A/N: Where have I even been. I have avoided going a year between updates by only eleven days. I originally tried to update monthly.
I didn't have much inspiration for this one.
"Forget asteroid mining. This is the job for us, Gladys!" Ned Tedford was feeling pretty good about his new posting. "Cleaning up pollution from the bottom of the ocean. It's safe, and we're helping the planet! And the best part? No drama."
A couple of seconds later, his vehicle exploded in the next best thing to a very pretty fireball that could be achieved underwater.
...
"A heavy metal what?"
"A heavy metal extraction platform. It scoops up old toxic waste from the bottom of the sea. Or at least it used to. The platform's broken apart, and so have the tanks holding the poisonous cargo."
"Crew status?"
"One driver. No helping him, I'm afraid."
"One ecological cleaning and body recovery coming up. Let's go, Gordon."
"Thunderbird Two, this is Thunderbird Four, I'm on my way. Setting coordinates now, and I'll need an MCR link to match - actually, scratch that, I won't need tracking coordinates or an MCR link."
"How come?"
"Because that spill's kinda hard to miss?"
"Okay. Keep the platform straight. Or better yet, slow to a standstill."
"That's a big fat no! I've lost steering, we've got no pressure regulation, no life support, nothing! In other words, get me out!"
"Don't worry. Everything's gonna be okay."
The pilot's compartment disagreed, breaking under the pressure.
"Dammit," said Gordon. "...Well. Thunderbird Two, let's get those tanks secured."
"We are not going to be okay!"
"Hey Ned? Calm down, take a breath. I mean it; breathe in."
Ned breathed in; and out. In; and out.
"I can't have you cracking under the pressure too. I need you focused; we'll get through this."
At this point, the platform stopped. Gordon pointed this out, hoping it would be taken positively.
"That's because I've lost more power!"
It was not.
"Relax, that's good! Let's just focus on getting you out of there."
"But the fire's blocking off our exit!"
"Well then, first order of business: Let's put out the fire." And Thunderbird Four zoomed off to do just that.
"Seems like a smart boy," Ned mused to himself. Then, after some more reflection, "Still a bit young."
...
"Thunderbird Two, I'm going to open a hatch and flood the fire."
"Won't that damage the pressure system even more?"
"One problem at a time."
Thunderbird Four opened a hatch and flooded the fire. This had the unfortunate side effect of breaking the damaged internal pressure seals and flooding the crew compartment, with Ned still in it.
"Dammit," said Gordon. "...Well. Thunderbird Two, let's get those tanks secured."
"Ned and Gladys? Good news!" said Thunderbird Four. "The fire's out; I'm coming to get you."
Ned was paying more attention to his status board. "Erm, somehow I think flooding the compartments was a bad idea. The water pumps are offline; we can't get past the flooded compartment! We're trapped..."
At this point, the platform started moving. Ned could only watch in horror as Thunderbird Four, which had neglected to relocate, was crushed between the platform and the seabed.
"I believe we've got company, m'lady."
"A friendly escort from Mr Ambro, no doubt. How kind of him."
Then their 'escort' fired a heavy anti-aircraft missile at them, and there just wasn't enough time to react before FAB-1 disappeared in a very pretty fireball.
"What's your status, Thunderbird Four?"
"Same as before. Ned's still trapped in his compartment and the platform's heading straight for a sea cliff. Any ideas?"
"If Ned can't get out... maybe it's time to do a little fishing."
"The grappling cable! Great idea, Thunderbird Two, what would I do without you?"
"Hold on, are you actually thanking me?"
"I'll try anything once."
As Thunderbird Two loosed a grappling cable towards the hopefully-not-soon-to-be-mess, Thunderbird Four latched onto the base of Ned Tedford's crew compartment and started cutting.
"Hey! What are you doing?" objected its occupant.
"I'm going to separate your compartment from the structure so we can haul you up on a grappling cable. Nothing to worry about, we do this all the time."
"Do what?! You'd have to be mad to want a job like that."
"Said the man with a geranium for a best friend."
Four's cutter finished its work, and the crew compartment detached from the platform. This had the unfortunate side effect of exposing the damaged internal pressure seals to water; they broke, flooding the compartment, with Ned still in it.
"Dammit," said Gordon. "...Well. Thunderbird Two, let's get those tanks secured."
Four's cutter finished its work, and the crew compartment detached from the platform. As Four swooped it away from the platform, Two's grappling cable appeared from on high.
"Just in time, Thunderbird Two. Up for a game of catch?"
"FAB!"
The rotational motion of Thunderbird Four attempting to 'throw' the detached crew compartment overstressed the damaged internal pressure seals; they broke, flooding the compartment, with Ned still in it.
"Dammit Gordon," said Virgil. "Well, Thunderbird Four, let's get those tanks secured."
"Oh, another! They seem very determined to stop us."
"Maybe a touch more speed will help shake 'im off?"
"Quick thinking; I like it!"
FAB-1 left the scene at turbospeed - straight off a bend and into a steep hillside. The resulting fireball was very pretty indeed.
With Ned safely on the surface, Gordon had turned his attention to the tanks of toxic waste. Even with Two restraining the platform on the cliff edge, it was going to be ...difficult.
"I'm attempting to separate the cargo now, but I'm pretty far away. Hang on tight, Thunderbird Two!"
There was cutting, and dragging.
"Thunderbird Four, any chance we could hurry it up a little? I'm not really in the mood for a swim."
"Just a little... bit... more...!"
At this point, the toxic waste tanks burst.
"Dammit," said Gordon. "...Well. Thunderbird Two, let's stop that spill from getting any worse."
"Looks like your quick thinking was a little too slow, Parker!"
"Hold on, m'lady!"
Then their pursuer fired a heavy anti-aircraft missile at them, and there just wasn't enough time to react before FAB-1 disappeared in a very pretty fireball.
"Perhaps we should try a different approach?"
"Right away, m'lady!"
FAB-1 emitted a smokescreen to prevent their pursuer from having any idea what they were doing. Then said pursuer fired another heavy anti-aircraft missile at them, and there just wasn't enough time to react before FAB-1 disappeared in a very pretty fireball.
"Perhaps we should try a different approach?"
"Right away, m'lady!"
FAB-1 emitted a smokescreen to prevent their pursuer from having any idea what they were doing, and then drove off a cliff, answering that age-old question your mother always asked you about your friends.
The fuel pumps responsible for supplying the starboard VTOLs chose that precise moment to seize, and FAB-1 descended rapidly to its demise in a very pretty fireball.
"The pressure's increasing," Thunderbird Four reported, "and this thing's getting ready to jump!"
"Not sure how much longer I can counter the pull of the platform," said Thunderbird Two in between noises of exertion.
"Wait, I can get a better cut on the cargo section if I go EVA."
"EVA? You'd only have three minutes before the pressure cracks your suit."
"Plenty of time!"
"Nice and steady, Thunderbird Four!"
"Don't worry about me; you just keep hold of the platform."
And with that, Gordon entered the water himself, donning his dive turbine with practised ease and heading for the cut site.
At this point, the toxic waste tanks burst.
"Dammit," said Gordon, reversing course. "...Well. Thunderbird Two, let's stop that spill from getting any worse."
"Thunderbird Two's not going to hold, the platform's taking me under," Virgil reported from the surface. "If you're going to cut it free, it has to be now."
"Just one - more - second - got it!"
The platform split in two, the containment section skidding backwards under Two's dragging power while the drive section (minus crew compartment) advanced freely into the chasm.
"Well done, little brother."
"It wasn't so bad after all!"
"Now get back inside Thunderbird Four, and let's figure out how to get this toxic waste up to the surface."
This was when Gordon, still EVA in dive turbine, realised exactly where he'd anchored Four.
"Thunderbird Two, slight problem. Thunderbird Four is still clamped to the platform!"
"Thunderbird Four? Gordon, come in!"
"I'm here, but Thunderbird Four's a different story."
"Get up here."
Gordon furiously drove the dive turbine upward despite them both knowing it wouldn't be fast enough.
"Thunderbird Two, this is Thunderbird Four, I'm on my way. Setting coordinates now, and I'll need an MCR link to match - actually, scratch that, I won't need tracking coordinates or an MCR link."
"How come?"
"Because it's kinda hard to miss?"
"Well then, first order of business: Let's put out the fire." And Thunderbird Four zoomed off to do just that.
"Seems like a smart boy," Ned mused to himself. Then, after some more reflection, "Still a bit young."
...
As Four arrived at the hatch beneath the platform, the Hood remotely triggered the small nuclear charge hidden in its belly. Rescuer and bait were obliterated by the next best thing to a very pretty fireball that could be achieved underwater.
"EOS, any luck?"
[[Yes, John. By plotting known cases against water distribution networks, I believe I have found the index location of the outbreak,]] she said, showing him the appropriate diagram. [[It is registered as a water treatment plant.]]
"And if something went wrong after the treatment steps... Lady Penelope. About the outbreak, there's a water treatment plant you should look into."
[[John, it appears to be a common warehouse, and is also registered as one by a different company.]]
"Definitely look into."
...
"Lady Penelope. Are you all right? I'm detecting explosions in your area."
"Everything's fine, John. Someone was just a bit determined for us not to arrive at that supposed treatment plant."
...
"It's not a water treatment plant, John. It's an empty warehouse. That, according to my h'expert, was full of toxic waste an hour ago."
"Which leaves open the question," said the h'expert, "of what in blazes are they playin' at?"
"EOS, any ideas?"
[[As a matter of fact, yes. The 'treatment plant']] - nobody was quite sure how EOS managed to sound quite that sarcastic - [[was registered by Hydrexler Ocean Technology Group. The warehouse as the same location was registered by Clearwater Industries trading as Clearwater 3000. Clearwater Industries is currently involved in emergency cleanup operations related to the outbreak.]]
"Great," said John. "I don't see how this helps us with anything, though."
[[Clearwater Industries and Hydrexler Group both received initial working capital through inscrutable chains of shell companies. Inscrutable to a human, that is.]] EOS had her smug voice all worked out, too. [[They lead back to the same entities ultimately responsible for Ayers Prospecting Incorporated, the company that built The Hood's mobile base.]]
"Oh no," said John.