Synopsis: 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... Thunderpups are go! The maiden flight of a new hybrid-fueled plane has taken a turn for the worse when it's discovered that a bomb's been planted in the undercarriage. It's up to the PAW Patrol with their new high-speed Thunderpup machines to bring the aircraft down without triggering the bomb.

-*-**-*--**--**-****-*-********-*--*--

Adventure Bay had a mostly quiet day, although this had been periodically disturbed by the roar of large jet engines as a new set of vehicles have been undergoing testing by the PAW Patrol. Ryder's been answering a few calls about the effects, prompting him to apologise and explain that these machines are for long-range operations only once they've been properly tested. As the sun began to set, one last major roar of engines signalled the return of the final test, a tall pink-and-grey rocket gradually descended under its thrust into a silo strategically tucked away behind the Lookout as the pups within held their ears before the evening quiet returned.

"Okay, Thunderpup 4 has landed." Ryder declared as he tapped his Pup-Pad a few times as the pups turned away from the window.

"What did he say?" Marshall asked as he took his paws off his ears, revealing that he was wearing ear plugs underneath, earning a laugh from his friends as Rocky pulled them out.

"Skye's finished her flight tests." He explained as he stored the plugs and retracted his manipulator.

"Oh. I didn't think she'd be up for so long, especially after we had to fly out several times over."

"Well," Rubble remarked, "I don't think Skye's gonna need to deploy a submarine in space."

"As though it's not a wild-enough ride as it is." Zuma affirmed. "Getting dropped from those heights really rolls." As they laughed at this the elevator rose with Skye on board. She seemed to be moving a tad awkwardly.

"That's a long elevator ride after all that space travel." She sighed, stumbling out. "I gotta get some give back in my legs." In response to this Ryder bent down to give her and as many of the others as he could an ear scratch as he said.

"Alright, pups. Why don't you go play, now the Thunderpups have passed all tests?" This led to an enthusiastic response as they ran for the way out, although Skye still stumbled around until she bumped against the others making them all tumble all the way down to the ground floor.

"Hey!" Marshall cried out as they recovered. "That's my act!"

*--*----*--*--*--**--*-**-*--

In a small town on the Welsh coast a fire engine rolled up to a patch of tarmac that adjoined a long glass-fronted building. One of the occupants turned to another as the noise of the engine settled and asked.

"Uh, what are we doing here, Sam? I don't see any smoke." The recipient of this question gave a nervous glance past the building to the much larger stretch of tarmac on the other side before turning back and replied.

"It's the day Joe's making his maiden flight. He's had enough good fortune during the preliminary trials, but this is the first time he's going up with passengers. Knowing his luck, there could well be some very serious trouble."

"And what would Station Officer Steele say about this?" At this a voice called to them from outside the vehicle.

"He'd say, Cridlington, that the risk of an air crash warrants a high alert status." This made everyone on board to swing their heads to see their senior officer standing there, waiting for them to disembark. "The police and I will be operating the control tower today, seeing as no professional controllers could be brought in in time. I'll want all of you here to rendezvous with any fire hazard that presents itself."

Inside the structure that functioned as an air terminal a number of VIPs sat waiting for the call to board the Flightmaster 6000, as its designer called it. Persons from across Britain and flight experts mingled with a few representatives from overseas, including a lady with a dusky complexion who rose a number of eyebrows with how she doted on the chicken that she kept in a handbag. One time somebody suggested that she might want to send it to the pet carrier for the aircraft, which she shot down quickly, risking an uproar before the situation calmed down with a conditional acceptance of her intent to keep her chicken with her. Finally, the call came for everyone to board, and she remarked.

"Oh, isn't this exciting, Chickaletta? We're going to be heading home on a brand-new plane." As she stood up a tall lanky woman with red hair approached her.

"Ms Goodway?" She checked before receiving a nod. "Am I to understand you wish for your chicken to travel in the passenger compartment?"

"But of course. I couldn't go anywhere without my Chickaletta." There was a momentary b'ka from her handbag.

"Okay, but you'll have to keep her with you at all times. I'll be the co-pilot on this flight, just to keep an eye on my Joe." There was a tone of trepidation in her voice.

"So, it's a family business, then?" Mayor Goodway seemed most interested in this matter. "It's such good news that you're making extensive work on green solutions to the issues of the world."

As this conversation was wrapping up a small figure was busy in the undercarriage of the Flightmaster 6000, one who wouldn't ordinarily draw suspicion but would be considered as being somewhere they shouldn't. Were anyone to notice what he was doing a lot more difficult questions would be coming his way.

"If they think this flight is a better option than my flight suit designs," He grumbled, "Then let's see how they like being in the middle of a bonfire." He'd hooked up a large tank to a wired detonator that was fixed to the suspension of the landing gear, arranged to trigger a massive explosion at the moment of touchdown. He got down and away from the aircraft before anyone would notice, aiming to wait at a reasonable distance to watch the take-off.

With all passengers on board and pre-flight checks complete the Flightmaster 6000 began taxiing to the runway. The sunlight glinted off the panels on the roof as the engines ran at minimal power until it reached the runway, take-off clearance coming quickly, allowing Joe Sparkes to punch in the take-off code. As far as any ordinary observer was concerned the take-off was just like any other, but to the experts among the passengers the difference was significant.

"I'd like t’make good time." Joe mentioned to Lizzie. "If we can get 'er up to 500 knots we'll be in New York in no time." She didn't like the sound of that.

"We're not trying to set a speed record." She reminded him. "Our passengers are more concerned with efficiency and performance than getting there quickly."

“But still,” He replied, “We gotta complete this flight in under five hours. The delivery of regulation fuel lines didn’t come through.” She looked at him fiercely.

“We’re going to be flying without proper fuel lines?”

“Now, now.” He desperately defended himself. “It’ll be all right as long as we can land before the rubber starts crackin’, which is why I want this flight to be under five hours.”

Down below Harold Humdinger smirked as he watched the Flightmaster 6000 climb to cruising altitude, but something niggled in him that led to his reaching for the nearest phone to call the terminal.

"Control? I think you'll want to know a bomb's been planted in the Flightmaster's undercarriage. Once it touches down it will explode so fiercely that bits of burning metal will be scattered all across the airport." He hung up rapidly and walked briskly away while wishing to remain close to watch the panic unfold.

At this time the altitude and heading of the Flightmaster 6000 was set, with Joe opting to lean back and let the autopilot handle the flight. In less than five minutes there was a sudden squawk on the radio.

"Flightmaster from Pontypandy. Please make a return course past the control tower." The voice was coming from the most senior figure in Pontypandy's services, Sgt Ravani. "We've had a tip-off that a bomb's on board your aircraft. It could be a hoax, but we can't take any chances. A fly-past with your landing gear deployed will allow us to take a quick film to check."

*--*****-*-*-**-*-**-****--*--

In Adventure Bay the members of the PAW Patrol had considered a great many choices of game to help Skye find her feet again, most of which involved various stumbles and trips. Fortunately, the activity alone helped her get back to her old self just as Ryder stepped outside.

"Hey, pups. I got a message from Mayor Goodway." This got their attention as they gathered round.

"Is she alright?" Marshall inquired. "I heard she'd gone overseas."

"She did." Ryder replied. "She was invited to the flight trials of a new model of airplane that's supposed to run on solar power and biofuel. In fact, she's flying back on that very aircraft."

"A new airplane design? Cool!" Skye remarked.

"Sounds like my kinda flight." Rocky added.

*--*----*--*--*--**--*-**-*--

On board the Flightmaster 6000 Mayor Goodway felt a deep unease as the sensation of a descent went through her. Before she could say anything an announcement occurred, apologising for the change of plans before explaining about an apparent fault that required a return to Pontypandy.

"A fault?" She mused uneasily. "Oh, Chickaletta! We've gotta call the PAW Patrol, or anything could happen!" At this another passenger put their hand on her shoulder and asked her to calm down, reminding her that phone usage on board was inadvisable. "What?!? Then how are we gonna call for help?"

"Don't worry about it." Came the response. "Ground control would already know about it. It's bad enough that you've got that bird with you without you flaunting the rules about phones." This made her begin to feel something of a headache.

-******--*-****-**--***-*--**----*----

On a hill overlooking an expanse of jungle a shack with a prominent antenna stood vigil. Inside a chihuahua sat attentively in front of a ham radio, periodically tuning from one frequency to another. Suddenly a series of transmissions came through that made him pause and listen more closely to the words spoken.

"Pontypandy to Flightmaster. When you make your pass, lower your landing gear and raise your starboard wing. It'll provide the best angle to examine your undercarriage."

“Acknowledged, Pontypandy. Oh, this hasn’t been the maiden fligh’ I was wantin’.”

*--*----*--*--*--**--*-**-*--

“Ready with the camera, constable?” Sgt Ravani asked her colleague as he stood at the window, giving her a thumbs up in response as he tried to keep track of the Flightmaster 6000 as it approached. “Okay, here they come.” While she watched them fly past, and PC Malcolm Williams commenced recording with a tracking shot as the Flightmaster 6000 soared away and into a holding pattern, Station Officer Steele held his ears and crouched as best he could in response to the roar of the engines. “Okay, transfer the recording to my screen.” Sgt Ravani instructed as she turned towards a computer terminal. The footage came through and she hit a button to pause the video, just before advancing the footage at a slower rate until she spotted something behind a landing strut. “Gentlemen. Do you see this?” They gathered around her and looked at the screen.

“That’s it.” Malcolm confirmed. “This isn’t a hoax!”

“Right,” Steele declared as he grabbed his standard issue mic, “Fire crews on stand-by. Perform an evacuation of the town between the air terminal and the fire station. We’ve got an airline bomber on our hands!” In response to this the fire engine immediately started off with the siren wailing.

“Pontypandy to Flightmaster,” Sgt Ravani called through, “Confirming there is a bomb. It’s secreted in the wheel well.”

“Uh, roger that Pontypandy.” Joe’s voice came through. “Request emergency landin’.”

“That’s currently the worst option available. The position of the bomb means that the force of a touchdown would almost certainly trigger it. Maintain holding pattern 2.56.”

-******--*-****-**--***-*--**----*----

Tracker listened attentively to the exchange as time continued to pass.

“Uh, Pontypandy, we can’t keep flyin’ around and around up ‘ere.”

“I’m aware of that, Joe. What’s your endurance?”

“Well, the hybrid recharge system can keep us flyin’ ‘til sunset. The problem is the fuel lines were meant t’be replaced; I had hoped to get it done in the states. If the engines keep runnin’ at this rate, in two and a half hours the lines’ll crack and leak fuel all over the lithium batteries.”

“But that means a major risk of an in-flight fire.”

*--*----*--*--*--**--*-**-*--

“Okay, Joe,” Lizzie spoke slowly with a rather bemused tone, “What’s your solution to this, then?”

“Oh dear, oh dear.” He groaned. “We can’t get at the bomb while we’re flyin’, we can’t land in case it goes off, and if we keep flyin’ we could end up catching fire.”

Down below the fire service had been provided with a frequency allowing them to hear the exchanges between the Flightmaster 6000 and the control tower, although they could only transmit to the control tower.

“Sam, isn’t there anything we can do?” Elvis Cridlington asked as they set off from one set of houses to the next.

“I only wish we could.” It wasn’t a promising answer. “But there’s no way for a commercial aeroplane to hover while getting a ladder up high enough, and I don’t see how a helicopter could reach the plane’s landing gear.” As they drove the fire engine another part of the radio exchange came through.

“I hope you got your thinkin’ caps on, down there.” Joe’s voice came through shakily. “Lookin’ at the changes in the fuel flow rate durin’ this flight I calculate that we got just two hours and eigh’ minutes by now.”

-******--*-****-**--***-*--**----*----

“We’re trying our best to consider the options, Joe.” Tracker was surprised by this male voice coming through as Station Officer Steele picked up the mic in response to Joe’s message.

“Nevertheless, I must tell you that this is one scenario that has not been covered in our training in even the most roundabout manner. I’m afraid the only idea I can offer right now is that we pray for a miracle.” Hearing this Tracker’s look of concerned interest became one of contemplative potential.

“Tal vez consigas uno.” He uttered as he turned away from the radio set.

*--*****-*-*-**-*-**-****--*--

As the rest of the PAW Patrol took a well-deserved kip, Ryder was ensuring that all their transport options were properly stocked when the incoming ringtone on his Pup-Pad caught his attention. Recognising the insignia on the caller ID he hit the ‘answer’ icon and said.

“Hey, Tracker. What’s up?” To which the reply came with a return of a look of concern on Tracker’s face.

“Esto podíra ser un gran trabajo para ti. There’s trouble with an airplane called ‘Flightmaster’ above the town of Pontypandy in Wales.”

“Flightmaster?” Ryder’s voice sounded uneasy. “The Flightmaster 6000?” Giving it some thought, Tracker responded with a couple of nods.

“Si, si.”

“Mayor Goodway’s on that plane!” After this shout of alarm Ryder recaptured his professionalism. “Still, there’s no job too big, no pup too small. Stay tuned as long as you can.” He then put this call on hold while readying his PAW Patrol call-panel.

*--*----*--*--*--**--*-**-*--

“Call the passengers, Lizzie.” Joe declared, seemingly all of a sudden. “Tell ‘em to strap in. Pontypandy control, there’s one possibility I can figure. Major aerobatic manoeuvres could knock the bomb outta its cradle.” Lizzie looked concerned but carried on in the face of the ultimate alternative.

“Uh, copy that, Flightmaster.” Sgt Ravani didn’t sound too confident. “Maintain course two-zero-zero during manoeuvres to avoid mountainous terrain.”

*--*****-*-*-**-*-**-****--*--

“PAW Patrol, ready for action, Ryder sir!” Chase announced as the pups lined up in the Lookout.

“This is a big one, pups.” Ryder announced as he turned on the big screen, revealing an unfamiliar landscape. “Mayor Goodway’s flight out of Wales is in trouble. Somebody’s loaded a bomb into the landing gear, so the plane can’t land without the chance of setting it off.” This earned a major gasp of alarm from the pups.

“Now that’s majorly serious.” Skye remarked.

“What’s worse,” Ryder continued, “It seems the plane’s fuel lines can’t hold out for more than two hours. If they leak it could soak the lithium batteries on board, starting an in-flight fire.”

“That’s double trouble.” Marshall identified. “You can’t use water on a lithium battery fire.”

“Right, so I’ll need…” Ryder scrolled through their insignia on his pad, “Chase. Launch Thunderpup 2 and establish an on-site base of operations to direct the rescue, liaise with the services on the ground and, if all goes well, find out who and how the bomb ended up there.”

“Chase is on the case.” In accordance with their preliminary training with the Thunderpup machines he immediately made for his dog bed on that exact level without waiting for their typical announcement.

“Stand-by, everyone.” Ryder told them. “Tracker’s monitoring their radio communications; once we get an update from him, we’ll know which Thunderpup to send next.” He hit a button once Chase was sat in an attentive position in his dog bed, causing it to rotate with a part of the wall 180 degrees. Once that was done, he leapt down a slide on the other side that led to the cockpit of a 100’ long craft in a deep blue livery that sat like a rocket but tapered out around the base like a delta wing, upon which was emblazoned a golden ‘2’.

Outside a pool close to the Lookout had four red lights flashing at the corners as a klaxon sounded, accompanied by an automated announcement of “Pool Closed: Launch Imminent”. One minute later the pool began to rotate beneath the surrounding bathing area, revealing the silo underneath as the slide that Chase had used retracted in time with the pool. On board Thunderpup 2 Chase had commanded a harness to strap him into his seat and now tugged on a pair of levers with his forepaws, which made the seat and control panel rotate to line up with the nosecone. Looking up through the viewport he waited for the navigation lights on the underside of the pool to move completely out of his line-of-sight before sharply twisting the base of the same levers, igniting the rocket boosters under the base of Thunderpup 2. The take-off pushed Chase back with a force somewhere around 2Gs, making him grimace almost like he was growling as he tried to keep his focus on the altimeter before barking.

“Yraff, yraff. Horizontal flight.” His paws slammed upon two touchscreens and Thunderpup 2 began to adjust its angle from 90 degrees to 0 degrees.

Inside the Lookout Ryder received another call from Tracker.

“Señores, the pilots are attempting violent actions to get rid of the bomb, but it sounds like their efforts are por nada.”

“Thanks for the update.” Ryder replied before calling through to Chase. “Ryder to Thunderpup 2, what is your estimated time of arrival?”

“At my current speed, I should reach Pontypandy in 52 minutes. Please tell me another pup’s attending the rescue, Ryder.” Chase’s expression was one of deep concern.

“You got it, Chase.” Ryder turned round as he scrolled his Pup-Pad again. “Marshall: Take Thunderpup 3 out there with pod 4. There’s aircraft recovery equipment in there along with fire-fighting gear.”

“I’m ready for a rough-rough rescue.” He declared as he started towards the main slide.

“Wait!” Ryder called out. “You want to go to your pup-bed first.” Marshall looked around before giving a nervous laugh and changed his direction of travel.

“Sorry. Force of habit.” Marshall sat in his dog bed and waited, until the floor dropped into a ramp in front of him and he felt the back of the bed rise, sending him slipping down another slide into the cockpit of a large lifting-body jet painted mostly in a bright red with cream highlights that, while streamlined, had a large bulbous stern with prominent fins and a major delta wing that slotted into the sides of what would’ve been the main body, except for the large gaping hole in the middle. Once Marshall was settled into the pilot’s seat a flick of a switch caused the door in the roof of Thunderpup 3 to close. He checked the live-feed from below the vessel as various containers rolled along until the fourth was lined up with the empty space of his Thunderpup machine.

Outside a barrier came down on one side of the suspension bridge close to the Lookout as two red lights flashed while a louder klaxon sounded, accompanied by an announcement of “Keep clear: Launch in progress” before part of the road rose up on hydraulic jacks while another segment much close to the Lookout descended into the ground. At this moment Thunderpup 3 was lowered on its own jacks to slot its pod into place. When Marshall could see that the jacks were stowed and the pod was locked into position, he opened the throttles slightly to taxi into position at the bottom of the ramp, where a hook grabbed onto the front landing gear. Once Thunderpup 3 was aligned with the ramp Marshall started to increase engine power to take-off rate, once set the lock on the hook was released and Thunderpup 3 sailed up the ramp and into the air. Marshall had to swing his paws over the control column to keep hold of it as he was pushed back into his seat.

*--*----*--*--*--**--*-**-*--

“This is no time for cheap heroics, McKinley!” Station Officer Steele declared after hearing the proposal given by the fireman under his jurisdiction. Arnold was taken aback and couldn’t help but respond.

“Sir, I cannot possibly consider what alternative’s available for this situation.”

“Even though the chances of pulling it off are several million to one?” Station Officer Steele seemed apoplectic about this.

“Well, if you think about it, sir, a remote chance is still better than none.” Arnold did appear somewhat abashed after the lashing he got.

“Flightmaster to Pontypandy. Any ideas as of yet? Our fuel lines are predicted to fail in one ‘undred minutes.”

“Stand-by, Joe.” Sgt Ravani replied to the message, sighing as she turned to the two firefighters in the tower. “Alright, Arnold. But have you ever gone skydiving?”

“Uh, no.” He wasn’t sure why she was asking, although something in the back of his head niggled at him that there was a very good reason.

“Then you can’t be cleared to carry out the procedure.” She determined before getting on the radio. “Tom, bring Wallaby 2 to the new air terminal. Penny, I want you in attendance.” After sending these messages out she stood up and walked briskly to the exit. “If we’re gonna pull this off, we’ll need both copters in the air. Steele, take over ground comms.” He instinctively leapt to attention and called out.

“Yes, sergeant!” Before he then groaned and brought his arm against his hip as he sat back down. “Flightmaster, we have something of a long shot. It’s our intention to get a firefighter into the machinery to dislodge the bomb.”

“What?!?” The cry sounded like it was being uttered by two different people. “That’s paramoun’ to suicide.” This voice was definitely Joe’s. “They wouldn’t have a chance.”

“There is a chance in this.” Steele replied hesitantly. “Rather a remote one, but one all the same. Maintain holding pattern 3.63, altitude one-zero-zero.”

*--*****-*-*-**-*-**-****--*--

Chase called Ryder back with an update on his flight profile.

“It looks like I can reach Pontypandy thirty-five minutes from now. Any news as to their situation?”

“Actually, I was just about to pass this on to you.” Ryder replied. “Tracker’s just informed us that they intend to get someone into the Flightmaster 6000’s undercarriage. How, we don’t yet know, but it sounds like a very precarious option. You’d better maintain your course.”

“Yap! Here’s hoping they succeed.”

*--*----*--*--*--**--*-**-*--

“Wallaby 2 to Pontypandy tower. Penny and Sam are now aboard.” Upon receiving this news Station Officer Steele took a deep breath and replied.

“Copy that, Tom. The tricky part will be keeping the line steady between you and Ravani. During this operation you’ll take instruction directly from her.”

“Roger, sir.”

Outside the terminal Arnold busied himself around the police helicopter as it sat on one patch of tarmac, fixing a line that threaded across the field to the larger rescue copter. In a minute he stood up and backed off as he radioed in.

“Okay, the cord is fixed in place.” In response to which he heard Sgt Ravani reply.

“Cord in place, confirmed. Keep clear. Wallaby 2, prepare for lift-off.” The two helicopters began to power up, the blades rotating faster and faster. “In three, two, one. Lift-off.” They rose, ferrying their line as they flew in formation. On board the larger one the two firefighters exchanged a few words.

“Penny,” Sam started with a tone of concern, “This is a much riskier move than any we’ve had to deal with before. Whatever happens, I want you to know we’re all supporting you.”

“Thanks, Sam.” She replied with rather more gusto than expected. “But I’ve skydived from lower altitudes than Joe’s flying at.”

On board the Flightmaster 6000 Lizzie had a thought as they awaited the rendezvous.

“The way this has to unfold,” She pointed out, “The passengers will surely see everything.”

“Yeah, I know.” Joe sighed resignedly. “I was hopin’ this wouldn’ be done.” He got on the intercom. “Ladies an’ gentlemen, this is your pilot speakin’. Our landing gear’s still got an issue, but all efforts are bein’ made to ensure your safety. Please keep calm under all circumstances.” On the passenger deck Mayor Goodway had been keeping herself preoccupied by fussing over Chickaletta before looking up as the announcement was made.

“Good gracious,” She muttered, “The PAW Patrol would’ve had us down on the ground by now.” She looked out the window and was surprised to see something none too frequent in airline travel. “Hey! There’s a helicopter flying alongside us.” This outburst attracted some attention before someone else pointed out another on the opposite side.

“Maintain steady flight, Joe.” Sgt Ravani called in. “All adjustments will be performed at our ends.” As she gave him instructions the door to Wallaby 2 opened as Sam made sure that Penny was hooked onto the available cable accordingly. “Penny Morris, in making this attempt, will stay in contact with all of us using this frequency.”

“Acknowledged, Ravani.” Joe replied with a look of worry on his face.

“Wallaby 2, radio check.”

“Wallaby 2, receiving loud and clear.” Tom answered the call. “Ready, Penny?”

“Ready, Tom.” She answered as she held onto the harness. “Stepping out… now.” She exited the helicopter and hung from the cable, sliding along until she formed a pendulum between the two copters. “Ravani, left one degree.” The cable rose slightly. “Wallaby 2, right right two degrees.” The cable rose more, and she found herself directly under the Flightmaster 6000. “Okay, Joe. Open number three inspection hatch. Keep her steady; one false move at this time and I’m done.”

“Roger. Opening number three hatch. Lizzie, check our trim.” Penny kept her focus on the underside of the aircraft, watching for the opening hatch before issuing navigation instructions to the helicopters.

“Ravani, Wallaby 2, I’m about to attempt boarding. Rise six feet.”

“Climbing six feet.” Sgt Ravani confirmed.

“Copy, six feet.” Came from Tom, ensuring the two would maintain relative position to each other.

“Back off, four feet.” Penny announced as she dangled within arm’s reach of the fuselage, the result of which seemed to be more than four feet. “Forward, three feet.” This time she seemed to be in position right under the hatch. “Steady. At the count of five, rise two feet. One, two, three, four, five. NOW!” She reached up at this point, waiting for the response from the helicopters until she got a firm grip on a bar within the Flightmaster 6000, snapping the harness off and grabbing with her other hand. “I’m off line, pull out.” The helicopter pilots responded by dropping away, the cable they shared was disconnected from Wallaby 2 by Sam, so Ravani could return to the air terminal promptly while they’d remain in close proximity as a precaution.

“Penny,” Lizzie addressed her through the radio, “Are you ok?”

“OK.” Came the response. “I’m aboard.” Penny commenced to haul herself along the bars and fixtures as best she could to scout the space. “No sign of the bomb yet. Keep her steady while I try to get further in.” There was a period of relative quiet interspersed with the sound of her exertions in the unusual technique required. Eventually she lifted herself up into a position where she could look over the wheel. “There it is! I’ll try to get closer.” She reached for one of the spars that kept the wheel in position, but it was a tad too far from her. “Oh, it’s not gonna work this way. I’d have to dismantle the axle to even get near it.” She looked around desperately for an option. “Wait, I might be able to climb up around the side.” She reached for another handhold, but this was electrical cabling that, while it was well insulated, couldn’t hold her weight. She fell straight out of the hatch.

“Penny’s falling!” Sam declared from his observation position on board Wallaby 2.

“Hang on!” Tom announced as he attempted to fly in to intercept. While he managed to get above her there wasn’t enough air room for him to perform a direct dive. Fortunately, as he angled round to bring his copter down as quickly as he could, they could now see that Penny had deployed her parachute. Tom sighed with relief before saying. “Let’s get down there. She might need assistance.”

“Agreed.” Sam affirmed as his heart rate settled before radioing in. “Pontypandy, Flightmaster, this is Wallaby 2. Our rescue attempt failed. Penny appears to be safe; we’ll land and check to see if she’s all right.”

“Copy that, Wallaby 2.” Sgt Ravani answered before getting on the blower to Nurse Flood.
Sometime later Sgt Ravani, Penny Morris, Station Officer Steele, Arnold McKinley, PC Malcolm Williams and Helen Flood were all gathered in the control tower.

“You’ll be fine.” Helen told Penny as she packed up her examination kit. “Maybe a bit bruised, but nothing that a little rest won’t fix.”

“Pontypandy, this is the Flightmaster 6000.” Joe called in rather abruptly. “Estimated fuel line failure expected in sixty minutes.” Sgt Ravani took a deep breath and said.

“Well, I can only see one option now. Mrs Flood, you’d better get back outside the evacuation zone. All we can do now is hope that the bomb won’t work.” There was a general look of distress among the listeners before Penny turned back to Helen and said.

“It’s probably for the best. We don’t know how fierce the resulting explosion would be if it does go off.” Just then PC Malcolm looked at the radar readout and noticed a new signal coming in.

“Aircraft approaching from the West.” He announced, doing his best to maintain some professionalism at this turnup. “Height: 5,200 feet. Speed, five… thousand seven hundred miles per hour!” He staggered back into a chair as he said this, earning a look of bemusement from Station Officer Steele.

“Five thousand, seven hundred miles an hour?!? Are you crazy?” As he said this a new radio message came in, evidently this was not from anyone they knew as the voice sounded almost like a preteen’s.

“Pontypandy from Thunderpup 2. Approaching you, height 5,200 feet, airspeed 5,700 miles per hour. Will be touching down in two minutes.” While Chase called in, he tapped a few places upon his inflight touchscreen to bring Thunderpup 2 down while decelerating as the delta wing swung outwards in response to one of the commands he issued. “Pontypandy, this is the PAW Patrol. The Flightmaster’s in danger and we’re equipped to help. Requesting permission to land.”

In the control tower the attending personnel looked confused in response to this.
“What is this Paw Patrol?” Sgt Ravani wondered out loud.

“That must be the aircraft I just picked up.” Malcolm concluded with a sense of intrigue that his superior couldn’t deny as she remarked with a slight smile.

“Now, this I must see.” She pressed the button to answer. “Paw Patrol, you’re cleared to land. You may use runway five-left.”

“Thunderpup 2 to Pontypandy. Won’t require runway; coming in for vertical landing.” This earned even more confusion.

“Since when can a VTOL aircraft fly faster than Concorde?” Arnold blurted out incredulously.

On board Thunderpup 2 Chase checked his airspeed and position before moving on to the next stage for landing.

“Yraff, landing struts.” Skids emerged from the underside of Thunderpup 2 as it soared towards the Welsh coast. In the control tower Malcolm kept an eye on its progress while Arnold and Penny kept looking out the window.

“My! That’s gotta be it.” Penny declared as she gestured towards the approaching silhouette. “Huh? Looks like someone’s upcycled a MiG.” Most of them were now looking outside at Thunderpup 2 as it decelerated below Mach 0.5 over the quay.

“Looks more like something cobbled together from a Vostok rocket to me.” Station Officer Steele almost mumbled as Arnold kept changing his posture in a vain attempt to get a better look.

“This aeronautic mechanism does not conform to any model I’ve ever heard of.” He seemed to be gawping at the Thunderpup.

“Maybe it was cobbled together from a Vostok rocket.” Malcolm suggested half-heartedly as Thunderpup 2 now drew close enough for them to hear the rumble of its jet engines. They watched as it came right up over the terminal, hovering and rotating along its y-axis in search of a suitable landing angle before finally descending onto the car park, dwarfing the fire engine on the other side. The jet engines rolled into the shut down stage as the last strut came to rest upon the tarmac.

“Thunderpup 2 to Pontypandy control.” Chase radioed in once the engines were silent. “Please provide assistance to bring my portable control console into the control tower, and I must request an unshakeable vow that, under no circumstances, will you hinder our efforts to rescue the passengers and crew of the Flightmaster 6000.”

“Paw Patrol.” Sgt Ravani called back. “We will need more information about your organisation before we can commit any resources.”

“Look! There are people up there with barely an hour left to live! Now, you can’t help them, but I believe we can. So, what’ll it be?” Ravani took a second to think before sighing and replying.
“Alright, Paw Patrol. I can only hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Boy,” Station Officer Steele breathed, “That lad certainly knows how to bark orders.” He tuned his own radio and issued instructions. “Sam, you and Firefighter Philips are nearest to the fellow’s machine. Head on over and see about helping him get his gear up here.”

On board Jupiter Sam had been somewhat stunned at seeing the landing taking place and responded to the message with a slight hesitancy.

“Okay, I guess.” He glanced over at his colleague as he said this before continuing with. “We’ll get them up there in a jiffy, sir.” With a nod the two firefighters departed from their engine and proceeded towards the Thunderpup.

On board Thunderpup 2 Chase had made his move as soon as Sgt Ravani finished her last transmission to him, mobilising towards the stern before tapping a button that released what could best be described as a laptop. Before attempting to grab it there was one more thing for him to do.

“Yraff, yraff. Boarding ramp.” At this command, with a tap on a touchscreen, part of the floor lowered slowly, providing a way out.

The sight of the ramp descending gave Ellie a sense of unease.

“I’m not sure about this, Sam.” She said. “It’s like an alien spaceship.” This led to him placing a reassuring arm on her shoulder as he replied.

“Don’t worry, Ellie. You heard the radio chatter; they’re here to help. Although I do wonder who could possibly have managed to fly such a plane as this.” Only then did they see movement and watched a small German Shepherd walk purposefully down the ramp, dressed in a police outfit with a laptop in its mouth, which left them a bit confused and puzzled. “Well, if he’s a dog lover, I don’t think we need worry about who it is.” Ellie certainly felt better to see a cute little puppy coming towards them.

“It’s certainly well-trained, carrying a laptop down such a narrow ramp.” At this point she was stumped. “Hang on. How can the pilot get down that ramp, anyway?” By this point the little dog had come to a stop just under the main engine coupler of Thunderpup 2 and put the laptop down in such a way as to stay balanced on its end with a visible handle on the upper end.

“Good citizens,” Chase announced, “Please carry this up to the control tower. I can’t be sure of climbing the stairs quickly enough while it’s in my mouth.” The only response he got was a couple of blank stares as the two firefighters gawped. “Hurry! We haven’t much time.” In response to this Sam rubbed his head before slowly saying.

“Maybe this is all a dream.”

“What? Haven’t you ever worked with a pup before?” Chase’s tone rang with a kind of bemused sarcasm. There was a quiet period before Ellie spoke.

“Not one who speaks English.” Her voice was filled with disbelief.

“Well, sorry if I can’t speak Welsh.” Chase rolled his eyes as he said this. “We’ve got a much bigger matter to worry about.” There was a few seconds’ pause as the firefighters struggled to accept what their senses were telling them.

“Right.” Sam finally conceded the point. “I’ll take the laptop up.” Chase set a paw on it for a moment, saying.

“It’s not a typical laptop. You’ll have to let me open it once it’s set on a desk as it opens differently compared to most.” There was a brief nod in response as Chase let Sam take the device in question. As pup and fireman made their way towards the control tower, Ellie called in.

“Everyone, you’d better brace yourselves. Sam and I have got a pretty good idea why they call themselves ‘Paw Patrol’.”

When he reached the top of the stairs, Sam looked round at everyone in attendance while Shadow came up to give the laptop-like device a sniff before giving a bewildered bark.

“Is there a spot where we can put in a booster seat?” Sam asked unsteadily. There was some puzzlement as Penny asked in return.

“Is the guy who’s flown in particularly short?” Sam gave a glance back at the stairs as he answered.

“In a way, yes. And, in another way, no.” Before anyone else could ask they then caught sight of a small German Shepherd walking in purposefully, dressed up in a police outfit. “Okayyy. Everyone, this is Chase.” There was a pause as they tried to work out what this was about before Shadow checked him over before barking a few times.

“I’ve no time to explain, madam.” Chase replied to her, earning a great many shocked expressions in response. “I’ve gotta get set up ready to organise the Flightmaster’s rescue.”

“Maybe I should think of retiring.” Station Officer Steele mumbled. “Of all the things we’ve had to deal with.” While everyone was struggling to come to terms with this situation Chase had approached a particular desk in the control tower and turned back towards the assembled crew.

“Put it up here, sir. I can work out of this chair.” Sam carried on almost robotically, still trying to process everything that had happened. With the device laid out on the desk Chase jumped onto a swivel chair, leaned out to put his front paws upon the desk and hit a square marking on the top of the ‘laptop’ before then pressing a little button on the side with his nose. The lid flipped up to reveal a screen and two side panels lifted out to provide more than a typical keyboard would allow. Sgt Ravani had been taking some deep breaths while this was going on.

“Okay.” She finally affirmed. “I don’t know how you’re able to, but you’re the only chance we can get short of hoping that the bomb will fail.”

“Exactly.” Chase replied. “So, let’s leave any philosophy for after the emergency’s resolved. In the meantime, perhaps you can provide an update as to the situation.”

Once this was provided Chase had loaded all the necessary analytical software and communication panels on his portable console. He’d made sure that it wasn’t obstructing the view of the runway with some assistance from Malcolm.

“Okay, let’s recap.” He announced once all the info was up on his screen. “The Flightmaster’s got less than forty minutes before its fuel lines start to rupture. The requisite rescue gear won’t reach us for another fifteen minutes, which means we’ll have only twenty minutes or so to bring them down safely.” There was a number of nods with various degrees of disbelief in this whole matter as Chase activated his pup-tag. “Thunderpup 3 from remote console, can you confirm your arrival time?”

“Okay, Chase.” Another seemingly young voice came through the radio. “Arriving in fourteen minutes from now.”

“Okay, Marshall. As soon as you arrive, unload three high-speed elevator cars and then proceed to the end of runway five-left and report.”

“PAW Patrol remote, yiff yiff!” With the confirmation and sign off Chase turned to the main radio mic on the desk and began to provide instructions to Joe Sparkes.

“PAW Patrol to Flightmaster 6000. In approximately twenty minutes we’ll be asking you to make your approach for touchdown; you are to come in with landing gear up, repeat landing gear up! Make it completely nominal approach and keep your head.”

“Roger, control.” Joe’s reply came through. “What’s the plan?”

“Listen carefully.” Chase’s voice seemed to drop a little. “We can’t afford any mistakes.”

In the time it took for Chase to relay the new checklist to Joe and for him to double-check all parts of the procedure Marshall had come close enough to be picked up on radar, and Station Officer Steele had ordered all firefighters to congregate with the firefighting machines Jupiter and Venus at the access gate between the car park and taxiway. By the time the fire crew was in position Thunderpup 3 was sailing over the area, its own vertical jets allowing it to settle down upon the apron. Everyone watched as, in under a minute, hydraulic jacks pressed into the tarmac to lift the main body of the vehicle, revealing the large box-like section with a white 4 emblazoned on the front. As the jacks came to a stop the front opened up into a ramp reminiscent of a ro-ro ferry and a strange object came out. It looked like a racing car with a giant brake-pad attached to its roof but sounded like a lorry.

Marshall drove the elevator car forwards along the taxiway while tapping a variety of touchscreens to issue driving commands to the next two in line. Initially it would be a simple case of commanding them to repeat the moves his own ride would do, but once they reached the runway, he’d have to issue other commands to ensure they’d be in the correct formation to support the wings and fuselage of the Flightmaster 6000.

“Flightmaster 6000 to Paw Patrol.” Joe radioed in as the elevator cars drove down towards the end of the runway. “There’s only twelve minutes left on the fuel lines. If yer gonna carry ou’ this rescue mission, do it now!”

“Acknowledged, Flightmaster.” Chase replied as he activated his pup-tag again. “Pontypandy control to Thunderpup 3. Are you ready, Marshall?”

Down on the runway Marshall was focused on the view in his wing mirrors as he momentarily took direct command of one of the uncrewed elevator cars to ensure their positions were correct, making him pause for half a minute before answering.

“Remote console and Flightmaster, this is Thunderpup 3. I’m ready.”

“Thunderpup 3, yiff yiff.” Chase acknowledged before he turned back to the regular mic. “Control to Flightmaster, commence your approach and good luck. After acknowledging this transmission do not make any further calls; whatever happens keep this frequency clear.”

“Roger, control. Startin’ approach now, and ‘owever it turns ou’, thanks.”

“Flightmaster’s on flight path, five miles from threshold.” Malcolm reported as he kept his focus on the radar screen.

“You’d better go and prepare to receive casualties.” Station Officer Steele told Helen, receiving a nod from her. She still took a bewildered glance in Chase’s direction before exiting.

“Stand-by, Marshall. Flightmaster’s on final approach.” Chase called through. On board the master elevator car Marshall perused the readout for each of the operational systems, noticing that one of them was blinking yellow where the others were at a steady green.

“Chase, I got a fault on number three!” He reported.

“Okay, check it out.” Chase had some concern about the news but took pride in his professionalism as the PAW Patrol’s police dog. “Flightmaster, continue your approach.”

On board the Flightmaster 6000 Joe was reciting the checklist while Lizzie performed the required actions and replying accordingly, when she recalled what was heard on the radio.

“What was that about them having a fault?” Her tone was reminiscent of when they first heard about the bomb, which gave Joe an uneasy feeling in turn and led him to try and change the subject.

Back on the ground, as Malcolm kept everyone updated about the distance the Flightmaster had to the runway, Chase tuned his console’s radio to the standard frequency for the emergency services.

“Stand-by, first responders.” He announced, shortly followed by Station Officer Steele radioing his own instructions.

“Fire service to the centre of runway five-left.” Receiving a confirmation from Sam as Jupiter and Venus began to roll towards the gate.

“Marshall,” Chase called in, “What’s the situation?”

“Fault cleared.” Came the reply.

“Hmm, what was it?” Chase’s tone was one of conditional relief.

“I don’t know. It just cleared.” This wasn’t much of a reassurance.

“Then let’s hope it holds out.”

Marshall sat in readiness, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was a bit off, listening to Chase’s instructions.

“Stand-by, Marshall. Flightmaster, one and a half miles from threshold.” Marshall tapped a couple of the touchscreens to ensure that the uncrewed elevator cars would operate in sync with his own. “One mile from threshold. Start tracking!”

“Yraff, yraff.” Marshall hit the accelerator and the three cars began to roll along the runway.
Up in the control tower Malcolm provided an update with a little more information.

“Flightmaster, one thousand yards from threshold. Airspeed, 130 knots.”

“Increase to one-zero-eight.” Chase instructed Marshall in response.

“Ruff!”

As he sped down the runway Marshall could just about see the Flightmaster 6000 in the rear-view mirror, which looked rather intimidating from that angle. As it sailed across the runway threshold Joe managed to keep its altitude at a steady twenty-four feet while the retard mode on the autopilot made it decelerate enough to come into a position stationary relative to Marshall right over where they were meant to. Marshall checked the corresponding positions of the uncrewed elevator cars before radioing in.

“Okay, Flightmaster. Cu…” Just then he noticed something in a wing mirror, or rather he didn’t notice something. The left-side elevator car was no longer there! “Flightmaster, go around! Go around!” As it powered up and rose sharply into the air Marshall finally saw where the missing elevator car had gone when he noticed a smoking wreck against the wall of an outbuilding. “Sorry, Chase.” He called through as he let the engines run down to idle. “WiFi fault again in number three.”

“Okay.” Chase’s tone reflected his concern about this. “Backtrack to starting point and bring up a supplementary elevator car.”

The Flightmaster 6000 had returned to cruising altitude when Chase called in.

“PAW Patrol to Flightmaster. What’s the endurance left on the fuel lines?” Joe looked really antsy about this as he replied.

“Pontypandy, the fuel lines could fail any minute.”

“Okay.” Chase kept his voice as level as he could. “Commence final approach immediately. This is our last chance.”

As they went for another landing attempt Sgt Ravani radioed through to the fire service.

“Fire crews, return to stand-by position. Let that wreck smoulder.” This statement earned a look of alarm from Station Officer Steele. “The Flightmaster has people on board, that didn’t.” As she said this Marshall had brought the first two elevator cars back to the end of the runway, only tapping into the fourth once he was satisfied they were in position. This allowed him to directly control the movement of this car without worrying about where the others were going.

“Flightmaster coming in on heading three-zero-zero.” Joe radioed in, earning a rebuke from Chase.

“Get off the air, Flightmaster. Keep the frequency clear.” Chase kept gazing towards Marshall’s position every time Malcolm gave an update of the Flightmaster’s progress, his mind racing with the prospect that the spare elevator car wouldn’t get into position in time. Fortunately, it seemed to line up with enough time to spare.

“Okay, Chase. Standing by.” Came the affirmation.

“Stand-by, first responders.” Chase repeated, prompting Station Officer Steele to continue.

“Fire crews to the centre of runway five-left.” Chase kept his focus on the Flightmaster now, waiting for the right moment before repeating his instructions.

“Flightmaster, one mile from threshold. Start tracking.”

“Yraff, yraff. Tracking in progress.” Came the response as the engines revved on the elevator cars.

“Flightmaster, one thousand yards from threshold.” Malcolm reported. “Airspeed, 120 knots.”

“Increase to one-zero-five.” Chase commanded.

“Yraff, one-zero-five.”

Again, the Flightmaster soared across the threshold, coming into a position stationary relative to the elevator cars down below. Marshall looked again at their setup before calling in.

“Flightmaster from Thunderpup 3, cut engines.” In response the fuselage settled on top of the car he was in, and the right wing rested on the first of the uncrewed cars, but then Marshall saw something on the left side that threatened to undo all efforts. “Flightmaster, lift port wing. Lift port wing!” Lizzie was the one to respond to this accordingly as she could see that side of the plane was listing a bit. Marshall tapped a quick command to bring car number four forward slightly before repeating his earlier command. “Cut power!” Thusly the three key points of the aircraft were now in contact with the ground through the elevator cars. “Okay, Flightmaster, reverse thrust.” As the corresponding tubes deployed from the jet engines Marshall reported his own efforts to bring them to a safe stop. “I’m applying brakes, down here.” The tyres screeched as they strained against the weight of the aircraft while Joe looked out at the far end of the runway.

“We’re not gonna make it!” He cried out, evidently overwhelmed by the situation at this point. “We’re running out of runway!” Down below, Marshall struggled to keep to the centre line of the runway as he called through.

“Hold on tight, Flightmaster. Emergency brakes are going on… now!” This caused some major screeching as the wheels locked. Marshall started when some of them blew out, especially when those under him went. The shock of this made his car get dislodged from beneath the aircraft, making the nose come down upon the tarmac and his ride to go skidding right off and into a ditch, end-over-end. The momentum of the aircraft was such that sparks were flying off the nose as it scored across the runway before the increased friction brought it to a stop just as the very front slipped into the grass at the end of the runway. Everyone in the control tower held their breath, fearing that the sparks could ignite leaking fuel or that the bomb might detonate from the effects of inertia. There was silence as smoke rose from under the aircraft’s nose and they all breathed a sigh of relief, apart from Chase who was concerned how that uncontrolled skid affected Marshall.

“They made it.” Malcolm gasped. “They made it!”

“Jolly good show, boy.” Station Officer Steele added, habitually leaning over to give Chase a scratch behind the ear.

“Hold on, there.” He responded with a firm paw upon the officer’s wrist. “There’ll be time for that, later. For now, let’s make sure everyone’s okay.”

“That was quite a show, though.” Sgt Ravani remarked as Chase activated his pup-tag.

“Are you okay, Marshall?”

“OK, Chase.” Came the response, although he did seem dazed. Which wouldn’t have been surprising if Chase could see him hanging upside down from his harness. “Good timing?”

“Brilliant, Marshall.”

Jupiter and Venus raced up to the Flightmaster 6000 with Nurse Flood’s ambulance close behind. Jumping out and readying their gear, Sam instructed Elvis to ready the powder dispenser while he called Joe on the radio.

“Whereabouts on the aircraft are the lithium batteries?” He asked as the evacuation slides came down.

“I got one bank under the wing strut and another in the tail, but there are various others set everywhere I could find space.”

“As though we hadn’t been through enough, already.” Sam groaned to himself while Helen busied over everyone who came off. One woman seemed to be squealing quite a bit as she came down the slide.

“Oh, that was too tense.” She yelped. “My poor Chickee-wicky’s frightened out of her feathers.” She brandished her handbag around, which puzzled some of the observing responders as they saw that it had a chicken in it, a chicken that appeared to be sleeping like a pussycat.

While this was going on Chase had descended to the airfield in order to see that Marshall was all right. Upon going inside the car to release the straps holding his colleague in place, he was relieved to hear Marshall making a quip about his position. Once they’d got themselves together, they both made their way along to the crash site, just in time for Lizzie and Joe to disembark.

“You’ll have to wait.” Helen told the Sparkes. “I’ve still got to check on all your passengers.”

“Fair enough.” Joe sighed. “It was gonna be such a grea’ flight. A breakthrough in green air travel.”

“Well,” One of the passengers responded, “You might want to rethink how you locate the various power sources.”

“Hey!” A voice like that of a schoolboy was heard. “D’you need any help giving these people a check-up?” Nurse Flood stood up from her most recent examination and turned round, assuming it was a child she knew.

“I appreciate your offer to help, but…” She stopped as she saw another dog walking up alongside Chase, this one clad in an American firefighter’s outfit. “Uh, I take it you were driving those cars?” Almost everyone who’d been on board the aeroplane stared at the two puppies standing on the runway, poise as professional as it could be. Everyone stared, that is, except one who gaped.

“Chase? Marshall? Is it really you?” Looking over they saw the speaker and almost beamed at her.

“Oh, hey Mayor Goodway. Are you feeling alright?” Marshall checked, leaving a whole mass of dropped jaws.

“Oh, I’m much better now I know you’re here!” She declared, stumbling over to express her appreciation with substantial vigour.

“You know these little doggies, miss?” Lizzie asked, confused as to where a pair of talking dogs came from.

“Know them?” Mayor Goodway replied as she released her grip, allowing the pair to breathe. “Any time my constituents got caught in a jam, these were the pups to call. Of course I know them. They’re the first two working pups in the PAW Patrol.” She commenced to make introductions. “This is Marshall; he’s Adventure Bay’s fire dog and a bit of a klutz, and this is Chase, the police force to Adventure Bay. Where’s Ryder?”

“He couldn’t make it.” Chase answered. “We’ve been trialling out our new rescue vehicles, which have certainly proven their worth here. Besides we’re not done yet. We gotta find out who’s responsible.” He moved forwards, coming close to the plane before turning to the firefighters. “Where was the bomb seen?”

“Number three hatch.” Penny replied, the gravity of the matter keeping her distracted from the apparent absurdity of discussing it with a puppy. “That’s the left main gear space.” Chase immediately walked under the aircraft and located the corresponding space, which was thankfully left open after Penny’s attempt to reach it.

“No one touches it.” Chase declared. “It’s evidence and I gotta get the scent of the perpetrator.”

“Uh-huh.” Ellie was the one to reply. “It might take a while to get a ladder under there.”

“Don’t need it.” Chase’s response was somewhat abrupt. “Yruff, zipline.” From his backpack a mechanical arm extended and fired a wire backwards onto elevator car number 4 before firing another forwards into the hatch. Chase reeled himself inside and began to investigate. He coughed a couple of times from the smell of burning rubber and metal, along with the smell of the fuel used. Once he found the bomb itself, he sniffed it all over. “That’s funny, I know that scent.” He muttered, giving it another whiff before he realised why it was familiar. He all but leapt out of the undercarriage as he hurried forward, activating his pup-tag to hook up with his console back in the control tower. “I know who planted the bomb. A young arrogant wastrel called Harold Humdinger.”

“Sgt Ravani to Paw Patrol.” A reply came through. “I’ve just got a report in of a boy riding recklessly through town on a quadbike. Can you confirm if it’s this Harold lad you’re referring to?” At the same time Sam got a message on his mobile, upon looking at it he turned to Chase and showed him the screen as he approached.

“That’s him.” Chase momentarily moved before realising the radio link was still open. “If someone in the control tower can press the paw print on my console. That’ll close it up but be careful, as it responds quite sharply.”

“Dah!” Station Officer Steele’s voice came through, making everyone present worry for a moment.

“Is everything okay up there?” Marshall tapped in.

“Everything’s fine.” Malcolm’s voice came through. “Station Officer Steele managed to avoid getting his finger trapped. I’m bringing the console down.”

“Great.” Chase replied. “Bring it to the ramp on Thunderpup 2. We gotta apprehend the young rogue before he gets out of Wales.” He switched off the radio link before turning to Marshall. “Help the resident EMTs before packing up while I go deal with Harold.”

“I’m fired up.” With that response Chase immediately ran towards Thunderpup 2. Meanwhile Sam hit his radio button.

“Sgt Ravani, we might need more than one aerial support option. If you can’t get your helicopter up soon enough, ask Tom to participate.”

“Won’t be necessary.” She answered. “I’m already starting ‘er up.”

Harold was barrelling through the streets of Pontypandy, showing no concern whatsoever for the general public.

“Blasted pups.” He growled. “Can’t even leave Britain alone, now.” He’d gone onto a winding road up towards the mountains when he heard something that made him glance over his shoulder. A helicopter was rushing towards him at quite a lake. When he saw the insignia on the side his response was to swing his head back round and made for an open gate into a field. “Police! Hmph, I’ll show ‘em!”

On board the helicopter Sgt Ravani got the quadbike on screen and began relaying directions.
“Suspect identified. Heading two-seven-four cross country, estimated speed four-five miles per hour.”

“I have a fix on your position.” Chase replied. “Keep him in your sights until I’m on scene.”

“Okay, but it won’t be easy. It looks like this kid won’t take no for an answer.” She had to fly expertly to keep Harold in view as he went here, there and everywhere in an effort to shake her off. Before long Thunderpup 2 came up alongside her and Chase called through.

“Got him locked on. You can pull back now, sergeant.” Ravani promptly eased off on the throttle and moved out to get the bigger picture.

“Paw Patrol,” She called back, “He’s heading for the cliffs!” In response to this Chase piloted Thunderpup 2 nearer to Harold and activated the megaphone.

“Harold Humdinger!” He called out. “You are in a potentially dangerous situation. Stand down now!” There was no response either way, but Harold did think he could shake him off at the edge of the cliffs. When he made his hairpin turn the left wheels wound up hanging over the cliff for a moment until the momentum made the whole thing topple over into the sea. Switching off the megaphone Chase radioed in. “Suspect is in the drink.” Thunderpup 2 hovered over the site, watching as Harold surfaced and scrabbled for the overturned quadbike. Sgt Ravani brought her own helicopter back round and surveyed the matter.

“Ravani to Paw Patrol. I can lower a harness to retrieve him, but I’d need someone down there to hook him on.” At this point another voice came through.

“This is Neptune. We’re approaching the incident site now, but we can’t be sure of getting in close enough with these sea conditions.”

“Don’t worry.” Chase answered. “I’ve got my own harness you can use.”

In the space of ten minutes Thunderpup 2 deployed a safety harness that Sam climbed into and received a lift over to retrieve Harold. As the two were lifted, with the latter struggling despite Sam’s firm hand, Sgt Ravani landed her copter nearby while relaying instructions to more ground crew to ensure effective apprehension. As the pair came down her expression was the harshest yet.

“Young man.” She snapped. “You put dozens of lives at risk, and for what?”

“What?” He snapped back. “You people keep going on about all these energy savers and eccentric designs. Why couldn’t my flight packs get passed?” The expressions on Ravani’s and Sam’s faces were ones of high incredulity.

“Didn’t your mum ever tell you; you can’t always get your own way?” Sam asked rhetorically, earning a sour look before getting a response.

“Don’t care what momma says. My uncle’s the mayor of Foggy Bottom, you can’t touch me.”

“I don’t care if your uncle’s the president of the United States.” Sgt Ravani told him. “The fact is you committed a terrorist attack upon citizens of both the United Kingdom and the United States, and quite possibly Canadian citizens, too. You’d better come to the station.”

“Well, Pontypandy.” Chase radioed in. “It’s been a pleasure, but now we must go. You never know when or where our services might be needed again.”

“Most appreciated, Paw Patrol.” Sam radioed back while Sgt Ravani did what she could to keep Harold under control. “It’s been… extraordinary.”

*--*****-*-*-**-*-**-****--*--

It was after sunset by the time Chase and Marshall got back to Adventure Bay with Mayor Goodway and Chickaletta riding shotgun on Thunderpup 3. During their flight back Ryder had been in video conference with a couple of representatives from Pontypandy, but he’d long wrapped up once Thunderpup 2 had landed. When the two pups came up in the elevator, he turned to see that they were somewhat scruffy.

“I guess it was a rough job, after all.” He remarked to them as they stepped out.

“You could say that.” Marshall replied. “I guess that airplane was heavier than anticipated.” With a slight laugh Ryder gave them both a scratch behind the ears as he said.

“Never mind. See if Katie can give you a good scrub and then we’ll see about getting some shut eye.”

“Well, Mayor Goodway got a ride on a brand-new aircraft, anyway.” Chase quipped, leading to a general sense of amusement all round.

THE END