Chapter Five: A Shortness of Breath

It was supposed to have been a straightforward rescue. One of his boys would take the Firefly in while the others worked to locate those miners trapped beneath the ground. Not an easy task certainly, but rather mundane by International Rescue's standards.

This wasn't supposed to have happened. Everything wasn't supposed to have become so horribly complicated. And John's drawn face certainly wasn't supposed to have appeared on the vidscreen in his office with the bad news.

Scott, Virgil and Gordon … all trapped somewhere inside the collapsed mine. And Alan and Tin-Tin, struggling to stay in control of the situation while not having the training to be able to cope effectively on their own.

Jefferson Tracy's hands tightened around the controls of Thunderbirds 3. The large red rocket was currently on a path to Wales, Great Britain, passing above the clouds so as to attract as little attention as possible.

Jeff hadn't wanted to take Thunderbird 3. Seeing as her rescue capabilities wouldn't be needed, it seemed a rather frivolous extravagance when any other ship would have served just as well in getting him to Cilybebyll in as short a time as possible. The only problem in taking Tracy One, or another craft, was that they always ran the risk of the ships being recognised, or of some enterprising soul checking their identity numbers and therefore making the inevitable connections between Jeff Tracy and International Rescue.

Jeff's companion glanced at his employer across the cockpit of the ship. "Are you o-o-ok-ok alright, Mr Tracy?" Brains asked quietly.

Jeff's jaw tensed for a moment and he stared resolutely at the ship's controls. Then he sighed and rubbed a hand across his face wearily. "Not really, Brains. To tell you the truth, I'm scared to death about what we're going to find when we reach the mine."

Admitting his fear was not something Jeff Tracy was accustomed to doing. However Brains, while not a personal confidante like Kyrano, was one of his closest friends and had probably known the answer to his question before he had even asked it. To a certain extent he could also understand how Jeff was feeling, seeing as his son Fermat was now a member of International Rescue and had, of course, been involved in that incident with the Hood. And so Jeff didn't feel the need to hide behind the strong persona he always affected when in a rescue situation. Here, with his friend of a good twenty years, there simply wasn't any need.

"I'm sure your s-s-so-son boys are okay, Mr Tracy." Brains blinked owlishly at him from behind his large blue glasses. "They've been in worse s-si-sit-situ-situ positions than this."

Jeff smiled wanly back at his engineer although in truth, he couldn't share Brain's assurances. While it was true that this was by no means the first time that something untoward had happened during a rescue – such as one of his sons becoming trapped or injured – Jeff was unable to recall a time when all of his experienced sons had become victims at the same time.

He couldn't help but worry – yet strangely enough, most of that worry concerned Alan, rather than his imprisoned sons.

Worrying about Alan wasn't a new pastime for Jeff. Since his youngest had been born, he'd been worrying about him, becoming frustrated with him and, when he was old enough, arguing with him. It was one of Jeff's biggest regrets that so much discord had marked his relationship with Alan and though things seemed to be settling down somewhat now that Alan was beginning to mature emotionally, the problems they had with each other were by no means solved.

Alan could be dangerously reckless sometimes and even now, Jeff questioned his decision to allow Alan to join International Rescue and start his training. One of the reasons he had finally allowed it was that Alan had four experienced brothers to guide and look after him on the missions he attended. The thought of his youngest, alone in the field and having the single-handedly orchestrate a complicated rescue was weighing heavily on his mind.

The simple fact was: Alan wasn't ready for that kind of responsibility. As much as Jeff loved his tearaway son, Alan's own actions proved this. Only last week he'd played an immature prank on Virgil which had landed his older brother in the infirmary with a sprained ankle; an injury that had prevented Virgil from participating in an important rescue. Alan had apologised profusely for it afterwards, but it still didn't excuse his thoughtlessness and blatant immaturity.

Jeff's one comfort was the fact that Alan wasn't completely alone in his task. He had John to confer with and perhaps more importantly, he had Tin-Tin to help him. It would take a blind-man not to notice that Alan and Tin-Tin's relationship had been changing of late and although Jeff wasn't certain of its current status, he cautiously approved of where the two teenagers were heading. Tin-Tin was the calm to Alan's fiery passion. She was the anchor to his buoy. If anyone could keep his wild-child in check it was Tin-Tin Kyrano – and right now, Alan needed all the support he could get.

As if his thoughts had summoned her, Tin-Tin's voice sounded over the airwaves. "Thunderbird 3 from Mobile Control."

Jeff reached forward and accepted the connection. "Thunderbird 3 receiving. Go ahead Tin-Tin."

"Alan's just reached the rear of the Firefly, sir. He's trying to clear the rocks around it in the hopes that Virgil can get it started again and follow the path Alan's cleared out of the mine."

"What about Scott and Gordon? And the other miners?"

"We haven't heard from Gordon or the miners, but that doesn't mean very much. Gordon's transmitter is showing on the console and we're tracking him."

"And Scott?" Jeff prompted when the Malaysian girl paused.

"Virgil … Virgil wasin contact with him …"

Jeff didn't miss her emphasis on 'was'. He tried not to think about what it meant. "So you've lost touch with Scott … is his transmitter still working?"

"Yes, sir. In fact, Alan should reach him any moment."

"That's good news. Tell him Brains and I will be with you shortly. Our ETA is twenty-five minutes."

"FAB, sir. Mobile Control out."

"S-sounds like Alan will have it all f-f-fin-fini sorted by the time we g-get there, Mr Tracy," Brains remarked softly in the silence that followed Tin-Tin's farewell.

"I hope so," Jeff murmured, his thoughts turning once more to his youngest child.

The rear of the Firefly's shattered form emerged out of the darkness as Alan Tracy burrowed through the hard rock surrounding the craft. The state of the once proud machine was pitiful. The entire rear of the craft had been completely crushed; it was a miracle that Virgil had come through the experience relatively unscathed.

Alan halted the Mole's progress just shy of the Firefly, not wanting to cause any more damage to the rescue machine. "Virgil?" he called, trying his headset frequency.

There was the crackle of empty airwaves and then his brother's voice came back to him. "Alan?Is that you?" Virgil sounded surprised.

"One and the same."

"Where are you?"

"Right behind you."

Virgil's voice was awash with relief. "I've never been so glad to see you, baby brother. Can you get me out of this tin can?"

I hope so, Alan thought as he sifted through the pile of tools he'd thrown into the back of the Mole in the hope that they'd be useful. And I hope I put the damn laser cutters in here or we are seriously screwed… aha! For the first time since the mine had collapsed, a genuine smile crossed as he brandished the tool. "Be there in a second, Virg."

"Hurry."

As soon as Alan climbed out of the Mole, the heat of the fire hit him. Even in its dying stages – there was no way it could continue to exist underground once all the oxygen had run out – it was still powerful enough to coat the blood on Alan's face with a sheen of sweat. He knew he would have to be careful when he touched the Firefly: the metal would be scorching.

As Alan inched forward around the wickedly sharp blades of the Mole, the firemen behind him erected another of their steel supports. One of their number broke away and hurried up to join Alan, tapping the younger man on the shoulder to get his attention.

"That's the last one," Rhys shouted over the noise his men were making. "Even if we had anymore, I wouldn't put them up. The fire's still too intense."

Which meant the Mole could go no further, or they would risk her bringing to whole mine down. Alan signalled his understanding and continued on towards the shattered Firefly, intent on rescuing his trapped brother in whatever way he could.

He tried not to think about what would happen if he couldn't get Virgil out of the Firefly. The thought only served to make him feel ill.

Alan held the handle of the laser cutter against the warm metal of the rescue vehicle and took a deep breath. "Virg – stand back."

"Alan, what are you –"

Before his brother could finish, Alan activated the laser cutter and began cutting a makeshift door through the durable metal. It was a difficult task; Brains hadn't designed International Rescue's crafts to be easily breakable and the alloys the vehicles were composed of were remarkably strong. Showers of sparks were thrown up and Alan blinked dazedly as the bright lights filled his vision. He stumbled slightly, feeling very light-headed, before a hand closed around his arm, both supporting him and helping to guide the laser cutter.

"Are you okay?" Rhys asked.

His concern irritated Alan and the youngest Tracy brushed it off. "I'm fine. It's the metal that's the problem. Stuff is so – bloody – strong … Stand back!"

The glowing edges of the door gave way and Alan and Rhys scrambled backwards as the panel of metal fell outwards. It struck the floor of the mine with such force that the rocks around them trembled and for one horrible moment, Alan feared he'd started another rockslide.

But it seemed the mine had collapsed enough for one day, because the resulting tremors died away without incident. Alan breathed a sigh of relief before picking his way forward towards the large hole he'd created.

Once again Rhys's hand stopped him. "I'm going to have to order my men out," he informed Alan regretfully. "We don't have enough oxygen left in their tanks to remain down here much longer."

So Alan would soon be completely alone … he pushed the thought away. "Understood."

The fireman clasped hands with Alan. "Good luck."

"Thanks for your help."

Alan thought he saw Rhys smile inside his protective helmet and then the fireman was gone. Alan stared after him for a few long moments and then shook himself. He had to focus – he had to get back to the task at hand. Taking a deep breath, he turned back towards the hole.

When the figure appeared in the makeshift doorway and removed his helmet, Virgil Tracy almost didn't recognise his youngest brother.

Alan's unruly blond hair was plastered against his scalp – whether from sweat or wearing his helmet, Virgil didn't know. Beyond that his blue eyes stood out starkly against his too pale skin and something about them seem slightly off-focus. What really snared Virgil's attention however, was the amount of dried blood that clung to his brother's face.

"Alan – you're hurt!"

Alan didn't reply, drawing him into a tight embrace instead. Virgil was surprised by the action; even taking into account the high emotions of the moment, it was unusual for Alan to initiate such intimate contact. He was usually too worried about appearing weak in front of his siblings and therefore tended to remain a little distant from them.

Now however, he was clinging to Virgil as if he were the last sane thing in a world that had gone mad. Virgil could actually feel him trembling and wondered just what had happened to his little brother to reduce him to such a vulnerable state.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Alan murmured, his words muffled by Virgil's protective clothing.

"You and me both, squirt." Virgil drew back and eyed his brother carefully. He traced the trail of blood up to the wound on Alan's head. "Looks like you're worse off than me."

A flash of annoyance crossed Alan's face, then disappeared again. "I'm fine, Virg. Just banged my head a bit."

Virgil got the distinct impression that Alan wasn't telling him everything, but he also knew this wasn't the time or place to press the issue. Not when Scott and Gordon were still missing.

"Any word on Scott or Gordon?" He spoke his thoughts aloud.

Alan shook his head, a brief flicker of pain appearing over his features. "They're near though. We should … do you – do you think we should check with Tin-Tin for their positions?"

To Virgil this seemed like a fairly obvious step and he wondered why Alan was looking for his approval. Maybe he was trying to hand over control of the rescue to Virgil – but Virgil wasn't playing. This was an important learning curve for Alan and if he tried to shirk his responsibilities every time he was handed them, he'd never become a reliable member of International Rescue.

"Go ahead." Virgil gave his brother a gentle push towards the broken console and after a few seconds when it seemed he might protest, Alan did as he was told.

"Mechanics 101, huh?" Alan commented as his eyes swept over the console.

"I'm never going to moan about those lessons again," Virgil agreed with a slight smile, but Alan was too busy looking out at the dark sea of rock surrounding them to notice.

"Scott's position is to the right of the Firefly … " Alan said slowly, closing his eyes briefly and running a hand over his face. When he opened them again, he turned towards his brother. "But how are we going to get through all this rock without the Mole?"

It was something Virgil had been thinking about while he had been trapped inside the Firefly. He had conceived of and discarded various plans as being too dangerous, not feasible or impossible because of a lack of equipment. The easiest way of breaking through the rock would of course be the use of explosives, but with the threat of another collapse always imminent, Virgil didn't want to risk it. The last thing he wanted to do was to kill his brothers while trying to rescue them.

And of course, there was still the lingering fire to contend with.

"I think this is one time where technology isn't going to have a place," he said slowly, his eyes picking out the distant lights of the Mole. "We're going to have to do things the old fashioned way."

The lack of clean air was obviously getting to him, Gordon Tracy decided, because he was beginning to hear voices.

He'd long since lost any remaining feelings in his good hand and the rock had become so slippery with his own blood that his effort to break through the impassable wall of rock was floundering.

It was when he had dropped the rock for the fiftieth time that the voices had started. Faint at first, they had grown stronger as he had reapplied his efforts to the barrier of rock, and stronger still as his hole had grown into a shallow cave.

Yes – it was definitely the lack of oxygen. The comforting hiss from his cylinder had long ceased to be heard and Gordon could feel himself becoming sleepy. The rock slipped from his hand once more but this time he made no effort to pick it up again. Instead he stared dully at the fissure in the rock that he had created and decided it would be a good place for him to catch his breath for a few moments.

He crawled forward and rested his forehead against the warm stone, curling the rest of his body in on himself. As he did so, another of the voices permeated his mind, interrupting his peace.

" … no use. No one can hear us."

"We can't just give up! We have to keep trying!"

"What's the point, Cain? We're not going to get out of here – just accept it."

"I am not going to just lie down and die!"

The words reverberated around Gordon's head.

I am not going to just lie down and die!

Lie down and die!

Lie down and die …

It was like someone had turned the lights on inside of Gordon's mind. In a flash he sat up, just avoiding banging his injured arm against the rock, and stared at the wall in front of him. The voices weren't in his mind … they were on the other side of the wall!

"Cain, we're trapped in the depths of a mine in the middle of the Welsh Moors. Who the hell's going to rescue us?"

"The emergency services! The firemen! The Search and Rescue teams!"

Gordon pressed his ear against the wall eagerly, drinking in the conversation now that he was certain it wasn't just all in his mind. These must be two of the miners, he realised, though how they had managed to survive not only being trapped by the fire but also the collapse of a significant portion of the mine, he couldn't imagine. Nor did he care; the fact that he was no longer alone buoyed his spirits and he found himself grinning manically.

He lifted his helmet off, trying to ignore how his lungs were starting to burn from lack of oxygen. "Hello?"

The conversation on the other side of the wall faltered.

"Can you hear me?" Gordon tried again.

This time there was a cautious reply. "Who's there?"

"I'm a member of International Rescue," Gordon explained as succinctly as he could. "We were sent in to rescue you but the mine collapsed before we could finish."

There was a gasp. "International Rescue? See – I told you we'd be rescued!"

The other voice snorted. "Not much of a rescue. Besides, how do we know he's telling the truth?"

The question was absurd. "Why would I lie?" Gordon demanded incredulously.

There was a brief pause. "Alright, tell us what you know," the gruff voice ordered.

Gordon, while not possessed of Alan's fiery temper, still didn't like being ordered around by uppity miners he'd was risking his life in an attempt to save. If the situation hadn't been so dire he would have made some smart-ass comment; instead he bit his tongue and assumed a professional persona.

"Four members of International Rescue entered the mine. We managed to rescue four of the miners but as we were returning for the others, parts of the mine collapsed. My communicators were knocked out, so beyond that, I don't know what's going on."

"The other miners … the other miners are dead," the first voice told him shakily. "We were the only two to escape the rocks."

"For all the good it did us."

Gordon shivered, thinking how close both he and these men still were to death. "I'm sorry about your friends." His words sounded hollow, weak but Gordon couldn't think of anything else to say. His normally eloquence had deserted him along with his precious supply of oxygen.

"So are we," the second voice growled into the silence.

"They were good men," the first voice whispered, his words barely audible.

They always are, Gordon thought bleakly, clawing at the wall in an attempt to make his hole even larger, and hopefully break through to where the two miners were trapped.

As he continued digging with his good hand, Gordon struggled to pull his hazy thoughts into some semblance of order. It was difficult; he was beginning to feel light-headed and his head kept telling him it would be a good idea to close his eyes and rest for a moment. It was only the thought of what his brothers would say if he gave up fighting that kept his hand scratching away at the unforgiving rock-face and his eyes firmly open.

His brothers … Scott, Virgil and Alan. Not knowing what had happened to them was agonising. For all Gordon knew, they could all have been killed in the collapse – although something inside of him told him that wasn't the case. After all, this wasn't the first time his family had been caught up in one of their rescues and besides: his brothers were fighters.

Scott – there was no way he would just roll over and die. No, he'd fight the darkness with every breath in his body, while still somehow finding the time and energy to worry about everyone else's fates. And Virgil, while he was quieter than his other earth-bound brothers, there was no mistaking that he had a will of steel. And as for Alan … well, Alan was simply too annoying to die. The little brat was going to haunt Gordon until they were both old and grey and he wasn't likely to let one cave-in stop him.

"Right," he muttered, mind made up. He was not going to die in this god-forsaken hellhole – and he was not going to let the two remaining miners die either. Unfortunately, despite it being the right thing to do, it meant he had to keep moving, keep his eyes open and more importantly: stay awake.

"Right," Gordon said again, more forcefully this time. "Here's what we're going to do. If you guys can help me make this hole big enough to crawl through then I can return the favour by getting you out of this damn mine."

"Why can't we join you?" the gravelly voice objected. "You're closer to the mine entrance."

Gordon didn't ask how the miner knew this; he didn't have time for a debate. "Maybe, but I'm also about to run out of air. Whereas you must have struck lucky with some kind of natural vent otherwise you'd've suffocated already."

"There is air coming in from somewhere," the gruff one admitted grudgingly.

"Good. Means we've got a chance."

"I think we've got something else that will help," the first miner spoke up suddenly.

Gordon paused. "What's that?"

There was the sound of something sharp hitting stone and the wall in front of Gordon trembled.

"A pickaxe!"

For the first time since the mine had collapsed, Gordon found himself grinning.

When the fire-fighters came hurrying back out of the mine, Tin-Tin felt sure that something had gone horridly wrong. Then she realised that they weren't fleeing from danger, rather they had simply finished their job in the mine.

Rhys Evans made a beeline for her. "The supports are all up," he reported, running a hand through his sweat-darkened hair. "And your man has reached the rear of your fire extinguishing vehicle."

My man? Tin-Tin thought frantically, staring at Rhys. Is he talking about Alan? How does he know? I'mnot even sure! How could this guy possibly – oh. Oh, he just means a member of International Rescue … Tin-Tin's cheeks flushed darkly and she hoped Rhys wouldn't notice.

"I'll just check on their progress," she said quickly, to hide her embarrassment. She leaned forward and patched a connection through to the Firefly, hoping they were still in the vicinity.

"Mobile Control to Firefly. Come in Firefly."

She paused, waiting, and then tried again.

"Firefly from Mobile Control. Alan, Virgil, do you read me?"

There was a loud buzzing sound and then, "Loud and clear, Tin-Tin."

"Virgil!" Relief swept through Tin-Tin. "Are you okay?"

"A little scorched around the edges, but I'll be fine."

"Is Alan with you?"

"He's trying to get through to Scott as we speak."

"Any luck?"

"Not yet. We're having to do things the hard way so it's taking longer but – oh, hold on a second."

There was big cracking sound and then the line went silent for a few moments. Tin-Tin and Rhys exchanged worried glances.

"Virgil? Virgil do you read me?"

Virgil's voice came back suddenly. "Sorry Tin-Tin, Alan just broke through the wall. I think we've reached Scott. Hold on –"

"Virgil?"

"Be careful of the rubble. Here – take this –"

There was a muffled reply in the background.

"Can you see him?"

"No …" The second voice was Alan's, it sounded tinny and thin and Tin-Tin realised she was hearing it through Virgil's headset and then via the Firefly's communications system. "Wait – yes! Yes, he's here!"

"Okay, see if you can get him out –"

Tin-Tin chewed nervously on her lip. She hated feeling so helpless.

"Steady Alan, steady."

There was a muffled reply in the background and then silence.

"Virgil?" Tin-Tin frowned at Mobile Control.

"Alan?" Virgil echoed her question.

When Alan's voice finally came back to them both, it was tight with panic. "Oh God, Virgil – he's not breathing!"