Chapter 3

NOTE: Sergeant Lee and General Yang are my creation. All other characters belong to Gerry Anderson.

The two brothers stood back and admired their handiwork.

The whole of Thunderbird one, Scott's pride and joy, had been painted from top to bottom, in an array of multicoloured polka dots. Blue, red, yellow, orange. Not one bit of the Thunderbird had gone untouched.

"Scott's gonna kill us when he gets back. You know that don't you?"

Gordon looked at his older brother, and smiled like he didn't have a care in the world. "Relax Virg. We'll have Thunderbird one as good as new by the time he gets back, I promise."

"But what happens if Thunderbird one's needed?"

"Err Virg? Thunderbird one's out of commission remember?"

"Oh yeah. The earthquake."

There had recently been an earthquake in San Francisco. International rescue had been called out to help some people trapped in the rubble, of an office block.

Luckily the quake had only been small, but unfortunately after they had got everyone out, there had been an aftershock, which had buried Thunderbird one under tons of rubble.

Virgil started to laugh. "Poor Scott! You should have seen the look on his face, when he saw his precious craft, being buried under all that debris!"

Luckily they had managed to remove the rubble, and Thunderbird one wasn't badly damaged. But it needed a whole new paint job.

Thunderbird one being out of commission, was another reason why Scott had been given time off.

"I Wonder where they are now?" Gordon wondered.

Virgil checked his watch. "They should be somewhere over the Himalayas."

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Scott Tracy groaned as his eyes flickered open. He blinked a few times, trying to come to terms with his surroundings. Where was he?

"Oh God!" He thought. "The plane! The mountain! We must have crashed!"

As he tried to move to a better position, a terrible pain shot through his arm and leg, and he gave a small cry of agony.

They were broken.

Suddenly from somewhere near, he heard a soft voice. "Scott? Is that you?"

"Al? Where are you?"

"Over here."

Scott turned towards the voice of his youngest brother, and gasped in horror at the sight of him.

Alan's usually light blond hair was caked in blood. It was round his nose and mouth. as well He had also split his lip, and from that too, blood was trickling down his chin.

"Al! Are you ok?"

With the back of his hand, Alan wiped away the blood from his chin. "Wow that was a blast. I didn't realise that when you said, you wanted to 'check out Mount Everest', you meant this close up."

"I'm sorry kiddo."

"What for?"

"Coming here. None of this would have happened, if I hadn't have wanted to check out this stupid mountain!"

"It's not your fault Scott. You didn't know that we were gonna be shot down. Anyway, what exactly hit us?"

"Missiles."

"But why would someone try and shoot us down?"

"I don't know. But who ever it was, was in a uniform."

"Army guy?"

"I don't know, I didn't really see. Damn it!"

"What is it?"

"I promised Dad I'd keep an eye on you. Guess I screwed that up, didn't I?"

"Hey, like I said, it wasn't your fault. And apart from a broken nose, broken ribs and a trapped arm, I'm fine."

"A trapped arm?"

"Yeah. It must have happened during the crash. It's completely pinned down. What about you?"

"Well I have a broken arm, a broken leg, plus more cuts and bruises than I can count."

Alan started to laugh, although this turned out to be a mistake, and he grimaced as a sharp pain, lanced through his ribs.

"Are you ok Al?"

"Yeah I'll be ok. But you do realise, that if we get out of this alive, you're gonna have to face the wrath of Grandma, and her 'broken bone routine.'

His big brother groaned. "Oh great. I'm gonna be stuck in bed for the next three months. Not to mention, that John's bound to try and treat me, the way I treated him, chastising me every five minutes."

"Well you know what they say big brother. What comes around, goes around."

"Very funny kiddo."

"Can I ask you something Scott?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"We are gonna get out of this, aren't we, alive I mean?"

Scott looked at his brother's frightened, but determined face, and found that he couldn't let him down. "Yeah kiddo, we'll get out of this. I promise."

Then under his breath: "I just wish I knew how?"

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Jeff Tracy sat behind his desk and frowned. Scott should have called in by now, to announce their arrival in Asia, but so far there had been nothing.

He thought for a moment, then activated a link. "Base to Thunderbird five. Come in John."

John's portrait suddenly changed, revealing a live image of his middle son. "Thunderbird five receiving. What's up Dad?"

"Has Scott called in?"

"No why?"

"Well he promised he'd call in once they got to Asia, and I'm pretty sure that they should be there by now."

"I haven't heard from him Father. Scott said something about checking out Mount Everest though, maybe they're still there and the mountains are blocking the radio signals."

"You could be right son, but could you try and do a location check, just to make sure."

"FAB"

Jeff waited while his son did the task.

"Negative Father, there's no signal. They're probably still checking out the mountain."

"Ok son, but if you don't hear anything with in the next couple of hours, I'm sending Virgil and Gordon out there."

"Very well Father."

Jeff deactivated the link and sat back in his chair. Occasionally he would glance up at the portraits, of his eldest and youngest son.

"Surely something can't have happened to them?" He thought. "No. Scott was a good pilot, they were perfectly safe."

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"I'm probably going to lose my arm."

Scott looked at his brother, a mixture of shock and horror rising on his face. "You're probably going to what?"

"Lose my arm. I'm probably going to lose my arm."

"Alan, why do you think you're going to lose your arm?"

"Think about it Scott. My arm has been trapped for nearly an hour, maybe more. There's hardly any circulation going into it, plus both of us are starting to get minor frost bite, which can be worse in a limb when there's hardly any circulation. So that means if it gets any worse, then it'll have to be amputated. That's if we get out this of course."

Scott felt sick. But more than that, he felt responsible. It had been his idea to bring Alan on this vacation, it had been his idea to check out the mountain. And now look where they were. Both of them injured, they're watches broke and to make it worse, Alan could be losing his arm!

"Oh Al! I'm really sorry."

"Would you stop saying that! It's not your fault. Besides, something like this was bound to happen."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on Scott. Every time we go somewhere, something happens. We either get kidnapped, trapped or in my case, stuck on a bridge with Grandma and a bomb."

"You still remember that?"

"Of course I do! I'll never forget it. I still have nightmares about it."

"What are the nightmares like?"

"Me and Grandma are standing on the bridge, for some reason though there's no bomb. Suddenly part of the bridge collapses, and she falls. I reach out and grab her arm. She screams at me to hold on and not let go, but she's slipping away from me. And then I lose my grip completely. I watch her fall. She's wailing to me: "Why didn't you hold on? Why didn't you hold on?" "And then more of the bridge collapses and I fall. That's all I can remember."

"How long did the nightmare go on for?"

"A couple of weeks. Occasionally after the nightmare I would go into Grandma's room, to check if she was alright. Sometimes I would sit there all night. I guess you could say I felt responsible, like you do with this."

"But that wasn't your fault! You shouldn't blame yourself for it."

"Exactly! And you shouldn't blame yourself about this. We should be blaming that guy who shot us down. When I get my hands on him, I'm gonna ram a missile down his throat!"

"Alan, International Rescue are suppose to preserve life, remember?"

"I am preserving life Scott, my own. I'm preserving it for when I can lay my hands on that bastard!"

Alan received a look from Scott. A look that mirrored his Fathers. It said: 'I don't like the language you're using.'

"Oh come on Scott! What else would you call that guy, apart from 'blind'?"

"Well I can think of plenty of things to call him, but right now I'm saving some energy."

"Who was he?"

"I don't know. I don't think I want to know."

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Sergeant Lee knocked on the door, of the white stone building, and waited patiently. Occasionally he would glance down at his hands which were trembling slightly. He was about to come face to face with the only person in the world, who truly terrified him.

"ENTER!" Boomed a voice from within.

The sergeant slowly opened the door, and stepped gingerly inside.

The building, which consisted of only one room, had a chair and desk right at the back. Occupying this chair was a large, muscular man wearing a smart green uniform.

General Yang he was called.

"What do you want?" The general asked impatiently. "I'm a very busy man here."

"I, err, have a report to make to you sir."

"Well get on with it then, don't just stand there. I'm not a mind reader."

"Very well sir. At eighteen hundred hours I spotted a mysterious looking plane, flying over the Himalayas."

"Spy plane?"

"Yes sir. I believe so."

"What did you do?"

"I did what you commanded us to do, when a situation like that arises. I shot it down."

"Very good. Were there any survivors?"

"I don't think so sir."

"You don't think so? Didn't you check it out?"

"No sir." The sergeant's reply was quiet and shameful. He flinched at the general's response.

"WHY THE HELL NOT?"

"I forgot sir."

"YOU FORGOT? DAMN IT BOY! I'LL FORGET YOU IN A MINUTE!"

Sergeant Lee began to back away, slowly.

"GET BACK OUT THERE, AND CHECK IT OUT!"

"Yes sir. Right away sir." He turned and almost tripped over, in his struggle to get to the door. He was about to open it, when he heard the generals voice behind him.

"If there are any survivors, eliminate them."