CHAPTER SEVEN

Brains sighed. He was halfway to Japan, and his thoughts had grown increasingly dark as the journey progressed. He'd heard many interesting tales from Kyrano over time, and one particular story stuck out in his mind. The one he'd heard him telling Scott one night about a year ago, of the dolls who had come to life and killed many people in his village. Brains had never been one to altogether believe in the supernatural, but he'd always known better than to completely discount it as well.

Sometimes he could feel things, things that seemed to pull at him from nowhere. Sometimes he could hear things, things that made no sense within the time and space he inhabited. He'd fallen back on assuming it was his brilliant mind talking to itself, making leaps that others wouldn't normally make. But now, as he contemplated what he'd heard from the Tracy boys, he began to wonder if such things as demons were truly possible. And if so, could they be at the root of the strange goings-on at the villa?

The sense of dread he felt was overpowering. He had a very bad feeling, but couldn't put his finger on exactly what was at the root of it. The only other time he'd ever felt like this had been seven years before...


It was November 19, 2020. Brains had spent the day preparing his lecture on Patgora's Theory of Absolute Zero. He didn't particularly enjoy lectures, but he was certain Patgora had hit upon something, and his research and experiments only confirmed his suspicions. It was during this time of research that he'd become somewhat friendly with an older professor at the University of Cincinnati who, surprisingly enough, felt there was credence to the theory and asked Brains to give a short lecture about it to a group of scientists from around the United States.

At first, Brains had declined. He hated groups of people. Hated them with a passion. But Professor Blakely had made it quite clear that the scientific community was not accepting of Patgora's ideas, and only one who truly believed would be able to get them to understand. Brains finally agreed.

He'd come up against the brick wall of old-way thinking far too many times already. People weren't willing to accept things they couldn't understand...especially scientists. They didn't just want hard facts and figures to back theories up, they wanted to know precisely, step-by-step, how the theory had been contrived in the first place. And Brains always had difficulty coming up with explanations for that part of it. It wasn't that he was trying to be secretive, he just didn't really know how it was his mind was able to jump from something "known" and "accepted" to something that was leaps and bounds beyond any previous concept.

It was for these reasons that Brains found himself, at the tender age of eighteen (or so he figured), standing backstage at a theater in the heart of the UC campus. He checked his watch for the umpteenth time and realized it was precisely four o'clock. Clutching note cards in his hand, more for security than because he actually needed them, Brains took a deep breath and walked out onto stage.

As the lecture progressed, Brains kept wishing he could disappear in a poof of smoke. He was nervous, and when he was nervous, he stuttered terribly. He hated that part of himself. He knew what he was talking about, he knew it like the back of his hand.

But it was the large crowd of mostly men in the auditorium that forced him to succumb to his old defense mechanism. He could always hide behind his stammer when he was younger. People left him alone because it was so difficult to hear him try and get through a sentence. Eventually he began doing it on purpose, and it just became a natural part of the way he spoke.

But at times like this, it was downright embarrassing. He could tell he'd lost some of the listeners, and several of them even got up and left. But he continued on, including Patgora's original ideas with his own that he'd come up with along the way.

By the time he finished, he was sweating and very uncomfortable. He wanted nothing more than to escape back to his hotel room, jump into the shower, and forget he'd ever been at the University of Cincinnati. He wrapped up the lecture to a smattering of applause, and then descended the steps that led from the stage to the floor. A few men approached him and he found himself beginning to relax a little as they asked questions.

When the last of the questioners finally took his leave, the hairs on the back of Brains' neck stood on end...he could feel someone standing behind him. He turned to find a man with ginger-colored hair and a matching mustache, dressed in a smart black business suit. Something about this man made him uneasy.

"Hello," a deep voice greeted. Brains thought he detected the hint of an accent, but couldn't place its origins.

"Uh, h-hello," he replied, standing his ground.

"You are Hiram Hackenbacker, are you not?"

"Y-Yes." Brains didn't know what it was, but every instinct told him to turn and run...just run...as fast and as far as he could. He felt something like electricity flash over his skin, giving him goose bumps.

"I'm very pleased to meet you," the man said, walking nearer.

"Uh..." Brains took a step backward. "Who...who are you?"

"Oh, that is not important, my friend." He was now only about a foot away. Brains froze. Fear welled up in him as he looked into the sunken eyes...eyes that didn't quite seem to match the face they bored out of.

"I-I-"

Suddenly the man's eyes began to glow. He didn't say a word, just stared into Brains' eyes as he came to stand directly in front of him.

"What...what's happening?" Brains squeaked. His mind was a complete jumble. He couldn't make heads or tails of his surroundings. He still felt something pulling at him, urging him to run, but for the life of him he couldn't remember why it was important to do so.

"Come with me," the voice ordered. It was now heavy with an accent Brains' fragmented mind couldn't even begin to recognize. He found that he was suddenly walking side-by-side with the stranger. A permanent fog had settled over him, forcing most conscious thought away. His movements were automatic, almost robotic in nature.

"You will be valuable to me, Mr. Hackenbacker," the man whispered in his ear.

His breath sent shivers up Brains' spine. A fleeting thought screamed at him to run, but he couldn't make himself stop. He couldn't keep from walking along with this man as though it were the most natural thing in the world to be doing.

Suddenly a loud noise pierced the night, like the sound of a firecracker being set off. Startled, the man's attention wavered as he turned to locate the source of the disturbance. In that split-second, Brains managed to come back to himself and feel the fear hit him full-force. He gasped and jumped back, his lower lip quivering. He'd seen something...something dreadful...something within that man's mind...and it froze his heart in terror.

The man turned back to face him, and his dark eyes suddenly lit up again. Brains squeezed his own eyelids shut, shaking his head. "No," he whined like a frightened puppy. "No."

"Open your eyes, you fool! You are powerless to resist me!"

Brains' eyes snapped open, his face contorted in horror at the images now burned into his brain. "NO!" he shouted, then turned heel and ran back toward the auditorium.

"Come back here!"

"Hey!" called a voice from the distance. Brains didn't know who it was, he couldn't stop, he had to keep running, he had to get away from that horrible, horrible creature. He had no idea what was happening as he heard raised voices fading behind him. He reached the auditorium door and banged it open, racing down the long central walkway and leaping up onto the stage in a single bound.

When he reached the curtains, he fumbled his way through their velvet folds until he found the opening that would allow him to hide behind them. Closing his eyes against the images, he waited in silence until his ragged breathing came under control. Then, with a trembling hand, he pulled the curtain apart ever so slightly. Scanning the huge room in front of him, he couldn't detect anyone near...but still...that man...even if he were there, Brains doubted he'd realize it so easily.

He backed away from the curtain until he stumbled into the theater wall. Still shaking with fright, he sank down to the floor and tucked his knees into his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs, hugging himself, protecting himself as best he could. Resting his forehead on his knees, he finally allowed the tears to fall as his thoughts turned to the kind Cambridge professor who'd looked after him for the last six years.

He realized, almost too late, that the Professor had been right. Brains was his own worst enemy. His mind was so many years ahead of his time...in the wrong hands, it could be used as a weapon. Tonight, he'd had a brush with disaster. He didn't know who that man was, but the images of dark shadows and golden statues, fire licking ceilings of a cavernous room, evil deeds, robes, chanting...whoever he was, Brains was terrified of running into him again. He needed help. He needed protection.

But who on Earth could protect him from evil such as that?


December 26, 2027 (present day)

"You go on up through the entry tunnel, Kyrano. I'll take the platform elevator to the nose hatch. Stay on your toes."

"Yes, Mr. Tracy," Kyrano replied. He reseated himself on the settee, which they had ridden down from the Lounge and through the long tunnel leading from the villa to Thunderbird 3's launch bay.

He gripped the machine pistol in his hand rather uncomfortably as the settee rose into the tail of Thunderbird 3. He did not like violence, and especially did not condone the use of man-made weapons of destruction such as this. But if his suspicions were accurate, if the marionettes truly had been possessed by demons, Kyrano would do whatever it took to protect the man who had protected him for so long.

Jeff hopped on board the platform elevator and punched in a few commands. It rose 284 feet into the air, stopping just shy of Thunderbird 3's pointed tip. Keying in the unlock sequence, he raised his gun and waited expectantly as the hatch slid open.

Time stood still for Jeff Tracy as something leapt from the hatch, screaming in a pitch that pierced Jeff's skull like a sword. As he reeled from the shock, it threw itself into his body, catching him off-balance as it grabbed his collar and spun him around. He felt himself tumble forward over the platform rail. The gun flew from his hand as he flailed for purchase, finding nothing at all he could grab onto...until his hand closed around cold metal.

Jeff dimly registered the faint clatter of the gun as it hit the concrete floor over 280 feet below. His hand gripped the edge of the platform, his body jerking to a stop. He couldn't help crying out in agony as the inertia dislocated his shoulder.

Stars exploded behind his eyes as he swung helplessly from the platform, each movement blinding him as his body protested the abuse. He tried desperately to grasp the platform with his other hand, but the one time he reached it, his fingers slipped from the rounded edge. He could feel the other hand losing its grip as his mind worked feverishly, trying to come up with a way out of this...a way to cheat certain death. He felt his fingers slipping...

Oh, God, he thought. My boys...


Kyrano came to his feet as the settee clicked into place, sealing magnetically to the floor surrounding it. He scanned the Lounge around him and, finding nothing, entered the elevator and stepped out onto the floor above, the great rocket's sleeping quarters. Yet again, everything seemed to be in order, and he was soon on his way to the floor housing life support and gravity systems. A quick look through the door told him all was well.

The elevator came to rest on the cockpit level. The door hissed open and Kyrano started as an ear-piercing cry permeated the air. His head snapped up just in time to see Jeff Tracy hurtling over the edge of the elevator platform, the John marionette swinging around his neck before flying off into the air.

"Mr. Tracy! Nooo!"