Thunderbirds Blast Off! Chapter 9: Pressure Point, a thunderbirds fanfic

Thunderbirds Blast Off

By Lee Homer

Pressure Point

36,000 feet below the surface of the Pacific, in the lowest depths of the Mariana Trench, the Bathyscaphe 'Columbus', coupled to the dome of a vast pressure shield, arrived to begin its operations. They were a part of the Pan Oceanic mining expedition, on a quest to bore through the Moho. The Moho, short for the Mohorovičić Discontinuity, was a layer between the Earth's crust and the underlying mantle. It was named after the scientist who discovered it in 1909. The team hoped to find valuable minerals in the mantle itself, regarding their research as of immense importance. Unfortunately, it was immensely dangerous too. Beneath the shield, sophisticated drilling equipment that had taken months to assemble, hummed to life as the Bathyscaphe personnel operated it from a remote control console. A young operative alerted the rest of his team.

"Slowing bit revolutions to a minimum. Moho penetration in final phase!"

"Coolant running. Overload negative." replied another young man.

The Captain of the Bathyscaphe stepped forward to examine the instrument panel. "This is the critical bit. Better have everyone at alert positions. Hudson."

Hudson, a fair-haired man left his station for another. "Okay. I'll rouse 'em. They'll want to witness the breakthrough in any case."

As the drill continued to bore through the crust, its drill bit began to penetrate the mantle ever so slightly, until a red light sounded in the control cabin. They had done it. However, before they could celebrate their achievements, they were rocked by a sudden vibration that shook the hull plates around them. The super-hardened steel shrieked sickeningly until it buckled under the immense pressure build-up. Then suddenly, the pressure dome erupted, piercing the top of the domed structure. The force of the blast, sheered the Bathyscaphe clear from the done, sending it hurtling out of control. The submarine smashed against the cliff rising from the ocean floor. The crew were thrown about in utter panic and confusion.

"What in thunder is happening!" "Watch out!" "Brace yourselves!"

Then finally, as the water boiled around them, the Bathyscaphe settled on the ocean floor. It had landed on its side and her bow had been propped up by the damaged pressure dome. Regaining consciousness, the Captain slid down a ladder to check on his crew. Fortunately, no one was injured, but they were far from danger.

"Give me a pressure count! I want to surface as fast as I can!" he ordered.

"Sorry, Captain," replied the young officer. "The buoyancy tanks have ruptured. We can shed every ounce of ballast, but it won't matter a scrap! We're stuck down here until we die!"

Several hours later, a distress message was received over the monitor aboard Thunderbird Five. John Tracy snapped into action, relaying the incident to Tracy Island. By coincidence, Brains had been discussing the Pan Oceanic Expedition with Jeff Tracy and Scott when the call came through. The eyes on John's portrait flashed brilliantly before the painting revealed his face on a video screen. After relaying the message, John informed them of another problem.

"Pan Oceanic haven't another craft capable of withstanding the pressure down there," he claimed. "Any rescue attempt by them will fail, Dad."

Jeff understood the situation. "Okay, John. Call them and tell them we're on our way. Brains, Scott. Bring Virgil and Gordon up here. We have an emergency on our hands."

Virgil and Gordon arrived within minutes of their father's call. Jeff briefed them on the situation.

"Virgil, launch Thunderbird Two and select Pod Four," he said. "Get going. You too, Gordon."

Several minutes elapsed when Thunderbird Two appeared from her concealed hangar, built into the cliff face. Virgil taxied her down the slipway towards her launch ramp. She raised skywards on her hydraulic ramp and with a whoosh of thrust, took off for the danger zone. Levelling off, Virgil reported his status.

"Thunderbird Two to International Rescue. We should be at the danger zone in seven minutes, Father."

"FAB, Virgil," replied Jeff.

At the controls, Virgil steered the green transporter over the clear pristine ocean. Gordon sat behind him, studying an area map of the ocean. After a few moments of contemplating, Virgil interrupted his train of thought.

"What about the sea-bed pressure, Gordon?" he asked. "It's going to be rough on Thunderbird Four. Do you think she can withstand it?"

Gordon shrugged. "Brains thinks she can take it. I guess we'll find out."

"Right well you better get ready. We're approaching the Mariana Trench now."

"FAB, Virgil."

Just off the Mariana Trench, Thunderbird Two arrived and swept over the bubbling sea. Virgil couldn't prepare for what was about to happen. Before he could deploy the Pod, he realised that he was flying into a cloud of escaping gas. He gripped the controls firmly as the heat from his ram-jets ignited the gas, pouring upwards from the ruptured seabed. Virgil wrestled with the controls in desperation as he pulled the massive Thunderbird away. It was his quick thinking that saved them at that moment. Eventually, he dropped the pod down on a more stable body of water. The Pod rode out the turbulent waves as the flap lowered down into the water. Still shaky from the gas pocket, Virgil watched below as Thunderbird Four emerged from the pod, piercing the surface of the water.

"Good luck, Gordon," he said with a slight tremble. "I'll remain at a cruising altitude. Please be careful down there."

"FAB Virgil," replied Gordon. "I sure won't lose my way as long as I keep that gas field in my sight! I should be able to see the Bathyscaphe in no time."

As Thunderbird Four traversed the violent currents, far below in the trapped Bathyscaphe, the crew fought to keep their operations running. The Captain and her crew did everything they could to maintain power. Their air supply depended on it. The Captain emerged from a maintenance hatch, covered in sweat and oil. He shifted his body down the narrow inspection ladder and propped his weary body up against a wall console.

"How are the batteries?" asked a crewman.

The Captain wiped the sweat from his brow. "Well, there's plenty of power yet, but we ought to go easy on the lights and radio. We must have got to keep a channel open for International Rescue."

"Dead right, Skipper," replied the crewman. "We'll leave the exterior lights on to guide them in."

Suddenly, Gordon's voice sounded over the radio. "International Rescue calling Columbus. I'm currently on my way to you. Hang tight. We'll have you out in no time."

The Captain sighed. "Oh boy. I feel like I want to sit down."

Thunderbird Four's powerful lights stabbed through the inky water as Gordon eased his submarine into the deep. At Thirty Thousand Feet, her motors began to strain. As kept diving, Gordon could hear the sound of his hull crack around him. If he kept diving, he'd surely be crushed by the pressure. The sounds grew louder as his engines began to cut out. Gordon had no choice but to abort. Regretfully, he signalled the Columbus.

"Thunderbird Four calling Columbus. I'm going to have to abort," he said. "I can hear my hull cracking. I don't think I can make it to you."

Thunderbird Four groaned ominously under the terrible pressure. Gordon pulled back hard on the wheel, angling his submarine upwards towards the surface. The panicked cries of the Columbus crew sounded over his radio. Guilt swept over him for abandoning them.

"For pity's sake come back! You can't leave us here to die! Please! Please don't leave us!"

Thunderbird Two hovered in wait, well clear of the flaming gasses when Gordon surfaced. Gordon steered his craft into the waiting pod. He soon joined his brother in the cockpit with a troubled look on his face.

"Are you okay, Gordon?" asked Virgil. "Did you sight the Bathyscaphe?"

"Yeah but I couldn't get near enough, Virgil," replied Gordon. "The guys came through on the radio. They think I've left them to die. Get the tape translator ready, will you? I reckon I've got their situation recorded on the probe-scanner."

Virgil did just that. "I've cut in the link to Tracy Island so Dad and the others will know what's going on. Gee, those guys sounded in a bad way. They're worried about their power. Once it fails, their air tanks will pack up."

Gordon looked over at him. "Maybe Brains can handle a modification job on Thunderbird Four in time?"

But the video probe film revealed an even greater danger for the trapped Bathyscaphe. Inspecting the footage, they discovered the borehole through the Moho that started the trouble. The pressure from the gas had lashed the sea bed, causing cracks to form around the downed submersible. If the cracks continued, it would create a chasm large enough to swallow the 'scape and her crew. Horrified by that notion, Thunderbird Two returned to the island.

Meanwhile, on Tracy Island, Jeff received the grim news and summoned the rest of the family to the lounge. They looked to Brains for suggestions. Unfortunately, he couldn't offer anything. He explained that he couldn't modify Thunderbird Four at such short notice. He knew that such modifications would need tests. Instead, he asked for the Bathyscaphe's exact position. While they waited for Virgil to tell them the information, Tin Tin unfurled a chart of the ocean across Jeff's desk. As they studied it, Virgil transmitted the fix system.

"Here you go, Brains. North and East Area reference One Nine Eight, One Four Eight."

Brains followed the grid line with his finger. "And their exact Depth?"

"Thirty-Five, Seven, Five Nine."

Brains studied the map before drawing a diagram of his finding. He held up a long sheet of paper and drew a rough diagram of the Mariana Trench.

"They're at the very bottom of the sheer cliff, running d-down from one of the Marinara Islands," he explained thoroughly. "The 'Scaphe is right here. Gordon's film shows the cliff behind them."

"Okay, so how do we save the sub and her crew?" asked Tin Tin.

"It's just a wild idea, but it's the only c-chance we have," replied Brains. "We'll need the Mole."

As Thunderbird Two arrived at the island, Virgil provided the Pan Oceanic crew with their findings. The crew could do nothing but wait and hope. The Pod exchange took minutes as Thunderbird Two returned to the sky, carrying Pod Three. Inside the Pod, Brains explained his theory to Scott.

"But the Mole is a land-burrowing machine," said Scott who doubted the idea.

"That's just it," replied Brains. "We're going to take her down through the Mariana Island in a vertical line behind the cliff face."

"But suppose we get it wrong and come through the sea?"

"Then we'll be c-crushed by the pressure. It's a risk we'll have to take."

With precious time ticking away, Thunderbird Two touched down on of the Mariana Islands. Her telescopic legs raised her into the sky, lifting her clear of the pod below. The pod flap lowered and the Mole rumbled out from the Pod. Brains steered her into drilling position while Scott changed into a protective suit. Crawling to a stop, the Mole tipped forward on its raising ramp. Slowly at first, the fantastic machine bit its way into the soft work, until it vanished beneath the earth. Brains increased the Mole's speed, watching the gauge as they drilled. Scott continued to air his grievances as they travelled. One miscalculation would send them hurtling into the deep water, only to be crushed by the pressure,

Meanwhile, on the Ocean Floor, the Captain received another message. A shimmer of hope flared amongst their sea of despair. Their air tanks continued to drain as the lights flickered erratically.

"How's it going International Rescue?" he asked.

Scott's distinctive voice replied to them over the radio."Just sit tight. We're on our way! Have you air left for another hour?"

The Captain checked the oxygen readings. "Yes, I think we can last for another hour."

Chewing its way relentlessly downwards, the Mole thrust away mile after mile of solid basalt. Their confidence grew until suddenly, an unforeseen fault in the strata threatened disaster. They had hit an empty pocket, which caused the Mole to tilt, but coolly, the genius brought the side-tracks into adjustment and corrected the altitude in the nick of time. Scott and Brains stared at each other for a moment. Finally, they made it as the depth counter registered the calculated distance. Scott prepared to disembark the craft.

"We're right on target, Scott," said Brains. "I'm reversing twenty feet. You know what to do."

"I know," replied Scott as he turned towards the hatch.

Pulling back on her caterpillars, the Mole left a narrow shaft beneath her, big enough for Scott to climb down. So far the plan worked. Scott scaled the rock downwards. Right beneath the drill bit, and with no more than a few feet of rock between him and the immense ocean pressure, Scott carried on with his task. He carefully laid the charges all along the tunnel, trying hard not to lose his balance. Suddenly, just as he thought things were going well, Brains jerked forward.

"Scott! The tracks aren't holding! The Mole's slipping right on top of you!"

Scott looked up in horror to see the Mole screech towards him. Brains frantically wrestled with the controls. Quickly thinking, he operated the air-blast pressure equaliser and told Scott to inflate his suit to resist the pressure. Under the fantastic pressure, Scott inflated his suit and the air filled the shaft around him. The very bulk of it prevented the Mole from slipping further, creating a cushion of air underneath the drill bit. Scott paused in relief for a moment.

"Phew! Get that hatch open, Brains. I'm done here."

Climbing back inside, Scott rejoined the scientist. The Mole began its long reverse journey to the surface. Meanwhile, in the trapped 'Scaphe, the air had almost been depleted. The situation became critical as several crewmen began to pass out. Virgil begged them to be patient and explained the plan to them as the Mole returned to the surface.

"We're blasting a hole at the base of the cliff beside you," he said. "We're hoping that the pressure will force you tight against the breach."

"I get it. Then you'll come down again to cut unto our hull and free us!" replied the Captain excitedly. "It's got to work!"

Once in the safety zone, Scott ignited the charges he had set below. A sudden blast of hot gas and smoke belched from the shaft ahead of them. Far below, the pressure encompassed the Bathyscaphe, pulling it towards the breach in the cliff wall. With an instant clank, the sub wedged itself into the gap. The crew were relieved to be alive, but they were still in danger. The Submarine was still in danger of being crushed. Returning to the pod, Brains and Scott changed into scuba suits and returned to the Mole carrying laser cutters. The Mole returned to the drill shaft, carrying them down towards the wedged submarine. Six miles down, they arrived above the wedged hull of the sub. They descended towards the Bathyscaphe, slicing the metal hull with their powerful laser beams. The long minutes ticked by until they breached the inner hull.

"Come out, you beauty!" Scott groaned as he pulled the cut metal section away.

Slowly and painfully, they pulled the trapped men to safety and loaded them aboard the Mole. As soon as they hauled the Captain aboard, Brains threw the Mole into full reverse. At full power, they returned towards the surface and freedom. The crew counted their blessings as they were taken to the hospital by heli-jet. As for International Rescue, it was the most challenging rescue they had ever faced. They made it, but they later took it upon themselves to plug the hole indefinitely.

Gordon returned to the scene hours later in a fully armed Thunderbird Four. As he reached the broken cliff-side, he bombarded the shaft with missiles, destroying it completely. The pressure soon dissipated as the shaft caved in on itself. The ocean started to simmer and the danger was over. Happy with his handy work, Gordon steered away from the Mariana trench and returned home.

END