International Rescue: The Next Phase


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Re: The Call Goes Out [message #3 is a reply to message #2] Tue, 03 July 2012 21:52 Go to previous messageGo to previous message
TheBossLady is currently offline  TheBossLady
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Date: Friday, January 13, 2068, Time: 2:23 p.m., Place: Tracy Island in the South Pacific

"Base to Thunderbird 5. What's the situation?" Jeff Tracy looked over at the bank of portraits lining the wall of his lounge, the heart of International Rescue. Several of them were live feed pictures of his progeny, out doing what they did best, rescuing those with no hope. This time it was a Chinese sightseeing submarine, entangled in the tall kelp farm beds that ringed Japan and followed the northeastern coast of Russia. ~Why can't these people listen to the warning buoys?~ he groused internally. His eyes traveled along the portraits until they rested on a blond space monitor.

"Thunderbird 5 to Base," John Tracy replied, his handsome face looking a bit harried. "Thunderbird 4 reports at least two more trips to remove the passengers. Thunderbird 2 is preparing the heavy-duty grabs to extricate the sub from the kelp bed. Operatives Ess and Ay are still cutting away at the kelp; that stuff is tough! Thunderbird 7 hasn't reported in; I think Doc's in the surgery."

"See if you can raise Thunderbird 7, Thunderbird 5," Jeff his son. "R and D is concerned about the new hoverjets and how they are working there on the sea's surface." He looked over at the "Brains" of International Rescue, who sat on one of the lounge sofas with his PDA. The bespectacled scientist looked over at his employer and nodded once.

"FAB, Base," John replied, switching one of his communications banks over to a different frequency. He looked at the grid that tracked the locator signals of each member of the rescue team. ~Hmm, Di's signal has moved a bit. Wonder what's going on? Time to ask.~

"Thunderbird 5 to Thunderbird 7, what's your status?"

In the mini-surgery of Thunderbird 7, International Rescue's mobile hospital, Dr. Dianne Tracy was busy repairing a gash suffered by a crewmember of the stricken sub. She carefully used skin glue to bring together the edges of the gash and hold them. Then she pulled out a small, very diffused laser to seal the edges. The glue would dissolve harmlessly from the wound and the scarring would be less noticeable than if she had used the old, traditional stitches.

John's query caught her in the middle of the procedure. She kept her hands steady and her eye on her work as she responded tersely into her hands-free ear bud/microphone combination. "Thunderbird 7 to Thunderbird 5, I'm a bit busy here sealing up somebody's leg, Jay. What do you need?"

"A status report, Thunderbird 7," John replied to his stepmother. "R and D is concerned about the function of the new hoverjets. And I notice that your locator has moved at least a dozen meters from your original position."

"Thunderbird 7 status report. I have eight patients in varying degrees of triage, the worst being a case of blunt force trauma causing a level three concussion." The leg was finished, and after bandaging it, Dianne shucked her bloodied gloves, then brought an antigravity stretcher up to the level of the surgery's scanner bed. She got on the side of it closest to the door between the surgery and the main medical cabin. Reaching across, she grabbed the blanket beneath her latest patient and pulled hard, sliding the woman across to the stretcher.

"Oomph. The hover jets seem to be working fine; I'm not underwater that I can discern. As for the locator, Thunderbird 7 is on station keeping, but the waves or the wind seem to have pushed it out of position. Please remind base that although I can walk and chew gum at the same time, I cannot treat patients and pilot simultaneously."

Dianne moved the stretcher into the main cabin, and settled the woman onto one of the diagnostic beds. She cleaned her hands with antibacterial/viral gel, checked her concussion patient, who was still unconscious, looked at the monitoring panels for a couple of other people, then strode forward to the pilot's cabin. Flicking a switch, she watched the screens that were connected to the beds in the cabin behind her come to life. Sitting in the pilot's seat, she took the hovercraft off of station keeping. "Thunderbird 7 to Thunderbird 5. I am now moving back to my original position." The physician looked out the windshield of the pilot's cabin and stifled a groan. "Thunderbird 7 to Thunderbird 5. Thunderbird 4 has just surfaced."

A voice came through the speakers of the cabin. "Thunderbird 4 to Thunderbird 7. Doc, I've got another patient for you."

"FAB, Thunderbird 4." Dianne pressed the switches that resumed the station-keeping program, and then went back to the main cabin to open the doors for her newest patient. "Thunderbird 7 to Thunderbird 5. My patient count is about to go up by one. Do you or base need any more information?"

"Negative, Thunderbird 7. I will relay your status report to base." John's voice showed his sympathy with his hardworking stepmother.

"FAB, Thunderbird 5, and thanks," Dianne said, her own tone moderating in gratitude. Then she moved to help Gordon Tracy bring the latest victim of the sub rescue aboard her vessel.

********

In Thunderbird 2, Tin-Tin, wearing a blue IR uniform with a bright fuchsia sash, waited by the winches for Virgil's signal. She was tired; they all were, and she was having trouble focusing on what she was doing right then. Her mind swirled instead with the computations and chemical equations she had been working on lately. It was a pretty puzzle; merging the lightweight fabric of Penelon with the bullet-stopping Kevlar. She had been working on it to the exclusion of all other work and it was weighing on her mind. She knew she had the answer, but it stayed tantalizingly out of reach.

Yet, when this 'all hands on deck' rescue came up, she put on her new uniform and took the passenger elevator to Thunderbird 2, just like Gordon and... Alan. She pushed him out of her mind. That was one mess she didn't need cluttering up her thought processes.

They had all been surprised when Dianne and Scott joined them, his face a thundercloud.

"Father said that I'm of more use diving with Gordon than sitting on the shore in Mobile Control," Scott growled as he strapped himself in.

"And Thunderbird 7 has been tucked away in the pod so I can test those new hoverjets," Dianne had chimed in. "Besides, there are some serious injuries according to John..."

Tin-Tin's mind snapped back to the present when she heard Virgil's voice in her ear. "You with me, Tee?"

She sighed. "FAB, Vee. I'm here."

"Ready on the winch, Tee. Ess and Ay will be giving us the go ahead any minute now."

"FAB. Ready when they are."

She adjusted the sash, which fell uncomfortably across her chest. ~It's times like this that I envy Di, her scrubs....~

Beneath the waves, Scott and Alan were using their hand-held laser cutters on the tough kelp. Alan's arms were getting tired and sore from reaching and stretching. He heard Scott's voice in his ear.

"Ay? How's your air doing?"

Alan checked the digital readout in the corner of his full-face mask. "I'm good for another 15, Ess."

"FAB. Just hope we can get this stuff off of here soon. My arms are killing me!"

Post by Tikatu on 24/05/2004

[Updated on: Tue, 03 July 2012 21:54]

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