Oil rig, Atlantic Ocean

A worker on the rig spotted the large green shape of Thunderbird 2 approaching. He quickly went to the radio.

On Thunderbird 2

Virgil brought his 'Bird in close to the rig and had a look around. "John, are you sure you heard right? There appears to be absolutely nothing wrong with this rig. No signs of any sort of disaster at all. Everyone's just going about their business. Did you get the right coordinates?"

"Yes," John replied from Thunderbird 5. "These are the coordinates given in the distress call, and they match the coordinates the signal came from."

Virgil began to pull away. "Well, someone obviously thought it would be fun to pull a... prank."

He stumbled over the last word because just then, several Global Defence Force (GDF) ships emerged from below and surrounded Thunderbird 2. "International Rescue," a commander said over loudspeaker, "you are under arrest. You are ordered to surrender immediately. Come peacefully... or be fired upon."

"Thunderbird 2," John said over the communicator, "what's going on?" He had detected 2 being surrounded by ships and stopping.

"Oh, we're in deep shit, John," Virgil replied. "Really deep shit."

On Tracy Island

Jeff was enjoying a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. Then John's portrait beeped and his eyes flashed. Jeff pressed a button, and John's hologram projected. "What's up, John?"

"Dad, Virgil and Gordon have been arrested by the GDF. The oil rig was a set-up!" John informed him.

Jeff slowly put his face in his hands. "What the hell is going on?"

"Well," John said, "I don't know. But whatever it is, it's not good!"

In space

Eric Jarman woke from his horrific nightmare, both relieved that it was a dream, and at the same time wishing he hadn't watched Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom just before coming up here. A few seconds later, he registered. Beeping. Coming from the other room. That could only mean – International Rescue had been found!

He rushed into the main room. There, sure enough, was the exact location of IR's base – right in the middle of the South Pacific. He quickly went to the communicator.

In London

With too much time on her hands, Colonel Casey, the cold, calculating and ruthless commander-in-chief of the GDF, had sat down and turned on the TV. Thankfully, one of the channels was playing her favourite movie, Raiders of the Lost Ark, so she'd sat down to watch. Ten minutes into the film, however – just as Indiana Jones was about to work out what the Nazis were after – her officer posing as an oil rig worker had called to say that TB2 was approaching. She'd immediately given the order to move in. Then she went back to her movie.

Now – just as Indiana was rescuing Marion – Eric Jarman called in from the spy satellite. Grumbling to herself at the second interruption, she answered it. "What is it, Jarman? It better be good."

"Colonel Casey," Jarman reported, "I have found International Rescue's hideaway. It's in the South Pacific, near Australia." And he gave the exact coordinates.

Casey immediately forgot her movie. "Excellent work, Jarman."

"Thank you, Colonel. Also, Thunderbird 2 appears to have headed to some place in the Atlantic or somewhere."

"Yes, I know," the Colonel replied. "Caught in a trap, they're being escorted to a GDF prison now."

"Oh, good," Jarman grinned. "Also, Thunderbird 3 launched into space."

"Where did they go?" Casey asked.

"Dunno," Jarman replied. "Somewhere deeper into space. I couldn't track it."

"Huh," the Colonel mused. Well, keep an eye out for its return, won't you? In the meantime, the strike force is almost ready. We attack the island in 48 hours."

"Sure thing, Colonel," Jarman saluted, then disappeared.

Colonel Casey then reached over and pressed a button. A hologram of her second-in-command, Colonel Martin Janus, appeared in front of her. "Colonel Casey," he said. "What news?"

"We have IR's location," Casey replied, and gave him the coordinates. Make sure the strike force is ready. I'll head out to Australia immediately."

"Yes, ma'am," Janus replied, then hung up.

Colonel Casey smiles to herself. Everything was going to plan. She turned off the television – just as Indy arrived in Egypt – and called a GDF flyer to take her Australia. Then she quickly packed.

In Thunderbird 5

John overheard Jarman's and Casey's conversation. They had gotten the right coordinates, alright. He had eyes on the satellite. Brains had fitted TB5 with self-defense in the unlikely event that someone tried to attack. He really didn't want to do it, but he had no choice.

He aimed the laser cannon at the satellite. And fired.

The satellite – and its occupant – were no more.

Then he called in to Tracy Island. As usual, Jeff (looking more worried than usual) answered. "Any more bad news?"

"Well..." John began. "The GDF have our location and will attack in 48 hours."

Jeff was stunned. "How the hell did they work that one out?"

John explained about the secret, unregistered satellite. "And they have the correct coordinates. Colonel Casey will lead the strike."

Jeff looked even sicker. Colonel Casey? That was even worse news. And not for the reasons his sons thought. He pressed a button. "Everyone, get in here. Now."

Within five minutes, they were all assembled. Jeff made sure Alan and Kayo were listening, and told them the news. "I'm implementing Defence Protocol Delta. We're evacuating to our secondary base, Tracy Island II."

"Wait, we have a second base?" Alan asked.

"Yeah, prepared specifically for a situation like this. Understandably, it was top secret," Scott explained.

"That is correct," Jeff said. "We have less than 48 hours to evacuate. So let's get cracking! Brains, get over to the island and activate the systems there. And make sure you get your smaller equipment over there, too. Scott, start transporting the remaining Thunderbirds there. Everyone else, pack your belongings. As quickly as you can!"

Everybody jumped into action. Brains went over to the teleportation tubes, entered one, and selected Tracy Island II. He was immediately there. The others went to carry out their instructions.

In a GDF flyer over South America (heading for Australia), a few hours later

Colonel Casey was researching any known islands in the coordinates, and their inhabitants. There was only one. At the exact coordinates. Owned by a billionaire ex-astronaut named Jeff Tracy...

She started, her hands trembling and her face going pale.

Jeff...