Unnatural Destruction

"Thunderbird Four from Thunderbird One." Jeff's hands were beginning to cramp around Thunderbird One's control yoke. He released one and opened it, stretching it to ease the stiffness. Typhoon Faxai had arrived; the wind-whipped rain both lowered visibility and made it hard to keep the rocket plane steady. "How much longer, Gordon? I have an impatient captain up here."

Gordon grunted. His hands were covered with sweat, making his tightened grip on the claw controls difficult to maintain. The bright laser beam made the waters boil around it; their intensity was giving him a headache, even with his light-filtering goggles. A glance to one side told him he had enough air, but that the internal temperature of Thunderbird Four had risen significantly. "Almost done, Thunderbird One. Lasering on the final side of the last panel."

"F-A-B." Jeff glanced up as thunder rumbled overhead. He took Thunderbird One on another circuit of the SBX, eying the inviting helijet platform again. To keep his mind off the deteriorating conditions, he opened up a channel to Thunderbird Five.

"Thunderbird Five from Thunderbird One. John, I need a weather report."

John glanced at the satellite scans and shook his head. "Faxai hasn't moved much since your last request, but projections have him turning toward the NNE. You might get lucky and stay on the fringes of this bad boy."

"F-A-B, John. Gordon reports he's almost done." Jeff paused, adjusting the trim on Thunderbird One's VTOL jets. "What news from Tim Casey?"

"He said he called in a few favors from military intelligence; if there have been threats against the SBX, they're being very closemouthed about them... even to him." John turned to a screen that had just activated. "Virgil's on the horn now, Dad."

"Thunderbird Five from Thunderbird Two. I'm on final approach to Hickam Air Base," Virgil said. "I squeezed an extra bit of speed out of her so I can get back faster. Don't want Gordon to get bored down there in Four."

"Be careful, Virge," John warned. "Lisa Lowe is already on site."

Virgil waved a dismissive hand. "Lisa? Don't worry. We're ready for her and anything IWN wants to dish out."

Jeff chimed in. "Virgil, don't get cocky."

There was a pause, then Virgil replied, "F-A-B, Commander." He checked his controls. "Time to call the tower... Hickam Air base tower, this is Thunderbird Two, requesting permission to land."

As Virgil received permission, John glanced over at the televid feed he was getting from IWN. However, he wasn't the only one watching.

"This is Lisa Lowe at Hickam Air Force base at Pearl Harbor, Hawai'i." The blonde reporter droned on and on as Alan, Fermat, and their friends, huddled around Jason's tiny televid player. She motioned behind her. "We understand that Thunderbird Two is due here any minute, carrying the survivors from a crippled radar installation..."

"How do you 'cripple' a radar station?" Qaeshon asked, his brow furrowing.

"I dunno. Attack it with something?" Jason suggested.

Xavion frowned. "I don't think so. I mean, if someone was that stupid, it'd even bigger news than the Thunderbirds."

"D-Depends on what k-k-k... type of installation it is," Fermat added, not looking away from the screen.

Wind whipped Lisa's hair around; tendrils of blonde obscured her face. She had to shout above the sudden rumble of engines. "There's Thunderbird Two now, just overhead..." The camera angle changed, shifting from the reporter to the wide shadow now hovering above her. A tantalizing glimpse of wide green expanse with a white "2" hove into view, then the video feed frizzled and went blank.

"Good," Alan mouthed, not daring even to whisper.

The anchorman, Ned Cook, came into view. "As you can see, our visual has been cut off by Thunderbird Two, but we still have audio..."

At the hotel suite where he was nursing a beer, Scott nodded. "Good timing, Virgil." He stood and walked around, full of nervous energy. It's not often that I'm on the outside looking in, he thought. Or not looking, as the case may be.

"Lisa, can you hear me? What's going on there?" Ned held a hand to one ear, fingering his well-hidden ear piece.

"Thunderbird Two is settling down on the tarmac behind me." Lisa was still shouting. The whine of engines was diminishing, and there was a slight crunching noise, as if something had landed heavily on a coating of sand. "Stand by. We may be able to restore our video feed."

"What?" Alan cried, peering at the small screen.

"Restore video?" Scott frowned. "How the hell...?"

"Hickam tower from Thunderbird Two." Virgil's tone was crisp and professional. "What is the ETA of your transports?"

A sharp female voice answered. "Thunderbird Two from Hickam Tower. Transports ETA your location: five minutes."

"Roger, that," Virgil replied, as mentally went over his shut down check list. "We'll be ready. Thunderbird Two, out."

He turned his attention to the view screen that showed Tin-Tin, who was down in the pod, having traveled with their passengers. "Transports will be here momentarily, Tin-Tin. Time to get our guests ready to deplane."

"F-A-B," Tin-Tin said with a smile. She unfastened the straps of the seat she'd chosen, and stood. "We've arrived at our destination. You can unbuckle yourselves now, and prepare to disembark."

Virgil watched her as she began to line the passengers up, choosing those who should be transported first and guiding them to the exit. He reached for the controls that would raise the chassis from the pod just as a red light started flashing on his console, accompanied by a harsh beeping sound.

"Look!" Qaeshon shouted, pointing at the screen. "They have visual back!"

"Damn!" Alan hissed.

Jason shot him a look. "You're right, Alan; it's a damned good picture! Up close and personal!"

Scott had perched himself at the edge of the sofa, fascinated and alarmed by the images coming across the screen. "C'mon, Virge. Gotta shake that thing, whatever it is." He shook his head. "Tch! C'mon, man! At least cover the windows! You're wide open right now!"

"Well, well, well," Virgil said, grinning. "Looks like we have company." He thumbed a switch on his armrest, and outside the windows, a dark tint began to form. It shielded the flight deck from outside scrutiny and cut back on the sun's glare – a necessity during daytime flight.

The camera, wherever it was, caught the darkening of the windshield. "It seems that Thunderbird Two is doing its best to keep us from seeing inside," Lisa said, a touch of triumph in her voice. "But IWN's new ActionCam is getting excellent pictures of the heavy cargo carrier."

John scowled as he watched events unfolding in Hawai'i. "Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird Five," he called. "I'm getting vid of you. Are you having difficulty?"

"Thunderbird Two here." Virgil sounded distracted. "I'm trying to see where this thing is. I want to know where it'll fall when we deploy Brains's countermeasure."

"Never mind that." John shook his head as he glared up at the view screen showing Virgil. "Just knock it down."

"Wait just a second... I thought I saw..." Virgil stood up, peering through the thick polyhexane. "Yes! Got it!"

The camera was a silvery ball, about the size of a softball. He had no idea how it was just hanging there in the air, looking at him like a disembodied robot eye.

"Virgil to Tin-Tin," he called as he reached for a toggle switch. It wasn't part of the smooth control panel as it had been a recently and quickly installed. Brains had assured him that the controls would soon be retrofitted to add this new weapon.

"Tin-Tin here." Tin-Tin said quietly. "Are we ready to go?"

"We have company of the mechanical sort," Virgil explained. "When I give the word, open the door, then nip out to catch this... damn, it moved." He shook his head. "You'll know what it is when you see it."

"F-A-B," Tin-Tin replied, her tone sounding skeptical.

Virgil turned his attention back to his controls, and pressed the toggle switch. "Okay, here's mud in your automated eye."

The picture of Thunderbird Two, taken just meters from the now-opaque windscreen suddenly went dark. There was a chorus of disappointed cries from most in Jason's room, except from Fermat and Alan, who exchanged glances, Fermat blowing a quiet, relieved breath.

"It's about time," Scott muttered. He drained his beer, and got up to put the glass on the room service tray. "Dad's gonna skin you, Virge, when he finds out you waited so long."

"It's about time," John stated flatly. "Dad's gonna skin you, Virgil. You shouldn't have waited so long."

"I didn't want anyone else picking this thing up." Virgil touched another switch. The chassis raised higher, leaving the passenger compartment on the ground. "Tin-Tin, you're good to go."

"F-A-B." Tin-Tin keyed in a sequence on a touch pad by the door, and it slid open, showing the expanse of runway and blue harbor beyond.

John's voice had a warning tone to it. "Virgil, what are you planning?"

Virgil turned his attention back to John. "I want to get hold of this thing and bring it back to base. There's probably a tweak or two in this version of the camera that Brains would like to see first hand." He grinned. "At least we know the countermeasure works."

"This isn't a good idea, Virgil." John said, fingers flying over the keyboard. "At least ask Dad for his opinion."

"All right," Virgil said with a stifled sigh. "Thunderbird One from Thunderbird Two. Come in, Thunderbird One."

The vid picture had by this time returned to the studio. "We seem to have lost both visual and audio contact with Lisa and our new Action Cam," Ned said, a touch of puzzlement in his tone. "We'll try to establish a phone link with Lisa in a moment." He paused and glanced at the teleprompter. "In other news..."

Hickam's transports had come within yards of Thunderbird Two's sturdy hydraulic legs. Drivers, medics and military police were on hand to direct the disembarking civilians and uniformed personnel. Tin-Tin stood by, mostly watching, but lending a hand when it seemed necessary. The pregnant woman stopped briefly.

"Thank you for all you did today," she said. "You certainly were a tremendous help."

Tin-Tin shook the lady's hand with her own gloved one. "You're welcome. Have a good day."

"You, too."

As a medic guided the woman away, Tin-Tin heard Virgil ask, "Do you see it?"

"Not yet. I'm waiting for the crowd to clear. We don't need any stowaways." She began to scan the area. "Wait. I think I see it."

"Thunderbird One here, Virgil. Go ahead." Jeff had one eye on his instruments, and one on the patch of ocean where he supposed Gordon was. He knew Gordon was tired, as tired as he himself was, and that worried him.

"Dad, I've got a chance to pick up one of those action cams for Brains to study." Virgil sounded full of energy, which made Jeff feel worse. "What do you think I should do?"

The headline, "Thunderbirds Steal New Camera; IWN To Sue", flashed across Jeff's inner vision and he scowled. "Virgil, under no circumstances are you to steal that camera."

"But, Dad...!"

Jeff let go the steering yoke and quickly massaged the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut in the process. "I repeat: do not steal that camera, mister. There are those who think we're a nuisance enough already; we do not need to willingly add fuel to that fire." He gave his head a little shake, and peered down at the floating radar station. There was a spot of yellow beneath the waves, becoming brighter and clearer as it rose to the choppy surface. "Now, Thunderbird Four has just surfaced; I need you back here ASAP. Do I make myself clear?"

There was a pause, and Virgil responded, his voice clearly conveying his frustration. "F-A-B, Thunderbird One. Thunderbird Two ETA your position, 45 minutes."

"F-A-B, Thunderbird Two. See you soon. Thunderbird One, out."

Beneath the hulking form of Thunderbird Two, Tin-Tin noticed that two military police officers had also found the silvery ball. One was crouching down to give it a closer look, while the other was calling someone on his radio. Tin-Tin glanced inside the pod to see that it was empty, and was about to hurry over when Virgil said, "Tin-Tin, don't worry about the camera. We've been ordered to leave it alone."

"F-A-B," she replied sounding puzzled.

"I'm lowering the chassis. I'll see you in the cockpit in a few." A loud beeping noise filled the air, and Virgil's voice, magnified and slightly distorted, called, "Please clear the area. Please clear the area. Preparing to retrieve the pod."

Tin-Tin watched one of the MPS look up, while the other reached for the camera, and got an idea.

As their attention was directed elsewhere, Tin-Tin grasped her crystal – which was hidden under her uniform – and focused on the ball. She thanked the stars that her helmet hid her eyes as she felt her power reach out, and grasp the camera. She nudged it just a bit, just far enough to put it out of reach... and squarely under Thunderbird Two's chassis. The officer that had been reaching for it found herself tugged on by her fellow MP, and they both retreated back to their transport.

Tin-Tin smiled as she pressed the code to close the door. Over the hum of Thunderbird Two settling around her, she thought she heard the satisfying crunch of metal and tinkling of glass. She keyed in the number sequence again, and this time the door opened to reveal the innards of the pod's structure. A short walk down the narrow corridor, and Tin-Tin climbed a service ladder that took her to the flight deck level, and the cockpit.

Tin-Tin strapped herself into the copilot's seat. "Have the military personnel backed off?"

"My cameras indicate they moved away just before I locked down the pod." Virgil paused, and glanced back at her, then returned to his controls. "Why? What happened?"

"It looked like the military police were about to seize the camera." She paused, thinking carefully about her next words; of the Tracy family household, the only ones she that knew her secret for sure were Alan and Fermat. If her parents suspected, they hadn't said anything; neither had Jeff, who may have put two and two together at the Bank of London. "Fortunately, it rolled under the chassis and they couldn't get to it in time." She smiled. "I think that it might have been crushed..."

Virgil's eyebrows were climbing for his hairline as he turned to her. He regarded her speculatively for a moment or two, then a grin slowly spread across his face.

"All set?" he asked.

She nodded. "F-A-B."

"Then let's head back to the rescue zone." Virgil began to power up the engines. "Hickam Tower, this is Thunderbird Two. We're ready for departure; thanks for the use of the runway."

Alan and Fermat were hurrying up the walkway toward Maplewood, trying to beat the curfew bell. IWN had been unable to re-establish either voice or video link to Lisa Lowe before they left Jason's room. The Lewis brothers had gone back to Birchwood together, leaving Alan to walk his friend back.

"So, what do you think happened?" Alan buried his hands deeper into his jacket; the wind was cold and gray clouds moved slowly overhead, obscuring the stars and making the night look lighter than it was.

"P-Probably my d-d-d... my father found some way to t-turn the camera off." Fermat squinted a bit as he gazed at his friend. He felt that Alan's good mood had evaporated with the television report.

"I hope it keeps working," Alan muttered. "We don't need any more publicity."

"I know."

They arrived at the steps to Maplewood. "So, when does A.J. come back?"

"T-Tomorrow. I'll bring him u-up to speed on things."

Alan shrugged slightly. "Thanks. Scott's leaving tomorrow afternoon. He'll probably want to take us out to lunch or something, so don't make any plans."

"No p-problem." Fermat glanced up at the lighted doors. "Gotta go. T-Talk to you later."

"Yeah. Later."

The two boys turned to go their respective ways. Halfway up the steps, Fermat looked back. Alan was already heading away, his shoulders hunched up – whether in response to his mood or against the cold, Fermat couldn't tell. With a slow shake of his head and a heavy sigh, he climbed the rest of the stairs and went inside.

"All right, boys," Jeff said, stretching and yawning. "I think that's everything." He glanced over at Virgil and Tin-Tin, who were seated side-by-side. "Pretty fortunate that the camera rolled under Two's chassis. I'm sure we'll hear something from IWN on the subject, but the fallout will be far from the legal and public relations mess we could be in."

"Why would we be in legal trouble?" Gordon answered, scowling. "I mean, we ask them not to photograph us..."

"But they still d-do," Brains explained. "H-Hence the camera f-f-f... disruptor."

"I still think it was fair game to grab the camera and bring it back for analysis," Virgil stated flatly.

Jeff shook his head. "We skirt along the edge of national boundaries, safety laws, child labor laws, environmental concerns, political agendas, and yes, public opinion. There is absolutely no reason why we should blatantly take something that does not belong to us." He took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "There are higher – and simpler – values at stake here, Virgil."

"Perhaps if you had reimbursed them for it?" Tin-Tin ventured, suddenly unsure of herself, of her actions.

"I may still have to, Tin-Tin," Jeff replied, grimacing. "Depends on whether or not IWN sees it as an accident. I can make a case – through our legal team – that their actions were a violation of our stated request for anonymity and privacy. And that those actions prompted us to create the countermeasure. But the destruction of the camera... well, they could see that as intentional, and possibly malicious." He shrugged, then shook his head. "I need to talk to Art Trumbull – might even have to bring him out here at some point."

He rubbed the back of his neck, and rolled his head around to ease tension. He looked at Gordon, who was nearly falling asleep in his chair. "Okay, boys... and lady. I think we're done here. Gordon, you look like I feel. Go take a hot shower or a dip in the Jacuzzi then go sleep in your bed."

Gordon roused as he was addressed. "F-A-B," he said with a sigh. He stood, groaning, then padded off to obey.

That was the cue for the others around the table to rise as well. Brains made a motion with his hand. "I h-have the data on the c-c-c... f-f-f... jammer's performance. I think you'll be p-p-pleased with it."

Jeff waved a hand, giving his engineer a slight smile. "Later, please, Brains, when I'm not feeling my age." Brains returned the request with a bob of his head and a nervous grin as he left the office. He was followed by Virgil, who had thrown a brotherly arm around Gordon's shoulder and was guiding his tired brother out.

Tin-Tin also left, walking slowly, glancing back at Jeff, a concerned expression on her face. Jeff didn't notice; he was busy with the computer screen on his desk. When she was out of his view, she let out a relieved breath and picked up her pace. She wasn't sure anymore that what she'd done was right, but she was certain of one thing; if she had to do it over again, she would have done things exactly the same way.

Jeff sat back in his chair, tapping a pencil on his chin. "John, I want any other information you may have received from Tim Casey. I'm sure this wasn't an accident; every fiber of my being says it was sabotage of some sort. I want a short list of who might find that installation a tempting target, and why." He focused on the smaller picture that resided in the upper right hand corner of his screen. "Scott, I want your impressions of the IWN coverage. John, I'd like yours, too."

Scott responded with "Sure, Dad," but John used the more formal, "F-A-B, Dad."

Jeff smiled. "When will you be home, Scott?"

"I've filed my flight plan, and I emailed you a copy. I want to take Alan and Fermat to lunch, then I'll head on out."

"It'll be good to have you back, son. Your baby doesn't like me very much anymore."

"Well, she knows who is really her master."

Father and sons shared a laugh, then Jeff remembered he had someone else he wanted to speak with. "I'll talk with you both later. Take care."

"See you soon, Dad." "Talk to you later, Dad."

The screen went blank, replaced a few moments later with a recent picture of Jeff and his family, the same one that Alan had in his wallet. Jeff sat quietly for a few long seconds, gazing at the photo, his eyes slightly unfocused. Then he leaned in and picked up the phone. "Penny's got connections in odd places; she might be able to help with this," he muttered as he speed-dialed a very familiar number.