"FAB, Scott," Gordon Tracy said over his radio. "We're about fifteen minutes away. Might just pass you in the sky!"

Gordon was sat in the cockpit of Thunderbird 2, dealing with all communications while his older brother, Virgil, was focused on piloting the craft to the danger zone. Not that Virgil was incapable of speaking and flying at the same time, but Gordon needed some co-piloting duties to keep himself occupied. Or, more accurately, Virgil had politely asked Gordon to find something to do other than annoy him with boundless energy.

"There's been another emergency call," Gordon said, updating Virgil on the situation. "A fire in Tokyo. Scott's heading off now to deal with it."

"So, it's just us and Brains," Virgil nodded.

"What could go wrong?" Gordon grinned.

Before duty called, Scott had finally managed to use the remote-control camera to establish communications with the engineers trapped in the Martian Space Probe. It had confirmed their worst fears. When the rocket had landed at the bottom of the river, the automatic countdown had started immediately, giving them just twelve hours until take-off. That had been nearly six hours ago. Almost half of their time had gone and they were yet to arrive on the scene.

"Approaching danger zone," Virgil announced, tilting his steering wheel to manoeuvre Thunderbird 2 into position as the ruined Allington Bridge came into view. "You're up, Gordon."

"Showtime!" Gordon declared as he jumped out of his seat. Making his way out of through the back of the cockpit, he entered the pod area, which was currently housing his own prized machine.

Thunderbird 4 was sat in the pod looking utterly immaculate. Its yellow hull was gleaming with wonderful polished sheen, showing off its streamlined body in all its glory. A pointed fin stuck out from the top of its compact body, which would help it to nimbly manoeuvre the watery depths the submersible was designed for. Two small mechanical arms jutted out from the sides towards the front, holding a powerful floodlight to illuminate dark waters. She was perfectly engineered for underwater rescue, and this was her great debut.

"I'm ready, Virgil!" Gordon called out once he was secure at the helm of his craft. Excitement began to bubble up inside of him. He had been on rescue missions before, but he had only ever acted as Virgil's co-pilot. This was his first outing in his specialist aquanaut role.

"Good luck, bro," Virgil said over the radio. There was a small clunk, and the pod was released from Thunderbird 2, dropping it down to the surface of the river below. The small moment of freefall was awesome, giving Gordon the same sensation as a rollercoaster, his stomach doing backflips until the fall was softened by the water. The pod was now gently bobbing up and down.

Gordon flicked an array of switches and the pod door opened, dramatically filling the pod with natural light. A track extended outwards to where the pod door met the water, whilst simultaneously tilting forwards, angling Thunderbird 4 towards the water. Gordon pressed a dangerous looking red button, firing Thunderbird 4's twin thrusters, causing the craft to jet forwards, out of the pod and submerging into the water.

"Thunderbird 4 is go!" he cried, grinning as he took control, nimbly moving the craft towards the river bed, where he could already see the crash site. His floodlight emitted a strong beam of light, showing the Martian Space Probe in its desperate position, trapped amidst a sea of debris.

"G-g-gordon, are you in position?" Brains asked over the radio. "Can you see the rocket?"

"FAB, Brains," Gordon replied. "I'm just over the nose cone now. What's the plan?"

"You'll need to use Thunderbird 4's laser cutter to clear as much of the debris as you can," Brains explained. "Then, Thunderbird 2 can use its clamps to lift any loose rubble away. When the nose cone is clear, we can try to detach it, and get those engineers away from the danger zone."

Gordon surveyed the scene with an expression of worry. "That's gonna take time, Brains. How can we be sure we'll clear the nose cone in time?"

"We c-c-can't be sure," Brains sighed. "But we don't have a choice. We have to try."

"Then I'll do my best," Gordon nodded. He pulled a lever, lowering Thunderbird 4's mechanical arms and allowing a tubular nozzle to extend from the craft's nose. He held her steady, making sure his target area was well lit before activating the laser cutter. Almost immediately, white hot sparks began spurting out of the metallic rubble, as if trying to resist the laser. However, it didn't take long for the laser to win the battle, as the area Gordon had been targeting turned molten as he broke through. Now he could angle the laser beam carefully, slowly moving it along in as straight of a line as he could manage while fighting the currents of the river.

Soon, the metal creaked and groaned, before eventually giving up the fight, snapping in two. Gordon checked his watch. It had taken him nearly ten minutes to get through a single piece of debris. At this rate, they wouldn't even be close to getting that nose cone free in time.

"Progress is really slow, Virgil," Gordon said into his radio as he began cutting another piece of rubble. "I'm going to clear as much of the north side as I can and then you can swoop in. Is there anything you can do in the meantime?"

"I'm not sure," Virgil replied from somewhere above the water in Thunderbird 2. "I think I need you to be clear of the rocket for me to use the clamps, or I could hit you."

"Guess I better get a move on," Gordon said, finishing cutting through some more debris.

Gordon worked as quickly as he could, but he had to be so careful and focused that he couldn't work with any real speed. One false move and he could end up cutting through the hull of the rocket, and if water started spilling into the nose cone, those engineers had had it. He slowly rotated around the rocket, cutting piece after piece of debris, and inching ever closer to getting the probe clear.

"Alright, Virgil," he said, after nearly an hour of cutting. "I'm gonna pull clear of the danger zone. You're up."

"FAB."

Gordon swerved Thunderbird 4 around, quickly getting his craft as safe distance from the rocket. He angled himself carefully, using his spotlights to illuminate the area of loose rubble he had been working on. Without warning, something splashed down from the surface of the water and zoomed towards the exact area that Gordon was lighting up.

The curious object was courtesy of Virgil from above the surface, piloting Thunderbird 2. He had lowered his clamps down with pinpoint accuracy, allowing the open metal claws to collect the loose debris. Suddenly, the clamps shut tight, encapsulating everything it had collected. With the rubble secure, Virgil could raise the clamps, lifting the debris away and clearing the section of the wreckage.

"How's it looking now, G-g-gordon?" Brains asked as Virgil flew off somewhere to dispose of his haul.

"Virgil got everything I'd cleared from that section," Gordon confirmed. "The nose cone is maybe twenty percent clear." It was true; he could finally see the white sheen of the rocket, unobstructed in the small section they had worked on so far. "There's a lot more to go, though. I'm going back in."

"FAB, Gordon."

Gordon wasted no time getting back into position and continued his work, using his laser cutter to cut through the obstructions, piece by piece. Despite working as quickly as he could, Gordon was losing confidence in this plan. Surely there was no way they had time to completely clear the nose cone?

"Brains, is there nothing more we can do?" he asked.

"N-n-negative, Gordon," Brains replied. "This is our safest chance of rescuing those engineers."

"Our safest chance?" Gordon questioned. "So, it's not our only chance?"

"Well..." Brains muttered. "There's always another way. But right now, it would be too risky."

Brains was being too cryptic for Gordon's liking. This was a desperate rescue situation and they needed to keep things clear and simple. "Alright, Brains, let's work this out. Run me a quick calculation based on our current rate and tell me if it's quick enough to save those people. But for now, I'll keep cutting my way through."

Unfortunately, now Gordon had to keep his focus in spite of Brains muttering away about calculations and estimates as well as the assumptions he was going to have to make and the accuracy level of his answer. Despite his newfound distraction, Gordon had found a good rhythm, and was cutting through the current section of debris slightly quicker than he had the first.

Soon, he was finished with his second run. "I'm done with this section, Virgil," he said, once again pulling Thunderbird 4 away from the danger zone. As Virgil once again pulled off his part of the mission perfectly, Gordon shook his head and blinked away the tiredness in his eyes. He was putting so much focus into the operation and it was starting to take its toll. He hadn't even quipped in the last hour!

He checked the time. Only three and a half hours until the rocket would be destroyed. He didn't need Brains and a calculator to tell him they weren't going to make it. It was time to act.

"Brains!" he declared. "I'm going EVA."

"You're going to swim in the river?" Brains cried out, horror struck. Going EVA meant leaving the safety of his craft and entering the dangerous environment in a specially designed suit that would allow him to breathe underwater.

"You heard me," Gordon confirmed. "I'll be able to get in amongst the debris and cut through it from the inside. I won't have to be as slow and meticulous."

"B-b-but the currents are a force to be reckoned with!" Brains protested. "You'll be swept away in seconds!"

"Currents?" Gordon scoffed. "Currents won't phase me. Back in dive school, they didn't call me Squid Boy for nothing!"

"I thought that was because of your slimy skin!" Brains cried.

"I thought it was because of the tentacles," Virgil chimed in.

"Eh, it was mostly the smell," Gordon smiled. "Point is, there's two men trapped in there and it's our duty to save them. Now are we gonna stand by knowing we'll fail? Or are we going to do something?"

The silence that followed told him everything he needed to know. Without wasting another second, Gordon stood up and threw off his standard International Rescue uniform before slipping into his dive gear. He zipped up his wetsuit and secured his mask to his face, the dial on his oxygen tank suddenly flicking around, letting Gordon know that the mask was suitably pressurised. He was ready to dive.

He exited through the air lock in the floor of the main compartment and was met with the wonderful whooshing of water around his body. Immediately, a wide smile appeared on his face. The sensation of rushing through the river was nothing short of awesome. Despite the actual temperature being bitterly cold, Gordon felt warm and cosy. It felt like home.

He kicked his feet and swam towards the wreckage, having to fight hard against the river currents, but this was nothing compared to his WASP training. He used to have to navigate riptides and whirlpools; this coursing river would be no match for his swimming strength.

He made his way in between pieces of debris, before soon finding himself at the all-important nose cone. He leant on the ship for support with one arm, while in his other hand he held a powerful laser cutter which he soon had fired up and ready to go. With this new angle to work with, Gordon could afford to be more carefree with his cutting approach and found himself making great progress.

Brains' concerns about the swirling river currents proved to be overly cautious. The rocket shielded him from the worst that the river had to throw at him, allowing Gordon to focus on the task at hand and continue to cut the ship free. Whenever he had fully cut through a piece of rubble, he kicked it aside, letting the river sweep its remnants away. Already, he could feel the job getting done faster. What had started as a mangled mess of ruins had thinned out significantly. The Martian Space Probe could almost see daylight.

"Gordon," Brains said over radio, finally breaking the silence.

"Little busy right now, Brains," Gordon said, still fully focused on the task at hand.

"You're right, Gordon," Brains said quietly.

Gordon immediately stopped cutting. "Did I imagine that? Can I have that in writing? I feel like I'm gonna need proof that this happened."

"I finished my calculations and there's no doubt," Brains continued, ignoring Gordon completely. "Even at your current rate, we won't have them free in time. If we carry on, those engineers are doomed."

"So, what do we do?" Gordon cried. They couldn't just give up after working on this mission for hours.

"It's like you said, Gordon, we've got to try something, even if it's c-c-crazy. We were right to be cautious, but the time for caution has ended. It's time to act."

"Tell me what I need to do," Gordon said. For the first time today, he and Brains were fully on the same page. Whatever Brains suggested to him, he was going to do it and he was going to do it to the best of his abilities.

"Head back to Thunderbird 4," Brains instructed. "Let Virgil come in and clear away any r-r-remaining loose debris."

"There's a lot to clear, Brains," Gordon replied. He was already swimming back to his craft as fast as he could. "It'll probably take Virgil three runs to get all of it."

"And if my calculations are correct, that will leave us with fifteen minutes."

By now, Gordon had reached Thunderbird 4 and entered through the air lock. He now stood in the cockpit, still dripping wet. "That's not a lot of time, Brains."

"I know," Brains said. "But you've g-g-got to trust me."

Gordon had already made up his mind that he was going to follow Brains' plan no matter what, so he had no choice but to trust him. "FAB."

Virgil finished his part as quickly as he could, making several runs to the crash site, using his clamps to remove as much of the wreckage as possible. Just as Gordon had predicted, it took three full runs to clear everything that Gordon had been working on that the river itself had failed to remove. He anxiously checked his watch. Twelve minutes. That's all the time they had left. All of their efforts had come down to this.

"Ok, Gordon, position yourself a good distance from the probe," Brains finally instructed. "You'll want to be upstream of it, too."

Gordon wasted no time swinging Thunderbird 4 around and positioning her exactly as Brains had asked. He had a clear view of the rocket, and the small remaining section of debris. "Ready."

"Ok, Gordon," Brains started. "I need you to fire missiles at any rubble that's left."

Gordon needed a moment to comprehend what Brains had just said. "Can you confirm? You said to fire missiles?"

"That's right," Brains confirmed. "Fire missiles."

Gordon opened his mouth as if to reply, but no sound came out. As crazy as it was, he had already decided that he was going to follow Brains' plan exactly. And what choice did he have? There was simply not time to think of an alternative. "Well, alright then! Firing missiles!"

He flicked a switch to lower Thunderbird 4's headlights, only this time he did not extend the laser cutter. He used a different controller to lock on to the target before firing a set of missiles at the danger area. The missiles soared away from him, slicing through the water like it was nothing. On impact, they exploded in a huge cloud of dust, which sent shockwaves through the river. Gordon had to really fight to stay in control of his craft and keep her steady.

"Is the nose cone clear?" Brains asked, with desperation in his voice.

"I—I can't see yet..." Gordon said, still wrestling with his controls as the river threatened to sweep him away. Eventually, the dust cloud began to dissipate. Gordon leant forward and strained his eyes. He could hardly breathe. Had he just blown the rocket to pieces? Had he sent the engineers to their deaths? Finally, he had his answer. "She's clear, Brains! She's clear!"

There was no mistaking it. The rest of the rocket still lay trapped in a cage of metal and concrete, but the nose cone was completely free from rubble and debris. All that remained was to detach it from the rest of the probe and then Virgil could airlift it—and the engineers trapped inside—to safety.

"Brilliant!" Brains cheered. "The probe has a m-m-mechanism to detach the nose cone. I'll radio in and let the engineers know they can activate it. Great work, Gordon."

"All in a day's work." Gordon tried to grin, but he was too exhausted. He slumped back in his chair and let out the biggest sigh of relief. What a rescue mission that had turned out to be. Nearly twelve hours those engineers had been trapped at the bottom of the river, and they'd got them out with only five minutes to spare.

Or had they? Gordon couldn't help but notice a distinct lack of nose cone detachment taking place. All was quiet and still at the bottom of the Allington River. "What are you waiting for, Brains? Get 'em outta there, already!"

"It's no good, Gordon!" Brains cried. "We must've damaged the mechanism with the missiles—it won't d-d-detach!"

"Right!" Gordon said. He leapt forwards in his chair, sitting bolt upright. Thunderbird 4 had one last trick for the day. Not a fancy gadget or tool, nor one of Brains' genius inventions. Sometimes, it was good old fashioned brute strength that was required.

Gordon got his motors running at maximum, propelling Thunderbird 4 forwards as fast as he could manage. He directed his craft precisely where the nose cone attached to the rest of the rocket and headed there without delay or interruption. He lowered his headlights one final time and braced for impact.

There was an almighty bang as his makeshift battering ram slammed into the rocket. Gordon was nearly flung from his seat as the force from the impact sent a fierce jolt through Thunderbird 4. He just about managed to hold on and keep control of the sub, although he could tell he'd sustained some damage. He looked out of the windscreen and could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

"I've done it, Brains!" he exclaimed, as the nose cone, now loose, began drifting towards the surface of the river. "Get Virgil in and he can lift them clear of the river."

"FAB!" Brains cheered. "And with just half a minute to spare."

"Yeah, just half a minute until—" Gordon suddenly stopped speaking, his eyes transfixed on the rocket which still lay only a few metres below him. "Until that thing explodes!" he cried.

Without wasting another second, he swung Thunderbird 4 around and hightailed it out of there. He had barely even started speeding away when he noticed an ominous glow behind him as the rocket's engines prepared for liftoff. Despite nearing his top speed, Gordon felt like he was moving in slow motion, almost as if the river was pulling him back towards the rocket, not allowing him to escape the blast that was about to happen.

Suddenly, there was an almighty bang as the probe's engines erupted into flames. The river churned and bubbled ferociously as the searing hot thrusters rammed the rocket deeper into the river bed. Gordon desperately tried to find some control of Thunderbird 4, but it was no good. The river had already been tumultuous, but now it was effectively a whirlpool, spinning the submarine around and giving Gordon no chance of escape.

It didn't take long for the rocket's engines to overheat. There was a brief moment of calm and silence as the thrusters stopped firing. Seconds later, the rocket exploded. A field of debris swarmed through the river, showering Thunderbird 4 in shards of metal, which plinked off the sub's hull, causing considerable damage. But that was just the start.

Gordon could only look on, horrified as the force of the explosion took control of the river, causing an immense wave of tsunami proportions. He was powerless as Thunderbird 4 was swept away like it was just a toy. He was battered into the river bed and banged into the river banks. He was spun violently, while still being pounded by debris from the explosion. The hull creaked and groaned under the incredible pressure and damage and Gordon was certain it would have to crack at some point.

Miraculously, he found himself coming to a stop, and perhaps even more miraculously, he hadn't thrown up yet. He shook away some dizziness and peered outside. Thunderbird 4 seemed to be half buried in sludgy sand, and nowhere near the mainland. A quick check on his scanners showed he had been flung all the way into the Atlantic Ocean!

His radio started to make a scratchy noise and then a voice came through. "Gordon? Gordon, do you read me? Come in Thunderbird 4!"

"Loud and clear, Virgil!" Gordon called out, unable to contain his wide grin. "Did you get those engineers clear? Anybody hurt in the explosion?"

"Everybody's fine here," Virgil said. "So don't worry about them, worry about yourself. Are you ok? Where are you?"

"I'm fine, Virgil. Little bit banged up, but fine. I'm sending you my coordinates now." Gordon tapped a few buttons to let Virgil know where to pick him up. "You can let Brains know that Thunderbird 4 worked like a dream, what a debut from my baby. Although... she's not looking quite so shiny anymore!"