A Spectrum story by Marion Woods

Prologue:

2078

It was the latest in a long line of leads that he’d followed that had brought him here and although none of them had amounted to much, maybe his luck was about to change? After all, what had he had to go on until now? Sightings reported by police forces or rumours that had made their way back to Cloudbase through a tortuous network of gossipy contacts; but they had all had to be investigated – he daren’t risk missing even the remotest possibility.

He’d tried hard to keep it confidential – but without much success; somehow - by that inevitable process of osmosis that bad news has of making itself known - this had seeped out. He didn’t blame anybody for it; he knew the few close friends who were fully aware of the situation would never have spoken about it to outsiders; but speculation had been running like bushfire through the base for weeks even before he’d left, and it wasn’t as if he could deny it.

He ran a tired hand through his long fringe and sighed, closing the email with a slight grimace. It had been an unusually diplomatic one from Captain Ochre – a man not normally known for his tact – and he could imagine Rick had spent some time over it, carefully choosing words that would convey his information in the best possible light.

The only other email was from his mother, and he closed the screen without opening it; he couldn’t bear to read another message from her pleading for him to give it up and go home.

He went and lay down on the narrow hotel bed, staring at the ceiling whilst he assimilated Rick’s news. Sometimes a photographic memory can be useful and he had no difficulty remembering the words:

Hiya Adam,

I was in Reno yesterday on a follow-up mission – nothing much to worry over, although I think the terrestrial crew are a little jumpy, which isn’t surprising given what happened – but I got listening to a conversation between one of the guys who was going off duty and his replacement while I was waiting for the ‘all clear’ to head back to base. They were talking about this nightclub, where a few of them hang out. He said he’d met a woman there, a woman who’d only recently turned up, a mid-westerner with short, blonde hair and green eyes. A young woman, he said.

Now, I know there must be thousands of women who’d match that description, but Paul said I should let you know anyway. This one was called Mandy and she was drinking tequila. The guy said he’d chatted to her for a while, bought her a few drinks and that he hoped he would see her again. He didn’t say much else.

The bar is called ‘Rick’s’ – that’s why I started listening to him, I guess. I’d have gone and checked it out, but the helijet arrived and I had to move on.

Anyway, after I mentioned it to Paul, he said it was worth mentioning, so I thought I’d pass it on, for what it’s worth.

You keeping okay, buddy? Hope we see you real soon,

Good luck,

Rick

Reno. He wondered how long she’d been there. He doubted very much that it wasn’t her – Rick must’ve believed it was, or he wouldn’t have mentioned his idea of checking the place out. No, this had to be the best lead he’d had so far: even the name – Mandy - was promising, and he knew he’d have to track the woman down. Although he’d spent countless hours imagining what might happen when he did find her, he still had considerable unease about what to expect from her: Karen Amanda, his dearly belovéd other half. And the location of this sighting didn’t bode well.

He stretched out a hand and grasped the phone from the bedside locker.

“I need to get a ticket for a flight to Reno,” he told the reception desk and waited until they patched him through to the airline. He chose a flight in four hours time and informed the hotel reception desk he’d be checking out, ordering a taxi to the airport.

There wasn’t much to pack; he was used to travelling light. He was downstairs forty minutes later and the taxi whisked him through the busy streets to the airport.

He travelled first class; always. There was room for his long legs as well as the privacy he’d grown to demand. He nodded silent thanks to the stewardess as she handed him his meal, but pushed the tray away some minutes later with most of it uneaten.

Reno. She couldn’t really mean to do anything that stupid? She’d done some foolish things in her time; goaded by self-doubt, driven by frustration or simply despairing of finding happiness, but she’d never mentioned divorce. He supported his head with his hand, resting his elbow on the armrest of the plane seat, and stared, with unseeing eyes, out of the window at the all-too-familiar cloudscape below the plane; letting his mind review the events of the past few years once more.

They had married in Boston, on the Saturday closest to his birthday; his fortieth birthday, to be precise. Karen had looked so amazingly beautiful, she’d taken his breath away. Her mother had cried; his mother had cried. His father had smiled – which was almost a miracle in itself. Paul and Dianne had been there and the colonel had given her away to him, walking her up to where the preacher stood waiting.

Paul’s after-dinner speech had been witty and surprisingly emotional for the upright English military man, ending with the obligatory reference to future off-spring and how to go about getting them.

Not that they’d needed instructions. They had a full and satisfying sex-life already – albeit a somewhat clandestine one.

On their honeymoon, she’d told him that she wanted to stop taking precautions, and that she wanted to have children – his children – as soon as possible. He’d agreed – experiencing what he’d found a surprising surge of emotion and… gratitude. He’d never thought about having children, as such – although in his private imaginings of a happy future, there had always seemed to be the unseen, yet comforting, presence of children. He’d always laughed dutifully when Paul or Rick – it was usually one of those two – had commented on liking children, but being ‘unable to eat a whole one’. Now there was a distinct possibility he’d have a child of his own – his and Karen’s - and the prospect enthralled him.

Colonel White had sent them to stay with Amanda Wainwright, to allow his surprise of new ‘married’ quarters, made from corner apartments on Cloudbase, to be constructed. They had spent an idyllic couple of weeks in Iowa and on the day before they were due to return, Karen had told him that she was pregnant.

Amanda had celebrated the news with them, already as excited by the prospect of a grandchild as she was by her own increasingly intense relationship with Charles Gray – Colonel White himself.

Back on Cloudbase they had been greeted by Paul and Dianne in their new quarters, and had swapped the news of their dearest friends’ intention to go ahead with their own marriage, with the news of their own future joy. Those weeks had been the happiest they’d ever known. Karen had taken on a radiance that was visible to all who saw her and she’d been fit to burst with excitement.

Not that even that idyll had been uneventful. A few days after their return, Doctor Fawn had asked Blue to go to see him, and had told him that Technician Lesley Saville was pregnant – and that the child was definitely his. Fawn was concerned about the health of both Lesley and her unborn child, as the father of the child was not him, exactly – was not Adam Svenson, Captain Blue of Spectrum - but his wayward, hedonistic clone who had been created by a machine produced by the Mysterons.

Nevertheless, he had felt responsible and sometimes, when he lay awake at night during the periodic bouts of insomnia that had punctuated his life since childhood, he could almost remember details of what had happened – how the clone Captain Scarlet had christened ‘Blue’ had sweet-talked himself into the hero-worshipping young technician’s bed.

He’d braced himself to tell Karen; but she’d taken the news far better than he’d expected, agreeing that he could hardly be held responsible for what ‘Blue’ had done. Karen had not liked ‘Blue’ much anyway and preferred not to dwell on the incidents that had led to their decision to marry even while they continued to serve in Spectrum.

A few days later a polite reminder came for her from Doctor Fawn to have a routine ante-natal check-up and she’d dutifully made an appointment. And, the week before Dianne and Paul were due to get married, she’d taken in the required samples and gone to see the Head of Spectrum Medical; happy and confident in the belief that she and her baby were doing fine.

He should’ve known something was wrong by the way she was when she came back; the light had gone from her eyes, the glow had dimmed in her complexion, yet, when he’d asked her if she was okay, she’d smiled, nodded emphatically and exerted herself to be as carefree as she had been so that he’d dismissed his fears. The next day she’d gone back to Medical and when he’d come back from his shift in the control room, he’d found her weeping on their bed, as if the world was about to end.

Fawn’s tests had confirmed what he’d told her he suspected yesterday – she was not pregnant. Rather bemused and let down himself, he’d tried to comfort her, and eventually he thought he’d succeeded, although they could both clearly recall the last time she’d believed herself pregnant, early on in their relationship, and how that had resolved itself into a false alarm. She had wept then, even though at that time she had not wanted a baby, and now she most emphatically did.

They’d attended the Metcalfe-Simms marriage and its attendant festivities, Karen struggling hard to be as happy and cheerful as the occasion demanded; although to the eyes of those who knew her well, it wasn’t difficult to see her underlying disappointment. They’d been invited to stay over with the Metcalfes after the wedding, and once they’d seen the happy couple off on the first leg of the honeymoon he’d organised for them, they’d joined Dianne and Paul’s parents and managed to laugh along with them at the fund of baby-stories and pictures Mary Metcalfe produced to entertain her guests. Finally, Karen had pleaded a blinding headache and excused herself to go to bed. As soon as he decently could, he’d followed her, finding her lying curled up in the bed, staring at the wall with a desperate sadness.

He’d made love to her – for the first time since she’d been to see Doctor Fawn - but there’d been a tension in her that night which had lasted until she experienced the numbing pain and sense of loss that accompanied a heavy monthly period. The removal of any lingering hopes had led to yet more tears, more misery. The pattern had been repeated for many months, until he was at his wits’ end how to help her out of the depression she’d slipped into.

In the meantime, the obviously pregnant Lesley Saville had chosen to transfer back to her native Cornwall and have her baby there amongst her family, and he had settled money on her, assuring her that he would support her and the child. He sensed that Lesley had hoped for more than mere financial security, but although he liked her well enough, there had never been room in his heart for more than one woman at a time – and Karen was the only woman he loved.

When Dianne Metcalfe had announced that she was pregnant and then Lesley Saville had given birth to a beautiful, golden-haired, healthy baby girl, Karen had withdrawn even further into a shell. By the time Dianne gave birth to her son – and they’d been asked to be the boy’s godparents by the Metcalfes - she’d started keeping charts, taking her temperature every day and demanding his presence at certain times, for the sole purpose of having sex. Unavoidable absences – on duty or on missions – resulted in tearful arguments that had seared his heart and shattered his patience almost as much as those emotionless and passionless bouts of love-making had. He’d been reduced to feeling like some creature at stud – valued only for his virility and not for himself.

If he hadn’t loved her so much, he’d have left.

Not that these exhausting encounters had produced the desired result. Karen would be on tenterhooks for a fortnight, followed by angry, frustrated weeping, until he could do nothing more than hold her against him – almost as exhausted as she. Then the charts would come out again and his heart would sink…

Finally he’d convinced her to go to see Fawn, to find out why things were not happening as they should. He offered to go too, but her scathing answer had been enough to tell him that her previous acceptance had dissolved and he might never be forgiven for the existence of little Freya Saville-Svenson.

Doctor Fawn had been consideration itself. The tests had been exhaustive, thorough and devastating. He’d asked to see them both and they’d arranged to go one morning, between shifts. He’d been surprised when Fawn had sought him out the evening before the appointment and taken him aside to apprise him of what to expect.

It was then, he thought, that the world had stopped and the entire weight of it had landed on him. Karen’s experience in the atomic power station at Culver – so many years ago – was responsible for their failure to conceive a child. The radiation Captain Black had subjected her to had left her infertile. There was no cure – no amount of trying would correct the fault – there would be no children.

He’d left the doctor, pausing only to call his thanks over his shoulder and, like a wounded animal, sought the dark loneliness of the remotest part of the base. He’d stayed there for some time, turning the truth over in his mind, summoning the courage to face it and the knowledge of what it would do to the woman he loved.

Eventually he’d walked back to the Promenade Deck, where Ochre was waiting for the latest of his lady friends. Rick’s cheerful banter had cheered him slightly and he’d managed to go back to their quarters before Karen came off duty. He’d held her in his arms, and she’d been happy to lie there, allowing him to make love to her with as much tenderness as he could summon. As they both relaxed into the trough of lethargy that followed, she’d turned to him, saying in a voice that was heavy with despair,

“It’s really bad news, isn’t it, Sky?”

He hadn’t the heart to bluster or pretend he didn’t understand and he’d told her the gist of what Fawn had said. She had not cried. She had not moved away from him, but he didn’t think she’d slept that night – he knew he hadn’t.

The tears had come when Fawn repeated his results and the harsh facts that condemned them to a barren marriage. He mentioned surrogacy, he mentioned adoption – and then her emotions had exploded; all the hurt and betrayal over Freya spilling out into a venomous attack on her husband.

After that Karen had slid further into depression, failing in her duties to Spectrum, spurning his attempts at reconciliation, rejecting any helpful advice. Doctor Fawn had finally told her to take a break and visit her mother.

She’d left for Iowa… and vanished.

He hadn’t believed Amanda when she’d called him, worried and bewildered as to where her daughter had gone. He’d been angry: Karen’s playing up - that’s all, he’d insisted, dismissing the worried questions Paul asked. He’d spent two days in denial and then, with panic setting in, he’d asked the colonel for extended leave. Charles Gray had already been pestered by Amanda Wainwright to find her daughter and he willingly gave his subordinate permission, seeing the anxiety in his officer’s normally composed expression.

He’d set out for Iowa immediately, and from there, using every skill he knew to trace her movements; he’d quartered the continent in his search….

He came back to the present with a start, when the stewardess asked him to belt-up as they were about to land, and he did so, turning his gaze out into the desiccating heat of the desert as they approached the city. From the airport he went to a hotel – a decent one, where they asked no questions and supplied what you needed when you needed it. He showered, shaved and ordered a sandwich from room service.

As night fell and the city lit up in a bright rainbow of neon colours, he started out for the bar.

Adam ordered a beer and chose a table with a view of the door. He had a newspaper with him and he read that for a while, glancing up at every newcomer. At first when the waitress brought him refills, she tried to engage him in conversation, suggesting he eat something. He was polite, but non-responsive and eventually she left him alone. He started on the crossword. Over the next few hours three provocatively-dressed young women - and one expertly made-up young man - approached him, only to be politely brushed-off. The newspaper was neatly folded and abandoned in a handy trash can on a stroll to the restroom. He nursed another beer and played chess against his pocket computer.

He was beginning to doubt she would come; it was late and he was tired, but his stubbornness wouldn’t let him leave – he’d see the place close.

He ordered a snack from the bar and had just finished eating when the door opened again and Karen walked in.

She’d cut her hair, it was layered into her neck, framing her face – a face that had lost its curves and was carefully painted with make-up that couldn’t quite hide the underlying strain. She was wearing a tight, short, halter-neck dress of pale green and high-heeled shoes. Over her arm was a white jacket.

She sat at the bar and ordered a drink. The barman obviously knew her and smiled a welcome.

He couldn’t go to her – he wanted to, but his legs wouldn’t respond to the commands his brain was issuing. He just watched, drinking in the sight of her and wondering what she would do when she saw him. She ordered a second drink and swivelled on her stool to scan the clientele. He ducked his head and sank back into the shadows.

When Adam looked up again she was talking to a man, smiling into his face as he leered over her, eyeing the breasts so temptingly displayed by the low-cut dress. Her laughter reached him as the man slid an arm around her and whispered into her ear. He felt the anger start to burn in him. That’s my wife you’re groping, you bastard!

The man planted a kiss on her cheek and, with a wink, walked away towards the gents. Galvanised by the incident, Adam sprang to his feet and crossed the bar to Karen, approaching from her blindside.

“May I buy you a drink, Karen?” he asked blandly enough. He saw her shoulders stiffen and her head turned slightly, so that she must’ve seen enough to confirm who it was speaking.

“What’re you doing here?” she hissed.

“Looking for my wife.”

“Go away, Adam.”

“Don’t you even care what torments you’ve put me and your mother through? If you didn’t care about me, you could’ve let Amanda know you were all right.”

“So she could have told you? I’m not stupid.”

“No, you’re far worse than that.”

Goaded, she turned to him. “Why are you here?” she snapped.

“To take you home, Karen.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Back to Iowa, then?” He spread his hands. “Anywhere but here.”

“I like it here.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He glanced angrily at the returning stranger, who was approaching them with a frown on his face. “This jerk bothering you, Mandy?” he asked belligerently.

Karen turned her head to meet her husband’s expressive eyes. “Yes,” she said, flinching at the pain she saw register in their smoky-blue depths.

“Sling your hook, buddy,” the man said, swaggering slightly. “The lady don’t like you.”

“The lady is my wife, and if I want to speak to her, I will.”

The stranger glanced at them both, and seeing familiarity in their body language towards each other, he quickly assessed the quality of his potential rival. He didn’t like the odds of being able to knock this guy aside; he was taller, broadly built and undoubtedly fit. He glanced at the woman, she was attractive, all right, but he could see her heart wasn’t in it and, from the way she was avoiding the man’s eyes, he sensed she felt herself to be in the wrong. He chose discretion rather than valour.

“Hey, I never get involved with no domestic quarrels. Mandy, you call me if you’re gonna be around.” He handed her a business card, but as Karen reached to take it, Adam dashed it from her hand.

The stranger backed off, and with a sigh she turned back to her husband. “You had no right to do that.”

“I want to talk to you,” he said, his barely restrained anger obvious in his voice, “and preferably not here.”

With an air of resigned indifference, Karen climbed down from her bar stool. The bartender moved across and Adam paid both tabs before leading her out of the bar and hailing a taxi to his hotel. The receptionist didn’t bat an eyelid as he claimed the key and followed Karen to the elevator, but he still felt an uncomfortable shiftiness, as if they were somehow behaving in a disreputable manner. Of course, the clothes she was wearing gave the impression that she might be … ‘no better than she should be’ – as his mother would have said. He could hardly bear the thought that she might’ve gone with that stranger, much as she was doing here, if he hadn’t interrupted.

Once in the suite of rooms, Karen threw her jacket onto the sofa and fixed herself a drink. He shook his head as she offered him one and she shrugged. “Please yourself, Adam.” She sat herself down on the sofa, holding the ice-cooled drink to her forehead. “What do you want to say?”

Suddenly he had no words. He went and knelt before her, sliding his arms around her, pressing his head against her breast. There was the longest pause, moments that dragged into an infinite moment of slow-time, before her hand came to rest on his hair and she sighed.

“I love you,” he murmured, his lips brushing her skin.

“And I love you; that’s our tragedy,” she replied. He raised his head. “Adam, you deserve a family – and a wife who will give you that. I’m no good for you.”

“I want you. Whatever we have with each other now, is more important to me than any potential future we can’t have. Karen, you have to believe me.”

“You think that – but you’d come to hate me.”

“I could never hate you.”

“When all our friends have families – when… Freya grows up and … and you come home to an empty house and just me – you’d hate me.”

He shook his head. “I want you,” he repeated.

“That’s no big deal… I’ll stay the night and you can get me out of your system, Adam. Then you’d be wise to sign the papers when they arrive – I told the lawyers to send them to Boston. I’ll have the six weeks’ residency in another ten days…”

“I will not agree to a divorce, Karen.” He let go of her and sank back onto his heels. “You are not serious?” he pleaded as his eyes studied her face; seeing the aching loneliness and misery that was etched into her gaunt face. She looked so vulnerable, empty and in need of tender, loving care, yet despite that, she gave a short nod. He dropped his gaze and shook his head. “No.”

She sighed. “It just takes longer and costs more if you won’t co-operate…but I can still do it, Adam.”

“You don’t want to do that; I know you don’t! Whatever you say, you love me and that’s all that should count.”

He sprang forward and pressed his lips to hers, supporting her as his hands travelled over her familiar, desirable curves. Slowly, her arms encircled his neck and she relaxed into his comforting embrace. It was so habitual to open herself to his caresses - to surrender to the licensed hands that were so attuned to her body’s preferences that they pleasured her without needing to be told what she wanted - that her instincts took over and she toppled back onto the sofa and he moved to stand, lifting her and carrying her to the more accommodating bedroom.

He laid her across the bed and Karen lay quiescent as he slowly unfastened her shoes and slid his authoritative hands up to her thigh, feeling the lacy tops of the stockings she was wearing and caressing the satin-smooth skin beyond them.

He removed his shoes and socks, then his shirt, before sitting beside her and unclasping the hook that held her halter neck fastened. He drew the fabric down, over her breast and belly, down over her hips and thighs, until he could drop it onto the floor.

She’s lost weight, he thought, automatically noticing the changes in the achingly beautiful body exposed to his gaze. He knew every line of her; every contour was imprinted on his memory, and yet the sight of her never failed to excite him as much as it had done the very first time he had seen her.

She moved slightly, opening her arms to him and he slipped into her embrace, kissing her face, the slender neck and the rounded curve of her breasts, his passion mounting with every encounter of his lips with her soft flesh. He raised his head and looked at her; the warm, sensual colour in her cheeks, the parted lips and half-closed eyes, the lashes fluttering gently with the increasingly urgent depth of her breathing. He pressed his lips to hers, feeling them part beneath his and welcoming the warmth of her tongue as it reached for his. His hands were busy, unhooking her bra, cupping, caressing the nipple.

She responded; her hand pressing against his groin and along the bulge of his erection. Then expertly undoing the button and zip on his trousers, she slid her hand inside. He helped her push the garment down, kicking it away as it slid to the floor. He shifted slightly, and she squirmed higher onto the bed as he dropped his boxer shorts and lay down beside her.

Familiarity with each other’s body had never bred complacency in them; each encounter was like a voyage of discovery and each sensation had the impact of the first. Tonight she was submissive, but often it was she who took the lead, guiding them both to new experiences. He’d never objected to anything she’d suggested and they had both taken pleasure in experimenting. He preferred to remember those occasions, rather than the joyless coupling dictated by the pitiless rhythms of her body and her yearning to conceive. Now, as he wooed her again, he tried gently to put those destructive encounters behind them, and sought to give her every satisfaction, using all the knowledge he’d acquired through the long years of their love affair to pleasure and delight her.

In the somnolent quiet that followed the triumphant climax of their passion, he felt sure he had won her back. She’d met his ardour with enthusiasm, giving and receiving love as if the past few months had never taken place. He felt sure that she’d accepted his reassurances and rediscovered within herself the pleasure of making love purely for its own sake. She snuggled against him, her body relaxing against his, her hand in his. He closed his eyes and allowed much needed sleep to claim him.

What woke him he wasn’t sure: a coldness, a sense of loss? He opened his eyes quickly to witness Karen dressing again.

He sat up in bed.

“Karen? Where are you going, älskling?”

She turned, startled by the sound of his voice. “I told you, Adam; I’d stay the night and let you get me out of your system. It’s past dawn… I should be going.”

“And I told you, I don’t want you to go. Karen, please… come back to Boston, let’s talk this over. We can work it out, we always have before.”

“And why have we? We thought we had a future, we thought there was something worth saving. Now, I’m not sure.”

“Bullshit.” His vehemence surprised her. “We have what we’ve always had…”

“No Adam, you have what you always had: your health, your virility, your daughter. I have nothing but an empty, barren life to look forward to.”

“Karen… is that all that was worth having in the future you imagined for us? And as it is no longer a possibility, does that make everything about our future worthless?”

“I don’t know. I only know that I have lost something that was important to me…something imperative to my own happiness. I can’t explain it, Adam; maybe it’s purely a biological need, the insistence of a body that can’t accept it can’t have what it demands.”

“Come back home. Please, Karen. You owe me and your mother that much. Running away won’t solve anything and it isn’t like you to walk away from a problem, älskling. If we can’t solve this together, then that’s the time to walk away from the past and draw a line under our relationship. Karen…?”

“You don’t understand – how could you? You have your daughter, but I’m outside, looking in on a world where everyone is happy – and I can’t go there. I made one mistake; I tried to capture Captain Black and was captured myself. You were surprised the Mysterons never killed me there and then in Culver, and I’m wishing they had, for what they chose to do to me has condemned me to an empty existence.”

“It is not empty – you have me and your mother… all your friends -”

“- and their children… say it, Adam!”

“There is more to life -”

“Not for me.”

“Very well then; go, if you really want to. I can’t reason with you when you are like this.” He pulled the sheets around him and said with a quiet resignation, “I’ve asked you to reconsider; I’ve done my best to prove to you that I love you as much as I ever did – and that I always will. All I can say is, if you ever need a hand, if it ever gets to be too much; I’m here and I always will be. The unlucky circumstance that dashed your dreams to pieces can’t change the love I have for you; it is all that it ever was - and it will always be the mainstay of my life. I can’t, and I won’t, let you get a quickie divorce, and believe me, I will fetch the entire legal powerhouse of my father’s company - and every damn lawyer that ever owed him a favour - down on you, if you so much as try to go against my wishes.” He saw her alarmed expression and gave a hollow laugh. “Oh yes, I can be as unreasonable and as ruthless as you and he put together. Until you have tried to make this work, Karen, you will not walk away from it easily.”

“It won’t make any difference; can’t you see that?”

“Then, come back with me, Karen. Prove to me this isn’t a viable relationship anymore. Then I’ll sign any papers you want; pension you off, if that is what you want. Marry one of the giggling socialites my mom always wanted me to and have a half-a-dozen kids – just to spite you! But I won’t give up on this until we’ve tried everything. The choice is yours.”

“You really want to make me hate you, don’t you?”

“Hate would be better than this - offhand indifference. Besides, I don’t think you could ever really hate me – any more than I can hate you. Face it, Karen, we may not be destined to be the happiest couple alive, but without each other, we’re both going to be a hell of a lot more miserable.”

“Why are you doing this, Adam? Why prolong the agony?” She sat on the bed and ran a hand through her short hair, turning to glance at him as a slow smile tugged at his wide mouth and the laughter-lines crinkled at the corner of his pale eyes.

“Well, you know what they say, ‘there’s a keeper for every flame’ and I guess I’m the keeper for this one…”

“Just pray this one doesn’t burn you…” Karen said with an air of resignation. “It’s such poor odds, Adam, you’re mad to even try.”

“Well, I never could resist a long-shot…” He lay back on the pillows with a decidedly smug smile. He knew he’d won this round, even if he hadn’t won the argument.

Karen shook her head. “I have tried to be honest with you, Adam; so don’t ever accuse me of going back with you under false pretences. You know I can’t fight you – not you and the might of the Svenson money, anyway. I can’t help it if you choose to imagine you understand me better than I do myself. But, I guess, like all your family, you’re used to getting your own way. So, okay; if you are prepared to take me back, knowing what you do about how I feel, we’ll do it your way – for now – but I’m warning you, this isn’t over.”

With slow, intentionally provocative movements, she stripped off and slid between the sheets.

“I know I can make you happy, Karen,” he insisted, wrapping her in his arms once more.

She closed her eyes at the touch of his lips on the nape of her neck. “If you can’t – then no one can,” she replied sadly.

Part One:

2081

Spectrum Technician: Grade 2, L.G. Saville signed off her workstation and gathered her coat and handbag. She walked down the corridor to the reception desk. Waving goodbye to her colleagues on security duty, she stepped out into the frosty air and shivered. Her car was some way across the car park and she walked as fast as she dared on the hoar-covered ground; the indicators winked fluorescent-orange in response to her electronic key and she heard the locks snap back. Once inside the car, she turned the heating onto maximum and flicked the radio on, before driving to the barrier and exiting the car park.

It was a familiar drive away from the bright lights of the tracking station, through the high-hedged lanes to the main road, and Lesley Saville drove on automatic, slowing down for the nasty bend and the blind corner, without a second thought. Her mind was preoccupied with the email she’d received that afternoon – the personal email, through the Spectrum Grapevine – and she was still trying to assess her response to it.

It had been from Major Blue on Cloudbase. That wasn’t unusual – Major Blue routinely posted instructions and directives to all terrestrial staff, as did the other colour captains concerned with administrative oversights – but this was a different kind of email.

She had worked on Cloudbase for a few years before the birth of her daughter, and she knew the colour captains fairly well. Captain Blue – as he was then – had been her favourite: tall, extraordinarily good-looking, charming - Lesley sighed – and so damned approachable. Of course, you quickly realised that you only approached him at your own peril – Symphony Angel had her hooks into him good and proper and she wasn’t the sharing type – but Blue was a honey, nevertheless. She’d got to know him better than most of the other colour captains, because he was interested in all aspects of aviation and, consequently, would sometimes choose to spend his free time working with repair and maintenance details. His field partner, Captain Scarlet, would often wander down to the hangar decks to ‘rescue’ him from what he called ‘tinkering with engines’ and it was good to see the easy-going camaraderie between two such disparate men. It was obvious that the Englishman couldn’t quite understand why his, normally so well-groomed, friend enjoyed getting grimy and he kidded the American that he was only out to impress the girls. Blue would laugh it off – seemingly unaware that that was exactly what he was doing…

On one particular day, she’d heard the rumours that something had happened to him – something amazing, even by the standards of The Mysterons - and when she’d bumped into him in the corridor leading from the Amber Room, she’d seen a rapidly darkening bruise on his face and expressed her hope that the incidents in Prague that everyone was talking about had not caused him serious harm.

He had smiled at her – a smile like none she’d ever seen from him before and one that had started her heart thumping and sent the colour flooding into her cheeks. He’d begun chatting to her, been friendly, attentive, seductive… and before she’d known what was happening, they were in her quarters and he was getting ever more friendly… She hadn’t stopped to think – hadn’t wanted to think - her whole being was swamped by the sensations this man was creating within her.

In the aftermath of an energetic bout of sex - and you couldn’t call it ‘love-making’ by any stretch of the imagination, Lesley acknowledged that to herself, at least, yet what her partner had lacked in finesse, he’d certainly made up for in enthusiasm… and stamina - they’d been woken by furious thumping on her door. Robbie Tucker – the Engineering Technician she’d been dating, on and off, for the past few months - had over-ridden the keypad coding and swaggered in, belligerent and offensive at the sight of them naked in her bed. She’d scrambled upright, pulling the sheets around her, but Blue had slipped from the divan and stood there – towering over Robbie by a good six inches. Rob had taken a swing at the American and missed, as Blue sidestepped and pounded his fist into Rob’s face, with an almost casual sweep of his arm.

There’d been blood everywhere – Rob was very prone to nosebleeds.

Blue had casually pulled some clothes on, apparently unfazed by the incident, but, the kafuffle had attracted the attention of the neighbours and the Military Police had arrested all three of them, allowing her time to dress before they’d marched them all down to the brig, where the duty officer – an embarrassed Lieutenant Cerise – had booked them all on charges of misconduct, adding GBH to Blue’s charge sheet, for good measure.

The truth behind what had happened – that Captain Blue had been cloned by a Mysteron machine and that she had succumbed to the charms of the totally amoral and completely self-indulgent clone – had only been revealed to her gradually. She could remember to this day the way her face had flamed as the colonel had explained what had happened to his officer, and dismissed the charges against her and Rob.

It was nothing to the way she had squirmed the first time she’d met the ‘restored’ Captain Blue again. He’d been apologetic, casually friendly, but there was a slight reserve towards her that she’d never noticed before. He thought her easy – no doubt. Symphony Angel, standing possessively at his side, had been frostily unfriendly. It was soon after that day - when the news that Symphony and Blue were to be married had reached her through the canteen gossip - that she’d started to feel queasy.

Finally her friend, Technician Mary Dawes, had dragged her to the sickbay and Doctor Fawn had checked her over. He’d pursed his lips and repeated a test or two and then sat down opposite her. She’d been scared rigid, imagining he had news of some terrible illness.

“Lesley,” he’d said kindly, “do you know you are pregnant?“

Then everything had changed: it was the blood test Doctor Fawn had insisted on that proved conclusively that the father of her baby was none other than the recently married Captain Blue, or rather, the now departed clone of the recently married Captain Blue. Once she had decided to keep the baby, Fawn had monitored her every move, concerned that the foetus might suffer from being fathered by a clone, but the child had flourished.

She’d grown rounder and rosier with each week, until her condition was obvious to everyone.

Doctor Fawn had mediated a meeting between Captain Blue and her, in which he had promised he would support her and the child, whatever she decided to do. She knew, through the omniscient grapevine, that Symphony was giving him a hard time over her pregnancy and she felt some sympathy for him. He hadn’t asked for this and it was a disastrous way to start off his marriage.

As her pregnancy advanced, she made arrangements to go home – back to the windy cliffs of north Cornwall where she’d grown up. Her mother and father, although a little disappointed that she was coming home without a husband, agreed to give her a room in their house and to help her look after the baby. Colonel White had had to introduce maternity leave for his staff – theoretically, it had always been on the books, but it had never had such a public application before.

It had been Captain Blue who had flown her down to Bristol and driven her home in a hired car. It was probably the longest period they’d ever spent together and, after a little initial embarrassment, they had discovered they had enough mutual interest to keep a conversation going and by the time he pulled up at the farmhouse nestling in the hollow close to the cliff path, they were chatting like old friends.

Blue was suitably deferential towards her parents but he wisely declined their invitation to stay the night. Before he left, she walked with him to the cliff-edge, so he could stretch his legs before the long drive back. They stood side-by-side, gazing at the sweeping view from the vertiginous cliffs, the vast rolling ocean of grey-blue water – water that changed and mutated colour with every gust of the offshore breeze. The seabirds wheeled beneath them, their piercing, mournful cries the only sound except for the pounding waves.

Then he’d asked her what she intended to do - if she was planning to remain living with her parents. She told him Colonel White had promised her a job at the Cornish tracking station, high on Bodmin Moor, so that she might continue to work, and that her family would help with childcare and, in the course of the conversation, she’d told him of her lifelong ambition to own the house that dominated the cliff tops some miles away. He’d listened and promised to keep in touch and – more importantly - to come to see her once the child was born.

As she watched him drive away, she’d felt an icy fear settle on her heart – she was alone now, in a way she’d never experienced before.

She was a spring baby, born when the daffodils were in full bloom and the weather was veering from deceptively balmy days to howling gales. The labour had been normal – in so far as anything that had you screaming your head off and pleading to be allowed to die, could be called normal. They’d asked her if she wanted the baby placed on her body when it was born and she’d glared at them with such ferocity they’d wondered why she’d even decided to keep the child. With no husband in attendance and only her mother close by, the experienced midwives supposed the child would go for adoption.

But, when they finally placed the baby in her arms, a tiny, red-faced bundle, fair-haired and long boned, Lesley’d known she could never part with her.

Busily filling in the paperwork, they’d asked for a name – and, on the spur of the moment, she’d told them: Freya Evelyn Saville Svenson. Later she’d wondered where the inspiration had come from, they were not the names she’d been considering, and she’d not thought to ask Captain Blue’s opinion on the matter. Her only thoughts were that it was a Friday - Freya’s Day, in the old, Norse legends - and Evelyn echoed her father’s name – for which she didn’t think there was a female equivalent - and then the two family names… Besides, something as fair as her daughter needed a name redolent of her Scandinavian ancestry.

Before baby Freya was a week old, Captain Blue had come to visit and he brought a tall, fair-haired woman with him: his mother. Sarah Svenson had cradled Freya as if she were a living miracle, cooing over the child and telling Blue how like him she was. Until Freya opened her eyes, that was, because however much of a Svenson this baby looked, she’d never be all Svenson, for she had the brown eyes of her mother.

Before they left, after spending three days in the area, Captain Blue had handed her a document wallet and inside were the deeds to the house on the cliff-top. Made out in her name and all paid for.

She’d stared at him in astonishment. He’d coloured slightly and the words he’d spoken had made her cry: you’ve given me something far more precious.

The car drew up outside the house and Lesley killed the engine. There was a light on in the lounge and she saw Freya watching the car arrive through the picture window and smiled.

It was good to be home.

Freya was excited and it wasn’t surprising she wasn’t asleep. She ran to her mother, and threw herself against her, babbling in her enthusiasm. Lesley swept her up into her arms and smiled at her mother over her daughter’s fair head.

“You should be in bed,” she chided, but not crossly. “Have you been playing Granny up?”

“No, I was in bed -I was, Mummy – but Rosie-bear wanted a drink and Granny said you were due home, so we could wait for you and I was watching and I saw the headlights coming before Granny did – and before Rosie-bear.” She lifted the much-loved, somewhat threadbare teddy to her mother’s lips for the obligatory kiss. Lesley obliged.

“Well, okay then, but off you go now and let me have my supper. I need to talk to Granny, and Granddad will be here to collect her soon.”

“Come and tuck me in?” Freya pleaded.

While Lesley was settling the child down, her mother prepared her meal for her, warming the home-cooked food in the microwave, and then sat down opposite, as her daughter ate the plate of beef casserole and rice.

“What did you need to speak to me about?” Mrs Saville asked. “We’ve got a while yet – your father rang to say he’s been delayed by a flat tyre. Or was that just a ploy to get littl’un into her bed?”

Lesley sipped the strong red wine she’d poured for herself and then said, “No, I do need to talk to you. I had an email today – from Adam; he wants to know if he can come and see Freya over Christmas. He says he has leave from Christmas Eve till the day after Boxing Day, and he’d like to see her. She, of course, would be over the moon if he came for a couple of days – he was hardly here more than an hour or two last year.” She remembered her astonishment when a helicopter, in the yellow and blue livery of the SvenCorp company, had landed in the nearby field and Adam had run into the house, loaded down with presents. He was spending Christmas in Winchester with friends, he explained and he couldn’t be this close without ‘dropping in’ – but he couldn’t stay. It had taken her hours to get Freya to stop crying when, after three hectic hours, he reluctantly left them.

“What’s the problem then? I know you were planning to come over to us for Christmas dinner – but he can come too – another mouth to feed won’t make any odds, Lesley.”

“Thanks, Mum – the problem is – I’ve checked at Trelawney’s and they’re fully booked – he’ll have nowhere to stay.”

“Trelawney’s was booked up months ago – their Christmas special this year is good value.” Mrs Saville looked at her youngest daughter thoughtfully. “He could stay with us at the farmhouse, I suppose. We can squash him in, I daresay.”

“But you’ve got Josh, Sue and the kids coming down and Peggy and Roy’ll be over with their brood too, and I expect they’ll want to stop over. You can’t ask Adam to sleep on the sofa, Mum.”

“He’ll have to take his chances, like everyone else – won’t he?”

“I thought about saying he could stay here,” Lesley said, with a sly glance at her mother. Adam Svenson had made a point of never staying overnight at the house on his irregular visits, but this time he’d have few options.

“Well, that’s up to you, Lesley – and him - of course. From what you’ve told me about his wife, she wouldn’t like it, for a start.”

“Mary Dawes told me they’ve separated again. Apparently, they tried a reconciliation after she left him the first time but it hasn’t worked out for them. She’s gone to teach at one of Spectrum’s training facilities.”

Mrs Saville stared at her daughter until Lesley looked away, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

“That’s as maybe – but don’t you go getting your hopes up, my girl. He’s a married man, however separated he might be.”

“I’m not stupid, Mum – I just thought he might like a little time to relax in a proper home, over Christmas.”

“You’ll be staying here over Christmas, then - with the two of them - Freya and Adam? After all, even if it can’t be considered that ‘His Excellency’ might sleep on a sofa, there’s nothing stopping you from doing that, is there?”

“I can’t expect him to stay here with her and do all the cooking and so on… he’ll need a break. I’ll see what he thinks is best; after all, it’s always such a madhouse at the farm on Christmas Day, it’d be better if it were just the three of us. And Freya would love to see him, Mum, you know that… besides, he ought to get the chance to spend as much quality time with her as much as he can.”

“Lesley Saville, you’re as transparent as them windows… “

“Well, he’s asked me – I’m only trying to be friendly - for Freya’s sake.”

“Hmm. What’ll Simon say about it?”

“Nothing, if he knows what’s good for him! It’s not Simon Tregonning’s business what I do, or with whom.”

“Just remember: a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, my girl. Simon’s gonna be here beyond Boxing Day – your fancy American won’t.”

“He’s not ‘my fancy American’,” Lesley snapped, but her mother caught the undertone of helplessness in her daughter’s voice.

“Not through lack of trying…” she commented dryly. “He’s a nice enough man, Lesley; I give you that and the littl’un’s a stunner. But he’s not for you, my girl.” She glanced out of the windows and stood to get her coat. “There’s the headlights; your dad’s here. Sleep on it, Lesley – don’t do anything foolish.”

“I used up my entire quota for foolishness five years ago,” her daughter said sadly.

Part Two:

2081

The school gym hall was seething with people. Around the edges were tables, with teachers holding court for the parents of their pupils, while the pupils themselves, unusually quiet, sat alongside.

A tall, rather prim woman entered the hall, a lanky, dark-haired boy following reluctantly a few paces behind. She consulted her list and moved purposefully across to the first table. Several minutes later, she and the youth took their place in front of the grey-haired, bespectacled teacher.

“Good evening, Miss Topping,” he said, with a courteous nod of his head and then turning to the youth he gave a wry grimace. “Ricky,” he added in acknowledgment.

“Mr Garcia.” Eleanor Topping knew many of the teachers well. Her sister, Ricky’s mother, had taught here before her untimely death, and the school took a friendly interest in her orphaned child when he went to live with his maiden aunt. “What have you to tell me this semester?”

Miguel Garcia pulled a reluctant face. “What can I say that you won’t already know, Miss Topping? Ricky has a good brain, if he’d only apply it – but you know yourself – his mind’s always someplace else. He doesn’t try; what’s worse, he doesn’t even pretend to try.”

“Oh, Richard,” Eleanor sighed, “you promised me you’d make an effort.”

The youth flushed angrily. “I do, Aunt Ellie – but no one here cares about what I want to do.”

“Ricky, that just isn’t true,” Mr Garcia said reasonably enough. “We have given him every opportunity, Miss Topping, but he won’t follow instructions. He does just enough – all the time.”

“I’m going to be a cop, like my dad was. I don’t need all this book-learning.”

“You will never be as good a policeman as your father was, Richard, if you don’t study. In fact, you won’t even get into the police force if you don’t have the qualifications,” his aunt reasoned.

The boy jumped from his chair and glared angrily at the adults. “I’m not staying to listen to all this nagging again! I’m going home!”

“Richard!” his aunt reprimanded him, but the boy was already running through the crowd, out into the Chicago evening. She turned and smiled apologetically at the teacher. “I’m sorry, Miguel, he’s got to be so volatile of late. He needs a man’s hand; I’ve done all I can with him.”

“I’m sure we all know the time and effort you’ve put in on the boy, Ellie; and Ricky is basically a good kid. He’s just at that awkward age – neither a man nor a boy – and confused about where he fits into the scheme of things.” He sighed and added, “I suspect he might surprise us all yet; he has Alie’s blood in him, after all – as much as his father’s – and he can do so much better than he is doing.”

Eleanor heaved a deep sigh and nodded. “I hope you’re right, Miguel. That boy’s had a tough enough time of it so far, without failing at his schoolwork as well. He has his heart set on being a cop, and if it is what he wants, there’s nothing I can do to change it; but he still has to work at it and get his qualifications – they won’t care who his father was when it comes to getting a decent job on the force. And he doesn’t seem to realise, I’m not always going to be there to pick up the pieces for him.”

Ricky ran through the schoolyard and out into the street. He stopped running and pulled the hood up over his wavy, brown hair as soon as he realised he wasn’t being followed, and slouched along, kicking at pebbles and trash and not really looking where he was going.

Aunt Ellie is such a worrier, he thought angrily. Schoolwork isn’t everything, and besides, it’s all so boring. I’ll pass their wretched exams without a doubt – but I don’t see why I should have to waste my time listening to the stupid teachers every day. When I’m old enough, I’m gonna enrol in the police force – I’m gonna be a detective – just like my dad was – and as good as my dad was! He didn’t have a heap of qualifications, yet he made it to Assistant World Police Commissioner. Like father like son; Richard Fraser and Richard Fraser Topping: Crime-busters!

He wandered along for some time, and realised that he’d taken the wrong turn and ended up at the mall. He grinned. Left to their own devices, his feet always brought him here. He jingled the loose change in his jacket – enough for a burger and shake and then I’ll make my way back, via the video game arcade, before Aunt Ellie gets too mad at me. She isn’t a bad old stick – in fact she’s the only ‘mother’ I really remember – the one adult who’s always been there for me. I owe her a lot and I’m… fond of her; very fond of her… oh, all right then – I love her – but I’m never going to admit it.

He ignored the brightly-lit, gaudily-decorated shops, grimacing at the seasonal musak that competed for his attention from every shop front and headed for the fast-food outlet. The burger eased the vague hunger pangs he had, and he was still sucking the thick shake up through the straw as he wandered towards the video arcade. His allowance wasn’t that generous and he wouldn’t have much money to waste on this entertainment, but there might be a few of his pals hanging out there – unless they’d all been dragged to the schoo