The sailboat was gradually becoming a spec on the horizon, not worth his attention, but it was still an annoyance nonetheless. Professor Wilkes would need to demonstrate to his crew the error of letting anyone escape one of his ingenious attacks.
What mattered most to himself and his employer, however, lay beneath his feet. An expanse of technology none possessed save for the Tracys. The professor's own advancements were of brilliance unmatched, his shield-penetrating EMF included, but the Thunderbirds… Those had been the driving force to accept the assignment.
"Should I send a unit to take care of them, Professor?" Kane, her tone steady and unperturbed, cut into the silence of the lifeless villa.
"No need," Wilkes shifted his gaze to the dark clouds on the horizon. "I suspect nature will take care of them. I want the rest of the men in the hangar to begin preparations for our departure."
"Yes, sir," she didn't move, instead offering details on another phase of his plan. "The collection crew is on standby to retrieve the submarine, awaiting your command."
His lips pursed in careful thought, "The Tracys are quite a resourceful bunch. Give our men two hours before they launch. By then, they should find that International Rescue won't be a problem."
"Very good, sir," and there was a hint of a smile. When he turned to regard his second in command, Kane was gone.
Wilkes left the view of the ocean, turning to the large, oak desk that surveyed the lounge and portraits. He grinned with satisfaction at the thought of reducing the place to rubble. By the end of the day the Tracys would be a memory. There would be no one left to stand in his way.
OoOoOoO
Some progress was better than no progress, right? Gordon hoped so as he crawled back into the space he'd been creating over the past hour. Power generation was easy. Finding and accessing the means in which to generate power was not.
After locating the panels that would give him access to the ballast feeds, he had spent much of his time identifying components that needed to stay compared to anything that could be safely removed. Practically gutting his 'bird, Gordon was now faced with the task of creating a makeshift connector for the water to come in and leave through the portable hydroelectric generator.
Simple enough, and Virgil would be proud if it actually worked.
Step one, don't flood the submarine.
Taking a pair of clamps, Gordon maneuvered them around one side of the hose, crimping it shut. He then activated the manual shut off valve that allowed water to flow inside. Once completed, all that was left was to cut the tubing and begin rearranging it to the intake end of the generator.
"How's it going?" Scott's voice was muffled through the walls, but still just as irritating after the tenth time asking the question. The comms had been a bust. They would be useless until they found a way to power them, which left his big brother with nothing else to do but watch.
Biting back a short response, Gordon took a breath and slid the surgical thin blade through the hose. Maybe he should have thought about the action before committing, put his helmet on or something, but it was too late for should-haves. Icy water burst over his face as the pressure within the tube released. The spray was short lived, but the damage was done.
Cursing, Gordon pushed himself out of the compartment, eyes clenched shut as he sat up, arm raised to where he assumed his brother was, "Towel, quick!"
"Got it! Here," the cloth fell into the blonde's outstretched hand, pressing onto his face a second later.
"Woo, that's one way to get the blood flowing," the laugh didn't match the worried blue eyes Gordon found as he removed the towel. "Just some cold water in the tube."
Scott visibly deflated, taking a breath as he knelt down to look into the opening, "You think this thing'll work?"
"Can't say until we try. We'll probably need some cables to extend the charge if it does, though," Gordon gestured to one of Four's lesser used cabinets. "I think Brains keeps those kinds of things in there."
Brow arching, Scott stood, "You don't know for sure?" The aquanaut didn't answer, sensing a lecture on the tip of his brother's tongue about being more aware of his 'bird. There was a slight smugness that came when his brother retrieved a handful of wrapped wires. He knew his girl even if he couldn't give technical terms.
Diving back into the space before Scott could return with his items, Gordon took the generator and began shifting it into place between the severed tubes. With his free hand, he found the small canister of nanocrete he hoped would act as a seal. It also meant whatever he was going to do would be permanent, "No going back now."
"What was that?" Scott asked, his face filling the opening as best as he could.
"Just mumbling to myself," Gordon let the canister do the rest of the talking as a slow stream of chemicals hit the tubing and began to expand. The hissing stopped a second later, "One side done, now for the other." Connecting the second tube went just as smoothly, but they still needed to test it. No celebrating until they had power.
Opening a hatch on the small generator, Gordon extracted a pair of cables, too short for what they needed, but long enough to pass the coupler ends to his brother. Scott didn't hesitate to take them, separating the metal prongs to keep from wasting what little they could obtain once this thing got going.
"Go ahead and attach the cables to each other," the blonde instructed. "If the extension can't reach the comm console, we can try connecting it to one of the battery packs."
"FAB," Scott's face disappeared, the cable twitching against Gordon's side as his brother worked. Man, he hoped this thing worked. The idea seemed solid, but if the energy generated wasn't enough or whatever knocked out Four's systems hit again, they'd be back to square one, which was to wait for rescue and hope their oxygen didn't run out. A few minutes later Scott called back, "All set, I'll let you know if it's working."
"Opening spicket to full blast," he chuckled, remembering hot days on the farm and a hose that offered hours of entertainment. This "spicket" wouldn't be nearly as dramatic, but as the lever clicked and water came rushing back in, the nanocrete held and the generator began to hum.
A beat. Two. Gordon didn't breathe, waiting for his brother to give any indication that his plan had worked.
Nothing.
Nerves screaming for answers, Gordon pulled himself out of the workspace, tossing his glowstick on the floor as he slid through the door and into the dark helm. Scott still sat in the pilot's seat, silent as he stared at the flickering light of the comm unit.
"Anything?" The blonde whispered as though too much noise would break the connection.
"Static. There's not enough power to reach Thunderbird 5, but we should be picking up base communications," the gentle hiss of the open connection was ominously quiet.
"Think something happened back home?" The thought cut through him and he wished he hadn't put words to it.
"Dunno-"
The hiss intensified and an unfamiliar, feminine voice filled the small compartment, "Hold position on the island. The professor has ordered departure in two hours to retrieve Thunderbird Four. Arrival time is estimated at four hours."
Gordon's grip tightened on the back of the seat, a chill running through his veins with the announcement. Reaching out, he ensured the comm was muted before he spoke, "Scott…"
"There are people in our home," the brunette's voice was dangerously low.
"Scott, that's -"
"They could have Dad - Virgil, Brains," Gordon could feel the anger radiating off his brother. "We have to do something."
"I know, but -"
"Get Four up and running, how do we do that?" He couldn't blame Scott for the rising panic that they both felt knowing their family was in danger. Gordon's own nerves were on edge, but losing control of their own situation wouldn't help anyone.
Giving his brother a moment's pause, Gordon kept his tone even, "We won't be able to generate enough power to get her started, much less home. Those people," he gestured unnecessarily to the comm, "are our best bet."
"So we wait until they get here and try to overpower them. We both have combat training. It shouldn't be too difficult," and the confidence in Scott's voice almost made him forget the real problem.
"They're four hours away," the calculations were on loop now.
"Then we'll wait."
"Scott, our air's gonna run out in three…" Letting the information sink in, Gordon fought the need to take steadying breaths. "If we can't fix that, we won't be alive to see them coming."
Before the commander could ask the next problematic question, the light of the comms flickered before going out. Scott's hand must have started tapping at the controls as he hissed a curse when they remained dark, "What happened to the power?"
Spinning, Gordon shot back into the rear of the sub, his eyes adjusting to the mix of colors as he crawled back into the compartment. After a quick check of his seals, he knew exactly what the problem was, "Buckle up, Scott!"
"What?" His brother was still in the pilot's seat, likely waiting for a flicker of life, and too far to make out the muffled command.
Shoving himself back out and onto his feet, Gordon repeated the command as he reached for his own seat, "Buckle up! We're descen-"
Too late and the aquanaut was already berating himself for not considering the consequences of his plan. In the same beat, he was flying until the hatch door caught him, effectively silencing the voice that told Gordon this was all his fault.
OoOoOoO
Jeff sent a glance over his shoulder for what felt like the hundredth time, still able to make out the peaks of the island - his island. Another few minutes and those mountains would disappear, leaving the three of them to manually navigate the sailboat towards safety.
It hadn't gone unnoticed that the intruders weren't pursuing them. A blessing in itself, but it meant they had what they'd come for. Jeff had told himself it wouldn't be for long once they could contact help.
Grey eyes came back to the horizon, facing their new obstacle and his son at the front. Virgil's overshirt fluttered in the wind, open to give access to the bandage that now encircled his stomach. The piece of shrapnel was still inside, too deep to remove safely, but stabilized. His son had reassured him the moment he'd emerged, but the worry was impossible to ignore. As was the expanse of dark grey clouds filling the skyline.
Virgil shifted, abandoning the cushioned bench to walk over to his father. The frown matched his own, "The storm's heading East. Raoul should be getting hit pretty hard."
"We'll head North West for now, see if we can trail after it and avoid any strong currents," the wheel turned as Jeff spoke, the compass showing them their path and he smiled. "Remind me to thank Gordon when this is all over. He's got one heck of a hobby."
Virgil chuckled and winced, but the smile remained, "Agreed. We'll have to get him to take everyone out too. Fancy another ride on Squid's Revenge?"
Despite their situation, the memory of his trip out with Gordon, fully dressed in pirate gear, was more than enough to distract Jeff from the dilemma they'd left on the island. He smiled, letting the idea fuel his determination to regain their island, "I do believe I would."
Virgil lowered himself onto the bench once more, closer now for Jeff to see the pain the action caused. He bit back the urge to ask how he was holding up. His second eldest was built tough with a mind that could see intricate beauties in life and machine. It was a gift that Jeff only understood a part of, a gift that was all Lucy.
The wind picked up as they drew closer to the edge of the storm and Jeff had to lift his voice over the rush in his ears, "Do you need anything?"
For a moment, his son didn't answer, eyes roaming the waters with a worried pinch at the corner, not unlike Scott when he was worried. A roll of his shoulders as they crested a swell and the raven-haired man shook his head, "I'm fine."
That was debatable. Jeff would have pressed further if it weren't for the strain on the boat's controls demanding his attention. At the same time, the cabin door opened and Brains emerged, a wariness making the scientist look ill, "Brains?"
His friend took in a deep breath before finding a seat next to Virgil, "Only a bi-bit of sea sickness." He took in another lungful to stave off the nausea. "We have a prob-problem."
"A new one?" Virgil groaned.
"Sort of, it's the -" he was cut off as a spray of water shot over the edge as they came down at an odd angle and into the next wave.
"Sorry," Jeff hissed as he tried to center the boat for the next lift.
Removing his glasses to wipe away the droplets, Brains continued, "It's the EMP, or whatever they used to dis-disable our systems. We're miles from the island. It should have worn off by now."
"So, we're talking something pretty powerful?" Virgil asked what Jeff couldn't.
"Powerful enough to shut dow-down systems at long range or indefinitely," he let the concern sink in. A weapon that strong could bring down governments. It could hurt a lot of people.
Only one question riggled through the terrifying revelations, "Then why use it on us? If they're after the Thunderbirds, they'll need them functional."
"Correct. More than likely, they are able to interfere with our equipment lo-long range. It is far less distressing, but still quite problematic if we can't bring comms back up soon," the worry on the bespectacled man's face spoke of other concerns not yet divulged.
"What do you mean, Brains?" Jeff pressed, jaw tight as his attention fought between finding answers and keeping their ship steady.
"A-at this moment, we know precisely where they are. If we can't contact the GDF before they leave the island…" a wave sent a new hue of green across the scientist's complexion.
"They'll be impossible to find until they strike again," Virgil finished for him.
The former astronaut was quiet. They all were as the new problem presented itself. The ocean that lay before them now came with a choice. One that could cut their escape short in more than one way. He swallowed back the fear he held for himself, his son, his friend, and focused instead on the lives that depended on them. It was the right choice to make and Jeff knew painfully well that he would receive no resistance.
A breath and he spoke, "We'll have to sail through the storm."
It was the only way.