GORDON woke to find himself in an unfamiliar bed. He was still in the blue jumpsuit of his uniform but his boots and yellow utility sash were down on the floor and draped across a chair respectively. He was in a smart and well cleaned room which was clearly not his own. "Where the heck am I?" Gordon asked himself out loud. He'd had such a long, deep sleep that he was struggling to remember what had happened the previous day. He got off the bed and scratched his head. Then he heard a knock at the door. "Er, hello?"
The door opened and a young woman in a Navy uniform entered carrying a tray with coffee and toast on it. "Good morning, Mr Tracy," she said. "I hope you slept well?"
"Er…yeah…I think?" Gordon answered, confused.
The young woman smiled as she placed the tray on a nearby table. "The Commander asked to see you when you're done. We'll be arriving in just under two hours." She gave another sweet smile and then left, leaving Gordon even more confused.
He went over to the curtains and drew them back so he could see through the window. A large flat calm ocean could be seen with a coastline just visible on the horizon. Just to the right of his view through the window he could just make out the shape of Thunderbird 4, with a somewhat damaged port thruster. And then it all came back to him. "Ohhhhh, of course!"
5!
4!
3!
2!
1!
"Thunderbirds Are Go!"
"DANGEROUS CARGO"
GORDON joined the Commander of the USS Sentinel on the bridge as it drew closer to Sydney. On a monitor screen on the back wall, they watched a live video feed from the World Navy flagship Indiana where Admiral Jellicoe was interrogating Captain Barker.
"When the Captain of the Vanguard told me they'd picked you up after the Tigershark went down, I found it very hard to believe. And yet, here you are. Before my very eyes. Max Barker."
Barker remained silent and still, his arms folded.
"I honestly thought you and your cronies were rotting away inside a dark and damp Bereznik Prison Cell," Jellicoe continued. "Yet somehow you managed to escape their custody and get your hands on their most advanced yet not-yet-commissioned submarine. How did you do that?"
Barker still remained silent.
"Silence, eh?" said Jellicoe. "Well, you can try this for as long as you want, Max. But I have my orders. You and your surviving crew are to be taken to Unity City where you will answer to the World President himself. Just what in the blazes did you think you'd achieve by doing what you did the past few months?!"
Still silent. Barker didn't even seem to blink.
"In a forty-eight hour period, you sank six vessels of the World Navy's Asian Division," Jellicoe said. "A Destroyer. Four Submarines. One Frigate with a second severely damaged. Numerous cargo aircraft shot down prior to that. The attempted murder of former Admiral Beatty and his family. And then the attack on International Rescue."
"They attacked us!" Barker suddenly spoke for the first time. "What right did they have to get involved? Or was it because your ships' crews were so incompetent that they couldn't catch us?"
This made Jellicoe angry. "Watch your tongue, Max!" he snapped. "You are in-"
"I AM SUPERIOR!" Barker suddenly roared, making everyone jump. "YOU ARE NOTHING! I WAS MADE CAPTAIN LONG BEFORE YOU WERE EVEN A SUB-LIEUTENANT! AND NOW THAT YOU'RE AN ADMIRAL, THAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN BE SUPERIOR TO ME?!"
"YOU KILLED INNOCENT PEOPLE, BARKER!" shouted Jellicoe. "DON'T YOU EVEN CARE?!"
"DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE?!" Barker bellowed back.
"Turn that damn thing off!" ordered the Commander.
Officer Clayton switched off the screen.
The Commander walked over to the windows at the front of the missile cruiser's bridge. "We don't need to listen to that trash anymore," he said. He turned to Gordon. "My apologies for that, Mr Tracy."
"That's okay, sir," Gordon said. "Although, if I'm allowed to ask…who exactly is that guy?"
"Max Barker," said the Commander. "He used to serve in the Royal Navy. he had quite a reputation for being overly aggressive. He was fierce and unforgiving. Some guys admired him. Others respected him. Others feared him. Even some of the Admirals had their reservations about him. All he ever wanted was to be in command of his own vessel."
"Did he get it?" Gordon asked.
"He did…but at the wrong time," said the Commander.
Gordon was confused. "How so?"
"The day after he was given command of his own sub - HMS Argonaut, the Global Conflict ended. The ceasefire was ordered. He was furious. He wanted to become a submarine ace. Now the chance for that had gone."
"So what happened?" asked Gordon. Deep down he felt uneasy in case he was asking too many questions.
"He ignored the orders to stand down," said the Commander, grimly. "He took up position off the Bereznik Coast and shot down an aircraft, claiming it was a military target. It wasn't. It was a civilian airliner full of innocent Bereznik people. It was his intention to destroy the peace and start the war again."
Gordon shuddered. "Guessing he was caught?"
"Yes, he and his crew were found by other members of the World Navy and forced to stop after they tried to run for it. When asked to explain himself, he claimed he'd never received the ceasefire order. But one of his crew betrayed him, revealing that they had. Barker tried to kill the man right in front of the court-martial group." The Commander paused and adjusted his cap. "The World Council was determined to keep the peace at all costs. So they offered Barker and his loyal crewmembers who willingly went along with him to the Berezniks to stand trial for what they'd done. They accepted and the Navy handed them over. Barker swore he'd get revenge, but given the effectiveness of the Bereznik forces, I genuinely believed they'd been executed."
"Hence why when this mystery sub started targeting planes in the Indian Ocean, nobody suspected him?" said Gordon.
The Commander nodded. "Plus it's been over thirty years. That's a long time, Mr Tracy. Most people would have forgotten all about him."
Clayton came over. "Excuse me, sir. Approaching port now.2
"Thank you," said the Commander.
Just then a rumble was heard and a familiar shape to Gordon flew overhead. It was Thunderbird 2, heading for the Navy Yard to pick up Thunderbird 4 once it had been off-loaded. This brought a smile to his face.
"Looks like your ride is arriving ahead of us," chuckled the Commander.
"Yes, it does," Gordon replied. He paused for a second and thought about what he'd learned. "I still struggle to comprehend how anyone would want the war to continue," he said.
"I know what you mean," agreed the Commander. "The trouble is with this world, Mr Tracy…some men just want the fight. Some just want to watch the world burn."
Gordon could relate to that, thinking of The Hood and his fellow Cabal members. Something like the Tigershark incident could very easily have been their doing. And yet it hadn't been.
"Not all men though," the Commander continued. "There will always be good people still around to stand in their way. People like you, Mr Tracy.2
This made Gordon feel warm inside. "Well…er…thank you, sir," he said, humbled. He shook the man's hand. A glance out of the window told him they were getting closer to the dock. "I'd better get back to my ship," he said. "I expect she'll be offloaded ASAP. Thank you again, Commander." He began to head for the door.
"Mr Tracy…"
Gordon stopped and turned back to the Commander who saluted him.
"Thank you."
Gordon beamed and nodded before leaving the bridge.
Once the Sentinel had docked, Thunderbird 4 was offloaded onto a special truck before being transported along the quayside to a large helipad where Thunderbird 2 was waiting. Soon it had been transferred into Module 4 and Gordon was back in the co-pilot's seat next to Virgil.
"Good to have you back, bro," Virgil said warmly.
"Good to be back," Gordon replied happily.
Virgil then spoke into the radio. "Base Control, this is Thunderbird 2. Permission for take-off?"
"Permission granted," came the answer. "Godspeed, International Rescue. And thank you."
Thunderbird 2's VTOL engines fired and the great green goliath lifted off the ground. It gained altitude as it flew over Sydney Harbour and headed back out across the Coral Sea towards where Tracy Island was located.
"How was your night aboard the Sentinel?" Virgil asked.
"Not bad," Gordon replied. "But it felt weird being with a whole load of strangers."
"I can get that," said Virgil. "At least you're back with us now."
"Yeah," said Gordon. He then fell silent.
Virgil glanced to his left and noticed Gordon looking crestfallen. "You okay?" he asked.
"I dunno," Gordon said. "I guess I'm kind of tense."
"What about?"
"About the dressing-down I'm probably gonna get from Dad and Brains when we get back," said Gordon.
"Why would they do that?" Virgil asked.
"Oh, come on, Virg," said Gordon. "You know Brains hates it when we damage our ships. And Dad's probably got some choice words for me for putting myself and Thunderbird 4 in peril by directly attacking that sub head-on."
"Brains needs to remember that these ships are built to take knocks and have them fixed like any other emergency vehicle," Virgil said. "I can't speak for Dad, but he knew the risk as much as you did, Gordon. I can't imagine he'll come down too hard on you."
"I hope you're right," Gordon said.
Gordon seldom knew Virgil to be wrong, and on this occasion he wasn't. Upon returning to Tracy Island, the two brothers went straight to the lounge where they were greeted by Alan, Scott, Grandma, Kayo and Jeff, all of whom gave him a big welcome back.
Gordon felt he'd better be a man and come clean about his feelings. "Dad…I'm sorry for putting myself in that situation."
"It's okay, son," said Jeff. "You boys put yourselves in deadly danger whenever you go out on a mission. This one was no exception."
Gordon felt a little relieved. But he hadn't failed to notice that Brains wasn't among them. "Where's Brains?" he asked.
"Probably already checking over Thunderbird 4," said Alan.
Gordon gulped. A brief awkward silence followed.
Jeff cleared his throat. "Let's go see him, Gordon," he said.
"I'll come too," said Scott following his father and brother out of the room.
"He's worried about what Brains might say, isn't he?" said Kayo.
"Scott, Dad or Gordon?" asked Alan.
"What do you think?" asked Grandma.
"I think Scott might be going to make sure nothing happens," said Virgil.
"Brains isn't gonna kick off at Gordon, is he?" asked Alan.
"If he does, he'll have to deal with your father," said Grandma firmly.
Gordon, Jeff and Scott headed down to Brains' laboratory and workshop where they found him examining the damage that Thunderbird 4 had sustained. As they approached, he had his back to them. They could hear him muttering as they approached. Gordon could feel himself tense up. To him it sounded as though Brains was muttering angry words, but he couldn't be sure.
"How does it look, Brains?" asked Jeff.
Brains got to his feet and turned to face them. "Actually it's n-not as bad as I thought, Mr Tracy," he said. "The damage is minimal and can be repaired. But…"
"I had a feeling that was coming," groaned Gordon.
"I d-don't currently have the correct components to make the repair," said Brains. "We're gonna have to order them in."
"Leave that to me, Brains," said Jeff. "Just tell me what's required and I'll order it."
"Thank you, M-Mr Tracy," said Brains. "It d-does unfortunately mean you're without a ship for a few w-weeks, Gordon."
Gordon felt his heart sink.
"No, he's not," said Scott. "What about the other one in the tank? We have two Thunderbird 4s, remember, Brains?"
"Oh, yes!" said Brains. "You know what, I k-keep forgetting about that one!" He gave a small chuckle.
"Well, that settles it," said Jeff. "Let me know when you have those parts, Brains, and I'll put the order in."
"Y-Yes, Mr Tracy," said Brains.
Jeff's watch then beeped. "Yes, John?"
John's hologram appeared from the watch face. "Dad, Admiral Jellicoe wishes to speak with you."
"Tell him I'll be with him in a few minutes, John."
"F-A-B."
Jeff headed off with Gordon following. Brains turned his attention back to Thunderbird 4.
Scott was just about to head off when he heard Brains start muttering again. He hadn't noticed before but now he was hearing what Gordon felt he heard. Brains didn't sound happy. "You okay, Brains?"
Brains looked up. "Hmm? Sorry, Scott, I was d-deep in thought. What did you say?"
"I said 'Are you okay'?" Scott repeated.
"W-Why wouldn't I be?" Brains asked.
Scott raised an eyebrow. He then looked to make sure Gordon and Jeff were. "Brains, I know you don't like it when the ships get damaged. If Gordon could have prevented this from happening, he would have."
"I am aware of that S-Scott," Brains replied shortly.
Scott noted the tone in Brains's voice. He chose to leave it at that. Instead, he walked away in silence, leaving Brains to mutter darkly to himself. Neither of them had noticed that Gordon was just out of sight around the corner, having heard everything they'd said and feeling even more uncomfortable about it.
"I think I speak for everyone in the World Navy of just how grateful we are to you and your team, Mr Tracy," Admiral Jellicoe said. "I'm sorry that one of your craft got damaged though."
"It was a risk that had to be taken, Admiral," answered Jeff. "My son Gordon knew the risk and he performed admirably."
"Try telling Brains that," Gordon murmured to Virgil.
"Shhh," Virgil replied quietly.
"If you wish for it, I can arrange for the repairs to your craft to be carried out by us as repayment?" said Admiral Jellicoe.
"That's very kind of you, Admiral, but she's already in the process of being repaired," said Jeff with a smile. "We always keep spare parts in case our ships get damaged."
"I see. Very well," said the Admiral. "Thank you again, International Rescue."
"Anytime, Admiral," said Jeff. "If anyone in your ranks gets into a situation that you can't resolve, never be afraid to call us if lives are in danger."
Admiral Jellicoe grinned broadly. "I will remember that, Mr Tracy," he said. He paused for a second. "Actually, there's one thing that you guys could help us with if you're willing?"
The Tracy's all looked at each other, unsure of what to make of this.
Jeff tried not to frown. "And what would that be, Admiral?"
"Before the Tigershark took up my full attention, my first assignment as Admiral for the World Navy's Asia division was something called 'Operation Disposal'," explained Jellicoe. "I have been tasked with disposing of one fifth of the world's nuclear waste."
Alan whistled. "That's a lot of radioactive material to get rid of," he remarked.
Jeff scratched his chin thoughtfully. "And how does that involve us?" he asked.
"You won't need to do anything with the operation itself, Mr Tracy," said Admiral Jellicoe. "The final stages are being finalised. I would just like a reliable team on hand in case God-forbid something goes wrong."
Knowing full well of the dangers of nuclear power, Jeff was more than keen to see the back of the deadly material. "How are you going to do this?" he asked.
Three days after Jeff's talk with Admiral Jellicoe, Operation Disposal was given the go ahead from the World President and two days after that the operation began in full.
From the World Navy base in Sydney, two ships set out on a dangerous journey into the vastness of the Pacific Ocean. One was a small but fast armoured Escort called Trojan that had a top speed of around fifty knots which was faster than any of the large warships. Even the Sentinel and Indiana couldn't reach that. The other was a large and long cargo ship that was painted red with large yellow and black radiation symbols and markings. It had no superstructure and was just mighty in length. It looked like a barge only the size of a tanker. It was inside this that the first cargo of radioactive waste was stored. Its destination was a vast area of the Pacific that had no islands in a five-hundred mile radius. This was so that when the ship exploded, the radioactive waste could be harmlessly disposed of and cause no damage to anything or anyone.
For two days the ships headed across the Coral Sea, past the Solomon Islands and headed out deep into the South Pacific towards the disposal zone. Inside the Trojan was a two man crew. Captain Eric Spruance and his second man Navigator Howard Upton.
"Detonation position zero-minus-fifteen, Captain," Upton reported.
"Right," said Spruance. "Check the area for any stragglers."
Upton studied the ship's radar and sonar equipment very carefully before he answered. "All clear, sir."
"Good," said Spruance. "Make a ninety-degree turn to Port and full emergency speed. Now!"
The small escort ship turned sharply away from the Transport and picked up speed. Racing across the ocean leaving a long wake behind it. The Transport was left alone, sailing under remote-control towards its final destination.
After a sprint of about ten minutes, the Trojan had managed to get fifty miles from the Transport which was just outside the minimum safety distance for it. "Activate radiation shields," ordered Spruance.
Upton flicked a switch. "Shields active, sir."
Spruance glanced at the clock on the wall of the bridge. "Three minutes to go," he said.
One minute passed. Two. Three.
BOOM! The bright blue tranquil sea and sky of the Pacific was bathed in a blinding white light as a huge ball of fire not seen since the Bikini Atoll nuclear tests had taken place over a century before rose into the air, turning the sky and water bright red for a few moments. Then it eventually faded away with the mushroom cloud still in the sky but the light gradually turning to a misty yellow.
Three hundred miles away on Tracy Island, Jeff, Scott and Virgil watched through binoculars whilst wearing sunglasses. Even at that distance, the light was still blinding.
"There she goes," said Jeff. "On your way, Scott."
"F-A-B," answered Scott. He walked over to the revolving wall panel and removed his sunglasses. He headed down to Thunderbird 1, changing into his uniform along the way. Once aboard his craft it was moved up to the launch bay whilst the swimming pool moved back out of the way.
5! 4! 3! 2! 1!
Thunderbird 1 roared as it lifted off its pad and climbed into the sky above Tracy Island.
Virgil and Jeff watched as Thunderbird 1 raced away from the island heading towards where the explosion had been.
"The Admiral sure seemed pleased when you agreed to allow Thunderbird 1 to check the risk of any radiation fallout, Dad," said Virgil.
"Yes, son," replied Jeff. "Whilst the World Navy has made every effort to nullify radiation hazard, a double-check is always a good thing."
Despite the distance of three-hundred miles, Thunderbird 1 took absolutely no time at all to reach the area where the transport ship had exploded. The light of the sky was getting more back to its usual colour as Scott began his survey. Using scanners linked to Thunderbird 5, Scott scanned the whole blast radius to see how high the levels of radiation were.
"The levels of radiation are in the green, Thunderbird 5," Scott reported.
"Copy that, Thunderbird 1," answered John. "My scans are reading the same. Head back to base and I'll put in a report to the authorities."
"F-A-B."
Thunderbird 1 turned and headed for home. As he made the fast journey back, Scott looked through a rear-view camera back at the site. Although he didn't say it, he couldn't help a strange feeling that at some point, this operation could end up going badly wrong.