Thunderbirds Are Go
The Halloween Collection
2022 Edition
By Lee Homer
Disclaimer: All rights reserved. I don't own Thunderbirds and any of the characters involved. You know the drill. We're back for another collection of tales of the weird, the depraved and the paranormal. I hope you enjoy these stories and Happy Halloween.
Space Crazy
By John Tracy
This story happened to me a short while ago while I was having a rest period on the island. I didn't expect to see any action that day. It was a quiet afternoon on the island and I felt pretty smug about the fact that Alan had taken over my job for the next few weeks. While I sat there with Scott and my Dad, bantering as we often did, we were distracted by a call from Alan. I'll add a bit of backstory before I get right to the incident at hand. Alan reported that The Ion Mining Company had lost one of their astronauts on the Moon. Ion has been operating on the Lunar Surface for a better part of a year, collecting minerals and converting them into rocket fuel through one of their processing plants. The independent company sent out a fleet of mining rigs on daily basis, travelling to the far side of the moon for certain minerals which they needed to complete the process.
As the Moon made a pass over Australia, the company sent out one of its rigs to complete a night run. This one lone rig, crewed by four astronauts, set off to complete a job within the deadline. Everything was going well at first, until one of the astronauts, a man called Devon, was tasked to leave the rig and complete a spacewalk out on the lunar surface. Devon's job was to survey the crater that they were in to see if he could find a drilling site. He was only supposed to be out there for an hour, so when he didn't return after the second hour, his colleagues began to grow concerned.
Inside the rig, fellow astronauts, Collins, Groening, and Hanz, debated on what to do next. They were close to the deadline, but they couldn't go back and leave Devon out on the surface in good conscience. Collins radioed the main facility with an update on their predicament. When they contacted their base for advice, the foreman suggested that they call us to assist in the search, so Alan took the call and relayed the incident to us. Dad acknowledged the message, gesturing for the pair of us to suit and launch Thunderbird 3. So much for a quiet afternoon off huh? We made our way down towards Thunderbird 3, suited up and carried out our launch checks and procedures. Within minutes, we were riding skyward on a large pillow of clouds and jet exhaust. I was used to the space elevator. I found it more relaxing. When we left the atmosphere, Scott plugged in the coordinates of the Ion Mining Colony and adjusted our flight course. At our current speed, it was only a short hop to the Moon.
"I wonder what could have happened down there?" I postulated. "It's going to be like searching for a needle in a haystack?"
"Let's hope not," Scott frowned. "If that guy runs out of air, he can get pretty desperate."
As we closed in on the Lunar surface, Scott put out a call to the facilities' foreman. He gave us information about the man we were looking for. Our missing man was Devon Cushing. He was one of the astronauts that set off aboard Ion Rig 3. He's a short guy. He'll be wearing a silver and blue space suit with the Ion Company insignia on the sleeve. He was last seen in the area of Crater-443. I then stabbed a button which projected an area map of the surface below them. He traced the grid lines with his finger, coming to a stop over the designated crater.
"I've found it, Scott," I said. "That's some way out. The right would have to have combed 6 miles of Lunar rock by now. No wonder they couldn't find him."
"Yeah, well we will, John," Scott replied defiantly. "If my calculations are correct, Devon should have about 30 minutes of air left in his tanks. That doesn't leave us a lot of time to find him."
Thunderbird 3's engines pushed us over the lunar surface, making the minuscule hop towards Crater-433. The sun peeked over the lunar horizon, partially illuminating the crater and the surface beyond it. We could see the markings made by the rigs, making it hard to look for footprints. However, as we headed east for a further few miles, we caught a glimpse of something shiny on the surface. It appeared as a glint at first which grew into a small silver figure when they approached. We used Our camera to get a better look at the figure, identifying the markings on the space suit. We had found Devon. He appeared to be swaying in a disoriented state, dragging his boots through the lunar dust. It looked as if he was trying to get away from something, only he had no place to go. The only installation besides the Ion Facility was a brand new Lunarville colony on the far side of the Moon. If he was trying to get there, he'd never make it in time.
"That's our man alright," Scott said as brought the Thunderbird into a stationary position. "I'll keep us steady."
"FAB, Scott," I replied. "I'll go and suit up. At least his air hasn't run out."
Scott observed the man again; "I wonder where he's making for? There's nothing around here. He'll exhaust his air tanks if he doesn't slow down."
Fastening my space helmet, I opened the airlock door and fastened a thruster pack to my back. I operated the sensitive controls, propelling myself through the cold vacuum of space on a small plume of thrust. I planted his boots into the lunar dirt just minutes after my departure and decided to give chase after the man. I cleverly used the Moon's lack of gravity to his advantage, leaping in greater bounds to close the gap between myself and Devon. When I was within arm's length of the man, John called out to him.
"Devon? I'm from International Rescue. We're here to help. Devon? Devon, can you hear me?"
Devon spun around, flashing his eyes at me. Startled by my sudden appearance, he stumbled back. His face was pale, saturated in a cold sweat, his eyes were red and he was shaking. He looked as if he had seen a ghost. It alarmed me because I didn't expect to see him in such a fragile state. My instincts told me to be cautious as I sensed an underlying danger in this situation. However, I held out his hands and attempted to calm the man down.
"Hey, Devon. It's alright," I said calmly."Don't be afraid. I'm here to help you. You're safe now."
Then, as I reached over to grab his hand, Devon was suddenly overcome by a fit of rage. He bore his teeth at me with a snarl. The veins appeared on his temple as he appeared to mistake me for some kind of beast.
"Get away from me, demon!" he hissed. "I won't let you take me! You can't have my soul!"
Before I could react, Devon lunged toward me, hurling me backwards into the lunar dirt. I could feel his thick gloved fingers dig into my spacesuit as if he tried to tear it to shreds, only he couldn't make it. Pure evil shone in his eyes as I watched his sanity evaporate before me. It was as if he was possessed by some malevolent force. We grappled with each other as we tumbled in the dirt. I frantically defended myself from Devon's punches. Despite the padding in my suit, those punches hurt me. I could feel the anger, propelling each punch. This guy hated my guts. He wanted to kill me. Eventually, I was able to force him off me with a kick to the chest. Devon staggered backwards but quickly regained his balance. Scott could see and hear the commotion from Thunderbird 3. I paused for a breath, but it wasn't for long. Devon charged at me again, knocking into me like a battering ram. I dug my heels into the dirt, supporting my weight against the hysterical astronaut. Devon flailed his arms, desperately trying to lamp a punch on me, but in his hysteria, he was unable to.
"Scott, Devon's flipped! I don't know what's gotten into him, but he seems to think I'm some kind of monster!"
"Hang on, John! I'm coming down!" Scott replied over his helmet radio. "We'll take him together!"
The metallic sound of Scott's voice sent a chill through Devon's distorted mind. He released John and bounded back away from him. His trembling words warned John to stay away from him.
"Stay away from me! I won't let you take me!"
I pleaded with him to stop; "Devon, you don't understand! Please come back! Let us help you!?"
As Devon tried to get away, Scott had left Thunderbird 3 in a stationary orbit, carrying a medical kit bag with him. He soon joined me on the surface, and the two of us continued the chase. As Devon staggered over rocks and boulders, he suddenly lost his footing, tumbling down the side of a small crater. We cautiously moved after him, half expecting the delusional astronaut to lash out at us again. When we got to him, we were startled to find him out cold and unresponsive. Scott quickly got to work, placing his gloved hand inside the medical kit. He pulled out a spare oxygen cylinder which contained a drug which combated anxiety. He had planned to use it, but Devon's unconscious state had assured him that it wasn't necessary. However, Devon was still in danger. The fall had made a large gash in the fabric in his space suit, creating a fissure that was expelling oxygen at an alarming rate. We were able to locate it within seconds. Scott reached into his medical kit again, pulling out an adhesive glue.
"Hold him steady, John. I've got to seal up that tear before it's too late," he said nervously. "He's lost too much already."
Despite my shaken state, I couldn't help but wonder; "Poor, fellah. I wonder what happened to him?"
"The heck if I know?" Scott shrugged. "Something drove him insane. Perhaps there was a fault with his oxygen tanks or something?"
I nodded. "We better get him back to Thunderbird 3. Perhaps the medics will have the answer?"
Gently moving the unconscious astronaut, with the aid of their thruster packs, we carried Devon into Thunderbird 3's passenger hold, before making the short trip back. Later, as we touched down at the Ion mining facility, we accompanied the base doctor in the examination room. Devon underwent rigorous psychological evaluations, which he passed with flying colours. The doctor gave him a clean bill of health, which stumped the boys even further. How could a man who was both physically and mentally sound suddenly lose his mind? I wish I had the answer, but unfortunately, the research into this phenomenon is still ongoing.
When we returned home, we tried to relax after the harrowing ordeal on the Moon. Scott seemed fine, but I didn't sleep right for weeks. I had nightmares which alternated between my scuffle on the Moon and contracting the sickness myself. Fortunately, it didn't stop me from enjoying the remainder of my downtime. So that's my story, but before I end this tale, let me make it very clear to you all. Space Sickness is real and it's very terrifying. It can creep up on anyone who's of sound mind and body. It can also be deadly. If It wasn't for Scott's intervention, I could have died up there on the Moon. That could have been the end for me.