DEEP in the remote mountains of Central Africa, a massive engineering project was underway - to construct a tunnel linking two major cities that otherwise would normally involve a several hundred mile trip just to get from one to the other.

But the Kachunga Tunnel project was running into difficulty. Whilst they had enough workers and big digging equipment, there was one vital thing they needed that they were so desperately lacking. Demolition charges to cut away at the inside of the mountain.

Inside a small control vehicle located at the Southern entrance to the tunnel, the foreman and an operator waited for word that the latest amount of charges had been put in place.

"Charges are set, Mr Kurr," said a voice over the radio. "Area is clear."

"Excellent," said the foreman. "Detonate."

A rumble was heard from inside the tunnel as a large section of wall was blown down to allow for more progress to be made. The diggers and dumper trucks then began to move in once the dust had settled to begin clearing away the rocks.

The operator beside the foreman then gave some news which whilst was bad, wasn't unexpected. "I'm afraid that's the last of the explosives, sir," he said.

"I know," replied the foreman grimly. "I don't know how they expect us to continue without it. When's the next shipment due?"

"There's a helijet on its way, sir," said the operator.

Several miles away from the site, an Army helijet was making its way high above the clouds. In its cargo hold were several small yellow canisters of the deadly U-114 high explosive. Perfect for breaking up rocks, but also deadly in any other situation. As the helijet made its way on, neither the pilot nor co-pilot sitting in the cockpit had any idea that the canisters were smoking. One moment, everything was normal. And the next, BOOM! A huge explosion erupted from within the helijet, completely destroying it. It looked like the Kachunga Tunnel project was in serious trouble now.

5!

4!

3!

2!

1!

"Thunderbirds Are Go!"

"FIRST STEPS"

COLONEL Casey listened as news of the predicament in Africa was explained over the phone. "Yes, I get what you mean, Mr President. That tunnel is essential for the continued survival of your country's economy. I will be putting my best people on the case straight away. Yes, Mr President. Goodbye." She put down the phone and then scratched her chin. "Three destroyed helijets in a week. Work on a super tunnelling project ground to a halt without explosives. Sounds like a case of sabotage. Luckily I know the person to send." She pressed a button to call up her secretary. "Jones, get me Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward. I have an assignment for her."

"Er, Lady Penelope's unavailable, Colonel," Secretary Jones answered over the intercom. "She's giving evidence in the trial of the McGregor brothers in Glasgow today."

"Ah, bother," said Colonel Casey. "Of course she is! No matter. Get me International Rescue."

"Yes, Colonel."

It took a few minutes for a call to be sent out so Colonel Casey waited patiently for an answer to come through. Whilst she waited, she sat back in her chair and looked at her desk. Her eyes fell upon a small photo of herself with her two children Rita and Noel. She and Rita hadn't spoken for a long time due to Rita ignoring her calls. As for Noel, they were no closer to finding out the truth about what The Hood and Havoc might have done with him. There hadn't been a sighting of The Cabal in a long time either, which was something that both Colonel Casey and those at International Rescue found somewhat unsettling.

Then the radio beeped. It was Jones. "I have International Rescue on the line for you, Colonel."

"Thank you. Send it through." Colonel Casey waited for either the holograms of Jeff or John to come up from the hologram projector on her desk. So it came as a surprise when someone entirely different appeared.

"Hello there, Colonel Casey. What can I do for you?"

"Virgil?" Colonel Casey said.

"Wasn't expecting me, were you," Virgil said with a smirk.

"In all honesty, I wasn't, but it's nice to see you, Virgil," said Colonel Casey. "I'm guessing your Dad is asleep?"

Virgil's cheery expression vanished in an instant. "Actually, he's sick," he said. "In fact, everyone is. I am the only person on this island who is fit for duty."

Colonel Casey was shocked. "What? How?!" she demanded.

"Would you believe food poisoning?" Virgil asked.

"Food poisoning?"

"Yeah," said Virgil. "Grandma's cooking finally bit back last night. Dad, Scott, Alan, Gordon, Brains, Kayo and Grandma herself are all in bed feeling rough. John and I are the only ones unaffected."

"How come you weren't?" asked Colonel Casey.

"I was out on a mission and John has his own food supplies aboard Thunderbird 5," Virgil said. "So I hope if you're in need of us doing a mission for you, we're a bit short-handed, I'm afraid."

Colonel Casey sighed. "That is very unfortunate," she said. "I do need someone for an urgent assignment but I needed Kayo to do it."

"Yeah, sorry, Colonel," Virgil said. "Kayo's not going anywhere for the time being. What about Lady Penelope or Parker?"

"Lady Penelope was my first choice, but she's giving evidence in the trial of those brothers in Scotland," Colonel Casey said.

"Ah, yes, of course," said Virgil. "I'd forgotten that. Again, my apologies for not being of any use to you, Colonel."

"Not your fault, Virgil," said Colonel Casey. "I will find someone to do this mission. Give my best wishes to everyone for a speedy recovery."

"Will do," said Virgil. "Tracy Island, out."

Colonel Casey slumped back in her chair and sighed. Both her go-to people for urgent missions like this were either already occupied or unwell. She'd not anticipated both being unavailable. She would have given the job to Captain Rigby, but he was also off on another important assignment, one of which he couldn't be called away from. "Guess I'll have to do one part of this mission myself," she decided out loud. "Jones. Get my plane ready to head to Africa. We need to do some investigating."

"Right away, Colonel," said Jones over the speaker. "Were International Rescue able to assist?"

"Negative," replied Colonel Casey. "We can take care of the investigation, but I really needed someone to help lead a team to get the urgent supply out to the tunnel."

"What about the newly-appointed Captain?" suggested Jones. "I know she's itching to be given her first assignment."

Colonel Casey stared, and then it clicked. "Of COURSE!" she said. "Why didn't I think of that before? Have her come to my office immediately!"

"Yes, Colonel."

Base Rhino was located about two-hundred miles away from the Kachunga Tunnel project. It had been from this base where the helijets carrying the U-114 had departed from. At the request of Colonel Casey, a pair of armoured trucks had been instructed to be loaded up with the explosive ready for a long and dangerous mission to take it over land to the tunnel.

In the CO's office, Sergeant Winslow and Private Peak were waiting for Lieutenant Sinclair to come and talk to them. Winslow and Peak had been an unbreakable pair for a very long time. They knew each other so well that Winslow would often know if Peak got into any trouble without even being there. Quite often Peak did get himself into trouble especially if Winslow wasn't around.

"I wish you wouldn't exaggerate, Frank," Winslow said.

"I don't know what you're talking about?" Peak replied.

"I heard you were telling tales in the Mess Room again," said Winslow.

"Oh, it's nothing," said Peak. "They like it when I exaggerate. It gives them something to talk about."

Winslow hummed unimpressed. "Yes, like that one-hundred-and-twenty-six-pound tuna that ended up being a half-pound mackerel?"

Peak went a little pink. "Er, yeah, well, erm, maybe I was overdoing that one a bit," he stammered.

The sound of approaching footsteps outside the building caught the Sergeant's attention. "Careful, here he comes," he said. "Stand to attention."

The two men stood up straight with their arms down by their sides. The door opened and Lieutenant Sinclair walked in. "At ease, gentlemen," he said in a calm voice. The two men stood at ease. "Are those two transporters ready?"

"Yes, sir, they are," replied Winslow.

"Good," said Sinclair. "You're both scheduled to leave in an hour with a-hundred and fifty liters of U-114 liquid explosive to the Kachunga Tunnel."

"Er, beg pardon, sir?" interrupted Winslow. "But those trucks can only carry fifty liters each. We have only two?"

"Ah, yes, there'll be a third truck joining you on the journey from another base," said Sinclair. "You will drive to a designated rendezvous point about ten miles North of the base. You will wait there until it arrives. There's also a specialist who will be driving the third truck and is also the leader of this operation. You will obey them at all times without question. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," said Winslow.

"Excellent," said Sinclair. "Oh, one more thing. Security tells me that only the two of you are allowed to meet this person. There's not much more I can add, except I wish you the very best of luck, gentlemen."

"Thank you, sir," said Winslow. He and Peak then left the building, curious to know who the third person on their mission was going to be.

Ninety minutes had passed following the briefing with the Lieutenant. Winslow and Peak now found themselves out in the rough desert area ten miles North of Base Rhino at the designated rendezvous point given to them. The trucks they had were identical in every way. Dark green, six-wheeled, all-wheel drive, and made of strong armour. They were also numbered as there were quite a lot of them in the fleet. Winslow had Number 59 and Peak had Number 58. They were ideal for carrying dangerous cargo. However, they had not been constructed to carry such a dangerous load as what they were carrying now.

The two soldiers sat on a rock in the shade of Winslow's truck keeping out of the baking hot Sun. They now wore dark green uniforms to match the trucks, having changed from the desert sand colours they'd worn back at the base. Peak shifted uncomfortably. "I really don't want to carry that stuff," he remarked, referring to the U-114. "It makes nitro-glycerine look like bubble-gum!"

"I know, Frank," said Winslow. "But we have our orders and must follow them."

"And why have we driven out here to meet with this Captain Madison?" Peak asked. "Why couldn't he have met us at the base?"

Winslow rolled his eyes. "Didn't you listen to the Lieutenant?" he asked, irritated. "It's to do with tight security."

"Yes, but why is it a secret?" asked Peak. "That's what I don't understand."

Before Winslow could reply, they both heard the rumble of a vehicle approaching. They looked up and saw dust in the distance accompanying the distinctive shape of a third armoured transporter truck. "Here we go, Frank," said Winslow. He got to his feet. "Stand up and look sharp. Remember, he's a Captain."

They both stood to attention as the truck approached their position and came to a stop a few yards away from Peak's truck. The door on the left-hand side of the cab opened once the engine was switched off and the driver jumped down.

Neither Peak nor Winslow could have prepared themselves for the person that emerged from the truck. It was not the high-ranking military commander they were expecting. Instead, they found themselves looking at a young woman with jet-black hair tied back in a pony-tail. Her uniform was a mixture of black with bright red boots and kevlar body-armour. On the chest was a GDF Logo. She also wore a bright red cap on her head. She turned and after closing the door approached them with a warming smile.

"I don't believe it…" Peak whispered, his face suddenly having turned completely white and starting to shake a little. "It's a…girl!"

"Yes, I can see that," Winslow whispered back.

"What are we going to do?" Peak said, shaking a little more. "I can't be doing this."

"Shhhh," hissed Winslow. "Let me handle this."

They fell silent and waited as the woman approached them. "At ease, men," she said. "I am Captain Madison of the Global Defence Force."

"Now, listen, miss," began Winslow. "If this is some kind of tri-"

"Be quiet, both of you!" Hayley snapped. "Or you'll be on a DK-4!"

"How does she know the charge code?!" Peak asked, surprised.

Hayley shot him a look, then glanced down at his feet. "Sergeant - this man is not dressed properly!" she barked. "I ordered full combat gear? Why the hell is he wearing shoes?!"

This made Peak quiver even more. Sweat began to trickle down from his brow, more so than because of the heat. "Oh, Sarge, this has gone far enough!" he said. "Please make it stop!"

"Put him on a charge!" Hayley ordered.

Winslow kept his cool. "Now listen," he said to Hayley. "I think we ought to-"

"Sergeant Arthur Winslow," Hayley interrupted, now sounding more polite. "I have studied your service record. It's an excellent one. Fifteen years service. Two tours of active duty in the Middle East. you're a good soldier, Sergeant. Please don't blot your copybook. Charge him."

Winslow was silent, lost in deep thought.

"I said, charge him!" Hayley repeated.

Winslow came out of his thoughtful trance. "Ma'am!" he said. He turned his head and looked at the young man on his right who was now almost as white as a ghost. "Peak…"

"No, Sarge, you can't!" pleaded Peak.

"PRIVATE PEAK!" bellowed Winslow. "You are improperly dressed, lad! You're on a charge. And STAND UP STRAIGHT!"

Peak did so, but his lip was trembling, like he was about to burst into tears.

Hayley scowled at this soldier's strange mannerisms but decided not to question it. They had more important things to be dealing with. "Thank you, Sergeant," she said calmly. "Now that we've sorted things out, we'll get on with the mission. Remember, each truck is carrying fifty liters of U-114. It's one of the most volatile explosives yet invented. Any shock or unnecessary movement could easily set it off. Excessive heat can do the same." She paused impressively, her sharp eyes looking back at Peak, who seemed to be trying to hold himself together. "What is the maximum safety temperature, Private Peak?"

"Eight-five," said Peak sharply. He wasn't making eye-contact with her.

"Watch it, lad," hissed Winslow. "And look at her when you speak to her."

Peak seemed to be having to physically force himself to do so. "Eighty-five degrees…ma'am!" he said, sounding very reluctant indeed.

"Eighty-five-point-four actually," Hayley said. "But I'll give you that, Private." She looked at Winslow. "Carry on, Sergeant."

"Ma'am," said Winslow. He turned to Peak. "All right, all right, let's be having you. Into your truck now."

Hayley watched as Winslow had to physically guide Peak to his truck. She saw Peak was trying to say something, like he was pleading to be released from the assignment. She frowned. I thought these men were supposed to be tough? she pondered to herself.

Soon all three were in their trucks. Winslow and Peak waited whilst Hayley moved her truck to the front of the formation. Hers was Number 61. "Remember, keep fifty yards between each of the trucks," she told them. "If we do have an accident, we don't want to risk a multiple explosion."

"Yes, Captain," acknowledged Winslow.

With the convoy now in formation, the mission could begin fully. Hayley led the way, followed by Winslow in Truck 59 and Peak bringing up the rear in Truck 58. This was going to be a very long journey indeed - and by no means was it going to be a simple one either.

Virgil was bored as he sat back in Jeff's chair, reading a book about famous pianists. He was in too minds about things. On the one hand, he wanted a mission to come in so he would have something to do. But on the other hand, he did not like the idea of leaving the island whilst the rest of his family were ill. Whilst their illness wasn't contagious, he tried to avoid going into any of the rooms but would periodically check in via the radio links. He had decided to delegate the taking in of food and drink to Braman and MAX.

The relative quietness was interrupted when he heard a clatter coming from the kitchen. Startled, he got up and went down to see who was there. "Grandma?" he asked. "What are you doing up? You're supposed to be resting."

"Look at this mess, Virgil!" Grandma said, disapprovingly, looking at the piles of dishes and cutlery that were spread out across the kitchen worktops. "I was forced to leave this, but I cannot rest whilst it is like it. I have a high standard of appearance to keep up!" She began shuffling around, grabbing dishes and shoving them into the Dishwasher.

Virgil tried to either help or stop her, he wasn't sure which to do, but she shooed him away. That was until she almost wretched and dropped one of the plates, causing it to smash on the floor.

"Oh, bug-" Grandma began.

"Grandma!" Virgil cut her off sharply. "You are in no fit state to be doing anything! Now you're going back to bed until you're better. Understand?"

"But I can't leave-" Grandma protested.

"Yes, you can!" said Virgil firmly. "I'll sort this out with assistance from these two." He indicated to MAX and Braman who were looking eager to be of assistance. "Maybe this will teach you not to get too experimental with your cooking?" Virgil added sternly.

Grandma grumbled to herself as Braman helped her away and MAX began to assist Virgil with sorting out the mess in the kitchen.

"Phew!" Virgil said after a while. "I don't think the dishwasher is going to hold all of that, MAX. We might have to do some by hand."

MAX warbled.

"I know," said Virgil. "There's only the two of us and it's gonna take some time. But we can do it. I wash, you dry and put away?"

"He can dry, but he might not know where everything goes."

Virgil jumped and turned around to find himself facing someone he hadn't expected to see. "John?!"

John smiled. "Hey, bro. Thought perhaps you could use a hand down here. I was feeling rather helpless in Thunderbird 5."

Virgil grinned. "Boy, I sure could use the help," he said. "I'm guessing EOS is listening out for any calls?"

"She is," said John. "But let's hope we don't get any for a few days. The others should be feeling better by then."

Virgil nodded in agreement.

The convoy had been going for about an hour when it was soon caught in a sand storm. This forced them to slow down quite significantly as the visibility was severely reduced. Hayley glanced in her rear-view mirror and immediately realised that she could hardly see Winslow's truck. She made a decision and opened the radio link. "Sergeant? This storm is getting worse," she said. "Close up and tell Peak to do the same. We don't want to lose each other."

"Yes, Captain," acknowledged Winslow. "Did you hear that, Peak? Close up."

"Yes, sir," answered Peak over the radio.

Hayley slowed down allowing Winslow to close the gap between his and her respective trucks. Then he too slowed down to match her speed whilst Peak closed in on Winslow's truck and slowed his truck to match as well. Now there was only thirty yards between each vehicle. By going slowly, they hoped that if they did have to make any sudden stops that they'd still have enough room between them to be able to apply the brakes in time.

The wind howled as it continued to blow the sand all around the trucks. Even with the windscreen wipers going, the three drivers found it hard to still keep their eyes on each other, let alone what was ahead or beside them. This proved especially bad for Peak, who had moved ever so slightly over to the left as he'd misjudged the position of Winslow's truck. The left-side wheels of his truck made contact with a small rock and caused it to roll up and over it, making the truck jolt.

"SERGEANT!" Peak cried out in alarm as the truck wobbled and he tried to regain control - which he luckily managed to do.

"What is it, Peak?" asked Winslow over the radio.

"I hit, I think, I hit a rock," stammered Peak, his heart racing.

"Easy, Peak, take it easy," Hayley chimed in. "We'll be through the worst of the storm soon."

They continued on for another five miles, and then eventually they began to see more clearly until finally they managed to escape from the sand storm. That danger was over, but the journey had only just begun.