AN EXERCISE IN HOPE

a CAPTAIN SCARLET AND THE MYSTERONS story

by Mary J. Rudy

Captain Scarlet checked the time again. He had arrived for his duty watch ahead of schedule in order to work on the New York Times Sunday crossword in peace. But, it was nearly time to go on duty and his partner still had not shown up. This was unlike Captain Blue, he thought; often he was the early one. He tapped his pencil on the tabletop. The officers' lounge--that was where he had last seen him. Scarlet displayed that particular room on the monitor before him.

Sure enough, Blue was still there, playing apparently the same game of chess with Captain Magenta. Blue was a good player, almost as good as Scarlet, and could usually defeat Magenta with little trouble. But his opponent was giving him some stiff competition this time. Only a few pieces remained on the board, and Scarlet magnified the chessboard on the display for a closer look. Amazing how such an ancient game could still hold interest in the twenty-first century, what with all the games that had been produced since. There was, to be sure, a very popular three-dimensional version of chess, but the original was liked just as well.

No wonder Blue was still playing the same game. He was clearly at a disadvantage; Magenta could win with one simple move. Escaping checkmate was not impossible, but it would require both skill and luck, and there was no time for either. Scarlet snapped on the two-way microphone.

"Well, Captain Blue?"

Without looking up, he answered, "Well, what?"

"How are you going to get out of this spot?"

"Right now, I'm going to wait for my move."

Scarlet smiled. Captain Magenta obviously had not seen his advantage. Since Blue was due at his station, he thought it was all right to help out a little.

"In that case, Captain Magenta, I suggest you move your knight."

Magenta did as he was told, then blinked. "Checkmate!" he cried. "Thanks, Captain Scarlet!"

"Hey, no fair!" Blue looked up at the monitor. "Just because I beat you twice yesterday--"

"Oh, let the man win one for a change. Besides, you're due on watch."

"Sorry about that." As Captain Blue rose from his chair, there was a faint crackle of static from the loudspeakers. Expecting to hear next the stern voice of Colonel White reprimanding him for his lateness, Blue was surprised by silence. Then, the voice they all dreaded to hear, the unnaturally deep tones coming as if from the grave, boomed over the P.A. system:

"This is the voice of the Mysterons. We know that you can hear us, Earthmen. We will continue to wage our 'war of nerves' with the citizens of the Earth. Our next act of retaliation will be to obliterate the hope of the world. We will be avenged!"

Immediately after the unexpected message, Colonel White's voice was heard: "Cloudbase is now on yellow alert. Captain Scarlet, Captain Blue, report to the control room at once."

"I think we've got us a tough one," said Scarlet as Captain Blue headed for the door of the lounge.

Blue grinned. He remembered that Captain Scarlet had picked up a newspaper before leaving the lounge, and he had seen it on the monitor. The puzzle was gray and smeared from many pencil erasures. While Scarlet was an expert at the British cryptic style of crossword puzzle, he was no match for Captain Blue as far as the American version was concerned. "Hardly. Couldn't be any more difficult than doing the Times puzzle in ink."

"Very funny."

Commander Robert Thomas was a U.S. naval officer of average looks and stature, but by no means was his mentality average. This was proven first at Annapolis, where he graduated with top honors majoring in nuclear physics. Then as a junior officer, he distinguished himself in combat and earned a chest full of decorations to prove it. Well, now you've got it all, he thought to himself as the black Corvette hugged a bend in the road. A wife and children, finally in a comfortable off-base home after years of making do with less than desirable quarters, and this wonderful piece of machinery he was driving. And now, literally, his ship had come in. He received his orders this morning, and he packed right away to accept his next commission. Imagine, chief engineer on the Navy's newest aircraft carrier! The U.S.S. John Barry was the largest carrier ever built, with a complement of planes, helicopters and crew that was the size of a small air station on the mainland. The engines could sustain a voyage twice as long as the last ship completed. The Barry was so large, in fact, that she was too broad to pass through the Panama Canal and needed a special drydock. One couldn't get a better assignment. The ship had already gone through her sea trials and passed with flying colors. Thomas had assisted in designing some of the electronic components of the reactor and was present for most of the tests, but he had missed the sea trials due to illness. The ship would make her maiden voyage as soon as possible, and what a show that would be! That first voyage would include participating in the largest naval exercise in history. She would really be able to show what she's made of!

Thomas shook his head. Daydreaming again, he thought. Gotta be careful at this speed. Cars today are great machines, especially this late-model Corvette, but they still don't drive themselves. It was time to slow down anyway, he thought as he saw a road sign. Only five miles to the base. He eased off the accelerator and merged into the right-hand lane. There was no other traffic on the road at this early hour, but Thomas knew that the highway would soon narrow and go back to a two-way road.

Then another car appeared from around a bend up ahead. Thomas saw it but paid no attention to it; it was just your average sedan heading the opposite way. Then it changed lanes and came at him head-on.

"Stupid drunk," Thomas muttered as he leaned on the horn and swerved into the left lane. Then Thomas couldn't believe his eyes--the car went back to the lane he had just entered! He tried again, but the sedan duplicated his move and was once again coming straight at him. This time it was too late to avoid accident. Thomas said a quick prayer and turned the wheel as far as it would go, but there was no room to maneuver and the Corvette collided with the sedan. The impact sent the two cars tumbling down an embankment where they burst into flames. The last thing Thomas saw, before the collision smashed him mercifully into unconsciousness, was the ashen death-mask face of Mysteron agent Captain Black.

Had there been any witnesses, they would have seen Captain Black and Commander Thomas, seemingly unharmed, observing the inferno from the roadbed. Little would these witnesses realize that Commander Robert Thomas had been Mysteronized.

Several hours and many cups of black coffee after reporting to Colonel White, Captain Blue pushed his chair away from the table and rubbed his temples. In another corner of the officers' workroom, Captain Scarlet was busy entering data into a computer terminal. He also was visibly drained. The sound of the chair made him jump.

"Sorry, Captain. Didn't mean to alarm you." Blue ran his fingers through his blond hair. "I just need to stretch a little."

"Must be too much coffee," Scarlet replied. "I can use a rest myself." He rose from the chair. He was a tall man, over six feet, with about the same build as Captain Blue. He had a thick head of hair, as black as his colleague's was blond. Scarlet looked several years younger than Captain Blue although there was hardly a year's difference in their ages. He always thought that strange--with all the hardships he had faced in his life, his friend the wealthy man's son looked worse. Must be that fast living, or maybe that Yank attitude of "keeping up with the Joneses," as the old saying went. He liked to tease Blue about that, at least when they were off duty together and less formal.

"Have you come up with any ideas?" asked Captain Blue.

"Nothing at all. We must have missed something. I know the Mysterons gave us a real riddle this time, but it usually doesn't take this long."

"Did you see anything unusual on the nomenclature run?"

"No, nothing. There's no famous person alive with either the first or last name of Hope. Now I'm checking the foreign translations of the word, although I doubt if the Mysterons'll try the same thing they did with General Tiempo."

Blue nodded in agreement. "We were only lucky that Captain Magenta picked up on that one, or we'd never have known what they meant by 'kill time.' I don't think they'll try that for quite a while."

"Well, anyway, it's got to be done. This is a good time to take a breather, because it'll take a few minutes for the program to run."

Blue refilled his cup and gestured with the coffee pot. "You want another?"

"Thank you, no. If I have any more coffee, I won't be able to sit still. I thought I'd go round to the galley and get something to eat. Can I bring anything back?"

"No, thanks. But before you go--I want to show you what I picked out for Symphony's birthday." He took a jewelry catalog from a stack of magazines on a nearby table and opened it.

"It's about time. You're only about three months late."

He ignored the comment. "Take a look at letter 'M.'"

"An angel pin! An excellent choice, Captain Blue." Scarlet looked up admiringly, but Blue was not looking at him. He was staring blankly at the next page. "Captain Blue?"

Still no response. I didn't think he was that much in love, he thought.

"Adam!"

The use of his first name brought Captain Blue out of his trance. He blinked and shook his head slightly. He said quietly, to no one in particular, "I think I've got it."

"Got what?"

"The Mysteron message! Look here, on the next page."

The next page displayed gold charms. Blue was pointing to a triple charm, that of a cross, an anchor and a heart.

"I still don't understand."

"That's a Biblical symbol. I'm sure you've heard the expression 'faith, hope and charity.' Well, the heart stands for charity, the cross for faith and--"

"And the anchor for hope," interrupted Scarlet. "So?"

"So, Captain Scarlet, the Mysterons threatened to destroy much of the 'hope' in the world. What does an anchor also represent?"

"Ships--" His voice trailed off. "Naval ships! By Jove, that could be it!" He darted back to the terminal, punching in data before he was even seated. "Let's see what's going on with the World Navy this week; that'll be a start."

"I knew you'd figure it out sooner or later. Sometimes you Limeys can be so slow." Blue smiled; ribbing Captain Scarlet about his heritage and/or clipped British accent, good-naturedly of course, was a good way to relieve the tension. But, sometimes it backfired:

"Must be that Yank education getting the better of me again." Captain Scarlet had received his military training at West Point, and he often used this for a comeback.

The screen flickered to life. "OK, here we are." When they saw it, both men froze.

"My God, Paul," murmured Captain Blue, dazed to the point of forgetting Spectrum protocol. "The largest war games in world history--a combined fleet exercise with amphibious landings! All those ships, all those lives--do you know what this means?"

"It means," said Scarlet, his brilliant blue eyes never leaving the screen, "that we notify Colonel White immediately." He pressed the radio button.

As always, the Mysterons had done a flawless job. Commander Thomas was perfect in every detail, from his physical features and mannerisms down to the orders he carried in his briefcase. He had no problems getting through security and made his way to the massive ship at her berth. Thomas had been familiar with the officer of the deck from a previous assignment and chatted with the young ensign for a few minutes before reporting to the bridge.

"Commander Robert Thomas reporting for duty, Captain."

"Good morning, Commander." Captain T. J. Hawkins returned the salute and offered his hand. "Glad to have you aboard. "How was your trip?"

"Not great, sir. A little car trouble." If only he knew... "It's a pleasure to serve under you again," he added.

"You were my first choice, Bob. The admiral wouldn't be alive today if it weren't for you. He figured it was the least he could do, knowing that the last ship you were assigned to was a bucket of bolts."

"Thanks, sir, I'm honored." Thomas was clearly embarrassed. "How long before we get under way?"

"About four hours. That will give you some time to get settled in and take a look around. Our first briefing will be at 1600, but it's not necessary for you if you're tied up. It's mostly to introduce the officers. The briefing for the exercises will be tomorrow at 0900."

"I definitely won't be there this afternoon, then. I want to run a few tests and make a few preparations on my own."

"Very well, Commander. I'll let you get right to work."

"Aye-aye, sir." He saluted and left.

Thomas proceeded to his quarters, shut the hatch and locked it. The room was larger than the average ship's engineer's quarters and equipped with a personal computer. A small portrait of Commodore John Barry, the "Father of the American Navy" for whom the ship was named, hung on one wall. Thomas hung his garment bag in the closet space and sat down at the computer. He began to write a long program, hammering the keys faster than any human could ever do. But then again, Thomas was not a human any longer. He was a perfect copy of one, a robot programmed to perform exactly like the original under normal circumstances. But when doing the Mysterons' bidding, he, like all the other copies before him, became a cold, calculating machine.

The program completed, Thomas cleared the screen and removed the disk. He then went to the main reactor room where he transferred the data from the disk into the reactor computer's memory. He was very furtive the whole time that he was standing there, looking constantly behind and around him for any crew member who should stumble upon his actions. When the transfer was finished, he took the disk back to the computer in his quarters and erased it, then filled it with normal information.

Since the Barry was the flagship of the war games, her shipboard systems were linked with those of the other vessels. The carrier could monitor the movements of all of the ships in the force, and she could also order deployments and change their positions herself if necessary. Thomas had become an expert computer programmer over the course of his Navy career, and the Mysterons used this to their advantage. What he had just done was program the main reactor to initiate a self-destruct sequence that the Navy had fitted while the ship was being built. Normally this command required authorization from three officers before it would activate, but he had bypassed these steps. All Thomas had to do was set the timer built into the program. While the Barry counted down her own self-destruct, every other nuclear-powered ship in the combined fleet would perform the same deadly task while moving into new positions. When they had been properly relocated, all of the fuel contained in each of these vessels would simultaneously detonate. The resulting chain reaction would obliterate the entire combined task force and every living soul unfortunate enough to be within a thousand miles.

For the time being, Thomas' Mysteron work was completed. He had to wait until after the next morning's briefing, when he would know the itinerary for the naval exercise, to set the timer. He had cleverly hidden the program, disguising it as a systems test, and even made it abort-proof in case anyone should discover it, which was highly unlikely. Thomas got his belongings squared away in his quarters and went about his normal shipboard duties. With such a huge ship, there was a lot of work to be done before the morning briefing.

Fleet Admiral Brian O'Hara peered at the model ships on the huge table before him. The ships were arranged in the current configuration of the exercise fleet. "So, Captains," he finally said, "you think my ships are in danger?"

Captain Blue nodded. "We're almost positive, sir."

The World Navy commander-in-chief shifted uneasily. "And just how did Spectrum make this determination?"

"Well, Admiral," began Captain Scarlet, "the Mysterons, in their threat, used the word 'hope.' When our computers gave us the data on World Navy activity, the name of the exercise--"

"Operation World Hope," murmured O'Hara.

"Precisely, sir," continued Scarlet. "The size of the exercise only serves to confirm our suspicions."

"Saints preserve us." The admiral removed his glasses. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he began to polish the glasses thoughtfully. "And what is your theory of their plan of attack?"

"It's got to be nuclear, sir. That many ships could not be destroyed otherwise." Blue paused and looked at the map table. "It would have to be something big, perhaps involving the nuclear warships."

"Well," commented Admiral O'Hara, "it's nearly impossible for the atomic fuel on the ships to leak. There are so many safety devices built into ships these days that a nuclear accident can't develop unnoticed."

"Can a ship be destroyed from within, Admiral? I mean, can one man throw a switch and cause a ship to self-destruct? I seem to remember a newspaper article on that subject."

"I know what you're talking about, Captain Blue. There was an article just recently about the U.S.S. John Barry, an aircraft carrier on her maiden voyage in this task force. The self-destruct command was built into the systems during construction. The other ships have yet to be fitted."

"Then, Admiral, the Barry seems to be a likely choice. We'll concentrate on her. I'll need to sit down with an engineer or physicist who is familiar with her power plant."

"The best is right here in Washington, Captain. I'll make arrangements to have you meet Professor Goldstein this morning." O'Hara picked up the telephone.

"With your permission, sir," interrupted Scarlet, "I'd best be leaving. I'll need to check things out on the Barry in person."

"Of course, Captain. We've already made arrangements for you. My staff car is waiting outside. But I will ask you to do me a personal favor." He pulled an envelope from his briefcase. "Please deliver this letter to Rear Admiral Stankowski personally upon your arrival. I'd rather have it hand-delivered than put it in with the paperwork."

"No trouble at all, Admiral." As was British military etiquette, Scarlet did not salute without his headgear, but came to attention, turned and started out of the operations room.

"Notify me immediately if you find anything," called Captain Blue after him.

"S.I.G., Captain. Likewise."

"S.I.G.?" repeated the admiral.

"'Spectrum Is Green,'" Captain Blue explained. "It means 'everything is fine,' sort of like 'Roger.'" Let's hope it stays green for a while too, he thought.

The office of Dr. Phillip Goldstein was quite interesting if not large, thought Captain Blue as he waited. Art prints and movie posters covered one wall, comic strip drawings on the opposite one. Of course, there were reports and books on nuclear physics (several by the professor himself) and models of two nuclear warships, a submarine and an aircraft carrier, as well. Captain Blue noted the enormous pile of assorted paperwork on Dr. Goldstein's desk; he was sure that if he asked for a particular item from that disarray, it would be produced without difficulty. If a cluttered desk is a sign of genius, he chuckled to himself, then this guy is another Einstein.

"Sorry about that, Captain," a friendly voice said, but Blue was so deep in thought that it startled him. He spun around, his right hand going to the holster at his hip instinctively, all in one fluid movement. He stopped himself but not before the professor noticed his action.

"Whoa, pardner," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I'm not going to slap leather with you."

Blue looked at him in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Doctor. Reflex action."

"I see you've watched some westerns. That's a nice move."

The ice broken, Blue gave the professor a broad grin. "Well, I do like Gary Cooper movies." He added, a little apologetically, "This naval exercise is so big that I'm on edge about it."

"I can understand that, Captain. Well, anyway," Goldstein said, changing the subject, "I'm sure you're a very busy man, so let's see what questions I can answer for you." He gestured to a chair.

"Well, Doctor," began Captain Blue, "Spectrum feels that the nuclear ships are involved in the Mysterons' threat to destroy a good part of the World Navy. Specifically, the John Barry, being the largest and the newest and therefore being filled with fuel, would be the most likely starting point. Could an explosion on board the Barry cause a chain reaction with the other atomic ships?"

The professor stroked his gray beard thoughtfully. "It could, but the ships are placed far enough apart in the formation for that reason. There's really no fear of that any more, because the computers give warnings if the ships get too close to each other in dangerous situations." He paused, thinking, and then continued, "Perhaps the Mysterons only want to destroy one ship."

"No, our opinion is that they're after the whole navy. What if the impossible did occur, and there was such an explosion? Would it wipe out a fleet of this size?"

"Not only would it sink all of the ships and annihilate every person on board them, marine life in that area of ocean would cease to exist. I mean fish, shellfish, seaweed, everything. And both the air and water would become fatally contaminated."

"My God."

"I think you get the picture."

Blue thought for a moment. "Admiral O'Hara mentioned a self-destruct mechanism on the Barry. What can you tell me about it?"

"The Barry can be scuttled, if captured by the enemy, with either a conventional or nuclear explosion. This can be done hours or even days after the crew leaves, by means of a special program in the ship's reactor computer. It's a complicated thing to do; it involves three or four officers. I don't really know that much about it except that it can be set like a time bomb for a certain time and day. This capability was built into the Barry when her systems were programmed, but I'm pretty sure that no other atomic-powered vessel has been programmed with it yet."

"Three or four officers, huh?"

"Yes, Captain. Safety precaution."

The conversation went on with Blue furiously scribbling notes. He had some knowledge in physics, but not enough to comprehend the situation fully. It soon became clear to him that if the Barry was destroyed, she was centrally located in the fleet and could "take out" a lot of the other ships with her. Still, with the Mysterons' penchant for wreaking havoc on a grand scale, he didn't think they would stop there. There must be some way, he thought, that more than one nuclear ship would be involved. Then--

"Don't forget to check the battle computer."

"What"? Blue looked up from his notepad.

The professor sat back, stroking his beard again. "You did say that the Barry is the flagship of the task force, didn't you?"

"Yes, Doctor, that's right."

"Are you aware that the entire battle plan would be entered into the flagship's main computer? All the movements of the other ships, aircraft deployments, the whole ball game?"

"No, we weren't, but Captain Scarlet is en route to the carrier right now. He's much better on computers than I am. He said he'd go over the computer system with the skipper when he's on board ship, probably to see if the battle plan has been altered."

"Make sure, Captain Blue, that he checks over the other ships' movements. The Barry can order them to move as well."

The other ships-- Blue sprang from the chair. "Thanks a lot, Dr. Goldstein," he said with a quick handshake. "I have to get back to Admiral O'Hara immediately. You've been a big help." Grabbing his notepad and uniform cap, he half-ran out of the office and down the hall.

"But what did I say?" called Dr. Goldstein, his hands in the air.

Blue called from the end of the corridor, "If you'll pardon the pun, you solved the theory of the big bang. I just hope you're right." He turned around and went out the door, leaving the physicist standing in front of his office with a puzzled look on his face.

On the way back to the Pentagon, Blue attempted to radio Captain Scarlet but he was too far away by this time. There was another way, however. The frame of his cap visor dropped down before his face and he spoke into the small microphone on the end of the wire.

"Captain Blue to Cloudbase."

"Lieutenant Green here, Captain."

"Please relay this message to Captain Scarlet. He is out of my radio range. Tell him to check positioning of other nuclear-powered warships in the exercise fleet, confirm and report any position changes. I will wait for acknowledgment."

"S.I.G., Captain Blue."

A long pause followed. Blue drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, wondering what was taking so long. As he steered the sleek red Spectrum patrol car around a curve, his epaulets flashed and the mike dropped again.

"Well, Lieutenant?"

"Heavy radio interference in that area, Captain. Apparently a bad electrical storm. Message not received."

"Then relay message to the U.S.S. John Barry and Captain Scarlet will receive it when he arrives."

"I tried that too, sir. That was the reason for my delay. All radio traffic is breaking up in the storm. I'll keep trying."

S.I.G., Lieutenant Green. I am en route to the Pentagon, and after making my report I will fly out to the fleet myself. Try for another hour, and if you still can't get through, I should be within maximum radio range by that time."

"Understood, Captain Blue. Out."

Admiral O'Hara's arrangements called for Captain Scarlet to fly out to the carrier in the normal fashion, that being on a COD, or carrier onboard delivery aircraft. That was not to be, however, as the one at the naval air station was grounded for repairs. The only other craft that would make it through the vicious nor'easter between him and the fleet was an all-weather rescue helicopter. It would be a slow, bumpy trip, but it would get him there.

During the long and turbulent helicopter ride through the storm, Scarlet became increasingly glad Spectrum used the jets they did. Not only were their transports and Angel jets much faster, they afforded one a much smoother flight at a much higher altitude, therefore flying above the largest clouds with ease. He had actually flown the helicopter part of the way to help out the pilot who had become violently ill from the wild ride.

"Jeez, Captain, this is embarrassing," said the pilot as he closed another paper bag and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. "I'm really giving the Navy a bad name." His face was very red, more from shame than vomiting, Scarlet figured.

"Nonsense. Look at the conditions under which you're flying. I think you're doing a smashing job, better than most Spectrum pilots."

"Thank you, sir, but I think you're just saying that."

"I mean it, Ensign. I don't lie."

"I can't help but notice that you're taking this very well."

"On the contrary, I may be sick yet if we don't get there soon. How much further?"

"We're about fifteen minutes out, Captain. The worst of the storm is behind us according to these weather instruments."

The weather did in fact improve as they approached the Barry. The ship certainly is big, thought Scarlet as he looked out the window. It'll be good to have something solid to stand on after this trip.

As the pilot guided the helicopter in to land, Scarlet noticed he was getting a headache. It seemed to get worse as they touched down on the deck. Perhaps it was from the nausea, but he often felt the same way whenever danger was near.

Bidding the ensign farewell, Scarlet stepped out of the helicopter onto the deck. A black officer with commander's insignia and an older chief petty officer were waiting there and both saluted; the commander then boarded the helicopter and it took off. The petty officer shook hands with Scarlet and introduced himself.

"I'm Chief Petty Officer Burton, Captain Scarlet," he shouted above the rotor noise. He had a very pronounced Southern drawl. "I've been ordered to get you whatever you need." The chief motioned toward the island. "Our first stop is the bridge. The admiral wanted to see you as soon as you arrived."

Although the Barry was a huge ship, Captain Scarlet could still feel the flight deck pitching and rolling. She was heading into the storm, and also into the wind at this moment because the last of her short-range aircraft were being retrieved. It had been an unseasonably warm early spring day, but the temperature had dropped rapidly with the wind and a chill rain began to fall. Even with his battery-heated coat, the Spectrum officer shivered in the cold and tried to think of the time that Captain Blue, some of the Angels and he had practiced takeoffs and landings on an aircraft carrier prior to being stationed on Cloudbase. The Spectrum headquarters was in effect also an aircraft carrier, only hovering in the sky instead of floating on the seas, and the effects of atmospheric turbulence were similar to those of ocean waves. The training exercise had been in the tropics in perfect weather, and he smiled to himself when he recalled that the other officers had teased them about having taken a paid holiday.... Suddenly, it began to rain much harder, and the two of them ran the last few yards to the island, with Chief Burton opening the hatch for him. The tropical memories would wait for another time. It was at this time that Scarlet realized his splitting headache had disappeared.

Things happened quickly in the first moments on the bridge. Within seconds, Captain Scarlet's soaked overcoat was removed and he was swathed in a blanket. One sailor gave him a towel to dry himself, and another handed him a steaming mug of coffee. Chief Burton in the meantime had removed his foul-weather gear, and Scarlet noted with surprise that the old salt was a small, slight man. Burton was speaking to Admiral Stankowski who good-naturedly scolded him for "not bringing the good Captain in from the rain." The chief introduced Captain Scarlet, who attempted to stand but was so thoroughly wrapped in the blanket that he could barely move.

"Don't get up, Captain," the admiral said quickly, smiling congenially. "My boys seem to be taking good care of you."

"Quite, sir. A little too well, actually." He struggled to his feet and rearranged the blanket so that he could move more freely. He then saluted crisply.

The admiral did not return the salute casually, as was the privilege of his rank, but snapped to attention and "presented arms" with Naval Academy precision. "It is I who should salute you, Captain Scarlet," he said, "since you are in essence taking command of my task force during this emergency. Your reputation has also preceded you here."

"Sir?"

"Don't be modest, Captain. We've all seen the news and read the papers. It's said you don't know the meaning of the word 'fear.'" Scarlet's face reddened and he looked down into his coffee cup. "I know for a fact that Fleet Admiral O'Hara is one of your biggest admirers--"

"Oh, yes. Admiral O'Hara. I have a note to deliver to you from him." He fished the envelope from his vest pocket and handed it to the admiral.

Just then a sailor handed Scarlet a radio message. "This just came in for you, sir. From your headquarters."

Scarlet quickly scanned the sheet. "Admiral," he said, "Captain Blue may have found something. I'll need a printout of the complete plans for the exercises from the battle computer."

"That will take a long time, Captain."

Scarlet nodded and continued, "It must include all orders for ship movements issued recently. If any unauthorized position changes have been ordered, or if anything at all unusual turns up, let me know straight away."

"Yes, Captain. I'll get my men right on it. In the meantime, Chief Burton will show you to your quarters. You might as well get a chance to get cleaned up while that is printing. If we still have time, I hope you'll accept an invitation to have a quick dinner with me."

"It'd be an honor, Admiral." Scarlet saluted again and strode out the hatch behind Chief Burton.

Chief Petty Officer Terence M. Burton had been in the U.S. Navy just short of thirty years. During that time, he had accumulated the Navy Cross (twice), a number of campaign ribbons, a few tattoos, and more stories about Navy life both on board ship and in port than would fit into a book. He was a scrappy little fellow, a "redneck" from the South who once had hair the same color. He was one who was not afraid to speak his mind, and this often got him into trouble early in his Navy career. Later on, however, he grew to be respected for his candor and common sense suggestions. Although the "brass" refused to make him an officer, many officers afforded him the same courtesy as they did their peers. Consequently, over time he began to understand their way of thinking and could tell when something was amiss.

This was exactly what Burton noticed in Admiral William Stankowski after he returned from escorting Captain Scarlet to his quarters. He saw the admiral sitting at the map table poring over two sheets of paper, looking very troubled.

"Is anything wrong, Admiral?"

"I just can't believe it," Stankowski murmured.

"What is it, sir?"

The admiral looked up. "I just opened that letter from Admiral O'Hara. It was a letter of condolence. One of our officers is dead."

"Who, sir?"

"I think you might know him. Our chief engineer, Commander Robert Thomas."

Burton's jaw dropped. "But--"

"Quite a shock, isn't it? Such a great man, Chief; even saved my butt once. He had a wonderful family too. It's a real shame."

"There must be some mistake, Admiral--"

"No mistake, Chief. I have the confirmation right here from Norfolk." He handed Burton a printout. "He was killed in a car wreck about five miles off base. The body was positively identified."

"But--" Burton tried to interrupt again.

"Probably driving that damn Corvette too fast again. And I have to be the one to break it to his wife--"

"Admiral, listen to me!" Burton shouted. "I've been trying to tell you that I just saw Commander Thomas leave on that chopper that brought Captain Scarlet!"

Stankowski sat up with a start. "Are you sure, Terry? I mean, with the storm and all--"

"I'm positive, Admiral. I was talking sports with him right before he left."

"You'd better get Captain Scarlet. He wanted to know if we found anything unusual. This certainly falls under that category."

"Yes, sir."

Captain Scarlet stood before the mirror and spread shaving cream on his face slowly. At least I can take my time here, he thought. A shower on a naval ship, even in this modern age, left a lot to be desired. One still had to use the water supply sparingly, so long, soothing hot showers were out of the question.

Scarlet picked up the razor and shaved absentmindedly. He still wasn't completely positive that the Mysterons intended to use the Barry for carrying out their threat. The message relayed from Captain Blue was a big help, but they had no black and white proof yet, such as who or what had been Mysteronized. The Mysterons wouldn't wait forever, so the pieces had better fall into place soon. It was then that he heard the knock on the door.

"Captain?"

"Yes, Chief?"

"Admiral wants you on the bridge right away. He thinks we've found something."

"OK, on my way." He toweled off the remaining lather and threw on his clothes, fastening them as he went.

"I don't understand, Captain. Are you trying to tell me that Bob Thomas is a traitor?"

"Not at all, Admiral." Scarlet scratched at the stubble on the unshaven portion of his face. "Your friend was killed in the crash. He's dead."

"Then why do Captain Hawkins and Chief Burton each insist that they spoke to him on separate occasions if he's not alive? I'm sure that both of them weren't seeing things."

"The Commander Thomas they spoke to is an impostor. He is a Mysteron copy. Our experience has shown that this copy will walk, talk, and behave just like the original person except that it follows the Mysterons' instructions."

"Is there any way we can tell if he is a Mysteron? A physical examination or scientific analysis, perhaps?"

"Well--no." Scarlet hesitated, then gave his stock answer. "Nothing conclusive, anyway."

"What should we do then, Captain?"

"Well, we'll just have to keep searching what we have."

"I'll have the Marines search Thomas' quarters."

"He'll be on to us if he finds the Marines in there, Admiral. There'll be even bigger trouble."

Chief Burton chimed in, "Don't worry about that, Captain. He's off the ship."

"What?"

"He left on that chopper that brought you, sir. That's when I ran into him."

Scarlet remembered the headache and that it had disappeared only after the helicopter took off.

"Did he say why he was leaving?"

"Just to pick up some computer equipment from the mainland, sir. He said he'd be back first thing tomorrow."

"Computers?!" Captain Scarlet's eyes widened.

"Yes, sir," continued the chief. "Commander Thomas is a whiz with them. He's created a lot of the Navy's engineering software, and also a lot of the new programs for the ship all by himself. Stuff like the new damage control system, the self-destruct mode--"

"Uh-oh," muttered Captain Hawkins. He checked the status of the self-destruct sequence, and the look he gave Admiral Stankowski said it all.

"When, T.J.?"

"0600, Admiral."

"Damn."

Scarlet looked at the screen. "Try to disable it and see what you get."

Hawkins tapped the keys. "Nothing at all, Captain."

"That means this is going to be a rough one. Get me the best programmer you have on the ship. I want a complete diagnostic check, and fast!" There was no need to give Chief Burton the order; he was on the telephone before Scarlet was finished the sentence.

"Captain," Scarlet continued, "I recommend that you give the order to abandon ship. We don't want to risk lives unnecessarily."

"Right away, Captain, but you'll need some of my people, at least to disable the computers."

"If Commander Thomas knows how to design programs, he probably has put in some safety so that we either won't find the program or that we won't be able to abort it. We may have to blow up the ship to stop it."

"Scuttle her?"

Scarlet nodded. "It's our only chance."

"You're the boss, Captain. I'll get you two groups of volunteers." He nodded to the executive officer, who proceeded to broadcast the message.

A sailor brought over a thick pile of computer paper and set it on the table. Admiral Stankowski and Captain Scarlet began to look through it. After a few pages, the admiral stopped and stared.

"Oh, my God." He pointed to the list of ships which had been ordered by the Barry to change course. "All these ships are atomic," he said slowly, running his finger down the column. "The letter 'N' in their pennant number stands for 'nuclear.'"

"That's bad."

Stankowski turned to Captain Hawkins. "T.J., display both old and new ships' positions for me, will you please?" Seconds later, the map table showed how the nuclear vessels had moved according to the Barry's orders.

"There all heading this way!" exclaimed Chief Burton. "What does that mean?"

"They're closing the distance so that when this ship blows up, it will set them all off," explained Scarlet.

Burton whistled.

"And right now, there isn't a damn thing we can do about it," added Stankowski.

Some time later, Scarlet's cap microphone lowered and he heard Captain Blue's New England-accented voice. "I am now on the bridge of the U.S.S. Isaac Hull. What's the latest?"

"Mysteron agent has been identified as chief engineer of U.S.S. John Barry. The carrier has been programmed to self-destruct approximately 0600 hours."

"That doesn't give us much time." There was a short pause. "Captain Scarlet, Commodore Cox has just now informed me that the Hull has automatically changed course, based on headings transmitted by flagship's battle computer, and is now headed on a collision course with the Barry."

Chief Burton pointed to another aircraft carrier on the table, the closest nuclear ship to their own.

"S.I.G., Captain Blue," Scarlet replied. "This is part of the program that the Mysteron agent entered. All nuclear-powered ships are following similar instructions."

Now Blue's voice changed. His colleague noticed that it became more excited, more worried. "Is there any way you can stop the self-destruct sequence, Captain Scarlet?"

"We are attempting to shut down main computer system at this time. If that doesn't work, the alternative is to set conventional demolition charges and sink the ship. I have already ordered all non-essential personnel to abandon ship."

"S.I.G. Please advise if you need further assistance."

"Will do. Out."

Scarlet turned to the leader of the computer team, a tall red-haired youth with thick glasses. "Any new developments?"

"It's no good, Captain," replied the sailor as the screen flashed another error message. "After we found the actual program, it's been all uphill. These codes just can't be broken. I've tried every trick in the book, plus a couple that aren't in it, and nothing works." He pointed to the command he just entered. "This is our last chance. After that, there's a complete overhaul, but there's no way that we have enough time for that."

"Quite."

The same message flashed again. "Sorry, Captain."

"Don't worry about it, sailor," said Scarlet, putting his hand on the youth's shoulder. "After all, this program was devised by a non-human being. I'm sure you did all you could."

"Johnson did more than anyone else would have, Captain," interjected the admiral. "He's the second-best programmer in the Navy."

"The best being Thomas, I assume." Stankowski nodded.

Scarlet glanced at his watch. "Well, Admiral, I guess there's only one thing left to do. We'd best get cracking. The question is, will we have enough time?"

"We'll have enough time, Captain. I just hope it works."