In the words of Big Time Rush, "Oh, oh, oh-oh, oh..."
I own nothing besides original characters and plot points.
ENJOY!
It took Indiana a little bit to emerge from her bedroom one morning. Thankfully, nobody questioned it. They all knew how hard they worked. They figured she deserved the occasional late morning. Even if they could hardly convince her to take one.
Indiana quietly smirked to herself as she recalled the reason why she had a late morning. Indiana received full clearance to return to all normal activities following the events in the Lost Pyramid of Khamandides. When she told the others, the first thing Scott remembered was her promise before that rescue that he could 'play doctor'. (Not that he admitted to it aloud, of course; unfortunately, he didn't find out the good news in private.)
Scott decided that as Field Commander, he needed to personally see to it that everyone under his command was fit for duty; and that entailed giving the Chief Medical Officer an 'examination' of his own. He was very thorough and the exam lasted well into the night.
Thank God for soundproofing.
"Ah, Indiana," Jeff greeted, "Enjoy your rest?"
"Yeah," Indiana nodded as she moved to sit on a chair John gestured towards (somewhat gingerly).
She was still a little sore, but not as bad as she once was, thanks to Scott insisting she have a late morning and enjoy a nice soak in the bathtub. 'Doctor's orders.'
"You alright, Indy?" John asked worriedly, noticing she was moving somewhat gingerly.
"Oh. Yeah. Just went a little too hard in a workout yesterday," Indiana shrugged.
Enough time had passed on Tracy Island for a changeover to occur for monitoring duties aboard Thunderbird 5. John was now on Earth while Alan was aboard the space station. Not long after he comes back, Alan will be off to take part in the Parola Sands race to test that engine for Brains. Indiana will be accompanying him, since she happened to have some classes and consulting to do in the area.
Alan's last term of duty aboard the space station was quiet. Annoyingly so. John's most recent duty was filled with two major rescues – the situation with the Saharan Atomic Station and Lambert getting trapped in the Bank of England vault – and emergency response to a natural disaster. There was disastrous flooding in Queensland, Australia that had not been seen since 2022. They were called in to help with evacuation and rescuing people trapped in floodwaters that could not be reached through conventional means.
It looked like Alan's latest term of duty aboard the space station wasn't going to be as quiet as his last one was, given the news report that was being shown on the television in Jeff's office.
"This morning, British plane Fireflash disappeared on its flight to San Francisco. Earlier this year, on its maiden flight, the Fireflash had a bomb fixed to its undercarriage, and it was only due to the intervention of International Rescue that the plane and its passengers were saved. This time, there were no survivors. All FIreflashes have been grounded pending tests."
Indiana gasped as she saw the headline. There were six hundred people aboard the plane. Six hundred lives lost.
"Sabotage again?" John guessed, sparking the discussion.
"I doubt it," Tin-Tin shook her head, "With the precautions they take now, sabotage is unlikely."
"By why should an aircraft like that suddenly disappear?" Jeff pondered.
"Metal fatigue?" John suggested.
As Jeff pressed a button to bring down his desk, which had been raised, he shrugged, "I guess it could be a hundred and one things. We'd better watch these test flights pretty closely."
"Despite everything, I still think it's a great aircraft," Tin-Tin declared.
Indiana couldn't help but agree with Tin-Tin's sentiment. Fireflash has proven itself in between both disasters to be a safe and reliable aircraft.
If anything, it was a great aircraft with a lot of bad luck.
"International Rescue Space Station, this is Jeff Tracy," Jeff spoke into the radio.
Alan's portrait changed to show the youngest Tracy son aboard Thunderbird 5 as he answered the call, "Go ahead, father."
"I want you to monitor all transmissions on the Fireflash tests," Jeff requested.
"Right, father. By the way, I've been checking on the crash. According to our automatic fixers, the Fireflash crew radioed a wrong position before they disappeared. They were more than fifty miles out!"
"That's strange," Jeff mused, "Anyway, Alan, keep listening."
"F.A.B."
"I'll go talk to the boys," Indiana decided as she stood up, "I need to stretch my legs."
With those words said, John quietly smirked, something that would be considered uncharacteristic of him.
"You're not thinking of that bet!" Tin-Tin immediately chided him once Indiana was out of earshot.
"You call it a bet. I call it a worthwhile investment," John shrugged.
Jeff just chuckled, wondering if he should inform his son that not only did he know of the bet…
He knew who won.
Indiana walked down into the games room, seeing Scott, Virgil and Gordon entertain themselves with a game of pool.
"Who's winning?" Indiana asked as she walked in.
"Gordon," Scott and Virgil grumbled.
Gordon just smirked as he fired the winning shot.
"What did you bet this time?" Indiana laughed.
"Nothing appropriate for female company," Gordon answered mysteriously.
"Just tell me I don't have to worry about someone ending up in the infirmary because they did something stupid. Again," Indiana said in a deadpan voice, "Wait. Don't tell me. You can't make any promises."
"Good. You're catching on," Gordon quipped.
"Well, I'm being serious," Indiana told him firmly, "We may be having an emergency on our hands."
"What kind?" Scott immediately demanded.
"Fireflash is in trouble again," Indiana revealed.
"What? Someone strapped another bomb to its undercarriage?" Virgil inquired.
"Worse. It disappeared," Indiana corrected him, "The pilots radioed in a mayday on their way to San Francisco, but they haven't been able to find the plane. Alan also reported that Fireflash radioed an incorrect position before their disappearance."
"And since we haven't received a distress call from their lifeboats," Gordon trailed off sadly before asking, "How many?"
"Six hundred," Indiana answered.
Scott, Virgil and Gordon balked at the number. Six hundred lives lost. Any loss of life didn't sit well with them, but that number?
It was unfathomable.
"Are they doing anything about it?" Scott pressed.
"All Fireflashes have been grounded pending tests," Indiana responded, "That's about all they can do."
"I just hope it's not sabotage again," Scott sighed heavily, "I don't like the thought of someone sneaking aboard a plane and forcing the plane to crash."
Indiana knew exactly what Scott meant. Even if he couldn't tell her about specific missions, Scott was opening up to her more and more about his time in the Air Force, and was able to confirm with her the wars he fought in.
It made him more sensitive to even the slightest possibility of terrorism.
It would take several days before the tests on the Fireflash to be completed. From the transmissions Alan had been able to pick up, they couldn't find any fault with the plane and they were preparing to do a test flight with the same parameters, including the same route to San Francisco.
But everyone felt the same sense of dread. Yes, the plane was cleared. But did it mean the troubles were over?
Did it mean Fireflash 3 was a one-off accident? Tragic, but ultimately a freak accident?
Everyone turned to different outlets for their nervous energy. For Indiana, Scott, Virgil and Gordon, it was the shooting range near the games room. Indiana's shooting had improved tremendously and she was a little eager to show that off with the others.
"Good shooting," Scott praised after Indiana fired her shots.
Indiana moved to stand back so Gordon could have his turn, but Jeff's voice over the intercom spoiled the party.
"This is it, everyone. Fireflash is in difficulty. Come up and I'll fill you in on the details."
When the foursome went up to the lounge, they saw that John and Tin-Tin were already there. Jeff wasted no time on the briefing.
"Alan intercepted some transmissions between Fireflash and London Airport. They reported the same troubles the last Fireflash experienced before their disappearance and radioed in an incorrect position," Jeff began explaining.
"How far out this time?" Scott asked.
"Alan reports that, according to the automatic fixers aboard Thunderbird 5, they were twenty miles northwest of their reported position," Jeff answered before he began issuing instructions, "Scott, you take off in Thunderbird 1 and set up a base on the coastline nearest the crash area. Then, scan the area electronically."
"Yes, sir," Scott nodded.
Jeff then turned to Virgil, "Virgil, you'll take Brains, Gordon and Indiana with you. And I'll guess you'll need Thunderbird 4."
"Right, father," Virgil responded.
Before Scott could disappear into Thunderbird 1's silo, Jeff called out to him, "Keep in touch, Scott."
"Will do!" Scott promised before disappearing into the silo.
A farmer was about to get the surprise of his life.
He was just raking hay when he heard the sounds of rocket motors hovering over the farm. The sound itself didn't surprise him. His farm was close to the coast. Depending on the route the planes took, he often had planes flying over him. But they usually flew a lot higher than that.
The farmer dropped his farming tools in surprise when he came to a couple of realizations.
First, this aircraft was Thunderbird 1 of the International Rescue organisation.
Second, Thunderbird 1 wasn't flying over his farm.
Thunderbird 1 was landing on it!
"Saints preserve us!" the farmer cried in surprise, "Will you take a look at that?!"
Scott didn't seem phased by the farmer's surprise, as he used the megaphone attached to Thunderbird 1 to lay out his requests, "This is International Rescue. Can you give me a hand with my equipment? We can put it in the barn over there."
"International Rescue?" the farmer gasped in surprise. But he eventually regained his sense, "Well, sure, but it's the cows that are in it."
"Well, they'll just have to move over!" was Scott's response.
Deciding he wasn't going to win any arguments, the farmer busied himself with helping Scott with his equipment. While the farmer moved the cows so Scott could set up Mobile Control in the barn, Scott busied himself with setting up the radio beacon he was going to use to scan the area.
As they set up Mobile Control, the farmer couldn't help but ask, "Why do you need my farm?"
"We fear there's been a plane crash in the area," Scott answered, "Your farm is on the coastline that's closest to the danger zone, and I need to scan the area electronically."
The farmer couldn't find the words for the situation. He couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with that Fireflash plane that had disappeared. He knew they were running a battery of tests on the plane and figured that a test flight would be occurring. Did something else happen?
"Quiet, Kathleen!" the farmer chided his cow when she voiced her displeasure at the space being invaded.
Wordlessly, Scott pressed the button to activate the radio beacon. At Mobile Control, he could see the results of the scan. It could pick up anything in the area and on the sea. He'd even be able to pick up Thunderbird 2 when it approached the danger zone.
He busied himself with examining the results. The International Air Minister had requested that their area be declared a no-fly zone for the duration of the test flight, so Scott didn't have to worry about picking up other planes in the air.
He didn't expect to. It was clear as day that Fireflash had gone down.
But he was dismayed to find that he couldn't find evidence of the plane floating on the sea.
"Nothing," Scott grumbled, "There's not a thing floating in the whole area!"
Things weren't faring that better aboard Thunderbird 2. At Brains' request, Virgil radioed London Airport and requested that they send by radio-photograph the circuit diagrams for Fireflash's systems. Now, Brains was studying them religiously, trying to find what could have caused the plane to crash that may not have necessarily have been picked up during the tests and could have occurred in-flight.
Indiana exchanged a look with Gordon when Brains began cheering that he thought he had the answer, before muttering to himself that he didn't have it. This was becoming a regular occurrence. They couldn't blame the engineer. He needed to be absolutely certain of his findings. But the lack of answer was starting to get annoying.
"Yeah, I-I got it!" Brains cheered before revealing, "If the gyro shaft sheared, it could have damaged the main hydraulic power supply to the flaps. Yeah, that would cause the aircraft to crash."
"Do you think it's possible that they have crash-landed on the sea?" Gordon asked urgently.
"Well, it's possible," Brains mused, "It would depend on the skill of the crew."
"They would've had the best crew available," Indiana piped in.
"If they crash-landed on the sea, we would have received a distress call from their lifeboat!" Virgil argued.
But then it dawned on him. "Unless…"
"Unless they were trapped in the cabin," Brains' finished Virgil's thoughts grimly, "And if the hydraulic system jammed, the automatic escape hatches would not operate."
"Do you realize what this could mean?!" Gordon cried in horror.
"I realise alright," Brains nodded, "They could be alive, trapped in the flight deck at the bottom of the sea!"
Scott sat up at attention when the radio beacon pinged to indicate it found something in the area. Quickly, Scott recognized that it was Thunderbird 2 approaching the crash area.
"Thunderbird 2 from Mobile Control. Have searched complete area. Result negative. Can see you're approaching danger zone," Scott reported.
"F.A.B. Launching Thunderbird 4. We think crew may be trapped in aircraft on seabed."
Scott and the farmer looked at each other in alarm. Yes, the radio beacon could reasonably pick up objects in the ocean up to a certain depth, but it wouldn't have detected something on the seabed.
Scott couldn't help but feel sick at the thought of the six hundred souls on the first Fireflash that disappeared. Depending on the skill of the pilots at the controls, they could have landed the plane atop the ocean in one piece, but the plane would've eventually sunk beneath the waves.
Those six hundred people certainly would not have experienced a quick death. It would've been an agonizing wait.
But Scott couldn't think about it any longer. He didn't need the nightmare fuel.
His Air Force days provided enough of that.
"Mobile Control from Thunderbird 4. I need a course to take me to Fireflash crash position."
"Thunderbird 4 from Mobile Control. Steer 107 degrees magnetic," Scott responded.
"Steering 107 magnetic, Scott."
After a few tense moments, Scott reported to his younger brother, "Okay, Gordon, you're approaching crash area. Commence search."
"Thunderbird 4, F.A.B."
"Say," the farmer began hesitantly, "Would you object to helping me milking the cows when the rescue is over?"
Scott let out a small sigh, but agreed to the request. He had commandeered his farm, after all. It was the least he could do.
He was suddenly thankful for the time spent on the family farm growing up.
The wait was the worst part.
Indiana walked back into the cockpit. When the decision was made to launch Thunderbird 4, she busied herself with preparing the onboard infirmary for anything. When Virgil moved to point out that they didn't know what condition the pilots would be in, Indiana's response was to say it was why she was starting her preparations now.
Something she learned from medical school and her years working at the largest trauma centre in Western New York? Be prepared for anything.
Although, plane crashes were new to her. She never experienced anything like this in Rochester. Or, at least, nothing beyond the odd light plane crash.
While putting her hair up in a messy bun, she asked nervously, "Anything?"
"Nothing yet," Virgil shook his head.
Brains, meanwhile, busied himself with the circuit diagrams again. If they found the plane in one piece, they needed a way to get the plane back up to the surface so they can rescue the crew.
"Brains, I found her! And she's in one piece! No sign of life yet."
Indiana sighed in relief. Gordon found the plane.
"Nice work, Gordon," Indiana praised.
"Standby one moment," Brains requested kindly.
Indiana didn't necessarily understand all the techno-babble Brains was muttering, but she could've sworn she heard him mention something about the engines on the tail-plane.
"Could they be alive, Brains?!" Virgil cut in impatiently.
"Please, please, Virgil!" Brains chided him before turning to the radio, "Gordon, cut off the engines on the tail-plane with a laser beam and Fireflash will float to the surface. Then, we can rescue the crew."
"If they're still alive," Virgil grumbled.
"Gordon, I'll need you to tell me what condition they're in if you can get close enough," Indiana requested kindly.
"F.A.B, Indy."
It was a tense few moments, but Gordon was able to radio in again.
"Indy, this is Gordon. They're alive! I can see them! No visible injuries, but they may need oxygen and an IV. I'm going to send them a message on the Light-Type."
"Okay," Indiana muttered as she moved to the infirmary.
Indiana knew what Gordon was trying to tell her. The power being out meant that there'd be no air supply into the cabin. They'd be overheating and struggling with the lack of oxygen.
It was like the incident with the Bank of England vault all over again.
When she got the IV ready to go, she faintly heard Virgil cry that the plane had resurfaced. Brains' scheme to cut off the engines must've worked. She knew it wouldn't take long for Gordon to recover the crew.
Before long, she heard Virgil tell her that the crew were on their way up. Immediately, Indiana moved to meet them.
"I'm Dr. Evans," Indiana quickly introduced herself to the two pilots as she helped them out of the rescue capsule.
"I'm Bob," the blonde pilot panted as Indiana escorted them to the infirmary, "This is David."
"Nice to meet you," Indiana quipped before she helped them onto the beds, "Anyone here have a latex allergy?"
When both pilots shook their heads to indicate they did not have an allergy to latex, Indiana slid on her sterile gloves, "Okay. I'm going to attach this pulse oximeter to you both to monitor your vitals. I'm then going to put you on oxygen and intravenous fluids. I can see you are severely dehydrated and experienced oxygen depletion. Is there anything else I need to know?"
"No," David gasped out as he allowed Indiana to fit the mask to his face.
"Try not to talk too much, okay?" Indiana requested kindly, "I just want you to focus on your breathing. I'm going to tie a tourniquet to your arm to help me insert the catheter for the IV."
Indiana continued working on her patients. She also ran scans on the both of them and found their assessment to be correct. No serious injuries beyond the bruises they sustained from the crash and their attempts to escape the cockpit before the plane sunk.
Her findings caused everyone to breathe a sigh of relief.
By the time Virgil had flown Thunderbird 2 back to London to drop off the pilots, their treatment was complete and Indiana deemed they didn't need further care. She discharged them with a list of instructions in terms of continued care and when they should seek further medical attention. The two pilots sang praises for International Rescue for saving their lives.
On their way out, they were stopped by an official who told them that Alan had previously radioed in his findings with the first Fireflash that disappeared. They had declined the organization's offer to assist in the search and recovery and decided to launch their own operation in the crash area. Moments before Thunderbird 2 landed at the airport to drop off the pilots, the search team reported in that the plane had been found.
It was a mixed bag. They felt saddened they couldn't save those people, but at least now, their families had closure and the ability to say goodbye to their loved ones.
But now, they were back on Tracy Island watching the latest newscast.
"And so, the test crew of Fireflash are safe. Once again, International Rescue saved the day. We understand from the International Air Ministry that a report radioed to London by the International Rescue eggheads may provide an answer to the technical fault which has bugged the Fireflash aircraft in these past few weeks."
"Boys, I'd like to add my thanks. Well done, all of you," Jeff praised as he turned off the report.
He then frowned when he noticed a peculiar absence in the lounge, "Say, where's Scott?"
"He flew in a few minutes ago," Virgil revealed, "His take-off from England was delayed for some reason."
It was as if Virgil's words summoned the man himself. Scott emerged from Thunderbird 1's silo in his everyday clothes, one hand on the lamp above his head and the other holding a straw basket filled with bottles of milk and cheese and other assortments. Indiana let out a quiet chuckle as she caught onto why Scott's departure was delayed.
"Sorry I'm late, folks. I had to milk the cows before I took off," Scott clarified.
Any teasing remarks from the Tracy brothers were deferred when Alan's portrait started flashing.
"Alright. Go ahead, Alan," Jeff answered the call.
"I've been listening to bulletins from London, father, and according to the latest newsflash, there's a top-level meeting about Fireflash going on right now."
Alan was correct. There was a top-level meeting occurring in the office of the International Air Minister. In attendance was Patterson, Fireflash's chief engineer, Commander Norman, the director of London International Airport, and his assistant Lieutenant Burroughs, who was in communication with both Fireflash aircraft when the incidents occurred.
They were currently debating the cause behind the technical issues, based on the report Brains had provided when they rescued the crew.
"EPU failure can originate only in the wing," Commander Norman began arguing.
"The hydraulic fault points to a lack of sufficient space for the master in the original design," Patterson weighed in.
Lieutenant Burroughs began voicing his own opinion, "Super-tension due to torsion simply wouldn't happen…"
"Gentlemen," the International Air Minister cut in, "can I have your attention please. Thank you."
When the three men turned their attention to him, the International Air Minister continued, "It now seems quite certain that the fault in the Fireflash has been traced to the hydraulic system. But what causes the fault is something that remains to be discovered. So far, we have developed three different theories, all of which place the trouble in the starboard wing. I propose that, for the present, we must pursue these three theories. I can't see what else we can do."
Neither man in the room was satisfied with the International Air Minister's approach to solving the problem – including the International Air Minister himself – but he was right.
What else could they do?
"I can't see what else we can do," Jeff proclaimed to everyone in the room, "The cause of the Fireflash disasters can only be found whilst the aircraft is actually in flight."
Everyone in the Tracy Villa lounge had their own discussions about the current crisis facing the Fireflash aircraft. They took note of the fact that the extensive tests they ran on the plane following the first disaster did not find any type of fault with the systems. Actually, the faults only occurred when the Fireflash was in flight. What could they do but wait for trouble to find them?
"Gee, if only they'd let us fly one of them," Virgil sighed, "With Thunderbird 2 alongside to help, if need be."
Scott, eager to have an active role in the crisis rather than a passive one, voiced his support for his brother's scheme, "Yeah, how about that, father?"
"Right. It's settled," Jeff nodded, not needing much convincing, "We must contact London straightaway. Tin-Tin!"
"Yes, Mr. Tracy?" Tin-Tin responded.
"Take a letter, Tin-Tin," Jeff instructed, "I think it's time for International Rescue to act!"
Commander Norman stood in the Control Tower at London International Airport. He was reading the letter Tin-Tin dictated for Jeff. International Rescue was offering their services in resolving the problem with Fireflash.
"It's from International Rescue," Commander Norman told Lieutenant Burroughs, "They want to come and test Fireflash over the same route."
"Well, if anyone can establish the fault, they can. I suppose they must be the most experienced pilots in the business," Lieutenant Burroughs mused.
"All the same, we'd better arrange for Captain Hanson to make the flight with them. He knows them from the Fireflash's maiden flight. You know, when they saved his life. Get him over here, would you?" Commander Norman requested.
"Very good, sir," Lieutenant Burroughs nodded dutifully.
But Commander Norman wasn't done with issuing instructions, "Then, contact Security. This whole operation is to be top secret. No one is to fly within a hundred miles of the test flight path; and at the airport, there's to be six hundred yards clearance for the International Rescue craft."
"Right, sir," Lieutenant Burroughs nodded before asking, "Er, where was the letter posted, sir? It'll maybe let us know where International Rescue are based."
Commander Norman had the same idea. He was reading the envelope the letter came in to see if he could find the return address. Chuckling, he read, "Posted at London Airport."
"They never miss a trick, do they, sir?" Lieutenant Burroughs let out a few chuckles of his own.
"You do know what you're getting yourself into, right?" Indiana couldn't help but ask worriedly.
Scott and Indiana were in Thunderbird 2 preparing the medical supplies they knew would be needed if they had a repeat of what happened to the last Fireflash test flight. Commander Norman was quick to contact International Rescue to voice his support for the scheme and immediately promised his full compliance with their requests. He even reassured them that the pilot he chose to accompany them would be a pilot they had prior experience with, so it wouldn't cause any further issues with security.
It was no surprise that Jeff immediately declared that Scott be the one to go on the test flight with Captain Hanson. A former military pilot, he was the best qualified for the job, as he would be somewhat familiar with the controls. Also, he could think quick on his feet should anything happen. His military background suited this mission perfectly.
Something that was quickly decided was Thunderbird 2 would be flying alongside them, ready to act if they ran into any trouble. Thunderbird 4 would be carrying Thunderbird 4, the laser beam cutter and the diving escape bell, just in case they had to make another dive to rescue a downed aircraft. As Thunderbird 4's pilot, it was only natural that Gordon accompanied Virgil aboard Thunderbird 2 as well.
At Scott's insistence, Indiana was going to be aboard Thunderbird 2 as well. He successfully argued to his father they would need Indiana to provide immediate medical attention should anything happen during the test flight.
But selfishly? He felt better knowing she was nearby.
"I was in the Air Force. I have a few ideas," Scott shrugged with a deadpan voice as he passed Indiana some bandages to store before gesturing to the cervical collars, "Where do these go?"
"Over there," Indiana pointed to a specific area before asking Scott, "Do you think this will work?"
"Yeah," Scott nodded, not understand what Indiana meant, "You organized everything well, Ana."
"I'm not talking about the medical supplies," Indiana retorted as she turned to face him, "I may not have dealt with a plane crash specifically, but I've dealt with some pretty bad disasters. I've had to call time of death for a lot of people when I was at Kessler and a couple of times here. I don't want to have to do that with you."
"Hey," Scott cut in gently, resting his hands on her arms in a reassuring gesture, "This is going to work. This is the only way we can figure out what's happening with the Fireflash. I promise you. I'll come back."
"If I have to call your time of death, I'm reviving you just so I can kill you myself," Indiana threatened.
Scott let out a laugh before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, "I'll hold you to that."
Not for the first time, Indiana felt the urge to say those three words to Scott. Those three little words that held so much significance.
But the moment died when Virgil walked in, "Hey. We're getting ready to launch."
"Okay," Indiana nodded, "We'll be right out."
Virgil nodded in return before walking off to go through Thunderbird 2's prelaunch procedures. Indiana went to walk out to take up her launch position, but Scott pulled her back. Initially, Indiana was confused. But the confusion quickly disappeared when Scott held her face in his hands and captured her lips with his own in a tender kiss. She immediately leaned into his embrace, resting her hands on his hips.
Pulling away, Scott rested his forehead against hers. He pressed a final kiss to her forehead before they moved to join Virgil in the cockpit.
Virgil shared a quiet smirk with Gordon.
When will they actually admit they're together?
Gordon, Virgil, Indiana and Scott were all now in Thunderbird 2 flying to London. Gordon, Scott and Indiana crowded around Virgil in the pilot's seat, the nervous energy leaving them all unable to keep still. Also, Scott wanted the opportunity to stretch his legs before he was forced into a cockpit for several hours. Even with all the improvements with technology, the flight time between London and San Francisco was over eleven hours.
"Crossing the coast now," Gordon reported.
"Right. Best prepare for touchdown now, everyone," Virgil advised.
Gordon and Indiana moved to sit for the landing while Scott remained by Virgil's side. Since they knew Scott from their very first emergency call (and was going to be Captain Hanson's co-pilot), it was decided that Scott should be the point of contact with London Airport.
"London Airport from International Rescue," Scott spoke into the radio, "Calling London Airport from International Rescue."
"Come in, International Rescue. Loud and clear."
"We're approaching you along flight path 29," Scott reported, "Request permission to land."
"International Rescue from London Airport. You are clear to land. Do you require runway?"
"No, London. Will not require runway," Scott answered with a small chuckle.
"Roger, International Rescue. London Airport has been sealed. Fireflash standing by at the end of runway 27."
"Thank you, London," Scott acknowledged before turning to his brother, "Okay, Virgil. Everything's been laid out for us."
Nodding, Virgil began steering Thunderbird 2 to land at London Airport.
Jeff was on edge back at Tracy Island. He never felt so helpless.
"Thunderbird 2 has touched down at London, father."
"Right. Now, hear this, Alan," Jeff ordered, "I want you to organize and maintain constant contact between yourself, Thunderbird 2 and the Fireflash. Is that clear?"
"Yes, father."
"Nothing's got to go wrong this time! Nothing!" Jeff barked.
Alan had never seen his father so scared. But he couldn't comment on it. For one thing, he was scared, too.
A rumour that had spread like wildfire and became urban legend following the death of his mother was Jeff neglected his sons. He threw himself into his work while Scott was left to take care of his younger brothers. They were far off the mark. If there was anything Jeff tried to hide from his sons, it was the extent of his grief. He didn't want to burden his sons with that. But he was still a present father. He helped his own sons through their grief.
Although, even Jeff couldn't lie. Scott was a great help in holding down the fort. When Jeff had to work and his mother had her hands full looking after his father, who would die of cancer just months after Lucy's death, he stepped up and looked after his younger brothers. He wasn't asked. He just stepped up. Jeff never said anything. He recognized his son needed to feel useful. It was his way of coping.
It was why, during that summer in North Carolina, Jeff frequently encouraged Scott to go off and do his own thing away from the rest of the family. He needed to be selfish for once in his life. He always put others first. It was time to put himself first.
But Jeff once again found himself feeling that paralysing fear he felt when Scott was shot down. It was something he hadn't felt since Scott was in the Air Force or since Gordon was in W.A.S.P. During his own time in the Air Force, Jeff often took it upon himself to accompany the chaplain in notifying the families of fallen servicemen; he knew first hand how hard it was to deliver the news. He had to console many spouses, parents, children. He handed them the flag at the funerals.
He never wanted that to happen with his eldest. He never wanted that chaplain and one of Scott's fellow pilots to knock on his door and deliver the news that his son was killed in action. He barely survived when Scott was injured in one of his highly classified missions, or when Gordon was injured in the hydrofoil crash.
He couldn't bear to have what happened with the first Fireflash to happen again. He wouldn't be able to survive the loss of his child.
"Okay, father. Scott's in Fireflash with Captain Hanson now."
Scott was now aboard Fireflash with Captain Hanson. The captain offered no complaints when Scott wanted to bring Mobile Control aboard with him. In fact, he was relieved. Each time a Fireflash plane crashed, the radio failed. The pilots couldn't call for help. The fact that Scott thought to provide a backup – an alternative means of establishing contact if their own radio failed – relieved him immensely.
"Can you hear us on this frequency, Alan, Virgil?" Scott asked.
"Hearing you strength five, Scott."
"Me too, Scott. Father has instructed me to maintain complete contact throughout the test flight."
"Okay, Alan," Scott nodded before turning to Captain Hanson, "We're switching to open contact."
"Right. Got it," Captain Hanson nodded in turn as he made the necessary adjustments.
"Thank you, Fireflash. And good luck."
Scott felt at home. This brought him back to his Air Force days. In fact, he couldn't help but wonder if this would've been the career path he pursued had things turned out different. He knew plenty of his fellow pilots who became airline pilots after leaving the military. Maybe he could've even followed in his father's footsteps and joined NASA. He certainly had been approached about it a couple of times during his time in the Air Force.
But everything happened for a reason. Fate had made the choice for him a long time ago. He can ponder on the 'what ifs', but he couldn't – and wouldn't – change anything.
Not when he thought about his family, and who was waiting for him aboard Thunderbird 2.
"Alright, Scott. Control has given us clearance."
"Well, thanks, Alan," Scott acknowledged before turning to Captain Hanson, "Well, Captain, it's swell of you to help us out like this."
"Listen, Tracy, if anyone should be grateful, it's me. When Fireflash was in trouble on its maiden flight, you saved me life. It's a real privilege to be able to pay you guys back this way," Captain Hanson declared.
Scott nodded with a smile before they prepared to take off.
He knew another reason why Captain Hanson was so eager to help International Rescue find the fault in Fireflash. He was close friends with the two pilots who were killed when the first plane went down. With the flight's captain, he was the best man in his wedding and the godfather of his infant daughter. With the flight's co-pilot, they served together. They went through hell and back together and made the jump together to become airline pilots following their discharge from the military.
Scott and Captain Hanson worked together effortlessly as Fireflash departed London Airport.
"Through the sound barrier," Scott reported when they heard the familiar sound of the sonic boom.
"Standby to level off," Captain Hanson instructed.
The plane levelled off, meaning Scott and Captain Hanson were now flying at 150,000 feet. Scott hoped that Thunderbird 2 wouldn't be far behind, but he understood that they would have to wait for London Control to give them clearance to depart. He didn't think that would be a problem, though.
"I'm at 150,000 feet. On course. How are you doing, Virgil?" Scott asked worriedly.
"Okay, Scott. I'm soon gonna catch you up. Don't worry."
"And Alan, I want a position check," Scott requested.
"Okay, Scott. Give me your present fix."
Reading the automatic locator, Scott responded, "We are LS-749/AP-428."
Alan's alarm was clear as day, "No, Scott! Your reading is wrong! You are twenty miles northwest of that point!"
Captain Hanson voiced his alarm, "Twenty miles?! Gee, that's some miscalculation!"
"Yeah, those controls are sure way off-beam," Scott mumbled, "Alright, Alan. Thanks. You had better tell Virgil."
"Yeah. Will do."
"We'd better radio the first report to London," Captain Hanson suggested.
"Thunderbird 5 to Thunderbird 2. Troubles have already started with Fireflash."
"What kind of trouble?" Indiana immediately demanded.
"Scott and Captain Hanson discovered a fault in the plane's automatic locator."
"And that's just come up?" Virgil asked as he began adjusting his course to catch up with Scott.
"Yeah."
Indiana and Gordon looked at each other worriedly. It was all starting. What was going to happen next?
They got their answer when they heard Scott's voice break through the radio. And it was laced with fear. Not something they heard often.
"Alan! Virgil! Do you read me?"
"Sure do, Scott."
"Loud and clear," Virgil immediately responded.
"The Fireflash radio circuit is non-functional. Now, we're gonna have to relay messages to London via Alan in the space station."
"I gather it's pretty desperate. Is that right?" Virgil asked worriedly.
"Yeah. The EPU is negative."
"How about the standby?!" Gordon demanded.
"Well, that's gone, too! It looks as if Fireflash is taking one colossal crash-dive into the Atlantic Ocean. I just can't get the nose up!"
Alan had gone silent for several moments. It was clear he had been radioing London Control about the latest faults with Fireflash because he radioed in, "Scott, I've been through to London and explained about the EPU and radio failures. They say you should bail out and let them pick you up."
Scott made it clear he didn't like that idea, "Bail out?! If we do that, we'll never know what the fault in Fireflash was. So, we'll be back to square one!"
"Okay, Scott," Virgil cut in, "It looks like we're gonna have to try that little scheme we discussed earlier."
"How long have we got until the Fireflash hits the water?"
"Well, judging by the present rate of descent, I'd say we've got about fifteen minutes."
"Did you get that? We've got fifteen minutes."
"Right! Be seeing you… I hope," Gordon added as an afterthought.
"I'll help you get ready," Indiana decided, moving to do so.
Gordon was already suited up, so all they had to do was set up the necessary equipment. Indiana did a quick test on the mask and found it worked to her satisfaction, so she passed it to Gordon to attach to his face while she checked his harness.
"Be careful," Indiana pleaded.
Gordon nodded wordlessly before the closed the door between the hatch and the cockpit.
When Indiana walked back towards Virgil, he was passing instructions to his oldest brother, "Okay, Scott. Hold the Fireflash dead steady. We'll adjust it from this end. It's gonna be tricky, but we can do it safely, provided we don't get too much turbulence."
"Alright, Virgil. Is Gordon ready?"
"You ready, Gordon?" Indiana asked on Virgil's behalf, having been decided she'd maintain contact with Gordon so Virgil could concentrate on keeping Thunderbird 2 steady.
"Yep. Ready to go."
Immediately, Virgil flew Thunderbird 2 so it was directly under Fireflash in its crash dive. Once they were in position, Gordon voiced his request for Fireflash to open the hatch so he could get into the wing. What Gordon said next concerned Indiana.
"Hey, that's funny. I… thought I saw someone."
"What was that?" Indiana immediately demanded.
"Oh. Nothing, Indy. I'm just seeing things. That's all."
"Okay," Indiana nodded, though she didn't believe him, "Standby to enter wing."
Gordon fired the attachment for the winch into the Fireflash's wing. He was quickly winched up into the wing and he moved away from the lift, stepping into the wing and entering the instructions for the winch to move back down into Thunderbird 2 so it could get out of the crash dive.
It wouldn't do anyone any good if the rescuers needed rescuing themselves.
"You okay, Gordon?" Indiana pressed.
"I'm fine. I made it into the wing safely. Where should I start?"
Scott responded, "The EPU should be situated somewhere near the parameter cylinders."
"Yeah. I think I can see them. I'm gonna try and get a little closer."
Scott then asked Captain Hanson to check their present height. He then reported that Fireflash was at 40,000 feet, so they had less than four minutes before they crashed. They were descending at one thousand feet per minute, and no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't get the nosecone up.
This crash wasn't going to be pretty.
What Gordon reported in seemed to make things worse:
"The leads into the EPU have been cut!"
Indiana and Captain Hanson voiced their surprise at the same time, "They've been cut?!"
But just when they thought things couldn't get any worse, they heard a loud bang echoing through the radio.
"Hey! What the blazes was that?!"
"It sounded like a shot! It couldn't be!"
It was indeed a gunshot they heard. Gordon immediately dove for cover when he heard the shot fire. It turned out he wasn't hallucinating when he saw a man before he boarded the wing.
There was somebody else aboard.
"Alright, International Rescue! I'm ready for you! Come on out!" the saboteur challenged.
Gordon peeked behind his cover, hoping to make the man see reason, "Look, I don't know what your game is, but there's some pretty vital pieces of equipment around here that we don't want to smash if we can help it!"
"Who are you kidding?! This aircraft is finished and you know it!" the saboteur snapped, "In just a couple of minutes more, it's gonna make a mighty big splash in the ocean and then disappear like all the others!"
"One-and-a-half minutes!" Captain Hanson reported.
"Hey! What the heck is going on in the wing?!" Scott snapped impatiently.
All he could hear was a series of gunshots. He thought he could hear words. But he couldn't make them out clearly. But each bang might as well have punched him in the gut. Especially since Gordon wasn't responding.
"Gordon! What's going on?! Answer! Please! Come in, Gordon!" Scott pleaded.
"Look, Scott! There's no time to explain! We've had an uninvited guest lousing up the works in here! But I guess he won't give any more trouble!"
Scott was relieved to hear his brother was okay, but he couldn't dwell on it. Not yet.
For one thing, they were all still in danger.
"Gordon, we've got thirty seconds left before we hit the water," Scott warned with a calmness he did not feel, "and it's too late to bail out. Can you fix the EPU?"
"No, Scott! I couldn't remake the join in time! It would take too long!"
"Ten seconds, Tracy!" Captain Hanson cried.
Something happened that neither of the two pilots about Fireflash couldn't explain. Fireflash pulled up just before it hit the ocean. They were regaining height.
Scott suddenly had a fear about what Gordon was doing to keep them in the air, so the first thing he and Captain Hanson agreed to was they had to fly back to London. There was no way they'd make it out to San Francisco.
"Virgil, we're heading back to London," Scott reported.
"F.A.B. Just in case you're interested…."
"Virgil!"
Scott laughed, but immediately knew he would pay for it later. He didn't need to hear what Virgil was trying to say.
Indiana forgot to breathe again.
Indiana ran out of Thunderbird 2 as soon as the Fireflash came to a stop on the runway, Virgil hot on her heels. She found out what Gordon had to do to stop the Fireflash from crashing into the ocean.
Scott and Captain Hanson had quickly disembarked and were helping Gordon out of the wing. They looked horrified at the sight of the burns on his hands.
"Gordon!" Scott gasped in horror.
Indiana quickly caught up to them, looking at Gordon's hands before issuing instructions, "I need a cool cloth! Now! We've gotta cool them down!"
"We've got some ice," Captain Hanson offered.
"No," Indiana immediately voiced her objections, "It'll reduce blood supply and make the injury worse!"
Scott came back with two cool clothes. Passing one to Captain Hanson, the two immediately went to work wrapping them onto Gordon's hands, heeding Indiana's warnings about the blisters. Immediately, they all escorted Gordon to Thunderbird 2.
"Looks like second degree," Indiana muttered when she took a closer look, "Good news is. It's still a minor burn."
"How can a second degree burn still be a minor burn?!" Captain Hanson asked incredulously.
"The burns are less than 2-3 inches wide," Indiana clarified, "These will need to stay on your hands for twenty minutes. Afterwards, I'll clean and bandage them. I'll also give you a tetanus shot, some pain relief and antibiotics as a precaution."
Gordon nodded wordlessly before asking, "How long will I be out of action?"
"A couple of weeks," Indiana answered firmly, "At minimum. Anything beyond that depends on how well you heal up."
Several days later, the family had gathered around the television, watching the latest report on the investigation into the Fireflash disappearances.
"Thanks to International Rescue, the Fireflash run from London to San Francisco is to be resumed next week. Police authorities in London have completed their investigation into the sabotaging of the aircraft and state that the efforts of International Rescue have led to the unmasking of the international gang bent on aircraft espionage. Particular stress was laid on the…"
Everyone looked confused when the picture suddenly cut out.
"Oh, for Pete's sake," Scott grumbled irritably.
"Just at the most interesting part!" Virgil whined.
Grandma Tracy then walked in, looking apologetic, "Oh dear, I am sorry! Tin-Tin and I were just putting the pies in the oven and the darn fuse blew!"
Nodding wordlessly, Virgil rose to fix it. Because Gordon said repairing the EPU aboard Fireflash was like fixing a fuse, they were going to make him do it, but the burns that remained on his hands stopped him short. They were healing well. They didn't want to jeopardize that.
For one thing, Indiana and Jeff would've killed them. Or tortured them. That depended on their mood.
"Come on," Indiana sighed as she approached Gordon, "It's time to change your bandages."
Scott watched as Gordon followed Indiana to the infirmary. Indiana hadn't been exactly avoiding him since they came home, but she has been distant. Virgil had told him that she was scared – they all were – to the point where she forgot to breathe like she did with the Sidewinder rescue.
It wasn't because he laughed, was it?
"Indy," Gordon began as Indiana removed the bandages, "Is anything wrong with you and Scott?"
"No," Indiana shook her head, "What makes you say that?"
"You've been distant since we came home," Gordon pointed out, "What? Did you guys have a fight?"
"No. Nothing like that," Indiana declined before examining his hands, "Your burns are healing quite nicely."
As Indiana grabbed the jar of petroleum jelly to apply to his hands, Gordon pressed on, "Indy… I know."
Indiana laughed, "I was wondering when someone would bring it up."
"Well, I did go with you guys to Carter's funeral," Gordon drawled, "What's wrong? Are you pushing him away because you got scared?"
"It's not that simple," Indiana sighed.
"Sounds like it to me," Gordon retorted, "Look. You love him. He loves you. Even if you haven't said it yet, it's pretty obvious. But you weren't like this with the Sun Probe mission. Or when he got shot down."
That was when it clicked for Gordon. Yes, Indiana was scared when Scott got shot down and when Thunderbird 3's retros didn't fire after rescuing the Sun Probe rocket, but there was a big difference with those three scenarios.
In this one, Indiana basically had a front row seat. She was the most helpless she had ever been since she joined the organisation. And it was clear it wasn't a feeling she liked.
"Look. I don't want to talk about it," Indiana told him firmly.
"Indy," Gordon cut in, gently but firmly, "We had him. He was coming home."
"I know, but I…," Indiana trailed off, "I thought coming here, I would do something good. And I have. Not just with International Rescue. But helping improve trauma care around the world. I knew that I would grow to care for you guys, but I didn't expect this. And I don't know if I can do this anymore, Gordy."
"What? Be with Scott or stay in International Rescue?" Gordon asked her.
"I don't know. Both," Indiana finally sighed after a tense few moments.
Gordon was horrified. He knew that Indiana would never leave them in a lurch. She would wait until Jeff hired a suitable replacement before walking away if that was what she desired. But he never realized she would've thought about walking away from everything.
He saw how much happier Scott has been since she came to the island. He didn't want to lose that. Not for his brother.
"Indiana," Gordon began, using her full name so she understood just how serious he was being, "Please don't decide anything just yet. Don't let fear rule your life like that. Look. You're going away soon to teach those classes and support Alan at the race. Use that time to think about what you want. Just, whatever you decide… be fair to Scott. Please. You're my friend and I love you. But don't hurt my brother."
"Believe me, Gordon. That's the last thing I want to do," Indiana reassured him, "But you're right. I can't make any form of decision right now. Can you just… keep this between us?"
Gordon nodded.
What they didn't realize was Scott heard the whole thing.
Yeah. I know. I'm evil. I heard it all before.
BYE!