Hey, guys. =) Thank you for your reviews and comments. Will respond directly, I promise. Helping my daughter to pack for Japan. Edits! :')
13
Thunderbird 4, down in the deepest ocean, near Pacifica City-
Gordon Tracy's broad circuit of the domed research station had won him plenty of scan data. His own two eyes provided still more. Through a veil of black water and drifting, gelatinous creatures, he saw the listing station, perched unsteadily at the edge of a massive undersea cliff, on her six, spidery legs. One of these had begun to buckle alarmingly, tilting the city sharply at that yawning crevasse. Great place to do some science, maybe; not so good for undersea tourists... and he wasn't there to sight-see. In cases like these, Virgil would say: Prioritize.
"Right," Gordon murmured, hazel eyes fixed on that station, and crumbling trench. "Eight-hundred-plus people, one rescue sub, fourteen emergency floats. Job one: mate shields."
Charlie and Scruff listened closely, learning strength and calm in the face of disaster. Learning how to be Tracys.
"Okay, Virge," said the sandy-blond aquanaut, passing a message up through the comm buoy. "I've got the updated schematics, and I can see where to place my emergency floats. Need those GDF rescue boats, though… ASA-Fast. Entering the pressure shield, now."
Neat trick, that; requiring him to scan the force bubble's frequency and match it, precisely. Then, when his shielding and that of Pacifica City met, they just flowed together, with the faintest of gem-like shimmers. Caused a brief staticky sensation inside, too; lifting hair on heads and fur on biodroid rabbits. Then, they were in, and Thunderbird 4 got to work.
Closer to, Gordon could see faint sparkles of reddish energy throughout the undersea station. John's other AI buddy, maybe? Whatever, it seemed to be holding Pacifica City together, somehow.
"Awesome," grunted the swimmer, needing all the help he could get.
Deploying 4's clawed grappling arms, Gordon began the process of setting floats. He had fourteen of the things, which had to be placed just so. Set correctly, the floats would shore up that buckling leg, and keep the station from sliding into a trench so deep that it ended in diamond-pocked mantle. (He'd explored it once, on a lark.) Set wrongly, the explosive floats could rip that city apart.
A delicate, careful business, which Charlie watched, but did not disturb. No questions or comments. Just wide brown eyes, and forever-memories. Things were looking good, at first. Three floats set, eleven to go, when everything fell apart.
Get any four witnesses… Gordon, Chip, Virgil or Penny… to describe events, and you'd get a different story, every time. And, that wasn't counting Eos, Jaeger, or John. But, it kind of went this way, from Gordon's perspective: An incoming message pinged his Bird. Not from Virgil, but straight out of Thunderbird 5. Surprised, because most signals required boosting to reach this far underwater, Gordon opened a channel.
His entire board lit up, then, because that incoming packet was huge. Only, something was happening down at the city, as well. Just about the same time that Virgil called down with,
"Gordon, what the h*ll's going on, down there?!"
…a burst of brilliantly-glowing force rose from inside the dome. Upside-down-cone-shaped, and bright as the sun at high noon. No color, and all of them. Through it, squinting through a face shield set at maximum block, the aquanaut could have sworn that he glimpsed blue sky, and a shattered city, with stumpy towers like the teeth in a leering Jack-o-lantern. See, the cone's base appeared to be some kind of transport window, about five-hundred feet in diameter.
The 'message', too big to open or read, jumped onward, just as that burst of force shot through the sub. Like a direct lightning strike, it took out the yellow Bird's guidance and power. Worse, the effect slashed up through the comm buoy, too, hitting Thunderbird 2, as well.
All at once, the little sub was crippled and drifting, headed right for that wavering, city-scape portal. Upstairs, in Thunderbird 2, Virgil's instrument panel went suddenly dark. His floodlights and comm flickered, then vanished, leaving the pilot in total blackness and silence. The comforting, musical roar of his engines (G-sharp major) cut off, too, as a massive depression appeared in the heaving water, below. All at once powerless, the giant cargo-lifter tumbled down out of the sky like a rock.
Virgil Tracy slammed the restart button about ten times in three seconds, hard enough to crack the instrument panel. Didn't call 'mayday'. Didn't have time. There was nothing but sky in his viewscreen, as the tail-heavy, pod-less Bird spiraled downward. He was crashing, and he knew it. Hit the distress beacon with one hand, and then inflated 2's own set of emergency floats, on the off chance she didn't break up on hitting the water. Never considered bailing out on his Big Girl. Not once.
From John's perspective, things developed a little bit differently. Giant sewer rats turned out to be really susceptible to cufflink laser blasts. Seriously, had he or the Pendergasts been hungry enough, John could have used that high-powered laser to carve steaks and chops. Only, not just no, but h*ll, no. He'd cheerfully starve, first.
Anyhow, along with a few other neat gadgets, John was pretty well armed. Not so he wanted to meet that mythical subway croc, though.
"Listen," he'd said to the grinning, muddy explorers, once the last of those seared, shrieking rats scrabbled off, "How about we track the crocodile, instead of just waiting around? I mean… she could be out in the ocean nearby, hunting another shark. Wouldn't want to miss that, would you?"
Buddy and Ellie had looked at each other, communicating in that wordless eyebrow-and-smile code that long-married couples develop. Mom and Dad 'd had it, too. John remembered that. Then, Buddy turned to grin at him.
"Too right, Bluey! 'Erself might be engaged in a fight t' th' death f'r survival, right now!"
Ellie was already gathering up their portable gear and supplies; stuffing it into a pair of tan canvas rucksacks.
"No time t' wait," she agreed, her blue eyes wide and feverish-bright. "This is going t' be our most excitin' season, ever."
She did not look well. For that matter, neither did Buddy, who needed several rest breaks, as they clambered up that smooth, muddy slipway. John slowed his pace without making a big deal out of it. See, the weaponised mix of pathogens that had hit New York City at the end of the conflicts included rabies, super-flu, and the so-called "slave-virus". Nasty stuff, leaving its victims alternately wild, debilitated and easy to control. Most of the damage, here, had been self-inflicted, as an entire city went mad.
John mentioned none of this. Just, as they climbed, slipped, grunted and boosted each other upward, he watched the Pendergasts closely. Himself, too. He'd never been sick (except once, and that one had killed him… long story) but this sh*t was different, and if he'd got it, too, his thinking was going to get fuzzy, fast.
Not the Pendergasts. Buddy and Ellie just got sweeter, slower and weaker; seeing signs of that stupid croc, literally everywhere.
"Crikey! 'Ave a look at them claw marks, Ellie! Get a shot o' that! Bluey, stand up right beside 'em, so's we c'n establish 'ow 'igh off the ground they are!"
…stuff like that. Or,
"Holy Dooley! Would you look at that scat 'eap!"
…which, okay, was the size of an aircar, but it might have been communal rat-dung, for all John knew. Nothing to get all worked up over, right? Especially when they were being followed by tiny red eyes and lamp-glinting teeth.
One way or another, John kept them all moving, until they came at last to the slipway's branch-screened entrance. Fresher air, scratching greenery, filtered light… just a little bit over their heads. Well, not like he hadn't boosted Scott and Virgil over plenty of fences, back in the day…
"You first," he said to Buddy, "then Ellie. I'll bring up the rear. Stay in the entrance, until I join you, understood?"
Two solemn nods told him: yes. More tired than he should have been, John got to work, stooping down and making a cradle of his hands, so that Buddy could place a muddy foot in, and get launched up topside.
"Cooee!" whispered the older man, peering around, after John pushed him up and out of the hole. "That's a sight an' a half, it is. Careful, Luv… watch y'r step."
Because, they'd emerged in what had been some kind of wide square, or city centre. Beautiful, once, the place was an utter ruin, now. Dangerous, too.
John came up last, kicking at something too bold and inquisitive to stay in the shadows. Got scratched, but not badly.
Wasn't sure how much charge he had left on those cufflinks. Brains had harnessed particles vibrating in extra dimensions, to power the laser, and his special "lift shoes", but they'd never been tested to capacity. The astronaut wasted some juice, now, convincing his hungry friend that Tracys were not on the menu that day.
Next, he leapt upward, taking Buddy's hands as he used just a little lift-power to get himself out of the slipway. Got maybe a three-second look around at complete and utter devastation; at fallen signs, collapsed buildings, streets choked with rusted ground cars, and a crashed plane.
Radioactive nature was taking over the place. Weird, mutant plants (some of them grabby) wove through it all, giving shelter to smaller, scuttling things. It was daytime, at least, and sort of cold.
Ellie started to shiver, so Buddy put an arm across her shoulders, drawing her close. Not all of her shaking was due to the weather, though.
"Wot 'appened here, Buddy? I mean… I knew there was conflicts… an' places no one's meant t' go, but…"
"'Ow could all this 'ave 'appened, less 'n forty years ago?" the dark-haired explorer finished for her. Good question.
Something odd was happening, up above them. Some kind of weird sky-ripple. Distracted, John said what he shouldn't have. What was worth his life, mind and freedom to admit that he knew.
"Wasn't forty years. They've been lying about the date, and how bad things got."
Both weary, confused explorers stared at John, expecting more. Only, that's when the ripple expanded, opening up like a giant dark eye in the smudgy blue sky overhead.
"Umm…" said John, changing the subject. "Run."