THE Space-Elevator docked with Thunderbird 5 after making the journey up from Tracy Island. John went to greet it as he believed it to contain the normal amount of supplies that it brought up every few weeks. But when the doors opened, he nearly jumped back in surprise. "Dad?!"
Jeff broke a grin. "Hello, son," he said as he pulled John into a hug.
"W-What are you doing here?" John asked. "I wasn't expecting to see you up here."
"I haven't actually visited Thunderbird 5 in a very long time," Jeff said. "I felt it was high time that I did."
John grinned. Whilst he did get to see his father whenever he came down to visit Tracy Island, it was a very rare thing that the two ever got to spend some time alone together.
Jeff and John made their way around Thunderbird 5 with Jeff examining the equipment. "Ah, memories," he said. "You know, John? I remember getting the permission to get this space-station built."
"That was a monumental day," agreed John. "She was the last of the original Thunderbirds to be completed."
"But she's unique," said Jeff. "Unlike pretty much every other satellite in orbit, this one has no fixed position. We're free to move about as we need to."
"Within reason though," said John. "There are some countries that might not be too happy with Thunderbird 5 coming to orbit directly above them."
"They'd have to realise she was there first," Jeff reminded him. He then glanced out of one of the small windows and saw something that made him stop. "What one is that?" he asked, pointing towards another space-station that could be seen a short distance away in another orbit.
John recognised it. "Ah, that's the OCT Station," he said. "It's a British-based company that can make very accurate weather-predictions. Or at least that's what it's believed."
"How do you mean?" asked Jeff.
"I'm not sure," said John. "But I just get the feeling it's a cover for something else."
"A spy-satellite?" said Jeff.
"Not sure," said John. "I just leave it be and don't bother the people that are aboard. Coffee?"
"Please," said Jeff. They headed on towards the living quarters so they could have some coffee.
Thunderbird 5 passed near the small OCT Space-Station and continued on its way.
Inside the Space-Station were two technicians named Zimmerman and Files. Zimmerman was at the control desk and did not even notice Thunderbird 5 go past the nearby porthole due to him checking the instruments on the desk.
Files was across the room, down on one knee with a panel off. He'd been inspecting the equipment inside. "Well I think I've located the problem," he called over to Zimmerman.
"What was it?" Zimmerman asked.
"A faulty power-relay," said Files. "I've put in the replacement and it's working perfectly."
"Hmm," said Zimmerman. "Still, we'd better include it in the report."
"Okay, if you think it's necessary?" said Files as he replaced the panel and then climbed back to his feet.
"They can ship up another one with the Supply Rocket," said Zimmerman.
Files bit his lip. "Yeah…so long as they don't delay the launch again," he said anxiously. "It's three days overdue already."
Zimmerman felt the need to reassure his colleague. "They won't," he said. "Besides, the countdown is starting now."
5!
4!
3!
2!
1!
"Thunderbirds Are Go!"
"IMPROVISATION"
BASE Caribou was located near the western coastline of Cornwall. It was a remote area which made it an ideal location for a rocket launching site. It was here that the OCT or Orbital Climate Translation project was based. For the past three days, bad weather had plagued the area and severely delayed the launching of the monthly run of the Supply Rocket which had been sitting on the launch pad waiting.
In the control room, a team of technicians worked at their stations as they made sure all the automated systems aboard the rocket were in tip-top shape and ready for the launching which would soon finally be able to go ahead. Dr Ming Chen was in charge of the operation. It was her job to make sure that the rocket was prepped and safe for its journey to the OCT Station and back to Earth. She was sitting behind her desk whilst her assistant Giles Hawthorne was at the main control console just opposite.
"What's the latest readout from the computer, Hawthorne?" Dr Chen asked.
"All systems are go," answered Hawthorne. "Fuelling complete in minus one-twenty."
"Excellent," said Dr Chen. "Looks like we're green this time. What's the status of the astronaut?"
"All suit-systems read positive, Doctor," said Hawthorne. "He's ready to go."
Astronaut Glenn Abrahams was sitting inside the cockpit of the giant white-coloured Supply Rocket that was codenamed OCT-2. The first one had been lost several months earlier following an equipment failure during re-entry. Fortunately the astronaut in that had been able to eject just before it crashed harmlessly into the ocean. Inside the cockpit, Abrahams was doing the final pre-launch checks and was pleased by what he was seeing. "Cabin temperature - normal. Pressure - normal," he reported.
Dr Chen left her desk and went to stand behind Hawthorne's control desk. From here they both had a clear view of the main instrument panels on the wall including a large radar screen that would show them the rocket's exact location, speed and trajectory. Above it was a large digital clock that was counting down the seconds to ignition.
"Fuelling is complete," said Hawthorne. "Hoses retracted. Blast-off - minus two minutes."
"Fever charts?" said Dr Chen.
Hawthorne checked. "A-Okay."
"State of rocket?"
"A-Okay."
"Rocket gyros?"
"A-Okay," said Hawthorne. "Fixed on track. Blast-off - sixty seconds."
Dr Chen looked down at the watch on her wrist. It had been a long and unsettling few days whilst they'd been grounded by the severe weather conditions. It was now or never if they were to get the rocket launched to resupply the Space-Station. Nobody said a word. The atmosphere became tense. Everyone was holding their breath and praying for a successful launch.
"Computer reports launch window open," said Hawthorne. "Blast-off in thirty seconds. Ignition sequence set."
"Switch to audio countdown," said Dr Chen.
Hawthorne did so. Silence fell upon the room once more as the clock counted down the final seconds.
"Twenty," said the electronic computer voice. "Fifteen."
"Fever charts?" Dr Chen asked again.
"Still A-Okay," replied Hawthorne.
"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, zero!"
A thunderous POW sounded which was heard all around the site as the OCT-2's chemical rockets ignited.
"Release umbilicals," said Dr Chen.
The cables that connected the rocket to the launch tower were released and it slowly began to rise up like a majestic swan taking off from a lake. Slowly at first but gradually gaining speed as the powerful rockets pushed it up, up and away from the launch site to make its vertical journey up towards the upper atmosphere and then on to space.
Inside the cockpit, Abrahams felt the vibrations through his seat but kept his cool. He'd done this journey many times before and so even the slightest little shake did not phase him. It was only if there was a hard vibration that he needed to be concerned.
Dr Chen and Hawthorne watched the radar screen as the white dot that represented the OCT-2 rose up from the location of the base and began climbing up the screen as it rose higher in the sky.
"Telemetry positive," said Hawthorne.
"Check all primary circuits," instructed Dr Chen.
"Checking circuits," acknowledged Hawthorne. "All green."
Dr Chen looked back at the screen. "She's looking good. I think we're going to make it."
But she'd spoken too soon. Seconds later, an alarm began beeping rapidly on the desk and several lights on the control panels started flashing red.
"What is it?" asked Dr Chen sharply as Hawthorne began hastily checking to try and locate the problem.
Up above, Abrahams too was starting to notice something. The dial that showed the angle of the nose was no longer pointing upwards. It was starting to turn a few degrees to the left meaning that the OCT-2 was no longer on a direct vertical flight-path like it was meant to be. "Uh, Mission Control. I seem to be veering slightly off course up here," he said, sounding anxious.
Hawthorne soon located the problem. "Stage One has malfunctioned! She's going out of control!"
"Get Abrahams out of there!" ordered Dr Chen.
"Control to OCT-2. Eject capsule! Repeat - eject!"
Abrahams tried to get the rocket's nose capsule to detach from the main body. But to his horror, only a red light and an angry buzz was all he got. "SHE'S NOT RESPONDING!" he yelled into the radio. "I CAN'T EJECT!"
"Escape pod negative!" Hawthorne relayed.
"WHAT?!" exclaimed Dr Chen.
The OCT-2's angle of trajectory did not improve. It continued to slowly tilt further until the nose had passed horizontal level flying and began to tilt downwards towards the ground. Abrahams tried desperately again and again to get it to respond, but it wouldn't. Sweat was pouring down his face so much that it was getting into his eyes and he couldn't see what controls he was touching. "IT'S STILL NOT WORKING!" he bellowed into the radio.
"Try manual eject, Hawthorne," ordered Dr Chen.
Hawthorne tried pressing the button again and again. But still nothing happened. "It's no good!"
"Keep trying!" said Dr Chen desperately.
By now the OCT-2 was now on its death-plunge back down towards the Earth. Its chemical rockets then cut out as it had expended all of the fuel in the First Stage's tanks. Now there was nothing to stop it from diving back down to Earth like a colossal missile. If it hit the ground, it would destroy everything in a potential ten-mile radius, possibly more.
Dr Chen looked at the rocket's new trajectory and what it showed made her blood run cold. She now had to make the toughest decision of all. "Set for Self-Destruct," she ordered.
All the heads of the technicians turned sharply and gaped at her.
"What?!" exclaimed Hawthorne who was equally shocked by the instruction. "We can't do that. He's still aboard."
"Hawthorne, look where it's heading!" barked Dr Chen.
Hawthorne looked at the information screen. "The…the residential area?!"
"Exactly!" said Dr Chen. "Set for destruct!"
Hawthorne hesitated and reached over the desk, flipping up a flap to reveal a red button that was set to destroy the rocket if deemed necessary. It was a button that nobody thought they'd ever need to use.
Inside the rocket, Abrahams was in a state of panic. He'd gotten a reputation for being a tough and quite calm astronaut. And yet, now that he was heading on a collision course with certain destruction, fear and desperation had gotten to him and his suit sensors were going haywire as he shuddered and trembled with terror. "SOMEONE GET ME OUT OF HERE!" he yelled desperately.
"Destruct!" barked Dr Chen.
"Ma'am!" protested Hawthorne.
"It's one life against hundreds!" Dr Chen reminded him. "Including a school full of children. Destroy that rocket! That's an order!"
Hawthorne felt massively sick inside, but he knew that Dr Chen was right. "Yes, Doctor," he said in a low and somewhat reluctant voice. With a very heavy heart, he reached over to the red button and pushed it.
The living accommodation area for the astronauts, members of the base and their families was located about three miles to the South of the launching site. A warning alarm had begun to sound out alerting all those who were present that there was danger incoming and that they needed to get to underground bunkers for their own safety. Unfortunately there would not be enough time for there was a horrendous roar as the OCT-2 self-destructed and a massive amount of debris from the destroyed rocket began raining down like oversized hailstones all over the area, hitting several of the buildings and starting a vast number of fires. Mass panic broke out as those tried to escape from the flames and destruction.
Jeff looked at the holographic newspaper early the next morning. The front page made for grim reading for the story was the destruction of the OCT-2 and the carnage that it had caused at the base. "One dead. Four injured," he said before letting out a deep sigh. "It's a miracle that the area worst hit by the falling debris had very few in it."
"Have they any idea what caused the rocket to malfunction?" asked Scott.
"No," answered Jeff. "All they said was that the First Stage developed a fault shortly after take-off."
"What's that bit underneath the headline, Dad?" asked Gordon.
Jeff looked back at the article. "Growing concern for men inside OCT Space-Station," he said.
"What for?" asked Alan curiously. "The rocket didn't get anywhere near them."
"That s-space-station gets its supplies from that rocket, Alan," explained Brains. "Without a m-monthly supply of food, equipment and fresh air, those two men aboard would p-perish."
"When was it last resupplied?" asked Scott.
"According to what John said, just over a m-month ago," said Brains. "That last rocket was already delayed by b-bad weather."
"And then it blew up," finished Gordon. "Damn. Those guys are in trouble."
Alan jumped up from his feet and began to hurry towards the stairs leading up to the lounge.
"Alan, where are you going?" asked Jeff.
"To Thunderbird 3," Alan called back. "I'm gonna go get those guys before they run out of air!"
"Alan, WAIT!" Brains called, running after the youngest brother. "YOU CAN'T-"
"No time for explanations, Brains!" Alan called as he disappeared down into the floor on the chairs. "I have a rescue to perform."
Alan was soon in his uniform and being lifted up by the large hydraulic yellow arm into the cockpit of Thunderbird 3. Once the arm had gotten him aboard, retracted and the hatch closed and sealed, and once he was in position at the controls, he was ready for launching.
5! 4! 3! 2! 1!
Thunderbird 3's engines roared into life and the great red rocket rose majestically out from its launch bay and climbed high into the sky above Tracy Island.
"Thunderbird 3 is GO!" announced Alan as he accelerated towards space.
Brains came out onto the patio and watched defeated as Thunderbird 3 gradually disappeared into the clouds above.
"Don't be too mad, Brains," said Scott. "We'll spring it upon him when the time comes."
Brains nodded and went back inside the house.
Thunderbird 3 was soon in orbit and heading around towards the location of the OCT Space-Station. Along the way it passed Thunderbird 5, much to the surprise of John.
"Thunderbird 3? I don't remember us getting a distress call?"
"I'm responding to a call before we get it, Thunderbird 5," answered Alan.
"What are you talking about?" asked John.
"The two guys in that OCT Space-Station," said Alan. "They're going to run out of oxygen before too long. I can't let that happen."
"Alan, OCT haven't asked for our help," said John. "At least not to my knowledge. I don't think they'll take too kindly to you barging in and stopping their work."
"Ugh - what is wrong with everyone?!" asked Alan in an irritated voice. "Two guys are gonna die if we don't help them. Why is nobody seeing the sense of urgency here?!"John opened his mouth to reply, but Alan spoke again. "Doesn't matter anyway. I have visual contact with the station. Going in for the evac."
"Very well," said John. "But if OCT issues a complaint with us or the World Space Agency, don't say I did not warn you."
Alan just blew a rude raspberry and signed off.
John then contacted Tracy Island. "Base from Thunderbird 5. Did we get an SOS from OCT and I missed it?"
"No, John, you've missed nothing," answered Jeff.
John frowned. "Okay…so why is Thunderbird 3 currently on approach to the OCT Station?"
Jeff let out a sigh. "Because it's Alan acting the hero," he said. "He's taken the words of today's Global News headliner quite literally. Yes, there is grave concern for the men on board but they still have some air supply to last them a little bit longer so you said?"
"Two more days at the most," said John. "Surely OCT can get another rocket up to them by then?"
"That's what we all thought," said Jeff. "But for some reason, Alan's decided not to wait for that."
"Then, with the greatest of respect, Dad, why did you let him launch?"
"I didn't. He took off of his own accord."
"I see…" said John. he turned and looked out of the window after the distant glow of afterburners from the red International Rescue rocket. "I would not like to be Alan when he tries to get those men to leave."
Thunderbird 3 slowed down as it approached the geostationary orbiting position of the OCT Space-Station. It was a lot smaller than he thought it would be. Had to be at least half the size of Thunderbird 3.
Inside the Space-Station, Zimmerman and Files were very surprised by the giant ship's sudden arrival.
"Is that International Rescue?" asked Files.
"It sure is," replied Zimmerman. "Did you call them?"
Files shook his head. "No, sir. I haven't."
Zimmerman scratched his beard. "Maybe Base has contacted them to get us out?"
"But they can't have done!" protested Files. "You know that-"
Files was broken off by an incoming radio transmission. Alan decided it was time to get the men ready for the evacuation. "OCT Space-Station, this is International Rescue," he said into the radio. "Help is here, guys."
Zimmerman answered the call. "International Rescue. It's a surprise to see you. Although we haven't asked for help?"
"We heard about what happened to your Supply Rocket," said Alan. "I decided to save OCT the time and resources to come and rescue you by rescuing you myself."
Zimmerman and Files exchanged looks.
"Now, don't you worry," Alan continued. "Get your suits prepped and helmets on. I'm coming across. I will meet you by the airlock." He put on his helmet, climbed onto his Astroboard and exited Thunderbird 3 via the hatch.
Files saw Alan exiting the giant rocket through the control room window. "He's not serious, is he?" he asked.
"Seems that he is," said Zimmerman. "Go and meet him at the airlock door."
"But…" Files tried to protest.
"Go on, Tony," said Zimmerman. Then he winked knowingly.
Files then realised and nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course," he said and hurried out of the room towards the airlock.
Alan glided around the exterior of the Space-Station looking for the airlock door. He soon began to get confused. "Er, Brains. Am I going mad or something?" he asked. "I can't seem to find the entrance to the airlock?"
"It's at the v-very front of the Space-Station," answered Brains over the radio.
"Ah, got it," said Alan. he changed the direction of the Astroboard and headed around to the front of the Space-Station. He soon spotted what was unmistakably a large metal door with a small reinforced window in the top. It was definitely the door of an airlock. "Found it, Brains," he said. "I'm going in!"
But as he reached the door, Alan came to a sudden stop because he had just realised something strange. He looked to the left. Then to the right of the door. Something was missing. "Okay…where's the code panel to open the door?" He then looked up and jumped back in surprise, crying out as he saw the rather smug face of Files on the other side of the window, looking back at him. Only he wasn't inside the airlock. He was in the Space-Station. "What?!" said Alan, confused. "How is he?" He took out a communicator disc and placed it on the door. "Hello? Can you hear me?"
"Loud and clear," answered Files. "Are you having trouble getting in?"
"Er…yeah," said Alan. "I thought this was the airlock?"
"It is," answered Files. "This is the inner door of the airlock that's between us."
Alan was even more confused. "The inner door?" he repeated. Then he looked around at the emptiness that was around him. "But if that is the inner door, then…where the hell is the rest of the airlock?!"