UFO Relay

Sally tried to focus on the repair she was making. They were fortunate; whatever it was that had holed nacelle three had basically done only that: put a hole in the hull of the nacelle. A sheet of cahelium, salvaged from the docking area, made an admirable patch once attached with a laser welder. She took pictures of the hole before covering it; it was a good twelve inches in diameter. The holes in Thunderbird Five ranged from twelve to twenty-four inches, with the larger ones going through the mainly inhabited areas. Sally shuddered; it had been such a near thing for Val. She turned back to her welding, tethered to the docking bay on a solo space walk in the cold and silence of the starry void.

Mae sat, crosslegged and floating, inside the duplicate monitor room, running diagnostic programs on the station with electricity supplied by the power plant. She was ready to put the station on automatic relay; until they could repair the hull and the various meteor detectors, it was basically uninhabitable. The room she floated in was independently powered, which meant that the relays and circuits in other parts of the station weren't needed to keep that one chamber functional.

She had already done a space walk with Sally to repair the frequency antenna so that they could restore communications with the island. Now she was ready to test it.

"Thunderbird Five to base, Thunderbird Five to base. Do you read me base?"

There was a small burst of static, then Jeff's voice responded. "We read you five by five, Thunderbird Five. Good work, Mae. What is your status?"

"Sally is patching the nacelle. I'm going to put the station on automatic relay, and Val is on Thunderbird Three, warming up. We took pictures of the damage and I have a list of repairs."

"F-A-B, Thunderbird Five. What is your ETA dirtside?"

"I don't know, Daddy. You'll have to ask Sally," Mae replied. Down on earth, Jeff shook his head slowly. Mae might be an astronaut, but she's no rocket jockey.

"Understood, Mae. We'll see you when you get down here."

"F-A-B, Daddy."

Mae pushed a button, and the screen that shielded the station from glare on that side slid across the window, covering the words "International Rescue". She and Sally had already manually pulled the other across. Another switch toggled, and the station was on automatic.

Better go find my pictures, Mae thought as she floated out of the room, heading for the lower levels where her bedroom was.

Val stared up at the bunk above her head. She was covered with warming blankets and had an oxygen cannula fitted around her head. Her golden hair was spread out around her on the pillow, as she lay there and just listened. Though Thunderbird Three was empty of all save her, it wasn't exactly silent. There was still a humming of the power plant that kept the lights on and the gravity at Earth normal. There was a whirr from the ventilation system, and the steady beeping of the monitors that her sisters had insisted on hooking her up to. The noises, no matter how slight, were welcome to Valentina's ears.

Everything was so silent in the station. The little air that was in the duplicate monitor room couldn't carry any sound. All I could hear was my own breathing, my own pulse throbbing in my temples. I couldn't even hear myself move around. It wasn't as bad as sensory deprivation. I could see the stars glittering outside the view port and make out the shapes of the equipment around me. But it was so terribly, terribly quiet.

She closed her eyes, remembering her fright when Sally, then Mae, had gently touched her. She hadn't even been aware that she was all curled up. I will never forget how I felt when I opened my eyes and saw Sally looking back at me, and then Mae coming up to hug me. At first, the shock, then the momentary disbelief, then the overwhelming relief to know that they were there, that they hadn't forgotten me, that they had come for me! Tears filled her eyes and she let them fall. Oh, God! I did not want to die! Not like that, not in space, all alone, in the silence! It's the closest I've ever come to death, and I never want to get that close again!

She took in a deep breath, composing herself as best she could. Then, reassured by the noise and the light that surrounded her, she fell fast asleep.

Sally finished her job and pulling on the tether, made it back to the little inspection platform outside the docking bay. She unhooked herself, and, drawing the length of the tether in behind her, went through the airlock. The laser welder was slung over her back, and she did what she could to coil the cable up. She was met by the floating figure of Mae, coming up from the living quarters, a satchel over one arm, and something black and unrecognizable in her hand. She held it out for Sally to see, a sad and almost grief stricken expression on her pretty face.

"What is it?" Sally asked as she peered at the thing in the light of Mae's helmet.

"My plant," Mae whimpered. "It died."

Sally smiled softly at her sister and reached out to touch her shoulder. "C'mon, Mae. Let's go home."

Christa was all business as she took off for the stratosphere and her rendezvous with the objects that had holed two Thunderbirds. Tin-Tin sat at a console, checking the radar, keeping his whirling thoughts to himself as he tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

It's so hard to believe. Hard to believe that I could betray the Tracys and International Rescue this way. How did this happen? How long has it been going on? Who's responsible for it? Why did it take so long to figure it out? What will happen if Val...? No, I can't think that way. She's going to be all right. He straightened in his seat. It's time I did something about us. Something permanent. I'll have to stop diddling around with Mae. It's Val that I'm serious about. It's Val that I love. Time to tell her so. A pinging sound interrupted the Malaysian's thoughts. He peered at the radar screen. "Bogeys at two o'clock, Christa. I can see their heat trails."

Christa smiled grimly. "Good thing Brains thought of patching the thermal imager into the radar system. If Val and Sal couldn't see them until it was too late, it's a good bet we wouldn't either, especially in the dark. But finding them by the heat they're generating as they enter the atmosphere was a stroke of genius." Which of course, Brains is. A genius. My genius. The genius whom I will reward appropriately at the earliest convenient time, she thought with satisfaction.

She maneuvered the giant cargo carrier closer, close enough to make visual contact with the objects, watching as the friction of the air heated them first red, then white-hot and gravity took them down towards the vast expanse of sea below.

"Thunderbird Two to base. Our bogeys don't seem to be burning up, Dad," Christa reported. "I can't tell if they're melting, but I'm at an altitude where the smaller ones should have become ash by now. The larger ones show no sign of deterioration at all."

"Understood, Thunderbird Two. Follow them down another ten thousand feet, and if there's no sign of burning up, you may use the mini-missiles on them. Leave one or two of the bigger ones alone and track their trajectory. I want to know where they hit the ocean so I can send Jerrie out after them," Jeff instructed.

"F-A-B, base. Any word on Val?" she asked. Tin-Tin glanced over at her, but she didn't turn her head.

"Val is in crew's quarters on Thunderbird Three, resting comfortably," came the answer. "Thunderbird Five is on automatic relay and Three is finishing up repairs."

Christa could hear Tin-Tin's sigh of relief and her own shoulders relaxed a bit at the good news. "Thanks for the update, base. I'll let you know when we've descended another ten thousand feet." Christa finally turned to Tin-Tin. "Prepare the mini-missiles. I have a feeling that these things aren't going to go away."

"F-A-B," he said simply, toggling the switches that opened a hatch in the hull above them, allowing the missile launcher to protrude. "Missiles armed and ready."

Christa kept a sharp eye on the altimeter and brought up the targeting computer, locking it on to a small group of three objects, two smaller, three larger. "Nine thousand... nine thousand five hundred... ten thousand! Fire one!"

Tin-Tin pressed the firing button, and the first of the four mini-missiles sped away. Christa counted under her breath and then shouted in triumph as the small group exploded into fragments. Then she frowned and reached for her communicator.

"Thunderbird Two to base. We've taken out a first group, but there's a problem. These things are spread out and the air currents are spreading them out further. So in some cases we'll have to take them out individually. And I don't know if I can get them all before some of them make contact... with the island."

There was a brief silence on the other end, then Jeff spoke. "Do what you can, Christa. Help is on the way."

"Help? What kind of help?" Tin-Tin asked incredulously.

"Never mind. Just target that next small group at four o'clock," Christa commanded. Within seconds another four of the bogeys were history.

"Now the ones at nine o'clock." Tin-Tin responded and this time the mini-missile went wide.

"Detonate it!" he shouted. Christa pounced on her control console and the tiny flying torpedo blew itself up. Another try, and three more were decimated. The missile turret retracted for automatic reloading.

"How many more?" Christa asked.

Tin-Tin did a quick count on his radar. "Ten," he told her.

"Damn!" Christa swore. "There's no way I can take them all out before they reach the island or the sea around it...." Her attention was grabbed by a flash that flew by her viewport, going almost too fast to be seen, a flash of silver outlined in Thunderbird Two's running lights. She watched as a string of the things blossomed into fire and shrapnel. The silver streak returned, and now both Christa and Tin-Tin could see clearly the wings and the sharp shape of the nose. It did a barrel roll and the Gatling gun that protruded from beneath the ship spat bright bullets in rapid succession, taking out another four or five of the unidentified falling objects. That brought the number down to just two. Thunderbird One pulled up beside Thunderbird Two to pace the bulkier cargo carrier.

"Isn't that....?" Tin-Tin asked, confused.

"Yes. Thunderbird One. But who....?"

The radio crackled into life, and Christa and Tin-Tin both jumped at the deep voice that issued from it.

"Thunderbird Two, this is Thunderbird One. Do you read?"

Christa blinked, then toggled a switch. "Thunderbird One, we read you... Dad?"

The voice chuckled, then became serious again. "Thunderbird Two, what are the projected trajectories of the two remaining bogeys?"

"Uh... one will hit just north of Mateo Island, and the other in the sea between that island and... base."

"F-A-B, Thunderbird Two. Thunderbird Four is standing by using emergency launch sequence. Please forward projected coordinates to Thunderbird Four."

"F-A-B," Christa murmured, still in shock at the identity of Thunderbird One's pilot.

"What was that, Thunderbird Two? Please repeat."

Christa sat up, startled. "Uh, F-A-B, Thunderbird One. Transmitting coordinates to base and Thunderbird Four." She turned and nodded at Tin-Tin, who shook himself as if waking up, and did as Christa indicated.

Christa couldn't help herself, she just had to ask. "Uh, Dad? Why are you piloting Thunderbird One?"

The deep chuckle was heard again. "Why, Christa! Don't you think the old man should get some action once in a while? I was flying fighter jets before Sally was born! Besides, the Gatling gun was faster and more efficient than the mini-missiles. Now, you and Tin-Tin keep an eye on our remaining bogeys and make sure they don't make any sudden course corrections, and leave the rest to Jerrie. I need to get back to base and prepare for Thunderbird Three's arrival."

"F-A-B, Thunderbird One," Christa said with a smile. "We'll see you back at base. Oh, and Dad?"

"What is it, Christa?"

"Make sure you put Thunderbird One back to bed without a scratch or Sally will make you clean her with a toothbrush."

The deep chuckle was now a laugh. "Oh, she will, will she? I'd like to see her try." And with that, Thunderbird One did a victory roll and sped back in the direction from which it came.

Christa shook her head, and a laugh bubbled up from within. Tin-Tin glanced over at her. He took a deep breath and realized that the tight band of fear that had bound his chest was gone. He smiled, thought momentarily of Valentina, then turned back to his console.

Thunderbird Four sped along a few inches above the landing strip on its hoverjets. JC leaned forward, anticipating the end of the runway. Suddenly it dipped downward, disappearing from before her eyes like some rollercoaster hill that appears when it's least expected. But JC was expecting this, and she grinned as her little craft followed the downward slope and plunged into the night sea. She immediately cut the hoverjets and fired up the main thrusters, pushing her submersible deeper and faster under the water of Tracy Island's main lagoon. Within minutes, she was out into the open ocean and headed towards a rendezvous with one of the objects that had wreaked so much havoc on International Rescue and her family.

"Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird Four, I've got coordinates for you, JC," Christa informed her sister.

"F-A-B, Thunderbird Two. Download complete... now." JC pulled up the coordinates and set her course for the nearest of the objects. "So... how did Dad do up there?"

"Fabulously. I would have loved to see him as a fighter pilot in his prime. He'd outfly Sal any day of the week."

"Who says he's out of his prime, hmm?" JC challenged, grinning.

Christa's chuckle dissolved into a serious voice. "Here comes bogey number one, JC. I hope it doesn't explode on impact!"

"Me either. Thanks for the heads up." JC pushed Thunderbird Four even faster. She knew she needed to get as close to the object as she could before it sank like a stone or she'd miss it entirely in the wide Pacific.

"Impact in three... two... one!" Christa shouted.

JC held on tightly to the steering yoke as a liquid shockwave tried to push her craft off course. The water roiled with masses of bubbles created by the air that the object pulled into the water with it as it sliced below the surface. Immediately, JC put Thunderbird Four into a dive, following the diminishing bubble trail down, down into the murky depths of the sea. Turning the lighting trough to maximum intensity, she scanned the depths until a tantalizing metallic glint sparked in the bright beam. She closed in on the object, Thunderbird Four's sonar tracking it like a dolphin tracks a fish, until finally it appeared right in front of her, gleaming a dull silver. JC smiled grimly and activated Thunderbird Four's magnetic clamps. The two long studs slid smoothly from the bow of the yellow submersible, aimed directly at the object. She brought the magnets in close enough to touch it, but to her amazement, the magnets couldn't hold onto the thing! It continued its downward plunge into ever darker water.

Swearing softly, she retracted the magnets and put forth the pincer grab. JC maneuvered Thunderbird Four into an optimum position, then reached out carefully with the two-fingered grip and caught the metallic lump, snatching it as if from thin air, and drawing it back towards the bow, securing it by locking the grab in place. She smiled again and pulled back on the steering yoke, avoiding a collision with a large rock outcropping by scant meters. Her prey safely in hand, JC turned back towards the island.

"Thunderbird Four to base. I have collected one of the specimens and am headed back. Should I go out again and collect the other?"

Brains's voice sounded over her radio speakers. "B-Base to Thunderbird Four, th-that's a negative. The other, uh, s-specimen hit M-Mateo Island instead of the sea. Thunderbird Two is, uh, flying over t-to determine the e-extent of the damage."

JC's eyes grew wide. "It didn't hit the fuel depot did it? Man, if it did, there'd be no more Mateo!"

"S-So far, the reports, uh, indicate that it did n-not hit the fuel tanks. We'll know m-more when Christa and T-Tin-Tin return."

"F-A-B, base. Thunderbird Four, out." JC sat back and sighed. She wondered briefly when Thunderbird Three would be dirt side again and how Valentina was doing. At least we know she's alive and will recover. But repairing Thunderbird Five is going to be a monstrous task. Wonder if Dad will decide to automate it at last? I know he likes the human touch in Thunderbird Five, but after this will Val or Mae want to go back? I guess the only answer to that is finding out who did this and why. Then maybe we can eliminate the threat and keep my sisters safe in space.