This
story takes place approximately a year after the War of Nerves started, shortly
before Captain Scarlet and Rhapsody Angel became a couple.
CHAPTER 2
A “Captain Scarlet & the Mysterons” story
By Chris Bishop
“Damn it!”
The
barrel of his recently-used gun still smoking, Commander Philip Montgomery crossed
the distance separating him from the hatch in three long strides, taking little
notice of his men who were getting back to their feet around him. He pushed
Williams, who was already peering down the hatch, out of his way and, hanging
on to the line, looked down in turn. It was too late for him to see anything of
significance, as the falling body of Captain Scarlet had already disappeared
into the greenery below.
“Damn it all!” The raging Montgomery turned to Williams,
next to him. “You should have stopped
him!”
“I tried, sir,” Williams defended
himself. “But I wasn’t close enough and
it was already too late to do anything.”
“At the very least, did you
notice exactly where he fell?”
A call coming from the cockpit
prevented Williams from answering. “Major!” Montgomery turned on his heel. That
was the pilot, busy at the helm. “The
Angel fighter, sir. It’s still coming at us!”
Montgomery’s eyes narrowed to
dangerous slits. Although he wasn’t sure he had been able to stop Scarlet from
warning the Angel pilot, he had little doubt that she must have seen the body
falling from the chopper. “I already gave my orders, Whitaker,” he replied.
“Get rid of her, fast.” He turned a dejected look in the direction of the
still-open hatch. Scarlet would have to
wait a little longer. They had a more urgent problem to attend to first. “She must
not contact Spectrum and report what happened here…”
* * *
Upon her return to the search area after
contacting Cloudbase, Rhapsody Angel was a little puzzled to discover that the
WAAF helicopter – which was on the ground when she had left earlier – was now
in the sky, flying over Captain Scarlet’s previous position. Not knowing what
could be transpiring, she decided to approach to learn more about what exactly
could have been going on while she had been away.
As she was moving towards the chopper, things
happened very fast. First, her radio
came suddenly to life with the voice of Captain Scarlet shouting in her ears,
issuing an urgent warning; the anxiety she could hear in his voice was brutally
interrupted by a loud crack – a single gunshot – and a muffled cry. Eyes wide in confusion, and then complete
horror, she then saw a body stumbling from the hatch underneath the belly of
the chopper and falling to the ground far below.
From her present position, she couldn’t see
clearly enough to be sure, but there was barely a doubt in her mind that this
falling body was Captain Scarlet. She
could feel it in her guts.
The following second, even before she could come
out of her surprise, she saw the WAAF helicopter veer squarely and head towards
her – and a flash appear from underneath the cockpit.
“Oh, damn…” It was purely instinct that made
Rhapsody pull on the helm as she realised – just as she saw it – what that
flash meant for her. Two missiles had
been launched in her direction, and at this distance, there was little chance
they would miss her craft.
She managed to avoid the first one – it grazed
the belly of her craft, and made the Angel tremble as it passed. As for the second one, although it missed
the direct hit, it did manage to strike the lower tail.
The shock sent the Angel into a wild spin, and
warning lights started blinking red inside the cockpit. Rhapsody bit off a
curse and, fighting against the now barely manageable helm, desperately
attempted to regain control of her craft. At the same time, she activated her
communicator to send a distress call:
“This is Rhapsody Angel calling Cloudbase! S.I.R., I’m under attack! S.I.R…”
The first thing she heard was the static in her
earphones. Of course, she
couldn’t contact Cloudbase, she recalled in frustration; she had momentarily
forgotten that at this location, she was out of touch with base, due to that
blasted storm over the Gulf of Mexico.
Cloudbase would know nothing of her predicament, until it was too late.
Maybe if she used a new channel, she could
reach someone else in the area and…
“THIS IS THE VOICE OF THE MYSTERONS…”
Rhapsody’s eyes grew wide again. Of all the rotten luck… No… it couldn’t
be a coincidence!
She never got to hear the remainder of the
Mysterons’ threat this time around. A violent explosion made her craft jolt,
and the radio went dead all of a sudden as sparks flew from the control
panel. An electrical shock made
Rhapsody let go of the now useless helm. Either it was a second volley from the
chopper or the first missile returning – as far as she knew, it could have been
heat-seeking – she would never know.
Neither would it serve her, actually.
The Angel was now totally out of control and she saw part of her left
wing, torn by the previous explosion, spin away from the craft.
Again, her instinctive reflexes saved her and
she pulled on the ejector seat lever.
The clear canopy blew away over her head and she felt the catapult
beneath her seat pushing upward. She
closed her eyes and prayed that she wouldn’t hit any debris as she ejected from
the interceptor with the seat.
She was lucky. The angle of the falling craft
was such that she was blown in an oblique direction, completely away from the
Angel. Only at that moment did she
realise how close she was to the ground, and she knew a short moment of panic,
at the thought that her parachute might not have time to deploy safely. But she didn’t need to worry, as a second
later, she felt the comforting if violent jerk, and her descent slowed down
considerably. She looked up to see the white of the parachute unfolding over
her head, and then down towards the ground, which was now approaching slowly.
A violent blast made her turn her head towards
the sky, and she saw her Angel craft, at some distance overhead, explode in a
ball of fire and debris. The helicopter had obviously finished it off, and was
now turning its attention towards her.
She was not out of danger yet.
The WAAF helicopter was coming her way,
threateningly, and her eyes grew wide at the realisation that the pilot had no
intention whatsoever of letting her land safely.
She looked down towards the ground below; the
trees were not so very far now. Could
she make it in one piece if she was to leave the seat and jump, she
wondered? No, she was still too high,
she would more than likely kill herself.
She looked up in fear at the approaching helicopter.
Right at this moment, Fate suddenly lent her a
helping hand.
As the helicopter was coming in for the kill, a
rain of debris and fire fell between them, obviously coming from the Angel
craft destroyed only seconds before, and the helicopter had to veer abruptly to
avoid it. Rhapsody felt a tug as something hit her parachute and she looked up
to see a burning hole, the size of her head, in the white fabric. Her descent
suddenly speeded up.
No choice now… Quickly, her decision was made, and she pulled
the security handle attached to the belt crossing her chest. She was automatically released from both
seat and parachute and she jumped down the remaining distance to the top of the
trees below her feet.
This will be a hard landing, she realised instantly.
Instinctively assuming the landing position, she brought her forearms upward in
front of her face, tucked her chin down against her throat, pressed feet and
knees together as tight as she could, while at the same time bending her knees
and pointing the balls of her feet upwards. The tension in her legs was a
little too tight and she fought herself to keep calm, as she ploughed through
the top of the trees, hoping that she wouldn’t hit the branches too roughly as
she fell to the ground. She was lucky, as no large branches hit her directly
enough to cause her any harm, but she did feel twigs grazing and flapping
against her body; she kept her forearms tightly against her face to protect it,
feeling the stings as the branches and leaves tore through her uniform and
lacerated the skin beneath, and prepared herself for the roughest landing she
had ever experienced.
Her incredible luck held, and she felt her feet
coming into contact, not with the ground, but with water instead. She gasped loudly as she sank completely into the
coldness. She just had the time to take
a quick gulp of air before the water covered her head and she sank deeper. The
contact of the water against the scratches of her body made her wince and,
desperate to keep the little air she had, she fought the urge to cry out in
pain. She removed her helmet, which was weighing her down, to throw it away,
and forced her eyes open; the water was cloudy, and she could barely see
through it. There was a ray of light
though, just overhead. The surface,
obviously. She kicked in that
direction.
She burst through the surface and gasped in
some clammy, but much needed, air. She couldn’t believe she had survived with
only the most minor of injuries; never
before had she landed in the middle of the wilderness. She was aware of having been very lucky.
She assessed her situation; she had obviously
landed in a small lake – or rather a large pond, partly covered by overhanging
trees; at the moment, she was swimming in the middle of it, and she could see
the clear sky above her head.
She heard an approaching whipping sound, and just
over the top of the trees, coming towards her position, she saw the WAAF
helicopter, with a man sitting on the edge of the side opening, his feet
resting on the float beneath. Obviously, the enemy was searching for her, with
the intention of finishing her off if she had survived her fall. Rhapsody had
no intention of giving them that opportunity.
Finding she was too exposed at the moment, she quickly plunged
underwater and headed in the general direction of the closest shore.
When she emerged, about a minute later, she
found herself under the safety of the lowest branches of a large copse of
trees. Hidden amongst mace reeds and thorny bushes, she watched the helicopter,
which was now flying very low and very slowly over the middle of the pond. The man in the hatch was armed with an
automatic weapon, and was scrutinizing the water with attention. She saw him
firing a long volley of bullets into the empty water, and winced. Either he had seen the shadow of an alligator
swimming under the water, or he was just simply firing blindly to make sure
that she would not escape. She kept
still and watched the operation, keeping low in the mud, clenching her teeth,
trying desperately to keep her teeth from chattering in the cold she was now
feeling.
She heard dead wood crack under heavy
footsteps, and almost jumped in surprise.
Then there were voices, approaching her position.
“If you ask me, we’re wasting our time,” she
heard a male voice say. “The girl bought it.”
“Shut up, Williams, and keep searching. The
major doesn’t want to take any chances.”
Rhapsody soon saw two men appear behind the
bushes; they were two of the WAAF commandos she had met in New Orleans, just
before they had left for Devil’s Bayou. Her heartbeat increased as they came a little
too close for her comfort. Where she was at the moment, there were few places
to hide from them, and they would discover her very quickly – and kill her, she
had no doubt. Behind her, a new volley
of bullets fired into the water reminded her that the helicopter was also still
looking for her.
She was certain that other commandos, besides
those two men, were searching the shores too.
Although still out of view of the approaching
soldiers, Rhapsody feared that the might find her within seconds if she were to
stay there. Quickly, she scanned the
area with her eyes. Not that far from
her position was a huge willow tree, with its lowest branches extended nearly
into the water beneath, and its foot completely covered with mace reeds and
thick, tangled bushes.
There.
Quickly, Rhapsody’s numb hand slid down her
right thigh towards her pocket and her fingers slipped inside, to remove a
small oblong object from it. Then, slowly, as silently as she could, she sank
back into the water, and disappeared completely under the surface, just as the
two men came to stand barely a foot from her.
She didn’t know how long she would have to wait
there until it would be safe for her to resurface, so she put the miniaturized
respirator she had taken from her pocket into her mouth and pulled it open to
activate it. It was Captain Grey’s most
recent creation, and only recently, the respirator, with its capsule of thirty
minutes’ worth of concentrated oxygen within, had been added to the Angel
pilots’ equipment, as part of their survival kit, in case of an emergency
landing or ejection over water. Now it
would be helpful to her in a different way, by permitting her to avoid her
pursuers.
Rhapsody swam underwater for a good five
minutes, breathing through the respirator, and trying to get a sense of
direction in the muddy water. She kept
close to the shore, trying not to disturb the surface too much. She finally
emerged anew, amongst the copses of thick bushes and reeds, just under the
shadow of the root of the willow tree, which plunged directly into the pond.
This new hiding place kept her out of sight from the helicopter – still flying
low over the pond – and whoever might be searching for her on the shore.
“Whitaker just called in.”
Rhapsody froze when she heard that voice – the
same voice as before, so close over her head. She raised her eyes. Just leaning against the tree, under the
root of which she was hiding, was one of the same men she had seen before. He
was presently hooking his communicator back to his vest, and was addressing his
companion, who, standing by the shore, was looking in the direction of the
hovering helicopter. Silently, Rhapsody lowered herself further into the water,
down to her nostrils, and kept deadly quiet.
“They found the girl’s ‘chute,” the man
continued. “It was torn in two and had a burned hole in the middle. It was probably hit by that rain of debris
that nearly got us too.”
The other man slowly nodded. “No trace of the body, though?”
“If she was still attached to her seat, then
she probably sank with it to the bottom of the lake. It’s too damned dark to
see anything in that dirty water.”
“I don’t know, Williams. As Mahoney always said
– those damned Angels are pretty resourceful.”
“She would have resurfaced by now if she was
still alive, Baxter. We haven’t found her, and neither have the other teams.
Besides, Palmer is making sure she won’t come up to breathe.” Cracking sounds of gunfire came from the
lake at that moment, as if to give weight to Williams’s words. A thin, cruel smile appeared on his lips.
“Face it, she’s dead and out of our hair.”
He paused a short moment. “The
major wants us to regroup at the chopper in five minutes. We’re going back to search for Scarlet.”
“I wish we knew exactly where he fell,” Baxter
said morosely.
“Relax, we know the approximate position. He
can’t go very far.” Williams chuckled
evilly. “With that bullet the major put
in his head, and that fall he took, he’s not about to revive anytime soon, no
matter how indestructible he might be.”
Rhapsody’s teeth clenched in anger; so she had
been right all along. That body she had
seen fall from the helicopter was indeed Captain Scarlet. And the fact that these men knew about his
indestructibility was a very good indication that they might be Mysterons. That secret was not known amongst other
security or military agencies.
“We’ll find him and then get rid of him once
and for all,” Williams continued. “And take from him what we are here for.”
“Perfect. Then we’ll get out of this
Godforsaken swamp and get on with our job,” Baxter added. “If we use the chopper to search the area,
that shouldn’t take very long.”
“Actually, we can’t,” William replied, causing his companion to
turn toward him. “We can’t afford more than one reconnaissance flight over the
area, then Whitaker wants to take it back to our previous landing spot. He says he heard some spitting sounds coming
from the engines and he wants to check that out. It’s possible they took a hit earlier. Besides, we don’t have enough fuel to fly much longer
anyway. We have to keep what we have
left to go back to New Orleans.”
“Great,” grumbled Baxter. “Looks like we will stay here longer than we
really intended to.” He sighed and
straightened up, leaving his watching position, while his companion pushed himself
away from the tree against which he was still leaning. “Well, let’s go then. Let’s not keep the major waiting. He must be in a right mood right now…”
The two men left, without even a look back.
Still deep in the water with only her head out,
Rhapsody watched them go; then,
carefully, she glanced over her shoulder towards the middle of the
pond.
She saw the helicopter slowly gain some
altitude, while the shooter at the hatch went back inside, sliding the door
closed as he did so. The helicopter
veered abruptly in the same direction Williams and Baxter were heading. From what she had just heard, Rhapsody
imagined that all the teams searching for her were now to rendezvous with the
craft at an already agreed location. However, she cautiously looked around, to
make sure there was no-one else still there; it was only when she was perfectly
sure that she was all alone in the surrounding wilderness that she permitted
herself to sigh with deep relief, and slowly squelched out of the pond to crawl
onto solid, yet muddy, ground.
She was gasping, her teeth were chattering, and
she was shivering from her long stay in the cold water. Her feet were soaking in her water-filled
boots, and she hurriedly removed and emptied them. She then took off her soaked
socks and energetically wrung them out to remove as much water from them as she
could. She then carefully spread them
atop the dry root of the willow tree underneath which she had hidden earlier. Her clothes were filthy, and were sticking uncomfortably to her, so she
removed her torn uniform top, at the same time glancing at her communication
epaulettes. One of them was completely
shattered, while the other was filled with water – both broken beyond repair.
Groaning, she put the jacket aside and gingerly checked herself for any
injury.
She had been very lucky: from her fall
and subsequent swim in the pond, she was suffering from only a pulled muscle in
her left shoulder and a few scratches all over her body, the deepest of which
had been inflicted on her left arm and ran from the shoulder down to the
elbow. Now that it was out of the cold
water, it was stinging like hell and bleeding rather profusely, and Rhapsody
thought it would be better to clean it up the best she could and to bandage it
quickly. There was no telling what kind
of filth could be floating in that pond, and she didn’t want to worry about any
kind of blood poisoning or infection.
From the large inside pocket of her jacket, she
took the pouch containing her Spectrum-issue first-aid kit. The pouch was waterproof, and fortunately
had not been ripped during all her recent mishaps; but it contained only the
very basics of what she would need in case of trouble, and quite frankly, to
properly take care of that cut, she would have preferred to have something a
little more than that. She shrugged,
trying to dismiss the thought.
Obviously, this would have to do the job for now. She would have her wounds checked by a
doctor as soon as possible.
While working very quickly to clean up the cut –
all the while clenching her jaws against the stinging pain caused by the
antiseptic iodine – Rhapsody’s mind was
working fast to assess her situation, and what would now be her course of
action. The Mysterons had launched a
threat – of what nature, she didn’t know as yet, because her radio had gone
dead before she could hear it. However, she was one hundred percent sure that
it had something to do with what Captain Scarlet and she had come to retrieve,
here in this Louisiana bayou.
The WAAF commandos were acting hostile, and she
had to suppose that they could be Mysteron agents. Scarlet was lost somewhere
in this wilderness, either grievously wounded or dead, and the commandos,
believing her to be dead as well, were now looking for him – and for whatever
they thought he possessed.
She had no means of contacting Cloudbase even
if it had been within reach; for that matter, she couldn’t even reach anyone
else, as her communications devices were either lost or destroyed. She was away from civilisation – from
memory, she could recall one or two little settlements in the area, but still
they were at some distance from her position, and she wasn’t that sure they
were deserving of any ‘civilised’ epithet.
She wasn’t even sure there was any authority or law enforcement figures
in those places.
Right, a fine mess this is…
But there was one bright spot to all this –
namely, following the new Mysteron threat, Cloudbase would now expect them to
radio in before they missed their scheduled check-in time. That was standard procedure. If they were not to contact Spectrum… then
their prolonged silence would be considered as highly suspicious. And if the threat was specific enough for
Spectrum to believe it had something to do with their mission, then Colonel
White would order that someone be sent to Louisiana to find them – as quickly
as possible.
But how soon would that be, before it was too
late?
Rhapsody didn’t think she could waste any time
in waiting to be rescued. She had to do
something herself, and she didn’t have much choice about what she actually had
to do; as a matter of fact, her decision had been reached already as she waited
in the stagnant water for the WAAF soldiers to go away.
She had to find Captain Scarlet before
them.
While at the helm of her Angel craft, she had
had a pretty good view of where he had fallen, and she had every hope of being
able to get there before the commandos.
According to what she had heard, their helicopter would go first to that
landing spot they had previously used.
That gave her a head start.
Furthermore, they would have to make their way through the swamp with
all their weapons and heavy equipment – while she would be travelling very
light. Of course, she would have given anything
to at least have a handgun, but unfortunately, she had lost hers
when she took that forced dive in the lake;
she would have to do without.
It’s going to be close, though, she reflected grimly.
Still, she considered she had a good chance. The
commandos believed her dead; so they would never think that she might beat them
to the prize and consequently, they would not hurry too much to get to Scarlet
– especially if they considered him
dead, or at least, very seriously
injured.
If he was dead, and Rhapsody believed him to be
if he had been shot in the head before that awful fall, then he would not heal
fully and revive for a good six hours.
At least, that’s what the English pilot grimly considered. She didn’t
like thinking that he was all alone, and totally defenceless, somewhere in this
swamp. Scarlet’s extraordinary healing capacities since his first encounter
with the Mysterons had never ceased to surprise her – and everyone else too –
but sometimes, she wondered if he didn’t take them too much for granted. So far, his powers had never really failed
him, but there was still so much they didn’t know about them, that it was
natural to wonder to what extent he could really trust in them. Thus far, it was
merely supposed that high-voltage electricity could be as dangerous for him as
it was for any human being, but there was still the high possibility that
something else could truly hurt him…
something that hadn’t occurred yet, and which might be equally as lethal
for him.
If his body were to be so very severely damaged
– whatever the reason or the circumstances – could he still heal? So far, he had come back from some rather
horrible and grisly ‘deaths’ but… maybe he just had not yet reached the limits
of his powers?
I wonder if these thoughts also concern him, Rhapsody pondered. Or if he even imagines that we would
worry about him so much – perhaps needlessly, and I’m sure he would tell us so
himself. But still, we’re his
friends… and I for one can’t help
worrying about him.
Trying to chase away those troubling thoughts,
Rhapsody finished wrapping the bandage tightly around her arm. Then, she put her socks and boots – still
damp – back onto her feet. After tying up her hair into a
rather crude ponytail, so it would not fall into her eyes and hinder her
progress, she searched the multiple pockets of her jacket and removed from them
a collection of useful little objects – matches, a lighter, a small compass, a
multi-bladed knife, her Spectrum ID wallet and the respirator tube, and put
them into the various pockets of her trousers, along with what remained of the
first aid pouch. She then rolled the
jacket into a ball and stashed it under the root of the willow tree. It was
uncomfortably damp in this swamp, and the jacket, damaged as it was, was now
worthless and would have hampered her movements. She thought it would be far
more comfortable for her to travel wearing only her sweater, trousers and
boots.
She checked the time on her watch, and then
orientated herself, searching for the direction that would lead her to
Scarlet’s position, and recalling from her memory the terrain’s general
geography, to draw the surest and fastest course to get to him. The ground was
treacherous all the way, she considered – with swamps, pits, snakes, alligators,
quicksand, and whatever other dangers she didn’t know about. She estimated a good two hours’ distance on
foot. And the commandos, leaving from
their previous landing position –
assuming they did not find Scarlet while overflying where he had fallen – would
have approximately the same distance to cover.
This will be a very close race, Rhapsody reminded herself again.
Grimly, she began her journey at the
double. She didn’t have any more time
to lose.
* * *
Captain Scarlet’s body took a very harsh beating
as it fell through the thick foliage of the trees, and hit many branches on its
way down. Fortunately for him, the Spectrum officer was unconscious
through the whole ordeal, and when his body finally hit the ground with a dull
thud, his fall had been slowed down enough so that it didn’t hit as hard as it
might have, even considering the height it had fallen from. Bleeding, his uniform and flesh slashed in
many places by the lashing of twigs, his bones broken, he lay limply on his
back at the foot of the trees, the shadows concealing his motionless form
from prying eyes which might have watched him from the sky.
He never saw any of the ensuing battle over the
treetops, as the helicopter left its position to attack the Angel fighter, nor
did he hear the sound of the explosion, as the Spectrum craft was blown out of
the sky. If he had, he would probably
have been worried sick about the fate of its pilot, so it was some kind of an
added blessing for him that he didn’t have to witness any of that. He was too
far gone by now, to worry about anything at all – and even less about his own
fate.
Contrary to what the Mysteronised commandos had
assumed, neither the bullet, nor the fall, had killed him, but he was so
grievously wounded that had he been a normal human being, he would have died
from his injuries in a very short time, and no amount of care would have been
able to save him. For a time, he
wavered uncertainly between life and death, his breathing at first laborious,
his heart beating unsteadily, his mind captive in a dark place from which he
didn’t seem able to escape.
The first image to enter his mind was that of a
violent flash of light – red and yellow – like fire threatening to eat at him.
It was burning, consuming him, causing him unbearable pain. Vague pictures then
followed through the pain, haloed by a strange white mist – fast cars, aircraft he didn’t know flying
into a blue sky dotted with white clouds…
faces that he couldn’t recognise, so indistinct and out of reach were
they. And then sounds filled his ears, horrible sounds of untold violence –
shouts, violent deflagrations, screams of pain from women and men alike,
crackling of automatic weapons, gunshots, mounting in a violent crescendo that
threatened to deafen him, or drive him crazy.
The last sounds he heard, almost unbearable to
endure, were the whisking sound of helicopter blades, then warning shouts – and
the cracking thunder of a gunshot that reverberated through his skull.
Coming out of his dream, he opened his eyes
with a start, gasping.
His brutal awakening caused a fiery pain that
clouded his mind and he groaned, closing his eyes. His whole body was in terrible, unexplainable pain, but it was nothing
compared to what he was feeling in his head.
He could barely move – he didn’t dare make
a single move, in fact. He was lying
there on his back, trying to overcome this pain he was in, that seemed to stop
him from being able to think, to comprehend what was happening to him.
Gasping – it seemed to him his lungs were on
fire – Scarlet opened his eyes once more, this time very carefully. He had to blink many times before his vision
would clear, and he realised that he was staring up towards the sky, through
the high branches of a tree under which he was lying. In his ears, he could now
hear the peaceful sounds of the wind through the leaves, a river, which seemed
to be running not that far from him, the song of nearby birds, and the
incessant tapping of a woodpecker working on the bark of a tree… Nothing remotely as violent as what he had
heard and seen in his dream – all the calm and quiet of the Nature surrounding him.
Almost too calm and quiet.
What happened? What am I doing here?
He still felt the pain throughout his body and
especially in the back of his head. He tried
to rise, but was barely able to lift his head more than an inch, as the pain
pulled him down. His back was killing
him; it was as if it was broken. But if
it was broken, he wouldn’t be able to move at all – and he wouldn’t feel
anything, right? That was something of a consolation, he thought, although he
was hurting so much that he wasn’t sure if he should be that satisfied with
it.
More cautiously this time, he made another
attempt, pushing himself up on one elbow as he rose to his side; his head felt
like a thousand bricks, and momentarily, his vision blacked out entirely, as if
his skull exploded; he closed his eyes and gasped, almost unable to breathe, so
much did it hurt. As he tried to raise
himself further, and support himself on his thigh, he felt the persistent
throbbing in his left leg. The pain
became so intolerable that he had to clench his teeth so not to cry out.
Scarlet forced himself to open his eyes again;
his face was now turned towards the leg which was hurting him so much. Again,
he blinked many times to clear his eyes from the salty sweat falling into them,
and to clear his vision. He could see the blood soaking the lower part of his
leg, about midway below the knee, where there was a large tear in his trouser
leg. He could see the sharp end of a broken bone sticking out through the flesh
and fabric.
Compound fracture, he realised almost immediately. No wonder his leg was hurting so
much...
It’ll have to be put back in place. The coldness with which he came to
this conclusion almost surprised him, and brought a new pang of pain to the
back of his head, that made him close his eyes again and lower his head. It was hurting him more than he could bear
and that scared him. Slowly, with a
cautious and very hesitant movement, and despite enormous
effort demanded of his aching body, he lifted his right arm up and then
carefully slipped his hand behind his head.
Gingerly, he searched for the tender spot he could feel on the back of
his head; his fingers came into contact with something sticky and damp and he
gasped again. He brought his hand
forward and opened his eyes to look.
He was shocked to discover his whole hand
covered with blood.
His own blood.
Panic started to fill him, and it did nothing
to ease his pain.
“You alive, son?”
The deep voice calling to him – tainted with an
obvious accent of surprise – made a startled Scarlet turn his head in the
direction from which it came. He immediately regretted it as another new pain
raced through his neck and spine.
Through a growing mist, he saw the outlines of a grey-bearded old man,
wearing dirty clothes and armed with a huge rifle, striding his way, his gun
aimed at him. Scarlet’s eyes, wide with
deep concern, followed the barrel of the gun, as the man approached. His heart rate increased, as he contemplated
the possibility that the violent dream that had welcomed his return to
consciousness was suddenly becoming a reality.
But as he reached him, the old man simply knelt
by his side, putting the rifle onto the ground to lean over him, an expression
of concern – and astonishment – obvious on his craggy face. The tension that
was keeping him upright left Scarlet at that moment, and he fell on his back,
with a loud groan.
“Take it easy,” the old man told him; his voice, although gruff, was surprisingly
soothing. “You’re in a bad way, sonny…
It’s a good thing Ol’ Joe saw you fall… He’ll take good care of you…”
“F-fall?” Scarlet muttered almost
inaudibly. “W… what…?” He muffled a cry as the pain in his head
became even worse than before, and his mind started to spin vertiginously, then
started to cover itself with a deep mist.
“Don’t try to talk, boy… It’ll be all right…”
“W-what…”
Scarlet slurred, trying to look at the old man he knew was bending over
him. “What happened… to me?”
His eyelids fluttered, as he drifted further
into unconsciousness; he fought
desperately to keep a grip on reality – but barely had the time to utter one
last sentence.
“I can’t… remember a thing…” His eyes closed and darkness engulfed him
completely, as his skull exploded in fiery pain.
Standing at the opening of the observation
tube, in the Control Room, Colonel White was thoughtfully watching the horizon,
looking towards the huge grey and black clouds that had formed some hundreds of
feet below their present altitude. He
could see flashes of lightning through the moving clouds and knew that
underneath, the storm was raging furiously, pouring bucketfuls of rain onto the
sea, islands and lands below. Called
away to attend its next mission against the Mysterons, Cloudbase was at a safe
distance and height, and was presently moving in a north-easterly
direction, further away from the storm.
“Angels One and Two are in flight, sir,” the
voice of Lieutenant Green, seated at his station, told him quietly.
White silently acknowledged the report with a
brief nod. With Angel Three away on its
own assignment, he had previously ordered the backup craft out of the hangar
and ready for use in case of emergency.
It had been quite a while since the use of more than three Angels at a
time had been needed – the necessity of it only occurring two or three times in
the past. And even then, one of those times had been to replace a launched
Angel that had just crashed to the ground.
Fortunately, the pilot at the helm at that time –Symphony – had been
able to eject safely.
“We’ll
reach Futura City in two hours,” Green
continued. “Estimated time of
arrival: 1735, local time.”
“No news from Captain Scarlet and Rhapsody
Angel?” White asked, not leaving his position
in front of the tube.
“None so far, sir. Not since Rhapsody contacted us, just a few minutes before the
Mysterons issued their threat.”
White thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “She was returning to her escort duty in
Louisiana, after her report,” he said,
almost to himself. “So since the storm
is still obstructing any contact with her through the communication satellite,
she’s back out of touch. And so is
Scarlet.”
“Rhapsody did report that everything was going fine,” Green noted,
as his commander turned back to him, and he saw the musing – even slightly concerned – expression on his
face. “I know they should have reported soon after the Mysterons’ threat to ask
about new orders, but… maybe they didn’t hear that either, due to the storm?”
“That is a distinct possibility,” White agreed.
He
recalled that, a little more than a year ago, when the Mysterons had made their
Voice heard through all of Earth’s communication frequencies to announce their
first threat, the event had caused a
wind of panic to spread amongst Earth’s population. At the time, no-one had
been able to intercept the message, as nobody was even prepared for it. But times had changed since then. Taking its
most crucial decision ever, the World Government’s official position concerning
the Mysterons was to deny they were from Mars, but instead, to pretend that
they were a new group of worldwide terrorists who were using elaborate hoaxes
to strike fear into the collective mind. That was, of course, an incredibly
daring and perilous gamble, and the World Government was hoping that the people
of Earth would not discover the lie.
Politically, a conspiracy on such a large scale was particularly risky,
but it was nothing compared to the kind of difficulties posed by frightened
crowds dreading attacks from alien invaders.
For security forces around the world, it might even become too much to
handle. Eventually, maybe, the world
would know the truth about the Mysterons.
When it was ready. Or when no
other choice was left to its leaders.
In
order to keep people unaware of the Mysterons’ true nature, and avoid a
repetition of the panic created by their first message, a very secure ‘firewall’ was devised and installed
on mini-sats in orbit around the world; they were designed to intercept any
signals coming from Mars, before they could be picked up by any other
receivers.
Now, only World Government Security satellites,
specifically configured for Spectrum use, were able to pick up the Martian
signals, and whenever a Mysteron threat was announced, it was broadcast on
every communication frequency used by Spectrum, so that every member of the
organisation who heard it would be on immediate alert and ready for duty.
“If their radios were cut off from the main
loop, indeed they might not have heard the threat either,” White
concurred. “So they would be totally
ignorant of what is currently happening and would carry on with their mission.”
“Should we send someone to inform them, sir?”
Green inquired.
White gave it some thought. According to Rhapsody’s report, Captain
Scarlet had found the A67-Z’s passenger cabin and was about to search the
immediate area. There was no telling
how far he had got in his investigation, or if he would even have succeeded, but
he still had some chance of finding the case containing the chip he was to
retrieve.
I might as well give him that chance… Who knows
when we’ll be THAT close to finding that damned chip again?
“No,” White finally answered his aide’s
question. “Their presence is not
required as yet, as we still don’t know the nature of the Mysterons’
threat. Captain Scarlet and Rhapsody
Angel can proceed with their present mission.
However, they have to be informed of the situation, in case we need them
to return urgently.” He went to his
desk and sat down, before returning his attention to Green. “We need all remaining personnel onboard at
the moment, so I won’t be sending anyone to Louisiana right now. Have our New
Orleans ground agent contacted through relayed transmission, Lieutenant. You
can arrange that, can’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” Green answered, while consulting
his instruments. “Our line to
Washington is clear. Our base there
will be able to contact our New Orleans offices.”
“Perfect.
I want our man there to try to contact Captain Scarlet and Rhapsody
Angel from his station, and to tell them of the Mysterons’ threat, but that
they should carry on, until further orders.”
“S.I.G., sir.”
“Maybe that storm will have blown itself out by
then, and we’ll be able to reach them ourselves directly,” White continued. “In
the meanwhile, we have to concentrate on this new threat that’s fallen into our
laps. Have all the on-duty captains
report to the Control Room at once for briefing.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I want to know what they think of this new
threat,” White murmured, taking his pen from his desk, his brow furrowing
pensively. “Now… what could the
Mysterons mean by it…? ‘Two allied
capitals will suffer from their own protection…’ That doesn’t make much sense
at all…”
“I hate cryptic threats,” Green grumbled.
White threw his pen onto his desk, in a
frustrated gesture. “As do I,
Lieutenant. As do I.”
* * *
Spectrum ground agent Max Laborteaux, the New
Orleans communications and inter-administrative liaison officer – a rather high-sounding title that simply
meant that he was responsible for all communication and relations between
Spectrum and the various official authorities of the city – was in his office
as he spoke on the phone to Lieutenant Bister, communications officer at the
Washington Spectrum base. Seated in front of his window, his back turned to his
desk, Laborteaux was distractedly watching the rain fall over the city. A few minutes ago, Bister had called him
with instructions relayed from Cloudbase.
Laborteaux was now contacting him in turn with a report on the
situation.
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” Laborteaux said to his
interlocutor, spinning his seat around to face his desk. “I did try to contact
Captain Scarlet and Rhapsody Angel as instructed, but it looks like I have the
same trouble as yourself and Cloudbase in reaching them. Yes, I know my office
is the one closest to them…” He sighed
and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I believe this damned storm in the
Gulf is responsible for the problem too – it’s jamming our frequencies quite
effectively. It hasn’t reached the
coast, fortunately, but it probably stands right between us and the satellite
relay… I do have some trouble hearing
you clearly…”
As if in answer to his words, static sounds
filled his receiver and he pushed it away from his ear, wincing. When he put the receiver against his ear
again, it was to hear the frustrated groan from Bister at the other end.
“Sorry about that,” he added with a barely
concealed smile of amusement. “It’s not
like there’s anything I can do… Yeah, I
copy. I will relay Colonel White’s
information to both Captain Scarlet and Rhapsody Angel when I’m able to contact
them… Of course, I hope it’ll be soon
enough too… Yes, Lieutenant… Don’t
worry about a thing… I have everything
in hand… I’ll keep you informed…
Goodbye.”
Laborteaux hung up the receiver, before even
hearing the reply from his interlocutor. He whirled his chair around and looked
pensively out of the window again. The
rain outside was only local, and judging from the sky, it would end very
soon. It was far from resembling the
violent storm that was presently raging in the Gulf of Mexico.
“Was it good enough?” he asked over his
shoulder.
“You did well,” was the answer he received.
Laborteaux turned around once more, this time to
face the man standing rigidly in front of his desk. He slowly intertwined his fingers and gave a sigh. “You do realise that they will eventually
get suspicious.”
“Then you will know what to do,” the monotone
voice replied slowly.
A faint smile spread upon Laborteaux’s
lips. “Oh yes…” he answered ever so
quietly, as he looked up into the cold, pale features of Captain Black. “The
Mysterons’ orders will be carried out…”
Any comments? Send an E-MAIL
to the SPECTRUM HEADQUARTERS site