Thunderbirds Blast Off! Chapter 8: Blackmail For Power!, a thunderbirds fanfic

Thunderbirds Blast Off

By Lee Homer

Blackmail For Power

Deep within the Canadian Rockies, in a top-secret location, The World Weather control experimental research station, sat in perpetual silence. Its personnel changed for the midnight graveyard shift. Normally, the shift saw no action at all. It was always quiet, mundane and provided the guards with a secure paycheck at the end of each shift. Unfortunately, that was about to change. Crouching behind the rocks to the southeast side of the building, a sinister figure watched with prying eyes. He focussed his high powered binoculars on the guards who were positioned on the gates. He licked his lips with a devilish smile and thought.

"They're all together. This is a perfect time! One gas shell on the main guard post should do the trick." he thought.

Grabbing a rifle which he had propped up against the rock he was hiding behind, the mysterious stranger trained it at the entrance. He fired the gas projectile and watched it hit the ground, rolling to a stop in between the puzzled guards. Then, a huge green gas vapour seeped out of the shell, incapacitating the guards one by one. A second gas shell knocked out the guards in the courtyard. Their coughs and screams were stifled by the thick sleeping agent. Minutes later, an unmarked black truck crashed through the gates of the facility. It screeched to a halt outside the doors to a locked storeroom. The trailer door flung upwards and two men hopped out the back, carrying laser torches. The mysterious stranger peered out of the cab window, looking back at them.

"Hurry it up, Glade!" he growled. "We haven't got all day."

"It's the fourth building down we want!" replied Glade. "The Lightning Control machine is on the ground floor."

A half-hour later, the two thieves emerged from the building with their prize. They carefully loaded it into the back of the truck, notifying the driver to step on it. The unmarked truck sped off into the night. They had pulled off a daring raid, one that would make headlines all over the world. The raid broke headlines across all major news outlets. The newspapers printed rewards for any information on the thieves who had stolen the lightning control machine. The guards were interviewed by the authorities and the media which resulted in an official investigation by the World Government. Aerial patrols were carried out around clock accompanied by police roadblocks and random spot checks.

On Tracy Island, Scott Tracy read the article out to the rest of the Tracy clan.

"I don't get this raid on the weather research station," he said. "Why should anyone want to steal a lightning machine?"

"That's been puzzling me too, Scott," replied Jeff. "I wouldn't think there's any real use for the machine in itself. What do you think, Brains?"

"It all depends, Mister Tracy," added Brains. "This was a research machine and not the normal lightning m-maker. From the newspaper reports, it seems that this machine can direct lightning. Now if that's true…"

Jeff frowned at the thought as it sent shivers down his spine. "Yeah, things could be nasty. The thieves could use the lightning to destroy any target of their choice."

A beeping sound broke the conversation. The eyes on John's wall portrait flashed. Jeff flipped a switch on his desk, revealing a concealed transmitter in his ashtray. John's portrait flashed to a video screen of the lone space monitor.

"Go ahead, John?" he said, addressing the concealed portrait video.

John's face flashed before him. "Father, we've had a call from the World Government. The man who stole the lightning machine is demanding a thousand million dollars ransom money."

"Gee, that's a lot of money, but what's that got to do with us?"

John explained further. "The Government want us to find the thieves and recover the machine."

Jeff shook his head dismissively. "No. I'm sorry, John. You know fully well that we're not a police force. We're a rescue organisation."

At the same time, over at the World Government Building in Unity City, tensions rode high amongst a frazzled board of Government officials. An emergency conference was in session. Chaired by the World President, the men gathered around a large oval table to discuss their options. It went on for many hours, well into the night without a decision or a solution. Exasperated voices accompanied the clenched fists that pounded the table.

"I say we don't pay Phillips the money," snapped one man. "We don't even know if the machine works!"

"I agree," barked another. "I think we should call his bluff, Mister President."

World President sighed heavily as he looked upon his options. "Then it's settled then. We won't pay the money. It's time to make a stand, Gentlemen. I won't have terrorists threaten the allied nations of the world."

Unfortunately, their decision was about to cost them. Deep within the arctic ice, A decommissioned Navy Submarine drifted under the ice sheet. Phillips, the man who orchestrated the raid, waited impatiently for the President's response. His accomplice summoned him towards the radio and the pair listened carefully. He scrunched his face in anger at the President's mocking tone. He clenched his fists and smacked the metal bulkhead behind him.

"Bluffing am I!? All right, we'll give them a demonstration. I'll show them who they're messing with. Take her up, Glade."

The Submarine surfaced, breaking through the ice sheet. It bobbed up and down on the surface for a short while. Moments later, a domed hatch opened, revealing the lighting control machine within. Phillips operated the controls, using its targeting scope to locate a test subject. He sneered as he set his sights on an unsuspecting gold mine.

"Now, they'll know if I'm bluffing!" He grunted.

The machine buzzed into life, hurling a concentrated burst of energy at the gold mine. Lightning streaked across the arctic sky towards its target. The workers there were unprepared for the terror that headed their way. The sleeping facility exploded upon contact. Flame leapt from building to building. The site managers had to act quickly. Two site managers witnessed the oncoming doom.

"What on earth? Look, the shaft's shattered! There are two hundred men down there!"

"Put out a call. Without ventilation, those miners can't last more than a few hours!"

With most of the site crew evacuated, the site managers put out a distress call. Up in Thunderbird Five, the call was picked up over its monitors.

"Explosion has destroyed the mine shaft and ventilation units. Two hundred miners are trapped down there, approximately 3,000 feet below ground."

John responded instantly. "International Rescue to Sunset Mine. Give me your location. We're on our way. "

After John made his report, Jeff scrambled his boys. Scott dashed Thunderbird One, as the rotating wall spun him around into the launch bay. While he carried out his launch procedure, Brains worked out what they needed to do. They looked out towards the swimming pool to see Thunderbird One hurtle into the sky. Brains accompanied Virgil and Alan as they headed for Thunderbird Two. Selecting Pod Five, Thunderbird Two left Tracy Island and plotted a course for the Alaskan mine. While they were underway, Phillips revelled in triumph from the safety of his Submarine hideout. His demonstration struck World President with fear. Sitting in his office at the World Headquarters building, the President held his head in his hands. He had tried to call Phillips's bluff and failed. The madman smiled sickly at him over the TV monitor.

"All right, Phillips. You win," he said defeatedly. "We'll pay the money providing you return that machine!"

Phillips cackled manically over the video screen. "You don't get off that easy, Mister President. I have decided to take over the world! The Government have two hours to submit to me, If not.."

The World President couldn't believe it. "You're mad! The world senate would never hand over power!"

Phillips ceased his laughter. "No? We will see, Mister President. We will see."

The screen flicked off and the President's reflection stared back at him, He called in for his chiefs and three men entered the room. One man was Commander Zero of the World Space Patrol. Another headed the World Aquanaut Security Patrol and the third man headed the Armed forces. They stood before the president in a formal stature.

"Well, Gentlemen. Do we give in to his demands?"

Commander Zero was the first to speak. "We can't, sir. If only we had a few days, we could organise a listening space station and get a fix on Phillips' position."

The President shook his head. "We haven't got days, Zero. Just hours! But one organisation already has a listening station. If they could get a fix then we might stand a chance."

A few minutes later, the World President contacted Tracy Island directly. Jeff took the call in his quiet office, using a frequency scrambler. Hesitant to intervene, the desperate tone in the President's voice quickly changed his mind. Jeff held up his hands.

"All right, Mister President," he said. "Because of the seriousness of the situation, International Rescue will track and destroy Phillips' base! We will use lethal force as a last resort."

The President accepted Jeff's terms and cut the call. Seconds later, the eyes on Scott's portrait flashed. His face appeared on the video screen.

"Thunderbird One to base. E.T.A Two minutes to Danger Zone!"

"Okay, Scott. Be on Standby, you may be needed for another job," replied Jeff.

Scott nodded. "FAB. I'm coming into land now."

A few minutes later, as Thunderbird One touched down at the Sunset Mine, Scott received a call from Thunderbird Two. Scott filled his brother in on the situation.

"It looks pretty straightforward, Virgil," he began. "You've got nearly an hour to get the Mole down to the work face."

Virgil acknowledged his transmission. "FAB, Scott. Standby. I'm dropping pod. The Mole should be out in Seconds."

The Giant craft touched down next to her sister rocket plane. She raised skywards on her hydraulic jacks. The Mole appeared from the Pod. Alan steered here towards the drilling site. The diamond-tipped shaped drill head angled towards the earth and started to burrow. The rescue was underway. At that same moment from his Submarine base, Phillips' waited anxiously for his answer. The President's face appeared on the screen.

"Well, am I to be World President?" he asked.

World President looked at him with despair in his eyes. He never dreamed of a situation such as this.

"Looks like it. The appointment-only needs the senate's approval," he replied. "I'll know for certain in a couple of hours."

Phillips bore his teeth with a sickly grin, sure of his victory.

"All right, Mister Ex-President. You've got two hours," he laughed. "After that, I'll destroy one major city every ten minutes. Starting with Unity City!"

The President gulped at Phillips ultimatum. The pressure mounted inside his office. The race to stop him was on! However, their conversation was monitored by a guardian angel. Up in Thunderbird Five, John listened in to every word. He smiled when a blinking like flashed on an area grid map. He found their man. He contacted Jeff with his findings. Not only had he found their position, but he was able to determine the type of craft they were hiding in.

"I've found their position, Father. He's speaking from an area in Alaska," he said. "I've fixed the position. He's twenty miles away from the Sunset Mine, heading towards the North Pole. It's not a ship. It must be a Submarine."

"The North Pole? If Virgil can make it in time, Gordon should be able to intercept in Thunderbird Four. Keep your eyes on the fix, John. Don't let it out of your sight."

Back at the danger zone, Scott sat at his mobile control unit. The Mine's chief controller stood with him. They watched in relief as the Mole, piloted by Alan with Virgil and Brains, returned to the surface. The ground shook from the vibrations caused by its reverse motors. At the moment it returned to a horizontal angle, the hatch opened and the trapped miners scrambled out into the fresh inviting air. As soon as they were clear, Alan reversed the Mole back into the Pod. When they returned to the cockpit, They received an urgent call from their father.

"Thunderbird Two. Hello Father. We were about to call you. We've just completed the rescue."

Jeff got to the point. "Virgil, get back here immediately. I want you to pick up Gordon in Thunderbird Four. I have an assignment for you both."

Virgil paused, taking a glance at his brother. "FAB, Father. We're leaving at once."

Down on the ground, the site manager thanked Scott for their help and assisted him with the loading of his equipment. He stood back and watched in awe as Thunderbird One blasted off into the sky. Back at the villa, Jeff paced the lounge anxiously, occasionally glancing at his wristwatch. Time was slipping away by the second and there was still no sign of Thunderbird Two. As he watched the tracking screen on John's portrait, he was approached by Tin-Tin, daughter of his faithful manservant, Kyrano. Handing him a cup of coffee, she calmly tried to steady his nerve.

"Don't fret, Mister Tracy. Virgil will be here in no time at all."

Jeff looked at her, thoughtfully. "I know, Tin-Tin. I just have this horrible feeling that we're going to lose him."

Tin-Tin smiled at him. "The boys are trying their best. Is Gordon standing by?"

"Yeah. He's been waiting in Pod Four for the last ten minutes. It's funny how you can feel the whole weight of the world press down on your shoulders. I didn't want us to get involved, but the President's desperation forced my hand."

Tin-Tin disagreed with his protest. "I think we're doing the right thing. The whole world needs rescuing."

Then, the call came through from Thunderbird Two. Virgil's portrait flicked to his video screen.

"Base from Thunderbird Two. Banking for final approach."

"Hurry it up, Virgil!" huffed Jeff. "Time's running out. Gordon is standing by, waiting for retrieval."

A few moments later, Virgil set his Thunderbird down on the cliff-side runway and reversed her into the hangar. Alan and Brains disembarked the craft, passing Gordon in the hangar. The turnaround was fantastically fast, but a further Ten minutes raced by before Thunderbird Two was airborne again. Meanwhile back in his Submarine base, Phillips prepared to make another demonstration. With half an hour left on the clock, he sat in the Submarine's observatory dome and enjoyed a premature victory drink with Glade, his colleague. The power had gripped his sanity like a vice. Unfortunately, International Rescue's chances of success withered away in front of Virgil's eyes. They were still four hundred miles away from the North Pole and time was against them. Virgil explained the situation to his father, hoping that Brains could offer an alternative solution. Gordon sat behind him with a frown.

"Thunderbird Two to base. Dad, we're not going to make it in time. We're approaching the fix position, but by the time we deploy Thunderbird Four, it will be too late. Our E.T.A is ten minutes away."

Gordon frowned. "And that would give me only Twenty minutes to make the trip under the Ice. I estimate that the Submarine is at least A hundred feet under the ice sheet. "

They both heard an audible sigh over the radio as Jeff shared their frustration.

"Okay, boys. Keep going. We'll work something out from this end."

Jeff continued his uncomfortable pace of the lounge, mounting pressure on Brains to come up with a solution. With Thirteen minutes left on the clock, Brains came up with a solution. One that had a chance of success.

"I've g-got it!" he said excitedly. "If Gordon can't reach the submarine in time, then Virgil will need to bombard it from the air."

Jeff looked at him as he caught on. "You mean, bombard the area with missiles? That leaves a very wide margin for error, Brains."

"I know, b-but if they waited until the last second, they'll be able to strike the submarine when it surfaces. It'll have to surface so I can fire the lightning machine."

"Then that's what he'll do. Brief him on the details, Brains."

"Right, Mister Tracy."

At that moment in the Submariner, Phillips called the President with one last gloating message. His patience had worn thin. The President tried to plea with him over the video screen.

"But, Phillips, it will take another hour for the senate to agree to your request. I need more time!"

"That's too bad because I go into action in two minutes," replied Phillips. "Now, as a result of your failure, you shall witness the destruction of the World Capital. Prepare to surface, Glade and switch on the machine!"

At the same time, hovering above the ice, Thunderbird Two waited to strike. Virgil kept her steady while Gordon manned the missile cannon. The underside hatch slid open and a missile launcher lowered into the freezing air. Gordon angled the missiles towards the icy water. He kept his eyes on the target viewfinder. Virgil glanced at his wristwatch.

"When you see it, Gordon, do not hesitate," he said.

Then, within seconds as the clock ticked its last minute, the Submarine emerged from the depths, nestling itself in the ice sheet. Gordon trained the missile launcher on the observation dome which house the lightning machine.

"There it is!" cried Gordon. "I have visual contact!"

"Then fire, Gordon! Fire!"

Gordon thumbed the missile launcher. One by one, the four arrow-shaped missiles screeched through the sky towards the Submarine. They struck their target dead-on, blasting it into smithereens. The two brothers watched with mixed emotions as the fireworks display below. There was no way anyone could have survived a blast of such magnitude. It left Gordon feeling guilty. He never killed anyone before. Solemnly, Virgil informed his father of their success. The world was safe again, but only by a fraction of a second. Swiftly and silently, the boys returned home. Later that day as the boys returned home, Virgil and Gordon received a congratulatory call from the President followed by a lavish dinner. They celebrated well into the night, despite Gordon's guilty conscience. Jeff took the time to assure the young aquanaut that he did his duty. He was proud of his boys despite the tremendous pressure they had been put under. It was thanks to them that the world could sleep peacefully tonight.

The following day, a company of Navy divers searched the wreck of the Submarine. Their mission was to recover the lightning machine, with the hope that it could be rebuilt. Unfortunately, they were unable to retrieve the device. It had been destroyed in the blast. Perhaps it had been for the best. Perhaps such powerful weapons were not supposed to be made.

END