Chapter Five
John Tracy was crawling out of his own skin, cursing the fact that he didn't have an emergency way of getting off Thunderbird 5 and back home. Imagine the element of surprise if he were able to come swooping in from the sky with guns blazing. Imagine how he'd be able to take out all those men and their blasted helicopters.
But he couldn't because International Rescue didn't have that. He made a mental note, if he ever saw his family again, to tell his father in no uncertain terms that they either needed to automate 5 so no one was ever stranded up here, or equip her with a re-entry vehicle, period. He'd broached the subject before but the project always seemed to wind up on the back burner. This time he wouldn't let that happen.
"Damn, damn, dammit, sonofabitch!" he exclaimed not for the first time as he paced restlessly before the main console. There had to be something else, there had to be a way…why could he not get through? He'd run diagnostic after diagnostic. 5 was in tip-top shape, all antennae working at one hundred percent but still he couldn't get through. The fact that their cell phones kept going directly to voice mail also made no sense, as they ran on land towers and not through his Thunderbird at all. It had to do with the fact that those he was trying to reach were on the island, but how?
What should he do…should he call New Zealand? Australia? Summon their governments and hope to hell they'd keep the secrets they'd find on Tracy Island? Maybe the World Navy. They still felt so bad about shooting Thunderbird 2 down, would they be able to help? He checked their locations. As fast as their ships were, it would still be at least eight hours before the nearest could get within sight of the island.
And if somehow everything turned out to be all right so far below his orbit, John would have singlehandedly destroyed International Rescue by letting strangers go to Base when it was so exposed. No, the military simply could not be trusted. His father and brother had made that clear in more than one conversation on the subject.
What about their agents? There were two in New Zealand alone, not to mention the one in Fiji, two in Japan and the three in Australia. Surely they could be of some use. As he was pulling up their contact information, it occurred to him that he was standing on-board the most powerful satellite in existence but was helpless to render aid without potentially destroying all they had worked for.
Powerful satellite…he thought back to a movie Gordon had made him watch last month when he'd been home. He couldn't for the life of him remember the name of it right now but in it, a super-genius had been able to use the satellites in orbit of Earth to target a destructive beam to a single pinpoint on the planet.
Wait a minute…super-genius! Brains! Why hadn't he thought of that before?
"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" John growled, using one balled-up fist to hit his forehead repeatedly in time with the mantra. "His watch should work! He's not on the island, he's in Los Angeles!"
Sliding into the command chair he scooted just right of center and hit the emergency signal that would make Brains' watch vibrate on his wrist. A returning signal told him message received. Two minutes later, the face of the man who'd invented nearly everything International Rescue used appeared on the screen before him.
"John, you're lucky I, ah, wasn't speaking. What's going—?"
"Shut up and listen to me!" John snapped.
Eyes widening, Brains nervously pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. "What's happened?"
They had just taken out three black-clad men between the two of them and Alan got the idea from the way Scott was doubled over all that was not well. "You all right?"
Scott scowled at him. "You crack an old man joke and I'll show you how all right I am."
Alan grinned, never happier to be on the receiving end of his brother's ire, given that merely an hour ago he didn't know whether he'd ever see him again. But Scott didn't appear to be doing as well as he proclaimed. Like Jeff he was limping, and other than the fact that he was filthy, also appeared several shades too pale and would wince every now and again as they made their way along the monorail track to Thunderbird 2's hangar.
He had been through a lot, Alan reminded himself; both he and their father had literally fought for their lives out there. That they hadn't been swept clear out to sea or killed by the wall of water itself was nothing short of miraculous. That they were still walking, talking and even partaking in this rescue was downright nuts, he concluded. They should be resting. Alan snorted out loud. As if those two would ever lie in bed while their island was being taken over.
His thoughts darkened. This Belah Gaat, this half-uncle of Tin-Tin's – from the way Kyrano made it sound, he was badder than bad. There had been so many odd things happen throughout International Rescue's time in operation, and he suddenly wondered if Gaat had been at the root of some of it. If his aim all along had been to get to them and their technology, why would it be such a leap to think he'd been out there either causing disasters that would require International Rescue or waiting at various danger zones to try to overtake them? For that matter, how had he even found Tracy Island?
Alan stopped short, breathing in sharply as the wheels of his mind churned. It couldn't be. Sure, he was known for leaps of logic; that was part and parcel of who the baby of the family was. They all expected odd thoughts from Alan which, when tested, usually turned out to be the right moves. But this idea that was now forming in his head was almost too horrible to give words to. When Scott barked his name, Alan jumped and found he was shaking.
"Come on, we have to get to Gordon and Virgil!" Scott reprimanded, shining his watch-light on his brother. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."
"Scott, what if this tidal wave that hit the island was no natural disaster?"
"What do you mean?"
"What if Kyrano's half-brother caused this to happen? Planned this entire thing to give him the advantage he needed? It makes perfect sense!"
"Alan, I'm not inside your head with you. How could any man not only cause a tsunami, but time it in such a way as to suit his own purposes?"
Alan's eyes seemed to look inward as he spoke. "If he disrupted the tectonic plates on purpose, like with a very large series of explosions, he could have made them move in such a way that he knew it would create a tidal wave. He could even ensure it was going to go the direction he wanted, and then all he had to do was wait for Tracy Island to be hit, then swoop in for the kill." Alan looked up into the shadows of Scott's face. "Isn't it just a little too coincidental that we get hit by something we've never even been in danger from before and immediately afterwards, Gaat shows up?"
"You know, you may be onto something here, as crazy as it sounds," Scott replied, rubbing his chin. "Tell you what. When we catch Gaat, we'll check your theory and see if it holds water."
"No pun intended," Alan finished for him as they continued on their way.
"You ready?" Virgil asked, then looked at his brother and opened his mouth before shutting it without further sound.
"What?"
"That's what you're arming yourself with?" Virgil gestured toward the item Gordon was fastening to the belt strapped 'round his waist.
"And why not? You know anything that flies better than a three-inch nail?"
"A laser beam?"
"You know there aren't any laser pistols or rifles in here. Besides, this baby can hit a target fifty yards away."
"And you know this how?"
Gordon just looked at him.
"Right, better I don't know. We'll have to tell Dad to hell with locking all weapons up post-rescue from now on. Especially when we have nail guns on the loose."
"Ha," Gordon replied, looking up at the side of Firefly. "You ready, O Great Pilot?"
Virgil narrowed his eyes as he hoisted himself up to the cockpit and dropped in. "Too bad there's only room in here for one," he said sarcastically.
"And you wonder why I have the nail gun," Gordon deadpanned in return. "All right, I'll set the charges as soon as you're in position, then vault up onto the fender and be ready."
Virgil frowned. "Are you sure you can hang on?"
"No. There's nothing to hang onto. But if that bald guy or his men are out there I have a feeling I won't be staying up for very long anyway. Besides, this is really our only way out since we can't get the door to unlock."
"Well, be careful," was the last thing he said before lowering himself into the cockpit and sealing the door over his head. He knew it wasn't necessary to say, but Gordon was the one taking all the risks here. While Virgil would be nestled safely inside Firefly, Gordon would be exposed to whatever the invaders decided to shoot at him with.
The idea was that Firefly would provide enough cover for Gordon to get to 4. Once inside the submarine he'd be safe enough for the most part, although 4 hadn't been designed to withstand direct repeated laser fire for any length of time.
Still, they really had no idea what was going on beyond Pod 1. They couldn't figure out why the door wouldn't unlock nor could they see anything but static on the screen that should be showing them what was directly outside.
And so Firefly was going to be used in conjunction with some very basic plastique explosives they'd rigged in eight spots around the door. Those would blow simultaneously with Firefly ramming with as much speed as Virgil could gather from the opposite end of the pod. And while everything was exploding, tearing apart and creating general mayhem, without knowing what conditions were on the other side, Gordon would be laying on the left fender of Firefly just above the caterpillar tracks.
One wrong move and he could slide off and be crushed by the caterpillar's movement. One good shot from the enemy and he could be hurt or killed. There were any number of possible scenarios, none of them particularly good ones. But the two men had agreed that Gordon would need Firefly's protection to get to where Thunderbird 4 had been parked just to 2's left. Had been. What if those men had somehow gotten it to work or had otherwise moved it? Where would Gordon go then? What cover could he possibly take in the gigantic cavern that was 2's hangar?
Virgil resolved to just let it be. Gordon knew what he was getting into and if anyone could get out of a tight situation, it was the highly resourceful and well-trained former WASP officer. Besides, for all they knew, their family was trying to get in as much as they were trying to get out. In that case, Virgil hoped none of them were in the way when they put this plan into action.
"I thought Alan said Gordon and Virgil were in 2's hangar."
"He did, Mother. But something's not right. Tin-Tin and Kyrano should've had the power on by now. We need to make sure nothing's happened to them so we're detouring to C level."
Frowning, Ruth just held firmly to her son's hand as he pulled her along the passageway for Level A. They slowed and stopped at what Ruth saw was a staircase. She rarely came down into the bowels of the island, and so was unfamiliar with its layout. Jeff didn't move. "What is it?"
He sniffed the air. "Do you smell that?"
She mimicked his action and nodded. "Yes, I do! It smells like smoke!"
"That's what I thought. You need to stay here while I check it out."
"Like hell. You aren't leaving me all alone in a dark corridor, Jefferson Grant Tracy. Besides, I have the bullet-proof vest you made me wear. I'll be okay."
Jeff nodded and slowly they descended, the smoke smell becoming stronger and stronger. When they reached the fifteenth and final step, Jeff stopped. "I don't see any glow that would indicate fire. Maybe it's the next deck down."
As they headed through the hall, Ruth tried not to think about her family being in danger. She would do anything she could to prevent that. She owed them so much. Each in their own way had made absolutely certain she was somehow included in their world so she wouldn't feel old, useless and out-of-place.
She wasn't sure if they did so consciously or if it was just the sweet side of them they'd never admit to. Like when Virgil would incline his head while in the midst of a long concerto, and she would smile like a young girl, slide onto the bench next to him and sometimes lay her head on his arm, mesmerized by how effortlessly his fingers flowed along the ivories.
Or when Scott would flirt shamelessly with her right after she'd baked something chocolate, teasing her and flicking her apron strings until she quite literally chased him out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon. They had played this game from the time he could walk, but after Lucille's death the games had stopped because both had been far too exhausted from taking care of all the younger boys.
When she'd joined them on Tracy Island, her third night there they'd all begged her for her made-from-scratch chocolate cake. She'd been thrilled to be useful and had been elbow-deep in flour when out of her peripheral vision she'd noticed Scott hovering at the door. She remembered smiling and saying rather sternly, "Scott Tracy, you put a finger in that frosting and I'll have that finger permanently!"
As if being given permission to pick up where they'd left off so many years before, he had come in and started playing the same games with her, always managing to sneak something past her no matter how much she waved her cooking utensils. To this day he was relentless, using his now-longer legs and much greater height to gain the advantage, but still letting her win. Sometimes.
Ruth couldn't help but smile as she kept up with her son. Another fond memory surfaced, this time of Alan. "Come on, Grandma, it'll be fun!" She had been skeptical at best, but thought, what the heck. She was a Tracy woman, and no coward. She'd climbed into the passenger seat and waited for her youngest grandson to fasten a helmet to her head. Then he'd hopped into the driver's seat and started the car, revving the engine until she felt like her very bones were vibrating. But he hadn't yet pressed the gas pedal and she recalled turning to look at him, to ask him why.
"You really do trust me, don't you, Grandma?" he'd asked, all of seventeen years old at the time.
"Alan Tracy, what kind of question is that? Of course I do!" she'd replied with a huge grin.
No, inside she wasn't so certain that this wouldn't be her last ride ever, but she also knew that as danger-prone as the baby of the family was, he was not stupid and wouldn't deliberately put either of them in harm's way. That had been the first time she'd ever been in a race car. She and Alan had had a glorious time on back roads and had come home to catch hell from his father. She almost laughed out loud when she remembered Jeff saying he wanted to ground both of them but since he couldn't ground his own mother he guessed he had no right to ground Alan, either.
Her recollections were cut short when Jeff stopped at the top off another staircase. "There's the smoke," he said evenly, looking down. She peered over the edge and nodded. "Mother, I have to see what's happened."
She kept a tight hold on his hand. "Not without me. Where my son goes, I go."
He turned to face her and she thought she saw tears in his eyes. "Dad said that to me once."
She nodded. "When you went off to sign up for the Air Force. I remember."
"But he couldn't go with me."
"And didn't really want to. He just wanted you to know he was there for you even though you two were fighting like pit bulls at the time."
Hesitating only a fraction of a second, Jeff cleared his throat and started down the steps. "If it's too hot, you get back up here."
Ruth nodded and followed him down. It was quickly apparent that about a quarter of the way down and around the curved hallway to their right, something was burning. The glow was bright. "What would be on fire here?" Ruth asked, coughing a little from the smoke coming their way. "There's nothing but walls and doors in these hallways."
He let go of his mother's hand and sprinted toward the fire, heart pounding. "Jeff?" he heard her call, but kept going until he reached a sight he'd hoped never to have to see as long as he lived. A whoosh of air left his lungs as he dropped to his knees.
Reds, oranges and yellows danced across porcelain skin. He looked at the chest which was covered with ash but couldn't tell if there was movement. Long, dark brown hair was splayed haphazardly in every direction. He reached out to feel for a pulse and only started breathing again when he felt one.
"Thank God," he choked out, acrid smoke filling his lungs.
A figure appeared next to him. Looking up, he saw his mother's face but before either could say a word, a cry for help tore through the air. Jeff leapt to his feet.
"It's Kyrano!" Ruth cried, pointing toward the wall of fire. "He's trapped on the other side!"
"There's an extinguisher back there, I'll get it!" Jeff yelled.
Ruth glanced to the other side of the hall and saw one of the bad guys lying dead. Then she saw what had caused the fire. The wall was cut away, from the marks she guessed it was with laser fire, and the supplies that had been in the room behind it had fallen out and blocked the passage. This combination of plastic and other assorted materials burned hotly, giving off acrid smoke and fumes.
"Kyrano!" she yelled as loud as she could. "Are you hurt?"
The response was him yelling something she couldn't understand. For an instant she could see that he, too, was on fire. She looked down at her torso clad in the bullet-proof vest. "Well, I'm not fireproof, but…" She looked up again. Kyrano had dropped to the floor and cried out in pain. It was a sound that tore through her heart. "I'm coming!" she cried, and sprinted right into the wall of flames.
"Mother!" Jeff called out as he raced back to the scene. "Mother, no!"
But she was already out of sight. Jeff unlocked the extinguisher mechanism and began using it to try and cut a path through the fire. "Come on, come on," he muttered impatiently, trying to ignore Tin-Tin lying there unconscious. Just as he was starting to make some headway he heard a yell. He ceased spraying. "Mother?" he called out. "Kyrano?"
"All right!" he heard his mother holler back.
He started spraying the extinguisher again. A full minute later he broke through and tossed the mechanism to the floor as he rushed to them. The sight that greeted him was odd to say the least. Kyrano was face-down on the floor with Ruth face-down atop him, covering his head and as much of his body as her little torso could reach. The bullet-proof vest was between their bodies, and wisps of smoke rose from parts of what was left of Kyrano's clothing.
"What on Earth?" he asked, reaching down to lift her to her feet. But she was almost a ragdoll in his arms. "Mother? Are you all right?" he asked, alarmed, shaking her slightly.
Her eyes opened. Her hair was singed and there was black around her mouth and nostrils. But she smiled. "He was on fire," she whispered. Then she coughed; a wracking wheezing convulsion that shook every fiber of her being. "Glad you gave me that vest," she said, looking into his eyes. "It got the fire out." And then she went limp.
"Shit," Jeff swore. He carried her back to the relative safety of the way they'd come, then went back for Kyrano. Carefully Jeff helped his friend to his feet, noting his customary loose clothing was very fire damaged but had been his saving grace. A few of his hairs were burnt away but the burns to his skin were only minor. He seemed more dazed than anything.
The Malaysian man shook his head. "He has Tin-Tin," he squeaked, vocal cords destroyed by the heat and smoke. "We have to find him."
"No, she's here," Jeff said. "She's alive."
"The power," Kyrano croaked before he doubled over hacking and coughing. "The power."
"You're right," Jeff nodded. "Dammit!"
He looked up and was surprised to see Ruth walking toward them. "Go, Jeff," she said. "We have to get the power on for the boys," she said firmly.
Feeling more than just a little dazed himself from lack of oxygen, Jeff nodded as she held out her hands to take Kyrano from him. He put the other man's hands in hers and said, "Start back for Level B, I'll catch up with you fast."
Ruth nodded and walked slowly back through the path Jeff had made in the fire as he sprinted for the room that contained the generator not twenty feet away.
Kyrano nearly tripped over something and quickly realized it was a body. "Tin-Tin!" he cried, kneeling down. The woman was face-down and before thinking he quickly flipped her over. He gasped when he realized who he was looking at. In disbelief, he looked down at the face and back up into Ruth's eyes.
"I'm afraid that was too much for my old ticker," she said sadly, looking down at her lifeless body. "Never thought I'd go from a heart attack, but go I must. Tell Jeff…" she smiled as a man Kyrano recognized from Tracy family photo albums appeared next to her. "Tell Jeff there were never any prouder parents in the world than his. And tell him we love him. We love all of them, and will always watch over them."
Kyrano nodded as the apparitions of Ruth and Grant Tracy faded from sight, only to be replaced by someone that filled him with dread. "Belah," he whispered as the other man's bald head glowed in the firelight. But he wasn't alone and Kyrano's eyes widened. "No."