Captain Blue of Spectrum strode along the short corridor that led directly to the nexus of Cloudbase, the Control Room. His jaw was set, his pulse rate a steady fifty beats a minute.
Another morning, and no new Mysteron threats boomed out of the speakers throughout Cloudbase, to fill all who heard them with dread. A War of Nerves, the Martian aliens had dubbed it. They'd got that right, and Blue's nerves were set to jangling every minute he was awake.
He set his palm to the door access panel. The bio-scan beeped affirmative and the door slid open with a soft swish. Only senior staff could gain entry un-announced. As usual, he was always struck by how calm the place was: its silence broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioners and the whirring and beeping of the banks of computers, working around the clock. Blue nodded at Lieutenant Green, sitting in front of his console. The young black man bobbed his head in return, then set his gaze back to his work.
"Colonel White," Blue announced himself.
The commander of Cloudbase raised his head away from the small monitor atop his curved desk.
"Captain Blue, what can I do for you?"
"I'd like a word, in private, sir."
White's eyes narrowed, but he pressed a button on his desk. Immediately and noiselessly, a clear plastic screen rose from its hidden niche in the floor, surrounding the control desk and muting the conversation between the two men to the area enclosed by the screen.
"Well, Captain?"
Blue cleared his throat. "It's about, Captain Scarlet, sir."
"Go on."
"I'm worried about him."
"I understand from Doctor Fawn that he's recovering in Sick Bay as we speak."
"I know. It’s not his physical state that I'm concerned about."
"I see, then what?"
"His mental state."
"Would you like to be more specific, Captain?"
"He complained of a headache and dizziness when we were in the London Airport Control Tower, minutes before we realized that the Mysteronised DT-19 was in the vicinity. I'm not pretending to understand any of the crazy things that have been happening ever since the MEV launched its misguided attack on Mars, but there seems to be a link between Mysteron activity and Scarlet's physiological state. I'm concerned that he might still be linked to them in some way, and, surely, that doesn't bode well for Spectrum?"
"Doctor Fawn has completed the most rigorous and exhaustive series of tests on Scarlet, including magnetoencephalography and neuronic pathway analysis. Granted, we don't have a base pattern to compare the latter with, as we only require the minimum for recruitment medicals, but it is Fawn's judgement that Scarlet has completely normal brain function."
Blue crossed his arms, then uncrossed them. "What does that prove, really?"
"It proves that I am happy to have Captain Scarlet return to duty."
"You really think that's wise? I'm worried about Scarlet's intentions in the future. All of our lives, and maybe the lives of other innocent civilians, may depend on his behaviour."
"Scarlet deliberately chose to sacrifice himself to save the Director General’s life. That, to me, is not the act of someone with sinister motives."
"Maybe, but we ought to consider something else? What if maybe that was the plan all along: to lull us into a false sense of security. What better way to convince us that Scarlet's on our side, than by pretending to be a noble hero and go on a suicide mission?"
White frowned. "How could Scarlet possibly engineer that scenario? From what you summarized in your report, he was trying to stop the DT-19 from ramming the Director's jet, and he paid for that act with his life."
"And yet, miraculously, he's still with us.”
"I'm not sure I like your tone, Captain Blue. You might do well to remember that Scarlet was not aware at the time of your decision, as field commander, to order the Director's jet to take off. Perhaps, if you had ordered it to taxi off the runway while Scarlet slowed the progress of the DT-19, the Director General would still be alive."
Blue flushed and flinched, as if he'd received a physical blow.
"However," White continued, "I know how difficult it is to make split second decisions in the field, with limited information. I believe we have all learned some lessons from this mission."
Blue opened his mouth, then shut it almost immediately.
"I can see the cogs turning in that head of yours," White said. "You know that you are always able to speak your mind to me. I didn't choose Yes-men to work for Spectrum."
"With respect to Doctor Fawn, I don't believe that any instrumentation, however state of the art, can completely encapsulate and determine the entire range of human consciousness. We've gone some way to identify areas of the brain that show activity when we're shown images or hear sounds that give rise to emotions like love, sadness, disgust, maybe even hate; but we still can't predict with one hundred percent accuracy the actions that someone might take when they're faced with a critical or stressful situation in the field. We're not all running around with neural pathway analysers on our wrists."
"I'm impressed Captain, I had no idea you were so conversant with the subject."
"I read a lot, sir. We do have considerable spare time when we're cooling our heels up here, and there's only so many reports we can write."
White nodded. "You make some valid points, as always, and I understand your concerns, but I cannot afford to squander the second chance we have been given. We must use Scarlet as a vital key in the fight against the Mysterons. I hope you understand this."
Blue's jaw clenched, stopping him spilling out the words.
Neither you nor Fawn were up there at the Car-Vu. You didn't see the way he looked at me, his eyes as cold and uncaring as the depths of space, dead, as if the personality behind them had vanished, been ripped away. I'm afraid - afraid that despite all tests to the contrary, he's not free of their influence maybe its lying dormant, like a deeply buried hypnotic command - and then, just at the pivotal moment, they'll take control again
He realised White was speaking again.
" - you understand me, Blue?"
"Sir, sorry, I – was…"
" It's my decision that he remains in the field and that you continue to partner him on assignments."
"Yes, sir." Blue kept his expression neutral.
"Dismissed." White ended the conversation by returning to his monitor. The privacy screen slid back down into its niche on the floor.
Blue glanced at Green on the way out. Their eyes met. There was no way Green could have heard any of the conversation, but the young man's expression was grave, as if he knew exactly the gist of it.
"Lieutenant," Blue said crisply, as he passed by.
The door of the Control Room swished shut, and he took a long, hard breath.
He couldn’t let it go.
Blue looked at his watch. He still had forty minutes of off-duty left, but he couldn't face waiting it out in the Officer’s Lounge. If he was smart, he would head straight for the gym, and pummel the living daylights out of a punch-bag, but he didn't have time for that, plus the obligatory shower. Besides, he wanted another opinion on Scarlet.
He found Destiny in the Officers’ Restaurant, sitting alone. As always, she was elegantly dressed, in a pale-pink tunic and matching trousers. She sipped a latte from a tall glass, engrossed in an e-book, at least, until he wandered into her eye-line. A couple of lieutenants had just finished their meal and were clearing up their dirty dishes.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked her.
"Bien sûr," she replied. "This novel is not as exciting as I might have hoped it to be. May I get you a coffee?"
"No thanks."
"A pastry, perhaps?"
He shook his head.
"So, if you are not drinking or eating, you are here for another reason."
"Nothing gets past you."
She inclined her head, accepting his compliment.
Blue waited until Verdigris and Damson had left the restaurant and took a long breath. "Does Scarlet seem different to you, since the accident: I mean since he was taken over by the Mysterons?"
"Why are you asking me?"
"Because I believe you know him better than any of us."
Destiny's face betrayed nothing.
Damn, she is good.
"I'm not sure I understand what you mean by that remark."
"Fawn asked you to identify the body."
The French-born Angel put a frown between her manicured brows. "Pah, and men think women gossip. That information was confidential; how do you know?"
"No one gossiped, I just know that Fawn asked you, and he must have had a damn good reason - a really personal reason."
This time the faintest tinge of pink hit Destiny's cheeks. She took a sip of her coffee, and leant forwards slightly.
"Yes, I knew Paul before, in the WAAF. We were close, certainly, but it did not last. Neither of us wished to have our past affect our future in Spectrum. We disclosed our relationship to Colonel White, of course, but we preferred it remained a secret from those who had no reason to know about it."
"Well, you can rest assured I won't say anything to anyone."
"Hmm...can I be so sure of that? I have heard the gossip too...." She gave him a sly look.
"So, does he seem different to you?" he continued, ignoring her.
Her brown eyes flashed in sudden annoyance. "Of course he seems different! Would you not be, if you had gone through all that he has?”
Blue lowered his voice further, even though they were alone. It wasn’t a secret between the senior officers, but White had cautioned them to be discrete amongst the other base personnel. "Thing, is, he isn’t - well, him."
Destiny's lips pursed.
"Look, I know the reasons why the Colonel wants Scarlet to remain in Spectrum so badly; we’re facing a war with extra-terrestrials. But I think it’s crazy to make that decision so soon. Just because he’s the original’s identical twin, doesn’t mean he’s going to behave identically, especially after what happened to him – being taken over by the Mysterons for six hours. Machines can only tell us so much about our behaviour and emotions, but I’m more inclined to temper that with some old-fashioned human intuition. So, what’s your gut telling you about him, Destiny?”
She sighed. "On the surface, he seems like the Paul I’ve always known, perhaps he is less outgoing than before, but again, that might simply be due to the trauma of the last few weeks. Can you say you would not behave the same, if it had been you in his place? I think it is terrible, what has happened to him.”
"Look, I know you care about him, but we have more than his finer feelings to consider, and it’s our duty to make sure he isn’t going to go off the rails like he did before. Yet, you still say you don't think there's anything to worry about, that someone who tried to kill the World President can return to duty, just because Fawn's machines can't see any differences in his brain patterns?"
She gave a distinctly Gallic shrug. "Well, what else are we to do?"
Blue gnawed the inside of his cheek for a moment.
Destiny took another sip of her coffee. "Are you sure there is not some other reason you are so upset?
"I don't get you."
"Perhaps you feel snubbed because now Scarlet is labelled the number one agent."
"That's ridiculous."
She gave him a penetrating look. "Vraiment? Are you sure? Our minds work in strange ways, mon ami."
Blue was stung by her words, but it forced him to think about it. Yes, he'd had a few moments of angst at the time, but he was self-aware: he knew himself, borne of a struggle to prove himself beyond his privileged birthright. He knew that envy didn’t drive his concerns about Scarlet.
"You don't have to worry about my motives, Destiny. All I'm worried about is Scarlet, and whether he poses a threat to us, and Spectrum."
"You are serious, after what he did at London Airport?"
"I've been through this with the colonel. I do consider he's still a threat."
"So, are you planning to do something about it?"
"I - haven’t decided yet, and please, keep this conversation between the two of us."
She threw him a dubious look. "You look tired, perhaps you ought to see Doctor Fawn? You have also been through much, you should not underestimate the effect it can have on you."
He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm fine. Don't worry."
Blue was normally a sound sleeper, but he tossed and turned that evening in his quarters, finally giving up at three a.m., and got out of bed to read a book. That didn't help; all he could think about was Scarlet.
The pragmatist in him could see why Colonel White thought this was a great idea: send a soldier, who apparently couldn't die, to the battlefront, so that others wouldn't suffer that fate. All well and good, unless their new ace in the hand was a dormant time bomb, just waiting for the right moment to turn on them.
Granted, they hadn't been that close at the beginning, but after all their training and the odd mission together, he felt that they could trust one another in a combat situation, that if one of them got into trouble, the other would be there, at their back.
Not any more, not after what he experienced at the Car-Vu.
As soon as Blue made his decision, he contacted Fawn, casually asking about Scarlet's health; but the real reason was to ascertain when the good doctor planned to discharge his special patient.
"I just did, in fact," Fawn replied. "You know, I was saying to the colonel, there isn't a mark on him now, after that crash. He's completely healed; it's astonishing. I must admit he's going to be a fascinating study. I'm determined to find out what makes this retrometabolism work, and whether there is any way we might somehow duplicate the ability. Imagine the possibilities."
"Yeah, just imagine," Blue echoed, and for a second almost felt a tinge of pity for this Scarlet, being reduced to a lab-rat under Fawn's scrutiny. The latter was a brilliant medic, but, like most geniuses in their field, sometimes lacked empathy whilst in pursuit of his research.
"I was wondering," Blue added, “If it's not classified, have you seen any other changes in Scarlet's metabolism?"
"Not so far, although my testing and monitoring regime is still in the early stages. But he's not Superman, if that's what you mean. The biometrics show he doesn’t have any greater intrinsic physical strength than before."
Blue was relieved to hear this. He had three inches in height and twenty-four pounds in weight over his British colleague, and he too was in peak fitness. He was pretty sure he could best Scarlet in a fight, if it came down to it.
Blue accessed the duty-roster in his quarters, saw that Ochre and Grey were both on a four-hour work-cycle, and were probably busy with their respective sub-divisions on Cloudbase. It wasn't all sitting around drinking coffee while they waited for an assignment.
When he tried Scarlet's quarters, there was no answer after the chime, so he strode along the corridor and took the lift one level. He found Magenta comfortably draped along one of the couches in the otherwise empty lounge, wearing headphones, eyes closed and his booted feet up on one of the tables. Scarlet was nowhere to be seen.
Blue quietly exited the room before Magenta became aware of his presence. The fewer people that saw him and Scarlet together, the better.
He finally tracked the English captain down in the Officers’ Restaurant, sitting at the back, scoffing down a huge plate of strawberry Pavlova. The dregs of a large plate of stew sat next to it.
Scarlet saw him approach and unconsciously wiped a few crumbs from his mouth, a wary expression in his eyes. This was probably the first time they had been alone with one another in a non-combat situation, since the attempt on the World President's life. Scarlet had spent a fair bit of that time in Sick Bay.
"Hello, Adam."
Blue ignored the intimate address, sat down in the opposite chair.
"Hungry, huh?"
Scarlet's looked sheepish. “Fawn doesn’t exactly fill your boots in Sick Bay, unless it's boringly healthy."
Blue forced a smile. He couldn't afford to let Scarlet know something was amiss, not yet. "Yeah, Pavlova probably doesn’t come under the healthy category heading."
"Well, it's got strawberries in it, that's got to count for something."
For a split second, Blue had second thoughts. Scarlet seemed so normal, just like the Paul Metcalfe he'd known before the Mysterons attacked. But this man wasn’t him, that was the cold, unpalatable fact, and everyone else was oblivious to the potential danger. He took a breath, gripped his hands together under the table, summoning inner strength. He had to go through with this. There was simply too much at stake.
"So, Fawn's cleared you for duty," he said, keeping his voice neutral.
"Yes. Although he wants me to take it easy. I'm not sure I can do that, taking it easy has never been my strong suit."
"Join the club. So, what do you say maybe we burn off some steam: get in a little target practice?"
The hopeful look in Scarlet's eyes made Blue feel like a first-class heel. He sucked it up, for he was going to feel a lot worse by the day's end.
"Yes, good idea. I've been horizontal far too long."
Blue waited for Scarlet to clear his dirty plates, and then they both headed off.
No weapons were kept in the shooting range, those were under lock and key in the armoury. Access remained controlled by bio-fingerprint identification, so Blue pressed his hand palm up to the wall console and it beeped consent, the door sliding open. The door slid shut as they passed through.
The room was longer than it was wide, and, unlike a few of the more garishly decorated recreation areas, these walls were regulation light- grey, except for the waist-height dark-grey counter-top, ten feet away from the door, which the shooter stood behind to fire. A low bench and a floor standing locker took up a third of the wall on the left, and at the far wall, thirty feet away, a row of six body-length targets, each set on cross-wise, floor-length rails, able to move forward, back or sideways, and all controlled by a panel on the wall to the left of the counter.
Both men took their caps off and placed them on the bench. Scarlet opened the locker, removed two sets of ear-defenders and placed them on the counter. While his back was turned, Blue pulled his pistol out and shot the controls to the door on their side. Scarlet whirled at the noise. Disbelief flooded his face, at the state of the smoking, sparking panel and the pistol in Blue's hand.
"What on Earth – Blue, have you lost your mind?"
Blue turned and faced his nemesis with a cold stare. "I could ask you the same question."
"Colonel White, I'm seeing a fault blink up for the target practice room, it looks like the door has developed some sort of problem."
"Is someone in there at the moment?"
Green's nimble fingers brought up a screen. "Palm-print bio-identification registered to Captain Blue, sir."
"Captain Blue, this is Colonel White. We have registered a fault with the access panel of the shooting gallery, we understand you are present in the room. It looks as if the door cannot be opened or closed; please respond with your situation."
Five seconds passed.
"I repeat, this is Colonel White, please answer."
Five more seconds of silence, save the hum of computers and air-conditioning. White's brows knit together.
"If he's doing target practice he'll be wearing ear protection, Colonel," Green said, "He may not have heard you."
"I suppose so, although I thought he might be aware of his epaulets flashing. Well, leave it for now. I'm sure he'll contact us soon enough when he can't get the door open."
White's voice was barely audible from the speakers inside Blue's cap, but Scarlet had damn good hearing. He regarded Blue with wary distrust.
"Aren't you going to answer the colonel?"
Blue tightened his fingers on his pistol; his stomach had knotted on hearing White's voice. There would be hell to pay later.
If there was a later.
He put that thought out of his mind, and watched Scarlet, who in turn regarded him back with soldier's eyes. The initial shock having worn off, no doubt every muscle in his body tensed with adrenaline at what might be about to happen next.
"I've got a few things to say first." Blue was relieved his voice sounded steady.
"What was wrong with saying them in the restaurant?"
"Fawn and the colonel say you're to be trusted," Blue interjected, "But I'm not buying it. They weren't with me on the Car-Vu when you tried to kill me."
"So that's it: I just knew there was something up. You’ve been avoiding me ever since my first recovery. Look, I told Fawn and Colonel White, I don't remember anything about the events at the Car-Vu, with the president, with you. It’s a complete blank. But I'm me now, and I'd never harm you, or anyone else for that matter. You have to believe me."
"Why should I? I guess I'm just supposed to take your word for it? That everything is just peachy?"
Scarlet’s brows knit together. "It's the truth."
"Maybe you've convinced yourself of that, but one day - tomorrow maybe, or in a week’s time, or in a month - when we face another Mysteron threat, and we have to save innocent civilians caught in the crossfire of this war of nerves, you won't be there."
Scarlet's eyes closed briefly in frustration. "Of course, I'll bloody well be there, here - wherever."
"Somewhere in the depths of your mind, that subliminal command will emerge, take over - your mind no longer your own – and then, once again, you'll be the puppet of the Mysterons!"
"No. Never. I'm me, I know it, I can feel it. That won't happen."
"How can you possibly tell?"
"I don’t know. I just can."
"Well, that isn't good enough for me. Not when we're all going to have to rely on you, Spectrum’s number one agent, when the chips are down."
"I know you must despise me for what I did, even though I have no recollection of it, but it won't happen again."
"You can't know that. They took control of you – once – they can do it again. I think you're a liability."
Blue raised his arm, and pointed his pistol straight at the Englishman.
Scarlet's face went blank. "You're not serious."
Blue took three strides forward and slapped the pistol into Scarlet's chest. The latter automatically curled his fingers around it before it could fall to the ground.
"Oh, I'm real serious," Blue said. "So serious that you’re gonna have to kill me."
"Lieutenant Green, I'm aware Captain Scarlet has just been released from Sick Bay, and is off-duty, but I'd like to speak to him."
"Yes, sir." Green slid his chair a foot to the left, flicked a switch on his console. "Captain Scarlet, please report to Colonel White."
A few seconds passed. "No response, sir."
"Hmm, he may be in his quarters resting, give him one hour, and call again."
"Blue, you've gone stark raving bonkers." Scarlet threw the pistol to the floor.
"I told you to kill me."
Frustration turned quickly to anger. "Well, I'm not bloody well going to, so you can just call Green and get an engineer to get us out of here, or I'll contact him myself."
"Captain Scarlet, this is Destiny Angel."
The muffled voice made both men glance at Scarlet's kepi on the bench.
"Captain Scarlet, please respond."
In a softer tone they heard: " Paul, I am worried, please call me."
Scarlet moved - making a lunge for his cap - and Blue threw all his weight and muscle behind the punch. The force of the blow threw Scarlet backwards against the counter, feet stumbling, arms cartwheeling.
"You're gonna kill me, or one of us, maybe even Destiny, soon enough," Blue spat out. His heart thudded against his ribs, and his mouth was dry, and he knew that whatever happened next, was on his head. He tried to load as much venom into his words, pushing Scarlet into revealing his true nature. "So why don't you just get it over with right now? Pick up the gun and kill me."
Scarlet leant heavily on the edge of the countertop and wiped the trickle of blood on the side of his mouth, taking in long breaths.
"Just stop this, will you?" he said evenly, as if talking to someone about to jump off a tall building. "Let's just get the door open, and we'll both go and have a chat with Colonel White, Adam. We can work this - "
"Don't call me Adam, you sonofabitch, you have no right! You frigging clone!"
Scarlet’s whole body tensed, and he stared at Blue with incomprehension, as if he couldn’t fathom why he was being treated this way.
Blue steeled himself; he couldn’t afford to waver.
Colonel White's epaulettes flashed, and the voice of Destiny Angel could be heard over the intercom.
"I've been trying to contact Captain Scarlet: I have tried several times to the door of his quarters, and I cannot get him to answer on his cap-mic."
White frowned.
"I am - worried about him, Colonel, and now I am even more so. I can't contact Captain Blue either."
"He is in the target practice room, but he's not answering, the door access seems to have been shorted out. But why would you be worried about Blue?"
"Ma foi! I have a very bad feeling, Colonel."
"What do you mean?"
"Captain Blue came to speak with me about Scarlet, he seemed quite agitated. I think maybe he's confronted him."
"Why on Earth would he do that?"
"You know as well as I do, Colonel."
White's lips thinned. He suspected the meaning behind the young woman’s words. But surely Blue couldn't be thinking of disobeying his direct orders? It would be totally unlike the man: he was phlegmatic and rational in equal measure. But they were all now facing a new normal, so many unprecedented events that had, perhaps, taken their toll in ways none of them could anticipate. Perhaps even the calm and patient Captain Blue had a breaking point.
"Leave this with me, Destiny."
"Sir, I want to help."
"This is no reflection on your talents, but I need you more as a pilot than a security detail.
"But Colonel..."
"I know you are concerned, but those are my orders."
A prominent sigh was plainly audible. "S.I.G., Colonel."
Green swiveled to White, concern written all over his round face. "What does it mean, sir? What's going on?"
"I don't know, Lieutenant, but I intend to find out. There's no time for a base wide search for Captain Scarlet, we must assume he is with Captain Blue. Contact Lieutenant Damson in maintenance; he needs to get that access panel working again, and locate Captains Ochre and Grey, I want them to join me outside the shooting range on the double."
"S.I.G., Colonel."
White took leave of his desk and took one of the long escalators that connected the Control Tower with the main body of the base. If he'd been a younger man he might have taken the steps two or three at a time, but he was not, and it was a very long way down, so he had to content himself with looking at the constantly changing displays of world cities and global landmarks on the surrounding walls.
He finally arrived at his destination, to find Lieutenant Damson already at work. The Kenyan engineer nodded smartly at his superior before getting back to the business of repairing the door panel. Grey and Ochre stood behind him in the corridor, clearly a touch confused, since they had no idea why they'd been called away from their respective duties.
"We can't hear anything," Grey was saying.
"Well of course we can't, its soundproofed," Ochre replied.
Grey shrugged and addressed White. "What's going on, Colonel? Green didn't give us any clues when he ordered us along here."
"I'd like you to have your weapons at the ready, gentleman, just in case."
Both Americans registered surprise, as did the engineer, but Damson evidently thought better of offering an opinion on the matter and kept his eyes and mind focused firmly on the job.
"In case of what?" Ochre said, his brows drawing together.
"I'm not entirely sure yet," White said, a bleak expression accompanying his words.
While Scarlet hesitated after Blue’s outburst, the latter took advantage of it. He launched himself at the Englishman, heart racing with an adrenaline surge - if he wasn't battle-mad to start with, the hormones urged him on.
Thud - into Scarlet’s solar plexus: he heard him grunt with pain.
"Fight me, damn you!" Blue spat out.
Smash - to Scarlet's cheekbone, the buzz-shock of contact running up his elbow.
After that, Scarlet fought back. They grappled, shoved, and slugged at one another; Blue determined to goad Scarlet to the point where he would give his Mysteron-self away, and Scarlet simply trying to defend himself against Blue's onslaught.
Whump - Pain exploded in Blue's jaw, and he saw stars, a surge of coppery blood filling his mouth. Scarlet had given him one helluva punch. Half-blind and woozy, legs like two sticks of jello, knuckles smarting like blazes, he slid his tongue tentatively around his mashed cheek, and felt a tooth wobble.
His vision was blurry round the edges, but he could make out Scarlet swaying on his feet a short distance away, a vivid red gash on his cheekbone where Blue's fist had found bone. Both sucked in air, momentarily exhausted from the fight.
The air was pungent with the tang of sweat and tension.
Had he screwed up with his clever masterclass in reverse psychology? If the Mysterons had truly embedded a hypnotic command in this version of Scarlet's mind, to go off under extreme duress, then Blue, with crass and utter stupidity, had put himself in mortal danger.
But Scarlet simply reached out with one arm, a pleading gesture. “Blue, stop this, it's crazy. " He sucked in a lungful of air. "I don't want to fight you, I only want to make you see reason: I’m not what you believe I am.”
For a few unfocused seconds Blue felt his determination seep away. No, I've come too far, I've got to see this through, it's the only way.
He staggered across to where Scarlet had dropped the pistol. Raised it with slow deliberation. Scarlet carefully backed up into the corner where the wall and the counter met.
"You won't shoot me, Adam."
A muscle ticked in Blue's jaw. "Won't I?"
Scarlet moved - fast.
One second later, Blue ducked instinctively as a pair of ear-defenders came flying towards him. The next, hidden motors whirred into life, the on-switch activated. Blue looked up to see Scarlet body-roll over the counter to disappear behind it.
The row of targets began to trundle forwards.
Smart, Scarlet. You were always smart.
Spiang!
Blue's shot ricocheted off the far edge of the counter.
Scarlet's dark head bobbed up from behind the counter, and he ran for his life, zig-zagging across the space between the counter and the first target, while Blue let off another shot.
Spiang!
Chips flew off the side of the nearest target after Scarlet threw himself behind it.
"There's nowhere you can run to, Scarlet," Blue's voice echoed around the room.
Grey said, "I thought I heard gunfire."
"That's impossible, it's your imagination," Ochre replied, rubbing the back of his neck.
Grey glared at him.
"How's it coming along?" White addressed Damson, his voice clipped with tension.
"I'm having to reroute the power, sir, it'll take a few minutes."
"Can't you hurry things along any faster?"
"I’m afraid not, sir."
Cold sweat trickled along Blue's back. He ignored the unpleasant sensation, focusing on keeping his aim steady, waiting for Scarlet to show himself. He was beginning to doubt the whole, damn complex charade. If Scarlet was truly under the command of the Mysterons, then why the hell wasn't he shooting back? Blue had given Scarlet every possible chance to do him harm, and he'd only responded in self-defence.
Maybe I have things royally screwed, and this version of Scarlet is in fact, everything he said he was - loyal only to Spectrum.
A dark head appeared, followed by a flash of red tunic, as Scarlet made a run to his right towards the next moving target.
Spiang!
Scarlet dodged behind the target as Blue's shot went wide and hit the target behind.
Spiang!
Spiang!
Click.
Blue stared at his gun, He was out.
He glanced up.
Scarlet had heard the tell-tale sound.
He sprinted back towards Blue with single-minded purpose – the devil's fury in his eyes – or worse.
And Blue could only watch, helpless, as Scarlet used the counter as a vault, first leaping onto it, then throwing his whole body into the air, like an avenging angel…
He slammed with full force onto Blue, and they both went down - hard.
Physics did the rest. Blue heard his bone snap - a sickening sound - followed an instant later by a searing, detonation of pain in his arm.
For several seconds he lay immobilised, Scarlet's body half-suffocating him. Bells clanged in his head, a wave of nausea churned up in his stomach. Then, relief as the weight released. Through the pain he vaguely registered Scarlet getting to his feet.
Blue forced his eyes open. Scarlet loomed over him, his eyes filled, not with anger, but with some indefinable expression Blue couldn't decipher. The Englishman finally pulled his pistol from its holster and pointed it at Blue's prone figure.
"I can't do this anymore," he said dully, "You're just not listening to me, so maybe it's time to give you what you want."
Blue tried to move; a soft hiss sneaked out through gritted teeth at the jolt of agony that fired along arm and shoulder. He shut his eyes, there was nothing to do but wait for the end.
Stupid idiot, why didn't I listen to White, listen to Destiny. All my fault. But maybe they'll believe me now and everyone will be safe; all that mattered, all that ever mattered
Get it over with.
Scarlet fired.
Despite the air-conditioning in the corridor, Lieutenant Damson sweated. He wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve, and sucked in his bottom lip, trying not to fumble things in the shadow of his stern commanding officer.
Finally.
"That's it, sir, should work now."
"Thank you, Lieutenant, good job."
Damson pressed his palm to the access panel and the door slid open.
"What the f- ” Ochre only barely succeeded in restraining his mouth in his commander's presence as he peered in first.
"That'll do, Captain Ochre," White said briskly, blocking Damson's view to the room's interior. "Thank you, Lieutenant, we'll take it from here. "
The younger man's face fell, but White could ill afford to have too many people privy to the truth of this unfortunate affair. Damson was well trained, however, and obeyed the military order with not a word said. He nodded smartly, picked up his tool-kit and strode off, leaving the three of them alone.
Grey holstered his gun, and swiftly followed Ochre into the room.
What a mess.
White's heart sank at the violent scene before him. Blue lay on the ground, cradling one arm, face ashen with pain and shock.
Scarlet lay less than two few feet away, his pistol close by. Dark crimson blood, mixed with bits of pale grey brain matter, seeped from the tangled hair on his scalp. More blood peppered the floor and side of the counter.
Ochre was the first to the body. He felt for a pulse, then slowly shook his head in dismay.
"He's dead," he announced.
Grey, meanwhile, helped Blue to sit up, the latter wincing through the pain of his injured arm. "What the hell happened in here?"
Blue’s face was a picture of misery. “He shot himself. I pushed him – too far.”
"I think you have a lot of explaining to do, Captain Blue," White said gravely. “However, it will have to wait. Captain Ochre, call Doctor Fawn and have him get over here immediately. tell him to execute Operation Cover-Up."
"Yes, sir." Ochre stood up and away from Scarlet's prone body and called Fawn on his cap-mic.
"The whole world has gone nuts," Grey said. "You think Scarlet will recover, like he did before?"
White's lips thinned. "I sincerely hope so, or Captain Blue will be spending the next few months in the brig, before his court martial."
Blue finally got to his feet with Grey's assistance. "I'm sorry, Colonel, I felt - so helpless, no one seemed to listen to my concerns. For everyone's sake I had to know that Scarlet wouldn't turn on one of us when he was put under extreme stress."
"I do not condone vigilante gung-ho antics or amateur psychology. You could have been killed during this - experiment. This is most unlike you.”
"I know, sir; I deserve everything you throw at me."
"Indeed, and you had better hope that Captain Scarlet does recover - for the sake of your career in Spectrum."
Blue strained to open his eyes – seemed as if all he could see were haloes of light - swelling and fading as he struggled to focus. Whole body floating, lulled within some blissful pain-free cocoon, maybe it was better to remain in that state: safe, effortless, comfortable. But some deep, inner impulse prodded him to regain full alertness, so, when he finally blinked his eyelids open, he found himself in bed, staring at the round lights in the ceiling of a room in Sick Bay.
His mouth was dry as the Mojave, and a residual taste of something antiseptic lingered there. He tried rolling his tongue around his lips to get some moisture, and again around the inside of his mouth. His loose tooth - wasn’t, loose. He looked around, he was in one of the private cubicles, intended for intensive care recuperation, although he hardly thought he warranted it. Perhaps he was under house arrest? He couldn't blame the Colonel for that, under the circumstances.
The sound of the door unlocking seemed to give credence to that notion.
"Well, there you are, back in the land of the living," the pleasant voice of senior nurse Judi Jackson brought him back to reality, as she entered the room.
"I wash'nt dead." he said, trying to make his tongue work, and attempted to rise from the bed. She immediately pushed him back down, hand on his chest, gentle but firm.
"Of course not. Now, you just take it easy, you don’t want to mess up the bone-composite. It'll take another twelve hours to set completely."
"How long have I been out?"
"About eight hours. Doctor Fawn couldn't attend to you straight away, but we gave you a sedative to help you sleep, and then he completed surgery on your arm. The bone's as good as new and you should be up and about in a few days. You’ll have to stick with the physiotherapy though, or you'll have to answer to Nurse Johansson."
"Captain Scarlet!" The memories returned in a flood, washing away the dregs of the anesthetic. "Is he all right?"
"I believe so. Doctor Fawn is with him. But I suggest you don’t worry about that just now; you need to rest while that arm knits. Can I get you anything?”
“Maybe just some water? My mouth is so dry.”
“Of course; and you’ll be able to eat in a couple of hours, but it’ll be something light.”
After she’d left, Blue stared at the ceiling lights. He found that he was unable to stop replaying the scene in his mind.
He’d heard the gun going off, but felt no bullet thudding into his flesh, creating carnage as it sought an exit. His eyes had flared open, to see Scarlet falling sideways like a felled tree – saw the spray of blood in slow motion – heard the thump and clatter as the body and gun hit the floor.
He could still see the accusing look in Scarlet's dead eyes.
Some very bored hours later he was fretting. Inactivity ill-suited him, and the absence of information regarding the whole situation suited him even less. He'd hoped he might get one visitor at least; the thought of those soft hazel eyes and that smart mouth would have brightened this miserable day no end, but he figured the condemned man wasn't going to enjoy his last meal. The trouble was, he'd brought it all upon himself.
He must have fallen into a doze and woken suddenly when he heard the door unlocking again.
"You have a visitor, Captain."
Blue blinked sleep away, to see Jackson holding the door open. Scarlet walked past her into the room, not a mark on him, looking smart in a clean uniform.
"Paul!"
"You have fifteen minutes, Captain." Jackson reminded the dark-haired man.
Scarlet gave Blue a rueful smile after the nurse closed the door behind her. "Well, it's nice to hear you finally call me by my real name. Does that mean you're finally admitting I'm him, or more precisely, me?"
“You have no idea how glad I am to see you. Look, what I said, about you being a clone – I’m sorry, I was just trying to goad you and - "
Scarlet raised one hand to interrupt him. "Forget it. It's all right, and for what it’s worth, I might have done the same thing, in your place. You did what you thought was right - given everything that had happened between us - since I evidently tried to kill you at the Car-Vu. I think that makes us even.”
"I'm not usually that impulsive. I thought I had it all figured out; that you were a sleeper agent for the Mysterons. I was making myself crazy with the idea."
“If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t had a lot of sleep these past few weeks either, trying to come to terms with my new status.”
“And I haven’t helped,” replied Blue morosely.
“But the funny thing is, during that fight, I stopped doubting myself, I knew who I was, what actions I had to take. Duplicate or not, I was Paul Metcalfe in every respect that mattered. I hoped that the choice I made, shooting myself instead of you, would go some way to prove it.”
Blue shook his head. “You took one helluva risk: that your retrometabolism would kick in for a third time.”
Scarlet gave a shrug. “I hoped it would, but the gamble was worth it, to have your trust again. Just as long as I do have your trust, Adam?”
Blue shifted uneasily in the bed. “I can’t imagine you’ll trust me after the way I behaved.”
“We have to trust one another, now more than ever.”
"You're a better man than me."
An impish smile transformed Scarlet's face. "Yes, and don't you forget it."
It was that simple interchange that finally hammered home to Blue that it really was Paul Metcalfe that stood before him. Somehow, he doubted that the Mysterons had a sense of humour, and especially not the ironic kind inherent in the Brit of the species.
Scarlet said, "So, I'm hoping that what’s happened between us in the shooting range, has finally convinced you that I’ll never betray or hurt any of you.”
Blue nodded slowly. In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Scarlet pulled up the chair from its place against the opposite wall and sat down in it, evidently planning to stay his full fifteen minutes.
"I'm surprised the Colonel even allowed you in to see me," Blue said at last, staring disconsolately at the coverlet. He could barely meet Scarlet's eyes.
"Well, he figured that you wouldn't be able to do much to me, from a hospital bed with one arm in gel-plaster and drips sticking out of the other."
Blue looked up and gave a watery smile. "I think I'm done fighting you, Paul."
Scarlet reached over and took Blue’s good hand, gripped it gently, then let it go.
"Good, I'm glad about that, because, retrometabolism aside, it still bloody
hurts when I get punched, kicked, stabbed or shot. "
"God, I'm sorry. I wasn't really trying to shoot you."
"I know. You're a better marksman than that, although I had a few scary moments in there when I wondered if you'd been taken over by the Mysterons."
Surprise flared in Blue's eyes. "Then why didn't you kill me, if you believed that?"
"Because I couldn't be sure. I didn't get that sensation of nausea, like I felt when we were in London Airport Tower and the Mysteronised DT-19 was close. I wasn't willing to take that chance."
"Damn lucky for me. I didn’t think to offer you the same chance, I just started shouting and punching."
"Forget it, Adam, we've all been through hell and back. It's enough to make anyone lose their way, for a while."
Blue swallowed down the golf ball that had lodged in his throat. "I don't deserve your forgiveness." He shuddered. "The whole world's changed, and I'm probably still facing a court-martial over this."
"No, you won't, I've insisted all charges be dropped against you."
"Well, that's very magnanimous of you, but I doubt the old man will agree to it. I disobeyed a direct order."
"Maybe so, but he also knows we need every able officer to combat this Mysteron threat, and since losing Black, not to mention Brown, we need you even more. Mind you, I don't think you're getting away completely scot-free, he did mutter something about docking your salary to pay for all the damage to the shooting range and having to submit to Fawn for a whole bunch of brain-scans, just so that he can make sure you haven't completely flipped your lid."
"Oh, I can live with that."
“I suspect his bark is sometimes worse than his bite, although I wouldn’t want to be the one in the brig,” Scarlet said, with a grin.
Blue felt a smile cracking, perhaps the first for many days. He was beginning to feel light-headed, maybe the effect of the drugs, or just sheer blessed relief that his crazy plan hadn't ended in disaster.
A knock on the door heralded Jackson’s cheery voice again, telling them visiting time was over. Scarlet rose from the chair. "Better be off, I've got another session with Fawn...lucky me. I dread to think what abominable test he has lined up for me this time."
"Hang in there, buddy, and thanks a million for putting in a word for me to the colonel, after all I’ve done. I don’t know how I can make this up to you.”
Scarlet flipped him a loose salute. "Well, next time, I might be in the bed, and you’ll be the one in the chair giving me some sage words of comfort."
Blue smiled again. "You can count on it."
Notes
The idea of this short story followed a chat with Marion Woods about the UFO episode ‘Kill Straker’ and we thought there were elements within it that might be fun transposing to a Scarlet story. Thanks Marion, for letting me run with the idea, and thanks also for your beta review and last, but not least – the great title.
Any errors are mine alone.
I don’t think I’ve ever written anything quite as quickly, so I’d like to thank my new compact laptop, which has no Office, only Notepad, which meant I couldn’t obsess with word counts, spellcheck and grammar corrections, numbers of pages, or anything else that does a damn fine job of distracting you from simply typing one word after the other until the first draft is finished!
And my thanks as ever to Chris Bishop, for the magnificent website, and whose writing inspired me in the first place.
Other stories from Caroline Smith
BACK TO "HALLOWEEN CHALLENGE" PAGE