December 2071.
A silver-blue SPV sped across the pristine white landscape like a sleek plough, its bulldozer blade making the passage possible. Snow churned beneath the heavy wheel, showering the air with particles of frozen light. At the rear, it towed a long grey trailer, its precious cargo protected with a Mylar sheath cover which was held in place with what looked suspiciously like strings of Christmas lights.
Within the SPV’s interior, Captains Blue and Grey stayed warm in their Spectrum-issue winter coats. The heated lumbar seats helped too. A succession of storms had battered the south-east European region, and yet another had rolled in after they’d left Bucharest, Romania, two hours previously. The falling snow obscured the view of the gently rolling countryside on the way to the north-east of the country.
The road they now drove upon was narrow, pitted with potholes and naturally, ungritted. Thankfully, this wasn’t too much of an issue for the all-weather, all terrain SPV. Although the vehicle could be driven from both port and starboard positions, Blue had taken the wheel from the start of the journey, and clearly didn’t want to relinquish it. Grey let him get on with it, keeping an eye on the on-board console for terrain updates and any sign of trouble that might appear on-route.
Grey yawned, then stretched and rolled his shoulders. He’d been on the go for nearly seventeen hours. This Romanian trip would have been Ochre’s assignment, partnering Blue, if he hadn’t rapidly succumbed to a nasty norovirus and been immediately quarantined in Sick Bay. Fawn was a miracle worker, but even he hadn’t managed to eradicate rapidly mutating viruses. It was supposed to be an easy assignment really, just deliver a trailer-load of presents to a bunch of grateful kids, and then back to Cloudbase. What could go wrong?
The voice of Colonel White echoed sonorously within the SPV’s cabin. “I thought I would check in to see how things are proceeding, Captain Blue.”
“Operation Santa is underway, sir; Grey and I picked up the cargo at Bucharest and we are now on our way towards the border.”
“Very good. I am sure it isn’t necessary to remind you of the need to tread carefully.”
“Treading carefully is my specialty, Colonel,” Blue replied. “We will be a very colourful presence, but that’s all we’ll be.”
“Of course, I know I can rely on you both. Lieutenant Green tells me you are having some bad weather in the area.”
“Oh, you could say that, sir. This part of Europe has been well and truly dumped on, they’ve had twelve inches of snow in the last twenty-four hours, and they’re expecting more of the same overnight.”
“We call that a flurry in Illinois,” Grey said, with a smirk.
White obviously chose to ignore the witticism and continued: “The Angels have already launched and are on their way; they will be with you in about thirty minutes.”
“S.I.G., Colonel,” Blue replied. “This will be some welcome wagon. Let’s hope the Mysterons allow us the time to carry out the mission. I still think it’s a helluva risk we’re taking. Couldn’t the President have persuaded some five-star general from the WAAF to do the honours, instead of Spectrum?”
“We have already discussed this in the briefing meeting before you were assigned to this operation, do I have to spell it out to you again?” The crisp tone was not lost on either of the men.
“No, sir, it’s just…” Blue’s handsome face creased in frustration. “I’m worried that this exercise in hype and no substance takes us away from the real job of protecting Earth against the Mysterons.”
“I assure you, I feel the same, Captain,” White’s tone became more sympathetic. “But in the end, we all have to follow orders from those above us in the pecking order.”
“Of course, Colonel, that goes without saying.”
White cleared his throat, signalling the conversation was over. “Well, good luck. I hope to have you back safely on Cloudbase very soon. Until then, safe mission.”
“S.I.G., sir. Blue out.” Then he muttered, “God help us.”
Grey looked up from his palm-book. “Uh, what’s up?”
“When are the politicians going to realise we’re not a photo opportunity?” Blue said grumpily.
“Uh - when there are no more politicians?”
“You know, sometimes I have sympathy with the Mysterons. Humanity has barely changed in millennia; we’re all still selfish, xenophobic and tribal. Our brain evolution still hasn’t caught up with our technological advancement.”
“Woah, Blue, that’s a real downer. So, you think the Mysterons should just kill us off, and the earth can start all over again?”
The blond man smiled wryly. “Bit much …huh?”
“Yeah, maybe a little.” Grey gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Speaking personally, I’d kinda like to see this New Year in. You still owe me that surfing weekend we planned to go on together; although, you’ve put it off so many times, I’m beginning to think you’ve chickened out.”
Blue made a face. “As if… I’m can’t wait to kick your butt out there on the waves, but I’m just waiting for the right time.”
“You mean, when Symphony will let you?” Grey said, with a knowing grin. He got a punch in the arm for his cheek.
“Low blow, buddy,” Blue countered. “You just wait. Your time will come.”
“Oh, there’s nothing going on with me. I’ll just stay footloose and fancy-free, for a little longer.”
Blue snorted and returned to watching the seemingly endless road.
The two officers were on a humanitarian mission: to deliver the truckload of presents they hauled behind the SPV to several hundred refugees from Bereznik, who were now being held inside a security zone in north-east Romania, which was policed by the Council of Europe and the WAAF. The refugees, from some of the ethnic minority groups, had braved death and injury to miraculously make their way across the border into Romania.
The refugees were relatively small in numbers, but they had created enormous political upheaval. The Bereznik government demanded their return, accusing them of being traitors and/or spies, depending on which day of the week it was, and there were few illusions amongst the member nations of the Council of Europe as to what their eventual fate would be, if they were sent back. With women and children amongst their number, this course of action was anathema to many Europeans.
Romania was of strategic importance; a key buffer zone for Western Europe against the Bereznians’ totalitarian super-state. The Romanians, for their part, perhaps not surprisingly, were nervous about the presence of the refugees within their borders, fearing reprisals from Bereznik. Other European member states argued the high moral ground, but none of them could quite agree on where the refugees should finally be settled.
John Roberts, the current World President, had made a unilateral decision to send Spectrum to the encampment. On the surface, it would be a humanitarian visit but, on a deeper level, it was a subtle show of intent, a gentle reminder to the Council of Europe that they needed to decide on a plan soon.
“Weather’s getting worse,” Blue said, after another twenty minutes passed in companionable silence between the two men. “Just as well there isn’t much traffic to worry about on this road. We haven’t seen anything since we passed that last town, Suceava.”
“That’s if you could even call this a road. I guess a lot of the settlements close to the border were abandoned. I’ve got to admit I wouldn’t be too thrilled living within missile range of some trigger-happy Bereznians, if I had the choice.”
Blue made a face. “Let’s not go there. Maybe we need to change the subject, let’s focus on something a bit more cheerful.”
“Okay. What are you getting Symphony for Christmas?”
“I said cheerful, for Pete’s sake. I’m still smarting from her last birthday fiasco. I mean, when you ask a woman what she wants, and she says, ’I’ll be happy with anything’, why is she anything but happy when you give just that?”
Grey grinned. “You got me there, buddy. I take it she never got that diamond necklace she was after?”
Blue shot him a stare that would have shaved butter, and Grey realised he’d just overstepped and put his size-tens in it. “Uh, I just happened to be in the Amber Room and the girls were talking about it...”
“Oh, they were, huh? Jeez, women! And you’re as bad, you might have told me.”
Grey didn’t have an answer, so wisely changed tack. “I guess, since half of the Christmas Eve party committee is about to join is on this little trip, and poor old Rick is having the time of his life in Sick Bay, things will be pretty quiet in Cloudbase at the moment.”
“Skeletal is what it is. And it’s exactly why I’m concerned about a Mysteron threat being issued while we’re playing Santa down here.”
“Maybe Captain Black will find a bar somewhere, buy himself a Scotch, and tell them to shove it for the night.”
“A nice idea.” A pensive look troubled Blue’s face. “You have to wonder what he does, though.”
“Black? Who cares?”
“Well, I can’t help it. Does he shut down, like some robot with an off switch, when he’s not carrying out the Mysterons orders? Or does he go into some sort of sleep stasis?”
Grey shrugged. “I guess both questions will remain a mystery; unless we happen to capture Black.”
“What happened to him could have happened to any one of us, if we’d been in the MEV on Mars. There for the grace of God and such clichés. I often wonder about what happens to Paul too, when he dies. Does he go into stasis as well, until the process of retrometabolism kicks in? I’ve asked him, several times, but he says he can’t remember anything between losing consciousness and gaining it again.”
Grey ruminated over that, but didn’t have a suitable answer, and so silence reigned again within the cabin of the SPV for some time, as the miles counted by on their monotonous route to their destination.
With a third hour of darkness the blizzard had increased in intensity. The tires of the SPV had the grip of tank treads, so there was little danger of becoming stuck in the snow, however much visibility was a problem. The powerful headlights stabbed outwards and would normally illuminate their route for hundreds of yards ahead, but in this weather, the beams turned into glowing haloes that dazzled Blue: it was as bad as driving in thick fog.
“Sometimes I really hate driving via the monitor,” he muttered to himself, “After all, we don’t fly or drive anything else backwards.”
Grey looked up and thought about it before replying. “I guess it’s all about the science. You’ve less chance of injury in a road collision if you’re facing the rear.”
Blue grunted. “Sure, but I’ve never felt right not being able to see things with my own eyes. This is like having second-hand vision.”
“I can swap for a while, if you like? It’s never bothered me one way or the other. It isn’t as if you can see where you’re going in a sub.”
Blue shook his head. “No, it’s okay, we can’t be too far away from the village where the refugees are holed up.” Just then, his epaulettes started flashing and his cap mic dropped to mouth level.
“Captain Blue, this is Angel Leader, we will be with you in five minutes. We have you on visual. The welcome wagon looks very festive.”
A secret smile curved Blue’s lips at the sound of that pleasant Mid-Western drawl.
“S.I.G. Symphony, good to have you with us. Does the area look clear up ahead, no nasty surprises in wait?”
“The colonel has ordered us to do a quick sweep along this side of the Romanian border for about forty klicks in both east and westerly directions. Once we’re done, we’ll escort you into the village so we can all make our big entrance.”
“S.I.G. I take it you’ll be sticking around while we deliver the package?”
“Sure, we will; the Colonel has ordered one of us to continue patrolling our side of the border for the duration of the visit.”
“I just hope the Bereznians are staying inside and keeping warm in this storm,” Grey added.” We don’t want to be the stick that pokes the beehive and gets the bees all riled up.”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little heads, boys.” Symphony answered breezily, “You just drive, and we’ll be extra careful about where we fly.”
Visibility continued to worsen, and the falling snow was beginning to have a hypnotic effect on the driver. Blue felt his eyelids droop, and caught himself, consciously sitting up straight in the bucket seat.
Grey sensed the motion, looked sideways at his friend. “You okay?”
Blue waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, not a problem.” He wished he could get hold of a cup of coffee, but it didn’t look as if they’d pass a Dairy Queen any time soon.
One-minute Blue was staring at the monitor, wondering when the snow would just god-damn STOP – and the next, he heard Grey’s voice penetrating a warm, blissful nothingness within his mind.
“God-dammit, Blue! What are you doing?”
He jolted awake, realizing with utter dismay that he had nodded off, and at the speed they were travelling, it had taken mere seconds to accelerate out of control, swerve off the road and career down a slope beyond the verge of the road.
Drivers Ed 101: Don’t hit the brakes when driving on a slippery surface. Very Bad Idea.
The SPV slewed right, but the heat from the tires turned the surface glassy and made things worse. It took seconds for SPV and trailer to judder over some sort of ridge, then pirouette in an ungainly dance before slowly coming to a halt on yet another level surface.
“What the hell -” Grey released his grip from the seat-edges.
Blue swallowed. “I think we’re okay. We just have to –”
He was interrupted by an alarming series of cracking noises coming from outside the vehicle.
“I really don’t like the sound of that…” Grey said, his face blanching.
Several seconds later, there was another, more ominous sound, as if a gigantic bough had broken in two. The SPV tilted forwards and plunged into a world of water and semi-darkness. The monitor image became a swirl of blue froth, turning to indigo as the SPV and its cargo sank slowly under their combined weight.
Grey recovered quickly from the shock. “We’re underwater. We’ll have to ditch the trailer.”
Blue made an inarticulate sound through his clenched teeth.
“Sorry, I should have spotted this lake on the map,” Grey said
“No, it’s not your fault; it’s - Christ.” Blue raised his eyes to the cabin roof for a brief second, as if imploring some higher power, even as he took His name in vain. “It’s Christmas Eve, for heaven’s sake!” With a swift shake of his head, he pressed the panel on the dashboard to release the tow line.
Nothing.
The two men traded worried expressions as they felt the SPV gliding further down into the depth of the water, dragged by the dead weight of the trailer. They had no idea how deep they could continue to fall.
“Try it again,” Grey urged.
Blue stabbed the panel hard, several times - as if that would make any difference – and yet, somehow, it did. There was another big lurch as the trailer disengaged from the rear of the SPV.
Blue’s epaulettes flashed white.
“We’re returning from the border patrol, all fine, no signs of any activity from the Bereznik side. We’re all good to go.”
“Ah, Symphony, we seem to be in a bit of a situation here.”
A few moments silence, and then: “Visibility is pretty poor up here, I’m gonna take us down a bit lower... I should be able to see the path of your lights. I can’t see the road, it’s covered in snow.” There followed a few seconds of silence in the cabin, and then: “Where the hell are you guys?”
Blue glanced at Grey, who shrugged, as if to say: this one’s yours buddy.
“Uh... I think we’re in a lake,” Blue admitted.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“How on earth did you end up in a lake?”
Blue sighed. “You just said it yourself, visibility is poor, and Grey was supposed to be the one with the map.”
“Hey, don’t blame me.” Grey snapped back. “You were the one driving like you were in NASCAR.”
They felt the SPV thud softly against something solid.
“I think we’ve hit bottom.” Grey checked the depth meter. “Yeah, only way is up, I guess.”
“Well, that’s something,” Blue muttered, “I’m going to try the aqua-jets, so we can swim out of this mess.” He switched to amphibious mode on the console, which retracted the wheels and activated the water propulsion system.
“I see what looks like a small lake below me, about fifty meters from the road. It’s covered in ice.” Symphony’s voice echoed into the cabin. “But I can’t see either your SPV or the trailer.”
“That’s because we fell through the ice-layer, Symphony. Stand by, Blue’s on the case.”
“I have Rhapsody and Harmony with me, we’ll circle and wait for you.”
“S.I.G.”
The SPV, now propelled by its powerful rear aqua-jets, lifted smoothly from the bottom of the lake and shot forward, leaving a stream of bubbles in its wake. Not a sliver of water penetrated the silver-blue hull, as it headed on a trajectory towards the opposite shore of the frozen lake.
“Let’s hope we can get onto dry land,” Grey said.
“Oh, ye of little faith,” Blue retorted, keeping his eyes on the sensors and the monitor screen. “Just keep an eye on the depth-meter, willya?”
“S.I.G. Depth fifty feet - forty - twenty - ten - almost at surface level, shoreline forty feet.”
Blue hit the thrusters, and the jets propelled the heavy SPV upwards and forwards, its bullnose shearing through the layer of ice. With immaculate timing, Blue reversed the retraction system and just as the SPV shot out of the lake edge onto the bank, the wheels thumped down again, and with the rear tracks providing purchase, they climbed swiftly up the frozen lake-edge, streaming water and ice, and throwing up clods of snow and frozen earth as they bumped and lurched onto solid ground once again.
“Way to go, Blue-Boy.” Grey nodded approvingly.
The Bostonian nodded in relief, but with a heavy heart. They’d come all this way, and it had ended like this. Where was some Christmas spirit when you needed it?
“I see you, now, guys,” Symphony’s voice sounded relieved as well. “Are you both okay?”
“We’re absolutely fine,” Grey said. “But I can’t say the same for our cargo. We had to ditch it in the lake.”
“Oh, no, you’re kidding?”
“Oh, I wish I was.”
“You’re only about fifteen klicks from the encampment too. What a shame.”
Grey looked at Blue. “We ought to let the camp officials know what happened.”
“I guess so.” Blue spoke into his mic. “Symphony, you’d better all return to Cloudbase, there isn’t much point in accompanying a welcome wagon with no wagon.”
“Not a chance, we’ve come this far; we may as well finish it. You up for it, girls?”
Rhapsody’s voice joined the conversation. “Of course. Those children are going to be so very disappointed. We don’t want to leave you men to explain this disaster all by yourselves.”
“Gee, Rhapsody, you really know to make a guy feel good,” Grey drawled.
“Well, neither of you crashed the SPV into a lake on purpose,” she added.
Symphony chimed in. “Harmony is going to stay in the air, to make sure that no one from the Bereznik side decides to take advantage of any situation. Rhapsody and I will land inside the encampment, if we can, and meet you there. We’ll face the music together. It is Christmas Eve after all.”
Blue grimaced. “You’re really not helping.”
Blue found the road again and they steered carefully towards the refugee encampment. The fleeing people had settled into one of the larger ruined villages abandoned in the European civil war, close to the north-east border with Bereznik, and when the Romanians had become aware of the situation on their land, they’d demanded help from the Council of Europe. The latter sent in their advisors and a security contingent from the WAAF and the village was fenced off in order to contain the refugees’ movement while their future was determined.
Blue slowed the SPV as they approached the wide gates. The WAF soldiers on guard read their passes, opened the gates and waved them through. The two Interceptors had already landed a short distance inside the fence-line, while, inside the compound, people had gathered, drawn by the noise. Blue killed the engines, then activated the SPV’s lockdown security system. Despite being within the camp enclosure, he refused to take any chances this close to the border.
Both he and Grey alighted from the SPV and took in their surroundings. A central building, possibly the old village hall, had been converted into a registration facility. Another had been converted to a medical centre, but otherwise it was a collection of prefabricated huts and close by, various communal facilities, showers and latrines.
“It’s a hell of a place to spend Christmas,” noted Grey.
“Well, it’s better than the alternative.” Blue replied.
“Hi guys.” Symphony and Rhapsody appeared, and like their male counterparts, they’d donned their winter coats over their flight-suits. Harmony remained aloft, and her Interceptor could be heard streaking off overhead. As the sound drew further away, two men came walking briskly across the snow-covered ground to meet them. The first was a dusky-skinned WAAF soldier, clad in similar cold-weather uniform to the gate soldiers, and his civilian companion, an earnest-looking young man in spectacles. He looked about Green’s age.
“Lieutenant Williams, WAAF.” The soldier greeted them with a salute. “In charge of security at the camp.”
“You’re English, aren’t you?” Blue asked affably.
“Yes, sir, from Manchester, but I’ve been to the USA a few times with the WAAF, and on vacation, too. I love Las Vegas.”
Blue smiled. “Don’t we all? I’m Captain Blue, this is Captain Grey, and these are Rhapsody and Symphony Angels. I wonder if you could post a couple of your men to guard the aircraft, Lieutenant.”
“Right away, sir.” He barked out a couple of names and the armed soldiers dutifully headed towards the standing Interceptors.
The younger man stepped forward and held out a slim hand to Blue. “I am Pierre Laurent, from Geneva. I have the responsibility to ensure that the refugees have both their physical and spiritual needs met while the Council of Europe decide where they should be moved next.”
“Which is taking longer than anticipated, unfortunately,” Williams said.
“That’s bureaucracy for you,” Grey replied.
Laurent gave a quick, nervous laugh. “You are of course, right, Captain. It is true that political decisions are often hobbled by the myriad inputs that desire to be heard, but can we call ourselves a democracy if we do not heed that very fundamental right?”
“If you put it like that...” Grey said but didn’t sound wholly convinced.
“For now, however,” Laurent continued, “I am most grateful that Spectrum has agreed to make the children of this camp a priority. Even the censorious grip of Bereznik cannot always keep the news of your exploits from its citizens. When we told the refugee children about your visit, and that you would be bringing gifts, there was much excitement. They have talked endlessly of your bravery, and your colourful uniforms and your magnificent aircraft and vehicles. I suspect you may have to encounter some hero-worship this evening. I hope you are ready.”
“Could even be a little heroine worship too?” Symphony interjected, with a raised eyebrow.
Laurent practically blushed, “Mais oui, of course. Pardon, Mademoiselle, I did not mean any offence by my remark.”
She bestowed an impish smile on him. “I’m just kidding.”
“But where are my manners? Let me offer you all some refreshments, if you’ll follow me to the administration building for some hot coffee…”
“I’m sure your people, and the refugees, need your supplies more than we do,” Grey said.
“But it is Christmas Eve, non? I must insist.”
“Yeah, me too,” said Blue in a dry tone. If he didn’t get some coffee soon, everyone would suffer.
“Captains, Angels, I’ll leave you with Mr. Laurent for the moment,” Williams said, “Just radio me if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” Blue replied on their behalf. “We appreciate your support. Williams gave them a smart nod and strode off towards one of the smaller buildings.
A gaggle of children of between the ages of five and twelve suddenly appeared from the collection of huts. As soon as they saw the Spectrum officers they started shouting and running towards them. They formed a noisy cluster around the five adults, chattering in their curious dialect, a mish-mash of the various languages of the former countries subsumed by the State of Bereznik. Their round, expectant eyes spoke of hope, and Blue detested himself for that moment of weakness in the SPV, which was going to result in yet one more disappointment in their wretched young lives.
Laurent was oblivious of Blue’s sober ruminations. To the young Swiss, Spectrum were still the good guys. He spread his hands out and smiled.
“See, I told you.”
More people emerged from the huts, most likely some were the parents of the children and they regarded the Spectrum officers with more wariness than their offspring. Laurent led the four of them into the administration building and some of the youngsters followed, jostling around them as they walked.
“Allez!” Laurent clapped his hands and unleashed a stream of Bereznian, and they fell back, some of the little ones clearly crestfallen at the rebukes.
“No, it’s alright,” Rhapsody said, smiling at Laurent, and gently stroked one little girl’s dirt- smudged cheek. “Merry Christmas.”
The child grinned and returned the greeting in Bereznian, which soon became a chorus as the other children joined in. They were clearly fascinated with their uniforms and kepis, and Grey valiantly fought down a smile as one young lad stroked the grey leather of his coat. Still, he kept a secure hand over his holster.
They were saved from further embarrassment by the arrival of Laurent’s aides bearing trays of blessedly aromatic coffee and sweet biscuits.
Blue gratefully took one proffered mug, emblazoned with the blue globe of the world government, and took a long sip, burning his tongue in the process. God, that was good. After munching on a biscuit, he finally indicated the group of adults who hung back on the fringes of the room.
“They don’t seem very happy about our presence.”
Lauren shrugged. “Like many minority groups, they have suffered under this harsh regime; they are so used to being persecuted that they expect it, no matter where they go. Despite this, desperation for a better life drives them on.”
“It’s just not right,” Rhapsody said.
“I agree, Mademoiselle. As you know, the Bereznik government does not recognise religion in any shape or form, and open displays of faith are banned and punishable by imprisonment or death. But, since time immemorial, when oppression is greatest, that is when people need to believe in something spiritual, something beyond this petty existence. At least here, they are free to do so without repercussion.”
“That’s a fine sentiment, Mr. Laurent,” Symphony said, “Especially tonight.”
He beamed at her. “Yes, indeed. Tonight, we will have faith, and hope that, like the three wise men of old, you too bring gifts: some charity for those who flee persecution.”
Blue took another draught of his strong coffee to cover his discomfort. He knew they would have to come clean sooner or later, but he was trying to find the right time, and the right words. He’d been against this idea from the start; the whole operation had the potential for disaster. But now that he was here, amongst these poor kids, it brought home to him how fortunate he’d been in his own life.
He felt someone nudge his arm. Symphony.
“You okay?” she asked, her gaze intense. He felt his stomach flutter in that familiar way.
“Yeah, of course. Just mentally kicking myself.”
“About the… you know what?”
He nodded.
“You didn’t do it on purpose.”
“No, but I was at the wheel when I nodded off. Unforgivable.”
“Count yourself lucky. If I’d been driving, the SPV would still be at the bottom of the lake.”
“Nice try, älskling, but I’ve officially killed Christmas, at least in this part of the world.”
She beamed at his use of the endearment and whispered, “I’d really like to kiss you and cheer you up, but I think I might shock Laurent, not to mention the kids. Anyway, I’m just happy we got the chance to spend Christmas Eve doing something wonderful together, instead of just sitting around the Amber Room drinking Navy’s non-alcoholic cocktails.”
“That isn’t making me feel any better, you know, and we aren’t going to do something wonderful, we’re going to give them one massive disappointment.”
She pursed her lips. He was right, of course.
“Monsieur Laurent,” Blue said in a louder voice, “May we have a private word?” He indicated a quiet corner of the hall.
Laurent asked his aides to look after the refugees, and then he joined Blue, Grey and the Angels in the corner.
“I’m afraid we don’t have the presents,” Blue told him. “We went off the road in the blizzard into a frozen lake; we had to ditch the trailer and lost the cargo. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
Dismay wrote itself across the young Swiss’s face.
“We’ll return to Spectrum,” Blue added quickly. “I’m sure we can organize another truck-load for delivery to Bucharest.”
“Of course, I agree, and it cannot be helped. The roads are very treacherous around this area, and with the storm of course...”
“Well, I think we should stay for a while,” Symphony announced, “At least until this storm passes. We’ve got to do something to make it up to these kids. What about showing them the Interceptors and the SPV? That might take their minds off the fact we’ve come empty handed. Pierre is obviously brilliant at speaking Bereznian, he can act as interpreter.”
“You are very kind, Mademoiselle Symphony,” Pierre replied to her with an almost coy smile, and Blue sighed inwardly. It was no surprise to him that the Iowan girl had charmed yet another hapless victim.
Nevertheless, he said: “I doubt the Colonel would agree to that idea, Symphony.”
She stared at him in disbelief.
“Anyway,” he reasoned, unhappy with her suggestion, even though taking the moral high ground was, he had to admit to himself, frankly a tad hypocritical, “I very much doubt that these kids will be satisfied being pawned off with a cursory look at some machines, compared to the presents they were promised.”
“Well, I happen to agree with Symphony,” Rhapsody chimed in. “We’ve lost so much time with your escapade in the lake that Christmas Eve is almost over. It’s our collective fault, so I think we ought to do what we can to make up for it.”
Blue frowned. “You gonna help me out here, Grey?”
Grey raised his hands in surrender. “They’re right though, it is our fault. We ought to do something.”
“The colonel will have my head.”
Symphony patted his forearm. “And it’s such a handsome head too.”
“Symphony...”
She grinned. “Who’s going to tell him? Certainly not me, or Rhapsody. What about you, Brad?”
Grey shook his head. “I’m not saying a word, I’m already complicit in ruining Christmas Eve for these kids.”
“Fine,” Blue muttered, a dark look on his face. “But we leave in thirty minutes. And don’t let them touch anything. You’re responsible for those Interceptors, you hear me?”
“Oh, most certainly, Captain Blue, sir,” Rhapsody replied, with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “We’ll look after them as carefully as you looked after the presents.”
“Oh, harsh,” Grey said, wincing.
Symphony grinned and briefly stuck her tongue out at Blue.
Laurent listened to their mocking, yet obviously friendly, interchange with a slightly bemused look. Did all Spectrum personnel behave in such a familiar manner with one another?
Blue sighed. Then his epaulettes flashed white and his cap mic swung down in concert. He was almost grateful for the distraction. “Harmony, what do you have to report?”
“I have just seen lights in the sky, moving rapidly. I estimate ten klicks from my position. The lights are close together.”
The camaraderie amongst the little group turned suddenly sour. Blue’s heart did a triple-lutz, while Grey, Symphony and Rhapsody exchanged worried looks with Laurent.
“From the Bereznik side?” Blue asked Harmony. He kept his voice low, so as not to alarm the refugees who still remained in the hall, watching.
“I am not certain.” For a few tension-filled seconds they waited for the Japanese Angel to reply.
“Hah, I see it again. They have changed direction, but they are moving so fast I cannot get a lock.” Her voice went quiet, as if she was talking to herself. “How is that possible?”
“Rhapsody and I need to be airborne,” Symphony said in a voice that dared him to stop her.
Blue nodded briskly, pushing away the habitual notion that she might come to harm on a mission, and watched as the two Angels swiftly exited the building to head for their aircraft.
Harmony still chattered on: “The lights are heading in this direction, I am having to rely on visual. Radar is useless…will attempt to intercept.”
Blue swore under his breath, worried thoughts circling around his head as he ran out of the building – Grey in his wake – for a better look at whatever might be heading their way. Was it possible that Bereznik scientists had developed new missile technology that couldn’t be detected by Spectrum radar? If so, this was a new and dangerous state of affairs.
The high-pitched whine of the engines of the remaining two Interceptors changed to an ear-deafening roar as they rose, like circling tops, into the black, snow-spotted sky. In moments Blue and Grey were joined by Laurent, the children and adolescents who had followed them. The latter gesticulated towards the receding craft, oblivious to any danger that they might be in.
The sound of heavy boots announced the arrival of Lieutenant Williams and four of his men. “Captain Blue, I didn’t know you were leaving already; is there anything wrong?”
“We may have a serious situation. One of the Angels has seen activity in the sky about ten klicks from here. Have you had any such reports, either on the ground or in the air, since you’ve been stationed here?”
Williams face visibly tightened. “The regime likes to put on a little show of military might every now and then, sir, but it’s all above board, as it were, carried out during daylight hours and filmed for the newscasts for the West’s benefit, just to keep us on our toes. But so far, we haven’t seen any sign of military activity at night this close to the border near the encampment. Of course, there’s always a first time. We’re always ready, just in case.”
Blue nodded. “Understood. The first thing we need to do is get the civilians indoors, I’d appreciate it if you and your men help Laurent. Grey and I will deal with this situation.”
Williams looked as if he was about to protest, but then thought better of it. “Yes, sir.”
Blue barked into his mic. “To all Angels, do not engage, repeat, do not engage! This may be a ploy to unsettle us, and the last thing we need is to fall into a trap or give them the excuse to start a skirmish.”
“Spectrum is green,” Rhapsody and Symphony chorused in unison.
Then, Harmony’s voice cutting back in. “They have - vanished.”
Blue blinked. “What?”
“The lights in the sky have gone. One second they were there, then they dropped to earth, and then nothing.”
Blue stiffened, waiting for the sound of missiles hitting the ground – the sudden violent trembling of the earth in protest. But – nothing, he saw no fireballs rising into the sky, no detonation to hammer his eardrums, or a shock wave to stun him into insensibility.
What the hell was going on?
“That’s crazy,” he said out loud to Harmony.
“It may be crazy, Captain Blue, but I am telling you what I saw. One minute the lights in the sky were there, the next they were gone.”
“Harmony, I’m not disputing what you saw – but are you absolutely certain there are no more sightings?”
“Confirm nothing either on radar or visual. Shall I continue to patrol the area?”
“S.I.G.; Symphony and Rhapsody are joining you. Do several sweeps east and west. Stay well away from the exclusion zone.”
“Of course, we will, do you think we’re idiots?” That was Symphony’s dry voice, breaking into the exchange.
“Would I dare say that?” And because he couldn’t help himself, out of habit, he added, “Be careful, anyway.”
“Always am, flyboy.” she replied blithely.
Blue let his tension drift out in a long breath and rubbed his numb hands together to warm some life into them. Grey wandered over, and the two men looked up at the sky, still filled with falling snowflakes.
“So, it’s a false alarm?” Grey asked.
“Sure, looks that way. But we ought to stay for a few hours, just in case.”
“Agreed.”
Blue’s epaulettes flashed again. “This is Rhapsody Angel, I’ve spotted a yellow light down in the village, towards the northern perimeter, one and a half klicks to your current position.”
The two men glanced apprehensively at one another. What now?
“A light? Can you be more specific, Rhapsody?” Blue asked.
“I think it’s coming from an old barn, really hard to tell with the weather and altitude, but you ought to check it out, it could be a fire.”
Had something from the Bereznik side made it to the ground after all, and set some buildings alight?
“S.I.G., Rhapsody, we’re on our way.”
The two Spectrum officers dashed to the SPV. Blue slid into the port drivers’ seat and started the engine, flooring the accelerator before Grey had barely managed to strap himself in. Snow spun out from under the wheels, as it shot along the blanketed road towards the north perimeter of the village. They passed more abandoned houses, their half-ruined roofs white, long icicles hanging from the doorways.
Sure enough, they saw a pale yellowish glow in the sky ahead, and as they drew closer, it was evident it emanated from a large barn, adjacent to a farmhouse. Blue brought the SPV to a halt and the two men tumbled out of the vehicle.
Strange and stranger.
The light leaked out of the wooden slats, creating a soft nimbus around the building. Blue felt the hairs on the back of his neck start to rise. This had none of the hallmarks of a fire – no flames licking their way out of the slatted sides, no choking smoke. Even more bizarre, there was no sensation of heat from the structure, even when he began to move closer.
Grey’s voice permeated his consciousness. “Hey, Blue, is this a smart thing to do? Maybe we should get some gloves and visors from the SPV and call Williams for back up.”
Blue hesitated, the thought of a scowling Fawn, as he patched together two incautious colour captains, overriding his desperation to find out what was causing the mysterious light. “Okay, we’ll do it your way.”
After they put on their safety gear, Blue was first to the tall sliding door. He tentatively grasped the large metal handle.
“It’s okay.” He nodded to Grey and began to pull it open. It groaned on its rusted metal track, stiff with disuse, but Blue put his broad shoulders into the job, and finally prised open a gap large enough for Grey to sidle through.
Blue was squeezing his own rangy body into the space when he heard Grey’s astonished voice.
“Willya look at this...”
Blue finally scraped past the gap and immediately looked towards the centre of the barn.
The hairs on his scalp stood completely to attention.
“Uh, Blue, am I going nuts?” Grey said in an awed whisper. “Because I’m staring at a frigging great pile of Christmas presents.”
“Well, I must be going mad too, because that’s exactly what I see.” Blue was the first to make a move after their initial surprise. He removed his gloves and mask, placed them carefully on the dirty floor, and cautiously walked closer to the stack of gifts. “They’re almost identical to the ones we lost in the lake.”
Grey glanced nervously around, drawing his pistol.
“Be careful, Blue. How in the Mysterons’ name did they get in here? Is someone playing some sick joke on us?”
“Well, Ochre’s most definitely in Sick Bay, so we can’t blame him.”
“Very funny,” Grey replied, pivoting around, gun arm out, ready to shoot any hostiles that might be lurking in wait for them. But the barn was completely empty, save for the gifts, and the mysterious, ethereal light that surrounded them.
“Look at this, Brad.” Blue was so engrossed he’d forgotten to use Grey’s code-name. He held up a white card he’d found attached to the stack.
It was embossed with fine gold writing, which read:
You good folks helped me out in the past when I ran into trouble delivering my gifts to the children on Christmas Eve, so it’s only right and fitting that I return the favour.
Merry Christmas!
S.C.
The two captains looked at one another. “S.C.” Grey said. “Is that meant to be who I think it is?”
Blue raised a blond eyebrow. “I really don’t know.”
“This has to be a joke – but who in this camp would, or could, do anything like this? The Bereznians don’t even believe in Christmas, in fact, it’s downright forbidden.”
“Maybe we’re hallucinating,” Blue began to reason. “Perhaps this glow is actually a gas.” He thought about it, his mouth drawing in a thin line. “Yeah, those Bereznik bastards have dropped a canister of nerve gas, God-dammit, and we’ve walked right into their trap. We’ve got to warn Williams.”
“But how can we be experiencing the exact same hallucination?” Grey said, and as if to reinforce his thought process, stuck out one hand to grab one of the presents.
Blue smacked the hand away, frowning. “Don’t touch anything, Brad. Okay, even if this is real, it could still be booby-trapped.
“Who’d use a pile of presents?” Grey was unconvinced of Blue’s argument. “Don’t you think there are easier ways to kill us? Seems a damn circuitous way to go about things, not to mention convenient.”
“How come?”
“We lose a truckload of presents, and lo and behold, here they are – it just doesn’t make any sense, period.”
It was Blue’s turn to look unsure, but caution was in his DNA, and it had kept him alive up to this moment. “Well, we’d better haul out the detection equipment from the SPV so we can check it out. We want to make sure that this – whatever it is - isn’t a ticking-time bomb.”
You always try to complicate matters, Adam. Why don’t you just believe the evidence with your own eyes? Just take the presents. The children are waiting, and we don’t want to spoil their joy, now, do we?
Blue felt an uncommon thrill travel all the way down his spine and felt a warm tingling all over his body.
That voice -
Booming and jolly, like great bells ringing; and Blue felt about six years old again, waiting with excitement in his bedroom, waiting for him to come down the chimney, trying to keep his eyes open, desperately, although he would always fall asleep. And he would open his sluggish eyes - to see the glorious sight of gaily wrapped presents sticking up from the enormous stocking at the bottom of his bed.
Grey yelped. “What the f-”
That broke the spell.
The two men stared at one another and the stunned expression on the Chicagoan captain’s face mirrored his own. The disembodied voice had been speaking to them - in their minds.
“What exactly happened just now?” Blue said, hoarsely.
Grey shook his head, as if to clear it. “Whoever that was, it – he called me by my real name, and I suddenly had this image in my mind - so damn real –, in my bedroom in my folks’ house in Wildwood on Christmas Eve. I was five years old.”
“Yeah, I had the same vision – if that’s what it was,” Blue replied. He shouted: “What do you mean, we’ve helped you out in the past?” and listened to his voice echo around the rafters.
Then the voice boomed again in his head:
Ask Paul. He knows. Ho ho ho.
“Paul?” Confusion reigned on Grey’s face. He’d obviously had the same message in his head. “Does he mean Scarlet, and if so, what’s he got to do with any of this?”
Blue ignored him for moment and continued to shout: “Tell, me, if you’re really him – Santa Claus. What does Paul know?”
But the voice had seemingly vanished, along with the warm tingle. Only the presents and their ethereal glow remained – and that was still visible evidence that something oh-so-out-of-this-world had occurred this night.
“I don’t hear him in my head anymore.” Grey sounded almost forlorn.
Blue shivered, trying to recall a vague memory, something Scarlet had told him. So fantastic as to be forgotten in an instant.
He snapped his fingers. “That’s it! I remember now, a story Paul told me on Christmas Day last year. We’d both had a few whiskies the night before, so I suspected he’d just had a really vivid dream.”
“What about?”
“That the Mysterons had threatened to destroy Christmas, and so, he found himself working with the ‘other man in red’ to foil the threat. Santa was so grateful, he allowed Paul to help him deliver all the presents that night.”
“And Scarlet thought this might have actually happened?”
Blue shrugged and spread his hands. “It sounded so ludicrous, it couldn’t possibly be true. We all know Santa is a myth – at least, that’s what I thought, before tonight.”
Grey reasoned: “Well, we are fighting a war with an intangible bunch of aliens who can re-create matter and energy, so my own natural-born scepticism has taken a few hard knocks over the past few years. Ridiculous seems to be the new ‘normal’, so why not believe that Santa exists?”
The reverse thrust of an Interceptor – two Interceptors to be precise - intruded on their conversation.
“Guess the girls are about to join us,” Blue said, and a few moments later the two women entered the barn at a brisk trot.
“Oh, my goodness!” Rhapsody shrieked.
“No waaaayyy!” Symphony drawled as she rushed up to the pile of presents. “How did these get here?”
Blue didn’t stop her. He was convinced now that they weren’t a hallucination, or a devious conspiracy by some Bereznik troops who somehow got a truck-load of presents past Williams’ WAAF soldiers without being spotted.
“Santa brought them,” Grey said. He had obviously come to the same conclusion. There was a silly smile plastered all over his genial face.
Symphony gave him a peculiar look so Blue handed her the white card.
“We found this attached.”
She scanned the writing swiftly, her hazel eyes narrowing. “Is this Ochre’s idea of a joke?”
Blue chuckled: Funny how he always came to mind. “No joke. I believe, that we’ve just been given a Christmas miracle.”
She snorted. “Oh, really...”
“Well, you explain that glow around them, lighting up the sky for miles,” Blue challenged her.
She stared for a while, deep in thought, as did Rhapsody, and after a few seconds she crossed her arms. ”Okay, I can’t explain it. So what’s going on, do you pair know?”
“C’mon, Santa, tell them!” Grey shouted up into the barn.
The two Angels exchanged amused glances.
“He must have gone,” Grey said.
Symphony rotated her index finger in a circle around her temple. ”More like you pair have gone – loopy. You –” she said pointing the finger at Blue, “haven’t had nearly enough coffee today.”
“Protest all you like, honey; we can’t explain it, if that ain’t God’s own truth,” he replied.
She shook her head. “You’re both really serious, aren’t you?”
Blue laughed. He stepped closer, so he could put one arm around her waist and pull her into his side. She was momentarily startled by the gesture of obvious affection from her usually undemonstrative (in public anyway) lover, but she swiftly rallied and eagerly took the opportunity to snuggle up against him, enjoying the moment.
“You really think that the real Santa Claus dropped these presents off for us?” she asked in a hushed voice.
“Well, not for us, for the kids of course!” Blue said. ”But yeah, I believe that he really did. Those lights Harmony saw in the sky, I think that was him in his sleigh. He dropped off the presents for us and made sure we knew where they were by making them glow in the dark. Now that I think about it – it makes perfect sense in a way, only Santa Claus could travel so fast that Harmony wouldn’t be able to pick his flight path up on her radar.”
“How incredible,” Rhapsody said, her face radiant in the glowing light. “I can still scarcely believe all of this is happening.”
She slipped her arm into Grey’s, which startled the American before he swiftly recognised it as a simple gesture of mutual joy, a common appreciation for the significance of this special night. He smiled and patted her slim hand.
“Looks like the big guy has really saved all of our asses tonight,” he said, “So, I say we go with the flow, and give these kids a Christmas they’ll remember.”
“Hear, hear,” Rhapsody said.
“Absolutely,” Symphony concurred, looking up at Blue with adoring eyes.
“Happy Christmas, älskling,” he whispered, and dropped a gentle kiss on her lips, not caring that Grey and Rhapsody might be looking on.
The four of them stood in companionable silence for a few moments and regarded the miraculous stack of presents with shared wonder.
“To think we laughed at Paul about his silly dream, Adam,” Rhapsody said at last, in a soft voice. “He was so convinced it had been real, and neither you nor I believed him. I suppose the joke is on us now.”
“Yeah, wait until we tell him about tonight,” Grey said, “Although, as exciting as this all is, for us, anyway, it hardly compares with saving Christmas for the whole world!”
“Well, it certainly settles it for me,” Blue said, with a broad smile. “I’m certain Paul’s dream was real; after all, we did hear it from the other man in red himself.” He thought for a moment, and then added. “I just hope Paul can still remember his great adventure.”
“Oh, I do, too,” added Symphony, with a bright gleam in her eyes. “I want to know exactly how he and Santa delivered all those presents to every kid in the world in under eight hours.”
“Time machine?”Grey suggested.
They all laughed.
Acknowledgements
This is the first time one of my pictures has inspired my own fic.
I’d like to thank Marion Woods, who continues to provide me with her usual valuable plot insights and encouragement and for beta-reading the story. Any errors or omissions are entirely mine.
I also want to thank the web-master, Colonel Chris, who asked me if I’d mind doing the pic for the Christmas challenge – as if I would! Thank you, Chris, for the opportunity to stretch my Photoshop muscles, and to provide me with a story idea! I know you’ll do another superlative job on the webpage.
The usual disclaimers apply
Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons © is the iconic creation of Gerry and Sylvia Anderson. The copyright of the characters belongs with whoever owns them at this moment of writing, and I’m certainly not profiting from this story.