The Land of White Rivers

A “Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons” short story for Christmas 2002

by Tiger Jackson

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;

Beneath the angel-strain have rolled

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?”