A Spectrum ‘Challenge of Five’ Story
By Caroline Smith
Captain Grey
hated Mondays.
This particular Monday was no exception, since he was desk-bound, in the Control Centre, as acting commanding officer of Cloudbase, whilst the usual incumbent of the post was off playing roulette with Captains Scarlet and Blue in a swish casino in Kingman, Arizona.
It wasn’t at all
like the colonel to high-tail it off his beloved airbase on what seemed like a
bit of a whim. However, Grey mused wryly, if you’d just masterminded averting
the destruction of the entire subcontinent of North America, you could be
forgiven for wanting to kick up your heels a bit.
Grey had rather
fancied a flutter on the blackjack tables himself, and would have been more
than glad to accompany the trio as they ascertained exactly how Scarlet managed
to lose five thousand credits, the Dice Club casino’s equivalent of fifty
thousand dollars, in an astonishing twelve minutes. However, the empty seat in
the SPJ had been filled by the colonel’s right-hand man, Lieutenant Green,
leaving the Control Console manned instead by Lieutenant Sienna.
Captain Magenta
had also jumped ship, on a two-day secondment to the Spectrum Maximum Security
Building in New York, in order to upgrade their computer systems, and would no
doubt find a way to wangle a decent meal or three from some swanky restaurant
in the process. Magenta had swapped places with the
infinitely-better-to-look-at Captain Violet, a statuesque brunette from
Brooklyn. She’d dropped by the Control Room to say hello, accompanied by
Captain Ochre, who was showing her around the base, but as luck would have it,
Grey had to give his attention instead to the Chief, who was getting anomalous
energy fluctuations from two of the Cahelium engines and wanted Grey’s okay to
take them offline for checking.
Grey sighed. He
hated desk-work as much as he hated Mondays, although he wasn’t alone in that
regard, as most of the senior captains felt that way, with perhaps the notable
exception of Captain Blue, who rather tended to get carried away when entrusted
with the ‘top seat’.
He countersigned
a pile of electronic reports from various Spectrum ground commanders. Lieutenant Gold in North Africa HQ had
spotted a man who fitted the description of Captain Black and requested
permission to send out a team to investigate, and Major Stone at Koala Base
wanted quick approval for a new hovercraft. Turning his attention to matters on
board, he replied to the Bursar’s request for an extra supply transport this
week, and then the Chief reported back that the two misbehaving engines were
back online.
Grey absently
took the cup of black coffee that Lieutenant Sienna proffered, when a ping from his desk terminal signalled a
new electronic mail message for his attention. He groaned inwardly as he spied
the sender’s name. Agent Conners. Oh joy. No doubt off on one of his
witch-hunts again…
After concocting
a reply, which he hoped didn’t sound as terse as he actually felt, Grey returned
his attention to the rapidly escalating list of ‘things to do today’. After
several unrelenting hours, he was on the point of wishing for the dreaded
Mysteron threat to boom out of the PA system to put an end to his misery.
However, he was no quitter, and doggedly stuck to his task until, to his
relief, Colonel White and Lieutenant Green finally sauntered into the Control
Room. Grey stood up and gladly
relinquished the command seat.
“All quiet,
Captain?” White asked as he exchanged places with his subordinate.
“As the grave,
sir.”
“I’m sure you’ve
left everything ship-shape for me, thank you.”
Grey gave a
short salute and made his way out of the Control Room, now officially off-duty.
His first stop was at his quarters, where he downed a bottle of isotonic fluid
from his mini-fridge, and then he quickly checked his personal console for
messages.
He pursed his
lips as he scanned the screen - nothing from his sister Jennifer in Chicago.
She was probably still mad at him for missing the twins’ birthday party –
again. He was annoyed too, but it wasn’t always easy getting shore leave
exactly when you wanted it when you had a job like his. Any sort of family life
often took a back seat when you were faced with the onerous task of thwarting
the Mysterons.
Grey stretched
his cramped muscles. He didn’t know how the colonel managed to sit at that desk
every day for fourteen hours on the trot without getting complete rigor mortis.
Exercise is what I need, he thought, as he swiftly
removed his tunic and sweater, and threw them into the laundry chute. He
stepped into his compact en-suite and for a moment regarded his reflection in
the mirror before taking a leak. He was rather proud of his mane of jet-black
hair. A lot of guys his age were either balding, or going substantially silver.
Then – suddenly
– his eye caught a sudden glint in the darkness of his crowning glory. He
shifted, in case it was merely a trick caused by the lights. He moved closer,
his mouth sagging in disbelief as realisation dawned…
I don’t believe it – a frigging grey hair!
And now, as if
by cruel magic, they seemed to multiply before his very eyes. There was another
one, and another, and oh jeez, yet
two more over there. He twisted his head about, his eyes flicking over the
mirror-image of his hair, and spied three more, shining at him malevolently,
almost taunting him…
Grey by name, grey by nature…
How long had
they been there? Why hadn’t he seen them before? Surely they couldn’t just have
sprouted overnight, could they?
That’s what I get for being smug, he thought as his
reflection stared back at him glumly. Grey was the oldest of the senior
captains, but he’d always quietly prided himself on keeping fit, and he
considered that he looked pretty damn good for it. He was a thirty-five year
old WASP veteran with years of combat experience under his belt, and there were
so many more important things to worry about in his life, so why the hell was
he was getting so upset about some silly frigging grey hairs?
I really hate Mondays.
Grey grimly
jogged his way along the corridors to the leisure complex on Deck C. He glanced through the porthole windows of
one room and saw several ensigns and technicians pounding the treadmills and
using the weight apparatus, but Grey bypassed it, heading straight for the
pool. As a sailor, he needed his water fix, and aimed to swim whenever he
could. However, much to his annoyance, he found that his quiet exercise session
was not to be. The pool room echoed to the ceiling with shouting and whistles
from the bodies in the water. Grey cursed his desperation to swim without
checking the pool schedules first. He’d come along right bang in the middle of
a water polo match between the flight techs and the junior lieutenants.
This really isn’t my day, Grey muttered to himself,
as he turned on his heel and headed back towards the gym again. He gave a terse
nod to the other occupants and then warmed up for ten minutes before working
his way through the bench-presses and body-weights, taking his frustration out
on the inanimate equipment. He culminated his aerobic workout by running the
equivalent of a fast twenty-minute jog uphill on the elevated treadmill.
By the time he
had finished, the lactic acid was burning in his legs, and he felt the sweat
trickling down into his vest and shorts.
He glanced at the chronometer on the wall, and thought he’d still have
time for a quick soak in the hot-tub before supper.
The sauna and
spa-tub area was just off the main pool, and again, he found it was busy when
he wandered in. Destiny and Symphony
Angels, in their regulation cream and gold swimsuits, occupied one sunken tub,
sitting at the edge with their feet dangling in the water, while Captain
Violet, in a costume that matched her name, sat waist-deep in the other, arms
outstretched and looking very relaxed.
“Evening,
ladies,” he called, walking towards them.
Symphony waved.
“Hi there. We’re just about to leave, so you can have some peace.”
“Don’t feel you
have to go on my account.”
“Non,” Destiny added, swinging her legs
out of the water. In one lithe and balletic movement, she was on her feet. “We
are turning into prunes already.”
“Yeah, me too,”
Violet added. “I’ve some things to finish off before I leave. Wouldn’t want
Captain Magenta to think I’ve been slacking.”
Grey waited
until all three of them got out of the tubs, and then he stepped down into the
one Violet had vacated. He slid into the marvellously hot water, and admired
the view as the young women sauntered across to the rack on the wall for fresh
towels. Grey felt his jaw muscles relax into the first smile of his
exasperating day as he set the timer for fifteen minutes and he sank back to
let the narrow jets of hot water pummel his sore muscles.
He finally tore
himself away from the heat and languor of the tub, and rubbed himself down with
one of the towels. He threw it around his neck and wandered back along to the
locker area to dress. There weren’t a
whole lot of concessions to gender differences aboard Cloudbase, but separate
changing rooms was one of them.
The door to the
women’s area was wide open as Grey walked past, so he couldn’t help overhearing
Violet’s loud Brooklyn accent coming from within.
“ – who’d ever
guess those uniforms could hide such a cute butt? And those abs! Wow, they don’t send the ugly ones
up here, that’s for sure.”
Grey slowed, his
curiosity getting the better of him. It wasn’t every day a guy had the
opportunity to listen in on one of life’s great mysteries – what women talked
about in the locker room. And wonders would never cease, it was sounding not a
whole lot dissimilar to the guys’ banter.
“Yeah, it’s real
tough, but we manage.” That was Symphony’s voice.
“I’ll bet,”
Violet continued, and even from here Grey could hear her theatrical sigh. “It’s
a real shame I have to go back before checking out the rest of them in the
nearly buff. And if they all look like
him…” She gave a whistle that would have made a sailor proud.
Grey felt
himself grin. So he hadn’t been the only one enjoying the view at the hot-tubs.
He was about to walk off when Violet piped up again.
“He’s a bit on
the…reserved side though, I thought. Well, what little chance I had to speak to
him.”
“If you’re
making comparisons with Ochre, that’s a little unfair,” Symphony said. “He
could talk the hind-legs off a mule.”
“I guess he was
busy at the time,” Violet acknowledged.
Yeah, I sure was. Just a little matter of me making sure Cloudbase
didn’t fall out of the sky! Grey
rolled his eyes and shook his head. Women!
“There is nothing
wrong with a quiet man.” Grey heard Destiny speak for the first time, and he
froze mid-step.
He unconsciously
leant closer to the wall, and crossed his fingers that no one would suddenly
come along and find him eavesdropping.
He could just imagine trying to explain that to the Old Man – one of his senior captains, thirty-five years
old, with a handful of grey hairs, and behaving like a kid out of high school.
“Guess you all
have your favourites, huh?” Violet said, obliquely.
“Now, that would
be telling,” Symphony replied.
Yeah, right, that was a no-brainer.
“Oh, come on,
girls, you can tell me, I promise I won’t spill the beans.”
“Perhaps there
are no beans to spill,” Destiny said.
“Uh-uh…don’t
believe you, girl. I’m guessing you like the strong silent type. I think you
secretly have the hots for Captain Quiet-but-gorgeous-in-his-swim-trunks.”
Grey held his
breath, not even realising it.
“Well, am I
right?” Violet pushed.
After what
seemed like an eternity, Destiny said, “How you say…it is the quiet ones who
are the worst?”
Grey tried to
not chuckle. Given half a chance.
“You think he’s
got hidden depths then?” Violet said.
“I have no doubt
of it,” Destiny replied, accompanied with – Grey thought – a decidedly wicked
giggle. “He is like the volcano…a fire beneath the surface…all those emotions
simmering until…pouf!”
Symphony and
Violet broke out into peals of laughter.
“Burn, girl,”
Violet said.
Destiny gave a
short sigh, half in jest. “Perhaps.”
Outside the
women’s locker room, Captain Grey leaned back from the wall and straightened
up, his shoulders lifting high. Grinning broadly to himself, he headed to the
men’s locker room.
Maybe Mondays
weren’t so bad after all.
Author’s Note:
This is the second in a series
of vignettes and short stories based on the Challenge of Five. I’ve seen the
comments out there on the forum for more stories featuring Captain Grey, so I
thought I’d oblige with this little piece of fluffiness on the sense of
‘hearing’. I hope you enjoy – Bradley Holden fans.
I’d like to
thank Hazel Köhler for beta-reading, and Chris Bishop, for the mention of her excellent
original character, Agent Conners, (don’t we just love to hate him!) and naturally, for allowing me to post all this stuff.
Other stories
from Caroline Smith
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