by Sage Harper

Chicago

It was a glorious December day; the sky was so pure blue and the air deliciously crisp. It seemed to mock the severity of the events which had occurred. Spectrum had been sent to Chicago, to foil a Mysteron threat to the city. It had soon become apparent the threat had taken the form of a bomb planted in the ‘Christkindlmarket’; had it detonated, it would have caused major devastation, a vast number of casualties and definitely ‘destroyed the Christmas spirit of Chicago, as the Mysterons has threatened. Spectrum had located the bomb with minutes to spare and defused it, but unfortunately, the Spectrum agents had failed to find another device, planted in another area of the market, which had exploded and caused considerable damage and injuries, though - luckily - no fatalities.

The clean up was well underway and people were beginning to filter back into the area. Though it was very close to dusk, and closing time for the market, it seemed the citizens of Chicago wanted to make a show of defiance to their foe, by proving that life would not be put on hold for a second longer than it had to be.

“Can’t say the Mysterons don’t take us to all the best places.” Captain Grey gave a weary smile; as he returned to Spectrum’s mobile headquarters and drank the coffee he had abandoned earlier.

He had grown up in Chicago, and the Christkindlmarket was one of his favourite things about Christmas. The whole of Daley Plaza was commandeered by a German-style market and, every year of his childhood, his parents had taken him along, with his brother and sisters. They had all delighted in the colours, sounds and scents, enjoying the merry-go-rounds, puppet shows and visiting Santa, while their parents had shopped.

With the threat over, these activities were beginning again in earnest. It made their job seem so worthwhile, if very exhausting. As this was the first break the captains had managed to take since they arrived on the scene.

“That must be totally gross.” Melody Angel wrinkled her nose. She was inside the HQ, already starting work on her situation report.

“Yeah,” Grey shrugged. “But caffeine’s caffeine.”

“Leave it; I’ll make you a fresh one,” Melody insisted, refilling the coffee pot ready to brew another drink. “You’re looking thoughtful, Brad; that’s not always a good sign.”

“Nah, I’m OK. It’s just this threat is hitting close to home - well obviously, this being my hometown and all.” He busied himself emptying and rinsing out his coffee mug.

“I keep checking the casualty lists, looking for familiar names,” he admitted. “None so far, which is a relief. But then, I remember that whoever is on the list has people out there who do care about them. I saw Ochre there too, a while ago. He must be going through the same thing, having lived in the city too.”

At that she looked up quickly.

“You saw him, where?”

“The bulletin board. That was ages ago, probably, the hours are blurring into one. Why’d you ask?”

“No reason, not really. I just thought he’d be back here by now,” she commented. “He said he was going for a walk around, to check that the restart was running smoothly. Maybe he’s just getting some food. He did say all the excitement was giving him an appetite.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. Rick’s a big boy. You don’t need to worry over him, Mag.”

Grey would have bet a month’s pay that there was a ‘more than platonic’ relationship between those two, but they were too smart, and sneaky, to give solid proof.

“Who said I was worrying?” she said sharply.

So he decided to let it go.

~oo0oo~

A little boy, aged no more than six, wandered vaguely in the direction of the HQ. He had sweet, roguish face, with brown hair and eyes, and was dressed in a red coat and appropriate cold weather clothing and boots. His alarming, unexpected, solitude made him look achingly small and vulnerable.

Grey noticed first, and pointed the boy out to Melody.

“Think he’s lost his Mom?” she asked.

There had been a fair few displaced children so far. The ground team had prepared for this, and set up another mobile HQ for them. That was over the other side of the plaza, though.

“Guess so. One of us should go over and bring him in, Grey replied. “Then we can radio the ‘lost kids’ place, and take him there.”

“Hey, what’s that look for?” Melody retorted.

“Well, surely it would be best if you did it? I mean you’re a chick, and chicks have maternal instincts ... You see where this is going?”

Melody shook her head firmly. “Not me, I ain’t got the slightest maternal know-how…”

The boy noticed them, and purposefully strode in their direction. He approached Melody, obviously more comfortable talking to a female. He stood quietly and expectantly, while she continued to rant at Grey.

“Hey, there little buddy, what can we do for you?” Grey said, ignoring his colleague.

“I lost my aunt,” the boy answered. “She’s looking after me.”

Melody stopped dead, and turned to him, her face the mask of nurturing concern and sympathy.

“Oh, you poor lil’, sweetie; it’s OK, you come on into the warm, and we can make you some juice, then get to finding your aunt.”

The boy hesitated.

“It’s OK,” Melody reassured him. “We’re in Spectrum; kinda like cops.”

“My daddy was a cop.”

“That’s great.” Melody smiled. “Well, I’m Melody Angel, but you can call me Mag.” She gestured toward Grey. “And this is Captain Grey … You trust us, don’t ‘cha?”

The boy nodded.

“Well then, come on inside for a while.”

He obediently followed Melody.

~oo0oo~

“No maternal know-how, huh?” Grey smirked.

“Well, I dunno, might not be so bad at this after all,” Melody answered casually, preparing a drink for their guest.

She felt a little glow of pride, but only in having achieved a goal. She had never really played with dolls as a child, and believed that children were something other (and in her opinion - crazy) people got involved with.

She had better things to do, like saving the world.

“How ‘bout you?” she said, shifting her attention back to Grey. “You got a way with kids, or somethin’?”

“Maybe, never really thought about. I do have a couple of nieces and nephews though. Guess its just practise.”

“I got a niece too,” Melody pointed out. “Maliyah, she’s nearly three.”

“Oh well, I’ve been doing this uncle thing twice as long, and with more kids,” Grey said with satisfaction.

“You never said.”

Grey dug out his wallet and pulled a picture from it.

“You want proof, fine,” he began, and showed the picture to Melody.

“That’s Abby, she’s six,” he said, pointing out the older girl. “The twins are her brothers, Luke and Levi; they’re two and a half. Those are my elder sister’s kids. And the little one is Gracie; she’s my brother’s daughter and not even a year old.”

“Alright, I believe you.” Melody rolled her eyes. “Like we don’t get enough of the ‘proud uncle’ stuff from Pat.”

“Yeah, but he has more than enough reasons to be proud; and, hey, like we can really complain.”

Grey sat down, across from the boy, and put their drinks on the table.

“So what’s your name then, Sport?” he asked.

The boy glanced up from his cup.

“I’m not telling; my Aunt says not to talk to strangers.”

“Oh come on, I’m not a stranger, you know my name.”

The boy pondered this for a moment. “Well, all right then; it’s Richard, but everyone calls me Ricky.”

“Nice name. I’ve got a friend called Richard.”

“It’s after my daddy, but he died before I was born.”

“Oh, that’s a real shame.” Grey kicked himself for such flippant words, but really what else could he say? “Where’s your mom then? I’m sure she’s really worried about you.”

“She’s dead too, she got shot … I don’t think people worry in heaven.”

Grey didn’t know what was more shocking, Ricky’s words or his matter of fact tone of voice.

“Oh, that’s terrible, my uncle died last year. It’s hard isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t that long ago, so I can still remember her a bit. I never met my daddy, but I look just like my daddy, that’s what Mommy would say. Well, not really because he was a grown up man and stuff, but, you know.”

Suddenly the door burst open and another dark head appeared.

“Just making my regular call in,” Magenta began. “Damn, have you seen outside? It’s like … I don’t even know. I was going to say like a bomb’s hit it, but there’s not much call for stating the blindingly obvious.”

He stopped, frowned and nodded in Ricky’s direction.

“Where’d the kid spring from?”

“He’s lost his aunt,” Melody said. “So we gotta find someone who can take care of him.”

Grey was surprised by the child’s reaction, he looked as if he knew Magenta, though was surprised to see him.

“Have you guys met?” Grey asked.

“Oh yes, he came to look at my Aunt’s car,” Ricky answered.

Over Ricky’s head Grey shot Magenta a look that demanded an explanation. It was not unlike either man to have secrets, but knowing they were being kept out of the loop was never well tolerated.

Magenta gave the pair of them a long, surveying look, as if weighing up his options. Then he seemed to shrug, and turned to Ricky.

“So where’s your aunt then?” he said finally.

“I was by the carousel, she let me go on it, then she went to the bathroom. She said she’d be back soon, but that was ages ago.”

Grey sucked in a breath - that put her in the vicinity of the explosion.

“Check the casualty lists for an Eleanor Topping,” Magenta instructed.

“Does that mean she got hurt, or something?” Ricky felt panic rising up inside. When his daddy had died, mommy had been there, and then, when she’d died, his aunt Ellie had cared for him. But, if aunt Ellie wasn’t around, he wouldn’t have anyone, except Aunt Imogen, maybe, but she was horrible and probably ate little boys for breakfast.

“Not necessarily,” Magenta tried to be reassuring, but was careful not to get Ricky’s hopes up.

~oo0oo~

Had Ochre known what he was about to walk into, he would have tried to prepare himself; although, with hindsight, he had no idea how that would have been possible. So he just casually strolled back to the HQ, to be ambushed by Melody, who gave him a ‘sit-rep’ before he’d even got through the door.

“Is there anyone else who could take care of you?” Magenta gently asked the little boy.

Ochre recognised the child immediately; and felt his heart nearly rip in two as Ricky shook his head. He looked so desperately alone, that Ochre came close to blurting out the truth, but he realised that such a revelation wouldn’t be appropriate at that moment. If ever.

“I suppose he’ll have to stay with us then,” he said. “Just until we find his aunt and all.”

Ricky smiled his crooked smile and only then did Ochre truly believe in love at first sight.

“We have, well, sort of,” Melody said, then added in a low voice. “She’s at Northwestern Memorial Hospital, ICU.”

Ochre ran a hand through his hair, he had not realised things were so severe.

“The doctors are taking really good care of her,” Grey explained to the boy, “and I’m sure they’ll let you see her as soon as possible.” He gave a slight smile. “So, for now we just have to sort you out.”

“You’re totally sure?” Magenta said to the child, to clarify his previous question, though his attention was more focused on Ochre.

The child nodded emphatically.

“He said ‘yes’,” Ochre answered, “so quit it; you’re upsetting him.”

He crouched in front of Ricky.

“So, would you like to come back to Cloudbase with us for a while, ‘til you and your aunt can go home?”

“Ochre, are you serious?” Grey said, in a tone that demanded a negative response.

Ochre seem a little surprised. Of course he was serious, why would anyone question that? “Yeah, I mean …”

“Oh no,” Grey cut him off. “We are not going down this train of thought. In case it escaped your notice, Captain, we work on a military base. We cannot just take in waifs and strays whenever the whim strikes us.”

Ochre made efforts to interrupt, but, once Grey got on one of his rants, he wouldn’t listen until he was done. So they’d have to sit it out.

“We have contingencies for this kind of thing. There must be somewhere else that can take him in. So, instead of sitting around, with half-baked ideas, and making promises you can’t keep, we need to get him to the lost children place and let them do their job. Then we can get on with ours.”

“Are you done?” Ochre asked, raising an eyebrow.

Grey nodded, and stood waiting, stony-faced, for whatever response would come.

“You were saying, Rick?” Magenta looked toward his field partner.

“Thank you,” Ochre began. “Magenta and me have both been over at the lost kids place, and the triage. Pitching in, because they’re totally snowed under with all their workload. People are pouring in faster than the Spectrum ground crew can process them. Then, of course, the social services and voluntary groups have to take it from there; but they’re running low on beds for the night and everything else the kids need. It wouldn’t be fair on anyone to add to that burden; especially a kid with no one waiting to claim him. Don’t you think he’s been through enough?”

“You are completely missing my point,” Grey countered. “There are regulations and procedures that should be followed. And you don’t have the authority to override that.”

“Who died and made you field commander?” Magenta muttered.

“Scarlet,” Grey answered flippantly, stepping outside the HQ. “So don’t you worry, I’ll call the child services and sort this out.”

“They’re just going to tell you the exact same thing I did,” Ochre said evenly.

Grey came back inside, and slammed the communicator on to the table.

“You were right,” he said reluctantly, glaring at Ochre.

“Got any better ideas then?”

Grey sighed: this had ‘really bad idea’ written all over it. He could see when he was close to being beaten, but he still wouldn’t concede without a fight.

“I’ll have to call Blue, and discuss this with him.”

Captain Blue was their acting commander-in-chief. Colonel White had had a recent run of terrible luck, not limited to various badly-strained muscles as a result of pushing himself too hard whilst practicing fencing; he had then caught a cold from a visiting General. Knowing that there was no way the colonel would remain in isolation and recuperate, like the good patient Fawn dreamed of, the doctor had sent White to convalesce in a location of his choice.

White had left for London, and Fawn made the senior staff swear not to disturb ‘the old man’, unless it was a matter of international emergency. Even Grey had to concede this dilemma wasn’t quite on that level.

“Blue says he’ll allow it,” Grey said, having made the call, which had become rather heated, as Blue was also a stickler for the rules. But when they had exhausted all other possibilities, it had been an inevitable conclusion. “So long as it’s just short term.”

“Well, there you go.” Ochre was unable to entirely hide his delight.

“Come on then,” he said to Ricky. “We better swing by your place and get your toothbrush and stuff.”

Ochre took the little boy’s hand and walked out of the HQ without glancing back to notice the concerned expressions of his colleagues.

Spectrum Passenger Jet - over the Atlantic Ocean

“Thanks for doing this,” Ochre said gently. “I really do appreciate it.”

“Yeah, well it’s not like I have a goddamn choice, is it?” Magenta snapped.

The outburst left Ochre even more subdued, focusing his attention on the horizon before them as it unfurled the distance between the plane and Cloudbase.

“Dunno,” he replied, after a moment, “but thanks all the same.”

Magenta sighed. “You’re welcome.”

Forgiveness, always forgive; hate the sin but love the sinner. It’d been drummed into him ever since he was a child. Truly though, Magenta still wondered why the hell he put up with Ochre sometimes: then an in-joke, a quiet act of loyalty, or a coffee cup offered like a peace pipe, would smooth things over, and later it would all be forgotten.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Magenta asked, feeling like a broken record and with the associated sense of futility.

It had been him who had coined the term ‘Rick moments’, for when something seemed like an excellent idea when you started out, but you soon ended up wondering what on earth you were thinking of. And for the person they were named after, such ‘moments’ were a reoccurring theme.

“Well, it’s not like we can turn around and dump him some place now.”

Magenta glanced toward the door connecting the SPJ’s cockpit and main cabin. Ricky was in the back, with Grey and Melody. Ochre had insisted on flying (he was a terrible backseat pilot anyway), and, with only a pointed look, Grey had insisted Magenta go up front.

It was a running joke amongst the captains that having a field partner was somewhat like being married. If that were the case, Ochre and Grey must be having an affair; they’d get along wonderfully for a spell, but their friendship would take a battering if they worked closely for a long time.

“Of course not,” Magenta said. “And I meant telling him. About, y’know.”

Ochre gave a snort of contempt. “Your Catholicism is showing,” he said, as per usual when he felt his friend was being ‘holier than thou’ (at least, by his own idiosyncratic definition). “You can’t even bring yourself to say it.”

Magenta suspected that Ochre had some half-baked notion of being a heroic figure, swooping in to rescue Ricky from his plight and making everything all better, in the same way that Magenta had believed his father did at that age. But now he was grown up, he realised, that in this case, ‘daddy’ was more liable to make everything even more horribly messed up than it already was.

“That’s because it’s not true,” Magenta found himself saying, before even he thought it through.

Ochre glared, angry and uncomprehending.

“Yes it damn well is,” he retorted. “OK, fine; we’ll go see Fawn and do a test or something, like off those trashy chat shows.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I’ve missed enough of his life already,” Ochre said firmly, “and I’m not going to let that chance slip away again. I’ll be a proper dad to him, you’ll see.”

“But you’re not his dad,” Magenta exclaimed. “His dad is Commander Richard Fraser, of the World Government Police Corps, deceased. Now, we can debate the metaphysics of it all later; but far as most of the world, and - more importantly - Ricky, is concerned, that man doesn’t exist any more. You, in the capacity of Rick, Captain Ochre of Spectrum, have no place in his life.”

“I thought you were on my side?” Ochre’s tone was hurt and accusatory.

“I am,” Magenta said wearily. “By trying to get some sense through that thick skull of yours. Can’t you see that this isn’t about you? You have to set aside your own ego and do what’s best for Ricky.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” Ochre insisted. “Think of your dad, and the relationship you have with him. Imagine if you could have had that, but never did, just because he got talked out of it.”

“Yeah, but my pa didn’t swan off to a new job and leave everyone thinking he was dead,” Magenta noted pointedly. “Then decide to come back into my life a few years later and make like he’d never been away.”

“It is not like that - and you know it.”

“Yeah, I do,” Magenta conceded, “but Ricky doesn’t. I know you’d never have left Alie if you’d known she was expecting. Point of honour, being that loyal; it’s one of your more endearing traits.”

“Suppose so.” Ochre thought for a moment. “Maybe it was for the best, in a weird sort of way, me being here. Otherwise, we’d never have met. And … that’d be terrible. I mean, who else would put up with my shit?”

“Is that Ochre-speak for 'you're my best friend in the whole world, and I don't know what I'd do without you’?”

“Umm, maybe.”

“‘Cause, if so, you’re quite right - but there isn't exactly a queue round the block to put up with me, either.”

“We still friends then?” Ochre gave a shy smile, as Cloudbase loomed into view.

“We always are.”

Cloudbase

“This is way cooler than ‘Captain Starlight’,” Ricky noted with hushed awe, in reference to his favourite TV programme, as he stood in the Control Room of Cloudbase, observing the captains’ debriefing session.

From his seat behind Colonel White’s desk, Blue gave Ricky a smile. “You like that show?”

Ricky grinned back. “Yup, it’s the best.”

“Well, yes,” Blue began. “I suppose there are some similarities between an organisation like ‘Prism’ in ‘Captain Starlight’, and Spectrum.”

Blue could understand, and even forgive, the appeal of the TV show ‘Captain Starlight’ for small children - with hindsight, he realised that even he’d watched some utter dross as a kid - though it still didn’t explain why his, supposedly mature and intelligent, colleagues found the show so enthralling.

“Scarlet’s still not out of the sickbay then?” Grey noted.

“No.” Blue gave a sigh, feeling guilty for not being with his partner; but the base needed a commander. As the Colonel himself would say; the needs of an individual can’t be put before the organisation as a whole. And Blue felt he really should stick by what White would do. He quickly composed himself. “But of course, he will be brought up to speed once he recovers. We can’t just sit around waiting for him, there’s work to be done.”

He continued with the debriefing until, about halfway through, Ricky raised his hand as if in school, and eventually captured the captain’s attention.

“Please, Captain Blue, sir,” Ricky began. “May I use the bathroom, sir?”

Momentarily floored by such a spontaneous and sincere show of respect, Blue did not answer immediately. Then he said genially, “Yes, of course. Captain Magenta, would you care to escort him?”

Once Magenta and Ricky had left; Blue turned to Ochre, with an expression on his face not unlike that seen on frazzled mothers with toddlers. “Please, swear on whatever you hold most sacred, that this will not be a repeat of the hamster debacle.”

Ochre was, of course, a very highly-trained professional; you didn’t get to the heady career highs of becoming favourite to take over as the Commander-in-Chief of the World Government Police Corps, without such skills. It was just that there were times when Ochre would have these … moods, and it frustrated Blue that he still couldn’t fully anticipate them. It wasn’t enough to worry Doctor Weiss; she seemed to think it was an understandable reaction to the stress they were under. The other captains all had their own coping strategies during times of trial, so they could empathise with, and tolerate, Ochre’s quirks. They were just small things really; being pessimistic, using humour as a defence, a certain clinginess to Magenta. The recklessness however - well, they had to draw a line somewhere and at times it almost seemed as if Ochre would decide everything was pointless, including a few minor regulations in the Spectrum rule book.

A multitude of sins during assignments could be overlooked, simply because they got results in the end, and, knowing a losing battle when he saw one, White was generally quite lax regarding fraternisation amongst the personnel on the base, in a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ fashion.

Of course, Blue had to admit to being just as guilty as Ochre in that respect, but there were, however, moments when Ochre managed to exceed even his own maverick tendencies, and Ochre’s ability to irritate people knew few, if any, bounds.

One of the more recent episodes was when he’d decided to smuggle a hamster onto the base and keep it as a pet. To his credit, he managed to keep it secret for a good while, until the hamster had escaped, and all hell broke loose. As a result, the Colonel had stepped up security measures on what entered the base, and Blue was still smarting over the confiscation of the very expensive, vintage red wine he’d tried to get as a surprise for Symphony.

“Of course it won’t,” Ochre insisted, then placed his hand over his heart. “You have my word.”

Grey rolled his eyes; but said nothing.

“As it was your idea to bring Ricky here, Captain Ochre,” Blue continued, “you are to assume full responsibility for his care. Which includes – although it is not limited to; maintaining his sleeping schedule, providing suitably nutritious foods, age-appropriate entertainment and constant supervision.”

Ochre nodded his way through this list, then, at the last point, he beamed.

“Well, I was scheduled for radar duty this evening,” he said, affecting a sigh, “but I suppose I won’t be able to do that. After all, Ricky’s needs do have to come first.”

“You are not getting out of it that easily,” Blue stated. OK, maybe he was little more ‘by the book’ than certain members of staff would have liked, and maybe he did try too hard, but that was no excuse for anyone to take liberties.

“I think what Captain Blue means,” Grey began, attempting to defuse the situation, “is that you need to ensure someone is watching Ricky at all times and that when you are on duty, you will need to make other arrangements for a suitable sitter.”

“Oh, well, why didn’t you say so?” Ochre replied, with a show of innocence. “Of course that’ll be possible. You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

“Maybe so,” Blue said, “but it’s damn hard not to with you.”

~oo0oo~

“Guess you’ll be bunking with me,” Ochre said, as he left the control room and walked with Ricky to his quarters. He looked down to his right where the boy was trotting along beside them in an effort to keep up. “You OK, Ricky?”

“Yes, I’m fine, Captain Ochre.”

“Ugh - for like the millionth time, call me Rick. That shouldn’t be hard for you to remember.”

Ricky’s face broke into a heart-warming, conspiratorial grin. “I guess so,” he said happily.

He felt very grown-up and important at the way all of these men were treating him as an equal and including him in their conversations. He wasn’t used to spending so much time with adult males and it was fun.

As they reached the door to his quarters, Magenta tactfully pulled down the handwritten ‘free boob examination, inquire within’ notice that Scarlet had put up three days previously, in retaliation for some teasing or other. Quite why Ochre had left it there in the first place was a mystery.

Ochre punched in the six-digit entrance code (it was the date the Lions had last won the Superbowl, obscure to everyone but him). Then he was as surprised as anyone to step in and discover the place was tidy, rather than the mess it had been before his left on the mission. He always felt life was too short to be all uptight like some of his colleagues, who insisted everything had to be in its place. The kitchenette was clear of the used cups he’d liberated from various sources, the bathroom presentable, the bed made. In fact, the mess was confined to the collapsible table Ochre had set up in the living room area, which was strewn with newspaper where he was painting his latest model.

Ricky stared around the room with the wide-eyed, delighted awe most people believed was only faked for Disneyland commercials. Planes were his most favourite thing ever, he had a few toy ones at home, but there must be hundreds in here.

“See, nice to know someone appreciates my models too,” Ochre said, with a satisfied nod to Magenta.

After half an hour of walking around the room showing off the models and answering the barrage of questions from Ricky, Ochre felt he ought to do something good-host-ish. So he asked,

“Hey, do you want juice, or something?”

“I’d like some orange please,” Ricky said.

“Nah, I’m good,” Magenta answered.

“I wasn’t asking you, Pat,” Ochre clarified, as he walked to the kitchenette. “You’re a big boy; you can get your own drink.”

“Yeah, but you’re quick enough to point out when it’s someone else’s turn to make coffee,” Magenta remarked.

Ochre chose to ignore that comment.

“It’ll have to be fresh juice, but, no bits though.” He spoke to the inside of the fridge rather than his companions, and then emerged with a litre carton of juice. “’cause that’s all I’ve got.”

Ochre took two mugs at random from the cupboard. Filled one full, and poured the remainder of the juice into the other mug.

Ricky watched until that point before inquiring, “Aren’t you meant to have juice in a plastic cup? I have one at home, it’s got planes on it.”

“We’re bachelors, baby,” Ochre answered, handing him the full cup. “You just take whatever’s clean.”

Ricky grinned at the realisation that he’d entered this cool, grown up world where you could make rules like that. It wasn’t much like home, and certainly not like at school. He was going to have a good time here.

“To us,” Ochre said, as father and son clinked their mismatched mugs.

“You don’t have any planes in here,” Ricky observed, as he entered Ochre’s bedroom.

“Give him six months,” Magenta said ruefully.

The bedroom was the only area of his quarters that Ochre made a concerted effort to keep tidy - presumably as a concession to his hordes of ‘groupies’, who helped him make best use of the facilities - though Magenta had to wonder how many women, on seeing the utter disarray of the rest of the quarters, would still be prepared to bed Ochre. Apparently, it was enough to keep his partner busy; judging by how Ochre’s ‘little black book’ was growing to an almost Tolstoyan length.

Ochre emptied the bottom drawer of his dresser, putting the few clothes and items which had been in there into other drawers.

“You can put your stuff in there if you like,” he said, so Ricky obliged by neatly organising his possessions.

“So, what are you going to do now?” Magenta asked.

Ricky answered the question for himself, as he had wandered back into the living room area.

“Oh, this one isn’t painted, can I paint it? My aunt lets me paint things in the kitchen…”

Ochre couldn’t help thinking of all the potential disasters which could come of this. His models were his babies, and he wanted them to be perfect; so it was rare for him to let anyone else touch them. But then he looked at Ricky, the boy so filled with hope and yearning, that he couldn’t bring himself to say no.

“Yeah, sure,” Ochre said, trying hard to sound enthusiastic, covering his wince by pulling an old t-shirt from his drawer. “But you’re gonna have to put this on first, so your clothes don’t get messed up.”

Ricky rolled up his sleeves as he returned to the sleeping area, then allowed Ochre to put the shirt on over his clothing. The sight of the little boy utterly swamped by the garment was rather comical.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Magenta said, leaving to do his shift.

~oo0oo~

Twenty minutes after they were supposed to meet up in the cafeteria, when her shift on radar watch had finished, Lieutenant Copper put her head around the door of Captain Magenta’s office in the computer department, to find him still engrossed in work.

“Are we not going to dinner then?” she asked

At least he had the decency to look guilty.

“Yeah, sorry; it’s just the last report I need to write up. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Can’t it wait?” She hadn’t meant to get so irritated about it, but he was forever putting work first. They had only been dating for two months; surely the infatuation couldn’t have worn off yet.

“Not really.” He smiled at her absentmindedly, still focused on the relevant document.

“If you insist.”

Something about her tone made him look up; and he smiled softly, taking in her beauty. Sometimes even her stubbornness had its charms; he liked a woman who knew what she wanted and was going to get it.

“Umm, well, I guess I could do it in the morning,” Magenta said gently.

So she allowed him to close the gap between them, any possible resistance melting away he pulled her closer into a strong, protective, embrace. She cupped his face, initiating the tender passionate kiss.

“Oh, I’m sorry captain … and, umm.” Lieutenant Crimson’s cheeks rapidly turned the colour of her tunic.

“Have you never heard of knocking?” Magenta demanded, disengaging himself from Copper.

“I did knock,” Crimson insisted, “you must have just not heard me, being busy, and all.”

“Hey, come on.” Magenta’s expression softened. “I’m not mad at you, Zoe, really.”

“Of course,” Copper concurred, “it was just a simple mistake, could happen to anyone.”

Crimson knew it was a very petty train of thought; but it did seem unfair that the impossibly gorgeous Copper, who could have any man she wanted, would snag the one man Crimson had been admiring from afar. Luck of the Irish or what? Still Crimson was a professional adult, and well aware of the rules concerning fraternisation. So she wouldn’t let it affect her work.

“So.” Magenta decided to break the awkward silence, by way of changing the subject. “What brings you here?”

“Captain Ochre said to tell you it was your turn to baby-sit,” Crimson began, still flustered. “I said you weren’t to be disturbed, so he waited for a bit, but then he had to go off for duty, and …”

“Where’s the kid?”

“In the lab; Lieutenant Green is watching him.”

“OK, thanks.”

“Memo to self,” Magenta said, as he shut down the computer. “Get a lock for that damn door.”

Copper nodded slightly, then turned to him with a curious expression.

“I don’t know where to start,” she admitted, “but perhaps with; why exactly is there a child on the base? Who in their right mind made Ochre responsible for it? And how did you get talked in babysitting?”

“Oh, yeah, of course, you’ve been on duty since we got back.” Magenta smiled. “Right, from the top: the kid’s aunt got injured during the threat, and he’s got no one to care for him, so now that’s our job. Ochre was the one who insisted we brought him here, so he has to deal with it. I volunteered, because, well, apparently, I’m a nice guy like that. That, and I actually have a clue what I’m doing, which is more than can be said for Rick.”

“You are such a sweetie,” Copper teased. “Next you’ll be helping old ladies across the street and going to church every week.”

“Ugh, don’t mention church. It’s a very sore point with my mother.”

“You didn’t get leave over Christmas either?”

“Nope.”

“Ah, well, I’m sure we can manage something... I went along to mass last year, on base. The chaplain does a good service.”

“Apparently, that wouldn’t cut it with Mam. To be honest though I think she’s more interested in meeting ‘that lovely girl I’m seeing’. Her words, I didn’t have the heart to correct her.”

Copper gave him a playful swat, then said; “She really does like me?”

“Sure looks that way, she has always had her heart set on me settling down with a nice Catholic girl.” He smiled that, oh-so-familiar smile. “And making lots of cute Catholic babies.”

For a moment there was an awkward silence between them.

“That wouldn’t be for a long time though, what with work being the way it is,” Magenta back pedalled, “but we can always practise.”

Copper rolled her eyes.

“I believe we have more pressing concerns right now,” she stated. “Are we going to dinner or not?”

“Sure, but we’ll have company.”

Nobody suspects the Chicago inquisition, least of all Lieutenant Green. Perhaps, if he had, he wouldn’t have bothered giving Ricky some scrap print outs and highlighters to draw with, knowing that wouldn’t hold the child’s attention compared to a captive audience.

“What are you doing now?”

“Reformatting the F drive?”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” Green tried find a way to phrase it which would be understood “that it isn’t working properly.”

“Oh, why isn’t it working?”

“Well, you see, umm.”

“Hey, Seymour,” Magenta greeted him. “How’s it going?”

“Just fine, thanks.” Green smiled. “Ricky is a nice kid, very, umm, curious.”

Magenta chuckled at the veiled comment, and decided it was probably best to allow Green to get on with his work unhindered.

“Are you hungry, Ricky?” he asked the boy, “’cause I was going to go get some dinner, and wondered...”

“Is that your girlfriend, Pat?”

Magenta glanced at Copper stood beside him. He hadn’t realised that he’d been holding her hand, but at the question, he let it go.

“Yes,” he said casually, “this is Lieutenant Copper,”