Disclaimer: I don't own Thunderbirds or Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons.
As the last echoes of the Mysterons' electronic voice faded, Colonel White looked towards Lieutenant Green, the younger man as usual at his communications post.
"Put me in contact with International Rescue, Lieutenant," he ordered, ignoring the faint shock on his subordinate's face although internally he was reeling, too. The Mysterons usually targeted important military or political people and places; International Rescue were neither, and had never been directly involved in the war of nerves before. While they had, on occasion, responded to the resulting disasters if civilians were caught up in the aftermath of the Mysterons' offences, to his knowledge they weren't even aware of the war.
The cold-hearted military commander inside him could see the logic behind the target, however. While International Rescue had not been active for long, they were already revered the world over. Where civilians might view military organisations as necessary evils – sometimes not even that – and held little care for the occasional deaths of high-ranking members of those organisations, International Rescue were well-loved, and highly respected.
To lose International Rescue… the Mysterons were not wrong to call them a symbol of hope.
"Yes, sir," Lieutenant Green responded, drawing him out of his thoughts and back to the situation at hand. "It may take me a moment; International Rescue's specific frequency is not known."
A lot about International Rescue wasn't known. All anyone really did know about them was that they were fantastic pilots, compassionate and brave people, and would rescue anyone who asked for help.
Important things, like their identity and location, were not known. So, it appeared, was how to contact them when not in mortal danger.
"Colonel, permission to attempt to use public channels?" the Lieutenant asked after a moment of plunging his hands into holograms. "I think it unlikely that they routinely monitor private channels, and the Spectrum system is heavily encrypted."
Using public channels increased the risk of other parties overhearing the communication, but Colonel White could see no flaw with his reasoning; even if International Rescue had the capability to tap into the heavily encrypted military channels, it would be foolish for them to do so. World beloved rescue organisation or not, it would not be something that could pass unpunished.
"Permission granted," he allowed, and watched as the Lieutenant adjusted some settings before broadcasting a multi-channel message.
"This is Cloudbase, calling International Rescue. International Rescue, come in, please."
Colonel White had never had cause to see International Rescue in action personally; while the stories said that the Voice Who Answers was always immediate, he'd privately dismissed that as exaggeration caused by elevated stress levels. Expecting several minutes before they got a response – if they were even monitoring any of the channels Lieutenant Green had broadcast on – he was startled when one of the channels instantly sparked into life.
Communications was Lieutenant Green's area of expertise, but Colonel White knew enough to recognise that the connection had been on one of the less commonly-used channels. Interesting.
In the comms array, the holographic head and shoulders of a young man – younger than the Colonel had expected; the man had to be younger than anyone stationed on Cloudbase – materialised. Even through the blue holographic tint, his ginger hair was strikingly bright, and while it was impossible to tell whether his eyes were blue or green, they too held a sharp look.
The man might be young, but if he wasn't highly intelligent, Colonel White would eat his Spectrum cap. There was also a niggling familiarity about him, but he dismissed that as an unnecessary distraction during the urgent situation.
"International Rescue receiving you, Cloudbase," International Rescue's Voice acknowledged. "How can we be of assistance?"
"My name is Colonel White, of the Spectrum organisation," he began. "I need to speak to your commander as a matter of extreme urgency." It was a guess that the ginger wasn't the commander, but not only was he far too young, it also didn't make sense to have the commander on primary comms duty.
"Spectrum?" Those sharp eyes narrowed slightly. "What does a military organisation want with us?" The suspicion wasn't open, but it was clearly there. Considering International Rescue's firm neutrality policy, and that Colonel White knew for a fact from his contacts in other military branches that the rescue organisation refused to interact with them any more than necessity demanded, it wasn't unexpected.
It was, however, frustrating.
"I need to speak to your commander," he repeated firmly. "Please connect me to him." The way he was scrutinised told him that International Rescue's communications setup had to be well above regular civilian standards. Holographic displays of the calibre required for the nuances of that interaction were not available to the general public.
Either International Rescue had connections none of the military branches were unaware of – or not admitting to – or they had technological experts to be envious of. Considering the rumours he'd heard about the fantasticalness of the Thunderbird machinery, there was a high chance it was the latter.
"One moment," the ginger said after a long pause, and his hologram vanished.
Colonel White startled. "Wait-"
"The line is still connected, Colonel," Lieutenant Green assured him. "Signal strength is maximum; he has just muted himself and turned off visual."
The Colonel had been hoping to be put straight through, but that implied that the ginger was talking to his commander about the situation first, despite the insistence that it was of major urgency.
Surely International Rescue should understand the importance of urgency?
He was left on hold for a minute before the ginger flickered back into existence. "Transferring you now, Colonel White." Immediately, the man vanished again, but this time instead of nothing, his image was replaced by a new one.
Despite all the expectations Colonel White might have entertained regarding the commander of International Rescue, the face of his late friend appearing had not been among them.
The face of his late friend as he'd looked twenty years ago, to be precise.
All at once, several things fell into place, slotting in so seamlessly that it seemed impossible that he could have ever missed it. Jeff's retreat from the military several years ago, the fact that International Rescue would have likely prevented Lucille's untimely death had they been in operation at the time, Jeff's own end a few years prior under undisclosed circumstances and International Rescue's temporary halt in operation immediately afterwards.
Throwing his money, recklessness, and heart into something that could stop other people going through the same tragedy he'd suffered was an obvious Jeff thing to do.
And it appeared that his sons, or at least two of them, had taken it upon themselves to carry on the torch. The familiarity emitting from the ginger suddenly made sense – Colonel White had very rarely met Jeff's sons, but the vibrant colouring of his second eldest was not easily forgotten.
His eldest had always been a dead ringer for his father, too.
The thoughts, recollections, and realisations, all flashed through his mind in a heartbeat as Jeff's son – what was his name? – appeared, posture stiff in a way that could be military but could also just be defensive. With only his head and shoulders visible, it was difficult to differentiate.
"Colonel White," the young man said, seemingly disinterested in standing on ceremony or exchanging any pleasantries – or introductions, "what does Spectrum want with International Rescue?"
"Am I speaking with the Commander of International Rescue?" he pressed; while he could believe that Jeff's sons were bull-headed enough to attempt to lead a major organisation despite their youth, he hoped there were more mature heads involved as well.
"You are," came the expected but slightly disheartening confirmation. Jeff's son still didn't give his name, which followed International Rescue's reputation for secrecy but also niggled frustratedly at the back of his mind – he knew he knew the young man's name, but having not seen him since before Jeff's demise and generally having less of an interest in the next generation of Tracys during their childhoods, it remained a distraction lurking on the tip of his tongue.
He couldn't actually remember how many sons Jeff had, either. Was there a daughter as well? He was sure there'd been a girl around from time to time. A niece, perhaps?
None of that, however, was relevant to the current situation, so he banished it all to the back of his mind and met the holographic eyes of the commander.
"Tell me, Commander," he began, "what do you know of the Mysterons?"
The younger man's eyes flickered to the side for a moment, glancing at something – or someone – the Colonel couldn't see before squaring his shoulders. "The Martian inhabitants? Not much beyond the fact that they exist and are sometimes responsible for the disasters we're called to. Why do you ask?"
"Every time the Mysterons have attacked, they have sent out an advance warning," Colonel White began. "In it they give a time scale and target; they may be cryptic, but they are always true. The Mysterons have never issued a threat that they have not then attempted to carry out."
"We've attended aftermaths several times," the young man informed him needlessly – as the commander of Cloudbase, Colonel White was kept appraised of any personnel involved in any stage of a Mysteron threat, even if the precise identities of the International Rescue attendees had so far eluded him – "and we've never been alerted in advance before. Why are you contacting us in advance this time, Colonel?"
He let his spine straighten a macron further than usual, not allowing his eyes to waver from the holographic ones of the younger man.
"Because according to the threat we received seven minutes ago, their next target is International Rescue."
Blue eyes – too blue to be Jeff's, even taking into account the colour-tint of the hologram itself – widened slightly.
"What?"
"The Mysterons have declared that they intend to destroy International Rescue within the next twenty-four hours," Colonel White repeated. "We need to establish a defensive strategy for your base and deploy Spectrum agents to-"
"International Rescue's base of operations is a secret," Jeff's son interrupted him. "There is no-one outside of our organisation that knows the location, and to preserve the security of our equipment, it has to remain that way."
Colonel White could hear Jeff's influence. It took only the barest imagination to hear the exact same words in his late friend's voice.
"Commander, I understand your caution, but it would be a great blow to the world if International Rescue was to be destroyed," he replied, keeping his voice measured even though he wanted nothing more than to snap at the young man – like his brother, he had to be younger than anyone stationed on Cloudbase, and far too green to be a seasoned commander – for being a fool.
"I understand that, Colonel," the young man said, enough emotion leaking through his voice to ooze sincerity and pain. Of course, just as Jeff had lost his wife, this young man had lost his mother. "I do. But I have to look at the larger picture, and our secrecy is what protects us from military organisations attempting to commandeer our technology. International Rescue's equipment is not to be used as weapons."
The Colonel had to hand it to him – he wasn't simply reciting lines he'd no doubt heard his father say. He believed what he was saying, and he wasn't wrong, either. The Thunderbirds were the envy of every organisation with aircraft, and he'd heard similar tones from WASP regarding International Rescue's submersible.
"Is that secrecy worth your lives?" he demanded. "Will you sacrifice not just the world's hope, but also your own men, just to keep a secret?"
Jeff's son tensed, and the Colonel suspected that he'd hit a chink in his armour. If he could find it and pry it open, maybe he could get the stubborn young man to cave. This was worse than dealing with stubborn world leaders – at least he knew where they were and could plan around them accordingly.
International Rescue could be based anywhere in the world, and Spectrum was far too low on numbers to spread out across the globe in a tight enough formation that they'd definitely cover them.
"Send us everything you have on the Mysterons," the young man said before he could condense the observation into a point of attack. "Their strengths, weaknesses, behavioural patterns, known MOs – everything you have."
"What good will that do you?" Colonel White demanded. "You're not a military organisation."
"We're not," Jeff's son agreed, "but that doesn't mean we're defenceless. Send over the information and I'll assess if we can handle this threat alone."
"Time is short, Commander," he argued, mentally cursing the clear immaturity in the younger man's command. "We don't have time for you to-"
"International Rescue never has time, Colonel." The young man had the audacity to sound amused. "We have to assess a situation and come up with a plan of action in seconds, or the body count starts climbing when it should have been avoided." Rather frustratingly, he had a point. "Send us the data."
Colonel White sighed, sensing a very familiar stubbornness – it had been inherited, apparently – and recognising when to humour it. "Very well," he agreed reluctantly. "What will you do if your assessment comes up negative?"
"If it's beyond what we can handle, then we'll allow Spectrum to intervene."
Considering his vehemence against military organisations discovering their location, that felt like a sudden backtrack. It was certainly slightly more hopeful than the conversation had been up until that point.
"You will?" he pressed, just to be sure.
Blue eyes turned steely. "We can't save anyone if we're dead, Colonel. Giving you our location is a last resort, but it is one I will take over the death of my team."
So that was the chink in his armour, and Colonel White filed it away for later contemplation.
"I am glad to hear it," he said out loud. "The requested data will be with you shortly; some of it will be classified – is there a secure line we can use?"
Not that he was planning on sharing anything highly classified, but any military intelligence required some level of security.
"Our communications specialist will be in touch," the young man said, once again glancing over at something Colonel White couldn't see – more likely someone considering the context. "International Rescue out."
The hologram vanished, and a moment later Lieutenant Green reported that the call had dropped entirely.
"Shall I start compiling our information?" the Lieutenant asked, already reaching for the holographic display.
"Yes," Colonel White confirmed, "but don't give them everything. Their commander was full of bravado and I highly doubt that, despite what he seems to believe, they're capable of defending themselves from the Mysteron threat without assistance. Try to dissuade him of that notion."
"Yes, Sir."
"And triangulate the data from the call once you're done with that," he added, "as well as the new connection they're setting up. See if you can get an approximate location."
"S.I.G., Colonel."
Content that the man would carry out his orders accurately, Colonel White turned his attention to the array of coloured icons on the communication console, selecting the red and blue ones.
"Captain Scarlet, Captain Blue, report to the communications centre immediately."
When International Rescue responded, they would be ready.
The plan is Friday updates... as long as I remember!
Thanks for reading!
Tsari