{i]Author's Note: Sorry this took so long. My muse is being grudging about inspiration. The rescue continues. We take a little trip to Ireland and Southern does some heavy thinking. Thanks to Hobbeth for betareading and being a sounding board.

Special Note and Glossary: The United States' DEA, or Drug Enforcement Administration, has a website that gives information on the various illegal drugs out there, with their descriptions and effects. It can be found at www.usdoj.gov/dea. However, the rave drug, Frenzy, is from my own overactive imagination.

Disclaimer: I don't own the canon characters, I'm just writing about them. Please do not copy or hyperlink this fiction without my express written or verbal consent. I may be reached at my email of record. Any and all original characters, including Cindy Lou/Lucinda and her cats (especially the cats) are mine and may not be used without my express written consent.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

xxxx

"What's the problem, Alpha?" Jeff asked, frowning.

"Someone is pointing a gun at me," Scott said softly.

Lou's head snapped around while she gasped, and Virgil and Jeff bellowed, "What?" in near unison. Jeff shot a glance at Scott's static portrait. ~I wish I could see what was going on, but with these new hands free sets there just isn't a way to do it!~

Scott didn't want to upset the man, a skinny specimen roughly his own height, with wild black hair, chest bare and dressed in jeans that were open at the waist and fly. He was waving the gun around but with the muzzle pointed in Scott's direction, and he was shouting something. The pupils of his blue eyes were dilated to near pinpricks, and he was covered with a sheen of sweat. The field commander relayed this information to base, adding, "I don't know what he's saying. I can't hear him while wearing the helmet."

"Can you read lips?" Lou asked. She had nearly spilled what was left of her coffee when Scott made his pronouncement. Placing the cup carefully on the desk, she pressed, "Can you?"

"Even if I could, I'd have trouble here," Scott replied tersely.

She turned to Jeff. "Wish we could get a visual on him. The description doesn't sound like Harris, though." She folded her arms. "Seems like this guy is higher than a kite."

"I agree. These people are obviously under the influence of something," Jeff commented. "Someone like that is going to be very unpredictable." He raised his voice. "Alpha, see if you can disarm him."

"F-A-B," Scott said. ~And just how am I supposed to do that?~ he groused to himself. A sudden movement caught his eye and he turned his gaze slightly to the door where a woman, dressed in nothing but a sports bra (one shoulder of which was pulled down, revealing an expanse of pale skin that made Scott feel warm) and a thong panty, had just come in. She had long, wavy red hair, glasses, and buck teeth behind her full lips, and she was calling to the man with the gun in what Scott decided was supposed to be a seductive manner. ~Oh great.~ To his father he said, "More company, Commander. Unarmed this time."

The man with the gun turned to speak to the woman, and in that moment, Scott moved. He pushed away from the console, grabbing the man's wrist and twisting the arm back, forcing him to drop his weapon. Once the gun was on the floor, Scott stepped on it, his wide space boot covering most of the pistol.

The twisted arm forced the gunman to his knees, his face contorted with pain, a development that angered the woman. She came running at Scott, scolding, pushing at him to let his victim go. The man turned his head and said something to her. She suddenly stopped her attack, and bypassed them to get to the communications controls. Scott swapped his grip on the prisoner to the other hand, then reached out to try and stop her, but his gloved hand encountered a part of her body that he didn't expect and he withdrew it as if it were hot. "What th....?" His puzzled reaction was cut off as the beat of the music started up again.

"Alpha, report!" Jeff's voice, full of anger and trepidation, sounded loud in Scott's ear.

"Uh, yeah, ahem. I've disarmed him, Commander," Scott said slowly. The woman had begun to dance, clapping her hands above her head and prancing around, turning and twirling, shaking her hips to the beat, ignoring his presence. The man tried to stand and pull away, bouncing a little with the music, too and startled, Scott released his hold. The man didn't even look back at him, but joined the woman, standing very close to her, his hands running down her sides and stopping at her hips, his lips beginning to trail kisses down her neck as they swayed to the thumping bass. "Oh, God," Scott said in a strangled voice as he watched the two of them. He picked up the gun and turned quickly back to the communications console.

"Are you all right?" Jeff demanded. "Who else came in?"

"I'm okay, Commander. A woman came in, looking for the man. It seems that they are... uh... together and wanted the music back on. They're ignoring me now. They're rather... uh... engrossed with one another." Scott took a look back and was suddenly very, very glad that there was no visual communication.

"Acknowledged, Alpha." Jeff said. "Take a quick look at the communications panel and give me a preliminary report as to whether or not it can be repaired. Then get down to the lower level and help Alan with those people in the sickbay. I want some answers!"

"F-A-B," Scott replied smartly.

Jeff glanced back at Lou, who had picked up her coffee and was speaking softly to Virgil. The musician nodded his head, and lifted his telecomm to say something. She turned to meet Jeff's gaze and remarked, "I'd like to know where that gun came from. I'm sure it wouldn't be allowed in anyone's personal effects."

"Are you sure that the guy isn't this Jake Harris you were talking about?"

"Yes. The description is way off. And I might be totally wrong about Harris. I'm sure there's more than one person with that name in the Vancouver area." She shrugged. "I asked for a laptop so I could get a possible lead on the drug itself. I might be able to find out what it is by what the team has already reported."

"Good idea," Jeff said. He turned back to watch the portraits as Scott's eyes became active again. "Sigma, what's your status?"

"I have the tools we need and I'm heading back to the sickbay now," Alan replied.

"F-A-B. Go ahead and get started on cutting your way in. Alpha will be meeting you there in a few moments."

"F-A-B!"

Scott, his voice ragged, gave his report. "The panel controlling external communications has been sabotaged. Power's been cut and two main circuit boards are missing. It's repairable, but... I'd rather not do it here and now. Maybe when these two are... uh... finished...."

"Finished with what?" Eleanor chose that moment to walk in, followed by Tin-Tin, who carried a laptop over to Lou. The older woman's eyes followed the Malaysian girl's movements, then met Lou's frank gaze for a moment.

Lou inclined her head slightly. "Ma'am," she said in greeting. She left the desk to meet Tin-Tin halfway, then sat down in a chair, opening up the computer. Tin-Tin showed her where to find the power button and quietly gave her a few pointers on the features of that particular model.

Eleanor turned her head without comment and focused instead on her son. "Are you going to answer my question or not?"

"This really is not a good time for you to be up here," Jeff said, hoping to put her off. "The people we are trying to rescue are... uh..."

"Under the influence," Virgil filled in.

"Yes, thank you, Delta." Jeff turned back to Scott. "Alpha, don't worry about the comm now. Go down and give Sigma a hand."

"F-A-B." Everyone could hear the relief in his voice.

Jeff continued his explanation. "They're under the influence of some drug that has made them..."

"Horny," Virgil helpfully supplied.

Lou chuckled slightly. Tin-Tin's eyes grew wide and she covered her mouth with a hand. Jeff turned red and said in a slightly more sarcastic tone, "Thank you very much there, Delta."

"Just cutting to the chase, Commander," Virgil said with a grin.

Eleanor frowned. "Horny? Are they using one of those fancy rave drugs you hear so much about?" she wanted to know.

"That's very likely the case, ma'am," Lou said, her eyes glued to the laptop's screen. "I'm at the DEA's website and there are one or two drugs listed here that might fit the bill." She glanced up at Jeff. "One of them can be used in an atomizer, so there is the possibility that it could be airborne. We'll know more when the crew interviews the people in the sickbay."

Jeff nodded. "Right." He gazed at Lou thoughtfully. "If you come up with any questions that might help identify what drug we're looking at, don't hesitate to ask."

"F-A-B," Lou replied with a smile, going back to the computer again.

Eleanor glared first at her son, who was having a quiet word with Virgil, then at Lou, who was scrolling through the website's information, Tin-Tin looking over her shoulder. "Hrumph," the old woman exclaimed, folding her arms. Then she turned and went to sit on Thunderbird Three's couch.

She had grudgingly agreed that Jeff should help Lucinda out when it came to rescuing her sister; after all, no one else could get her to Maine as quickly as Scott could in Thunderbird One, and the sister had been kidnapped because of Lucinda's involvement with that Interpol disk. But she could not see why Jeff had to go and oversee the rescue operation personally. Nor had she approved of just the two of them staying overnight in the Manhattan penthouse.

She had not been happy to hear that Jeff was bringing Lucinda to the island, and was indignant to learn that he was bringing not just the woman, but her four cats as well. Her outrage had been mollified when she heard that Lou would not be staying in the villa, but in the Round House, separate from the rest of the family. Still, the woman ate with them at every meal, and Eleanor thought that Jeff was spending entirely too much time hanging around her when he could have and probably should have been overseeing things elsewhere. Now here he was, consulting her on a rescue! What next? Would she be learning to fly Thunderbird One or Two? Eleanor wasn't sure what she could do to stop what she saw happening, but she would be damned if she was going to let it happen without a fight!

"Sigma to base," Alan's voice came over the comm as the eyes on his portrait flashed. "We're in. The people in here seem to be coherent and unaffected by whatever's affecting the rest of the crew."

"How many are in there?" Jeff asked.

"Seven," Scott said. "I'm using the data pad to communicate. They say that one of their number has a gunshot wound, and another went into some kind of anaphylactic shock."

"Thunderbird, uh, Three to b-base, Alpha, and Sigma," Brains piped up. "W-We can transport the, uh, wounded to Earth."

"F-A-B," Jeff answered. He glanced over at Lou with a questioning look.

She got up, carrying the laptop over to the desk. Her eyes narrowed as she thought. "Base to Alpha. Can you get us an ID on the gunshot victim? And a description?"

There was a pause, then Scott said, "They tell me he's one of the cooks, name of... damn! Name of Jake Harris. They're taking me to him now. He's unconscious and though they've stopped the bleeding, he's going to need surgery. The anaphylactic shock patient has been stabilized to the best of their ability." There was another pause. "I asked what happened to their doctor. They said he's been affected like the others."

"A description please, Alpha," Jeff prompted.

"F-A-B. The gunshot victim is Caucasian, looks like he's in his fifties, short, slightly plump, and balding, has a hawk-nose and a deep dimple in his chin. What hair he has left is dark with silver patches over his temples."

"Are there any distinguishing marks? Tattoos, birthmarks?" Lou asked.

Scott conferred with the denizens via data pad. "Yes, there's a tattoo of an eagle on his right forearm."

Lou turned to Jeff. "That sounds like Harris, all right." She shook her head in frustration. "Why did these people give us just a list of names? We could have used the security photos, too."

Brains asked a question. "Alpha, when d-did this whole thing start? And do they have a-any, uh, idea why they weren't a-affected?"

There was a period of quiet again, then it was Alan who answered, "They say it started a little bit after their first work break, around ten-thirty to eleven a.m. Vancouver time. The anaphylactic patient was brought in around eleven. Things got bad around one and have continued since then."

"So this stuff is long lasting," Jeff commented.

"Or they've, uh, dosed themselves a-again somehow," Brains suggested.

Lou looked at the laptop and frowned. "Sigma? Ask the people you're with if they had any coffee today."

"Coffee?" Virgil repeated.

Lou nodded. He came close to peer over her shoulder and she pointed at an entry on the site. His eyebrows went up and a look of comprehension came over his face.

Just then, Alan returned with the answer. "Negative on that, base. Everyone here drank tea or juice this morning. Anything but coffee."

"What about the shock patient?"

There was a pause, then the reply. "No one knows for sure, but one of the people here says she knows that the patient enjoyed drinking coffee."

Lou smiled a bit. "Then I think I may have found our culprit. It's a club drug called Frenzy. It lowers inhibitions, raises libido, sharpens the senses, and gives a feeling of euphoria. Its effect is also boosted by caffeine, so it's often poured into coffee or a caffeinated soft drink. The good news is that this stuff must be ingested. The air should be okay."

"How long does the, uh, effect last?" Brains wanted to know.

"The site says that it can last up to ten hours," Lou said with a concerned frown.

"That makes sense," Brains remarked. "With ingestion, the effect would vary from p-person to person according to body mass. It could, uh, last for hours as the b-body breaks it down and tries to, uh, get rid of it."

"And some people might have bad reactions to it. If this Harris is a cook, that would explain how it got into the coffee," Tin-Tin added.

"The pieces are falling into place now," Jeff said with satisfaction. "Who locked those people up?"

There was the expected pause, and Alan came back with, "Harris and one of the other cooks, a guy by the name of Danny Leeds, rounded up the unaffected people at gunpoint. The nurses on duty were already dealing with the anaphylactic patient. Harris and Leeds were about to lock up the sickbay when they had an argument and Leeds shot Harris. He opened the door just long enough to shove Harris through, then locked it up and took off."

"Do they have any idea where this Leeds guy is?" Jeff asked.

"Or what he looks like?" Lou added.

"Why is it so important to know what the man looks like?" Eleanor asked huffily.

Jeff and Lou exchanged glances, then Lou said, "Ma'am, Alpha has already had a run-in with a man holding a gun. He managed to disarm him. If this Leeds turns out to be the same person, then we know that the two known conspirators were accounted for. If not..."

"If not," Jeff filled in, "then there's another gunman out there."

xxxx

Melissa Riordan wanted to slam the door to the bedroom she was sharing with her daughter, but instead she closed it carefully, not wanting to wake little Kaylie. She tried to stifle her sobs as well. The argument between her and her father had escalated to the point where he was ready to slap her, and only the intervention of her mother had kept him from it.

~Why can't he see that I don't want to stay here?~ she asked herself. ~I'm not a child! I want to go back to Unity City, to stand on my own two feet! He's already talking about me marrying again! And Peter less than two weeks in... in his grave...~ The thought of her husband brought forth fresh sobs, and she stuck a knuckle in her mouth to try and calm down.

After a few moments, she had calmed enough to take a tissue and wipe her eyes, then another to blow her nose. She got up and turned on the light in the closet so she would have something to see by as she dressed for bed. The sliver of illumination fell on the dresser in her room and glinted on an object there.

~Scott's phone,~ she realized dully. The words on the paper that P.J. had passed to her under the watchful, scowling eye of her father came back to her. ~"If you need a friend..." Dear God, I need one now.~

She opened the phone, scrolling down to one particular name. It wasn't Scott's; his home phone number was listed under "Tracy, Scott". Instead she found it under the name "Carpenter, Malcolm". It was the Mercury astronaut's true first name, as she had found out long ago when Peter had told her about how his friend and that friend's brothers had all been named. She had thought the topic interesting, and done a bit of research just to satisfy her own curiosity. Now it was holding her in good stead. Her father was not above snooping through her things, and she did not want him to find this phone number. ~I'll have to ask Scott how to password protect this phone,~ she thought, making a mental note to herself. ~Now, I don't dare to talk to him here; I might wake Kaylie. But where?~

She listened hard to the noises of the household, and tried to think back to what had been the routine when she had been single and living under her parents' roof. ~I think the boys are still out, and will be out until last call. Da and Mum are probably downstairs, having a row over me, but Da will walk out and...~

As if in answer to her thoughts, there was the slam of a door downstairs, one that she could not only hear, but she could feel. A few moments later, an engine started up, and a car roared away into the night. She sighed, a palpable sense of relief settling on her shoulders. ~He's gone. I have a bit of time to use the sitting room. Ma wouldn't mind me ringing up a friend. And she doesn't have to know who it is.~

There was a very quiet, almost timid, knock on the door. Melissa got up, slipped the phone in her pocket, and answered the door.

"Are you all right, Mel?" her mother asked quietly.

Melissa shook her head vehemently, the red hair swinging with the motion. "No, Ma, I'm not all right," she said, stepping out in the hall and closing the door behind her, her voice at low volume, but still at high heat. "How dare he talk about my remarrying, now, so soon after... Peter!"

Her mother sighed heavily. She knew where her daughter had gotten her stubborn streak and it wasn't from anyone strange. "He doesn't mean anythin' by it. He's only thinkin' of the children, luv. They need a father; you know that."

"If he's only thinking of the children, he needs to let them have time to grieve for the father they just lost before foisting another on them. An' I'd rather do the choosing if an' when it comes to remarrying," Melissa continued in a hiss. Then she softened. "I'm sorry, Ma. I don't mean to take this out on you."

"You never do," Mrs. O'Connor said with a wan smile. "But somehow, I always get caught in the middle."

"I know," Melissa replied, hanging her head. Then she picked up her chin and said, "I'm going downstairs for a bit."

Mrs. O'Connor nodded. "Just don't stay down there too long. You don't want to be there when your father comes home."

"I won't," her daughter assured her. She kissed her mother on the head. "G'night, Ma."

"Goodnight, Mel."

Mrs. O'Connor moved off to her own room, and Melissa padded downstairs to the sitting room. She turned on just one light and sat down on the sofa next to it, then speed-dialed "Malcolm's" number. As the call was placed, she pushed back tendrils of red hair, and sat up straight, mustering a smile for Scott when he answered the phone.

"Scott Tracy here... or not here as the case may be," came the voice. His picture snapped on, a sheepish grin on his handsome face, and it was evident she was talking to his answering machine. "I'm sorry that I'm away from my phone at the moment, but please, leave a message after the funky tone and I'll get back to you at the first opportunity. Thanks for calling!"

Her shoulders slumped for a moment, and she debated about leaving a message. Then the tone, a strange slide-whistle noise, sounded and she said, "Scott? It's Mel. I... I really need... a friend right now. Please ring back when it's morning here." She paused, not knowing what to say. "I think you know the number," is what finally came out. "Talk to you soon."

She cut off the call, and sighed. ~No use waiting up for him to ring back. And Da or the boys will here soon. I'd better just go to bed.~ Slipping the phone back into her pocket, she turned out the light, and went back upstairs.

xxxx

~Damn, but it's hot here.~ Southern let out the smoke from his pipe as he stood on the patio at Penelope's ranch house. The area had been baking in the sun for a good hour, the shade producing trees in such a position that their shadows no longer reached outward toward the patio, but back toward the house. He took another puff and considered the bind he was in.

~How can I not report this to my superiors?~ he mused. ~After all, it's why I came here; to find out the truth behind Riordan's blood. And I found it. Most emphatically so.~

He sauntered over to one of the lounge chairs and sat down, crossing his legs at the ankles. ~But at what cost? I have promised Penelope that I would say nothing to them about her revelation. And, as she pointed out, I do owe International Rescue my life.~ He closed his eyes behind his sunglasses and puffed on the pipe again. ~Yet, what she said is so... unbelievable. That she is their London agent? Such a delicate flower as she is? Who would think someone as refined as she is could be involved in something as dirty and dangerous as espionage? Then again, that is precisely the kind of cover that a good agent would cultivate. And she was right about the situation at the plutonium store. What else would explain her presence?~

Shaking his head, he thought about sounding out Parker. ~I'm not sure what kind of reception I'd get from him. It would all depend on whether or not Penelope told him what we discussed. In any case, no matter what I asked him, he is going to do whatever he can to protect her. I've seen them together long enough to know how loyal he is to her. I would not be surprised if he were part of the team that extracted her.~

His pipe was forgotten as he thought back to her story. ~Who else was part of that "pirate attack"? Wasn't there a fourth person? I wonder what kind of reception I would get there? Or perhaps Patricia could interview whoever it was again. But for her to do that, she would need to know what I do, and I'm not sure if I can tell her. However, I may pass Lady Penelope's question along. Have Patricia see if his Excellency can explain the presence of the blood stain. And I can check with my contacts in the Federal Agent's Bureau to see if Penelope was indeed an agent there.~

His heavy thinking was interrupted by the rasp of a throat being cleared. It came from the sliding glass doors that gave access to the patio from the house. Southern turned his head to see Parker standing there. "Tea h'is served," he announced.

"I'm coming." The Interpol officer levered himself out of his chaise and slipped through the open doorway.

xxxx

Things were moving along at the space station. None of the people in the sickbay were part of the technical maintenance team, so Jeff told Scott and Alan to try and fix the comm system. The brothers first transferred the wounded Harris and the anaphylactic patient to Three's small sickbay, then removed their space suits, having been given the okay by Jeff to do so. They were told to keep their ordnance close and a watchful eye out for Leeds; the description given to them by the people in the sickbay hadn't matched that of the man Scott had encountered.

"Let the station residents search for him," Jeff ordered. "It's their territory and they know what he looks like. You just get that comm fixed and get those patients back to their base."

Brains was called down from Three's cockpit to guard the two patients and keep an eye on their vitals. John relayed a message to the pharmaceutical company about the situation as they had found it, and the relieved techs told him that they were preparing a shuttle which would rendezvous with the station within three days.

"I hope they have a lot of 'morning after' pills on hand," Lou muttered, "or else they'll be losing a third of their crew within a month."

Jeff shot her an amused glance, one that turned puzzled. "Why do you think they hired someone like Harris? Wouldn't his background have removed him from consideration on this project?"

Lou shrugged. "It would all depend on how desperate they were. I mean, how many people are going to want to go live in a space station and cook for a group of scientists for months on end? If he had done his time and played down his chemistry background, he might look appealing as an employee. A parole board probably wouldn't mind; they'd definitely know where he was and he could check in by vidcomm on a regular basis." She sat back in the chair she was occupying and sipped her second cup of coffee. "They might have even thought of it as giving an ex-con a break. Whatever their reasons, I bet they don't do anything like this again."

"I'm sure they won't," Jeff replied. "But why would Harris and Leeds dose the station's crew?"

"I'm not sure," Lou said with another shrug. "Testing out the product, maybe. Or they were found out and they had to deal with the stuff. Maybe they figured that the crew of the station wouldn't want it known that they'd been drugged and would keep quiet about it. Nobody will know for sure unless one of the culprits confesses."

Jeff nodded. "I see. I hope they find Leeds. We don't need any more surprises on this rescue." He turned back to the boys' portraits, waiting for news from one or the other of them.

Scott was very relieved to see that the man and woman who had been in the control room were no longer there when he and Alan returned. All that remained of their presence were the man's jeans and the woman's sports bra. The two IR operatives took a good look around the room, searching for other possible intruders, then made sure the door was locked behind them so they wouldn't be disturbed as they worked.

"I'll turn this crap off," Alan said, reaching to shut off the music again.

The field commander shook his head. "No, leave it. If it keeps the natives happy..."

"Oh, okay," Alan grudgingly agreed. He glanced back at the crumpled up clothes. "Were they really...?"

"Yes," Scott cut in sharply. "They were."

The younger man shook his head. "This stuff must be pretty powerful."

"Yeah, it must be to make that woman look good to anybody," Scott muttered. "Give me the first circuit board."

Thirty minutes later, they were done. "Leading Edge space station calling Leading Edge Pharmaceuticals base," Alan called.

The comm screen winked into life. "L.E.P. here! Man, are we glad to hear from you guys! What's the situation?"

"Your external communications have been restored," Alan continued, sounding very brisk and businesslike. "International Rescue will be departing in ten minutes for your location. Our scientific team assures us that the drug affecting your people will wear off in a few hours."

"Great!" the technician at the other end said enthusiastically. "We've been told that you're coming our way to bring us some casualties. We'll be ready for them."

"Affirmative, L.E.P. base. Our ETA to you: one hour fifteen. We will notify your sober people on the way out."

"Cool! See you soon!"

The picture winked out and Alan turned to Scott. "Why do I have the feeling that their space program isn't exactly... disciplined?"

"Probably because it isn't," Scott replied, hefting their toolbox. "It seems to be full of bright young minds, with the emphasis on the ' young'." He tapped his hands free unit. "Alpha to Thunderbird Three. We're on our way back."

"F-F-A-B," Brains replied.

They descended to the second level and stopped by the sickbay, where they found the nurses busy with two or three nauseous crewmates. "Your communications board is repaired," Scott said with a sympathetic smile. "You can call your base now."

"Thanks so much," the older nurse said to them. "I don't know what we would have done without you."

"The drug would have worn off after a while," Alan explained, "but it might have been too late for your patients by then. We'll get them down to your base for more comprehensive care. And a shuttle from your company will be here in a couple of days."

"Has there been any sign of Leeds?" Scott asked.

The nurse shook her head. "No, none. But the search party isn't finished with the lower level yet." She gave them a smile. "Thanks again for you help. You'd better get going."

"Right. We were glad to help," Alan replied.

The two men walked back to the docking arm, stepping into the long corridor and locking the door to the living area behind them. They used the code they had been given on the emergency airlock, and stepped inside. The airlock cycled as before, only this time, they allowed for the decontamination process. "No sense bringing something back with us," Scott said. Both of them had been through this already as they had gone back and forth between Thunderbird Three and the sickbay.

"I'm glad that this is the last time," Alan said with a sigh. "I'll be happy to get back to Earth."

"Alpha from International Rescue base." Jeff's voice sounded in Scott's ear.

Several things happened all at once. Scott reached up to tap his earpiece and answer the hail just as the airlock's indicator light turned green. Alan pressed the button that would open the door to the final length of the docking arm. The door slid open, and the younger Tracy stepped through the opening. There was a blur of red, and Alan's shouted, "Hey!" then the door slid shut again in Scott's face.

"What the hell?" he muttered, jabbing at the button to open the door. It wouldn't budge. He tried to put in the code he'd been given. The small screen over the button scrolled a message. "Access Denied. Emergency Manual Override," he read with growing concern.

"Alpha? Is something wrong?" Jeff asked. There was a loud but muffled thud on the wall of the airlock and Alan's voice raised in what Scott could only interpret as anger.

"The door to the emergency airlock; it's shut!" Scott complained. "I can't get it open and Sigma's on the other side!" He pounded on the door, even though he knew it was useless. "Hey! Open up!" He tapped his earpiece again, and called, "Thunderbird Five from Alpha! See if you can get an override code on the emergency airlock!"

"The one they gave you before isn't working?" John asked.

"No! Someone has activated an 'emergency manual override'. Sigma's on the other side and it sounds like he's in trouble!"

Scott kept jabbing at the button, muttering, "Come on, come on!" There were two or three more thumps then a noise that made Scott's heart all but stop.

"Alpha to base and Thunderbird Three. We have a code red, I repeat, a code red!" he shouted in his earpiece. "A shot has been fired!"

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