Even in wartime, Christmas still
comes.
It had been
an eventful year. Spectrum hadn’t even reached its first anniversary as an
organization before Captain Black led the Zero X mission that discovered the
Mysteron complex on Mars.
And then
the world had suddenly turned upside down.
The Zero
X crewmen had disappeared. Captain Black was in the hands of the Mysterons, and
no one was sure whether it was by choice. Captains Brown, Scarlet, and Indigo
had all been killed in the early days of the War of Nerves. So many endings in
such a short time.
But life
had to go on. The Mysterons could not be allowed to win so easily.
And so
Christmas would come, as it always did.
When
Rhapsody, carrying a large cardboard box, entered the Amber Room, she found
three of the other Angels already there, watching and advising Captain Orange
as he struggled to get the Christmas tree to stand up straight. It had been a
wonderful surprise when Colonel White had allowed a small number of live
Christmas trees to be brought to Cloudbase, including one for the Amber Room.
But Captain Orange clearly wasn’t finding it so wonderful, judging by the soft
mutterings coming from beneath the evergreen’s branches as he struggled to
tighten the rods that would hold the tree firm in its base.
“It’s
listing something awful, isn’t it?” commented Rhapsody, as she set her box down
beside another one sitting on the coffee table.
“Hold it
steady, Destiny. No, it’s tilting to the left now,” said Melody. “My left, not
yours, Destiny!”
“Now it
needs to be turned 90 degrees,” chimed Symphony. “It looks kind of flat on one
side.”
Rhapsody
knelt down by the orange-vested captain. “How much longer do you think this
will take? We’d like to get on with the decorating before the shift change.”
Orange
grunted and adjusted his grip on the base. “Some women would be grateful just
to have a man under their Christmas tree,” grumbled the American.
Symphony
laughed wickedly. “We slay our own dragons, Captain Orange! But it’s still nice
to have a man around who can kill bugs and put up Christmas trees.”
An
incoherent ranting issued from somewhere near the floor. In Orange’s mind, the
tree was consciously resisting him. Why else would one branch keep hitting him
in the face?
“Hold it
there! It’s straight! Perfect!”
Orange rapidly
tightened the bolts, giving each an extra twist to make its hold firm. Holding
his breath, he backed out from beneath the tree. It swayed, then stabilised.
The Angels cheered.
After
thanking Orange for his help and sending him on his way, they got busy
unpacking the lights, ornaments, and tinsel, and began decorating the tree.
“It’s
too bad Harmony can’t join us. She’d really enjoy this,” commented Rhapsody.
“Maybe
we could set aside some of the ornaments so when she comes down from Angel One
she’ll have a little decorating to do,” said Symphony.
“Good
idea!”
Outside
the Amber Room’s open door, a group strolled by singing:
“Yet
with the woes of sin and strife
The
world hath suffered long;
Two
thousand years of wrong;
And
man, at war with man, hears not
The
love song which they bring:
O hush
the noise, ye men of strife,
And
hear the angels sing.”
“It’s
nice to have music to work by.”
“I hear the
base carolling group tried to persuade Captain Blue to join.” Destiny smirked.
“Until they heard him sing a few bars of ‘Silent Night’ flat and off-key!”
Rhapsody
grimaced; she had been present at Blue’s impromptu audition. “They should ask
Captain Ruddy to join them. She can sing two different parts.”
“Really?
Two voices at once?” asked Destiny, astonished.
“No, of
course not! But she can sing tenor and bass equally well. I’ve heard her
alternating the parts in a one-woman duet.”
Symphony
indicated the branches in front. “Which ornaments should we hang right there?
They ought to be special ones since everyone who comes in can see them.”
“Captain
Ochre gave me this for our tree,” said Destiny holding out a small, lumpy,
tissue- wrapped parcel. “He said we’d each have one later but this one is for
all of us now.”
“Well,
open it, Grrl!” said Melody, excitement in her soft
southern voice.
Destiny
carefully unwrapped the little parcel, revealing a tiny, perfectly scaled and
painted Angel Interceptor, complete with blonde-haired pilot. “Oh!” she gasped.
“Isn’t it exquisite!”
Rhapsody
took it and held it gently as she turned it round, looking at it from all
angles. “He must have hand-built it from scratch!”
“It’s so
thoughtful of him. Maybe we should get him some modelling supplies to thank
him,” suggested Destiny.
“He
might thank us, but a lot of other people won’t when he starts playing with
them in the Officers’ Lounge!”
Everyone
laughed.
“So,
what are you giving Captain Blue, Symphony?” Melody asked, as she stooped to
drape a tinsel garland over the tree’s lowest branches.
“What?”
the startled Angel replied.
“Oh come
now, honey. We’ve all noticed how you react when his name is mentioned. You’re sweet
on him!” Melody teased. Grinning, she glanced up at Symphony, who was blushing.
Melody straightened in surprise. “You really are sweet on him!”
“I’m
not! At least, I like him a lot, but I don’t know . . . I mean,
I don’t know if he feels anything for me. Not romantic anyway. We’re just sort
of good friends right now,” she stammered.
“Then
you really should give him something for Christmas,” Destiny put in. “It
doesn’t have to be anything lavish or expensive. Just a token of some sort.
Something meaningful that tells him you care about him.”
“Or at
least that you’re interested in getting to care about him!” Rhapsody ducked as
Symphony tossed a handful of tinsel at her.
“Don’t
be silly! I don’t know how he’d respond. What if I end up totally embarrassed?”
Destiny
gave a Gallic shrug. “It takes courage. But you risk your life every day, do
you not? So what is a little embarrassment? If there was a man who attracted
me, I would risk feeling foolish and let him know.”
Symphony
looked thoughtful. Finally she said, “The Colonel wouldn’t approve of a
romance, you know.”
“We
know. But Colonel White doesn’t have to,” Rhapsody pointed out. “No one outside
the Amber Room has to know. Except Captain Blue, of course.”
“Of
course.”
“Just
don’t ask him for a romantic serenade.”
Before
long, almost every bit of the tree was decorated, except for the top. “Oh
dear,” said Rhapsody, poking around in the storage boxes. “There isn’t a star
or anything in here!”
“We
could just leave it as it is,” Destiny suggested. “It’s very pretty.”
Symphony
looked at the tree critically and sighed. “The tree’s just not complete without
an angel or something.”
Melody
grinned. “I think I know what to do! I’ll be right back.” She dashed out of the
Amber Room, leaving the other three Angels looking at one another, perplexed.
When she returned, she was holding something hidden under a towel.
“Merry
Christmas, Y’all!” She whipped the towel aside with a flourish.
Lieutenant
Amethyst, passing by on her way to the Seminar Room, wondered what was causing
the gales of laughter in the Amber Room.
It was a
teddy bear. A bear with gold wings, and a halo above its head. A bear wearing a
white and gold flight suit, complete with little epaulet lights on its
shoulders.
“An
Angel for our tree!” announced Melody.
At
Christmastime, there should be peace. But the world is at war.
THIS
IS THE VOICE OF THE MYSTERONS. WE KNOW YOU CAN HEAR US, EARTHMEN! WE DO NOT
FORGET YOUR AGGRESSION FOR A PETTY HOLIDAY. THE HOLLY AND THE IVY WILL NOT GROW
IN THE LAND OF WHITE RIVERS. WE WILL BE AVENGED!
Colonel
White immediately put all the available senior captains to work deciphering the
Mysteron threat.
“The
land of white rivers?” puzzled Captain Grey.
Captain
Ochre had entered “white rivers” into the search engine: it returned nearly one
million hits in English. “There are hundreds of rivers with the name ‘white’ in
them. And towns and businesses called ‘white rivers’, too.”
“But do
evergreens, like holly and ivy, grow everywhere the towns or rivers are? That’s
a key to narrowing them down.”
Ochre
sighed. “We’d better add those criteria and sort the data into categories:
rivers, towns, others.” He entered a few commands. “There. We should have the
printouts shortly. They’re going to keep us busy for a while.”
The
holiday season was well underway at Tarazed Castle.
Many guests would not arrive until just before Christmas, but a larger number
than usual had booked stays during Advent, perhaps drawn by the presence of
Sinead Brennan, president of the European Union, and her family, who were
enjoying an extended Yuletide holiday.
Reed
Thompson, Tarazed’s manager, looked at the gauges on
the oil-storage tanks and shook his head. On the one hand, he was glad for the
fresh snowfalls and cold weather that were keeping the castle’s ski slopes and
trails in good condition. But the cold also increased the guests’ demand for
heat. And since there were more guests than usual . . . .
“You
don’t have to say it, Marta,” snapped Thompson.
His
companion looked miffed. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” The tone of her
voice didn’t match her words.
Thompson
smiled sardonically. “Part of being an assistant manager, Ms Caljane, means learning from your manager’s mistakes. And
not hoping they’ll work to your benefit.” He ignored her scowl. “Durango Coal
& Oil said they’d have a caterpillar truck ready for us later this week.
We’ll have to radio and ask them if they can get it out today.”
Hours
had passed.
Grey
slammed down his coffee cup in frustration. “There are lots of places that have
both evergreens and a river called white. But the Mysterons’ threat said rivers —
plural. And none of these has more than one White River.”
“In the
U.S.,” said Ochre, “there are plenty of towns called ‘White Rivers,’ but none
of them appear to be particularly important. And they all have evergreens of
one sort or another. How can we narrow it down? Should we look for holly and
ivy specifically? Or do the Mysterons mean to attack all of them?”
Captain
Blue leaned back and rubbed his eyes. “Are we sure they meant evergreens? They
said ‘the holly and the ivy will not grow’.”
“Then
we’ve been going at it all wrong,” groaned Ochre. “We might try eliminating the
places where evergreens do grow and see how many hits we get.”
“We’d
better try both. Look for white rivers where only holly and ivy can be found or
else no evergreens at all,” suggested Captain Scarlet.
Shortly
after the new search parameters were entered into the computer, Lieutenant Lake
came in with another stack of printouts. She was humming a tune under her
breath.
“You
sound happy, Lieutenant,” observed Scarlet.
Lake looked
sheepish. “I’m sorry, sir. I know the Mysterons are planning to attack and all,
but it’s still Christmas, and it makes me feel better to hear my favourite
carol, ‘The Holly and the Ivy’, even if I have to sing it myself.” Lake’s voice
trailed off uncertainly as the men sat bolt upright and stared at her.
“What
did you say?”
“I’m
sorry, sirs. I prattle when I’m nervous.”
Scarlet
waved the apology away. “What did you say about holly and ivy?”
“That
it’s my favourite Christmas song, sir,” Lake replied, puzzled. “It’s a medieval
tune,” she added after several moments of uncomfortable silence.
Ochre
looked at his fellow captains. “That could be what the Mysterons were referring
to. It goes with the crack about ‘a petty holiday.’ But what’s the connection
with the ‘land of white rivers’? Could there be a clue in the song itself?”
“You
mean like ‘deck the halls with boughs of holly and ivy’?” suggested Grey.
“That’s
probably stretching too much.”
“Maybe
not, sir. Holly and ivy were used for Christmas decorating in medieval
times, ” ventured the young lieutenant.
“They
still are. My mother heaps holly and ivy on the mantelpiece every December,”
recalled Scarlet. He suddenly had an idea. “Ochre, run another search for
‘white rivers’ but look for medieval connections.”
When the
search results appeared, Ochre groaned. “There are medieval sites all over
Europe and a good part of Asia, too.”
“It’s an
English carol, sir. Perhaps you should limit the search to the British Isles?”
Lake was surprised at her own boldness.
“Worth a
try.” He keyed in the parameters; there were fewer hits, though still plenty to
look at. “Lieutenant?”
“I’m on
my way, Captain Ochre. More printouts coming up.”
In the late
afternoon, when the sun had set, the guests would gather in Tarazed’s
Great Hall for the for the daily Advent ritual. There would be a holiday story
for the children and then the day’s “window,” actually a gigantic Christmas box
with hinged walls, would be opened dramatically to reveal the surprise.
Afterward, there would be a buffet supper for everyone, and then dancing and a
late sit-down dinner for the adults after the children had been sent to bed.
Thompson
and Caljane watched as workers prepared the stage.
“Reed,
you haven’t said much about this one. What’s the surprise for today?” said Caljane.
“It’s a
bonfire,” answered Thompson. “Not a painting either. It looks just like the
real thing. The special effects are remarkable; you’d swear it could burn the
place down.”
“Isn’t
that a frightening thing to offer for Christmas?”
“You
might think so, Marta. But it’s meant as a promise that there’ll be plenty of
warmth during the season.”
“Ah,” Caljane shrugged. “Well, if that fuel gets here, that’s a
promise that will be kept for sure.”
Manning
groaned as the radio newscaster broke into his favourite song and reported that
a snow slide on Highway 505 had temporarily closed the road. That explained why
he’d seen so little traffic. And the weather forecaster had said earlier to
brace for high winds as a cold front swept in from Canada. Manning hated the
mountain winds, the way they seemed to grab at his caterpillar trailers and
push his truck around. If really bad weather hit, he thought, it would be
better if he was caught up at the castle and not somewhere on the road. He’d
just have to hope. He radioed in to the fuel depot at Durango.
“Hey,
Darrell!”
“Hey,
Greg. Didn’t expect to hear from you until you got to Tarazed.
Is everything all right?”
“Just
heard on the radio that there’s a slide up ahead of me. Looks like I’m going to
be sitting for a while.”
“Great,”
said Darrell, sounding exasperated. “Just great. Well, nothing else you can do.
Just drive careful, OK?”
“Right. I’ll
talk to you later.” He hung up the radio with a sigh.
From
nowhere, it seemed, a man in black appeared on the road ahead, waving his arms.
Must be in trouble, thought Manning as he braked. But where’s his car?
Looking at the man’s pale face, he realised there must have been an accident.
He got
out of the truck and walked towards the man in black. “Hey, buddy! You been in
an accident? What can I do to help you?”
“You can
die, Earthman,” replied Captain Black, as he drew a pistol and fired.
Manning
felt surprise but no pain before he fell. He didn’t see the pair of eerie green
rings pass over his body, or, a moment later, his exact replica standing over
him. Captain Black and the Mysteron clone disposed of the body by throwing it
over the embankment; it bounced and rolled, before disappearing from sight.
Captain Black nodded, satisfied.
Turning
to the clone, Black handed him a bag and said, “You have your orders.”
“I know
what to do.” The Mysteron Manning climbed into the truck’s cab and continued
towards the castle.
Lieutenant
Green had worked without eating or resting for hours, researching how “white
rivers” might be expressed in languages other than English, and what other
meanings “holly” and “ivy” could have. The young man started when Colonel White
put a hand on his shoulder.
“Lieutenant,
if you don’t take a break, you’re going to be too tired to function.”
“I’m all
right, sir. Really. I’d like to keep on working. The captains — ”
“Have
taken a little time out to eat and let their minds relax. You haven’t. I need
you to be at your best. But you won’t be if you keep at this pace much longer.”
The Colonel frowned. “Do I have to order you?”
“No,
sir.”
“Then
I’ll see you back here in two hours.”
Lieutenant
Green couldn’t think what to do with himself at first. His mind was too full
with figuring out the Mysterons’ riddle. The best way to chase it out would be
with music. He could listen to some Christmas carols in his quarters, maybe
practice a few songs on his guitar. Or he could open that package of CDs his
younger brother in Colorado had sent a few weeks ago. Leon’s letter had said
he’d found some interesting folk-music recordings and thought Seymour might
like them for his collection.
The
first one looked interesting. The cover showed an old ghost town, perhaps one
of the old mining towns that once dotted the Colorado mountains. He flipped the
CD over to examine the back. As he did so, his eye rapidly read and registered
the title of the next CD: The Land of White Rivers.
Green
froze. Could it possibly be . . .? He quickly cracked open the Land
of White Rivers jewel case and read the liner notes. The album and song
title referred to avalanches — called white rivers in southwestern
Colorado.
He got
on the comm link and called Captain Scarlet to
explain what he’d discovered.
“So
Colorado is the ‘land of white rivers’? It fits, but what’s the medieval
connection? There were hardly any Europeans in Colorado before the 19th
century,” said Captain Blue.
Ochre
turned back to his computer and ran a search on Colorado, medieval, holly, and ivy. The engine returned
only a few hundred hits.
Shortly after Lieutenant Lake
deposited the printouts, Ochre shouted “I’ve got it!”
It was a
commercial site for a place called Tarazed Castle, on
top of Anvil Mountain above Silverton, Colorado. Built in the late 19th century
by a wealthy silver magnate and named for his wife, Tara, the pseudo-English
castle was now a very exclusive hotel. And for December it was offering an
Advent “Countdown to Christmas” holiday package followed by a medieval-style 12
Days of Christmas celebration for discriminating guests. The pictures of the
castle’s interior displayed the grand holiday decorations, including massive
garlands of holly and ivy.
“’The
holly and the ivy will not grow in the land of white rivers,’” quoted Scarlet.
“Tarazed Castle’s destruction would fit that. It
could be the target.”
“But why
would the Mysterons want to destroy it?” Grey wondered. “It’s exclusive, sure,
but so are lots of other places. Why is it so special?”
“There
could be a VIP staying at the castle,” said Blue.
A little
more research quickly turned up the information that the President of the
European Union and her family were enjoying an extended holiday in Colorado.
President Brennan would be an ideal target for the Mysterons. Although her
exact whereabouts were supposed to be a secret, several papers reported that the
president was enjoying a medieval Christmas atmosphere. There could be no more
doubt. Tarazed Castle was in danger.
When he
got the call from Spectrum, Thompson was incredulous. The guests were settled in
and enjoying themselves. And a large number of them were Press. How could
Spectrum expect him to evacuate the castle? And without a truly good reason?
What would the journalists say if they were suddenly ordered to leave because
of Mysterons? No one had ever even seen a Mysteron! And anyhow Tarazed was so remote, an attack was unlikely. Only one
road led to the Anvil Mountain plateau. No large ground force could come over
the snow-covered mountains. Even an approach from the air would be very
difficult because of the unpredictable mountain winds. No, he couldn’t believe
an attack was possible. And, no, he didn’t want Spectrum agents at the castle
either. They’d attract too much attention and he didn’t want to deal with
questions.
He was
irritated, even angry, when his so-called assistant, who’d been listening to
every word, sided with Spectrum. Caljane insisted
that it would be better to have too much protection for President Brennan than
too little, never mind the questions or doubtful publicity.
After a
lot of arguing, with both Spectrum and Caljane,
Thompson finally consented to allow Spectrum to send agents to the castle, as
long as they didn’t cause any excitement.
Colonel
White had ordered Captain Scarlet and Captain Blue to fly to Durango, Colorado,
change into civilian clothes, and then drive to Tarazed
Castle by unmarked car. They were to make a low-profile arrival. The SPJ was
well on its way when Green contacted the castle again.
“Mr
Thompson? This is Lieutenant Green of Spectrum. Captains Scarlet and Blue are
on their way.”
“OK,
we’ll be ready for them. You might tell them to be careful coming up the road
to the castle. It’s long, twisty, and kind of narrow. The first owner had the
road covered at intervals with tunnels. I guess he thought they’d be handy
shelters in case of avalanches. But he didn’t imagine what kind of traffic
would be going through them someday, so he only made them big enough for a
couple of horse-drawn wagons abreast. People who come up in four-wheel drives
complain about feeling claustrophobic in the tunnels. And I always hold my
breath when an oil tanker has to come up and make a delivery. They’re so big,
they practically scrape the walls. I’m waiting on one today. He’s overdue and
I’m beginning to wonder if he could be stuck in a tunnel.”
“You’re
waiting on an oil tanker?” repeated Green.
“Yeah, a
caterpillar kind, with two sections, so it can bend around the mountain turns.
We have to lay in a lot of fuel at one time in winter, in case the roads get cut
off.”
The
lieutenant turned to address his commanding officer. “Sir —”
“I
heard, Lieutenant. I agree, it’s a likely weapon. Get the details from Mr
Thompson and contact the firm that despatched the tanker.”
“S.I.G.,
sir.”
The
Mysteronised Manning tapped the wheel fretfully, then rolled down the window
and leaned out. “Hey! HEY!”
The
snowplough paused, and its driver indicated he was listening.
“How
much longer do you think this will take? I gotta get
this stuff delivered before dark!”
“It’s gonna be a while yet, maybe a couple more hours. Just
relax. We’ll get you through as fast as we can.”
Manning
nodded, but he wasn’t pleased. His orders had been to unload the fuel and then
set the plastic explosives that Captain Black had provided to him. The castle’s
basement fuel-storage tanks were located directly under the Great Hall, and
President Brennan and her family always attended the early evening Advent
celebration there. He had to be at the castle in time to set the trap, so he
could kill the European president, and destroy as much of the castle and as
many other humans as possible. If he arrived too late, the president could be
in a remote part of the castle, or even out skiing on a lighted slope, out of
harm’s way.
His
radio suddenly crackled to life. “This is Durango base. Greg, you there?”
The
mysteronised Manning hesitated before answering, trying to draw on incomplete,
fading memories of the dead man’s life. “Yeah, uh, Mike. I’m here.”
“This is
Darrell, not Mike. Mike’s off today, remember?”
“Oh,
yeah, sorry. Uh, what did you want?”
“Just
checking to see how you’re coming along. Where are you at?”
“I’m on
my way to the castle.” He couldn’t say more than that; the name of the castle and
the road he was on did not come to mind.
“I know
that. How far away are you?”
He had
no idea. “I’m stuck,” he finally said, evading the question. “There’s been a
small avalanche. I’m just waiting on the ploughs to clean it up. Guy says it’ll
be a few hours at least, Mi— uh, Darrell.”
“Yeah,
you mentioned there was a slide when you called before. All right. If the
castle calls again, I’ll tell ‘em you got held up but
to keep an eye out for you. Talk to you later, Greg.”
The
Mysteron hung up the radio with a feeling of relief. Everything would be fine
now. His mission would not fail.
Allyn had wanted to get away from it all this year, away
from the crowded ski slopes and cross-country trails, away from the people,
away from all the intrusive aspects of civilisation. So he’d rented a
snowmobile and ridden off into the woods alone. What could happen after all?
He could
get lost. That’s what could happen. All he’d need to do now was to wreck the
snowmobile by hitting a rock or something. Like that one up ahead. If he hadn’t
been paying careful attention and driving slowly, trying to conserve his gas,
he might have run right into it.
It was
strangely shaped for a boulder. Maybe it was a fallen branch? He started to
steer around it and took a good look as he got closer.
“Oh no.
Oh no. Oh no no no no . . .”
Gasping,
trying not to be sick, he fumbled for his cell phone and dialled 9-1-1,
silently thanking the salesperson who had convinced him to spring for the
built-in global-positioning-system transmitter. Help wouldn’t be long in
coming.
“Talk to
you later, Greg.” Darrell hung up the radio and turned his attention to some
neglected paperwork. He’d only been working a few minutes when the radio
crackled again.
“Durango Oil and Coal?”
He threw down his pen and cursed.
“Damn!
It’s probably the castle again.” He picked up the microphone and nearly shouted
into it. “Yeah, what do you want now!”
“This is
Sergeant McCoy of the Colorado State Police.”
“Oh! Uh,
I mean, yes, Darrell Walker speaking. What can I do for you?”
“Do you
have a driver named Greg Manning?”
“Yeah,
we do. What’s wrong, has he had an accident with the truck?”
There
was a pregnant pause. “No, there’s no truck involved.”
“Colonel,
the fuel depot in Durango has called back. They contacted their driver as we
requested. Mr Walker says that he talked about being stopped at a snow slide
across the highway, but he also seemed a little confused, not like his usual
self. And a few minutes later the Colorado State Police reported that they
found the driver, dead.”
“And the
truck?”
“No sign
of it, sir. There was no slide where they found the body.”
Colonel
White nodded. “We must assume the Mysterons are now in control of the fuel tanker.
Contact Captain Scarlet and Captain Blue, explain the situation, and tell them
to collect an SPV in Durango.”
“Right
away, Colonel. But they can’t possibly get to the castle before the Mysteron
does. The drive from Durango to Anvil Mountain is hardly two hours. Even with
the delay, the tanker has a big head start.”
“I know,
Lieutenant. Can we despatch any other vehicles to assist them?”
Lieutenant
Green tapped a few keys and shook his head as the information he wanted
appeared on his screen. “Not ground equipment, sir. There’s only one highway
leading to Anvil Mountain. The safest vehicle on that road would be another SPV
and the nearest one north of there is in Grand Junction, more than 100 miles
away.”
“What
about aircraft?”
Green
tapped a few more keys. “Yes, sir. Spectrum have a helicopter in Durango,
Colorado. It might be able to head off the oil tanker if the SPV doesn’t catch
up in time.”
“Arrange
for the helicopter and stand by to launch Angel One.”
“S.I.G.”
“It’s up to Captains Scarlet and Blue and Rhapsody Angel
now. Somehow, they’ve got to stop that truck from reaching its destination.”
The
helicopter was prepared and waiting before the Angel Interceptor touched down.
Rhapsody shuffled down the wing and leaped to the ground without waiting for
assistance. A ground crewman ran up alongside her, matching his stride to hers,
and briefed her on the weather conditions, particularly the cold front sweeping
in, and the SPV’s last reported position on Highway
505; it hadn’t spotted the tanker yet.
Learning
that Rhapsody had never flown in the San Juan Mountains before, the crewman
delivered a staccato lecture on typical conditions and air patterns there,
especially where helicopters were concerned, and around Anvil Mountain in
particular. Cold fronts there, he explained, always made flying much more
difficult as they produced aggravated wind waves and severe down-draughts that
could result in falls of 3000/feet per minute; he advised extreme caution. Even
though Spectrum helicopters were designed to be less affected by turbulence,
Rhapsody knew that no aircraft is immune. She was grateful to be forewarned.
Shortly,
the helicopter was airborne and racing through the mountains towards Silverton
and Tarazed Castle.
The
guests were beginning to gather in Tarazed’s Great
Hall for the daily Advent ritual. Anticipation was running high: the window was
much, much larger than the ones of previous days and promised something
exciting.
Thompson
mingled with the guests, exchanging pleasantries, and fanning the excitement.
He expected that the bonfire would be the most exciting thing to happen during
Advent.
The
mountain shadows had cast the road into an early darkness. Although Manning had
finally reached the road up to Tarazed Castle, the
slide had delayed him badly; he could not possibly off-load the fuel and set
the explosives in time to be certain of assassinating President Brennan. He
would have to race to the castle and — he laughed — gate-crash the festivities.
Minutes
later, Captain Blue radioed Cloudbase: they’d sighted the tanker and were
beginning the pursuit up the castle road. They would try to get ahead of the
tanker and stop it from reaching the plateau.
The road
to the castle was narrow, and the truck filled more than half of it. At
intervals, the road was covered with tunnels, which were even narrower. And it
twisted frequently, making it difficult for the SPV to keep directly behind the
truck. Unfortunately, the road’s winding didn’t slow the truck much, thanks to
its jointed design. And there was no chance it might accidentally overturn on a
curve, as high, solid-looking retaining walls assured that a vehicle would not
leave the road. The only unprotected spots were on the straightaways between the
tunnels. Apparently the castle’s builder had chosen to take some risks and
preserve glimpses of the magnificent scenery.
Blue’s
epaulets flashed white tinged with gold: it was Rhapsody in the helicopter.
She’d spotted the chase and was asking for instructions.
“Try to
get ahead of the truck and stop it!” he told her.
Rhapsody
manoeuvred closer to the mountainside, fighting the down-draughts and wind
waves that tugged at her aircraft as she attempted to achieve the right
altitude. Both vehicles had vanished into tunnels. Without warning, the
helicopter hit an air pocket and dropped down violently. When she had regained
control, Rhapsody looked up the mountainside and saw the SPV and truck well
above her.
Her
epaulets flashed blue. “Rhapsody! Where are you?”
“Trying
to stay airborne! If all you guys would slow down, it would make a difference!”
“Sorry,
Rhapsody! The tanker’s driver and Captain Scarlet are both determined to set
the land-speed mountain-climbing record. You’ll just have to keep up with us.”
As quickly as she could manage,
Rhapsody gained altitude and tried to position the helicopter ahead of the
racing oil tanker. It was difficult: the nearer she came to the mountain’s
face, the worse the turbulence became. Another down-draught caught the
helicopter, allowing the SPV and truck to get away from her again. Rhapsody
thought she had never flown under worse conditions. She turned back and climbed
again, constantly fighting the wind.
She
radioed the SPV. “I’m above and ahead of you now but I can’t block the truck’s
path. There’s too much turbulence; I can’t get close enough.”
“S.I.G.,
Rhapsody,” replied Captain Scarlet. “Prepare to launch a rocket.”
“S.I.G.”
But from her vantage point, Rhapsody could see what the drivers on the road
below could not: snow lay heavily up the mountainside, looking as if it was
propped up by the trees below it. She felt, rather than knew, that it was
probably unstable. Rhapsody didn’t dare take a shot at the tanker. Whether she
hit it or missed, the shock of the rocket’s explosion could start an avalanche
that would destroy both the target and the SPV.
Captain Scarlet’s epaulets flashed white and gold. “Go ahead,
Rhapsody.” He listened as she explained the situation. “I see. But we can’t let
him reach the top. We’d endanger the castle if we fired at him then.”
“You’ll
endanger yourselves if you fire now. You couldn’t avoid being caught in the
explosion and even if you did, you might not get to a tunnel before an
avalanche reached you. There’s nothing at the bottom of the mountain that could
be harmed, though,” replied Rhapsody. “If you could force the truck over the
embankment, you’ll have time to get under cover, so then even if it explodes,
it won’t affect the SPV.”
“S.I.G.,
Rhapsody. Stand by.” He did not take his eyes off the road. “The only thing to
do is ram the truck. It’s going to be tricky, trying to get it while it’s in
the open and keep it from crashing into the next tunnel or a retaining wall. Or
whipping round and taking the SPV with it. Captain Blue —”
“I know
that tone, Captain Scarlet. I’ll see you later.” A moment later, Captain
Scarlet had ejected him from the SPV. From the air, Blue could see that the
panel above his seat had failed to slide back into place, leaving the SPV open
to the sky.
The
helicopter paused, searchlight on, to see Captain Blue land safely on the
roadway before rejoining the chase.
Scarlet
had no attention to spare for the malfunction. He calculated it would take Blue
several minutes to reach safety in a tunnel. But he couldn’t wait long —
he estimated they were above the 10,000-foot mark now and the plateau on which
the castle sat was just above 12,000 feet. Time was running out.
Rhapsody watched as pursued and pursuer
disappeared into yet another tunnel.
There
wasn’t enough room anywhere for Scarlet to easily pull the SPV alongside the
truck. He decided that once they were clear of the next tunnel, he would have
to manoeuvre closer then angle the SPV up the slope, so it would act as a wedge
between the truck and the mountainside. If he miscalculated and knocked only
the rear wheels out from under the trailer, the whole truck could do a 360º
skid and take the SPV over the embankment with it. He had to ram the truck
sideways as near to its mid-section, where the two trailers connected, as
possible. And he had to do it now.
As the
SPV emerged from the tunnel, Captain Scarlet accelerated and brought it
alongside the truck as he’d planned, then threw the SPV down and sideways. The
trailers began to slide. The mysteronised driver fought to stop the skid and
regain control. He succeeded. Briefly.
The cab
suddenly jack-knifed and slammed through the mouth of the next tunnel, jamming
itself and the first trailer at an angle inside against the walls. Intending to
get clear of the falling truck, Scarlet had continued to accelerate towards the
tunnel. Now, unable to stop, the SPV rammed the tanker at full speed, tearing
it apart.
Horrified,
Rhapsody could only hover at a safe distance and watch as first the leading
then the trailing tanker exploded into flames.
Inside
the SPV, Captain Scarlet lay unconscious, unaware that the SPV was engulfed in
fire. Or that the flames, confined by the tunnel, had been forced downward
through the SPV’s open hatch door.
Over the
whine of her helicopter’s rotors, Rhapsody heard an ominous roar. As she had
feared, the tremors caused by the explosion had rattled the snow shelf; part of
it collapsed and raced down the mountainside, burying the road and the tunnel
where the truck and SPV were burning.
She
contacted Cloudbase and reported what had happened. She kept her voice
professional, matter-of-fact, while her heart raced. She couldn’t afford to be
distracted; mountain winds at this altitude were capricious and she might find
her helicopter caught in an up-draught or down-draught again at any time. And
Captain Blue needed to be picked up; there was no way he could get to the
castle on foot and Rhapsody didn’t think one of those tunnels would be a
comfortable shelter for a lone man waiting for help to arrive.
Blue had
been ejected from the SPV several twists below the avalanche; he might have
gotten to safety in a tunnel out of its path. Rhapsody turned on the
searchlight and flew cautiously along the road, watching for any sign of him.
It was hard work, maintaining her speed and level, and also watching for a
patch of sky blue against the snow.
Not a
trace, she thought, scanning the road and the slopes above and below it.
She turned back into the wind for another pass. This time, she spotted
movement: it was Captain Blue, waving two evergreen branches like semaphore
flags; his blue coat was not conspicuous against the white drifts and blue shadows,
Rhapsody noted.
With
utmost care and consummate skill, Rhapsody landed the helicopter a safe
distance from Captain Blue, who ran up and clambered onboard. “Captain
Scarlet —?” he asked, once the helicopter was airborne.
“He
stopped the attack. But there was an avalanche. The SPV is buried up ahead.”
She manoeuvred the helicopter into a hover. “I’m pretty sure this is the spot.
I think that’s the hump of the tunnel.”
Blue was
silent for several seconds. “I heard an explosion. Do you think he survived?”
“No.”
Blue
heard the catch in her voice; he felt the same way. “It’s going to be hard for
rescuers to find the right spot and dig him out. But he’s got to be taken to
Cloudbase as soon as possible.”
“Then we’ve
got to mark the spot so the rescuers can find it. Otherwise, they’ll be digging
blind; it will be full dark soon.” Rhapsody studied the snow. “It’s going to be
tricky landing on that stuff. If you’re willing to chance it, let’s do it now.
Or I can fly you up the castle and then come back on my own.”
Blue
shook his head. “He’s my best friend, Rhapsody.”
The
winds pushed then pulled at the helicopter as it drifted down towards the snow,
causing it to land rather more forcefully than Rhapsody had intended. “The
down-draughts here are worse than any I’ve ever encountered!”
Blue
searched for something to mark the SPV’s approximate
burial spot. He pulled a large, partially buried branch out of the snow. “What
do you think?”
Rhapsody
considered. From the air, it would be difficult to distinguish from the many
other pieces of shattered trees. And on the ground, it wasn’t much more
visible. She shook her head. “We need to make it stand out somehow.”
Blue
removed his heavy leather coat and draped it over the wood. Despite the winds,
the coat flapped feebly. “I guess not. You had trouble seeing me on the snow,
didn’t you?”
“Lots,”
Rhapsody acknowledged.
Shivering,
Blue wrapped himself in his coat again. “I really like blue and I was happy
when it was assigned to me. But right now I wish I’d been given a brighter
colour, something like red or orange. I could use my vest as a flag then.”
A bright
colour and light enough to use as a flag? Rhapsody had a brainstorm. She
shrugged off her white coat, trying hard to ignore how the sub-zero cold seemed
to freeze and burn her body simultaneously, and began to unfasten her flight
suit’s jacket. “Turn your back, Captain Blue.”
“Rhapsody!
What on earth are you doing?” But he turned away, as she requested.
Behind
him, he heard her exclaim at the cold through chattering teeth.
“Use
this as a flag!”
She
tossed him something brilliant red: it was a satin teddy that she had been
wearing under her uniform. Quickly, Blue tied it to the branch; it filled with
wind and flapped furiously. It might be small, but it’s the best we can do,
he thought. Hang on, Paul. Help will be here soon. “Let’s get to the
castle!”
In spite
of the increasing winds, Rhapsody managed to get the helicopter airborne again.
But as they reached the plateau on which the castle sat and began to descend,
the winds suddenly changed. “Wind shear!” gasped Rhapsody. She fought for
control but without lift beneath the rotor blades she could not stop the
helicopter from falling the last fifty feet.
“Brace
yourself!” she shouted at Blue, just before the ground rushed up at an angle
and everything went dark.
Later,
Rhapsody estimated that she had lost consciousness for only a few minutes. Her
neck hurt, but otherwise she didn’t seem to be seriously injured, although from
the unnatural tilt of the cockpit, she could guess that the machine must be
badly damaged. “Captain Blue?” There was no answer. “Captain Blue!”
“Yes,
Rhapsody. I’m alive. But I’m not feeling very well. Are we near the castle?”
“Close
enough. The wind’s swept most of the snow off the plateau. I can go for help on
foot. Will you be all right until I get back?”
“Yes.
But my head hurts. And I’m getting sleepy.” Both of them knew that those were
symptoms of hypothermia or concussion or both.
Up at
the castle, Marta Caljane had opted not to attend the
Advent festivities. She stood at a window, still watching anxiously for the
fuel truck. Over the shriek of the winds around the castle, she thought she’d
heard a sound like an explosion. Soon after, to her surprise, then horror, a
huge helicopter had appeared over the plateau, then crashed to the ground. On
her own initiative, and to avoid another argument with Thompson, she mobilized
the castle’s rescue squad. Rhapsody met them as she struggled out of the
wreckage.
“Down
the road,” Rhapsody told them. “There was an accident. Avalanche. Our friend
was buried. We marked the spot with a red flag. Contact Spectrum. They’ll send
help.”
Two of
the rescuers wrapped her in a blanket and escorted her to the castle; several
more, armed with blankets and medical supplies, remained with the wrecked
helicopter, carefully extricating Captain Blue. The remainder fetched
snowmobiles, shovels, and the castle’s own specially trained rescue dogs, and set
off down the mountainside to look for the makeshift red flag, and set up
torches to guide the rescuers who followed. If the dogs could sniff out the
victim, they would begin digging. There was no sense waiting for Spectrum if
there was any chance of finding someone alive.
The
castle’s rescuers had found the tunnel’s mouth by the time Spectrum rescuers
arrived to join them.
Hours
later, under the glare of powerful work lights, enough of the SPV had been
uncovered to attempt opening the door. Captain Grey, who had taken charge of
the rescue effort when he’d arrived, ordered the non-Spectrum personnel,
especially the reporters who had come down from the castle, to stay well back.
The reporters complained loudly about not being allowed to see what was
happening, dismissing the explanation that the victim’s family was entitled to
be notified first.
Ghouls,
thought Grey angrily.
Using a
remote control, he entered a code to open the SPV door. A white mass slid out
the side; powdery snow from the avalanche had poured into the SPV through the
open hatch. Grey knew that Captain Scarlet would not be alive. But when the
body was uncovered, Grey was shocked by its condition.
A reporter
who had slipped through the shadows beyond the work lights and cautiously
sneaked round to a vantage point saw the body as well. He was disappointed that
it had been so badly burned that he could not see what colour the vest or boots
had been; unless they were black to begin with. The man was obviously dead;
why, then, did the Spectrum rescuers work to transfer his body to the
helicopter so quickly? The reporter mentally shrugged. Probably just part of
the effort to keep his identity secret.
Shortly,
journalists who had been discreetly covering the president’s Colorado holiday
reported that in thwarting the Mysteron attack against the European Union’s
president, Spectrum agents Captain Blue and Rhapsody Angel had been injured and
an unnamed agent had died, adding that Spectrum refused to reveal even the
agent’s code name, to protect the deceased’s family. President Brennan made a
public expression of thanks to Spectrum, and extended her sympathy.
Captain Scarlet’s father, General Metcalfe, was worried. Paul often
partnered Captain Blue. Could he be . . .? No word came from
Spectrum, no dreaded “we regret to inform you . . . .” But
there was no word from Paul, either. Not even in response to his parents’ birthday
wishes.
Dr Fawn
shook his head, impatiently. “I can’t say when he’ll recover, Colonel. I can’t
say if he’ll recover. He’s never been — dead — this
long before. And his condition. . . .”
Colonel
White, his hands clasped behind him, gazed at the unchanging readings on the
remote monitor for the Life Recovery Bed where Scarlet lay motionless.
“I’ll
inform you the moment there’s any change in his condition, Colonel.” He turned
as someone else entered his office. “That goes for you, too. I may just
broadcast a general notice to the whole base, make sure I haven’t missed
anyone.” He grinned at Blue to take the sting out of his words.
Blue
smiled back, then winced. His head ached abominably. But he just couldn’t rest.
He was too worried about his friend.
Dr Fawn
groaned as Rhapsody, a white robe pulled tight around her, her hair loose and unbrushed, ambled in. It seemed none of his patients was
inclined to obey his orders to rest.
Rhapsody
stood silently for a moment. “Is he —?”
“Dr Fawn
says we’ll be the first to know,” said Blue, cutting the physician’s
exasperated sigh short. “Right now, all we can do is pray.”
Fawn
nodded in approval and resignation. “We’ve done everything else we can for
him.”
“It’s
good to see you back on duty, Rhapsody. We were worried about you.”
“Thank
you, Melody. I had a slight concussion, and some bumps and pulled muscles, but
I’m all right now.”
“A slight
concussion? Three days in Sickbay and one more resting?” scoffed the Angel.
“It
would have been worse if I hadn’t had a helmet. Dr Fawn is keeping poor Captain
Blue under observation for a few more days. He’s still complaining about a
headachy feeling.”
Symphony
descended from Angel One. “Rhapsody! Good to see you made it!”
“I’m
looking forward to some peaceful star gazing.” They swiftly changed places. In
less than a minute, Rhapsody was in the cockpit again. She sighed. It felt good
to be on duty again.
It was a
beautiful night. A full moon turned the sky into a silvery sea beneath a cobalt
canopy sprinkled with fairy lights. It was the kind of night meant for
thinking. Rhapsody found her thoughts were full of Captain Scarlet.
Along
with the other Angels, she’d met him shortly after joining Spectrum. He had
been visibly surprised to see Destiny, whom he already knew. Juliette was no less surprised to see him, but they were
both pleased to meet again. Destiny herself told her fellow pilots about her
history with Paul Metcalfe, that they had once been lovers, even talked of
marriage, but mutually decided that they weren’t cut out to be lifemates. Although they had ended their intimate
relationship, they had remained friends, sharing mutual affection and great
respect.
As all
the Angels did, Rhapsody liked and respected Captain Scarlet. On duty, he was
reserved and completely dedicated to his duties. Off-duty, he was charming, fun
loving, even mischievous. But in spite of what Destiny had told her, she wasn’t
really sure what feelings there were between the former lovers. Still, she’d
enjoyed Scarlet’s company at the Colonel’s Sunday teas,
and in the Officers’ Lounge with the other Angels and captains, engaging in the
playful flirting everyone sometimes indulged in. And she’d very much enjoyed
the times when they talked together, just the two of them, and he’d revealed an
unexpected openness and a breadth of interests.
She’d
once remarked to Destiny that she was surprised Captain Scarlet was still
single. “I am not surprised,” her fellow Angel had replied, “that Paul has not
married. He needs a very special woman to match him. He is not an ordinary
man.”
Destiny
could not have known how prophetic her words were.
Rhapsody
had been shocked, like everyone else, when Captain Scarlet died his first two
deaths. And she hadn’t been sure what to think at first when he’d returned from
the dead. What was he now? How should she interact with him? But she’d quickly
come to value his company and friendship again, and more so because she’d
nearly lost them for good. In every way that counted, he was still the man he
had been before.
And it
struck her: that was how she thought of him. Not as a Mysteron or a clone or,
she admitted, only as her fellow Spectrum agent. She thought of him as a man.
Her feelings for Paul Metcalfe had begun to go deeper than friendship.
Dear
God. Am I falling in love with him?
But how
did he feel about her? What if he respected her as a colleague and enjoyed her
company as a fellow Brit but that was all? What if she began to reveal her
heart and he didn’t reciprocate?
What if
he didn’t recover from his injuries this time?
Rhapsody
knew it was a possibility. But don’t let it be now. Not at Christmas.
Gazing up into the sky, seeking out the brightest star, she made a Christmas
wish.
Dr Fawn
sat in the Officer’s Restaurant, his food forgotten. Despite the extent and
variety of their combined training and experience, Dr Fawn and his staff had
never treated a partially frozen burn victim. And Captain Scarlet had suffered
extensive third-degree burns, something he hadn’t experienced before. Scarlet
had had devastating injuries in the past, as when he fell from the London
Car-Vu. Dr Fawn and his staff had done nothing that first time, hadn’t tried at
first to set the broken bones, or repair the internal damage, since they hadn’t
known they could or should. After all, he’d been dead. Yet Scarlet had revived
despite the neglect. This time, they had tried to help the process, removing
burnt clothing, bathing the wounds, applying dressings, and so on, before life
signs reappeared. And nothing was happening. Had they made a mistake? Had they
somehow disrupted the retrometabolic process? Or were Scarlet’s
injuries simply too extensive for recovery, no matter what aid he was given?
Fawn just didn’t know.
The
sound of his name, a summons from Sickbay, broke Dr Fawn’s concentration.
Reciting a prayer in his mind, he answered and held his breath.
The news
was good: Captain Scarlet was beginning to show signs of life, though not
consciousness. His retrometabolism was beginning the process of healing.
Rhapsody
Angel, Captain Blue, and several others met with Dr Fawn, at his request.
“You’re
all good friends of Captain Scarlet’s,” he began.
“And you’ve all seen the condition he’s in. He’s beginning the recovery process
but it’s going very slowly. He’s still unconscious.” Fawn paused to scan the
concerned faces turned to him. “I know you’ve been anxious and wanting to help.
I have something for you to do.”
“Name
it, Doctor,” said Blue.
“I want
people to visit with Scarlet at his bedside, and talk to him. I don’t know if
he can hear anything that’s said to him, let alone understand. But if he does,
it can only help.”
“What
should we talk to him about?” asked Rhapsody.
“Anything
at all. Read aloud. Recite something. It’s the sound of a friendly human voice
that matters.” Fawn looked round at the group. “I’d like people to work in
shifts. Not around the clock; Scarlet needs some quiet time, like anyone. But
an hour or so each day would help; two or even three if you can manage it.”
It
hadn’t taken long to organise a schedule. When Rhapsody arrived for her first
hour, Dr Fawn was standing by Scarlet’s bedside,
studying the monitors.
“Good
evening, Rhapsody. No, no change,” he added, seeing the question in her eyes.
“Captain Blue was here a while ago. Would you like to continue with the book he
was reading?”
Rhapsody
nodded. Finding the page Captain Blue had marked, she began to read aloud as
Doctor Fawn left. Her first hour passed quickly, but she lingered until a nurse
came to change Scarlet’s dressings and mark his
progress.
When she
returned a few hours later, she read for a short while, then put the book aside
and sat quietly for a few minutes, wondering if Scarlet could feel or hear. She
touched his bandaged hand as lightly as she could, and talked to him. She told
him that he had succeeded in stopping the Mysteron, about how she had
sacrificed her underclothing for a flag to mark where he was buried by an
avalanche, how his friends were thinking of him, and about the day’s events on
Cloudbase. It had been a routine day; nothing of any real interest had
happened. But Rhapsody found that talking, rather than reading aloud, made her
feel better as she kept her vigil. Her voice had covered the monotonous sounds
of the monitors while reading. Perhaps she needed to speak, not only to give
Captain Scarlet what comfort she could but to comfort herself.
When she
arrived for her first hour the next day, Rhapsody found that most of the
bandages were gone. Muscle and skin had almost completely regenerated. Captain
Scarlet looked human again and almost, though not quite, well.
As on
her previous visits, Rhapsody read aloud until the nurse finished examining his
patient and checking the monitors, and left. Then she talked to Captain
Scarlet.
She took
his hand in hers, holding it and stroking it gently. “Paul, it’s me again.
Dianne.” She told him about Sunday’s tea with Colonel White, how his absence
had been keenly felt by everyone there. She told him that his parents had sent
him birthday greetings. She would have brought them with her to read to him,
but soon he would be well enough to read them himself. She stroked his cheek
with her free hand; it felt like sandpaper. She commented on that and added, “I
hope that’s a good sign, that you’ll be fully recovered soon. And I hope you’ll
never grow a beard!” She almost laughed; she would have if he’d only been
conscious to laugh with her. Or scowl at her. Or even walk away offended.
The next
morning, Scarlet finally regained consciousness. He still wasn’t fully healed
and was in some pain, which his retrometabolic system did not allow drugs to
control.
But he
was alive. And recovering rapidly. Fawn privately thought of it as a Christmas
miracle.
A day later,
after Captain Scarlet was released from Sickbay, he reported to Colonel White,
who immediately told him to go home for Christmas. “Dr Fawn refuses to release
you for active duty and recommends that you take some leave.” He raised a hand
to stay Scarlet’s protest. “Your recovery this time
was extraordinarily prolonged. I know you’re not entirely comfortable with your
parents yet, but who knows when they might get to see you again? Go. My regards
to them.”
Scarlet
contacted his mother and father to tell them he was coming home for Christmas.
They were both surprised and relieved to hear from him. They had heard of the
incident in Colorado, that Captain Blue’s partner, an unnamed agent, had died.
When they hadn’t been able to reach Paul on his birthday, they had feared the
worst. Scarlet told them that he’d been on another assignment for the past few
weeks and had just returned. He couldn’t get in touch with them sooner,
although he’d appreciated their birthday greetings. And he was in fine health,
he’d just been lucky enough to be granted a few days leave for Christmas.
“Erm, Mom? Have you decorated with holly and ivy this year?”
“I
always do. Why?”
Scarlet
smiled as a warm feeling swept through him. “I’m just looking forward to seeing
it again.”
Four
long hours had passed. When Rhapsody came down from Angel One, she and Melody
made the switch to and from the cockpit seat with the ease of long practice.
Harmony had another four hours on standby, and Symphony had just arrived to
begin her shift.
Before
heading for her quarters, Rhapsody paused to look at the Christmas tree, its
lights twinkling merrily. She remembered the day she and all the other Angels
had decorated the tree and encouraged Symphony to follow her heart and take a
chance on Captain Blue.
It was
so much easier to advise someone else than to follow that advice oneself.
“Did you
hear the news?” asked Harmony.
Rhapsody
raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t heard anything for the last four hours. What’s
happened? Not another threat from the Mysterons?”
“No,
something good for a change. Captain Scarlet’s been
released from Sickbay. And he’s going home for Christmas!”
“Captain
Blue will be flying him to London in the SPJ. He’s got leave, too,” added
Symphony.
“Oh, I’m
sorry to hear that. You were looking forward to seeing him on Christmas Day.”
Symphony
shrugged then grinned. “It’ll work out. I gave him his gift as soon as I found
out he was going.” She didn’t say what had happened, but her smile spoke for
her.
Rhapsody
smiled back. “So when are Captain Blue and Captain Scarlet leaving Cloudbase?”
“Any
time now,” said Harmony. “The Colonel told them to go today.”
Rhapsody’s
heart was torn as she walked back to her quarters. So Captain Scarlet would be
gone from Cloudbase for Christmas. She was relieved to know that he had
recovered, or at least was recovering. She could still look forward to his
company and friendship when he returned from his visit home.
And
then? Did she want to settle for just companionship?
It was
time to decide.
Just as
he started up the SPJ’s gangway, Captain Blue heard
footsteps running across the Flight Deck.
“Wait!”
He
turned. It was Rhapsody, still dressed in her flight suit, clutching a small
parcel.
“Could
you take this with you? I meant it to be delivered sooner, but —”
“No problem, Rhapsody. You’re not the first
person to ask me today.”
“It’s going to someone in London and I’d like
him to get it in time for Christmas. Could you deliver it personally? It won’t take
you out of your way, I promise,” she added, as Blue raised an eyebrow, then
accepted the parcel with a smile.
“Merry
Christmas, Rhapsody.”
“Happy
Christmas, Captain Blue!”
On board
the SPJ, Blue mentioned Rhapsody’s request to Captain Scarlet.
“I can
take care of it. Rhapsody has family in Chelsea. I can deliver the parcel to
them and visit the shops there, find some gifts for my own family,” said
Scarlet. He accepted the parcel from Blue and slipped it into his flight bag
without looking at the address.
The
flight was routine, the drive into central London uneventful, despite the heavy
traffic. When they reached Scarlet’s chosen hotel,
Blue pulled over to the kerb. “Here we are. How long are you planning to be
here?”
“I’ll be
staying here for the next few days, then drive down to Winchester on Christmas
Eve.”
“Well,
enjoy your visit with your folks, Paul. Merry Christmas!”
“Happy
Christmas, Adam!”
Only
after he’d changed into civilian clothes did Captain Scarlet remember his
promise and retrieve Rhapsody’s package from his bag. There was no address on
the outer wrapper, just a cryptic handwritten note: Address Inside.
Beneath the wrapper he found only a plain cardboard box, so he opened that to
find a gift tag: Happy Christmas, Paul Metcalfe! From Dianne Simms.
Beneath it was something wrapped in silver paper and tied with a bright red
ribbon. Curious, he cut the ribbon with his Swiss army knife and ripped off the
paper. Inside was a gold tablet-shaped key fob inscribed, Never drive faster
than your guardian Angel can fly. In one corner was a small heart with the
initials R.A. inside. He stared at it for several moments. Then,
laughing, he transferred his keys from the old fob to this new one and returned
them to his pocket.
On Christmas
Eve, a jet arrived on Cloudbase, carrying supplies, and last-minute mail and
Christmas gifts from home. Rhapsody was surprised to hear that one package was
for her. She had already received everything her family had told her to expect.
How
odd, she thought. It was certainly addressed to her, at her home in
Chelsea, but the plain wrapping and typewritten label gave her no clues to the
sender’s identity. Perhaps one of her younger cousins had sent it as joke. She
decided it would be wisest to open it in the privacy of her quarters, and
minimize the mess it was sure to make.
Beneath
the wrappings, nestled in a bed of excelsior was a small, oblong box. Rhapsody
opened it cautiously, then gasped. Inside was a miniature scarlet rose,
masterfully crafted of porcelain to look as if it was just opening. Beneath it
was a card:
Thank
you my Christmas Angel. For everything.
P.S. I will never grow a beard.
Even in
wartime, Christmas still comes.
And Christmas is a time of
beginnings.
Story Notes:
The inspiration for the story came from the
CD Lieutenant Green discovered. It really exists. The title, Land of White
Rivers, is a dialectal synonym for parts of Colorado in which avalanches
are called white rivers; the CD was recorded by Dan Render, Ray Liljegren, and Judy Fisher in 1995. Durango and Silverton,
Colorado, the San Juan Mountains, even Anvil Mountain are real, but Tarazed Castle, named for a star not a person, is
completely fictional. Dang it.
For those of you who, like me, aren’t Alan Titschmarsh, the rose I invented for Rhapsody was inspired
by a real variety called, appropriately, Captain Scarlet.
Several real people are
mentioned, make cameo appearances, or have supporting roles in this story,
although the portrayals are completely fictional. So a tip of the kepi to
Captain Orange, Captain Ruddy, Lieutenant Amethyst, and Lieutenant Lake.
Christmas cheers to each of you!
And a special Christmas
cheer to Gerry Anderson and Sylvia Anderson. Unlike many, the Andersons have
always kept their garden open for writers to come into and play respectfully
and affectionately with the Andersons’ creations. However old we may get, we
are still children in our hearts, wanting to be a part of the action. They have
graciously allowed us to live our dreams.
Except for my own original creations and
the real places and people mentioned above, the characters, craft, etc.
mentioned in this story are based on the intellectual properties of the
Andersons. No copyright infringement is intended.
OTHER STORIES BY TIGER
JACKSON
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