And Bonk.
Don't you know how the Standard Thunderbirds episode goes? The first attempt always fails and escalates the situation just in time for the ad-break.
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--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
Quote:Smoke trailed from the wheels of the lead Tachikoma, brake disks and stator coils starting to glow white-hot.
“My brakes are overheating!”
A note of artificial panic added to the urgency.
“Mine too!” The second announced.
They held firm. The Third bore the pain in stoic silence.
“Tell him to brake,” directed Lebia.
Jet messaged him direct. “Mackie. Brake. Brake as hard as you can.”
Clouds of carbon dust belched through the vents in the wheels as the Griffon’s damaged brakes engaged with a metallic scream.
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“Big fat tyres and everything....”
Kohran mumbled as tweaked the throttle, watching the temperature gauge rise closer and closer to the green line. Her body fizzed with energy, ready to explode at a moment’s notice.
All she was waiting on was the word that was taking forever to come.
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“They’ve got two.” Anika announced “Going for the Third.”
Ford offered a relieved smile, her first in what had seemed like an age. “Great. Just one more and then I can kill him.”
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Myk pressed his free hand against his ear to try and block out the sound of the whistling ventilation ducts. His other hand pressed a wave-phone against the side of his head.
“I don’t know yet Jeph, I haven’t heard anything beyond what I told you.”
A pause.
“I’m still in the escape tunnel and there’s another.....”
The line went silent.
“Jeph?” He tried. “Jeph?”
The Stig looked down at him, then at the rock walls. There’s your problem made.
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KJ saw distinctive electric blue tint of xenon headlights crawling around the curve of the tunnel ahead.. His breath caught in his throat as his hand covered the brake, expecting the worst.
A moment later, he rounded the bend and the worst exceeded his expectations by light years.
Part of his mind refused to believe it - that anyone could be that stupid. Part of his mind wondered if it wasn’t some sick staged stunt. The rest of him focused on just not hitting the bloody thing and the half dozen men struggling to get it out of the way.
Stuck halfway out of the refuge with the Land Rover towing it nosed up against the wall as far as it’d go. He aimed for the free space to the right.
It was gone in a heartbeat, receding into the distance behind him before his thoughts caught up. Fifteen seconds behind him was the Griffon.
“There’s a caravan in the tunnel! Charlie One-Six.”
That’s all he managed to broadcast. His whole body had gone cold.
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An engine’s roar filled the tunnel, grabbing everyone’s attention. It was different, a wail closer to a Formula 1 engine than a jet turbine. It rolled along the walls, echoing back and forth, coming from everywhere at once.
The cameraman spotted the headlight first .“We’re out of time!”
The Stiletto passed in a flash and a howl, hugging the right wall of the tunnel, leaving the scent of burning alcohol in its wake chased by popping gunshots from the turbochargers as the anti-lag kicked in.
The producer felt his stomach drop to his feet. “Oh.. bollox.” A familiar roar was building inexorably in the distance, rolling closer with every passing moment. “Everyone, get to cover. I’m going to warn them.” He grabbed a flare from the back of the Land Rover, thinking maybe he could use it to wave them off.
“Too Late!” The cameraman yelled, diving behind the Land Rover.
The presenter turned to face the camera inside the Ferrari. “Ladies and gentlemen......”
That was as far as he got.
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Lebia didn’t wait to see it with her own eyes.
“Jettison Cables!”
All three Tachikoma acted at once, breaking the connection. Explosive bolts severed the cables connecting the Tumbler to the Griffon. Jet released the cable she was holding, allowing it to retract back into its housing before it could get caught under the Tumbler.
Lebia lifted off the throttle, to give the Tachikoma space. A quick calculation told her she had no hope of stopping in time.
The Griffon’s brakes were instantly overwhelmed. Freed once more, it began to pick up speed, trailing three Tachikoma lines and a pair of steel cables.
Mackie saw it first, screaming in momentary fright. He saw the film crew running for cover - one man standing rabbit-like in the headlights before his legs finally decided to act of their own accord and get their owner out of the way.
He saw the gap and drove right for it, never lifting his feet off the brake.
Jet accelerated ahead of the crash, passing over the top of the Griffon, dodging a lashing cable with a snap roll. Mackie braced for impact. He didn’t close his eyes.The Tachikoma to the right dropped back. The second managed to slip in between Griffon and Tumbler to safety, a tap on the Tumbler’s brakes giving it just enough room to spin out of the way before Lebia followed through.
The third had nowhere to go but through.
“I can’t stop!” it squealed, at the last instant trying to shield it’s sensors with it’s manipulator arms.
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The caravan exploded on impact.
Shards of pottery mixed with splinters of wood and plastic and puffballs of sickly yellow fiberglass insulation in an expanding cloud of debris that burst outward riding along in the Griffon’s wake. Metal shrapnel scythed through the air, peppering the side of the Land Rover, pattering off the carbon tub of the Ferrari and splashing itself against the windshield of the Tumbler as it blasted through the ongoing wreck.
Pieces of Tachikoma joined the mass, a smashed leg punching through the rear window of the Range Rover, drilling through the rear seats before coming to rest embedded in the back of front passenger seat. It began to smoke immediately.
A manipulator slammed down onto the nose of the Ferrari, cracking the bodywork. Hydraulic fluid bled out pink across the red paint.
The remains of the Tachikoma skittered and spun down the road, shedding parts and trailing sparks and little flicks of flame where pieces of insulation caught light momentarily before extinguishing themselves.
“Ow,” said the think-tank in a meek tone as it came to a halt amidst a pile of debris. Three of its legs were gone, the abdomen had been wrenched off its actuator and both of its manipulators had been ripped free. The body was battered, scratched and pitted, but still mostly intact - intact enough to feel painfully embarrassed about the whole thing.
A bottle of gas rolled to a halt against its body with a hollow clonk. Insulation drifted slowly to the ground around like snow. The remains off pots, pans and various items of pottery were strewn across the tunnel. Papers drifted in the air. The caravan’s frame hadn’t moved an inch.
The producer steadily got back to his feet, propping himself up against the concrete barrier that’d saved his life, offering sincere thanks to God that he was unhurt.
The camera crew themselves were far more concerned about the Range Rover now beginning to burn.
“Some poo came out....” Said the shaking Presenter to the in-car camera, his jaw going slack as his eyes took in the devastation.
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Don't you know how the Standard Thunderbirds episode goes? The first attempt always fails and escalates the situation just in time for the ad-break.
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?