Original series Suitable for all readersAction-oriented/low level of violence

History Created and Crushed







         One of the largest cities in north western Germany. One of those rare places that never sleeps.

         Yet in the quiet suburb of Neuss, just to the west of the city, it was the dead of night, and it showed.

         Not a soul could be seen in the centre of the place. The shops and traders had shut down for the night as early as 5.30 and all was well, except for the local museum and archive, just off the main square. To a passer by, the light streaming down from the small room on the first floor, just above the door, would seem a little odd. Why was the place still open? A passer by would ask. The answer was simple. Its occupant was busy, cataloguing his latest acquisitions. A set of rare stamps dating back to the settling of the first colonies on the moon.

         One passer by however was glad there was light coming from that building.

         Dr Herbert Vimmer, the curator, sat hunched over the stamps at his desk in the corner of the small upstairs room, and was engrossed with them. A set of five dating from 2025, the 20th anniversary of the return of mankind to the moon, following the decision of the World Government in 2005 (then known as the United Nations) to pass the Luna homestead act, opening up the moon for colonisation. Twenty years on, the first five cities were complete, and each stamp has a picture of one of those cities on it.

         Vimmer looked at each one carefully in turn, the first one depicting the military garrison and base of the Luna Security Executive (LUNASEC) at the massive Tycho crater. Then next showing the largest civilian settlement at the Copernicus Village; after that came the stamp showing the Luna Capital, Armstrong City, bang smack in the middle of the sea of tranquillity. The last two, worth not quite as much as the others, but still rare and valuable had pictures of the Goddard research institute at the Lovell settlement in the Frau Mora highlands, and the main destination for the newest occupants of space, tourists, the Scott building at the spectacular Hadley Rille, nicknamed the "Luna Hilton".

         All these pictures showed the leaps and bounds that man had made in this 21st century, and the Doctor, fascinated by what he was looking at, though his magnifying glass failed to notice he was talking to himself.

         "History," he said. "What wonderful history. A century that began so bleakly has for once produced more plusses than minuses."

         He however also failed to notice the dark-haired and very pale stranger who now stood in the doorway. How long had he been standing there? Long enough to be able to make a quip back at the curator, his voice was low, and almost monotone.

         "History can be cruel as well as kind Doctor Vimmer." Vimmer leaped from his desk, spun around, but was not able to make out the features of the person at the doorway, for just as he straightened up, and the visitor flicked the light off. All the doctor could make out was an outline of a man, standing against the light coming from the outside corridor. He was almost six foot tall, and appeared to be wearing what seemed to be the uniform of the Spectrum Agency. His eyes just finished adjusting to the change in light when he noticed the agent pulling out his revolver from its holster.

         A single shot rang out.

         The magnifying glass fell from his hand.

         Vimmer was dead before it hit the floor, smashing its glass into a dozen pieces. He fell back and clattered into his desk.

         The assassin leaned forward and uttered to the corpse, "History can also be cruel and kind."

         Two luminous green rings suddenly appeared over the body, as though projected on to it by a torch or spotlight. They moved very slowly and eerily from head to foot. All it took was a the time for the human eye to blink, and there, standing next to the dead doctor, was as exact a duplicate copy of him as it could be possible to create. Waistcoat unbuttoned, hair all out of place, glasses on the end of his nose, the 51 year old man, copied to the most exact detail. The unblinking eyes of this facsimile of Herbert Vimmer looked straight ahead; there was not a flicker of emotion in him. The man in the Spectrum uniform, looked at him, and spoke with calm certainty.

         "Doctor Vimmer, this is Captain Black, relaying instructions from the Mysterons, you know what you must do."











History Created and Crushed

By Nigel Preece

Based on



"Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons"

both created by Gerry Anderson MBE


(c) Carlton International Media



1. A Place to Hide


         "Lieutenant Green, launch all Angels."

         Colonel White spun his desk around and had finished giving out the order even before his desk stopped rotating.

         "S.I.G.," came the reply from the standby officer. His chair then moved him slowly to a position halfway down the long computer console that was his responsibility and pressed a small switch.

         "Angels One, Two, and Three, immediate launch."

         As Green was doing this, the colonel was stepping out from his desk and walking over to the observation port to see the three aircraft leave. Such was the efficiency of their lovely pilots that no sooner had White stepped on to the cylindrical walkway that lead from the control room, than the white jets were speeding down the runway, and off into the sky.

         The Spectrum chief then turned his attention to the spectrum passenger jet on the lower Cloudbase runway; inside sat his two most trusted officers, Captain Blue, and the man who, by sheer fortune alone, had become Spectrum’s most valuable asset in this war of nerves against the Mysterons, Captain Scarlet. It was Scarlet's voice that White now heard as it came over the speaker.

         "Request launch clearance."

         "Spectrum is Green," came the reply from Lieutenant Green, and the craft moved slowly at first, and then gradually it picked up speed until it left the carrier and climbed fast to join the Angel escort.

         "All Angels and SPJ sky borne, sir."

         "Thank you, lieutenant," the colonel acknowledged, and he went back to his desk. "Open a radio link to all the aircraft," he requested.

         Green flicked a switch. "Go ahead, sir".

         "This is Colonel White. You will proceed to the rendezvous point as instructed in your briefing. Its code number is 162. There, the Angels will over fly the airstrip while the Spectrum Passenger Jet will land. Captain Scarlet, Captain Blue, and the World President will be in a Spectrum Maximum Security Vehicle, this will be flanked front and rear by two Spectrum Pursuit Vehicles. Once you have collected the President, head straight for Cloudbase. That is all."

         Blue replied, "S.I.G. Colonel, ETA point 162, 21 minutes."

         The four craft flight swung east, their destination was a disused airstrip just 20 minutes drive from the presidential palace, itself a mere two miles from the centre of the world government capital, Unity City. The flight passed over the Bermuda coast as Captain Blue had estimated, just 21 minutes into their journey. Scarlet looked down from his side of the cockpit; he saw first the huge sprawling mass of Space City, home of the World Space Patrol with its familiar rotating T-tower, then, in a matter of minutes their plane passed over the even bigger mass of buildings that was Unity City. The four craft then banked to the west, in doing so they passed over the presidential palace. Roosevelt House as it was known, looked every inch a palace, fit for a president. Though at this time, its incumbent would be glad, Scarlet thought, to live in a hut if it meant no more attention from the Mysterons.

         A roadway lead from the palace to a junction. In one direction was the main road that linked the palace to the centre of the city. The other road petered out into a track. This track lead up a small hill, over the brow of this hill, and into a small field. It was flat, and was, it appeared at one time, to be the chosen site for a runway for all presidential sites. Scarlet pondered that it was perhaps wise that the WP chose to use the purpose built airstrip at Space City, with all its security. Yet now, on probably the most serious matter imaginable, it was ironically this small strip that was being used, and sure enough, as briefed, the SPVs and the MSV were there in the pre discussed position.

         "OK Capt Blue," Scarlet said to his colleague and friend, "There are the MSV and escort." His epaulettes flashed white, and his cap mike fell down into place. "Colonel, we've arrived at point 162. Area is clear, the MSV and the two SPV’s are in position."

         "S.I.G. Captain Scarlet. Captain Grey is in the front SPV, Magenta is in the rear one, they both report the area clear. Captain Ochre is in the MSV with the President, he will escort him to the plane and will return to Cloudbase with you."

         "S.I.G. Colonel, losing height now, will radio once we are airborne again".

         The exchange on the ground took less than 2 minutes; the two SPVs sped off with Grey and Magenta at the wheels. They would follow the others back to Cloudbase within the hour. A Spectrum security officer took care of the MSV. It had taken four minutes for the vehicles to arrive, deposit their VIP on the jet, and leave.

         Less than thirty minutes later, World president Robert Younger sat in front of Colonel White's desk. The sixth person to hold the position since the World Government was incorporated in 2016, Younger had become the first person to be targeted by the Mysterons when, just two years into his term, the attack by the Zero-X triggered the war of nerves. Now he was the first to be targeted twice, and the strain of it showed, but he remained stoical, and to the surprise of Colonel White, even humorous, cracking a joke or two with the valet staff as they took the president’s luggage to the quarters he had been assigned on Cloudbase.

         "Mr President," the colonel began, "We are keeping all channels of investigation open, any lead, however small or insignificant, will be investigated. We have the resources, the man power and last of all, and the will to win. You can rest assured that we will find the Mysteron agent before he or she finds you".

         "Thank you Colonel," the president replied. "But where do you start?" he asked, his voice showing signs of exasperation, and worry.

         Colonel White sounded almost apologetic. "I wish I could answer that sir, I wish I could."



2. A Lead


         "Spectrum Headquarters Munich here, it may be nothing, but we think you should take a look at this."

         "This is Colonel White, do you have something substantial, or is it just rumour or conjecture?"

         "No sir," the operative in Munich replied. "This could be important, something has come in from the local police in Düsseldorf."

         "Right, on no account are you to talk about this further, even though this is a secure channel, it could still be being monitored. I'll send down my two senior officers, that is if you think this is definitely worth our while."

         "I think so sir." His voice now a little uncertain. However, better to err on the side of caution, White thought. He closed the link and summoned Scarlet and Blue to the control room. Both were in the room of sleep when they were called and the two of them were still a little groggy when they sat at their CO's desk.

         Within 90 minutes they were in Düsseldorf, and were heading along the E3 highway that links Düsseldorf with Eindhoven, and eventually Antwerp. The quadruple carriageway arced its way out of the westfalien metropolis and in minutes the captains were in Neuss. The two, now fully awake officers headed for the local police station, and once they had parked their Spectrum Saloon Car outside the back, they made for the main entrance. There they were greeted by a rather portly gentleman in his late fifties it appeared, slightly bald, with a moustache that made him appear almost Latin, instead of German.

         "Goot e-vening capitains," he slightly bowed his head in a manner that reminded Blue of a famous director of Hollywood suspense films in the latter half of the 20th century, who's name escaped him at this time. The man continued, "My name iss Gottfried Maus, unt I am chief of police for zis district of Düsseldorf."

         "A pleasure to meet you," Blue replied. "I'm Captain Blue, and this is Captain Scarlet."

         "Likewise. Now you will accompany me to ze place that I think will interest you. It is just over ze road." And with a point of his finger, and with both hands clasping the lapels of his overcoat, he lead the two agents over the main through road of Neuss to a building just down a side street. The entrance door was wedged open and the trio walked through into a small lobby where the policeman flashed his ID card to an awaiting constable and then led Scarlet and Blue up a flight of stairs at the end of the lobby.

         The stairs came to rest at a large landing. To the right was a corridor which seemed to lead to a fire exit, the door was ajar and a small barrier was erected in front of it. To the left, a door led to a small office. There in front of a desk was a blanket, underneath it was corpse, and Chief Maus bent down and pulled back the blanket top to reveal the person it covered. He spoke, "Gentlemen, may I present to you the late Dr Herbert Vimmer. He was shot less than 3 hours ago. He was the curator of the building you are in, which is the local history archive. Wiz zis in mind, may I direct you to the room next to zis one pleez."

         He gestured to the adjoining room, and the three men went in. They were greeted with row upon row of computer disks. Each one stacked on shelving that stretched from floor to ceiling all on one wall. Scarlet noticed one of the disks had been removed, and placed in a PC on a desk opposite the wall. The disk was still inside, he picked up the case lying next to the computer. "Chief Maus," he asked, handing the case to the policeman, "this disk reads Westfalia Tribune 2017-2032. Of what use is this to us?" he enquired, seeming almost to feel as if he and Blue were waiting their time. Maus responded.

         "Ah Spectrum people!" He had one hand on his lapel and with his other hand began to wag his finger in a manner that reminded Blue of a certain fiction detective on  whodunit films of the late 20th century, who's name escaped him at this time. "You must not judge a book by its cover," he continued to wag his finger as if lecturing the two for having done something wrong. "Ziz compewder iz vone wiss ze abilidy to record all material zat hass been accessed in the vent of such an investigation as zis. Behold."  He motioned the two captains to look at the screen, and the clerk, sitting at the PC, who had been called in from Düsseldorf archive by Chief Maus began to access the security file. Maus continued, "ze shewtink took place zome tree hours ago, zis gives us a time frame to go on, and sure enough, two hours and forty-four minutes ago, zis disk was accessed and the following pages were looked at." He waited for the clerk to call up the image he wanted them to see, saw it appear on the screen, stood back and allowed Blue and Scarlet to see the picture and the headline for themselves.

         There eyes widened as they saw what was on the screen. The headline, from the edition of the Tribune from August 9th 2029, and in Latin, for some reason, read, "Media morte in vita sumus." Blue read it out loud, "Today, amid the wreckage of the earthquake in Los Angeles, amid the death that seemed to surround the quake zone, and will go on surrounding the zone for some weeks to come, there was a tiny spec of life for us to celebrate, for in a makeshift tent, on a hill overlooking the main central metropolitan area, a baby was born. A son to be precise. Mrs Kim Younger of Bakersfield, California, gave birth to her first son, christened Robert at 11.20am eastern daylight time. Robert weighed in at exactly 9 pounds. Mother and son are both doing well, and were re-united with Father, Dr Mark Younger, and later today."

         "Media Morte in Vita Sumus," Scarlet said, looking on at the page in surprise, "In the midst of Death, we are in Life."

         "Ye Gods," said Blue, and he puffed out his cheeks as if to emphasise the surprise, "We're on the right lead then, Chief Maus."

         "Absolutely," he replied. "I am aware that these Mysterons or whatever they are can create an exact copy of a dead person, so it is fair to say that a person matching the exact description of Vimmer is now at large, but for what end, I vish I knew."

         "Right Chief Maus," said Scarlet, now taking charge of the situation, "We'll take it from here."

         "Cloudbase," Blue's epaulettes flashed white, his cap mike again fell down to his mouth, and he spoke, "Colonel, we were right to come here. But there are still more questions than answers."



3. Questions



         In the open countryside, to the north of Düsseldorf, the E9, the giant north road that linked Düsseldorf, Essen  and nearby Dortmund with Hamburg and Copenhagen was deserted. Save for one black sedan, speeding at nearly 100kph. Its occupant was a picture of calm, he did not even bat an eyelid as he sped through the smaller towns of Onnasbruck, Bremen, and Bremmerhaven on his way to his destination, but where?

         He glanced down at the empty seat next to him, empty that is save for the small map opened out and folded so that the road he was on was centre page. The village he came to next looked, at least on the map to be an insignificant little place with nothing to offer any visiting driver. Yet, on the map on the seat was a large cross drawn right next to this village, drawn by the driver of the speeding car. The speeding suddenly began to ease off, and the vehicle slowed down as it entered the village. Once at the village crossroads the driver turned right, and headed up a small incline, the road gradually got narrower and narrower until it was only one lane wide, and the tarmac became nothing more than a dirt track.

         Some two miles down the other side of the small hill the car came to a halt at a large wrought-iron gate. The gate was book ended either side by a brick wall which was equally as high. Beyond the gate there was a large field; at the rear of this field was what appeared to be a small stately home. The driver got out of the front seat and opened the rear passenger door, got in and lied down with his head facing the driver side.

         He raised his head just above the top of the driver’s seat, and, sure enough he saw, amid the gloom, the outline of a lone figure walking towards him from the other side of the gate.

         The figure stopped at the gate, and with one hand drew a pistol, with the other, a keypad. The keypad was pointed at the right hand gate post, and a button was pressed. The gate opened inwards.

         The figure walked towards the car, just then, the window of the rear passenger door was wound down.

         A gun barrel appeared above the top of the glass.

         A shot rang out. The figure, now close enough to be made out as a female, slumped to the floor. She would not have known a thing. The driver got out of the car, walked over to where the woman's body lay, and then glanced over his shoulder as a voice, deep, dark, and menacing, spoke.

         "Doctor Vimmer, this is Captain Black, relaying instructions from the Mysterons, we will re-construct the body of security officer Shutze. She will give you access without interruption to the centre of the building, where you will find the chronometric gateway." As Black finished talking, an exact copy of security officer Hildegard Shutze appeared out of thin air next to the former Spectrum man.

         Herbert Vimmer, mysteron agent spoke back, "The Mysteron instructions will be carried out, we will not fail."


         "Thank you, colonel, we'll get there in the Spectrum Saloon Car, no point waiting time getting an SPV from over in Dortmund."

         "Indeed. All the same I'll have a Spectrum security guard drive that one from Dortmund to rendezvous with you when you get to the complex. What's you ETA there Captain Blue?"

         "Twenty-two minutes, sir. Have the roads cleared to give us a chance to get through," Blue responded.

         "I'll try," said White. "But having the adjoining roads closed to you might arouse suspicion, we need to keep this as low key as possible. We still do not have any idea what is actually in this complex, even the President doesn't know. At this very moment he is speaking to his senior security advisers from his temporary office here on Cloudbase to get the information he needs. I don't think he is too happy that whatever is in there is not known to him in the first place. Anyway, good luck to both of you."

         "Thank you, sir, Spectrum is Green," and Captain Blue signed off. He turned to face Scarlet, at the wheel of the SSC.

         "Lucky that farmer was passing by that area and heard that gunshot," Scarlet said.

         "Yep, but he was taking a risk going and looking at the gate and seeing the car and the body, Black could have had him."

         Scarlet quietly nodded, as he gradually opened up the accelerator as the car got to the open country. It had all happened so quickly. The farmer, has been out walking his dogs when he heard the gun go off, the time taken from this farmer having seen the car, reported stolen at the time Vimmer was found dead, stolen by a man fitting Vimmer's description, and the dead guard, to the red Spectrum vehicle being on it's way to the complex was little more than sixteen minutes. The fact that no one in the German police or local municipal authority had any idea that a house of any sort existed by this village let alone that it was something important as to require a security guard to carry a loaded pistol, was a cause for concern for the World President.

         What was in the house?

         Why did it need a security guard, and an armed one at that?

         What did our man Vimmer want with the place, and why was that guard now dead?

         Soon he would get his answers.


         Colonel White did this more times than he cared to mention, looking out from the observation walkway next to the control room on the giant white carrier that was the headquarters of the Spectrum agency, and also, for the moment, the office of the President of the World. He thought long and hard about the newspaper headline from the earthquake all those years ago.

         He was himself just twelve years old when the quake struck; he remembered vividly the images coming over the television in his parent’s old house in Canterbury. Images came to mind of the desolation, the misery and the suffering, but there was also praise, written in the papers, and spoken on the broadcasts, of the efforts of International Rescue.

         The Thunderbirds.

         They had only been in operation for just three years when the quake struck, and already the young Charles Gray was in awe of them. They had saved the life of the business partner of his American father just months after they had stunned the unexpecting world with their dramatic appearance at Heathrow airport and the miracle that they delivered to those six hundred innocent souls on the Fireflash.

         Their commitment to service was in many ways the reason why he chose a career in the armed services, little realising then that in years to come, the family connection that would come about between himself, and people behind that great organisation. Yet he had no recollection of the news of the birth of a young baby boy amid the wreckage. "Guess I was too busy being their greatest fan to notice anything else," the grey-haired Gray thought out loud.

         He was suddenly woken from his reverie.

         A noise of a door opening come from the other room was the cause. He stepped out of the walkway and was met by the World President, his face whiter than the very uniform that the Spectrum commander in chief was wearing.

         "Colonel, I think we should talk about this alone." It was as much as he could do to speak, let alone walk to the very observation walkway the colonel had come from. The two men walked into the clear cylindrical area that had its entrance directly opposite where Lieutenant Green sat. "Excuse me lieutenant", the colonel said as he and Younger disappeared into the other room.




4. Answers


         Scarlet and Blue jumped out of the SSC at the gates of the house. The body of the dead guard had long gone. Together with the stolen car. In addition to the promised SPV, there was a whole squad of Spectrum Guards at the front.

         Together with a platoon of armed German police officers. Scarlet turned to face them all, and was brief.

         "Spectrum security personnel, you will surround the wall of this house and on no account are you to let anyone in to the building, official passes or not. If anyone turns up demanding access to this place, and flashing passes at you, stop them. If they have a problem, they can take it up with me when this job is done. Members of the Bundersgard, you will guard the approach road, only Spectrum vehicles are to be granted passage." With that, he turned abruptly and walked down the gravel track that leads to the house, with Blue alongside him.

         They were halfway to the house when Blue and Scarlets epaulettes flashed white together.

         The man in red answered, "Go ahead, colonel."

         There was a pause, as though White was summoning up the strength to speak. "Captain Scarlet, what I am about to tell you and Captain Blue is to be kept in the strictest of confidence, this is security classified far above anything we have had to handle before. I will come straight to the point, in the house in front of you is a device called a Chronometric Gateway. This apparatus is capable of transporting an object or person back in time!"

         The captains froze. They stared at each others, the colonel had expected this and had paused to allow them time to let the last statement from their gov'nor sink in.

         Time travel.

         At once the jigsaw began to fit together.

         The Mysterons had planned to go back in time and prevent the birth of the President, or at least kill him once he was born. It was their sickest threat yet,  hence the cryptic nature of the message they issued, and they way they had gone about their plan, the old newspapers accessed, and in particular the ones that were printed on the day of his birth, amid the wreckage of the 2029 earthquake.

          It all now made sense.

         "Scarlet, Blue, are you still there?" the colonel demanded.

         "Y-yes, sir," a startled Blue replied. "We were just taking it in, NOW this whole thing makes sense. What can we expect in there sir?" he enquired.

         "I'm afraid I just don't know, what plans there are of the device are planted in the brain of the scientist that created the thing, a professor Burgoyne, he is currently in California, at Marineville to be precise, having just completed some work for the World Aquanaut Security Patrol, he's heading over here right now in a Spectrum Passenger Jet with an Angel escort. Captain Ochre is at the controls and he informs me it will be 50 minutes before he arrives at a nearby airstrip we have set aside for landing."

         Scarlet was not optimistic about his arrival, "It might be a waste of time. What's the betting when we get in there we find the place a wreck!"

         "All the same, he's on his way, lets hope he has a Chronometric Gateway to look at when he gets there," White was more hopeful than his senior Captain.

         The two men got to the main entrance door, where they should have found a security lock keypad. The pad was gone. Blue pushed the door open, the corridor that they saw before them was in darkness, Scarlet fumbled for a switch, but once his hand came across it yielded no light. The flashlights were only a poor substitute, but they were able to find their way to the centre of the complex, one door, two, three, four, five, and finally, a sixth double door. All with their keypads blown away. Gingerly Scarlet pushed the door open, as he did so he quietly whispered to his colleague.

         "Adam, wait here, if anything happens to me in there, warn the others outside and have the Angels pepper this place with ammo as soon as they’ve seen the SPJ down on the strip, to hell with this man Burgoyne. He had no business building such a device in the first place, clear?"

         “But Paul, what if that device is turned on you, it could kill you.”

         “It’s a chance I’ll have to take.”

         “It’s suicide.”

         Scarlet shot Blue a familiar look. “You know I’m right, Adam”.

         Blue reluctantly understood, "SIG Paul."

         Scarlet went in. What he saw was not what he expected, yet what could anyone expect to see, when they are told that a time machine has been built in this room? Again, darkness greeted him, but this time the lighting was not out of commission. Once he found the light switch, he drew breath, and pushed the switch down.

         In the centre of the room was a large crater, about twelve feet in diameter, four or five feet deep, but no sign of either a time machine, or Vimmer. It was as though a massive explosion had taken place, and taken half the room with it.

         Suddenly, something stirred from the far corner of the room, from behind what appeared to be the remains of a wrecked control desk. Scarlet raced around the right side of the room to where the movement had come from. As he got closer, a sudden feeling of nausea hit him; his head began to feel as though it weighed a ton. Heedless of this discomfort, he knelt down and began picking up the pieces of smashed desk from on top of the person, whose arms were now visible. Scarlet noticed this person was wearing a security uniform. When the last piece was removed, the seat of an operator’s chair, the Spectrum man stood back in horror.

         It was Shutze.

         Scarlet knew she had been killed, and replaced with a double, and now this double, looked up at the Spectrum agent, her body wounded so badly that a normal person would be dead by now, but even has Scarlet looked at her, he could see the wounds starting to heal.

         She lifted her head, and spoke.

         "We have sent Doctor Vimmer back in time, and to see that you cannot follow him, we have destroyed the Chronometric Gateway. We will stop the President from living, we will succeed where we failed on that first day of our war. We also know of your inherited powers of retro-metabolism, but it will not stop us. No, not even you Paul Metcalfe, Captain Scarlet, will be able to stop us now," a sickening evil smile now came to her face. "We will be avenged, Earthman!"

         From behind Scarlet, came a bolt of invisible power. Electricity. Captain Blue only needed to fire the Mysteron gun once, it was enough.






         Robert Younger sat slumped in his chair next to the window in his quarters on Cloudbase, he was being attended to by Dr Fawn. The Australian physician had just administered a sedative to help him sleep. With the aide of Symphony Angel, herself a trained medic, the President was helped to his bed, in the adjoining room. As he lay there, the outside door opened, and Colonel White walked in and joined the others at the President's bedside. As they stood there, the drugs Fawn had just given him were taking real effect, and the World President drifted off to an uneasy sleep. White turned away and walked toward the window on the opposite side of the room. A moment later he was joined by Dr Fawn. White looked at his chief medical officer, and his face did not hide his anxiety, "Doctor, in the years that Spectrum has been in operation we have always been able to at least try and stop the Mysterons. Whatever they throw at us, we can throw back. Yet this is one time where we are simply not able to do a thing, the whole situation is just helpless."

         He pointed to the bed, and continued.

         "Here is the President of the World, under the tightest security it is possible to have, all six corridors on this section of the carrier are sealed off. There is an Angel circling the base at all times. In any other situation he would be the safest person in the world, and yet in this case, we can have all the security in the world, it would make no difference. If there was no one on this base guarding him, he would be no more vulnerable than he is now. The Mysterons have at their disposal the most powerful weapon they or anyone else has ever had."

         He looked at Fawn.

         "History. History that they can create, and crush!"









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