by Pythia
Disclaimer: neither of these dashing
Captains belong to me, worse luck. Russell T Davis created one, and Gerry Anderson
the other ...
____________________________________________
“Just a routine
mission,” the Colonel had told him. It had looked like one too – a simple
pick-up somewhere in Wales. Adam had teased him about being sent on milk runs,
but Paul had welcomed the idea, relishing the thought of a trip without high
explosives, ticking time-bombs or even gunfire for a change.
He should have known
better.
The meeting turned out
to be an ambush, although the courier he’d been sent to meet seemed just as
surprised as he was when the entire top floor of their rendezvous came crashing
down on both of them. Fortunately it was late at night, and they were the only
two people in the building – but dying hurt, as usual, and coming back was the
inevitable bone cracking, muscle wincing moment or two that made him curse the
day he’d become indestructible.
The building was, of
course, a total wreck. So when the rubble beside him stirred and the body of
the courier he’d been sent to meet stood up with a groan, he cursed and reached
for his gun.
“Tell me, Captain Harkness,” Scarlet asked, wondering if Colonel White had
known this might happen. “How long have you been a Mysteron?”
THE END
YOU CAN READ OTHER STORIES BY PY PYTHIA ON TWISTING THE HELLMOUTH
AND LEAVE A REVIEW TO THE AUTHOR
Any comments? Send
an E-MAIL to the
SPECTRUM HEADQUARTERS site