"Base from Thunderbird 5 – we have a situation."
"Go ahead, John," Scott acknowledged, and sent out the call to his brothers to congregate in the living area. "I'm nearly inside."
"I've had a call come in for some assistance – it's time to test our new organisational theory."
Scott jogged down the stairs and sat down as the large hologram sprang to life. "Go on – what are we needed for."
"You know that there's some major flooding happening along the Danube. Most of it is under control, but the Mária Valéria Bridge joining Esztergom in Hungary and Štúrovo in Slovakia is in real danger. A large, partially capsized, river cruiser has come loose and is heading for the bridge. They've managed to secure it for the moment, but their tugs can't hold it much longer."
"If that cruiser hits the bridge supports it could bring them down," Virgil said. "And even if it doesn't, it will end up damming the river behind it. Have they tried to turn it around so it's not across the river?"
"They have," John said. "But the cruiser was actually having work done on its top deck when the floods hit. There was a crane barge attached to it and it took the brunt of water when the weir upstream broke. It toppled the crane, and broke the mooring of the cruiser. The crane barge is dragging on the bottom of the river and it's that which has pulled the cruiser across the river. They've tried to get down there to cut the crane loose but the current is too dangerous." John deliberately looked at Gordon. "Even the WASPs won't go down. They're the ones who recommended International Rescue be contacted apparently."
An image of the situation appeared and Scott nodded. "Right, looks like it's definitely an International Rescue job. Especially if the WASPs won't touch it." He stood and moved towards the wall that would take him to Thunderbird 1. "Brains, see what information you can get on the cruiser, crane and the bridge. Virgil, I think this is going to take all of us to handle. Gordon – you're the underwater expert. Work out what you need. And fast."
"FAB," came the rejoinder from five voices as he turned from sight, Virgil already running to his launch area to get Thunderbird 2 ready for flight. "Good thing you finished the maintenance, Brains," Alan remarked as he waited for Gordon to join him.
"Just in time too," Brains agreed. "I was just coming to tell Scott that Thunderbird 1 had checked out OK to go."
Gordon and Alan left at a run, after Gordon had had a very fast discussion with John, requesting information about weather conditions and the water currents and visibility. "I'm not looking forward to this," he confessed to Alan as they changed on the travelator to Thunderbird 2. "If the WASPs have stepped back, then they've already tried everything they have, and anybody else who will have a go."
They emerged onto the flight deck of Thunderbird 2 as Scott's voice announced he was airborne.
"FAB, Scott," replied Virgil. "I'm still gearing up for this. I don't want us to be caught short."
"Good idea. But don't take too long about it."
"Ready to go now. Pod 4 is stocked and moving into place. And the peanut gallery have finally arrived."
"Hey, I take exception to that remark!" Alan said, moving to the seat behind Virgil before being stopped by Gordon.
"Take co-pilot. I need to spend the flight over familiarising myself with what that water is doing," he said, his face grim. "John," he connected with his brother in Thunderbird 5, "Can you put me in contact with the WASP Field Commander please."
"FAB, Gordon. I'll wait until you're at cruising altitude and then patch a line through."
"Thanks, and keep sending through anything you can get about any changes to that water."
As Thunderbird 1 approached the disaster site, Scott sighed. So far things were going well with their new plans.
Four hours later, Scott Tracy was wet, muddy and not sure which of the three brothers currently with him he wanted to kill more. It hadn't been a complete disaster. The bridge was still intact. The cruiser had been guided safely through the supports, and Thunderbird Four had (eventually) succeeded in cutting the crane free. Crane and cruiser were now securely fastened downstream of the bridge after Alan and Virgil had managed to use the brute strength of both Thunderbirds One and Two to drag them out of the water and onto dry land.
None of them were looking forward to hearing Brains' opinion on what that little effort had done to their winching mechanisms. Scott didn't think he would ever get the sound of the screaming metal out of his mind.
Why he had listened to Alan's suggestion to do that, he would never know. And why he had agreed to Alan piloting Thunderbird One for the operation was another mystery, possibly explained by him being distracted by trying to coordinate all the efforts and information to get the job done.
Because that was his job. He was now the overall Commander of International Rescue after all.
Who would have realised that the cruiser and the crane were that heavy. He was trying to ignore John in his ear with his "I could have told you that," comments. He wasn't a mechanical engineer – that was Virgil and Brains.
Once again he sighed and tried to get rid of some of the mud. His brothers were dead. They were all clean and dry. It had been him who had measured his length not once, not twice, but three times in the muddy ground. He had then had to be 'rescued' himself when part of the river bank gave way underfoot, leaving him thankful for the protection of his uniform as he slammed to a stop against a semi-submerged fence post; breath knocked out of him and doubled over in pain.
The least his bastard brothers could have done was stop laughing while they helped him. And the WASPs. They had shown far too much enjoyment of his predicament. He looked over to where they were talking and laughing with Gordon. Yeah. He should have realised that all the fish-boys were alike.
He activated his communicator. "OK everybody, we're all done here? Time to head home." He tried to put some authority into his voice. The crack that had once made junior flight lieutenants jump and scurry to carry out his orders.
Probably if his teeth weren't chattering it would have sounded better. Probably if it wasn't his brothers it would have worked.
He had to work out what had gone wrong with their organisational planning. It wasn't enough to just get the job done – they had to do it more efficiently and without looking like semi-amateurs. He knew they weren't. Just as he knew that his father would have been ripping them all new assholes for some really sloppy work that they had carried out at times during this mission.
Bad communication. Conflicting actions. Information not being passed around. And nobody knowing quite for sure who was the final authority in it all, or who was actually doing what and where.
Crap. They were lucky this time, but next time….
There couldn't be a next time. Next time could cost lives. Instead of equipment that would now have to be either replaced or repaired. Not to mention the possible security risk of Gordon deciding to show his WASP friends over Thunderbird Four.
Scott crawled into his seat in Thunderbird One, wincing as he realised that he was going to be the person cleaning the mud out of the cockpit. He saw Gordon and Alan joking around with the WASPs and all of a sudden his irritation exploded.
"Gordon! Alan! Didn't you hear me the first time," he growled through his communicator. "Stop arsing around and get the fuck onto Thunderbird Two. Now."
In Thunderbird Two, Virgil stopped his system checks on the pod equipment and raised an eyebrow. Scott descending to that level of profanity where outsiders could hear was rare, and a sign that his oldest brother was extremely unhappy about something. Scott's continued snarling at their two youngest brothers prompted him to action. "You go on, Scott. I'll round up Alan and Gordon and follow."
"You shouldn't have to." Scott knew he sounded irritated, and wished he didn't.
"No," came Virgil's calm voice. "I shouldn't. But we both know what that pair are like when they get on a roll. Don't worry – I won't be more than five minutes behind you in taking off."
Scott took a deep breath. He was losing it, and knew it. He had been doing this long enough that he should be able to keep himself under better under control. "Keep in contact Virgil. Thunderbird One out."
"FAB."