'You'll never get her to do that.'

'She will.'

'She - ah - she won't do it, V-Virgil. I know she won't.'

'She will, Brains.'

'She won't.'

'She *will*. Trust me. Trust *her*. We're strong enough.'

'Thank you. Thank you, friends! As you see I made the show, and what a show we have for you tonight. You join us on the upper deck of the Iceberg Venture, the floating hotel extending thirty storeys under the waves, each floor a different and exciting new adventure under the sea. She opened for customers just a few weeks ago, and already there's a two year waiting list for the simplest of her many luxury rooms. Nothing is to difficult or too much trouble for her army of staff - amongst them world class chefs running her sixty restaurants, several ocean experts to entertain her guests and, of course, the exotic sea creatures in her aquariums. Join us after these messages for a tour of her bridge and a word with her Captain on the future plans for this amazing hotel. I'm Ned Cook, and I'll be seeing you soon.'

Captain Maxwell tapped the barometer again and frowned slightly as he saw the pressure continue to drop. It wasn't unusual for the weather to turn bad quickly, but there wasn't any forecast given that indicated it was going to do so. A glance out of the window showed that the ocean surface was perhaps a little calmer than he expected for the wind strength, but not the totally smooth surface that tended to indicate a storm was brewing. Still... something didn't feel right, and Maxwell hadn't gotten to the position he was in without trusting his instincts. He drummed his fingers on the edge of the table as he studied the charts before him.

'Mr. Ortease. Bring us four degrees to starboard and proceed at a quarter speed for twenty... no, make that thirty miles. Put us within fifteen minutes running distance of Helm's Deep Bay.'

'Are you expecting trouble, Captain?' The younger helm officer looked slightly worried at the order.

'Not really... just a feeling, Mr. Ortease. I'd rather be safe than sorry.' Maxwell turned as the internal door to the hotel elevator opened and Ned Cook stepped out, followed by his cameraman, Joe. Ned was obviously in the midst of another on air piece, busy chatting away into his ever-present microphone as he approached Maxwell. Maxwell groaned inwardly as he thrust the microphone towards him.

'Captain Maxwell! Can we have a word for our viewers?'

'Make it brief, Mr. Cook. We're in the middle of a manoeuvre here.'

'A manoeuvre?'

'Yes, we're changing position to move us closer to Helm's Deep Bay. We're due to take on more supplies there anyway, so it saves us some travel time and allows the guests to spend more time ashore. Those who want to go ashore, that is.'

'Are you expecting many passengers to go ashore?'

'Quite a few. Some are disembarking, some will be joining us. Others will just be visiting.'

Behind Ned, Maxwell could see Joe the cameraman wandering around the bridge, trying to get the best angles to cover the impromptu interview. 'You will have to excuse me, Mr. Cook. Manoeuvring the Iceberg Venture isn't the easiest of things to do whilst being interviewed.'

'Ah - of course, Captain. I'll just wait over here until you're finished - '

'Captain!' Ortease's voice sounded shocked as he interrupted Ned. 'The ocean floor is rising unexpectedly. It's getting close to our underside.'

'Full Stop, Mr Ortease! Give me a detailed video-scope of the area.'

'I'm trying, Captain, but our momentum and the currents are dragging us along -' Both Orteases' and Maxwells' faces paled as they realised the danger. 'We're going to hit!'

Almost at the bottom of the Venture, only four levels above the engines, lay the VIP dining and ballroom. The lavish feast having finish barely a half hour ago, the guests were mingling with each other, having a drink and smoke before the party got into full swing.

Jeff Tracy treated himself to a smile as he watched his son's captured gaze out of the massive windows. His sandy hair for once under some control, Gordon's nose was practically pressed up against the glass as he peered out into the darkened ocean, the occasional flash of some exotic creature catching his attention until it would disappear. He took a final pull on his cigar, stubbed it into the nearby ashtray and placed his hand on his son's shoulder. 'Enjoying yourself, Gordon?'

'I was just thinking how different this is, Dad. When I spent that year on the ocean bottom, we barely had any windows - I think he largest was about the size of paperback book. We rarely saw anything, even when we did look out.' He gave a snort of laughter. 'I remember one time, we were nearly ecstatic with joy after seeing a single small fish wander by. Kept taking about it for days. This, though... ' Gordon patted the window. 'Brains does it again, huh?'

Jeff chuckled. 'Son, I've known him for many years, and he constantly surprises everybody who knows him. Just when I think I have him figured out, he goes and pulls something like this out of his head. I mean - transparent steel. I've never even considered the idea, and he goes and helps build something like this.' Jeff paused, and then both men tilted their heads towards the ceiling as they picked up the increased vibrations. 'We're changing course.'

Gordon bit his lip in thought for a moment. 'I'd say an increase in speed and a few degrees to starboard. Wonder why... the weather reports were clear. Maybe he just wants to make better time to the next port of call?'

Jeff looked sideways at his son and grinned. 'Or he just wants Ned Cook off his ship as soon as possible.'

Gordon groaned. 'Don't remind me, Father. Seems I've spent most of our time here avoiding him, trying not to be recognised. I swear that man is following me. Every time I turn around, there he is...'

'Well, you are one of the worlds' most eligible - and mysterious - bachelors. Maybe he's just trying to set you up with his sister.'

'He has a sister?' Gordon's eyebrows climbed up his forehead.

'Maybe. Who knows, son? Anything is possible.'

'The engines have stopped again.' Gordon peered into the darkness as he noticed something shining there. 'We've not really moved far enough to get close enough to the Bay to... to...' Gordon squinted in an effort to focus on what was outside. 'Dad. Dad! That's a cliff face! We're headed right for it!'

Three in the morning was not the time Alan wanted to be woken by the sound of a piano being played furiously. Three in the morning was not the time his 'artistic' elder brother should be using to perfect his latest musical creation. Still - at least it would make a change to hear something different. A favourite piece was all well and good, but when that was all that was ever played... And he never had explained how the little ditty he had played after their first mission had ended up being broadcast on the Ned Cook Show that time.

'Virgil. I realise that father isn't here right now, and I realise that you creative types have to go with the muses when they attack you, but do you have to keep them company at three in the morning? Some of us are trying to sleep!'

Virgil blinked and looked up. 'It is? We were just running through some power/weight calculations... Is it really that early?'

Alan looked across the room to where Brains had his head buried in paper, furiously scribbling on a pad. 'Yes. It is. And as I said, some of us need to sleep because they have to be on a space station in the morning.' Alan sighed and leant back against Jeff's desk. 'As I'm up already.. did you go over Threes' yet?'

'We were about to. Brains hopes he can get an extra eight percent thrust by tinkering with the exhaust size and fuel mixture. Downside is that she'll run hotter, but he's got thoughts on that too.'

'Doesn't he always?' Alan nodded his ruffled head towards the engineer, whose lips were mouthing an equation. 'A revamped cooling system?'

'That doubles as cabin - ' Virgil broke off as Gordon's pictures' eyes started to flash and the beeping alert filled the air. He exchanged a worried look with Alan as his younger brother pressed the hidden switch on their Father's desk to flip the communication system up. 'Go ahead, Gordon.'

Both men drew in a breath at the image that appeared. Gordon was drenched and filthy, with an ugly looking split on his forehead. What sounded like a waterfall could be heard in the background, along with the odd scream and wrenching, metal sound. 'Alan? Is that you? Can't see too well, my watch is cracked...' The image on the screen lurched sharply as Gordon was shaken by something. 'Dad's hurt. The Iceberg Venture's been involved in an incident - we hit what I think was an uncharted underwater cliff. It smashed through the windows of the level above ours and... and flooded it. I don't know what's happening above us, but there's about ten of us who survived on this level. We're trapped now and the ocean is flooding in. I reckon we've got an hour, maybe an hour and a half before we're totally flooded and... well... ' Gordon swallowed hard.

'How bad is M-Mr Tracy hurt?'

The mostly quiet voice of Brains had an unexpected firmness to it as he asked the question. Virgil frowned slightly before he remembered that Brains had had a hand in designing the Venture, so of course he would take a failure of it personally. But still...

'I'm not sure. He took a blow to the head when the ceiling fell and a few mouthfuls of water before I could get to him, but I think he's comfortable now.'

'We're on our way, Gordon. Hold tight. We'll get John to contact the Venture and get a better idea of the situation. Just... keep your head straight and try to keep everybody calm. Alan, you'll co-ordinate here. Get Scott airborne as soon as he's dressed and you've briefed him. Brains, you'll travel with me. I think we'll need Thunderbird Four and maybe the Ocean Rescue Platforms.' Virgil was already standing with his back to the Thunderbird Two access sled. 'Let's move, people!'

Virgil mentally and verbally tried to coax his machine to travel even faster. He knew Thunderbird Two was one of the fastest aircraft ever built, especially for her size, but right now he would give his right arm for a few extra miles in airspeed. His family being in danger whilst on a mission was one thing. His family being in danger being the cause of a mission was something else entirely, and the cold knot of fear in his stomach was trying to tighten its grip.

'Thunderbird Two to International Rescue Space Station. John, what's the situation?'

'Scott arrived five minutes ago.' Johns' face flickered to life on the video screen in the midst of the console. 'There's nowhere really safe for him to land, so he's hovering over the area. Most of the passengers and crew are evacuated and there are WASP, World Navy and civilian ships on their way to pick them up. The people who Gordon reported were trapped with him seem to be the only ones unaccounted for, other than the Captain, his assistant, and Ned Cook. They're refusing to leave until they know everybody's safely out.'

'How's the Venture trapped, John?'

'We're not sure. The only real information that's been pieced together is that she's grounded herself on an uncharted cliff face and is pinned there. Gordon's sure that most of the level above his is wrecked and flooded – he's tried to gain access at several points but each time there's a torrent of ocean pouring through. Scott's about to send the Remote Camera down to try and get a better look.'

Virgil flicked a quick glance over his shoulder. 'Will it take the pressure down there, Brains?'

'It should do, Virgil. It's designed to go even deeper if needed. I'll, ah,I'll monitor the review in the lab.' Brains unbuckled his belt and left the cockpit. A few minutes later he called through.

'It's not looking good, Virgil. There's a sharp ledge from the face of the cliff that has punctured the Venture's second to last hotel floor. There's also a current driving them further on, and one of the engines is still running. Only a l – low speed, but it's not helping.'

'Can you see Gordon?'

'Barely. The window of the room they're in is almost pressed up to the cliff.'

'Try and get back in touch with him. We need to know if he can move folks to another, easier to access, room.'

'I all, already did, Virgil. He thinks he a couple of others might be able to, but there's no way the injured could be moved. Including, ah, Mr, Mr Tracy.'

'Not good all around... Scott, did you hear that?'

'Yes. Seems like we need to get into the room that Father, Gordon and the others are in, but we don't have enough space to get Thunderbird Four close enough to extract them. Even if we could, she'll not hold them all, and we might only get one shot at it.'

'That about sums it up. With at least one level flooded, trying to go down through the Venture is out of the question, too.'

'So we need a third option...'

'Do we have the technical specifications of the Venture?' Virgil's voice was slow, a sure sign he was formulating a complex idea.

'John should. You have an idea?'

'...Maybe, Scott. Just maybe. Can you get onto the WASPs? I'm going to need a welding team topside of the Venture.'

'What are you thinking?'

'There's an old saying, Scott. "If you can't bring Muhammad to the mountain..." '

'Are – are you sure this will work, Virgil?' Brains' voice was understandably nervous, and not just because he was behind the controls of Thunderbird Four. He had piloted the little yellow submarine many times in practise, or tests, but this would be his first time in an actual rescue situation. Virgil's plan was both incredibly simple and incredibly dangerous. The success or failure of it depended not on their own machines, but the strength of the welds the WASP engineering team were currently making on top of the Iceberg Venture. Even through the radio link, Virgil could hear the worry. 'You're sure the two of you can do this?'

'I wouldn't have suggested it if I wasn't. We might need some structural repair afterwards, but we'll cope.'

'Thunderbird Two from Mobile Control. The WASPs report ready, Virgil. Waiting for your cables for hookup.'

'Stand by, Scott.' Delicately, using the lightest of touches, Virgil moved his machine over the listing deck of the Venture, drifting the last few meters in. A flick of another switch caused the winch under the nose to start winding out, four cables rapidly descending to where the waiting WASP engineers crouched. Once low enough, they snatched hold of them, bolting them firmly through the heavy duty metal rings they had just fixed to the deck. 'Okay, Scott. I'm attached. Get them clear.'

'I tried. They're refusing, like the Captain and his assistant. Claim that they need to be right there in case anything happens.'

'Figures... Brains, are you ready?'

'I'm ready, Virgil. The Navy rescue party is ready – the moment I've cut the window they're ready to, umm, swoop and grab, I think they called it. We're all waiting on you now.'

'All right. Tell those WASPies to get some cover while I start – it's going to get hot down there with full retros going.. How are Gordon and Father doing?'

'We... we don't know, Virgil. His watch stopped working a few minutes ago. Before that, he said the water level had started to increase steadily.'

Virgil rubbed the knuckles of both hands before placing them on his controls – one on the steering column, one on the thrust lever. 'Okay then. On my count.' He drew a final, deep, but steady breath.

'Three.'

'Two.'

'One.'

From Brains' viewpoint in Thunderbird Four, he saw the landing jets of Thunderbird Two flare into life. The green transporter gradually gained height until the cables were tight before settling for a few moments, as if she were testing the connections at the other end. Eventually satisfied, the power running through the jets was increased and, very, very slowly, she began to lift the Iceberg Venture clear of the ocean surface.

'Four from Two.' Virgil's voice was tight. 'I'm about to commence forwards thrust. Watch yourself.' The large red engine exhaust roared to life, and Thunderbird Two strained like a dog wanting to chase a cat whilst stuck on a leash. There were agonising seconds where nothing happened, when the towing cables tightened and groaned, until suddenly the Venture lurched forwards and Virgil rapidly shut down the engines. 'I think we're free. Starting the lift now.'

Virgil gritted his teeth and made a quick prayer as he inched the retrorocket control further forwards. Already, he could feel and hear the strain of metal around him as Thunderbird Two struggled with the massive weight. Though designed to be neutrally buoyant, the extra water load aboard the hotel below was causing her to strain beyond anything she was designed to do.

'Come on, baby. Come on. We can do this. Our family is depending on us. We can't let them down.' A shudder ran through the airframe as Virgil moved the control another notch forwards. The roaring of the engines increased but, also, so did her height. She was doing it. Thunderbird Two was lifting the Venture clear of the surface.

Five levels.

Eight.

Twelve.

'Scott, how are those connections holding?'

'WASP boys say they're straining, but good, Virgil. You're halfway there. Brains is moving into position – he estimates he'll need two and one half to three minutes to cut the hole, and the Navy rescue team think another three to five after that.'

Even though he wasn't physically doing the lifting, sweat was running down Virgil's back. 'Call it a nine minute window, then. Engine temperature is rising quickly... glad we decided not to lift the pod back before we started. Having enough difficulty without the extra weight from that.'

'A-Almost there, Virgil. Another three levels... two... there! I can see Gordon!'

'Good.' Virgil dropped back on the power slightly, hoping he'd calculated right to keep the Venture as steady as possible. 'Say hi for me.'

'I'm cutting now. The laser will be quickest.' The light bar on the front of Thunderbird Four raised slightly to allow the laser cutter to be extended outwards. The near invisible beam of focussed light leapt out and started to carve through the window. 'H – how are you holding up, up there?'

'We've been better. I think I'm going to cut the cables and let the Venture drop, rather than try to lower her and let the WASPs free the cables. Scott, can you arrange to get them lifted off right now?'

'There's a helijet waiting to get them now. I'll get it moving.'

'Thanks. Brains?'

'Almost... there... Got it! Moving off and letting the Navy Rescue Squad teams in now.'

Something groaned loudly behind Virgil. 'Need to hurry this up, folks. I'm burning through more fuel than I'd like, and she's letting me know about it.'

'Navy reports eight survivors in all, with three needing to be moved on bodyboards, including Dad. Four minutes, tops, before they have them all out.'

Four long minutes later, Gordon was, of course, the last one out of the hotel. He shot a look of longing at the bright yellow rescue submarine parked only a few dozen meters away, but turned his gaze away as Jeff groaned in pain. He was still unconscious, but was stable and fairly intact – lucky, compared to some of the others, all of whom had differing levels of injuries.

He couldn't tell what, exactly, was going on, only that the Venture had been lifted up far enough so they could escape, but by the way everybody was hurrying whatever had happened wasn't a permanent fix. The World Navy rescuers were defiantly trying to rush people as gently as they could. They were moving to the nearest ship, which was in an odd position: instead of being sideways on to the area, for the best access, she was facing straight towards them, almost as if...

Gordon turned and squinted through the first rays of dawn back at the hotel. Now he had some distance, he could clearly see that Thunderbird Two was hovering above her, engines straining as she held her out of the water. A WASP Helijet was also leaving, and he felt a moment of regretful memory in his gut.

Gordon leaned towards one of the Navy men. 'How long before V- err – International Rescue drop the Venture?'

'As soon as we're clear,' the answer was shouted back above the boat's engine. 'Any moment now.'

'That's all clear, Virgil! Let her go!' Scott's voice was loud and crisp as he gave the order. A swift stab at the console, and the entire winch and cables holding the Iceberg Venture up were dropped. The moment they were, the hotel plummeted like a boulder thrown into a lake, sending a tall circular wave spreading outwards from itself.

Those in the boats not yet taken onto a ship flung themselves flat and grabbed hold as the wave lifted them up, only to be dropped back onto the surface with bone-jarring impacts. Gordon hissed in pain as he felt the wound on his forehead split open and begin to bleed again.

'That was fun.' The Navy medic glanced at him and reached for a dressing. 'Here, let me see to that – looks like you'll need stitches, so a bandage will be the best I can do until the Doctor gets to see you on board.' He held a gauze pad to Gordon's head and started to wrap a bandage around it to hold the dressing in place. 'Would you look at that...'

Gordon turned his head to see what the medic was looking at. The Venture had bobbed back up like a cork, and was now settling onto its side and slowly rolling over. 'Shame they couldn't save her – me and the wife had booked a week on her next month. Guess now we're going to be staying with the Mother-in-Law.'

'Wait a couple of years, and then come back. Have a feeling she's going to become a diving hotspot once she's declared safe enough, and the fish move in.'

Up in the sky, Virgil had slumped back in his chair and rubbed a sleeve over his face. A noise from inside the cockpit had him reach out and stroke the control console. 'Good girl. Very good work. I knew you wouldn't let us down. Now, let's collect Brains, and we can go home, and I'll treat you to a full systems inspection, and nice new winch, and a good wash down. How does that sound?'

This time he could have sworn his Bird was agreeing with him as she groaned again.