Operation: Minerva
It was still dark when Ochre finally pulled
the Saloon car into the laneway that Doctor Weller had assured him would lead
directly to Doctor McLaine's place of residence. The country home, located some
fifty miles east of Toronto, belonged technically to the Corporation and was
adjacent to a tract of farmland also belonging SWC ‑ and where there was
an agricultural research station and veterinary clinic on‑site. He
suspected that the residence, which turned out to be a large and contemporary
multi‑level design, was maintained by the Corporation as local guest
lodging for visiting researchers ‑ and, no doubt, provided SWC with a
sizable tax shelter as well. He approved of the location ‑ the house was
perched atop a high bluff overlooking the heaving grey‑green waters of
Lake Ontario and was flanked on either side by flat fields that ran to a wooded
area on the west and a steep ravine to the east, one that emptied a small creek
into the lake. To the north were the adjacent farmlands ‑ it would be
quite easy, he decided, to set up an effective security perimeter around the
property. That was Russet's job to organise...
Vermilion was now stuck with Blue and the
over‑garrulous Arthur Prince, and Vermilion, not knowing any better than
the rest of them, had even volunteered for it, being an electronics buff
himself. Vermilion had thought his expertise might help. Might just, at that, if
Prince would stop talking long enough for Vermilion to tell him all about
it. Ochre himself was feeling rather pleased to have pulled Doctor McLaine as
his own assignment, and Blue hadn't even offered to swap. Symphony had a
jealous streak that Blue didn't care to push if he could help it.
So, serve Blue right, if he was going to
let Symphony push him around like that... Ochre was not sympathetic in the
least.
He found that there was no car in the
driveway and no car in the garage. He rang the doorbell and was, after a
suitable interval had elapsed, convinced enough that there was nobody home to
pick the lock with the Spectrum‑issue electronic key that they all
carried as a part of their standard kits. He let himself in quietly, hoping to conduct a quick and discreet
security check before Doctor McLaine showed up to catch him at it.... He turned
to close the door, reached for the light‑switch, and when he turned
again---‑
Captain Ochre abruptly found himself face to
muzzle with the biggest dog he'd ever seen in his life ‑ a huge
dog that jumped up at him, forcing his back to the door and pinning him there
with paws that easily had the equal of his own weight behind them: paws that
were suddenly and heavily draped over his shoulders ‑ his heart came just
as suddenly into his mouth while his pulse pounded wildly.
The dog licked his face, tail wagging,
overjoyed to see him.
Ochre finally let go held breath and
relaxed, realizing that the dog was not going to tear him to shreds on the
spot. He berated himself silently for having been so careless ‑ it could
have just as easily have been a Mysteron agent jumping him. Weller had even said
something about the dog too. But this was obviously no guard animal---just a
big, friendly mutt without even the audacity to bark when he'd rung the
doorbell; a dog that had silently allowed him to make a casual, leisurely break‑in.
Dammit, he thought. Dogs are supposed to bark!
Part Wolfhound by the look of the thing.
Only God knew what else, though the colouring indicated Dane. And that fit ‑
his family had been owned by a Great
Dane once, one that had taken him for many a walk, and it had been a supremely
silly‑minded thing, which had
been just as well. Nobody wanted a dog that big to be mean.
This one seemed to fit that particular
mold. “Okay boy ‑ down.” He
pushed the dog back, and it went willingly enough, sitting immediately to yawn
widely and thump its tail, looking expectantly at the door. He debated with
himself for a moment about letting the thing out. He'd be in hot water if it
ran off for sure. Still, he didn't want
to be followed around about his own
business here either. Ochre let the dog
out and waited for it to come back,
which it did when he whistled for it. The dog stretched lazily on its return
and trotted back into the house, settling onto the living room couch (this was
apparently allowed) then ignored him entirely, comfortable, it seemed, to have
a stranger in the house.
'Some guard dog you are.' Ochre murmured,
closing the door again, and feeling not at all ungrateful for it. He skimmed
through the house and completed his security check in peace. If there had been
any Mysteron tampering, he couldn't find it and wouldn't, not without making a
far more detailed sort of search that he didn't have the time for right then.
He'd been just about finished when Russet had called him up and advised that
Doctor McLaine's car had just passed his checkpoint and was on its way in. He locked up and got himself back outside
before the car came rolling up the laneway to the house and parked beside the
saloon car. He had the Mysteron detector ready, and snapped a picture of the
woman that got out of the car and stood beside the Saloon, examining the
gleaming Spectrum logo on the side panel in apparent consternation. As soon as
the detector showed negative, Ochre pulled down his cap mike and reported
quickly to Lieutenant Green. 'Doctor McLaine located safe and now under
surveillance. Ochre out.' Then he got out of the car to greet Tylan McLaine and
introduce himself...
'Doctor McLaine?' he began.
'None other than,' she replied, raising one
eyebrow to give him a surprisingly thorough appraisal. 'You realize of course,'
she said, bantering easily, 'that you've parked that thing on my side of the
driveway.'
'I beg your pardon?' It was not what he'd
expected to hear. Spectrum's presence normally provoked a somewhat less casual
response.
She had her own car keys out and had turned
to move for the trunk of the small silver imported wagon that she drove. She
opened the hatchback. 'You heard me.'
Ochre followed her around to the back of
the car. 'Doctor McLaine, I think that‑--'
'Here ‑ make yourself useful, since
you're here anyway.' She shoved a bag of groceries into his arms. 'I'll unlock
the door.' She let the bag go, obligating him to either catch it or let the
contents spill onto the driveway ‑ which would not have been a very good
start to things.
He caught the bag---the contents of which smelled
pretty good and evoked hunger instantly. He shook his head of that distraction
and followed Tylan McLaine up to the front door and through it. He dropped the
bag onto the front hallway bench and tried again. 'Doctor McLaine‑'
But she was whistling for the dog. 'Yo ‑
Merlin! Com'on, let's go!' The dog appeared around a corner, tail wagging
enthusiastically, and she got the same sort of greeting that he had. She let
the dog out again and went along after it, back for more groceries. He did not
fall for it that time; he simply waited and watched, holding the door open when
she returned with the next load in hand.
'Well, thank you!' she said brightly as she
brushed past him. 'It's so nice to know that chivalry isn't really dead.'
Oh, very subtle sarcasm in that one, he thought. Bet she's quick with the
comebacks too...
'You're welcome,' Ochre replied drily.
'Doctor McLaine--‑'
The bags landed on the bench beside the one
he'd dropped there. Finally she turned, putting her hands onto her hips to give
him another long appraisal. 'Ummmnnn. Excuse me...' she inquired politely, 'but
do I know you?' As if he was someone she might have met once in passing and
forgotten.
'No. Doctor McLaine, I'm--‑'
'I didn't think so. I'm Tylan McLaine. Have
you had breakfast yet?'
'Um, no, but‑--'
'Oh‑--good! I'm delighted! I do so
dislike eating alone. What's your preference?'
Ochre gave it up. The woman was being
deliberately outrageous and evasive. He was not going to get a word in edgewise
until she decided she was ready for it. He folded his arms and gave her a long
assessment back. 'What's on the menu?'
The eyebrow shot up in amusement at that.
Tylan McLaine shifted her stance suggestively and gave him a very unabashed and
critical once over that time. 'Anything you like,' she replied, just a little
too easily to have meant it.
She wasn't talking about bacon and eggs
either.
Well, he'd played that game before
too. He gave her his best and most lecherous wink. 'Maybe sometime when I'm not
on duty.'
Her features fell. 'Ohhh!' She groaned in
disappointment. 'How very typically military of you' she complained, letting
out a long sigh. She cast her glance around, finally allowing her gaze to come
back and inspect the uniform. 'Spectrum, huh?'
He nodded. 'Spectrum. Captain Ochre. I'm
afraid that a situation of some concern has come up.'
'So I'd gathered.' The voice had gone dry
and flat. Concerned herself, finally. 'Com'on in ‑ the offer for
breakfast is still open and you can tell me all about it...'
Not quite an hour later, Tylan McLaine
speared another sausage off the serving platter and chewed on it thoughtfully,
staring at the Spectrum officer sitting opposite across her kitchen table. She
had cooked too much ‑ not a problem as the stuff was good to eat cold too
‑ but as she tended to overeat when depressed or frightened, it wasn't
likely to last long enough to get into the leftover phase, because what this
rather attractive (if rather disconcertingly uniformed) man had just
told her had been more than enough to frighten her badly.
'Have seconds,' she told Captain Ochre with
her mouth full. That colour went very nicely with those lovely brown eyes too.
'I've had seconds,' he replied, matter‑of‑factly.
'Didn't you notice?' He was waiting for some sort of response to the news he'd
just delivered.
'So, have thirds.' She indicated the
remaining sausages on the plate. She was not given to hysterics, frightened or
not. Options and Contingency Plans had been crossing through her mind, the ones
that she and Arthur and Andy had bounced around but never actually supposed
they'd have to implement. She was blank on how to handle it. Martians wanting
Minerva wasn't something that had occurred to them. Talking to Andy and Arthur
seemed like a pretty good idea though.
'Thanks, no. I've had plenty.'
'Suit yourself.' Tylan shrugged and dumped
them onto her own plate. Then she reached for the vidphone sitting immediately
adjacent to the table. Ochre watched as she punched buttons.
'Doctor Weller's not home,' he stated
mildly, before she'd completed the sequence. 'If that's who you're calling.'
It was, and she was impressed that he'd
known Andy's number off by heart. Interesting. She lifted one brow, expecting
it to be true, but confirming it for herself anyway. 'You're right.' She hung
up and then promptly dialled Arthur instead. Ochre had said that Arthur was
home, if not alone.
Arthur did not answer the call, however.
The vid came up audio‑only and an unfamiliar voice said 'Hello?'
while the screen flickered ever so slightly, indication that there was a tracer
on the line. She'd figured that much, and she'd made very sure that her end was
audio‑only too.
'Mornin'' she greeted the stranger. 'Arthur
up yet?'
'May I ask who's calling?'
'May I ask who the hell wants to know?' She
noted peripherally as Ochre rolled his eyes upwards, trying not to smile too
obviously. He recognized the voice on the other end.
Brief silence. 'May I ask who's calling?'
the voice repeated, more sternly.
'You can ask.' But he'd know soon
enough... The trace would be complete, any second now---confirming her
line ID. The video came alive to reveal a ruggedly handsome blond in a blue
Spectrum uniform at the other end. 'Doctor McLaine,' he began, suitably
vexed with the call, 'would you please ask Captain Ochre to brief you on
communications procedures appropriate to the current security situation.'
She smiled her sweetest and wondered if
they had some kind of a good‑looks regulation in effect. Not half‑bad,
any of them so far... not half‑bad at all. 'That would be a waste of
Captain Ochre's time,' she sniffed indifferently. 'I'm afraid that I don't do
procedures, Mister...?'
'Captain Blue,' he supplied.
'...Captain Blue.' She finished her own
sentence amiably.
'That seems obvious.' Stiff reply. Very stiff; he
hadn't liked that at all. So much the better.
'And if it wouldn't be too terribly much
trouble, Captain, could you please drag Arthur's skinny little backside out of
bed and put him on the line for me?'
'Mr. Prince is sleeping, Doctor McLaine.'
'So I had assumed---‑if I suspected he was otherwise engaged I would
not ask you to interrupt him. I'll wait,' she said, dismissing him with a bit
of crisp finality and put the vid on hold. She returned her attention to the
nearly cold sausages, smiling at a quietly bemused Captain Ochre across the
table. He didn't look about to lecture her on procedures... rather he seemed
interested in seeing just where the performance was going.
Five minutes later, when the sausage was
gone and she took the vid off hold, it was to find Arthur's scowling, overtired
face on the screen . He looked like he'd been up most of the night.
'Damn it, Ty!' Arthur began irritably. 'The
next time you do that I'll just hang up!' Arthur didn't like to be put on hold.
Or dragged out of bed, for that matter. 'Are you home now? Are you under arrest
too?'
'You're not under arrest!' Captain
Blue objected in the background.
'I'm home,' Tylan replied calmly. Arthur
disliked dealing with officials; he detested confrontation. Arthur was presently
overtired, grumpy and ‑ she didn't doubt ‑ extremely nervous about
the whole business with Spectrum and this Mysteron threat.
'Then you must be under arrest too,' Arthur
repeated, casting a defiant glance aside, presumably at Captain Blue. 'They've
already taken Andy away. Took him to skybase or somewhere and‑'
'Cloudbase!' Blue interjected.
'‑and we'll likely never see him
again!' Arthur finished up, satisfied that he'd made his statement, despite the
objections.
Tylan leaned back in her chair and sighed.
'Hmmm... So, where was he when our system broke down?'
'At Lisa's.'
'Figures. Pager in the car?'
'Didn't ask. Probably.'
'Any word from him since?'
'Not yet.'
'I'll call him.' It looker to her like the
performance would have to go all the way to Cloudbase.
'Please do. And give him hell while you're
at it too, Ty.'
'Oh, com'on, Arthur ‑ he loves you
too! He's just checking 'em out for us.' Had to be a lot of truth in that; so
far there hadn't been any word or action out of SWC Security, and that meant
that Andy hadn't thrown them any emergency calls. Andy was out fact‑gathering,
that was what. And Andy wouldn't call SWC Security into a situation that they
likely couldn't handle anyway. Dealing with Martians wasn't part of Security's
job description. 'And before I forget to ask, how's Guinevere?' She gave Arthur
something else to worry about.
'She's fine so far. But with all the
upset--‑' Arthur shot another hostile look to one side. “You just never know.'
'Give her my regards. I'll call you back.'
'No, you won't. I'm going back to bed. Give
a message to my answering service here if you like.' Arthur demoted Blue in a
sentence. 'Have a nice day,' Arthur concluded sourly, and disconnected. The day, in his opinion, had already been
very thoroughly ruined.
And Tylan McLaine could only concur with
that.
The reports claimed she was a genius. An
oddball one, in Ochre's initial estimation. Quite
a number of adjectives had come to mind so far. Eccentric was one of
them. He didn't know many people that actually did their grocery shopping in
the middle of the night. She was sassy. She was a flirt and a tease.
And she was a damn good cook. She was also evasive, and she
hadn't paid any mind whatsoever to any question that had contained the word
'Minerva'. Every time he'd mentioned Minerva she had simply looked around with
an expression of puzzled innocence.
She had entertainment value, if that little
song and dance with Blue was any indication. She was demonstrating a real
ability to handle herself under pressure. When he'd told her that the Mysterons
wanted Minerva so that they could devastate the planet, she'd responded that it
was a 'novel idea'. And then added, very Arthur Prince‑like, that the
world no doubt deserved it.
She was running one helluva scam.
When Arthur hung up, her attention came
back to Ochre's side of the table.
'Well?' she demanded.
'Well what?' he inquired, echoing her own
tones.
'Well, where is he?'
'Doctor Weller is on Spectrum Cloudbase,' he answered, truthfully enough.
'And he's been there for...' he consulted his watch '...approximately two
hours. He's in conference with Colonel White.'
'Your boss?'
'My boss.'
'What's the number?'
'You don't need the number. I can put you
in touch without the phone. Ochre pulled down his cap mike. 'Cloudbase,'
he said firmly, a command that the cap's microprocessor understood and complied
with, putting him instantly in touch with Lieutenant Green.
'Cloudbase Control. Go ahead Captain
Ochre.'
'I have an urgent request from Doctor
McLaine, Lieutenant. She'd like to speak to Doctor Weller.'
'Doctor Weller is still in conference,
Captain.'
'Interrupt them!' Tylan said loudly,
leaning across the table to make herself heard.
'I don't copy that, Captain.'
'You don't have to, Lieutenant.' Ochre pushed
her back into her seat. 'She can call again later if she‑ Hold on
Lieutenant.'
Tylan McLaine was dialling something
rapidly into the vid.
'Who are you calling now?' he asked,
worried that it was going to be trouble. She'd said something about a 'system'
and if Minerva was as potentially hazardous as the Mysterons had indicated,
surely these three had some sort of an emergency plan that they could kick
in...
'Corporate Legal Affairs. Public Rela‑'
Sure, blow the whistle! The last thing Spectrum needed was a media
circus on top of the threat. Ochre reached over and pushed the disconnect key
on the vid. 'Did you copy that, Lieutenant?'
'S.I.G. Captain. Standby. I'll make
enquiries.'
Tylan McLaine met his gaze squarely without
taking her hands off the vid. 'That's better,' she said, just dripping honey.
'That's blackmail,' Ochre corrected her.
'That too,' she admitted, still smiling.
'You don't have to be unreasonable.'
'Nothing personal, Och...' she shrugged, leaning
closer, flirting again, corrupting his code‑name into a little sweet
nothing...
Scamming him!
Damn good at it too.
Andrew Weller had said she was able
to take care of herself.
'Am I,' she whispered from a proximity that
was far too close, 'going to have to talk through that thing too?'
As if it wasn't a bad idea, not if it kept
her that close. Pretty blue‑grey eyes, he decided. It was a
shame he was on‑duty and working; she had one finger trailing an idle and
somewhat distracting pattern across the back of the hand he had resting on the
vid.
'That won't be necessary,' he whispered
back, and turned his glance down to the keypad. He twitched off the finger and
punched in the number that would hook them directly into Green's main console
and Cloudbase's internal communications. There was no reason not to put
the call through on vid, especially, he thought, with a bit of wicked self‑satisfaction,
Tylan was going to pay for the long‑distance call.
Blackmail indeed...
He warned Lieutenant Green to expect it,
and in a moment Colonel White's face appeared on‑screen..
'Do you have a problem, Captain Ochre?'
He winced inwardly. Colonel White didn't
appreciate interruptions to important conferences.
'Not exactly, sir, I've--‑'
Tylan McLaine butted‑in. 'I've
got a problem, Colonel White,' she advised him in a firm, no‑nonsense
tone. 'And you will too if you don't put Andy on for me.'
Ouch. Ochre winced again, visibly, this
time. It was not the sort of tone that anyone took with the Commander‑in‑Chief
of Spectrum.
Colonel White kept his expression straight.
'Oh? And with whom, specifically, Doctor McLaine?' he asked.
'With--‑'
Ochre stepped in. 'Doctor McLaine felt that
SWC Legal Affairs and Public Relations might take an interest in the present
situation, sir. I felt that it wasn't necessary to ‑ ah, inconvenience
them, Colonel White.
Inconvenience was, of course, an understatement. An unofficial leak
to the media always had the capacity to set the public on its ear. Until
Spectrum's PR department in London had its own general media‑release
statements prepared, Mysteron threats were kept quiet. No need to panic a major
city like Toronto without good cause. The standing orders were to avoid as much
bad publicity as was possible.
'That was well advised, Captain Ochre. Thank
you. Doctor McLaine.' Colonel White addressed the woman sitting there at the
vid. 'Doctor Weller is right here. I'll put him through for you, if you can
only exercise a little patience.'
Colonel White moved away from his vid‑terminal,
and was very shortly replaced by Andrew Weller.
'Zil!' Weller said cheerfully. 'You're home
at last!'
'And a very fine welcome I got too!' Her
voice went hard with irritation. 'Andy ‑ what are you doing up
there?!'
Andy Weller shrugged non‑committally
and looked for all the world as if he would have preferred to avoid the
subject. 'Well, Zil,' he cleared his throat. 'I'm afraid I was just a trifle
lax and I--‑'
'You got caught.'
Weller heaved a sigh. 'Guilty as charged,
I'll confess. Jackass, I suppose, would be the appropriate term. Sorry,
Zil.'
'Only jackasses leave their pagers in the
car. Don't try to butter me up. What are you doing now, is the
question.'
'Oh, really, Zil ‑ did you have a bad
night out? I'm afraid we've got a bit of a problem involving Minerva. And what
I'm doing is making all sorts of lovely arrangements with these people to
resolve that problem just as quickly as possible. It looks as if you and Arthur
will be having some company for the next few days or so.'
'Or so?' Tylan questioned that seriously,
Ochre noted.
'Or until this thing blows over, which I'm
quite certain it will, soon enough.'
'I wasn't ready for company.'
'You're flexible, Zil.'
'But Andy ‑ this company is on‑duty!'
She thumbed a gesture at Ochre over her shoulder. 'That's no good to me!'
'Then I'll arrange to send you another one!
There seem to be lots to choose from. Now, I'll be going on to Demeter later
this morning and I'll get everything organized at that end. I'm very sorry, but
we're going to need a bit of help on this one.'
'I don't suppose asking to go to Demeter
myself would get me there ?'
'Nope. Don't ask.'
'Wouldn't dream of it.'
'Please, Zil ‑ no more fussing. I'm
taking steps to protect the project and I'm doing it with your best interests
in mind.'
'But, Andy...'
'No more buts!' Weller raised his voice, and then paused, as if he
regretted it. 'Zil, I'm asking you, very nicely, to do your best to co‑operate
this time 'round. Settle down and let me take care of the situation.'
Tylan McLaine stared at the screen. A loud
silence, if ever Ochre had heard one. She wasn't smiling.
'Please?' Weller added.
'If you say so.' She slumped back into the
chair. 'You'll forgive me if I sulk?'
'Do so to your heart's content Zil, not
that it will get you anywhere. Amuse yourself working on the Captain instead;
I'm sure that will be much more fun. I will call Arthur and let him know what's
going on, and the two of you can commiserate by vid thereafter. All right?'
'Of course, all right. What possible objections could I have?' she
said in a tone that indicated she had objections in plenty. 'Ciao, baby.'
She hung up the vid.
For the next few moments there was a
silence in the kitchen. Eventually Ochre cleared his throat, still not quite
sure he'd heard the whole conversation correctly, particularly the part about amusing
herself....
'That,' he admitted slowly, 'was one of the
more interesting conversations I've heard in a long while.' He wondered
inwardly just how dim a view Colonel White was going to take of the whole
thing.
'You must lead a very dull life then,'
Tylan replied. 'I'll try,' she said, turning and drawing herself up to his eye‑level,
'to spice it up for you.' Her smile radiated innocence.
The pretty blue‑grey eyes were all
mischief.
'Is that a threat or a promise?' he asked,
deciding that her ill‑humour was obviously going to be reserved for
persons other than himself. She was back to flirting shamelessly.
'Take it any way you like, Och'.'
Ochre returned the smile, and figured that
of the two, it was the former that was the most likely.
'Zil?' He had to ask. Couldn't figure how
one got to that from a name like Tylan McLaine.
'Yeah ‑ Zil. I have a nickname; Zil's
a short form. Term of affection. You can use it if you like.'
'Can I? That's nice,' he said, playing the
game. He became serious. 'You're scamming me, Doctor McLaine. I want you to
know that I know that. What's the nickname?'
She took a step nearer---which was hardly
necessary (or possible) but Ochre didn't back up. Give her just one inch, and
she'd take a parsec; give in just once, and he'd be disadvantaged for the whole
of Operation Minerva, however long it lasted.
'Can't figure it out?' Whispering again.
Intimately. Teasingly. She put her lips close to his ear. 'It's short for
Godzilla.'
Somehow, Ochre thought, that fit.
Perfectly.
And somehow, he just knew this was going to
be a long assignment, too.
Scarlet had watched Doctor Weller for the
duration of the vid call with an uneasy
mixture of amusement and suspicion. He couldn't see the vid screen from his
side of the table, but the tone of the voice on the other end was something
that he would never even have contemplated using with Colonel White ‑ virtual
indestructibility would have done him precious little good in the aftermath of
such a tirade with Spectrum's chief...
He didn't like Weller's attitude much at
all. The situation was serious, if any of what Weller had just divulged was
factual and accurate. If it was ‑ and Colonel White seemed inclined to
think so ‑ then Scarlet thought that both Weller's researchers and
equipment most certainly did belong under lock and key. Loose surveillance of
the personnel and unquestioning trust in a civilian's security codes and/or
storage vault just didn't sound like anywhere near enough to thwart the
Mysterons. Maybe Demeter's security measured up ‑ Grey would be able to
determine that once he was briefed ‑ and then Colonel White's tolerance
with Weller's attitude and demands would change accordingly. At the moment,
Colonel White was holding all options open.
As to Doctor Weller himself ‑ the man
had tolerated a level of insolence from Arthur Prince and now again from Tylan
McLaine that had Scarlet wondering just who was really running that show.
Weller had not only tolerated the verbal abuse from Dr. McLaine, he positively
seemed to be basking in it. Ochre had wondered in last night's conference if
there were any personal connections involved---and that was, in Scarlet's
immediate opinion, a definite. Weller was sitting there, gazing at the now
darkened vid with a tiny, besotted smile fixed onto his face ‑ one that
had been there since the vid had been so rudely disconnected from the other
end.
None of it had been lost on Colonel White
either.
'That, Doctor Weller,' the Colonel
commented, 'sounds rather like insubordination to me. Is that usual in your
chain of command?'
Weller's smile widened into one of genuine
affection. 'She can be very impertinent at times ‑ and yes, it is usual.
And very refreshing. Doctor McLaine is one of the few people who dare to dish
it out in my direction. She's allowed, if that's what you want to know.'
'A close friend?' Scarlet ventured.
Which was not really the question at all,
naturally, and Weller knew it as he turned an amused eye of his own back at
him. 'That is also rather impertinent, Captain. But the answer is yes ‑ very
close friends.' Weller closed his eyes and sighed wistfully. 'She is a
goddess.'
Scarlet recalled his mythology well enough
to know that Weller doubtless meant Aphrodite. But the only classical reference
that had come to his mind had been 'harpy'. He exchanged glances with
Colonel White who shrugged slightly ‑ Weller was obviously infatuated
with the woman, despite the fact that he'd been sharing someone else's bed that
morning.
Colonel White turned his attention back to
Weller. 'Minerva, perhaps?' he asked, probing for information.
Weller's smile broadened. 'That's not the
goddess I had in mind. But apt enough. Tylan McLaine is, in fact, one of the
principal forces behind the Minerva Project.'
'Speaking of which, you seem very fond of
Doctor McLaine. I do wish you'd reconsider the security arrangements.'
'If necessary.' Weller's smile faded. 'I do
wish, Colonel White, that you could believe that I know where you're coming
from on this. I am very fond of Doctor McLaine. And of Mr. Prince too, I
might add. I wouldn't willingly expose them to any needless hazard. Further, I
trust that your personnel are both capable and competent at what they do.'
'Very much so, Doctor; however‑'
'Then Demeter R&D is my primary
concern. A partial evacuation of the facility seems to be in order, and I'll
make the arrangements to shut down all but the most critical functions and
experimental work. I expect most of the staff will appreciate an unscheduled
holiday, though a few won't be willing to abandon their projects at the drop of
a hat.'
'An expensive disruption, then?' Scarlet
asked. Biotechnology was not so cut and dried a science as engineering, or any
other more physical discipline ‑ months of work could go right down the
tubes, curtailing any particular line of experimental research abruptly.
'I expect so,' Weller admitted.
'It could be avoided altogether,' Colonel
White stated. 'It's hardly necessary, Doctor Weller. Transfer of the equipment
would‑'
'No,' Weller was adamant in his refusal.
'Again ‑ no, Colonel White.'
Scarlet bit back an argument. There were
reasons, and good ones, for Weller not to want to shut down the Demeter
facility. So, then, just what was it, he had to wonder, that had him so dead‑set
against the idea?
'I won't waste time debating it with you,
Doctor. I've already stated Spectrum's position. Our personnel will assist in
the evacuation, if you're certain that's the best option for your staff.'
'Appreciated, Colonel. I don't anticipate
that there will be any danger to Demeter personnel. And I can assure you that
the equipment is quite safe where it is.'
'Spectrum would appreciate the opportunity to
verify that,' Colonel White said. 'If necessary, of course.'
'Persistent, Colonel White. I've also
stated my position on that. I'll await developments, thank you.'
'No, don't thank me, Doctor Weller. I think
it's a grave mistake.' Colonel White fastened his eyes on Weller's, engaging
the Doctor in another of those measuring assessments. 'I hope I'll be proved
wrong.'
Even that statement didn't unnerve Andrew
Weller, and Scarlet knew that it had been meant to. A couple of very tough old
birds, those two----and well‑matched at verbal sparring.
Weller inclined his head in
acknowledgement. 'Pending developments, Colonel White. I'm not a fool and I'm
not that inflexible.'
'I'll trust not.' Colonel White rose to his
feet and Scarlet followed suit. 'That, then, will conclude this briefing,
Doctor Weller. Captain Scarlet will fly you to Demeter at once under an Angel
escort. Communications will be available if there are any arrangements you want
to make while en route.'
So that we can monitor them, Scarlet thought, rather uncharitably.
Secrets. He didn't like it, not with global devastation waiting in the wings,
should it all go wrong. He didn't think either that Weller was taking the
Mysteron threat seriously enough. He would have to see what could be done to convince
the Doctor otherwise.
'Thank you, Colonel.' Weller got to his
feet and shook Colonel White's hand again. 'I'm sure we'll be in touch soon.'
'Depend on it, Doctor.' The Colonel's gaze
came his way. 'Captain Scarlet. You have your assignment. Maximum security
procedures, Captain. You will consult with Doctor Weller and Captain Grey. I
want the Demeter facility secured. We know---' he said slowly, to
emphasise the point, '---that the Mysterons don't make idle threats.' It
was another statement made for Doctor Weller's benefit. 'Good luck, gentlemen.'
'Spectrum is Green, sir.' Scarlet
responded, gesturing Weller toward the corridor.
Colonel White nodded curtly and then
vanished, leaving Weller in Scarlet's care.
Weller himself stared after the Colonel's
retreating form thoughtfully, his chin lifted and his eyes slightly narrowed
with respect. 'He means every word of it, doesn't he, Captain?'
'Absolutely, Doctor Weller ‑ if you'd
care to come with me sir, they'll have our jet ready by the time we get to the
flight deck.'
'Not wasting time.'
'No, sir.' Scarlet kept it short, all
business as he keyed in a summons to the lift. There would be time to bend the
Doctor's ear later. 'The Mysterons don't.'
Weller digested that silently, all the way
down to Lower Decks. 'You're unhappy, Captain,' Weller remarked, after a
moment. 'You disapprove. Not willing to await those developments?'
'I'm in agreement with Colonel White,'
Scarlet replied flatly. 'The developments, Doctor, aren't generally something
to be wished for. Developments can sometimes be extraordinarily unpleasant. We
have one loose end, Doctor, and I'd feel better right now if I knew precisely
where Mr. Carey was.'
'As would I, Captain.'
Scarlet ushered Weller back through
security, watching absently as the Doctor was duly logged off‑base and
his security card turned in. He logged himself out as Weller endured the brief
procedure and then escorted his charge back onto the flight deck. All
personnel on Cloudbase were subject to the same rules ‑ the
carrier was far too sensitive a place, far too much a security risk to hazard
the presence of persons unknown or unaccounted for loose on her decks. In an
official sense, the flight deck was a kind of no‑man's land, and even
that was under the careful scrutiny of the Deck Officer, until such time as the
aircraft falling under Deck jurisdiction were locked through and launched.
The flight deck was as far as they got.
Scarlet's epaulettes suddenly flashed
rapidly white ‑ indicating an urgent message ‑ while Lieutenant Green's
voice boomed over the deck loudhailers, echoing in the vast confines of the
flight hangar.
'Angels One and Two: Immediate launch! Red
Alert! This is not a drill. Repeat. Angels One and Two: Immediate launch!
Captain Scarlet, Lieutenant Indigo, report to Control. This is a Spectrum Red
Alert.'
Instantly, Scarlet wheeled in his tracks,
taking Weller by the elbow and heading back the way they'd just come. His cap
mike swung down before the echoes of Green's message had died in the distance,
and it was Colonel White's voice alive in his ear. 'Report to Control at once,
Captain. Bring Doctor Weller with you. We have a situation.'
'S.I.G. ‑ details, sir?'
'Still coming in, Captain. Cape Town Air
Traffic Central has just received word that a recent departure for Rio de
Janeiro has been hijacked. We have a positive ID on the hijacker.'
Cape Town. Africa. 'Todd Carey, Colonel?' But that made no sense...
'No, Captain. The pilot, co‑pilot and
flight crew have been locked out of the cockpit. At present the pilot of the
airliner is in contact with Cape Town Security via passenger vid‑link.
His description and the video records from the airport security cameras have
positively identified the hijacker as Captain Black!'
Lieutenant Indigo arrived in the Control Room
just a moment ahead of Scarlet and Weller.
Colonel White gestured them all onto the raised stools surrounding his
Control Desk.
'Briefly, gentlemen, the situation is that
an airliner has been hijacked out of Cape Town by a known and very dangerous Mysteron
agent. Why a commercial airliner is the most obvious question. That the flight
originates in Africa disturbs me.' He spared a direct glance at Doctor Weller.
'Why Africa, and why now?'
Lieutenant Green turned from his console.
'Angels One and Two skyborne, sir. Intercept plotted on flight 904. Last
reported fix from Cape Town Air Traffic Control puts the jet still on course
for Rio de Janeiro.'
'The intended destination?' Scarlet asked
with a puzzled frown.
'Yes. And that's another question. Why hijack
an airliner and then keep it on course for its scheduled destination? It
doesn't make sense.'
'Perhaps,' Indigo suggested quietly, 'this
is what you would call 'grandstanding'.'
'I'm inclined to agree with you,
Lieutenant. A ploy to get our attention. The pilot reports that Captain Black
made no demands, nor did anything other than threaten violence until he had
taken control of the jetliner. The crew have simply been locked out of the
cockpit. Black must know the pilot will use one of the airliner's passenger vid‑links
to contact the Cape Town authorities.'
'Then this must be a diversion,' Scarlet
concluded. 'Nothing but.'
'Exactly.' Colonel White mirrored Scarlet's
frown. 'I could divert Magenta ‑ he's close enough to intercept that
airliner long before the Angels can get there.'
'But what can he do about it?'
'Very little. I haven't diverted
Captain Magenta; he's in an unarmed Mk.I SPJ. Diverting him from Nairobi won't
serve any purpose except to keep him off Todd Carey's tail.'
'Which may well be the idea,' Scarlet
guessed.
Colonel White looked directly at Weller,
who had been listening intently, saying nothing. 'We've also had word from the
Kenyan authorities, Doctor. Todd Carey has vanished from his scheduled tour.
Mrs. Carey has evidently just filed a missing persons report with the local
police. Carey failed to meet her at their hotel for a planned shopping
excursion in Nairobi. She's apparently been trying to contact you by SWC
Security ‑ who have also, co‑incidentally, just placed an urgent
call to us for you.'
'Todd would never abandon Shelley alone in
a foreign country,' Weller stated, concern creasing a deep furrow across his
brow. 'Well,' he said, apparently resigning himself to the situation, 'we
didn't have to wait long for developments, did we?'
'It seems not. I've scrambled two Angel
aircraft to intercept Flight 904. It will be a couple of hours before they
establish contact. We do not at present know Captain Black's intent, or whether
Todd Carey is also aboard the aircraft. I think it unlikely.'
'If it is grandstanding,' Scarlet mused
aloud, 'Carey won't be on that flight. Black's calling too much attention to
himself. This isn't something we can ignore.'
'No, it isn't Captain. You and Lieutenant
Indigo will leave immediately to intercept that jet along with the Angels. A
helijet is being readied now.'
Unlike the SPJs, Spectrum helijets were
armed. But the status of the SPJ fleet was changing: prior to the War of
Nerves, when Spectrum's mandate had been essentially that of global security
and peacekeeping, the World Government had not wanted to present the
organisation as being too heavily militarised. And so the SPJ's were just that:
strictly passenger‑carrying aircraft. No one had forseen the need to arm
them, and while the Angels had always been available to run escort in
situations that had warranted it, running escort had never been their primary
mission. Hence the current programme to add offensive capability to the SPJ
fleet. But the wheels of Government often turn slowly; approvals and appropriations
to arm the remainder of Spectrum's aircraft had been long in coming and a large
proportion of the fleet still had not received its weaponry. The newly designed
Mk.II, however, now incorporated armament as standard.
Colonel White drew a deep breath. 'What you
may be able to do at the time, Captain, I can't say yet. But I want you there ‑
whatever kind of ball the Mysterons
lob into our court we want to be in position to hit it back. Your
objective, of course, will be to apprehend Captain Black. Watch your step
Captain ‑ there are nearly three hundred people aboard that jetliner. We
mustn't provoke Black into any rash action.'
'Understood, Colonel White.' Scarlet
nodded, rising to his feet. 'We'll leave at once. Lieutenant...'
Indigo was already on his feet. 'S.I.G.,
sir,' he responded enthusiastically. For the Lieutenant, thought White, this
would be a good introduction to the field...
No time for fanfares and friendly advice.
'Good luck, gentlemen.' White dismissed them without ceremony. 'We'll keep you
appraised of any change in the status quo.'
'Thank you, sir.' Scarlet acknowledged the
dismissal, and then they were gone, moving smartly for the corridor and the
flight deck.
Colonel White turned his attention to
Doctor Weller. 'Would you like to return the call to SWC Security, Doctor?'
'Yes ‑ en route to Demeter. I want
Todd Carey found, Colonel White. And I need to be at Demeter in the event that
this does prove to be a worst‑case scenario.'
'I've held an Angel back to escort you,
Doctor Weller. Once Captain Scarlet's helijet has taken off we'll have you on
your way.' The Colonel paused briefly.
'As to Mr. Carey, we've alerted the local authorities in Kenya that this is
most certainly not a simple case of a missing tourist. Captain Magenta will be
interviewing Mrs. Carey to establish if anything unusual or out of the ordinary
has happened while on tour. We will be tracing Mr. Carey's activities of the
last few days. Airport, customs, and airline records will be examined, to
determine if either Captain Black or Mr. Carey have come and gone. But it takes
time. And if this is a worst‑case scenario, it's not time that we want to
be wasting.'
'No, Colonel. Nor do I.' Weller looked at
him directly. 'Demeter.'
'As quickly as we can get you there, Doctor
Weller. Can we forward any instructions ahead to my personnel?'
'No, not really.'
'We're here to help, Doctor. And
I'll ask again: is there anything else that Spectrum should know about
Minerva?'
'I appreciate the intent, Colonel White.
Find Todd. I'll take care of Minerva.'
Stubborn man. Not rattled, even by news
that wasn't particularly good. Determined to wait until the worst was
confirmed. Doubtless, it served the Doctor well in a boardroom. This, however,
wasn't corporate politics, and Colonel White feared, with some certainty, that
the news, when it came, would be anything but good.
Captain Black was involved.
'We'll try, Doctor Weller.'
It was the only promise he could make that
he could in any wise keep...
It was a long way to go. But there wasn't a
commercial airliner in the sky that could outrace an Angel Interceptor, and
Rhapsody Angel knew that she and Harmony could get from Cloudbase's
current position over the North Atlantic, straight south a hemisphere away
before that jetliner could possibly reach South America, even with a head start
from Cape Town. Scarlet's helijet wasn't far behind them.
Captain Black hadn't altered course one
bit. Black had maintained his course, altitude and speed, as if he was working
for the airline and keeping the schedule. Cape Town had had no further official
contact with the flight since it had made its routine exit from Cape Town's
regulated airspace. Cloudbase had requested that they treat the
hijacking as nothing more than business as usual. The last thing Spectrum
wanted to give the Mysterons was a public forum for their antics. And there was
still no knowing if Black was aware that Spectrum was involved.
He would know soon enough.
'Angel Leader to Cloudbase,'
Rhapsody reported to Control for final instructions. They would soon overtake
the jetliner. 'We are closing on Flight 904, Colonel White. Estimated time to
intercept is four minutes.'
'Understood, Rhapsody. I want you to
contact Flight 904 on standard commercial frequencies. Inform Captain Black
that we are aware of his actions and that his aircraft will be escorted to Rio
de Janeiro. The pilot reports that Black has disabled the escape pods from the
cockpit, so the people on board don't even have the option to eject at this
point. We have arranged with the authorities to refuel that jet and allow its
departure, once the crew and passengers have been released. Be reasonable,
don't threaten any reprisals should he refuse to co‑operate. There are
innocent lives at stake in this crisis. Scarlet and Indigo will be listening
in; they're on a vector that will intercept Black’s aircraft as soon as is
possible.'
'Spectrum is Green, sir. And if Captain
Black does not respond or comply?'
'Then you will shepherd that jet wherever
Black is taking it, Rhapsody. There's little else we can do short of shooting
it down, and that's simply not an option. We'll monitor your call.'
'Yessir. Angel Leader, standing by.'
Rhapsody adjusted her com, leaving a link open to Cloudbase on a secondary
channel, and switching to International Hailing on the primary. Flight 904, a
blip for the last ten minutes on radar, was now a visible dot distant in the
sky. The weather was good; stable, cloudless air and nearly unlimited
visibility. 'Harmony: we'll come up one on either side of him; let him see us
right out of his front window. Let's drop stealth and announce our presence.'
'S.I.G., Rhapsody.'
If Black hadn't known they were there, he
would know now ‑ their stealth fields might have shown ghostly images on
a military tracking screen, but they'd
have been invisible to a jetliner's more standard radar scanners. They closed
on Flight 904 rapidly. The two Angels drew alongside the aircraft in close
formation, near enough to see anxious faces peering at them out of the windows
of the passenger compartment.
'Flight 904, this is Spectrum Angel
Leader.' Rhapsody hailed the airliner on the standard commercial airline
frequency. 'Captain Black, be advised that Spectrum is aware that you are in
control of Flight 904. Please respond.'
Polite and official. Black might or might
not answer. Rhapsody's pulse quickened. For the people trapped on that plane
this was a dangerous moment. The situation made her nervous. She recalled all
too vividly what Major Reeves had done with his jet after he'd refused to
accompany the Angels back to Base Concord...
There was, for a moment, only the quiet
hiss of an open and inactive channel on the frequency. And then---
'Rhapsody Angel.'
Captain Black's unnaturally deep and sonorous
voice did reply, identifying her. It was all the Mysteron agent said, her code
name, stated once. Every one of the fine hairs at the back of her neck stood on
end.
It was contact.
Rhapsody went on. 'Captain Black.' As if it
was conversation. 'We query, why this action?' It couldn't hurt to ask,
chilling though it was to attempt conversation with the aliens...
'Rhapsody Angel,' Black repeated the code name, the same
flat monotone. Not Conrad Turner's voice at all. 'Earthwoman. The
Mysterons are not obligated to provide Spectrum with this information.'
'No, I suppose not. Just asking. I,
however, am obligated to escort your aircraft to Rio de Janeiro so that
the passengers and crew may disembark safely. May we expect your co‑operation?'
'Spectrum cannot enforce this
intention, Rhapsody Angel. The passengers and crew of this aircraft do not
concern the Mysterons. Rio de Janeiro is not my destination.'
She did not like the sound of that.
'Then, again, Captain Black, we query, why
this action? Canada is a very long way from Rio, and your aircraft hasn't the
fuel capacity to take you there.'
A short silence followed.
'Assumption, Earthwoman.'
'Spectrum knows where Minerva lies. Do the
Mysterons deny the stated objective?'
'The Mysteron objective remains unchanged.'
'The authorities are prepared to refuel and
grant departure clearance to your aircraft at Rio when the passengers and crew
have been released. I say again, Captain Black, may we expect your co‑operation?'
Again, another silence.
'Rhapsody Angel, I say again, Rio de
Janeiro is not my destination. The passengers and crew of this aircraft are of
no consequence. Nor does Spectrum yet know the Mysterons' purpose. Further
communication is therefore deemed unnecessary.'
With that, communication ceased, Black
ignoring Rhapsody's attempts to re‑establish contact.
Bloody hell! Rhapsody swore softly under her breath. Riddles. It
was always damned riddles with the Mysterons. What did Black mean, his
destination was not Rio?
'Angel Leader to Cloudbase. Colonel
White? I'm sorry sir, I couldn't keep him talking.'
'That was well handled, Rhapsody. You got
some information out of him, even if its meaning is unclear. Has he altered
course?
'No sir. Not yet.'
'Maintain surveillance. We'll have to play
a waiting game until Black's intentions become clear. Stay with that jet,
Rhapsody.'
'Yes sir. We'll---Sir!' Rhapsody's
pulse skyrocketed as Captain Black's intentions suddenly became all too clear:
'Colonel White!' she exclaimed with horror, 'Captain Black has just put the
jet into a dive!'
Indigo stiffened at the helijet's controls
when he heard Rhapsody's exclamation over the open channel. 'Sir?!'
'Hold your course Lieutenant!' Scarlet
snapped back. They were already at maximum speed and fast closing on the
airliner that was still some miles ahead of them. He was watching the radar
screen and the instrument's associated readout, extrapolating the dive
angle...not too steep, not too hazardous...just an unexpected move. The
airliner was almost on a glide path. Nonetheless, he could still imagine the
panic that was ensuing in the passenger compartment with that manoeuvre.
What the hell is he doing?!
But their helijet was still on an intercept
course; perhaps that was exactly what Black wanted.
Scarlet's hand hit the com panel hard.
'Captain Black! Pull up! Hotdogging’s just not your style, Captain! You have
our attention, if that's what you're looking for!'
Personal confrontation; now that was
Turner's style.
Scarlet cursed silently. It was never
possible to know just who ‑ or what ‑ it was that you were actually
dealing with when it came to the Mysterons. Would Black answer him after he'd
told Rhapsody that no further communications would be necessary?
'Speculation, Earthman.'
Bingo.
'You have yet to deny it. Level off,
Captain. If you have some demands to make, we're willing to negotiate. Those
people have nothing to do with this. We're here ‑ what is it you want?'
'It is not in the Mysterons' best interests
to either confirm or deny any of Spectrum's speculations, Captain Scarlet. If
you would bargain, you may begin by withdrawing your Interceptors.'
There wasn't much the Angels could do in
any case. It wasn't a demand that would cost them much. 'Angels One and Two,
you will proceed immediately to Rio de Janeiro and await further instructions.
Flight 904 does not require your escort to destination. Please acknowledge.'
At once, the large blip on his screen broke
into three distinct and smaller blips. 'Angel Leader, S.I.G. Proceeding as
ordered to Rio de Janeiro, Captain. Standing by.' Rhapsody broadcast her
response on both the commercial and Spectrum frequencies. Both fighters
withdrew; but they would not be far away, and they would both still be
monitoring their radios. Black would not fail to notice either condition.
'Rio de Janeiro is very local, Captain
Scarlet. This is but a token gesture on Spectrum's part.'
'It should suffice nicely, Captain Black,
as Rio de Janeiro is not your intended destination. Perhaps you would care to
clarify that point?'
'The Mysterons do not choose to volunteer
this information.'
'Spectrum has fulfilled your request and
withdrawn your escort. Level the plane off, Captain, and then tell me what you
want.' Scarlet watched the radar screen carefully, waiting to see the change in
the readout. It came, a minute correction. The jetliner was still descending,
but more slowly now. He cursed again. 'A token gesture of your own, Captain.
That is not level flight ‑ you were always a better pilot than that.'
'It will suffice.'
Mysteron arrogance. Black still had the
upper hand, and Black knew it.
'What do you want, Captain?'
There was silence on the frequency.
Scarlet spared a glance out of the
starboard side of the helijet's cockpit; Indigo touched his sleeve and
indicated the distant airliner on the horizon. He nodded, pegging it. Still
descending. They still had altitude, were just coming down to 30,000 feet.
Still time to bargain, then.
'You lack manners today, Captain
Scarlet. Perhaps the Mysterons simply desire the pleasure of your company.'
Humour? Scarlet
blinked in disbelief. From the Mysterons? Or...
They want me? Personally?
It wasn't impossible. The Mysterons had
tried to take him out of the game more times than he cared to think about. He'd
been a royal pain in their backsides (assuming they had any) on more than one
occasion. They want to take me out? Early in the game? Was that the purpose
Black had mentioned to Rhapsody?
Suddenly his epaulettes started flashing a
rapid white for the second time today. He heaved a sigh and with a wry smile at
Indigo's questioning gaze answered Captain Black first. 'It hardly sounds like
an offer I could possibly refuse, Captain. Please stand‑by. I'll check my
datebook.'
He closed the commercial channel. 'Colonel
White?'
'I don't like the sound of this, Captain.'
'I'm not sure I like the sound of it
either, Colonel. But I don't see much choice about it, sir. Black's still got a
jetliner full of hostages. There's only one thing he can have in mind at this
point. And as flattering as it all sounds, I'm sure the rest of you can make do
without me if you have to.'
'Yes ‑ if we have to, though I'd just
as soon have you back in one piece, Captain. We've walked right into this one.
Exercise all due caution, Scarlet. You'll be on your own. Don't go unarmed or
without communications.'
'Black hasn't put any conditions on it yet,
Colonel.'
'Again, Captain, good luck. Have Indigo
keep us appraised of the situation.'
'Spectrum is Green, Colonel. Scarlet out.'
He switched back to Black's frequency. 'Captain Black?'
'Earthman.'
'Very sorry to keep you waiting, Captain.'
He put undue courtesy into his voice. 'I've been able to free up some time in
my busy schedule for you. I do trust that you'll turn Flight 904 back over to
the regular crew.'
'Flight 904 has served its purpose. The
Mysterons have no further interest in this aircraft or its occupants.'
'In that case, I'm sure they'll enjoy Rio
when they arrive without further incident. Shall we agree on 15,000 feet?'
'This is acceptable.'
'I'll be there, Captain.' Scarlet closed
the channel without giving Black the opportunity to put forward any of the
conditions White had mentioned. He unbuckled his safety harness.
Indigo turned a puzzled frown to him as he
stood. 'Captain ‑ an explanation sir?'
'One on one with Captain Black, Lieutenant.
The Mysterons aren't just trying to distract us from Todd Carey's trail;
they're trying to shift the odds in their favour by taking at least one of us
out of the action. They've been trying to ditch me for ages. One thing you
might as well learn early Lieutenant: The Mysterons nearly always have more
than one good reason for doing anything.' Scarlet glanced out of the window
again. Indigo was bringing them onto a course that would take them parallel to
Flight 904's descent path and perhaps a kilometre to the north, well within
visual range. Scarlet nodded. 'Hold course, Indigo; stay with the jetliner.
Colonel White will recall the Angels on your all‑clear signal.'
Indigo blinked comprehension at him. He'd
caught most of the situation. Indigo wasn't slow or stupid ‑ just
inexperienced. 'Sir, where are you going?'
They were miles from anywhere ‑
closing on the South American coastline, but still a few hundred miles out.
There was no landfall, just ocean. Scarlet was already stripping off his
uniform, reaching for the wetsuit in the storage locker in the aft compartment
of the helijet. 'Swimming, Lieutenant. I'll be jumping at 15,000 feet, as will
Captain Black. We're taking Flight 904 out of the equation.'
Personal confrontation. Ask Ochre or
Magenta or Grey about Conrad Turner someday, kid...
Hard to recall at times, that Blue hadn't
even been assigned to Cloudbase, hadn't been his partner then. Brown had
been, but that was before the Mysterons had---‑
'And after that?' Indigo had dark, earnest
eyes, full of concern. He'd heard about Scarlet, knew, in theory at any rate,
about the retrometabolism. The older agents---his own generation---joked about
his virtual indestructibility. The younger ones weren't sure quite what to make
of the hearsay.
In a situation like this one he was never
sure himself. He joked about it as much as anyone, but there were dark hours
when he often wondered when the Mysterons would finally get him. His sense of
vulnerability was perversely acute; aside from the risk posed by high voltages,
which they all knew about, he personally could think of all sorts of ways to
get rid of someone who so persistently kept on coming back Most of them
gruesome in the extreme. Perhaps there
was a point past which the retrometabolism wouldn't work. He'd never... well,
he’d never actually lost anything ‑ and his one relative piece had
always received prompt medical attention. But there might be a time
limit. There might be some critical mass. Or other---thresholds, that
was what Fawn called them. It wasn't something anyone particularly wanted to
experiment with. In the present circumstances he could well end up as shark
bait, beyond recovery...
'After that?' he repeated. 'Hell of a good
question, Lieutenant. Stick around and find out.'
Scarlet zipped‑up the wetsuit and
snugged the utility belt tight. He double checked the guns ‑ the electron
gun and the standard issue Spectrum pistol. Waterproof, both of them. Though,
he mused grimly, the Mysterons were capable of disabling pretty much anything
they felt like disabling when they felt it necessary. How many times had
reliable equipment simply failed to function for no apparent reason at a
critical moment? He took two distress beacons, and traded his cap for a
helmet that strapped securely under his chin. 'Altitude?'
'17,200.'
He strapped a parachute to his back and a
small airtank beneath it. He slipped a diving mask over his head and grabbed a
pair of flippers before working his way to the access hatch just behind the
cockpit. He put on the flippers and called to Indigo. 'Level off at 15,500. I
want that jet to hit 15,000 before we do.' Scarlet wasn't going to jump until
Black did. Not that he doubted it much. His hand rested lightly on the door’s emergency‑release lever. 'Let me know
the instant Black leaves the jet, Lieutenant.'
A pause. And then Indigo shouted: 'Escape
pod gone, Captain! Black is on his way down!'
'That's it--- see you on the other side,
Indigo!' Scarlet pulled the lever and the sudden violence of the slip‑stream
hit him, feebly countered by the air rushing from thepressurized compartment through the hatch. He gave in to
it and let himself fall into space...
He quickly adopted the classic skydiving
position and scanned the sky for Black's pod. He didn't want to pull his chute
until he'd spotted the son of a---‑
There! Even with its braking chute deployed the pod was
still falling fast.
He pulled the rip‑cord and braced
himself for the jolt. With his chute deployed he began to steer himself toward
the pod. He activated the helmet com. 'Scarlet to Indigo ‑ confirm
contact with Flight 904 and verify that Captain Black was in that pod!'
Indigo's response was immediate. 'That's
affirmative Captain; the pilot reports that Captain Black was aboard the
escape pod. Flight 904 is under their control again and remains bound for Rio.
Your status, sir?'
'All Green, Lieutenant.' Got him then!
There was nowhere for Black to go. There was a real possibility that they might
just catch him this time...
The main chute was deployed on the pod,
slowing its descent further. The pod was bigger, heavier than Scarlet on his
own, and it was well below him. Grasping at the cords on his own chute, Scarlet
tugged, steering himself closer to the pod. He wanted to be right on top of
Black, before Black had the chance to pull something fancy.
It was an anxious few minutes, waiting for
splashdown. Scarlet spent them worrying alternately about his own chances, and
that of even finding Black there ‑ it wasn't impossible either, for Black
to pull one of those infamous vanishing acts.
Black's pod hit the water first, submerging
completely and then bobbing to the top of another passing swell. The chute
disconnected automatically, release charges firing on impact. The pod, a bright
yellow object with black ID markings and a checkerboard pattern across the
hatch righted itself and red and white strobe lights started flashing around
its upper surface. Scarlet splashed down some hundred metres to the east of it.
Scarlet released the chute, pulled down his
mask, shoved the regulator into his mouth, and commenced swimming towards the
pod as quickly as he could, thinking of sharks no less than of the Mysterons...
The pod had tiny portholes mounted in the
sides. Black could conceivably have seen him coming, if Black had had the
leisure to be looking...commercial escape pods were large: large enough to hold
thirty or forty people at a pinch, and the big jetliners were required by law
to have sufficient to get all passengers off a doomed flight in an emergency.
For one alone, they were spacious enough to be dangerous---Black would have
been cautious, he was sure, but he could always hope that the Mysteron agent
had at least knocked a few teeth loose in the descent.
From surface level, the thing was huge.
Scarlet grasped at one of the external
handholds---a series of depressions in the bright yellow hull that led upwards
like a narrow embedded ladder to the upper hatch. The fins became a liability
and he peeled them off, wedging them tightly into one of the handholds ‑
he'd likely want them later. Thankfully there were no viewports on this
quarter, but Black could probably hear him climbing. He doubted that the slap
and play of water around the lower half of the pod would mask it.
He tossed stealth to the winds and climbed,
drawing his electron gun at the upper rim. He could reach the outside control
panel from the handholds and hit the universal release code.
The upper hatch, only large enough for the exit
of one person at a time, hissed with equalising pressure as the seal cracked
open. Scarlet moved himself into position, wrapped one hand around another
handhold, got one toe under the hatch and kicked, rolling with the motion and
dropping gun‑first into the black maw of the hatchway---‑
He froze. And double‑checked,
scanning wildly for an ambush that didn't come. Finally, he stopped holding his
breath and other sounds slowly intruded
into his consciousness. Indigo's helijet whining overhead; one of the Angels
roaring above him; Cloudbase making demands in his right ear...
Scarlet ignored them all and drove his fist
into the side of the pod in adrenaline‑charged frustration.
Goddammit! This whole thing's been nothing
but a friggin' wild goose chase!
The escape pod was empty.
OTHER STORIES BY SIOBBHAN ZETTLER
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