Thunderbirds The White Reindeer

The White Reindeer

Okay, any landing you walk away from was a good landing, or so all pilots told themselves. This was definitely one of Scott's less than perfect landings. Thunderbird 1 perched precariously on the little postage stamp island in the middle of a foggy lake, one landing strut buckled on hard rock, the second in shallow water and sinking gradually into the muddy bottom and third, thank God, parked firmly on the scraggy brush covered ground.

The whole right side of his Thunderbird was covered in blood and feathers. He and a flock of migrating geese had unexpectedly crossed paths. His intake valves were stuffed with all kinds of bird bits, it would be a gruesome and tiresome job to clean up.

He liked geese, especially from a distance. Their neighbor in Kansas had geese, instead of watchdogs, to guard his cherry orchard, and many a young Tracy learned how vicious, noisy, and big an enraged goose could be. This had been closer than he ever wanted to get. The flock just seemed to come out of nowhere and his windscreen was plastered with feathers and blood. Scott didn't think he could look with equanimity on any goose liver paté for a long time to come.

"Thunderbird 1 to Thunderbird 5." Scott raised his communicator to his mouth wincing a little at the strained muscles in his arms. He'd literally wrestled TB 1 to the ground.

"Go ahead Scott." Came the calm voice of John. "What's your ETA to the danger zone?"

"Umm, no time soon. I kinda crash landed." Scott said sheepishly. "I'm okay, but my 'bird is full of hmmm birds." Scott could hear some keys tapping and then John sighed. "Okay, you are about 100 clicks north of the Arctic Circle and in the middle of a lake...?" the last phrase was was pitched higher.

"I landed on the only piece of rock in the middle of the lake."

"Oh, great. Shall I divert Thunderbird 2 to pick you up?"

"Negative. Have them go on to the danger zone and then come pick me up on the way back. Tell Virgil, no gloating."

"FAB Thunderbird 1." John gloated.

By the end of the twentieth century man had managed to pollute his planet and pretty well ruin the ecology. The banning of the internal combustion engine in the early twenty first century did do a lot to halt the degredation of the atmosphere. But Mother Nature was not so forgiving. Storms and natural disasters in the last years had given the world a lot of grief. Massive storm fronts with killer waves were more frequent than rare these days. Such a storm in the North Sea had left several country's fishing fleets and navies in peril. Scott had been on his way to coordinate rescue efforts when he was forced to land in one of the last wilderness areas in Europe - Lapland.

Just the fact that John had told him that he was about a hundred miles from the Arctic Circle made him shiver. He looked warily at Thunderbird 1 perched precariously on the small island. As if to underline his doubts, she listed a few more degrees to one side with an ominous groan and screech of tortured metal. The cold gray waters of the lake looked none too inviting. He would have to seek shelter on this meager island until his brothers came to pick him up on the way back from their rescue. A rescue that could possibly take days. Well, it could have been worse...then the snow began to fall.

"Oh...crap." Scott muttered to himself and hefted his survival bag onto his shoulder and began to climb up the slippery wet rocks of the shore. His pup tent wouldn't be of any use if he couldn't find a patch of ground even flat enough to anchor it to. Just to underline the situation the wind began to pick up and whistle and moan.

Visibility was quickly down to almost nothing. From the air, this island looked little more than a little rock, so he was expecting to step off a ledge into the lake again, but he seemed to stumble on almost forever until a dark patch seemed to loom in his path. To his relief, it seemed to be a sort of shallow cave. It smelled musty, but that of old vegetation, rather than that of bear, badger, fox, or any other wild animal.

With a quick flick of his wrist, his little tent was set up, the sides barely fitting in the small shelter. The small explosive bolts anchored it firmly to the ground. His own body heat would warm up the tent with it's highly reflective lining and the silk and down bag would have him snug as he could get. As if peeved at the intruder the storm redoubled it's fury with snow and howling wind.

"Come in Thunderbird 5."

"Are you in shelter?" John's voice was worried. "That's a hell of a storm that just blew up over you."

"Tell me about it." Scott said and climbed into the little tent. He removed his wet boots and wiggled his toes into the warmth of the sleeping bag that was puffing up out of it's tight package. "Yeah, I found a little cave. Have they reached the danger zone?"

"About five minutes ago. Gordon and Thunderbird 4 has already been deployed. Alan and Virgil are working on winching up crew from ships. Hang on.." Scott could hear John relaying information from other boats in distress to Thunderbird 2 and other rescue vessels.

"Okay Scott, any instructions?"

" I can tell you are busy. Call me if you need anything." Scott hated being on the waiting end of a rescue, something that didn't happen often. "Tell Virgil...uh, tell them to be safe." he added lamely.

"FAB. Thunderbird 5 out."

Scott sighed. He might as well take a nap. There wasn't anything he could do now.

Outside the snow twisted and turned, the wind moaned an eerie discant and strange symbols flickered on the walls of the cave.

Scott woke suddenly. The wind was still keening and snow had piled up and around the mouth of the cave. Something else woke him up. Despite the indirect light from a sun that hovered around the horizon this time of the year a shadow was etched on the wall of the tent. To Scott's sleep gritted eyes the shadow seemed to be that of a woman. Suddenly, the tent was ripped wide open to the elements.

Scott's cry of fear at the beast that shredded his shelter mingled with that of the howling wind.

18 hours later...

"What do you mean you couldn't get a hold of him!?" Virgil shouted at John. He was normally a placid guy, but after one of the hardest rescues they had ever been on, he wasn't in the mood to be tactful.

"I'm sorry Virg, but I've tried every frequency. Thunderbird 1's automatic responder is working, but Scott isn't answering any hails. It isn't like him at all."

"Why didn't you let me know earlier?" Virgil tried to shrug the pain out of his shoulders. Holding Thunderbird 2 at hover in storm conditions for hours at a time was a beast.

"Because you all were too busy." Jeff's calm voice interrupted the potential shouting match. "I've been in touch with our man on location, Agent 51. He'll meet you with a boat and take you out to the crash site. I'm sure it isn't anything more serious than a radio malfunction." He paused, "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine, Father. Gordon and Alan are pretty battered and bruised..."

"We're fine." Alan interrupted over his shoulder. " Although, " He paused for dramatic effect, "Gordy got seasick." He smirked at his next older brother who made a rude gesture back.

"So, I tossed a few cookies." Gordon shrugged and grinned. "The new safety harness Brains came up with was sweet. Just like ones on the rollercoasters. No bruised shoulders." He lowered his voice into a passable Sean Connery imitation. "Shaken, not stirred."

Jeff Tracy gave a little chuckle. You could always count on Gordon to lighten a heavy mood. The rescue had been one hell of a job, and they were lucky to get away with just bruises and their field commander sitting out on some island in the middle of a lake. He wasn't worried about Scott, he was the most sensible one of the lot, not likely to do something without thinking like Alan and Gordon were apt to do.

What was he thinking? He'd yelled, more startled than scared at the deer that had shredded his tent with its antlers and scrambled after the animal in his stocking feet. The deer, stopped a few feet in front of him and seemed to smirk. He took a few steps towards it and yelled, "Shoo!"

The reindeer took a few steps backwards and then lowered its horns threateningly at Scott. Scott thought he heard a faint jingling like small metal bells, and he took a step to one side keeping his eyes fixed on the eyes of reindeer which were a startling vaseline green. He could feel the snow melting into his socks and grimaced. If his brothers caught sight of him now, they would be laughing their heads off, as he squared off with one of Santa's reindeers in his socks. Which one of them was white? Donner, Dancer, Flotsam, or Jetsam?

He did a quick glance behind him to see if he could back up into the cave, and then did a double take. Behind him was rolling hills, no sign of cave, no island, no lake. He was in the middle of a snow-covered tundra. He forgot the aggressive deer.

"What the h..." he turned around slowly. Was this a dream? What happened? He heard a laugh behind him. A woman with long dark hair and dressed in a colorful costume was laughing. It wasn't a nice laugh either. She tossed her hair back with one hand and beckoned to him. He took a step forwards and sunk awkwardly up to one knee in snow. She turned and ran lightly to top of a hill and without a word continued out of sight.

Scott hesitated for a moment, then started slogging up the hill after her. What could he do, what were his options in this barren wilderness. Where did the woman come from? Where did the reindeer go to? Where was he? The metal tinkling seemed to fill his head and soon he was automatically putting one frozen foot in front of the other.

Virgil turned the collar of his cold weather jacket up around his ears. Springtime in Lapland apparently meant good skiing weather as snow still covered the ground. Agent 51 was an older man who introduced himself as Sasha. Sasha's only concession to the weather was a knit hat and a worn green jacket and trousers. The boat was just an open rowboat and the cold spray felt like little ice cubes hitting his face. He kept an eye on his navigator that was tuned to Thunderbird 1's signal.

"About five degrees north and then about 2.5 kilometers." Virgil informed the taciturn man. He was lucky to get more than five words out the man other than 'joo' and 'hmm'.

The little boat made a graceful curving ripple on the surface of the dark cold water. Lucky Scott didn't land in the cold stuff. He'd left Alan and Gordon parked in Thunderbird 2 on the lake shore. They had wanted to come along, but luckily enough the boat was none too big, so he could leave the two trouble magnets somewhere safe. Despite their protests to the contrary his two younger brothers were exhausted and needed the rest.

They were coming closer to a large island dominated by a massive rock formation. The boat slowed fractionally.

"The Old Man island." Sasha grunted. "There aren't any other big islands around here except..." For the first time Virgil saw some emotion cross the man's face. It looked like fear.

"Except..." Virgil fished for information.

Sasha looked around them cautiously, and the little boat slowed further. "_She_ may have your man."

"She?" Virgil was tired, cold, and worried about Scott, and this guy was talking about a woman?

"Ummm." Sasha muttered as if he'd used up his store of words for the week.

The first thing they saw was the nose of Thunderbird 1 jutting up over a piece of rock that could hardly be called an island. It wouldn't take more than five minutes to find Scott.

"**Scott!**" Virgil bellowed and expected to see a sheepish looking older brother come running. There was no answer and his call seemed to deaden and fall to the ground. Sasha ran the boat to where they could disembark without getting too wet. It didn't take long to find the sheltering cave and the torn tent. Virgil picked up Scott's boots and frowned, surely he wouldn't go out without boots? Tracks around the tent were only of Scott's boot and sock covered feet, but after one meter they stopped suddenly. Sasha bent near a scraggly bush and picked up a bit of white fluff.

"The White Reindeer. She has him. We must go now."

"Wait. Scott. We have to look for Scott." Virgil shook his head tiredly. He thought his ears were ringing as he heard tinkling little bells and he felt the earth shift around him. Through a grey haze he felt the Lapp man pull him along and push him into the boat. He found himself hanging over the gunnels trying to wretch up a horrible taste in his mouth.

"We'll come back." Sasha said grimly. "And we'll bring the Shaman."

He tossed restlessly in the bed. There were voices calling to him, whispers that he could barely hear, hands that hurt, hands that soothed. He was hot and cold alternatively. He opened his eyes at one point to see a woman dressed in white leaning over him. She was singing a soft chanting song to him. The light of the lantern on the table backlit her dark hair like a halo.

At one point, he woke and watched her as she petted a fox in her lap like one would hold a cat. He watched, as if from an incredible distance, as she nuzzled the fox's throat and then bit down. A thin stream of blood ran down her chin and he closed his eyes.

His dreams were memories of running through the snow, sometimes with the laughing woman, sometimes with the white reindeer. His feet burned with the cold, but the hurt felt good.

Scott felt the heat soak into him. He lay unheeding as he heard the water being thrown on the heated stones repeatedly. Everytime he heard the hiss he knew that a wave of steam would soon roll over him. The heat seemed to go into his bones, finally loosening the cold that had seemed to hold on to him for so long. He didn't feel like moving even when he felt someone dump a bucket of warm water over him and begin to vigourously scrub his back and legs with a rough brush. His hair was washed and then he was pulled to his feet, given a towel and led to a small room outside of the sauna where a fireplace burned cheerfully. He began to take an interest in his surroundings and slowly started drying himself with the towel and then wrapping it around his waist. The small windows of the hut were rimed with frost, but inside the light of the fireplace showed a room with furs on the floor, bright rugs on the walls and rough wooden furniture. He could hear the sigh of steam from the sauna as whoever had bathed him was having their turn. A covered bucket near him had a wooden mug sitting on it and he was surprised that he the strength and interest to open it and scoop out a mugful of some dark liquid. He took a hesitant sip and then drank thirstily at the beer-like liquid.

He almost dropped the mug when the door opened and the woman of his fever dreams came in. She had a towel around her but it barely covered her up. Her hair hung in waves to her bare shoulders.

She came to sit next closely next to him on the bench. Her hand brushed across his forehead as if checking for fever. She smiled revealing little white teeth. His mind skipped to the image of her and the fox and an involuntary shudder ran through him.

Her hand rested on his arm and the image faded from his mind. His mouth felt suddenly dry with her sitting next to him. He could smell her cleanness from the steam bath, see the beads of water on her skin like little sparkly jewels in the firelight. He could feel a flush rise up in him. He hastily took a drink of the dark liquid.

She placed a hand on his that held the mug and carefully drank from it still holding his hand in hers. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to kiss her. Her lips were soft and inviting and she tasted of honey and wild berries. He ran his fingers into her long curly damp hair. He could feel her soft body against his through the towel. A sudden wave of dizziness flashed over him and he found himself leaning too heavily on her.

She laughed wickedly and pinched his thigh so hard it would leave a nasty bruise. She pulled him to his feet and almost brutally shoved him out into the snow, so that he fell. She laughed as he tried to cover himself with the towel. She dove and rolled in the snow like a playful otter. He wanted to go back to the warmth of the little hut, but she chivvied him towards a cabin where she then proceeded to ignore him. He crawled gratefully into bed of furs. She arranged herself by the fire and crooning a strange atonal chant began to comb out her hair with a wooden comb. Sleep crept over him unawares.

Virgil decided to run the story to John first, before his father, or worse, his little brothers got a hold of the tale.

"So, there is an island haunted by a witch." John said slowly.

"Well, actually," Virgil admitted, "she's a vampire."

"Oo-kay." John drawled. "And she took a liking to our big brother as a snack?"

"Look, John. The tracks just stopped. The island is no bigger than our living room. There is no sign of Scott. And yes, I checked the lake, no bodies either. I felt something...strange...I can't explain it."

"Look Virgil, you just went through a really tough rescue, you are tired and upset over Scott missing." John spoke soothingly to his usually pragmatic brother.

"Don't treat me like a five-year-old John Glenn Tracy." Virgil snarled."The locals take this seriously. They avoid that piece of rock like the plague. Now whether it's a witch, a vampire, or one of Santa's reindeers, the local shaman is going to try to get Scott back, and that works for me!" Virgil finished hotly and broke the connection. He took a shuddering breath and wiped his face with his hands. What if his brother was right? What kind of wild goose chase was he embarking on? How could there be a woman who turns herself into a white reindeer - and a vampire. It was crazy.

"No doubt exists that all women are crazy; it's only a question of degree." A softly accented voice said at his elbow.

He turned to see a woman dressed in a traditional Samí costume. She had a large oval drum under her arm and a long white birch staff. She seemed quite comfortable with only a fur vest on.

"Is that a native saying?" Virgil found himself asking. Good lord was she reading his mind?

"Actually, it's WC Fields. I'm Minja, the shaman, and I will do what ever is in my power to save your brother."

"I didn't know women could be shamans." Virgil found himself saying inanely.

"Many Samì women are shaman. Samí women have owned their own reindeer herds, chosen their own mates, and owned their own houses while most European women were mere chattels in their own homes." She smiled at him wryly, "Sorry for the lecture, I teach Sociology and do tend to preach."

Virgil found himself relaxing as Minja sat next to him in the boat. She was lightly tapping the drum and strangely enough Virgil found himself falling asleep.

_He was walking over the snow. He didn't feel any chill or cold. The sky was beautiful shades of pink and blue. A vixen fox trotted next to him. She gave a little bark and a flick of her tail, in a very unfoxlike way that made him follow her. A small cabin sat in a valley, a wisp of smoke curled up from a chimney. A smaller hut nearby seemed cold and dark. He saw a person open the door and was silhouetted against the faint light. She swung a white fur over her shoulders and suddenly there was white reindeer running over the hill. The vixen ran quickly towards the cabin and at the door she whined, waiting for him to open it._

_Virgil opened the door. The vixen ran to one corner where a fox fur was crumpled in the corner, the vixen gave a pitiful wail that almost sounded human and Virgil could have sworn he saw tears in her eyes. _

_A cot drew his eye, as he saw a tousled dark head under a pile of reindeer furs. _

"_Scott!" He hurried over. _

_Scott looked so pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes._

"_Scott! Wake up! We have to leave before she comes back!"_

_Scott barely opened his eyes. "Virgil?" he whispered, "I've been having a bad dream?"_

"_I don't know." Virgil said and reached out to touch his brother's head. His hand went through him. "Maybe , we both are."_

_The vixen gave a little whine at his leg. "We are coming for you Scott, just stay on top of it. We are coming for you!"_

"_Okay. Virgil." Scott shivered._

"_And don't trust her, she's a vampire!"_

Virgil woke with a start in the boat. Minja was staring at him. Sasha was steering the boat and they were just passing the Old Man Island.

"What did you see?" Minja asked.

"I saw Scott. He was alive."

"Did you see her?"

Virgil pinched his nose, "It was a dream, wasn't it? Maybe it was just wishful thinking. Maybe my brother is dead."

Minja leaned forwards and put her hands on the side of his face. "Dreams are often most profound when they seem the most crazy._",_ she gave him a lopsided smile, "Sigmund Freud."

"Do you have a quote for everything?" Virgil gave a nervous laugh.

"Just about. A shaman has to have a good memory. Now, tell me everything. Don't leave out the least detail."

Virgil told her about the vixen, the woman changing into the deer and seeing his brother and talking to him.

She gave a smile when he told her about the fox. "Ah, nothing like having allies." She smiled grimly. "A lynx would have been better, but foxes are ever so clever."

Once they reached the little island Sasha quickly started a fire. They seated themselves around the small blaze.

Sasha was now tapping on the drum with a bone. Other bones were jumping on the surface. Minja started to hum and then began yoiking.1

_Ane, ane iežat eret_

_Gos don boađát, dohko manat_

_Lean, lean mun du badjelii_

_Manan, manan, válddán, bijan_

_Suhppen ja deavččastan du eret_

Be gone, far away from here

Where you come from, there you shall go

I still have power over you

I'm going, I'm taking, putting aside

I'm throwing you far away from here

She had not found anything eat. Game seemed scarce. She had chased a lame vixen for many kilometers, but the wiley creature had eluded her. She licked her lips to think of the man in her cabin, the man made helpless by her allurement. She had relished the kiss he'd surrendered to her and maybe she would keep him, but then again she was hungry and how how good his blood would taste, not musty and cool like the fox, not hot and sour like the other deer. Maybe she would bleed him a little at a time, but then he would be too weak for laying with. Maybe, maybe, maybe...

She threw off her white robe as she entered the cabin. Her nostrils flared as she scented fox. Not the dog fox she'd dined off, but the very same vixen she'd been chasing. She snarled, her fangs showing. The vixen had sprayed her scent everywhere making the cabin smell musky and pungent.

She left the door open to let in air and began to search for vixen.

"Come, come." she crooned. "Come and join your husband. Let me take away your sorrow."

Scott woke up to a steady beating in his head. It was compelling. He could hear someone calling him, Father? Virgil? Yes, Virgil needed him, but he was so tired.

He watched dispassionately as the woman scuttled around on all fours, making strange noises, peeking under the beds, opening chests and sniffing and growling. Her teeth...someone had said...vampire?

He felt something furry on his leg and realized that whatever she was looking for was lying next to him. A lick of tongue on his leg reassured him that this was a friend.

She was not so beautiful as he first thought. Her eyes were beginning to glow a phosphorous green and her hair was lank and brittle. Cheeks were hollow and she looked not only hungry, but starved. As if she could hear him looking at her, her gaze fell on him and he knew how prey felt.

She laughed. It was a horrible laugh. It was a laugh of power over those who were smaller, weaker. No one could withstand her. No one!

'Never underestimate a Tracy'. Father always said. A nudge from the under the covers from the furry animal, and the strong beat sent blood throbbing through his body, warming his limbs and removing the cobwebs from his brain.

She stopped and raised her head as if listening and then the vixen dashed out from under Scott's furs and ran between the vampire's legs. She gave a shriek and there was an almost comedic chase around the cabin, overturning chairs and dumping foodstuffs before the fox made a dash for the open door. She followed with a scream and an obvious curse. Scott jumped up and grabbed the white fur by the door and wrapping it around himself began to run. He ran towards the drum beat, it getting louder, soon he heard a voice, singing a song that seemed familiar though the words eluded him.

There was a wordless scream behind him. He half-turned and saw to his concern the woman in pursuit. She was floundering through the snow, although he seemed to have no problems running on top of the crust. He turned to run again, and now he could see a light in the distance, it seemed to be a fire.

He caught a flash of rusty red running parallel to him and could have sworn that the fox was grinning at him.

The ground began to shift and turn, the ringing of metal and the pounding of the drum vied with one another, Virgil felt his stomach sour as the bitter copper smell of old blood arose around them. Minja continued with her chanting and then put her hand in the fire. There was a sudden snap and Scott stumbled into sight, dressed only in a white reindeer hide.

"Oh very good! This will put an end to her forever." Minja pulled the hide off Scott and threw it into the fire. They heard and unearthly scream that suddenly ended, cut off short as the white reindeer hide curled up on itself and burnt to a crisp.

Virgil grinned at his naked brother and held out his boots.

"Next time, put on your boots."

Based loosely on:

The White Reindeer released in 1952

1 watch?v=xdEXyN_ZdEc&amp;feature=related


End file.

Thunderbirds, Supernatural