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The Spirit of the Slaves
Disclaimer: I do not own Thunderbirds but my Grandma’s neighbour does…-cheers!- I get free merchandise! W00t!
Summary: When Alan Tracy is kidnapped by two drug bandits he finds himself in a bigger frying pan than he first thought. Arriving in an unknown place far from any other civilisation with no identity and no escape he must fight for his life or lose his spirit forever… (-Movie Take-)
Warnings: Drug abuse, Psychological references, and kidnapping…You are forewarned
A/N: Words cannot describe the horror I feel toward myself for leaving it so late to update this fic. I have had other appointments to keep and other fic’s to work on, one series taking particular priority due to a friend’s inevitable move, but it’s no excuse. I hope I’m not hated after all this but I do have a life outside of fan-fiction and it is hard to keep the rhythm going when so much drama is going on… damn my exciting life!
Anyways, I hope this is enough to satiate your appetites for now… just remember; if you kill the authoress the story won’t get finished. So depending on the end of the story and how satisfying it is for you, you can decide then if you still feel I need a well deserved thrashing…
(Realises what I’ve just said…) Damn my big mouth
Alan swore.
He couldn’t see where he was going, couldn’t calculate where he was or which direction he’d come from. If the Virtual monitors that had been built into every International Rescuer’s helmet for just this scenario had been working, he wouldn’t have this problem but just like every other form of communication or orientation, it had betrayed him; refusing to work under any circumstances due to the damage the equipment had incurred.
He swore again; the heat was unbearable even through his heatproof suit. The flames kept blinding him when he decided which way to run and he’d lose his place again when he found himself in another unfamiliar clearing. This wasn’t helping, he realised; this was just hindering the inevitable; was this really the end?
Crack!
The sudden shrieking noise startled him and he looked up instinctively. He swore once more, wondering aimlessly if he’d somehow developed Tourrets Syndrome, and watched in disbelief as a large concrete beam began to crack and crumble above him; unable to hold the failing structure of the vast roof of the warehouse. Smaller flames took his distracted attention as an opportunity to try and consume him and they leapt quickly licking at his boots but he jumped aside, away from their sharp probing fingers that were searing up his trousers. Another smaller piece of debris took a turn and fell away from its foundations trying to crush him but he saw it and rolled away landing mere millimetres from death.
Then, as he was just starting to calm his erratic heartbeat, a loud thunderous crack resounded through his entire body and he froze; another long moaning groan reached his ears, even through the helmet, and he struggled against instinct to look up. The concrete beam slipped from its holdings and his heart jumped. It slipped again with another cry and time seemed to slow. He stared transfixed and paralysed as the beam slowly inched its way to freedom, getting closer and closer to fulfilling its goal…
Then it happened. Its holdings gave in and the groaning turned into a loud shriek as it fell down through the hot smoky air, down to where Alan stood, paralysed in fear…
‘No!’
The sudden thought in his head, which sounded oddly like TinTin, brought him back to reality and he jumped into action; quickly dodging the falling beam and rolling into another clearing. After a few seconds he looked up from his crouched position and found again that he didn’t know which way he’d just rolled from; the flames had hidden his view of the destruction that had almost been the end of him. He looked up but the smoke was getting thicker, he could hardly see the rafters, or what was left of them, high above his head. He let his gaze drop back to his own level and tried desperately to navigate his way to an exit, any exit, in order to find out where he’d gone wrong and correct himself. But he found that he must be somewhere in the middle of the warehouse for there were no walls that he could see anywhere…just dancing flames that kept jumping at him, reaching for him. Had he not the sense to refrain, he would have sank to his knees in despair;
He was lost: and most of all, he was scared…
This rescue was a disaster to begin with…
“John I’m on the ground but it’s like World War III down here, what’s going on?” He shut the Mole down quickly but correctly and jumped from the hatch all in the space of three minutes. He was immediately greeted by a frantic looking but slightly more composed French Fireman as he made his way to the rear of the warehouse.
“See for yourself Scott.” John said tiredly, sounding a little tinny through the communications link. Perplexed, Scott rounded the corner and stopped dead in his tracks, struggling to take in the sight before him; hundreds of people were pulling on several ropes that were attached to the left wall which, in turn was trying relentlessly to fall inward. It was a mind numbing sight that literally stopped all thoughts. All these people; pulling, squirming and squelching in the water soaked mud just to keep that one vital wall upright in order to save those who were inside. Everyone was pulling together; strangers joining hands, enemies joining forces, friends and family alike pulling and heaving on those slippery muddy ropes. This is what the human being is capable of…
Several precious seconds passed before John came back online; “It’s a tug of war scenario down there; too little pressure and the wall collapses dragging the tugees with it, too much pressure and the wall topples this way crushing everyone pulling.” He explained. Scott was torn between being irritatingly irate and downright dumbfounded.
“Why did they all put themselves in a lose-lose situation like this?!” He almost roared into his mic, he didn’t mean any ill-will by it, he was just slightly overwhelmed. If John was affected he didn’t show it.
“It’s not a complete lose-lose situation. If they let go of the rope at the exact same time, they’ll fall backwards but the wall falls inside. Basic physics. At the moment it’s a temporary thing, they’re trying to secure the ropes to a sturdy but mobile fixture to keep the wall in place but also to adjust for any new developments like another explosion. These people understand that it is absolutely imperative to keep that left wall up right while International Rescue are inside. Ingenious really.” Scott was impressed, and somewhat humbled by so many willing volunteers helping out. Well, he wasn’t one to disappoint.
“Ok, John I’m gonna need you to translate for me. I’m gonna use the Mole as the mobile fixture they want, I’ll drill it half way into the earth which ought to keep it sturdy but movable. I’m gonna need more Fire Engines to keep the outside walls cool, and more water to pump into the building. If we can flood the floors the fire will have no where to go but up, it may be a danger to the upper structures but the mole will be doing its job well enough to warrant the decision. This way the people on the ground won’t turn to charcoal. I’m also thinking that with part of the roof down now, the smoke should also clear out inside, clearing the views to the exits too. Alan and Virgil will be able to get out quicker and safely.”
“FAB Scott, translating and relaying plans to the chief Rescue Worker now.”
“FAB John, and hurry; we don’t have much time; there’s only so much that wall can take.”
Creeak… oh no. He looked around rapidly, searching for the source of the creaking. He couldn’t see it, he didn’t know what was about to fall or where it was coming from. He tensed knowing that right now he needed to stay focussed, be ready to jump at a seconds notice.
Crack… There! A low and crumbled inner wall began racing its way down to the spot where Alan was stood. He timed it just right and jumped up only to fall straight in the path of a loose, swinging rafter. The steel beam hit him square in the chest and sent him hurtling through the smoke to another part of the warehouse. He landed on a tumbled rack and laid there for a few seconds trying to reconnect his mind to his body.
“What was that?” A voice spoke. It was muffled and distant, probably just his imagination. He tried to open his eyes to look around but that proved a little difficult. A small flush of frustration swept through him at that; if he stayed here he was dead… and so was Gordon.
“What was what?” He paused…was he still imagining things? Curious, he pushed himself up onto his elbows but just as he managed to sit himself up a loud crash sounded deafeningly close to him and a sharp tight pain gripped him across his chest. He cried out in surprise and doubled over instinctively but this only caused the racking frame he’d landed on to wobble and topple over sending him sprawling to the floor in a heap of agony. The tunnels around his vision merged together, blinding him completely and before he knew it, he was out like a light… again.
“Gordon’s responding well physically but I think he inhaled a few noxious gasses.” He paused to wrap a heat protective blanket around the unconscious man and adjust the oxygen mask around his nose. “Still no sign of Alan though.” He climbed into the driver’s seat and began reversing the reluctant machine back down the path he’d already cleared. “Scott how much time can you give me?” he asked using the open channels so that all his family could hear the conversation (with the exception of the defective headset in Gordon’s helmet).
“Not long, the wall is bowing dangerously. We’re constantly pouring cold water on it but it’s not gonna hold for long. I’d say fifteen, maybe twenty minutes maximum.” Scott replied, confirming Virgil’s suspicions. He quickly addressed his father while attempting to move the resisting vehicle in the right direction.
“Dad, I won’t have enough time to bring Gordon out and come back for Alan, if I’m gonna look for him I’ll have to do it now.” He replied grimly, knowing the answer before he’d suggested his plans. He was expecting a harsh response of the negative variety but it seemed that today was just full of surprises.
“Agreed, find him quickly if you can, if not head out. Scott, warn him when it gets too dangerous.” Virgil didn’t hesitate. He’d been given the go ahead and he was running out of time to find his youngest wayward brother. He’d be damned if he didn’t find him before this all ended.
“FAB dad. Virge, I’d use all the speed you can, the wall’s moved four times since I last reported.” Virgil swore under his breath and fixed his eyes determinedly ahead.
“FAB Scott. I’m trying.” He struggled again as the vehicle bumped away from a piece of debris in his path; the controls veering slightly out of his hands. He caught them again and reset the course with more vigour than was necessary.
“He’ll be fine Virge.” Scott tried, but his voice betrayed his real thoughts. Virgil kept his eyes peeled, looking for the tell tale sign of Alan’s uniformed figure in the orange haze before replying harshly to his brother.
“Gordon was seriously injured and delirious Scott, and he was inside the Firefly…” Silence fell upon the radio as each brother took in the implied message that Alan could be fast on his way to becoming a lump of carbon. “I’ll find him…” He added quietly, more to himself than the others.
Stacks of vials soon blurred into focus, each containing a different coloured liquid. A muffled crash and the hushed whooshing sound of flames that came from somewhere behind told him he was still in the warehouse but he was at a loss as to where. His brain fumbled for an answer while his hands shakily reached beneath him and pushed him up to a sitting position. He glanced around, squinting in the stark lighting. It looked like a laboratory of some kind but were laboratories always so cold?
Another explosion sounded and the lights dimmed a little before powering up again. It was at that moment, he realised, that an almost silent whirring noise was humming in the background, almost like a machine on standby. It was a noise he was familiar with but he couldn’t think of where from. Pushing the frustrating thoughts aside he began to think of how he got to wherever it was he that he was standing. He couldn’t have moved by himself so that meant someone had to have helped him. But who? Then he remembered the reason he and Gordon had entered the warehouse to begin with; the scientists!
“Hello?” He called out meekly as he stumbled to his feet. He was surprised at how weak his voice sounded to his own ears. The world spun around him and he grabbed hold of the nearest racking to keep himself upright. His head was pounding and he was sure he was shaking with the effort of staying conscious. Then it passed and he felt somewhat human. “Hello?” He called again still no louder than before. His hand slipped down the supporting pole and knocked a few glass vials over on the shelf as he stumbled to stay on his feet. He was sure now that something was wrong, his body felt drunk and his mind was on the verge of shutting down completely. Sleepily his eyes found the labels on the vials of liquid and he automatically read it. His eyes widened a little in surprise before the enormity of the situation occurred to him. These vials contained an explosive solution, highly combustible in any temperature over 10 degrees centigrade. He realised now that he was inside a refrigerator which explained the low humming sound and why it was so cold but it wasn’t safe here. If the structure of the refrigerator became unstable the entire town would be vaporised.
“I’m telling you, its fine. There’s no other way to get it all out. We’ll never escape the explosion if we make a run for it now.” That sounded like one of the voices he’d heard before and they were speaking English too. That would make things easier for him; he didn’t know that much French.
“Which is why we should have made a run for it when it first happened! We’d be long gone by now!” A second voice piped up.
“Nobody said you had to stay, but we’re here now so deal with it! Pick up that cage over there, that’s got to come with us. And for heaven’s sake be careful.” The sound of glass rattling slightly against metal caught Alan’s ears and he stood still listening to the conversation. “I need to get something from the front. I’ll be back in a minute.” Alan braced himself to look confused and delirious, not much effort was needed. Somehow he didn’t think he was supposed to hear that conversation.
“Check on our guest while you’re at it, will ya. I think I heard him coughing when I came back in.” The sound of a door opening hit the young rescuer and he let his face fall to his chest. It was easy to feign exhaustion and deliria seeing as his body still felt drunk but his mind was waking up and thinking quickly. The man who’d entered didn’t come for him straight away so he tried to look even more convincing by moving into a dazed position but as he gripped the racking and tried to move forwards, his body lost all strength and he promptly fell to the floor in a loud heap which, in turn, triggered another coughing spell. He was curled up on the floor, trembling pathetically with the exertion of choking half to death when the man he’d heard arrived in the aisle. Not that he’d noticed until the other man spoke.
He looked up at the sound of his voice nearby and found a soot ridden man in a white lab coat fumbling around in a storage box. A few seconds later he pulled some strange circular object out and quickly put it in his pocket before pushing the box aside and turning his attention to the boy. Upon realising he was awake, the man called out to his partner.
“Hey Jack! He’s awake!” He edged closer and quickly felt his temperature. Alan closed his eyes at the warmth the man was radiating. “Your temperature’s down too…” He muttered under his breath and set about checking his relative health. “Can you talk?” He asked sounding silly.
“Where…?” Alan gasped, his voice losing what little volume it had. He knew where he was now but if he was to find out what was going on here he’d have to put on an act. The man smiled grimly.
“No where special.” He muttered as he helped the boy to sit up. In the few minutes he’d been standing, Alan’s body had over exerted itself and felt even heavier. He tried to comply with the man’s instructions but for some reason he was having trouble coordinating his limbs. The man seemed to know what he was doing which gave Alan the suspicion that he’d seen this kind of thing before.
“Why can’t I move?” He asked the man, not really expecting a helpful answer. He didn’t get one either which only frustrated him more.
“Trust me you don’t want to know.” Well that was a silly reply. Of course he wanted to know, that’s why he asked!
“Please, tell me…” The man paused his checking. Alan held his breath. Those few seconds felt like hours as they passed in rueful silence. Finally the man sighed, a sign of defeat.
“It’s a new project we’re working on. It was the only thing at hand; all the pain killers and sedatives are gone. Don’t worry, you’ll feel a little drunk and a bit queasy for a while but it’ll pass.” It was better than nothing he supposed but it still wasn’t the whole truth. He wanted to know why the man had deemed it necessary to drug him in the first place. He’d mentioned sedatives, so maybe the man was a doctor? Perhaps he’d been found in a bad shape? He didn’t know but he was grateful to the man for reacting regardless.
“Thank you.” The older man seemed taken aback by Alan’s forwardness but his reply was lost as the other man finally called back.
“Oi Ferris what’re you doing?! We need to move!” Ferris quickly secured Alan’s swaying torso against a racking unit and turned his head a little to shout back his reply. The cold bars bit into his back and it was then that he realised his uniform was missing too. He caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of a glass vial opposite, it confirmed his thoughts; he was in the t-shirt and shorts he’d been wearing on the island. Maybe that was why he felt so cold…
“I’m checking the kid, he woke up.” The man called back. Alan felt himself slipping to the left but he was unable to stop his descent. A firm grip halted his movement as Ferris propped him back up, keeping his hand on the boy’s shoulder just incase he slid again.
“Bring him back here… I want him where I can see him.” If he didn’t have suspicions before, he would have done now. That was a basic mistake; ‘I want him where I can see him…’ a distrust of someone who couldn’t move or fight back was usually described as a fear of others discovering a secret and being free to repeat it. Ferris turned back to him.
“Can you stand?” Alan thought about it before giving a shaky nod.
“I’ll try.” He replied allowing the man to take his arm in a firm grip. He braced himself and pushed up with his legs, his feet slid a little on the cold floor and in a sudden whirl of colours and lights he found himself supported by Ferris in an almost standing position. He blinked a few times to clear his vision before reaching out shakily to the racking for support.
A rumbling boom vibrated through the floor before a loud crash echoed loudly in the room. Dust fell from above and both men looked up. A thin crack had appeared on the otherwise flawless ceiling; something had just crashed on top of the refrigerator. They needed to move. Suspicions aside, he wouldn’t survive if he refused to follow the man to an uncertain fate. As it was, an uncertain fate was far more acceptable than a certain fate with an abrupt end and no future to speak of.
White knuckled and stubbornly determined to survive; Alan forced his body to obey his commands, gripping the rack as he pushed himself forward. Ferris held his other arm tightly under his shoulder and pulled him quickly toward a door at the back of the refrigerator. In the back of his mind, Alan’s thoughts screamed at him about this being the only opening back to the warehouse and consequently back to Gordon. And yet as he thought it, a nagging feeling told him that Gordon was safe, that he’d been found.
In the corner of his eye, he caught the glimpse of an unnatural light but as he turned to look it was gone. An explosion perhaps? Or a reflection of some kind? He shook it off and followed the other man’s instructions as they continued to hobble out of the room.
The sudden darkness of the corridor they’d entered was a vast contrast but more so a relief; he hadn’t realised the strain the white paint was causing him until he entered the warm dark corridor. A pressure seemed to lift in his mind as Ferris helped him to find a hand rail. Briefly he let go of the boy to firmly close the door. An inky blackness engulfed the two of them.
“Careful, there’s a set of stairs in front of you.” Ferris’s grip on his shoulder was back and gently guiding him forward. He stepped out expecting the floor to be lower than his other foot. The hand rail curved downwards slightly and carefully he managed to descend down the first step. It was easier after that.
“Ok we’re coming up to a corner; you’ll see a light in a minute.” Ferris’s commentary was reassuring in the darkness and pretty soon his words rang true; they came to a corner and as they turned he could see a vague strip of light at floor level. It was the bottom of a door, he realised, and as they drew closer he could hear more glass vials clinking away behind it.
“Hey, what are you doing back here?” He asked curiously, his attention distracted by the clinking sound of glass against glass. Ferris didn’t answer. Alan shrugged it off, not noticing the tension building as a shadowed man crept up behind them; a rough piece of wood in his hands. Ferris opened the door expecting to find Jack where he’d left him, but to both men’s astonishment the room held no human life.
And as Alan looked around, he started recognising equipment and labels. It was slow due to his drugged stupor but his mind finally made the jump.
“Wait a minute…This isn’t a Chemist’s lab…This is a drug bust…” He turned his accusing eyes on the man next to him who fell speechless. But before he could say anymore, darkness hit him hard. He gave strangled cry before crumpling to the floor, unconscious.
Ferris stood flabbergasted at the boy’s prone form on the floor as Jack stopped next to him, aiming a gun at the boy’s head. All that hard work for nothing? Ferris frowned, no not this time. He made the decision as stepped over the boy’s body, blocking Jack’s aim.
“What are you doing? We can’t take him with us! Get out of the way!” Jack cried emphasizing his warnings with a wave of his gun. But Ferris stood firm. The boy had reached out to him, pulled something deep inside and brought it to the surface.
“I’m not letting you kill the poor boy!” He said, calmly squaring his shoulders and staring the man down. He was determined on this one.
“Will you open your eyes? He’s seen too much, he’s seen our faces! We can’t leave him here to confirm who we are later…” Jack argued, still adamant that the boy’s death would solve that problem.
“No he’s seen MY face.” Ferris corrected him but that only cemented Jack’s feelings on this point. Ferris was a brilliant chemist who was willing to experiment and produce mass drugs to the Boss’s clients. If he was detained, caught or otherwise taken from the Boss’s world there’s be a world of pain for anyone responsible and no one would survive to tell the tale.
“Exactly! So why not kill him?” Jack almost yelled. Ferris knew he was endangering himself by protecting the boy but after that small exchange he’d had with him up in the refridgerator, he couldn’t bring himself to let Jack kill him. There was something about him…
“Why kill him after all the effort we used to keep him alive?” He replied. Jack seemed to falter at this. They’d rescued the boy from the fire outside but for what reason he was still trying to figure out. If the boy had remained unconscious then maybe he could have just left him in the refridgerator while they made their escape. The boy would have been oblivious to what was going on and still be alive but now that he knew… now that he’d seen and confirmed what he suspected.
“Well, what do you suggest?” He asked, expecting Ferris to falter and struggle for a response but Ferris seemed ready with an answer.
“We take him with us.” He said calmly. Jack almost exploded.
“What!” Ferris didn’t seem fazed. Instead he met his friend with a steady eye. His stubborn signature streak was in full force. Jack couldn’t see the boy’s spark. Jack couldn’t appreciate another brilliant mind. He was sure that if he managed to keep the boy alive, he’d be able to help him escape this secret underground life later on. The poor boy had only stumbled on to this path and now he was being pulled down it at a speed he might not be able to keep up with. But Ferris was sure he’d be able to get him out before he was drawn in too far.
“He’s strong, he’s got a smart head and he’s young enough to be trained, right? Besides, the Boss’ll get a hefty price for his pretty head…” He said, reasoning his suggestion. He watched as his friend deflated and lowered his gun.
“The Boss’ll kill us after this…” He muttered. Ferris sensed the man’s defeat and stepped forward to remove the gun from his hands and offer a reassurance.
“Then this can be payment, or at least some of it.” He said, “An IR agent at his mercy… that’s a history marker… more than enough to warrant the loss of one drug lab.” Jack relented seeing the logic and finally agreeing.
“Fine, tie him up and keep him out. I don’t want him waking up anytime soon.” Ferris nodded. It was going to be a rocky road from now on but the boy was alive… that was good enough for now.
“Alan!” he called, the boy couldn’t be too far. He had to be able to hear him… “ALAN!” He turned in a circle searching the flames and smoke for the familiar mop of blonde hair that he was missing terribly. “Come on bro don’t do this to me. I’m too young to go grey.” He muttered to himself as he looked for a marker of some kind… “Alan! Answer me damnit!”
It was then that he noticed the large silver doors to his left. Without even thinking, he moved on auto pilot and opened the doors with a grunt of exertion. As he stepped inside, the whoosh of flames quietened. He was able to hear the slight ruckus that came from the doorway at the back of the cold white room. Instantly suspisious, he carefully moved closer to the door and listened; his instincts telling him to keep quiet.
There were voices, unfamiliar but very English. He was only just able to distinguish what was being said and he listened intently.
“We take him with us.”
“What!” There were two people, arguing over taking someone somewhere… a nagging feeling found his stomach and began to gnaw at him from inside. His gut was telling him that Alan was down there but his head was still unsure.
“He’s strong, he’s got a smart head and he’s young enough to be trained right? Besides, the Boss’ll get a hefty price for his pretty head…” As the man spoke, his head started agreeing with his gut. But there was still a possibility that it wasn’t Alan down there.
“The Boss’ll kill us after this…”
“Then this can be payment, or at least some of it.” A pause then the next words confirmed his gut feeling, “An IR agent at his mercy… that’s a history marker… more than enough to warrant the loss of one drug lab.” Virgil almost cried. His baby brother was alive but, this situation was even worse. He was sure now he’d found the killers Scott had warned him about and they had his brother with them. If he didn’t do something soon, he’d never see Alan again.
“Fine, tie him up and keep him out. I don’t want him waking up anytime soon.” Virgil stood to make his move but just as he did several things happened; his radio sparked into life with a loud warning just as the ceiling came down on top of him, crushing him under its weight. Something struck his helmet hard enough to smash it open. It rolled away and he watched it disappear before another blow hit his unprotected head enough to send stars in front of his vision.
As the darkness swallowed him, his last thoughts were of Alan and how he was going to get out of this one…
“Sorry bro…” he managed before letting his eyes drift shut.
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