A “Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons” story for Christmas

By Chris Bishop, Mary J. Rudy and Sue Stanhope

PART 2

It was with uncertainty that Colonel White eyed the young woman standing in front of him. He made a step forward, stopped in his tracks, and narrowed his eyes, hesitating. He cleared his throat.

“The Ghost of Christmas Present?” he asked.

She raised a brow. “You doubt me, Charles Gray?”

The fact that she used his real name to address him left little doubt in White’s mind that she really wasn’t Symphony. He was about sure that Symphony would not do that.

“Don’t tell me. You chose the image of Symphony so as not to alarm me?” As she didn’t answer what seemed like an obvious remark, he continued, a little more hesitantly, “So the real Symphony is all right?”

“Why shouldn’t she be?” the Ghost asked, this question apparently perplexing her.

“I’m sorry. I… There was a lingering doubt in my mind that you Spirits were using the image of deceased people to approach me.”

He saw the shadow of a smile appear on the Ghost’s face. “If it will put your mind at rest, that’s not so. Your Symphony is very much alive.”

“And… Conrad?” White insisted. “Captain Black?”

She nodded slowly. “That is why you thought we were using images of deceased people,” she reflected. “Because of the uncertainty surrounding the fate of your friend.” She shook her head. “I cannot reveal to you if he is dead or alive.”

“I should have realised,” mumbled White. That was frustrating for him, and the scowl on his face was more than obvious. The Ghost chuckled. Her laugh had something similar to the real Symphony’s; for some reason, White found this annoying.

“Don’t make such a face, Charles,” the Ghost replied, approaching briskly. “This night is for you. It…”

“… isn’t for my friend, I know,” White cut in. “Your… ‘colleague’ told me as much already.”

“He did indeed,” the Ghost said with a new nod. Her hand reached for the colonel’s arm. Her touch, he realised, was very similar to that of the other Spirit. But the way she looked back at him with that enticing smile and brightness in her eyes made him feel more comfortable in her company than he had been with ‘Conrad’. Still, he couldn’t relax completely, especially when she addressed him anew. “Shall we go, now?”

“Where are we going?” he asked with a furrowed brow.

“Not far, don’t worry,” she replied. “Not far at all.”

The world began to turn black around them.

Obscurity gave way to light – and the scene around both Colonel White and the new Ghost had changed. Silently, he examined his surrounding, assessing it.

“I don’t know why you’ve brought me here,” Colonel White grumbled as he recognised the Radar Room.

“This is the Present. You are here to observe, that’s all,” replied the Ghost quietly. She motioned in the direction of the radar console, where Captain Magenta was seated, in front of the radar screen. “Do not worry,” she remarked, seeing White making a step back upon discovering the presence of his officer. “We are as invisible here as you were during your first visions.”

White watched with impatience as Magenta updated his half-hourly report. Again, there was nothing to add. White looked on with some satisfaction as he noted the boredom and the gloomy expression of his insubordinate officer.

“You’re pleased he’s so unhappy?” asked the Ghost.

“Pleased? Not exactly,” White replied. “But he’ll think twice before defying regulations again.”

“You think so?”

White narrowed his eyes. No, she was probably right. Next time he would have to be even more vigilant to catch Magenta out.

The door slid open and Captain Magenta looked up at the newcomer. Standing in the doorway was Captain Grey holding a handful of letters and cards. He smiled as he saw Magenta’s heavy eyelids as he struggled to stay awake in the intense boredom of what amounted to solitary confinement with only a blank screen for company.

“You’re early,” Magenta commented with surprise. “It’s only been an hour.”

“Yeah, but I bet it feels like four,” Grey answered with a tired sigh.

“It feels like ten!” Magenta grumbled. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I’m here to relieve you, the Old Man has another job for you.”

“Oh, God, does he want me to swab the flight deck or something? I swear that man gets worse every Christmas!”

“Oh, I see,” snapped White. “You brought me here to listen to their abuse? You think I care what they think of me?”

“You might be surprised at what you might hear,” replied the Ghost, indicating with a sweep of her hand that White should listen to the remainder of their conversation.

“I know,” Grey sighed, “but I don’t think we help matters.”

“What? He treats us like kids!”

Grey sighed again. “Don’t you think we act like kids sometimes?”

“No, I don’t.” Magenta stood and signed the duty log with a flourish. “We’re grown men, Grey. Accomplished, intelligent men! You were a Lieutenant Commander in the WASPs and I…” Magenta paused with a frown, slamming the pen back down. “Well, I’m a lot more honest than he thinks.”

“That’s not fair, Pat.”

“No?” Magenta stared intently at the pen as if willing it to move on its own. “I heard what he said to you.”

“What?” asked Grey uncertainly.

“He was shocked that you were involved, but not me. This is the sort of thing he expects from me. To him, I’m still a criminal.”

“That’s not true!”

White was taken aback to find that both he and Grey spoke at the same time.

“No?” asked Magenta. “I wish I was so sure.”

“Pat, it’s not you, it’s me. He expects more from me. I’m the only Navy man here. Like him. I don’t know, he relates to me sometimes. Maybe he thinks I should set an example?”

Magenta shook his head and sighed. “The radar’s all yours, Grey. What does he want me to do? Fix the computers?”

Grey nodded bleakly. “How did you know there was a problem with them?”

“No kidding,” Magenta grumbled. “Lucky guess.” He nodded, taking a deep breath. “I’ll get on it.”

“Green’s in the Control Room, you’re to meet him there,” Grey explained.

“I’d better be on my way then, before I get another lashing for slacking.”

Grey smiled and raised the cards and letters he held. “Well, what do you think the colonel’d do if he knew I was in here catching up on my correspondence?”

“He’d probably put you on a charge,” Magenta frowned, “the mood he’s in.”

“Is that what they think of me?” White asked, surprised by the bitterness in Magenta’s tone. “They think I’m such an ogre?”

“No, he wouldn’t and you know it,” laughed Grey. “He wouldn’t be happy, but he’s not THAT bad!”

“No, I know, not normally, but he’s sure as hell miserable now!” snapped Magenta in return.

“Ease up, Pat, it’s Christmas,” Grey implored.

Magenta rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yeah, okay, you’re right. I better get going. I’ll see you later, Brad.”

Grey waved as Magenta left his place then, with a sigh, picked up the pen lying on top of the duty log.

“Why is it, I wonder, that you defend your officers to the hilt whenever they are criticised?” remarked the Ghost by his side, with a quiet enough tone. “If they are so incompetent…”

White glared at her. “They are not incompetent!”

“Don’t tell me. Tell them.”

White watched in silence as Magenta marched sullenly from the room and Grey settled in for a long, dull watch.

Signing his name in the duty log, Grey sat down on the seat his comrade had just left, and before him, arranged the cards, letters and paper he had brought with him. One card appeared old, its edges slightly yellowed, but otherwise in perfect condition. Grey held it in his hands as if it were the most delicate and precious crystal. Gently he ran his fingers along the lightly scalloped edges; opening it, he read and re-read the message held within.

White watched with a look of confusion as Grey closed the card, his eyes now tightly shut, looking away to his left. White frowned as he took a step closer and noticed Grey’s face contorted with an inner pain, his eyelashes dampened with unshed tears.

Taking a deep breath, Grey looked up once more; placing the card to one side, he unfolded a letter and started to read.

“What was that?” asked White.

“You don’t know?” asked the Ghost with some surprise. “But you know Captain Grey so well, don’t you?”

White sighed; of all of his officers, he would agree that he was closest to Grey. Perhaps it was because of their common Navy background; perhaps it was that, temperamentally, they were similar? But White would be the first to admit that Grey was a private man – possibly even more private than himself – and that there were many things he doubted he would ever know about him. He rarely confided in anyone – not to his comrades-in-arms with whom he had worked for so many years – and even less to his commander.

“I know as much as he is prepared to confide,” he replied with a sigh.

“You’re very similar,” the Ghost replied. “Christmas is a painful time for him too.”

Colonel White looked at her, scowling as he did. What right did this Spirit have to comment on such personal matters? About to speak, White was distracted as the door opened.

Grey looked up from his letter and smiled as he saw Destiny framed in the doorway.

“I’m sorry, Destiny, I relieved Magenta early. He’s in the Control Room, trying to fix the computers.”

“I know, I was on my way to the Amber Room when I saw him,” Destiny replied as she entered the room. “He told me what happened. I came to see you. Partly to thank you, but also to tell you that I’m going to the colonel to tell him my part in this. It’s not right that the two of you should be alone to be punished like this, especially as it was me who actually chose and bought the wine.”

“I knew it,” mumbled White behind her. “I knew she had a part in this smuggling wine business! I would have bet my pay on it!”

The Ghost with Symphony’s face sniggered impishly. “I thought you weren’t a betting man, Charles,” she remarked, much to White’s annoyance. “If you were so sure she was involved in this affair, why didn’t you punish her as well?”

“I had no proof,” White retorted dryly. “Her… ‘accomplices’ didn’t denounce her. They kept her out of it, and preferred to take the fall alone.”

“Oh. I see.” The Ghost seemed to give it some thought. “So, when the going gets tough, your people stick together, Charles.” He gave her an upset look. She smiled slightly. “Even against you, it seems.”

“Destiny, no,” Captain Grey was saying to the Angel pilot. “What’s the point of doing that? You won’t get Pat or me off the hook and you’ll be in trouble too. The last thing we want – me and especially Pat – would be for you to get saddled with extra duties.”

“But it’s so unfair. For you. I know you were talked into helping, against your better judgement.” Destiny tilted her head, almost daring Grey to deny what she knew to be true.

“Okay,” Grey smiled, “I admit, Pat did pull the ‘you owe me a favour’ card. But I’m no saint, you know, I’d have done it anyway.”

Destiny returned his smile. “Well, don’t tell him that, or he’ll be expecting to use the ‘favour’ card again!”

“I know, I couldn’t believe my luck that he felt the need! This ‘adventure’ started with the best of intentions – Hey, this was meant as a happy surprise for the others!”

“I know,” sighed Destiny. “That’s why I got into it myself.”

Grey smiled. He was aware of Destiny and Magenta’s budding romance, despite their discretion. One never knew with Magenta; most of his adult life had been spent shrouded in a veil of secrecy, so he no longer needed to try when keeping something such as this under wraps. Destiny had been the one who had shown the most marked change. Her very nature made her passionate and fiery, and although her feelings were by no way transparent, Grey had noticed the emotional charge whenever the pair were near.

“So no more talk of going to the colonel, all right?”

Destiny offered a nod and a thin smile; she still felt guilty, but realised that Grey wanted a change of subject.

“You’re writing letters?”

“Yeah, I thought it would be a good time to catch up, I have a large family. An expensive time of year, you know.”

“You have brothers and sisters?” Destiny asked, realising only now that she didn’t know that much about Grey’s family.

Grey nodded and smiled. “Three sisters and a brother.”

Destiny raised her eyebrows. “That is a big family, and where are you?”

“Second eldest,” Grey replied. “My sister, Nicole, is about five years older than me. She has kids too, three of them,” Grey beamed. “And my brother’s wife has one on the way too.”

“Yes,” Destiny chuckled, “I see why it’s an expensive time for you.” Destiny’s laugh was cut short as she noticed Grey’s dulled reaction. “What’s wrong, Brad?”

Grey lifted his head enough that it was clear that he was responding to her question but without meeting her eyes.

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

Destiny’s eyes followed Grey’s and for the first time she spotted the card placed to his right. The envelope on which it was placed was clearly not one you would expect to accompany a card, more one to keep a precious object clean and free of damage.

“Is that card from your wife, Brad?” Destiny asked, almost bluntly. Others might have been surprised at how quick her assessment had been. But those who knew Destiny, knew also of her quick and trained mind. After all, she had worked for WAAF Intelligence for a time, where her abilities of deduction were well-recognised.

“Yeah,” Grey answered simply. Destiny noticed, with sadness, that his voice was suddenly deeper, almost gruff, as he said that one simple word.

“You must have loved her a lot, and miss her terribly, I’m sure,” Destiny said sympathetically.

“Yeah.” This time Grey almost sounded as if he were far away, his thoughts lost in the past. “It’s five years old now,” he continued, running his fingers around the treasured card, “but I can still smell her perfume.”

Destiny faltered; it was unheard of for Grey to open up in this way, and it was frustrating that now of all times she was expected on duty in the Amber Room. Crouching near the chair, Destiny found herself smoothing Grey’s hair comfortingly and finishing with a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“I’m sorry, Brad, I wish I didn’t have to go, but I’m due on standby duty.”

Lowering the card, Grey tilted his head to meet her worried gaze. “I know. Don’t worry about me, Juliette, I’m fine, really.”

“I’m really sorry, Brad. I’ll come back later when my duty watch is over.”

Grey smiled meaningfully. “No, Juliette, I’m sure there’s somewhere else you’d rather be.”

Destiny cocked her head slightly as she stared at him.

Grey continued before she had a chance to speak: “I thought I might do an extra shift in here anyway, I have a lot to do.” Grey waved a hand indicating the stack of letters and cards he had to answer. “Perhaps you’d let Pat know for me?”

“You’re a good man, Brad.” Destiny gave his hand a light squeeze, silently acknowledging Grey’s offer.

“Now, go on, the Amber Room’s calling you.”

“Joyeux Noël, Brad.”

Grey smiled. “Merry Christmas, Juliette.”

White watched as Destiny rose and left the room and Grey turned once again to his letters.

“I had no idea,” White commented sadly, turning to look at his officer. “We have more in common than I realised.”

“Each of your officers has his or her cross to bear,” replied the Ghost meaningfully. “And they mostly do it in silence.” She touched his arm. “Come. We’d better leave him to his privacy. There is much more to see.” The now familiar warm feeling enveloped White and the darkness followed.

White looked around at the new scene surrounding him. The décor was certainly familiar here too – coloured in brown and ginger, with a large curved windowed wall that permitted one to gaze into the sky…

He was in the Amber Room.

From the white metallic supporting beams, tinsel, garlands and holly had been suspended, and a beautiful artificial tree had been erected dead centre of the room. Soft holiday music was coming from a small radio, set on a low table. It was then White noticed that the sky outside was dark – it must still be Christmas Eve, then…

The colonel frowned a little, looking around, before turning to the Spirit standing by his side, in total silence, waiting for his reaction. “Aren’t you going to take me anywhere besides Cloudbase?” he asked in an annoyed tone.

She raised a brow in surprise. “This is your life at Christmas Present; do you spend your life anywhere else these days, except immersed in your work?”

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to answer; in fact, he didn’t get to answer, as sounds of female voices behind him made him spun around. He wasn’t very surprised to see two of the Angel pilots seated, below his feet, on one of the sofas on the lower landing – in full uniform. There were almost always two pilots on stand-by duty here, trying to pass time during their duty shifts. They would read books or magazines, or play chess or cards, or engage in conversation in the meantime. At the moment, however, the pastime they had chosen was oddly different from what he was used to seeing them engaged in.

“Come on, Symphony,” Harmony Angel was admonishing in her soft voice. “It’s not that complicated. You can do it.”

Colonel White came closer to the edge of the landing and looked down in curiosity to see exactly what the two young women might be doing. A collection of coloured papers was spread on the low table in front of them. A series of small, artistically crafted pieces, made of paper folded into the form of various animals, was covering the surface of the table. White easily recognised a swan and an elephant, and even a giraffe, amongst the graceful pieces carefully set on the table, on Harmony’s side. It was more difficult to figure out what the other pieces, on Symphony’s side, might be, however, as Harmony, with all the patience she was renowned to have, had apparently been trying to teach her American colleague the refined art of origami. And Symphony was apparently putting her best efforts into making a new piece. The intensity was showing on her beautiful face.

“Not that complicated,” muttered Symphony, “not that complicated… That’s easy for YOU to say! Your mother showed you how to do this when you were seven years old!”

“Four,” Harmony corrected. “And that has nothing to do with it. It’s all patience, and delicacy… and concentration. All of which I know you have.”

“You’re sure about that?” Symphony asked in a dubious tone.

“Come on. Even MELODY is able to do it!”

Triumphantly, Symphony put her new piece on the table, right on top the pile of papers. “There!” she declared with a large grin. “What do you think?”

Harmony was looking doubtfully at her friend’s new creation. White looked down over her shoulder, scratching his chin. For the life of him, he would have been unable to figure out WHAT it was the American pilot had just made.

“Er… What is it exactly?” Harmony said carefully.

Symphony looked offended. “Why, it’s a dove!” She searched the table and picked a piece that she put right next to her new one. “Like you showed me earlier. Can’t you see the resemblance?”

Definitely not, White thought to himself. And apparently, Harmony was thinking the same, as she looked at Symphony’s new creation and then the earlier piece. She slowly shook her head. “It looks like… Gojira.”

“Gojira? You mean ‘Godzilla’? You’re kidding me!”

Harmony realised that her comment, meant to make Symphony laugh, had instead insulted her. That was certainly not her intention! She smiled shyly and tried to soften the blow: “But not bad for a beginner – ”

Symphony snatched up her dove. “Here, I’ll make another one for you!” She crumpled the paper into a wad and stuck a ribbon on it. “There, a Christmas ball!” she growled, throwing it at the doorway. White distractedly followed the direction of the ball, and saw it hit a puzzled Captain Blue, who had just stepped into the room as the door slid open.

“What’s this?” he said, leaning to pick up the ribbon and swinging it with the ball dangling at the other end of it. “Attacking a superior officer with odd projectiles?”

“Just count yourself lucky it wasn’t a bottle of glue,” Symphony warned him.

He grimaced. “Touché,” he said, walking further into the Amber Room. Symphony stood up, to welcome him with a gentle kiss. “Sorry I couldn’t come sooner,” he apologised. “Merry Christmas.”

“And Merry Christmas to you, Big Blue.” That made White raise a brow in perplexity. Big Blue? Since when has Symphony been calling him that? He watched as she led Blue to the sofa to the place where Harmony had been sitting.

“Merry Christmas, Harmony,” he told the Japanese girl with a broad smile. “I know you don’t celebrate but…”

“I appreciate the thought, Captain Blue – Adam.” She stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek – he was so much taller than she was. “Merry Christmas to you too.” She looked up to him with an apologetic expression, before glancing at Symphony and back again at him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help the two of you get some time together.”

Blue waved his hand, dismissing the thought. “Don’t think anything of it. It wasn’t really your fault.” He sat down on the sofa with Symphony, and stretched out his hand to take a piece of paper from the table, while Harmony took a seat in front of them. “We all know whose fault it really is,” he continued in a gloomy tone.

“That’s right, Blue,” grumbled Colonel White behind the younger man, who seemed to be folding the paper in his hands in a distracted manner. “You would say that, wouldn’t you?” He walked around, and down the steps to the lower landing. He went to stand in front of Blue, staring him with an angry glow in his eyes. Oh, what he would give to be visible JUST at that instant! He would love to see the look on Blue’s face!

“You’re not still angry with the colonel, are you?” Symphony then asked him, in something of a reproachful tone. That surprised not only White, but also Blue.

“Why – yes, I’m still angry at him! Aren’t you?”

The young woman shrugged. “Yes, I must admit, at first I felt very upset. But I realised – it’s Christmas. What good will it do me to stay upset on Christmas Day?” She saw her fiancé’s doubtful glance and continued, addressing a shy smile at Harmony. “Besides, maybe what the colonel said had some truth to it. Maybe we’ve been taking Chan for granted? A little bit?” she added with a chuckle, demonstrating her thought to her colleague by showing a short distance between her index finger and thumb.

Blue’s smile broadened. “Is it any wonder I love her?” he asked, looking at Harmony with bright eyes.

“She’s a nice girl,” admitted the Japanese Angel. “But somewhat prone to exaggeration. I don’t feel that you’ve been taking me for granted, Symphony. Not at all. It pleases me to cover for you whenever it’s possible for me – besides, I know you’ll do the same for me. Like you did last July.”

“The ‘Festival of the Stars’, wasn’t it?” Symphony recalled.

“Tanabata, if I’m not mistaken?” Blue added.

“Very good, Captain Blue,” Harmony said with a broad smile. “I see you remember.”

“Yes, I remember a lot of things…I even remember how to do this.”

Blue produced the piece of paper he had in his hands. He had carefully folded it, so it would be a perfect twin to the swan that was standing on the table, in front of him. He put them side by side, addressing a mischievous smirk to Symphony.

“How did you…?”

“I learned when I was a kid,” Blue laughed. “Mom had a big book of origami in the library. “We would sit hours folding paper and making all kinds of animals!”

“Show-off,” Symphony replied, almost pouting. “How can you compete with a guy who’s perfect?”

“I’m not perfect.”

“Almost perfect, then.” A soft beeping sound made itself heard and a small orange light started blinking over the elevator doors leading to the Angel jets on the upper deck. Symphony got to her feet, picking up her helmet. “Rhapsody’s coming down. My turn now. Sorry to leave you like this, Big Blue.”

“I am the one who’s sorry not to have come a little sooner,” Blue said with a sigh. “I’ll see you in four hours, then, honey.”

“Symphony, before you go…” Harmony reached for a little multicoloured packet she had put under the table and stood up to hand it to her friend and colleague. Symphony looked at the bright paper, and the elegant ribbon that bound it. “This is for you. Merry Christmas, Symphony.” She presented it in formal Japanese style, bowing and offering the packet with both hands outstretched.

“Chan, that’s… so sweet of you,” Symphony murmured, taking the packet.

“It’s just the customary almond cookies I always give you girls on Christmas Eve, when you go up for duty on Angel One,” the Japanese girl said with a broad smile. “The ones my mother used to bake for my father.”

“I know,” Symphony replied with a smile of her own. “It’s becoming quite a tradition in the Amber Room, isn’t it?” She took her friend in her arms for a warm hug. “You’re the real Angel amongst us, Chan. You know that?”

“Next year,” her friend told her with bright eyes, “I’m getting you an origami book.”

“Hey! Don’t go stealing my idea!” Blue protested.

“Now you’re mean,” Symphony laughed. “The two of you!” Behind her, she heard the elevator seat arrive, and the amber doors open. As she turned around, she could see Rhapsody disengaging herself from the seat. On her knees was a sachet quite similar to the one Symphony was now holding.

“I’d better get going,” the American pilot said, moving to take Rhapsody’s place. “Before I get myself in more trouble with the colonel.” She saluted Rhapsody, then Harmony, and blew a kiss in Blue’s direction, as she took her place on the seat and the doors closed on her. Blue watched through the door, as the shadow of the seat could be seen moving up to reach Angel One above.

“Hi, Adam,” Rhapsody said, putting her helmet down. “You seem rather grave tonight.”

“Just… thoughtful, I guess,” Blue replied. “And feeling like I am a lucky guy.” He hesitated a second, still pensive. “Chan, Dianne… Do you think the colonel was serious, when he told Symphony he might reconsider giving us his support for our marriage?”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Rhapsody asked. She sat down. “No, Adam. I don’t think he was serious at all.”

“I don’t think so either,” Harmony added. “Have you ever seen him change his mind over something?”

There was a doubtful expression in Blue’s eyes, as he continued to look in the direction of the doors, behind which Symphony had disappeared. “I wonder,” he murmured. “I can’t help but worry.”

From the spot where he was watching the scene, Colonel White had kept quiet, oblivious to the Ghost’s presence by his side. Thoughtfully, with eyes not showing any of his emotions, he was looking at the concerned Blue. In a distracted gesture, he rubbed his chin.

“Were you serious?” a female voice softly said to him.

He came out of his trance, and looked to his side, as the Ghost with Symphony’s face had come closer. “You should know the answer,” he grumbled.

“No, I don’t,” she replied, her voice still kind. “And neither do they,” she added, nodding in the three officers’ direction. “Is it any wonder they’re worried?”

“Then they don’t know me.”

“Do you even know yourself?” Obstinately, White didn’t answer. The Ghost gave a sigh. “You still have a lot to learn tonight…” He felt the warm touch of the Ghost again on his shoulder and tensed as he knew what was coming.

The scene grew dark again.

“This is probably the worst Christmas Eve I have ever spent in all my life!”

Colonel White spun around. A second earlier, he was surrounded in total darkness; now he and the Ghost accompanying him found themselves in the middle of the Officers’ Lounge, welcomed by those obviously dissatisfied words that rang out very close to them.

Suddenly, something flew by at eye level, millimetersmillimetres away from his nose, startling him. A… dart?!

He followed the trajectory and saw it hit a target set only two feet away from him. On the target was mounted a recent photograph of Spectrum Intelligence Agent Martin Conners, with concentric circles and point numbers drawn over it. The dart tip had been driven deeply into the forehead of the unfortunate agent’s picture, with two other darts also embedded in the same area.

“You’re losing your touch, Blue,” came the rueful comment of Captain Ochre. White turned around again. An obviously upset Blue walked by him to get the darts back. He came back to take his place some feet away from the target, where someone had marked the floor at the proper distance used in a ‘regulation’ game of darts.

“What, Blue again?” White murmured, frowning with perplexity at the sight of the younger man. “How did he…”

“This is some time later, in the same night,” the Ghost explained, anticipating his question. “He came here after his visit to the Amber Room. And he’s still unhappy.”

“Obviously,” White groused, giving a critical glance at the board by his side.

Ochre, seated next to a long table on which was set an enormous amount of food and beverages of all kinds, picked up one of several sandwiches piled on his plate. He pointed to the target. “Aim for the nose. That’s 50 points.”

“I can read, Ochre,” Blue muttered, taking position again. The dart flew from his hand and hit the target between the eyes.

Ochre grimaced. “Well, one thing for sure, the guy’s dead. Definitely.”

“Yeah, well,” Blue continued grumbling, “I know you hate Conners, but at the moment, I would certainly find another target more satisfying.” He paused a second, before sending the new dart, which hit an ear. “Got a picture of the colonel lying around?”

Melody, who was standing nearby, sampling the pâtés, addressed the blond officer with an appalled look. “Oh now, you’re not serious, are you, Captain Blue?”

“Deadly serious!” The third dart hit the photograph dead centre – right on the nose.

“Ignore him,” Ochre told Melody. “He’s been in this mood most of the day.”

Blue was on his way to retrieve his darts yet again when he turned around to glare at Ochre. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel as upset as I am!” He snatched the darts from the board. “Because I know you are upset, Ochre,” he said, pointing a finger at his colleague. “Upset that tonight you won’t be able to show all the hard work you’ve been doing these last few months.” He gestured toward the second table at the other side of the room – the one that Colonel White had seen earlier, and which was still covered with a large multicoloured cloth. Obviously, the cloth wasn’t covering the buffet, as he had first thought earlier.

“Yeah, it’s true, I would have preferred if the colonel would have at least LISTENED to me so I could explain myself… That surprise was more for him than anyone else, I guess…” he muttered.

“Surprise?” White asked, turning to the Ghost in curiosity, and then looking in the direction of the large satin cloth. “What kind of surprise?”

“You would have me tell you?” the Ghost asked with a mischievous smile.

“Don’t say it,” grumbled White. “It’s ‘not your place to do so’, is it?”

“But well, at least my surprise will still be there tomorrow to show. With any luck,” Ochre then sighed. “The same can’t be said about all that good food there…” he added with regret, glancing at the buffet. “There haven’t been that many visitors to feast on it, unfortunately. It’ll all go to waste…” He groaned. “Oh now, it’s me who’s depressed,” he said, biting into an egg salad sandwich.

“Everybody’s too busy,” Melody declared. “What with so many computer systems failing, a lot of the chores the computers normally take care of have to be done the old fashioned way.”

“You mean by hand,” Blue reflected.

She nodded. “And it’s taking a lot more time.”

“Tell me about it,” mumbled Blue. “I was so busy writing my report directly onto paper that I nearly missed seeing Symphony before her Angel One duty.”

“You’ll see her later,” Melody offered with a kind smile. “You’ll have all the time in the world to be together when you’re married, you know that.”

“Will we?” Blue replied in a growl.

“Come on, Blue, you’re not still worried about what the colonel said to Symphony today, are you? You know it was said during a fit of anger. He surely didn’t mean it.”

“I DIDN’T,” White grumbled from behind. He gestured in Blue’s direction in annoyance. “Why won’t he give me the benefit of the doubt?” he asked, staring at the Ghost by his side.

“The same as you give all of them?” she asked softly.

He glared at her. “Don’t play that game with me, young lady.”

“I don’t play games,” the Ghost replied. “And,” she added quickly, “I’m hardly as young as I look. Remember I am not the young woman you know as Symphony – although I share her image.”

White didn’t answer; with a gesture, the Ghost indicated that he should follow the conversation that was still going on.

“Mag is right, Adam,” Ochre then said to his friend and colleague. “You’re worrying over nothing. Come on, you know how the old man is… He’s often in a bad mood – but deep down, he’s an old softy.”

“Oh, am I really?” grumbled White. He could hear the Ghost sniggering by his side. “Stop that,” he warned her.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Blue sighed, taking position in front of the target again. “Maybe I’m really just angry with him because he spoiled that visit to Iowa Karen was planning for us. It would have made a nice change.” He sighed. “Well, I suppose that, even if he had allowed it, with all that’s been going on tonight, we wouldn’t have been able to go anyway.”

“You’re probably right,” admitted Ochre. “And we know who we have to thank for THAT.”

He had hardly spoken than the door leading into the room slid open, making everyone look in that direction. They uttered a collective groan when they saw three people in civilian clothes, wearing multi-coloured security badges upon their jackets, enter the room. The three Spectrum officers were able to see the presence of a security guard on the other side of the door, just before it slid closed. They stared intently at the newcomers – the auditors who had come onboard with Conners and whom now they knew might be responsible for the partial computer breakdown.

“May we help you, gentlemen, ma’am?” Blue asked with all the politeness for which he was famous.

“We’re… sorry to disturb you,” the first man, Tim Copely, said bashfully. “But… since we’re unable to continue our work in the Bursar’s Office, the security guard outside guided us here for a break – until the computers are back online. I hope you don’t mind?”

“No, why would we mind?” mumbled Ochre under his breath. His remark remained unheard, except for Melody and White who each glared at him with annoyance.

“Please, make yourselves at home,” Blue invited graciously. “It may be a while before you’ll be able to go back to work.”

“So we understand.” Peter Finch nodded his thanks, on behalf of himself and his colleagues, almost uncomfortably. “We’ll… get some coffee,” he said, pointing to the coffee dispenser not far from the door. The three auditors walked quickly that way, passing in front of Colonel White, who was following them intently with his eyes. He saw and heard the two men, still walking up front, exchanging words, arguing in a low tone, as they reached the dispenser.

“Why did you have to check that file?” Finch admonished.

“Well, how was I to know it would do that?” his colleague defended himself.

“You are going to get us in BIG trouble, Tim!”

“Gentlemen?” Melody asked, frowning in curiosity as she had caught some words. “Is there… something we can help you with?"

“Er… No, thank you,” Belinda Jackson, standing behind them, answered with a smile. “We’re just taking a break.” Then she hissed to the other two, “Quiet, boys. Now’s not the time. We’ll talk shop later.” The two men kept quiet, and started pouring themselves some coffee. “My, does that table look… inviting!” Belinda continued, drawing attention away from the subject.

“It does indeed,” Copely added with an approving nod and obviously avid eyes.

“Well, don’t be shy. Go ahead, help yourselves,” Melody graciously invited them.

“It's going to waste, anyway,” Ochre muttered under his breath. He felt more than he saw the murderous glare Melody addressed him, and innocently stuffed himself with a new sandwich.

“It is Christmas, after all,” Blue added, approaching, offering a smile to the newcomers and gesturing toward the table. “Eat all you want.”

“Why, thank you, that’s most generous,” answered Finch with a bright smile.

“We ARE famished,” Belinda Jackson added. “We’ve been working all day, with nothing to eat or drink except coffee…” She scooped up a large spoonful of potato salad. “This looks good…”

“Bet you would prefer to be on the ground, back with your families,” Ochre noted, watching as the three auditors were filling plates with different kinds of delicious food.

“Oh, most certainly,” agreed Copely. “I told my wife I’d be back for supper.” He sighed. “Guess I was wrong…”

“Couldn’t… this work of yours have waited until AFTER Christmas?” Blue continued.

“I’m sure it could have,” nodded Jackson. “But, Mr Conners insisted that this needed to be taken care of before the Holidays… He must have his reasons, but…”

“You don’t say,” muttered Ochre, shaking his head. “He insisted…” From the corner of his eye, he noticed both Copely and Finch approaching the cloth-covered model and about to put down their plates and cups of coffee on top of it. He cringed and nearly jumped to his feet. “No, not there!” His sudden cry stopped the two men in their movement. With an impish smirk, he gestured toward the table. “Please, use the table… That… thing under there isn’t one. You can sit on the sofa if you want.”

Exchanging inquiring stares, the two men left the model’s side in silence. White was staring at the object hiding under the cloth, more and more curious to know what it could be.

The men had just joined Belinda at the sofa when the door slid open once more and a distinct, general groan could be heard from everyone in the room as Martin Conners stepped in. That made the Spectrum officers look in wonder at the auditors, who were now pulling strange faces. Blue exchanged a knowing glance with both Melody and Ochre; so, Conners was about as popular with the auditors as he was with any of the members of Cloudbase’s senior staff. Their reaction didn’t go unnoticed by Colonel White either.

“Does NO-ONE like that man?” the Spectrum commander muttered, looking crossly at the Intelligence agent.

“Here you are,” Conners said, discovering the auditors’ presence in the lounge. “What are you doing here? We have work to do.”

The auditors looked gloomily at each other, exchanging a whispered conversation, before Finch raised his head to address the newcomer. “Mr Conners, it’s been a long day and we haven’t had a break yet. Have a heart!”

“Yeah, Martin,” Ochre declared from his seat, pointing at the clock and glaring at Conners. “It’s past midnight already… Christmas Day, you know?”

“Work has to be done, Christmas Day or not,” replied Conners dryly.

That got Colonel White’s attention. “Sound familiar?” the Ghost said in his ear.

“The machines aren't working,” Jackson then added to her colleague’s plea. “What do you expect us to do in the meantime?”

Conners scowled. “You can use pencils and columnar pads. They still work.”

“Surely, you’re kidding?” protested Copely.

“I suppose they should wear green eyeshades, and garters on their sleeves as well?” Ochre whispered to Melody, leaning towards her so that only she would hear. The young woman sniggered at the thought.

“I have prepared a series of questions here...” Conners continued, ignoring the disbelieving and murderous stare the auditors were giving him, and showing them a folder he was holding in his hands. “I'm sure the good captains - and the Angels too…” he nodded in an affected, courteous fashion in the direction of Melody, “… will be happy to answer them.”

“Wonderful,” Finch commented from his seat next to Ochre. “Christmas Day, working on accounts with pen and paper… I feel like Bob Cratchit.”

Captain Ochre, who was drinking his coffee, nearly choked on it upon hearing those words. Colonel White addressed both the auditors and the now coughing captain a strange look. He was grateful to the Ghost by his side for not saying anything.

“Why, Captain Ochre,” Conners declared in a syrupy voice, with a very thin smile, “thank you so much for volunteering…”