by Marion Woods
The clinical,
modern lines of the steel and glass laboratory made it a surprising discovery
amidst the cluster of small, hand-built wooden buildings nestled in the shadow
of the escarpment that fractured the landscape for several miles. Some distance away, the immature river
thundered over the cliff, forming a muddy plunge pool before it ran out onto a
wide, flat, heavily-forested plain and slowed to a lazy walking pace. Merging with nameless streams, it meandered on
its journey to join the Amazon. The
nearest village was on the bank of the river and the road from there to the
laboratory was little more than a track through the jungle, so that although
supplies arrived by boat they had to finish the journey on the backs of scrawny
donkeys, or equally scrawny porters.
It wouldn’t be
the first choice of posting for most, but the dedicated team working under the
charismatic Professor Diego Espinoza wouldn’t have swapped it for the
world. Espinoza had been the world’s
pre-eminent biologist when he won the Nobel Prize for his work on genetically
modified plants a decade ago, but subsequently he’d gained a reputation for
eccentricity, and the World Food Organisation had sidelined him into a
non-research post. Annoyed at what he
called their short-sightedness, Espinoza resigned and used his Nobel prize
money, and what private funding he could drum up, to fund this private
laboratory out in the Amazon jungle.
Once the building was finished, he’d recruited a team of three to work
with him on his latest projects: searching for local plants with medicinal
properties.
This trio of
young scientists were a mixed bunch.
The eldest was in his late thirties: a serious American from Kansas,
Doctor Byron Scheel’s speciality was genetics, and he’d worked with Espinoza at
the WFO. He was a dedicated believer in
the validity of Espinoza’s ideas, and highly motivated by the thought of what
they were trying to achieve. His junior
colleagues, Doctor Ursula Owens from England and Doctor Ahmed Salek from the
Magreb, had both been recruited direct from the Universities where they’d
completed their doctorates, but they were as dedicated to making the
Professor’s ideas work as Scheel.
The three of
them were sitting on the veranda of the laboratory, sipping cool drinks and
waiting for the sound of an approaching engine that would signify the
professor’s return.
“Listen,”
Scheel said, and Salek stopped talking.
“That’s the
plane…” Ursula smiled and got to her feet.
“I’ll start the cooking, I’m sure the professor will be hungry.”
“Even if he is
not; I am,” Salek confessed with his dazzling smile.
“You’re always
hungry,” Scheel remarked amicably.
By the time the
professor arrived, the rice and fish stew was ready and they sat to eat before
they unloaded their supplies or even opened the bundles of post he gave
them.
“A successful
trip?” Scheel asked, as he passed the bread to Espinoza.
The professor
nodded. “I have spoken again with
BioMed and Mr Strauss is willing to fund our research for another season;
although he is getting impatient to see some results.”
“One more
season should be all we need,” Scheel said complaisantly, “I’m sure we’ve
cracked the problem this time.”
Espinoza
nodded. “BioMed will want the plants
grown in their own facility, so one of us will have to go and supervise
that. We need a success to fund our
ongoing researches.”
“Who do you
want to go?” Salek glanced at the other two and saw they were as interested in
the response as he was.
Espinoza shook
his head. “I have not given it any thought, as yet. We’ll discuss it closer to the time.” He smiled at his companions.
“I would be sorry to lose any of you, and there will be a place here for
you, after the trials are over – if you want to come back after tasting the
joys of civilisation once more.”
“We’re all
working on our own projects,” Ursula reminded him. “I can’t see any of us
wanting to stay away longer than we have to.”
The younger
men nodded agreement and the professor smiled again. “We shall see,” he said calmly.
“What is even more exciting is that I was contacted by Doctor Thomas
Randolph, the senior neurologist in the World Medical Organisation. He and an associate of his, Doctor Francis
Lawson, have a project and they feel we may be of great assistance.”
Scheel looked
up. “Randolph is reputed to be the best
there is; it’d be an honour to work with him.
Can you tell us what the project involves?”
Espinoza
hesitated. “I’m sure I can trust all of
you, and the ideas are at a very early stage; but Randolph spoke to me about
the possibility of using cordyceps fungi in neurosurgery.”
“Fascinating,”
Scheel remarked thoughtfully.
Ursula heard
this news with mixed feelings; she’d worked on fungi for her thesis. “How would they use them?”
“They are
looking at modifying the fungi at the genetic level to attack diseased tissue
within the nervous systems of patients,” Espinoza explained.
“Cordyceps are
species specific,” Ursula said.
“They’re deadly to the host species and can wipe out whole colonies, in
no time at all. They’re so toxic that
chemical extracts are used to control locust swarms,” she added, glancing for
corroboration at Salek.
“Indeed,” he
confirmed, “It is an important part of protecting irrigated desert land. Locust swarms devastating our crops are
largely a thing of the past.”
“That is why
they want to modify the fungi,” Espinoza remarked quietly. “But you may be assured, Ursula, Doctor
Randolph is aware of the potential dangers.”
“I hope so,”
she said thoughtfully, a small frown creasing her brow.
Colonel White
closed the file he’d been reading and glanced at the small pile still waiting
for his attention. He sighed.
As head of the
Spectrum organisation his life was a strange mixture of boredom and
exhilaration. When the Mysterons made a
threat and his elite squadrons sprang into action he could – and, on occasion,
had – work for days with barely an hour’s sleep and only the occasional meal;
but during the lulls that separated these bursts of activity, his day was
punctuated by the routine of commanding a complex military installation with a
crew of around 600 souls.
One of the
routines he still preferred to do himself was checking the monthly procurement
reports. These meticulous documents
covered everything from the number of missiles they had on board to the
minutiae of the canteen requisitions.
He felt that it gave him a finger on the pulse of his command.
The reports were produced by teams across the
base, collated and checked by the team leaders and then passed to his Senior
Administrative Lieutenant. Lieutenant
Silver produced a précis alerting him to anything unusual. So far this month, the most exciting thing
he’d read was that there had been an unaccountable surge in demand for rice
pudding.
That would explain why I saw Captain Scarlet and
Rhapsody Angel mixing strawberry jam into their pudding bowls and giggling like
schoolchildren at the horrified expressions on the faces of Captain Blue and
Symphony Angel as the rice went pink...
He moved the
file to the ‘out’ tray and picked up the next one. This was a buff-coloured file with the multicoloured caduceus of
Spectrum Medical emblazoned on the front.
Doctor Fawn’s reports
were generally interesting reading. As
the staff of Cloudbase were a fairly healthy lot – a requirement of the job –
Fawn’s workload usually consisted of work-related injuries and Captain Scarlet. But Scarlet had been singularly lucky this
month and had escaped with only minor injuries from his last two missions, so
the colonel wondered what his medical chief would have to report.
It seemed on
first glance that Doctor Fawn had felt the same. There were two cases of tonsillitis, one fractured finger and an
upset stomach duly noted in the log and thereafter the report consisted of a
block of text.
I think it wise to put on record, the doctor had written, that when I went to the World Medical
Organisation’s conference in Vienna, I ran into an old friend of mine: Dr
Thomas Randolph. Randolph was there to present a paper about some research he’s
commissioned from Professor Diego Espinoza and his team, into the use of fungi
in neurosurgery: a truly fascinating concept, which looks to be showing great promise. I’ve asked Dr Randolph to keep me abreast
of developments, as I can see many practical uses for such a technique in
Spectrum bases where there is no access to a neurosurgeon.
Colonel White
shook his head at his Chief Medical Officer’s talent for understating the
facts. “That has to be just about every Spectrum base…” he muttered, as he
closed the file.
Doctor Fawn
was in Cloudbase’s laboratory running some tests on Captain Scarlet’s blood
samples when the call came in.
Lieutenant Green’s voice, slightly distorted by the intercom, informed
him that Doctor Randolph was on the videophone.
With an
intrigued expression, Fawn left the auto-analyser working and went into his
office, closing the door as he went.
“Hello, Tom,”
he said, selecting the voice only option, as the regulations instructed. “What can I do for you?”
He could see
his friend’s face and recognised the rather anxious expression. He wondered why Randolph needed to speak to
him so soon after they’d had a long conversation in Vienna.
“Hi, Ed? There
must be something wrong with this machine, I can’t see you.”
“Yeah, that’s
technology for you,” Fawn said, managing to keep the smile on his face from his
voice. “I can see you right enough.”
“Look,”
Randolph said, “Can you get over to Casterbridge, Ed?”
“What
for? I can’t just drop everything and
go joy riding, Tom.”
“No, I know;
and I wouldn’t ask you in the normal way of things, but … Ed, you remember what
we were talking about in Vienna?”
“Sure I do; it
sounded hopeful.”
Randolph’s gaze
dropped away from the camera as if he couldn’t bring himself to say what he had
to. “I’ve got problems, major
problems. I need your help.”
“Tell me
everything,” Fawn said, settling down to listen carefully.
Colonel White
looked up as the door to the Control Room snapped open. Fawn was marching purposefully down the
automatic walkway – an unusual enough sight at the best of times, but in the
middle of the afternoon, it was almost unheard of.
The colonel’s
thoughts went straight to Captain Scarlet: Fawn spent much of his time trying
to find the secret of retrometabolism.
“Is something
wrong, Doctor?” he asked, as Fawn came up to the circular desk.
“I think there might well be, Colonel.” Fawn looked around; Lieutenant Green was
staring in their direction in undisguised interest. “If I might have a word… privately.”
White pressed
a button and the Perspex surround came down as a stool rose from the floor
close to where the doctor was standing.
“Now, what’s
the matter, Edward?”
Ten minutes
later, Colonel White sent for Captain Scarlet.
“Where are you
going?” Captain Blue asked, as his partner strode purposefully towards Hangar
Bay Two.
“Classified.”
“From me?”
“From
everyone, Blue-boy.”
Captain Blue
rolled his eyes. “Why can’t I come?”
Scarlet
stopped and turned, grinning, to glance at his friend. “Have you heard yourself?” He mimicked the voice of a peevish child:
“‘It’s not fair! I wanna go on the mission too!’” then laughed at his friend’s injured expression.
“It’s just odd that you’re going alone. We’re partners, after all.”
“I’m not going
alone,” Scarlet said, striding on again.
Frowning, Blue
went after him and when they got to the departure room, Doctor Fawn was
waiting, shifting from foot to foot as if anxious to be gone.
“Have they loaded your gear?” Scarlet asked.
“Yes, it’s
safely stowed away.”
“Then, all aboard, Doc,” Scarlet said. “Catch you later, Adam.” He went out towards the helijet, with Fawn
almost running alongside him.
“Huh, I hope
you both have a really miserable time,” Blue muttered after them – but he
didn’t really mean it.
Casterbridge
was a modern eco-town built after the European atomic war, yet its houses
mimicked a melange of past styles: from Tudor mansions to Regency Crescents,
from thatched cottages to square, brick-built, almost utilitarian, terraces, in
a concerted effort to create a sense of ‘history’ for the place. It didn’t work, as the streets were wide
and regular and all the houses had discreet solar panels and wind
turbines. The roadside parking bays
were equipped with power points to recharge the batteries of the mandatory
electric cars.
Flying
westward over the town to where the hospital stood in the splendid isolation of
a landscaped park, Scarlet concluded it was a brave attempt to merge the best
of both worlds, which had gone horribly wrong.
He landed the
helijet on a billiard-table-smooth lawn and followed Fawn across to the
entrance, where they were met by a tall, dark-haired man who introduced himself
as Frank Lawson.
“I’m Doctor
Randolph’s assistant,” he explained as he hurried them along the empty
corridors.
“Where is
everybody?” Scarlet asked. The hospital was unnaturally quiet.
Lawson pressed
the button to call the lift and looked directly at the captain for the first
time. “The hospital’s been evacuated,”
he admitted. “Purely as a precaution.”
“A wise one,”
Fawn remarked, adding cryptically, “under the circumstances.”
“And when’re
you going to explain to me exactly what these circumstances are, Doctor Wilkie?”
Scarlet asked. The identity of
Spectrum’s agents was a closely-guarded secret and Fawn was not in
uniform.
Lawson replied
before Fawn could. “You’re only here as an observer, Captain. Doctor Randolph agreed to Doctor Wilkie’s
suggestion that we involve Spectrum, simply to facilitate the doctor’s journey
and expedite his arrival.”
“Spectrum
doesn’t act as a taxi service, Doctor Lawson, not even for pre-eminent members
of the medical community,” Scarlet said.
“I’m here to observe and
report back. I expect your co-operation
to be given as freely as Doctor Wilkie has offered his.”
“You haven’t
told him anything?” Lawson glared accusingly at Fawn.
“I told
Spectrum’s commander-in-chief what Randolph told me. As the good captain says, Spectrum don’t provide taxi services
and they don’t do favours for nothing.”
The lift door
opened onto a basement corridor lined with laboratories and offices. Lawson stalked along, the two Spectrum
officers following at a more sedate pace.
Scarlet gave Fawn an interrogative glance, but the genial Australian
shrugged in response.
“I owe you an
apology,” the captain whispered, “I thought your bedside manner was as bad as
it gets - until I met Doctor Lawson…”
Fawn
suppressed a chuckle and frowned warningly.
“Remember we’re not supposed to know each other…”
Scarlet
smiled. It wasn’t often that Fawn got
to participate in an actual mission and he was playing it strictly by the
rulebook, even though it was obvious he was fizzing with excitement. He reminded himself not to tease the
Australian too much and to bear in mind that not everyone he worked with was as
easy-going and forgiving of his dry sense of humour as Captain Blue.
Doctor Lawson
opened the door to the last office in the corridor and stood aside for them to go
in. Scarlet saw that it was a small
antechamber, with a viewing window to a sealed room. There were two people in there: a stocky man with thinning fair
hair, and a slender, dark-haired woman.
“Ed!” The man
exclaimed and came forward to shake Fawn’s hand. “Thank you for coming; I’m so glad to see you. May I present Doctor Ursula Owens?”
“Pleased to
meet you, Doctor Owens,” Fawn said, shaking the woman’s hand. “This is Captain Scarlet, of Spectrum.”
“Captain.” The man perfunctorily acknowledged Scarlet’s
presence. “Now, Ed, I need your advice
and your help-”
“So you said,
Tom. What’s going on?”
Doctor
Randolph indicated the observation window and Fawn moved to take a look. Scarlet edged round until he was standing
behind Doctor Owens and looking in over her shoulder.
The room was
like a padded cell, with a bedstead in the centre. Lying on the bed was a man, or, at least, it looked like a man to
Scarlet. He was naked, and his skin
was a dull greyish-brown and appeared to be spotted with darker patches.
“Poor soul,”
Fawn muttered, “who is he?”
“My lab
technician: Jonathan Knox. We’re not
sure what happened, but we assume there was an accident in the main lab and
some of the spores escaped their containment cabinet.”
“Spores?”
Scarlet asked quietly.
Randolph
turned and looked up at the younger man.
“My colleagues and I have been working on genetically modifying fungi
for use in neurosurgery. The
development was at a critical stage when this happened.”
“Fungi?”
Scarlet asked in disbelief. “As in
mushrooms, the things you have grilled on toast?”
Fawn
sighed. “Look, let me study the medical
records and while I’m doing that, perhaps you’d be so good as to explain what’s
going on to Captain Scarlet, Doctor Owens?”
“Of course,
Doctor Wilkie. If you’d come with me,
Captain, I’ll show you the genetics lab.”
Randolph nodded briskly and called, “Frank,
please bring the medical records over here.”
As Scarlet
followed Ursula Owens out of the room, he saw fierce jealousy flash in Lawson’s
eyes. Oh-oh, he thought.
Ursula led the
way back towards the lift and paused at a wooden door. “Please, when we go into the lab, don’t
touch anything, Captain. As Doctor
Randolph said, we’re not sure what happened, so I will have to ask you to put
on a protective bio-suit and a helmet.
We’re not sure we’ve contained the leakage; that’s why the hospital was
evacuated.”
“Of course,
Doctor,” he replied. “What kind of
mushroom would do that to anybody, though?”
As they suited
up, she explained. “The fungi we’re using
are cordyceps. There are many
variations within that category, and all, or most of them, are species
specific. They attack insects, or other
plants. None are harmful to man.”
“You say they attack insects? I’m afraid I’m just a plain soldier, Doctor,
and the image of ninja mushrooms you’re conjuring up is probably way off the
mark.”
She smiled at
him, chuckling. He grinned back.
“Yes, you’re
way off beam, Captain. The fungal
spores infect the insects through gaps and joints in their exoskeletons. Once there, they invade the nervous system
and gradually take control of the animal, driving it mad and making it climb as
high as it can go. When the fungi is
ready, the fruiting bodies erupt from the insects, sometimes through every gap
and sometimes just through the skull.
It then takes about three weeks for the spores to develop and be
scattered into the atmosphere in search of new hosts.”
“I’m guessing
the insect is dead by then,” he remarked, a grimace on his face.
“The body
within the carapace is dissolved by enzymes to feed the fungus’s development,”
she said, without actually confirming his hypothesis.
“Ugh.” Scarlet shuddered. “I’ll never feel the same about a mushroom omelette again.”
“Relax,
Captain. The cordyceps are mostly
tropical and sub-tropical, and species specific. If the spores land on the wrong insect they do no harm. However,” she admitted, “they’re extremely
virulent and can wipe out whole colonies of hundreds of thousands if they’re
not detected.”
“Detected?”
“Workers that
have been infected are usually dragged away and abandoned by guards or other
workers. Cruel, but necessary.”
“Right; and
you’re telling me that Doctor Randolph decided to modify these harmless little
mushrooms so they were dangerous to humans?”
“No. Doctor Randolph wanted a species developed
that would attack diseased tissue within the body. We still have no way to deal with brain tumours and such-like if
they’re sited dangerously. The idea in
itself is a valid one. Carefully
controlled, sterilised spores would be introduced close to the tumour. It would dissolve the diseased tissue and
then die.”
Scarlet
fastened the final zip of the bio-suit and activated the helmet
microphone. “I take it something’s gone
wrong and that poor guy in there is paying the price?”
“We don’t
know. Doctor Randolph hoped Doctor Wilkie would be able to help.”
She opened the
door to the lab and they walked in.
There were rows of glass cabinets sealed and locked, with Petri dishes
displayed inside. In each cabinet,
grotesque, minute fungi in various stages of development flourished: some
looked like small toadstools, some were long and bulbous and others thin and
wiry.
“I don’t think
you’d want any of these on toast.”
Dr Owens’
voice came over the radio and made Scarlet grin in agreement. “Have these been modified?” he asked.
“They’ve all
had some work done on them. If you look
over here you’ll see the next stage of our work.”
There were
some fungi growing on what looked like a slab of flesh. It was the dull grey colour of Knox’s
skin. “What’s that?” he asked.
Ursula smiled
at his unease. “Relax, it’s just rump
steak.”
“Thank
God. How do you propose to test them on humans, Doctor?”
She looked at
him for a moment and decided he was not the squeamish kind. “There are tumours that have been removed
and cadavers donated for scientific experiments.”
“You get many
of those these days?”
“We haven’t
had to resort to Burke and Hare just yet.”
“Have you
worked here long, Doctor?”
“No, not
really. I’m part of the rain forest
research team led by Professor Espinoza.
Doctor Randolph asked for the professor’s help. I was chosen to accompany Doctor Lawson back
to Casterbridge with samples of the species of fungi we’d selected as having
the most potential for genetic modification.
I’m leading the team of geneticists working on the genes.”
She paused and
glanced unhappily towards the Isolation Room where Knox lay. “I can’t help feeling this is all my fault.”
“Accidents
happen,” Scarlet reassured her. “I’m
sure no one blames you.”
“No one except
myself, you mean.”
Scarlet
decided there was no answer to her guilt-ridden thoughts and so he tried to
change the subject. “Why does Randolph
think Doctor Wilkie can help?”
“They worked
together at the World Medical Organisation and Doctor Wilkie was developing
robot ‘nurses’ capable of complex diagnosis.
If Knox has been infected with the spores of one of the cordyceps that
has spontaneously mutated into something dangerous, we can’t risk human lives
in trying to solve the problem. The
room must remain sealed.”
“What about
the people Knox might’ve already been in contact with?”
“Until the
fungus fruits he should’ve been harmless enough. If it fruits…”
“You mean
these are not sterile?” Scarlet swept his arm in a gesture that encompassed the
rows of cabinets.
“Captain
Scarlet, genetic modifications manifest themselves through succeeding
generations; sterile organisms do not reproduce – ergo, these are viable
specimens.”
Scarlet
flushed. “Yes, I guess so – sorry Doc;
I’m out of my depth with stuff like microbiology and genetics, but I ought to
have thought that through.”
“No, I’m
sorry; there was no need for me to snap at you. We’re all on edge at the moment.”
“Don’t worry
about it, Doc, I’ve heard much worse. While
we’re here, do you mind if I take a look around the place, check the security
and so on?”
“No, go ahead;
I’ll wait over here. Let me know if I
can be of any help.”
Doctor Fawn
sighed and put down the medical notes.
There seemed no doubt that Knox had been infected by one of the new
strains of cordyceps, although there was no way of knowing which one until it
fruited, by which time the man would be dead – if he was lucky.
The potential
danger of the situation was obvious and he knew he would have to help as much
as he could. Out in the helijet was the
latest prototype of his robotic nurse; it represented months of painstaking
work and years of development. It was
unique and – to him – priceless, and if it went into that room and was exposed
to deadly spores, it would have to remain there forever, or be destroyed.
“Get a grip,
Edward Wilkie, it’s only a damn machine…” he muttered, getting to his
feet.
Captain
Scarlet, fresh from checking security in the lab, went with Fawn to fetch the
crate from the helijet.
“How bad is
it, Doc?” he asked as he manoeuvred the crate to the door and jumped down to
help slide it onto the trolley they’d appropriated.
“It’s serious,
no point pretending otherwise. They
can’t treat Knox until they know which spores infected him, and even then, I
doubt there’s much they can do,” Fawn admitted.
“Is it worth
it?” Scarlet asked.
“Oh yes; if
they achieve their goal, it would be.
However, I’m not sure they’re ever going to get there. The obstacles to do with testing and making
the cordyceps safe for general use are astronomical. I admire their vision and their tenacity, but I can’t help
thinking it’ll all be for nothing.”
“What’s
worrying me, Doc, is that Doctor Owens spoke about ‘spontaneous mutation into
something dangerous’. Now from where Spectrum stands, unexplained and dangerous
events like that have ‘Mysteron’ written across them. Can you imagine what’d happen if the Mysterons got wind of
this?” Scarlet paused in the act of turning the gurney round and added, “And
they do have an uncanny knack of using our ingenuity against us. The thought of deadly spores, with the
capacity to wipe out millions of people, loose in the atmosphere is not one I
like to dwell on.”
“I’m way ahead
of you,” Fawn reassured him. “That’s
why I got the colonel to let us come down and investigate.”
“I checked the
lab; that place is sealed tighter than a drum, I don’t think the spores got out
by accident. I want to check Knox out,
Edward.”
“You think he
might be a Mysteron agent?”
“I don’t know,
and until I do I’m not going to feel easy about any of this.”
“There’s no
logical way I could ask for an X-ray, Paul; if the fungi is attacking his body
it’ll be dissolving his internal organs and soft tissues, an X-ray wouldn’t
show that.”
“No, I realise
that; but someone’s got to wheel this machine in there, haven’t they? I think, under the circumstances, it’d
better be me.”
Fawn tilted
his head thoughtfully. “It’ll be
interesting to know if your sixth sense can detect a Mysteron through the protection
of a bio-suit,” he mused.
Scarlet
chuckled and started to wheel the gurney towards the entrance. “Oh good,” he said, “Because I do like to
feel I’m doing something useful.”
“Absolutely
not,” Frank Lawson said, when Fawn told them that Captain Scarlet would be
taking the robotic nurse into the sick room.
“We can’t allow anyone outside of the team to be put at risk.”
“He’ll be in a
bio-suit, and so would you,” Fawn reasoned, without looking up from making the
final connections to the machine. “I
can’t see he’s in any more danger than you’d be.”
“He’s not a
doctor,” Randolph said.
“No, but he
doesn’t have to be, the robotic nurse will take care of that. All he needs to do is put the sensors onto
the… patient.”
Lawson snorted
in disapproval. “He shouldn’t be here
at all; never mind taking a part in the proceedings.”
Fawn looked up
and complained in an exasperated voice, “Tom, do you want my help, or not? Because, if you do, please tell your
assistant to keep out of my business.
Captain Scarlet’s well aware of the risks and he’s prepared to do what
he has to, to make sure we sort this matter out. Now, he knows what to do, because I’ve told him and he’s already
suiting up. I suggest we stop arguing
and prepare ourselves to analyse the data from the robotic nurse.”
“Wilkie’s
right, Frank; Knox is looking worse all the time, we shouldn’t be arguing about
trivialities.”
Doctor Owens
followed Scarlet into the room, carrying the helmet to the bio-suit.
Fawn stood up and
went through the procedure Scarlet had to follow. The captain listened intently, nodding every so often, until Fawn
had finished.
“Any
questions, Captain?”
“No,
Doctor. I‘m to stay in the room while
the machine takes a complete set of all the data you need, and if there’s anything else you need, I’ll
do what I can to get it for you.”
“If the
machine doesn’t work we’ll need a doctor in there,” Lawson interjected. “It’d be much better to let me go in the
first place.”
“That’s enough
– Captain Scarlet is the best person to go in there,” Fawn said angrily. “I won’t entrust my machine to any one
else.”
“I think
you’re very brave, Captain,” Ursula said, as she handed him his helmet.
“Thank you,
but not really; it’s just my job, Doctor. Besides, if anything does go wrong,
it makes sense to have all the people who know most about the problems, safe
and ready to find a solution.”
“Rest assured,
we’d do all we can – in the unlikely event there’s a problem,” Randolph
said.
“I know.”
Scarlet took the helmet and put it on.
“Let’s go, shall we?”
The
double-door behind Scarlet swung shut with a muted thump and the seals
engaged. The Isolation Room was
chilly, although there was no sound of any air conditioning or signs of air
vents.
Over the
headphones he heard Fawn asking:
“Is everything, okay, Scarlet?”
He turned and
gave the watching quartet a thumbs-up sign.
“Yes, Doc; I was just wondering why it’s so cold in here.”
Ursula Owens
replied:
“The cordyceps in the experiment are all tropical
species; we hoped that a cold environment would hinder their development.”
“I thought you
said it took about three weeks for the things to be ready to release any
spores?” Scarlet asked, as he approached the bed, pushing the robotic nurse
before him. “This guy’s only been ill
for a matter of days, hasn’t he?”
The silence
from the quartet made him glance across at them enquiringly. Doctor Randolph finally said:
“The modifications we made were also designed to speed
up the development of the fungi; some operations are urgent, patients can’t
wait that long.”
“Great; and
why am I guessing that you don’t know just how speedy their development will
be?” Scarlet muttered. He rolled his
eyes and plugged the extension cable into a wall socket. The small, grey box lit up with two red
lights, and then one changed to green.
“System
engaged,” Scarlet reported.
“Good,” Fawn replied.
“Use the gel to attach the sensors
as I explained: one on each arm and each leg, three across his torso and one at
either temple.”
Scarlet
fumbled with the tube of gel provided by Dr Lawson, but his fingers couldn’t
get a grip on the safety top. “Sod
this,” he muttered, and drew off the bio-suit glove.
“Captain Scarlet, that’s too dangerous!” Ursula exclaimed.
“Okay, keep
your hair on,” he muttered as the top came free and pulled the glove back
on. “There aren’t any spores in here
yet, are there?”
“Nevertheless, I urge you not to take unnecessary
risks, Captain.” Fawn sounded annoyed and Scarlet smirked
apologetically in his direction.
“Sorry, Doctor
F-ilkie.”
“Concentrate!” There was no mistaking the anger in Fawn’s voice now and Scarlet
nodded.
He squirted
the gel onto the first of the sensor pads and moved alongside the bed, reaching
down to attach it to Knox’s thigh.
Sluggish
ripples moved across the surface of the skin as he touched it, and the sensor
and his finger sank into a pit of flesh.
Scarlet looked
up: the four doctors were watching intently, but they were probably too far
away to see exactly what had happened.
The robotic nurse bleeped in acknowledgement of the data source as he
prepared another sensor. When he
pressed it onto Knox’s arm, the same thing happened.
He looked
across to the observation window.
“Doc,” he said. “I don’t like
the look of this at all. The body’s all… soggy.”
“Soggy?” Fawn repeated in uncertainty.
“Yeah,
gelatinous, like when you poke a water bed…”
“Surely it can’t be that advanced…” Scarlet only caught
Randolph’s words on the very edge of his hearing, but they filled him with
dread.
“You mean this
poor guy’s being dissolved from the inside by the cordyceps?” he demanded.
“We won’t know until we have all the data,” Lawson snapped. “It
might simply be water retention.”
Scarlet didn’t
believe a word of it. “Oh yeah…? What
did he do, drink his bath water?” he muttered rebelliously, but he went on
preparing the next sensor.
The sensors on
the torso were next and Scarlet’s keen hearing caught the muted sound of
gurgling, like water sloshing about in a hot water bottle. He was growing increasingly reluctant to
touch Knox’s body.
“Only the temple sensors to go,” Fawn’s voice encouraged
him.
Scarlet looked
up to see the reassuring smile on Fawn’s face, and gave a wan smile in
response. He prepared the two sensors
and leant over the head to fix them on at the same time.
As they
touched the skin, the robotic nurse emitted a piercing alarm and Scarlet turned
to check it was still functioning just as the power meter shot into the red
zone. Scarlet turned back to see
Knox’s eyes fly open. Frowning, he
peered down and gasped at what he saw.
Knox’s eyes were a uniform dull grey in colour, the iris and the pupil
indistinguishable beneath what looked like a squirming morass of tiny worms
trapped beneath the cornea. These
unholy eyes stared hypnotically at Scarlet as he leant closer to examine the
phenomenon.
Suddenly, two
strong arms reached up and grabbed him, pulling him off balance. The puffy fingers struggled with the
fastening around his shoulder and yanked the bio-suit helmet from his
shoulders. Even as Knox threw the
helmet away Scarlet could still hear Doctor Owens screaming and the pandemonium
in the observation booth over the microphone.
Dazed, but
unhurt, Scarlet started to fight back, but as his hands touched the cold flesh
it came away from the body, like a mushroom crumbles to the touch. A red, glutinous liquid seeped from the
wound, and Scarlet saw more of the worm-like tendrils strung across the gaping
sore.
Knox pinioned Scarlet’s arms and pressed him
against the wall, effectively immobilising him. There was a powerful stench in the air and when Scarlet looked up
at Knox’s face he gasped in horror.
Dozens of
filaments sprouted from Knox’s eyes, ears and nose, writhing as they grew. Scarlet tried to shrug free and shook his
head, seeking to evade the groping tendrils, but there was no avoiding their
advance. One brushed against his nose
and immediately began to swell, bursting the eyeball it extruded from in a
shower of matter. It splattered over
Scarlet’s face and dripped from his eyelashes, nose and lips. He spat at Knox, not wanting to swallow any
of it.
When he opened
his eyes again, the tip of the closest fungus had flushed a darker
brownish-grey and swollen into an obscenely phallic bulge. As the head grew too heavy for the slender
filament to support, it exploded.
Moments later
the hundreds of other tendrils, whose maturation had been triggered by the
contact with a potential host, did the same until Scarlet could see the cloud
of dust-like spores floating between them both.
There was
someone banging on the observation window and the red light over the door was
flashing a warning that the airlock was in operation.
Someone’s coming in, Scarlet thought. But
they mustn’t – it’s too dangerous – there are spores everywhere – they might
escape.
With a
superhuman effort he pushed Knox away, although now that the initial bloom of
cordyceps had shed their spores, the strength seemed to have left his adversary
and Knox staggered back, knocking into the bed and falling across it.
Scarlet left
him and ran to the door, slamming his fist down on the auto-lock to cancel the
over-ride command.
“Stay out of
here!” he ordered. “The spores are
airborne.”
He turned to
the observation window where he saw Ursula pointing to the helmet, so he went
and put it on again.
“Hardly seems
worth it now,” he said to her, his voice decidedly shaky.
“At least we can communicate with you,” she replied. “What
happened?”
Fawn and Randolph
came back into the room, the latter continuing to manhandle Lawson to prevent
him returning to the airlock.
Scarlet
replied, “I don’t know what happened.
There were no obvious signs of life as I fitted the sensors – until the
last two. When I touched them to his
temples, his eyes opened and he grabbed me.
You saw the rest.”
“Is he dead now?” Randolph asked.
“I bloody well
hope so,” Scarlet retorted. He looked
nervously over his shoulder and gave a significant glance at Fawn. “He was strong… stronger than you’d expect,”
he added pointedly.
“He didn’t look fit enough to have any strength,” Ursula
interjected. Although her initial tone
had been one of bewilderment, it was quickly apparent that her curiosity was
piqued by what she’d witnessed and instinctively she began to theorise. “It
looks clear to me that the cordyceps has invaded his entire body cavity; I can
only presume the fungi was somehow driving the body to move – as it does to
infected insect hosts – to somewhere it stood most chance of reproducing
successfully. Did one of the filaments
touch you, Captain Scarlet?”
Scarlet nodded
ruefully. “Just brushed my nose, that’s
all.”
“Never mind all of this,” Lawson exclaimed, “the man’s infected; he’ll end up like
Knox.”
“Of course; forgive me, Captain. What must you think of me?” Ursula apologised and then turned to
Doctor Randolph. “I’ll do an autopsy on
Knox. Maybe there is something to show
us how to combat the infection…”
While Fawn
listened to the bickering of his colleagues as they discussed the potential
dangers and advantages of being able to work on Knox’s diseased body, he looked
at Scarlet. He was standing silently in
the Isolation Room, his shoulders a little drooped, his head hung.
Fawn knew that
throughout his incident-packed life since the Mysterons recreated him to act as
their agent, Paul Metcalfe had faced many dangers, and faced them squarely, but
most had been physical: sharp pain and fairly speedy death. Now he faced something new – a death
sentence from which even his retrometabolism might not be able to offer him a
reprieve. The sight of Knox’s body
alive with the writhing tentacles of the deadly fungus had been one of the most
gruesome sights he could remember – and his medical career had not spared him
in that respect.
He’d
understood the relevance of Scarlet’s remark about the unexpected strength of
his attacker; Mysteron agents were often endowed with super-human attributes as
they strove to obey the orders of their alien masters. He also knew that if there was any chance
Knox had been Mysteronised, then so had the cordyceps, and there was no way he
could allow anyone to become infected.
He turned to
his colleagues.
“Stop it!
Listen to me,” he snapped at his most authoritative. “I want you all to stay here
and don’t touch anything.”
“What are you
saying, Ed?” Randolph demanded.
Fawn turned
towards the intercom to include Scarlet in what he had to say. “I’m going to inform Spectrum of the events
here and ask for their help. They’ll
have facilities we can utilise.”
“How will you
get him out of the room?” Lawson demanded.
“Look at Knox, the cordyceps is still fruiting. The air in there is thick with spores; if
any of them escape it could be catastrophic.”
“He’s right, Doctor Wilkie.”
Scarlet’s voice over the intercom sounded defeatist.
“While there’s
life there’s hope,” Fawn reassured him.
“I haven’t lost a patient for several years, Captain – and if I have
anything to do with it, you won’t be the first. Everyone wait here and don’t
touch anything. I’m going to use the radio in the helijet to contact
Cloudbase.”
He hurried to
the lift. Outside the hospital the sun was starting to set and the clouds
boiled up over the horizon threatening rain.
Bad weather might well delay the arrival of reinforcements.
He heaved
himself into the flight cabin and hit the communicator.
“Lieutenant
Green, we have an emergency.”
“Go ahead, Doctor Fawn.”
With the
practised ease of a man used to conveying complex situations clearly and at
speed, Fawn explained what had happened and what he wanted done.
“Alert Doctor
Tan and have him prepare the isolation capsule next to the morgue. Set the temperature to as low as he can
without it being at freezing. Scarlet
won’t mind the cold, I’m sure.”
“S.I.G.,” Green responded.
“I want the
capsule loaded onto an SPJ and flown down here by two captains – both in
bio-suits. One will return with me and
the other will remain here to co-ordinate the clean-up operation using local
agents from the nearest terrestrial base.
The hospital must be thoroughly cleansed from top to bottom and
everything inside the Isolation Room here incinerated. And that includes Knox’s body, so you’d
better remind Tan to include a bio-hazard body bag.”
“S.I.G., Anything else?”
“Emergency containment
fields around Scarlet’s usual recovery room.
Isolate the water supply, the air conditioning, sewage and garbage
disposal – temporary airlocks across the doors, if you can achieve it in time. I don’t want so much as a quark to be able
to get in or out of there!”
“How long have we got?” Green asked.
“How long
before the SPJ gets down here?”
There was a
slight pause and Green replied, “E.T.A.
at Casterbridge about 70 minutes.”
“Then you’d
better be quick, Lieutenant,” Fawn urged and closed the link.
The SPJ
touched down at Casterbridge hospital alongside the helijet and effectively
blocked all access along the gravel drive.
There was a growing crowd of interested spectators, including pressmen,
outside the gates, peering into the grounds. Luckily, Doctor Randolph had arranged for the police to patrol all
the entrances when the hospital had been evacuated, and so far they’d succeeded
in keeping everyone out.
Fawn and Dr
Randolph walked across to the plane as the door opened. Steps descended and two men appeared at the
exit. The taller of the men, with a
head of striking blond hair, wore a bio-suit with a pale-blue line down the
outside of the arms and legs. His
companion was slightly shorter with unruly brown hair and a stripe of rich gold
on his bio-suit. They introduced
themselves as Captain Blue and Captain Ochre.
“Doctor
Wilkie,” Blue said, “how can we help?
We’ve brought the equipment you asked for.”
“Good. Inside the hospital, your colleague, Captain
Scarlet, is in a containment room. He
may have become infected-”
“Almost
certainly has become infected-”
Randolph interjected to correct his companion.
Fawn ignored
him. “-by a myocondrial spore.”
“We’ll take
him back to Cloudbase,” Blue said. “Our
medical team will know what to do.”
“No one knows
what to do,” Randolph said. “That’s the
problem. The spores came into contact
with a human too soon; they hadn’t been sterilised – they’re reproducing.”
“Myocondrial,”
Captain Ochre said thoughtfully, “that’s mushrooms, right?”
“Fungi,” Fawn
corrected. “Yes.”
“Killer
mushrooms? You expect me to believe
this, Doc? This isn’t April 1st.”
“No, it
isn’t,” Fawn snapped. “And I’ve never
felt less like joking.”
“We
understand,” Blue said, as Ochre smirked apologetically. “Now, how do you propose we get Scarlet back
to Cloudbase?”
Scarlet looked
up as the door to the observation room opened and felt a surge of relief to see
the familiar sight of Captain Blue and Captain Ochre flanking the diminutive
Fawn. He couldn’t help his spirits
lifting, even though his common sense told him that the arrival of his friends
did little or nothing to improve his predicament.
Blue
immediately strode towards the intercom panel and asked, “How are you,
Captain?”
Scarlet gave
him the most reassuring smile he could muster.
“I’m fine, Captain. I guess
nothing’s going to happen straight away.”
Ochre came to
join the conversation. He nodded a
casual greeting to Scarlet, and said, “The terrestrial base has sent emergency
crew; they’ll be here in about ten minutes.
Once they arrive we’ll set up a vacuum pump and draw off as much of the
air as we can, into a bio-hazard tank.”
Scarlet nodded
slightly and with a sudden shift into concern Ochre added, “We’ll get you
through this, buddy; trust the doc, ol’ Blue-boy and me.”
“I do,”
Scarlet said fervently.
“Doctor Wilkie
suggests we leave a fresh bio-suit in the airlock and you strip off before you
step out of there and get into the new suit before you get into the bio-haz
capsule. We’re going to place that
against the door now and activate the seals,” Blue explained. “That should eliminate the chances of any
spores escaping into the atmosphere.”
“Shades of the
K14 virus,” Scarlet reminded him, with a slight smile.
“Yes; and as Ochre
said, just like that we’ll get through this,” Blue reassured him quietly. “I promise you.”
Scarlet nodded
and managed another smile. “Okay,
Captain.”
“Doctor
Wilkie’s agreed to accompany you back to Cloudbase; to liaise with our medical
staff. They’ll do all they can,
Captain,” Blue added.
“Thanks,
Captain – and thanks, Doc; it’s much appreciated.” Scarlet struggled to hide a smirk.
“You’re
welcome,” Fawn replied dryly. Now that
his plan was in action, he wanted to get a move on and he found these delays
irksome – even while he appreciated that his colleagues needed time to express
their concerns.
“Why is Wilkie
going?” Doctor Lawson demanded. “He
knows least about the project.”
“Doctor
Wilkie’s known to us,” Ochre replied sharply.
“He’s been vetted. Cloudbase is
a classified security base – not just anyone can walk on board.”
“You’ll need
expert advice if you want any hope of saving your friend!” Lawson
blustered. “Taking Wilkie is like
sentencing him to death! You’ll need expert advice-”
“Yes, I will,”
Fawn agreed angrily.
He’d realised
some time ago that, despite the young man’s well-deserved reputation in his
field of expertise, he’d find it hard to work with the temperamental Lawson –
and Scarlet’s jibe about the younger doctor’s bedside manner suggested he felt
the same. Besides, he didn’t feel he
could trust Lawson to keep quiet about any secret information he might acquire
– the man was too determined to make it to the top. He came to a swift decision.
“That’s why I’ve obtained permission to invite Doctor Owens to accompany
us.”
“Me?” Ursula
gasped, as surprised by the announcement as the men around her.
“You’re the
project’s geneticist and a mycologist, that makes sense to me,” Fawn
explained. He turned to glance at
Randolph, who was nodding in agreement.
“Tom, I want to ask you and Lawson to supervise the clean-up here. Spectrum will supply the equipment and the
manpower, and Captain Ochre will be in charge, but I’d feel happier with a
medical input too.”
“Of course,”
Randolph said. “I want to be of help,
Ed; I feel as if we’re to blame in some way.”
No one
commented on this. Ursula was too
preoccupied coming to terms with the news of her impending departure, to notice
the way Lawson was glaring angrily at her and Fawn, but Captain Blue was more
observant and he took Fawn aside.
“Are you sure
she’s the right choice, Doc? Scarlet
may need all the help he can get with this; if Lawson’s the better bet-”
“He isn’t,”
Fawn snapped. “Are you questioning my
professional judgement?” Blue shook his
head, taken aback at this reaction.
Fawn sighed. “I’m sorry, Blue; I
didn’t mean to bite your head off.
Lawson’s been nothing but a hindrance to us since we got here. He’s a glory-seeker, and while he’s worked
with Randolph for longer than Doctor Owens, from what I’ve seen of the progress
reports she’s played a far more productive role in the project. We’re going to need someone who can find a
way out of this mess – and that may be by developing some kind of antidote or
predatory fungi that will destroy the one in Scarlet’s system. I don’t think Lawson would be able to do
that.”
“You know
best, Doc,” Blue said. “I’ll clear it
with the colonel.”
Scarlet
watched with interest as Blue and Ochre manhandled the bio-haz capsule into place,
and he heard the whump of the seals
engaging with the outer door before he started to remove his bio-suit. He stood close to the airlock and stripped
down to his uniform. As quickly as he
could, he opened the outer door and stepped into the sealed compartment,
closing the door behind himself in a single movement. There, lying in a container on the floor, was a clean
bio-suit. It was awkward trying to put
it on in the confined space, but he managed to zip himself into the overall and
secure the helmet with only minor bruises to his elbows.
“Scarlet to
Rescue Team,” he said, as he switched on the internal mic, “I’m in the new
bio-suit and am opening the outer door now.”
“S.I.G.” Over the hospital communication link Blue’s voice sounded
alarmingly distant.
Scarlet
stepped into the capsule. It was
designed to take one body and there was a gimbal-slung chair which adapted to a
level platform if necessary. He
strapped himself in and announced:
“Secured. Take her away, guys.”
The capsule
had its own self-contained air supply and dim lighting. There was no view of the outside world and
it was a weird sensation to feel the judder as the seals to the door were
broken.
“Going to horizontal,” Ochre warned him, and as Scarlet
felt the capsule slowly fall backwards, the footrest of the chair rose to
provide a horizontal plane.
“A-okay in
here,” he said.
The capsule
moved forwards and then stopped. The
communication link was fuzzy, but he could just make out the indistinct
conversation outside.
“Are you ready to go, Doctor Owens?”
That’s
Blue-boy, habitually polite and formal – especially to the ladies.
“Yes, Captain Blue.
I take it that I won’t need to take much?”
“Only what you need to work.”
Fawn, brisk and efficient
as ever.
“Safe journey, Ed.
Let me know how it goes with… with Captain Scarlet.”
Nice of Doctor
Randolph to care.
“Make sure everything is destroyed, Tom. We can’t risk leaving anything.”
“Too damn
right,” Scarlet muttered, and wriggled his shoulders to ease the persistent
itch between them.
“You can rely on me, Ed.”
“And if you can’t rely on him, you can rely on me.”
Ochre, a man
to whom tact is a closed book.
There was a
thump on the bio-haz capsule and Ochre’s voice, louder and clearer, called, “Take it easy, big guy.”
“S.I.G.,”
Scarlet replied.
“Catch you later.
Safe journey, Blue.”
Blue’s reply
was obscured by the squeak of the wheels of the capsule as it jolted into
motion again.
There was
nothing to do in the gloom of the capsule and so Scarlet closed his eyes and
tried to sleep. His mind’s eye recreated the shocking events of the day and he
felt himself sweating with something akin to fear. He opened his eyes and stared at the smooth surface above his
head.
He knew he was unlikely to die – permanently
- from the fungal infection, but the idea of years – or maybe forever –
isolated from human contact because they could not ‘cure’ him, was one he
preferred not to contemplate.
The Mysterons must be laughing their socks off,
assuming they have feet to put socks on.
They can’t reclaim me, they can’t kill me, and so they make me a danger
to my species and effectively remove me from the fight. I’m going to insist the colonel orders a
thorough investigation – I’m damn sure Black is at the bottom of this – somewhere.
Colonel White
was waiting in the sickbay as the SPJ landed and the technicians wheeled the
bio-haz capsule through to the door of the recovery room set aside for Captain
Scarlet’s use. Even the
Commander-in-Chief of Spectrum knew better to get in the way of the medical
team as it swung into action.
Fawn stalked through the sickbay, barking
orders at the nurses and technicians and barely acknowledging the colonel’s
presence.
“Is the
recovery room sealed? Good. I want the bio-haz attached to the door so
that Scarlet can get out. Did you clear the auto-analyser for the exclusive use
of Doctor Owens – what do you mean, ‘no’? I don’t care what else is in the
pipeline - I gave you an order. Do it
now! Where is Doctor Owens’s medical
gown, and have you prepared the two new bio-suits for her and for me? What do you mean, ‘what size is she’? How should I know what size she is, Nurse
Ingram – ask her yourself, woman!”
“Yes, Doctor.”
Colonel White
glanced across at Captain Blue who was just entering the sickbay. Beside him was a petite, dark-haired woman,
whose grey eyes were round with astonishment.
He stepped forward before Nurse Ingram could approach her, and introduced
himself.
“Doctor Owens,
welcome to Cloudbase. I’m Colonel
White.”
“Hello,
Colonel,” Ursula said, smiling uncertainly at the nurse who was eyeing her
up.
“Something
wrong, Bill?” Blue asked.
“Not at all,”
Belinda Ingram replied. “A small, I’d
say…” she muttered cryptically, and dashed off towards a store cupboard.
Having supervised
the installation of the bio-haz capsule to the entrance of the Recovery Room,
Fawn wandered over, smiling reassuringly at Ursula.
“My nurse is
fetching you a medical gown and the technicians are unloading the rest of your
equipment from the SPJ,” he said.
“G’day, Colonel.”
“Hello, Doctor
Fawn.”
“Your nurse?” Ursula latched on to the
most surprising of all the unbelievable things she was seeing and hearing.
“Doctor Fawn
is head of our medical service,” White explained.
“And the best
damn doctor around,” Blue added, sotto
voce.
“And that is
confidential information, Doctor Owens; so I must ask you to sign the World
Government’s official secrets act before we proceed,” White continued, ignoring
his subordinate’s intervention.
“We don’t have
time for that,” Fawn said.
“We do, or
Doctor Owens leaves immediately.”
“I will sign
it, of course I will,” Ursula said. She
took the medical coat Nurse Ingram handed her and went into Fawn’s office where
the colonel had left the security document. Then Fawn led her across to the
observation panel for Scarlet’s Recovery Room. He switched off the obscured
glass and the screen cleared to reveal Scarlet, still in his bio-suit, sitting
on the edge of his bed.
“How are you
feeling, Captain?” Fawn asked over the intercom.
“Not so bad,
Doc.”
Fawn checked
the atmospheric readings and said, “You can take the bio-suit off, if you want;
the room’s been totally isolated from Cloudbase’s environmental systems. We’ll suit up when we need to come in.”
“Thanks,” Scarlet
replied. “I’m getting sick to death of
this thing – it’s like wearing a sauna. I’m sweating so much it’s making me
itch.”
Ursula checked
the room temperature. “All the specimen
cordyceps were tropical; it could be that if it’s too hot in there their development
will speed up even more.”
They watched
as Scarlet peeled off the bio-suit and, at Ursula’s suggestion – which Fawn
agreed with - his uniform as well.
“Put them in
the disposal chute; better they’re incinerated immediately.”
“That’s going
to cost me,” Scarlet joked, as he obeyed.
He walked to the chute and pulled it open.
For the first
time the doctors saw his naked back and they both drew an intake of
breath. Along the line of Scarlet’s
spine were darker patches of skin and between his shoulder blades a reddened
patch was criss-crossed by hundreds of grey filaments.
“Oh no,”
Ursula moaned quietly. “He’s infected,
and the progress is even quicker than with Knox.”
“Captain
Scarlet, where exactly is the itch?” Fawn asked, trying to remain calm.
“Same place an
annoying itch always pops up, right between your shoulder blades where you
can’t reach it.”
“Put a gown
on, Paul, and sit tight.”
Scarlet
studied Fawn’s face through the window and saw the anxiety reflected in his
expression. There was no need for explanations. “Right-o, Doc,” he said with an air of quiet resignation.
Fawn and
Doctor Owens had examined Scarlet, taken a few samples and retired into the
labs to see what they could devise to slow, or remove, the infection, so, to
keep his friend company, Blue sat outside the Recovery Room, drinking Sick Bay
coffee and chatting with Scarlet, who was pacing restlessly and chewing on his
finger nails.
Suddenly, he
jumped onto the bed and reached up to the ceiling where the ‘welcome back’ banner
his friends had made for him, was pinned.
He tore it down, shredding it and throwing the strips around.
“Hey, if you
were fed up of that you only had to say,” Blue said mildly, although a frown
had appeared between his fair brows.
Scarlet turned
towards him, his blue eyes flashing with a fevered brightness. “I don’t want to be in here; let me out,
Adam,” he pleaded. “I need to move, I
need to run and jump – I can’t stay here!” He thumped his hands against the
glass and then ran into the door, crashing against it.
“Paul, calm
down!” Blue pleaded, as he watched his friend banging his forehead against the
door.
Scarlet was
roaring, “Let me out!”
Blue sprinted
to the lab, calling for Fawn as he ran.
The two doctors met him half way and hurried back to the Recovery Room,
where Scarlet was throwing his bedding onto the floor in a towering rage.
Seeing Fawn approach the window he came towards it and tore the medical gown
off as he came. The discoloured patches
were all over his body now and under his skin squirming tendrils were visibly
spreading to form a network of interlacing pathways. His sapphire-blue eyes were rolled back into his head and from
his eye sockets tiny filaments were bursting out, causing a trickle of
blood-stained fluid to drip unheeded down his cheeks.
“Oh, my God,”
Blue exclaimed, horrified by what he was seeing as he came up behind them.
“We must
sedate him,” Fawn decided. “Maybe
that’ll slow it all down.”
As he spoke
Scarlet seemed to choke, coughing and spluttering until his chest heaved. Then with one almighty retch, he vomited out
a mass of grey matter that hit the window, causing them all to jump back in
alarm. It slithered down the glass, leaving a trail of pus.
“Edward,”
Ursula gasped, “The cordyceps has started to break down his internal tissue…”
As Fawn
flicked the switch that flooded the room with a sedative gas, Blue grabbed her
and demanded, “What’s happening to him?”
With much hesitation she described what had
happened to Knox and what appeared to be happening to Scarlet. The colour faded from Blue’s face as he
listened. He turned to stare in
fascinated horror at the man writhing on the floor of the Recovery Room.
“If he dies -”
he turned to Fawn “– will those fucking things be retrometabolic too?”
Fawn
shrugged. “Your guess is as good as
mine.”
“Was Knox a
Mysteron?” Blue demanded urgently.
“He wasn’t
tested,” Fawn began.
Blue
interrupted him with a violent curse, “Why
the fuck not?”
“There wasn’t time - but Scarlet didn’t
sense anything,” Fawn explained. He
could see the anxiety in Blue’s eyes and didn’t need his friend’s sudden,
uncharacteristic descent into obscenity to realise why the captain was
worried. Maybe they should have done a
more thorough test when they’d first arrived, but it hadn’t been easy to
operate under the watchful eyes of Randolph and Lawson.
“I have to
warn Ochre – if Knox and the fungus are retrometabolic the only way to safely
destroy them is with a massive dose of electricity.” Blue turned and hurried
into Fawn’s office.
“Retrometabolic?”
Ursula asked in confusion.
“Long story –
I’ll tell you later,” Fawn promised.
“Right now, we have to suit up and go in to help Scarlet.”
Blue got no
response to his hails through the standard communication links, so he got
Lieutenant Green to patch him through to the terrestrial team at the hospital
instead.
The video-link
screen flickered into life and he saw a charcoal-uniformed security guard,
sweating and panting, leaning over the com desk.
“Casterbridge hospital, Sergeant Prentiss speaking.”
“Where’s
Captain Ochre?”
”He’s busy, sir,” Prentiss replied.
“I have to
speak to him, Sergeant,” Blue ordered.
“We have a ‘Spectrum-is-red’ code on Cloudbase.”
“Same
here, sir.” Prentiss jerked the
vid-cam round so that Blue could see the Isolation Room. Several men, including Captain Ochre, were
struggling to restrain the man he recognised as Knox. “Knox is a Mysteron,”
he continued. “He attacked Doctor Randolph when the doc went in to help remove the
body.”
“It just keeps
getting worse,” Blue muttered to himself and then ordered, “Tell Captain Ochre
to get everyone out of the room, then flood the place with electricity. Just fry the bastard, okay?”
“But that’s dangerous,” Prentiss said.
“Not as
dangerous as Knox or the fucking
fungus! And not as dangerous as I’ll be if you fail to pass on my
orders, Sergeant.”
“S.I.G,” the sergeant said, and vanished
from view.
Blue got back
to Lieutenant Green. “Lieutenant,
monitor events at Casterbridge and keep the colonel informed. If Ochre asks for any help, send it p.d.q.,
okay?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Scarlet’s
showing signs of a serious infection and Fawn’s sedated him. I think the doctors are going in to see what
they can do, but it doesn’t look hopeful, Griff. The colonel may want to be here.”
“S.I.G.,
Captain Blue,” Green took refuge in formality as the shock of the news hit
him. “I’ll let him know.”
Blue closed
the link, and rested his elbows on the desk for a moment, his head in his
hands. Virtually indestructible – that’s what Fawn said - but could it be that
something as small and insignificant as a fucking mushroom is going to end Paul
Metcalfe’s life? We’ve fought
everything the Mysterons have thrown at us; he’s survived explosions, gunshots,
falls, crashes beyond number… I can’t believe this.
He looked
heavenward and sent up one desperate prayer: we need a miracle like we’ve never needed anything before. Paul’s taken everything they’ve thrown at
him and never asked for quarter. He
deserves a break…
When Blue got
back to the Recovery Room, Fawn and Doctor Owens were already inside. They’d lifted the inert body of Scarlet onto
his bed, and were busy examining him.
Blue squinted and thought he could see tiny disturbances in the air – presumably
some of the cordyceps had released their spores.
Ursula turned
away to place a vial of blood into the small auto-analyser they’d taken with
them, as she did so, Scarlet sprang upright, knocking Fawn down with a sweep of
his arm and lunging after her.
She struggled,
but it was obvious that she was no match for the powerful Spectrum agent. Fawn, evidently dazed and still struggling
to get to his feet, could not help her.
Even as Scarlet fumbled to remove her bio-suit helmet, Blue could see more
filaments of fungus bursting through his sightless eye sockets and oscillating
as they sought for contact with another host.
In desperation
he did the only thing he could think of, and flooded the room with nerve gas
again. As he anxiously watched Scarlet
weakening, the colonel arrived with Magenta and Grey at his side, both of them
already wearing bio-suits. In the split
second it took for him to assess the situation, White ordered them into the
Recovery Room.
Both officers
set about Scarlet and managed to get him back on the bed where they pinioned
him down until he finally lost consciousness.
Then Grey
helped Fawn to his feet and Magenta supported Ursula Owens.
Blue activated
the intercom.
“Stay where
you are. The room’s flooded with spores. We’re going to have to find a way to
decontaminate you before you can come out.”
“You saw
spores released?” Fawn asked.
Before Blue
could reply, Ursula said, “Edward, look at Captain Scarlet’s face and beneath
his fingernails, those withered filaments are what’s left after the cordyceps
has fruited and released its spores.
Captain Blue’s right; we’re all contaminated now.”
“Does that
mean you’ll be infected like Scarlet?” White asked.
She shook her
head. “No, Knox made physical contact
with Scarlet’s skin. The bio-suits are
impervious, and as long as we don’t rip them, I can’t see any way the spores
can get through them. We’ll need to
strip and be decontaminated as with any bio-hazard, and the suits and
everything in this room will need to be destroyed, but, once we’re out of here,
we should all be clear.”
“Thank
goodness,” the colonel muttered. Then
he asked Fawn, “What now, Doctor?”
“We’re okay
while the suits’ oxygen supplies last.
So we’ve got to devise a way out before they’re drained. The portable auto-analyser can produce some
of the test results we need, but we may need to get Randolph and, or, Lawson up
here to do the more delicate genetic modifications and trials.”
“I’m sorry,
Doctor Fawn,” Blue said, “but Knox was
a Mysteron and he retrometabolised and attacked Ochre, the terrestrial team and
Doctor Randolph. He may not be fit to come here.” He glanced at the colonel for confirmation.
White drew a
deep breath and said, “Blue’s right. I
know he was a friend of yours, Edward, and I’m sorry I have to tell you that
Doctor Randolph was killed by Knox.”
Ursula turned
her head away and gasped. “What have I
done?” she murmured. “If only I’d never
agreed to work on the project…”
“Hey,” Magenta
said kindly, “‘If only’ are the two most pointless words in any language. You weren’t to know, Doctor. You were all trying to do something good.”
“Captain
Magenta’s right, Doctor Owens,” the colonel said. “What we need now is for you to apply your knowledge to help us
reverse the genetic modifications and save our friend’s life, and that of many
millions of innocent people.”
“What about
Lawson?” Fawn asked her. “Could he be
of help? I don’t like the man, but
under the circumstances, I’ll take help wherever I can get it.”
“Lawson’s
disappeared,” Colonel White informed them.
“Captain Ochre reported that he was sent to destroy the cordyceps
samples in the lab; but he and they have vanished. It seems he’s stolen them.
I’ve put out an all points alert, and we’ll get him - in time. However, I won’t allow him to come
here. If he can help from a ground lab,
all well and good.”
Doctor Owens
glanced around at the Spectrum officers and said, “Frank was always jealous of
me. He wanted credit as the sole developer - along with Doctor Randolph – of
any advances we made. He even resented
the fact that Randolph had asked Professor Espinoza for help. He was bitter about me being there, and made
sure I knew why. I’ve got suspicions
that he’s been sabotaging my experiments.”
“In what way,
Ursula?” Fawn asked. “You think he
might’ve tampered with the strain that infected Knox, or even infected the man
himself?”
She
shrugged. “I don’t know that I’d go
that far; I mean, it would be tantamount to accusing him of murder, wouldn’t
it? But this strain of cordyceps is the
third one I’ve developed. The other two
were far less virulent than this one – which would have made them easier to
control in surgical procedures, of course – but they failed to reproduce after
modification. I was going to destroy
them, only Lawson said he’d done it for me.
I didn’t know what to do – Randolph was unlikely to take anything I said
against him seriously. The pair of them were… very close, if you understand
me? I only found out the other day
that Lawson’s skilled in cloning techniques, something he kept very quiet about around me. I began to suspect he’s been trying to clone
my earlier strains. I was annoyed,
because I’d suggested that as a way forwards only to have it rejected by Randolph.”
“If we can
find Lawson, do you think he’ll have those samples with him?” Blue asked
eagerly. “Could you use them to attack
the dangerous strain in Scarlet?”
“It is
possible,” she conceded.
“Right,” the
colonel said. “Captain Blue, I want you
to return to Casterbridge, start a ground search for Lawson and draw on all the
manpower you need. I want him found,
Captain, and I want him found quickly.”
“S.I.G.,” Blue
replied, with a smart salute. Delighted
to be active and useful again, he set off at a brisk stride towards the hangar
decks.
“You could
also ask Professor Espinoza for fresh samples of the native cordyceps and I
could replicate the work I did on them.
It might take a week or so, but it’s one possible solution,” she
suggested.
“Excellent,
Doctor.” White opened a communication
link. “Lieutenant Green, launch Angel
One and have her head for Professor Espinoza’s base in Amazonia, at speed
ultimate. You’ll need to check the
co-ordinates. Then patch Doctor Owens
through to the professor so that she can give him the details of what we need.”
He turned and
gave a dry smile at the occupants of the room.
“You’d all better make yourselves as comfortable as you can, while we
prepare the necessary decontamination process.”
The next two
months were an absolute nightmare for everyone in Spectrum.
Doctor Lawson
could not be found and the colonel, short of manpower and faced with
half-a-dozen consecutive major Mysteron threats, was forced to recall Blue and
scale down the search. Around the world
they lost seven agents in the various attacks and morale plummeted. The World President was getting critical as
the losses and costs mounted and even the colonel seemed at a loss to know what
to do about it.
On Cloudbase,
Ursula Owens and Doctor Fawn worked tirelessly to modify the new cordyceps
samples, but whatever they tried had no effect on Scarlet.
As for Captain
Scarlet, he was now in a pitiful state.
He was incarcerated in the Recovery Room which he’d wrecked numerous
times, but they were unable to refurbish it due to the vast number of spores it
now contained. The pumps were working
flat out to decontaminate the room but the cycle of regeneration and infection
was getting faster. It seemed that
whenever the cordyceps reduced his internal organs to a soup, his
retrometabolism kicked in and fought back until he was almost fit and well,
then the tell-tale dark patches would appear close to his spine and spread
until they had covered him once more and the cycle would continue.
Each time his regeneration
took a little longer and his body was weaker, for he was rarely able to consume
enough food before he lost control of his nervous system and his
digestion.
Fawn tried
various compounds, drugs and decontamination processes, but nothing seemed to
shift the fungi from his system. They
pinned their hope on the alternative strains Ursula was developing, but even
when they injected them into Scarlet at the high point of his regeneration, the
new cordyceps were powerless against the more virulent strain and merely served
to prolong his suffering as his tissue broke down and the fruiting bodies of
the cordyceps erupted from his body.
In one of his
rare moments of lucidity, Scarlet had pleaded with Fawn to use the Mysteron gun
on him, but the doctor had refused. He
felt nothing but pity for his friend, but until he’d exhausted every
possibility he was not prepared to commit murder even for Scarlet.
After that,
Scarlet had, metaphorically, turned his back on everyone. He insisted the observation panel remain
obscured at all times and refused to speak to anyone, even Blue or Rhapsody
Angel – in fact, especially not Rhapsody; he barely ate or drank, even when he
could.
“I think he’s
trying to starve himself, Colonel,” Fawn explained, as the senior command sat
in conference about their friend’s predicament.
“As a matter
of conjecture,” the colonel asked, “would Scarlet’s death – complete death –
mean the cordyceps would die out too?”
Fawn, by now
something of an expert on the life cycle of fungi, shook his head. “The spores can lie dormant for years –
maybe decades – until the right conditions present themselves. If Scarlet rotted away to bone, it wouldn’t
kill them.”
“We can’t let
that happen!” Symphony Angel exclaimed.
She and Melody were there representing the Angel flight. “Quite apart from the fact that it’s
horrific to even contemplate this happening to Paul, we need him! We’ve only managed to defeat the last three
Mysteron attacks by the skin of our teeth.”
“I’m aware of
that,” the colonel said. “I was about
to suggest that, if he hasn’t already, Doctor Fawn explains that fact to
Scarlet. It might make him see some
point in going on.”
“He knows;
I’ve been totally honest with him,” Fawn replied. “It seems the least I can do.
Mind you, I’m not even sure how much of it he takes in or understands
any more.”
Melody looked around the conference table:
Grey was looking exhausted and Magenta had his arm in a sling from his last
mission, Ochre sported a magnificent black-eye and Blue was so drawn he looked
twenty years older.
“I hate to say
it, Colonel,” she began, “but we can’t take this for much longer. Rhapsody’s near to a collapse – and looking
round this table, she ain’t the only one - we’re all working four hour on-two
hour off shifts. We’ve used up all our
allotted time in the Room of Sleep.
We’ll do whatever you ask of us until we drop, you know that, sir; but I
don’t think that’ll be all that long in coming, if we go on like this. I think it’s time you should call up the
reserves.”
“Are you
saying that without Scarlet we’re incapable of doing our jobs?” Grey asked
irritably.
“No; I’m
saying that even with Scarlet we’d be
hard pressed, right now. The Mysterons
ain’t stupid, Brad; they must know what a state we’re in and they’re stepping
up their campaigns against us. Sound
military tactics, as I’m sure Scarlet would tell you, if you asked him.”
“Melody has a
point,” Blue said quietly. “We’re being
run ragged, Colonel.”
White
nodded. “I know; we’ve done all we can
alone. I’d already decided that I will inform the World President we need to
call in our reserves and the terrestrial bases must be brought up to
battle-readiness. The Standby Angel
flight will be the first to arrive and once they do, I want the Angels to take
48 hours’ furlough. When the Beta
Squadron of terrestrial officers arrives, you may do the same, gentlemen.”
There was a
quiet murmur of gratitude.
“In the
meantime, we’ll continue to do what we can to ease Scarlet’s situation. We must hope something will turn up.”
When Symphony
had gone back to the Amber Room, Blue ambled down to the Sick Bay through
corridors of silent, grey-faced people.
Although Scarlet’s amazing ability to cheat death was something of a
legend aboard Cloudbase, few people actually knew the truth of the case. So, when the word had gone round that he had
some kind of virus and it was highly contagious, that was enough to make people
wary. However, the repeated Mysteron
threats had impacted on everyone, not just the elite squadrons and Blue mused
that the colonel would have to call up all 600 reserves to back up everyone,
eventually.
The nurses in
Sick Bay nodded a welcome as he strolled in.
Belinda Ingram came towards him.
“How is he?”
Blue asked.
“Conscious, irritable,
angry, frustrated…”
“Same as
usual…” Blue managed to joke. She
nodded and gave him a tired smile.
“Will he see me?”
Belinda
shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him. I’ve given up trying to second-guess him,
Captain.”
Blue went to
the observation panel and pressed the intercom.
“Paul? It’s
me.”
There was a
long silence and he began to think his friend wouldn’t reply. He sighed and was about to say goodbye when
the light flashed red and Scarlet’s voice, weak and hoarse, replied:
“Adam?”
“I’m here. Can I see you?”
“Why not?”
The
observation panel began to clear and Blue gasped as he looked in at his closest
friend.
Scarlet was
emaciated, his long, black hair filthy and lank. His blue eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, and his skin an
unhealthy grey. The hand that shielded
his eyes from the sudden brightness was missing several fingernails and the
remaining ones were broken and chipped.
“Jesus wept,”
Blue breathed.
“How’re you doing, Adam?”
“I’m good,” Blue
managed to reply, though the hot lump of pity in his throat made it hard to
speak.
“Good,” Scarlet croaked.
He looked furtively to see if Blue was alone and then made an urgent
plea, “You’ve got to kill me, Adam. I can’t do this anymore – I can’t – I can’t
stand it any… any… any more! I can’t stand it; I can’t… can’t stand it! No, no, I can’t!”
“Paul, you’ve
got to hang in there. I swear to you
we’re doing all we can. We will save
you!”
“I don’t want to be saved!” Scarlet screamed, banging
his fists on the observation pane in frustration. “Don’t save me for more of
this – I can feel them, moving through me – they never stop moving… moving
through me. I can feel them… turning my
flesh to jelly… all over… it hangs off me… I can’t move. They get into my mind, they drive me
mad! Adam! Adam, for pity’s sake – have pity - kill me!”
“I can’t! God help me – I can’t!”
Blue slammed
the intercom off and watched, with tears in his eyes, as Scarlet banged on the
observation panel until it darkened and hid him from sight.
After this,
Doctor Fawn banned everyone from visiting.
About a
fortnight later, Doctor Fawn and Doctor Owens were taking a break on the
Promenade Deck. They’d recently
witnessed the failure of another attempt to destroy the cordyceps and Scarlet
was at present a putrid corpse in the Recovery Room, where the air was thick
with spores.
Fawn was
concerned that as yet there was no sign of his retrometabolism starting to
repair the damage and, to take his mind off it while they waited, Ursula had
suggested a coffee break and a stroll in the bright, perpetual sunshine of the
Prom Deck.
She had grown
used to living on Cloudbase and knew her way around as well as any rookie. As they went to sit on the bench that
overlooked the runways, she wondered how she’d feel if Scarlet did not pull
through this time and she had to leave – all this.
Beside her,
Fawn stared out of the huge window and mulled over their latest failure.
“Edward, what
will happen when… when all this is over?” she asked him.
“How do you
mean?”
“When Scarlet
dies.”
“He’s not
going to die.”
“Oh, come on,
Ed; I’ve witnessed more miracles since I met Scarlet than I ever thought were
possible, but he’s growing weaker by the day.
I know you think his retrometabolism will always kick in, but what use
is that if all it makes him is a skeletal weakling?”
“I am not
going to let him die.”
“No one’s
going to let him die, but we might
not be able to stop him dying.”
“I sent him in
there with Knox. I owe it to him to never stop trying.”
“Yes, you did,
and, as I remember it, he was willing to go.
He’s a brave man – a very brave man.”
She waited a moment and added, “If he dies, what will happen to me?”
“Nothing.” He glanced at her in surprise, assuming she
was concerned about possible legal actions against her. “What happened down there wasn’t your
fault. None of this is your fault.”
“I meant, will
I have to leave Cloudbase?”
He turned and
looked steadily at her. She smiled
slightly and dropped her gaze from his intense examination. A blush started in her cheeks, and somewhere
a light went on in Fawn’s mind and his libido sighed with relief.
“Do you want
to?”
Ursula shook
her head. “I never thought I’d get used
to it, but I have. I like it here; I
like the people.”
“All of them?”
“Most of them
– and some of them more than others.”
Fawn
smiled. “Yeah, Adam’s a nice guy, and
so is Pat.”
She
chuckled. “Adam’s spoken for, and Pat…
well, we both know that Pat would like to be. Poor guy; still, they do say love
is blind.”
“Yeah; they
also say ‘life’s a bitch and then you die’,” Fawn remarked cynically. He saw her unhappy glance at him and added,
“I’m spending too much time with Blue, or his habit of quoting things is
contagious.”
She
smiled. “Yes, I know what you
mean. But, Ed, although they’re both
nice guys and I count them as my friends, they’re not… well, I’m not… you-know…
not with them.”
“Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Are you what
you assume I know you’re not with them?”
“I think I
might be.”
“With anyone I
know?” he asked with over-hearty casualness.
“Edward
Wilkie, sometimes you’re the doziest man I’ve ever met.”
He
grinned. “Good, because I think I might
be what you’re not with them, too.”
“Run that past
me again?” she said, with another chuckle.
He reached
across and took her hand. “Maybe a
practical demonstration would suit the occasion better, Doctor?” He leant over
and kissed her. “Got it now?” he
whispered.
“Oh yes… I am
fully cognisant of the facts now, Doctor.”
“Good.” He put his arm around her shoulders and she
slipped closer to rest her dark head against his shoulder.
“Will I have
to leave?” she asked again.
“Not if I have
anything to do with it; besides, you know almost as much about retrometabolism
as I do now. You’re needed here.”
“Oh, so
there’s always method in your madness, Ed?
You’re hoping to entice me to stay by dangling the twin temptations of
retrometabolism and… you know… in front of me?”
“You know my
methods, Ursula.”
The bubbling
laughter that greeted this remark made his heart soar and he hugged her
closer.
They sat on in
happy silence for some time.
So still and
quiet were they that the colonel, wandering through the walkway to tend to his
personal rose tree, planted there in memory of his dead wife, failed to see
them. He examined the plant carefully
and opened the wicker basket he was carrying, to bring out a sealed can.
‘Tutting’ over
the condition of a few of the glossy leaves, he slipped a protective mask over
his mouth and put on gardening gloves before he began to paint the leaves with
whatever was in the can.
Fawn stood up
and the sudden movement made the colonel turn in surprise.
“What are you
doing, Colonel?” Fawn asked.
White removed
his mask and replied, “Treating my rose for black spot and mildew. I have to
use a systemic because I can’t spray in here; it might get into the air con
system.”
Fawn turned
back to Ursula. “Would a systemic
fungicide kill the cordyceps?”
She frowned as
she considered the question. “If it was
powerful enough, it ought to. Black spot and Mildew are both fungal
infections. Why?”
“It’s the one
thing we haven’t tried: a common or garden fungicide.”
“But Ed, it’d
have to be highly toxic to kill the cordyceps and that’d kill a human being
too,” she replied.
“Your point
being?”
“Are you saying
what I think you are, Doctor?” the colonel asked. “You intend to poison Scarlet in order to kill the cordyceps?”
“Yes.”
“He’ll die,”
Ursula said.
“I hope
so. Look, if we make his body toxic to
the cordyceps, we’ll destroy it root and branch. And it won’t matter,” Fawn explained. “Scarlet’s retrometabolism will deal with the toxin – it’s done
so before with other lethal compounds.”
“It sounds an interesting hypothesis,” White
said thoughtfully. “We kill the fungi
by poisoning Scarlet and his retrometabolism cures the death by poisoning.”
“Exactly,
Charles,” Fawn said, advancing towards his commanding officer. “A systemic fungicide will go throughout his
body, everywhere the cordyceps goes – there’ll be no place for it to hide. Job done!
I don’t know why I didn’t think of if before.”
“Possibly
because it wouldn’t work for any other individual,” White suggested. “It’s only because of Scarlet’s ability to
retrometabolise that you can do it this time.”
“Yeah, I know
that. But, if we’re going to try we
have to do it soon. He’s growing weaker
and each revival is taking longer.”
Fawn reached out for the can.
“I’ll get to work on it straight away.”
“You need
gloves to handle it,” White insisted, giving him one of his before he handed
the can over.
“Thanks. How much of this do you have?”
“About a
half-full can in the hazardous bio-chem store.”
“I can
replicate more, if I need to.
Concentrating the liquid should increase the toxicity,” Fawn mused
aloud. “Can I have this, Charles?”
“Of course, if
you really think it will help. I’ll get my valet to bring the rest of it along
to Sick Bay.”
Fawn grinned
and with a spring in his step that had been absent for several weeks, turned to
leave. He paused at the bench to kiss
Ursula and went on his way humming.
She glanced at
Colonel White who was staring after his chief medical officer in some
bemusement. He sensed her scrutiny and
met her gaze with a friendly half-smile.
“Do you think it will work?” he asked her.
“I don’t see why not – in theory. We’ve tried everything else,” she replied non-committally. “If it doesn’t, we’ll have lost nothing. I’m afraid that if we don’t find a solution sooner, rather than later, Colonel White, Captain Scarlet is going to die, for good.”
“You know
about his Mysteronisation and the retrometabolism it gave him?”
“Edward had to
tell me – I would never have dared try half the solutions we did, if I’d
thought I might accidentally kill him.
I think Captain Scarlet is a very brave and remarkable man, Colonel.”
“Yes, Doctor
Owens, he is.” Colonel White’s smile
grew broader. “And Edward Wilkie is
another quite remarkable man, in his own quiet way.”
Eight days
later, Fawn, with the help of Doctor Owens, had completed his work on the
systemic fungicide. The commercial preparation,
although toxic, had proven to be too weak to eradicate the cordyceps in a
clinical test, so Fawn had removed all impurities, condensed and concentrated
the active ingredients and purified the resulting distillation.
They tested it
on some of the samples and were encouraged by the results.
When Captain
Scarlet regained consciousness from his latest death, Doctor Owens hooked him
up to a saline drip to which she’d added nutritional supplements, in an attempt
to bolster his condition.
Clearly struggling
to cope with the weakness of his shattered body, he was listless, morose and
monosyllabic in his answers to her questions, and she was surprised and pleased
when he asked plaintively:
“Can I have a
cup of tea? I’d like some custard
creams or chocolate digestives too – Rhapsody’ll have some.”
Ursula looked
down at him and smiled kindly. “I don’t
see why not, if you feel like having them.”
She went across to the intercom and ordered them for him.
While they
waited, she told him, “Edward’s almost ready to test his latest compound-”
“No point in
testing it,” Scarlet interrupted. “Just
use it.”
“You need time
to rest.”
“Look, Doc, we
both know that by the time I’ve drunk my tea the skin lesions will be back and
I’ll be dead by morning.”
“We’re doing
all we can, Paul-”
“I know and I
appreciate it. But I’m not daft – well,
not all of the time – and I can feel the changes in me. I’m telling you, Doc, don’t wait much longer
before you try what you have planned.”
She handed him
the tray and hurried off to speak to Doctor Fawn.
“It’s too
dangerous,” he decided. “In his
weakened state, if the compound is too strong it might-”
“Kill him?”
she interjected. “Your point being - as
you once asked me? Look, Ed, I think
Paul was trying to tell me that he doesn’t think he’ll recover from another
attack.”
Fawn looked at
her in alarm. “What are his vital
signs?”
“Stable, but
very weak. Even Scarlet can’t survive
continuous multiple-organ failure. You
have my sympathy, Doctor, I know it’s a tough decision, but isn’t making these
kinds of decisions exactly what we’ve been trained to do? You have to make it, Edward, or Captain
Scarlet may die for the last time.”
Scarlet
managed a weak smile when Fawn came in through the airlock.
“G’day, Doc.”
“G’day to you,
mate. Nice to see you’ve got some
appetite back.” Fawn glanced at the
half-empty tea cup and barely nibbled custard cream biscuits. That Scarlet couldn’t even bring himself to
eat his favourite comfort food wasn’t a good sign.
“Yeah… I’m
almost ready to tackle a steak with all the trimmings,” Scarlet replied with a
glimmer of his old flippancy, “so I didn’t want to spoil it by eating a
plateful of biscuits.”
“Glad to hear
it. Mind you, the food bills for the
medical unit have plummeted since you went on this diet.”
Scarlet’s
smile broadened into a feeble grin but then he closed his eyes as if even this
brief exchange had exhausted him. Fawn
went over the computerised records from the robot nurse. All indices were down and some were at
critical levels.
“Paul,” Fawn
said softly, and Scarlet opened his eyes again. “You remember I told you I was
hopeful of producing a compound that was toxic enough to kill the
cordyceps? Well, I have one ready to
go. Will you allow me to use this
enhanced systemic fungicide on you?”
Scarlet
nodded. “It’s now, or never, Ed.”
Fawn patted
his shoulder and nodded in response.
“Okay - we’ll do it now.” He
paused for a moment and, with a significant glance at his patient, prompted
gently, “Is there anyone you want to see before we start?”
He saw the
yearning in Scarlet’s haunted blue eyes and his lips started to form an eager
response, but then his friend appeared to have a mental battle with himself and
drew a deep breath before giving a slight shake of his head.
“Let them
remember me as I was. Give them my
love, won’t you, Doc? Tell them … just
tell them: I never forgot how much they mean to me.”
“I will.”
Scarlet
sighed. “There’s so much more I want to
say and no time to say it now.”
“They’ll know,
Paul.”
“Yes, I think
they will. No one could ask for better,
kinder, parents or truer friends. I’ve
been a lucky man.”
Not trusting himself to speak, Fawn nodded
and patted Scarlet’s shoulder again.
It took a
while to get ready for the procedure.
Doctor Owens brought the compound through to the Recovery Room in its
sealed canister, while Fawn calibrated the robot nurses to monitor the
progress.
Ursula went to
the bed and looked down at Scarlet.
There was an unhealthy sweat on his face and his eyes were becoming
bloodshot again; they were running out of time.
She turned to
go, but he grabbed her arm and clung to her.
“Stay with me,
please?”
“Of course I
will, Paul. I’ll be here.”
“What day is
it?”
“It’s
Wednesday.”
“Which
Wednesday? I’ve lost track.”
“October 31st
– it’s Halloween,” she said brightly.
Scarlet
grimaced. “I might’ve guessed; nothing
ever goes well for me on Halloween.” He glanced over at Fawn, who was preparing
a syringe. “Well, this has to be the ultimate trick or treat.”
Fawn came over
and began to explain what would happen.
“I think it
best to administer the compound as an epidural. This will mean it enters your body close to what we believe is
the centre of the infection. From there
it will infuse throughout your body, destroying the cordyceps as it does
so. I have to administer this in a
concentration that is lethal. You
understand?”
Scarlet
nodded.
“We can give
you something for the pain,” Ursula offered.
“No we can’t,”
Fawn corrected her. “Most analgesics
don’t work on Scarlet – well, not for long, anyway - and I don’t want anything
to interfere with the efficacy of the systemic.”
“Go ahead,
Doc,” Scarlet said. “And hurry…”
They helped
him turn onto his side and Ursula held his hands to steady him as Fawn swabbed
the area with iodine and carefully inserted the Tuohy needle.
Scarlet
whimpered and closed his eyes. His grip
tightened on Ursula’s hands.
Fawn inserted
the catheter and withdrew the needle.
Then he fixed the catheter in place with tape.
“That’s the
first part over,” he told Scarlet, who let out a shuddering breath and
nodded.
“I’m attaching
the solution now… and opening the drip valve. It should start entering your
body any minute now…”
Across Sick Bay,
the nurses hastened to reassure their patients that the unearthly screams they
could hear were nothing to worry about.
“Some one
playing a Halloween joke, that’s all,” Nurse Ingram soothed a frightened
technician recovering from an appendectomy.
She glanced
towards the Recovery Room and bit her bottom lip.
Fawn checked
the measurements. “About half way,” he
muttered to Ursula.
She nodded and
gripped Scarlet’s hands tightly. His
body was rigid, his head thrown back and blood-stained spittle spattered from
his open mouth and dribbled down his chin.
Periodically,
he was racked by violent spasms and the high, wailing screams of pain tore at
her composure.
Fawn was busy
checking the monitors, and watching for signs of success. From each of Scarlet’s ruptured eye sockets
hundreds of filaments sprouted and surged upwards in search of a fresh host, as
they did from every orifice, and from beneath his finger and toe nails. The mucus in his mouth turned grey and he
vomited a seething biomass of tissue and fungus.
Fawn stepped
across and doused it in a concentrate of fungicide, watching with satisfaction
as the tendrils shrivelled and died back.
“I think it’s
going to work,” he said to Ursula.
She glanced at
the monitors and with tears in her voice replied, “He’s dying, Ed.”
They watched
as Scarlet’s body went rigid once more; his breathing was laboured, fluid
trickled from his mouth and there was a death rattle in his throat. As his tortured body voided itself they
heard him murmur:
“Mum…”
Once his
breathing stopped and all the sensors had flat-lined, Fawn increased the dosage
and switched on a pump to keep the fluids circulating.
“Is that
necessary?” Ursula asked, watching with distaste as liquid seeped from
Scarlet’s body.
“You have a
problem in a closed system, you flush it out,” Fawn replied. “When he wakes up I don’t want there to be
any chance that there is one spore left inside him.”
He walked to
the intercom and ordered the technicians to drain all the air from the
room. As the pumps whirled overhead, he
and Ursula shaved Scarlet’s body completely and washed him with systemic
fungicide, before dressing him a bio-suit and carrying him into the air
lock. From there, Doctor Tan and Nurse
Ingram, also in bio-suits, manhandled him into the bio-haz capsule and wheeled
him across to the sealed-off Post-Operative Recovery Room, where he was placed
in an intensive care bed.
Ursula slipped
her hand into Edward’s as they watched Scarlet lying motionless in the oxygen
tent.
“What do we do
now?” she asked.
“We wait –
just as we always do – for his retrometabolism to kick in.”
“For how
long?”
“For as long
as it takes.”
Twenty-four
hours later, Fawn was getting anxious.
There were still no signs of any recovery.
Colonel White
came into the Sick Bay and joined the constant watch at the observation
window.
“We can’t
leave him there indefinitely, Edward,” he said sadly. “Another 48 hours and we’ll have to declare him dead.”
“He’ll make
it, Colonel: he’s Captain Scarlet, he’s got
to make it. He’ll pull though.”
“I hope you’re right, Doctor.”
As the second
day slipped into the third and final day, Captain Blue appeared at the door of
the Sick Bay. Although Nurse Ingram
tried unsuccessfully to head him off, he strode briskly towards the observation
window, where Fawn was already standing.
The two men
stood side by side: the stocky, dark-haired Australian and the
broad-shouldered, fair-haired American, who topped him by a good six
inches.
“He’s not
dead, Edward; I just know he’s not,” Blue stated with utter conviction.
“There are
times when I wish I had your faith, Adam.”
Blue pressed
the intercom to the Intensive Care Room and spoke clearly, so that his voice
carried across to the inert body of his best friend.
“Paul
Metcalfe’s not the kind of man to give up when he knows there is still a job to
do. Besides, I owe him fifty bucks; I
bet him Ochre’d try and scare us all witless again this year. In fact he was as good as gold. You know, Paul, I expect he heard about our
bet and was just being perverse… but I still lose. Oh, and Arsenal beat Manchester United yesterday and went top
of the League. It was a good match,
according to Dinger Bell, it’ll be on the viewing bank for the next day or so…
Rhapsody’s parents have invited you to visit at Christmas and your mother wants
to know what you’d like for your birthday.
She’s started knitting you another jumper in case you can’t make your
mind up.”
Fawn
chuckled. “You think that’ll help?”
“Never done
any harm before,” Blue remarked, drawing a chair up to the window and settling
down for a good – if extremely one-sided - gossip.
Fawn patted
his shoulder and said, “No, it doesn’t do any harm.”
There was less
than another two hours to go before the deadline. Blue had long since left to go on duty and there was still no
change in the flat-lined sensors.
Fawn stood at
the observation pane and bit his lip.
Then, with an almost furtive gesture, he switched on the intercom and
said:
“Come on,
Paul. Make the Mysterons do something
for you, for a change. Fight – you know you want to live. Think of your parents, think of Dianne –
think of Adam and the others. We need
you, Paul; the human race needs you – your friends need you – Godammit - I need you!”
When there was
no response, he switched the intercom off and, with a despairing sigh, went to
get another cup of coffee.
And that’s why
he missed the infinitesimal smile that curled the corners of Scarlet’s mouth as
the monitors bleeped.
The sound of
laughter echoed across the Sick Bay to the nurses’ station where the two
on-duty nurses smiled to hear it.
In the
Post-Operative Recovery Room, which had been adapted for Captain Scarlet’s use
while his usual room was de-contaminated, refurbished and generally made
habitable again, there was a small party going on. Colonel White was there, with Doctor Fawn and Doctor Owens. Captain Blue, Symphony Angel, Captain
Ochre, Rhapsody and Nurse Ingram made up the guests. Captain Scarlet, clean-shaven and with his black eyebrows and
hair sprouting once more, was holding court as he lay in bed, dressed in his
favourite Arsenal F.C. pyjamas.
Rhapsody was
sitting on a chair beside him, feeding him grapes, chocolates, pastries and
anything else he fancied from the buffet Captain Blue had organised from Cloudbase’s
kitchen. He stopped chewing long
enough to ask:
“So,
everything’s been destroyed now and the Casterbridge Hospital is fully
functional again?”
Ochre
nodded. “The latest report said that
they had finally eradicated all the spores from the bio-haz tanker by using the
chemical Fawn rustled up, the labs have been fumigated and everything replaced
by new. It’s as safe as they can make
it.”
“There’s no
sign of Doctor Lawson, though?” Scarlet asked, swallowing another grape.
“No,” the
colonel replied. “We’ll catch him,
given time. History has shown that
people like him always come to a sticky end.”
“Was he a
Mysteron?” Ursula asked.
“Can’t tell
you that,” Ochre replied. “Due to an
administrative failure, we never checked him out properly.”
“Hmmph,” the
colonel said. “An administrative
failure is one way of looking at it, Captain – but whatever it was, I sincerely
hope the lesson’s been learnt by all concerned.”
There was a
chorus of muted assurances.
“I’m not sure this did have anything to do
with the Mysterons,” Symphony said.
“There was never a threat, was there?”
“No, not a
specific one,” Ochre agreed.
Blue looked up
from the glass of fruit punch he was holding. “Given that when the Mysterons
issue a threat they’re usually ready to go, it is logical-”
“Oh, here we
go: Mr. Svenson of Planet Vulcan,” Ochre muttered to Symphony, who sniggered
even as she punched his arm.
“-it is logical,” Blue reiterated, ignoring him,
“to assume that they have made plans and preparations to carry out a threat before they actually make it.”
“So, you’re
saying I was a dry run?” Scarlet asked wryly.
“Yeah, if you
want to think of it like that.”
“Might it be
that, having decided to issue a series of threats all at once – or in quick
succession – they decided it was best to eliminate the man they considered most
likely to lead the counter-attacks and defensive measures?” Ursula suggested
and blushed violently as every head turned towards her.
“A good idea,”
Blue said, with one of his dazzling smiles.
“You’re really getting the hang of this, aren’t you, Doc?”
She grinned
back and hugged Doctor Fawn’s arm for support.
He squeezed her elbow encouragingly and said:
“Scarlet was
out of action for almost three months during a hectic phase of Mysteron activity.”
“Yes, Doc; and
we don’t know when they’ll start up again, so when can I get up and out of
here?” his patient asked tetchily.
“When I’ve
completed my tests and I’m sure you’re fit and well.”
“I am – look
at me, positively bursting with health!”
“And grapes…”
Rhapsody interjected.
“And eating
like a pig at a trough…” Ochre added cheekily, winking at Scarlet.
Rhapsody
laughed and ran her fingers through the stubble of her fiancé’s cropped
hair. “You have to be careful,
Paul. You came as close to dying as
we’ve seen since…”
“Since I
died,” he concluded for her.
“There’s more
to a recovery than physical health anyway,” Fawn warned him. “You went through enough to lay any man low
with mental anguish for months.”
Scarlet gave a
nonchalant shrug. “That was the
mushroom talking,” he complained.
Suddenly he looked up and grinned at Blue. “Luckily, my friends know me well enough to know when to ignore
even my most fervent requests.”
“It was your
friends’ mental anguish I was talking about,” Fawn explained, only half-joking,
as he glanced at Rhapsody. Scarlet flushed slightly as the import of the words
became clear. In a lighter tone, Fawn
added, “I never doubted you’d be all right -you have the mental sensitivity of
a rhino, Paul.”
“Where there’s
no sense, there’s no feeling, as my old mom used to say,” Ochre quipped.
“Just you wait
till I’m out of this bed, Fraser!” Scarlet exclaimed good naturedly, as
everyone laughed.
“That will
come quicker, if you get some rest,” Fawn said, glancing at his wrist watch.
“Time everyone went.”
There was a
chorus of goodbyes and Doctor Owens held out her hand to Scarlet.
“I’ll say
goodbye, Captain. I am leaving
Cloudbase this evening.”
“Oh no! I thought you were going to stay – the colonel
said you’d agreed to join us,” he said, holding her hand in his strong
grasp.
Ursula
smiled. “I have; I’ll be back in about
a month, after my basic training. I
have accepted a post on Cloudbase as Deputy Head of Medical Research. I’ll be
working with Edward.”
“Brilliant,”
he said, genuinely pleased.
“The only
problem now is thinking of a codename – all the good ones are taken,” she
remarked genially.
“Well,”
Scarlet said thoughtfully, “Mushroom is a colour, of sorts!”
“Oh dear, he’s
completely recovered… unfortunately,” Blue said, rolling his eyes at this
terrible joke.
Scarlet
laughed and waved goodbye as they trooped out of his room. Then he settled down and looked up at the
ceiling where a temporary banner had been fixed.
It said ‘Welcome
Back, Scarlet.’
“It’s good to
be back,” he murmured, closing his eyes to get some sleep.
Author’s Notes:
The scary thing is that Cordyceps are real – and there’s no Mysteron involvement suspected!
My sincere thanks go to my remarkable Beta-reader, Hazel Köhler, who put up with all the gory bits as they developed in my deranged imagination, and still had the sang-froid to spot every errant comma. Any mistakes still lingering in the text are my fault.
Thanks also
to Chris Bishop, for giving us such a wonderful website!
'Captain
Scarlet and the Mysterons' is a registered trademark of Carlton International
Media Ltd.; the series was devised in the 1960s by Gerry and Sylvia
Anderson.
Happy
Halloween.
September
2009.