BLUE DOLPHIN
by AJ CHRISTOPHER
RATED FRPT |
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This story
takes place approximately 3 years after the formation of IR.
The character "Jake Cash" mentioned in Chapter 1 is from a
story excerpt in the 1993 ITC Thunderbirds Calendar.
Special thanks
to Jo, for all of her encouragement. To Lori, for her
ceaseless urging. To Dr. Denise L. Lapland for letting me have
access to her research on near-death experiences.
A trap has
been set for IR. Will they escape or will this underwater
rescue be their last?
Prologue
Virgil
knew he was in trouble the second the rotten ice cracked and
collapsed beneath his feet. He caught a brief glimpse of Scott
and Gordon's startled faces as he plunged into the freezing
water. Then all was dark and quiet as he sank downward, his
cold weather gear weighing him down like lead.
He could
see the spot where he had fallen through, the only circle of
brightness in the gloomy darkness. Kicking vigorously, he swam
towards it.
I can make
it, he thought. I can make it.
He was
strong, a good swimmer. Not as good as his brother Gordon, but
good. The current was pulling him away. He fought against it
with all of his strength. He ignored the cry of his lungs for
air, the buzzing in his ears, the still, small voice
whispering in the back of his brain. You're going to die
down here.
"No!"
Virgil thought desperately. "I can make it!"
He
couldn't see the light anymore, couldn't see anything but the
watery gloom. He felt weak. Couldn't swim anymore.
You're
going to die down here.
This time
Virgil didn't fight it.
Numbness
replaced the stabbing knives of coldness. He was sinking,
drowning...
And he was
afraid.
Terrified
of what hid in the darkness.
He was
home again.
It was a
beautiful morning on Tracy Island. The sky a brilliant
cloudless blue, a gentle warm sea breeze blowing through into
the lounge. He could smell the salt from the ocean and the
sweet perfume from Kyrano's orchids.
Father was
smiling. "How would you boys like a chance for some action?
Not our usual line of business, but I know you're anxious to
go out on a call. I just spoke to Jake Cash, our agent in
Canada. That's right, Scott, he works with the World Wildlife
Reserve. He needs a hand rescuing a herd of caribou...I guess
it won't do any harm just this once. We owe him a couple of
favors."
"There
they are." Jake pointed out the herd miserably huddled
together on the hillside, buried in the snow.
They were
walking back to Thunderbird 1 and 2. Laughing. Happy to be out
in the crisp Canadian air. Glad that the caribou were free and
heading back to the woods barely visible in the distance.
"Virgil!
Stay with us! Don't leave! Not like this. Please don't die..."
It was
Gordon's voice. Begging. Pleading. Threatening.
"Scott, do
something! Do something!"
"Calm
down, Gordon. He'll be fine. He's just got some water in his
lungs."
"He's not
breathing, Scott. He's going to die and it's all my fault. I
didn't reach him in time. I couldn't save him."
No,
Gordon! Not your fault. Not anybody's fault. Virgil tried to
speak, tried to form the words but he couldn't. The darkness
hung over him so heavily.
"More
oxygen, Gordon". Scott always so calm and steady, yet there
was an edge of panic in his voice.
"Don't
give up, Virgil. It's not your time to leave yet." It was a
different voice, a familiar voice. A woman's voice out of the
distant past. His mother.
"Don't
ever give up."
Gradually,
blackness turned to gray, and Virgil drifted through the
brightening gloom. A faint light danced above and he could
hear a buzzing sound somewhere far away. He headed towards the
light and the buzz gradually changed to voices. Slowly he
opened his eyes. There was a blur of faces above him.
"Virgil,"
a voice said. "Thank god!"
He closed
his eyes tightly a moment, before he opened them again. His
vision was clearer and he could see Scott's face above him.
Why was he so pale and worried? Virgil wondered groggily.
Where was
he anyway? Virgil's eyes wandered over the familiar
surroundings. Home. His room, lying in bed.
There were
Father and Gordon, both looking as if they hadn't slept in a
very long time. There were several other figures further away,
but his eyes refused to focus on them.
He tried
to sit up, but Scott put a restraining hand on his shoulder.
"Take it easy. Doc will be out here later to check you out
again."
"Why?"
Virgil asked. "Am I sick?"
Scott
looked troubled. "Don't you remember, Virgil?"
Virgil
thought a moment then looked questioningly at Scott. "Remember
what?"
"You fell
through the ice...Gordon pulled you out..." Scott continued
talking but Virgil didn't hear him.
He
remembered now. Falling...the water...and most of all...the
darkness.
It was
still there with him.
Chapter 1
6 Weeks
Later
"It looks
like it might start raining. Maybe we should head back."
Virgil
leaned against a boulder, shielding his eyes as he studied the
darkening sky.
"Afraid of
getting wet?" Alan laughed as he scrambled onto a large slab
of dark granite.
"No, just
wondering if you really know where you're going," Virgil
retorted good-naturedly.
"We're
almost there. It's just ahead." Alan pointed towards a huge
outcropping of large rocks. The dark entrance of the cave
gaped like a shark's hungry jaws. Pointy twists of jagged
granite rimmed the outer edge of the rocks like razor-sharp
teeth.
Alan
picked his way over the rugged terrain with the agility of a
mountain goat. Shouldering his backpack, Virgil followed
behind. He had never been on this part of the island before
but the bleak, rugged landscape appealed to him. Shapes and
textures swirled and pooled in his imagination. An artistic
spark began to crackle and burn until it ignited into an
overwhelming blaze.
"Aw,
Virgil...not again."
Virgil
didn't reply. Backpack discarded, he sat on a rock with
pencils and sketchbook.
"Couldn't
that wait until we get back?" asked Alan. "The tunnels in the
cave are much more interesting that a bunch of dopey rocks and
dirt."
"Just give
me a minute."
"That's
what you said last time," grumbled Alan. "And the time before
that. I thought we were supposed to be going on a hike, not a
visit to the art gallery..."
Virgil
reluctantly put his pencil down.
"I never
realized how forlorn and..." he paused thinking for the right
word to describe all the spectrum of images on the island's
rocky cliffs. "...and...angry...it is on this side of the
island."
"Angry?"
Alan asked. He looked around him. All he saw were the dull
brown boulders and dusty path weaving like a serpent far below
along the cliff side. "Whatever do you mean, Virg?"
Virgil
tucked his sketchbook away. "You'll see, when I finish this."
Alan
looked doubtful. "I don't know. Most of the time, I guess I
just don't get your artwork."
Virgil
shrugged. "So? 'To each his own' as the saying goes. Everyone
perceives the world around him in a different way."
He pointed
towards a tern, dipping and turning above the ocean. "What do
you see there?"
"A bird,"
Alan said, sounding bored.
"Just a
bird?"
"Isn't
that what it is?" Alan returned.
"Yes, but
it's so much more than that. It's not only a bird, it's a
symbol...an idea...a wish...a goal...a dream...a nightmare.
Beauty, life, death...so many things. It could mean just about
anything depending on the way you look at it."
Alan
studied Virgil, trying to follow his meaning. "You're far out
there, Virg. No one would ever know how strange you really
are, except your own family of course. To me, it's only a
plain, old, boring bird."
Virgil
grinned and pointed towards the cave. "And that's just a cave.
A cave that I hope isn't plain and boring since we've hiked
two hours to get up here."
"It won't
be! It's not just a cave...it's the cave. The best cave
on the whole island. There's a whole bunch of tunnels and a
waterfall, dripping limestone piles, and tons of minerals..."
Alan spoke
enthusiastically. "You won't be sorry, Virgil. I know it!
You're not very hard to please, not like Scott and Gordon."
"I'm not
sure if that's an insult or a compliment," teased Virgil. "But
I'm flattered. Are you sure I'm not too strange to appreciate
it?"
"You know
what I meant before. You're only a weirdo when you're fooling
with paints or pounding away on the piano. Then it's
absolutely hopeless to try and communicate with you. You don't
listen to what anybody says, and when you do talk you don't
make sense nine times out of ten. Like Gordon says, your body
may be here on Earth, but your mind's floating around in the
upper atmosphere."
"'I
wandered lonely as a cloud,'" quipped Virgil, quoting
Wordsworth poetry.
Alan
laughed. "You're up in the clouds all right."
A loud
beep sounded, startling the wheeling tern in the sky above
them which dove away towards the rolling surf far below.
Virgil clicked a button on his wristwatch.
Jeff
Tracy's face appeared in the small viewscreen.
"Yes,
Father?" said Virgil.
"Boys, I
want you to return home immediately."
Alan
groaned.
"What's
up?" asked Virgil.
"The
Blue Dolphin, International Sealcraft's new luxury cruise
submarine is in trouble. A request has been made for
International Rescue's help."
"F.A.B,
Dad."
Virgil
turned to Alan. "We'd better get back the quickest way." He
pointed towards the cliff. "Let's go down that way."
Alan's
eyebrows rose. "Down that way! I didn't bring any climbing
equipment with me."
"We don't
need any." Virgil patted his backpack. "Brains gave me a
couple of his new lightweight rocket packs to try out."
Opening
the backpack, Virgil pulled out the jetpacks. Tossing one to
Alan, he began to put one on, fastening the harness straps
around his waist and chest.
"I didn't
like that part," Alan muttered as he put on his own pack.
"What
part?" asked Virgil, as he finished buckling the harness.
"To try
out." Alan slowly pulled the jetpack onto his back. "You said
that Brains gave you these to try out. Did he know you were
going to try them out going down the side of a cliff?"
"Don't
worry," Virgil assured. "I have complete confidence in
Brains's inventions. They haven't failed us yet."
"Yeah, but
there's always a first time."
Virgil
waited while Alan made the final adjustments to the harness
buckles. He walked gingerly towards the edge of the cliff and
gazed down to the surf crashing on the rocks below. Alan
joined him, moving fearlessly close to the edge. p
"I hope
this works," Alan said doubtfully.
"Believe
me, so do I."
Virgil
gripped the control bars. "Ready?"
Alan
nodded.
"On my
count then...1...2...3!"
In one
fluid movement, they leaped off the cliff. For a brief second,
they free fell at alarming speed towards the rocks below, then
with a hiss and a roar the jet pack's engines came to life.
Alan gave
Virgil a thumbs-up as they descended towards the beach below.
Alan landed first, with a couple of hops. Virgil, descending
more slowly, studying the gauges and making mental notes to
relate to Brains at a later time.
"Not bad,"
he said, as he came to the ground gently. "The equalizer is a
little off though and the internal pressure gauge seems to be
on the blink."
He tapped
the offending gauge a couple of times and shrugged.
"I'd like
to try these again sometime," Alan said enthusiastically. "See
how they really handle in the air."
They
headed towards their all-terrain jeep.
"We'd
better hurry," Virgil said. "Dad will be waiting for us."
"No
problem," Alan said, jumping into the driver's seat. "Let's
go."
With a
roar of the engine and a spray of sand from the tires, they
bounced down the beach towards home.
Chapter 2
Jeff Tracy
sat at his desk, looking at a computer monitor. He ran a hand
through his graying hair, as he mused over the data before
him. Across the far side of the room on the wall, hung the
gallery of portraits of his sons in uniform: John, Scott,
Virgil, Gordon, and Alan.
His
thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices in the
corridor. Jeff turned towards the door, as Scott and Brains
walked in.
"...amazing design," Brains was saying. "They call it the
Blue Dolphin. It's powered by a neutronic reactor, which
allows it to reach speeds ten times as fast as an ordinary
submarine."
Scott
nodded. "I read an article about it a couple of weeks ago.
It's something else. A cruising underwater luxury hotel, so to
speak. The crew has been working out the bugs on trial runs
before they actually start booking passengers."
Jeff
drummed his fingers on the desk. "I see you've been filling
Scott in on the Blue Dolphin, Brains."
"Not
really, Mr. Tracy. Just what I've heard from other gossiping
scientists and read in vacation magazines." Brains pushed back
his blue horn-rimmed glasses.
"What's
the plan, Father?" Scott asked. "Are we going to take the
rescue?"
Jeff
leaned back in his chair. "We have been asked by the Sealcraft
Corporation to participate in the rescue effort, however, I
haven't made a final descision as of yet. With Gordon as
International Rescue's only aquanaut, I'm not sure if we have
the ability to handle a major underwater rescue of such
possibly complicated dimensions."
Virgil,
Alan, and Gordon entered the room. Gordon's blonde hair was
wet and a towel was slung over his shoulders.
"I just
heard, Dad," Gordon said. "I know you tried to contact me, but
I took off my receiver while I was out for my swim."
"Always
leave it on," Jeff reproved. "No matter where you are. Even in
the ocean."
"Yes,
sir," Gordon nodded, carefully avoiding his father's stern
gaze.
Jeff
pointed to the lighted map on the wall. "Last distress call
was reported here, about 60 miles off the coast of southern
Iceland. The Icelandic Naval Guard's carrier, the Anthem,has
already arrived at the scene, but they haven't got the
specialized equipment to locate the actual location of the
Blue Dolphin."
"The
Anthem you say? I didn't know that Iceland had any sort of
navy," Gordon said, surprised.
"Neither
did I," Jeff explained. "But it's fortunate that they do,
since we can land Thunderbird 1 and 2 on board."
"How many
people were on board the Blue Dolphin?" asked Scott.
"Just the
basic four man crew. They were doing a trial run before their
maiden voyage next week."
"What
exactly happened, Father?" asked Virgil, sitting down on an
invitingly plump leather chair and propping his feet up on the
coffee table covered with technical manuals. Absent-mindedly,
he reached for a pen and he started to doodle on the cover of
one.
"At
approximately 200 hours international time, the Blue
Dolphin sent out a distress signal. Helsinki Geological
Survey also reported a slight seismic disturbance in that area
as well."
Virgil
looked somber. "That area's quite volcanic, isn't it?"
"Yes,"
Jeff said. "But they've ruled out volcanic activity since no
new eruptions are occurring at this time. Survey scientists
aren't really sure what caused the strange measurement or if
the Blue Dolphin's accident is actually associated with
it."
"An
oceanic earthquake maybe?" suggested Gordon.
"That's
probably more likely," Jeff agreed. "However the seismic
readings were so minor, it seems odd that it would cause such
catastrophic damage to the submarine. As I said before, the
reports are sketchy as to the details and the cause of the
accident. What's interesting though, is that John has
intercepted several encoded transmissions from the Blue
Dolphin that the descrambler can't translate."
"Maybe
instrument damage is causing signal degradation," suggested
Brains, rather quietly. He pushed his glasses back on his nose
again. A habit founded from his nervous shyness that was
always present whenever he was with a group of people, no
matter the size. Nor did it matter that he considered the
Tracys not only employers, but good friends as well. He still
got the same fluttery feeling and his nerves stretched to a
fiddle-string tautness.
Jeff
pinched his forehead thoughtfully. "That sounds like a good
deduction, Brains. It would explain why we can't understand
those messages. The descrambler thinks they are gibberish, and
rightfully so."
"So we
don't know how much, where, or why she was damaged," Scott
summarized. "What do we know?"
"Well, the
information is rather limited since there has been no contact
with the crew. She is known to have struck the ocean floor at
approximately 215 hours."
"15
minutes after the earthquake," Virgil mused. "So quickly."
"If it was
an earthquake," Scott reminded.
Gordon
appeared thoughtful. "It's not too surprising, Virgil. A major
hull breach can cause a submarine to fill with water so fast,
it sinks like a rock. It doesn't always trickle in slowly."
Scott
paused and turned to Jeff. "It sounds like we're their only
chance, Father."
"Exactly
what I think," Jeff agreed. "Which is why I think we must go
on this mission. International Rescue's purpose is to save
lives, no matter the difficulty or danger. So the question now
becomes not if we will respond, but how. Any ideas?"
Scott
spoke first. Being the oldest coupled with his proven ability,
he had naturally assumed the role of leader, second only to
Jeff in authority. "Well, Father... Obviously, Thunderbird 4
will be the major component in this rescue. Gordon will have
to have help though. But which one of us should it be?"
Jeff
agreed. "That's right, Scott. Gordon will have to have help on
this one. You'll be coordinating the rescue from the Anthem
so you're out. John would probably be the best man for the
job, but it's impossible for Alan to assume his position on
Thunderbird 5 quickly enough. So I think that Virgil would be
the next best choice."
"Why? Alan
protested. "Let me go with Gordon. I could do it."
"I'm not
saying that you couldn't, but Virgil has more experience. He
can pilot Thunderbird 4 while Gordon attempts the rescue
and he's certified level 3 in deep sea diving. A big plus
on this kind of mission."
"But
Virgil hasn't gone in the water since..." Alan began.
Jeff
interrupted his youngest son. "That's enough, Alan. I know you
want to help on this mission, but Virgil has the training to
assist Gordon. That, in itself, increases our chances for
success. I know it is hard for you to sit this one out but
that's the way it's going to be."
From past
experience, Alan recognized the tone of Jeff's voice carried a
finality which he knew better than to challenge.
"I suppose
you're right, Dad," he conceded, thinking just the opposite.
Stuck at base again. His brothers, with the exception of John
sitting up there in space in Thunderbird 5, always had all the
excitement.
"So it's
decided," Jeff said, summarizing. "Scott will set up Mobile
Control on the Anthem. Virgil, you and Gordon will load
Pod 4 in Thunderbird 2 and then proceed on to the Anthem..
By then, Scott should have Mobile Control set up and will
orchestrate the rescue."
Gordon and
Virgil departed from the room, along with Brains, discussing
the plans and the mission.
Scott
stayed behind. "Can I talk to you, Father?"
"Of
course, son. What's on your mind?"
Scott
looked at his father intently. "I don't think it's such a good
idea for Virgil to go down with Gordon. Ever since Canada,
he's acted funny about the water. He won't swim in the pool or
go in the ocean anymore." Scott paused, frowning. "He won't
admit it, but I think he's afraid."
"I know,
Scott," Jeff said slowly. "That's why he must go on
this one. So he can face his fear and prove to himself that it
can't get the better of him."
"But why
now, Father?" Scott asked. "When there's four lives in the
balance? Can't we wait until a less critical rescue comes
along?"
Jeff got
up from his desk and began pacing the length of the room,
something he always did when he was troubled. "Scott, I know
you are worried about Virgil, but it has to be now, otherwise
he'll never get over it. Trust me, I know what I'm talking
about."
Scott
sighed, still doubtful. "Okay, Father, if you say so. I guess
you're right."
Jeff
smiled. "You'll see I'm right. Now you'd better get going."
Scott
crossed the room, heading for the wall that hid the access way
to Thunderbird 1.
"And
Scott," Jeff called to him.
Scott
paused and turned around. "Yes, Father?"
"Be
careful out there. I have a feeling this one's going to be
tricky."
Jeff stood
on the balcony and watched them take off, concern mingled with
pride. As always, a flame of fear burned faintly in the back
of his mind. A fear that one day, one of them might not come
back. A feeling which had lingered many years, since the loss
of their mother, his beloved wife, Lucille. Through all the
trials of his five sons going from child to adult, he resisted
the temptation to let his concern for them grow into obsessive
overprotectiveness, something all of them hated and fought.
Most of the time he succeeded; sometimes it got the better of
him.
Times when
Scott, an air force pilot, volunteered for the most dangerous
of missions....Virgil's test pilot days often fraught with
crashes and mishaps of all kinds...John's love of space, an
inherently dangerous place as well Jeff knew...Gordon's
hydrofoil accident...and Alan...in his youthful quest for
adventure...Alan thrust himself into danger at every
opportunity with a zealous determination that only reckless
youth could fuel...
It was
times like these, when faced with a difficult mission that he
found it the hardest to smother the feelings. Yet he did so
with such practiced self-discipline that no one would ever
guess that he was anything but calm and cool-headed.
Jeff
sighed and locked the troublesome thoughts away. He didn't
have time for them now. The mission was the important thing.
Chapter 3
"Thunderbird 1, you are cleared for landing."
Floodlights illuminated the Anthem's landing strip,
necessary due to the weak illumination that an early spring
sunrise gave in that part of the world. Two crewmen stood by,
watching the sleek ship's descent, marveling both at the
superior design of the craft and the pilot's obvious skill.
Scott
guided Thunderbird 1 over the designated landing area. The
concrete airfield crumbled in spots with fine cracks forming
long chains of faults resembling spiderwebs. A couple of
orange fluorescent danger signs and a few sawhorses blocked
off the worse parts.
"What kind
of carrier is this?" thought Scott doubtfully as he noticed
the landing crew was guiding him in using hand-held landing
beacons. "This thing should be in a museum. Good thing I took
that aviation equipment history class back at the Academy. To
think I used to say, when will I ever use this stuff?"
"Base from
Thunderbird 1," he called into the radio.
The
intercom crackled and the video was blankly gray. Scott
adjusted the control.
"Repeat
Thunderbird 1 to Base. Father, can you hear me?"
Nothing. A
sudden flurry of high frequency buzzing and chirps burst from
the speakers. "What the heck..."
He
switched to satellite communication. "Thunderbird 5 from
Thunderbird 1."
"Go ahead
Scott." John's voice was just barely discernible.
"John, I'm
having trouble getting through to Father. Surface to surface
seems to be out, both audio and visual."
"I'm
barely getting your signal, Scott. There's some kind of
interference at your end. I can't tell what's causing it. I
can set up a three way satellite com link and relay your
messages to base. See if you can contact Thunderbird 2."
"F.A.B.
Thunderbird 2, what's your ETA?" Scott asked.
Virgil's
voice came over the intercom, crackling slightly.
"About...hours out...."
"Thunderbird 2, repeat that." Scott tapped the wave resonator.
"I'm getting some interference, Virgil."
Virgil's
voice faded and returned amid a flurry of buzzing. "...might
be causing...switching over...surface com channel 2.7."
"Switching
over." Scott reached for the com scanner tuning switch.
The
speaker still crackled and a high-pitched whine wailed ever
louder.
"Thunderbird 5 from Thunderbird 1."
John
spoke, his voice faint. "Thunderbird 5. Scott, I've been
monitoring your transmission to Virgil. Whatever's causing the
interference is coming from somewhere near you. I can't locate
the exact source at present."
"Relay all
messages to Thunderbird 5 for sub-direct transmission, through
the satellite com settings for Base and Thunderbird 2," he
added. "I'll try and set up a temporary channel, 3.417. The
frequency wavelengths are changing so quickly, I'm not sure
how long it will last."
"Do your
best, John."
Scott
adjusted the com settings once again.
"Virgil,
can you hear me?"
"I'm
getting you, Scott. At least for now."
"I should
have Mobile Control set up by the time you arrive. We're
getting some kind of strange interference that's jamming our
entire communications system. That's probably why we've had no
contact with the Blue Dolphin,either. If you have to
contact me, use sat comm channel 3.417. John's trying to
stabilize it enough for us to have basic communications."
"F.A.B."
"Oh, and
Virgil...did Gordon ever take you on a tour of the Museum at
the Naval Academy at Annapolis?"
"No,"
Virgil answered. "Why?"
"Because
you're about to get one here."
"Scott
wasn't kidding." Virgil tapped his boot heel on the carrier's
runway surface. "This almost looks like primary compound
macadam or something. Not exactly the safest material to use
for a transport strip." He sighted a rectangular object,
drapped with coils of tangled wires. "What the heck is that?"
Gordon
shrugged. "Whatever it is...or was...it's a lot older than any
of us, maybe even older than Dad. Hey, Virgil, look at that!"
Gordon's
face lit up as a compact, rectangular transport vehicle
rattled toward them, gears screaming. "A Nightcrawler! Wow, I
never thought I'd get a chance to see one in working
condition!"
"Me
neither," said Virgil, watching with disbelief as the rumbling
machine raced towards them. The night crawler screeched to a
halt a few feet away from them. The engine coughed and ejected
a small snake of blackened smoke steadily from the front
grill. A tall, angular man sat rigidly behind the wheel.
"International Rescue, I presume?" His voice was slow and
monotone, perfectly matching his thin, colorless face. He
motioned back towards the Webcrawler's rear compartment. "If
you'll step aboard I'll take you to where your associate has
set up his equipment."
They
boarded the Nightcrawler. Virgil and Gordon crawled into the
back cargo area, crowded with two spare tires and a pile of
unrecognizable metal parts, not looking too unlike pieces of a
jigsaw puzzle. With an uncertain sputter, the Webcrawler
jerked into motion and lurched forward.
"Ow."
Virgil banged his head on the metal ceiling.
"I'm
sorry. What was that you said?" the driver shouted to be heard
over the Webcrawlers groans and rumbles.
"I was
just admiring your machine," shouted Virgil back, ruefully
rubbing the top of his head.
"Tell me,
what model is this?" Gordon gestured at the control panel.
Half the control gauges were dark. The ones that did work
gleamed faintly. "It looks like a MT3."
"MT2," the
driver corrected.
"That's
amazing! I didn't know there were any working models left."
The
driver's thin moustache twitched ever so slightly and his
voice was cold. "There are. We have three of them."
"Oh." He
leaned to Virgil. "Did I say something wrong?"
They
crossed across the landing strip past Thunderbird 1 towards
the control tower. Scott was waiting for them when they
grinded to a halt. Somehow, twisting and turning, they managed
to extricate themselves.
Scott
stepped forward. "Fellas, I'd like you to meet Commander
Wright. She'll be coordinating any assistance we need from the
Anthem."
An
attractive uniformed woman stepped forward. She wore her
shiny, dark-hair in a braided knot. Her blues eyes shone
brilliantly and her small delicate features and slim build
made her appear younger than she was. Yet despite her youth
and femininity, there was an air of unmistakable command and
confidence which left no doubt that she was in charge.
"I'm
pleased to finally meet the members of International Rescue."
She extended her hand towards Virgil.
"Commander," he acknowledged, shaking her hand.
"Thanks
for your cooperation and assistance," Gordon said as he
reached for her hand.
Inside the
tower, Scott laid down the groundwork for the rescue plan.
Using Mobile Control's lighted oceanographic maps, he outlined
their course of action.
"According
to the Anthem's instruments and Mobile Control's
readings, the Blue Dolphin is located somewhere within
this grid." Scott marked a block on the map.
"Have you
established contact with them at all?" asked Virgil.
"No,"
admitted Scott. "We can't get anything at all. Not with all
that interference."
"What
about the distress beacon?" asked Gordon.
"No signal
of any kind." Scott pointed several blocks to the left of the
Blue Dolphin's location. "But we are getting some
rather strange output from somewhere nearby."
"What do
you mean by strange output?" Virgil asked.
"I'm not
sure exactly. The computer can't identify it. It seems to be
some kind of wave structure." Scott handed a print-out to
Virgil. "I wish we could relay a copy of this to Brains but
it's impossible since we only have audio contact through
Thunderbird 5. He'd probably be able to figure it out."
Virgil
studied the paper carefully, frowning. He traced his finger
over the diving and waving lines. "It looks like a wave
modulation from some sort of power source or something."
Commander
Wright broke her silence. "Do you mean it could be generated
from somewhere "
"I don't
know." Virgil mused. "It's possible. It seems like I've seen
something like this before but I can't quite place it...."
Gordon,
sitting next to the Commander, shrugged. "We'll find out what
it is soon enough."
"I guess
it'll have to be that way," Scott said. "But I don't like
surprises...not when we're dealing with a rescue operation.
Anyway, here's the plan."
Scott
pointed to a screen. "Gordon, you and Virgil will take
Thunderbird 4 to the projected location of the Blue Dolphin.
We'll assess the situation after you arrive. If possible,
we'll rescue any survivors by using the sub's own escape pod.
If not you'll have to bring them aboard Thunderbird 4."
"Right,
Scott," agreed Gordon.
"Okay,"
Scott said decisively. "That's how it's going to go. Prepare
for departure in approximately 15 minutes."
Chapter 4
Thunderbird 4, using emergency launch procedures so the pod
wouldn't have to be dropped into the ocean, sped off the end
of the runaway and plunged into the water with a splash which
sent jets of frothy spray skyward. At the helm, Gordon guided
the craft downward into the dark water. Sitting beside him,
Virgil silently gazed at the swirling currents as they dove
deeper and deeper.
Gordon
glanced at him. He could tell his older brother wasn't
completely at ease. "Okay, Virgil?"
Virgil
started. "Fine."
Gordon
checked the instruments and slowed their descent rate
slightly. They had to approach the target area cautiously, in
case there was some sort of obstacle or trouble ahead. It
became darker and darker as they descended; fish and
vegetation turned into shadowy shapes, swaying and dancing
like ghostly spirits.
After
several minutes, Virgil glanced at a gauge. "We're at 2,300
feet."
Gordon
pulled back on the steering lever, breaking Thunderbird 4's
dive. He switched on the spotlights. The bright beams barely
penetrated the gloomy darkness. Swirling clouds of dust and
dirt danced as they glided onward.
Virgil
began systematically checking the instruments. "We're still
not getting a fix on the location. MADAR* is partially
offline. Guidance systems are down." He flicked a switch. "Comms
still out, too. We've got no way to contact the surface."
"We'll
just have to look for them ourselves," said Gordon. "I'll
descend another 50 meters so we can see the bottom by visual."
"That's
funny." Virgil said, as they descended. "Check out the reading
I'm getting from MADAR now."
Gordon
leaned over. "What?"
"There's a
stream of bi-wave particle emissions, exactly 50 meters above
us, and it extends all the way to the surface. We've just past
through the bottom of the thing."
"I don't
get it. It's almost like someone's jamming us."
"Someone
is jamming us," Virgil said, frowning. "The wavelengths
are too constant to be natural."
"You're
right, Virgil. But why?"
"I don't
know. All instrumentation is reading normally now that we're
below that field."
"I wonder
what it means," Virgil mused as he continued to study the
readings.
A small
blip appeared on the edge of the screen.
"Look!"
Gordon pointed at the blip. "There she is!"
Thunderbird 4 came to a stop. The spotlights shone fiercely,
but the darkness hung so heavily, that they could barely see
more a few meters ahead of them. Gordon and Virgil peered out
the view windows, trying to catch a glimpse of the crippled
submarine.
"Where is
it?" Virgil murmured. "It's so dark out there, I can't see a
thing."
Gordon
edged Thunderbird 4 slowly forward and began to sweep the
spotlights back and forth.
"There!"
he pointed. A dark form loomed ahead, barely visible. It was
the submarine. The heavy, still form reminded Gordon of a
whale that had beached itself on the sandy shore of the island
about a year before. It laid strangely still and quiet, all
the time it's life drained away from it minute by minute. Its
sheer size and power were impotent in the face of the burning
heat and drying, arid winds. For hours, Gordon knelt by its
side, knowing that there was no hope as the creature's life
ebbed away a little bit at a time until nothing was left but
the monstrously huge deadweight corpse. Laying there in the
ocean depths, the Blue Dolphin was eerily like the
doomed whale.
"Oh
great."
Gordon
tore his eyes away from the sub to look at his brother.
"What?"
"Her
reactor must be damaged. There're neutronic particles
everywhere. No telling how unstable it is...it might be
heading towards a meltdown."
"Don't
worry," Gordon assured. "We'll be in and out before that
happens."
"Maybe.
We'll have to see how bad it is when we board her. We'd better
scan for life signs to see if there are any survivors. No use
going if no one's alive." Virgil typed a command into the
computer. A red laser beam scanned the Blue Dolphin.
"There!"
Gordon cried, pointing to the monitor. "Four signals all
located in bottom right of the stern. Can we tell how much
water's she's taken on?"
Virgil
paused, and pushed another button. "82 total area. Not where
the crew is though. Part of the stern is still okay."
Gordon
unrolled a set of blueprints. "According to the layout plans
the Sealcraft Corporation provided, they're located in cargo
area B, right next to the escape pod. I wonder why don't they
use it? Are they too injured? Maybe they can't get to it?"
Virgil
leaned back in his chair. "Maybe it doesn't work. I guess
we'll have to get them on board Thunderbird 4 somehow."
"Maybe.
One thing at a time. First we have to locate them." Gordon
studied the blueprints. "There's an airlock. We'll enter here
and proceed along this serviceway until we reach the engine
room. We can check the status of the reactor and then go on
from there into the cargo section where the crew is."
Gordon
glanced sideways at Virgil. "We'll have to wear the deep-water
gear. Most of the area we're going through is entirely
underwater."
"I
know..." Virgil said slowly.
Gordon
patted his brother on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Virgil. It
won't be so bad."
Virgil
smiled at his younger brother. "I'm not worried, Gordon. We
have to rescue those people. But I can think of a million or
two places I'd rather be right now."
*Author's Note: The term 'MADAR'
describes the computer system used by IR, described in an
earlier story.
Chapter 5
Scott
walked out onto the deck of the Anthem. He had been
sitting at Mobile Control waiting for Thunderbird 4 to report.
Hearing nothing, he tried to contact John for some help in
contacting base but without success.
So he
waited. And waited.
It was
frustrating to not know what was going on. He had complete
confidence that Gordon and Virgil would get the job done but
what if something happened? What if they needed help? What if
Virgil... Scott stomped the thought out of his mind.
There
would be no way of knowing anything. Not with the
communications blackout.
Scott was
puzzled. He tried to trace the source of the interference, but
it seemed to be coming from everywhere. And it was across the
board; everything was affected: audio, visual, surface to
surface and surface to satellite. The worse of it, Scott
decided, was that he hadn't the foggiest idea how to fix it.
Now if Brains was there...
But he
wasn't. And there was no way to contact him either.
There's
got to be a way to restore communications, thought Scott, and
I've got to find it.
His
thoughts were interrupted by a member of the Anthem's
crew walking by. Scott watched him as he passed. The man
carefully avoided his gaze, looking downward at the deck. Not
for the first time, Scott was struck by the oddness of the
crew. They certainly were different from any other military he
had ever seen.
Scott
couldn't put it in words exactly, but they just didn't seem to
belong here. His eye for detail, trained by his years in the
Air Force, picked out the abnormalities easily. For one, no
one seemed to have any particular tasks or duties. Everytime
he saw someone, they seemed to be aimless, wandering about,
without specific purpose.
And what
kind of soldiers were they? Their appearances and movements
had none of the ingrained discipline that characterized
military personnel. Most of them didn't even have properly
fitting uniforms.
And the
size of the crew...Scott had never served aboard an aircraft
carrier, but he wondered how the few people he saw could
possibly run such a large vessel.
Then there
was the Anthem itself. The antiquated vessel bothered
him the most of all. At first, he had dismissed his doubts
about the age and condition of the ship. But the more he saw,
the more he wondered how such a vessel could possibly be
safely seaworthy. He questioned Commander Wright once, and she
had deflected him with vague answers.
I didn't
know that Iceland had a Navy, Gordon had said.
Scott
started to turn around to return to Mobile Control, when
something caught his eye. There, on the wall to the left side
of the deck. The letters were very faint and worn.
U.S.N.
Bicentennial.
Frowning,
Scott moved closer. He ran his hand over the barely visible
letters. There was no doubt. It was there.
U.S.N.
Bicentennial.
"Something
wrong?" Commander Wright asked.
Scott
turned around, standing so that the letters were hidden behind
him. "Not at all, Commander. I just stepped out a moment for
some air."
"Of
course." The commander smiled. "Have you heard anything from
Thunderbird 4?"
"Not yet.
That interference is still blacking out all communications."
Commander
Wright shook her head. "I simply don't know what to think
about it. It seems kind of strange, doesn't it?"
Scott
shrugged. "Oh, it happens now and then. I'm sure it will clear
up soon enough. Maybe it's due to...sunspot activity or
something."
"Do you
really think so? I never thought of that."
"Oh,
sure," Scott continued, knowing he wasn't fooling her. "That's
probably all it is. I guess I should be getting back. I only
meant to stretch my legs for a moment."
"Of
course." The commander walked with him. "If you should need
anything don't hesitate to ask."
"Sure,
Commander. We appreciate your help."
How about
some answers about what's really going on?
Scott thought as he headed back to Mobile Control.
Sitting
behind his desk, Jeff studied some memos from International
Rescue agents abroad that he had received that day. Finding it
harder and harder to concentrate, he finally pushed the stack
of papers away from him and leaned back in his chair.
Alan and
Tin-Tin, arm in arm, entered the room, laughing.
"How's it
going, Father?" Alan asked.
"Not so
good, I'm afraid." Jeff frowned slightly, the lines on his
forehead deepening. "Communications are totally out. John's
working to set up a channel, but it's slow going."
"What's
causing it?" Alan wondered. "Does Brains have any idea?"
"Not yet.
He needs more information than we have right now to make a
definite analysis." p
Tin-Tin
pushed a strand of dark hair out of her eyes. "I'm sure
everything will be all right, Mr. Tracy. The boys can handle
it."
"I know
they can, Tin-Tin." Jeff was somber. "But with communications
down, we'd never know if they needed help. At least, not until
it was too late."
"U.S.N.
Bicentennial," Scott said to himself, as he accessed the
computer at Mobile Control. "Let's see..."
After a
few seconds, the screen flashed. Scott scanned the
information.
"U.S.N.
Bicentennial...served as an aircraft carrier....2005...in
the United States Navy...was decommissioned and scrapped in
2026...
Scrapped!
Scott
stared at the screen, his mind whirling, trying to put
together all the bits and pieces of information into a
coherent form.
He read
on. "...sold at recycling auction 2029 to a private
individual."
Slowly, it
began to make sense. A sickening feeling began to form in the
pit of his stomach as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall
into place.
They were
on the Bicentennial. But someone wanted them to think
they were on the Anthem, very likely a fictional,
nonexistent vessel. Obviously they wanted International Rescue
to land and set up the rescue. But why would anyone want to
deceive them?
Scott
thought of Thunderbird 1 and 2 out of the carrier's runway.
A trap,
his mind screamed. It's a trap!
Scott
jumped to his feet.
"Going
somewhere?"
Scott was
startled to see Commander Wright standing behind him. He
hadn't heard her come in. She smiled, but her eyes were cold
and hard. "I really thought it would take you a little longer
to figure it out. I guess I didn't give you enough credit."
She pointed a gun at him. "It doesn't matter really though
since things are moving right on schedule."
Scott
lunged for the Mobile Control computer and hit a red switch.
The commander struck out like a cobra, smashing him over the
head with her gun. Scott staggered from the force of the blow,
but managed to push another switch before he collapsed. He
struggled to stay conscious for a moment longer, but the
darkness grew heavy and he succumbed to all-encompassing
numbness.
Chapter 6
Gordon and
Virgil swam towards the Blue Dolphin. Clothed in their
underwater rescue suits, they were protected from the icy
coldness and immense pressure of the ocean floor. The Blue
Dolphin loomed before them, a dark monolith, forbidding in its
size and stillness.
Gordon
motioned at the hull. A huge hole, framed by twisted metal and
floating debris, marred the side of the sub. "There's the
point of breach."
"Looks
like some kind of explosion," Virgil commented. He swam
closer. The current pushed him against a jagged beam,
scrapping his air tank.
"Careful,
Virgil! You'll get hung up!"
Virgil
tried to push himself away from the hole, but a bunch of
cables and wires wrapped around his neck and arms, entangling
him.
"Don't
move!" Gordon urged. "I'm coming!"
Virgil
held still. He could feel the panic began to creep upon him
and he fought it, determined not to succumb to the urge to
struggle for freedom. It would be fatal since the sharp metal
would surely puncture his air tank.
Almost
instantly, Gordon was at Virgil's side.
"Hurry up,
Gordon."
Gordon
pulled the wreckage away from his brother. "Is your air tank
damaged?"
Virgil
glanced at the sensors inside of his face mask. "I don't think
so. Everything's reading okay."
Gordon let
out a sigh of relief. "With all this junk around, we could
really get in trouble. Are you sure you're okay?"
Virgil
hesitated, before he spoke. "I'm fine. The current was
stronger than I thought. I'll be more careful from now on."
"Okay,"
Gordon said. "We'd better get going."
They swam
through the hole in the hull, carefully avoided the crumpled
debris. Inside the submarine, it seemed even darker than even
outside.
"Let's
turn on the spotlights," Virgil said. "It's too dark to see
anything."
"Good
idea," Gordon replied and pushed a button on the side of his
face mask. A beacon of brilliant light shone from the forehead
of the mask. Virgil activated his beam.
"Down this
way," Gordon said. They swam through the empty passageways,
weaving in and out of jumbled piles of smashed machinery and
broken furniture.
"The
engine room's just ahead, Virgil."
"Okay."
They swam
up to a closed metal door.
"According
to the blueprints, it's through here and up one deck."
"Right,
let's see if we can get this bulkhead open." Gordon looked for
the opening control. There it was, to the right. He pushed the
button. Nothing happened.
"I guess
we'll have to do it the hard way." Gordon unclipped a metal
torch from his belt. "I'll use the underwater radiator torch
to cut through the panel and try to open it manually."
"Right,"
Virgil agreed.
Gordon
activated it and aimed the blue beam at the bulkhead. Slowly,
he cut through.
Several
minutes later, he turned off the torch. "Done."
Gordon
grasped the metal plate and pulled it off the wall, exposing
the circuitry underneath. He reached inside and felt for the
manual switch. Finding it, he pulled.
The
bulkhead grated open. Inside, the passageway was clear of
water, the result of the waterproof bulkhead having done its
job well. With a furious lash, the water roared inward to fill
the vacuum, sucking them through the doorway. Gordon smashed
into a control console. The impact of the wall of water
knocked the wind out of his lungs and it hurt to breathe.
Dazed, he clung to it as the waves of water slammed against
him.
Then, as
quickly as it began, it was over. The water's fury eased as
the water level increased.
Gordon
looked around. "Virgil?! Where are you?"
"Over
here." Virgil was hanging onto a ladder bolted into the wall.
"That was
a shocker," Gordon said, swimming towards him. "I thought
there were only scattered air pockets here and there except
for that section in the stern."
"I guess
not." Virgil began to climb the ladder. "The engine room's up
here. Let's check it out."
The engine
room was even more damaged than the rest of the ship. Most of
the controls and instruments were completely destroyed.
Shattered pieces of glass floated everywhere; metal and
plastic fragments littered the area.
"Over
there," Gordon motioned towards the far side of the room. The
reactor engine took up one corner of the room, from ceiling to
floor. It was protected by a clear titanium shielding.
Virgil
studied the instruments. "Well? What do you think?"
Beside
him, Gordon shook his head. "Doesn't look good, Virg. You were
right. It's leaking out neutronic particles big time."
"Can you
tell what's wrong with it?"
"Not
really...but there's something definitely wrong with the
reactor shield and the nucleus cooling system. It's starting
to overheat." Gordon pointed at a lone working temperature
gauge. "We'd better hurry."
"Yeah,
let's find those guys and get the heck out of here," said
Virgil, his voice urgent. "Before the whole thing blows us
back up to the surface."
Scott
slowly opened his eyes. His vision was blurry and the room
spun in grotesque angles. His stomach lurched and he shut his
eyes tightly. He rested his face on the cool floor and
listened to voices not too far away.
"It's no
use. We've tried everything. There's no way we can get into
the Thunderbird machines."
"Don't be
ridiculous. Cut through the doors, blast through them if you
have to."
"We've
tried everything, I tell you. There made out of somekind of
strange metal or something. We could use a missle, I guess..."
"Don't be
a fool. We have to deliver those machines intact. There must
be a way to access them."
"I don't
know what it is."
"Well
then, I guess we'll just have to find out from our friend
here, won't we..."
"Those
International Rescue people are famous for keeping their
machines secret...he won't tell you anything."
"Don't
worry about that. Once he comes back, I'll sure our
friend here can be persuaded to cooperate."
"This is
it. Finally!" Gordon tapped a heavy metal bulkhead. It had
taken a long time to come from the reactor room. Huge metal
beams and large pieces of jagged metal blocked the passageway
leading to the escape pod. It was tricky to navigate through
the dangerous maze of destruction. Virgil trailed cautiously
behind him.
Will this
ever end? Virgil thought as he struggled to squeeze by a
downed beam.
He was
beginning to wonder if they would ever find the stranded crew
members. It felt like they had been there for hours. Checking
his chronometer, he was astonished to find out only an hour
had elapsed since they had first entered the hole in the
damaged hull.
Hearing
Gordon's words brought a rush of relief.
"We'll use
the protective air lock chamber so as not to flood the section
where they are. Fortunately, it's powered by emergency
auxiliary batteries."
Gordon
waited for Virgil to catch up.
"You okay,
Virgil?" he asked, concerned.
"Let's
just get on with this," Virgil said impatiently. Sweat dripped
down his forehead into his eyes. He felt hot and uncomfortable
in the underwater gear.
"Right."
Gordon activated a lever on the control panel. The bulkhead
slowly opened, firing a battery of fizzing air bubbles
outward. They swam inside the bulkhead into a small chamber.
Gordon pushed another button and the water began to drain
slowly out. The water level dropped to their necks, then their
waists. A vent in the ceiling of the chamber hissed while the
water level continued to drop.
"Cabin's
pressurized," Gordon announced.
Virgil
immediately grabbed at his mask and began unfastening the
snaps and buckles. Disconnecting the air tanks, he ripped off
the mask off and took a gulp of air.
Such a
relief! He took deep breaths, glad to finally be free of the
suit's regulated breathing patterns.
Gordon
disconnected his gear more slowly, watching Virgil with an
amused and concerned expression. "If there was a contest to
see who could get out of a d.s.d. suit the quickest, you'd
win," he teased.
Virgil
didn't answer. He could hear a faint hiss coming from
somewhere. "Do you hear that?"
Gordon
listened for a moment. "What?"
"That
noise."
"I don't
know. What does it sound like?"
"Like an
air leak or something."
Gordon
cocked his head. "I don't hear anything."
Virgil
shook his head. "I guess I don't hear it now either..."
"It's
probably just the pressurization vent. They're always noisy
things," Gordon reassured. "You need to relax, Virgil. Just
pretend you're in a big swimming pool."
Virgil
made a face. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? The
only difference between a swimming pool and the ocean is size,
not much else."
"That's
not true," Gordon protested. "The ocean's the real thing. It's
full of life and adventure."
"And
water," added Virgil disdainfully.
Gordon
grinned at this older brother. "Now, Virgil, you've faced all
kinds of danger without so much as a blink yet you let a
little bit of water get under your collar."
"A little
bit of water?" snorted Virgil. "I always wondered what was
wrong with you. Now I know. You're nuts."
"I'm not
the one hearing noises," Gordon joked, his brown eyes
twinkling. He always loved to tease his brothers. "I think
you're the one that's 'out of his gourd' as Alan always says."
"I'll
think of a crushing retort to that later. We'd better get
going and find out what's keeping these fellows in this
godforsaken crate."
"Right."
Gordon nodded, becoming serious. "That reactor isn't going to
wait for us forever. We'd better hurry."
They waded
through the water, now only ankle-deep towards the other door
at the end of the cabin. It opened easily.
This part
of the submarine, protected by the waterproof bulkheads, was
bone dry. A hallway, dimly lit by emergency lights stretched
both ways.
They
hesitated for a moment, unsure of which direction to go.
"Which way
should we go?" asked Virgil, looking up and down the hallway.
Gordon
pointed to the right. "This way...I think."
Virgil's
eyebrows rose and he looked doubtful. "You 'think'?"
Gordon
shrugged. "Well...this is the main passageway in this part of
the sub. One way leads to an auxiliary control room, the other
leads to the escape pod area. My sense of direction says our
boys are that way." He pointed to the right.
Virgil
remained skeptical. "The last time I trusted your sense of
direction we ended up driving around in circles for 3 hours in
Agestinas and I missed my concert."
"That was
different," protested Gordon. "We were on land then...I
never get lost in the water."
Still
doubtful of his navigational skills, Virgil reluctantly agreed
to try Gordon's suggestion. They went right.
The
auxiliary lighting was dim and their footsteps echoed in the
deserted passageway. The whole thing reminded Virgil of a
tomb. The Night of the Living Dead had just aired a few
nights before and he half-expected to meet a brain-hungry
zombie moaning and staggering around the next corner.
"Who in
God's name would want to take a vacation on this thing?" he
muttered.
"I think
it's a little nicer when it's not sitting at the bottom of the
ocean, half-filled with water," Gordon said wryly.
Virgil
snorted. "Not by much..."
They
continued walking. Rounding another corner, Gordon walked
right into a man. Startled, Gordon jumped backwards into
Virgil. The man gave a frightened gasp, and fell back against
the wall.
"Thank
God! They've sent help!" he cried, recovering from his fright.
The man was in his mid-twenties and wore a dark blue uniform
with a Sealcraft emblem on one sleeve and Blue Dolphin
in gold trim on the other. His dark eyes were frightened and
cold sweat covered his pale face. He took two steps before
almost collapsing.
Gordon
reached forward to steady him. "Take it easy, fellow. You'll
be all right now that International Rescue's on the job."
After a
few minutes, the man recovered enough to answer their
questions. He was the assistant engineer, Bill Richards. Yes,
there were three more survivors: Captain Wells, Engineer
Waterman, and Navigator Magot, though Captain Wells was in a
bad way. No, they had tried the escape pod and it didn't work.
No, they didn't know what was wrong with it.
What
happened? Some kind of explosion. Not the reactor, something
else. Didn't know.
"Please,"
Richards pleaded. "Please...you've got to help Captain Wells.
He's really hurt. We don't know what to do...I think he's
dying."
"We'll do
our best," Virgil assured him
Richards
led them to the other crew members. Waterman, the engineer,
sat next to Captain Wells. The Captain lay on the floor, his
head cushioned by a decorative life preserver. His eyes were
squeezed shut and his mouth was twisted into a grimace. He
moved his head back and forth, his teeth clenched.
The
contents of a medical kit lay strewn around him. Bandages of
all sizes, sprays, ointments, and a few other odds and ends
were draped over his prostrate body in a zigzag pattern.
Waterman was fumbling with a roll of gauze.
It was
then they noticed a metal pipe protruding from the captain's
belly. Virgil and Gordon looked at each other, shock and
dismay reflected in their faces.
Virgil
gently pushed the fumbling engineer aside and knelt next to
the Captain. He felt for the injured man's wrist, trying to
ignore the impaled pipe that vibrated with each raggedly drawn
breath. At last his fingers found a pulse. It was thready and
weak. The skin, cold to the touch, was gray and clammy.
"He's in
shock," Virgil said to Engineer Waterman. He sat back on his
heels. "I need a blanket and something to elevate his feet."
Clutching
a eyewash pack from the medical kit, Waterman looked at Virgil
blankly.
"Did you
hear me, man?" Virgil asked impatiently.
Waterman
uneasily shifted. "I heard you, but I've got to tell you that
I'm not very good at this...I only just passed the first aid
class the company made me take. And I can't take the sight of
blood." He stared at the pipe and shuddered.
Virgil
swiftly decided the burly man would be no help and impatiently
pushed him aside. He didn't have time for such silliness when
there was a man dying before their very eyes.
Gordon
found a blanket with the help of Richards and together they
propped up the Captain's legs on a storage crate. Magot, the
navigator, knelt next to Virgil.
"I don't
think he's going to make it," the navigator said quietly to
Virgil.
Virgil
glanced at Magot. "He's got a chance if we can get him to the
surface quick enough."
Magot
shook his head. "No. He's not going to make it. I've seen this
kind of thing before."
The
navigator's voice was quiet, almost like a snake hissing and
Virgil was struck by an instant feeling of dislike. There was
something menacing about his calm matter-of-factness, like he
was discussing the weather instead of a man's life.
"He'll
make it," he insisted stubbornly. "International Rescue hasn't
lost one yet."
Magot
regarded Virgil impassively. "If you say so..."
While
Virgil worked on the Captain, Richards showed Gordon the
escape pod.
"The
launch sequence won't initiate," he explained. "I think the
circuit links were damaged by the explosion. I tried to
reroute them, but it's no use...I can't find an alternative
starting pathway from here."
Gordon
poked at the mangled controls a few minutes before returning
to Virgil.
"It's no
good, Virgil. I can't make head or tails of that mess. The
whole circuit system is burned out. There must be a way to
bypass it or something...if only we could contact Brains!"
Gordon exclaimed in frustration.
Virgil
thought a moment. "You'll have to get Thunderbird 4. Is there
an airlock on this side?"
"Yes,"
Richards said. "Just up there, beyond the escape pod."
Virgil
slowly nodded. "Right. Gordon, you'll have to bring
Thunderbird 4 round and attach at the airlock. I'll stay here
with the Captain."
"I'll go
with you," volunteered Magot. "In case you need some help
finding the airlock."
Gordon
eyed the navigator doubtfully. "I don't think I'll need any
help."
"You might
as well take him," Virgil interjected. "You need some one
that's familiar with the sub's exterior layout. There's no
time to look at the blueprints. We can't sit around here
forever waiting for you to stumble upon the right airlock with
that floating tuna can of yours."
"Stumble
on the right airlock...floating tuna can!" Gordon repeated
indignantly. "Remind me to punch you in the nose when this all
over, Virgil."
Virgil
smiled. "If and when we get out of this one, I'll let
you have a free one, brother."
"I'll
remember that," Gordon retorted good-naturedly. "Just be sure
you don't forget."
Gordon and
Magot quickly prepared to backtrack through the sub to reach
Thunderbird 4. Virgil gave the navigator his diving suit and
helped him attach the air tank. The suit was a little too
short in the legs and tight through the stomach; Magot was
taller and heavier than Virgil, but it would have to do since
the sub's diving gear was in a hopelessly inaccessible flooded
forward compartment.
When they
were ready to go, Gordon handed Virgil an extra portable
communicator. "I'll be in contact with you once we reach
Thunderbird 4."
Virgil
nodded. Troubled, Gordon reluctantly walked towards the
passageway. "Virgil..." he paused.
"Don't
worry, Gordon," Virgil said, forcing a smile. "I'll be fine.
Just make sure you come back."
"I won't
leave you down here, Virgil," Gordon promised, half-smiling.
"I know."
Gordon
gave one last lingering glance back at his brother. Virgil
leaned over the injured Captain, checking his pulse.
Gordon
sighed. "Let's go," he said to Magot.
They
rounded the corner and disappeared into the bowels of the
Blue Dolphin.
Chapter 7
Jeff sat
at his desk, a stack of papers at his elbow. He sorted through
the pile of letters, memos, news reports and other
miscellaneous items. For several hours, he had doggedly worked
at the task, only pausing at Kyrano's urging to down a cup of
coffee.
Yet,
despite his concentrated effort, his thoughts kept drifting
far away to a spot in the North Atlantic. He had heard nothing
from his boys for nearly six hours now. The continual
interference made communications impossible, despite John's
best efforts to establish a basic link.
Brains was
down in the laboratory working on the problem. The young
scientist was doubtfully pessimistic about finding a solution.
"Er...you
see...Mr. Tracy...I can't find an answer if I don't know the
q..question," he had told his employer. "I just...need more
information..."
Jeff
pushed aside the papers and leaned back in his chair.
It wasn't
that he didn't think they could do the job...he knew they
could. International Rescue's great successes were due to the
skill and abilities of its members. Scott's quick thinking and
natural leadership...Virgil's steadiness under
pressure...Gordon's skill as an expert aquanaut...John's
careful, precise monitoring on the space station...Alan's
gifted astronautical ability...Jeff was completely confident
that the rescue would be nothing short of the usual success.
Yet, he
couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. They were his sons,
after all, and he worried about them. Especially when he had
no idea of what was going on in the danger zone and no way to
find out. And Virgil...he had told Scott he was right. But was
he?
What if
something went wrong? What if they needed help? How would they
find out?
Jeff was
pondering on these troubling thoughts when Alan came into the
lounge. He had been out jogging around the island and his
light suit was drenched with sweat.
"Any luck,
Father?" he asked, collapsing on the leather couch which
doubled as the first part of Thunderbird 3's launch sequence.
Jeff shook
his head. "Not yet. Brains and John are still working on it."
Alan
cuffed a fistful of sweat from his forehead. "I wouldn't
worry, Dad. They've probably already collected those submarine
guys and are busy patting themselves on the back and letting
their heads swell up over their heroics."
Jeff
smiled wanly. "I suppose you're right..."
A beep on
the intercom interrupted him.
"Mr.
Tracy...er...would you come down to the lab," Brains voice
sounded both triumphant and dismayed. "I've
found...the...s-source of the interference..."
Brains
held up a paper printout. It was about six feet long and
covered with notations and scribbles. He nervously cleared his
throat, and dragged the long paper over the table to show Jeff
and Alan.
"These are
the... readings that Thunderbird 5 picked up. John...er...rel-relayed
them to me for study."
Alan
standing behind his father, peered at the crumpled paper and
made a face. "Looks like Greek to me, Brains."
"Not
Greek...er...Alan," Brains corrected. "Modulated
high-frequency wavelengths."
The young
scientist paused and pushed his glasses back on his nose.
"What does
it mean exactly, Brains?" asked Jeff.
Brains
cleared his throat. "Well...what it means...Mr. Tracy, is that
the interference is not of a naturally occurring source. The
precise equal troughs and frequency indicates that is it
being...er...generated by some sort of machine."
"Generated?" echoed Alan. "You mean that someone is trying to
block our communications?"
Brains
nodded. "Yes...Alan...it would appear that way. I've
pinpointed the source of the...er...interference...."
He pointed
at a lighted map on the wall. "Here. 125 miles south east of
Iceland, Grid 104.7 by 32 E."
"The
danger zone," Alan said quietly.
Brains
shuffled nervously, getting tangled in the long printout. With
Alan's help and a great deal of crumpling and ripping, he
managed to escape from his paper prison.
"Thanks,
Alan," he murmured, his face flushing red in embarrassment.
"Why would
someone deliberately block our communications?" Alan wondered
anxiously. "What would be the point?"
Jeff had a
sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looked grimly at
his youngest son. "I don't know, Alan, but it sure adds up to
trouble."
Scott
blinked. For a moment he was in his room, the early morning
sun chasing the night's blue mist off the rocky cliffs of
Tracy Island. The warm Pacific zephyr breezes puffing through
the open French door which led to the balcony...the rustling
of the palm fronds and the gentle roar of the waves dancing of
the sandy beach far below...Gordon's lively teasing of
Alan...Alan's bantering retorts...Virgil's intense
concentration as he worked on a painting...Jeff reading the
paper commenting occasionally on a particular article or
story...
Then the
memories dissolved and the present started rushing back in a
flood. Commander Wright. The gun. Scott's eyes snapped open
and he sat up.
Scott
foggily gazed around at the surroundings, trying to get his
bearings. He was on the Anthem..no, the
Bicentennial. In a small room...no windows...just a solid
metal door...a cell in the brig, no doubt...he was a prisoner.
No way to escape.
The events
of the last few hours flashed into focus and he realized the
dangerous predicament they all were in. Here he sat, powerless
to warn Virgil and Gordon far beneath the sea on the danger
that awaited them once Thunderbird 4 resurfaced.
Scott
realized that they had walked into a trap. But who? Someone
who wanted International Rescue's technological secrets
obviously. Someone who had the resources to prepare the
elaborate snare. It could be any number of people...rogue
military or terrorist organizations...greedy criminals willing
to sell to the highest bidder.
Scott
didn't know who was behind this scheme and for the time being
it didn't matter. He gingerly got to his feet, steadying
himself against the cold metal wall. Once the dizziness passed
and his head cleared, he began to inspect the cell.
If there
was a way to escape, he would find it.
Chapter 8
It was a
long, hard trip back to Thunderbird 4. With great dismay,
Gordon discovered that the Blue Dolphin was
deteriorating rapidly. The huge sub groaned and creaked as
they made their way through the myriad of passageways and
decks.
"I think
she's settling a little," Gordon said in his helmet
transmitter.
Magot
didn't answer. He swam a little behind Gordon and rarely spoke
except to reply yes or no to questions.
Gordon's
dislike of the navigator, a vague feeling that had started
back at the escape pod area, was quickly developing into a
case of full blown antipathy. Normally, Gordon liked just
about everyone, but there was something strange about Magot.
Not that he said or did anything really wrong. It was more
what he didn't say or know that bothered Gordon.
At one
junction, Magot did not seem to know which way led back past
the damaged reactor. Gordon thought it rather strange for a
member of the crew to be so lacking in basic knowledge, since
it was such an integral area of the sub. He became even more
suspicious when the navigator had started swimming in the
wrong direction at one junction. It made no sense to Gordon
and he began to watch him critically for more mistakes.
Finally,
they reached the hole in the hull and swam through the dark
water towards Thunderbird 4. Gordon opened the boarding hatch
on the top of the craft and they swam into the machine.
Gordon
quickly sat at the controls, not wasting any time. An
instrument check told him something he already had known. The
Blue Dolphin had indeed slid slightly towards the edge
of the underwater cliff on which it so precariously rested.
Gordon
spoke into the microphone. "Gordon to Virgil. Are you there,
Virgil?"
"Here,
Gordon," Virgil's voice came over the speakers. "Hey, what's
taking you so long? Maybe it's my imagination, but this thing
feels like it's moving or something."
"It's not
your imagination, Virgil. The Blue Dolphin has shifted
6.8 degrees," Gordon said unhappily. "I think it's weight is
pulling it down the incline of that cliff."
Virgil
swore quietly under his breath. "Just our luck..."
"Don't
worry, I'll be there in a few minutes," Gordon assured him.
"Just be ready to go when I arrive."
"Oh-ho,
don't worry, we'll be ready to go, brother, " Virgil replied.
"There's a little water starting to leak through. Richards
thinks it doesn't mean the so-called 'waterproof bulkheads'
are starting to fail, but I don't plan on being here to find
out if see if his opinion is right or wrong."
"Right."
Gordon started the Thunderbird's reactor engines. "Be there in
about 10 minutes or so."
"Do you
think he's going to make it?" Richards asked Virgil, as he
peered down at the injured Captain.
"He has a
good chance," Virgil replied, checking the man's vitals again.
"He seems to have stabilized a little. Believe it or not, it's
a good thing that you didn't try to remove that pipe. It's
keeping his blood pressure up and steady."
Waterman
paced back and forth along the deck. Sweat poured down his fat
cheeks and his eyes had a desperate, wild quality that Virgil
didn't like.
"What's
keeping your buddy?" he hoarsely demanded.
"Don't
worry, he'll be coming along."
Virgil got
to his feet. "Where's that airlock?" he asked Richards. "I
want to make sure it's working properly, or we might have to
cut through it."
Richards
showed him the airlock. Virgil quickly gave it a quick
once-over and was pleased to discover that it seemed to be
functional. Next to the airlock, there was a long, clear
observation window. For a few minutes, they stood at the
glass, looking out into the dark watery gloom.
"You
know," Richards said. "I was so happy to get my position on
the Blue Dolphin. A lot of guys wanted the job. But I
got it. I didn't think I would, but I did. I thought I was the
luckiest guy in the whole world to have the opportunity. Now,
I'm on the bottom of the ocean playing Titanic."
Virgil
continued to gaze silently out into the murky depths.
"I bet all
those guys who lost out on this dream job will be awfully glad
they weren't so lucky as me," Richards added.
"I'll
bet," Virgil agreed absently.
He gave
one last lingering glance into the waters. "I'd better get
back and prepare to move the Captain. Why don't you wait here,
Richards, and let me know when Thunderbird 4 arrives."
Thunderbird 4 moved slowly along the side of the Blue
Dolphin trying to locate the airlock. The beacon lights
cut through the darkness and illuminated the surface of the
sub. Gordon hunched over the controls intensely. Keeping one
eye on the instruments, he searched for any sight of the
sought-after airlock.
"Where is
it?" Gordon wondered quietly, more to himself than Magot who
was silently standing behind him. "It should be right here."
"Thunderbird 4 from Virgil." The intercom crackled. "How it's
going, Gordon?"
"I should
being coming up to you at any moment, Virgil." Gordon tried to
sound more confident than he felt. "That airlock is proving to
be a little harder to find than I thought."
No use in
telling his brother he couldn't find the blasted thing. At
least not yet.
"Keep
looking, you'll find it. There's an observation area just to
the left of it." Virgil paused. "Oh, and Gordon...when you do
arrive, we'll need the portable stretcher from the med cabinet
to move Captain Wells."
"F.A.B."
Gordon switched the intercom off.
A few
seconds later, the beacon's light reflected brightly off a
glassy surface.
"There's
the observation deck," Gordon said, relieved.
He could
see someone standing at the large window. It must be Richards.
Virgil would be preparing the captain for transport.
"Virgil
from Thunderbird 4," Gordon spoke into the intercom. "I've
found it...am preparing to board."
"Okay,
Gordon. Do you need any help making the seal?"
"No, I
should be okay using automatic instrumentation for guidance."
"F.A.B.
We'll be waiting for you."
Virgil
made his way to the observation window. Richards was watching
Thunderbird's progress, his face pressed against the window.
"He's
coming in," he told Virgil excitedly. "We're going to make it
out of here after all!"
Virgil
smiled at the young man's eagerness. "Why would you think any
differently? International Rescue's on the job."
Satisfied
with Thunderbird 4's progress, Virgil turned to go. "I'll be
with the Captain. It's going to be hard to move him without
displacing that pipe."
He began
to walk down the deck, when a sudden gasp from Richards made
him stop in his tracks. Alarmed, Virgil whirled around.
"What's
the matter?" he demanded.
"They're
leaving!"
In a
flash, Virgil was back at the window. Dismayed, he saw that
Richards was right. Thunderbird 4 had fired retrothrusters and
was moving away from the airlock. Once clear of the sub, the
reactor engines fired and the small craft streaked away. The
guide lights, barely visible in the darkness, headed upwards
toward the surface.
"What the
hell?" Virgil growled. He stabbed a button on his wrist comm.
"Virgil to
Thunderbird 4...What the heck are you doing, Gordon?"
Silence
greeted his anxious inquiries.
"Thunderbird 4, can you hear me?" repeated Virgil. Frowning,
he checked the communicator.
"The
channel's open so he must be receiving," he mused. "Yet
there's no answer."
Richards
tugged at Virgil's sleeve anxiously. "What's happened? Why did
they leave? Are they coming back?"
Virgil
didn't answer. He was trying to think of a possible reason for
Gordon's sudden, unexplained departure. A joke, maybe? No.
Gordon thoroughly enjoyed leg-pulling, but he would never play
a joke during a rescue. Equipment failure? Maybe. But why
would he leave so suddenly without so much as a word? The comm
channel was open, that was for certain. So he could
communicate. And Gordon would contact him if something was
wrong...if he could.
A sudden
chill touched Virgil. Something must have happened to Gordon.
It could be the only explanation.
But what?
Virgil was baffled. Until he thought of the navigator...Magot...
"What are
we going to do?" Richards clutched at Virgil desparately.
"What are we going to do?"
Virgil
shook his head grimly. "I don't know."
Then it
touched him, lightly like a feather. The darkness again...
Chapter 9
Scott sat
on the cold floor, his back against the wall. For the last
hour, he had investigated every square inch of his cell,
searching for a way to escape. Scott came to grim realization
that while many things on the carrier may be old and
crumbling, the brig was not. The walls were thick and solid.
There was
a single air vent that he had thought might be a possibility.
But after managing to somehow scramble halfway up the wall,
the discovery of huge solder bolts fastening the grid in place
extinguished his hopes.
No, he
concluded unhappily, there was no way to get out of the cell.
Except through the door...now there was an idea...
The
grating creak of the door interrupted his thoughts. He jumped
to his feet as the door swung open.
Two men
dumped a limp form on the floor. Then the door slammed and
they were gone. It all happened so quickly, that a few seconds
went by before Scott realized that the person laying in a heap
facedown on the floor was Gordon.
"Gordon!"
Scott cried dropping to his knees. He gently turned his
brother over and cradled his head in his arm.
"Gordon!"
Gordon's
stared at him blankly, his face strangely expressionless.
There was no recognition in his brown eyes.
"Gordon,
are you alright?" Scott asked anxiously.
Gordon was
silent. Scott snapped his fingers in front of his glazed-over
eyes. "Can you hear me?"
"Gordon...snap out of it!" Scott gave his younger brother a
gentle shake.
Gordon
sighed. He blinked a few times and slowly sat up.
"Scott?"
He groggily looked around. "Where am I?"
"Never
mind that now...tell me what happened to you down there,"
Scott urged.
Gordon
rubbed his eyes and groaned. "I can't remember...I think...I
think I was...in Thunderbird 4...at the airlock...that...that
navigator...Magot...his eyes...so strange..."
His voice
trailed off in confusion.
"Did you
locate the Blue Dolphin?" Scott interrupted. "Did any
of the crew survive?"
Gordon
slowly nodded. "Yes. We found her. She was in bad shape...the
reactor's badly system's thermostat isn't working..."
"And the
crew?" Scott prompted impatiently.
Gordon
shook his head, as if trying to jog his memory. "Yes...there
were three...no four...but the Captain was injured...impaled
on a pipe during the explosion...A sudden rush of memory
propelled Gordon to his feet. He weaved towards the door,
swaying back and forth slightly. Scott put out a hand to
steady him but Gordon pushed him away. He reached the door and
sagged against it.
"I left
them down there, Scott," Gordon choked. "I left them down
there!"
"But,
Father! We have to do something!" Alan leaned forward on the
edge of his chair, charged with impassioned feeling.
Jeff, in
his calm, methodical manner, had appraised the dangerous
predicament that threatened not only the lives of his sons,
but the future of International Rescue as an organization.
"We will,
Alan, as soon as Brains and John are able to bypass the
jamming and restore communications."
"But,
Father..." Alan protested.
"No,
Alan," Jeff said sternly. "At this point, any action would be
foolish and likely to fail. Without Thunderbirds 1 or 2, it's
going to be very difficult to reach the danger zone. And with
no communications, we wouldn't know what kind of trouble we're
heading into."
"Yes...er...Alan,"
Brains added. "The best course of a-action is to...er...wait,
at least until...I can...I can neutralize the jamming field...er...and
restore communications."
"But,
Father," Alan still insisted stubbornly. "If it's a trap..."
"I've made
up my mind." Jeff's jaw was set. "The best thing we can do
right now is wait and see. The boys can handle it. Scott is no
fool; if a trap does exist, he'll spot it."
TinTin
stood at the doorway of the lounge. She waited until Jeff
finished speaking.
"Lunch is
ready, Mr. Tracy," she said in her musical voice.
"Good,
TinTin." Jeff got up from his desk and moved towards the door.
Alan made
no move to follow. He still wasn't convinced and he certainly
was not hungry. "But Father, if we wait it may be too late to
help them!"
Jeff
paused a moment, regarding Alan, kindness mingling with steely
firmness in his eyes.
"I know
your concerned, Alan," Jeff said slowly. "Believe me, I am
too. We will help them if they need it; however, it
would be foolish to rush headlong into something before we are
prepared."
Alan
sighed. "I know. I just hate sitting around here waiting."
Jeff
grimly looked at the pictures of his sons on the wall.
"Believe me, Alan. So do I."
Sweat
poured down Waterman's face. He grabbed at Virgil, wild panic
taking over.
"What are
we going to do?" he shrieked. "What are we going to do?"
Virgil
easily twisted out of the engineer's grasping hands. His
patience was beginning to run out with the big man's
cowardice. He felt sorry for him, sure, but it was a waste of
time standing around, wailing and wringing hands.
p Between
the overheating reactor and the slow influx of water through
the floor, there wasn't a whole lot of time left.
You're
going to die down here,
the voice whispered to Virgil.
"We're
going to die down here!" Waterman wailed. He started to shake
and sob between ragged breaths.
"Get a
hold of yourself, man!" Virgil snapped.
Richards
shook his head in despair. "We're not going to make it, Tracy.
That's all there is to it. We're finished."
Virgil
glared at him. "There has to be a way and we, you and I,
are going to find it."
Richards
was doubtful. "What do you suggest then? Shall we swim for
it...2500 feet below the surface?"
Virgil
began to pace the length of the passageway, trying to clear
his head. Walking always had a calming effect on his nerves.
Many times, he had wandered along Tracy Island's sandy beaches
in the middle of the night, lost in thoughtful introspection.
The inspiration of some of his best artistic endeavors had
been formed during those lonely moonlit treks and he had
worked out many a perplexing problem.
Now, there
was more at stake than just a piece of artwork or music. Their
lives depended on finding a way off of the doomed submarine
and he was determined to find it.
There just
had to be a way.
Virgil
abruptly stopped in his tracks. Of course!
"That's
the answer!" he exclaimed.
"What is?"
Richards asked wearily, from the crate he had settled down on
to watch Virgil pace back and forth.
"The
escape pod! We've got to find a way to get it operational."
Richards
appeared doubtful. "You saw the launch control circuitry," he
said pessimistically. "Deep-fried and well done."
"Yes,
yes," Virgil interjected impatiently. "But suppose we bypassed
the whole control panel?"
"How?"
Richards asked. "Would you mind telling me that?"
Virgil
refused to be discouraged. "There must be an alternate control
pathway somewhere. You're the engineer. Don't you have any
bright ideas? If you're ever going to have a flash of
intellectual brilliance, now's the time!"
Richards
sighed. "Assistant engineer, Tracy, that's what I am." He
hooked a thumb at Waterman. "He's the boss."
Virgil's
lips twitched slightly. A little bit of his enthusiasm began
to wan as he observed Waterman, who still blubbered quietly.
This wasn't going to be easy.
He
approached the engineer slowly, trying to decide the best way
to handle the situation. Waterman was terrified; his fear had
taken complete hold of him. It controlled every thought, every
action, building a wall, brick by brick, until nothing could
penetrate through the awful veil of dread and horror.
Fear could
be so consuming, so overwhelming, almost like a living entity.
Virgil knew from experience that this was so. It was there
with him even at that moment. Fear. Hand in hand with the
darkness. How he hated them both!
I am not
going to die today, Virgil thought angrily. Not here.
Waterman
shifted his weight from foot to foot. Perspiration stained his
uniform on his chest and under his arms and he chewed his
lower lip between chattering teeth.
Virgil
stood in front of him, gathering his thoughts. When he finally
spoke, his voice was low and calm.
"Listen to
me, Waterman. There's a chance we can get out of here alive,
but I need your help. Do you understand?"
Waterman
turned frightened eyes towards Virgil. The quiet voice had a
soothing effect. He jerked a single nod.
"I need to
know about the launch control pathways for the escape pod. You
can tell me what I want to know."
Again,
Waterman nodded. He seemed to be gaining a little control,
drawing strength from Virgil's calm confidence. "The control
panel," he echoed.
"That's
right," Virgil encouraged. "The control panel. Is there an
alternate way to activate the launch command sequence?"
Waterman
swallowed as he thought. At first, he appeared doubtful, but
then a spark jumped into his watery eyes. "Yes...yes there
might be a way!" He brightened, fear starting to dissolve with
the prospect of survival. "There is another way to launch the
escape pod!"
Virgil let
out a sigh of relief. "Good. Tell me all about it...."
Chapter 10
The
arch-criminal known only as the Hood stood on the deck of the
Anthem next to the woman who had pretended to be
Commander Wright. His eyes glowed like two black jewels as he
looked at the Thunderbird 1 and 2 on the runway. A short
distance away, Thunderbird 4 hung suspended from a winch.
"At last,
victory! International Rescue is defeated and the secrets of
the thunderbird machines are finally mine," he gloated.
"Ours,"
the woman, known as Arachne, corrected. She had shed her
uniform and was clothed in a simple black tunic and pants. Her
dark hair hung in glossy sheets down her back.
"Of
course, my pet," the Hood said smiling darkly. His accented
voice had a hissing, reptilian-quality.
Arachne
scowled unhappily. "Do I have to remind you that we've tried
everything to get inside the blasted things with absolutely no
success?"
The Hood's
dark smile widened and his eyes glowed. "Not everything, my
dear."
No matter
what he said or did, Scott could not comfort his younger
brother. Gordon was entirely distraught. With his memory
restored, he had related the events surrounding their
exploration of the Blue Dolphin. By the time he reached
the attempt to attach to the airlock, he was in utter despair.
"Scott, we
have to do something!" Gordon cried, circling the small
enclosure like a caged animal.
"We will,
Gordon," Scott assured. He tapped on the solid walls. "But
there's no way to escape now, so we'll just have to wait for
the opportunity to come along."
"What if
it doesn't?" Gordon asked. "What if we can't get to back down
there, Scott?"
Scott
didn't want to think about that possibility. "Don't worry. Our
chance will come, Gordon. We have to keep our eyes open and
wait for the right moment. Okay?"
"Listen."
Gordon put his ear to the cell door. He could hear the faint
sound of footsteps. They grew closer and stopped. Bolts
clicked one by one, until the door swung open with a squeal of
protest from rusty hinges.
The Hood
and his companion Arachne stood in the doorway. Gordon backed
away, recognition and fear spreading over his face. He
recognized those blazing eyes, from a different face, Magot
the navigator.
Scott also
recognized the glaring eyes. "You!"
"Of
course!" the Hood chuckled evilly. "Who else do you think
could set the perfect trap for the heroic fools of
International Rescue? I knew you'd come."
"So what
happened to the Blue Dolphin wasn't an accident," Scott
said, stating a fact, rather than asking a question.
The Hood
threw back his head and laughed. "Certainly not! It took a
great deal of planning and skill to plant a bomb that would
disable but not completely destroy the submarine."
Scott,
fists clenched, took a step towards the Hood.
"Don't do
anything rash, my foolish young friend. It would give me
considerable pleasure to blow you apart with this atomic
pistol." The Hood held a weapon in his powerful hand.
Scott
stopped in his tracks
"Very
good. Now let us see if you have your priorities straight."
The Hood bared his teeth in a cold smile. "I have been told
that there is some sort of security device activated to
prevent access to your machines. You will disable it
immediately."
"What
makes you think so?" Scott asked, grimly satisfied that their
enemies' plans had been thrwarted by the new security system
that Brains had recently installed in all the International
Rescue craft.
The Hood's
eyes flashed fire and he spoke in a harsh, guttural voice.
"Tell me, Tracy, which do you value more...your secrets or
your brother's life?"
A chill
swept over Scott. If he didn't get what he wanted, the Hood
would not hesitate kill Gordon. Yet if handed over the
Thunderbirds.... . Seeing the manical gleam in the Hood's
eyes, he had no doubt whatsoever he would carry through on the
threat.
"You have
approximately ten seconds to make up your mind."
"Don't do
it, Scott," urged Gordon.
But what
choice did he have?
With the
possibility of survival, the mood of the stranded occupants of
the Blue Dolphin became more hopeful. Waterman, still
sweating and nervous, sketched a crude layout of the auxiliary
control room one level up where an emergency launch mechanism
could be triggered manually in case of damage to the escape
pod's controls.
Virgil
quickly studied the drawing. "This won't be that difficult.
We'll be there and back in no time at all."
"We?"
Waterman echoed. "What do you mean by that?"
"A
pronoun," Virgil answered without looking up. "Meaning you
and I."
Waterman
wrung his hands and shifted foot to foot. Panic crept back
into his face and he paled. "Surely you don't expect me to go.
I'm not very good in a crisis."
"So I
noticed," Virgil said, frowning slightly. "But I'm no expert
at this kind of thing so somebody's got to give me a hand."
"I'll go
with you," Richards offered.
"Okay,"
Virgil nodded. "Let's get the Captain into the pod before we
go. Just in case we have to leave in a hurry."
"Are you
expecting trouble?" Richards asked curiously. "More than we've
got already, I mean?"
Virgil
shrugged. "I'd rather be prepared for the worst than be
surprised when it happens."
"What else
could possible happen?" wondered Richards. "We're stranded at
the bottom of the ocean."
"Is this
news? Do you think I haven't noticed?" Virgil snapped tensely.
"I'm thinking about that reactor. By now it must be close to
critical. At any moment we could be blown into a million
pieces. At any moment we could..."
Virgil's
abruptly stopped talking, fighting to hold back the dark wave
of panic that threatened to immerse him. He could feel the
crushing weight of fear seeping into his mind again.
Steady,
Virgil, steady, he told himself, taking a couple of deep
breaths. He couldn't afford to crumble now. Not if they were
to have chance of leaving the Blue Dolphin alive.
But what
if they did reach the surface? What dangers awaited them
there? Virgil thought of Scott and Gordon. What was happening
to them? Were they hurt? Dead? He dreaded to think of the
possibilities.
"Out of
the frying pan into the fire," he murmured, thinking of
something Grandma always said.
"What?"
Richards asked, staring at Virgil curiously.
Virgil
forced a grim smile. "Nothing. Let's get moving."
Ransacking
all the supply cabinets, they found a portable stretcher which
they used to carry Captain Wells into the escape pod. They set
the injured man in the center of the escape pod, taking care
not to jostle him any more than necessary.
"There,"
Virgil said, satisfied. "You stay here and keep an eye on him,
Waterman."
Relieved,
Waterman collapsed into a chair in front of the main control
panel. "Okay. But you'll hurry won't you?"
"Exactly
what I have in mind," Virgil said with a wry smile. "Come on,
Richards. The sooner we leave, the sooner we come back."
"How much
farther?" Virgil asked, as they walked down a dimly-lit
passageway.
The
emergency battery cells were fading fast and the lights
flickered on and off. Moisture condensed along the metal
supports of the ceiling and dripped down onto the deck. As the
walked along, their boots made soft squishing sounds in the
greasy puddles on the floor.
It was an
awful sound and each step reverberated like a drumbeat in
Virgil's mind, increasing his tension until his head pounded
and his ears rang. There was no doubt that the end of the
Blue Dolphin was very near.
"Not far,"
Richards said. "The service stairway is just around the corner
and then it's just one level up."
"Good, I
don't like the way..." Virgil stopped talking. The floor
seemed to vibrate under his feet. "Did you feel that?"
"What?"
The
vibrations were stronger now and there was the faint creaking
and groaning of stressed metal. Cautiously Virgil placed a
hand on the wall. He could feel the tremblings of the tortured
submarine as it came closer and closer to its doom. Terror
clutched round his heart, striking so suddenly it caught him
by surprise. He had an urge to flee, an animal instinct that
was so strong Virgil had to muster all of his courage not to
give in to it.
"The
cliff," Richards said gloomily. "We must be getting closer to
the edge."
They
walked on in silence. Virgil forced each step, trying
desperately to stay focused. The darkness was there, circling
him, he could sense it waiting for him, thirsting after his
soul. His heart pounded in his chest, a cold sweat dripped
down his back. His mouth was dry, parched.
No escape
this time.
No! Virgil
thought. We can make it. We can make it.
But still
the darkness hovered, reaching out for him, probing
tentatively with its icy fingers at his mind. Virgil shrank
away from it and tried to form a mental barricade to slow its
intrusion.
No escape.
"How much
farther?" he choked in a hoarse whisper.
"It's just
up ahead," Richards said, startled by Virgil's tone. "Are you
okay?"
Virgil
nodded. "I'm fine."
"Are you
sure? You don't look so good."
"I'm okay,
really," Virgil assured, trying to sound confident. Realizing
he was drenched with sweat, he wiped his forehead with his
sleeve.
Got to
stay focused, he thought. Steady. Got to stay focused. Got
to...
The
creaking was louder now, accompanied by a strange metallic
scream that grew louder and louder with each passing second.
The vibrations in the floor increased, shaking the metal grate
panels of the walkway.
He froze
in place. Just ahead of him, Richards stopped in mid-step.
Together, they stood and listened to the ominous noises coming
from all around.
"What the
hell is that?" Richards wondered out loud.
Boom!
A violent
jolt ripped through the submarine, nearly knocking Virgil off
his feet.
Boom!
The next
shockwave sent Virgil hurling into the wall. Stunned, he
braced himself for another impact. He didn't have long to
wait.
Boom!
The
submarine heaved, slowly tilting to one side. Unprepared for
the movement, Richards lost his balance and began to fall,
sliding along the floor down the newly-formed incline.
Hanging
onto a metal support with one hand, Virgil reached out and
caught hold of his arm. The floor just beyond Richards' feet
caved in and a wave of water washed over both of them.
Virgil
gasped as the water touched him. Recoiling from the sensation
of as if it was an electric current, his grip on the engineer
loosened.
"Good God!
Please don't let me go!" Richards pleaded.
"I won't!"
Virgil promised. Gritting his teeth, he forced his fingers
closed and doggedly hung on. Ignoring the fear and panic which
coursed through his brain, he pulled Richards upward inch by
inch.
Somehow
Richards found a toehold and scrambled up to join Virgil
against the wall. They huddled together, watching in horrified
silence as water poured out of the hole like a geyser,
flooding the deck. Leaks sprung out all along the wall
opposite them and water began running down through the vents
in the ceiling. First a trickle which gradually increased to a
steady stream.
"Those
damn bulkheads have failed!" Richards cried. "We're flooding!"
Virgil
didn't answer. It was over. The darkness had won.
Chapter 11
"Five
seconds, Tracy," the Hood hissed, thoroughly enjoying himself.
"Make up your mind quickly. You will not get a second chance."
He pressed
the atomic pistol against Gordon's head.
"Don't do
it, Scott," Gordon said again, never wavering. He stood very
still, as if anticipating the blast that was coming.
Scott knew
what he had to do. Though he felt sick at the thought of
turning over International Rescue's technological secrets, he
had no other choice. His brother's life was more important to
him.
"Okay,"
Scott nodded. "You win."
"No,
Scott!" Gordon said desperately. "You can't do this! You can't
give him the Thunderbirds. Think of the lives at stake!"
"I am!"
growled Scott. "Yours."
The Hood's
face twisted into a savage leer. "You weak fool. Just what I
thought you would do." He turned to Arachne. "See, my pet? So
simple really. You just need to know the right button to
push."
She smiled
at the Hood, her eyes sparkling with admiration and affection.
"Tried and true. I should never have doubted you."
Chuckling,
he viciously shoved Gordon towards Scott. "I've completed my
end of the bargain, Tracy. Now it's time to do yours."
Paralyzed
by fear, Virgil clung to the wall. He could feel the darkness
hovering over him, delighting in his mental agony. Suddenly,
the fear that had tortured him since Canada dissolved away
leaving a calm peace in its wake. What was menacing such a
short time before was now comforting. Gazing numbly at the
rising water, Virgil no longer felt afraid. Instead of trying
to escape the darkness, he embraced it. Welcomed it. Invited
it to consume his entire being.
A
long-forgotten memory stirred in the back of his mind. A
memory that had dimmed slightly over time, but was still
painful.
He could
hear voices downstairs. Crawling out of bed, he tiptoed out
into the hall. Scott was already there, sitting on top step.
He was crying.
Virgil sat
down next to him. "What's wrong?"
"Mom's
dead."
Virgil
hadn't understood. He had never experienced death and his
six-year-old mind could not fathom the finality of it. Even
when they stood in front of her grave, he didn't realize that
the separation would be permanent.
"But
when's she coming back?" he had asked.
"She's
gone on to a better place," a well-meaning relative had said,
trying to be comforting.
He was
confused.
A better
place? In the ground? Away from them?
"But
when's she coming back?"
"Never.
She's not coming back. She's dead."
The words
were blunt. Sharp. His father hadn't meant to be cruel. He was
drowning in his own grief. Lost in his own pain. Himself
unable to accept the fact she was gone.
And at
that moment Virgil understood he would never see his mother
again.
It was the
first time the darkness brushed his soul.
In his
childish way, he thought there was still a chance to change
things. A chance to convince her to stay.
He begged
her not to go. Stay with us! Don't leave!
The words
were familiar. Where had he heard them before? Of course. In
Canada. Gordon's plea to him not to die.
A familiar
presence pierced through the darkness like a ray of light and
enveloped him in warmth and love. His mother. He could feel
her reaching out to him, offering comfort and encouragement.
Don't ever
give up. Live. Have the life you were meant to have.
Then, as
quickly as she came, she vanished and the darkness pressed
back over Virgil, hungrily tearing at him like a wild animal.
Don't ever
give up.
The words
still echoed in his head, rousing him from his stupor. Anger
flashed through him and he furiously thrust the darkness away
from him. Was he just going to lay down and let it claim him?
Had he forgotten there were three other lives besides his own
hanging in the balance? Had he forgotten he was a member of
International Rescue? A Tracy? Was he going to turn his back
on everything he had been taught about courage and
determination, his core beliefs?
He would
never surrender, never give in to the fear. Never. Not while
there was still a breath in his body. He would fight until the
end.
He had to
trigger the escape pod. Maybe he didn't have much of a chance,
but he had to try.
Hanging
onto the wall, Virgil edged his way towards the door just
ahead. If he could reach that stairway! Then there would be a
slim possibility that he could make it up to auxiliary control
and bypass the circuits.
"Where are
you going?" Richards gasped.
"To do
what we came to do," Virgil answered, ignoring the waterfall
of water roaring over his legs and feet.
"It's no
use! She's breaking up."
Virgil
didn't turn around.
Richards
reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "Give it up, Virgil.
We're finished."
"No."
"Virgil..."
"No!"
Even though Virgil shouted loudly to be heard above the
rushing water, his voice was calm and steady. "Even if I fail,
I've got to try."
"Let me
come with you," Richards insisted.
Virgil
shook his head. "No. Go back to the escape pod. I'll meet you
there."
Richards
refused and they argued, both ignoring the increasing water
level.
"Look, if
you're going, I'm going," Richards said. "Besides, you need
me. You're no expert, you said it yourself. Even if you get up
there it'll take time for you to figure out what to do. And
time's one thing we don't have!"
Virgil
glanced at the swirling water. It was already at their waists
and increasing rapidly. "You're right about that. There isn't
much time left." He came to a quick decision. "Okay. Let's
go."
Hand over
hand they pulled themselves along the wall, kicking their legs
in the water, half-swimming. The North Atlantic water was
frigid but Virgil barely felt the cold. It was the wetness
that bothered him. The feeling of water touching his skin, of
being surrounded by something he had grown to hate. It made
his skin crawl.
All around
them the electric wiring was shorting out, hissing and
snapping as water soaked through the insulated cables. The
smell of burnt plastic wafted through the air, tickling the
inside of Virgil's nose.
There was
another boom of thunder and the submarine tilted even more.
How close
are we to that cliff? Virgil wondered apprehensively. If they
went over the edge...
The door
was directly ahead. Together, they forced it opened. The
staircase was there in front of them, at nearly a forty-five
degree angle. Fortunately, the water level was lower and the
current was not nearly as strong. Sloshing through the water,
Virgil clambered over the railing and hoisted himself onto the
stairs.
"Just like
climbing a jungle gym," he muttered, gracefully scaling the
contorted metal structure.
"If you
say so," panted Richards, clumsily stumbling after him.
"Though it could explain why I'm no good at this. I always
preferred going on the teeter-totters."
The
submarine abruptly shifted and Virgil lost his balance.
Desperately, he hung onto the bars, his legs swinging in the
open air. For a moment, he glanced down at the water below, at
the bubbling stream of gray-blue liquid swirling and exploding
in miniature waves against the base of the stairwell.
"Damn it,"
he cursed at himself quietly. "You know better than to look
down."
Forcing
his gaze upwards, he snaked out a hand and grabbed another
part of the railing. With all of his strength he swung himself
forward up and back over the railing.
In slow
motion the Blue Dolphin continued to roll.
"Oh God!"
groaned Richards, squeezing his eyes shut. "I can't take much
more of this!"
"Just hang
on," Virgil urged. "We're almost there."
"I'm not
worried about getting there. I'm worried about coming back.
How the heck are we going to get back down? By the time we get
back here, she'll have flipped all the way over and won't be
able to use the stairs at all. At least not unless you know a
way to defy gravity."
"Defy
gravity? I'm counting on it!" Virgil smiled slightly. "Ever do
any diving?"
"I hope
you're not thinking what I think you're thinking. That's
crazy."
"Sure it's
crazy, but it's also a way back down."
"Oh, I
don't think I can stand this," Richards groaned. "Can things
get any worse?"
"Yes,
things can always be worse," Virgil replied unhappily. "Don't
forget the reactor. That thing must be pretty steamed up by
now with all the time it's had to stew."
At the
mention of the damaged reactor, Richards propelled himself
into motion. They climbed and crawled the rest of the way in
uneasy silence, each of them thinking the same troubling
thoughts.
Which
would get them first? The water, the cliff, or the reactor?
They could
only wonder and wait and hope that, even though the deck was
stacked against them, they could somehow beat the odds.
Chapter 12
"No
tricks," the Hood warned as Scott sat at Mobile Control.
"No
tricks," Scott repeated. To buy some extra time, he fiddled
with some of the controls. His mind whirling, he desperately
tried to think of a way out of the deadly situation.
But what
could he do?
The Hood
was not a patient man. Scott knew that if he resisted or
delayed handing over the Thunderbirds, the monster would
certainly kill Gordon. Of course, once the Hood had what he
wanted, he would undoubtedly kill both of them anyway to
satisfy his thirst for revenge that was equal to his desire
for wealth and power. A no win situation.
And
Virgil. Down there far beneath the gray water with little hope
of survival. Scott thought of what Gordon said about the
condition of the Blue Dolphin and a sharp pain stabbed
through his heart. Was it already too late? Had he lost Virgil
to the watery depths?
No, Scott
decided, pushing away the horrific pain that gnawed at him. He
would know if Virgil was dead.
Somehow,
he would know.
"Hurry
up," the Hood snarled. "If you force me to renegotiate our
deal, I will not be so generous this time."
There was
no time left to think. Scott had to rely on his power of
persuasion, his ability to smooth talk his way out of any
situation.
He could
almost hear Virgil laughing. You know, Scott, you never
cease to amaze me. Is there nothing that you can't talk you
way out of?
Knowing he
was taking a big chance, Scott leaned back in his chair and
smiled. "You know, I've been thinking. I don't like this deal
of ours very much."
The Hood's
eyes narrowed to slits and his heavy brows lowered. "Oh? Why
not? Isn't your brother's life worth that much to you after
all?"
"Well..."
Scott began thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about that too.
One brother for three Thunderbirds? That's not much of a deal
for me. Especially considering who we're dealing with. Gordon
is a regular pain in the ass."
Startled,
Gordon's mouth dropped open.
Scott kept
his attention focused entirely on the Hood. He gave no sign
that he noticed his brother's shocked expression. A flicker of
confusion passed over the Hood's heavy features and the
muscles in his jaw tensed as he ground his teeth together.
"You lie,
Tracy. I do not believe what you say. Do you expect me to
believe that you would sit there and watch me blow a hole
through your brother's skull?"
Scott
shrugged. "Believe what you like. I've changed my mind. You
can kill him if you like."
The Hood's
powerful fingers flexed as he tightened his grip on the
pistol. Trembling with rage, he aimed the deadly weapon at
Gordon.
Keenly
aware of the Hood's finger settling over the trigger, it took
all of Scott's strength to appear disinterested. He stretched
and yawned, paying absolutely no attention to the Hood's
menacing actions.
"I might
be willing to change my mind though," Scott said casually. "Renegotiate
as you say."
"No deal,"
the Hood hissed. "You will give me what I want or your brother
dies."
"Go ahead
then," Scott said, waving his hand dismissively. "Believe me,
you'll be doing me a favor. Brothers can be so annoying. In
fact, would you please think about offing my other brother,
Alan? I know for a fact we'd all be eternally grateful for
that one."
"Scott!"
Gordon gasped.
The Hood
took another step in Gordon's direction, then hesitated ever
so slightly.
Scott, his
senses attuned to the villain's every move, felt grimly
satisfied to see his uncertainty.
That's
right, you bastard,
he thought. It's your turn to fall into my trap.
"What is
it you want, Tracy?" The Hood glared at Scott, sparks snapping
from his coal black eyes. "Not that I will give it to you. But
I will listen to your demands before I kill you both."
"That's
very thoughtful of you. Just remember that if you kill me
you'll be killing the only person who can give you what you
want," Scott reminded.
The truth
of the words made the Hood's face contort and twist with fury.
For the first time since they had come aboard the old carrier,
Scott felt he had the upper hand. In a way the Hood was just
as much at a disadvantage as they were. He wanted the
Thunderbirds so badly that he was a prisoner to his desire and
greed.
"Like I
said, I might change my mind," Scott said casually. "One
brother isn't much in exchange. But two. I think that might be
a deal more to my liking."
Comprehension dawned and the Hood smiled coldly. "Ah. I
understand now. The one we left behind on the Blue Dolphin.
You wish to save him."
"Very
good. You catch on fast," Scott said. "And to think that
people say that you're not very bright!"
The Hood
ignored the insult. "And what is your plan to accomplish this
mission of mercy?"
"Oh that's
simple enough really," Scott said, sounding bored. "Let Gordon
take Thunderbird 4 down to fetch him."
The Hood
chuckled. "And why should I agree to this? How do I stand to
benefit?"
"I get
what I want. You get what you want," Scott explained. "Once
they're safely back on the surface, I will release the
Thunderbirds to you."
"Do you
take me for a fool, Tracy?" the Hood roared. "What guarantee
will I have that you will do what you say?"
"You'll
have me," Scott said. "And I'm the one who knows those codes."
"You
cannot deceive me," the Hood rumbled. "Without the threat of
harm to others, you will not release the information. You
yourself would gladly lay down your life to protect your
secrets."
"That
shows how much you know," Scott snorted. "I'm no martyr. I
really don't care if you kill my brother or not, but I have no
intention of dying for some silly principle."
The Hood
silently glowered at Scott. Then at last he came to a decision
and spoke. "Very well, Tracy. I always believed that your
family was fiercely loyal to each other. I can see that I
misjudged you entirely."
Near the
door, Arachne turned away to hide a smile. Finding the whole
thing amusing, her shoulders shook from repressed laughter.
Seeing her
mirth, the Hood darkened.
"Go
quickly before I change my mind," he snarled at Gordon.
"Let us
get a fix on the position of the Blue Dolphin," Scott
said casually. "That way he'll have no problem finding her and
they're be no extra delays."
With an
unintelligible growl, the Hood stalked out, instructing the
guards to watch them carefully. Arachne followed a few steps
behind, still laughing.
"Good God,
Scott!" Gordon whispered as they leaned over Mobile Control.
"Have you lost your mind?"
"No,"
Scott assured. "Far from it."
He paused
and looked up at his brother. "About what I said, Gordon...you
know I didn't mean it."
Gordon
grinned. "I know that, big brother. But I guess you won't mind
me saying that you can be a real pain in my ass too
sometimes."
Scott
smiled and punched him playfully in the arm. "I guess not.
This time I'll let it go seeing as I started it."
They
quickly became serious as the computer spat out a set of
coordinates.
Gordon
paled as he read them. "Oh god. She's slipped near the edge of
that cliff even more." He looked at Scott in tortured misery.
"What if I can't get there in time? I promised Virgil I
wouldn't leave him, Scott. I promised I'd come back!"
Scott put
his hand on Gordon's arm. "Listen to me. It's going to be all
right. You'll reach him in time."
"But what
if I don't? If Virgil dies, it'll be all my fault. Just like
Canada..."
"Canada?"
Scott asked, confused. "That wasn't your fault, Gordon. It was
an accident..."
"Yes, but
I almost let him die!" Gordon cried. "I couldn't find him,
Scott. I searched and searched for him and I couldn't find
him."
"Gordon..." Scott began, but broke off abruptly as Arachne
appeared in the doorway.
"Just what
are you up to?" she demanded "Locating coordinates doesn't
take that long."
"It does
when the entire area is being jammed with a wave modulation
generator," retorted Scott.
Arachne
smiled. "You are a first class liar, Scott Tracy. You may be
able to deceive him but you cannot fool me. I switched
the jammer off more than an hour ago as we no longer have any
need for it. Now come along. Enough time has been wasted
already."
"Here we
are," Richards said, as they reached a door marked 'Authorized
Personnel Only' in fluorescent orange letters.
Virgil
crawled up the steep grating. Praying that the mechanism was
still functioning, he hit the 'open' button. With the grating
of sluggish hydraulics, the heavy metal door slid open.
The
emergency lights basked the entire room in an eerie red glow.
Dark, grotesquely shaped shadows dancing across the walls like
evil spirits. There was a strange sinister atmosphere as if
death lurked behind one of the bulky control panels. Feeling
very much like he was stepping into a haunted house, Virgil
reluctantly crawled through the open door. Behind him,
Richards crept, his head swiveling around in all directions as
if he half-expected a supernatural being to float into sight.
"Where is
that circuit panel?" Virgil whispered.
Richards
hesitated. "I think it's over there."
"You
think? Don't you know where it is?"
"Well,
more or less," Richards admitted. "I didn't come up here too
often. Plus things look awfully different in this god-awful
lightning."
Virgil
shivered. Things did look nightmarishly surreal. He
hung back, scanning the room, straining to see any sign of
movement. He had the distinct feeling that someone or
something was there.
"I found
it," Richards said, breaking the silence.
Virgil
twisted around and started to say something but the words died
in his throat. Above Richards, half-hidden in the shadows a
dark form loomed. It leaned at a grotesque angle behind one of
the control modules and as the submarine shifted ever so
slightly, it fell over and slid onto Richards.
The
engineer shrieked and sprawled backwards as the heavy form
crashed into him. Virgil sprinted forward on all fours, having
to scramble to get the momentum to go up the steep incline.
"Get it
off me! Get it off me!" Richards shouted, absolutely
terrified. He twisted and turned like an eel, trying to
extricate himself from the unknown creature.
Virgil
reached them and hurriedly thrust the heavy thing away. Once
he was free, Richards propelled backward and collided with
Virgil. Together they slid down the floor and smashed into the
wall.
Stunned,
they lay there. Virgil recovered first and, fearing that they
might be pursued, looked around for the dark form. To his
relief, it was laying where he had pushed it.
Relief
changed to alarm quickly though, as the thing began sliding
down the incline directly towards them. Virgil quickly pushed
Richards out of the way and was about to follow when the mass
struck him, knocking him off balance.
Virgil
caught his breath as he fell heavily onto the form. It didn't
take him long to realize that it was not the monster that his
imagination had suggested.
It was a
man. Even in the dull red glow, he could recognize the face.
"Magot!"
Richards gasped. "What's he doing here?"
Virgil
didn't answer. Automatically, he checked for a pulse. Nothing.
"He's
dead."
"Yes, but
if he's here who was the other guy that went with your buddy?"
p
"The
Hood," Virgil murmured, wondering why he felt surprised. He
had suspected that the navigator had not been on the up and
up. Why did he find it so shocking that his suspicions were
correct?
He tried
not to think about what was happening to his brothers on the
surface. "The escape pod," he said, motioning towards the open
panel. "Get to it."
Richards
started working on it again while Virgil went back out onto
the stairwell. Despite his best intentions, he couldn't help
but look down. The water was higher now, rushing in a hundred
different places. Waves raced back and forth along the surface
and exploded in a spray of froth and mist.
Virgil
waited for the familiar feelings of fear and darkness to sweep
over him and was surprised when they didn't come.
What trick
is this?
he wondered suspiciously. Where are you?
Richards
appeared at the doorway.
"Got it!"
he cried triumphantly. "This assistant engineer deserves a
raise if I do say so myself. Knowing the top brass at
Sealcraft though, I've got a better chance of getting out of
here alive than I do of ever getting one."
Virgil
couldn't help but smile. "I knew you could do it. Now to get
back down..."
The look
of self-satisfied pleasure vanished from Richards's face.
"Don't tell me you're still considering..."
"There's
no other way."
Richards
sighed. "I suppose you're right."
Together
they crawled to the edge of the staircase and looked down at
the rising water. The exit that they had entered before was
totally submerged and miniature whirlpools swirled along the
surface as the water swallowed up the remaining air-filled
spaces in the submarine.
"I can't
do it," Richards said, trembling. "It's so high...and the
water..."
"I know,"
Virgil said. "Believe me, I'm not crazy about the idea, but
there's just no other way."
"Okay.
Assuming we don't break our necks doing a Peter Pan over the
side here, just how do you figure we're going to get back to
the escape pod?"
"We'll
have to swim for it."
"Swim for
it?" Richards repeated, incredulous. "It's too far. We'll
never make it without a couple stops for air."
"I know,
but there's got to be some air pockets left along the way,"
Virgil said.
"You
think?" Richards asked doubtfully. His gaze shifted back down
to the tempestuous water.
"Sure,"
Virgil said, trying to sound confident. "Judging from the
speed of the water intake and the cubic volume of the
submarine, the main passageway can't be totally submerged."
Richards
turned back to face Virgil. "You do realize that if you're
wrong we'll drown?"
Virgil's
mouth suddenly felt very dry and he tried to swallow the lump
that was forming in his throat. "I know."
The two
men watched the water's progress, both thinking the same dark,
unhappy thoughts. There could be some air pockets left, but
there could just as easily be none, and if that was the case,
they would indeed certainly drown.
Drown.
Virgil's
chest tightened. He could still feel the water pressing on
him, the way his lungs burned, the desperation from not being
able to draw a breath. Again he waited for the darkness to
appear.
Where are
you?
His
puzzled thoughts were interrupted as Richards spoke.
"Shall we
go then?"
Virgil
nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."
The
climbed through the spaces in the railing, hanging on to the
metal bars so they wouldn't fall. The Blue Dolphin had
rolled so that it was almost completely on its side. Virgil
looked down at the water and instinctively tightened his grip.
"You
first," Richards said.
"No,"
Virgil said, shaking his head. "You go first."
"Why me?"
"Because..." Virgil paused, thinking. "Just because."
"No. You
go first."
Virgil
glanced sideways at the engineer, not liking his tone of
voice. He could hear the fear and hesitation.
"No," he
said slowly. "I want you to jump first."
Richards
gazed down at the water. He was trembling ever so slightly and
his face had turned a ghastly white.
"I tell
you, Virgil, I can't do it!" Richards cried, gripping onto the
railing so tightly his fingers were white.
"Look,"
Virgil said impatiently. "You've come this far, you can do
it."
"No!"
"Listen to
me, we don't have time for this. We've got ten maybe fifteen
minutes left if we're lucky..."
"No!"
Richards clung even tighter to the railing. His eyes were wild
with fear and he trembled uncontrollably.
"Come on,
Richards. Be sensible."
"Leave me
alone!"
"Don't
make this more difficult than it has to be," Virgil warned,
edging towards him.
"Stay away
from me! I'm not going to jump."
"Oh yes
you are," Virgil argued, starting to pry open the engineer's
fingers.
It was a
losing battle. As quickly as Virgil loosened a finger,
Richards grasped back onto the railing.
"Stop
being a fool!" Virgil snapped, quickly losing patience. "We've
got to get out of here. Now!"
"No! Leave
me alone!" Richards shrieked.
Virgil
tightened his grip before he edged even closer to him.
"Richards! For god sakes, jump!"
"No!"
With one
hand he grabbed a hold of Richards and with a mighty effort,
pulled one of his hands off the railing. Panic taking over,
Richards reacted by kicking and flailing, his legs swinging in
all directions.
Virgil
grappled with the terror-stricken man. They struggled,
Richards trying to shake off Virgil, Virgil trying to hold
onto him.
"Jump!"
Virgil growled.
"Let go of
me!"
"JUMP!"
"No!"
Richards
balled his free hand into a fist and struck out. The blow
connected just above Virgil's eye and threw him off balance.
For a brief second, Virgil struggled to hang onto the railing
but his sweaty fingers found nothing to hold onto as they slid
across the slippery metal surface.
Virgil
knew once he was down in the water there would be no way to
get back up. Desperately, he threw his weight forward and
knocked Richards loose from the railing.
Together
they fell, the water rushing up to meet them.
Virgil
braced himself for the impact, barely hearing Richard's
terrified scream. An instant later they plunged into the
frothy depths. The force of the impact knocked the air out of
Virgil's lungs. He felt a strange buzzing in his ears as he
sank downward. He tried to kick his legs but he was paralyzed
and he couldn't move.
No! I can
make it. I can make it.
He could
feel it again. The darkness. It was still with him. It had
never really left.
No escape.
Virgil
tried to fight it back, tried to swim. But it was no use. The
darkness swallowed him up, settling so heavy over him he
couldn't fight it. Weakly, he tried to resist it, but didn't
have the strength to push it away from him. He felt his
resolve to survive crumbling, wearing away. He was so tired.
So tired. If only he could rest.
Don't ever
give up.
This time
Virgil didn't respond to the words. Surrendering himself
completely, he was carried away on a stream of dark numbness
into oblivion.
Chapter 13
Jeff Tracy
paced back and forth the length of the lounge. As he passed by
his desk, his eyes automatically settled on the chronometer.
Only two minutes had passed since he had last checked the
time, but it felt like an eternity.
He turned
around and headed out onto the balcony. Leaning over the edge,
he looked down onto the kidney-shaped pool that hid the hangar
of Thunderbird 1 beneath it.
TinTin lay
stretched out on a chair, basking in the vitalizing rays of
the tropical sun. Wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, the only
sign that she was awake was an occasional movement of her hand
to brush away a wild honeybee which, attracted by a bouquet
Kyrano's colorful orchids on the patio table, buzzed lazily
around her head.
Alan, his
blonde hair still damp from their recent swim, was a mirror of
his father. He paced around and around the pool, tugging on
the ends of the towel wrapped over his shoulders. Even at a
distance, Jeff could see the worry on his youngest son's face.
For many
minutes, Jeff stood there watching Alan pace. He was so lost
in thought that he didn't hear soft footsteps approach and
stop directly behind him.
"You're
worried about them, aren't you, Jeff?"
Jeff
turned and smiled at his mother. "Shouldn't I be? It's almost
been two hours and Brains and John are no nearer in breaking
through that jamming field than they were when they first
started."
"Don't
worry. They'll get through."
"I know
they will, Ma," Jeff said. Sighing, he ran a hand through his
graying hair. "But will it be soon enough?"
"You
really think that it's a trap then?" Grandma asked, wiping her
hands on her apron.
"I don't
know what else to think. Everything sure points in that
direction."
Out of
habit, he began pacing up and down the length of the balcony.
Grandma
smiled and motioned down towards Alan. "Like father, like son.
I can always tell when there's trouble afoot because a whole
lot of walking goes on around here."
Jeff
couldn't help but smile. It was true. His sons were younger
versions of himself when it came to sorting out problems.
Especially Scott and Alan who would pace by the hour through
the house and down by the beach. The other boys, though taking
an occasional walk around, handled problems differently.
Gordon would take to the water, swimming for hours and hours
in the pool and the ocean. John, the eternal dreamer, would
sit for hours and stare at the sky whether it was day or
night, and Virgil would play the most somber pieces he knew on
the piano or settle on a big rock on the beach, his favorite
spot on the island, and sketch whatever images happened to
dance through his imagination.
So much
like Lucille. All of them. Each of her sons was living legacy
to the woman she had been. Scott had her energy, confidence
and undying courage; John, her love for solitude; Gordon, her
playfulness and wild sense of humor. Alan, her romantic
spirit, and Virgil, the one who perhaps resembled her most,
had inherited her artist's soul.
Jeff
looked towards the northern horizon. Thousands of miles away,
Scott, Virgil, and Gordon might be fighting for their lives at
that very moment and he was helpless to do anything to help
them. He had lost her; he couldn't stand to lose them as well.
He felt a
light touch on his arm.
"They'll
be all right, Jeff," Grandma said. "Over and over, those boys
of yours have proved that they can deal with any crisis that
comes along. They'll handle this one too."
"I wish I
could believe that," Jeff said. "But there are people out
there in the world that will to any lengths to get their hands
on International Rescue's technological secrets. I have a
hunch that this whole incident has been orchestrated for just
such a purpose."
"Pshaw,"
Grandma scoffed. "You sound like Kyrano now. Always talking
about premonitions and other such nonsense. Everything will
turn out to be okay in the end, you'll see."
"I hope
you're right, Ma," Jeff said, affectionately pinching her dry,
wrinkled cheek. "I want to be proved wrong on this one."
"You will
be," Grandma said dryly. "And then you'll realize what a worry
wart you've been all this time. You and Alan both."
An urgent
beeping sounded from the lounge and Jeff hurried into the
lounge. The eyes of John's portrait on the wall were flashing
in synchronized time with the beeps. Eagerly, he pushed a
button behind the desk.
The
portrait vanished and in its place John appeared. His
lilac-trimmed blue uniform was wrinkled and the sash hung
lopsided over his shoulder. There was a blue ink stain on his
chin and his ash blonde hair was mussed and ruffled. Although
exhaustion was clearly defined in his youthful face, John's
piercing blue eyes were glowing with excitement and the
satisfaction of victory.
"Go ahead,
John."
"I've got
good news, Father. The jamming field has dissipated and the
entire communications grid is clear of all interference."
"Good job,
John. I knew that you and Brains would be able to find a
solution."
"Well,"
John said slowly. "As much as I'd like to take the credit, we
had nothing to do with it. The interference cleared up
spontaneously on its own. Almost like someone threw a switch."
"P-p-perhaps someone did throw a switch-Er-John," Brains said
as he entered the lounge. "It is very likely that for whatever
reason, whoever c-c-created the jamming field discontinued its
use intentionally."
"Why would
they do that?" John wondered.
"Maybe
they don't need it anymore," Jeff said darkly. "Have you been
able to contact the boys?"
John shook
his head. "That's the bad news, Father. I haven't been able to
establish contact with anybody. They're receiving the signal,
but there's no answer."
Jeff
frowned. "They're in trouble."
Alan burst
into the lounge, TinTin running to keep up with him. "Did you
get through to them finally?"
"Not yet,
but the jamming field's out of the way," John informed him.
Alan
impatiently turned to Jeff. "Now are we going to do something,
Father?"
"What can
be done, Alan?" John asked. "By the time you got to the danger
zone, whatever's going down will be done and over with."
"We can't
just sit around here waiting to hear from them! We've got to
do something!"
"Now,
Alan...." TinTin began, putting a soothing hand on his back.
Alan
shrugged her away and took a step towards Jeff. "Surely, we're
not going to just sit here and wait for something to happen,
Father?"
Jeff
hardly heard him. "Get me Admiral McGraw at the World Navy's
North Atlantic Division Headquarters, John. It's time to call
in a favor."
The
massive winch that held Thunderbird 4 suspended in the air
creaked and groaned as it brought down the small yellow
submarine to rest on the carrier's runaway.
Scott and
Gordon stood side by side watching the operation in silence.
Scott felt
a strong sense of misgiving about the rescue attempt. Could he
trust Gordon to exercise good judgement?
p He
wished he felt more confident. They had all been so focused on
how the accident in Canada had affected Virgil, they had never
even noticed Gordon's strong sense of guilt.
But there
was no choice in the matter. Ready or not, Gordon had to go.
Once again, he was Virgil's only chance for survival.
Without
turning his head, Scott glanced sideways at Arachne. Strange.
She knew that his whole indifference scheme had been an act
yet she made no move to convince the Hood that he had been
deceived.
What's she
up to? Scott wondered. Nothing good, that's for sure. He'd
have to be very careful around her.
Finally,
Thunderbird 4 was ready to leave. Perched on the edge of the
deck as before, Gordon would have to use emergency launching
procedures to get the small sub into the water.
"Be
careful down there, Gordon," Scott cautioned. There was so
much he wanted to say to him, but knew better with their
enemies easily within hearing range.
"I will,"
Gordon promised, heading towards the Thunderbird.
Scott's
apprehension grew as he watched Gordon settled down at the
controls preparing for launch. Thirty seconds later he was
ready to leave.
One last
time, he looked towards Scott and raised his hand solemnly.
Scott
waved at him in return.
The
thrusters fired and Thunderbird Four roared down the short
length of runaway and propelled off the end of the carrier. It
hit the water with a tremendous splash that sprayed droplets
so far that Scott could feel a cool mist on his face. The
small yellow craft disappeared quickly beneath the gray water
and the only sign if had ever been there was the snapping of
air bubbles along the surface.
The Hood
scowled. "I hope for your sake, Tracy, that he succeeds.
Otherwise I'll have to kill you. A small pleasure compared to
having your machines, but one I'm quite willing to enjoy
nonetheless when the time comes."
Scott
smiled tightly. "He'll do it."
"We shall
see," the Hood rumbled.
"Yes,"
Scott said, trying to sound flippant. "We shall, won't we?"
"So? What
did they say, Father?" Alan demanded, voicing the question
everybody wanted to ask.
Jeff
strode out onto the balcony and sat down in a chair. He didn't
speak, only rubbed his temples as if he had a headache coming
on. Alan, Brains, TinTin and Grandma watched him anxiously.
Kyrano was off in the kitchen somewhere, trying to lose
himself in a complicated culinary pursuit. It was the Asiatic
servant's way of dealing with anxiety.
"Well?"
Alan urged.
"Well,"
Jeff began slowly. "I've just talked to Admiral McGraw and
it's just as I thought."
"What is,
Mr. Tracy?" TinTin asked.
"You
remember that Gordon was surprised that Iceland had a Navy?"
Alan
nodded impatiently. "Yeah, yeah. So? What does that have to do
with anything?"
"A whole
lot. I've just been informed that Iceland does not have
a carrier by the name of the Anthem. In fact, they
don't have any aircraft carriers or major naval vessels of any
kind," Jeff said. "In addition to that, the Admiral informed
me that Sealcraft never informed them that the Blue Dolphin
was involved in any sort of underwater mishap."
"What does
that mean, I wonder?" TinTin murmured.
"It means
that most likely someone at that company is involved with the
conspiracy to get us on the scene," Jeff supplied.
"Yes,"
Alan interrupted. "But what are we going to do about it?"
Jeff
reached for a glass of water sitting on the edge of the
balcony railing. The ice cubes had melted under the sun's
relentless gaze and a layer of beaded moisture was condensed
along the outside of the glass. He took a sip of the tepid
liquid and cleared his throat.
"Admiral
McGraw is going to order a WNS carrier, the Union to
the scene. They are less than twenty miles from the
Anthem's last known position and they can be at the danger
zone within a fifteen minutes or so."
Alan still
wasn't satisfied. "That's all fine and well, Father. But what
are we going to do?"
"We
aren't going to do anything," Jeff replied. "I am going
to fly out there in my personal jet. You are going to
stay here and mind the store, so to speak."
"But
Father," Alan began.
"No buts,
Alan," Jeff said severely. "I'm not in the mood to argue with
you. If a terrestrial call does come through, contact whatever
local rescue agencies are in the area. In the case of a space
rescue, you and TinTin will man Thunderbird 3."
"But why
can't I go with you?" Alan argued.
"Because I
need you here. That's a good enough reason. If the need for a
space rescue arises, we have to be ready to respond."
"But
Father..."
"No more,
Alan."
This time
Jeff's voice held a note of warning and Alan reluctantly fell
silent. Sullenly, he disappeared into the lounge and threw
himself into a chair. Folding his arms, he sat there while
TinTin gently pointed out all the sensible reasons that Jeff
was right.
"Well,
Brains, shall we go?" Jeff said, turning to the young
scientist.
"W-w-why
sure, Mr. Tracy. I thought...Er...you said you were going alone."
"No,
Brains. I'd really like you to come along with me..." Jeff
paused. "In case something has really gone wrong. We might
really need your expertise."
"C-c-certainly, Mr. Tracy," Brains said.
Jeff took
another drink of the lukewarm water and set the glass back
down. "Can you be ready to go in ten minutes?"
Brains
pushed back his glasses on his nose and nodded. "Yes, Mr.
Tracy. I think that will be..er...sufficient time for me to
p-p-prepare."
"Good,"
Jeff said, with a satisfied nod. "I'll meet you at the
cliffhouse. We've got a long way trip ahead of us and I'd like
to get underway as soon as possible. There's no telling what's
happening out there in the danger zone. Even as we speak, the
boys could be in real trouble."
Virgil's
eyes snapped open.
A dream,
he thought. It was all a dream.
But it had
all seemed so real!
A soft
warm breeze blew across his face and a chorus of birds chirped
and twittered. Slowly, he sat up. He was laying in the middle
of a carpet of green grass that stretched as far as he could
see in either direction. Rows of tall thorny hedges ran along
in strange patterns like a maze. Beds of flowers of all colors
and descriptions lined the various paths. On one side was a
high ivy-covered wall made of massive field stone.
Where am
I?
Virgil sat
still for several minutes, trying to understand what was going
on. A thought nagged at the back of his mind and no matter how
he tried, he could not shake it. "I'm dead," he finally said.
"Not yet,"
a voice behind him said.
Startled,
Virgil turned to find a man standing several feet away from
him. A young man dressed very simply in dark-colored,
nondescript clothing.
"Who the
hell are you?" Virgil demanded.
The young
man smiled, his clear blue eyes sparkling. "My name is
Michael."
"Michael?"
Virgil asked. There was something uncannily familiar about the
man's face. Something in the blue eyes that reminded him of
Scott. "Do I know you?"
Michael
shook his head. "No."
"Where am
I?"
"Where do
you think you are?" Michael asked.
"I don't
know. I think maybe I'm dead or something. Am I?"
"Do you
think you are?"
Virgil
began to feel irritated. "I don't know what to think. Do you
always answer a question by asking another?"
"Sometimes. Does it bother you, Virgil?"
"Yes,"
Virgil snapped. "And how do you know who I am?"
"How do
you think I know who you are?"
"I have no
god damn idea!" Virgil fumed.
His anger
seemed to please the man and he laughed. "That's more like it.
More like the fighter you really are."
Michael
held out his hand. Virgil made no move towards the offered
hand.
"What's
the matter, Virgil? Don't you trust me?"
"No, I
don't," Virgil admitted.
"Why not?
Have I given you any reason not to?"
"Not yet,"
Virgil said slowly. "But I'm sure you will."
"So
suspicious!" Michael chided lightly. "Would it put you at ease
to know that I'm here to help you?"
"It
depends on just what you intend to help me with."
Michael
laughed and again Virgil was struck by how much he was like
Scott.
A distant
noise, like thunder sounded in the distance and Michael, his
smiled fading, looked upward at the sky. The blue sky had
turned a light gray and the breeze had a slight chill.
Michael
grasped hold of Virgil's hand and pulled him to his feet.
"Time grows short, Virgil. You must start now or you will
never get back."
"Back?"
Virgil echoed, curious. "Back where?"
"Away from
this place," Michael answered. "You don't belong here."
He led
Virgil through the maze of hedges. All the while the sky grew
darker and the thunder rumbled closer. The breeze had died and
the birds fell silent, leaving only a strange stillness.
"Hurry,"
Michael called over his shoulder.
"I am,"
Virgil replied, almost running to keep up. "Would you mind
telling me where we're going?"
"You're
going back where you belong."
"What
about you?"
Michael
smiled. "I'm going back where I belong."
"Don't you
belong here?" Virgil asked.
"No!
Thankfully, I was spared from such a fate."
They came
out into a beautiful courtyard. A fountain with a massive
marble statue of Neptune armed with a three-pronged trident
sat in the center. Stone benches were arranged in concentric
circles around the fountain, and flowering shrubs were set
precisely along the outer perimeter.
Cautiously, Michael walked past the fountain, his eyes never
leaving the statue of the oceanic god. They stopped opposite
end of the courtyard where two solid metal gates functioned as
exits.
Michael
stood aside.
"Now you
must choose," he told Virgil. "But choose wisely as you will
not get a second chance."
Puzzled,
Virgil made no move towards the gates. "How do I know which to
pick?"
"Your soul
will show you which path you are meant to take," Michael
answered patiently. Again, he looked over his shoulder at the
statue. The sky had gone from dark gray to a blackish-green
and once again the breeze picked up.
This time
it was icy cold and seemed to pass right through Virgil,
sending shivers up and down his spine.
Virgil
took a step towards the first door. Instantly the thick metal
gave way and he could see a beautiful seashore, very much like
Tracy Island's own sandy beaches. Rays of pink sunlight
reflected off the water and the waves gently rolled upon the
sand and washed ever so evenly back into the calm waters. Far
away, someone walked along the shore towards him. As the
person got closer, a thrill of recognition ran through him.
"Mom!"
Virgil gasped. There was no doubt it was her. Even at a
distance he could recognize her. At once, Virgil was overcome
by such a longing to be a part of the scene before him that he
unconsciously took another step forward.
"Wait."
Michael's clear voice stopped him from passing through the
gate. "There's still one left." He pointed to the last gate.
"No,"
Virgil said, shaking his head. "I don't need to see anymore.
That is where I belong."
"Do not
make your decision yet," Michael said. "Not until you see what
you're leaving behind."
Virgil
took a deep breath. The sky was completely black now and the
beds of beautiful flowers lay were withered into dry brown
husks upon the ground. Slowly, he stepped in front of the
gate.
All he
could see was a mirror image of the courtyard.
"What is
this?" Virgil wondered.
A loud
roar of thunder startled him. Whirling around, he saw Michael
staring fixedly at the statue. Virgil watched in fascinated
horror as the marble cracked and sloughed away. Somewhere far
above in the black sky, a roar like a freight train sounded
and the wind gusted with such force that Virgil had to brace
himself in order to stay on his feet.
More of
the marble cracked and crumbled. Ever so slowly, the statue
began to move. With ponderous movements, the mammoth head
began to turn. Virgil's throat went dry and he backed away.
It was
looking directly at him; its eyes a swirling black.
The
darkness, Virgil thought numbly. His enemy.
He
gradually became aware of dozens of people chained in place
along the many benches. They writhed in agony, screaming and
tearing at the chains that held them in place.
Unfazed,
Michael spoke softly. "You must now choose, Virgil. Will you
face your fear or run from it?"
Automatically, Virgil turned towards the first gate but as he
was about to pass through, he hesitated. Could he really leave
it all behind? His father and brothers. International Rescue.
His life.
Virgil
knew the answer. His soul had been whispering it quietly for a
long time, but he hadn't been ready to listen to it until now.
No. He
couldn't and wouldn't let go. It wasn't his time to die.
Virgil
turned around to face the monstrous statue. It's hand that
held the trident rose high in the air. Still, he held his
ground, never faltering.
"A wise
decision," Michael said. "You are a Tracy through and through,
Virgil."
He began
to fade away, becoming more and more transparent. Virgil
wondered if his eyes were playing tricks.
"You're
leaving?"
"No,"
Michael smiled. "No matter where you go or what you do we'll
be with you. Remember that always."
For an
instant, Virgil saw his mother appear alongside of Michael and
the two of them vanished from sight.
He was
alone. Virgil's attention turned back to the statue. Too late
he saw the razor-sharp trident hurling towards him. Before he
could react, the missile struck him in the chest and passed
through him. Virgil gasped as a brief flash of horrible pain
ripped at him, then he felt nothing but calm quiet as the
courtyard melted away like paint in a rainstorm. Once again,
Virgil drifted away on a stream of darkness, not into
oblivion, but towards another place.
Only this
time he wasn't afraid.
Chapter 14
Virgil
gasped and jerked forward. He felt the sweet sensation of his
lungs filling with air, his heart beating strongly in his
chest. Water splashed against his face. It was icy cold and
his teeth chattered but he welcomed its chill. He was alive.
Alive!
Richards
was there, holding onto him, almost sobbing with relief.
"Virgil! I thought you were a goner. You hit your head as we
were falling."
"Did I?'
Virgil asked. He felt the back of his head gingerly. Already,
an enormous bump was forming and as he touched it a sharp pain
stabbed behind his eyes. He smiled and laughed.
"What's so
funny?" Richards asked, eyeing Virgil warily.
"Nothing,"
Virgil said, still laughing. "Just thinking of a doctor joke
my brother Gordon told me last week. Remind me to tell it to
you sometime."
Richards
continued to stare at Virgil. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm not
sure of anything," Virgil replied. "Except that we have to get
back to the escape pod. Now."
They swam
over to the door, struggling against the strong current that
threatened to sweep them back. Beneath the swirling water they
could see the weak glow of the exit sign.
"That's
encouraging," Virgil said. "The auxiliary lighting hasn't
given out yet. That means we'll have light to see by."
"Or drown
by," Richards said mournfully.
"Don't
worry. We'll make it."
Richards
shook his head. "No, we won't."
"Yes, we
will!" Virgil said, almost savagely. "I'm not going to die
down here and neither are you."
Virgil
treaded water, thinking and planning. Richards paddled
miserably beside him. Water dripped down his face and his hair
was plastered against his head. He shivered, his teeth
chattering.
One look
at the engineer and Virgil knew that he was not shaking only
from the cold, but from fear as well. Briefly he wondered if
he could count on him not to pull another stunt like he did on
the stairway.
Richards
seemed to sense Virgil's doubt and weakly smiled. "Don't
worry, Virgil. I won't give any more trouble. I don't know
what happened up there. It was like I just... I just..." He
broke off, unable to speak.
"Take it
easy, Richards," Virgil said, sympathetic. "Believe me, I know
just how you feel, but you've got to keep it together. We can
survive this. I'm not saying it's going to be easy, but we can
make it. Trust me. Okay?"
Richards
smiled weakly. "Okay, Virgil. I trust you. Just the lead the
way and I'll follow."
Virgil
smiled back. "Good. This is what we're going to do. I want you
to take a couple of deep breaths and at the count of five we
going to dive down and swim through the door. Once we're
through to the other side, head for the surface. Got it?"
"What
if..." Richard began but stopped when Virgil held up his hand.
"No what
ifs or buts. This is our only chance and we're going to take
it."
Richards
swallowed and nodded. "Okay, Virgil. Okay."
"Ready?"
Virgil asked.
Richards
silently mouthed the word 'yes.'
"Okay
then...on the count of five," Virgil said.
"1..."
They both
took a deep breath and exhaled.
"2..."
Ignoring
the protests of his aching muscles, Virgil tensed and prepared
for the coming exertion.
"3..."
Richards
bobbed in the water like a buoy as if to get momentum.
"4..."
Virgil
took another deep breath, realizing painfully that it might be
one of the last he would he ever make.
"5!"
Taking a
gulp of air, Virgil and Richards dove down into the water. It
was like a different world, strangely silent and calm. Virgil
hesitated as a flood of unpleasant memories swept over him.
For the briefest of moments, he was in Canada again beneath
the ice struggling to find a way back to the surface.
No!
Virgil thought angrily. I'm not going back to that place.
Never again will I let myself fall into the darkness. This
time, I will make it. This time I will win.
With
powerful strokes, Virgil swam through the door. Richards was
just ahead, already swimming upwards the surface.
Together
they broke through the water and banged into something solid
and unyielding. There less than a foot of space left between
the water and the ceiling panels.
Gasping
for air, Virgil allowed himself a few seconds of triumphant
celebration. He had been right. The passageway was not
completely blocked. Very close to it, but not yet flooded.
Virgil
noticed some cabling that ran along the ceiling. "Is that wire
hot?"
"No,"
Richards answered, looking relieved that they had cheated
death for the time being. "It's only the communications
linking, the electric wiring runs inside the walls."
"Good,"
Virgil said. Things were looking better for them all the time.
"Come on."
Grabbing
hold of the cable, he pulled himself down the passageway hand
over hand. Richards followed him and rapidly they moved down
the passageway.
"Almost
there," Virgil called once they had rounded a corner.
Richards
didn't answer. The lights continued to flicker and the water
was almost up to their chins now. Above their heads, the
ceiling panels shook and vibrated as the submarine groaned and
screamed as the succumbed to the pressure of the oceanic
depths.
It was
just ahead now. So close.
They
passed by the observation window that bulged inward from the
difference in water pressure. Little streams of water trickled
down from the sealing along the top of the window frame.
"Don't
break," Virgil muttered. "Please. Not until we're in the pod."
They were
there. They had reached it.
"How are
we going to do this?" Richards shouted.
"Same
drill as before," Virgil answered. "Dive for it. I'll hit the
open switch and we'll swim through as quickly as we can. Once
we're inside I'll activate the emergency close mechanism. It's
just inside the door right?"
Richards
nodded. "Yeah. Right inside the door. But what if it doesn't
work?"
"It had
better work," Virgil growled. "God knows that nothing else on
this pathetic excuse for a submarine does."
"You know
that we're going to take on a lot of water and there's a good
chance that the electrical system will short out," Richards
said slowly.
"I know.
But what other choice have we got?"
"None,"
Richards answered, smiling for the first time since they had
been on the stairwell. "Do you want to do the honors or should
I be the one who counts down to our funerals?"
Virgil
smiled. "You do it this time. I'm so damn cold that I can
barely remember how to count."
"Okay
then," Richards said.
As he
counted, Virgil cleared his mind of all the distracting
thoughts that swirled around as turbulent as the rushing water
around them. He called on every ounce of his discipline and
training to concentrate on what had to be done.
"...5!"
Richards shouted.
Immediately, Virgil dove. In less than a few seconds he found
the control panel and hit open with the palm of his hand.
Before he had to time to worry about whether it would work,
the door grated open and they were sucked inward as the water
rushed to fill the pod. p
"Oh my
God!" Waterman screamed, jumping out of his chair. Instantly,
he was knocked down by the swift current that roared over his
feet. Richards was flung across the floor and smashed into the
still form of Captain Wells. He scrambled to his feet and
lifted the injured man up out of the water.
As Virgil
swept by the door he reached out and hooked his fingers on the
edge of the doorframe. Pulling himself to the control panel,
he desperately punched at the emergency close button.
The door
responded sluggishly, slowed by the crushing force of the
water.
"Come on,
you bastard!" Virgil swore, pounding the button. "Close!"
As if
trying to make up its mind, the door slowed and then continued
steadily until it snapped shut with a hydraulic hiss.
Relieved, Virgil leaned with his back against the door and
sank down to the floor. Almost a foot of water sloshed around
in the pod, lapping over him as he sat there.
"Are you
crazy?" Waterman screamed. "Are you trying to kill me or
something?"
Virgil
paid no attention as he struggled to his feet and crossed over
to Richards. "How's he doing?"
Richards
shook his head. "Not very well, Virgil. I think I displaced
the pipe a little when I hit him." He pointed at Captain's
stomach. A fresh stain of dark red was slowly spreading across
the gauze pads that Virgil had packed around the edge of the
wound earlier.
Virgil
took Richards hand and pressed it down against the gauze where
the blood was seeping. "Keep pressure on it."
"Oh,
forget him!" Waterman screamed. "Let's get the hell out of
here before the electrical system goes! Who cares about him!
He's going to die anyway."
"Shut up,"
Virgil snapped, leaping to his feet. He reached and grabbed
Waterman by the front of his shirt. Anger added strength, and
although the man was a great deal larger, Virgil nearly lifted
him off his feet. "I don't want to hear one more word from
you. Do you understand? Not one more word!"
Waterman
nodded dumbly. "Yes," he said hoarsely. "I understand."
"Good,"
Virgil growled, letting him go. "Now show me how to activate
this thing and we'll be on our way."
Virgil sat
down at the controls and with Waterman's assistance managed to
reset the computer to bypass the primary launch mechanism
accept the secondary-starting pathway that Richards had
established in auxiliary control. After a few more minor
adjustments, the escape pod was ready to launch.
Virgil
glanced back at Richards. "Keep your fingers crossed that this
works."
Richards
swallowed nervously. "My fingers have been crossed so much
lately that I can't straighten them."
Virgil
smiled slightly as he turned back to the controls. His finger
hovered over the button that would send the pod hurling
towards the surface.
"Get
ready," he warned.
Waterman
sat in the other seat next to Virgil with his eyes squeezed
tightly, mumbling to himself. Except for an occasional 'God',
Virgil could make no sense of what he was saying.
Virgil
took a deep breath, letting calmness settle over him.
"Now!" he
shouted.
His finger
touched the button and with a powerful thrust the escape pod
separated from the Blue Dolphin and streaked upwards
through the water.
Triumphantly, Virgil turned towards Richards. "See, I told you
we'd..."
He never
had the chance to finish as a powerful shockwave ripped into
the pod.
Virgil
flew out of his seat and smashed against the wall. Stunned, he
tried to get to his feet but was thrown forward as the pod
spun crazily out of control. There was a flurry of loud
pinging noises that sounded like hail striking metal.
Struggling, Virgil managed to crawl back to the controls.
Wrapping his arms around the chair, he gazed out the small
window into the ocean. Chunks and pieces of metal whizzed
through the water. Some of them smashed into the pod with
devastating force and caused the small craft to spin and twirl
like a top.
For what
seemed like an eternity, the debris continued to flash by them
until at last all was still. Slowly, the pod stopped spinning
and bucking and came to a stop.
"What the
hell happened?" Richards asked weakly, hanging onto Captain
Wells. Nearby, Waterman lay propped up against the wall. His
eyes glazed over, he still mumbled to himself.
"The
reactor," Virgil said quietly, checking some instruments. He
looked over to Richards. "That's it for the Blue Dolphin."
Richards
opened his mouth to answer but a strange whirring sound made
the words he was going to speak die in his throat.
"Oh, no,"
Virgil murmured as he studied the readings. His stomach gave a
lurch. He recognized that sound.. The lights in the pod
flickered and then died, leaving them in twilight-like
darkness.
"A chunk
of metal or something must have cut the power cables," Virgil
said, trying to get a reaction from the controls.
"That's it
then," Richards said gloomily. "We've had it."
"We can
still make it, Richards. We're less than three hundred feet
down and if we can just reconnect those wires we can still
reach the surface."
"Reconnect
the wires?" Richards scoffed. "Just how do you plan on doing
that? You'd have to go on the outside of the pod and we don't
have a diving suit."
Virgil was
unwillingly to admit defeat.
"There
just has to be a way," he muttered. "I've got my comm. Maybe
we can contact somebody."
Richards
laughed bitterly. "There's no one out there, Virgil. No one
but those lunatics on that bogus carrier and you can bet
they're not to worried about us."
Virgil
ignored him and stared out at the water. There just has to be
a way! he thought. I've come too far to fail now.
On the
deck of the Anthem, Scott stood on the deck staring out
towards the ocean. Two minutes had passed since Gordon had
taken Thunderbird 4 down into the depths to try and rescue
Virgil from the doomed Blue Dolphin.
Scott
tried to hold back the worry that plagued him but it was a
losing battle. Was this going to be the time that one of them
didn't return home to Tracy Island? Was this the time when the
Hood would finally destroy all that they had lovingly created
and worked for?
Scott
turned his head ever so slightly. He could see the big brute
of a man out of the corner of his eye. He was stroking his gun
affectionately as if were a beloved cat. The chance will come,
Scott thought. I have got to be ready to take it.
A musical
laugh brought him out of his thoughts. Arachne was smiling at
him. "So, Scott. Tell me just how long you intend to keep this
game of yours going. Do you really think you can continue to
deceive us?"
Scott
smiled tightly. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, but
you do," Arachne answered, coming towards him. Her footsteps
were so light that she almost seemed to float.
The Hood's
dark eyes flickered towards them and he scowled.
"You don't
have to pretend you don't care," she purred, running a finger
across Scott's chest. "You cannot hide your true feelings from
me."
Scott
raised his eyebrows. "My true feelings?"
"Yes,"
Arachne said, leaning close to Scott.
He could
smell her scent. Strangely sweet, oddly alluring. He felt a
little weak as she looked at him. Her eyes were so blue. Like
the sky on a bright sunny day in June.
"I know
that you would give your life for your brothers." She kissed
him softly on the cheek and ran her fingers through his hair.
Scott
couldn't think of an answer. His mind felt comfortably dull.
"But you
don't need to do that," Arachne said, kissing him again.
"I don't?"
"No," she
sighed. "If only you would hand over those codes..."
"Codes?"
Scott echoed stupidly.
"Yes, the
codes." Arachne pressed up against him and kissed him more
urgently. Scott responded to her touch, completely taken over
by all-consuming desire.
Snarling
with rage, the Hood leapt forward and pulled Arachne away.
Furiously, he slammed his powerful fist into Scott's jaw.
Scott fell backward, crashing through a pile of empty supply
crates onto a runaway tarp.
He shook
his head, the fog lifting from his brain. He stared at Arachne,
amazed at how close he had been so close to revealing the
codes that would have given them access to the Thunderbirds.
She had cast some kind of spell over him, hypnotized him.
"You damn
fool! I was so close!" Arachne screamed at the Hood. She
pounced on him, slashing at his face with her nails. The Hood
grasped her hands and flung her to the deck.
Unfazed,
she leapt to her feet and was about to attack again when a
strange rumble made her stop in her tracks. The Anthem
was shaking, vibrating strangely. Mystified, the Hood and
Arachne stared down at the runway at their feet.
With an
explosive crack, the old macadam separated and a deep chasm
opened directly beneath them. Throwing his hands up, the Hood
barely had time to scream as he disappeared from sight.
Arachne clung to the edge, desperately trying to grasp on to
something.
For a
split second, Arachne and Scott's eyes met and then she too
fell. Her scream became fainter and fainter as she vanished
into the opening. Scott scrambled to his feet and charged away
from the widening gap. There were startled screams as the
ancient carrier creaked and crumbled. Scott stood on the far
edge of the runaway, looking back at the awful sight.
His eyes
fell on Thunderbird 1 and 2 on the far side of the carrier.
Helpless to do anything, he held his breath as he strained to
see if they were threatened by the carrier's unexplained
demise. There was no movement and after a few minutes, the
Anthem seemed to settle.
"What the
devil was that?" Scott wondered. An oceanic earthquake? A
tidal wave? He turned out and looked at the ocean. It bubbled
and frothed unnaturally, the surface exploding upward. Scott
looked closer. What was that bobbing in the water?
Metal.
"But
what..." Scott wondered out loud. The words died in his throat
and his heart almost stopped.
The
Blue Dolphin.
"No!"
Scott cried, his heart refusing to accept what his mind was
telling. "No!"
Over and
over he said the word, desperate to believe it wasn't
happening. He stared at the water. So cold and dark. Virgil...
Scott eyes
blurred as the sting of grief hit him full force. He had lost
him. He had lost his brother.
"Damn,"
Gordon whispered hoarsely, staring at the sight in front of
him as he descended. Twisted pieces of metal and other
assorted debris littered the water. He hadn't had any time to
react. The computer had only had time to warn of incoming
debris, nothing else.
Numbly,
Gordon swung the spotlight back and forth, straining to see
what he knew he wouldn't see. There was no way that Virgil
could have escaped. No way. Gordon could still see his
brother's still body when he had pulled him from the water in
Canada. How pale his face had been. The way his eyes had been
open, staring out at nothing. He hadn't responded to their
words, only stared blankly. No breathing, no heartbeat.
Nothing.
Gordon
hadn't been able to reach him in time. Virgil was dead. Yet
somehow he had made his way back to them.
Gordon
could still see Scott and Jake working on Virgil, coaxing him
to breath again. And that moment, when he had taken a breath
on his own. They had nearly collapsed from relief. Scott had
smiled and said everything would be all right.
But it
wasn't. Neither he nor Virgil ever spoke of it, but things had
never been the same between them since that fateful day in
Canada.
As the
spotlight through the water, a reflection caught his eye.
Gordon leaned forward, trying to see through the dark water.
What was it? Too geometrical to be a piece of debris. Too big
to be a fish...
It was the
escape pod.
Gordon
eagerly grabbed the radio. "Thunderbird 4 to Escape Pod.
Repeat Thunderbird 4 to Escape Pod..."
Virgil
looked up as his telecomm beeped. If he hadn't been so weary,
he would have jumped. He poked at a button at the side of the
watch, but no picture appeared. As it was, he straightened in
startled amazement as he heard Gordon's voice call over the
frequency.
"Thunderbird 4 to Escape Pod. Thunderbird 4 to Escape Pod. Do
you read me?"
"Loud and
clear, Gordon," Virgil replied.
"Are you
okay?"
Virgil
could hear the anxiety in his brother's voice.
"I'm okay,
Gordon," he assured.
"Are you
sure?"
Virgil
smiled. "Yes, I'm sure."
He had
never been so sure of anything before in his life. For the
first time since Canada, he really was okay.
The
Commander of the WNS carrier the Unionlooked at the
damaged escape pod as it lay upon the deck like some enormous
fish. "They were damn lucky to survive that."
Brains
blinked at the officer through his horn rims. "Er...yes, they
were. Very lucky. If Thunderbird 4 hadn't been able to tow
them to the surface their chances for survival would have been
nonexistent. Now if you'll excuse me, I have get to work."
Brains
shuffled away towards Thunderbirds 1 and 2 which had been
transferred onboard from the Anthem. The old carrier
was extremely unstable; the explosive shockwaves from the
Blue Dolphin had caused irreparable damage to its ancient
hull.
The
Commander watched Brains wander across the runaway. "What an
odd fellow that one is," he said shaking his head.
An officer
approached and the Commander turned to face him.
"All
aboard the Anthem have been detained in the brig, sir."
"Good,"
the Commander said. "Any sight of those other two characters?"
"No, sir.
We haven't found them yet. Shall we keep searching?" the
officer asked.
The
Commander pursed his lips thoughtfully. "No, Lieutenant. Mark
them down as missing and call it a day. They couldn't have
survived the fall."
"Are you
sure you're okay?"
Virgil
sighed and looked steadily at Gordon who hovered above him.
"Will you stop asking me that? You're making me nervous. I'm
fine I tell you."
"You don't
look fine," Gordon said, worried. "Your eyes look funny. One
of your pupils is bigger than the other."
"I know,"
Virgil grumbled. "The ship's doctor said I have a concussion.
It'll clear up in a few days as long as I get some rest.
Seeing how you won't leave me alone my chances for recovery
are very slim."
Gordon
fell silent and walked around to the other side of the bed and
sat down. Virgil lay back in the bed and after a few minutes,
he became drowsy and his eyes began to close.
"Are you
sure I can't get you something, Virgil?"
Virgil's
eyes snapped open. "Good grief, Gordon! Will you leave me
alone already? You're driving me crazy!"
"So how's
the patient doing?" Scott asked, grinning. He and Jeff both
stood in the doorway.
"Which
one?" grumbled Virgil. "Me or this mental case whose sole
purpose in life is to help me right into the nuthouse?"
"Why don't
you go down to the mess hall and get some grub, Gordo?" Scott
suggested. "You've been here for hours. Let Dad and me man
your post for a bit. I promise, we'll do our best to drive
Virgil to the brink of insanity just like you do."
Reluctantly, Gordon agreed to go. Jeff sat in the chair and
Scott settled down at the end of Virgil's bed. A medic came in
and finding Virgil still awake, promptly administered a shot.
Within ten minutes, Virgil was sleeping peacefully.
Deep in
thought, Scott watched his brother quietly until he noticed
his father's gaze upon him.
"What's
bothering you, son?" Jeff asked.
Scott
sighed. Careful not to jostle the bed, he got up and began
pacing up and down the length of the small room.
"Scott,"
Jeff said, his voice gentle.
Scott
stopped.
"I thought
I lost him, Dad," Scott said, his voice trembling. "It was
just like when Mom died."
Jeff went
to him and put his arm around his shoulder. "It's all right
now, Scott. Virgil's okay and you're all safe and sound."
"I know,"
Scott said, rubbing his eyes. "But I don't think I can go
through that again. I'm not sure if what we're doing is worth
the risk."
"Sometimes
I feel that way too, son," Jeff admitted. "But then I think of
all the good we've done. We've saved a lot of lives, spared a
lot of people the pain of losing a loved one." Jeff paused and
a shadow crossed his face. "No one could save your mother,
Scott. But there are folks out there that can be saved because
we're there to save them. Remember that whenever you wonder if
it's worth it, because if you do, the answer to the question
will always be yes."
Scott
brushed away a tear from his cheek and smiled. "Thanks, Dad."
"For
what?"
"For being
who you are," Scott answered.
Jeff
smiled affectionately at his oldest son. "Come on, Scott.
Let's go out and see how Brain's is doing."
With one
last look at Virgil, Scott followed his father out of the
room. It had been a long, hard day and it would be good to be
home again.
Epilogue
"What do
you want me to do with all this stuff, Grandma?" Virgil asked,
pointing to a stack of boxes. "Throw it out?"
"Goodness,
no!" Grandma cried. "Not those. They're some my things that
I've never bothered to unpack since I came to the island."
Virgil set
down the box he was holding. As he did the flap opened and he
could see the edge of a framed picture beneath some
half-finished knitting. Curious, Virgil pulled out the picture
and looked at it.
Two
teenagers standing next to a small crop dusting plane looked
up at him. They were smiling and had their arms around each
other's shoulders. One he recognized instantly as his Father
but the other...
Virgil
stared at the picture. "Grandma? Who's this in the picture
next to Dad?"
Grandma
came over and looked at the picture. Her wrinkled face broke
into a smile and she laughed. "That's your Uncle Buzz. Those
two boys! So full of the devil. I can still remember the day
when they bought that old junky plane. Even then your Father
had an entrepreneurial spirit. He wanted to start a
crop-dusting business, but Buzz..." Grandma shook her head,
her eyes lit up with memories. "All he cared about was having
a chance to fly. He loved adventure, you know." A shadow
crossed Grandma's face. "Michael could never get enough of
it."
Virgil
looked up quickly. "Michael? But you said it was Uncle Buzz."
"It is
Uncle Buzz," Grandma said. "No one ever called him anything
else but that since he was born, but his given name was
Michael."
"I never
knew that," Virgil murmured, staring at the picture. "Dad
never talks about him."
Grandma
looked troubled. "Your Father took his death very hard. I'm
not sure if he'll ever really get over it."
"Hey,
Virgil. You ready to go?"
It was
Gordon, wearing his swimming trunks. He had a towel slung over
his shoulder and looked at Virgil expectantly.
"Not yet,"
Virgil replied. "I'm helping Grandma."
"No, no,
you run along," Grandma said, waving him away. "There's plenty
of time later on to finish this."
Virgil
still held onto the picture, his eyes never leaving it.
Michael...
Grandma
looked out the window at the sun-filled sky. "My, it sure is a
beautiful day out there."
Virgil set
down the photograph gently. "It sure is, Grandma. A beautiful
day for a swim." |