A Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons story

For 2006 Halloween Challenge

By Chris Bishop

PART 1

Prologue - Ruins of the Future

September 3, 2087

At first they thought they were under attack.

Everyone knew there was a possibility that their hide-out might one day be discovered, despite all their precautions – the wide detours taken by aircraft and ships to avoid detection, the ruses and subterfuges everyone adopted, to the point that it now had the force of habit – just to make sure that nobody would even suspect their presence. Despite all this, they knew the enemy – enemies? – were cunning, and might, in the long run, deduce that they had set up base here, many feet below what once was the capital city of the world, the greatest realisation of the World Government – Futura City, the gem of the Bermudas.

Futura City, which was now nothing more than radioactive ruins, a dead city, completely lifeless ground where no-one dared ever set foot anymore. Nobody alive today even imagined that it hid, far below its destroyed buildings, a massive underground maze of caves, which had been transformed many years ago, in a World Government project, into a hidden military complex. This had eventually had been abandoned in favor of the then Marineville Project, which at the time was judged to have been established in a more strategic position.

But the old complex, although forgotten, had not been destroyed, and still existed, and Captain Grey had mentioned it, so many years ago, when, as everything came crashing down, they were looking for a new base of operations. What was more, upon discovering entrance to the caves after weeks of research, and inspecting the complex, it appeared that it had not only withstood the destructive blast from the ground above, and was free of any of the radioactive fallout, but that most of the facilities were still mostly intact and in perfect working order. It was simply untouched, and forgotten with time, and needed but the minimum of work to make it into the operational base they needed so desperately. It seemed like the ideal place, certainly beating the prospect of operating the organization from an elderly submarine. And it was – definitely - much more secure.

But now, after nearly twelve years, they all thought they might have been wrong in thinking that they were safe when the radar picked up the signal some minutes ago.

Something was overflying the ruins of Futura. Aircraft or missile, the radar couldn’t tell exactly. Ground cameras had been able to pick up images, but still, it was difficult to see. The radioactive winds were strong that day, which was causing the equipment to be less reliable than usual. All the cameras were able to show were trails of fire, falling from the sky. Many of them – two or three large ones, and several smaller trails, all of them following approximately the same trajectory. And the point of impact was estimated as five miles overland, from the Control Center.

When they failed to feel or hear any detonation when the objects hit the ground, they breathed a combined sigh of relief. Only then did they realise they had not been targeted by missiles after all. They were still safe.

But the mystery remained. Perhaps what the radar and cameras detected was an aircraft after all – although no plane ever flew over Futura anymore. Not for the last fifteen years. The place was considered contaminated; radioactivity played tricks with the onboard instruments, so nobody wanted to come here, preferring to take a long detour to avoid it. It was a dead place, after all.

If it was a plane, then it was probably lost. Or the pilot had been reckless – or was inexperienced, or had difficulties with his controls – whether or not it was due to the radioactivity. That would explain why there were so many objects – they were fragments of the same craft, falling from the sky.

But what if it wasn’t a lost plane – what if its course was really meant to bring it to Futura City – or over it? What if it was a spy plane, whose mission was to find them? Then there was still the possibility that they might have been discovered.

This required an investigation. And the colonel ordered a surface patrol immediately. His second-in-command volunteered, and eager younger men stepped forward to follow him, without any hesitation. Five were chosen to join the colonel's second-in-command.

They each donned the protective suit required to go up to the ground. Lighting apparatus had been built into the helmet, so they would be able to see where they were going. It was night – but since its destruction fifteen years ago, Futura had been covered with a semi-permanent cloud of dust and ashes, that kept regenerating itself. Sunlight could barely shine through it – let alone any light shed by a starry or full-mooned night. The air was also almost unbreathable, so it was necessary to use respirators whenever someone had to go outside. The men armed themselves – just in case – and geared up with all the necessary equipment, took the lift that would take them up to the ruins of the city.

When they stepped out of the half-destroyed building that in a previous life had been the Senate Building of the World Government, now half-buried under tons of debris, they looked around in grim sadness at the surrounding devastation. No matter how long they lived there, safe in their underground base, knowing full well how ravaged it looked above, it was always a shock to actually see it with their own eyes and to walk through the ruins. Ashes fell like snow, depositing a thick layer on the ground. The once beautiful Futura City, with its proud architecture and tall buildings, was now no more than as many heaps of debris, piled next to each other, reduced to a vast series of hills as far as the eye could see. One of the younger men stifled a sob, remembering that this place was once his home, before The Bomb went up.

“You okay, Stanley?” He heard the voice of his leader through the communicator in his ear. The older man was standing in front, and now was looking straight at him; Stanley could barely see his eyes behind the yellow tinted visor of his helmet.

“Yeah, Captain, I’m okay,” he answered, clearing his throat. “Just… it still gets to me, whenever I come up here.”

“It still gets to me too,” another, younger voice said in a sad and bitter tone. “My mom died in here, Stanley… I know how you feel. And the years I passed, living on my own in these ruins… when it was still possible to live here…” His voice broke off; it was obvious those were memories he didn’t like to dwell upon.

The captain gave a brief nod of understanding, and then turned to look around. He pointed to a position in front of him. “Okay, men. Whatever it was that fell from the sky landed somewhere around there, according to the surveillance cameras. Let’s split up. Stanley, Morgan, you take the left. Allen, McCormick, you go to the right. Brown, you stay with me. We’re going centre.”

“How is it that I always find myself stuck with you, Captain?” asked the young voice who had spoken earlier.

“Because you’re the youngest, and I’m the oldest and we need to keep a balance with the two other groups.”

“Am I supposed to be amused by that joke?”

“You are supposed to follow my orders,” the captain replied, quickly suppressing the smile on his face before the young man noticed it. “And without discussion.”

“S.I.G., Captain,” Brown sighed deeply.

“And remember, men: we can radio each other, but we can’t contact underground – not until we return to the building. Radio me with your status every five minutes, no matter if you find something or not. If you do find something, don’t touch it – and call me immediately.”

“S.I.G., Captain,” was the combined answer.

They split according to orders, and started walking the grounds, fanning out, lighting the way in front of and around them with the strong torches attached to their helmets. None of them knew what they would find – they could expect anything.

The captain and his young companion went straight forward, not exchanging a word, as they looked around, searching for clues. The silence was only disturbed when each of the two other teams reported once, five minutes after the start of the search, the voices resonating through the radios in their helmets, and the captain acknowledged the call. Then, everything grew quiet once more. They could barely see the other torches now, as each team moved further away from the others.

Then, straight ahead, a light appeared, dancing through the surrounding fog. The captain stopped in his tracks; he reached for his companion, making him stop too, and pointed to the light. “See that?”

Brown looked for a moment, pondering. “Fire?” he suggested.

The captain agreed with a nod. They resumed their walk, carefully, towards the light.

It was indeed a fire – coming from a long trail of debris, which had hit the ground with great force, scarring it over many metres into a trench one metre deep. “Alpha Leader to Team Two and Three,” the captain said, using the helmet communicator. “Brown and I have found the point of impact of one of the larger pieces of debris, about two hundred metres north of the Senate Building. Will take a closer look. Continue with your own investigation.”

He barely waited for the answer to his orders and continued his advance, followed by Brown. Both men walked alongside the path drawn by the trench, checking on the debris. They could see what was left of a half-burnt tail lying at an odd angle on one side.

“No doubt now, it was a plane…” commented Brown.

“Team Three to Alpha Leader,” the voice of Allen then said through the speaker. Both men stopped immediately.

“What is it, Allen?” the captain demanded.

“We found a new point of impact… Looks like a HUGE craft hit the ground here, sir.”

The captain didn’t look particularly surprised, as he exchanged glances with his companion. “What kind of craft? Plane? Chopper?”

“Definitely a plane, sir. A BIG one, judging by the debris Morgan and I found. A transport, or something… Maybe a bomber? As far as we can see, there is not much left of it, mind. It hit the ground pretty hard. There’s what’s left of a cockpit…”

“Investigate, Team Three,” the captain instructed. “See if you can find any markings on the debris.” He turned to his companion.

“TWO planes, Captain?” Brown said with a perplexed frown.

“Apparently.” The captain resumed his walk alongside the trench and Brown followed suit. “If we are to believe Allen, he and Morgan found something bigger than what we found. Look at that…” The captain stopped and indicated a large piece of flaming wreckage, burning in the middle of the trench. “That doesn’t come from a transatlantic airliner… More like a supersonic jet…”

“Interceptor?”

The captain shook his head. “Unlikely… It’s too big. The piece we found earlier would be wrong. Passenger transport, maybe, ten – twenty people at the most.”

“I bow to your greater experience, Captain.”

They resumed their walk once more, but didn’t get far. Again, after a few steps, they stopped, Brown having spotted another, larger piece of debris, straight ahead. He pointed at it. “sir, looks like part of a wing and tail. You were right, it doesn’t look like it came from an interceptor. What could be…” As he turned to face his superior, Brown stopped in the middle of his sentence, noticing the strange expression with which the man was now staring at their new find. He seemed transfixed by it. “Captain?” Brown asked with a concerned frown. “Is there something wrong?”

“That shape…” the captain murmured. “I know that shape…”

Without any warning, he climbed down into the trench and quickly walked towards the wreckage. A little dumbfounded by his reaction, Brown followed, wondering what could be the problem with his superior officer. Reaching the wreckage, the captain slowly walked around it, looking up at the shape of the nearly intact wing, which rose defiantly towards the sky. The tail was lying at his feet, embedded into what was left of turbo reactors.

Brown saw his superior briefly disappear behind the wreckage, so he hastened his pace himself. When he rounded the debris, and finally caught up with the captain, it was to find him standing rigidly, his head raised and staring intensely at this side of the wing.

“Captain?” Upon reaching his superior, the concerned Brown put a hand on his shoulder, to attract his attention. The captain barely reacted, still looking up, with almost a shocked expression, on what Brown could see of his face through the tinted visor. With curiosity, Brown looked up in turn, wondering what could be so interesting that it put his superior in such a state. His heart missed a beat, when he saw.

“Dear Lord…”

There was an emblem printed on the top of the silver wing – although half-burned by the fire, it was still very clear for them to see.

A golden, stylized ‘S’ encompassed inside a multicoloured roundel…

“A Spectrum emblem?” Brown lowered his gaze to look at his superior once again. “What does it mean? What is this?”

“An SPJ,” the captain explained. “A Spectrum Passenger Jet… I don’t understand… they were all decommissioned years ago. Only Spectrum used them. The World Government had them taken apart…”

“There shouldn’t be any in existence, then,” Brown remarked. “What is it doing here?”

Brown was looking around, pensively, and his eyes suddenly found something else, a little further down the path they were following; they had not seen it before, as it was hidden by the raised wing. His hand flew up to point at it. “There, sir! It looks like what’s left of the cockpit!”

The captain turned on his heel and saw it too; blue and silver, its shape almost intact, but burning bright against the dark sky, resting on its belly like a dead whale. He didn’t hesitate one instant to walk towards it, at a quickened pace, with his young companion following a few steps behind. As they reached it, the voice of Allen made itself heard through the speakers in their helmets once again:

“Team Three to Alpha Leader…”

“Go ahead, Allen,” the captain acknowledged.

“Captain, we found a huge part of the fuselage, still burning from the crash. And markings on it… But sir, it’s probably a mistake… I’m sure it can’t be right.”

“Go ahead and tell me what those markings are, Allen.”

“It says ‘Goliath, Mark II’, sir…” The captain stopped in his tracks, as they reached the cockpit. Again, he and his young companion exchanged puzzled glances. “It can’t be possible, sir,” the voice of Allen continued. “Surely, whatever it was that fell from the sky must have hit other wreckage that was already there?”

“I don’t know, Allen,” the captain murmured. He looked up at the wreck in front of which he had Brown were now standing. “I don’t know at all…” His eyes rested on the markings, next to the shattered windshield.

SPJ C-405…

Impossible…

“Some old wreck,” he heard the voice of Brown say, as if from afar. The young man had also read the markings. “Probably, Allen is right…”

The captain shook his head. “Nobody has found the Goliath wreckage for years, Lieutenant…”

“Nobody really looked for it.”

“WE did… we didn’t find it. And does THIS cockpit look like it’s old? There’s no pitting on it, the paint’s not faded… It’s like brand new… It’s been in service recently. THAT IS what fell from the sky.”

“Wait a sec… If you are right, then it’s impossible!”

“I know…”

“It must be a Mysteron trick then.”

“Mysteron?” The captain seemed pensive for an instant. “After all these years, I should think I’ve seen everything the Mysterons can throw at us… But they always manage to surprise even me.” He shook his head. “I am pretty sure it’s no Mysteron trick… No, there’s something else…”

Brown looked at the cockpit, silent for a moment. “We can wait for the flames to die down,” he suggested, “and come back later to check inside.”

“I know what we will find inside.” The captain turned around and started walking away; knowing him well, Brown could easily detect the faint catch in his voice when he spoke again. “No sense in disturbing those who are already dead…”

“But, sir…”

Brown didn’t have time to go further, as suddenly, a new voice made itself heard through his speakers, vibrating with such agitation that it was almost shattering his eardrums. “Team Two to Alpha Leader! Captain! We found something… It’s incredible!”

“Alpha Leader here.” The captain’s tone sounded slightly exasperated as he answered the call. “Calm down, Stanley, and tell us what you found.”

“We have… a survivor, sir.”

There was a stunned silence, following that announcement. In three quick steps, Brown was standing next to his superior. He could see the doubt on his face, through the visor.

“A survivor, Captain?” Brown muttered. “How can it be possible?”

“What is your position?” the captain asked swiftly into his communicator.

Moments later, after taking note of the SPJ’s position for further investigation later on, the captain and Brown, following Stanley’s directions, were making their way towards Team Two’s location. After a fifteen minute trek through the ruins, walking around destroyed buildings and heaps of ashes, they found both Stanley and Morgan, standing guard on the side of yet another impact site. The hole was not deep, and was surrounded by other burning debris. Stanley went towards the captain, as the latter walked quickly towards them, while his companion stayed near the hole.

“We thought he was dead when we found him,” Stanley explained excitedly, matching his pace to that of his commander as they strode towards the impact site. “But as we leaned down to examine the body closely, we noticed his chest rising. He’s alive… but barely.”

“Wounded?”

“Badly… there are pieces of a broken and burnt hoverpack next to him… I think he tried to escape the plane, but was hit by debris before he could get far. His back looks broken, as far as we can see, and he’s badly burned. Captain, it’s a miracle he survived!”

“Did you think to check him with the Mysteron detector?” Brown asked in a suspicious tone.

Stanley grunted. “Our instruments don’t work well under these conditions, Lieutenant,” he explained. The three of them stopped near the fourth man, who, still standing next to the hole, was presently pressing buttons on the large electronic bracelet he wore on his left wrist. “Morgan is trying to make some adjustments, taking the radioactivity into account. He hopes to compensate enough to make the detector work shortly…”

The captain was barely listening, as he was peering down, in shock, into the hole, in which the body of a man was lying. By the way his body was bent, in an unnatural angle, the captain had to agree with Stanley’s assertion that the man’s back was broken. He was indeed badly burned, most of his skin blackened, almost merging with what was left of his clothes in some places. The hair was gone on one half of his head, but the face, surprisingly enough, although darkened by the flame and smoke, was still recognizable. It was that face that made the captain suddenly jump into the hole to crouch down next to the injured man, while behind him, both Morgan and Brown were still working to adjust their instruments. He could see, as Stanley had reported, that the man was breathing – very laboriously. He was definitely alive.

“Well, I’ll be…” the captain muttered. “After all these years…”

“You KNOW him, Captain?”

Before he could reply to Stanley’s surprised question, the captain heard a beeping sound coming from behind him – quickly followed by a muffled curse that came from Brown. Obviously, the Mysteron detector built into the lieutenant’s bracelet had suddenly come online, and the young man didn’t like what it was telling him.

“He’s a Mysteron all right!” Brown spat, with barely contained anger and disgust in his tone, as he took the special handgun hanging from the left side of his belt and took aim at the injured man. “Sir, get away from there, and we will take care of…”

“Hold your fire!” To Brown’s surprise, his commander swiftly twisted in his direction, almost aggressively, raising his hand and barking the order in a tone that would not accept any compromise.

“Captain?” Brown asked with puzzlement.

“He is not a Mysteron,” the captain explained, his voice calming down, and turning back to look at their discovery. “No more than I am myself…”

“But the detector says…”

“I know what it says,” the captain cut in abruptly. “But we will not shoot him with the electron gun. Not right away. Just in case…”

“In case of what, Captain?”

The captain shook his head. “Don’t argue with me. I have a feeling we might regret killing him too quickly.”

“You have… a feeling,” Brown repeated doubtfully.

“You know my feelings are normally right on the money, especially when it comes to the Mysterons. You will have to TRUST me on this, Chip… You do trust me, don’t you?”

“Yeah… of course I do. But…” Brown sighed. “So what should we do with him, Captain?”

“Call the others – tell them to take samples from the crash. We’ll send another team to help them out. As for the four of us, we’re returning underground.”

“With him?”

“Of course… We can’t leave him up here, can we? We’ll have to call Control once we’ll be back at the Senate Building. To tell the colonel that we’re bringing… an old friend with us.”

“You DO know him, then,” Brown remarked. It was almost an accusation. “Who is this guy? And why is he so important to you, Captain?”

“Who he is?” the captain said pensively, still looking down at the unconscious and injured man. “As I said… an old friend. But once upon a time, he was Spectrum’s greatest asset against the Mysterons… and the most bitter of my enemies…” He was watching the blackened face of the man, a faint smile drawing on his thin lips as he did so; he could see the nostrils were moving ever so slightly as the man drew painful breath after painful breath. He was growing stronger; the captain knew the signs. A few hours, maybe a day, and there was a good chance the injured man would be back on his feet.

As good as new.

“Welcome back, Captain Scarlet,” Captain Black said with genuine sincerity and even warmth to his tone. “It’s been a long time since we last saw you…” He got to his feet. “A long time indeed…”

Chapter 1 – Blast from the Past

October 28, 2072

“We will be flying over Futura City in fifteen minutes, thirty seconds, Captain Scarlet. I hope there’s still enough time…”

Captain Scarlet cast a glance at the pilot of the Spectrum Passenger Jet seated by his side. Right now, the last thing he wanted to hear was any pessimistic remark, but he had to admit he was having a hard time blaming the young woman right now. She was probably feeling the stress of the mission, as he was himself.

They would be cutting it very close.

“We’ll make it, Destiny,” he stated, seeking to reassure her – and himself at the same time. “Like we always do.”

“Always? Aren’t we a bit overconfident?”

“I like to think positive,” Scarlet said. “As you well know. I’m not about to roll over and play dead.”

“Yes, well… THAT you never do.” Destiny permitted herself a faint smile. “And don’t worry – I do not intend to let the Mysterons win this time, either.”

“Neither of us do.” From the cabin behind, Melody Angel entered the cockpit and came to crouch between their two seats. She nodded to Scarlet. “Everything is ready back there,” she informed him. “What’s our situation?”

“We’re gaining on her,” Destiny answered.

The three of them looked ahead, beyond the windshield. The weather was pretty bad, rain splattering hard on the window, and winds blowing savagely, as if attempting to blow the SPJ out of the sky; visibility was practically zero, and they couldn’t see a thing. Scarlet gave a glance at the radar. The blip they had followed since the start of this chase had grown increasingly closer.

“I see it now. There it is!”

Scarlet raised his head at the sound of Melody’s announcement. Through the winds and rain, he finally saw the dark, ominous form of the other plane straight ahead. Seemingly so close, and yet still out of reach. He blew a sigh, and flicked on the onboard radio.

“SPJ C-405 to Cloudbase Control,” he called. “Goliath II is in view now. We’re gaining altitude to get into position for our final approach, according to plan.” He nodded in Destiny’s direction and saw her pulling on the yoke. He could feel the craft moving, gaining height and increasing its speed to catch up with their prey.

The voice of their commander-in-chief, Colonel White, resonated through the cockpit speakers – calm as always, but with a tone of obvious relief that they all noticed.

“What is your exact situation, Scarlet?”

This chase was getting on everyone’s nerves, Scarlet realised. What, the odds were so high… and the price would be terrible, if they were to fail…

“We’re at a height of thirty-five thousand feet, about ten minutes east of Futura City, sir.

And we’re closing fast. We’ll have to act quickly if we want to avert a tragedy.”

“We are now within range,” Destiny announced. “We’re passing Goliath II and will be in position in…” She checked her instruments with a quick look, “… two minutes now.”

“We’ll be proceeding with the operation right now, Colonel,” Scarlet reported. “We cannot wait any longer.”

“S.I.G. Angels One and Two have pulled back to safe positions,” White announced. “They will be in attendance, until you have completed your part of the mission, and will then come back to the danger zone to finish Goliath. But until then, it’s up to you, SPJ C-405. Good luck to all – and especially to you, Scarlet.”

“Thank you, sir. We’re going to need it.”

“YOU are going to need it,” Destiny corrected Scarlet as he removed his harness and stood up. “You’ll be doing the worst of the job.”

“Yes, but if I fail, we’ll be all in trouble.” He gave her an encouraging pat. “Continue the approach, and keep the SPJ as steady as you can.”

“It’ll be so steady you’ll be able to walk on the fuselage,” Destiny replied. Scarlet smiled his thanks, and with Melody, walked into the cabin. Quickly, she helped him strap on the thruster pack she had prepared earlier.

“I’d wish we could actually shoot that thing down,” Melody muttered. “What we’ll be attempting is damned risky.”

“It’d be riskier to shoot it down,” Scarlet remarked. “With what’s onboard that plane…”

Melody sombrely agreed with a silent nod, and double-checked his equipment, as Scarlet mentally prepared himself for the operation ahead. The last cryptic threat from the Mysterons had been directed toward Futura City, but with a series of false trails and red herrings thrown in their way, it had taken far too long for Spectrum to finally discover what the target actually was. By the time they had figured it out, the WAAF’s Goliath II, fully automated and nuclear powered, had been destroyed and Mysteronised. The giant plane was already en route to Futura City, with, attached to its generator, a very unusual electronic prototype called the ‘Quantum Transmitter’ that had been stolen from an R&D Space Center in Florida. Although initially developed for the control of Quantum energy-driven engines for eventual long-range space travel, the Q Transmitter, in the wrong hands, could be used as a massive weapon of destruction; the energy released from a violent Quantum blast, generated by nuclear power – dubbed the ‘Quantum Effect’ by the experts – would be so horribly devastating that it would vaporize a large city – or an entire small country – and most of its inhabitants.

And such a massive instrument of destruction was presently heading straight to Futura City, Capital City of the World - which, now the authorities being aware of the danger, was being evacuated, as Spectrum pursued this operation. But emptying an entire city the size of Futura was next to impossible, and there was bound to be an untold number of victims and widespread damage. Spectrum was doing its best to control the situation. At the very least, the World Government Council, and most of the members of the Parliament, were now gone – the first to be taken to safety. As far as Scarlet knew, only the World President, T.J. Younger, had stayed on, trying to set an example for the population to stay calm during the evacuation.

But even he had to leave eventually, and Captain Blue, who had stayed with him, had seen to that. They had just left Futura City in the Presidential jet, and were presently heading directly for Cloudbase.

Good Old Blue… Not counting Colonel White, he was probably the one the World President trusted the most, ever since Blue had saved his life four years ago. It was therefore only natural to assign Blue to Younger’s personal protection.

As he walked toward the hatch, Melody handed Scarlet his colour-coded helmet and he put it on grimly. Once he had strapped it securely, he activated the built-in comm.link, making sure it was working perfectly.

“Scarlet to Destiny – do you copy?”

“S.I.G., Captain. Loud and clear. We are in position. Am matching speed with Goliath II now.”

“S.I.G., Destiny. Time for me to go then, I guess.”

“I just received a last message from Cloudbase. It would seem the evacuation has not been completed.”

“As we feared,” Scarlet said grimly.

“The Presidential plane just left the danger zone. It should be at a safe distance when – IF the bomb detonates.”

“I’m ready to go out,” Scarlet continued. “Entering the hatch now…”

“Good luck,” Destiny told him. “And be careful.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“Do you really want me to answer that question?”

Scarlet smiled thinly and pushed the button to open the first door to the airlock, previously installed inside of the SPJ by the Cloudbase hangar crew, who had specially modified the craft for this operation. He stepped in, and Melody, after giving him the thumbs up, closed the door for him and made sure it was sealed tight. Scarlet put on the respirator mask, and then the protective goggles, and stood in front of the second door, waiting for the pressure inside the airlock to equalize with the exterior. It took barely ten seconds.

“Pressure equalized,” the voice of Destiny announced to him in his earphone. “Opening exterior door…”

In front of Scarlet, the door slowly slid open; he held on tightly, as the cold wind entered the hermetic airlock, threatening to blow him out. He carefully approached the open door, and hooked himself onto the line waiting for him by the side of the door, before looking down, into the empty space beneath his feet. Far below, there was the ocean – and the shores of Futura City – the target the Mysterons intended to destroy. A little behind the SPJ, a thousand feet below, Goliath II was coming, its speed matched by that of the SPJ.

Scarlet exhaled loudly. What he would be attempting was risky, but right now, it was the only chance they had; they couldn’t blow Goliath II out of the sky, in fear that it would trigger the Quantum Effect prematurely – with deadly results. The only solution was to first disconnect the Q Transmitter from the plane’s nuclear generator – and then to take the generator offline. And the only way to do that was to board Goliath.

In flight.

It wasn’t as if it had never had been attempted before – Scarlet had done it himself once before, as an exercise during his time in the WAAF. He had to admit that by today’s standards, the operation was easier than it was when it had been first attempted some hundred years ago, but it still represented a certain amount of risk, and he could certainly die, if he missed his target. Plus the weather conditions were not at their very best at the moment. However, the consequences today would be catastrophic if he were to fail. He didn’t want to think about it.

And he couldn’t wait much longer. He started up the thruster pack.

“Scarlet to Destiny and Melody – I’m ready to go.”

“S.I.G., Captain Scarlet,” the voice of Destiny answered.

“Releasing the line,” Melody said in turn. “Go, Captain! Go!”

Scarlet jumped from his position, aiming in Goliath’s direction, head first and legs together; activating the thruster pack, he stabilised his descent, the line attached to his belt following behind him, Destiny keeping it as tight as possible under the circumstances. The winds were strong and icy, freezing Scarlet to the bone, and threatening to blow him off-course, but the safety line and thruster pack held him in position – just. He could see Goliath grow larger as he fell toward it. A little too fast, he realised. He spread his legs to slow his descent, and controlled his direction with the thruster pack, while Destiny expertly manoeuvered the SPJ above, to position him in line with Goliath.

“I can see the hatch on the left side,” Scarlet said into his speaker. “Destiny, veer a little to the left to help me out… down a bit… Right, a hundred metres down… Slowly… slowly…”

He pulled the handles of the thruster pack, as he still was descending far too quickly for his taste. At this moment, Goliath either hit a pocket of air or the wind pushed it to the side because it suddenly jumped upward – and nearly hit Scarlet as he was making his final approach. He just had the time to move to the side to avoid the collision. Not completely.

He felt the surface of the fuselage brush roughly against his left arm, and he quickly moved toward the hatch he was aiming at. At that point, the handle of the thruster pack bumped against the surface of the plane, and he nearly lost control – just as his right hand closed onto the security handle set over the hatch, and he was able to catch himself before being propelled too far. The sudden move thrust him against the side of the plane, his thruster pack banging loudly. He held on tight, not wanting to be blown off his position and possibly into one of the giant reactors he could see burning, not that far below his feet. He wasn’t sure that even HE would survive if he was to be sucked into one of those.

“Scarlet to Destiny,” he called into his speaker, trying to catch his breath. “Stabilise the SPJ and tighten the line. I’m nearly there.”

He positioned himself in front of the door, and then attached a magnetic security line to steady himself in position.

“I’ve reached the hatch,” he announced, unhooking the cable attaching him to the SPJ above. “Cutting lifeline now…”

“S.I.G.” Destiny acknowledged. “Let’s hope the entry code the WAAF gave us for the door will work now…”

Scarlet was making the same prayer, as his fingers were opening the control panel by the side of the door, and keying the code that he had memorised into the numeric pad. Long seconds seemed to pass by, so very slowly, before he saw the indicator turning from red to green and felt the door vibrating underneath his hand.

Fortunately, it didn’t seem that the Mysterons had tampered with door controls; almost not believing it, he watched as it started sliding open in front of him.

“It worked!” he announced victoriously. “The door is opening.”

Wind drafted from inside the plane, hitting him in the face. Of course, the pressure in the plane would not be the same as outside; he braced himself, fully expecting a jolt from Goliath as the change of pressure made it lose altitude.

Strangely, it didn’t happen quite that way. Goliath did lose height, a few hundred feet, but the jolt wasn’t nearly as violent as Scarlet thought it would be. Under the control of its fully automated, computerised pilot, the plane steadied itself quickly enough.

“Scarlet to Control and Destiny Angel,” Scarlet announced into his helmet mic. “I’m ready to enter Goliath.”

“S.I.G., Captain Scarlet,” the voice of Colonel White answered. “You are presently approaching the coast of Futura City… In less than two minutes, you’ll be flying over the heart of the city. Be quick about it, man.”

“Entering Goliath… Now.”

With the door now fully open, Scarlet unhooked his security line and stepped into the plane, to find himself in the cabin. He flattened himself against the wall, and looked around. It was a mess in there, with the wind blowing violently inside the confined compartment, sending everything that was both light enough and not bolted down flying all over the place. There were pieces of paper everywhere. Security belts from the empty passenger seats were dangling freely, their metallic buckles ringing against one another. The emergency respirator masks had dropped from the ceiling and entangled themselves together. There was not a soul in view, although before its destruction by the Mysterons, the plane was occupied by a crew of twelve people.

Obviously the Mysterons only needed the plane – and didn’t care to recreate any of the crew.

Murdering bastards, Scarlet reflected, with a bitter taste in his mouth.

There was no time to waste on such thoughts, he told himself immediately. He had a job to do, and he had to do it quickly, or the Mysterons would shortly claim millions more victims.

He walked purposefully into the cabin, removing his thruster pack as he went, as it was hampering his advance, and let it fall to the floor. The plane had become less steady than before, and he steadied himself against the seats, as he headed towards the rear. According to his earlier briefing over the comm.link, while the SPJ was giving chase to Goliath, that was where he would find the generator – in a compartment especially built for it. He had to remove the Q Transmitter from it, or at least disable the connection – and, if possible, turn Goliath around to take it away from its fatal destination. If that was not possible, he had to turn off the nuclear generator, and then the plane could safely be destroyed in flight by the Angels. At least, without the Q Transmitter, and the nuclear reaction, the devastation would be averted.

He had nearly reached the compartment he sought – it was the door just in front of him, only four feet away, and Scarlet increased his pace. Suddenly, he saw the door open and a silhouette appeared in the frame; Scarlet stopped in his tracks, not expecting to find ANYONE inside Goliath; when he saw the gun aimed directly at him, he tried to reach for his own, but it was already too late.

Three shots rang through the cabin and Scarlet felt the bullets ramming into his chest, throwing him back. He fell on his knees between the seats, his jaws clenching against the terrible pain. He instinctively reached for his bleeding belly, his eyes misting, and raised his head to the man who was now approaching him with a rapid step. He was wearing a WAAF uniform, and there was the insignia of captain on his sleeves. Obviously, a member of Goliath’s original crew. The pilot, maybe…

The Mysterons hadn’t Mysteronised only the plane, after all… Scarlet damned his not-so-reliable sixth sense, which had obviously failed again, this time, to warn him of the danger.

“You really thought you could stop us from carrying out our plans this time, Earthman?” the Mysteronised man said to Scarlet implacably, as he came to stand before him.

Scarlet tried to reach for him, but the man kicked him in the belly, sending a new and violent wave of pain through his body. He sprawled on the floor, on his back, moaning dejectedly, and barely able to move. The Mysteron stood over him, victorious, his gun trained on Scarlet’s head. In his other hand, the Mysteron was holding a small object, with which he taunted the downed Spectrum officer.

“Today, the Mysterons claim victory,” the Mysteron agent intoned. “We will destroy Futura City – and in the same blow, Captain Scarlet will die!”

Scarlet opened his eyes wide with horror, upon realising what the Mysteron was holding.

A detonator!

He saw the Mysteron’s thumb press it down savagely, before he could even react.

I’ve failed, was Scarlet’s thought at that precise second.

From the rear of Goliath, there was a loud blast, that made the plane shake violently.

The last thing Scarlet saw was the blinding fire coming towards him, as Goliath literally broke into pieces.

The last thing he felt was the searing heat, and the atrocious pain throughout his body –

– And the sensation of falling, as mercifully, oblivion closed around him.

September 6, 2087

Captain Scarlet woke up with a start, his eyes opening suddenly, to stare at the high ceiling above him. He groaned in annoyance at the bright light suddenly assaulting him and shut his eyes again to escape from it. He reached for his forehead with his right hand, feeling a violent headache. That was strange in itself… He never had headaches upon waking up. Especially after a regeneration; he normally felt perfectly all right.

Not only his head was hurting him, but he was feeling nauseous; he fought the need to throw up as he sat up on the bunk on which he was resting. He rubbed his closed eyes with one hand and reached for his aching belly with the other. His fingers felt the unscathed, intact skin.

And suddenly he remembered, and raised his head in alarm, and stared into empty space, anguish filling his eyes.

“I’ve failed,” he murmured.

“You don’t look too good.”

The voice addressing him seemed to be coming through a speaker. Scarlet looked around the room. Already he had realised he wasn’t in the room usually assigned to him in Cloudbase sickbay. This room in which he presently found himself was smaller, and virtually unfurnished, except for the bunk in which he had awakened. The only light in it was the too-bright one coming from the ceiling right above him. Beyond that, the room was very dark; three of the walls appeared to be built of thick, obviously solid, concrete. The fourth wall seemed to be made of a tinted glass, on which the light was reflecting; narrowing his eyes against the glare, Scarlet was able to see the tall, dark silhouette of a man beyond the glass, standing with his legs apart, and his hands obviously clasped behind his back. Scarlet couldn’t see the face, submerged in the darkness, but he had certainly recognised the voice.

“Adam… is that you?”

He saw the man tilt his head to the side without answering. Scarlet threw away the blanket covering him and slid off his bed. He swayed as he stood on weak legs and supported himself against the side of the bed, holding his aching head. Just then, his fingers grazed his cheek – and he noticed how rough it was, as if he had not shaved in days.

“I would advise you to take it easy,” the voice of Blue said again through the speaker. “You’re obviously not completely healed…”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Scarlet moaned, sighing. “I think I will need a little more time…” He blinked his eyes and looked at himself. He was barely wearing anything – just a pair of grey shorts that came halfway down his thighs. Not the standard pyjamas of sickbay. He then looked around, with a questioning expression on his face. “What is this place? This is not a room in sickbay… Where am I?”

“This is a… decontamination chamber,” Blue explained briefly.

Scarlet nodded. So that explains him speaking to me through that glass…As for the rest…

“We’re not on Cloudbase?”

Again, Blue tilted his head to the side.

“No,” he said, and his tone had a slightly harsh edge to it.

Scarlet simply nodded again, and lowered his gaze, thinking he understood why Blue sounded so distant at the moment.

“The mission went wrong, Adam.”

“Sorry?”

“The Goliath boarding… there was a Mysteron onboard… One of the crew members, I believe. I… I didn’t know, my sixth sense failed to warn me. You know, it isn’t really reliable… A fat lot of good it does me sometimes!” He scoffed. “He was waiting for me and shot me. He had a hand detonator. He… blew the plane up.” Scarlet swallowed hard. “Futura City… how much damage?”

“Don’t you know?” Blue’s voice was still harsh with that simple question, and that made Scarlet frown. There was a short moment of silence, before Blue spoke again, his voice a little less harsh, but still less than friendly. “The entire city was destroyed. There were millions of deaths… Very few survivors.”

“Oh no…”

Scarlet’s heart started beating faster upon hearing the news and he closed his eyes; the pain and sorrow he felt were of such a violent scale that it surprised even himself. In his line of work, and especially since Spectrum had started dealing with the Mysterons, he thought that he would be prepared for such devastating results if he were to fail during a mission.

He wasn’t as ready as he had thought.

He opened his eyes and addressed Blue again: “Destiny? Melody?”

Blue shook his head. “They didn’t make it,” he announced in a low voice. “The SPJ was caught in the blast that destroyed Futura City.”

That was the answer Scarlet was dreading to hear. He felt a lump form in his throat. “My God…” he whispered. “And I survived?” Destiny… so beautiful and so alive… The woman he had loved and to whom he had been briefly engaged when they were both serving in the WAAF. His friend, and his confidante… And now she was gone. And with her, Melody....

He wondered what the impact had been on the other girls; all of them were as close as sisters – they had to be, to maintain the efficiency with which they worked together – had worked – all together – as such a perfect team. He wondered what the impact had been on Spectrum. To lose one Angel pilot– it was a terrible blow… To lose two of them, at once…

Damn those Mysterons…

Scarlet looked at his hand, his arm, his body – unmarked, with not a single trace of any injury. “I should have died too,” he said bitterly. “I should have died with all of them.”

“We thought you did,” Blue answered. “We didn’t find any trace of you after the destruction of the city.”

Scarlet turned his attention back to his friend, as the latter started pacing along the glass. Scarlet noticed the limp, each time Blue was putting his right foot down; he frowned deeply.

“Adam… were you hurt during the blast too? The last I heard of you was that you were in the Presidential plane and that it had cleared the area – far from the danger zone.”

“Not nearly far enough.” Blue had reverted to an abrupt tone again and he stopped his pacing, to turn once more to face the man beyond the glass. Scarlet still couldn’t see his face. “Let’s stop playing games, shall we? We thought you had been vaporised by the explosion. You. The Goliath. The SPJ. Destiny and Melody. There was no trace left of any of you. And we searched, believe me. We searched thoroughly for years.”

Scarlet frowned in disbelief, not sure if he understood any of Blue’s words. “Years?” he repeated.

“Years,” Blue repeated implacably. “Fifteen years, to be precise.”

“Fifteen…” Scarlet felt his already weak knees suddenly shaking, this latest news hitting him with the force of a jackhammer. “That’s impossible…”

“Where were you, during those fifteen years?” Blue asked again, even more sternly than before. “Were you taken over again by the Mysterons?”

The shock was even greater now. Scarlet found the need to lean against the bed. “No…” he whispered, looking down, his mind numb, and failing to understand what was going on.

“Have you been travelling around, carrying out the Mysterons’ orders – like you did, before the Car-Vu?”

“No…”

“Killing and destroying… trying to bring about the end of all life on Earth, just like the Mysterons vowed?”

“No!” Scarlet shouted fiercely. He raised his head in defiance and straightened up. “Adam, how can you believe I would…”

“Isn’t it the logical explanation for your disappearance?”

“I don’t remember anything more than that last mission onboard the Goliath,” Scarlet defended himself. “It’s the last thing I can recall. I swear! The next thing I knew… I woke up here…” He gestured around, in dismay, and faced Blue again. “…with you hurling wild accusations at me!”

“That you don’t remember isn’t a proof in itself,” Blue remarked. “It could be like the first time… You couldn’t remember then what you’d done under the Mysterons’ control.”

“I don’t believe any of this,” Scarlet murmured. “I wake up after a failed mission and I’m told I’ve been away fifteen years…”

“Give or take a month or two…”

“I DON’T believe it!” Scarlet said with force, taking a step forward towards the glass. Blue stepped back into the darkness, as if seeking to keep out of view. Scarlet stopped in front of the tinted glass, trying to see beyond it, a suspicion forming in his mind at the man’s reaction. He didn’t like what was happening, and his temper was getting the better of him now.

“I don’t feel that much older – my last memories of what I did before I lost consciousness are still very vivid. I can’t have been away fifteen years! You can’t expect me to accept what you’re telling me without proof? What kind of sick game are you playing? You can’t be Captain Blue if you’re trying to trick me with those wild allegations…”