A
Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons one-off short story for Halloween 2003
by Tiger Jackson
It had been a long shift, reflected Symphony
Angel, much longer than usual. But it was finally over, and she intended to
enjoy a relaxing hot shower before changing her clothes and fixing her hair.
Captain Blue had asked her to join him for a tête-à-tête dinner, and she was
eager for the remaining two hours to pass before she met him.
As she entered her quarters, Symphony
was surprised to hear the shower running behind the closed door to her
bathroom. She was certain she had turned the water off before leaving earlier.
Someone must have come in and turned it on again, but who? And why?
The Angel frowned. It was possible an
intruder awaited in the bathroom, but not likely. The housekeeping staff could
enter only at certain times of the day, and then only with special
authorization codes that monitored their entries and exits. There was no chance
someone could be lingering; if a housekeeper remained too long, Security would
be notified. Sickbay personnel could gain access, but only with emergency
authorization and an emergency code that changed with every use. Again, there
was no chance of lingering. Apart from them, only a very few people could gain
access to her quarters when she wasn’t there. Which of them, then, had come in
and turned on the shower?
She smiled. Adam had hinted that this
would be an especially romantic evening. It was early still, much too early for
supper. But perhaps he intended to start the evening with a shower for two? It
was the sort of surprise he would arrange, especially if he’d learned of her
extended shift.
Excited, Symphony pushed the door open
and flipped on the light switch as she stepped forward. Almost immediately, her
head exploded with pain. Something had hit her violently. She staggered back,
and something hit her again, hard. She slumped to the floor, confused and
scared, shooting stars dancing before her eyes. Something yellow and white
billowed above her, but she couldn’t focus on it as her vision doubled, then
faded as she lost consciousness. She had not taken in the message on the shower
curtain in dark ochre letters that read MARRY ME, KAREN!
********************************
Before taking his seat, Captain Scarlet set down
a beaker full of coffee in front of Captain Blue. Blue added sugar to his
drink, took a mouthful, and quickly swallowed it with a visible effort. “Ugh!”
Scarlet grinned at him. “That’s your
first cup of coffee since this morning, isn’t it.”
“Yeah. How did you know?”
“I tried a cup earlier. It was so
bitter, I asked the kitchen to brew another pot.”
“And?”
“Now I’m drinking tea.”
Both men laughed. “Well, that’s good
enough for you Brits, I suppose. But remember, my ancestors helped throw the
stuff into Boston Harbour! I’ve got to start my day with coffee, if only as a
point of American honour,” said Blue. He grimaced at his cup. “But drinking
this is going to take a lot of honour! Even the sugar didn’t help.”
Scarlet handed Blue a small box. “Have
you ever tried this?”
“No,” he replied, eyeing the unfamiliar
mint-green packets in the box. “What is it?”
“It’s some sort of new no-calorie
sugar, a lot sweeter than ordinary sugar. Apparently my mother received it as a
free sample. She sent it up to me, thinking I’d be interested in trying it. She
sometimes forgets that I take my coffee and tea black.”
“Well, it can’t make this battery acid
any worse. I’ll try it in a fresh cup.” After fetching a new beaker, Blue tore
open two of the packets and stirred their contents into the coffee. He took a
cautious sip. “Hey! That’s a lot better! It’s still not great, but at least
it’s drinkable.”
He handed the box back to Captain
Scarlet who waved it away. “Keep it. You know I don’t use sugar. And you’re
probably going to want to use it for a few more days.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I suspect a batch of bad coffee beans
got delivered to Cloudbase in the last shipment of supplies. And you know how
much coffee is consumed here —”
“And how many beans that requires!”
groaned Blue. He held up a green packet. “Be sure to thank your mother for me.
These will be a lifesaver! I asked the kitchen to prepare a very special
dessert for my dinner with Karen tonight, with coffee to follow.”
“So tonight’s the night, is it?”
Scarlet drew back in an affected attitude of horror. “You’re a brave man,
Adam!”
Blue shook his head and shrugged.
“Actually, I’m nervous. I know Karen loves me and I want to spend my life with
her, but marriage will require both of us to make a lot of adjustments. I’m not
sure she wants to make any dramatic changes in her life just now. I can only
offer her my heart and hope that’s enough to overcome everything.”
Scarlet leaned over and peered into
Blue’s beaker. “It must the coffee. You don’t usually go philosophic on me.”
Blue laughed. “Why are you drinking coffee if you’re nervous? Most people find
it makes them worse.”
“I’m just the opposite. A cup of coffee
when I’m under stress helps me relax.”
“Americans!” said Scarlet with mock
disgust. “Well, I’m off down to the weight room to work off my own stress. You
coming?”
“No, thanks. I’m going to check on the
dinner arrangements, make sure everything’s going to go smoothly.”
Scarlet smiled and clapped a hand on
his best friend’s shoulder. “Best of luck to you!”
********************************
Symphony was late. Much later than she’d ever
been. Captain Blue was beginning to fret. When he’d talked to her in the
morning, she’d been looking forward to this dinner. Had she changed her mind?
Blue shook his head. More likely, her shift had been extended without warning.
That had happened several times lately. He called the Amber Room over the comm
link and spoke to Melody.
“Yes, Captain Blue. Symphony stayed on
to cover part of Rhapsody’s shift after Rhapsody became ill and went down to
Sickbay. But Symphony left almost three hours ago. She said she was going to
her quarters to prepare for her date with you.”
“Thanks, Melody. If you see her, tell
her I’m waiting, would you?”
“S.I.G.”
Three hours? Symphony took great care
with her appearance, especially when she was meeting Captain Blue, but it had
never taken her so long to get ready before. He tried calling her quarters; the
comm went unanswered. But where else could she be? Perhaps she was in the
shower and hadn’t heard the comm. The only way to find out was to go to her
quarters and check.
Blue knocked at the door. There was no
answer, but he thought he could hear the shower running. Glancing to see that
the corridor was clear, he keyed in the door code and entered the Angel’s
quarters. The only light came from the open door to the bathroom. Getting no
answer to his call, he looked in.
“KAREN!”
Symphony was lying on the bathroom
floor, surrounded by hundreds of polished stones. A metal tin partially filled
with more stones leaned against a stout wooden board. Blue snapped on the comm
link. “Captain Blue to Sickbay!”
“Sickbay here.”
“Medical emergency in Symphony Angel’s
quarters. She’s unconscious. You’ll need a stretcher. Hurry!”
“S.I.G., Captain Blue.” He sounded
slightly hysterical, thought the nurse, then shrugged. Laypeople always felt
shock when a colleague fell ill or was injured, and the senior captains and
Angels often worked closely together.
********************************
Immediately
after Captain Blue informed Colonel White of the attack on Symphony Angel, the
Colonel ordered an investigation. The preliminary findings were soon presented
to him.
A piece of wood, a partially opened,
tall metal tin with a sharp rim, and dozens of small but heavy polished stones
littered the floor of the bathroom in Symphony’s quarters. A wired metal tube
loosely attached to the inside wall above the bathroom door led the
investigator to believe that the piece of wood, which had a narrow lip on one
side, had been installed like a shelf. It was not a stationary installation;
the shelf’s support had been wired so it would collapse when turning on the
light completed a circuit. The shelf had somehow completely detached from the
wall and fallen. One edge of it was stained red and some blonde hairs were
stuck to it. Like the shelf, the tin’s sharp bottom edge had blood, hair, and
tissue adhering to it. Samples of the material found on the shelf and tin had
been delivered to a medical lab for analysis. Likewise, the writing on the
shower curtain was being compared with the samples of Cloudbase personnel
handwritings on file.
A suspect had been tentatively
identified, on the basis of circumstances. Grimly, the Colonel summoned Captain
Ochre.
He waited while the captain read the
investigator’s report. Ochre shook his head. “I don’t understand, sir. This
isn’t all my work. What I set up couldn’t have gone wrong!”
“You admit —”
“I admit staging a prank, sir. But not
like this!”
After learning that Captain Blue
intended to propose to the Angel, Ochre had conceived the idea of proposing to
her himself, but only as a joke. He had obtained the access code to her
quarters and gone in while she was on duty. He acknowledged painting the
message on her shower curtain; in fact, he’d used ochre paint so she’d
immediately guess who the message was from. He had also put up the shelf the
investigator found, but, Ochre protested vigorously, he had fastened it to the
wall very carefully, because, he admitted, he’d been afraid it might fall off
otherwise. Besides the support, it had hinges so that when the support dropped,
the shelf would tilt, almost but not quite flat against the wall. And he had
not brought a metal tin or stones. He had filled a plastic bucket with
heart-shaped confetti so that when Symphony turned on the light, the shelf
would drop and allow the bucket to tip just enough to spill its contents over
the Angel. “A sort of ‘bridal shower’,” Ochre said, with a short laugh. The
bucket itself could not have fallen. He’d attached the lip on the shelf to
prevent that. He could not explain why a sealed metal tin and stones had been
found instead.
Colonel White let the point rest for
the moment. Instead he asked Ochre who had helped him gain access to Symphony’s
quarters. Reluctantly, Ochre named Captain Magenta, who was immediately called
to Colonel White’s office.
Captain Magenta acknowledged knowing of
Captain Ochre’s plan. They had discussed it on a couple of occasions, he said,
adding that they hadn’t spoken of it privately but in the Officers’ Lounge and
in the Mess, too. He admitted obtaining the entry code to Symphony’s quarters
by accessing the restricted information file on the Cloudbase computer, and had
also assured that there would be no alarm raised by the unauthorized access.
Magenta confirmed that he knew the plan’s details with the shelf and bucket,
but insisted that Ochre told him it would be filled with confetti; in fact,
Magenta had obtained the confetti from shredded printouts. But he hadn’t helped
to set up the prank in Symphony’s bathroom — he had no idea what could have
gone wrong.
Neither man had taken note when they
were plotting of who was sitting nearby, other than to make sure that neither
Captain Blue nor Symphony Angel was there. Both were sure that someone
overheard, because at least once they’d heard people nearby laugh. Magenta was
pretty sure someone had laughed at something Ochre said that had made him
laugh, too.
Plainly, further investigation would be
necessary, Colonel White decided. He allowed both men to remain on duty and at
liberty, but neither would be permitted leave Cloudbase for any reason.
********************************
Captain Blue emptied a green packet into yet
another cup of the bitter coffee he’d been sipping when he wasn’t pacing around
Sickbay’s waiting area. He’d been waiting for hours before Dr Fawn, looking
grave, came to talk to him.
Blue began to rise, but the doctor
motioned him to remain seated, then sat down himself. “It doesn’t look good.
Symphony’s skull was shattered by a blow. From what, I can’t say.”
“A fractured skull? You can fix that,
can’t you?” Blue knew he sounded inane, but he had to ask. He had to clutch at
hope.
Fawn hesitated. He knew that Captain
Blue was in love with Symphony Angel. And it wasn’t a well-kept secret that
he’d intended to propose to her very soon. That knowledge made Fawn’s job
difficult. There was no gentle way to deliver the news.
“Symphony’s brain has swollen. She’s on
life support.”
Blue looked stunned.
“But . . . it’s only temporary, right?”
“If we can get the swelling under
control, she may not experience severe brain damage. We’ll do all we can for
her.” He paused, while the American captain absorbed his words. “It’s past
midnight. You should get some rest. And ease up on the coffee,” he added,
noting the stack of empty paper cups on the end table.
Captain Blue shook his head. “I’m not
sleepy, not at all. I want to stay close, in case Karen needs me. If I get
tired, I’ll just stretch out on the sofa here.” He walked over to the coffee
pot and poured another cup.
“No one likes to follow doctor’s
orders,” Fawn half-joked as he left.
********************************
The duty nurse looked up from his desk as the
two young women came into Sickbay. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” said the one
who was supporting her friend. “We were going over the maintenance schematics
for the new helicopters when she collapsed.”
********************************
Dr Fawn studied the most recent ECG and CAT scan
results and summoned the technician to discuss them. He hadn’t really doubted
what he saw, but he wanted to be certain.
A nurse came into the waiting area.
Captain Blue had returned after his day’s work and fallen into a restless doze
as evening fell. He woke with a start when the nurse touched his arm. “Captain?
Dr Fawn asked me to bring you to him.”
“Karen?” asked Blue. The nurse shook
her head.
They hurried to the women’s ward. Dr
Fawn intercepted the captain at the doorway. “Captain Blue . . .
we did our best. But we can’t hold her back. I’m sorry.”
Blue froze. “You
can’t . . . you’re not . . .”
“She has no higher brain activity. She
can’t even breathe on her own. Long ago, Symphony declared she didn’t want to
be kept alive without hope of recovery. I have to respect her wishes, Captain
Blue. But I didn’t think she’d want to be released before you could say
goodbye.” Fawn let his words register. “Would you like me to leave you alone
for a while?”
Blue said nothing, did nothing, then
cleared his throat. “Yes, thank you, doctor. Can you give me a few hours or
so?”
Fawn nodded and left.
Blue stood in the doorway of Symphony’s
room for a moment and took in the sight of his beloved, lying unnaturally straight
and still, flanked by machines that were the only sources of sound and motion.
Symphony’s head had been shaved and was now wrapped in stark white bandages.
Her eyes were shut and appeared sunken, surrounded as they were by dark
shadows. A tube covered her mouth; a hose attached to a pump steadily pulsed as
it forced air into her lungs. Fluid dripped slowly from bags and ran down
through tubes into her arms.
“Karen?” he whispered as he touched her
hand. “Sweetheart, it’s Adam.” He blinked as tears filled his eyes, and his
words became urgent. “Please, Karen, come back. Come back!”
********************************
Spectrum’s commanding officer snapped awake
before the comm link finished buzzing. He reached for it without bothering to
turn on a light.
“White here.”
“I’m sorry to wake you, Colonel.” The
speaker was Australian, White noted. “But I thought you should be informed.”
Bad news always seems to come in the
darkest hours of the morning. “Go on, Doctor.”
“It’s Symphony Angel.” Fawn sighed. “We
couldn’t save her. I’ll be letting her go before dawn. Captain Blue is with her
right now.”
Colonel White found he’d been holding
his breath. He released it slowly. “Thank you, doctor. Keep me posted.”
He did not sleep again that night. In
the morning, he would have to announce Symphony Angel’s death to everyone on
Cloudbase and see that her family was personally informed. Of all the burdens a
commanding officer shouldered, this was one of the heaviest.
********************************
Time passed too quickly for Captain Blue. He
spoke to his beloved constantly, yet there was nothing more he could say.
Nothing more he could do.
“Captain?”
Wondering if Blue had heard him, Fawn
repeated himself as he entered Symphony’s room.
“Yes, doctor?”
“ I’m sorry, Captain Blue. It’s time.
Do you want to stay?”
Blue covered his face with his hands as
he struggled to control his emotions. “Yes,” he finally said, his voice
breaking. “Yes,” he repeated, more strongly and calmly. He took Symphony’s hand
again and cradled it. His eyes misted.
He remembered a morning, not long ago,
when he had gotten out of bed to shower and shave, then returned to sit and
gaze down at Karen as she slept. Her expression had been serene, her breathing
deep and even. All through the night he had felt her heartbeat, steady and
reassuring, as she lay against him. His own heart had swelled with the
intensity of his love for this beautiful woman. He’d taken her hand and stroked
it gently as she smiled in her sleep and rolled onto her back. He’d bent over
and kissed her softly on the mouth, murmuring, “Time to wake up, Sleeping
Beauty. Duty calls.” And his lover had sighed deeply, then opened her eyes, and
smiled at him. “I was having such a good dream,” she’d said. “What was it
about?” Blue had asked, slipping his free hand under the sheet that covered the
Angel. “About what you’re doing now,” she’d purred sensually, arching her back
as she stretched. “Mmm. And what about this?” he’d replied, folding back the
sheet and touching his lips to her breast before he lay down beside her.
Neither of them had given any more thought to the time, or to anything but each
other. They were both late reporting to their shifts. It didn’t matter. It had
been worth it for a beautiful morning together.
Now it was a beautiful memory. Blue
wished he could kiss Symphony one last time, but the tube in her mouth made
that impossible. And the hand he held had a tube and needle taped in its back;
he could not even stroke it as he had before. Blue leaned over carefully and
kissed Symphony’s cheek, tears streaming down his face and falling on the
pillow. Goodbye, my love. I hope heaven is as beautiful as you are. Wait for
me there, Karen. Wait for me!
He nodded to Dr Fawn, who had waited
silently and respectfully until the captain had made his farewell.
The end was a simple process. A few
buttons pressed, and the lights stopped blinking, the machines stopped humming.
There was silence.
Dr Fawn listened to Symphony’s heart
and breathing as he watched the lines on the monitors go flat. After several
minutes, he straightened up and removed his stethoscope. “She’s gone.”
Captain Blue still held his lover’s
hand. He felt his heart swell unbearably, then break, spilling love, grief,
pain, and bewilderment into his soul.
An orderly dropped a crateful of
supplies he’d been cataloguing, startled by a man’s anguished scream.
********************************
The searing, piercing pain shot through her
midsection as if she’d been impaled. Instinctively, Rhapsody Angel tried to
roll into a ball, but the cockpit of Angel One did not allow her to bring her
knees up very far, and the harness held her fast. She clenched her jaw and
hugged herself tight as she fought down the urge to vomit. As suddenly as it
came, the pain was gone. Rhapsody drew several sobbing breaths before she
unfolded and sat up straight again.
“Rhapsody! Are you receiving?”
Her epaulets had been flashing green,
the Angel realised. She’d been too ill to notice it. “Yes, Lieutenant. I’m receiving
you fine. I had a small problem with my mic.” That was true enough. She’d
turned it off to prevent anyone from hearing her cries.
“There’s been a change in the duty
roster. After your shift in Angel One is over, you’re to remain on standby in
the Amber Room until Harmony relieves you.”
“S.I.G.” Maybe it was just as well. She
could call Sickbay and make an appointment instead of walking in and hoping she
wouldn’t have to wait long. There had to be an explanation for what was
happening to her.
Impatiently, Rhapsody wiped away a bead
of sweat.
********************************
Shattered, Captain Blue requested leave to
convey Symphony’s body to her family and attend her funeral in Iowa. Because
her family had chosen immediate cremation in accord with Symphony’s declared
wishes, a memorial service would be held in two days. Colonel White granted him
seventy-two hours leave — just long enough to attend and return promptly to
Cloudbase. “Captain Scarlet will take you to Iowa; Captain Grey will bring you
back to Cloudbase.”
“Only seventy-two hours? Sir, I’d hoped
to have more time with Karen’s family. I —”
“I know you loved her, Captain,” the commanding officer
interrupted. “I’m truly sorry for your loss. Believe this. But I can’t allow
you more time. We need you here.”
“Why? Sir,” Blue added as an
afterthought, trying not to clench his teeth. “There’s been no threat from the
Mysterons.”
“True, although there could be at any
time. You know we haven’t been able to predict many Mysteron attacks. But there
have been terrorist threats made by Bereznik separatists, who want to attract
the world’s attention, if not its sympathy. We may not have much warning before
they stage an attack somewhere. You and Captain Scarlet will be needed.”
Blue’s strong sense of duty briefly
overrode his pain. “SIG.”
********************************
Captain Magenta was angry. A court-martial for
an accident! That was bad enough. But the talk was worse.
Everyone seemed to be discussing
Symphony Angel’s death, arguing about the facts and what the outcome of Captain
Ochre’s trial should be. Was it simply a joke gone wrong? An accident? Or
murder? Emotions were running high on Cloudbase. And off as well. Captain
Magenta had already received dozens of e-mails from planetside agents he
supervised asking about Symphony’s death and expressing opinions about Ochre.
And more than a few mentioned rumours they’d heard about his role, although
none had come out and said he ought to be prosecuted alongside Ochre. Others
weren’t as reluctant.
Alone in his quarters, he stared at the
screen of his personal computer. He had tapped into Cloudbase’s e-mail system
to see if others were also receiving and sending e-mails about the case.
Judging by the volume of the traffic, they were. He had hacked some open at
random and read them.
As he’d suspected, the news had
travelled fast. Ochre had his defenders, and there were those who remained
adamantly neutral, but the rest . . . . There were also those who asked why
Captain Magenta hadn’t been charged. After all, hadn’t Magenta made it possible
for others besides Ochre to sneak into Symphony’s quarters? So even if Ochre
was innocent, possibly Magenta wasn’t. And consider his past, after all . . .
His throat tightened as he looked at the muck people had dredged up about him.
It was as though his impeccable record with Spectrum was worthless in the eyes
of most people.
It would only take a few keystrokes to
clear the cache of all the read and unread e-mails. Perhaps he could devise a
filter as well, block any more of them . . .
********************************
Captain Blue found no sense of closure from the
funeral. The polished wooden box containing Symphony’s ashes had been so small,
much too small to contain such a vibrant life as hers as been. Angrily, he tore
open three green packets of sweetener and emptied them all into the cup of
acidic warmed-over convenience-store coffee. It was strange to learn that life
could be reduced to so little. A small box containing a smaller heap of grey powder.
There should be more to mark a life than that.
Captain Grey was waiting on the tarmac
when Captain Blue arrived. “I’m sorry I’m late. Karen’s family wanted to talk
for a long time.”
Grey shook his head. “I didn’t mind
waiting. My other passengers are getting a bit antsy, though. I only told them
I had to pick you up; I didn’t say why. You can ride up in the cockpit with me,
unless you’d rather ride in the back with the judges and lawyers for the
court-martial.”
“Court-martial?” asked Blue, surprised.
“Who’s being court-martialled?”
Grey clenched his jaw. “Captain Ochre.
He’s been charged with Symphony’s death.”
“Ochre? Ochre did it?” Captain Blue
staggered, then stopped dead, swaying with the shock.
Grey put a hand on the other man’s
shoulder to steady him. “He’s admitted setting up the prank, but insists
someone tampered with it. I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”
“No,” Captain Blue said blankly. “I
didn’t. I didn’t know.”
Grey wanted to kick himself.
********************************
Because of Ochre’s admissions, the court-martial
was brief.
Dr Fawn testified about Symphony’s
fatal injuries. The metal tin had weighed nearly three kilos. The wooden shelf
had swung with the force of ten. Using graphic charts, he showed where the
sharp edges of the tin and the shelf had struck Symphony’s skull and fractured
it; splinters of bone had been driven into her brain. On cross-examination, he
opined that while he was certain Ochre’s prank had caused Symphony’s injuries,
he believed it was an accident. When the can struck her, Symphony had
apparently staggered backward, into the path of the swinging shelf, rather than
falling forward, surely an unpredictable event. And a layperson, even with
extensive study of human anatomy, would have had difficulty figuring out
exactly where the two blows had to land. But, he reluctantly conceded, either
blow would have caused serious, potentially fatal, injury. And luck — good or
bad — could not be ruled out.
An investigator confirmed that Captain
Ochre’s Internet access logs had been reviewed. Ochre had not searched for,
downloaded, or received information relevant to Fawn’s opinion. He had no
medical background whatsoever apart from a mandatory high-school biology class,
and the basic emergency medical training all agents received.
Another investigator had discovered
that the stones had most likely been taken from the planters on the Promenade
Deck, although it wasn’t possible to determine if any stones were missing. No
one had seen Captain Ochre — or anyone else — removing stones from the
planters. None had been found in Ochre’s quarters. And — significantly — the
investigator could not positively link Ochre to the stones. Despite their
polished surfaces, the stones had no fingerprints; each one had been wiped clean,
as had the tin they had been placed in. More than that, there were no traces of
Ochre’s DNA on the stones or the tin.
But neither had anyone else’s DNA,
except for Symphony Angel’s, been found on the stones or the tin. Ochre’s
fingerprints and DNA were found on the shelf, doors, and walls of Symphony’s
quarters, and, of course, the message he admittedly painted on the shower
curtain in his colours; all this, the defence argued, strongly suggested Ochre
had not intended to hide his presence. But, the prosecution countered, Captain
Ochre was a skilled investigator himself. He would know how to cover up a
trail, even a DNA trail.
When he testified, Ochre admitted that
he had worked out, in theory, how one might avoid creating a DNA trail. But it
was very, very difficult to do. It required extensive preparation to ensure
against hair and skin loss. To his knowledge, it had not been done
successfully. And he adamantly repeated that while he had not secured the shelf
as well as he might have, he had not placed a metal tin on the shelf nor had he
filled a tin with stones. It had been a lightweight plastic bucket filled with
confetti. Besides, he pointed out, if they thought he was canny enough to avoid
leaving a DNA trail, why on earth would he have left the stones and tin to damn
him?
But there was no evidence that any
other unauthorized person entered Symphony Angel’s quarters that day. In fact,
there was no evidence to show anyone had entered at all. The investigators had
checked the access log, only to discover it was empty, beginning at a time
after Symphony went on duty that day and before she was discovered injured. At
least three people were known to have entered during that time: Symphony Angel
herself, and, by their own admissions, Captain Ochre and Captain Blue. Why
weren’t their entries recorded?
Testifying to his role in the scheme,
Captain Magenta admitted that he reprogrammed the log for Symphony’s quarters
to ignore Ochre’s entry and exit, but declared that he had set it to return to
normal and resume recording before Symphony’s shift ended. He couldn’t explain
why the data retrieved by Lieutenant Green showed otherwise; the only
explanation he could think of what that somebody else changed it. But whoever
it was, it could not have been Captain Ochre. He simply did not have the skill.
If he did, why would he have enlisted Magenta’s help?
After hearing all the testimony, the
court-martial judges had retired to consider their verdict. They had not
deliberated long. Captain Ochre had admitted to staging the prank that had
killed Symphony Angel. The question then was whether he had caused her death
deliberately or accidentally. Harm had certainly been intended, but the judges
were divided. They could not agree whether Ochre was responsible for the tin
full of stones or not. They had considered his background in law enforcement,
his knowledge of how to cover up a trail. But there was nothing absolute to
connect Ochre to the stones. The question of his intent to injure Symphony
remained unresolved. For that reason, the judges decided that Captain Ochre was
not guilty of murder.
Ochre heaved a sigh of relief. But the
verdict was incomplete.
The judges agreed that in staging the
prank, Captain Ochre had disregarded the possibility that serious injury could
occur and a death had resulted from his criminal negligence. The court found
him guilty of manslaughter and recommended that he be fined, demoted, and
reassigned.
********************************
Dr Fawn frowned at the reports he was holding. The
young engineer who had collapsed and been brought to Sickbay several days ago
had died. The cause of her death was still being determined. Ten people had
come to Sickbay today complaining of similar symptoms: headaches, congestion,
difficulty breathing, nausea, joint and muscle aches, and dizziness. The
symptoms were so general that they could be attributed to many different
causes. Medicine for the symptoms and rest in quarters had been prescribed
until test results were ready or the symptoms worsened. But even with several
hundred people on Cloudbase, it was unusual to have so many walk-in patients
with similar complaints on the same day.
********************************
Captain Scarlet found Captain Blue in the Mess,
staring into a cup of coffee. He sat down across from his friend and waited for
Blue to indicate he was aware of his presence. When he did, Scarlet asked
softly, “How are you holding up, Adam?”
Blue drained his coffee cup. “Damn!” he
growled, pushing back his chair.
“Let me.” Scarlet took the cup and went
off to refill it. He prepared some tea for himself, taking his time before
returning to the table.
“Thanks,” Blue said as he accepted the
coffee. “I’m sorry I’m being so rude. It’s just . . .”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t. You can’t,” the
American retorted bitterly. In the silence that followed, he tore open a couple
of green sweetener packets and noisily stirred his coffee. He sighed deeply and
rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Paul. I suppose I’m still in shock. The box with
Karen’s ashes . . . . There was so little of her there, I just can’t seem to
accept it.”
Scarlet nodded. “I remember how I felt
when I first held the box containing the ashes of my first body. I couldn’t
believe that was all there was left of me.”
Captain Blue looked away. He remembered
Captain Scarlet’s first death, and the disposal of his ashes, too. But that was
different. His best friend had come back. Karen was gone forever. He drained
his coffee cup again, and rose. “I’m not leaving. Just going to refill my cup.”
“Are you sure all that caffeine isn’t
making you nervous?”
“Drinking coffee steadies me.” He
fetched himself another cup and sat down again, reaching for two more of the
green sweetener packets. “It sounds ridiculous, I know, but in way these,” he
indicated the packets, “keep me linked to Karen. I drank coffee constantly
while . . . while . . .” He sighed. “And during the court-martial, it helped
keep me focussed.”
“I’m still astonished by Ochre’s stupid
prank. He should have seen the flaws in it.”
“I still can’t believe he got
off so lightly. He killed Karen and all he gets is a demotion and
transfer planetside. Tell me that’s justice!” Blue snarled, his voice rising.
People turned to listen to the angry
voice, then quickly turned away as they caught Captain Scarlet’s eye.
Apparently, he thought, others agreed with his friend.
********************************
Lieutenant Ochre sat in his Detroit office,
contemplating the mountain of petty paperwork, weighed down with an antique
iron paperweight, and wondered what he should do with his life. It had been too
much to hope, he knew, that he might be assigned to Spectrum Intelligence or at
least some law-enforcement related function. But he had no real future with
Spectrum now, no hope of rising through the ranks again. He would never gain a
position of trust or responsibility again, not with his record. His career with
Spectrum was effectively over.
The Colonel had been right to demote
him and send him here, he accepted that. Even though he had not killed
Symphony, he had set the stage for her death, made it possible for some unknown
criminal to act. If he hadn’t set up the prank, it couldn’t have been used to
harm Symphony Angel. He’d never imagined that anyone would sabotage one of his
practical jokes. He should have. He would never forgive himself for that.
Why? he wondered, not for the first time. Why would
anyone want to harm Symphony? And who? The answers, he knew, would only
satisfy his curiosity, not salvage his career.
So here he was. He could stick with
Spectrum, spend the years plodding at paperwork until he was eligible for
retirement, or he could resign. I’m only 34, he thought. The long years
ahead looked bleak. If he left Spectrum, then what?
He could go to university, he thought,
then shrugged that off. Not an inviting prospect. Police work was out; what
plausible story could he make up to explain his resignation from the World
Police and lack of a history for the last two years? He couldn’t reveal or
discuss his Spectrum career. He didn’t have the money to start his own security
agency. And it was tough to find work of any kind since the world economy had
slipped into a recession.
For now, Ochre decided, he would have
to resign himself to circumstances. Suppressing a groan, he lifted the iron
paperweight off the stack of papers, slid out the first document, and began to
read it.
********************************
“Colonel, Captain Blue is showing signs of a
possible breakdown. I believe Symphony Angel’s death has affected him more
deeply than I realized at first.”
“What do you recommend, Doctor?”
“He needs time to grieve, sir. A few
weeks medical leave will give him a chance to work through the worst of it. But
he needs to do it somewhere everything he sees won’t remind him of her,
somewhere away from Cloudbase. And I want him to report to a grief counsellor
during that time.”
Colonel White considered. “Is it
absolutely necessary that he leave Cloudbase? Now that Captain — Lieutenant —
Ochre is gone, I can hardly spare another senior officer for an extended period
of time.”
“I understand that, Colonel. But
Captain Blue isn’t fully effective in his present state of mind. And he isn’t
likely to improve unless he has some time to come to terms with Symphony’s
death in a less memory-filled environment.”
Colonel White ordered the duty
lieutenant to arrange for Captain Blue’s leave, effective immediately.
********************************
Three weeks. Three weeks to grieve. Three weeks
to seek revenge. Much more than he needed. Immediately after arriving on Earth,
Captain Blue had made his way to the Spectrum base in Detroit, and asked to see
Lieutenant Ochre.
“No need to announce I’m here. We’re
old friends,” Blue told the security guard after presenting his Spectrum ID.
“It’s a surprise visit.” The guard told him the way to Ochre’s office and waved
him on past.
Lieutenant Ochre didn’t bother looking
up when the knock on his door came. “Come in, it’s unlocked.” He heard someone
enter and shut the door, then the unmistakable sound of the lock being turned.
“What are you—?” he began as he raised his head. “Captain Blue! I didn’t get a
chance to see you before I left Cloudbase. I wanted to talk to you.”
He was rising to his feet when Captain
Blue suddenly lashed out with his fist. Ochre reeled sideways, his ears
ringing, shocked by the unexpected attack. Before he could collect himself,
Blue had leaped the desk, knocking papers all over the floor, seized the other
man’s gold vest in one hand, and his throat with the other, and slammed him
against the wall.
“Talk about what? This? Is this how she
felt? Is that what Karen felt when that can of stones hit her? When you killed
her? Is it? Is it?” screamed Blue, as tightened his grip on Ochre’s
throat and savagely pounded his head against the wall.
The pain made stars shoot through
Ochre’s eyes. He clawed futilely at Blue’s hands, trying to pry a finger free
so he could bend it backwards, but Blue’s fingers seemed as strong as steel
cables. Still struggling, Ochre shifted his efforts, and dug his thumbs between
the bones of Blue’s wrists, but Blue didn’t seem to feel any pain. Unable to
bring his knee up with any force, Ochre instead stamped down on Blue’s foot as
hard as he could, all too aware that Spectrum boots were designed to prevent
injury from such tactics but hoping to distract his deranged attacker. When
that didn’t succeed, the lieutenant next struck out and jammed his thumbs into
the captain’s eyes. Blue shrieked and released Ochre, who kicked out, hard and
high, then leaned against the wall, gasping for air, while his attacker writhed
on the floor, doubled over in pain and rubbing his eyes.
People were clamouring outside the
locked door of the office. Ochre’s head burned. The room was spinning. His
vision was doubled and hazy. His throat hurt, and he felt limp. He tried to
shout for help but discovered he could hardly croak. All he really wanted to do
was lie down and be still, to wait for someone to break in and rescue him. But
he didn’t want to stay a second longer in the same room with a madman if he
could help it. Blue was lying between him and the door, blocking his shortest
route of escape. But time and speed were essential. Ochre hesitated, took a
painful breath, coughed, and pushed off from the wall.
As Ochre stepped over the fallen
captain, Blue grabbed his leg and threw him off balance. The lieutenant crashed
heavily to the floor. The deranged man was on him in an instant. He sat on
Ochre’s chest, so his knees would pin his victim’s arms. Blue then began to
methodically, violently batter Ochre’s head with something heavy, holding him
still with one hand squeezed around his throat. Ochre tried to get the taller,
heavier man off him by kicking and bucking, to no avail. He could not stop Blue
from choking and pounding him, screaming incoherently at him as he did so. The
pounding sensation was coming from inside Ochre’s head as well as outside. The
pressure on his throat increased and he could hardly breathe. His vision turned
red again, then darker red. He could still hear Blue’s furious roaring, but the
words made no sense at all and the sound seemed to be moving away from him. The
red was turning to black. Ochre was unconscious before the door was smashed
open.
Gasping for breath, Blue stopped
hitting his victim, and slowly turned to stare blankly at the intruders. The
iron paperweight slipped out of his hand and fell heavily to the floor.
********************************
It was several days before news of Captain
Blue’s attack on Lieutenant Ochre leaked out, but all of Cloudbase was shocked.
Melody Angel wept quietly when she learned that Ochre was still alive, though
comatose.
Captain Blue had been arrested, but
doctors had quickly determined that he was incompetent to stand before a
court-martial. The medical review board believed that he had been unhinged by
his grief over Symphony Angel’s death and that, with treatment, he would soon
regain his sanity.
********************************
Cloudbase was experiencing an epidemic, reported
Dr Fawn. Some of the earliest victims were still seriously ill, a few were
convalescing. But over a third had died. As many as twenty people a day were
complaining of symptoms. Sickbay didn’t have enough beds for all of them, so
many were being treated in their quarters for as long as possible.
********************************
Lieutenant
Cadmium was Cloudbase’s newest expert in information-technology security. She
had been recruited straight from university after taking her degree in the
field, received advanced training as a cadet at Koala Base, then served at
Spectrum Headquarters in Moscow before being called to Cloudbase. Proudly, she
tapped in the code to open her new office for the first time. Not many junior
lieutenants had private offices. True it was small; Cadmium had seen bigger
broom closets at Koala Base. But still! It was her office, the first
ever, and she could work in peace and privacy.
Of course, privacy was a core concern
in her work. When Cloudbase was built, Spectrum’s Information Technology section
had installed an e-mail and Internet monitoring system. As part of her work,
Cadmium was authorized to examine e-mails and recommend investigation into
anything that looked suspicious. It was her particular duty to examine e-mails
that were encrypted or masked, and decipher them. Most such e-mails proved to
be very personal; she was constantly amazed at the information people put into
e-mails; much of it was personal, which she tried to ignore, although she
couldn’t help looking at some people rather differently. Nothing alarming had
ever turned up in the e-mails in Moscow. She’d probably have dull reports to
give to Lieutenant Coral, too. At least she was stationed on Cloudbase!
Nonetheless, she groaned inwardly at
the sight of the printouts on her new desk. Even the excitement of a private
office couldn’t make routine paperwork less dull. There were long hours ahead
examining statistics on how many e-mails were sent and received by each person,
the number of occurrences of keywords, the dates of occurrences, etc. It was
boring work, scanning the numbers and words, but Cadmium consoled herself that
even senior captains were sometimes put to work poring over printouts looking
for trends; more than a few times, a disaster has been averted because someone
saw a pattern in seemingly unrelated information. It was always possible that
someone could get careless and mention names or disclose sensitive information
in an e-mail. So she felt her work would be good training for the future, even
if for now her reports were about trends of only minor concern.
Today’s statistics didn’t look entirely
routine. One of the first things Cadmium noted was that Captain Magenta’s
e-transmissions and receptions were more than significantly above the median,
even adjusting for the recent flurries of messages about Symphony Angel and
Captain Blue and Lieutenant Ochre. And, without exception, Magenta’s e-mails
were masked and encrypted. Many were sent to Spectrum addresses, but a
substantial number were not.
Cadmium saw another reason for concern.
The monitoring programme routinely performed a rough deciphering of all masked
and encrypted e-mails, and produced a list of keywords. Certain words appeared
over and over in Magenta’s e-mails, words such as “captain,” “lieutenant,” and
“money,” keywords that in association could signal security breaches. She could
not discern what they might mean or how Captain Magenta had used them merely
from the stats; but an instinct told her they warranted investigation. She
decided to review the e-mails to see what she could learn from them, and
provide copies of them with her report.
Cloudbase’s monitoring programme
retained copies of all incoming and outgoing e-transmissions in a secure
database, one that was virtually unbreachable. Or should have been. When
Lieutenant Cadmium attempted to retrieve some of Captain Magenta’s e-mails, she
discovered that many of the dates she requested had been deleted. Everything
was gone; not just Magenta’s e-mails but everyone’s. She attempted to recover
the deleted files, but someone had done such a thorough job that almost nothing
could be retrieved. That troubled her. She set the computer to cross-comparing
and correlating data from the statistics with the contents of the backup files.
When the computer was finished, Cadmium found that all the deleted dates
corresponded with dates on which Magenta received or sent e-mails; no one else
had a 100% match.
But although most of Magenta’s e-mails
had been erased, Cadmium found she was able to reconstruct a few. It took her
three days hard work to recover the original messages, thoroughly decipher
them, then read them. Shocked, Cadmium immediately took her findings to
Lieutenant Coral, who then reported to Colonel White.
When confronted, Magenta objected to
the retention of copies of his incoming and outgoing mail, deeming it an
invasion of his privacy. He admitted that he knew that Spectrum had a tracking
and retention programme, and that he masked and encrypted his correspondence to
frustrate it.
The Colonel asked Magenta if he had
things to hide. Magenta replied that he only wished to keep his private life
private, nothing more.
“Have you contacted any of the members
of your former criminal network?” pressed the Colonel.
“No, of course not.”
Colonel White handed him copies of the
retrieved e-mails, and waited to observe his reaction. Magenta glanced at them,
then stared, his face reflecting shock, but Colonel White could not guess at
its source. Magenta got to his feet. “Colonel, I did not write these!
Someone must have signed my name to them or else these are fake!” he stormed.
“Someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to study my past in detail and set me up!”
Lieutenant Coral looked up from her
station, alerted by the tone of Magenta’s voice. Her hand edged down the
workstation and hovered near the security-alarm button.
“Sit down, captain,” commanded White.
Magenta complied, dropping heavily on the seat again. “Who do you think would
do this to you? And why?”
“I don’t know.” Magenta quivered with
anger and indignation. “But I want to.”
“Then I’ll order an investigation
immediately. I expect you to cooperate fully.” The British commander put
an unmistakable edge on the final word. “Dismissed.” After the Irish captain
had gone, Colonel White returned to the Control Room and ordered Lieutenant
Coral to organise the investigation.
“Sir!”
********************************
It would have been nice to get some good news,
Dr Fawn thought, instead of more aggravation. He had inquired about Lieutenant
Ochre’s condition. The tests showed that he had almost certainly suffered brain
damage because of oxygen deprivation and external physical impacts. The
prognosis for his recovery was poor. If he ever regained consciousness, he
would in therapy for a long, long time, trying to regain lost faculties. Almost
certainly, he would never be himself again.
Fawn wondered how he should break the
news to Melody.
********************************
For the second time in less than two months,
Colonel White was obliged to summon a court-martial. The results of Lieutenant
Coral’s investigation left him no choice.
Captain Magenta was accused of
betraying Spectrum.
The e-mail data-gathering results
showed that Magenta had been sending and receiving an unusual amount of e-mail
containing a high percentage of red-flag words. And when measures were taken to
review those e-mails, massive tampering with the computer was discovered. Not
only had Magenta’s communications been erased, so had those of many other
people. Only a few people on Cloudbase, including Captain Magenta, were known
to have the skill to manipulate the computer. The evidence showed that the
tampering took place when Magenta was on-duty in the Computer Room, and when he
was off-duty, from his personal PC in his quarters.
Despite his attorney’s best efforts,
Magenta made a poor witness in his own behalf. He admitted that he had the
skill to manipulate the computer, and that several times he had erased large
volumes of e-mails, other people’s as well as his own.
“I read some of the stuff people were
writing, what they were saying about Captain Ochre, and about my involvement in
Symphony Angel’s death. And about my past, before I joined Spectrum. It was
libellous! I couldn’t let those lies and speculations and half-truths keep on
spreading, so I decided to delete all the ones I could find. Sometime I lost my
temper and just erased everything; it was easier. And after Ochre was attacked,
it started up again. People were saying he got what he deserved. Yeah, I deleted
those, too.”
As for the retrieved e-mails that were
addressed to or by him, Magenta protested that he had never seen any of them
before, so he could hardly explain them. Besides, if he had written them or
received them, wouldn’t he have made sure to delete them along with everything
else?
The prosecutor repeated what Magenta
had just said, that he’d sometimes erased the e-mail databases piecemeal, and
sometimes erased everything. And he’d already admitted that his own e-mails
were masked and encrypted, so perhaps he didn’t need to be so careful about
destroying them? Magenta had no reply for that.
Several of the e-mails were read aloud,
all indicating that Captain Magenta was in touch with members of his old
criminal syndicate, and setting up sales of Spectrum’s secrets. One of the most
damning e-mails, which the prosecutor referred to as the “South American
e-mail,” said: “Tell the buyer his price is acceptable. Here’re the goods he’s
paying for:” A list of the code names and real names of some fifty Spectrum
agents in South America followed. “Tell him if he wants to know where they’re
stationed, the price is double. Collect the money before delivery, as usual,
and transfer it to my Cayman Island account.” The prosecutor paused for effect,
then asked Magenta about the anger he’d felt since Captain Ochre’s
court-martial.
Captain Magenta acknowledged that he
had been furious, angry at almost everyone on Cloudbase and even the
organisation because of what happened to Captain Ochre, but he denied that he had
ever sold out any Spectrum agents or secrets as the e-mails suggested.
“In fact, I can prove that I didn’t
send that ‘South American’ e-mail. I couldn’t have. Look, it’s time-stamped
2:37 a.m. on the day it was sent and the origin point is my quarters,” he
pointed out. “I wasn’t in my quarters that night; I spent that whole night with
Captain Cerise!”
Captain Cerise was called to testify.
Her face flushed the colour of her vest. She corroborated Magenta’s story. She
testified that they had been friends for a long time, but only friends, nothing
more. Several times over the past few months they had gotten together for
dinner, then sat up most of the night talking. “People do just talk, you
know,” she said, defensively.
“Captain Magenta never mentioned
anything that could be considered sensitive or compromising. Sure, we talked
about money sometimes, but who doesn’t?” Pressed to continue, she added, “Well,
we also talked about personal things. Stuff that made us sad or happy or
angry.”
“Stuff that made you angry?” repeated
the prosecutor. “Was Captain Magenta angry about anything?”
Cerise hesitated before she spoke
again. “Yes. Patrick — Captain Magenta — was upset about what people have said
about him since — since — the accident. He was upset that so many people seemed
to believe he had more to do with it than just giving Captain Ochre confetti
and Symphony Angel’s door code. A lot of people know about his past, that he
was once a criminal, so some think he might have . . . have . . . murdered Symphony.
But anybody would get mad about being suspected like that!”
“Did Captain Magenta direct his anger
at anyone or anything in particular?”
The question was a dangerous one;
Cerise knew it. But she’d sworn to tell the truth. She nodded curtly. “He was
mad at Spectrum as a whole. He joined because it was a chance to leave his past
behind and start over. And now it turns out no one really trusts him. Almost no
one,” she amended.
“Are you absolutely certain that you
visited with the defendant on the date of the e-mail?” the prosecutor asked.
“Do you keep a diary or journal?”
“Yes, I am certain of the date,” the
English captain stated defiantly. She admitted that she didn’t keep a diary and
hadn’t made a note of the date. She couldn’t think of anything particularly
memorable that would mark the day, either. She and Captain Magenta both had
both worked routine duty shifts that day and had shifts scheduled the next day.
“We’re both night owls and our shifts begin in the afternoon. So it’s no big
deal to stay up late at night.” But she couldn’t use the duty roster to
pinpoint the date with accuracy. Nonetheless, she was certain of the date. “It
was only a few weeks ago, after all. My memory is good.”
The access records for Captain
Magenta’s and Captain Cerise’s quarters had been examined. On the night the
“South American” e-mail had been sent, an entry to Cerise’s quarters had been
logged at 10:10 p.m. and an exit at 8:22 a.m. Cerise acknowledged that those
had been the approximate times she and Magenta had entered and left again. She
stated that she had not left before 8 o’clock.
“You said the two of sat up talking
‘most of the night.’ Did you stay awake all night, Captain Cerise?” the
prosecutor asked, a raised eyebrow expressing his scepticism.
Flushing again, Cerise admitted that
she’d fallen asleep sometime after midnight. “But when I woke up, Captain
Magenta was still there. In fact, he’d fallen asleep. I’m sure he didn’t
leave.”
The access records were produced again.
Someone had left Captain Cerise’s quarters at 2:02 a.m. At 2:13, someone
entered Captain Magenta’s quarters; an exit was recorded at 2:38, a minute
after the “South American” e-mail’s time stamp. And someone entered Cerise’s
quarters at 2:46.
Captain Cerise could offer no explanation.
She gave Magenta an apologetic look as she left the witness box.
The prosecution offered one final piece
of evidence. A worldwide search of bank accounts had turned up several that
were traced to Captain Magenta. They had been accessed from Cloudbase from
computers Magenta was covering or had access to. In his defence, Magenta could
only insist that he had nothing to do with them, no knowledge of them at all.
All the threads tied to Magenta. There
was no evidence that anyone else on Cloudbase was involved. The court-martial’s
outcome was inevitable. A heavy fine, a long term of imprisonment, and,
finally, expulsion from Spectrum.
Spectrum Security guards flanked the
disgraced captain. He seemed oblivious to their presence. “I’m innocent,” he
murmured. Then, snapping out of his daze, “Colonel White, I’m innocent!
Innocent!” He continued yelling until the guards subdued him and lead away with
his hands tied behind him.
********************************
In
only a matter of weeks, almost half of Cloudbase’s personnel had fallen ill
with the mysterious plague. Almost a quarter of the afflicted had died. And
still the cause eluded detection.
********************************
“Are
you sure, Dr Fawn?”
“There’s no doubt at all, Rhapsody.
You’re about eight to ten weeks pregnant.” He extended a friendly hand as the
Angel’s face fell. “I’m sorry you’re not happy. I take it this was not a
planned pregnancy.”
Rhapsody shifted uncomfortably. “No. We
always took precautions.”
Fawn forbore from asking Rhapsody who
“we” referred to. If she wanted to name the father, she would. Besides, Fawn
was already certain of his identity; there was no need to probe. “You didn’t
suspect when you missed your period?”
Rhapsody shook her head. “I’ve always
been irregular, especially when I’m under stress or sick. You know I haven’t
been feeling too well. Besides the throwing up, I’ve had all these headaches.
Then the anaemia and the abdominal pain and feeling so tired all the
time . . .” She let her voice trail off. She’d been so ill so
often, she’d hardly missed visiting Sickbay for a single day over the last
several weeks. “Those just didn’t seem like ordinary signs of pregnancy.”
“They’re not,” Fawn told her gently.
“You’re experiencing an extraordinarily unusual pregnancy.”
“Unusual?”
“Quite. Your body has made some unusual
— ” he searched for a word — “adaptations to the pregnancy. I’d
like to run some more tests, so we can determine how best to get your symptoms
under control and make you more comfortable.”
“Doctor, I’m not sure I want to . . .
to continue this pregnancy. I want children someday, but not yet!”
“Normally, you would be free to make
that choice, Rhapsody, and I’d respect your choice. But this time, in good
conscience, I can’t.”
“Why not, Doctor?”
It was never easy to tell a patient how
serious his or her condition was, Fawn thought. It was especially hard when the
patient was also a friend. He took her hand. “Rhapsody, this pregnancy is
grossly abnormal. The placenta hasn’t just attached to the uterine walls, its
embedded itself like a parasite. Worse, it’s somehow flowed up and out through
your Fallopian tubes and embedded tendrils in various of your internal organs.
Your immune system has been attacking it, but something seems to be fighting
back; your white-blood-cell count is sky high, but the cells are also being
destroyed. And the placenta has been draining your red-blood cells for energy,
leaving you anaemic.” He paused to let the Angel absorb what he’d told her
before continuing. She squeezed his hand when she was ready to hear more.
“Trying to detach the placenta and its tendrils surgically or chemically would
certainly cause substantial injury to you. It would probably kill you. That’s
why I can’t terminate your pregnancy.”
Long moments passed. “I understand,”
Rhapsody, white-faced, finally whispered. “ Do you believe I can live through
this pregnancy and deliver a normal child? Will I survive the birth?”
“I don’t know,” Fawn admitted. “You may
not survive until the baby is ready to be born. If the foreign antibodies
destroy too many of your white cells or eventually go so far as to attack your
bone marrow and destroy your immune system, that will leave you totally
vulnerable to diseases and infections. I can give you medications to suppress
your immune system so the foreign antibodies will back off; you’ll still be
vulnerable to illness, but perhaps less so than otherwise. I can also boost
your blood, to alleviate some of the anaemia symptoms, but you’ll probably
continue to get weaker with time; even a normal pregnancy makes demands on a
woman’s resources and yours is much more demanding. If more problems arise . .
.” He shook his head. “ There’s a very high chance you won’t be strong enough
for a natural delivery. A caesarean delivery may not be possible either.” Fawn
held both her hands in his and squeezed. “We’ll do everything we can for you,
do everything possible. For as long as possible. I doubt you’ll survive the
birth. But I’m certain you’ll die if I try to perform an abortion. I’m sorry.”
Rhapsody’s eyes glistened; she refused
to blink because that would force the tears out. “So I have maybe seven months
to live.”
The two of them sat in silence for a
long while. The Angel straightened her back and cleared her throat. “What about
the baby? Will it be normal?”
“I could do ultrasound and
amniocentesis. But it’s really too soon to say anything for certain about the
baby, if it will be normal.”
“Since I’m only two months along, I can
carry on with my duties for a while, can’t I?”
“No. I’m going to have to tell Colonel
White that you’re medically unfit to fly.”
Rhapsody gasped. “Doctor Fawn, you
can’t! That will leave only three Angels, and we’re already straining to cover
all the shifts since Symphony’s death. Her replacement won’t be here for weeks.
And I’ve, well, I’ve missed some hours of my shifts lately.”
“Because you haven’t been well.” Fawn
understood the Angel’s dedication. It was a valuable characteristic in a
Spectrum pilot. But right now, it wasn’t a virtue. “Rhapsody, you have no
choice now. It may be possible to alleviate some of your symptoms; in fact, I’m
almost sure it is. But making you somewhat comfortable is the best I can do.
The stress of piloting will probably make your condition worse, faster. I can’t
assure your survival as it is. I’m sorry, but I have to ground you.”
********************************
Captain Scarlet listened gravely as Rhapsody
told him about her condition. She rose from the couch and began to pace the
room restlessly, arms crossed tight across her body. Captain Scarlet remained
where he was and said nothing, aware that she was unhappy and sensing that she
had more to say. Rhapsody stopped before a picture on the far wall and stared
at it without seeing it. She spoke without turning. “I have an interview with
Colonel White in the morning. Since I can’t fly anymore, Dr Fawn is going to
recommend that he transfer me planetside, to London. I’ll be leaving Cloudbase
very soon.”
“Then I’ll go with you to see the
Colonel tomorrow and tell him we’re going to marry before you leave,” declared
Scarlet, getting to his feet.
“No, Paul. I won’t marry you.”
Rhapsody’s voice was steady and strong.
Scarlet realized that she had expected his declaration and
prepared her refusal. “Why not?” he protested, wounded. “It could be months
before I see you again.”
“If I marry you, then the Colonel will
be obliged to transfer you to London as well. You know Spectrum’s policies
about keeping married couples united.” Rhapsody shook her head. “Paul, we’ve
never talked about what we expect from marriage, what we each want and expect.
We hadn’t even talked about having a family.” She laughed weakly as she patted
her stomach. “I’m not ready to plunge into marriage without thinking about all
the factors.” She moved farther away from him. “This baby doesn’t change that.”
“Perhaps I should request a voluntary
transfer so I can stay near you. After all, I’m the baby’s father. And stop
running away from me!” He caught up to her and corralled her against the wall
with his arms.
The Angel shook her head. “Spectrum
needs you here, on Cloudbase. That’s more important than me. Listen to me!”
Scarlet swallowed what he had been about to say. “When I joined Spectrum, I
swore an oath of honour and duty. The best way I can keep my oath now is to
refuse to let you do anything that will deprive Spectrum of its best officer.
And if I die . . . .” She gulped. “If I die, it will be easier for you if you
haven’t seen me in a long while,” she said, her voice choking with tears.
Scarlet took her in his arms and held
her close. “Dianne.” Rhapsody buried her face in his shoulder. He could feel
her heart thumping against his chest. “All right. All right. But you know, my
duty to Spectrum can’t override my heart forever. I still want to marry you,
when you’ll have me.”
********************************
Colonel White and Dr Fawn took their seats again
after Rhapsody Angel left. It had been a difficult interview for all of them.
Just before she went, Rhapsody had
embraced Colonel White tightly. “I wouldn’t be crying if I was about to die
fighting the Mysterons. But this isn’t fair; I’m going to die because I’m in
love!”
He had returned the embrace, stroking
her hair as he would a daughter’s, aware that he had no other comfort to offer
her as she sobbed. He had assured her that after she had given birth and been
certified fit to fly again, she would be recalled to Cloudbase. Spectrum needed
her. But they both knew how empty Rhapsody’s future was. Fawn had confirmed it.
There was little more White could say or do that might help her.
It was going to be hard for the Angels
to manage without Rhapsody, mused Colonel White. There had always been a number
of qualified pilots among the other Cloudbase personnel, enough to fill in for
a short period while an Angel was ill or on holiday. But that was before the
flu-like illness had somehow been brought to Cloudbase and decimated its
personnel; all the duty shifts were short-staffed as it was. Lieutenant Green
would have a difficult task, reorganizing the Angels’ duty schedule to make up
for Rhapsody’s absence.
White shook himself mentally and sighed
aloud. He had not yet adjusted to Lieutenant Green’s death. It had been
unexpected; Green had always been a strong young man who never needed more than
routine medical attention, yet he had died suddenly only two days after
complaining of a headache and congestion. At least his passing had been easy;
he’d apparently fallen asleep and never awoke.
Lieutenant Beige, Green’s replacement,
was competent, but the junior lieutenant was much less experienced and
struggling with the immense workload she’d inherited. Still, she was doing her
best, and Colonel White understood that she was also mourning the death of her
mentor and friend. But he sorely missed his trusted aide.
Dr Fawn’s concerned voice broke into
his thoughts. “You should come down to Sickbay soon for a full examination.”
The colonel looked up at the doctor,
surprised. “I haven’t got time, Doctor. Besides my command duties, I’ve been covering
several vacant supervisory positions. I’m never off duty, even when I sleep.”
“When do you sleep?” asked Fawn with a
glint of humour. His smile quickly slipped. “You’ve just explained exactly why
you need a check-up. I shouldn’t have to point out that you’re not a young man.
You’re pushing yourself harder than anyone else on this base. It doesn’t take a
doctor to see signs of the strain, and we need you to stay healthy. If
necessary, I’ll force you to come to Sickbay.”
His commanding officer raised an
eyebrow at the physician’s veiled threat. “In other words, if I don’t make
arrangements for an exam very soon, you’ll declare me unfit for duty.”
“I will, Sir.” There was steel in
Fawn’s voice.
The colonel studied the younger
officer, observing his newly acquired worry lines, the shadows under his eyes,
the paleness of his skin, the tremor in his hands. “You look as though you
should be taking your own advice.”
“Physician, heal thyself!” Fawn joked
thinly. “I almost wish I had Captain Scarlet’s retrometabolism or at least had
some retrometabolised staff.”
“Your reports have been filled with
numbers, diagnoses, prognoses, and the like. Statistics. They don’t say much
about the human factors. Such as how you and your staff are coping with the epidemic
on a personal level?”
Fawn ran a shaking hand through his
brown hair. “When I was an intern, getting my training in a teaching hospital,
I was routinely assigned to hundred-hour shifts. Sometimes, I got several
consecutive hours of sleep; other times, I’d catch catnaps. Often, I’d be
working without sleep for more than twenty-four hours at a go. I thought I’d
left those days long behind me.” Fawn got up and went to the coffee counter.
After the colonel declined a cup, Fawn poured himself some coffee, drank the
cup in a few gulps, and poured himself another before sitting down again. “As
you know, more than half my staff is sick or dead. The survivors have been
working double and triple shifts. We were managing by using the Room of Sleep
between shifts, until the Room broke down.”
Colonel White nodded. “All of Cloudbase
was getting by, even with a dramatically reduced complement, as long as we had
access to the Room of Sleep. Now, everyone who’s still reasonably healthy is
getting by on catnaps, when and as they can.”
“But it isn’t enough. New cases of the
plague are still turning up. I suspect Melody Angel is sickening, but she’s
reluctant to come to Sickbay because there’s no one to replace her.” Fawn
leaned forward, and rested his head in his hands. “ And in all honesty she
wouldn’t get the best care in Sickbay right now. We’re overcrowded, overworked.
My staff are tired and making mistakes.”
“You said in your last report that you
were considering sending some of the plague’s victims to the surface for
treatment. Have you made a decision on that?”
Fawn rubbed his temples, trying to
alleviate the first symptoms of headache. “Yes, Colonel. I don’t really want to
release anyone from Cloudbase. We still don’t know how the plague spreads or
how to effectively treat it. But my staff has been decimated and the survivors
are exhausted. We just can’t manage anymore. So I’ve arranged for Spectrum
Medical in London to create a special isolation wing and accept some of the
convalescent and less seriously ill patients, those who are able to withstand
the journey. Provisions have been made to keep the wing sealed so that the
plague won’t spread; the staff are all volunteers who’ve agreed to enforced
quarantine.”
White nodded. “I’ll arrange for a
transport.”
Fawn stood, gulping down the last of
his lukewarm coffee. “I just hope we’re not making a horrible mistake.”
********************************
Colonel White met with his two remaining senior
captains to discuss the situation on Cloudbase. In addition, he had to inform
them of some very difficult decisions he had made.
Captain Grey stifled a yawn. “Begging
your pardon, sir,” he said, his face reddening.
The commanding officer shook his head.
“Never mind. We’re all tired, Grey. We’ve been going through hell.”
“I would have preferred going through a
few attacks by the Mysterons to what’s happened the last few months.”
“I would suspect the Mysterons of
causing these extraordinary events, but they almost always deliver a threat in
advance and carry it out quickly; something long and drawn-out is unlike them.
But nonetheless, our recent losses have made Spectrum, particularly Cloudbase,
more vulnerable than ever before. For that reason, I’ve called Captains Umber,
Aquamarine, Sapphire, and Ruddy out of the field to join the senior staff on
Cloudbase. In addition, four pilots, Felicity, Tranquillity, Prosperity, and
Serenity, will be joining the Angels.”
Grey and Scarlet exchanged a look.
“Four senior captains, sir?” asked Captain Scarlet. Colonel White did not
respond immediately. “Replacements for Ochre, Magenta . . . ”
“Brown. And Black?” ventured Captain
Grey. “That accounts for everyone. There’ll be a lot of new faces for Blue to
meet.”
“Captain Blue will not be returning.”
Scarlet gasped. Grey looked stunned.
“Not returning?”
“I have the final report on his
condition. He is suffering from an incurable neurological disorder.”
“But what could have caused it?”
demanded Scarlet. “I know he took Symphony’s death hard, but that couldn’t have
triggered this!”
“It might have,” said Colonel White.
“His illness appears to be the result of brain damage caused by regularly
ingesting some kind of neurologically corrosive substance.”
“Blue on drugs? That’s ridiculous!”
Scarlet sputtered angrily.
“The psychiatrist notes that many
people turn to substance abuse as a way of escaping pain. Still,” Colonel White
continued, raising a hand to stay Scarlet’s next objection, “another
alternative is suggested. In rare cases, an illness such as Blue’s results from
an allergic reaction to something.
“Isn’t it also possible that the
Mysterons interfered with something Blue ate, the way they did with that
champagne?” argued Captain Grey.
“That’s a possibility, but it can’t be
assessed. Nonetheless, for his family’s sake, an allergy will be the cause
noted in Captain Blue’s official record.”
Captain Scarlet’s piercing blue eyes
locked with his commanding officer’s. “I can’t believe this. You’re telling us
that one of the new captains is replacing Blue. That’s ridiculous! Captain
Brown is dead, and Ochre and Magenta have been sent down, but Captain Black is
a traitor! You can’t be retaining him and dismissing Captain Blue just because
he’s sick!”
Colonel White met Scarlet’s glare with
equanimity. “When Captain Black is tried and found guilty of crimes, or if he
is killed, then I will appoint a replacement for him on the senior staff. We
still don’t know his status for certain, if he is a traitor or a tool. You
committed a crime, Scarlet, while under Mysteron influence: you kidnapped the
world president. But you were given a chance to redeem yourself. I will allow
Captain Black the same chance.” Colonel White’s expression did not change, but
the colour of his eyes became more intense. “As for Captain Blue, the report is
unequivocal: he has permanent brain damage. He will never again live outside a
hospital. I cannot hold his place on my staff open against the day he might
make a miraculous recovery.”
The younger man broke eye contact
first. He knew he was wrong, but he wouldn’t say it out loud.
The colonel turned to his other
remaining officer. “Captain Grey, tomorrow morning you will fly an SPJ down to
the surface. Dr Fawn is sending some of his patients to Spectrum Medical in
London for treatment. Rhapsody Angel will go with you; I’ve temporarily
assigned her to duty in London. You and the SPJ will be grounded for at least
twenty-four hours for disinfecting. Then the new senior captains and pilots
will meet you for the return trip to Cloudbase.”
After dismissing his two remaining
senior captains, Colonel White leaned on his desk and put his head in his
hands. Glancing up at him from her post at the computers, Lieutenant Beige
couldn’t help thinking that he looked so tired. And so old. His face was lined with
worry. She felt a pang of fear. So much depended on the commanding officer.
What would happen to Cloudbase — to Spectrum! — if something happened to him?
********************************
That night, sleep eluded Captain Grey. He would
manage to fall into a restless doze then wake up in a panic triggered by vague
nightmares. Tired and frustrated after the umpteenth episode, he dressed,
checked his messages, and left his quarters, hopeful that a walk might clear
his head.
Eventually, he found himself on the
flight deck. He didn’t hear any sounds in the hangar bay, but the lights were
on, so someone was probably there. Human company had become scarce lately,
especially deep in the night. A friendly chat might be just what he needed to
drive away the demons in his dreams.
Captain Scarlet was working alone on an
SPJ’s engine. He consulted a clipboard, then put it aside again as he reached
inside.
“Hey, Paul! Since when did you take up
aircraft maintenance?”
The overall-clad man turned on the
ladder to see who was there. “Brad! You know I don’t require much sleep these
days, so I’ve taken up a new hobby. I might ask when you started paying
late-night calls to aeroplanes. Are you worried you’ll oversleep and miss your
flight?”
Grey laughed. “Just restless. I thought
a walk might help and when I saw the lights on here I thought I’d drop in.” He
looked around. “Isn’t there anyone else around?”
Scarlet made his way down the ladder.
“There aren’t enough mechanics left to cover the day shifts, let alone make up
a night shift. I’ve been keeping tabs on them; they’re pretty seriously
fatigued and that means they’re likely to make mistakes.” When he reached the
floor, he pointed to a coffee machine and the two men started walking towards
it. “So I’ve started checking their work to see that necessary maintenance and
repairs have, in fact, been made to aircraft scheduled for immediate or
emergency use, like the Interceptors and the SPJs. This is my first night but I
probably should have started sooner. I’ve already fixed a few problems with
this SPJ.”
Grey expressed his gratitude, reassured
that everything would be fine for tomorrow’s flight. “That will be a major
relief for the Angels especially, not to have to worry about anything going
wrong again.”
“Again?”
“I got a message that Harmony will be
coming back to Cloudbase with the replacements. Seems she sent her Interceptor
into the ground a few hours ago while on routine patrol. Fortunately, she
ejected in time.”
“Did she report a mechanical problem?”
“She did. But I suspect pilot error
played a role,” Grey confided. “All the remaining Angels are exhausted by these
double and triple shifts and none of them has had adequate rest since the Room
of Sleep quit functioning.” He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his
nose. “Same as the rest of us.”
“At least you’ll have a chance to rest
tomorrow.”
“Yeah, that’s true. It will take a day
or two for the ground crew to disinfect the SPJ’s passenger compartment so,
hopefully, the new personnel won’t be exposed to the plague any sooner than
necessary.” Grey shook his head and smiled weakly. “I’ll probably spend the
whole time fretting that I should be here covering a shift in Angel One or
something instead of relaxing.”
Grey declined the offer of a cup of coffee
and the two men said goodnight. Grey resumed his rambling about the base while
Scarlet continued inspecting the SPJ.
********************************
Captain Scarlet was waiting on the flight deck.
Medical personnel were carefully helping the ill and convalescent who were
being transferred to London to board the SPJ. When a wan-looking Rhapsody
arrived, carrying her flight bag and dressed in civilian clothes, Scarlet
kissed her tenderly, not caring who saw. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his
voice thick with emotion. “Always remember how much I love you, Dianne.” As he
released her, he told Captain Grey to take good care of her.
“I will, Captain Scarlet. You have my
word on that,” replied Grey. “I’m sorry the Colonel assigned me to make this
flight instead of you.”
Scarlet shrugged. “My mind wouldn’t
have been completely on my flying. Colonel White knows that.”
Grey nodded and took Rhapsody’s flight
bag from her. “I’d be honoured to have you act as my co-pilot.”
“Thank you, Captain.” Rhapsody brightened
a little at the thought of making one last flight before she was grounded
forever. Before following Grey into the SPJ, she looked back, her eyes
glistening. “Goodbye, Paul. I love you!”
Captain Scarlet went to the Officers’
Lounge and watched from the window until the SPJ was out of sight.
********************************
Two days later, Captain Scarlet entered the
Amber Room to start his shift as a substitute pilot. He found Destiny Angel
alone there, weeping softly. “Oh, Captain Scarlet! I am sorry to be crying when
I must be on duty. But it is so terrible!”
Scarlet had no idea what she was
talking about and told her so. “I’ve been asleep and didn’t meet anyone on the
way here,” he explained.
Destiny dabbed at her eyes with a
handkerchief. “Brad is gone! And Kwan with him!”
“Brad? Brad who? Who’s Kwan?”
Destiny punched him in the chest
angrily. “You are still muzzy with sleep! Captain Grey — Brad — and
Harmony Angel and the people they were bringing to Cloudbase. They are all
gone! The SPJ exploded in midair! Melody saw the fireball from Angel One.” She
hit Scarlet again. “Why weren’t you flying the SPJ instead of Brad? You
could have survived! And he would still be here!” She turned away in a
flood of tears.
Before Scarlet could think of anything
to say, Melody Angel came down from Angel One. Destiny seized her helmet as she
leaped up and raced for the lift. In moments, she was gone. Melody glared at
Captain Scarlet.
“I didn’t know,” he said weakly. “About
the accident or about Juliette and Brad. What happened? Destiny didn’t tell me
any details.”
Melody poured herself a glass of water
and swallowed some aspirin tablets. She must have grabbed the wrong flight
helmet earlier; it had been too tight and given her a monster headache. “I
imagine she didn’t. There’s not much to tell. Captain Grey’s SPJ exploded a few
thousand feet below us. There was no Mysteron threat, so some dodgy ground crew
member must have screwed up something while doing maintenance. Maybe our own
crew bodged something before the SPJ left Cloudbase. Or maybe the Mysterons
planted an agent and didn’t tell us,” growled Melody. “Either way, ten people
are dead.” She stretched out on the sofa. “Ten people. Including the new
Angels.” Her voice became more gravelly and thready as she struggled for
breath. “So it’s just me and Destiny now. I’ll have to keep hanging on, but I
don’t know how much longer I can put off going to Sickbay.”
********************************
After his shift in Angel One, Captain Scarlet
had an hour before he was expected to report for his next duty assignment. He
returned to his quarters, where he settled into a chair, leaned back, and
stared into space. It had been tricky work tuning the bomb in the SPJ so that
it would go off when Captain Grey ascended to thirty-five thousand feet on his
return flight. He hadn’t quite finished installing it when Grey had
unexpectedly come to the flight deck. Fortunately, Grey had apparently not
mentioned their late-night encounter to anyone.
Captain Scarlet. This is Captain
Black, relaying instructions from the Mysterons. You have done well so far.
Continue to act as if you are a Spectrum agent while carrying out your mission.
Your next target is Colonel White.
“Mysteron instructions will be carried
out,” Scarlet intoned emotionlessly. His eyes glazed over as he began to plot
what new tragedy should befall the commander of Spectrum before he could
remember that the Mysterons had indeed delivered a threat.
OUR
RETALIATION WILL BE SLOW, BUT NONETHELESS EFFECTIVE.
***************************************************************
End
Notes:
Thanks for reading the story. Would you care
to stay for coffee? The sweetener in the green packets is very good, I’m told.
Those who have read my 2002 Halloween story, S–A–Y–A–N–Z, will
recognise where the idea for this story came from. But I still don’t know whose
idea it was: mine or the Writer’s. Sometimes I only take dictation from the
characters rather than write dialogue for them.
To Chris Bishop, Mary J. Rudy, and Kelly Haycock, the creators of
Captains Sapphire, Ruddy, and Aquamarine: GOTCHA! :-D What’s Halloween without
a scare for those making guest cameo appearances?
I
just had to borrow several characters because they’ve become a part of the
Spectrum universe, at least in fan fic and role playing, and it seemed logical
that they would be on Cloudbase during the crisis. Sue Stanhope created Captain
Cerise, who’s just perfect for the role she plays here. I hope Sue doesn’t mind
the guest appearance. Lieutenants Beige and Coral are Christine Price’s
creations, not mine. Again, I hope the guest appearances are seen as the
compliment I meant them to be.
Captain Umber is my own creation from Rising Waters: India 2067. As far
as I know, Felicity, Tranquillity, Prosperity, and Serenity Angels are merely
names and haven’t been brought to life in fan fic. Yet. I keep hearing one of them warble “ich bin bis Kopf zum Fuss
so übereinlicher…” Hmmm.
The story idea is original. It is based on characters created by
Gerry And Sylvia Anderson for the TV series “Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons”
Some events and characters Copyright © of all trademarks
materials (Captain Scarlet & the Mysterons and all other series titles, all
their characters, vehicles, crafts, etc.), owned by ITC/Polygram.
OTHER
STORIES BY TIGER JACKSON
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