26This story is inspired from the TV series. I don't own these characters or have any connection to anything Thunderbird-ish. Any comments more than welcome.
Note: I updated this chapter on the 26-Feb – just slight grammar edits for clarity, but no major plot changes, so there is no need to re-read it if you've already done so.
Chapter 1
Gordon braced himself as he sat in the pilot seat of Thunderbird 4. Even though he knew pod 4 had impact compensators to dampen the back breaking jolt when it hit the sea, Virgil had never dropped it from the belly of Thunderbird 2 at such a great height.
When the impact came it was noticeable harder than usual. Gordon frowned and checked his instruments for any possible damage. He then radioed Virgil.
'Thunderbird 4 to Thunderbird 2, opening Pod door now.'
The pod door lowered to reveal a heaving sea being lashed by rain. Water from both the sea and rain began to stream in.
'Launching Thunderbird 4, now,' said Gordon, hitting the rocket launchers, hardly waiting for the launch track to complete its extension down the ramp into the ocean. He switched on the automatic system to close the pod back up. The pod was built to float even if swamped, but the less water sloshing around inside the better.
Thunderbird 4 dove under the rolling waves into dark water.
He turned on the sonar. The rescue target was a floundering tourist submarine that had gone out whale watching and been caught in a severe storm that had damaged its rudder system. Several attempts by divers to attach a magnetised line from a retrieval ship had failed as the storm worsened.
An insistent bip from the sonar told him the sub was down on the sea floor about three hundred metres to portside.
He turned his forward lights to full. Bits of coral and the occasional unlucky fish swept past his cockpit window.
He steered his craft toward the sonar's reading. He nearly missed seeing the dim glow from the tourist sub's lights. The sub was bobbing about like a toy, its rear end dragging along the sea floor tearing up more coral and sand.
Gordon flicked the mike switch on his steering column with his thumb.
'Thunderbird 4 to Thunderbird 1. I have located the tourist sub. It'll take me a little while to assess the situation.'
'Well don't take too long, Gordon. The captain of the retrieval ship is ready to drop the magnetic line any time you need.'
Yeah, yeah, thought Gordon. Hold onto your hats. This isn't going to be easy.
Instead he said, 'F.A.B. I'll tell you when I'm ready.'
He switched off the mike.
He edged closer to the sub to get a better look. Its front end was now swinging away from him as the currents changed.
His sonar emitted a second bip. He glanced down at it. Something approached from starboard. He looked out the right cockpit window but saw nothing at first. Then a very faint and ghostly white shape emerged from the gloom.
A whale. A white whale.
Great, all I need is a large marine mammal getting in my way, he thought.
It was clear the whale was struggling in the waters, but it seemed intent on investigating the lights from the little yellow rescue craft.
'Thunderbird 1 to Thunderbird 4. Gordon, what's the holdup?'
Gordon swallowed down a retort. He flicked the mike's on-switch with his thumb.
'I'm having difficulty. Hold on.'
The whale swam over his craft.
'Go away,' Gordon muttered.
'Thunderbird 4, say again,' Scott ordered.
Gordon frowned. He'd left the mike on.
'Nothing. I'm ready to go. Relaying my co-ordinates for the line, now.'
'F.A.B., Gordon.'
The whale had undulated away portside. Gordon looked back at the tourist sub swaying in the water.
He heard a faint clunk. Was that a chunk of coral hitting him? Then it dawned on him and he snorted with annoyance. It was a million to one shot but the retrieval ship had managed to hit him with its magnetised line.
'Thunderbird 4 to Thunderbird 1. The line has made a direct hit on me. Tell them to demagnetise. I'll collect it and put it in position and let you know when it is safe to magnetise it.'
Once Scott let him know that the line was free of him he turned Thunderbird 4 in a tight circle and began searching for it. Even this close it took him some time to find it in the dark water. Each time he tried catching the line with his craft's grabs the current swept it just out of reach. It took him ten minutes to finally get hold of it.
As he was turning to find the tourist sub again Scott's voice boomed over the speaker.
'Thunderbird 1 to Thunderbird 4. How's it going, Gordon?'
'It would go a lot better if I wasn't interrupted ever five minutes,' Gordon snapped before he could stop himself.
There was silence for just a beat and he could imagine Scott frowning as he decided how to form a reply that would get the result that was needed without inflaming an already tense situation.
'Have you got the line in position yet, Gordon?' Scott said with forced calmness.
'No. I have the line but I am not yet in position, Scott,' Gordon replied with clipped clarity.
'Then get the line on the sub, tell me when you have, and then get the sub stablised. Conditions have deteriorated up here and the retrieval ship will have to abandon the seas soon.'
'F.A.B.,' Gordon said in a tone that meant shut the hell up.
He swung his craft up and over the tourist sub, adjusting his angle so he was directly centre top of it, and then radioed Scott.
"Tell them to magnetise now, Scott."
A few seconds passed and then the line took. He retracted his grabs and swung his craft up and over in a tight loop until he was facing the side of the sub. Nice work if he did say so himself. He extended his magnetic grabs but the sub was bobbing around too much for him to move in just yet.
Just then his sonar bipped a warning. He knew without looking that the whale was back. He ignored the warning, concentrating fully on the sub which was dancing around erratically in the strengthening currents.
Suddenly the proximity warning sounded. He shot a glance at the sonar. The whale was right upon him. Thunderbird 4 shifted slightly as the whale, like a cow using a post to scratch, stroked its body along the hull of his craft.
'I don't have time for this,' Gordon muttered, a surge of irritation gripping him.
The white whale's head came into view in his side window.
He throttled his craft slightly starboard to give the whale a slight bump to frighten it off, but an unexpected current pushed him far quicker than he'd intended. He hit the whale hard. It rolled over and swam off, a long ribbon of blood drifting after it.
'Damn it!' Gordon smacked a fist on his control panel.
He lined up his craft with the sub, magnetic grabs at the ready and throttled forward. He just needed to get this over with. Too late he realised he was going too fast and he hit the sub with a muffled clunk that hurled him forward into his steering column.
'Damn it to Hell!' he yelled. He did a quick check to make sure the grabs were firmly attached to the sub and then checked his instruments. No damage. Looking at the sub he couldn't see any damage either.
'Thunderbird 1 to Thunderbird 4,' broke in Scott. 'What's up, Gordon!? The sub has reported a collision.'
'Nothing. It's rough down here,' Gordon responded, his fingers probing his ribcage where he'd hit the steering column
'Are you ready to start retrieval?' Scott asked.
No, just wait until I finish knitting this freakin' sweater, he thought but instead said, 'Yes.'
'We'll have to speed it up, Gordon. The waves are like seas up here. I'm having trouble stabilising in the storm.'
Gordon resisted pointing out that waves couldn't really be described as seas. He gripped his steering column tightly and waited.
Nothing happened. He waited some more. Still nothing happened. He was clamped tight to a sub that wasn't going anywhere.
'Thunderbird 1 to Thunderbird 4,' Scott's voice was now harsh. 'Are you ready to start retrieval?'
'F.A.B.' Gordon enunciated each letter as if he was talking to a very backward child.
The tourist sub lurched and rose so fast that it took Gordon by surprise. Gee, conditions must have gotten really rough if they're breaking their necks to pull us up this fast.
Gordon watched the retrieval ship's location on the sonar. The dangerous part was about to come.
They broke the waterline. Monstrous waves battered them as rain poured down from a lightning streaked sky.
Scott wasn't kidding. The storm was near hurricane force.
He used his engines to help guide the sub closer to the retrieval vessel which was reeling it in, getting ready to hoist it up to its side. It would then secure the sub to some special rigging before heading for land.
He ignored the fear that sat in the pit of his stomach. The whole world was lurching up and down several metres every few seconds. Those tourists must be getting shook up like ball bearings in a paint can, but he was more worried about colliding with the ship – if that happened, it would win.
He decided there was no need to put himself in more danger than necessary, so he demagnetised his grabs and dove Thunderbird 4 away and sped off. The rest of the rescue was the responsibility of the ship.
He turned on the automatic pod detector, then his mike.
'Thunderbird 4 to Thunderbird 2. Virgil, mission accomplished. Making my way back to the Pod. I'll coordinate the rendezvous point when I get there.'
'That's a negative, Gordon,' Scott's tense voice broke in before Virgil could answer. 'Stay where you are in case the sub breaks free of the retrieval ship and they need further assistance.'
'F.A.B.' Gordon sighed.
He let the sea toss him around. He was feeling a bit seasick, a rare thing for him. After more than twenty minutes Scott radioed him.
'The tourist sub is now safely docked,' he said, his relief clear. 'Make your way back to the pod, Gordon. I'm on my way back to base.'
Gordon nearly announced that he was off to Alcopulco actually, but bit his tongue.
It took thirty more minutes to locate the pod and align his craft correctly to attempt a re-entry. He grappled with the re-board, swearing all the way, until finally he was on board and secure. He closed it up, relief washing over him as he called Virgil to let him know he was ready for pickup.
'Thunderbird 2 to Thunderbird 4. Gordon, it's too rough for a safe collection at this time. The worst of the storm should've passed in approximately twenty minutes. Are you ok to wait 'til then?'
'Well, I suppose I'll have to be,' he replied not bothering to hide his irritation.
He watched the clock on his onboard computer panel crawl the twenty minutes away, tapping his fingers unrhythmically on the steering column. Several minutes late Virgil called him.
'Thunderbird 2 to Thunderbird 4. Ready for pick up Gordon?'
Gordon didn't respond.
'Er, Thunderbird 2 to Thunderbird 4. Are you read for pick up, Gordon?'
He leisurely flicked on the mike.
'F.A.B., Virgil.'
He waited for the clunk that told him Thunderbird 2 had lowered itself to the pod and retracted it up into its belly. Gordon took his time doing the standard power-down and safety checks before he left his craft and took the service door out of the pod to Thunderbird 2's flight deck.
He was surprised to see how clear the late afternoon sky was through the cockpit windows, but then remembered they were heading back east away from the storm and they must have travelled some way already since he'd boarded.
'Tough job,' Virgil said over his shoulder from the pilot's seat.
'Well, I don't know why you would think it was so tough since you didn't actually do anything,' Gordon snapped.
Virgil glanced back at him but said nothing.
Gordon knew he should apologise immediately but couldn't be bothered, so he didn't say anything.
The silence during the return flight to base was icy.