BLUE DOLPHIN by AJ CHRISTOPHER RATED FRPT

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."