A COLD DAY IN HELL by BOOMERCAT RATED FRPT

A tough rescue told from Virgil's point of view.

"All right, Scott, off you go."

I watched as my older brother strode over to the wall panel that hid the access to Thunderbird One. As he turned his back to the wall, our eyes met, and I found myself nodding briefly. For his part, Scott barely acknowledged me, his mind already on the task ahead.

Our father turned his attention to me. "Virgil, you're going to need pod four."

"Right, Father." I headed to my own access point to Thunderbird Two's hangar. I stepped up to a large painting of a moon rocket, and spun to put my back to it. In place, I nudged the trigger with my foot, and the painting pivoted, lifting me up until I was head down, and sliding across the specially-coated painting onto a padded pallet. The pallet spun and soon I was whizzing down a long chute. My own private thrill ride.

The ride was over all too soon, and I was deposited gently in the pilot seat of my green lady, Thunderbird Two. I could feel the bass rumble of Scott in Thunderbird One taking off as I threw the switches that would move a long conveyor belt holding various pods of equipment. This equipment was vital in the work that my four brothers and I did. We, together with our father, formed the nucleus of International Rescue, an organization dedicated to rescuing people around the world.

As soon as my status board showed pod four was in position, I started lowering the business section of the Thunderbird down. I used the time it took to settle over the pod to change into my blue International Rescue uniform. Long practice made me a quick-change artist, and soon I was settling the sash and belt around my hips. As the two sections of my ship joined with a thudding of clamps, I started the powering up of Thunderbird Two's mighty engines.

My hands flew over the controls almost of their own volition. I had been doing this for so long, I was practically on automatic pilot. This freed my mind up to consider the task ahead. A research station built on the sea floor under the Arctic Sea had been damaged in a quake. The small station was taking on water, and the ten researchers were in danger of drowning. Fierce winter storms made conventional rescue impossible and so a call had been put in to International Rescue.

This was definitely going to be a hard and dangerous job. In fact, I couldn't see any way we could realistically be expected to pull it off. Fortunately, figuring out the how wasn't my job, it was Scott's. I had learned years ago to simply trust my brother to come up with answers. Most of the time, the answers were easy, especially given the quality of the equipment we worked with. But it was those times when the answers weren't so easy that my brother really shone.

Scott is the quickest-witted man I know, bar none. The engineer who designed our equipment, Brains, is brilliant and my father has a top-notch mind. But for on the spot, down-and-dirty, have-the-answers-when- you-need-'em, I'd take my brother Scotty any day of the week. He has that rare ability to put two and two together and come up with five, and make it the right answer. I'm no slouch in the brains department, but sometimes Scott's intuitive answers leave me in the dust, much as Thunderbird One can fly circles around Thunderbird Two.

Of course, Thunderbird Two might not be as flashy as Thunderbird One, but we wouldn't get very far without her. Thunderbird Two was the true workhorse of the Thunderbird fleet. With her interchangeable pods, it's my ship that delivers the equipment that is the heart of any rescue.

I sometimes kind of thought of myself as the human equivalent of my ship. I tended to be the anchor that my older brother needed sometimes. Scott has taken care of me and our three younger brothers for as long as I can remember. Once, when we were kids, I caught him crying. I can't remember why. But I did what I could to comfort him, and I never said a word to anyone about it. As I look back on it, I can see that is where our true bond really began. Even then Scott was my hero, and having him trust me with his innermost heart is a gift I cherish to this day.

Of course, none of this was important right now. What was important was getting on with the job. There were lives to be saved, and we, by God, were International Rescue, and we were going to get the job done.

"Hey Virg, whaddaya get if you cross a fairytale with a Sicilian Mafioso?"

I sighed and rolled my eyes as my younger brother Gordon entered the cockpit. "Sit down, shut up, strap in and hold tight."

Gordon and Alan, the youngest of my brothers had been amusing themselves all morning making up lame jokes. "Little Red Riding Hoodlum."

I just shook my head. By this time Thunderbird Two had exited the hangar, and we had arrived our launch point. I did a final check with my father at the base control. Our need for secrecy meant that we could only launch if there were no ships or aircraft within a hundred-mile radius. Brains had developed a system of sensors that were placed unobtrusively throughout the small island group that our own island was a part of.

Given final clearance, I wasted no time in boosting my ship into the stratosphere. As soon as we leveled off, Gordon released his safety harness and came to stand at my shoulder. "So, how do you think we're gonna handle this?"

I shrugged. "I haven't a clue. Don't worry, Scott will have it figured out by the time we get there. Listen, why don't you go break out the foul weather gear? I have a feeling it might be downright chilly way up there in the Arctic Circle."

Gordon nodded, "I'm shivering just thinking about it." He turned and exited the cockpit. I had to admit, I felt the same way. Everytime we had a cold weather rescue, it always seemed to take forever for me to warm up again. I guess that is just one of the hazards of living in the tropics.

"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird Two."

"Thunderbird Two, go ahead John."

"Course correction. Change your heading to zero zero two four four slash one six."

"Zero zero two four four slash one six. Got it. Thanks John."

"Any time, Virg."

"Any news from the site?"

"No. They're hanging tough, but they're running out of time. Oh, one good thing. The weather in the immediate area is clear. They still can't get anything launched from Juneau, but at least you won't have to fight a storm once you get there."

"That's great news. Have you told Scott?"

"Not yet. I just got the confirmation from the weathersat. You want to tell him?"

"Yeah, thanks, John."

"No problem. I make your E.T.A. at one hour six minutes."

"Yes, confirm one hour and five point five minutes."

"Okay, good luck!"

"FAB." I did a quick scan of my status before putting in a call to my brother. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One, come in, Scott."

"Thunderbird One. Virg, what's your E.T.A.?"

"One hour and five minutes. John says the weather in the danger zone is clear."

"Well that's a relief. I'll be on site in about 7 minutes, and from here it's wall to wall thunderclouds."

"Scott, have you figured out how we're going to work this?"

"Obviously it's going to be Gordon's show. What I'm going to look for is open water. If it's clear, you'll drop the pod right over the water. If we can't find a lead big enough to drop the pod, but big enough to slip Thunderbird Four through, we'll have you land close. If there's nothing big enough, I think I'll use Thunderbird One's retros and we'll make our own hole."

"What if the ice is too thick?"

"Then we send Gordon out with an ice pick."

I chuckled. Scott was upbeat which meant he didn't really see any problems. His optimism lifted my own spirits. "I'm telling you, Scott, if he tells one more stupid joke, I'll be sending him out in his shorts."

Scott grinned at the mock threat then turned to something on his control board. "I'm coming up on the danger zone. I'll be back in touch as soon as I've had a look around."

"FAB." I turned my attention to the view out the front of my ship. Despite the fact that it was midday, the sky was dark. Thunderbird Two was practically capable of space flight, her ceiling was so high. By flying at a height of 100,000 feet, I didn't have to bother with the niceties of commercial flight paths and even most military flights tended to top out at 85,000. No, up here the sky was all mine.

Time as they say, flies when you're having fun, and flying Thunderbird Two was nothing if not fun. Almost before I knew it, I was dancing through the tops of some very impressive clouds. Gordon showed up with the foul weather gear, wearing his fur-lined hat backward, which I had to admit was pretty funny. I ordered him to strap in and I put in a second call to Scott. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One."

"Virg, I've found a site for Thunderbird Four, but it's a bit problematic."

"What do you mean, Scott?" Gordon spoke up before I could answer.

"Well, for the most part the area is totally frozen over. I found one area of open water about fifteen klicks from where the base is supposed to be, but my sensors indicate the ice is too thin to support the Thunderbirds. I'm afraid if we drop the pod, it'll freeze up around it and we'll have a heck of a time getting it back out."

"Scott, I can't see that as a problem. Even if it freezes over, Thunderbird Two's retros will heat it up as I drop down."

"I don't know Virg. The area is really unstable. I have a bad feeling about it, but at the moment, I don't have any other ideas."

Gordon spoke again. "Scott, how about if Virg drops the pod and then picks it back up as soon as I'm out? Then he could drop it again when I get back."

"Yeah, I guess that's about the best we can do. Virgil, pull up grid two. The site is at one three seven slash one four."

"Okay, Scott, I'll be there in 2.4 minutes."

"FAB." Gordon left to prepare for launch, and I banked Two to head for the water that Scott had found. As I reached the site, I could see Thunderbird One hovering about 100 feet above the narrow lead of water. I felt my stomach lurch at the sight. Where the vistas were all of blindingly bright blue skies and sparkling white snow, the area I was to drop the pod was dark with black ice, and chunks of dirty ice.

Some of the ice blocks had been thrust up by the action of the water, and as I watched, I could see it moving in a slow wave. The water itself looked black and greasy, and the last thing I wanted was to put my little brother down there. "Scott, I'm not so sure about this…"

"Yeah, I agree, but cutting through the ice anywhere else is going to take time those people down there don't have. Drop the pod, Virgil."

I put aside my misgivings and hailed Gordon in Thunderbird Four. "Virgil to Gordon, you ready to go back there?"

"Yeah. Let 'er rip!"

I brought my ship down to hover directly over the most open area of water. With my comm set so both Scott and Gordon would hear, I announced, "Releasing pod."

I hit the release and the pod dropped the forty feet to the water below. I heard Gordon grunt as the pod hit the water. I took up station keeping next to Thunderbird One. I frowned as I looked at the pod. Although the water had appeared to be deep, Pod Four was sitting at an angle indicating it had come to rest on an ice sheet under the sheen of the water. Before I could comment, there was a sudden movement of the pod as its weight broke through the ice, settling the pod in a more appropriate upright position.

"Gordon? You all right down there?"

"Yeah, Scott, I'm fine. Opening pod door now."

I watched as the ramp at the front of the pod slowly lowered, and Thunderbird Four's launch rack extended down to the water. I couldn't help but shiver at the thought of entering that frigid water, but Gordon showed no such hesitation, powering up Thunderbird Four's engines and scooting off the end of the rack like he was diving into the swimming pool at home.

"All right, Gordon, your target is at grid two, seven niner two, slash one six. You head on over, and Virg and I will look around for some place closer."

"FAB. See you guys in a while."

As always, my younger brother was all business once he was in the water. I concentrated on picking up the pod. I gently lowered Thunderbird Two over the pod, careful not to use the retros, which would whip up the water and cause the pod to rock. No, easy does it was the way to handle this job. When I was down so close I could practically see my reflection in the water, I threw the switch turning on the powerful electromagnets that rimmed both the pod and Thunderbird Two. The magnets were actually so strong that they could lift the 30 ton pod right out of the water long enough for the mechanical grabs to latch on.

Once my status board was clear, I raised the ship up and with Scott in Thunderbird One, headed for ground zero. When my GPS sensors said we had reached the site, I looked around dismayed. For as far as I could see from my thousand foot vantage point, there was a depressing sameness to the view. Ice, ice and more ice.

"Scott, how are we going to find open water? All I see is white."

"The same way I found the first lead. Care to join me? Going up!"

With that, Thunderbird One slowly rose straight up in the air. Well, two could play at elevator! I boosted my big honey straight up, passing Thunderbird One within moments. "What's the matter, Scott? Having trouble getting it up?"

"That's the problem with you, Virg. You're always coming up too fast. Now, when you mature a little you'll realize that starting out slow is just more satisfying."

I had to laugh at that one. No moss ever grew on my brother, that was for sure. At 5000 feet, we both came to a hover. I looked around with my eyes, and my sensors, but other than the spot where I had dropped the pod, there was no open water for miles. "Do you see anything?"

"No. You?"

"Nothing."

"All right. We might as well land and make ourselves comfortable. Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Four."

"Thunderbird Four. Go ahead, Scott."

"How's it going down there, Gordon?"

"It's very dark, Scott. I should be in sight of the station in about five minutes. If I can find it in all this dark, that is."

"Virgil and I have checked around for another opening in the ice, but we can't find anything. We're going to have to figure out a way for you to transfer those people once you've got them."

I entered the discussion. "I could just drop the pod. Gordon could bring them aboard in groups, then when he's got them all, I could pick the pod up."

"That works for me."

"I have a bad feeling about this, fellas. I didn't like the way that pod settled the first time." Scott's voice had an edge of doubt.

"I wasn't particularly crazy about it myself, but what alternative do we have?" Gordon said reasonably.

"All right. Listen, Gordon, as soon as you reach that station, let me know what's happening. John says he lost contact with them."

"FAB, Scott. I have them on my sensors now. I'm doing a thermal sweep to see if I can spot where they're holed up."

I listened while gazing out the window. The wind picked up a bit, and snow was swirling around the struts of Thunderbird One. I realized it wouldn't be long before a potentially troublesome snowdrift could build up against both hulls. "Scott?"

"Yeah, Virg?"

"Listen, the snow is starting to blow around out there. I think you should move Thunderbird One downwind of Thunderbird Two. I wouldn't want your delicate little toy plane to get knocked over by the nasty old wind."

"You're feeling mighty brave today, Virgil."

"I just have your best interests at heart, brother mine."

"Uh-huh."

I couldn't help but grin. It was a rare day that I could get the better of Scott in any conversation, and I chose to believe his lack of snappy comeback was a point for me. "Scott, why don't you move One, then come on over here. I'll put on a pot of coffee. There's not a heck of a lot we can do until the kid surfaces. We might as well not do it together."

There was a moment of silence as Scott weighed his options. Drinking coffee while Gordon did all of the work would not set particularly well with Scott. He had a very well developed sense of duty. But my more practical nature had long ago come to understand that there were times when a rescue was just a matter of sitting around and waiting.

"No, I don't think that is going to work, Virg. I don't want to risk Thunderbird One getting stuck in this ice, and that means I'm going to have to shift her every once and awhile."

He had a valid point. The struts of thunderbird One were of a tough alloy, but if they were to become frozen in the ice, they could conceivably be ripped right off the belly of the ship if a fast take off was necessary. For that matter, Thunderbird Two couldn't really afford to become frozen to the ice.

"All right, big brother. I'll tell you what. I'm still going to make that coffee. You go ahead and move One downwind, and I'll bring you a thermos. How does that sound?"

"Actually, that sounds pretty good. I'll put her as close as I can. I wouldn't want you to get lost trying to find me."

My response was interrupted by a call from Gordon. "Thunderbird Four to Thunderbird One."

"Go ahead, Gordon."

"Scott, I've located the survivors, but we've got a problem. They have this screwy docking portal. It doesn't match anything I've ever seen before. I'm going to try the universal docking collar, but I don't think it's going to work." The worry was plain in Gordon's voice. "Can you get on the horn to John, have him contact whoever built this thing? If I can't make a connection, I'm going to have to bring them across to Thunderbird Four one at a time in the deep-sea rescue pod, and from the looks of things, there just isn't enough time for that."

"FAB, Gordon. I'll find out about it. In the meantime you do the best you can."

"Okay, Scott. Gordon out."

I sat back in my seat. Nothing is ever easy. The deep-sea rescue pod was designed to protect the occupant from pressure and cold. It was bulky and hard to manage. Gordon always made it look easy of course, but still, I always was uneasy when he had to use it.

Well, there was not a lot I could do at the moment, so I unbuckled and headed back to Thunderbird Two's living quarters. On those occasions when a rescue couldn't be completed within a few hours, we needed a place to bunk, eat and gather for meetings. Just another service provided by my green lady.

One thing my father never stinted on was quality provisions. The coffee was Blue Mountain, a very select blend. The coffee maker actually ground the beans as part of its operation. The beans were pre-measured so there was very little chance for messing it up. That was a concession to my youngest brother. Alan was a good guy, but he couldn't be trusted around food. He's the only person I know who has injured himself making a peanut butter sandwich.

I wasn't a whole heck of a lot better. I survived my college years on Chinese take-out and the occasional microwaved hot dog. That and a series of girlfriends who all firmly believed the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. The coffee finished its cycle, and I grabbed a large thermos from a cabinet and filled it full of the rich hot brew.

I called to Scott on my communicator. "Scott? Coffee's ready."

"FAB, Virg. I'm moving Thunderbird One now." I listened as Thunderbird One lifted off. I couldn't help but frown. The wind had really picked up, and I could barely make out Thunderbird One's rumble over the roar of the freshening storm. "Listen, come in through the equipment hold, okay? I don't want the forward hatch open."

"Okay, Scott, I'm on my way." I headed for a downwind hatch, pulling on my arctic heavy weather coat as I went. When I opened the hatch, I almost closed it right back up again. It was freezing out there. Scott had been as good as his word, and Thunderbird One's tail was practically touching my hull, but it was still a good thirty-five feet to the equipment hatch that Scott had thoughtfully opened for me.

If it had been anyone other than Scott, I would have shut the hatch and told them to forget about it, but I owed my brother my life, my sanity and my loyalty. I took a deep breath and hurried out into the storm. It only took a few moments for me to cover the distance, but by the time I reached my brother's ship, I was convinced that my face and hands were frozen despite the heavy gloves and balaclava I had put on. Climbing up into the ship, I called out, "Scott?"

"Yeah." His response was distracted. I headed for the cockpit where I found him with his head bent over one of the computer monitors. "So there's no way around it, then?"

John's discouraged voice came through the speakers. "No, Scott. That base was specifically designed to keep people out. Even if Gordon could get the docking collar to mate, it could set off a booby-trap that would kill him and destroy the station."

"Idiots. Scott, what if I used the lasers and cut my way in? Would that trigger anything? I could come in through one of the flooded sections."

I entered the conversation. "Scott, what's going on?"

Scott looked up at me, disgust in his eyes. "It turns out these people moved into what used to be a top secret installation doing some kind of military research. The new owners left most of the defenses in place, and the only people who know which ones have been disarmed are over there waiting to be rescued. The damned thing may be rigged to self destruct if there is any kind of breach."

"Oh for crying out loud! Were they going to tell us about it, or just wait until Thunderbird Four imploded?"

"Enough, Virg. Things are dicey as it is, let's not make them any worse." Scott said it softly, with his communicator on mute. I was instantly contrite. There would be plenty of time after we got home to go over the foolishness of the world's military and scientific communities. Right now, Gordon was on the hot seat and he needed as much support as we could give him.

"Uh, uh, Gordon, I've been going over the plans of the base, and I think I have found a flaw in the original security system." Brains' voice was confident. "Now, if you will turn your uh, attention to the schematic in front of you, you will see, I have uh, highlighted a small area at the base of the uh, main globe. What you will need to do, Gordon, is come up below that area and uh, use your laser to destroy the junction box that you will uh, find there. That will disable the self destruct, and allow you to then cut into the base."

"I dunno, Brains, that seems awfully easy. Are you sure there aren't any booby-traps there? I can't afford any surprises, you know."

" Uh, yes, Gordon, I am aware of that. Please keep in mind that this was a top-secret installation. Any attacker would have had to know where that uh, junction box is. In addition, there were manned defenses that they would have depended on to protect them. Those defenses are currently underwater, so I, uh, don't imagine you'll have any trouble with them."

Scott sat shaking his head. "Brains, I don't like it. How about this instead. How about if Gordon moves in, places a charge to take out the junction box? I don't like the idea of him being anywhere near that place when he tries to disarm it."

"Uh, unfortunately, the junction box is shielded, Scott. Any explosive strong enough to take it out would uh, also destroy the station. As it is, it will take Gordon at least twenty minutes to break through and destroy the box."

"Twenty minutes? Brains, I don't think those people have twenty minutes left. I have to get through faster somehow."

I had been looking over the plans as I listened, and I couldn't help but get a sense of hopelessness. The so-called 'research station' was bristling with defenses. I could see the sense of attacking the junction box, but what was the point if it took so long that the victims all died? I had a thought. "Brains, what about the oxyhydnite?"

"No." Scott's response was immediate and firm.

"Hey, I think you may have something there, Virg. Brains, how much time would the oxyhydnite take off?"

"At least, uh, ten minutes, possibly more, uh, Gordon."

"Are you listening, Gordon? I said no, and I mean it. To use that stuff you would have to leave Thunderbird Four, and that just isn't going to happen."

"Scott, if I don't use the oxyhydnite, I might just as well leave now. The laser isn't fast enough, and I don't have time to argue with you. I'm preparing to leave Thunderbird Four now."

"Damn it, Gordon! You stay put and that's an order!"

"Son, I want you to reconsider that order." Jeff's voice was grave as he entered the discussion. "I don't like it anymore than you do, but your brother is right. If you can't get into that base quickly, you might just as well pack it up and come home. It's your decision, Scott, but if Brains and Gordon think the level of risk is acceptable, I believe you should trust their judgement."

I stood very still. I wanted to support Scott, but I had to agree with Dad. There was no point in us staying if we weren't willing to go the whole nine yards. I knew in my heart that if it were Scott in Thunderbird Four, he wouldn't hesitate for a moment. But it was our little brother and that was a different story. Scott's shoulder's slumped and he slowly shook his head. But when he spoke, his voice was calm. "All right. Gordon, the first sign of trouble, and I want you out of there, understand?"

"FAB, Scott." Gordon was wise enough to keep a respectful tone, but I couldn't help but notice his communicator showed he was already in the water. I knew that fact hadn't escaped Scott's keen eye either. Gordon rarely disobeyed Scott's orders in the field, no doubt because of his WASP training. Scott, who was a good a brother as anybody could ask for could turn downright despotic in the field, no doubt due to his Air Force training. There would be consequences to Gordon's disobedience, most likely in the form of some hard and painful workout sessions. Gordon knew it, but apparently he was willing to pay the price.

For the time being, however, Scott kept his peace, and we both watched and waited as our brother set to work with the oxyhydnite. Oxyhydnite was one of Brains' greatest successes. The gaseous compound was compressed into a liquid form in specially constructed tanks. When released in a thin stream it burned hot and clean and cut through reinforced steel like butter. It seemed only a matter of minutes before Gordon called out "I'm through. I've destroyed the junction box. Heading back to Thunderbird Four now."

Both Scott and I let out breaths we didn't realize we had been holding. Scott replied, "Okay. Good job, Gordon."

"Thanks, Scott. Let's just hope we still have time to evacuate them" I felt a swell of pride in both of my brothers just then. They might have differences, but when it came right down to it, they both knew they were on the same team.

I considered heading back to Thunderbird Two. I would have to get over to the water to drop the pod once Gordon had the people evacuated, but I was loathe to leave until he called with news of the condition of the survivors. I was still sitting there waiting with Scott when Gordon called with the worst possible news.

"Uh, Scott? I, uh, just ran another thermal scan. The life signs have all disappeared. Am cutting into the section next to where they all were previously." Gordon's voice was cool and collected, the epitome of the seasoned professional.

I felt like I had been hit by a jackhammer. "God damn it." I couldn't help it. To have come so close, and then to have lost it all…

Scott managed to remain supportive. "FAB, Gordon. Go ahead and verify. I'll contact base."

Once he had signed off, Scott voiced his opinion. "Shit." The simple expletive had an eloquence that all the speeches of the world couldn't match. It expressed both my brother's deep sorrow at the loss of life, and his disgust at our failure. I knew that International Rescue could not be blamed, and I also knew that without us, there wouldn't even have been the slim hope that we had provided. But still, I knew Scott would be turning over everything we had done and said looking for ways we could have succeeded. It would be a torturous process for my brother, but at the end, he would learn every lesson this rescue had to offer, and the next time there would be no failure.

I put my hand on his shoulder, and Scott jumped as if he had forgotten I was there. "Uh, Virg. Uh, listen, I want you to get on over to that opening in the ice. As soon as Gordon is back, I want us to get out of here." Scott looked out the port at the blowing snow. "Can you get back okay? You want me to help?"

"No. There's no point in you getting cold too. You're okay, right?"

"I'm fine. I just have to let base know. Be careful out in that snow, Virg. The last thing we need is for you to fall and break a leg or something."

I grunted a response as I pulled the balaclava down over my face. I left the cockpit and made my way out the hatch. In just the half hour or so that I had been on Thunderbird One the weather conditions had deteriorated to the point that I could only see Thunderbird Two, little more than ten yards away as a darker blur in the near whiteout conditions. The wind was so fierce that I stumbled and went to my knees more than once. Oddly enough, I discovered that under the snow, the ice was mushy rather than rock hard. I didn't know enough about how arctic ice worked, but I made a note to ask Brains about it when I got home.

It took me far longer to get back to Thunderbird Two than I thought possible, and when the great green hull loomed suddenly before me, I was grateful to have made it safely. I found that I had wandered off course and instead of being near the hatch in the nose, I was actually far back along her belly. It was a real wake up call for me. As I moved forward to one of Pod four's many hatches, I realized that I could have easily missed the ship all together and put my brothers in jeopardy as they would have been forced to rescue me.

Once onboard, I made my way from the pod to my cockpit, stripping off the heavy arctic gear as I went. I immediately put a call into my brother. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One. Scott?"

"Virgil! Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to reach you for the past ten minutes!"

"Sorry. The conditions out there are ridiculous. It took me this long just to get back."

"Well, I was just about to come after you. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Listen, we need to get off the ground. I'm seeing ice build up along my wings, and God knows how much snow has piled up."

"You go ahead. I need to strip off this gear and get the hover bike put away."

"A hover bike? In this? Scott, we seriously have to talk about this death wish of yours."

"Glad to. Just as soon as we are home. In the sun. By the pool."

I smiled. "Okay. We will. I'm lifting off now. I hope I can even find that open water in this storm."

I threw the switches that would power up my big honey. I frowned as the power built past the point where I would normally feel her leave the ground. I pushed the retros up a notch and called out to my brother. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One. Scott, she's taking a lot more power to lift than…"

Suddenly, with a tremendous crack, Thunderbird Two leaped into the air. My status boards lit up like a Christmas tree. My hands flew over the controls, fighting to bring my ship under control. I was breathing hard, trying to interpret the data that was overloading all of my systems. What was that crack? Had I lost pod four? "Scott, I'm in trouble! I think I may have ripped her open!"

The zero visibility outside of the ship had no meaning for me. I was flying solely on instruments. It seemed to take forever, but finally the ship started to respond to my touch, slowing her wild gyrations and settling into the hover mode that allowed me to take stock of the situation.

The ominous silence from the ship's communicator was born out by the flashing red lights indicating antenna failure. While there were a few red lights indicating failure in the pod clamps, most were a steady green. After a harrowing situation the previous year in which a clamp failure had cascaded until the pod itself tore free, Brains' had upgraded the entire system to make a cascade practically impossible. All other status indicators had returned to a normal mode. Still, what was that crack?

"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird Two! Virgil, come in! Can you hear me? Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird Two, come in Thunderbird Two!"

John's voice was tense as it spilled out from my wrist communicator. With my antennae down, only Thunderbird Five had communications equipment strong enough to punch through the storm. "John, I'm okay. Thunderbird Two is okay." I was a bit surprised at the breathlessness in my voice, but I knew I could trust John not to let the others know about it.

"Virgil, I've lost all contact with Thunderbird's One and Four! What happened down there? What's going on?"

I felt a lump of steel form in my stomach. "Uh, I'm not sure. I was lifting off and there was this loud crack. Thunderbird Two went flying up in the air, and it took me awhile to get her under control. What do you mean 'all contact'? You've got them on the GPS if nothing else, right?"

"I've got you and Thunderbird Four on GPS, but I can't raise Gordon, and I don't have any tracking at all on Scott. Just about the time that you went flying, Scott just disappeared from my screens. No GPS, no communicator, no internal tracker, nothing. Virg, you have to get down there and find out what's happening!"

My younger brother's normally calm voice had raised up a few notches and I responded to that if nothing else. "John, settle down. They're fine. It's probably the storm. I'll just check it out and let you know, okay?"

My own gut was roiling with fear. Whatever it had been, I knew that crack was somehow responsible for the loss of telemetry on Thunderbird One. Communications and GPS could be accounted for by a loss of ship's power. It didn't explain the internal tracker, which like the black boxes of old had its own power source, but I was confident we would figure out what happened with it eventually.

Thunderbird Four was easier to explain. The small scout craft actually relied on the antennas on Thunderbird Two to relay long range communications. The weather conditions and cold water might be the reason John couldn't get through on Gordon's wrist communicator.

I tried to convince myself that I was right, and all would be well, but my gut wasn't going along with it. I knew we had serious trouble. I flicked on my visual display system. Nighttime, fog, blowing snow all were conquered by this brilliant adaptation of military hardware. My father along with Brains had worked for over a year to eliminate the shortfalls of this system, and once it was on, the area became as clear as if the day was still and calm. Unlike many of the old systems, my dad's Mark XII VDS was like looking out on a cloudless day, with real colors, and true landmark imaging.

What I saw made my heart grow cold. Where Thunderbirds Two and One had previously rested was a patch of black icy water. There was no sign of Thunderbird One. It took me only a moment to realize what had happened. The crack I had heard had been the shattering of the arctic ice. Thunderbird One had sunk without a trace.

I wiped a suddenly shaking hand across my eyes, and raised my brother. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird Five. John, I need you to patch me through to Dad."

John didn't ask the question, only responded in a small voice, "FAB" then put the connection through.

"Virgil? What is going on, son?"

"Uh, Dad, we have uh, a problem. When I took off, I apparently cracked the ice we were on. I can see no sign of Thunderbird One, only a hole in the ice." I tried to stay calm and cool, but the truth was my voice shook. "I was talking to Scott when I was lifting off, and as far as I know he was not in the cockpit. And he might even have been outside of the ship."

I don't know why I had put it in terms of worst case scenario. Maybe I was hoping my dad could pull a rabbit out of his hat and convince me I was wrong. When he responded, his tone was urgent. "All right, son. I want you to drop a sonar buoy in that water. See if you can get any readings. Then you can direct Gordon to see what he can find."

"FAB." It wasn't much, but at least it was something to do. The sonar buoys that Thunderbird Two carried also had a long range antenna that would boost the range of Thunderbird Four's communicators. I turned in my seat to access the automated system that would deploy the buoy. Once it was set, I maneuvered Thunderbird Two over the water, and let the buoy drop.

As soon as it hit the water, I was on the horn calling. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird Four, Gordon, come in."

"Oh, thank God! Virg, Virg, we're in trouble! Thunderbird One came down right on top of me! Thunderbird Four is pinned under her, and I can't reach Scott! Virg, you've gotta do something!"

I had never heard my easy-going younger brother sound quite so panicked. The situation was terrifying for us both, and I was feeling every bit as frightened as Gordon. My mind shied away from the thought that Scott could be dead. The idea was simply beyond my comprehension. But I had been trained to deal with situations worse than this, and I hoped my calm response would put Gordon back on track too. "Okay, Gordon, let's take it one step at a time. First, did you find any survivors on the research base?"

"What? Survivors? No, uh, no survivors."

"Okay, then, how about you? Are you injured, are you hurt in any way?"

I could sense my little brother calming himself as he answered my questions. "No, I'm fine. I was on the research station, body-bagging the victims when I heard this thud. When I went to see what it was, I found Thunderbird One had come down right on top of Thunderbird Four. One's engines have crushed Four's nose. I've reconned around One. I can see into the cabin because the port window was unshielded, but as far as I can see, Scott wasn't in the cabin. I can't get in because the hatch is jammed. I can't tell if she's watertight, Virg."

Gordon's voice had gone soft on that last part, and I felt a squeeze in the lump that had taken up permanent residence in my belly. "Well, we are just going to have to assume she is, Gordy. Let's not buy any more trouble than we have to. I'm about to run a thermal scan. Listen, why didn't her flotation devices trigger?"

"Uh, I'm not sure. She looks basically intact. I suppose she could have lost power. I could try the manual release."

"No. Hold off on that, Gordon. We need to be sure she'll surface where we want her before we do that." I knew I was overlooking something, but for my life, I couldn't think of what it could be. The thermal image was hazy at best. I wasn't sure if I was picking up two life signs, or just Gordon. I chose not to say anything for the moment. "I want you to hold on for a moment. I'm going to contact base."

"FAB." I didn't like the tremor in my brother's voice, but there was little I could do about it at the moment. We had to figure out a way to get Thunderbird One safely to the surface, so we could get to Scott. I called out to my dad for help, knowing that John in Thunderbird Five would have kept the connection open.

"Thunderbird Two to base. Dad? I've contacted Gordon. He says Thunderbird One came down right on top of Thunderbird Four and crushed her nose. Thunderbird One is intact, but Gordon can't get the hatch open, and Scott is not visible through the port. I think he may be somewhere between the cockpit and the equipment bay, but until we can get in there, there's no way to be sure. I've done a thermal scan of the entire area. I have no life signs anywhere above the surface, and it's inconclusive at the site. Gordon says the flotation collars never triggered, so I am pretty sure we are talking about a complete power failure."

The scariest thing about the situation was that power failure. Thunderbird One had so many redundant systems that this kind of failure should have been impossible. If it was as complete as it seemed, there was the question of the emergency measures. Did my brother have air? Was the cold chilling him even as I awaited my father's response?

"Virgil, is Gordon injured? Can he get to the manual release?"

"Yes, he was aboard the station when it happened. He's unhurt and mobile. The problem with a manual release is the hole in the ice is just that. It's a hole. If Gordon triggers that release, we've got no guarantee One won't land up under the ice somewhere."

Alan spoke up. "Virgil, how much air does Gordon have?"

My stomach dropped like an express elevator. I was so concentrated on saving Scott, I hadn't even thought about Gordon once he said he was okay. "Hold on, base."

I flipped the switch back to my contact with my younger brother. "Gordon, how much air have you got in those tanks?"

Gordon impatiently waved away my concern. "I've got enough. Listen, the sea bed is less than 300 feet from the surface here. If you drop the winch, we could hook up One and then release the flotation devices. You could winch her up to the surface, then pull her out onto the ice."

I found myself nodding at the idea. "All right. I am lowering the winch now." I worked the necessary switches to get the cable running then contacted base again.

"Base, Gordon says his air is fine. I'm dropping a cable down to him. He'll hook it up to Thunderbird One, and that way I can guide her to the hole when Gordon releases the flotation collars."

Brains entered the conversation. "Uh, Virgil, that is what I, uh, was going to suggest. However, I believe you should double the, uh, lines before you attempt to lift Thunderbird One clear of the water. If she has, uh, taken on any substantial amount of w-w-water, trying to lift her with just the one cable could rip out the, uh, winch."

Brains didn't say it, but if Thunderbird One had taken on that much water, it would only mean she wasn't watertight and my brother was dead. Six months ago, we wouldn't even have been having this conversation. As originally designed, Thunderbird Two could never have lifted Thunderbird One. But after a couple of incidents where Thunderbird One was damaged and had to be repaired on site, my father had ordered Brains to boost Thunderbird Two's lift capacity so that I could transport the rocket plane if she couldn't make it home under her own power. Even with Brains' enhancements, Thunderbird One was right on the edge of Thunderbird Two's limits. I took a deep breath, but I only trusted myself to reply, "FAB."

I watched as the cable spooled out. When it passed the 250 foot marker, I contacted Gordon. "Gordon, the cable is headed your way. Let me know when you've got it."

"Okay." The simple reply reminded me that Scott wasn't the only victim here. Gordon had been down there in the cold dark ocean with nothing but death and destruction for far too long.

"Just hang in there, kiddo. Everything's going to be all right. The cable will be there any moment. You just hook it up and you'll be home free."

There was a momentary pause, then Gordon's voice took on an edge of annoyance. "I'm fine, Virgil. You don't have to babysit me. I've got the cable, and I'm attaching it now." There were a few moments of silence then, "Virgil? I am hitting the manual release, now. Flotation devices are deploying."

Gordon always was a tough kid. Still, I didn't want to leave him alone down there any longer than necessary. "FAB. Is she starting to rise yet?"

"Uh, no. Thunderbird One is not moving. Virg, try taking up the slack. Maybe she just needs a nudge."

I took a few deep breaths as I engaged the winch. The only reason I could think of for Thunderbird One not to rise with the heavy-duty flotation collars was if she was flooded. I watched the pressure gauges carefully. Once the slack was out of the line, the gauges quickly redlined. I kept up the pressure, hoping against diminishing hope that Thunderbird One was just suctioned to the bottom.

I felt a sudden give just as Gordon's voice rang out. "Virgil! Hold up! Thunderbird One's hung up on Thunderbird Four! The winch will never stand the pressure. I have to cut Four free somehow."

As much as I hated to do it, I disengaged the winch, and let Thunderbird One drop back to the ocean floor. "Gordon, you're going to have to work fast down there. We don't know how much air Scott has."

"Yeah, I know. I'm trying to get into Four to get the Oxyhydnite."

"Well, be careful. You're Scott's only hope, you know."

"I know, I know. Just give me a few minutes."

I couldn't help but think a few minutes had been the difference between life and death for the researchers on that station. I forced myself to refrain from demanding that Gordon hurry. I knew my family had to be on a knife's edge waiting for any word, so I put in another call to base. "Thunderbird Two to base. The first attempt to lift Thunderbird One was unsuccessful. Gordon says she's caught up on Thunderbird Four. He's going to use the Oxyhydnite to cut her free."

"No! No, Virgil, t-t-tell Gordon NOT to ignite the oxyhydnite! Tell him now!"

The panic in Brains voice terrified me. I called out urgently. "Gordon! Don't use the oxyhydnite! Do you hear me? Do NOT use the oxyhydnite!"

I paused to take a breath to call again, but Gordon responded, grinding the words out. "FAB. I think I have a pair of Grandma's sewing scissors. I'll use those instead."

Letting out the breath I had sucked in, I counted to five to give my heart a chance to re-start, then spoke to my frustrated brother. "Just hold on. I'm talking to Brains." I turned back to my connection with the base. "All right, Brains. Gordon is not using the oxyhydnite. You want to tell me WHY we can't use it, before I lose what's left of my marbles here?"

"If any of the rocket p-p-propellant has leaked, using the torch could be disastrous."

"We still need to get Thunderbird One out of the water fast. How are we going to do that?"

"Uh, I am working on it, uh, Virgil. Give me a moment, uh, to do a calculation."

I swallowed hard. I was getting careless in my need to get to my brother. Brains was right. If there was the slightest chance of the booster propellant tanks being ruptured any spark would blow up Thunderbirds One and Four, and spread both of my brothers over a wide area. I should have thought of that myself. I resolved to pay more attention to what was happening. I was a professional, and I was allowing my anxiety to override my judgement.

'Uh, uh, Virgil? I've done my calculation, and I believe if you use an additional cable to take the strain, you can lift both Thunderbirds One and Four."

My instincts rebelled against the suggestion. Thunderbird Two was a tough, heavy-duty cargo-carrying monster ship, but she wasn't designed to lift that kind of weight. "Brains, you'll rip the heart out of her! She's not rated to take that kind of weight!"

"No, uh, Virgil. I'm not uh, suggesting that you lift them c-c-clear of the water. Now, listen. Have uh, Gordon t-t-trigger Thunderbird Four's flotation collars. That should take the strain off of uh, Thunderbird Two. Keep enough pressure on the winch line to uh, insure that Thunderbird One surfaces at the uh, hole in the ice. Once Thunderbird One has surfaced, have uh, G-G-Gordon attach the additional line. Then you can, uh, drag Thunderbird One out onto the surface of the ice, without actually lifting her."

I wasn't convinced, but the clock was running out for my brother. Unable to come up with a different plan, I was forced to agree. "All right. Stand by, base." I swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. This day was just getting worse and worse. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird Four. Gordon, I need you to trigger the flotation devices on Thunderbird Four."

There was a silence over the microphone. "Gordon? Did you copy that?"

"Yeah. Uh, I got it. We're not cutting her free?"

"No, we're going to get both ships to the surface, then you're going to attach another line and I'm going to pull them both out." I tried to sound confident, but it was a tough sell.

After another long pause, Gordon responded. "Okay, Virg. I am releasing the flotation collar now… It's working! Both ships are rising. Take up the slack!"

Rather than retract the line, I simply lifted Thunderbird Two straight up. This time the winch indicated the strain was within tolerance. My mouth was as dry as cotton as I kept my eyes glued to my monitors. It seemed to take forever, but finally Thunderbird One broached the surface like a whale coming up for air.

As soon as I saw that bright red nose above the surface, I came up with a new plan. "Gordon, where are you? Can you reach the nose hatch?"

"What? Virgil, you're going to have to speak up! The wind is howling down here!"

My brother was practically screaming into his communicator, and I could understand why. With the VDS imaging system on, I had forgotten what conditions were like on the ground. One glance out my windshield reminded me, and I felt a new concern for Gordon's safety. I considered ditching my new plan, but I plowed on ahead, relying on Gordon's toughness to see him safely through.

I turned the gain up on my communicator, and raised my voice. "Gordon, can you get to the nose hatch? Get the oxyhydnite, and breach that hatch. Understood?"

"Uh, yeah. FAB. I've already got the tank strapped on. Let me just see if I can get up there."

It was a gamble. Thunderbird One's nose was a good thirty feet above the level of the ice, which meant the hatch was at least ten feet up from the water. The propellant tanks were still underwater, and if they were bleeding out the highly volatile but heavier than water rocket fuel, it should be sinking away from the ship. Any sparks or burning metal should be extinguished in the water before it reached any significant pocket of the deadly fuel. Or so I hoped. If I was wrong, it would be my brothers who paid the price.

I watched through the VDS as Gordon attempted to climb the sleek sides of Thunderbird One to reach the hatch. It wasn't easy. I held my breath as he lost his footing at one point, but he persevered, and finally I saw him hook safety ropes to either side of the hatch. Confident that he was safe for the moment, I called home. "Thunderbird Two to base."

My father's quick response spoke to his anxiety, but his voice was calm. "Go ahead, Virgil."

"Dad, Thunderbird One has surfaced. Gordon is going to attempt to cut through the hatch with the oxyhydnite."

"What about the rocket propellant?"

"Uh, that would be uh, less of a risk at this point, uh, Alan."

I nodded listening to the side conversation. "Yes, I think it's worth the risk. I'm worried about Scott running out of air. Once we've ascertained his condition, then we can worry about pulling the Thunderbirds out of the water."

"All right son. Call as soon as Gordon has broken through."

"Yes, Father."

My eyes went back to the monitor where my younger brother worked at getting into Thunderbird One. I was trying to keep Thunderbird Two as steady as possible to help stabilize the ship below, but the strong winds were making it difficult.

I knew my brother was under a lot of pressure, and I didn't want to add to it, but I couldn't help myself from asking, "How's it going, Gordon?"

"I'm almost through."

He sounded exhausted, and I couldn't help the concern I felt, but like I had said before, Gordon was Scott's only hope. I had a sudden insight into how the relatives of victims saved by International Rescue must feel. I had the advantage, though. I knew for a fact that my brother would not give up, regardless of the odds.

"Okay, I'm through. Thunderbird One is tight and dry. I'm heading down ship now."

"FAB. Be careful." I closed my eyes. I should have been relieved that the ship was watertight, but until I knew Scott's condition, I couldn't feel anything but fear.

"Thunderbird Two to base. Gordon has boarded Thunderbird One. She is watertight."

"Any word on Scott yet?"

"No, Father. Gordon is searching for him now."

"All right, son. Keep in touch."

"FAB, Dad."

"Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two. Scott's alive, but unconscious. It looks like he hit his head, opened up a gash on his side. Virg, we need to get him out of here. He's lost a lot of blood."

I cast about for what to do. It was ironic that the man I depended on to come up with quick answers was the man I was desperate to save. "All right, Gordon. Here's what we're going to do. I'll lower the rescue pod. You get Scott aboard and we'll cut the line to Thunderbird One."

"Uh, that's not going to work. The wind out there is too strong. The pod will just crash into the ship."

"We'll use the winch line as a guide. It'll be okay."

"Have you looked out the window lately? I'm telling you, it's not going to work! The wind is just too strong. Virg, we need to pull Thunderbird One out of the water, and evacuate Scott by land."

"That's not any better. Trust me on this. I was out there, and as bad as an air evac will be, trying to do it over that ice would be ten times worse. Now you just hang tight and I'll set up the pod."

"Virgil, wait! Listen… I don't think I can get him up through the ship to the upper hatch, and the lower hatch is underwater."

Now that just confused me. Why couldn't Gordon carry Scott up the ladder? It was the kind of move we practiced on a regular basis, and the ladders aboard Thunderbird One weren't substantially different from any other. My heart froze as a thought occurred. "Gordon, what aren't you telling me? Is Scott really alive?"

I guess my fear leaked through because Gordon was quick to reassure me. "Yeah, he's alive. He's hanging tough. It's just… It's… Virgil, it's me. I wasn't completely straight with you before. I took a hard shot when Thunderbird One hit the bottom. I'm all right, but I sort of don't trust myself to make it up the ladder safely."

"God damn it, Gordon! What the hell is the matter with you? Why the hell didn't you say something?"

"Oh, and what was I going to say? 'Sorry, Virg, I'm just going to have to let Scott die because I hurt my little arm?' Jeezus. I'm doing what I have to do, and I'm not going to take any crap from you over it!" Gordon replied hotly.

"Hold on, I'm calling base."

"No! Don't tell…" I cut him off.

I took a deep breath to steady myself before contacting my father. "Thunderbird Two to base. Dad, Scott's alive, but injured, and now Gordon tells me he's injured too." I was so angry at my brother that I didn't even think about how this news would be received at home.

"Injured? What kind of injuries? Are they safe? Virgil, for God's sake, son!"

The distress in my father's voice made me hasten to answer. "Scott's unconscious from a knock on the head, and he's lost some blood from a wound in his side. I'm not sure what Gordon's problem is. He mentioned his arm." I finished lamely.

There was a momentary silence as my father digested this news. His voice was stern when he responded, "Virgil, what's going on out there? What do you mean you aren't sure?"

I flinched at the tone, and my anger drained away. "I'm sorry, Father. I wanted to get Scott out of there quickly, so I suggested we use the rescue pod then cut Thunderbird One loose. Gordon said he couldn't get Scott to the upper hatch, and when I asked why not, he told me he took a hard shot when Thunderbird One hit the sea floor. I guess I just saw red. I yelled at him, he yelled at me, and I called you." God, it sounded like I was tattling on him just for spite. "Let me get him back on the line. I'll find out how bad it is."

"No, son. You're both under a hell of a lot of stress. You just patch me through to your brother, and you take a few moments to calm yourself down."

"No, Dad, I'm all right. I'll talk to him."

"Virgil, patch me through now."

There was no argument when my father used that tone. I acknowledged the order and patched him through. I sat back and waited. After a moment, I started retracting the winch, simultaneously dropping Thunderbird Two lower to keep the slack out of the line. I knew I'd messed up, and I wanted to be ready for whatever course of action that we came up with.

"Base to Thunderbird Two. Come in, Virgil."

Sighing, I opened up the line. "Thunderbird Two. Go ahead, Dad."

"Son, Gordon's all right. Basically, he's just exhausted, as I'm sure you are too. I want you to go ahead with the original plan. Drop an extra line down, then drag Thunderbird One out on the ice. Set Thunderbird Two down as close as you can and transfer Scott by gurney."

I shook my head, replying, "Father, before this all started, I went over to Thunderbird One to take Scott some coffee. It took me almost twenty minutes to get back to Thunderbird Two, and it was only about ten yards. The conditions out there are hellish, and I just don't think I want to risk that kind of transfer."

"Uh, Virgil, uh, when you were uh, returning to Thunderbird Two, Scott was talking to me. Do I understand correctly that Thunderbird One had her uh, tail pointed at Thunderbird Two's side?"

"Yes, Brains, so what?"

"Uh, so, Virgil, I think if you land Thunderbird Two side-by-side with Thunderbird One, the bulk of the ships will, uh, create enough of a w-w-windbreak to make the transit safe. Oh, uh, and if you remove the, uh, slack from the winch lines, you can use it as a guide between the ships."

I found myself nodding. It was far from ideal, but nothing about this whole sorry mess was ideal. "Okay, Brains. That sounds good. Let me just get started on it."

As I had lowered the ship, I had begun to fight the controls more and more. The winds that were dangerous on the ground were downright deadly in midair. I would have liked to leave the cockpit to slave the second line onto the original winch line, but under the circumstances, it would be suicide to attempt the automatic pilot for even a few seconds. It was good enough under normal conditions, but advanced though it was, it simply couldn't react fast enough to keep the ship in the air.

"Gordy? You okay down there?"

"Yeah. Look, Virg, I'm sorry I yelled."

"It's okay. I'll forgive you, if you'll forgive me, right? We're going to pull Thunderbirds One and Four up onto the ice, all right? I'm dropping the second line now."

"Okay. Standing by." One of the great things about my brother Gordon, he never held grudges. I hit the control to drop the line quickly. I was less than one hundred feet above the ice, and I wanted this to be over. "Uh, Virgil? We have a problem."

Problem? This whole day had been nothing but problems. "What's wrong?"

"Uh, look out your front window."

Startled, I looked up. Outside of my window, I could see the 'problem' dancing and waving. The cable, with its 100 pound hook was extended straight out from the nose of Thunderbird Two. Its considerable weight was no match for the gale force winds. "Yeah, I guess that is a bit of a problem. Let me think a minute."

As much as I hated to admit it, my green lady did have her shortcomings. Automated though her systems were, handling the various winches really did require a second person. I knew the answer was to trust the automatic pilot, but I wasn't ready to go to that extreme yet. I reeled in the second line as I thought about it. The hook banged into the undercarriage a couple of times ringing through the hull over the storm's roar. I winced in sympathy with my ship.

"Have you got a plan yet, Virg? It's getting kind of cold down here."

Gordon's quiet admission spurred my thinking into high gear, and I answered before the thought was fully formulated. "Yeah, Gordon. What I'm going to do is let out all of the line on the winch drum. That'll give me 750 feet to work with. Then I'll land as far away as I can so I can get the second line attached to the first. I'll raise her up and drop the line and we'll be in business."

"Okay. Tell me when you're ready to raise ship."

"FAB." I started playing out the line as I contacted base. "Thunderbird Two to base. Father, my first attempt to drop the second line was unsuccessful. The wind is just too strong. Right now I'm raising Thunderbird Two to the end of the line, then I will land her and hook the second line onto the first and try again."

"Uh, Virgil, with the, uh, wind as high as it is, I would recommend leaving at least fifty feet of line on the winch drum."

I could live with that. "All right Brains. Fifty feet it is."

"Son, are you sure that ice is safe? I don't need to tell you what will happen if Thunderbird Two sinks."

That was a possibility that I didn't even want to consider. "I'll be careful setting her down, Father. If there's any movement at all, I'll be out of there like a shot."

"All right, son. Go ahead."

With my father's approval, I continued to let out the line, being careful to maintain a steady tension. I knew that I had to take it slowly to maximize the safety factors, but it was hard not to want to hurry and get it done. Finally the counter read seven hundred feet, and I came to a hover.

Now was the hard part. I had to keep enough tension in the line to keep Thunderbird One steady. Without the pull of the line, the distressed ship could be blown over by the howling winds. She was watertight now, and I intended to keep her that way. On the other hand, if I put too much tension on the line, I could pull her over myself.

"Gordon, I'm at 700 feet. Starting down now."

"FAB."

It took all of my concentration to make that landing work. A full fifteen minutes later, I touched down and held my breath. The ice seemed steady under the big ship, so I took off at a sprint to the forward bay. It was freezing cold, but I didn't take the time to pull on my arctic gear, instead relying on a heavy pair of work gloves to protect my hands from the frigid metal. By the time I had made the necessary hook up, my teeth were chattering.

I hurried back to the cockpit and strapped in, turning up the heaters to get my shaking hands under control. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One. Gordon, I'm lifting off now."

"FAB."

If anything, the reverse procedure was even more hair-raising. The wind seemed to come at me from all directions, making it almost impossible to keep the ship steady. By the time I had come to a hover over Thunderbird One, I was exhausted. I felt as if I had dead-lifted Thunderbird Two up into the air with my arms alone.

"Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One. Okay, Gordon, I'm in position and dropping the line now."

"FAB." It sounded to me as if the wait had done my brother some good. He sounded a bit sharper, more confident. I let the line out quickly until it registered one hundred feet, then I again retracted the primary line as I dropped Thunderbird Two down. In the end, I was hovering one hundred feet up, and the second winch hook was within Gordon's grasp.

"Okay, Virg, give me some slack here… A little more… Okay that's got it. We're hooked up and ready to go." Gordon was definitely doing better. It was one concern off my mind.

"All right, is Scott strapped in? I don't want him flung around down there."

"Yeah, he's fine. Listen, I had to cut into the upper hatch and now it won't seal, so you need to pull to the left."

"Left? My left or your left? Can you be a little more specific?"

"Uh, sorry. Uh, that'd be to your two o'clock position."

"All right. You get back aboard. Close the hatch to the equipment bay just in case."

"Already done. We're as ready as we'll ever be here, Virg."

"FAB. You have problems, you sing out, understand?"

"You'll get the whole opera, don't you worry."

That put a grim little smile on my face. Despite Brains' confidence, I wasn't at all sure this was going to work. It was only the lack of viable alternatives that kept me from rejecting the whole deal. Settling myself deeper into my seat, I took a deep breath. "Okay, here we go."

The strain indicators on the winch monitors started to climb as I slowly applied forward thrust. I had to keep the pull even despite the constant buffeting of the wind. To my relief, the strain was within tolerance, if only just barely.

I divided my attention between the winch indicators and the monitor showing what was happening with Thunderbird One. To my dismay, rather than being pulled out onto the ice, Thunderbird One was slicing through the ice like a Coast Guard icebreaker. What was worse was she seemed to be trying to rotate, probably due to Thunderbird Four which she was dragging behind her.

I continued to move forward but my heart was sinking. It just wasn't working. The combined weight of the two ships was too much to pull out. I was on the verge of calling it quits when something happened. My winch indicators jumped, and so did Thunderbird Two. I slowed my forward thrust staring at the monitor, trying to figure out what happened.

"Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two. Virg, what was that noise?" I frowned. I hadn't heard any noise.

Suddenly, it became clear. I watched as Thunderbird Four bobbed in the wake of Thunderbird One. She was bobbing independently of her bigger sister. "Thunderbird Four is clear. It looks like whatever was hanging it up has pulled apart."

"Really? She's floating? How bad does she look?" My brother's anxious voice told all. Gordon was every bit as attached to Thunderbird Four as I was to Thunderbird Two.

"Yeah, the flotation collars are working like a charm. She doesn't look all that bad, Gordy. Her nose is banged up, but she seems intact otherwise."

"Thank God for small favors. Are we on the ice yet?"

"No, not yet, but I think now that Thunderbird Four isn't dragging on her, I can get Thunderbird One up on the ice. Hang on." Actually, without the additional fourteen tons of Thunderbird Four weighing me down, I could at last resort simply lift Thunderbird One clear of the water. I settled for a compromise, sending Thunderbird Two both forward and up.

As I suspected, with the loss of the additional weight, Thunderbird One slid out of the water almost easily. I pulled almost a half mile along the ice to be sure I was away from the area weakened by Thunderbird One's icebreaking action. "Okay, Thunderbird One, you are free and clear. I'm coming in for a landing now." I put in a call to my family. "Thunderbird Two to base. I've pulled Thunderbird One out onto the ice. I'm going in now."

"Uh, Virgil, is uh Thunderbird Four still attached?"

"No, Brains whatever it was that had them connected apparently broke off. Thunderbird Four is floating in that hole we made."

"In that c-c-case, I suggest that you drop the pod, and uh, land directly over, uh, Thunderbird One. You can then, uh, use the main grabs to secure Thunderbird One into Thunderbird Two's bay, and bring her back with you. Gordon can stay b-b-behind and use the remote controls to load uh, Thunderbird Four into the pod." Brains voice was calm, reasoned. "Once you have uh, returned to base with Scott and Thunderbird One, either you or Alan could return with Thunderbird Two and uh, pick up the pod and Gordon."

I was shaking my head, preparing my argument when my father cut in quietly. "No. Brains your plan is a good one, and we'll go ahead with it to a point. Virgil, you can drop the pod and settle over Thunderbird One. You can run the remote loading program for Thunderbird Four while you're deploying the grabs. But under no circumstances are you to leave your brother behind."

"Agreed, Father." I understood intellectually that Brains had International Rescue's best interests at heart. I knew we had to get Thunderbirds One and Four home. But I couldn't help but resent his willingness to delay my getting to Scott and Gordon even by the time it took to drop the pod. I fought to keep my perspective, and adjusted my course to land the pod away from the damaged ship.

"Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One. Come in, Gordon."

"Hey, Virg, I've been thinking. Why don't you drop the pod? You could land Thunderbird Two right over Thunderbird One, and we could transfer Scott with no problem."

"Actually, that's exactly what we're going to do. Stand by. I'll be with you shortly."

"FAB."

I maneuvered my ship to the end of the tether joining her to Thunderbird One. I hovered just above the ice and released the pod. It hit the ground with a loud clang as I lifted Thunderbird Two away. I immediately had my hands full. Without the mass of the pod, the wind was able to push me around.

After a few hairy moments, I got the ship under control. After all, I hadn't gotten the job of flying Thunderbird Two because I was the second son. I had earned the position. And with situations like this, I kept right on earning it.

After several harrowing minutes, I was finally in position to drop down over Thunderbird One. I had actually practiced this maneuver on a couple of occasions, but never under anything less that ideal conditions. It was weird because she was over on her back, with her wings extended and struts sticking straight up into the air.

I dismissed any doubts from my mind, and shut off the monitor. I knew from personal experience this operation was best done on instruments alone. Preferably with Scott out of the immediate vicinity.

I regretted that thought almost as soon as I had it. Scott was in the vicinity, and at the moment, I would have given just about anything to have him going crazy watching Thunderbird Two settle down on top of his beloved rocket plane. After what seemed an eternity, I finally touched down.

Despite the frigid weather outside, I was drenched in sweat. That didn't stop me from slamming the release on my safety harness, and practically running back to the medical bay. I moved past the compartment holding a number of hover stretchers, and opened a bay that held a pressurized unit. It was bulkier than a regular stretcher, but it would provide Scott with the necessary protection from the cold during the transfer.

I started for the elevator that would lead to the hatch, when I thought for a moment about my other brother. Gordon had been in his wetsuit for the last several hours. It was designed to be used even in water as cold as the Arctic Sea, but he couldn't be comfortable. I stopped by the locker room and grabbed his jeans and tee shirt, then from another equipment compartment, I added the same Arctic survival gear that I was putting on.

Thus prepared, I headed out through the hatch. There wasn't a lot of room in the hold with Thunderbird One lying there on her back, but that was probably just as well. The wind that howled above the ships was bearable down here on ground level. I slogged over to the crippled ship and looked up her side. The belly hatch was now on top of the ship, and her sides were slick with ice.

It wasn't going to work. I didn't want to risk trying to get Scott down safely. I cast about for an answer when I spotted the cockpit port. Normally, it was a good twenty off the ground, but now it was at my knee level. The port was designed with explosive bolts in the event that Scott had to make a quick escape from the cockpit. I nodded to myself as I brought my communicator up. "Virgil to Gordon. Come in Gordon."

"You've landed, haven't you? The wind noise has died down to a dull roar."

"Yeah. Actually, I am standing right outside the ship. Listen, I want you to get to the cockpit and hit the emergency evacuation bar."

"Are you sure? I mean, won't it hit the side of Thunderbird Two?"

"No, it's partly rotated downward. I think it will just smack into the ice. It's the only way we're going to be able to get Scott out of there safely."

"Okay, if you say so. Make sure you're well away, would you? I wouldn't want you to have your hair mussed."

"It'd take more than a mere explosion to muss my hair, you know that, Gordon." My facetious remark brought a short laugh from my brother. Nevertheless, I stood well back when he said he was ready. There was a muffled boom, and the plexiglass plate protecting the port flew off. Despite my prediction, it did indeed shatter against the interior wall of Thunderbird Two. I hurried forward too intent on getting to my brother to spare the wall more than a cursory glance.

I peered into the port just as Gordon moved to peer out. We both jerked back before my brother said with a grin, "Well, hello there. Did you bring the pressure stretcher?"

"Yeah, it's right here. How is he?" I pulled the pressurized hover stretcher into view, and pushed my way into the ship.

"He's doing okay. I've got him set up with plasma and saline lines. He's still out, but he was shifting around earlier. I think he's going to be all right, Virg." Gordon followed as I led the way down the cramped corridor to the equipment bay.

I found my older brother under a pile of emergency blankets, looking deathly pale. He had a bruise forming on his forehead right above his left eye. He was already wearing a cervical collar, and was positioned on a backboard. I gently lifted the blankets to take a look at his side. Gordon had used the plast-skin sealer, but I could see that the gash was a good 6 or 7 inches long, running from his breastbone diagonally down to his left side.

I quickly covered him up again, and called softly, "Scott? Scott, can you hear me?"

His eyelids fluttered, but did not open. I was disappointed, but I had other things to do. I turned to Gordon, who was putting the heavy boots I had brought on over his wetsuit.

I raised an eyebrow, and noticing, my brother said, "This is good enough for now. Let's get moving."

"All right. Slide the stretcher over here. You grab his legs. On three. One… Two… Three." Between us, we shifted Scott onto the stretcher. I set the controls to insure he was warm and given plenty of oxygen, then shut the plexiglass lid. "Okay, let's move."

Between us, we wrestled the bulky stretcher through the cramped confines of the ship and out through the open port. Despite the walls protecting us from the wind, it was freezing cold. I realized too late that Gordon hadn't even put on the balaclava to protect his face. I turned to him to find that he had pulled his diving mask on and stood looking at me questioningly. I just shook my head and led the way back to Thunderbird Two.

It was only when I heard Gordon seal the hatch behind us that the knots that had been residing in my gut finally began to loosen. We weren't home free yet, but at least now I felt as if I had some small measure of control. We moved through my ship to the medical bay, and together, we shifted Scott onto the examining table. Once the table was switched on, we could monitor his condition. I watched in relieved satisfaction the steady beat of his heart, the strong pulse.

I nodded. "All right. I'm going to go set the grabs, and see if I can trigger the remote loading program on Thunderbird Four. Then we'll head for home."

"Virg?"

"Yeah?"

"Remind me to send Alan the next time we have an Arctic rescue, would you?"

"You got it, kiddo."

I stripped off my heavy weather gear as I made my way to the cockpit. It had been a long time since we had had a rescue this disastrous. I knew we were very lucky it wasn't worse. I said a silent prayer of thanks as I settled into the pilot's seat. I threw the switch to begin the remote loading program on Thunderbird Four as I unlimbered the giant grabs from their compartments at the fore and aft of Thunderbird Two's pod bay. While I moved the grabs into position, I put in another call to my dad.

"Thunderbird Two to base. I've successfully landed and evacuated Scott from Thunderbird One. I am securing Thunderbird One with the grabs now, and will be taking off within the next ten minutes."

"How is your brother, Virgil?" My dad was as tough as they came, and his voice was firm, professional, but I knew he was masking his apprehension.

"Dad, he's in good shape, considering. Let me patch you through to Gordon." I flipped the appropriate switches and concentrated again on settling the grabs in the proper position.

Once I was sure the connections were all secure, I spared an eye for my monitor onboard the pod. The damage to Thunderbird Four was apparently not enough to prevent the little ship from responding. As I watched, it loaded itself into the pod, and the pod sealed itself up.

I hated to leave the pod behind, but there was no help for it, and once I saw that the pod was as secure as it could be under the conditions, I fired my retros and lifted ship for home. "Thunderbird Two to base. I have lifted off and am now leaving the danger zone. Estimated time of arrival home is one hour fifteen minutes."

"We'll be ready for you, son."

"FAB, Dad." Now that the crisis was over, I was dog-tired. As soon as I reached my cruising altitude, I switched on the automatic pilot. I sat back and just watched as my green lady took me home.

Forty minutes into the flight, and I heard Gordon enter the cockpit. I turned around in my seat, the knots immediately forming in my gut again. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong. Scott's just getting restless, and I can't get him to settle down. I thought maybe you could go and sit with him for a while."

I stared at my brother. He was presenting me with a terrible dilemma and he knew it. I would do anything to safeguard Scott, but how could I do it if I left the cockpit? Gordon is a competent pilot, I am the first to admit. But Thunderbird Two takes more than competence. She takes a knowing touch that Gordon never had and never would have. On the other hand, Scott needed me. I knew sure as my name was Virgil that my brother would relax if he heard my voice. Maybe he would even regain consciousness.

Gordon stood, his face expressionless as he awaited my decision. "All right. I'll go. You take over here."

Gordon didn't need a second invitation. As I slid out of my seat, he slid in. I tried to keep my misgivings to myself, but I couldn't keep myself from asking, "Are you going to be okay up here?"

My brother glanced over at me and nodded, saying as if to himself, "Okay, there's the accelerator, and that's the brake, so this must be the clutch. No wait, this is the steering wheel. All righty then. Yeah, Virg, I'll be just fine."

I rolled my eyes, then left my brother to it. I jogged back to the medical bay where Scott was still unconscious. Gordon was right. Scott was restless. His head was still restrained by the backboard, but still his arms and legs showed little jerky movements, and his eyes moved behind the closed lids.

I settled down next to him and gently ran my fingers through his hair. "Scott? Scotty? Can you hear me?"

The movement stilled and after a moment, with a heavy sigh, my brother opened his eyes. I moved to be in his line of sight. I kept my voice soft. "Hey, welcome back."

He tried to move his head, and looked slightly confused when he couldn't. "Virg. What happened?"

"The ice broke up when I lifted off and you landed up on the bottom of the sea."

Scott frowned, "I don't remember."

"Well, you have a big ol' knot on your forehead. You probably hit it right when it happened."

"Water?"

"Ice chips for now. Hold on, I'll get them for you."

I moved to the small refrigerator to get a couple of ice cubes and found a cup filled with chopped ice. Gordon's work I assumed. I took the cup back to the bed, and saw that Scott had squeezed his eyes shut. The pain was obvious, and I set the cup aside. "Scott?"

He opened one eye. "Virg."

"You okay?"

Despite my lowered voice, he winced. "I will be if you stop shouting."

"Sorry. Here, have some ice." I offered a spoonful which his gratefully accepted.

After a moment, he looked at me frowning. When he didn't say anything I asked, "What?"

"Who's flying the ship?"

"Gordon."

"Well, if he's flying Thunderbird Two, who's flying Thunderbird One?"

Uh-oh. He was not going to like this. "Well, no one is. She's in the bay. We left the pod and Thunderbird Four back at the rescue site."

Scott's eye widened. "You're kidding, right? Tell me you're kidding, Virgil."

I sighed. "I'm not. Listen to me, Scott. Thunderbird One suffered a complete power failure. She sank straight down to the ocean floor, where she nailed Thunderbird Four. She has damage to her tail section. She isn't flying anywhere on her own for the moment. Thunderbird Four's nose was damaged, but we were able to get her loaded into the pod. We're taking Thunderbird One home, and then I'll fly back and pick up the pod. The weather will keep anybody from getting to the site, let alone breaking into the pod. Okay?"

I tried to keep my voice level, but the stress of the last hours seeped through, and by the end, I was practically pleading.

Scott shifted to look me in the eye. "You've had a tough day, haven't you?"

The wealth of empathy in that question almost brought me to tears. I shook my head wearily. "Scott, I don't know how you do it. I came this close to totally losing it."

"Gordon's okay, right?"

"Yeah. Tough kid."

"Don't I know it. So, you're okay, he's okay, and as soon as I get a replacement for my head, I'll be okay. That's all that matters. The rest we can deal with. All right?"

I cocked my head and eventually nodded. "Yeah."

"You got us through. We're going home alive. Just concentrate on that, not on what went wrong. God knows, Dad'll concentrate on that for you."

"Yeah," I answered ruefully.

Suddenly, my head came up. Thunderbird Two was losing altitude. Scott felt it at the same time. "We must be getting close to home."

At the first sense of movement, I had sprung up like a jumping jack. I looked at my injured brother, and swallowing manfully, I sat back down again. "Yeah."

The ship started to jitter a bit, and I couldn't help myself, I jumped up again. I looked at the door and back at my brother. It wouldn't kill me to let Gordon land the ship, just this once. I sat down and smiled shakily at Scott.

The ride smoothed out and I started to relax slightly, but then the ship took a big dip and I was on my feet again. This time, Scott took pity on me and said, "Virg, would you mind going up and relieving Gordon? I want to see for myself that he's all right."

I was to the door almost before the words left his mouth. I stepped through, but then turned back to my big brother, lying there grinning despite the pain. "Thanks, Scott."

"No problem. Now get out of here before he flies us into the ocean or something."

I didn't need any additional urging, and I ran through the ship. I came to a halt outside of the cockpit, and schooling my face to nonchalance, I walked casually in. "Hey, Gordon."

Gordon glanced up from where he was concentrating on his controls. "Hey, Virg."

"Listen, Scott's awake, and he's asking for you."

"Me? What for?"

"He just wants to be sure you're okay. You know how he is."

"Don't you want to stay with him?"

"Yes, but he needs you right now. You go on back, and get him ready to transport. I'll just get us landed and back in the hangar."

"Well, okay, if you're sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." I wondered if either of us was really fooling the other. Gordon relinquished the controls with no further ado, and I settled in.

It had been one of the toughest days of my life. But I had made it through and so had my brothers. International Rescue didn't have many failures, and I thanked God for that. With rest and repair, we would be ready for the next call. I knew there would be tough days in the future, but with the help of my family, and maybe a little divine providence, we would always be ready to face those days. We would always be 'GO'.

Next: A Cold Evening >>