Tailspin

by michaelb958

Chapter 1

"We've arrived, Colonel. Still waiting on what we're supposed to do, though."

You couldn't blame Scott Tracy for being impatient - anything he did had a high opportunity cost. As acting commander, and de facto chief pilot, of International Rescue, his time was very valuable, although still not as valuable as that of the craft he rode in. Thunderbird 1 could have been back at the island having any number of upgrades installed. Instead, it had carried eldest brother Scott, youngest brother Alan, and a pod in copter configuration (which had only just fit in the recovery bay) to a remote GDF airbase. Worse, Colonel Casey hadn't told them why - she'd just given them an equipment list and their marching orders.

"Hey Scott, that's the base commander out there. Is it just me or does he look kinda shifty?"

"Please don't say that to his face, Alan."

Right on cue, the radio projected Base Commander O'Shea's voice. "Thunderbird 1. Stay put. Time is of the essence." And he was gone again.

"I don't get it, Alan. Those sentences don't fit together."

"Yeah, he's up to someth-"

Any further discussion was cut off as proof emerged that someone was, in fact, up to something. Arrays of - well, the best description was 'glowy bent obelisks' - emerged from the ground, defining a hemisphere centred on Thunderbird 1's landing pad.

"What are those meant to be?!"

"If he's the Hood, I swear I'll-!"

A blinding flash, and Thunderbird 1 ceased to be.

---

In its current location, anyway. The sleek blue rocket plane flashed back into existence on a very similar landing pad, surrounded by very similar glowy tech - but with no airbase in sight.

"Oh cool, teleportation! Could be useful." Alan Tracy had a slight tendency to miss the forest for the trees at times.

"If it was teleportation, they could have just told us. I don't like any of this, Alan."

"Come on big bro, learn to appreciate a surprise."

"I'd rather my surprises didn't involve this kind of risk to Thunderbird 1. ...Where are we, anyway?"

This was clearly a question that John Tracy, space monitor, also wanted answers to. "Thunderbird 5 to Thunderbird 1. Please report your current position; I can't find you."

"Um, John, we don't know either."

"Basically what Alan said. The compass is working, but that's about it. I don't have a clue."

Answers to that question, at least, were soon to be forthcoming.

"GDF Tango base to Thunderbird 1. I trust you've arrived safely?"

"Tell us where we were meant to arrive, first."

"The locals should be with you soon. Follow their instructions. Don't go anywhere until then."

Tango base cut the line, leaving the International Rescue personnel unsettled and uneasy, Scott in particular. "He still didn't tell us where we were meant to end up... or where we have ended up. I don't like this one bit."

There were a couple of minutes of relative inactivity. Scott tried every trick he knew to troubleshoot Thunderbird 1's navigation system, while keeping the craft ready to leave as soon as the situation deteriorated (which he suspected it would). John, in geostationary orbit aboard Thunderbird 5, tried every scan he knew of to locate them. Alan, stuck in One's jumpseat, tried singing to pass the time, while glancing at the scenery for anything of interest. Apart from a few small buildings (none of which looked up to the GDF's usual construction standards), the landscape was bare and deserted.

Oh, hang on, splash of colour exiting a building. ...Wait, what. "Scott, I don't think we're in Kansas any more."

Scott, knowing better than to break the news that they never had been, looked up to see what had caught his brother's eye, and was shocked into a similarly (in)coherent state. The woman in GDF uniform was expected. The miniature pegasus in GDF uniform walking alongside her was most definitely not.

Neither Tracy had quite recovered by the time the two GDF staff approached.

"International Rescue? I'm Colonel Shreya Singh, GDF liasion to ...here. Spoiler alert, 'here' isn't Earth."

"I'm Scott, and this is Alan. Colonel Casey sent us - although she didn't give much in the way of detail."

Fortunately, Colonel Shreya had the answer to that, too. "And this is Wild Fire, my local counterpart."

"Hiya!" said the talking pony. "But could we cut to the chase, Colonel? We're wasting time."

Alan, to his credit, didn't make a quip about how they were actually burning time. Maybe because he was still shocked by the talking pony.

Scott was more eloquent. "Okay, still not sure about the whole talking ponies thing, but I can get used to that. What are we here for?"

Wild Fire promptly provided one of the most coherent local briefings of all time. "The main wind generator at the Cloudsdale weather factory has been partially breached, creating a localised cyclone. It's trapped a lot of ponies in the building, and it's become strong enough that nobody can get in to shut it down. We'd call in Rainbow Dash, but she's off somewhere with the rest of the Elements; and the princesses are all at diplomatic events - we can't contact them."

Alan was by now recovered enough to notice an inconsistency. "Hang on, if they all have wings, can't they fly out?"

"A lot of them aren't pegasi." Wild Fire cringed slightly. "There was a scheduled tour."

Colonel Singh continued to Scott. "When Wild Fire informed me of the situation, it occurred to me that International Rescue would have the tools for dealing with an accident on this scale."

It was almost needless to say that Scott was convinced. "Strap in, Alan. We can ask questions in flight. For now, we've got a job for International Rescue!"

Author's Note:

Wild Fire is an actual background pony, just by the way.