By Alan
J. Porter
(This story was first published in Comicopia #74 -
December 2002)
The Mysterons: sworn enemies of Earth.
Possessing the ability to recreate an exact likeness
of an object or person.
But first, they must destroy.
Leading the fight, one man fate has made
indestructible. His name:
LONDON – DECEMBER 23rd 2068.
No one heard the body fall
or the squelching noise as it came to rest in the bank of week old snow at the
entrance to the alleyway.
The corpse had
hardly come to a rest before it was dragged back into the shadows between two
department stores. The nearby mass of humanity that made up the last minute
Christmas shoppers never even realized that a murder had taken place in their
midst. A few may have noticed that the usually occupied street corner spot was
now empty, but it’s doubtful that they gave more than a passing thought to its
regular Yule-time inhabitant.
If they had looked
closely they may have seen the tracks in the dirty brown slush where a pair of
boot heels had dragged furrows. The body to which those feet belonged now lay
full length in the filth and damp of the alley. The boots were black and worn
over a pair of velvety red pants. Above those the corpulent form of the victim
was wrapped in a coat made from the same velvety material, but trimmed with an
off-white faux-fur. The fur almost matched the white bushy beard that adorned
the face of what, in life, had been a jovial man. But that face now wore a
frozen look of shock. The red coat and pants complemented by the equally red
pool of liquid that now collected behind his head.
The pool of blood
soon became a rivulet that flowed towards the drain in the center of the alley.
Its course, however, was blocked by another pair of black boots. These boots
also belonged to a man who looked like he too had been touched by the hand of
death. But this was a living corpse – a man whose very essence had been sucked
out of him, a man whose soul had been violently ripped from his body, no long
human he was the agent of a malevolent alien force. He was a man dressed
totally in Black.
The man in Black
looked down at his victim waiting.
He didn’t have to
wait too long. Two rings of light suddenly appeared on the floor by his feet. Lights
without an apparent source. They moved along the alleyway and swept over the
length of the body, then disappeared. The man in Black turned and looked in
grim satisfaction of the figure of the department store Santa who now stood by
his side.
“You know what to
do Earthman,” the man in Black intoned in a voice that sounded as if it too
came from the grave.
With a nod, the
man in red stepped over the body of his former self and took his place on the
pavement in front of the alleyway. Picking up his hand bell he took up his
familiar refrain.
“Merry Christmas,
and good will to all.”
THIS IS THE VOICE OF THE MYSTERONS.
WE KNOW THAT YOU CAN HEAR US EARTH MEN.
IN RETATLIATION FOR YOUR ATTACK ON OUR MARTIAN COLONY
WE WILL CONTINUE OUR WAR OF ATTRITION.
OUR NEXT ACT OF VENGEANCE WILL BE TO DESTROY…
THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS.
High above the
Earth’s surface, in the floating carrier known as Cloudbase, Colonel White,
supreme commander of the earth defense organization known as Spectrum, sat at
his circular command station staring intently at the speaker on the wall in front
of him. The last words of The Mysterons latest threat fading out into silence.
The aptly named
Mysterons were indeed a mystery. No-one had ever seen them, except for the crew
of the ill-fated Martian Expeditionary Vehicle who had fired on the aliens’ outpost
mistaking the sudden appearance of a scanning probe for a hostile act. That
single instinctive act of self-defense had triggered a war of nerves between
the aliens and humanity. A war that had seen much death and destruction.
Apparently without corporeal bodies the aliens had taken to using their powers
of reanimation to turn various men and machines into living weapons, costing
several Spectrum agents their lives. How this reanimation process could work so
precisely when activated from the distant surface of Mars was part of the
mystery, along with how, and why, these Mysterons could tap into the Spectrum
communications system to deliver their threats.
Common sense would
suggest that they were using someone with inside knowledge of Spectrum’s
operations. But the only member of the organization known to have had contact
with the alien methods and survived was now their greatest nemesis.
Colonel White’s
thoughts focused on the most recent threat.
“Destroy the
spirit of Christmas,” he muttered
almost imperceptibly.
The other members
of the senior staff sat around the periphery of his desk had also been
pondering the same message.
“What does it
mean?” asked the tall blond officer in the Blue jacket.
“How can they do that
?” came a light female voice with an
alluring French accent.
“Destiny’s right,”
interjected a new voice from behind the seated officers. All turned to look at
the Communications Officer in the Green jacket. “I mean the spirit of Christmas
is an idea, a concept. The Mysterons only destroy physical objects, machines,
people.”
“Then that’s what
we should look for.”
All turned to look
at the speaker, this man knew more about the way the Mysterons worked than
anyone alive. Spectrum’s top agent, he had once been an instrument of death
under the alien’s control when had tried to assassinate the World President.
But a second “near-death” experience while under Mysteron control had freed him
from the their servitude yet had left him with some remnants of their power of
retrometabalism. Paul Metcalfe was now indestructible. Not truly immortal, but
close to it. For the members of Spectrum, the man in the Scarlet jacket was
their greatest weapon. He knew how the enemy thought.
“I don’t follow
you Captain Scarlet” said Colonel
White.
“I mean we should look
for something physical that embodies the spirit of Christmas. That’s what they
will destroy.”
LONDON – DECEMBER 24th 2068
The two World Intelligence
Network agents finished their security sweep and radioed in.
“It’s all clear Sam,”
reported the larger of the two agents. He paused, listening to the response
over the hand held radio. His shoulders slumped in resignation as he thumbed
off the radio. Turning to his much smaller companion he sighed. “It’s no good
Joe – he wants us to check it all again. I’ll take the luggage racks, see if
you can squeeze under the seats and check those again.”
The two agents
glanced at each other, neither saying a word as they turned around and started
back down the length of the Eurostar Trans-continental train.
“Are you’re sure
you have everything Sir?”
“It’s only an overnight
trip to Paris. Just a goodwill show. There’s no need for fussing.”
“You still need to look
right when you are among your peers, Sir.”
“All right I take your
point. But this isn’t a formal summit meeting, it’s just an informal gathering
of European leaders with a couple of photo opportunities to help spread the
message of the season.”
“Ah,” responded the
butler dryly, “instead of a summit meeting it’s the European Prime Ministers’
office Christmas party.”
“In a manner of
speaking, yes.” The British Prime Minister agreed. “Now where’s that invitation
and ticket?”
“Here Sir,” said the
butler as he handed over an envelope decorated with the Eurostar logo above a
line of text that read
European Spirit of Christmas Summit Meeting
“Status,
Lieutenant Green?” Colonel White asked his communications officer.
“We have senior officers
in all the major cities where we believe that The Mysterons will strike. Captain
Brown is in New York, Captain Grey is in Los Angeles, Captain Ochre is in Paris
and Captain Blue is in London.” The ambitious Lieutenant looked towards his
commanding officer for some acknowledgment. All he received was a brief nod and
a slight raise of the chin which he took to be the signal to continue.
“Captain Scarlet is
standing by here on Cloudbase with a Jetcopter fueled ready to go where ever
he’s needed.”
“And the Angels?”
“They are on full alert
Colonel. Destiny is already in her aircraft ready for immediate launch;
Rhapsody and Melody are suited up and ready to go at a moments notice.”
“Good. Now if only we
knew what the target was.”
Joe and his partner
Mac stepped off the Eurostar tired and dirty after yet another exhaustive
search.
“She’s clear Joe,
there’s no way on Earth that anyone is going to get a bomb onboard that train.”
“Well let’s just hope
that the big-wigs appreciate all our hard work when they are enjoying their
egg-nog on the way to Paris tonight.”
Joe wiped the back of
his grubby sleeve across his forehead wiping away the sweat and grime from
spending the last few hours crawling between and under train seats.
Then he removed his overalls
and what appeared to be a pair of protective googles, but just as easily could
have been thick glasses.
With the work clothes
and glasses gone he suddenly looked different, his posture reflecting his
physical size. And when he spoke again his voice was almost child-like.
Pointing down the
platform towards the security gate at the entrance he said with excitement.
“Hey look they even have
their own Santa on the train.”
The sleek red
Spectrum staff car pulled off the busy motorway outside of London and made its
way to a small village filling station away from the main roads. The filling
station didn’t look like it had had a customer in years. Away from the main
traffic flow it still had old fashioned pumps and was lacking the requisite
mini-mart for snacks, maps and newspapers. It was amazing that it was still in
business.
Captain Blue
brought the staff car to a halt and walked over to the small hut where the sole
attendant sat reading a newspaper with his feet up on the desk. The attendant didn’t react to the bell that
rang above the door when Captain Blue entered.
“We’re closed.” He
muttered, head still buried in the paper.
Captain Blue just said
“Spectrum.”
The attendant
dropped his paper on the desk and quickly stood up.
“ID” he asked, even
though the man before him was in full Spectrum uniform. Better not to take
chances, and anyway uniforms are easily faked. Although no-one outside of
Spectrum should have known of this filling station’s real purpose.
Captain Blue proffered
his ID card for inspection. The seemingly slovenly attendant now acted like a
professional security agent as he checked the credentials.
“What can I do for you
Captain?”
“For a start I need some
gas for the staff car.” The American Captain Blue could never bring himself to
say “petrol” no matter how often he worked in England, “and if you don’t mind
I’ll take a look at your paper while I wait.”
“Sure,” the attendant
replied, “no problem.”
Captain Blue had
read two pages into the paper when he turned the page over and his expression
froze. For there on page 5 was a small article headlined “Spirit of Christmas train ride for PM.”
Captain Blue immediately activated the radio built into
his uniform cap. The boom mike swung down from his cap’s peak and the lights
built into his jacket insignia flashed white to indicate that his transmission
was to Colonel White.
“Colonel White,”
he talked briskly and clearly with just a trace of excitement behind his
professional demeanor, “I know what the target is. The Mysterons are going to
attack the Eurostar train tonight.”
Captain Blue
listened for the response and his orders. They were quick in coming and by the
time the attendant returned he knew what to do.
As the man walked
back into the small hut, Captain Blue was straight to the point. “Forget the
staff car. I need the SPV.”
“Follow me sir,” the
attendant turned on his heels and lead Captain Blue to the rear of the filling
station. “There she is,” he pointed to what appeared to be an abandoned trailer
home parked between two trees. The trailer looked like it hadn’t been occupied
for years, the paint was peeling, the windows opaque with filth and the sides
covered with green mildew for the close trees. As Captain Blue looked on the
attendant withdrew a small device like a TV remote control from his pocket and
pressed a combination of buttons.
Suddenly the sides
of the trailer folded outwards as it opened like a blossoming flower. And in
the center stood a Spectrum Pursuit Vehicle, the most specialized piece of
equipment in the organization’s impressive arsenal. Part armored car, part tank
it could withstand any sort of attack but was also highly maneuverable and
fast, quicker than any production sports car, despite its large size.
As Captain Blue
walked over to the trailer the garage attendant keyed another few buttons on
the hand-held device and raised it to his mouth like a cell-phone.
“Spectrum agent 042
reporting in. Spectrum Pursuit Vehicle 105 requisitioned by Captain Blue at
17:30 hours.”
As soon as the
blue light on his desk had illuminated Colonel White knew that this was the signal
to action. Captain Blue was not one to report in unless he had found something
significant. Upon hearing Captain Blue’s report of the newspaper article, he
immediately put his plan into action.
“Captain Blue,
requisition an SPV and head for the entrance to the Channel Tunnel. If our
earlier attempts to thwart this threat fail, then you must stop the train
entering the tunnel. My guess is that The Mysterons will try to destroy it in
the tunnel, not only killing the leaders of several European countries but also
disrupting European commerce for years to come.”
Breaking the
communications with Captain Blue, Colonel White turned to his communications
officer. “Get me Captain Scarlet and launch the Angels.”
“SIG Colonel”
responded the Lieutenant using the organization’s usual acronym to confirm that
an order has been received and understood, Spectrum Is Green.
Sat in the cockpit
of her advanced swept wing fighter jet on the deck of Cloudbase, Destiny heard
the command she had been waiting for all day. “Destiny Angel immediate launch.”
She engaged the
powerful engines, keyed the catapult that would launch her aircraft off the
deck of Cloudbase at near supersonic speed and pressed the red button on her
control panel that released the pent up energy of engines and catapult. In an
instant she was airborne.
“Instructions please”
she radioed in.
“Head to the London
area,” she heard Lieutenant Green’s response, ‘the other Angels will join you
there shortly. Contact Captain Blue for details on exact co-ordinates.”
“SIG”
And with that
acknowledgment the fighter banked over and set course for London’s airspace.
Behind her the other two
Angel pilots settled into their seats in the Ops Lounge, keyed the correct
sequence of buttons and were soon hoisted on lifts straight up into the
cockpits of their aircraft. Less that 2 minutes after the departure of Destiny,
they too were also airborne and following the vector taken by their leader.
Shortly after the
departure of the Angel interceptor aircraft, a Spectrum jetcopter lifted off,
at the controls was Captain Scarlet receiving his briefing from Colonel White
over the radio.
“The Mysteron
target is a train carrying several of the European leaders. We believe they
plan to destroy it in the Channel Tunnel between England and France. But what
we don’t know is how they plan to do it. The Angels will provide air cover in
case The Mysterons plan to use an aircraft to attack it. Captain Blue is
waiting at the Tunnel entrance with an SPV to stop it if it gets that far. We
have had assurance from our colleagues at WIN that there were no explosive
devices on-board before it left. But I’m not so sure that the attack won’t come
from within. Anyone on-board that train could be a Mysteron agent. I want you
to board the train and using your unique sense for The Mysterons, check it out
and stop any attempt to destroy it and its passengers.”
“What are those aircraft
doing?” asked the Prime Minister. His gaze firmly fixed out of the window of
the speeding Eurostar train. “They look like they are following us.”
“I’m sure it’s just a
security sweep sir.” His aide responded. “Air cover, that sort of thing.”
“But those aren’t WAF
aircraft. I don’t recognize the type.”
“They’re Spectrum Angel
aircraft I think. Never seen one before, but if I recall the photographs I’ve
seen then that’s what they are,” responded the aide.
Above the two
politicians another aircraft kept pace with the train. Captain Scarlet’s
jetcopter had increased its velocity to match the near 300 kph of the high
speed train as it hurtled through the early evening of the English countryside
on its way towards the Channel Tunnel entrance.
“I’m sure I saw
this in an old movie once” though Scarlet to himself as he placed the copter on
autopilot and descended down a flimsy steel rope ladder to the speeding roof
below him. Once on the roof he found the slipstream was too strong for him and
he immediately lost his footing. With a sudden and hard bump he crashed chest
down into the roof as his feet were swept away by the vicious winds. He reached
forward in a desperate attempt to find a hand grip. But the sleek train had
been designed to be as streamlined as possible. The roof was a smooth as glass;
there was nothing to hold on to. The Spectrum agent was swept backwards at
immense speed.
As he was dragged
back, Scarlet twisted onto his back and not without difficulty, pulled his
flailing arms in to his body. It seemed to take an eternity, but Scarlet
eventually brought his hands together and flicked a switch on what appeared to
be a standard wrist watch. Above him the jetcopter performed a neat 180 degree
turn and tracked his movement and speed towards the rear of the train. Just as
Scarlet’s legs started to disappear over the rear of the Eurostar the steel
ladder appeared above his chest. Reaching out he grabbed it. The train rushed
ahead and the Spectrum agent was left hanging from the now hovering jetcopter.
No matter what the
showed in the movies, there was no way he could board the speeding train. The
only way to get on board was to stop the Eurostar.
As he climbed back
up the rope towards the aircraft above him, Scarlet’s boom mike dropped from
his cap peak. The light on his uniform flicked blue.
“SIG, Captain
Scarlet.” Responded Captain Blue, “I understand.”
Reaching forward for the
controls he brought the SPV to life and set a course away from the tunnel
entrance towards the speeding train.
The armored
vehicle was wide enough that its tracked wheels spanned the monorail track used
by the Eurostar. Soon it was up to top
speed. Captain Blue sat in the rearward facing command chair watching for the
approaching train on the video monitor that showed what was happening in front
of the SPV.
It didn’t take
long for the train to appear on the horizon, the gap between it and the SPV
closing with frightening speed. Captain Blue brought the SPV to an immediate
halt and radioed the driver of the Eurostar.
“This is Captain
Blue of Spectrum. We need to bring your train to a halt. You will see a
Spectrum vehicle parked across the track in front of you. Stop before you reach
that vehicle.”
Before he received
any acknowledgement that the message had been heard, Captain Blue pressed the
buttons to operate the sliding door and seat mechanism and soon found himself
outside the casing of the SPV. The seat gently lowered to the ground. He undid
the restraining harness and ran towards the jetcopter that was now waiting for
him in a nearby field.
“Let’s hope he
stops in time.” He said looking up at the pilot.
“If he doesn’t try and stop,” replied Captain Scarlet, then
we know that the Mysterons have already taken over the train and we can order
the Angels to destroy it. If he does stop, then I can get on board and conduct
a more personal search.”
The jolly man in
the red suit stumbled as the speeding train came to a sudden halt. The sack he
carried swung over his shoulder slipped and bumped against the back of the
British Prime Minister’s head.
“I say, watch where
you’re going,” the politician said in an annoyed tone of voice. Then, turning
to glance behind him, he saw who his “assailant” had been. The tone of voice
softened. “Oh I’m sorry Santa. I didn’t realize that it was you. Do you have
anything special for me.”
“This will be a
Christmas you won’t forget.” Intoned the man in the red suit. His voice oddly
flat.
“What a serious Santa,”
the Prime Minister murmured to his aide as the subject of his conversation
continued down the carriage. “I wonder why we’ve stopped?”
“I think that’s why,”
responded the aide pointing back to the rear of the train.
Walking towards
them down the passageway between the seats was another man in a red jacket, but
this was no Santa.
“Excuse me sir,” Captain
Scarlet stopped by the side of the PM’s seat.”Are you all right?”
“Yes, why shouldn’t I
be?”
“Is there a problem
Captain?, asked the aide, “why has Spectrum stopped and boarded this train.”
“We believe that there
is a Mysteron threat against this train and its passengers.”
“Nonsense,” replied the
PM “How could they get on board, the only people here are the politicians and
their staff – we’ve all been through security checks.”
“Thank you sir,”
continued the Spectrum agent, ”but if you don’t mind I’ll continue looking.”
Suddenly Captain
Scarlet’s world turned hazy, he began to feel faint. The world began to spin.
This was a feeling
he only ever felt when close to a Mysteron agent. It wasn’t a infallible “sixth
sense” it didn’t always warn him in time and its focus was imprecise, but he’d
learnt to trust it. Forcing himself back to equilibrium he looked at the Prime
Minister again, this time with closer scrutiny.
Suddenly a dry
gravely voice interrupted his deliberations.
“You are too late…
Earthman.”
Captain Scarlet spun
and saw the incongruous sight of a man in a Santa suit holding a gun at him. As
he stared at the Mysteron agent he notice wisps of smoke start to creep slowly
out of the collar of the man’s costume. He was a human bomb. There was no
choice, Scarlet had to get him off the train before he exploded, killing
everyone on-board.
Before anyone else
in the carriage could react Scarlet moved, he rushed straight towards the
gun-wielding Santa. The carriage was filled with the sudden report of a gun
being fired. The first bullet slammed into Captain Scarlet’s chest. He
staggered, but kept moving. A second bullet slammed into his arm. But he kept
moving; getting closer and closer to the assassin.
Then he was on top
of the Mysteron agent. The gun fired twice more, Scarlet’s body convulsed as
the bullets tore into him. But the momentum of his run and collision with the
Santa carried them backwards towards the door of the carriage. As their
combined weight hit the door, it burst open and they fell out onto the trackside.
The smoke
continued to pour out of the collar and cuffs of the assassin. He was getting
closer to the point of detonation. The wounded Spectrum agent grabbed the
smoking collar and dragged the struggling Santa towards the SPV stopped on the
rail ahead of the train. He had to contain the explosion.
Locked in a death
struggle the living corpse of Christmas spirit and the incredible agent of
order moved closer and closer to the armored vehicle. With a final effort
Scarlet pushed the Santa back into the open cockpit of the SPV.
But the flailing
arms of the Mysteron managed to find a purchase on the jacket of the wounded
man dragging him in afterwards. The door of the armored car closed on the two
combatants.
Suddenly three
Angel aircraft descended at high speed towards the SPV and opened fire. As the
deadly missiles hit the armored car they exploded with blinding light and
deafening sound.
The SPV was
reduced to a smoking pile of twisted metal. In the fields close by lay two
bodies.
CLOUDBASE – DECEMBER 25th 2068
“Yes sir, thank
you sir.” Colonel White motioned to Lieutenant Green to close the radio
connection, his call over.
“How are they all
feeling Colonel?” asked the communications Officer.
“The politicians are all
a little shook up, a few are even complaining that their Christmas trip to
Paris was cancelled, but most are glad to be alive.” He paused. “The British
Prime Minister in particular wants to hold a memorial service for Captain
Scarlet. I told him that wouldn’t be necessary. He now thinks I’m callous and
insensitive over the loss of one of my own men.”
“It is difficult to
explain Sir.”
“Well let’s go and see
how the patient is this morning?”
Colonel White was
unprepared for the sight that greeted him when he pushed open the doors to the
Cloudbase medical center. Standing in the middle of the room was a man in a red
Santa costume.
Instinctively
Spectrum’s commanding officer went for his sidearm.
Santa laughed a
hearty laugh. “Relax Colonel.” His hands went up to the white beard and tugged
it down to reveal the laughing face of
Captain Scarlet. “I just thought I’d see how it felt to be the other fellow for
a while.”
The Colonel’s only
response was a muted “humph!!”
Captain Scarlet
removed the Santa Costume; underneath he was dressed not in his uniform but in
casual civilian shirt and slacks, no sign of the devastating injuries he had
received the day before.
He was no longer
the indestructible Captain Scarlet, he was just plain Paul Metcalfe.
Reaching round he handed
a small wrapped parcel to the man in white stood before him,
“Merry Christmas.”
Captain
Scarlet, The Spectrum logo and associated concepts and characters are © Gerry Anderson
and Carlton International Media .
This story is part of the ALAN J. PORTER’S WEB STUFF website
"CHRISTMAS FAN FIC CHALLENGE" PAGE
Any
comments? Send an E-MAIL to the SPECTRUM HEADQUARTERS site