replied, thinking back to John and deciding against adding any more worry to the already long enough list. "Have you had any contact from FAB 1?"
"Affirmative. Safe with friends. I take it the interjection worked."
"It did."
"I'll relay that."
"Thanks." Scott swallowed back the sudden urge to blurt out so much more. He could hear the waiver in his little brother's voice and it made his chest ache.
"Guess I'll see you soon." Alan concluded after a moment. "I'd better update the team."
"Thanks." Scott agreed quietly, "See you soon." He signed off and let out a heavy sigh.
"Dad?" Mishka asked quietly.
Scott turned and saw her smiling warmly. He shrugged a response and dragged a hand through his hair.
"So you are something more than a mere agent."
Scott's heart thudded against his chest as suddenly the gentle lilt of an East Coast accent hung in the air around them.
"And John. I'm guessing he's your brother."
Instinct kicked in and he spun, reaching for the gun that he had left lying beside the radio. But she was faster. Scarily so.
"Don't." Mishka ordered softly.
Something in her tone made him comply without question. That and the barrel of the gun that was now pressing into his neck.
tbc …