By Polly Amber
Thunderbirds is a Gerry Anderson Production licensed by Carlton
International Media Limited. Other
characters in this story are my own fictitious creations. The lyrics of the song featured in this chapter
were borrowed from 'A Space Oddity’, written and performed by David Bowie. I
hope he doesn't mind. I wouldn't know where to find him to ask his permission.
John Tracy clad in a sweatshirt and jogging
pants, sat in his sparsely-furnished living quarters on board Thunderbird
five. He was struggling with the last
remaining clue of a crossword puzzle.
He chewed the end of his pen and pushed away a floppy lock of blond
hair, which had been irritating his eyes. When he moved his head the unruly
forelock fell across his eyes again. He
made a mental note to get himself a haircut on his next visit to Earth. What was it his Grandmother used to say as
she struggled to flatten his hair to make him look presentable for school? "You have a cow-lick, John." Being only five years old at the time, John
did not understand her remark, but he knew that he didn't particularly want to
be licked by a cow, so responded by taking a pair of sissors and cutting the offending
lock of hair right back to his scalp.
But it still grew back just as untidy.
John glanced at his watch. It was 7.45 pm Earth time. Barely half an hour had passed since he had
last checked the time, day was the same as night in the blackness of
space. The clocks on Thunderbird Five
were kept to the same time as the ones
on Tracy Island, so as to keep the disruptions to John's body clock to a
minimum. From the monitor control room,
just outside his cabin, John could hear a drone of voices, all talking at the
same time, but in different languages.
He had grown accustomed to this 'white noise' and was able to blot it
out, like the noise of traffic in the street below a high rise city flat. In a way this noise was something of a a
comfort to him, it reassured him there
was still a world out there, where life was carrying on as normal. He gazed out of one of the windows and
watched lights springing on all over the cities beneath him, they reminded him
of the several million glow worms he had seen in a cave in New Zealand, when he
accompanied his brothers on a rescue there. The Earth was both beautiful and
dangerous, and for some of it's inhabitants, John would be a lifeline, their
direct link to a non profit-making humanitarian organisation - International
Rescue.
A
computer monitored each radio receiver with a language translator, and John
knew that he would be alerted by a bleeper should a distress call come in. His term of duty in the communications
satellite lasted for a month and was alternated between him and his youngest
brother Alan. On occasions his father would help out. An astronaut himself, Jeff Tracy often yearned for his younger
days, when he had worked on one of the first manned Space Stations on the Moon. Helping out on Thunderbird Five from time to
time gave him the chance to wallow in nostalgia.
John sighed deeply. He was bored. With another fifty two hours to go, he was nearing the end of one
of the most uneventful shifts he had ever known. He felt rather guilty about feeling bored, because any excitement
for him usually meant a life or death situation for some poor souls in the need
of International Rescue's services. He
frequently envied his brothers for being in the midst of the action, and
although he didn't know it, they sometimes envied him! John had been on a few rescue missions and
had felt the rush of adrenaline combined with a frisson of fear that had made
him feel alive. Usually a solitary person,
John found he enjoyed being part of a team. The elation of pulling off a successful
rescue gave him a high that no alcoholic or chemical stimulus could ever
produce.
Reclining on his bed, he picked up a
science fiction book and idly flicked through its pages. There was nothing too
taxing for a tired brain. It must belong to Alan, he mused. It seemed to be about alien life forms
travelling to Earth through wormholes in time, mildly entertaining, but John
was a man who immersed himself in scientific facts. He had long ago deduced that nothing with a body - certainly no
humanoid or space craft would be able to survive wormhole travel intact. But it was a romantic notion for all the
sci-fi buffs. And as for alien life
forms, well yes, he supposed that given the fact that the Universe was
infinite, it was odds on that we were not alone. There had been great excitement at the beginning of the 21st
century when a robot probe discovered a source of water on Mars. He and his brothers knew of plans to create
a possible staging post to enable further exploration of the Solar system. The planet would also be a rich source of
minerals. John was keeping an open mind
on the subject of alien life, but he did not expect to find his neighbours
knocking on his door to borrow a cup of sugar!
John returned the book to the appropriate
shelf in Thunderbird Five’s extensive library.
Most of the books there were mainly for technical reference, but there
was also a good selection of fiction.
There were many of the great classics, and some spy and detective
thrillers. There were several books written
by John himself. He was considered
something of an expert in his field and was frequently happy to oblige his old
college by giving lectures and presentations to each new intake of students. His discovery of a new Quasar system (named
after his family) had earned him a place in the history books alongside the
likes of Halley and Herschell. John was
an achiever in his own right. This
quiet, handsome academic had a slighter build than his brothers. Older brother Scott, and three younger
brothers, Virgil, Gordon and Alan, all had their father’s strong, muscular
frame and firm chiselled jaw-line. Although in Gordon, with his easy going
personality and his mop of unruly sandy coloured hair there seemed to be more
of a resemblance to Grandma Tracy!
At 8.15 John made himself a mug of coffee in
the small galley kitchen, which he took back to the lounge area. He had an overwhelming urge to call up the
family for a chat but he figured that they might be busy. Besides his father
was due to call in for a check in half an hour’s time.
His gaze was drawn to a jumble of strange
items in a metal canister tucked away in the corner of the room. John had another hobby apart from astronomy. Alan called it space junk, but John
preferred to be known as a collector of antiques. At the end of each century, and particularly around the time of
the millennium, someone had a novel idea to launch time capsules into space in
the hopes that they might be found by friendly aliens (John blamed old films
like ET and Close Encounters). One of
these canisters had been recovered during a routine overhaul of the outside of
Thunderbird Five. John knelt beside it,
opened the end of the cigar-shaped tube and began to rummage around. He found the contents fascinating. It yielded an ancient cassette recorder with
a recorded message of peace and love accompanied by music from the seventies.
There was also a strange item that looked as if it was meant to be worn on the
head. He delved deeper and found a cube-shaped game that must have been doing
the rounds at that time. He also found
some interesting manuscripts, documenting historical events and sporting
achievements. He smiled as he looked at a childlike drawing of human life
forms. He wondered what an alien would
make of it all.
Back on Tracy Island Jeff Tracy's eighty
year old mother knocked on the door of Brains’ laboratory. She carried a tray with a plate of
sandwiches and a mug of coffee.
"E-er
j-just a m-minute," came a hesitant voice.
"Would you take a break and have
something to eat," she called.
Brains
opened the door peering owlishly through thick blue-rimmed spectacles. "Er th-thank you. I-I'm nearly finished, j-just a few more
circuits to complete."
Mrs Tracy cautiously entered a chaotic
looking room. She never knew quite what
she would find in Hiram Hackenbacker's laboratory, and she was mighty glad she
did not have to do the cleaning in there.
She cleared a space between piles of complicated looking wiring
diagrams, and set the tray down on a side table next to where Brains was
working on his robot Braman
"C-could you please t-tell Mr T-Tracy
that I will h-have to postpone the er demonstration until tomorrow morning,” he
stammered, as he untangled a handful of spaghetti like cables in Braman's back.
Grandma Tracy gently chided him. “Surely you don’t intend to work on that
thing all night long. You need your sleep, young man.”
But
Brains wasn’t listening to her. He was
pouring over the wiring diagrams muttering to himself about connecting the blue
wire to the opposite terminal and the red wire to terminal B
Grandma Tracy tut- tutted and fussed over Brains’ reluctance to leave his work
for some much needed sustenance. She
knew that it would be more than likely, that her freshly brewed coffee would be
left to go cold and the tuna and lettuce sandwiches would remain
untouched. Brains remained totally
obsessed with his creation. Even to the
point of foregoing food and sleep. He
had succeeded in giving Braman a logical and analytical artificial brain, one
that was capable of beating a human being at chess, but that was not
enough. He wanted to make a robot that
would be able to think like a human being His ultimate dream was to build a
robot capable of feeling emotion and understanding humour. So far he had managed to programme Braman's
brain with a few childish Christmas cracker jokes, but so far Braman had been
unable to understand the play on words that made them funny.
Grandma Tracy closed the door behind her and left him to his work, she returned
to the lounge where her fifty six year old son Jeff was in conference with his
eldest son Scott. Virgil was seated at
the white baby grand piano that had belonged to his late mother. He was tinkling the ivories with one of his
favourite jazz tunes. Behind him a
large picture window framed the sun setting slowly over the glittering,
turquoise Pacific.
"What's Brains doing in there?"
inquired Grandma Tracy of her grandson Scott.
"Oh it's his latest idea. It might benefit John and Alan. Brains is trying to modify Braman with a
view to him taking over duties on Thunderbird Five, so that Alan and John could
have one month on and two months off."
"That's a great idea!" Grandma's
face broke into a big apple cheeked smile. "It would be nice to have them
around more. I know that living in
space is a lot safer and more comfortable than it was in my younger days, but I
still worry about them. It's not
natural. We weren't designed for
it."
"We could certainly do with more hands around here," put in
Scott. "I happen to know that John has been feeling rather left out of
things as late. It’s been so quiet
around here. Of course it’s good that
nobody is in trouble enough to need us, but if we have been kicking our heels
down here, then John must be positively climbing the walls up there!"
"That reminds me," cut in Jeff
pressing a button on the panel set into his desk, "I must give him a check
in call to see if he's okay."
"Oh don't you worry about John,"
replied Grandma, "He's a very level headed boy."
John, at first did not hear the beeps
over the music he was listening to, he was concentrating on the lyrics of the
song he was singing. The time canister
had yielded a tape of songs from the seventies and this one was particularly
poignant -
"For here am I sitting in a tin can,
far above the Moon, planet Earth is blue, and there's nothing I can do."
He heard his father bleeping him as he was
strumming air guitar. Jeff was mildly
amused to see the head and shoulders of his middle son appear in the portrait
frame. John had discarded his hat, and
instead was wearing a headband with two glittering balls wobbling on the end of
springs.
"What was that you were saying about
John being a level headed boy?" hissed Scott to his Grandmother. "I'd say this notion of Brains’ hasn't
come soon enough! He's obviously going
stir crazy up there!"
Chapter
2 Strangers in the Night
John awoke in what was the middle of his
night with a strange sensation of foreboding. It was like waking up suddenly
from a nightmare which you can no longer remember. He sat bolt upright, his throat was dry and he could feel his
heart pounding. He shivered. It seemed to him, that the temperature had dropped
several degrees. His environment was
controlled by computers to maintain Earth-like conditions. At first he thought there was some kind of
malfunction. The temperature was
usually maintained around a comfortable 70 degrees during his ' daytime ' and
lowered to around 60 for his ' night time'.
He pulled on a track suit top and went to check the main control
area. He still felt jumpy although he
didn't know why. A series of clicks and
whirs startled him.
"Who's there?" he called
instinctively. 'Who's there? What
kind of a dumb question was that?' He was nearly twenty two and a half thousand
miles above the Earth. Who the hell was
going to answer him - Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy? Suddenly his computer emitted a grating sound and sprang into
action. John felt his heart leap into
his mouth,
"Oh sweet Jesus! " he exclaimed, and then his face dissolved into a wide grin as he
heard an artificial voice tell him that he had mail. It was his friend Krista, although she was thousands of miles
away; John was able to share her excitement.
“GREAT NEWS!” she enthused. “
ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL NEWS. THE
EXPEDITION IS GOING AHEAD! “
“That’s fantastic. I’m so pleased for you.”
“We have found a man who is willing to fund
us. I don't personally like him very much, but he has quite a lot of money and
can supply us with a very high tech. submarine. My father would not miss this chance for the world. He was so desperate to get to the bottom of
this lake he would have sold his soul to the devil! Seriously though, I must admit I am a bit apprehensive! We will have to rely heavily on our weather
forecasting skills and our surface team.
We have our specially heated diving suits and supplies but the ice can
be a problem. We will only have a
window of a few hours to check this thing out and hopefully take back some
samples to analyse. But I'm more
excited than worried. We will be the
first human beings to see something that has been lying at the bottom of the
lake for centuries.”
"Good for you," John replied,
"Keep me up to date. I'll be
thinking about you."
“Gosh I'm sorry to keep babbling on about my
news. How are you? Are you keeping
busy?'
"No," answered John, "Things have been very quiet around
here. I don’t really have anything
interesting to say. I can't even talk
about the weather because I don't have any up here!"
"Well, it's lovely and clear down here,
Crisp, blue skies, it's summer at the south pole, but that doesn't mean I'll be
able to get my swimsuit on just yet!
The hottest part of the day is around minus two to just about
freezing. But that's positively balmy
compared to what we had to contend with when we arrived a month ago. It was early spring and the Sun had just
appeared over the horizon again. Now
it's daylight all of the time. I find
it hard to go to sleep. We left McMurdo
base last week and moved to our summer base beside Lake Vorta. We are very isolated here, and we spend a
lot of our time on scientific research.
The lake is still partially frozen over. Our drilling team has succeeded in cutting a hole in the ice
which is big enough for us to launch our submarine from a ramp. We have been lucky that it has been
exceptionally mild. The weather has
stayed just above freezing point. If
the weather drops by only a couple of degrees all of their hard work will have
been in vain and the Lake will freeze over again. Greta has just walked in, she's with me now looking over my
shoulder, and she says to give you her love!"
"Thanks Greta," mumbled John, and
before he could stop himself he yawned.
"I’m sorry. I forgot that this is the
time when you are usually asleep. You look tired John. I will let you get some
rest now. I was so excited I just wanted to tell you as soon as I could. I will
let you know when we are going to do the dive.
Goodbye.”
"I will look forward to hearing from
you."
John felt a whole lot better. He had something else to think about
now. He had been chatting to Krista via
an internet chat-room every day for the past four weeks. She was a 'girl' and a 'friend ', but not
'girlfriend', he felt comfortable communicating with her like this. Of course
she had no idea of John’s true identity or his involvement with International
Rescue. John’s cold, shivery feeling
had gone away. He removed his track
suit top and ran his finger over the picture icon on his computer screen. Instantly a picture appeared of a fresh
faced girl with honey blond hair. She
looked a little nervous and slightly serious unlike the dark-haired girl
(Greta) standing with her arm about her shoulders. Greta was pulling a face.
The picture was not particularly flattering to either girl, and John,
while idly trawling through the chat rooms on another quiet evening, would
probably not have given them a second glance if he hadn't been intrigued by the
landscape in the background or rather the lack of landscape! This was not the usual ' friends- on- a- beach'
type of pose, for each girl was wearing what looked like layers of thermal
wear. Must be on a skiing holiday,
concluded John. But where then were the
mountains? In the background, there
seemed to be pack ice as far as the eye could see. 'Two ice maidens looking for someone to warm us up!' stated the
caption under the picture. (Greta's idea) Krista had cringed when she read
that!. Then John caught sight of part
of a dome - like structure, blending into the background, to the right of the
photograph. He recognised it at once
and realised that he and the girls in the picture had some common ground.
When John was nineteen years old and
training to become an astronaut, he had spent a long winter holed up in that
very dome. Or one that looked just like
it, for there were several of them. All
constructed to withstand the most ferocious of Antarctic winters. They formed the basis of a self contained
village and housed living quarters, extensive laboratories, recreational and
medical facilities. One of the domes
had even been turned into a luxury hotel, where well heeled tourists could rub
shoulders with some of the world's most eminent scientists.
John had come to learn how to survive in a
hostile environment. It was a good
training ground to help astronauts prepare for life on a Space Station or the
Moon-base. The Antarctic wasteland was
as much a desert as the Moon, In spite of all the snow and ice, very little
rain fell, In terms of rainfall, the Antarctic was actually on par with the
Sahara desert! John had spent a lot of
his time studying the stars. The dark
skies over the Antarctic were the clearest in the world. John had yet to venture into Space and had
never seen stars as brilliant as these.
The skies were completely unpolluted by light. They looked so close that John almost believed that he could
reach up and pick one out of the sky.
Krista had remarked upon the very same thing. John retained a fascination for this icy wilderness and cared
passionately about its survival. He was
delighted to be able to correspond with someone who shared his interests.
The girls had written a bit about themselves; Krista Linstrom was twenty
three and a graduate of Science and Geography.
Greta Harlstrop the same age was also a graduate of the same
subjects. Both girls had attended the
same college in Oslo where they had met and formed a strong friendship. From there, they travelled to Christchurch
in New Zealand, where they joined Krista's father Professor Enns Linstrom, who
was studying the topography of the South Pole.
It was he who made the significant discovery of the Lake beneath the
glacier. At first he was puzzled as to
why the Lake did not completely freeze up.
The ice on top of it was a mere thirty five metres thick in one place
which was strange, as it nestled inside a glacier over two miles deep! The Professor was intrigued. Something down there was causing the water
to heat up. Krista and Greta decided to
join Krista's father and two other scientists to conduct extensive research.
Krista had told John a lot about her father.
He was a geologist who was researching the effects of global warming and
environmental pollution on the polar ice caps.
His team were responsible for measuring the thickness of the ice
covering the North and South Poles.
They would cut out core samples of the ice. Different bands of colour on the ice would show which pollutants
were causing the most damage. The hole
in the ozone layer was growing wider every summer and the sea level was rising
dangerously. The Towns of London and
New York were already beginning to show signs of flooding. Their subway systems had to be abandoned in
favour of overhead monorails and many of the ancient historical buildings,
particularly the Empire State building were at risk from underground
rivers. Krista's enormous pride and
respect for her father was apparent.
She mentioned him in almost all of her messages.
John wished that she would be a little more
open about herself, although he was hardly in a position to complain! He had not been able to tell Krista anything
about himself or his family, not even his real name. As far as she was concerned he was John Smith, who worked on a
communication satellite, whose hobby was Astronomy. She knew that he had trained as an Astronaut and spent long
periods of time in space and this seemed to fascinate her.
Obviously she knew nothing about
International Rescue. There were few people that the family felt able to trust
with their secret. They had an
extensive back up team mostly of ex Secret Service and Security Personnel. Their island base was equipped with an
adequate medical bay and their family doctor was a long established and trusted
friend. But for a long time now the family had felt it was time to expand. It had taken a minor accident involving Virgil
to make them realise that they needed a couple of reserve pilots capable of
handling their unique craft. John
longed to tell Krista about his beautiful island home and the pride he felt in
his own family. He had the feeling that
Krista's career was as all consuming as his own, and at the moment a 'no
strings attached friendship' was convenient to both and besides, in cyberspace,
his girl wasn't going to decide that she fancied his older brother!
Thousand of miles below Thunderbird Five's
geo-stationary orbit, the Earth hung like a giant blue and green beach
ball Dawn would be just about to break
on Tracy Island. Jeff Tracy still
hadn't been to bed. Night times for him
were in some ways just a lonely as they were for John. He preferred to keep busy; since the death
of his wife he had become a workaholic.
He sometimes wondered whether he would have ever set up International
Rescue if she had still been alive. He
stood on his veranda and gazed out at the calm sea, a slight breeze ruffled his
silver grey hair. The stars seemed to
be particularly clear and Venus, the bright morning star shone with a
brilliance in the first rays of sun rise.
Jeff wondered what sights he would have seen
if he had been able to continue his chosen career as an astronaut. Fate had dealt him an unexpectedly cruel
blow. The birth of his fifth son should
have been one of the happiest events in his life, but his wife had died
suddenly during a difficult birth. Left
with his newborn son Alan, toddler Gordon, and youngsters Virgil, John and
Scott, he abandoned his dreams of returning to the space programme. He had cut
back on his space missions after the birth of Virgil and eventually left NASA
to build his own engineering company.
He was now an exceptionally rich man, but all the money in the world
could not compensate for the loss of Lucille. Like a swan, he had mated for life. He now existed to save lives.
Anything man made - a plane, ship or expensive car could be replaced,
but a human life could not.
"Hi Dad." It was Scott,
"Would you like me to take over for a while so you can get some
rest?"
"No Son," answered Jeff slowly,
"It hasn't been busy and I've been able to grab a few cat naps."
"Well at least let me get you some
coffee, You look kinda preoccupied. Anything wrong? »
"No not really," answered Jeff. “I
was just collecting a few thoughts. I
was wondering if we will still be doing all this in ten years time. We have some great machines, built to last,
but we are only mortal."
"I know what you mean," replied
Scott, "What's going to happen to the family firm if we don't have a
family to hand it on to? It's a great
job but it sure puts the lid on a social life!"
They were interrupted by the arrival of
Jeff's Personal Assistant, Kyrano and the smell of freshly percolated coffee.
"You must be a mind-reader. Kyrano
that's just what we need."
"I could fix you some breakfast
also."
"Thank you, but It's a little
early. Besides, I don't think that
anyone else will be up yet. Certainly not Alan or Virgil," replied Jeff.
Kyrano
nodded and left. Jeff would have asked him to share the pot of coffee but he
realised Kyrano would be keen to begin his morning ritual of meditation and
besides, he drank only herbal tea. Kyrano was as rich spiritually as Jeff was
materially. He was a great friend to
Jeff and they first met while Jeff was in training for the Moon-base missions.
Kyrano had been in charge of the
astronaut's food and nutrition requirements.
His culinary skills were matched only by his skills in botany. His presence brought a sense of calm to the frantic,
often stressful lives of the Tracy family.
Scott
poured himself a coffee and one for his father. "Have you spoken with John
yet?" he asked.
"No, I will probably wait until he
returns home, but I'm sure he will be only too happy to be able to get more of
the action and we definitely need another pair of hands."
"Are you sure that John will be up to
the job?" inquired Scott bluntly. "He has only been on a few rescue
missions and he can be a bit of a hot head at times. I need to be sure that he understands
the chain of command here. He has to do
what he's told and no arguments."
"Typical brothers!" smiled Jeff,
"What is it with you and John? You
miss him while he's away, but within a few days of each other's company you're
both at it like cat and dog!"
"Don't worry we're the best of friends
really. It’s just that sometimes we
have a difference of opinion. You know what these intellectuals are like. They
never let anything drop."
"Well I don't have any doubts about
John's capabilities where Thunderbird Three is concerned. John has more
experience than Alan, but don't tell Alan I said that, and even though you'd
hate to admit it, I reckon John could handle Thunderbird One as well as
you. Thunderbird Two is the trickiest
to fly because of its bulk. It needs a
lot of skill to handle. I would like
John to have more training in manoeuvres.
When Virgil was injured I realised just how big a burden I was placing
on the both of you. Thunderbirds One and Two are needed almost every time. If
either of you are sick or injured then we have problems."
"You're right I guess, but I can't help
thinking that if I were in trouble I would like to have a reassuring voice at
the other end of the radio. I know that
Thunderbird Five's computers take care of everything automatically while he's
asleep, but if there was a call at least John would be there. Brains is having some trouble with Braman's
voice circuits - he sounds too mechanical.
Like an answer-phone, you know how everyone hates talking to a machine;
somehow you just don't have the same confidence in them as you would a human
being"
"You've hit the nail on the head,son,"
replied Jeff "That was my precise worry and probably the first thing John
will say too."
There came the sound of bleeping from the
control room behind them. The eyes on
John's portrait were flashing.
"Speak of the devil. Is everything okay, John?"
"More or less, apart from my ears
burning!"
"You look a bit peaky, son. Are you eating and sleeping enough?"
"And keeping regular?" cut in a
voice from behind Jeff's shoulder.
"Morning Gordon,” acknowledged
John. Gordon, the second youngest Tracy
son strode across the room with a towel draped across his shoulders.
"I'm off for a swim Dad!" he
yelled, and with that he departed.
"Try not to drown Gordon," John
called after him. "When Alan takes
over ..." he continued, "I wonder if he would be able to bring Brains
along to check the environmental control computers. The temperature dropped a
few degrees for no reason last night. I
ran a few checks this morning but I couldn't find anything wrong. Perhaps Brains could double check for
me."
"Sure thing, son. Anything else on your mind? You look as if you've been up all
night."
"Oh you know how it is, " breezed
John. "Drinks, all night parties.
Life's just one big social whirl up here."
Jeff caught the edge to John's
voice. The boy could do with a
holiday.
Chapter
3 - The Sponsor
By 07.30 the Tracy household was a hive of
activity. Kyrano was in the kitchen
blending fresh pineapples, guavas and mangoes to make fruit cocktail. Grandma Tracy had just removed a batch of
freshly baked rolls from the oven. The tempting
aroma had been enough to lure Alan from his bed. He bounded into the kitchen, fresh from the shower. His blonde hair was damp and tousled. He was clad in a white T shirt which
complemented his tanned athletic body, and light blue track suit bottoms.
"Morning everyone, morning Grandma."
Alan gave his Grandmother a hug while simultaneously grabbing a hot roll from
the baking tray. It burned his fingers
and he dropped it on the floor.
"Serves you right!" said Grandma. "They're
not cool enough to eat yet."
Alan settled for a glass of fruit juice,
before he set out for his usual jog around the Island.
Virgil downed a second cup of coffee, and
thought that he might do a few lengths of the pool, before changing into his
greasy overalls to get to grips with the maintenance checks on Thunderbird Two. They had not been called out for nearly a
month now. But there was still plenty
to do. He had to make sure that his
craft and all of the pod vehicles were in tip top condition. He decided that he would have to rope in
Gordon and Alan to help him.
Brains was tucking into a king size breakfast
that would have fed about three people, making up for missing meals the day
before. This would probably have to keep him going all day. When he was fully engrossed in his work, he
would probably forget to have lunch, in spite of Grandma's badgering. She thought Brains was too pasty and skinny
for his own good. And as he had no
kinfolk of his own she had 'adopted him as another grandson. She was only too pleased to keep piling the
food on to his plate.
After he had finished this gigantic feast,
Brains met his pretty Malaysian assistant on the way to his laboratory.
"Er h-hi Tin Tin. C-could you give me
some er assistance with Braman. I-I'm
working on his voice simulator."
"His voice?" queried Tin Tin.
"Why couldn't He have a woman's voice?"
"B-Brawoman?" laughed Brains. "I
suppose it was easier to think of him as a man. Perhaps we should call it Braperson."
"Females are a little
outnumbered around here."
"W-well n-not for long! P-Penelope should be arriving tomorrow. Sh-she's on her way to Australia to escape
the British winter. She usually stops
over for a few days.”
“Good.
It will be nice to see her again and catch up on the gossip."
When they reached the laboratory Braman was
lying on a bench. An open flap in his
back exposed a tangle of cables resembling unravelled knitting.
"He looks k-kinda sorry for himself at
the moment. G-guess we should get to
work."
They
heard a gentle rap on the door, before Jeff walked in to check on their
progress.
"Ah. Brains, Tin Tin."
"Good morning Mr. Tracy," they
chorused.
"I've just been speaking to John. He asked if you could go up with Alan
tomorrow and check over the temperature control circuits. I also told him about Braman, I think it
would be a good idea to take him with you and give him a trial run, if he's
ready."
"W-we have a slight p-problem Mr
T-Tracy. He requires a human
voice. I-I am also trying to programme
some common sense and a sense of understanding of the pragmatics and semantics
of language and its more abstract use. "
"We are trying to get him to understand
a joke, Mr Tracy," explained Tin Tin.
"Okay Brains, hit me with it."
"Wh-what's the difference between a
b-bad marksman and a constipated owl?"
Jeff
laughed. "One shoots but can't hit."
"E-exactly. When Braman can get that he will be ready for anything!"
replied Brains. "At the moment
he can respond only to the facts he is given and he cannot understand innuendo
or sarcasm."
“So how do you intend to make him more like
a human being? A robot with human
emotions has always been the stuff of science fiction. I hope you don’t create anything that would
want to take over the world.”
“Oh n-no M-Mr Tracy, th-that would be
impossible. What I am hoping to do is make Braman simulate human reactions, by
using an electronic replica of the human genetic code. I want to give Braman an
artificial intelligence. Using my own genetic code, I have programmed Braman to
display a limited range of emotions.”
“Really?” Jeff was impressed. “Can you give
me a demonstration?”
“Of course M-Mr Tracy,” Brains pushed the
loose cables in to the flap on Braman's back, he then tightened a few screws.
He pressed a button on Braman’s chest, the robot’s eyes flashed red and his
head started to move. “B-Braman should
now be able to make an appropriate response to both pleasant and unpleasant
stimulation,” Brains explained.
“Let’s see him in action then.”
“M-Mr Tracy, would you punch Braman on the
nose for me?”
“Well, if you’re sure he won’t fall apart.”
“You don’t need to hit him too hard. A slap
on his face should be enough.”
Jeff
delivered a smack to Braman’s metallic cheek-bone. Braman recoiled and uttered
a small cry of distress.
“If Braman’s voice circuits had been properly
functioning, he would have questioned an unprovoked act of violence. But as you
see, he is rubbing his face with his hand and is recoiling from you.”
“Gee Brains, can you tell him I’m sorry ?”
“Y-you can tell him yourself.”
“Sorry, Braman.”
Braman extended his mechanical arm and hit
Jeff squarely in the diaphragm.
“Oof!” Jeff doubled up, temporarily winded.
“He’s not exactly the forgiving type is he?”
Brains looked horrified. “Oh M-Mr T-Tracy,
I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”
“I guess so. He packs quite a punch.”
“I-I’ll h-h-have to m-modify his
a-artificial muscles. He didn’t m-mean to hurt you M-Mr Tracy. He r-recognised your apology and offered his
hand in a g-gesture of friendship.”
“You could have fooled me!”
Tin
Tin giggled quietly to herself. Brains
regained his composure and continued with the demonstration.
“N-now you will um see what happens when er Braman
is given a pleasant stimulation.”
“Well you can count me out this time,”
laughed Jeff.
“Allow me.” Tin Tin leaned forward and
planted a tender kiss on Braman’s cheek. Braman’s left leg started to tremble.
He made a strange moaning sound, and then smoke started to come out of the top
of his head.
“Oh!
Oh dear. H-he s-seems to be overheating. I-I’l have to switch him off.”
Jeff laughed out loud. "Guess I had
better leave you to it then. I'm due to pick Penelope up from the
mainland."
While Brains and TinTin worked diligently on Braman, John
re-checked the circuitry of his life support computers. He realised how reliant he was on
technology, and that made him feel suddenly vulnerable. He double checked again, as an obsessive
checks locks and gas knobs before they leave the house. During his time as an astronaut he had been
accustomed to being dependant on ground control computers. He was used to his every bodily response and
function being monitored. Satisfied
that the computers were working correctly, John headed to the gym. He had a sixty minute workout on the
treadmill and rowing machine followed by a tepid shower. John realised the importance of keeping
fit. Long periods in Space had a
detrimental effect on his bones and muscles in spite of the artificial
gravity. Now if that cut out he would
really be in trouble! Both he and Alan
found it took a few days for their bodies to adjust when they returned to
Earth. He, and most definitely Alan,
had a tendency to be irritable and argumentative during that period. The
recycled air they breathed was no substitute for sunshine and fresh air. Their father insisted upon rigorous health
checks and Kyrano carefully planned nutritious diets.
Lady Penelope sipped a Pimms in the
luxurious surroundings of the first class lounge on board the Fireflash. This new supersonic jet was a remarkable
engineering achievement, even Brains was impressed. It was one of the safest and fastest planes ever designed. It flew at five times the speed of sound and
Lady Penelope's journey from London to Tokyo took just two and a half hours.
Lady Penelope was impeccably dressed as
always. She wore a pale pink designer
suit. Her shoulder length blonde hair
was woven into a pleat and secured with an ornate hairclip. She was only twenty six years old, but she
exuded an old fashioned elegance. She
had inherited the Creighton - Ward country estate, and large fortune, upon the
death of both her parents in a car crash.
Her father Sir Hugh Creighton - Ward had been the head of the British
Secret Service and his wife Amelia was a cousin to Jeff's late wife Lucy. Jeff and his sons regarded her as part of
their family. To Jeff, she was the
daughter he never had, and he could refuse her nothing. Her background and connections with the
Secret Service made her an ideal choice as an agent for International
Rescue. She had jumped at the chance
when Jeff offered her a job. She was
mature beyond her years and possessed a steely nerve and a cool, calm demeanour.
Sitting next to her, engrossed in the
sports page of his newspaper, was her fifty five year old butler, chauffer and
expert safe cracker, Aloysius Parker.
He was, in contrast to Lady Penelope, a 'rough diamond'. After a brief spell in Dartmoor as a guest
of Her Majesty, Parker had taken a vow to return to the straight and
narrow. He decided to return to the
more respectable profession of a butler, and his first job was at the Creighton
- Ward manor. Lady Penelope managed to
keep him to his promise, and made sure that he only used his dubious talents on
the right side of the law. They made an
odd couple, but they were effective and International Rescue was glad of their
services.
When the Fireflash landed Jeff was waiting
at the 'arrivals' terminal to transfer Penelope and Parker to his private jet
for the fifteen minute hop to his secret island. He laughed as her saw Parker struggling with the luggage. Lady Penelope was not one for travelling
light!
"It's a wonder the plane could get off
the ground with this lot," he chuckled, as he relieved Parker of a large
designer suitcase.
"One never knows quite what one will
need," replied Penelope.
"One would if one 'ad to carry it
all!" muttered Parker as he staggered behind them.
"I'm so sorry I could not accept your
kind offer to stay over Christmas, but I was entertaining an elderly Aunt and
Uncle," explained Penelope as they walked across the tarmac. "I hope
it all went well."
"Yes," said Jeff. "It was a pity that John could not join
us, but someone had to man the satellite.
He drew the short straw."
"Poor John, in space there's no-one to
pull your cracker. But from what I hear
Brains is hoping to change all that."
"Yes," answered Jeff "He is trying to program Braman to think like a human being.
At the moment Braman could pull the cracker, but wouldn't be able to laugh at
the joke inside."
"If Brains could give a robot human
emotion it would be quite an achievement."
"Could even earn him another Nobel
Prize," added Jeff.
"He's probably got a drawer full of
those already," laughed Penelope, as she climbed into the passenger seat
next to Jeff.
When they touched down on the runway at
Tracy Island, Penelope was warmly welcomed by Jeff's mother whom she regarded
as an honorary Grandmother. Tin Tin was
also keen to see her and catch up on all the latest gossip regarding the London
jet set. Scott and Virgil, both
competing for her attention, were only too pleased to relieve Parker of her
luggage. They both insisted on carrying
the heaviest suitcase. Alan too,
harboured a secret crush on her, but that was unbeknown to Tin Tin who was his
steady girlfriend. He had cursed his
luck when he realised that his term of duty would start two days into her
visit. He secretly hoped that he would
be called out in Thunderbird Three and that she would be allowed to assist
him. She had often hinted to Jeff, that
she would like a trip into space, but Jeff was rather protective of her, and
always managed to steer her off the subject.
Although Lady Penelope enjoyed a slightly
flirtatious relationship with Jeff's sons she could not take them
seriously. She found herself drawn to
distinguished older men. The loss of her
beloved father had left a void in her life, her brush with danger and espionage
was a way for her to cope.
The Antarctic morning started early for
Krista. She and her father had just
finished breakfast when a small ski plane skimmed to a halt on a runway of
ice. Her father strode out to greet a
stocky looking man who was emerging from the passenger seat in the
cockpit. He stamped his feet and blew
into his hands, his breath freezing in the cold morning air. Professor Linstrom smiled warmly and shook
the man's hand. He then led him to an
isolated building standing on metal stilts driven into the pack ice. Their feet clattered as they ascended the
metal staircase. The strange man looked stony faced as he entered the building
in front of the Professor, and he stared coldly as he passed Krista and
Greta. He then nodded silently towards
them, before following the Professor into his office.
"I don't like him," whispered
Krista "Something about him gives me the creeps."
"I know what you mean. It seems to have dropped another 10 degrees
since he came in. Have you seen those
eyes?"
Krista shuddered. "I tried not to
look. He's the stuff nightmares are
made of. But he's the only person who
has been prepared to finance Dad's expedition and beggars can't be
choosers."
"Bet he's only in it for what he can
get," put in Greta "He looks that type."
In the warmth of Professor Linstrom's
office, the man removed his bulky thermal outdoor clothing. The Professor noted that he had a strange,
almost waxy complexion and unnaturally thick brown hair which he suspected was
a toupee. He cast his eyes disdainfully
around the meagrely furnished room, and then spoke with a heavy foreign accent,
in a low guttural tone.
"You have considered my proposal Professor?"
"Well I'm very grateful for your
support in our venture. I have waited
years for something like this it could be the discovery of a lifetime."
"I am not a scientific man," stated
the stranger bluntly, avoiding any eye contact. "And if you think that I
am also a charity you are very much mistaken."
Professor Linstrom looked taken aback by his
abruptness.
"You promised me some samples," the
man continued. "There are definitely
diamonds I hope!"
"Oh, without a doubt. Our team of diving experts went down
yesterday, the rock samples show all the elements that make up the composition
of the purest pink diamonds the world will ever see."
The
man's eyes glowed with greed. "Good,
good and how soon will you be able to recover these diamonds?" He spoke
the last word slowly like someone savouring the last drop of a fine wine.
"Well there has been a problem."
The
man emitted a low hiss.
"We have not been able to use the
cutting equipment. There was some sort
of accident, one of our men was injured and had to be airlifted to
hospital."
The
man uttered a curse and appeared to show no compassion towards the injured
man. He banged his fist on the
table. "I want results!"
The
Professor looked angry. "Look here, we just don't know what we're up
against. This thing could even be radioactive.
The safety of my team comes before profit. I want to take some ultrasound equipment down I want to know
what's inside before we go any further."
"I do not have the time to wait,"
the man replied menacingly. "I have loaned you a submarine with powerful
weapons you could blast the thing to pieces!"
The
Professor looked horrified. "Absolutely not! The whole purpose of this expedition is to gather scientific
data. We believe this asteroid could
yield vital information to the possibility of life on another planet. It has been at the bottom of this lake since
the middle ages. We are certainly not
going to blow it to pieces for the sake of a few diamonds. It could be more valuable than all the
diamonds in the world."
"So you think that it might contain
little green men from Mars," the man laughed mockingly.
"That's the exciting part. It is like Pandora's box, no-one knows
what's inside."
"Well," concluded the man, rising
from his chair. "As I said, I have no interest in science." He started to replace his outdoor clothing
signalling that the meeting was at an end. "I am interested only in a
return for my investment. I hope that you will not disappoint me."
With
that he strode out of the office.
Professor Linstrom held his head wearily in his hands. He began to wonder whether he had bitten off
more than he could chew.
Chapter
4 - Night Fever
Halfway through the afternoon John
realised that he was developing a headache.
He was still a little unsure about the efficiency of the computers
controlling his life support systems. The air around him smelled stale and
stuffy. He was getting a little muzzy
headed and wished he was able to open a window and smell some fresh air. He switched the radio controls to automatic
and then went for a lie down in his cabin.
There, he dozed fitfully. When
he awoke he still didn't feel any better.
A feeling of gloom threatened to drag him down further, but he had a job
to do. Brains had asked him to supply a
voice pattern to use in a synthesiser for Braman. As most of the computers here were programmed to respond to his
or Alan's voice it was decided to replicate both and program Braman
accordingly. John sat in front of a
microphone making sounds phonetically.
He also supplied a string of stock phrases, 'We will send help as soon
as possible' and ‘this is International Rescue, how can we help you?' John
wasn't sure about that last one - it made them sound a bit like a building
society.
After transmitting this information to
Brains he walked to the galley and poured himself a cold drink. He had been hoping for another message from
Krista. She was obviously a lot busier
than he was. He had plenty of time
before his last round of' maintenance checks to send her an e mail. He didn't know quite what he was going to
say. He wanted very badly to meet
her. He was due to go home tomorrow,
and he didn't know how long she would be staying in Antarctica. It wasn't exactly the warmest of places for
a first date. Scott or Virgil wouldn't
have this trouble he thought morosely.
He decided to keep to her favourite subject - her work 'I hope
everything is going well' he dictated, 'I am due to return home tomorrow, but I
am dying to hear about your venture. I
hope you still have my home e mail address.
I was wondering if you might like to meet for lunch or dinner sometime,
when you return back home of course, I would like to see you in a more hospitable
environment. I feel we could become
good friends. Hope to hear from you,
fondest regards, John.'
He
read it through and decided not to send it.
It made him sound desperate and slightly stuffy. The trouble was, he was feeling
desperate, desperate for human conversation, for contact, and desperate for
relief from his pounding headache. He
poured himself another drink, swallowed two aspirin tablets and returned to
bed.
John supposed that it was 'night- time'
when he awoke. He checked the clock to
make sure; 11pm Earth time. The back of
his T shirt was saturated with sweat. It was plastered to his back, he was
aware that he did not smell very nice.
What the hell was going on with the heating system? It was like a sauna. His throat was dry. He walked groggily to the galley and downed
another two glasses of water.
The first thing that struck him was the
silence. Gone was the usual chatter of
voices from the many radio frequencies. There was just an eerie silence. John's brain jolted into action. This was a major malfunction. He was about to alert his father when
something caught his eye. A small
sphere of luminous green hovered slowly over the control panel. As it moved away from the radios so they
sprang back into life. The sphere moved
slowly around the room and then drifted over towards John. He held his breath. Instinct told him to stand still. The sphere advanced towards him in a wobbly
fashion like globules of mercury in a test tube. It seemed to consist of light rather then liquid. It hung in the air inches from Johns
face. He could feel static electricity
making his hair stand on end. John
dared not breathe out. His insides were
churning with fear. The sphere drifted
over his head and disappeared behind his back.
He dared not turn his head to look.
He felt a tingling sensation travel down his spine. After what seemed like an age the globe reappeared
in front of him and then suddenly it was gone.
John exhaled with a gasp and sank to his knees, his heart pounding.
A harsh bleeping noise jolted Alan from a
rather pleasant dream. He sat up
groggily and rubbed his eyes. Realising that this was the emergency alarm he
shot out of bed and pulled on his jogging bottoms. He raced to the lounge where he was met by Brains who was
standing beside his father.
"What's the emergency?" he asked
eagerly. "Is John going to fill us
in?"
"I want you to pack a few things in
your bag. You are going to have to
relieve John."
"But its three o clock in the
morning," grumbled Alan. "I'm
not due on for another twelve hours."
"John's sick, Alan," stated Jeff. "Brains and I are coming with
you."
"What's wrong with him, Father? Is it serious?" Alan was now feeling a
little guilty for his selfish outburst.
"I don't know," replied Jeff. "He has some kind of fever. He said that his legs felt like jelly and
his head hurt. We need to get him to a doctor. This is the sort of situation that worries
me. If you or John get sick up there you are very vulnerable, especially if you
get something like a burst appendix that requires emergency surgery."
"Well, John had his appendix out when
he was still at High School, so it couldn't be that," said Alan.
"Let's just get there as soon as we
can," replied Jeff.
Alan returned to his room and hastily threw
a few T shirts and changes of clothes into a bag. He was thankful for the invention of bio-degradable socks and
underwear. The laundry facilities on
Thunderbird Five were somewhat limited.
Meanwhile, Jeff roused Scott from his
sleep and put him in charge of International Rescue until he returned.
"I-I think now w-would be a good time
to put Braman to the test," suggested Brains.
"That's an excellent idea," agreed
Jeff. "Do you think he will be up
to it?"
"He's st-still not quite ready. I-I th-think it would be a good idea for me
to stay on Thunderbird Five to observe him.
I-I might need to m make a few m-modifications."
When Alan returned with his suitcase he,
Brains and his father took their places on the couch in the centre of the
living room. Braman rather comically
sat like a ventriloquist's doll on Brains' knee. The couch disappeared down a shaft, which led to an underground
chamber. From there it was transferred
on to a trolley, which carried it by rail to Thunderbird Three's silo
underneath the Round House. It was then deposited onto a ramp directly beneath
Thunderbird Three. The ramp then lifted
the couch up into the rocket, and its occupants made their way to their various
stations.
Scott heard the surge of the rocket's
boosters and watched as the mighty red rocket thrust into the night sky,
blazing its tail of fire. He then
opened a hailing channel to John, who acknowledged shakily.
"Hold on fella," assured Scott.
"Dad and Alan are coming to get you".
Hours later Alan carefully manoeuvred the
three hundred foot rocket into docking position with Thunderbird Five. His father was the first to scramble through
the boarding tube and reach John's cabin.
It was empty. Jeff's heart gave
a flutter.
"John!" he called anxiously. "Where are you?"
"In here," a faint voice came
from the medical bay. John was lying on
one of the special diagnostic hospital beds.
He had taped monitors to his chest and the pulse spots on his
temples. His face glistened with
perspiration. The monitors showed a
rapid heartbeat and a raised temperature.
"You're burning up!" cried Jeff,
placing a hand on his forehead.
"How did you manage to get sick up here? I thought you boys had all of your flu jabs."
"Obviously didn't work with me,"
answered John weakly.
"What happened to you, John?"
asked Alan, now standing beside him, sharing their father's concern.
"Some obscure space bug floating around
I guess," John closed his eyes.
The room was beginning to spin.
He didn't have the energy to go into detail about the strange sphere of
light. He even thought that he had
imagined it in his delirium. His head
couldn't cope with the questioning voices; he felt his senses drifting away.