UPON the insistence of Grandma that he needed more time in the fresh air, Jeff had decided to come down to the pool with Brains and relax for a bit until Thunderbird 3 was due. It didn't entirely matter if he wasn't at his desk for if John or Alan called in, it would be directed straight to wherever Jeff was sitting. Brains being Brains was soon nose deep in one of his scientific books whilst Jeff sipped an ice-cool drink and watched as his sons and Kayo continued to play in the pool.
"You know, Brains, there's a part of me that wishes I could join them," he said after a while. "But Doc has advised me against it ever since I got that ear infection a year or two back, if you recall?"
Brains only gave a small grunt in response and didn't look up from his book.
Jeff wasn't offended. He knew how easily lost Brains could be in one of his books. Instead he smiled and began to wonder how Brains didn't seem to get too hot in the clothes he was wearing. Feeling that a little music was in order, he switched on a radio concealed in the table between them. For the next twenty minutes it played some jolly music that seemed to make the ones in the pool play even harder despite them not actually being able to hear it. This amused Jeff.
Then as the latest piece of music finished, a news broadcaster began to speak. "This is Kent Brockman bringing you today's Global News at Noon."
Brains suddenly looked up. "T-Twelve o'clock already?"
"That's what he said, Brains," chuckled Jeff. "You want some lunch?"
"Er, n-no, Mr Tracy," Brains replied. "But, er, wasn't Thunderbird 3 due back shortly after twelve?"
Jeff's happy face turned into a frown. "Say, you're right!" he said. He peered out from under the parasol that was protecting them from the baking hot Sun and looked up into the beautiful blue skies above the island. There wasn't a sign of anything. Not even a cloud. He looked at his watch. "We'd better go and check in with him."
Brains nodded and together they got up and headed back towards the house, rather quickly which caught the attention of Scott.
"Well, they didn't stay for long!" Scott remarked.
Gordon, Kayo and Virgil stopped throwing the ball and turned to look as well.
"I know that walk," said Virgil with a little concern in his voice. "Something must be up."
"I didn't hear the emergency alarm," said Gordon. "Maybe they just need to go? It's only human nature after all."
The others gave him a look. "No, Virgil's right," said Kayo. She began swimming towards the side of the pool before pulling herself out. "I think we'll have to pick this up later, boys. I have a feeling we might be needed."
Scott and Virgil were quick to follow. Gordon was more reluctant. He'd been enjoying the game. But then he noticed how his fingers were and decided perhaps he did need to get out after all.
Jeff and Brains entered the lounge and went straight over to the desk. Jeff had barely sat himself down before he'd pressed the button to call John. "Thunderbird 3 from base. Do you read me, John?"
There was no reply. Both men exchanged worried looks. Brains quickly went down to the table in the middle of the lounge and began to bring up some holographic displays whilst Jeff tried again.
"John, this is your Father. Can you hear me? Come IN, Thunderbird 3?!"
Still no response.
"S-Something's wrong, Mr Tracy," said Brains. "Thunderbird 3 is n-not heading towards Tracy Island."
"What do you mean?" Jeff demanded.
Brains showed him what he'd discovered. "I've been able to locate Thunderbird 3's location b-beacon, and look!"
Jeff stared in disbelief. The red holographic shape of Thunderbird 3 was heading at an angle that was heading far off to the East. Straight towards the United States of America. "Good GRIEF!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. His knuckles were white. "Is he through the atmosphere?"
"Just starting to re-enter it n-now, Mr Tracy," said Brains. "Thankfully, he's on the right t-trajectory to pass through without incident."
"And where will he end up if the course isn't corrected?" Jeff asked.
Brains made some adjustments and a yellow dotted line appeared ahead of Thunderbird 3 getting lower and lower in height until it landed on a very specific location. "Oh, m-my!" Brains said, his eyes widening. "If he doesn't correct his c-course…he'll crash…right into Washington!"
"Who's gonna crash?!"
Brains and Jeff turned sharply to see Scott, Gordon, Kayo and Virgil had entered the lounge, all wrapped in their towels and still dripping wet a bit from the pool, much to Grandma's annoyance.
"What do you think you're playing at?!" she said, storming up the stairs from the kitchen. "You're supposed to dry yourselves before you come in!"
"Not now, Mother!" Jeff barked. "We have a situation."
"Damn right we have!" snapped Grandma. "I've got to mop the-"
"JOHN'S IN TROUBLE!"
Grandma fell silent and now joined the others in looking at Jeff.
"What do you mean, Dad?" asked Virgil anxiously.
"Something's gone wrong with Thunderbird 3," Jeff answered. "It's not changed course before re-entry and is now headed straight for the American continent!"
"What about John?" asked Scott.
"We can't raise him, Scott," said Jeff grimly. "I've tried calling, but there's no answer."
"Can't you do something, Brains?" asked Gordon. "Take control of Thunderbird 3 remotely?"
"I've t-tried that, Gordon," answered Brains. "But for some reason, I'm unable to m-make the connection. I can only assume that J-John has still got the ship on manual control."
"There's the override," Kayo pointed out. "All the ships have them?"
"Yes, K-Kayo. But for some reason, something's preventing me from making the connection with Thunderbird 3."
"So what are we going to do?" Scott asked the question that was on everyone's minds.
Brains was silent, which told everyone that the answer was not going to be a good one. "N-Nothing, Scott. There's nothing we can do to stop it!"
"Bullshit!" snapped Gordon, ignoring the glare from Grandma. He looked at Jeff. "Tell me he's lying, Dad?!"
But Jeff didn't seem to have an answer either. "There have been hundreds of impossible situations that International Rescue have faced…or could face. And we've nearly always prevailed. But this? I got nothing!"
Scott wasn't going to stand for this. "Of course we can do something!" he said. He then began to walk briskly over to the revolving wall panel.
"Where are you going?" Grandma asked.
"To Thunderbird 1," Scott answered shortly. "It's the only thing fast enough to catch up with him."
"And what are you going to do when you do?" asked Jeff.
"I dunno," answered Scott as he pulled down the lamps. "Come up with an answer, for Christ's sake!" And with that, the wall swivelled round and he was gone.
Scott had never suited up with only his swimming trunks on before, but the thoughts of how he looked didn't even enter his mind as he raced down with the robotic arms attaching his suit to his body as it went. All his thoughts were on John aboard the out-of-control Thunderbird 3. He didn't even seem to notice himself leaving the elevator and head out on the gantry before climbing into Thunderbird 1's pilot seat. Once inside the trolley that held the silver rocket moved it up the diagonal tunnel to the launching bay as the swimming pool slid back to allow it to launch.
5! 4! 3! 2! 1!
The powerful engines of Thunderbird 1 roared into life, pushing it upwards out through where the pool had been and it soared high into the sky. Scott was too busy thinking about his brother to even say that Thunderbird 1 was go.
"Changing to horizontal flight," Scott announced as he levelled the craft out, flying as high as he dared.
"R-Remember, Scott. Thunderbird 1 is not a spaceship," Brains said over the radio. "Whatever you're going to attempt m-must be done within Earth's atmosphere."
"I'm fully aware of that, Brains," Scott answered sharply. "Can you give me a course to intercept him?"
"Of course," said Brains. "Sending it through n-now."
Scott looked at his navigational hologram image as the course appeared. "Got it." He pushed the levers forward and Thunderbird 1 was off like a bullet from a gun.
Inside a top security building in New York, General Olsen eyed the unusual contact on the large monitor screen with suspicion. He was in charge of the Early-Warning Station which along with several others located around the world had been set up to help protect the world's major cities from any form of deadly attack. Normally things were quiet. But today, the long-range scanners had detected something that they'd never seen before. It was a spacecraft, coming in at a shallow angle through the stratosphere, on a course that would bring it right to their doorstep.
"What kind of craft is that?" General Olsen asked his Staff Major.
"I've just received an intel report from Satellite Five, General," Staff Major Patterson answered. "It's one of the International Rescue machines."
"Strange," said the General. "We've never detected one of their ships before. Why are our systems going wild?"
"It would appear, sir, that if it continues on its present course, it'll crash right into the middle of Manhattan Island!"
The General was straight on his feet. "What the hell are they playing at?!" he barked. "Call them up at once!"
The Major did so. He managed to make contact with Thunderbird 5 and spoke to Alan who'd already been informed by Jeff of the situation. He then informed the Major about what was happening, and when he'd finished, the Major ran back to the General faster than he'd ever done before. "It's a runaway, sir!" he said. "Something's gone wrong inside the ship that's incapacitated the pilot. They're already taking measures and have an interceptor on the way."
"And what do they intend to do?" General Olsen asked.
"Well, that's just it, sir," said the Major. "They're not sure. They're trying to figure out a plan."
The General's eyes blazed with fury and his cheeks went red. "No PLAN?!" he rumbled. "LET ME TALK THEM, NOW!"
Alan already had enough on his mind worrying about John to find himself being yelled at by an enraged military officer, and yet here he was. "You listen here, boy!" General Olsen thundered. "There are millions of people in this city, and if your ship should slam into the middle of Central Park, there'll be unimaginable fatalities, not to mention the property damage!"
Alan was all too aware of what would happen, and he did his best to ignore the General's remark about the property damage. "It's all in hand, General," he said, also trying his best to remain level headed. But he knew as well as Scott that the chances of them being able to do anything were slim.
"It'd better be!" growled the General. "I'm alerting our Missile Sites. You follow me? I'm giving your ship a ceiling boundary of five miles. And the moment it reaches that point…BOOM!"
Alan felt his stomach churn. "General, you can't do that!" he protested. "There's a helpless man aboard Thunderbird 3!"
The General was unimpressed. "One helpless man in a spaceship versus a million helpless people in New York?" he spat. "Which way would you do it, huh?"
Before Alan could reply, the General ended the call. He felt his blood boiling, but he could do nothing about it now. He turned to another projector. "I'm…guessing you heard that?" he said nervously to the hologram of his father.
"Damn right I did!" Jeff snapped.
Alan hung his head in shame. "I'm sorry, Dad. I-"
"Did pretty well, son," said Jeff. "For someone not used to being yelled at by a military official, I'd say you handled that pretty well."
Alan was secretly pleased, but couldn't bring himself to show it. "So what do we do?"
"Pray, Alan," said Jeff grimly. "Pray that Scott can do something before its too late."
Scott eyed his instruments carefully as Thunderbird 1 rocketed across the sky. He was conscious of how high he was flying, making sure that the engines didn't conk out from a lack of oxygen like they'd done with CIRRUS. He hadn't said a word since Jeff had informed him of General Olsen's ultimatum. What if he failed? It wasn't just John's life that was now resting on his shoulders, but the entire population of Manhattan Island and the surrounding area did now as well. The destruction that Thunderbird 3 would cause by slamming into the ground didn't bear even thinking about.
"Scott, my readings t-tell me that you should be getting close to Thunderbird 3's position," Brains said, breaking Scott from his thoughts.
Scott checked his position. Then he looked up and gave an excited yell. "I SEE IT! I CAN SEE THUNDERBIRD 3!"
There it was. The huge red bulk of the much larger sistership of Thunderbird 1. As he drew closer, the realisation of the task Scott had set upon himself hit him like slamming into a brick wall. Thunderbird 1 was the joint second smallest of the six Thunderbirds, being only very slightly larger than Thunderbird Shadow. Thunderbird 2 was larger and whilst it didn't make Thunderbird 1 look tiny, Thunderbird 3 did. It was huge. He began to wonder if he was biting off more than he could chew.
"What do you plan to do, Scott?" Jeff asked over the radio.
Scott thought quickly. "We're still at a great height," he said. "I'm gonna see if I can get a visual on John." He brought Thunderbird 1 up higher and higher until it was flying just above Thunderbird 3. He matched course and speed until he was above the cockpit windows. He peered down through the floor of his own, but he couldn't see inside. "That's no good," he said with frustration. "Time for Plan C."
"Plan C?" asked Jeff. "Did we miss A and B?"
"No, C for Crazy, Dad," Scott answered. He brought Thunderbird 1 lower towards Thunderbird 3, being very careful with his descent. He couldn't risk a collision as he'd come off worse. He then set the autopilot to match Thunderbird 3's speed and course and reached for his helmet which he put on. Then he opened the large underside hatch and fired the grapple line down onto the hull of the massive red rocket. The grapple landed a few feet from the cockpit windows and Scott hoped it would hold given the speed they were travelling at. He attached a harness to the cable, took a deep breath and then slid down it to land hard on the hull of Thunderbird 3.
"Scott, what the hell are you doing?!" Jeff's voice barked over the radio. "Scans are showing you're outside!"
"I'M…TRYING…TO GET…EYES ON…JOHN…DAD!" Scott said, straining to keep a grip on the cable. Even with his gecko gloves and the harness, the sheer force of the wind at this height was doing its best to blow him off. With much straining and grunting, he pulled himself along the hull of Thunderbird 3 before coming to the windows. He peered over and looked inside. "I SEE HIM!" he cried out. "HE'S IN THE PILOT SEAT! HE LOOKS TO BE OUT COLD!"
"Any sign of injuries?" Jeff asked anxiously.
"NEGATIVE!" Scott shouted back over the wind noise. "HE JUST LOOKS TO BE ASLEEP!"
"Let's hope that's all he is," said Jeff.
"I've m-managed to get some link into Thunderbird 3," said Brains. "I still c-can't get control, but I've got a link to John's suit. He is alive and b-breathing normally."
"Then why's he asleep?" Gordon asked.
"I…d-don't know that, Gordon," Brains answered.
"Fatigue? Maybe he's ill," said Virgil. "It's happened before with his appendix."
"We can figure that out later," said Jeff. "Right now we need to come up with a way to get Thunderbird 3 back to the island."
"If I break open the cockpit, I could take over?" asked Scott.
"N-No, Scott," said Brains quickly. "The only way to access Thunderbird 3 is through the cargo bay emergency switch. But with the speed you're travelling, if your harness was to break…"
"Okay, fine, I get it!" snapped Scott, frustrated. "But what else can I do? I can't get underneath and carry her off. She's too big!"
There was silence. Jeff exchanged nervous glances with Brains, his mother, sons and Kayo. This was exactly what they'd feared all along. It was what they'd known, although none of them would admit it.
Still clinging to the outer hull with his gecko gloves, Scott looked ahead. They were now above the main cloud layer, but through breaks he could see the North American continent far below. This told him that time was now running out. He'd confirmed John was alive albeit unconscious. Now was the time to act. He then had a sudden idea and pulled himself back to the grapple cable. He then held onto it tightly as he remotely deactivated the magnet. The cable shot backwards, taking him with it, and almost throwing him up into the tail-fire of his own ship! "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGH!" he screamed as he hastily activated the winch to pull himself out of harm's way.
"SCOTT!" Jeff's voice barked urgently as Scott re-entered Thunderbird 1. "SCOTT, ARE YOU HURT?!"
"No, Dad, I'm okay," said Scott. "I'm back inside Thunderbird 1. I've got an idea. It's a helluva risk but I've got to take it."
"What are you going to do, son?" asked Jeff.
"I'm gonna take out her engines!" said Scott. "With those not on, I might be able to get some control of her!"
Brains was quick to protest. "No, Scott! That w-won't work!"
But Scott wasn't prepared to be talked out of his plan. "DAMN IT, BRAINS, WE HAVE TO TRY SOMETHING!" He reduced Thunderbird 1's speed and allowed it to drop back so that Thunderbird 3 was now ahead. He then dropped down, straight into the backwash that was created by its powerful engines that tossed Thunderbird 1 around like a toy. He made adjustments to try and get into a gap in the backwash so that he was aiming directly behind the ion-fusion booster. "At least its not that engine that on," he remarked to himself. He activated a switch which opened a small hatch on the top of the craft to reveal three small demolition missiles. He couldn't ever remember using these before, but he never expected it would be against one of his own. He used the targeting computer to lock each missile onto each engine of Thunderbird 3. He could only hope that the intense heat coming from the engines wouldn't cause them to detonate before they got there. He decided to try one at a time. "Firing ONE!" The missile shot out, rising towards the top engine that was directly above him. For a few tense seconds it vanished from view. Then came a powerful BANG as it found its mark. The flame from the engine flickered and then died away. "ONE DOWN!" Scott yelled. "FIRING TWO!" The second missile was launched, this time at the bottom left engine. The same happened. It struck home and disabled it. "FIRING THREE!" Scott bellowed as he launched the final missile. This one took longer to reach its mark as it was almost blown aside by the backwash. And then it struck. The explosion knocked out the engine. Now all that the three engines were emitting was black smoke, but no flame or backwash. "IT WORKED!" said Scott triumphantly. "Now the real work."
"What the hell are you up to?!" demanded Jeff.
But Scott didn't acknowledge his father. He couldn't allow anything to distract him now. Deliberately, he increased the speed of his ship and braced himself for impact. In his haste to get back at the controls, he'd forgotten to refasten his safety-belt. Thunderbird 1 slammed into the ion-fusion booster and smashed itself right into the back of Thunderbird 3. The impact threw Scott right out of the seat and he slammed hard on the front wall of the cockpit before bouncing back and landing hard on the floor. Luckily, he hadn't removed his helmet so he was saved from any injury although it took him a few seconds to recover himself.
The nose of Thunderbird 1 had struck and lodged itself into the back-end of Thunderbird 3 and the two ships were now locked together as they continued their deadly crash-course towards New York.
"I'VE DONE IT! I'VE DONE IT!" Scott could hardly contain himself. "Now, so long as Thunderbird 1 is strong enough to steer us both, we're safe!"
Again there was silence, but this time it was for a different reason. It was because Jeff was now in a heated row with none other than General Olsen, who was not backing down from his threat to launch missiles at Thunderbird 3.
"You'd better do it quickly, Scott," Jeff's voice eventually answered. He sounded grim. "You're getting closer to the five mile boundary Olsen set, and he's not backing down!"
Scott gritted his teeth, hardly daring to answer. Sweat stood out on his brow as he wrestled with the controls. But the controls wouldn't respond. He tried again and again, but the two Thunderbirds wouldn't change their course. Scott gave a groan. "I…I…I don't think its worked…" he said. "Thunderbird 3's just too big!"
"Stay with him, son!" Jeff ordered. "STAY WITH HIM!"
Then Scott began to feel something through the vibrations running through his arms and aching muscles. Movement! "Wait! WE'RE SHIFTING!" he cried. "It's not much but…WE'RE SHIFTING!"
Very slowly, Thunderbird 1 was starting to lift Thunderbird 3 upwards. Scott couldn't even begin to think how this was even possible, but it was. He only hoped he could make it before…
An alarm sounded in the cockpit which shattered Scott's elation. He looked over. The alarm was a warning. But there was nothing in Thunderbird 1 that was causing it. It was warning him of a danger on the outside. He flicked a switch and brought up the radar. Then his heart seemed to skip several beats as he saw two fast-moving icons rising upwards from the ground towards the combined mass of the two Thunderbirds. His heart then leapt into his mouth as he knew exactly what they were. "Oh, FU-!"
