One

Title: One
Part Four of Il Mago
Sequel to Sotto Voce
Author: Gumnut
24-28 Sep 2018
Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS
Rating: Teen
Summary: “How can we trust him, if we don’t even know he is Virgil?”
Word count: 1714
Spoilers & warnings: Spoilers for Season 2 and Sotto Voce. 
Author’s note: This one is shorter than usual, but it called for a cut there. We have almost made it. One more chapter and possibly an epilogue and this fic will be complete 😀 I think it is time for Virgil to kick some butt.
Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

They cut a hole in the
number five of Thunderbird Five’s forward identification panel. The artist in
Virgil was offended, but then cutting anywhere into any Thunderbird would
likely cause the same reaction.

It was obviously the first
step in a two-part boarding operation. First, they would need to get through
the hull. That would give them access to Thunderbird Three’s docking port. The
doors between the main body of the command module would be their next target.

And damn they were moving
fast.

He flinched as sensors
were cut and circuitry short circuited under their cutting beams.

His brothers were still in
the command module. “Scott, they’re coming in through the side of the docking
port. Cutting lasers.” Virgil ran scenarios through his head with the tools he
had available at hand. “Recommend you evacuate to the gravity ring or the
elevator.”

Scott was looking up at
the camera he had obviously labelled as his brother, his expression intense.
“We are not abandoning Thunderbird Five.”

“I never said we should. I
have an idea, and I would be happier if the three of you were safe elsewhere.”

“Tell me.”

So as fast as possible,
Virgil relayed the first idea that had come to mind. “TB3 can pick them up
later.”

Blue eyes were still staring
up at the camera. “Do it. But I’m staying here. Alan, evac John to the
elevator. Find him a helmet. Seal yourselves in and be prepared to launch if
necessary and cross to TB3. Virgil, do you have a backup plan?”

There was another option, plus
a further diversionary tactic, but he wasn’t as confident. Scott’s answer was
simple. “Work it out. If they get in here, they’ll have me to contend with.”

“Scott-“

“Do it, Virgil.” It was
that command voice, the one that demanded compliance. IR field commander in the
raw.

“Yes, Thunderbird One.”

The blue eyes narrowed
just slightly, before waving Alan and John through the doors to the gravity
ring and sealing them behind them.

Virgil turned his
attention back to the invaders. They were almost through.

If he had breath, he would
have drawn it in. Reaching out to the atmosphere regulators, he redirected
extra air into the docking port increasing the air pressure well beyond normal.
Accessing the computational power of the main computer he calculated exactly
how much pressure he could put on the docking port section. Brains shone
through again with some great numbers coming up. He could do this.

He cranked the pressure
up.

Consequently, when the
cutters finally broke through, an explosive decompression tore into the
invading ship.

Yelling reached his sensors.

Unfortunately, moments
later the first of those three lifesigns entered Thunderbird Five through the
jagged hole they had cut in her side.

Stage one of their initial
line of defence had failed.

He waited, still pumping
in air quietly, bringing the pressure slowly back up.

The first person was
dressed all in black, some kind of body armour over his spacesuit. He wore no identifying
marks. Virgil channelled the video directly to his brothers, Gordon included.

“Who the hell are these
people?”

Two more people emerged,
one possibly female. The first attached a device to the airlock between the
docking port and the main command module.

The moment all three were
clear of their ship, Virgil opened the exterior airlock.

Highly pressurised air shot
out the end of the docking port like a gun. One man was thrown out immediately,
his body spinning into space. Unfortunately, the other two invaders managed to
grab hold of TB5 and ride out the tornado.

“One down, two to go.” He
whispered it over Scott’s comms.

-o-o-o-

Gordon stared at his
brother’s body. And it was only a body. It breathed, its heart beat, but Virgil
was gone. The lights were on but no one was home.

Above hung the projections
from Thunderbird Five. That same brother was funnelling a live feed to Tracy
Island so Gordon could see what was going on.

His fingernails bit into
his skin as his fists clenched.

Full life support
equipment was on standby. He didn’t know what might happen. He may not need any
of it, but, damn, he was going to be prepared.

Why had he let him go? He
should have sedated him.

Yeah, little Gordy take on
his massive big brother? He could have done it, but there would have been
sacrifices, trust being the most painful.

Yet now he sat staring at
the remains of his brother – he wasn’t sure what would hurt more. At least
Virgil would have been safe.

While his brothers faced the
mess on Thunderbird Five.

Damn.

It really sucked to be the
one left behind.

-o-o-o-

It took Virgil two
attempts to harness the right charge and redirect it to electrify the airlock
the remaining two invaders were attempting to disable.

The device they had
attached to the doors fell dead. If there had been atmosphere, Virgil had no
doubt there would have been sparks and fire to accompany it.

The remaining black suited
man inadvertently came in contact with the doors. He convulsed and was flung
across the port to float senseless near the open airlock.

“Two down, one to go.”

The last one, the female,
didn’t even acknowledge the fall of her companion, she simply braced herself
against the wall of the port, unholstered a weapon and fired at the doors.

“Shit! Take cover, Scott!”

He could only watch as she
fired the gun, a bolt of energy, smaller but similar to the one that had
disconnected TB3 earlier.

The results were
immediate. The airlock ruptured, the air pressure inside flooding out in a
gush. The insensate second man was pushed out into space. The woman clung to
her position.

“Scott! Report!” He ran
his fingers over the damage alerts screaming for attention. The comms module
was a fragile and precise piece of instrumentation, the core of the satellite.
Alarms battered at him as several of those systems crashed.

Plan C came to the fore
and he checked the holoprojectors in the hub room. The majority were still
functioning.

“Scott?!”

“Status ok. Deploy the
diversions.” It was whispered, and he watched his brother moving around the
edge of the circular room.

He began dishing out
holograms, working the projectors to their maximum and hiding his brother from
the view of the woman now edging into the room. Pushing himself forward, he
appeared floating in front of her.

When she caught sight of
him, her expression was far from alarmed, she barely acknowledged his existence.

His voice was cold. “What
do you want?”

She raised an eyebrow, but
ignored him, moving forward into the room.

He flickered out and
reformed again in front of her. “What do you want?”

Again she dismissed him,
an offhand wave passing through his abdomen as she passed him.

He followed her. “I don’t
know what you think you can achieve.”

This time she did look at
him, but her expression was so cold and lacking emotion, he almost wished she
hadn’t.

But it gave Scott the
moment he needed to leap through the cascading holograms hiding his presence
and plough into her.

Her response was
immediate. Even in zero gravity she obviously possessed some serious self-defence
skills. Scott was proficient in zero gravity, but it wasn’t his strength. John
would have been the better choice, but he was incapacitated.

Virgil flung holograms at
her, forcing obstructions to appear before her face, interrupting her flow to
give Scott the best chance he could.

He was weaving her a
holographic hood when something at the edge of his sensory range flickered and
stirred.

Something black and
painful came out of nowhere and ripped him from his reality, flinging him out
of Thunderbird Five’s cradle and back into the black streaked white of that other
space in between everything.

Virgil reeled, his mind
spinning. There was inky black that burned and that glowing white pulsing out
of sync. Someone screamed his name.

He tried to run, to go
back to TB5, but his way was blocked. To go back to himself, but he was
surrounded by black. Inky, stinking black, writhing like oil on water reaching
out to him. Where it touched, it burned.

Virgil yelled, struggling,
then as the black got a good grip, the yell turned to a scream.

-o-o-o-

Gordon jumped as every
alarm attached to his brother suddenly started blaring.

Rushing to his side, he
had the horrible experience of watching Virgil die before his eyes. Everything
ceased, breathing, heartbeat, even his brain activity plummeted.

“Brains!” He called out to
the only other inhabitant of the island as his training kicked in.

The engineer tore into the
room just as Gordon applied the cardiostimulator to get his brother’s heart
beating again.

“Breathe for him!”

-o-o-o-

Virgil couldn’t think. The
black was all enveloping. It penetrated his soul, drilling deep into the core
of who he was, tearing, burning, destroying as it gained purchase.

In desperation he struck
out.

A blue-white beam of light
pierced the black, shredding it with his desperation. Whiting it out. Grabbing
the opportunity, he pushed himself further and his world lit up with blinding
blue and green, bleeding white.

The black slunk backwards,
there was sound, an inarticulate snarl, and the mass of writhing tentacles
shrunk in on itself. The white background once again became dominant.

Virgil slumped, staggering
backwards, energy expended. He watched as two figures emerged from the
coalescing black. A man…and a bound woman, red hair, white dress and bruises.

“Well, well, well. You do
have some fight.” The man walked towards him across the ever pulsing white.
Virgil edged back, but his eyes couldn’t leave the sight of his battered and
bound niece.

Eos. His mental voice was little more
than a whisper.

“Oh, is that what you call
her? A fiery little thing, isn’t she?”

Virgil turned his full
attention to the man. He was ordinary looking, nothing special. Dark hair,
perhaps a little older than Virgil. Unremarkable.

Unfamiliar.

“Who are you?”

A smirk. “Oh, I have many
names, most you will never know. I’m just the wizard behind the curtain.” An
intensity in his eyes and his smile deepened.

“Il Mago.”

-o-o-o-

End Part Five.

Part Six

Leave a Reply