Moonstrike Ch. 1 - Discovery

March, 2065 – Thunderbird Five, in geostationary orbit above the earth

John Tracy pushed his blond hair away from his face and frowned at the images his telescope had picked up. Around him, the station hummed and whispered; it was all still very new but he'd already learned to tune out the multitude of voices picked up by Five's sensitive antennae. The telescope was new, too, and he'd been trying to get some clearer pictures of the dwarf planet Pluto and its recently discovered fifth moon. Being as far away from earth as he was made the telescope in the astrodome particularly effective, and he was having fun playing with his new "toy".

However, something was occluding the images he'd taken. He'd run a series of diagnostics first, making sure that there were no flaws in the telescope itself. When the tests came up clean, he started a continuous scan for whatever it was. It didn't seem big, not yet, but a week's worth of data proved it to be moving. He was trying to get a good picture of the thing itself, but for some reason, it wasn't reflecting the sun's light as much as other heavenly bodies did. As a result, trying to pin it down was proving difficult.

He kept looking for it until his month-long tour of duty was over, and he returned home to the tropical paradise that was Tracy Island. His last instructions to brother Alan was to leave the scanning program running – unless there was urgent need for processing space – and he'd link to the computer himself in a week or so to pull the results. Alan readily agreed; he wasn't as interested in the astrodome as much as his brother was.

During the week after his arrival back home, John was caught up in a rescue, one with physical repercussions that put his research out of his mind for a while. Once he'd regained consciousness and was released from the sick room, it was still a few days before he remembered the program he had running, and made the effort to download the data. What he saw made him call in Brains for a conference.

"What do you think, Brains?" he asked as the two of them pored over the images he'd obtained.

The slight scientist shook his head. "I d-don't know, John," he replied. "There's something, uh, there, but it's still not very clear."

"There seems to be more than one of them, and they're moving deeper into the system fairly quickly." John glanced at his friend. "Do you think they could be... space craft?"

Brains pushed his glasses back up his nose, then ran a hand through his short brown hair, grimacing. "As you well know, there has never been any definitive sign of, uh, intelligent life elsewhere," he said, sounding a bit sarcastic. He held up a finger before John could jump in with a reply. "Though I do admit the, uh, possibility does exist, previous sightings notwithstanding."

A smug, good-humored smile crossed John's face. He and Brains had done a study of twentieth century "alien" sightings to try and dispel or confirm them. For John, it had been a lark, something fun to pass the time between classes at MIT and Harvard. For Brains, it had been a study in confusion. Too many times he had shaken his head and muttered, "How can people b-believe this?" Their conclusion had been a mixed one; most claims, they decided, were false, but there were a number that they could neither prove nor disprove. The lack of a solid answer one way or the other had irked them both.

Now the brains behind the Thunderbirds sighed. "I don't think this is your, uh, aliens, John. It's something far more p-prosaic, and perhaps more, uh, dangerous."

His smile fading, John asked, "Dangerous?"

Brains took his glasses off this time, and wiped the lenses with a cloth, a habit that John recognized as a nervous tic. "It will take some time, and much more observation before we can run the, uh, equations. When you return to Thunderbird Five, please k-keep me apprised of what data you collect."

"Sure, Brains. I'll do that."

On his return to Thunderbird Five, John got into the habit of letting the program run during "work" hours – he was really on duty around the clock, but had a regular daily schedule with working and sleeping times – and saving then downloading the data to Brains. During his "off" hours, he pored over what the telescope had detected, beginning the equations that would determine the velocity of the objects, and most importantly, their projected path through the solar system. He also held carefully guarded computer conversations and correspondence with other astronomers he knew, trying to discover if anyone had mentioned seeing the phenomenon. For it was abundantly clear that this was no malfunction; it was real, and heading deeper into the solar system every day.

It was over two months before he heard any public discussion on the intruders. By this time, he and Brains had determined what they were, and were on the cusp of figuring out where they were headed. The delay in completing the computations was due to their regular duties in International Rescue, as well as the repair of Thunderbird Two after it was shot down by the USN Sentinel.

The public discussions were free at first, and excited, but quickly dwindled to little or nothing. The rapid decline in enthusiasm and frequency puzzled John, and those who were still talking about it did so in guarded emails or private conversations.

"The World Government has taken a position on the matter." Tatiana Rafalko, a Ukrainian astronomer who was a correspondent, and a friend, told him in a vidphone conversation. "First, we are told we do not yet have enough data. Then they tell us we must be mistaken. Our observations are faulty, our calculations flawed. Their astronomers have decided there is no danger, no threat." She shook her head in the vidphone screen. "Anyone who persists in disagreeing with their position has suffered for it. They are dismissed as alarmists. There are threats to withdraw funding... or termination from one's position." With a sad smile, she added, "You are wise to keep your head down, and your status amateur, my friend. They will not look at you too closely."

Finally John and Brains completed their complex calculations.

"Are you sure about this, Brains?" John asked, a hint of plea in his voice that perhaps they'd been wrong.

Brains nodded, taking his glasses off again to wipe them clean. "Y-Yes, John. The computer has confirmed it. There is no other, uh, conclusion. No matter what the World G-Government's astronomers think or say, they are wrong." He sighed heavily. "We must tell your father... and start working on some, uh, counter measures."