Back home, again. Thank you for putting up with my spotty posting, whilst abroad. Had a wonderful time, already missing my daughter. =')

46

In the wild and chaotic ocean, over Pacifica City-

Their hastily-constructed diving bell had just been locked down, when that fragile trench wall gave way. Shoved at by savage currents and flaring energy, millions of tons of mud, rock and dark-grey organic slime went hurtling over the edge like a massive in-the-waterfall. Down and away it all plunged, to an abyss so deep that it ended in boiling mantle.

The noise was tremendous; volcanic. Transmitted through seawater with a great deal more hammering force than it would have possessed on land, the shock and noise of this sudden collapse rocketed outward. And then, as the seafloor shifted and slid beneath her, Pacifica City moved, too.

Inside the bell, Virgil was flung forward, catching himself on a bulkhead brace before he could face-plant onto the wildly vibrating deck. The resultant tone (for some reason he always thought of these things) was A flat minor.

Lee was only halfway out of his seat when it happened… when that fist-of-the-gods BOOM struck their shuddering rescue craft. Undersea shockwaves were incredibly more intense, and this one had begun just a stone's throw away. The bell sprang several leaks, but nothing that Mini-Max couldn't handle. Meanwhile, that weakened trench was still crumbling away.

"We're gonna hafta move fast, Vic," urged Captain Taylor, as Virgil shook off the worst, and then got those two hatches open. "That cliff ain't got very much longer, and th' city's right there, on top. Damfool place t' park y'r residence, in my opinion… but ain't no one asked me."

Making ready to slide down through the airlock, and into the shifting city, Virgil cocked a heavy dark eyebrow.

"Think of it as extra job security, Sir," he suggested, hitting the hatch's emergency ladder. "You gotta admit, it's nice to feel needed."

A chime sounded, followed by a brief, buzzing alarm. Then a long metal pole rattled down from its housing, bridging the gap to the deck, below. Lee chuckled.

"They coulda just sent me a card," he said wryly, watching Virgil step onto that telescoping emergency stairway. (Really just a hollow pole with pegs sticking out on alternate sides). "I ain't that hard ta please."

Inside, the domed city was dark and cold, lit only by glow strips, and the sullen red glitter of John's other illegal partner. Not that Virgil had any complaints. Any help at all was perfectly welcome, as far as the muscular pilot was concerned. A sentiment that countless others shared, judging by the sounds of cheering, below. All of that sudden applause nearly drowned out the groan of stressed metal and perma-glass that surrounded them.

"Mike," Taylor spoke into his comm-unit, "Switch on th' d*mn floodlights, wouldja? Cain't see m'self think, down here." Because… "Hold on a spell. Vic?"

"Yessir," Virgil was about halfway down the ladder, now… but he'd always been a fast climber.

"You see a big, spinnin' hole, anywheres?" Lee enquired, squinting out through the dome at nothing but stygian darkness.

Virgil clung to the ladder with one hand and a booted foot as he swung around for a quick, three-sixty scan.

"Nossir," he admitted, breaking into a sudden, wide grin. "Looks like score one for our side."

Lee followed him down. Outside, two of the Maxes began skittering across the dome, repairing small cracks with Brains' best industrial contact cement.

"Musta been Doc or Jase that done it," grunted the captain. "Mebbe y'r daddy… if he ever brung that d*mn station under control."

Didn't mention Eos directly. Didn't have to. Whatever had done it… however they'd managed… the portal was closed, hopefully for good and forever. Neither man felt like poking their luck with dumb questions.

By this time, Thunderbird P's floodlights were trained on the domed city, which was still shifting position. Virgil redoubled his pace. He could now see his breath misting up in that stale, frigid air. Saw plenty of anxious, upturned faces, below. Heard… barking? Cat noises? Some sort of warbling hoot?

"Uh… Question, sir?"

"Fire away," Taylor responded, about five feet higher up that vibrating ladder.

"What's the protocol for rescuing animals on this one?" Every mission was different, and sometimes… like that mess with the giant air-lifted panda… animals were the mission. Plus, barking might mean Sherbert, who could maybe lead them to Lady Penelope.

"People comes first, every time. Then, if we got room, an' it ain't too dangerous, we go after th' critters. Get Mike ta set up a passel o' stalls, or somethin' like that."

"Understood," said Virgil, letting go of the rungs to drop those last ten feet. Did not hit the deck. Landed instead in a tangle of cushioning, welcoming arms. Times like these, he was really popular.

So, they'd come down in a crowded and freezing park; filled with all of those workers and guests who'd been able to reach Pacifica's "surface". Said one of them, shaking Virgil's hand,

"Thank you for coming here after us! Don't know how much longer we could've held out!" He wore a visored helmet and dark-blue security coverall; sported a mild taser by way of armament. You know… to tickle drunk and disorderly guests with.

"That's our job," smiled Virgil, detaching his well-shaken hand. Then, indicating his uncle, "This is Captain Lee Taylor, and I'm Virgil Tracy. How many people have we got up here, and what can I call you, Sir?"

The patrolman straightened, a little. Virgil Tracy wasn't the Colonel, but even that name was a tonic

"Lieutenant Vickers, Sir… and there are a hundred and twenty of us here in the park. Flooding protocols have sealed up all the hatches into the city proper, Sir. We can hear banging, but we can't get them out. I've tried."

"We got a trick f'r that," remarked Taylor, patting their second-best plasma cutter. (Virgil's was bigger, but skill and experience made all the difference.) "If'n ya don't care how much damage gets done…?"

Vickers shook his head, dark eyes fierce with resolve.

"Do what you have to, Sir. Let the bean-counters sort it out, afterward. I've got people… my girlfriend's still trapped down there." His voice wavered a bit, at the end. Firmed up again, as Virgil Tracy clasped his shoulder.

"We'll go get 'em, Lieutenant. In the meantime, I'm gonna need you to organize these folks into groups of twenty to twenty-five. Get them up that ladder, and into the diving bell, one batch at a time. Max can handle evacuation up to our Bird, with your assistance."

Vickers nodded eagerly.

"Yes, Sir. I'm on it," he said, relieved to be doing something other than just keeping everyone calm.

Virgil gave his shoulder a brief, friendly shake. Then, he and Captain Taylor started for the first of those tightly-sealed floodgates. As John liked to put it: Just another day at the office.

But, elsewhere, deep in the cold, groaning bowels of Pacifica City, Brendan Ming was not on board with what he later called "needless destruction". He, with Dr. Kate Hodnett, Jack Hewitt, and the rest of the city's command team, had at last been rescued; cut out of their freezing, airless tomb by John Tracy, Parker, and Lady Penelope. A few of them had to be resuscitated, and none were in very good shape. Ming came up snarling.

"Those… emergency hatches," he gasped, upon regaining full consciousness, "are Ming property. Cost… over a million credits… apiece! Be… assured that International… Rescue will… most certainly pay…for… each and every one!"

Nice. John glanced over at Parker, who muttered,

"Too late t' pop 'im back h-in there, and pretend like we just 'adn't seen 'im?"

"Afraid so," said the astronaut, a bit ruefully. "But that's okay… I'll file a counter-suit for poor safety practice and, um… severe mental strain. My laser cufflink's almost out of power, and that's causing heartbreak and undue stress." Not for nothing had he sat through Rigby's dense, droning legal talk.

Parker grinned, clutched at his own back suddenly, and then reeled against a frost-rimed bulkhead, crying out,

"Cor blimey! Me back! Think h-I've injured meself, with all o' this bloody climbin' and scramblin' about!"

The Ming Hotels executive grew pale and tense. He would have said something further, had Penny not stepped in. Placing a restraining hand upon John's chest, and a lightly soothing one on Ming's coat sleeve, she murmured,

"Come now, Gentlemen. We've better things to do than argue, surely. International Rescue is a publicly funded organization, and the GDF maintains a very large account from which to reimburse any damage resulting from their good-faith activities. All shall be presently set to rights… provided that we escape this place."

Eminently sensible. Nevertheless, Ming was not satisfied; tugging the creases out of his expensive suit-jacket, he muttered,

"The design... and safety protocols... of this resort are not at fault. Any damages… any and all loss of life… may be laid at the feet of that charlatan Tycho Reeves and his allies, International Rescue. That is my final word on the matter, Miss Ward."

Beneath her right hand, Penny felt John's muscles bunch. Not normally a fighter, the astronaut had a quite savage temper when he did… so to speak… break loose. Only, they could not afford such a contretemps, now. Not with so far to go, and so many more people to reach.

"No, dear," Pen murmured, adding, "Let us provide him with no further ammunition."

Anything might have happened, then, had not His Majesty, the right royal King Denys, looked about himself and said,

"Hummm… taken rather a fancy to the place, actually. And, as it is clearly derelict, and thus falls under the WorldGov salvage laws, I claim Pacifica City for the Crown. Mine. All of it. And you, my good man…" he turned to face the still-seething Brendan Ming, "…are sacked. Services no longer required. Toddle off, now. There's a good fellow."

Perhaps Denys could actually do all that. Possibly not, with the bridge crew standing right there. But, the action drew fervent applause from the station's scientists, who'd only ever wanted to research that trench, and count giant sharks.

Stifling a giggle, Penny took John's hand and said,

"Shall we proceed with His Majesty's property walk? No doubt, he has many more subjects to greet."

"Roight this way, Your 'Ighness," said Parker, sketching a deep and flowery bow. Struck the refugees as hilarious, at the time. But IR had made a new enemy. One whose chief power was money and utter, implacable hate.

Bad enough, but then, the city began to shift once more; leaving those trapped in darkness with nothing to do but clutch one another and try not to scream. Would help ever arrive, they wondered? And, if not, could they manage to rescue themselves?