Home » The Archives » Chapter 7 » Trouble Under the Hood
| Re: Trouble Under the Hood [message #1933 is a reply to message #1931] |
Sat, 28 July 2012 20:12   |
Lillehafrue
Messages: 478
Registered: July 2012
Location: Northeastern USA
Karma:
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TB Pilot
Evil Genius |
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From: Tikatu Sent: 6/10/2006 4:11 PM
Wednesday, July 18, 10:10 a.m., somewhere west of Ipoh, Malaysia (2:10 p.m. Tracy Island)
Scott watched as his brothers took to the skies in the jet packs, and saw Callie heading off into the jungle with a sampling kit over her shoulder. She was almost out of sight when something clicked in his mind, and he shook his head slowly. Idiot! She's going off into this jungle alone! Then he tapped his earpiece. "Ursa from Maverick."
Callie kept walking as she tapped her earpiece. "Ursa here, Maverick."
"Since you're on your own for this fuel business, I want you to check in with me every five minutes, and yell if anything unusual happens," Scott told her. "I know we're out in the middle of nowhere, but there's still the potential for danger out there."
"Danger? What kind of danger?" Callie asked as she pushed up on a vine and ducked.
"Well, there are animals in this jungle...," Scott began.
Callie interrupted. "Are there snakes?"
Scott couldn't help but hear the hesitation in her voice. "Very likely. Why?"
Callie stopped and took a deep breath, then shuddered. "I hate snakes. I hate 'em, Maverick."
"Ah, I see," Scott said with a nod. "Well, in any case... every five minutes."
"F-A-B," Callie replied. "I'll set my watch as a timer. That will help me remember."
"Sounds good," Scott said, relieved. "Maverick out."
xxxx
"Indy, try Doc in Seven," Jeff said, his voice showing his growing irritation and concern over the situation. "Whoever is hurt, they'd have him there by now."
"F-A-B," Alan said. He muted the feed to the island so his father couldn't hear him mutter under his breath. "What does he think I've been doing?" He tweaked the gain on both the main antenna and the coded frequency antenna then tried his message again. "Thunderbird Seven from Thunderbird Five. Do you read? Thunderbird Seven from Thunderbird Five. Doc, do you copy?"
xxxx
In Thunderbird Seven, Dom and Nikki had transferred Virgil to the scanner bed in the surgery. Nikki took Virgil's visor from him, and his cap, and Dianne started up the equipment. The scanner, directed by her input, began to give them images of the inside of Virgil's leg.
"What's the verdict?" Virgil asked, sounding weary.
"Good news!" Dianne smiled at her stepson. "No break. Just some deep bruising. It's gonna hurt for a while though, especially when you move." She glanced up at Dom. "Let's get this splint off, then the boots."
"F-A-B, Doc," Dom said with a grin as he proceeded to deflate the splint.
There was a lull in the conversation as the medical team worked, then Virgil asked, "When can I get back out there?"
"Who says you're getting back out there at all?" Dianne replied. "Unzip that pants leg for me, Nikki. I'll get a local for him. Otherwise, taking off this boot is gonna really hurt."
"I'm needed out there, Mom; you know that!" Virgil argued.
"Not with a bum leg you're not," she retorted. "You're going to rest where we can keep an eye on that leg."
"What about Two? Who's going to fly Two home?"
Dianne wielded the hypospray just below Virgil's left knee. "We'll let that take before pulling off the boot." She moved to the head of the bed where she could look her stepson in the eye. "Virgil, by rights, you should have a compound fracture. The only reason your leg isn't broken - or worse - is that you were wearing that Penelar. The boot kept the branch from jabbing into your leg and the pants cushioned the blow. Now, you are not going to argue with me. Gordon or John can just as easily fly Two home as you can." She glanced up at Dom. "Hey, from what I've heard, so can Dom here. So, follow doctor's orders, or I'll do worse than make you just rest."
Virgil huffed, and folded his arms across his chest, but said nothing more. Dianne shook her head. "Family makes the worst patients." She gave Virgil's leg a little pinch. When he didn't respond, she said, "Okay, team. Let's get this boot off."
Once the boot was removed, Dianne administered a more general analgesic, then the nurses helped Virgil to one of the bio beds. As Nikki pulled the bed down from where it was folded against the wall, she frowned. "Dianne? I think... I think I hear someone in the cockpit."
"Hmm. What do you mean?" Dianne stopped to listen, too.
"It sounds like... Indy," Nikki replied.
"Maybe he's found a way through the jamming," Virgil said.
"I'll go look," Dom volunteered.
He left Virgil's settling to the ladies, and opened the door between the medical cabin and the cockpit. Glancing around before he entered, he saw no one, and made a beeline for the pilot's chair.
"Thund... Sev... from... bird Five... you read? Thun... ven... Thundbird Fi... D..k ... copy?"
"Thunderbird Five, this is Thunderbird Seven. We copy. You're breaking up, but we copy."
Alan jumped at the signal. It was faint, and broken, but he heard it! He adjusted the gain some more, and leaned in closer to the microphone, as if that would make things clearer. "Thunderbird Seven, base wants status on injured. Do you copy?"
Dom frowned. "What was that last bit? Was it injured? What do they want?" He togged the switch again. "Thunderbird Five, repeat. Your transmission is sketchy. Please repeat."
Alan took a deep breath to calm himself. He had understood from the reply that things were still garbled on both ends. "Indy to Doc, need status on injury."
"Well, it's obvious he doesn't know who he's talking to," Dom said. He glanced up and back as Dianne and Nikki both stepped into the cockpit. "It's Alan. I think he wants to know who's hurt."
"Tell him," Dianne said simply.
"F-A-B," Dom replied. "Dak to Indy. Van Gogh is injured but not seriously. Do you copy?"
Pounding on the console in frustration, Alan asked again, "Need status on injury." One word in four is coming through! This isn't good!
"V... Go... jured, not... ser... sly," came the reply.
Alan sighed in relief. "Van Gogh. Virgil. I'd better pipe this down to base." He returned to the mike. "Message understood, Doc. Five standing by."
Nikki snorted a laugh. "Sounds like he still thinks he's talking to Dianne," she said, shaking her head.
Dom frowned. "That brings up a small problem, doesn't it? There'll be other times when communications will be bad and our code names will be confused." He glanced up at Dianne. "I think I'd better come up with a new one. Yours is pretty much etched in stone."
"Let's discuss that when we're back at base," Dianne said.
"Maverick to Thunderbird Seven," Scott's voice came over the comm system. "How's Van Gogh? And we could use your help out here."
Dianne sighed, and smiled. "Let's tell him what's up, then make arrangements to get out there and help."
98% pure evil...and loving every minute of it.
 
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