By Chris Bishop

PART 1

“Beware of Greeks bearing gifts…”

On the airstrip reserved for Spectrum at London International airport, the courier plane was getting ready for its weekly journey to Cloudbase. Following strict security procedures – even stricter under Spectrum’s standards – the craft was checked and double-checked by the organisation’s ground agents, to make sure that not only the plane itself was functioning at one hundred percent, but also that it was totally safe, and devoid of any unwanted ‘surprises’ that might have been added to it for this trip.

The large amount of cargo that the courier regularly transported was submitted to an even higher level of surveillance and security checks than the courier plane itself. Equipment and materiel for Cloudbase’s personnel, medicine, luggage, food supplies, merchandise for the Spectramart, official and personal mail – packages, letters, cards – EVERYTHING was gone over with a fine-tooth comb; absolutely nothing was left to chance. It was a routine enough process, but one that the different teams of agents assigned to it took very seriously, and carried out with the expertise of long practice, so very aware were they of the importance of their task.

Only Spectrum personnel were allowed to touch the baggage on their last transport between the high-security warehouse where they were temporary stored on the airstrip and the courier – and when inside the plane’s belly, a final check was made by a team of three men, who, when satisfied that everything was cleared, would then seal the hatch and authorise the courier to leave the strip. The procedure was always the same – and was to be followed to the letter.

Sergeant Foster was the person in charge of transshipment that late evening, and everything until now was going according to schedule. The last box of goods had been transported into the courier and he had personally checked it out himself, before having it carried into a corner and secured with straps.

“I think that’s all, Sarge,” said one of the two men under Foster’s command, securing the final restraint and rising to his feet. “This baby is ready to go for another trip.”

“Perfect, Darwin,” Foster replied, checking his list carefully, to make sure it was completed. “I’ll just finalise the papers, as usual, and give them to the onboard agents… You may go, I’ll join you after. Coffee’s on me.”

“Not me, Sarge,” the third man, Cummings, replied with a short laugh. “I’m knackered. I’ll sign off and head for home if you don’t mind. Perhaps another time…”

Foster acknowledged the reply with a brief nod, and barely noticed when the two men walked down the ramp to leave the cargo hold. He was still too busy checking his list, in search of the last box he had just accepted in. He found it finally – at the bottom of the last page, of course.

“Number 42… checked.” He ticked the item and initialled it, than, satisfied that everything had been marked, took out his communicator. “Sergeant Foster in cargo hold to Spectrum Control – all shipments accounted for and ready to go.”

“Lieutenant Duffy, Spectrum Airstrip Control… S.I.G, Sergeant. Courier’s departure for Cloudbase scheduled in ten minutes.”

“S.I.G., Spectrum Control. Will notify you again, as per procedure, when cargo hold is sealed.”

“S.I.G., Sergeant.”

Foster had just hung his pad in its usual space on the wall next to the door, when he noticed a shadow lurking in the opening. He nearly jumped, surprised to see someone there. The visitor didn’t move a single inch, and Foster let out a sigh, recognising the man’s outlines. “Cummings, you scared me half to death! Don’t you ever sneak up on me like that again, you hear?”

“Sorry, Sarge,” Cummings said in an apologetic tone, coming out of the shadows and standing in the full light of the moon behind him. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that… It just that we seem to have received a last-minute delivery for the courier.”

Foster narrowed his eyes, staring at the big enough box Cummings was carrying. “A last-minute delivery?” he said with a deep frown. “I don’t remember having seen anything else on the list…” He was reaching for his pad when Cummings stumbled, nearly dropping his charge, and addressed him a faint smile.

“Can you give me a hand with this, Sarge?” Cummings asked. “It’s rather heavy… And it’s marked ‘handle with care’.”

Foster took one end of the box and helped Cummings to put it down in the middle of the cargo hold. He grimaced meaningfully. “Handle with care? What’s in there, d’you reckon? Another case of champagne for the high-ranking officers?”

Cummings smiled. “Who knows? Halloween is in five days. They might want to celebrate properly?”

Foster took the scanner gun and powered it up. “Let’s see if we can see what’s inside this baby…”

Cummings nodded thoughtfully and watched as the sergeant slowly passed the gun over the box and around all four sides. The scanner was meant to see through the box and inside of it, and was coupled with a metal and chemical detector, to make sure the checked package contained no bombs or explosives or any kind. The results of the check would appear on the small screen that Foster was watching with attention, in the form of a negative, shadowy image of the box’s contents, and of data displayed below the image.

“Explosives – negative… Metal – negative… No false bottom…”

Cummings was distractedly listening to Foster’s commentary, taking little interest in it. He had rather turned his attention to the pad hanging on the wall, just beside the open door. He stared at it intently, as if nothing else in the world existed.

Two faints rings of green light seemed to appear out of nowhere and slowly passed over the pad. The pad started to fade into nothingness... Cummings didn’t bat an eyelid at the strange phenomenon.

Less than three seconds later the pad reappeared on its hook – as if nothing at all had happened.

“What on Earth is this?” Foster murmured. Cummings returned his attention to his companion. The sergeant was looking with curiosity at the image displayed on the screen. He was unable to make out what the box contained.

“Looks like a teddy bear – or some kind of animal, or something,” Foster muttered. He shook his head. “Well, it can’t be an animal, of course – there are no ventilation holes pierced in the box. It would suffocate.” He put down his scanner. “The box looks clear. Any paperwork with it?”

“It came with this, yes.” Cummings produced a paper that Foster examined attentively, while getting up to his feet. He checked the signature of approval, then the authorisation number assigned to the box and nodded approvingly. “Personally addressed to Harmony Angel… looks all right, but… I have to check if it’s on my list. We can’t let it onboard if it’s not there, and I’m pretty sure I ticked everything. If it’s not on the list, I’m afraid the box won’t make it to Cloudbase for Halloween.” He snatched the pad from the hook and started checking it, while Cummings was getting slowly to his feet, watching him with attention.

“Number 27… 27… Here is it. I’ll be damned. I didn’t tick that one.” Foster gave a deep sigh, looked down at the box one last time and took his pen from his pocket. He shook his head as he applied the required check on the paper. “Must be more tired than I thought – these night and evening shifts can be murder sometimes…”

“That’s so true, Sarge,” Cummings agreed.

“Well, I think that’s all now,” Foster added, putting the pad back on the hook. “Everything’s clear and ready to go. Let’s get out of here, Cummings – unless you want to pay a visit to Cloudbase?”

Cummings grinned. “Not me, Sarge. I prefer to keep my feet firmly on the ground.”

“You and me both…”

The two men left the cargo hold and Foster activated the closing command. Both watched as the ramp slowly rose, and the door snapped into place, sealing the hold. Walking away from the plane with Cummings, and entering the warehouse, Foster called the Spectrum airstrip control and informed them that the craft was now ready for take off.

“S.I.G., Sergeant. Cargo flight 224, destination Cloudbase, will be taking off in approximately two minutes. ETA Cloudbase at 23.00, London time.”

“S.I.G., Control. Foster out.” Foster put the communicator away and turned to address a smile to Cummings. “So, have you changed your mind about that coffee?”

Cummings shook his head. “Sorry, Sarge. As I said earlier, I’ll be heading directly for home. I don’t feel too good at the moment, so maybe a good sleep would put me back on track.”

“Yep,” Foster said with a sigh. “These late shifts are certainly not easy. Well, if you’re not up to it, Cummings, call in sick tomorrow. Darwin and I could cover, with Jasper’s help.”

“I appreciate that, Sarge.”

“Now go on home, man, and get some rest.”

“S.I.G., Sergeant.”

The two men parted, and Sergeant Foster entered his office, while Cummings, leaving the warehouse, quietly directed his steps towards the parking lot, where his car was parked. He had reached it and was about to unlock the door when a sound made him look up. He watched the distinctive form of the cargo plane lifting off from the airstrip and soaring into the air, passing over his head with an almost deafening roar. A faint smile played on his lips as he finally unlocked the door of his car and opened it up, before getting inside. He looked through the windshield in the direction of the rapidly disappearing craft.

“Happy Halloween, Earthmen,” he sniggered maliciously.

He closed his door and drove away, taking no notice of the dead body lying on the back seat of his car, a body which wore his face…

“Look what came with the mail…”

“Here comes the mail! Angels, come to my rescue! I need help!”

Announcing himself this way, Captain Ochre crossed the doorway leading into the Amber Room, holding a large box onto which other, smaller packages and a thick bundle of letters, secured with a single rubber band, had been heaped in a rather unstable pile. The four women seated in the Room literally shot from their seats at his call and rushed to him, gaily freeing him of all the little boxes wrapped in brown paper and of the pile of letters, leaving him with only the large box to carry. Captain Ochre marched forward, nearly missing the first step leading to the lower landing of the Amber Room, and finally put the box down heavily on the glass table. Puffing, he looked around as the Angel pilots were sitting down again, opening their mail. He smiled sardonically.

“ ‘…And thank you so very much, Captain Ochre, for having taken the time to so generously bring us our mail all the way from the hangar to here,’ ” Ochre said in a mocking and syrupy tone.

“Thank you, Captain Ochre,” the Angels said in unison, none of them raising her head from the package or letter she was opening.

“Riiiight. I can see how you ALL mean that.” Ochre reached for the pile of letters that Symphony had thrown onto the table after having taken her own. “Okay, let’s see who these are for,” he said, starting to read the address on each letter and distributing them along. “Melody… Rhapsody… Destiny… Not here? Oh, she’s in Angel One, right… Rhapsody… That one’s from Rome, Dianne…”

“Must be from my mum,” Rhapsody said, eagerly accepting the letter.

“Destiny… mmm… smells like perfume, that one… Lilac, I think… Melody… Melody… Melody… Melody again…”

“Hey! Give me that!” Melody quickly stood up and snatched the four letters Ochre was holding in his left hand.

He finished the last two letters: “Harmony… and Melody.” After handing the seated Harmony her letter, he turned back to Melody, who was glaring at him in mock irritation. “This one came from Paris,” he said, presenting the letter meaningfully. “Who is it from?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Melody replied, offering her most charming smile. She took the letter to put it with the others, turned her back on Ochre and sat down at her place. She drummed teasingly on her collection of letters, looking up mischievously at the American captain, who was towering over her. “What can I say, I have numerous admirers…”

“I can buy that,” Ochre mused, with a nod and a very serious tone. “After all you are a stunningly beautiful lady…”

“Oh, flattery will get you nowhere, Captain!” Melody replied with a scoff.

Ochre gave a frustrated sigh. “I guess it won’t at that… Oh well… But believe me, one day, I will know, my dear…”

“Curiosity is a very bad habit, Captain. You know what it did to the cat…”

“Meow,” Symphony uttered behind Ochre. That had the effect of making the other girls laugh out loud. He looked around with an expression of exasperation upon his face, and rolled his eyes.

“I can see you’re all against me, Angels. All right, I know when I’m not welcomed. I’m gone!” He turned around to walk toward the exit and looked over his shoulder one last time. “Hey, sweetheart… how about making me dinner, tonight?” he said mockingly, addressing a wink in Melody’s direction.

“Oh, I can’t, hon…” she drawled back an answer in an almost perfect Mae West imitation. She gestured to herself, showing her uniform. “I’ve got Amber Room duty for the rest of the evening… That’s really too bad…”

“That’s too bad, indeed.” Ochre pointed a challenging finger toward Melody, while with the other hand, he pressed the button to open the door. “One day, Mel, I’m going to have the last word with you.”

“Yeah! When pigs fly!” she shouted as he walked through the doorway.

“According to you, they already do!” he retorted from the other side of the doorway, as the door slid closed. That remark made the Angels crease with laugher – all of them except Harmony, who was currently very absorbed in reading the letter she had received.

“My, Melody!” Rhapsody said. “I believe he did have the last word this time!”

“Perhaps, but he didn’t get to know who these letters came from,” Melody retorted defiantly.

“Would it be so bad if he found out they were from your parents and brothers?”

“Absolutely! That would spoil my image of femme fatale…” Melody grinned. “Let him wonder. It’s driving him crazy.”

“And you love to drive him crazy,” Rhapsody noted.

“My aim in life is to see him wearing a straitjacket one day, I admit it,” Melody said with a larger smile.

“You naughty girl, you,” Rhapsody mocked her with a frown. “You like him, that you should admit.”

“Out of the question. Why would I tell a lie like that?”

Rhapsody chuckled but didn’t insist. And even if she had wanted too, she was abruptly interrupted by Symphony’s sudden statement:

“Never mind Melody’s love life,” the blonde American said, gaining with that remark an incensed glare from her compatriot. “It’s what in this box that’s intriguing me.” She was pointing to the larger package Ochre had put onto the table before distributing the letters. All the Angels looked at it with interest. Symphony was known for her insatiable curiosity, but all of them were curious to know what the box could contain.

They approached closer to the box, Symphony, Melody and Rhapsody sitting around it, while Harmony stayed on her feet, still reading with growing interest the letter Ochre had given to her. Rhapsody reached for a tag attached to the side of the box and read the name.

“It’s for you, Chan,” she called to the Japanese girl standing behind them. There was a note of surprise in her voice. “From Beijing…”

“It’s not often you receive mail from your Chinese family,” Symphony remarked, her eyes greedily set on the box, as if it was a very tempting chocolate cake. “Let alone packages of this size…”

“It’s from my cousin Lei,” Harmony replied. They looked up at her with curiosity. She showed them the letter. “This was supposed to arrive before the box, announcing its arrival,” she explained.

“What does your cousin say?” Rhapsody demanded.

“He’s announcing the death of our old great-uncle Shen.”

“Oh, Chan…” Symphony said with a sad look upon her face. “We’re so sorry…” The others agreed with her.

“That is sad news indeed,” Harmony answered with unemotional detachment. “But I hardly knew our uncle Shen. Which makes this news peculiar,” she added with a frown.

“What is peculiar?” Melody asked.

“I inherited from him.” She pointed to the box on the table, but the other girls had already guessed what she was talking about. “The contents of this box…”

“Didn’t he have any children of his own?” Symphony asked.

“None that I can think of.” Harmony continued to read her letter.

“Well?” the impatient Symphony asked. “Don’t you find it exciting? I always dreamed that a long-lost relative would come out of the woods and bequeath all his valuable belongings to me …”

“Karen!” protested Rhapsody loudly. “The man is dead!”

“Oh, you heard Harmony, she hardly knew the guy! So? Do we open it to see what’s inside?”

“We will,” Harmony answered. Her beautiful face had furrowed into a visibly surprised frown upon pursuing her reading. She gave a sigh and came to sat down in front of the box, between her increasingly impatient colleagues. “Lights down to thirty percent,” she called to the computer-controlled environment. Automatically, the lights in the room dimmed considerably. The other Angels stared inquisitively at Harmony.

“What did you do that for?” Rhapsody asked.

“That is in the letter’s instructions,” Melody replied. As proof, she showed the paper to her English colleague. The latter only glanced at it, but shrugged as it was all written in Chinese – and she couldn’t read Chinese.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Rhapsody said with a faint smile.

Delicately, Harmony removed the brown paper covering the box and tossed it aside. Under the wrapping, tied up with a very finely-woven cord was a black satin cloth, draping the box. She untied the knots and removed the cord, before slowly unfolding the cloth from the box, which finally revealed itself to the Angels’ impatient and curious eyes.

It was a wooden chest, the surface of which had a very dark, plain but beautiful patina and which was closed by a simple bronze lock on the top. By the look of it, it was very ancient, and it had been in use for a long time. The hinges – also in bronze – were worn, but appeared still to be very solid.

“It’s beautiful,” Melody whispered. “But what’s in it?”

“Girls,” Harmony announced, “prepare yourselves for a surprise.”

She slowly, almost dramatically, opened the lock and then lifted the lid, made of two flaps latched in the middle, to reveal, to her fellow Angels’ astounded eyes, the cutest creature they had ever seen, which blinked its eyes against the faint light entering his restrictive home.

The little creature was just over a foot tall. Its entire body was covered with short fur of light brown with patches of white, except for its dwarfish hands and feet, its muzzle and the long and large pointy ears it was wearing like large screens on each side of its head. The skin was brown, lighter than the fur; the muzzle resembled that of a gorilla, with a large mouth and a tiny nose, just under beautiful, big, liquid brown eyes, which apprehensively looked up at the four women staring at it with perplexity. There was an indubitable brightness in those probing eyes, suggesting that the creature was endowed with a certain amount of intelligence. The mouth seemed to purse into a smile – a gentle smile – as the creature took in each and every one of the onlookers one by one, its large ears moving attentively. It didn’t look afraid in the least. Just as curious as the women were towards him.

“Awwww…” Symphony Angel crooned, and that sound made the creature turn its attention to her. “He’s so cute…”

“How can that animal have survived in that box?” the practical Rhapsody wondered, with a furrowed brow. She looked at the box inquisitively, in search of holes through which the creature could have breathed. She found none. She turned her attention back to the animal, which was now looking at her. “And how was he able to get through Spectrum security?”

“Never mind that,” Melody replied. “What kind of creature is it? I have never seen anything like it in my life.”

“It’s a Mogwai,” Harmony then said.

“A what?”

“A Mogwai.” Harmony was reading the letter that had been sent to her with the box, and on which, obviously, she had found the information she was now giving her fellow Angels regarding the animal. “It’s a rather unique creature.”

“Unique all right,” Symphony said. “What is it, a kind of lemur? A little monkey?”

“Doesn’t look like any of those,” Rhapsody noted, still wondering how the creature had been able to survive in that box and how it had gone through security unnoticed.

“The letter from my cousin Lei doesn’t say what he is,” Harmony said. “It does say, however, that the Mogwai has been in my Chinese family for generations...”

“Generations? That animal?” Melody said with a sceptical frown. “More probably its ancestors…”

“That’s probably what my cousin means,” Harmony agreed. “But according to this, a Mogwai has a very long life-span. So this one may be far older than it appears…” She continued to read. “Apparently, our great-uncle Shen was this Mogwai’s guardian…”

“Guardian?”

“That’s the word used by Lei. ‘Guardian’. This Mogwai comes from a long-lost family member, Uncle Lee, who was living in America – and after that uncle died, many years ago, it was sent back to China where a distant cousin – Uncle Shen’s father – took charge of it. ”

“How many uncles are there in this story?” Symphony asked with a frown.

Harmony ignored the remark. “Uncle Shen then inherited the task when his father died. It is said that to be the guardian of a Mogwai is a great honour – and a great responsibility.”

“I say – is it house-broken?” Symphony asked.

“What does a Mogwai like to do?” Melody asked.

“It likes to play… watch TV…”

“You’re kidding?” Rhapsody said with a broad smile. “Watch TV?”

Harmony nodded. “Apparently, it’s very fond of action and children’s films… It also likes music… and it can sing.”

“Sing?”

As if on cue, the little creature started emitting sounds. There were throaty sounds, something like cooing, and it was quite harmonious. Indeed, it sounded as if it was singing. The four Angels, reunited around the table, let out a collective and appreciative ‘aww’.

“It’s as if he understood us,” Symphony said with a delighted smile.

“Mogwai are very sensitive and intelligent creatures,” Harmony explained.

“Intelligent to the point of understanding us?” a doubtful Rhapsody retorted. She approached closer to the table, kneeling in front of the box; the creature instantly stopped cooing and looked directly at her. She cautiously held out her index finger to it, and stopped just an inch before reaching her goal. “Does it bite?”

“No,” Harmony reassured her. “Mogwai are very gentle.”

“It looks as there is nothing but praise for this ‘Mogwai’, then,” Rhapsody remarked. “Come on, little fellow, what can you tell us about yourself?”

Other sounds escaped the small creature’s lips, in very quick succession, but this time, it didn’t sound as if he was singing. The sounds weren’t as tuneful, and yet, they weren’t unpleasant to listen to. It was as if the Mogwai was trying to speak, and that made Rhapsody smile. Her smile broadened when the little creature gently grabbed her finger in its tiny hand.

“Listen to that!” Melody said, laughing with Rhapsody and Symphony. Only Harmony didn’t laugh and was now frowning, looking at the creature with perplexity. “It sounds as if he’s trying to answer with that gibberish!”

“Actually,” Harmony remarked with poise, “It’s not gibberish… It’s Chinese.”

“What?” Melody reddened violently and turned an embarrassed look to her fellow pilot.

“Mandarin, to be exact.”

“Oh, Chan… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“I know, don’t worry,” Harmony replied with a reassuring smile. “I actually had difficulty recognising it myself… The flow of words is incredibly fast.”

“So he’s actually speaking?” an astounded Symphony said. “Like a parrot?”

“Yes, it’s probably possible to teach him words,” Harmony acknowledged.

“I’ve never seen a creature like this before,” Rhapsody murmured. The others agreed. “What’s he trying to say?”

“He says – he’s very happy to be here,” Harmony translated. “And to make sure we keep the light down…”

“Not in so many words!” Rhapsody protested.

Harmony was still reading her note, frowning in perplexity.

“What else does that paper say about this ‘Mogwai’?” Melody asked.

“Recommendations from Uncle Shen’s will. Things about sleeping accommodation, what he likes to eat and do, how to entertain him… And there are three important rules not to forget.”

“Rules? What are those rules?”

“First: we shouldn’t expose it to bright light. Especially daylight. Apparently, it can hurt it.”

“That’s why you dimmed the lights,” Rhapsody noted. “And why he’s worried about that. Maybe he has sensitive skin. Or eyesight. Like bats? What are the other rules?”

“Not to wet him. Under no circumstances. We don’t have to bath him to clean him up, Mogwai is able to take care of that by himself. And the last important rule: never give him anything to eat after midnight.”

“Now, that’s a stupid rule,” Melody observed. “What difference could it make what hour you feed him?”

“I don’t know, I’m just giving you the rules. Oh – there’s his name.”

“His name? What is it?”

“Gizmo.”

“Gizmo!” Hearing its name, the cute little creature repeated it with obvious enthusiasm, in its crystalline voice. It was followed with a series of cooings, that made the Angels smile.

“Of course, he’s able to say his name,” Symphony remarked with a laugh.

“Doesn’t sound like a Chinese name,” Melody noted.

Harmony was consulting her letter. “No, it’s not. It’s says here that a long time ago, the Mogwai was accidentally sold to an American family who kept it for a little while. The name might come from there…”

“How can you accidentally sell such a cute little guy?” Symphony asked in a puzzled tone.

Harmony shrugged. “I don’t know, but apparently, the family got him back.”

“And now it’s yours,” Symphony added.

“Apparently.”

“Wait a minute,” Rhapsody protested. “You don’t intend to keep him, do you, Chan?”

“And why shouldn’t she?” Symphony retorted, frowning.

Rhapsody got to her feet. “She can’t keep him here. What about Spectrum rules? Or more specifically, Cloudbase rules about owning pets?”

“You keep fish in your quarters,” Symphony remarked. “Why shouldn’t Harmony keep Gizmo?”

Rhapsody rolled her eyes upward. “Karen, I’m sure you realise that keeping a fish in a tank and keeping a Mogwai isn’t the same thing.”

“No? You have experience with keeping Mogwai, Dianne?”

“I’d love Chan to keep Gizmo too,” Rhapsody sighed. “But how can it be possible? The colonel is bound to say no.”

“Not if he doesn’t know…”

“Are you suggesting we keep it a secret from him?” Rhapsody retorted, opening eyes wide with something akin with horror. “Symphony Angel, do you have a death wish?”

Symphony smiled. “And do you think me so dim-witted, Dianne? Did you really think I would keep such a secret from the colonel?”

Rhapsody reddened, suddenly understanding that the blonde woman was leading her on. She was about to open her mouth to protest again, when Harmony suddenly intervened, stepping between the two women.

“Girls, please, don’t argue about this on my account. Gizmo is my responsibility. It is for me to decide what to do with him.” She sighed deeply. “And unfortunately, I have to agree with Rhapsody. I can’t keep Gizmo with me here on Cloudbase. You heard what I read from my cousin’s letter: being the guardian of a Mogwai is a great responsibility…”

“Responsibility,” repeated Gizmo in his small, cooing voice. Which, despite herself, made Harmony smile sadly.

“… My duties as an Angel pilot don’t permit me to fully accept that responsibility,” she continued, sitting back down, and looking down fondly at the small animal; she scratched him behind the ear, making him purr with contentment. “As much as it saddens me, I must decline that honour…”

“So… what will become of Gizmo, then?” Symphony asked.

“According to Lei’s letter, Uncle Shen had two possible candidates within the family to become Gizmo’s next guardian,” Harmony explained. “At least, two he considered worthy of the high responsibility it represents…”

“You obviously being one,” Rhapsody noted. “Who’s the other one?”

“My cousin Huang...”

“You really have a big family,” Symphony smiled.

“And that’s only the Chinese side of it,” Melody whispered, leaning to her.

“He’s cousin Lei’s brother,” Harmony pursued. “Cousin Lei is one of the rare family members to know of my duty within Spectrum. So he must have guessed it would be difficult for me to take care of Gizmo. I suspect he was unable to reach his brother, so it was probably the reason he sent Gizmo to me. I’m easier to reach, apparently.”

Symphony raised a brow. “YOU, on Cloudbase, are easier to reach than his own brother?” she said in a tone of surprise. “What is your cousin Huang, anyway? A monk?”

“…Of the Shaolin Temple.”

Harmony’s quiet answer instantly put a damper on Symphony’s mocking tone, and she straightened up on her seat, becoming suddenly very serious. “Oh. Sorry.” Her expression was so contrite that her colleagues couldn’t help chuckling. “So… ahem… you’ll be trying to reach him then? And ask him to take Gizmo?”

“He’ll have a good home with Huang.” Harmony looked down at Gizmo, who met her gaze and gave her his most charming smile. “But it could take a few days to reach him…”

“So I guess that, in the meantime, Gizmo will have to stay here?” Melody questioned.

“Taking care of him during those few days is the least I can do for him,” Harmony agreed. “But I will have to tell the colonel about him.”

“Uh… I have the feeling that won’t be easy to convince him,” Symphony grimaced.

“Gizmo is my responsibility, leave the problem to me.”

“If you insist. But I tell you – rather you than me, Chan.”

Harmony smiled mysteriously. “Oh, I don’t know – sometimes I have the feeling he can’t refuse you anything, Karen.”

Symphony frowned. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

If Harmony had an answer to that question, she didn’t have time to formulate it; right at that moment, the beeping sound announcing that the pilot of Angel One was leaving her post made itself heard, and the orange indicator over the amber door to the seat elevator started blinking.

“My turn to go,” Harmony declared, leaving her seat and walking toward the elevator.

“What, you’re going now?” Melody protested. “What about Gizmo?”

“One of us can take your place, Harmony,” Rhapsody suggested.

“No, you have all done that far too often, lately. Beside, I heard that there will probably be target practice today… Which means you and Melody will be joining me shortly.”

“Oh, right… I had forgotten about that,” Melody muttered.

“Which will leave Gizmo to me and Destiny,” Symphony noted, looking fondly at the small animal.

“I know Gizmo will be in good hands,” Harmony declared with a smile of her own. “Beside, my shift will be finished in four short hours… Then I’ll go talk with Colonel White about Gizmo.”

They heard the elevator seat as it arrived behind the door, which started sliding open, to reveal Destiny, who, her helmet removed, was disengaging herself from the seat harness and standing up, rubbing her numb legs and grimacing.

“I’ll see you later, girls,” Harmony continued, taking her place on the seat. “Please, you’ll give Destiny the news?”

“What news?” Destiny asked, turning toward her Japanese colleague who was reaching for her helmet.

“The others will inform you,” Harmony smirked. “I’d better go take my place before Lieutenant Green notices Angel One is unmanned.”

The amber door slid closed on her before Destiny could say anything else, and the remaining Angel pilots heard the seat being elevated toward Angel One on the deck above them. Destiny shrugged distractedly, and started walking around, limping a little, under the other three girls’ inquisitive gaze.

“What’s the matter, Juliette?” asked Rhapsody. “Have you hurt yourself?”

“In a way,” she grumbled. “I think I pulled a leg muscle – or whatever. Ça fait mal…”

“Well, if it’s hurt, you’d better go to sickbay,” Symphony suggested.

“I will, don’t worry, I…” Destiny gave a sudden sneeze – so loud that it startled her fellow pilots. “Sorry,” she apologised. “I don’t know where that came from, it’s…” she sneezed again, almost louder than previously. “…It came so suddenly…” To the others’ complete surprise, she sneezed a third time, and then sniffed. “Damn… Does someone have a mouchoir?”

“Here.” Rhapsody rose from her seat and reached for a box of Kleenex standing on one of the bookshelves along the curved wall. She walked to Destiny and offered it to her. The French woman took at least three in a row and blew into them with a loud trumpeter-swan-like sound.

“Merci,” Destiny said with a faint smile to the young Englishwoman standing in front of her and staring with perplexity. She had water in her eyes, which were slowly turning to red. “I wish I knew what’s going on…”

“Me too,” Rhapsody replied with a nod, a suspicion forming in her mind as Destiny wiped the tip of her nose. The English pilot glanced over her shoulder to her two American colleagues, seated next to the big wooden box containing Gizmo. Could it be…

“Destiny… do you have allergies of any kind?” she asked to the now miserable-looking blonde woman in front of her.

“Allergies? Oh, yes… but…” She sniffed again. “It was a long time ago since I had an attack, and it can’t very well be that…” She sneezed, and fished another handkerchief from the box.

“What were you allergic to?” Rhapsody insisted.

“Oh. Cat fur. That really gets to me. But there are no cats onboard, are there?” She failed to notice the totally dismayed expression displayed on her three fellow Angel pilots, and instead, looked around with perplexity. “Why are the lights so low?”

“Eh? Oh, we had trouble with them a little while ago…” Rhapsody lied. Her suspicions were growing and she was starting to believe that it was a blessing that the lights were so dim that Destiny had not yet seen the box on the table behind the English girl.

“Have you called Maintenance?”

“Er… no. Not yet.”

“It might be repaired. Did you try to make it work again?” Destiny insisted. “Lights on, full intensity.”

Automatically, light flooded the Amber Room. An alarmed Rhapsody turned around to check on Gizmo, to realise that both Melody and Symphony had already closed the lid on the wooden chest, in anticipation of what was coming, and were now covering it with the black velvety cloth. She heard a muffled, but distinct protest coming from inside the box, as well as faint tapping. Symphony briefly shushed at the box. Fortunately, Destiny was too busy sneezing and blowing her nose to really notice.

“Well, it seems to be working perfectly fine now,” Destiny noted.

“Yes – Maintenance have probably already taken care of it.” Rhapsody frowned. “You really look terrible! You ought to see the doctor, Juliette!”

“I should, shouldn’t I?” Destiny said with a sniff. “Oh my… It’s been so long since I felt this way. I really hate it…” She directed her steps toward the exit, followed by Rhapsody, when she suddenly seemed to remember something and turned around. “What was that news you were supposed to tell me about?”

“Er… nothing that important,” Rhapsody smiled uncomfortably. Behind her, Melody and Symphony were moving in front of the box to hide it from Destiny’s view, almost idiotic smiles spread on their faces; they were the perfect example of false innocence. “You’d better go see Fawn right now, we’ll tell you about it later.”

“All right…” Destiny sniffed, turning toward the door which slid open in front of her. “But make sure you will not forget…”

She walked out and the door slid closed. Rhapsody came back to the others, who now had the same worried expression as she did.

“What are we going to tell her?” Melody asked, almost whimpering. “Why didn’t we tell her about Gizmo right away?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Rhapsody retorted. “Did you see her reaction? It was almost immediate, as soon as she set foot in the Amber Room! She’s allergic to the little chap!”

“But we could at least have told her about it,” Melody insisted. “And shown her…”

“And give her an attack?” Symphony protested. “I don’t want her death on my conscience!”

“Me neither,” Rhapsody agreed. “The best thing would be to tell her later… and be very careful about it.”

“Oh… I don’t like all this,” Symphony mumbled. “I’m starting to have a bad feeling about it…”

Melody sighed. “All right. I guess you’re right. Then, considering the situation, I don’t think it is a good idea to keep Gizmo in the Amber Room.”</