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