Submarine (S1E18): Missing Scenes

Disclaimer:  I do not own either of the Mission: Impossible series or any of the characters therein.  I receive no compensation or any other tangible benefit from this story.  I am just a fan who enjoys taking the team out for an adventure every now and then.  🙂

*****

"Gentlemen," Admiral Sheppard announced, standing up in response to whatever his associate had whispered in his ear, "let's interrupt the bidding for a minute.  There's an interesting news item on television that may stimulate your enthusiasm."

Nicholas and the five other men watched as the Admiral pushed a button, and then walked over to the South African who had last spoken.  The latter stood up in response.

"Twelve million dollars," he repeated.  "I've made a bid."

Sheppard said nothing, instead turning around to face the screen as the pre-recorded video of the fake Hong Kong newscast began to play.

"And here is an urgent message just to hand," said Shannon, in her role as a television news anchorwoman.  "Two chemical tankers have collided off the coast of Hong Kong, sending a lethal gas cloud downwind."

The Admiral listened thoughtfully as Shannon continued.  "Both ships' crews are presumed dead and tens of thousands of Hong Kong's coastal residents are also feared asphyxiated."

"That's here!"  Nicholas exclaimed, standing up.  "That's heading towards us."

"Viewers in the affected area are urged to move inland immediately.  And those unable to move should close all windows and doors."

*****

Grant, backpack in hand, returned to the basement of Sheppard's compound and approached Max, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, let's do it."

"Good night, guys," Max responded, as he opened the faucet where he'd attached the anesthetic gas to the sprinkler system.  Then he and Grant quickly donned masks for protection and flipped the communicator to open mic, knowing Nicholas would report in as soon as the Admiral lost consciousness.

*****

Outside, the anesthetic gas was doing its work; various guards and drivers began to fall victim to the toxic gas.  Inside, the "newscast" played on.

"...believe the computer malfunctions were reported by both ships only minutes before the collision.  At this stage, there appears no plausible explanation for the apparently bizarre coincidence."

Something caught the eye of the South African, and he jumped up out of his seat and rushed to peer out the window.

"Prevailing winds continue to carry the gas cloud south, and estimates of the death toll are growing.  There's no information to hand as yet of a possible antidote to the poisonous vapor, but scientists offer little hope to those directly affected by the gas."

As Shannon continued speaking, Sheppard made a sudden realization.  He reached into his interior breast pocket and whipped out a small handgun, just as the South African returned to the meeting room.

"It's here!" he reported.  "The gas is here!"

"Somebody must have deployed that virus without my permission," the Admiral accused, his voice laced with hostility.  He pulled out the floppy disk.  "Without this."  

He waved the disk around for emphasis.  "You idiots!" he said, pointing the weapon in the general direction of his guests.  "Who was  it?  It can only have been one of you."

The Middle Eastern guest suddenly gasped, hand to his chest, and bolted for the door.  Sheppard took two steps in pursuit, but then turned back toward the others.

"Get out of here," said the Chinese guest, coughing, to his companions, and they both exited the mansion through the side door.  Suddenly, Nicholas and the Admiral were the only two men left in the room.

"Of course," Sheppard said knowingly, his brown eyes piercing as he took two steps toward his companion.

Nicholas began to fidget and blinked his eyes, already feeling slightly dizzy from the effects of the gas.  Hurry up, he willed silently, praying he could outlast his adversary.

"The so-called mix-up at customs," the Admiral continued.  "It's time... for some answers, Mister Oseri."

*****

"What's taking so long?" Max muttered impatiently through his mask.  "Shouldn't we have heard from Nicholas by now?"

"Relax, pal," soothed Grant.  "It will take a while for the gas to find its way inside to Sheppard."

"If it didn't get Nicholas first," Max countered worriedly, knowing that his dark-haired friend was a smaller man than the Admiral, and without the benefit of military training.  "Should we go check on him?"

"Let's give it a few more minutes, Max," Grant answered.  "Nicholas is strong.  He'll be fine."

*****

Nicholas could feel the lightheadedness getting worse, and the blackness creeping around the edges of his vision.  He reached up to loosen his tie; normally it was an easy task, but at the moment he was having a hard time getting his fingers to work right.  Finally, after great effort,  he was able to loosen his collar.

The Admiral staggered forward, bracing himself on a table with his right hand.  He stared at the disk in his left hand for a moment, then crushed it as he coughed, then gasped, pitched forward, and passed out.

Instantly, Nicholas opened the small plastic box that contained the rebreather, then hastily put the blue rubber mask to his mouth and nose.  He breathed in greedily.  That was close, he thought, as he felt his senses come rushing back.  Then his heart fell to his stomach as he spotted what was left of the floppy disk in Sheppard's hand.

Nicholas fastened his rebreather into place, then moved hastily around the large table to where Sheppard lay motionless.  He knelt down beside him, fishing his communicator out of his right suitcoat pocket.  He checked to confirm his suspicion -- that the disk containing the virus cure was in pieces in the Admiral's hand -- then switched on the device with a beep.

"Jim," he announced.

*****

"That's our cue, buddy." Max breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing his teammate's voice.  "Let's roll."

Grant picked up a nylon backpack and followed Max out of the basement and inside the main quarters of the mansion.

*****

"Sheppard has destroyed the computer disk," Nicholas was saying.  "I couldn't stop him."

"All right, Nicholas," Jim acknowledged, almost without missing a beat.  They hadn't known if Nicholas would be able to recover the disk, or even if the Admiral would have it on him at all.  So they had been prepared for either outcome.

"Uh, we'll move to second stage. Proceed as planned," Jim advised, with Shannon looking on.

"Right," Nicholas replied, then switched off his controller and put it back into his pocket as Grant and Max rounded the corner and came into sight.  The blond agent walked past Nicholas and turned his attention to the unconscious Admiral, while Grant crouched at his teammate's side.

"You all right?" he questioned, as he helped Nicholas put on the backpack.

"Yes, but the disk has been destroyed," Nicholas responded, nodding his head to let Grant know that everything was in place.

"Let's get him out of here," Grant urged.  He helped Max pull the tall Admiral to his feet, draping one arm across each of their shoulders, and they left the mansion.  Nicholas, having replaced his rebreather for a mask similar to that of his teammates, followed closely behind them but out of Sheppard's direct line of sight.

Once outside, they stopped walking for a moment, and Max briefly put the extra oxygen mask over the Admiral's face.  Revived instantly by the fresh air but breathing heavily, Sheppard looked around and saw half a dozen men lying motionless on the ground.  He looked at Grant, who grabbed his arm to steady him, then at Max, and back at Grant again.

"How'd you get here?" he asked weakly.

"U.S. Navy chopper, sir," Grant answered, pointing toward the sky.  "Coming back in now."

Sheppard attempted to look up in the direction of Grant's signal, but the gas overtook him once again and his head drooped.  With that, the three teammates and the Admiral headed for the next phase of the mission.

*****

Grant, Max, and Nicholas, along with the Admiral, arrived back at the team's headquarters -- an inactive submarine, on loan to them by the U.S. Navy -- where Jim and Shannon were waiting.  They knew that they were in for a busy evening; the four younger agents would have to play multiple parts in order to convince Sheppard that he was a guest on a fully-staffed, fully functional submersible.

As Sheppard slept, the three men donned Navy uniforms and weatherproof gear and prepared to simulate the Admiral's unorthodox arrival.  Nicholas was pulling the last of his gear into place when he sighed audibly, put his left hand to his head, and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

Max, from only a couple of feet away, noticed the gesture.

"You okay?" he asked, reaching out to lay a hand on the shorter man's shoulder, as Grant looked on.

Momentarily surprised by Max's question, Nicholas took his hand away and gazed over at his blond friend, then forced a smile.  "I'll be fine," he said reassuringly, "as soon as my head stops hurting."

"Has it been hurting long?" Grant inquired, himself mildly concerned, pulling his rain boots on.

"It started back at Sheppard's place."

"The gas," Max mused.  "You must have gotten a good dose of it."  He cast a knowing glance at Grant.  "I know it took you a while to call Jim."

"Sheppard is a tough man," Nicholas admitted.  "It took him forever to go down.  For a moment there, I thought he would outlast me."  A sharp pain shot through his head, and he winced involuntarily.

"There's some painkillers in the first aid kit," Grant said sympathetically.  "I'll grab them for you as we go out."

"Thanks, Grant," Nicholas smiled.

"We'd better get moving," Max urged, knowing they were on a tight schedule.  Then he gazed once again at his dark-haired friend, unable to hide the concern in his eyes.  "You up to it?"

Nicholas nodded, giving Max a grateful shoulder slap.  "Let's go."

 

The End

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