Chapter Three
Gordon made it underwater to where Thunderbird 4 rested in 2's hangar, grabbed two complete sets of gear and was back to the surface in under a minute. He and Virgil suited up and dove in, using the powerful lamps strapped to their foreheads to find their way. It was quick going from the cavernous hangar through the connective tunnel that led to Thunderbird 1's silo.
"Boy," Gordon remarked, "is Scott gonna be pissed to find out his engines are flooded."
"Yeah," Virgil agreed through the suit-to-suit communicator. "At least 2's on stilts." He'd seen enough of his 'Bird to know the water was only halfway up her legs. As long as it had never been higher, she wouldn't have gotten waterlogged. First things first, though. Get the island's power back on and find their father and brother.
Passing beneath the swimming pool they knew was above them, they surfaced for a moment, removing the regulators from their mouths. "I could probably work the release," Gordon said, mirroring Virgil's thoughts, "on either the pool or the cliff door back in 2's hangar," he finished, jerking his thumb behind them.
"I'd thought of that, too," Virgil admitted. "But what if releasing all the water out of the cavern somehow harms Dad and Scott? What if they're on the tarmac, or in or next to the pool? Without the scanners we can't be sure."
Gordon nodded, and then cocked his head like a dog. Slowly he lifted the mask from his face, holding a hand up to silence his brother. Virgil listened. "What is that?" he whispered.
"I don't know," Gordon replied. "How about you keep going for the generator and I'll head back to the hangar to check it out."
"We're not splitting up, Gordon."
"But it could be Scott or Dad!"
Virgil's mouth tightened. "Come on; let's go back to the hangar. It could just be some floating piece of equipment scraping around." Off Gordon's look, he added, "Or it could be them."
Gordon replaced the mask over his eyes and settled the strap around his head. They put their mouthpieces back into place and were soon underwater heading back to Thunderbird 2's hangar.
"Father, speak to me," she implored for the twentieth time.
"He's still not responding?"
She jumped at the voice, and then quieted as she recognized it. "Mrs. Tracy, you startled me."
"I'm sorry, dear," Ruth said, patting Tin-Tin's shoulder. She turned and pulled one of the breakfast table chairs out and plopped unceremoniously into it. "Sakes, this is way too much exercise for an old woman."
Tin-Tin smiled in spite of her father's situation. "I just wish I knew what brought these attacks on. After all this time, we still don't know."
"No, we don't," Ruth sighed, "and it worries me."
Shining the watch-light back to her father, Tin-Tin frowned. "Me too, Mrs. Tracy. Me, too." Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she gasped. "Where's Alan? He was going to find you!"
"He went after Gordon and Virgil," she replied. "He needs help to get through the hurricane shield."
"Oh, he shouldn't have gone alone!" Tin-Tin groaned. "You know how he is!"
Ruth rose to her feet. "And that's precisely why I know he'll be just fine. Now," she said with more strength in her voice as she turned to survey the kitchen counter, "let's finish getting this food prepared. If history's any indication, your father will be coming 'round soon and the boys will be back in the observation deck. And they'll be hungry!"
"All right," Tin-Tin responded almost automatically. She looked back down at her father once more before following Ruth across the room. She had an uneasy feeling that she just couldn't shake.
Alan hissed in frustration as he tried a fourth staircase. So far he hadn't seen hide nor hair of his brothers and he'd been to three ways down already. He reasoned they must've taken the same route he was taking, and found the same results he had: that each staircase was too flooded to make it to 2's hangar. As he looked down with his wrist-light into the dark water a step below, he rolled his eyes as the light bulb went off.
"They must've taken the monorail!" he said aloud. "Now why didn't I think of that to begin with?"
The way it was set upon the ledge carved by their own equipment on the inside wall of 2's hangar, the monorail track sat nearer the top of the cavern than the bottom, and would be the most likely route in, assuming the whole thing wasn't flooded to the ceiling. Virgil and Gordon were probably already gearing up Thunderbird 4; he knew Gordo had been working on it before the tsunami hit. Resolutely Alan retraced his steps and when he reached a length of tunnel he knew to be fairly straight, began running like a bat out of hell.
Pieces of rock were shooting in all directions and the laser rifle was already half out of charge. Belah let it clatter to the ground. "Useless," he muttered, moving to the nearest helicopter, whose pilot – like all the others – sat waiting in the cockpit. He opened the door, spoke quickly in Cantonese, and then backed away, slamming the door shut behind him.
The whirlybird was facing the cliff straight-on, but had a 360-degree rapid-fire laser under its nose. Belah jogged over to what little progress he'd made and showed the pilot where to shoot by tracing the crack surrounding what he knew was a hidden door. He saw the pilot nod and moved back to stand beside the machine, raising his left hand. Within seconds he sliced his hand downward and the pilot began firing.
As rock was blasted away, scattering here and there on the tarmac and sand, the Hood could hardly keep from rubbing his hands together in glee. Pulling a square device from the belt around his waist with four buttons on it, he held it over his head as high as possible and hit the first button. It let out a loud horn-like sound, which would tell all his men to return to the tarmac.
"Where are you, Jeff Tracy?" he growled as the pilot sitting next to him ceased fire. His head whipped around, yanking the door open. "Why have you stopped?"
"I have removed the rock, but there is metal, my Lord. This laser won't penetrate it."
He turned back to see the pilot's handiwork. Sure enough, the rock on and surrounding the door was gone, revealing a metal door that was scorched but otherwise undamaged.
"Team Two, I have a special assignment for you," he said as the first of his men began returning. "You see that metal door there?" he asked. All four turned to look behind them and then faced him again, nodding their heads. Belah smiled. "The first of you to break through that door will be given one thousand bars of gold."
In a flash the men were at the door examining it, and before long were rummaging in various helicopters for supplies. Rocking back on his heels, arms crossed over his chest, the Hood looked up above him, where a building hung slightly over the tarmac.
"Now, where would I go if I knew a tidal wave was coming at me and I wanted to survive," he murmured. His eyes moved left to the round structure then back to the rectangular one that jutted out from the rock.
Clearly the one above his head was the highest, depending on where they had been when the tsunami struck. He looked back to the building to his right and up just a little, only then realizing that there were balconies and giant metal shields that appeared to be the size of sliding glass doors.
"That's their home," he said quietly. "That's where they live."
Returning his gaze to the metal door that Team Two was working on, he noted with interest that they were using knives to shove plastique into the ultra-thin crack surrounding it. Another group of men stood just to his left and he walked up to them.
"You," he said, pointing to a smaller one. "And…you." He pointed to a more muscle-bound man. "With me."
They nodded and fell into step behind him as he made his way around another helicopter and to the left side of the tarmac. He looked up and pointed at the overhanging structure.
"You'll tell me if there's any way into that building, or any noise coming from inside. I will hear your report in ten minutes."
Nodding again, the men began to scramble up the rock. It was slippery, but the wiry man was quickly making his way up with the larger one not quite keeping up with him. Belah knew the small one would get there first, but if he found a way in he'd need his large companion to help him breach it.
Suddenly there was an explosion. Belah's head jerked toward the other side of the tarmac as several exclamations of surprise filled the air. He saw a torrent rushing out and cursed in three languages as he retraced his path back to the first helicopter. Water ran around his feet as it shot like a curved waterfall from the rock. So there was some sort of cave back there, and it had been flooded.
It was with no small measure of disappointment that he wondered if all the Tracys had drowned.
"What on Earth…?" Ruth exclaimed as the kitchen shook. Pans, dishes and utensils rattled, some falling to the floor, as Tin-Tin rushed to her father's side to shield his face.
Eyes wide, she pulled the Tracy matriarch down next to her and covered her head as well. "Another tidal wave?" she whispered aloud, bowing her head over her elders. "Please not again!"
Gordon and Virgil had just reached the side of Thunderbird 2, surfaced, and removed their face masks and regulators when there was what sounded like a sonic boom from beneath them. A large bubble burst from underwater, followed by several more that were barely smaller.
"The door's open!" Gordon yelled over the din.
"That means this is going to empty fast!" Virgil yelled back. "Hang on to something!" He turned to swim for 2's front leg and wrapped his arms securely around it. Looking to his left, he expected to see his younger brother. He wasn't there. "Gordon!" he hollered, shining his head lamp all around.
"Here!"
Virgil trained his light further to the left and yelled, "Hang on!"
His brother was caught in the draining water, which had formed a small whirlpool closer to the giant front door. Virgil let go his Thunderbird and swam purposefully toward his flailing brother without missing a beat.
"No!" sputtered Gordon as he drew closer. "It'll catch you!"
Virgil stopped and treaded slowly backwards as he helplessly watched Gordon swirl 'round and 'round before him. Suddenly he had an idea. Quickly removing the oxygen tank from his back, Virgil let the regulator move into the tug of the whirlpool, holding tightly to the belts lashed to the tank with both hands.
"Grab it!" he cried.
When Gordon came around he tried but missed. Virgil waited, willing him to catch it this time. But when he did, it was with such force that Virgil was dragged forward. With the straps wound around his hands, he couldn't get himself loose and was sucked in alongside his brother.
Alan was knocked to his knees as the tremor went through him. He was nearly to the hangar but held tightly to the monorail track for a moment until he was certain no more shaking was forthcoming. Then he hopped to his feet and that was when he heard the yelling.
That was Virgil. And that was Gordon! He'd found them!
Five more strides and he'd be there. What had that tremor been? Four more. Why were they yelling? Three more. Had they broken through to the outside? Two more.
He skidded to a halt as he reached the cavern. To his left, far across its vast expanse, he saw bright lamps moving wildly around. "Virg!" he cried. "Gordon!"
He heard them yell back but it echoed around so much that he couldn't understand their words. "What's going on?" he yelled back. But with the relatively small wrist light as his only guide, he couldn't see anything more than their headlamps, which had stopped waving around but were moving in a large circular pattern. What the hell was going on?
"Virgil!" he tried again. "Gordon!"
It was then that he saw it. There was light beneath the water. Light coming from outside. They'd done it! They'd gotten through! The movement of their lamps…they must be caught in the water draining, that had to be it! They'd blown the door and gotten caught in a whirlpool! Alan could swim over there, but he knew he'd get caught in it, too. And if they got hurt he'd need to be healthy enough to help after the water had drained.
The youngest Tracy just had to wait it out.
"It sounds like he's coming to." Ruth lifted Kyrano's head and shoulders until he was in a sitting position.
He looked around, confused. "What happened?"
"Father," Tin-Tin said quietly, "you've had another of your episodes."
"Again?" Kyrano asked, shaking his head as his daughter nodded hers. "Tell me, did I say anything?"
"You were mumbling, but I couldn't make out any words."
"Kyrano, are you well enough to stand? We should get to the observation deck."
"Are the boys there?" he asked as the women helped him to his feet.
"We're not sure. Alan went to find Virgil and Gordon," Tin-Tin replied. "But everything shook around us just now and we don't know why. Maybe they found a way out."
"Well, they certainly didn't get the generator working," Grandma commented.
Tin-Tin provided them with flashlights from a kitchen cabinet. They moved into the hall, turned the corner, and went down a longer corridor that led past the rooms of the Kyranos and Ruth, along with some guest rooms. Beyond that was the entrance to the tunnel that would take them to their destination where they hoped the Tracy men – all of them – would be waiting.
John paced the floor in front of the main console. It had been an interminable seventy minutes since the tidal wave had hit Tracy Island. Everything had gone dark. He couldn't get through to their personal communicators or their cell phones.
He'd tried over and over for nearly all those minutes to get the villa, the lab, the roundhouse, their watches, the Thunderbirds; nothing worked. He wasn't allowed to call Lady Penelope, as she and Parker were on a top secret undercover mission for the British government and hadn't taken FAB-1 or their IR communicators, or even Penny's compact mirror for fear of unwanted interruptions.
John knew that even if power on the island was out, there was something else, a jammer of some sort that had to be at work. It was the only explanation. He couldn't help but fret about the safety of his family, but had to come up with something better than hoping they'd get online any time soon. That's when he knew what he could do. Hell, Google Maps had been doing it for years, and Thunderbird 5 had more technology than those geeks.
Sliding into his wheeled chair, John's fingers flew across a keyboard as he accessed the satellite nearest the South Pacific. An old one from the 1980s, it still worked remarkably well, even being called the mysteriously miraculous machine by scientists on Earth. Little did they know that John Tracy himself kept the satellite in pristine condition. It was one of many he would tap into whenever he wanted to know what was going on somewhere.
He entered the coordinates and got the standard blue/white/green marble image, pinpointed on his home. He then zoomed to fourteen thousand percent and frowned at the amount of static that appeared. There was some sort of picture beyond, and he set about telling 5's filters to clean out as much of the noise as possible. Even with all that power at his fingertips, there was only so much his 'Bird could do. At last he could see well enough for all the color to drain from his face.
The runway was covered in helicopters. Water gushed from the side entry to Thunderbird 2's hangar. The hurricane shields were still up. Men gathered along the tarmac in amongst their 'copters looked like military of some sort. But that wasn't what made his skin crawl. It was the bald man standing just far enough from the rushing water as to be out of its reach. He most definitely was not military. And the look on his face flipped John's stomach over and over again.
Panning around, John saw at least three dozen of the soldier-like men, all holding weapons at the ready. There'd be no weapons if this were a rescue mission sent to the island to help his family, if they'd been able to call out locally for help. No, these men were not there to lend a hand and he knew it. The pool was closed and everything else seemed largely intact if you didn't count the palm leaves and other debris scattered everywhere.
But it was the next thing to come into view that made John grip the side of his console in fear. Virgil and Gordon came shooting from the only opening visible, looking like drowned rats. They tumbled to a stop some twenty feet from the cliff base and were immediately surrounded by ten men pointing guns at them. Virgil happened to look up, as though directly into John's eyes. He saw a flash of uncertainty, of alarm, before his brother's professionally placid demeanor returned.
He said something to Gordon as John breathed, "No…there has to be something…this can't be happening…"
Gordon rose to his knees and was jabbed in the back by one of the soldiers. The bald man approached them and laughed. John could tell he was speaking. Gordon said something and it earned him a crack to the head. John watched the aquanaut sprawl unconscious to the asphalt and gasped. Virgil was spoken to next and his response, at least, didn't result in violence. Instead, the bald man laughed heartily.
In short order both men had their hands cuffed behind their backs. Virgil was dragged to his feet while Gordon was just dragged by his feet. Some water still came from the door, but it was barely more than a trickle now. The bald man followed them inside with six men in tow; the rest scattered to various points surrounding the helicopters.
John slammed his fist down hard and his Thunderbird bleeped in protest. "I'm sorry, girl," he said, nursing his pained palm. "Think of a way to save them, 5. You have to help me."
As if answering him, the console whirred softly. John knew it was only a cooling fan, but he felt a small measure of comfort anyway, like he wasn't truly alone. Like he wasn't going to have to sit up here and watch his entire family taken hostage.
Or worse.
As if to drive the point home that for once he wasn't in charge of all things having to do with communicating, the feed disappeared. Try as he might, he just could not get the picture back.