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“Alan, get your feet off the desk,” Jeff admonished the youngest android from where he sat behind said desk in the lounge, not bothering to take his eyes off the newspaper he held.
This was promptly followed by a grumble and the squeaking of a chair as the android shifted positions. Then came the thud of shoes against the floor along with even more grumbling, yet Jeff still didn’t glance away from his newspaper. He knew Alan was already upset about missing out on their latest rescue involving a broken dam in China – in case Thunderbird Three would be needed elsewhere – and he was sure that his instructions would have only renewed the pouting of the youngest.
He did finally drop the newspaper, however, when a beeping sound emitted from one of the portraits lining the wall, and upon glancing up, he discovered that the eyes on John’s portrait were the ones flashing.
“Go ahead, John,” he said once the video feed on Thunderbird Five connected. “How’s the rescue coming along?”
“Just fine, father. They got the dam patched up as best they could, and there was minimal flooding,” John reported. “The boys are on their way back now.”
“Well, that’s good news.”
“Yeah,” John agreed before adding, “though, that’s not what I’m calling about.”
At this, Jeff raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Then what?”
“I’ve received a call from Commander Shore of the WASP,” John explained with barely held-back excitement, and hearing this, Jeff sat up straighter in his chair, as did Alan.
“What’s the situation?” Jeff prompted.
“Their submarine, Stingray, has hit a spot of trouble and Commander Shore is asking for our help in retrieving her.”
“I see,” Jeff said gruffly, mind already turning over what the problem could be, “What sort of trouble?”
“Apparently, she’s been disabled, and last known coordinates put her off the coast of South America. Except no one has been able to get in contact for a while now,” John explained. “Considering that Thunderbird Two is already out with Four, and technically headed that way anyway, the timing is pretty perfect. They can be there within the hour.”
“Right. Go ahead and inform your brothers, John. We’ll help Ol’ Shore out.”
His wording earned Jeff slightly confused looks from his two blond sons, but John merely signed off the call with an “F.A.B. father,” to do as he was told.
“Aww, they get two rescues?” Alan muttered in the ensuing silence, and Jeff shook his head as he turned towards the radio behind his desk.
“Hush, Alan. I need to make a call to an old friend.”
On Thunderbird Two, Virgil and Gordon’s conversation was interrupted by the radio coming to life as John’s voice came through: “Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird Five. Come in, Virgil.”
“We read you, John,” the middle brother responded. “What’s up?”
“Got another rescue for you fellas on the way home, if you’re feeling up to it. Should be a pretty exciting one for Gordon,” John explained, which prompted his two younger brothers to exchange confused looks.
“Oh yeah?” Gordon asked.
“Yeah, we got a request from the commander of WASP to help out Stingray.”
“Stingray?!” Gordon shouted, the excitement clear in his voice, and Virgil glanced at him with a fond smile. Yet he couldn’t help but wind his brother up a bit.
“Stingray?” he echoed in mock confusion. “Which one is that again?”
“Only the flagship of WASP and one of the most advanced submarines in the world!” Gordon said incredulously before adding, “Well, besides Thunderbird Four, of course.”
“Ohhh riiiight. Of course,” Virgil agreed before turning his attention back to the radio. He could imagine John’s smile up on Thunderbird Five. “So, what’s the trouble with Stingray, John?”
So, John began to explain, providing more of the details than he’d shared with their father. “Well, according to Commander Shore, the last they’d heard from Stingray’s crew, she’d taken heavy damage from an altercation with some hostiles, though who these hostiles were he didn’t say.” At this, John sounded confused. “It’s been radio silence ever since, except for the SOS buoy that got deployed. Based on its location, Stingray is somewhere in the Peru-Chile trench, though they can only guess at the precise depth. The main problem is that they don’t have any subs in the area that could get to her aid fast enough.”
“So, he called us,” Virgil supplied.
“So, he called us,” John echoed the sentiment before he continued his explanation with the limited information that Commander Shore had given him. “Besides the obvious concerns for the crew with crashing at those depths, he also wanted to get help to them as quickly as possible because he’s worried about the hostiles coming back to finish off Stingray for good.”
At this piece of information, Virgil and Gordon side-eyed each other as Virgil asked, “And does dad know about that particular part of the rescue?”
“Well, I may have neglected to mention it….” John’s shrug was practically audible from space. “It’s not like we could just leave them down there. Especially when that part of the ocean is also prone to Earth tremors.”
“Agreed,” Virgil and Gordon said simultaneously before Virgil once again continued, “What are the coordinates, John?”
John rattled off the series of numbers for the SOS buoy before signing off with the promise to get more information from Commander Shore, if not from Stingray herself. Meanwhile, Thunderbird Two swung around to begin flying in a more northeasterly direction than their path home had otherwise required.
It wasn’t long after that that the radio once again clicked on, but this time, it was Scott’s voice that came through. “Thunderbird One to Two. I’m assuming you fellas have already heard from John?”
“We did, yeah,” Virgil confirmed. “We’re on our way to the coordinates now.”
“F.A.B.” Scott acknowledged. “I’m just catching up with you guys.”
“You know, Scott,” Gordon ventured after a moment, “I’m not sure Thunderbird One will be all that helpful on this one. You could head home.”
There was a scoff from the other side of the line before Scott answered sternly, “As your field commander, there is no way I’m going home without you.”
The younger two brothers shrugged – with Gordon also rolling his eyes – but they merely accepted this with a “fine.” Almost immediately after, Thunderbird One overtook her sister craft.
From there, it wasn’t a long flight as the speed of the two Thunderbird machines meant it only took roughly thirty minutes before they reached the coordinates for the SOS. And it was Scott who pointed out the buoy below them, which bobbed atop the white-crested waves, a small, balloon-like speck amongst the vast blue.
Yet having had no further luck contacting Stingray in the last half hour, it was decided that there was nothing for it but to take a look for themselves. So, Gordon boarded Thunderbird Four, and with one last “good luck” from Virgil, the pod was dropped into the ocean with a tremendous splash. The pod door quickly retracted, and the ramp lowered, allowing the small yellow submarine to enter the water. Gordon didn’t hesitate to send Four into a dive beneath the clear, blue-green waters, heading for the trench that stretched for miles parallel to the coastline of South America. It was a lonely spot, which made him wonder what Stingray was doing all the way out here in the first place, and who would have damaged the sub.
As he continued to dive, fish flashed past the viewport, their scales catching the light. Yet they quickly began to thin out as the light began to fade, the sun growing weaker before it was eventually subsumed by the growing darkness of the twilight zone. The continental shelf soon loomed above him and continued to slope downward as he went deeper, the depth gauges having quickly climbed past hundreds of feet and into the thousands, and still he dove. There continued to be no signs of Stingray, but of course, it wouldn’t be so easy as to have her directly below her own SOS buoy. He calculated that it would have drifted south on the waves, meaning he was going to have to explore further north. And if she had fallen into the trench as was suspected, then he’d have to go still lower to reach its entrance.
It was another few thousand feet down, and well into the abyssal zone, when soundings indicated the presence of another steep drop-off, which he took to be the entrance of the trench. He continued forward carefully, as down there, the water was pitch black. The only light being Four’s searchlight and the bioluminescence of sea creatures.
With one flick of a switch, he turned the radio on to contact his brothers. “I think I found an entrance to the trench, but there’s no sign of Stingray yet. I’ll go in and continue searching.”
“You won’t be able to spot her from above the trench?” It was Virgil’s voice that asked.
Gordon shook his head, even though he knew his brothers couldn’t see it. “No, this trench can go for another twenty thousand feet down or so. If she’s down there, I won’t be able to see her from up here.”
This time it was Scott who replied, sounding worried. “Alright, but be careful, Gordon.”
“I know. I know,” Gordon responded. “Relax. It’ll be fine.”
“Gordon-” Scott’s voice came again, his younger brother’s name said in a warning tone.
“Okay, I’ll be careful!” Gordon promised before muttering “geez” to himself.
He then jumped slightly at John’s responding, “I heard that,” as he’d briefly forgotten the second eldest was listening in and about his incredible hearing.
“Oops,” he said with a nervous chuckle and clicked off the radio.
Gordon then turned his attention back to the rescue and aimed Four’s nose still downward, entering the trench. Yet he only took her another five thousand feet down before leveling off and deciding he’d start the search from there, heading north. Within the narrow beam of his searchlight, there was nothing but the rocks that made up the walls of the trench and the odd sea creature. There continued to be no sign of Stingray. No flicker of lights from a cabin, nor glint of metal. Unfortunately, without more specific coordinates, finding the missing super sub would be akin to finding a needle in a haystack. A very large and pitch-black haystack.
As he continued his search, he radioed to inform his brothers of his progress a few times, and even attempted to contact Stingray herself, even though he knew it was useless. But he held out hope that the crew would eventually manage to fix whatever was damaged and get back in contact – provided that the crew was fit enough to do so that was.
After another forty minutes of searching or so, he finally thought he saw a flash of light. Eagerly, he brought Four to a stop and squinted out of the viewport into the dark water beyond. He then reached over and flicked the searchlight off, hoping he could more easily spot the light without his own in the way. Yet for a long moment, there continued to be nothing, which made him wonder if he’d just been imagining things (never mind that such a thing wasn’t possible thanks to his being an android and all), when suddenly he caught sight of what looked to be two glowing orbs.
The orbs moved together through the darkness, always at the same rate and with the same distance between them. This prompted him to conclude that they must be attached to something, but to what?
He moved Four towards the orbs but decided to keep his own searchlight off for now. John’s explanation about Stingray encountering hostiles, who may still be in the area, at the forefront of his processor. He needed to be careful until he could confirm what it was.
Suddenly, the radar on Four began to ping with the new presence, confirming that whatever he was looking at was something big.
“Now, what do we have here?” he muttered to himself as he drew close enough to start picking out details – able to do so thanks to his having been built to see in the dark.
He was looking at a fish. A very large fish. One with a gaping maw and oddly segmented body. He then realized that the glowing orbs he’d seen earlier were the eyes on either side of the fish’s head. Except, within those orbs, silhouettes moved about, completely washed out by the light that backlit them from inside. It wasn’t actually a fish at all then. It was a ship, but unlike anything Gordon had ever seen before. He’d never heard of anything like this either, and he’d spent a lot of time researching submarine technology and discussing it with Brains.
Yet as curious as he was about the peculiar ship, he knew that its presence could not have been a coincidence. The trench was too lonely a spot for that, meaning he’d likely just stumbled upon their hostiles. Luckily, they hadn’t seemed to have spotted him yet, as they continued along the same path, probably looking for Stingray themselves.
So, with a renewed sense of urgency, Gordon dove lower to avoid detection but continued his search north. He also, once again, turned to his radio, hoping the fish wouldn’t be able to pick up the signal.
“Thunderbird Four to Thunderbird Five, I think I’ve got confirmation on those hostiles WASP mentioned.”
John’s concerned voice responded immediately, “Did they see you?”
“I don’t think so,” he reported, “but I’m not taking any chances. I’m keeping the lights off on Four for now.”
“Alright. What did the vessel look like? I can see if WASP will confirm if they’re hostile or not and hopefully get some more information on what you’re dealing with.”
So, Gordon described what he’d seen and the odd nature of the sub. This was followed by a perplexed silence before John finally said, “Okay. I’ll get back to you in a couple of minutes.”
During those minutes, Gordon continued north through the trench and noticed when something began to ping on his radar again. He hoped that it was actually Stingray this time, and not the return of their potentially hostile fish.
He was relieved when John’s voice once again broke the silence, but the news wasn’t good. “WASP confirmed the other vessel is hostile, and likely one of the ones Stingray engaged with. They tend to travel in groups, so look out for more of them.”
“Well, that’s reassuring,” Gordon muttered before reporting, “I’ve started picking up something on the radar. I think it’s Stingray, or at least, I hope it is.”
“F.A.B.” John responded, “Keep us informed.” Then he was gone again.
The radar pinged louder and louder as he continued his steady approach, and whatever it was picking up remained unmoving, which he took as a good sign that he’d found Stingray this time. He’d have to risk turning the searchlight back on to confirm it, though, as he knew it’d help him spot the super sub. So, with bated breath – that he didn’t even need – he switched on the lights. Luckily, only the singular unmoving object continued to ping on the radar as he closed the distance between them. Finally, there was a glint of metal.
He’d found her.
The blue, yellow, and silver-white of Stingray’s hull gleamed under the searchlight of Thunderbird Four. Lights shone from inside her control cabin, a good sign that she still had power, and so would likely be running life support functions. Yet Stingray lay on a shelf of rock like a discarded toy, listing slightly to the starboard side. Her hydrojet had clearly sustained heavy damage and looked like it’d been struck by a missile, as chunks of it were gone, and what remained had been left jagged and scorched. There was no way Stingray was getting out of there under her own power, and this certainly wasn’t something the crew could hope to repair themselves.
Gordon brought Four to a stop and once again radioed an open channel to Five that he knew would simultaneously carry over to One and Two so that all his brothers could hear him. “I found Stingray! I can’t tell what the status of the crew is from here, though, and since I can’t call them, I’m going to swim over to check it out.”
“You’re sure?” Scott asked. “What’s the depth down there?”
And Gordon knew Scott wasn’t asking because he was worried about Gordon. Well, not really. Gordon was built to withstand the extreme pressures of the ocean after all. No, Scott was really more so worried about whether a human could survive at those depths, and thus what it would look like if he was caught diving at those depths himself.
“Around fifteen thousand feet,” Gordon reported, directly responding to Scott’s concerns, “it’s bordering on dangerous, but doable for a human. Especially with the equipment WASP aquanauts have and high helium content air supplies. No one will question it.”
“F.A.B.” Scott said and didn’t offer any further protests.
“Be back in a sec,” Gordon announced over the radio as he stood up from his seat. Yet before he could move towards the back of the sub, the radar pinged with a new blip. He froze for a moment, watching as the blip disappeared from the radar before briefly reappearing. He figured it was the mechanical fish from earlier, which meant they didn’t have long before they’d be located. He needed to go. Now.
He ended up practically running through the sub towards the hatch, glad that he’d already changed into a wetsuit while waiting for Virgil to release the pod. He snatched up a diving mask on his way past, but then hesitated, and after a moment of thought, decided to grab the Light Type so that he could communicate with Stingray’s crew like he had the pilots of Fireflash 4 some months ago. With this equipment in hand, he made his way into the airlock and exited the sub.
He immediately felt the change in pressure and temperature. The sensors on Four had, of course, been relaying these changes the entire time, but it was an entirely different matter to experience them for himself, as it was a drastic enough change that even his internal systems were registering it. However, he dismissed his CPU’s warnings about the increasing pressure and decreasing temperature, as they wouldn’t do anything to him, especially not with an insulated wetsuit on. He would have to go down a few thousand meters more before the pressure or temperature would begin to affect him.
So, he pushed off towards Stingray with a powerful kick, closing the distance between the two subs without effort. He aimed for the windows of the control cabin, and once there, hooked his fingers onto the slight crevice where the window connected to the hull, anchoring himself to the sub as he looked inside.
The cabin itself appeared to be alright and perfectly intact, with the only exception being that one console had its guts strewn across the floor. However, this appeared to have been done intentionally, as a figure obscured from the chest up lay on the floor beneath the console, likely tinkering with something inside. Next to this console also stood two more figures. One was a man in the grey uniform of WASP, hat pulled low over his dark hair, but even more interesting was the second figure. A beautiful girl with light green hair, who curiously wore a shimmering green floor-length gown that certainly wasn’t military issue.
Seeing the crew, Gordon shouted excitedly over the radio to his brothers, “I found them! They’re okay! I’m going to try and get in contact.” He then proceeded to knock at the window.
The body beneath the console noticeably flinched, while the dark-haired man whirled around to look for the source of the knocking. The girl also jumped and turned to the window with wide green eyes. With their attention on him, Gordon gave a small wave, hoping to convey that he was friendly, and watched as the surprise on the man’s face gave way to something sterner, his blue eyes narrowing. The dark-haired man then said something before approaching the window, the girl sticking close behind him. The third member of the crew pulled themselves out from beneath the console, revealing a brown-haired man in a WASP uniform with grime smeared across his right cheek. He rubbed at what Gordon assumed to be a sore spot on his forehead from banging it against the underside of the console when he’d jumped in surprise earlier, but he was quick to get up and follow his companions to the window.
When they were close enough, Gordon could make out more of the details on their uniforms and noticed two red stripes on the shoulder of the dark-haired man, indicating he was the captain, while the other man had the singular stripe of a lieutenant. And again, Gordon pondered the presence of the green-haired girl and her lack of a WASP uniform.
Though once they’d made it up to the windows and he had their full attention, Gordon held up the message that he’d previously written out on the Light Type: “With International Rescue. Commander called us.”
This earned him skeptical, if not confused, looks, so he pointed back towards Thunderbird Four’s position. The three-person crew followed the line of his finger, stepping closer to the windows to see just what it was he was pointing at. Unfortunately, it was mostly just the searchlight that was visible, but the shine of it was enough to illuminate part of Four’s shape and the bright yellow color scheme of her hull. He wasn’t sure if that’d be enough to convince them he was there to help, but at least it proved that he wasn’t with one of those mechanical fish. And it seemed to do the trick, as soon after, he noticed the three relax ever so slightly.
Gordon then quickly typed out a new message: “Going to use balloons to lift to surface.” Then another message. “Stand by.”
It took them a second, but eventually they nodded in understanding. That was good enough for Gordon, who flashed a confident thumbs-up before turning back towards Four. A feeling of dread even colder than the surrounding water soon washed over him, though, as off in the distance he could see the gleam of glowing orbs. With a renewed urgency, he swam for the yellow sub, pushing himself faster than any human could ordinarily swim, but the crew of Stingray surely couldn’t see him in the pitch-black, so it didn’t matter.
He reboarded Four in record time and practically threw himself into the driver’s seat, where he brought up the controls for the balloon capsules as he maneuvered Four into position. After taking aim, he fired the first capsule, landing a direct hit against Stingray’s starboard side near the nose. The magnets of the capsule attached to the hull of the super sub, and seeing that it’d clamped on successfully, he proceeded to fire one at the port side in roughly the same spot. He then backed Four up to repeat the process closer to the tail of the sub. With all four capsules in place, Gordon triggered the mechanism to release the balloons, causing them to explode outwards in a rush of bubbles. They filled out and rose as much as they could before jerking to a stop at the end of their lines. Then, after a tense moment, they continued to rise upwards, taking Stingray with them. The super sub lifted off from the rock shelf and began ascending towards the surface. It would be a relatively slow rise, however, and leave the other sub vulnerable to attack, which prompted Gordon to stay nearby. His gaze constantly switched between the glowing orbs in the distance, the pinging radar, and the slowly rising Stingray.
It was just as they were clearing the entrance of the trench that he determined the glowing orbs had gotten close enough, and he could no longer afford to sit there doing nothing. So, in a move his brothers would call incredibly stupid, he dove towards the mechanical fish, intending to use himself as a distraction.
Thus, Gordon couldn’t say he was surprised when they launched the first missile at him, but it was certainly unfortunate. Four was equipped with small torpedoes herself, but they were only meant to blow apart the debris that got in the way on rescues. They certainly hadn’t been built with combat in mind. Avoidance was the best he could do.
He lurched Four abruptly to the side at what was nearly the last possible second, allowing the missile to speed past and impact against one of the rock formations that jutted up from the ocean floor with a fiery explosion. The shockwave caused Four to buck, and he just hoped that it didn’t reach all the way to Stingray. The balloons might pop otherwise.
“Thunderbird Four to One!” he practically shouted into his radio once he had the sub back under control. “I’m being attacked! I repeat, I’m being attacked!”
“Gordon? What’s going on?” Scott demanded, his voice clipped and edged with worry.
“I got the balloons attached to Stingray, and she’s rising to the surface, but the mechanical fish is back! It’s firing missiles at us.”
“Understood. How far away are you?”
Gordon glanced at the depth gauge and Stingray’s progress before relaying his estimate of nine thousand feet. How could they have only risen six thousand?
He was snapped out of his thoughts by Scott continuing, “Okay. Just get yourself and Stingray to the surface in one piece. We’ll be standing by to handle the fish.”
Gordon wasn’t sure what Scott could possibly have planned, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it right now. “F.A.B.” was all he responded.
He watched as the mechanical fish circled him, as if it were trying to figure him out and how much of a threat he posed. But needing to keep their attention, he fired one of his demolition missiles. The mechanical fish quickly darted away, and the shockwave from the subsequent explosion didn’t seem to do too much. However, it had the desired effect, as the fish turned back towards him and seemed to decide he was a threat worth dealing with after all, so fired another missile at him. Once again, he zigzagged the small sub around, managing to avoid an outright hit from the missile, but still got bombarded by the shockwave.
It went on like this for several long minutes that seemed to stretch on for eternity. He continuously ducked and weaved around, trying to keep a fair bit of distance between himself and Stingray, but he wanted to keep her in his line of sight as well. Plus, Scott had said to get to the surface.
Yet as they rose, there was less and less cover from rock formations as the undersea mountains fell away to be replaced with more open water. It left Four exposed but gave more room to maneuver in general. It also began to grow lighter and lighter as they approached the surface. The once pitch-black waters giving way to a dull grey that steadily lightened towards tones of blue. It gave Gordon hope that they’d make it to the surface safely.
Except one of the next missiles fired by the mechanical fish overshot Thunderbird Four and exploded within range of Stingray. The port side aft balloons burst with an explosion of bubbles, causing Stingray to buck in the water, and her tail dipped below her nose with one fewer buoy to support her weight.
Gordon swore, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to attach another capsule to Stingray. Not with the mechanical fish on his tail.
Instead, he dove closer to the fish than ever before and managed to score a direct hit against its starboard side with a demolition missile, which did a moderate amount of damage, including blowing off the fin there. This slowed the fish down somewhat, and in a situation where every second counted, that was the most he could hope for. Especially with Stingray’s now even slower progress. However, being so close meant that he couldn’t maneuver Four completely out of the way in time before another missile was fired in his direction. It exploded closer than any missile before it, causing the yellow sub to tumble through the water, and for a moment, Gordon couldn’t tell up from down.
When he was finally able to get his bearings back, he realized that the mechanical fish had abandoned him in favor of attacking its original target. Yet by now, the surface was close enough overhead that sunlight streamed through the green-blue water and cast the shadows of Thunderbirds One and Two across the visibly rippling surface.
“Almost there,” he reported into the radio in warning.
The balloons broke the surface first, and Stingray crested after them, before settling in to rest atop the bobbing waves. The mechanical fish followed soon after, though it leapt fully out of the water after Stingray, like a breaching dolphin. Yet those scant few seconds were all Scott needed to fire the gun mounted on the underside of Thunderbird One. The bullets strafed the side of the monstrous fish before it crashed back into the sea below.
As Gordon continued his race to the surface, he bypassed the mechanical fish in its dive for the depths. In the brief seconds they crossed paths, he noticed that one of the domes for the eye had been shattered, and the inside had gone dark. He didn’t know if this meant they were retreating or sinking, but either way meant they were leaving.
“Nice shooting, Scott!” Gordon congratulated with a cheer over the radio, and Scott sounded just a bit smug when he responded, “Now what that earlier about One not being needed on this rescue?”
“Okay, you got me there. Sorry,” Gordon apologized good-naturedly with a laugh as Four finally broke the surface near Stingray and came to a stop as well. He then stood up from his seat once he was sure Four would continue floating where she was. “I’m going to check on the Stingray crew. Make sure they’re okay.”
“Don’t take too long,” Scott advised, “John says that WASP has a ship coming this way to pick them up.”
“I’ll be quick,” he reassured, then turned for the back of the sub and once again made his way towards the hatch that would allow him to exit the craft. As it opened, he saw Stingray’s hatch swing open as well, and three figures climbed out one after another to stand on the bow of the sub.
“Hey!” he called over, “everyone alright?”
“Yeah, we’re fine. No injuries besides the damage done to Stingray herself,” the dark-haired man with the captain stripes answered shortly. He then sounded a bit annoyed when he added, “And that second barrage certainly didn’t help.”
Gordon didn’t take it personally, though, nor did he mind. He’d be upset too if something had happened to Four. But evidently, the lieutenant was worried about how he’d take it because he broke in with a southern drawl. “Ah, don’t mind him. Troy’s just cranky because that last Terror Fish got the drop on us while we were destroyin’ their buddies, and we had to get rescued. We’re grateful, though, really.”
“I never said I wasn’t grateful, Phones,” Troy defended before turning his attention back to Gordon. “The commander did good calling you International Rescue boys in. You got us out of a tight spot there.”
“It’s all part of the job,” Gordon replied, and was about to relay what Scott had said about the incoming ship when he was interrupted by Troy, the captain giving him a coolly appraising look.
“Though I am wondering how you managed to swim between Stingray and Thunderbird Four and back without air cylinders.”
“Air cylinders?” he asked in confusion.
“Yeah, air cylinders,” Troy repeated. “You weren’t wearing one when you came over to contact us,” he pointed out, and Phones nodded along.
“Oh, I thought there was somethin’ off, but I couldn’t quite place what.”
At this, Gordon was sure his blood would have run cold if he had any. He replayed the memory of his initial exit from Thunderbird Four in his processor and realized they were right. He had never grabbed an air cylinder in his haste to get there before the mechanical fish found them.
However, he chose to focus on not letting the dismay he was feeling show on his face as he tried to come up with an excuse. “I’m the world record holder for holding my breath underwater,” he answered with as much confidence as he could muster and with his most charming smile. A smile that once let him get away with pranks until his dad and brothers had become immune to it.
Troy still looked skeptical while Phones shrugged. “Gee, Troy, if that’s true, this guy is better than anyone in WASP.”
“Hmph. I don’t know about that,” Troy dismissed, crossing his arms over his chest. “WASP has the best-trained aquanauts in the world.”
Gordon’s brows lowered. “Are you saying I’m not a highly trained aquanaut?”
“No. But you’re not WASP trained,” Troy answered bluntly, and the way he said it made it sound like an insult. “And I find it hard to believe you could hold your breath for that long. WASP or not.”
“Ah, lay off, Troy,” Phones cut in, sounding exasperated.
“Fine, but at this point, I’m not convinced he’s not Pacifican.”
“I don’t know what that is,” Gordon replied, and in the background, the green-haired woman was shaking her head with furrowed brows. Curiously, though, she had yet to say anything throughout the conversation and still remained silent.
“That’s top-secret information on a need-to-know-basis, and you don’t need to know,” Troy answered, and Gordon’s eyebrows went up.
He then answered flippantly, “Then you don’t need to know how I held my breath for so long.”
That seemed to catch Troy off guard, and he sputtered slightly. “What?”
But Gordon decided not to answer him directly, instead saying, “Well, I came over to let you know that your commander has a ship en route to pick you guys up.”
“Fine. Thanks,” Troy bit out, clearly trying to rein his temper back in.
Phones gave a more genuine “thank you” while the young woman still didn’t say anything. She was smiling at him, though, her gratitude shining brightly in her soft eyes.
Gordon nodded to the three WASP members – directing a smile back at Phones and the woman – before quickly disappearing back into Thunderbird Four.
“Ready for pickup, Virg,” he said over the radio as he began maneuvering Four back into her pod, the conveyor belt retracting backwards. Except, instead of Virgil, it was Scott who answered.
“I thought I told you to be quick?”
“Sorry. There was a slight problem,” he muttered before quickly adding, “if we get out of here now, then they still won’t see us,” as if he could cover up what he’d previously said.
Though of course that wouldn’t work in his favor, as Scott immediately asked, “What kind of problem?”
“Can it wait for the debrief?”
“Can it?”
Gordon took a moment to think it over, watching as the pod door shut, obscuring his view of Stingray and her crew. “It can,” he finally settled on.
“Okay,” Scott said. “Let’s go home then.”
With that, Thunderbird Two moved into position to reattach its pod, and only a few minutes later, Gordon rejoined Virgil in the cockpit. The middle brother grinned over at the younger as he took a seat in the copilot chair. Virgil then pointed Two’s nose towards home. Except One didn’t follow immediately after, as instead, Scott chose to circle the area until the WASP ship was closer, ensuring that Stingray was picked up safely.
“Soooo, what was the trouble?” Virgil asked, breaking the silence, and Gordon sighed.
“I… may have forgotten my air cylinders when I swam over to Stingray, and they noticed.”
“Really? How’d you explain that then?”
“Said I was a record holder for holding my breath underwater.”
Virgil laughed. “That’s all you had?”
“What? I had to think of something quickly,” he defended himself as his immediate older brother continued to laugh.
“Sure, but you know Scott and dad are going to give you hell for it.”
“I know.” Gordon slumped lower in his seat. “Though we’re all going to get it once dad finds out we didn’t mention there would be hostiles on this one.”
Virgil winced at the reminder. “Right. Well, I hope getting to see Stingray was worth it.”
“Sure, but it maybe wasn’t worth meeting the crew.”
Virgil hummed in sympathy. “Well, not everyone is going to be grateful.”
“Tell me about it,” Gordon huffed. “Maybe Alan was lucky not getting to go on this one.”
“Try telling him that.”
“He’ll understand when he’s busy laughing at us for getting a bawling out from dad over the whole thing.”
“You have my permission to push him into the pool then.”
Gordon sat up straighter and smiled widely. “No take backs!”
“Course not, squid,” Virgil agreed fondly.
Further conversation was interrupted by Thunderbird One suddenly overtaking them. The silver jet pulled ahead by a good bit before their eldest brother’s voice came over the radio, “Come on, boys. Let’s get home already.”
Gordon and Virgil rolled their eyes good-naturedly.
“We’ll meet you there, Scott,” Virgil responded, and they watched as Thunderbird One put on another burst of speed. The glint of the sun off the silver jet grew more distant as she raced ahead over the sparkling ocean, Thunderbird Two following her home.