Chapter 11

"Thunderbird 3 from base! Come in! Thunderbird 5 from base. Come in!" Scott tried to communicate with both his watch and the main radio, but could not raise either vessel, nor Alan, Gordon or Tin-Tin individually. He kicked at the wall in frustration, and then stood looking at his father. Grandma was sitting on the bench next to him, talking to him quietly, and occasionally touching his hair while he slept. Kyrano was making coffee in a beaker over a Bunsen burner, and offered some to Scott and Brains.
"Thanks, Kyrano," said Scott.

"Would you like some, Brains?" asked Kyrano.

Brains did not answer him.

"Brains?" asked Scott.

"Aha!" yelled Brains, and jumped up from his seat. "I have done it!"

"What?" said Scott, narrowing his eyes at the streams of machine-code text that scrolled rapidly down the screen?"

"I have interfaced with the nanobots. However, I do not understand their language, so now I am running it through a translation programme to convert it to my own programming system."

"You can do that?"

"Yes, Scott. In fact, here it is," Brains stammered.

Scott frowned, feeling his ignorance. It made no more sense to him now than it had before. "What does it mean, Brains?" he asked.

"Aha. Uhum. I see. Aha."

"What does it mean, Brains?" said Scott, a little more impatiently than the last time.

"I am looking at their command logs. It seems that they've been given a sort of, flowchart, of things to do."
"Like what?"
Brains read for a few minutes. "Well, Scott, it seems that the nanobots are a weapon, produced by a semi-metallic species called the Infiltrators. They attack planets by injecting the populace with the nanobots. The populace then strips the planet of resources, and makes a whole lot more infiltrators. Then they leave, and do it again somewhere else."

"Aliens."

"Yes."
"Semi-metallic aliens."

"Yes."

"Oh, of course," said Scott.

"Oh dear!" said Brains.
"What?"

"It seems that their initial aim was to simply target the population and raw materials. They weren't banking on finding our advanced technology. Until now they have only conquered planets with less developed populations and technology, and put them to work extracting all the iron ore. This is a first for them. This is fascinating."

"And the 'oh dear', Brains?"

"They're coming for us. John is building more infiltrators now."

"What's taking them so long?"
"They seem to be having problems controlling John."

Scott smiled. He knew that there was some semblance of his brother left, and that part would do everything it could to stop the infiltrators. "You said that they were only semi-metallic. Where will they get their other parts from?" asked Scott.
"From us!" said Brains. "Probably by having the nanobots make proteins out of our blood. That would be the fastest way." He spoke as if this were a science project safely contained in a bell jar.

"Nice. Why didn't they all come down? Why leave just one guy with nanobots in him?"

"It's a waste of resources. They seem to think that this is the most efficient way to conquer a planet. You see, they infect, usually more than one, but some people, and leave them to do the rest."

"So why did they attack Thunderbird 5 twice?" asked Scott, refreshing his fears for Tin-Tin and his brothers safety.

"I don't know, Scott. They don't seem to have any information about that."

"So couldn't we take out these bugs with lasers?"
"Not really, Scott. A creature made from steel, our weapons could destroy. But a creature made from our most advanced metal alloys would be a problem."

"We have to stop them!"

"I'm working on reprogramming them, but it is going to take time."
"We don't have time, Brains."

"I know, Scott."

Scott left Brains to work.

Scott pulled up Virgil's blanket around his shoulders, and hung him another IV from the ceiling. Brains had shown him how when he had done the last one, but his lack of serious medical qualifications worried him. His brother could be lying there dying, and all he knew how to do was hang up drip bags. He made a mental note to ask for more intensive medical training at the next International Rescue meeting. Virgil was pale and sweaty, but seemed to be breathing alright.

Jeff groaned, and without opening his eyes he mumbled and pushed out from himself with his arms and legs.
Grandma held onto his head. "It's alright, Jeffrey."

Jeff opened his eyes. "Mother? What happened?"

"You got hit on the head."
"How?"

Grandma looked at Scott. He answered. "John hit you, Dad. Don't you remember."
"I was hoping it was a dream," said Jeff, and smiled wryly.

"No such luck, I'm afraid. How do you feel?" asked Scott, smiling back.
"Fine. Just a little bit of a headache!" replied Jeff, but the way he looked at Scott; dreamily and without being able to keep his eyes still; told a different story. Nonetheless, Scott filled him in on developments since he had last been awake.

Kyrano heard a low rumble, and noticed the coffee in his seemingly bottomless pot rippling. "Scott, I think that is Thunderbird 3 returning!" he said, anxiously.

Gordon landed Thunderbird 3 with a bone-rattling crunch. He called down to the T3 lounge.

"Sorry!" he said. "There's no power. The auto-guidance system isn't working!"

"We're alright, Gordon," said Tin-Tin. "Well, I am."

"On my way down."

Gordon appeared in the elevator in the lounge. He walked up to Alan, lying on the couch, and put his hand on his forehead. "He's really burning up!"

"Maybe we should have taken him to a hospital!"
"No, he might have the nanobots in him. We can't let that get out. What if he goes crazy-eight bonkers on us too?"

"Oh, Alan!" sobbed Tin-Tin.

"Come on, let's go. I'll carry him, wear this, and keep that gun handy, Tin-Tin." He threw her some night vision glasses, and put some on himself.

"Yes, Gordon."

Gordon picked Alan up into his arms, and they quietly walked out of Thunderbird 3. It was pitch dark, and it took a few minutes for their eyes to adjust to the eerie green contrast provided by the glasses. Gordon stepped out on to the gantry after Tin-Tin, who was checking around, gun drawn. Alan suddenly started choking.

"Alan? Shit!" Alan had vomited, and the blood-flecked stuff was covering his face, drowning him. Gordon hastily put him down, and rolled him on his side to let it drain from his mouth. He took off his hat and wiped Alan's face with it. Tin-Tin looked very worried, and shed a tear. Gordon knelt with one hand on Alan's waist, keeping him still, and shaking his head.

"Well this isn't good!" he whispered. "Alan, can you hear me?" Alan merely mumbled and screwed up his eyes.

Gordon put his hand on Alan's forehead. "He really is burning up!" he said. He had to wipe his hand on his trousers as it was covered in sweat. Alan looked as if he had had a bucket of water thrown over him. His blonde hair stuck to his ears and face.

"Okay, let's go!" said Gordon, and he and Tin-Tin headed out into the darkness for the lab.

Tin-Tin rapped on the locked outer laboratory door. Kyrano looked into the closed circuit camera, and opened the door.

"Father!" said Tin-Tin as they entered, and threw her arms around Kyrano, who returned her embrace.

"Alan?" shouted Scott, catching sight of Gordon in the doorway, with Alan in his arms.

Gordon laid Alan on his side at the other end of the bench that Virgil was lying on.

Scott looked him over, and saw the wound on his neck. "That's just like the one John had!" he cried.

"Tin-Tin?" asked Brains, feeling for Alan's pulse.

"Yes, Brains?"

"Can you take a pinprick blood sample from Alan?"

"Yes."

"Thank you. When you have it, I will look at it on the SEM," stammered Brains.