Newton's Legacy

A "Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons" Story

By Sue Stanhope



Captain Ochre woke slowly. He felt achy, dizzy and sick. He was lying down, that much he knew but when he tried to open his eyes, he found that he couldnít. He paused a moment, thinking about it, realising he was still quite groggy. There must be an explanation. He tried again to open his eyes, still no response. Then he felt it, a strip of something sticky clung to his forehead and cheeks, telling him that his eyes were taped over. He could tell that wherever he was it was bright enough for the light to penetrate the tape and his eyelids, but he could not see.

He tried to move and met with no response. He could feel what seemed to be thick leather straps securing him to a cushioned surface, his wrists, ankles and chest held firmly in place. His breathing quickened and his heart raced. Where was he, who had taken him there and why?

"About time too, Earthman!" said a voice near his left shoulder.

Ochreís head swung to the left as he recognised the voice.

"Black?!" he hissed through clenched teeth. Ochre pulled desperately on the straps holding him, but they were secured.

"Where am I? How did I get here?"

"That doesnít matter."

"It matters to me!"

"Thatís even less important," came the cold reply.

Ochre could hear footsteps approaching; a second person had evidently entered the room.

"Is your patient ready, Doctor Black?" asked the voice.

"Not quite, Doctor Hammond."

"Patient?!" exclaimed the alarmed Ochre.

In one swift movement Black tore the tape from Ochreís eyes. Flinching, Ochre blinked in the sudden bright light of what appeared to be an operating theatre. He was strapped down to the table, unable to move. Captain Black stood to his left staring silently at him. An older man, Ochre guessed he must be in his mid to late fifties, stood to Blackís left. Ochreís mouth dried as he took in his surroundings, his imagination torturing him over what Black might have in store.

"Iím not a patient, his or anybodyís!"

"Now, Mr Fraser, you must calm down," Hammond said comfortingly.

"You said ĎDoctorí Black." Ochre had only just realised, and the significance was not lost on him. "Youíre not a Mysteron!" He sighed with relief. "You have to let me go, Iím a Spectrum Captain. Black isnít a doctor, heís a Mysteron Agent."

"Yes of course, Mr Fraser."

Ochre suddenly became aware that his cap, tunic and sleeve insignia had been removed and his boots replaced by plain black shoes. There was nothing to identify him as a Spectrum agent.

"Please, you have to believe me, heís going to kill me. Take these straps off me!" Ochre was yelling now and pulling frantically on the restraints.

"Doctor Black, if youíd hold his arm. I canít let him distress himself like this." Hammond raised a syringe filled with a pale blue liquid.

"No, please!" shouted Ochre in despair, as his eyes fell on Hammondís syringe.

Black gripped Ochreís upper left arm and held it firm. Pulling back the sleeve, Hammond prepared the syringe.

"Doctor Hammond! Please donít!"

Hammond looked up at him, he didnít know what but there was something in Ochreís determined expression which somehow set him apart from all of the other cases of mentally disturbed patients brought to him. But perhaps what really made him think was Blackís overly quick and terse response.

"Sedate him!"

"Yes, Doctor," Hammond replied raising the syringe again.

"Please, Doctor. No!" Ochre cried again as he strained against the chest strap to raise himself.

"Mr Fraser, you must relax. Your patient has some fearful delusions, Doctor Black."

Hammond made a mental note to check on the young manís story. There was something about his eyes, a definite certainty in them, along with panic and sheer desperation. Not the eyes of a madman. Would it hurt just to check? It would be wise of him to act normally though. If this Black really was dangerous and the Ďpatientí in his care truly a Spectrum Officer, then he could be in grave danger himself. Hammond injected the drug into Ochreís arm. Almost immediately Ochre felt the cold serum running into his veins. His arm numbed slightly, the rest of his body followed suit only seconds later. Slumping back to the cushioned table, unable to move even his eyes, Ochre hung on to consciousness for what seemed like an eternity, but was, in reality, only a few seconds.




Captain Grey woke up in Sickbay.

"Doctor Fawn! Heís awake!" said the voice at his bedside.

Grey let out a low moan as he felt the pounding headache made infinitely worse by the bright lights above him. Glancing to his left through half open eyes, he saw a shape, that was all that would form at the moment, but he could see it was deep pink.

"Pat?" he whispered.

"Yeah, Brad, itís me. Just relax. Doctor Fawnís taking care of you. Youíll be ok."

"What happened? How did I get here?"

"You were chasing Captain Black through the Alps. There was a rockslide, your SPV went off the road."

"I donít remember."

"Harmony saw you go, you just kept rolling down the hill until you disappeared into the woods. Thatís where we found you. Youíre lucky to be alive, Brad."

Grey was starting to have a vague recollection of rolling downhill, strapped into the SPV seat.


The SPV, with Captains Grey and Ochre aboard, sped along the narrow, twisting alpine road. To the left, a steep slope leading up the mountain; to the right, a sheer drop. Captain Grey, at the controls, raced after the car ahead with a look of absolute determination on his face. He paid very little attention to the shale and the few slightly larger stones rolling down the steep slope to the left of the SPV. It was only when a huge boulder crashed down ahead of them that either officer realised that something was wrong. Ahead of them, the car came to an abrupt stop, the occupant stepping out to view the scene behind him with binoculars. Grey flipped a switch, on the controls; on the monitor an inset appeared showing the view from above. The scene it showed was a terrifying one, as they saw a tremendous rockslide racing down the side of the mountain towards them. The whole side of the mountain appeared to be crumbling; their only chance was to try to outrun it. Ahead too they could see the falling rocks; the road was covered. A shudder sent the SPV careering suddenly to the right; they had been hit by something big. Grey pulled the Spectrum vehicle back from the brink of the precipice only to have to swerve again as several boulders bounced in front of them.

"Lower the tracks, Rick, weíre gonna need all the traction we can get!"

Ochre reached up to the controls on his right and pressed the release for the caterpillar track cantilevers. The hydraulics lowered the four rear caterpillar tracks, it would slow them down but by now they both realised that outrunning the landslide was out of the question. Another shudder; the back of the SPV shifted slightly but held firm to the road. Ahead, the man standing next to his car lowered his binoculars and frowned. The road ahead, now partially covered by loose rock looked treacherous, but Grey had no choice but to carry on as above them the rocks continued to fall in number, behind them the road completely blocked. The SPV started an uneasy climb over the rocks, the caterpillar tracks at the rear providing much needed support and traction. At the halfway point, the rocks over which the SPV was climbing suddenly shifted; the SPV slid to the right. Grey was about to give a sigh of relief as at first it seemed that the slope of the rubble was levelling and the SPV wouldnít be put through such an awkward climb. The reason for the sudden shift soon became apparent as the road beneath the wheels of the SPV began to crumble.

"Oh God, no!" cried Grey as he tried to increase the speed to ride over the rubble before the road slid from under them. "Rick, lift the tracks!"

Ochre was already doing so; now they needed just speed and luck. They got neither; another giant boulder hit the floundering SPV. The combination of the collision, the crumbling road and the bad angle the SPV found itself in was too much for Grey to maintain control.

"Rick!" Grey cried to his terrified companion, "I canít hold it, weíre going over!"

The two officers felt the wheels of the SPV lift and the whole vehicle turn over and over as it hurtled down the steep precipice. To some extent protected inside the eight ton, tank-like vehicle, Ochre and Grey were nevertheless tossed about like rag dolls as it careered downhill. The SPV came to an abrupt, wrenching stop at the bottom of the steep slope after violently crashing into a group of trees. Two of the youngest trees ripped from their roots fell over the top of the SPV as it came to a halt, right way up. Inside the cab, the lights temporarily failed, both captains slumped over the controls. Out of the two of them, Captain Ochre seemed to have fared the best; he would ache when he woke, but a few bruised ribs and a headache would be the very least of his worries. Grey was in a much worse state, his right arm broken, his head gashed and bleeding; he seemed also to have difficulty breathing. His pain woke him and he looked about the dark cab, reaching with difficulty with his left hand for the auxiliary systems. The lights flickered to life again. Grey stared at Ochre for a long time. He wanted to be sure he was breathing, but his own intense pain kept distracting him, making it difficult to concentrate. His epaulettes flashed; Harmony had seen everything in the interceptor flying above them.

"Captain Grey? Are you both alright?"

"S.I.G. Harmony," replied Grey through clenched teeth, "Weíre alive, but weíre going to need a medicopter, Ochreís out cold and I canít move."

"S.I.G. Captain, Iíll inform Cloudbase immediately."

"Thanks Harmony."

It was some minutes later, Grey thought; it was hard to tell as he kept drifting in and out of consciousness. The door to the SPV opened on Ochreís side, attached to the mechanism, Ochreís seat glided out with it.

"Harmony?" whispered Grey, barely conscious.

"No, Captain," came a cold, chilling voice.

Grey opened his eyes; it was Captain Black. Grey tried to reach for his gun, but his arm responded only with searing pain. Black looked at the distressed captain; he seemed to be contemplating something. Leaning into the cab, he removed Greyís gun from its holster. Defenceless, Grey could only wait for Captain Black to kill him. Instead, he watched, perplexed, as Black tossed the gun aside.

"You are no threat to me, Captain Grey, and it will be some time before you are rescued. There is no need for you to suffer while you wait."

Grey wondered, with concern, what he planned to do. Black held Greyís arm where it was broken; The Spectrum Officer could feel heat and a tingling sensation flow through his arm. When Black released him, Grey felt the pain from his arm subside and he could once again move it with ease. Speechless, Grey looked up in astonishment at Black as he stepped back.

"Your other injuries will prevent you from following us anyway, but this will make sure of it. It is necessary."

Black raised a small pistol and aimed it at Greyís leg. The tiny dart hit his thigh, injecting a powerful tranquilliser into him. The next thing he knew was waking in the Cloudbase Sickbay.


Grey nodded, his vision started to restore itself, Captain Magentaís concerned face swam into focus before him.

"I remember now," Grey took in a deep painful breath and gasped with the effort.

"Relax, Grey!" insisted Doctor Fawn, "Do you know what youíve done to yourself?"

"I broke my arm," replied Grey without even thinking about it.

"Thatís about the only thing you didnít do," replied Fawn sharply.

"I did," insisted Grey, "butÖ" he searched his memory for a more plausible explanation; the one he recalled just didnít seem to fit.

"But what?" asked Fawn incredulously. "How can there be a Ďbutí?"

"Captain Black healed it."

The room was silent, nobody could truly believe Greyís statement; he found it hard to believe it himself.

"Howís Rick?" Grey suddenly realised that he hadnít seen his colleague. "I remember he was unconscious but I didnít know how badly he was hurt."

Magenta sighed, "We were hoping youíd be able to tell us what happened to him."

"What do you mean? Where is he?"

"We donít know, Brad, there was only you in the SPV when we got there."

"Blackís got him then." Greyís eyes opened wide. "He came to the SPV after we crashed. Thatís when he healed my arm. He shot me with a tranquilliser dart, in my leg."

"There was no dart, Brad."

"I didnít dream it, Pat!"

"Well I donít know, Brad, none of what you say makes sense."

"Actually it does," cut in Fawn. "I took a blood sample from you earlier. Iíve just analysed it and it does show traces of a powerful sedative."

"He said that I was no threat to him and that my other injuries would stop me following them. You see, Ďthemí heís taken Rick."

Magenta looked down and shook his head.

"You were really out of it, Brad. When we got there, you had no idea what was happening. Iím not sure about this Captain Black thing, it just doesnít stand up."

"I know what happened, Pat!"

"Hmm." Replied Magenta unconvinced. "Iíll let the Colonel know youíre awake."

"Is anyone even looking for him?" Grey asked, concerned.

"Of course they are. Scarlet and Blue are down there now. Please try to remember something, Brad. Itís getting dark and itís cold in the mountains."

"Whatís the point of remembering when you donít believe me anyway?"

"Remember something sensible then!"

Magenta turned to leave and almost collided with Melody, who had just completed her duty in Angel 1. He wondered how long sheíd been there.

"Hi Melody, come to check up on Brad?"

"I guess he needs a friendly face right now."

"ErÖyeah, I guess so," he replied, not understanding what she was referring to. "Iím getting back to the Info Centre, Iíll see you later?"

"Yes, you will."

"Oh, ok. See you later then. Bye Brad."

Grey waved his goodbye. It was a half-hearted wave; he seemed distracted, but smiled appreciatively as Melody approached.

"Iím going to have words with him later."

"Donít worry about it, Mags. Heís just worried about Rick."




Magenta had settled himself in the Spectrum Information Centre adjacent to the Control Room. Seated in a chair opposite one of Spectrumís state-of-the-art computers, he was still trying to find any possible links or connections to the latest Mysteron threat. Grey and Ochre had been on the trail when they had been attacked, but even then, they were no closer to discovering the Mysteron objective.

"You were a bit harsh, werenít you?"

Magenta looked up, Melody Angel stood framed in the doorway. This time, he knew what she was talking about.

"Oh come on! I was trying to find out whatís happened to Rick and he comes up with being miraculously healed by Captain Black of all people. I mean, is it any wonder I lost my temper?"

"They used to get on quite well, whatís so surprising?"

"Oh yes, Iíd forgotten that. They got on so well that Black drove them off a cliff, then felt so bad about it afterwards that he healed his arm."

"Well, if you put it like thatÖBut what ifÖWell, you remember what Adam said."

"What, that Conrad might still be there inside him? Rubbish, if he is, he only seems to surface when it suits the Mysteronsí purpose."

"Except earlier today."

"Ramblings of a semi-conscious mind."

"He believes it, did you have to be so mean?"

"Mean?" Magenta looked hurt. "Do you really believe that?"

Melody looked down at the seated captain; she realised sheíd probably gone too far. So Magenta thought that Grey was probably dreaming, did that really mean he was unkind to say so?

"No," she conceded. "But itís not what I think that matters."

"Youíre right. Iíll talk to him again."

Magenta returned to the screen ahead of him; heíd be more use to Grey if he could tell him heíd found something. He glanced again at the note heíd made of the Mysteron announcement.


A leader shall be destroyed as we prove one of Newtonís Theories is flawed.


Magenta typed "Newton" into the search engine of the computer and looked downcast as it relayed over 2000 references. Trying to pin it down further by adding the word "Theory" reduced the list by only 500. His years at school and college had versed him well on the major contribution Newton had made to the world of science. Almost everything they had achieved so far was in some way linked to Newtonís works, if not based directly on them. But now, faced with all this work and a tight deadline of only twenty-four hours, imposed by the Mysterons, Magenta could only think of Newton as someone with too much time on his hands.




Captains Scarlet and Blue stood at the wreck of the SPV, surveying the area. The rescue team had left a lot of footprints; the whole area was a trackerís nightmare. There didnít appear to be any clues left to find.

"If heíd left on his own, heíd have contacted Cloudbase by now," Scarlet said to Blue.

"I think youíre right. I donít know about this healing thing that Greyís talking about, but this has the unmistakable mark of a Mysteron ambush about it."

"So we search for Ochre away from the wreck site."

"Letís go into town. Even if he had amnesia heíd head for a town."

"Right, letís go."




Doctor Hammond started to release the straps holding Ochre to the table.

"What are you doing?" asked Black entering the theatre again.

"Iím sorry, Doctor Black, I assumed you wouldnít be performing your procedure tonight, with it being so late. I was having him transferred to a cell."

"Late? Of course Doctor, I hadnít realised. He must be restrained though, heís a danger to himself as well as others."

"Whatever you suggest, Doctor, heís your patient. We have a special area for dangerous patients, Iím sure youíll find it suitably secure."

Black smiled; the doctor couldnít have been more helpful if heíd been Mysteronised. Black was completely unaware that Hammond had his suspicions and merely appeared to assist him so as not to attract any unwanted attention before he had the chance to contact Spectrum. There was something very odd about this doctor, even though he had come highly recommended from another institute.

Hammond watched uneasily from the entrance of the Swiss Mental Health Institute as Black drove away, satisfied in the knowledge that Captain Ochre was securely locked away and could not escape. In the morning, he would return and continue with his plan to brainwash the Spectrum captain.

Returning to his quarters, Hammond immediately picked up the telephone.




"Sir, I have a Doctor Hammond of the Swiss Mental Health Institute for you, he says itís urgent."

"Put him on, Lieutenant."

"Colonel White, youíll probably think this is a very strange call but I thought I should check it out."

"Go on, Doctor Hammond." White was intrigued.

"A young man was brought to my hospital today under the care of a Doctor Black. He claims to be a Spectrum captain, he seemed so convincingÖ I thought I shouldÖ"

"What does he look like?" asked White, cutting him off.

It sounded to Hammond that he was right to be suspicious.

"Tall, Iíd say about six feet, maybe a little more. Brown hair, well built, American accent. He was brought in under the name Richard Fraser."

White inwardly sighed with relief. It had to be him; Black had even used his real name. But Spectrum rules forbad him to reveal this, he must still pretend to be unsure and insist upon further proof.

"Weíll have our men there as soon as possible, Doctor. One of our Captains went missing in your area earlier today. I believe he may be our man. If he is, then this man Black is extremely dangerous. Is he still at the hospital?"

"No Colonel, he left a few minutes ago."

"Good, would it be possible for me to talk to this Mr Fraser?"

"Iím sorry, Colonel, heís sedated, by Doctor Blackís orders. I might be able to wake him with an anti-serum but I canít guarantee. I can contact you again via a satellite communicator."

"Good. Lieutenant, please give the doctor a frequency." Once the call had ended, White turned to Lieutenant Green, "Inform Captains Blue and Scarlet and ask them to make their way to the hospital immediately. It must be him."




Hammond shook Ochreís shoulders gently, "Mr Fraser, can you hear me?"

Slowly Ochre opened his eyes; the situation was becoming too familiar. Groggy and unable to move, still barely awake, he vented his frustration.

"What do you want with me?" His speech was slurred and slow.

"Mr Fraser, wake up, Colonel White will never recognise your voice if you sound like that."

"Colonel White?" Ochre queried as he started to regain consciousness.

Hammond held the communicator closer to Ochre. At the mention of the Colonelís name, he tried to sit upright, but was held firmly to the bed.

"Get these restraints off me!" he snapped.

"Captain Ochre?" came a familiar voice.

"Colonel!" Ochre came to at the sound of his Commanderís voice. "Please, tell the doctor to release me, I have to get after Black."

"Doctor Hammond, your suspicions were right. That is Captain Ochre of Spectrum; you must release him immediately. The other man is a Mysteron Agent, you were wise not to raise your suspicions until after he left."

"Iíll release him immediately of course, Colonel, but Doctor Black will return for him in the morning, I will require some protection here."

"Of course, two officers are already in the area. Iíll have them make their way to you immediately. It may be the best plan for you and your staff to leave, we will use our advantage to trap Black on his return."

"As you suggest, Colonel, Iíll arrange for my staff to leave at once. I will stay behind to await the arrival of your officers."

Hammond switched off the communicator and placed it on the table beside him.

"Well young man, I can only apologise for treating you like this. Doctor Black did come recommended by a colleague in another institute." Hammond sighed sadly, "I suppose he too is a Mysteron?"

"Not necessarily Doctor, Captain Black is convincing, as you found out tonight. But weíll check it out. Now Doctor," Ochre started to sound impatient, "the restraints?"

"Of course, Iím sorry," Hammond replied, first releasing the strap across Ochreís chest.

"Doctor Hammond," came a voice from the doorway. "It seems I was right to doubt you."

"Doctor Black!" Hammond cried in surprise. "I was only loosening, this one, he was having difficulty breathing."

"I know what you were doing, Doctor Hammond. I was hoping to avoid having to kill you, but you have made that impossible."

Black raised his gun and aimed at Hammond.

"Black. No!" Ochre shouted pushing himself up on his elbows. "You donít have to kill him, if you need him out of the way now, just lock him in a cell. Donít kill him!"

"You donít understand, do you, Ochre. I need his services, his expertise. Previously, when he believed I was a doctor, he was willing to assist me, now I suspect not."

"You bet your life Iíll not!"

"Not my life," Black replied, unemotionally, "Yours."

Black squeezed the trigger. The restraints still firm around his ankles and wrists, Ochre could only watch helplessly as the Doctor was murdered in front of him.

Ochre watched in stunned silence as the process of retro-metabolism took place before his eyes, and a second Doctor Hammond took his place next to Black, regarding him with the same icy stare.

"Captain Black, Colonel White is sending two more officers here. Their plan was to trap you on your return in the morning."

"No!" cried Ochre in horror as he realised that the Mysteron knew everything the previous Doctor Hammond had known. The two officers would be walking unsuspectingly into a trap.

Black smiled at Ochre, it was a malicious smile, full of evil intent. "Dismiss your staff, Doctor and prepare the patient, we donít have much time."




With the hospital now deserted, Black and Hammond guided the bed out of the maximum-security room and headed back down the corridor towards the operating theatre. Ochre struggled violently all the way.

"Youíre wasting your time and energy," Black advised the exhausted captain as they settled the bed in the centre of the room. "I fastened those restraints myself, you wonít get away. Still the more energy you waste now, the less youíll have to resist the procedure."

Raising himself up on his elbows once more, Ochre glared furiously at Black. "What do you want? Information?" he asked, "Whatever it is, you wonít get anything from me."

"You will kill Colonel White."

"Donít be ridiculous!" Ochre laughed at the suggestion.

Black seized Ochre under his chin and pushed him back down flat onto the bed, pulling another restraint across to hold him there. He almost choked under the pressure of the strap drawn tightly across his throat.

"You will, and youíll do it happily and at any cost. By the time weíve finished with you, itíll be all youíll be able to think of."

Ochre tried to respond, but every movement of his throat proved painful and induced violent nausea.

"Nothing to say, Ochre?" Black asked callously, clearly aware that the Spectrum officer was now incapable of speech.

Ochre watched wide-eyed and fearful as Hammond attached electrodes to his forehead. The helpless captain now realised that they planned to brainwash him and could only hope that the two Spectrum officers that Colonel White mentioned would arrive soon enough to stop the process.




Captain Magentaís epaulettes flashed beige and his cap microphone flipped down into position near his mouth.

"Yes, Doctor Fawn?"

"Magenta, can you come to Sickbay please? Captain Grey says heís remembered something."

"S.I.G. Doc, Iíll be right down." Saving his latest information searches, Magenta rose from his seat. In all honesty he was glad of the break; he had a feeling that the Mysterons had handed everything they needed directly to them, that this was their most obvious clue yet and he was too blind to see it.

Leaving the Information Centre, Magenta headed down to the lift to the Command Centreís lower level. From there it was a short walk along one of the moving walkways to Sickbay, which occupied a large area near the centre of the carrierís main platform. Apart from the Engine room and the two giant anti-gravity generators, responsible for keeping Cloudbase on the edge of the Earthís atmosphere, Magenta guessed that Sickbay must be one of the largest single areas on the entire base. He chuckled to himself as he walked on. Given that they were supposed to be a handpicked elite force, the sheer size of the Sickbay they had built was actually quite amusing. Well it would be, he thought, if they didnít actually need it so often.

Grey glanced up expectantly as the door to his room in Sickbay slid open. Magenta drew near to the bed; the closer he got, the more he felt the need to apologise for his earlier behaviour.

"Iím sorry Brad," he blurted.

"What?" Grey responded with alarm, "Whatís happened?"

"Nothing. I meant for what I said before, itís been bothering me."

"Oh, that. Me too, I can understand, itís hard for me to believe too."

"But you still do?"

"I know it happened, Pat. It doesnít matter how unlikely it is."

Magenta sighed; he didnít know what to do with information like that. It was so much easier to think of Captain Black as pure evil, a Mysteron and nothing more. His own experience with him had left him in very little doubt.

"Doctor Fawn said youíd remembered something."

"It may be nothing, I donít know. It just struck me as a bit odd. Black didnít want anything except Rick. It didnít matter to him that I was still alive, I mean he helped me, he really did, Pat. I canít explain it. It was as if, no matter what we did, his plan would still work. Heís got him, Pat, I know he has."

"Had him. You were right, Brad; heíd taken him to a Mental Health Institute posing as his doctor. Luckily the head of the Institute suspected something and called us."

"Heís ok?"

"Yeah, Scarlet and Blue are on their way now. They should arrive within the hour."

"But Pat, there was something about the way it happened."

"What do you mean, Brad?"

"I canít explain. It was as if he had to separate us. He knew what we were going to do before we did. There were occasions in the mission when, looking back, he had the chance to kill or capture us both. He had the upper hand almost the whole time, but he waited until he could take Rick on his own, without any resistance from either of us."

"I just donít understand him at all!" Magenta shook his head. "He does all that, and then he heals your arm?"

"I know, I donít get it either, itís just a feeling. Are you getting anywhere with deciphering the threat?"

"No, too many possibilities. But you know, Iím sure itís obvious and I just canít see it."

"Hmm. I have to get up there and help. I wonder if Fawn will release me yet? I feel fine now."

Magenta shook his head and laughed softly.

"Youíve got no chance. Has he told you what youíre in with?"

"No, but I feel fine."

"Really? Just donít try to get up."

Grey shook his head. "Iím fine!" he tried to push back the covers on the bed and realised for the first time the sheer effort and agony involved in that one simple task. His breathing suddenly became laboured and painful.

"No, Brad! Stay where you are!" Magenta rested his hands gently on Greyís shoulders.

Grey turned an ashen face to his friend. "Whatís the matter with me?" he gasped as Magenta eased him back against the pillows.

"Broken ribs and a punctured lung, Brad. Iím afraid youíre stuck here."

"What are you doing?" Fawn rushed over and shot Magenta an angry look. "Why did you let him do that?"

"Hey!" Magenta threw his hands in the air, "I told him to stay put! Can I help it if heís an idiot?"

"Itís true Doc, except for the idiot part, " Grey struggled with the words.

"Iím not so sure, Grey. It looks like thatís true too!" Fawn admonished him.




Black looked down at Captain Ochre as Hammond placed the final electrode and turned his attention to the equipment standing at the side of the bed.

"Comfortable Captain?" Black asked with a sneer.

"You canít win Black," Ochre whispered hoarsely. The effort was enormous with the restraint pressing painfully down against his throat.

"You cannot stop me. The whole process will take only forty minutes, thanks to this."

Black held up a small phial of a dark blue, almost purple liquid. As he passed it to Hammond, the Mysteronised Doctor took up the explanation.

"You see, Captain, itís a derivative of the truth serum XK4, which is dangerous enough in itself. But this, highly illegal concoction, works in a different way. Instead of forcing you to tell the truth, it instead opens your mind, making you susceptible to accept instructions, which you will carry out unquestioningly and at any cost. Yes, I know you are trained to resist such drugs and for that I pity you, as it will make the process all the more painful. The electrodes attached to your forehead will disrupt your brain patterns sufficiently to break down your resistance. It will hurt, Captain Ochre, and the more you resist the more it will hurt, but as Captain Black rightly points out, you cannot stop it."

Ochre didnít doubt it would hurt, and that Hammond would almost certainly take pleasure in that fact. Mysterons were pure evil. But there was little he could do but try to resist and hope that help would come soon.

"Doctor Hammond, you may wish to remove the restraint I placed across his neck earlier, we donít want him to choke during the procedure. We have gone to some considerable effort to get this far. It would be a shame to let him die now."

Hammond fastened the chest restraint once more before releasing the one across Ochreís neck. Enraged, Ochre snapped, tearing into the Doctor with a torrent of abuse. Still struggling, the defiant Spectrum captain refused to allow himself to be used in this way without a fight.

Hammond sighed. "I canít allow you to make all this noise Captain."

"What? Youíre going to drug me again?" Ochre asked his voice filled with contempt and hatred.

"No, I canít do that. I need you awake for the procedure to be effective."

Ochre watched uneasily as Hammond reached behind him into a large cabinet. Withdrawing and unrolling a small bandage Ochre realised with dread what he planned to do.

"Donít even try it!" warned Ochre.

Hammond smiled at Ochreís words; what could he do to stop him?

"Captain Black, if youíd hold his head please," Hammond continued.

Folding the bandage until it formed a strip of material about a foot in length, Hammond approached the anxious captain, struggling furiously in Blackís grip.

Sliding the bandage under Ochreís neck, it was a simple matter for Hammond to tie a knot with the two loose ends. Tightening it little by little until, reluctantly, Ochreís mouth was forced open. One more firm pull on the ends pushed the knot deep into Ochreís mouth. Quickly tying a second knot across the first, Hammond secured the gag. Turning back to the machinery at the bedside, Hammond flicked a switch. Ochre felt the buzz of an electric current against his forehead, only moments later he felt a syringe pierce the skin of his right hand. The treatment had started.

The pulsating from the electrodes increased. Ochreís brow furrowed; it was starting to hurt already and he felt this was just the beginning.

"Doctor Hammond, I have to communicate with our Masters. I will leave you for a short time."

"Donít worry Captain Black," replied Hammond, concentrating intently on the equipment next to the bed, "I have everything under control here." Hammond smiled as he increased the pulsator still further and listened to Ochreís muffled screams.


"Captain Black, this is the voice of the Mysterons. Your mission is proceeding well, but you used our powers to heal a Spectrum Captain. Why?"

"He was no threat," advised Black, "There was no need for him to suffer."

"There is every need! Our war of nerves against Earth requires precisely that."

"I have confused the Earthman. His caution with me may slip at a future encounter. A random act of mercy will have that effect. The Earthmen are fools."

"And this is your reason for the act?"

"Of course," Black replied, his voice wavering slightly, "What other reason could there be?"

"You have done well, Captain Black. We have no reason to doubt your loyalty."


It was a forced loyalty. The Mysterons had turned him into a drone, alive only to carry out their instructions. A mal-nourished shell of a man, once one of Spectrumís finest, the real man, Conrad Turner, held captive deep inside. At first, he had fought hard against them, but he was just one alone. His resistance had been insignificant against their powers. Over time, the knowledge of the atrocities they had forced him to perform chipped away at his soul and his sanity. Every day, the real Conrad Turner was slipping further out of reach.

Black returned to the operating theatre; Hammond had started the process of implanting their instructions. Repeating over and over, until Ochre accepted them. The pain and electric shock treatment had weakened Ochre to the point where there was nothing left with which to fight. The drug had worked, there was never any doubt in his mind that it would, but even Hammond had to concede that he was impressed at Ochreís resilience.

"Captain Black, we can complete the treatment by reducing the shocks gradually over five minutes. Any quicker would be too sudden for him to cope."

"Good, I will complete the treatment. Two Spectrum Agents are approaching the facility. One of them can sense Mysterons, but it often only manifests itself when he, or a fellow officer, is under immediate personal threat. I must leave as soon as possible; they must not find me here. Do nothing to arouse their suspicions, they must leave here with Captain Ochre with no knowledge of what we have done."

"As you say, Captain Black."

"Once the treatment is complete, I will put him in room 3F."

"Iíll greet our guests," replied the doctor.

Black gradually reduced the pulsator frequency until the machine was switched off altogether.

"Iím sorry, Captain but it was necessary."

Ochreís eyelids fluttered and he looked up at Black. Drained of his anger, the only feelings, Black noted in the captainís eyes were exhaustion and fear. He watched as Ochreís eyes closed and he slipped mercifully into unconsciousness. Unfastening the restraints and removing the gag, Black picked up Ochreís limp form and carried him silently to room 3F as arranged. Making him comfortable, Black prepared to leave.




Captains Scarlet and Blue waited for Doctor Hammond at the entrance to the Institute. Aware that he would be the only remaining staff member, they expected to have to wait for the door to be opened, but knowing their friend was inside, possibly hurt from the crash, made the waiting intolerable.

"Come on!" Scarlet rang the night bell once more.

"Easy buddy," Blue tried to calm his partner, "weíll be in soon enough."

Scarlet frowned, that wasnít quick enough. He sighed with impatient relief as he heard the inner door open and a light from inside bathe the outer door.

"Good evening, Captains, wonít you come in."

Hammond ushered the Spectrum captains inside.

"Good evening, Doctor Hammond," replied Blue. "Youíve dismissed your staff, I take it."

"At the suggestion of your Colonel, CaptainÖ" Hammond paused awaiting an introduction.

"Iím sorry," Blue said politely showing his Spectrum pass, Scarlet likewise, "Captains Blue and Scarlet."

"Of course. Welcome to our hospital. I expect you would like to see your colleague straight away."

"Yes," replied Scarlet abruptly.

"If thatís convenient, Sir," added Blue, frowning at Scarlet.

"If youíd care to follow me."

"Whatís the matter with you?" Blue asked his counterpart in a low voice as they followed Hammond.

"I donít know, IímÖI donít know, uneasy."

"Is your detector going off?"

"No, not exactly." Scarlet couldnít explain, he felt fine physically, just a little on edge.

Reaching room 3F, Hammond halted at the door, blocking it.

"Perhaps we should return later, heís sleeping."

"No thatís ok, we just want toÖ" began Blue.

"Heís exhausted Captain, I think we should let him sleep."

Scarlet moved Hammondís arm away from the wall and moved past him into the room. Realising something was wrong, Blue remained in the corridor. Hammond found himself caught between the two Spectrum agents.

"Weíre not going to wake him," reassured Scarlet as he walked over to check on Ochre.

Immediately he looked up urgently to Blue and nodded toward Hammond. Using a firm hand, Captain Blue ushered Hammond into the room and closed the door. Casting a glance toward Ochre, he immediately realised the problem.

"So," began Scarlet, prepared to give Hammond one chance to explain, "whatís been going on?"

"I donít know what you mean."

"Perhaps this will remind you," Scarlet pushed the Doctor against the wall raising his gun to his chest.

"Captain!" Hammond maintained the pretence, "What makes you thinkÖ?"

"Electrode welts, bruises on his wrists and some unpleasantly deep marks either side of his mouth." Scarlet pointed his gun between Hammondís eyes, "What have you done?" he yelled.

Blue raised the Mysteron detector, but before he could aim it, Hammond pushed Scarletís right hand upwards making him fire at the ceiling. Lowering his shoulder, he pushed forward with the strength of a much younger man. Scarlet was forced backwards, but recovered quickly, lowering his gun to point directly at Hammondís chest once more.

Blue, realising the detector was no longer necessary, aimed his pistol too. Hammond couldnít get to the door without at least one of the captains stopping him dead in his tracks. Realising they were going to do this anyway, he had one hope of saving the mission Ė misinformation.

"It doesnít matter any more, Earthmen, our mission has failed, we didnít get the information we wanted from him."

"Information? What kind of information?"

"Cipher codes, security data, mission details, satellite information, anything."

"What does that have to do with Newton?" asked Blue, unsure of what to believe.

Hammond faltered; he had to convince them. "Inertia."

"What do you mean?" asked Scarlet.

"A body at restÖ"

"I know what inertia is! What do you mean?"

"Spectrum, the immovable objectÖwe would destroy you from within." Hammond took his chance whilst the two captains were distracted, trying to see the connection. Bursting past them, he knew it would be only moments until he fell dead, but at least they couldnít make him divulge the Mysteronsí real plan.

It was Blue who actually fired, as Hammond knew they would. Hammond dropped to the floor.

"What do you think?"

"Lying," said Scarlet simply. "Theyíre still up to something."

"What do you think they wanted from Rick?"

"He might not have been lying about that. It looks like theyíve treated him pretty badly. Letís get him to Doctor Fawn, maybe he can shed some light on it."

Blue nodded, he had never seen Ochre looking so pale. Raising the Mysteron detector, he pressed the button. Retrieving the negative, he smiled and shrugged at Scarlet.

"Got to check."

Now it was Scarletís turn to nod, but it was evident that something was still bothering him.

"One thing I donít understand though, is, if they wanted information, why gag him?"

"Maybe to break him down without too much noise? The staff have only just left, heís been here hours, and they could have been working on him all evening."

It was an unpleasant thought, upon which neither of them wanted to dwell.

"Letís get him back to Cloudbase," Scarlet decided, picking up the still unconscious Ochre.




Captain Scarlet waited as the SPJ was lowered on the platform hydraulics into its hangar bay. When he had final confirmation that the bay had closed and pressure restored, Scarlet closed down all systems. Rising from his seat, he moved back into the passenger compartment where he found Captain Blue sat with the newly wakened Captain Ochre.

"Rick, how are you feeling?" Scarlet asked his friend, an expression of deep concern covering his face.

"Iíve been better," replied Ochre honestly, "but Iíve been worse too." He smiled weakly.

"Weíll get you to Doctor Fawn, just relax, Rick." Blue smiled, cheered by Ochreís words.

"Youíll be on your feet in no time," agreed Scarlet.

Ochre nodded, "I think Iím just tired."

Through the glass panel in the wall of his sickbay room, Captain Grey sighed with considerable relief as he saw Scarlet and Blue enter sickbay accompanied by the clearly exhausted, but unaided, Captain Ochre.

"Another patient for you, Doc!" announced Captain Blue to Fawn where he stood at the other end of sickbay.

"Captain Ochre!" responded Fawn in surprise. "Why didnít you radio ahead, Blue? Nothingís ready!"

"Iím ok, Doc," Ochre reassured him, "I donít need a bed."

"Iíll decide that, Ochre," Fawn snapped. "And looking at you, Iíd say thatís the thing you need the most."

"I need a shower, a shave and a uniform," Ochre corrected him sternly.

"The Mysteron agent said heíd tried to get information but couldnít." Scarlet tried to ease the sudden tension. "We thought you might want to check him out."

"Right," said Fawn in a down-to-business tone. "Ochre, take a seat, I need some blood from you." Fawn prepared a syringe and phial.

Ochre flinched when he saw the syringe. It had never happened before, and his reaction didnít go unnoticed this time.

"Are you ok, Rick?" asked Blue, worried.

"Iím fine."

In truth, Ochre sounded nervous and irritable, but nobody seemed prepared to push the matter. It was quite clear that the sight of the syringe shook Ochre. Whatever had been done to him had obviously involved drugs and had plainly been traumatic.

Ochre allowed Fawn to take the blood sample. Placing the sample in the auto-analyser, Fawn took advantage of the couple of minutes wait to take a note of Ochreís vital signs. By the time he had completed his few tests, the auto-analyser was ready with its findings. Fawn read the print out.

"Looks like you were right, Scarlet. There are traces of a variation of XK4 in Ochreís blood. But itís not a variety I have any data on. Iím going to have to contact the Spectrum Labs to find out more. As you know XK4 is unstable, the variation may just be an attempt to try to stabilise it, which may explain why it didnít work. How are you feeling, Ochre?"

"I feel fine, Doctor Fawn. Yes, Iím tired, but I can deal with that. I have work to do, Iím ready for duty."

"Well, everything checks out ok, I guess youíd be fine for light duty."

"Thanks, Doc," Ochre smiled.

"I just want to check out those bruises before you go."

"Ok, Doc," said Scarlet, "weíll leave you to it then. See you in the Info Centre, Rick?"

"Iíll be right there, Paul."

Blue hovered by the door to Greyís room, "I just want to check on Brad, Iíll join you in a minute."

"Ok, see you there."

Once the room had cleared, Fawn looked directly at Ochre.

"Look, Ochre," he spoke softly, "I saw how you reacted before when you saw the syringe. Youíve been through a lot, I know. If you need to talk, Iím always here, totally in confidence."

"I appreciate it, Doc, but Iím ok, really."

"Ok, you can go, but light duties only."

"Thanks, Doctor Fawn."

Without another word Ochre headed for the door. On his way he passed the window to Captain Greyís room. Grey smiled, it looked like Fawn had allowed Ochre to return duty, and so he couldnít have been badly hurt.

"Rick!" Grey called through the open door. After a short pause, he spoke again; this time with a slightly disheartened tone. "Odd."

Blue turned to see Ochre leave Sickbay, without even acknowledging either of them, let alone checking on his injured friend. There was no way he could not have heard his name called, it was only a small room and the door had been open.

"Iíd have thought heíd at least have put his head around the door to say ĎHií," Grey continued.

Blue turned back to look at Grey. "Thatís not like him," he added, then shrugged, "Iíll check on him in a minute or two."




Scarlet entered the Spectrum Information Centre to find Captain Magenta still staring intently at the monitor in front of him.

"Howís it going, Pat?" he asked cheerily.

"I know more about Newton than any other person alive, go on test me." Magenta had a slightly manic tone to his voice.

"No closer then?" Scarlet surmised.

"No," Magenta admitted with a shrug.

Captain Scarletís epaulettes flashed and the cap mic dropped into position.

"Yes, Doctor?" asked Scarlet, wondering what it was that Fawn could have forgotten. He had only just that moment left sickbay.

"Scarlet!" Fawnís tone was urgent, "Get Ochre back here, quick."

"Doctor Fawn, whatís wrong?"

Hearing Scarletís worried tone, Magenta looked up, concerned.

"The variation on XK4, the lab has just confirmed to me that itís used as a tool in brainwashing! If I put out a general alert for Ochre, heíll go to ground, you have to find him."

"S.I.G. Doc!" Scarlet turned to Magenta in alarm. "Pat, weíve got to find Rick. The Mysterons, they took him to brainwash him! Weíve got to find him before he completes his task, whatever that is."

Magenta looked from Scarlet to the monitor and back again.

"OchreÖ a leaderÖ NewtonÖ Oh God! Colonel White!" Magenta seized Scarletís arms, pulling him. "I havenít time to explain. We have to get to the Control Room right away!"




The door to the Control Room slid open, Captain Ochre stood in the doorway.

"Colonel, could I speak to you, please?"

"Of course, Captain. Come in. I expected to find you in sickbay."

"Doctor Fawn released me for light duties, Sir."

"I see, are you sure youíre up to it, Captain?"

"Yes, Sir, I have work to do."

Ochre had continued walking slowly into the room and had now reached Lieutenant Greenís station at the computer. He saw a light flash. It was a red one, Captain Scarlet was communicating with the Control Room.

"Control, Spectrum Is Red! Repeat, Spectrum Is Red! Captain Ochre suspected brainwashed by the Mysterons. Target, Colonel White."

Green turned horrified, just as Ochre brought his gun butt down. He had planned to hit the back of his head, but now caught the side instead. It had the same effect but messier, the blood tickled down Greenís cheek as he slumped in the chair.

"Iím sorry, Colonel." Ochre levelled the gun at Whiteís chest. "I didnít want to hurt him." Ochre appeared confused. "I donít want to hurt you, butÖ" Ochre closed his eyes tightly then reopened them only moments later, "ÖI have to."

"Captain Ochre," White spoke softly, as Ochre lowered the weapon slightly, holding the bridge of his nose, his brow furrowed as he tried to remember why he had to shoot. "Rick," White continued, "you donít have to."

"No I do, I know I do, but I donít remember why," Ochre argued. He looked pale and tired, as if coming out of a bad dream. Despite the completion of the treatment, Ochre was still clearly trying to resist the programming.

Cautiously, so as not to provoke a reaction, White got to his feet.

"Please, donít move, Sir," Ochre asked of him nervously.

At least, thought White, that was encouraging; he still knew who he was.

Staring nervously as White rounded the desk and moved towards him, Captain Ochre felt at odds with himself over these apparently baffling orders. If only he could remember why, or even who had given them to him.

"Captain." White took an authoritative tone. "I am your commanding officer!"

"IÖI know, Sir, but I have my orders," replied Ochre with a deep frown and a degree of uncertainty.

"I am rescinding your orders, Captain. Stand down immediately."

"I canít, Sir. Your orders canít override."

"Who gave you those orders?" snapped White at the confused officer, playing for time.

Ochreís eyes showed the confusion he felt, as something deep within him tried desperately to fight the programming. His breathing was rapid and shallow. His brow furrowed again and very briefly, he lowered his eyes.

White knew that help was on the way, but they were not here yet. Right now, however, Captain Ochre, his confused mind tortured by drugs, held a gun trained directly at Whiteís heart. The Colonel knew that this brief glance away was probably the only chance he would get. Leaping forward, he caught the startled captain around the waist. Ochre stumbled and, under the momentum, fell backwards to the floor. White landed on top of Ochre, who groaned loudly as the impact drove the air from his lungs. Regaining his senses, he felt White trying to wrest the gun from his fingers. Ochre pulled his right hand away, further back behind him, forcing White to stretch. In the attempt, White found himself leaning over the fallen captain. A mistake, he realised, as Ochre reached up with his left hand and closed his strong fingers around Whiteís throat. Even though it was a one-handed grip, Ochreís hand was large enough to have the Colonel gasping for air and pulling frantically at the fingers squeezing the life out of him. Once more with the advantage, Ochre pushed upwards, forcing the Colonel backwards onto his knees. Rising with him, all the while maintaining his grip, Ochre levelled the gun once more.

"He said youíd try to trick me!" Ochre spat accusingly, "I didnít believe it. I was a fool, you are a Mysteron!"

"Who?" White gasped, barely able to utter a sound in the vice like grip.

"Colonel Turner, of course!" Ochre replied sharply. "Youíve fooled us for the last time, White!"

Colonel Turner! Clever, thought White. Ochre would have offered up too much resistance to the name Captain Black. However, not being so familiar with Blackís previous position in the World Space Patrol, he would perhaps, in his drug-induced confusion, accept the suggestion more readily. The orders of one colonel would not normally be easily overturned by another, which would also explain Ochreís reluctance to obey. It would mean nothing to Ochre in his present state, that the rank of Spectrum colonel far outstripped the rank of colonel in any other organisation.

White would have no more time to think about the situation. Ochreís gun was now pressed firmly against his cheek. He found himself unable to struggle against Ochreís grip without choking himself or provoking him to fire. Looking into the eyes of the brainwashed captain, he saw a look of steely determination. Ochre now had full recollection of his orders, and seemed determined to carry them out. To White, death was now inevitable.

A shot was fired and White flinched. For a split second he wondered why he felt no pain; it was only then he realised that a disorientated Captain Ochre held his grazed and bleeding hand in front of him.

Magenta retrieved Ochreís dropped gun and helped Colonel White to stand.

"Iím sorry, Rick," Scarlet said as he pulled Ochreís hands behind him, securing them with handcuffs.

"Scarlet! Whatís happening? What did I do? How did I get here?" asked Ochre, utterly bewildered as Scarlet helped him to his feet.

Behind him, Lieutenant Green groaned as he woke.

"What did I do, Paul?" By now, Ochreís confusion overtook his resolve to use only codenames in front of Colonel White.

"Itís ok now, Rick. The handcuffs are just a precaution."

"But how did I get here? The SPV? Howís Brad?" He turned to see Colonel Whiteís harsh stare and saw the bruises already forming on his Commanders neck. Now, just to his right, he saw Lieutenant Greenís bloodstained face. "Oh God! What did I do?"

Whiteís stern face softened as he saw the distress in which Ochre found himself. Handcuffed and still bleeding, he couldnít remember anything after the crash and was clearly disturbed and upset by the situation he now found himself in. "Captain Ochre," White spoke comfortingly, addressing the distraught captain. "You were brainwashed by the Mysterons. But itís ok now, it didnít work."

Blue and Fawn, alerted by Magenta, skidded to a halt at the entrance to the Control Room.

"Is everything ok?" asked Fawn.

"Your patient, Doctor Fawn," advised White, "Heís very confused and upset. Can this sort of brainwashing be undone?"

"Yes, Colonel. Most forms of brainwashing are. Itís only the very extreme and violent methods that are considered irreversible." Fawn considered the horrified expression on Ochreís face and his obvious agitation, and continued, "I would think it most likely that heís come out of it already, itís usually the case."

"Then I donít think the handcuffs will be necessary," suggested White kindly. "Thank you, Captain Scarlet, if you would remove them. I appreciate your concern."

Scarlet nodded and removed the cuffs, patting Ochre gently on the arm after they were removed.

"Sorry, Rick," Scarlet said; then adding, as he caught sight of the blood running down Greenís face, "I think you have two patients, Doc."

"Yes, Captain Blue, will you assist?"

"Sure, Doc."

Fawn and Blue prepared to take Green and Ochre to Sickbay. Ochre had begun to calm a little by now, his memory slowly starting to return.

"Iím sorry, Sir." Ochreís voice trembled slightly. The knowledge of what he had done still eluded him, but he guessed that, at the very least, he was responsible for Lieutenant Greenís injuries.

"Itís alright, Captain. Go with Doctor Fawn. Youíll be fine now," White reassured him, taking deep slow breaths to calm his own nerves.




"How did you know?" Scarlet asked Magenta finally.

"It started with something Grey said earlier, about Black trying to separate them."

"I donít get it," admitted Scarlet.

"Newton performed an experiment to prove one of his theories. He took white light and separated one colour from the spectrum using a prism. He put that through another prism and it had no effect, it stayed the same. Everyone else believed that when a colour was separated that it was physically altered and would subsequently return to white. They were wrong, Newton was right. But in this case, the Mysterons separated a colour from Spectrum, Ochre. He WAS altered and he DID return to White Ė to kill him. I knew it was right in front of me, I just couldnít see it."

Scarlet stood wide-eyed. "Well, I donít think Iíd have seen it, but you did say you wanted testing! Well done, Pat!"

"Captain Magenta, your quick thinking saved my life. Thank you," White added, gratefully. "But," continued the Colonel; "I have nobody to man the computer now."

Magenta took a step back and stared at Scarlet, hoping he would volunteer. Magenta had done little else but look at a computer for the last twelve hours.

"Captain Magenta, if your suggestion, after saving my life, is to put Captain Scarlet in charge of the main computer then you may just as well have let Captain Ochre continue."

Scarlet wasnít sure whether to laugh or argue; but he still felt a little insulted.

"Very well, Colonel," sighed Magenta, settling in Greenís chair, "But you owe me one, Scarlet."

"Any time, Pat."

"Iím pleased to hear it, Captain," continued White; "I believe it would be Captain Ochreís watch in the Radar Room right now. Perhaps youíd like to take over?"

Scarletís heart sank.

"Yes, Colonel!" 



This story is based on characters created by Gerry and Sylvia Anderson for the TV series Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons.


Some events and characters Copyright © of all trademarks materials (Captain Scarlet & the Mysterons, Stingray, all characters, vehicles, crafts, etc.), owned by ITC/Polygram/Carlton.  Information of the series are all been taken from copyright © materials (books, magazines, videos, T.V.  media, comics, etc) owned by ITC/Polygram/Carlton.






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