Memory brushes the same years
Silently sharing the same fear.
Preserve your memories
They’re all that’s left you
(‘Old Friends’, Paul Simon)
Cloudbase was a vast and complex machine; the fact that it was hovering 40K feet above the ground only added to its undeniable magic. Very few of the hundreds of people who had walked the sleek corridors were immune to the feeling that somehow, they were privileged to experience the majesty of Spectrum’s HQ. All the same, it was an inescapable fact that people became familiar with the areas they worked, slept, ate, and relaxed in, but quickly became disorientated if they ventured out of the bounds set by their daily routine. Even the illustrious beings whose responsibilities encompassed the entire base did not know where every corridor went or what lay behind every door, and very few of the inhabitants were familiar with every nook and cranny. It almost seemed as if Cloudbase was consciously protecting itself from over-familiarity.
There was one person who truly felt a nagging need to know every dark, inaccessible corner of the base and that was Captain Scarlet. Some deeply instilled training from his World Army Air Force days had resulted in a belief that it was imperative to know his home ground like the back of his hand, so that, whatever challenge life threw at him, he would be ready to defend it. And that was why, ever since the day he and his colleagues had arrived on Cloudbase, he had set a goal of familiarizing himself with everywhere, much to the bemusement of his friends. He quickly became tired of the familiar upper levels of the base that were the haunts of the elite officers and Angel pilots, even with the attraction of their panoramic windows out onto the clear, starlit night skies and so he began to roam further.
Restless to the point of becoming fretful since his Mysteronisation earlier this year, he would often spend the night hours, when sleep evaded him, pacing the corridors. In the early days one of his colleagues would, remarkably enough, always be available to accompany him, but as the general unease about what had happened to him had faded, he was now more often alone. Because he no longer needed much sleep except during a bout of retrometabolism when he remained, in more ways than one, ‘dead’ to the World, he wandered further and deeper into the lower decks than he had ever had cause to visit in the course of his duty.
In the engineering workrooms beneath the perpetually busy hangar decks, the Navigation Control booths, and around the vast caverns where the powerful engines purred incessantly, Captain Scarlet became a common enough sight. He wandered through kitchens, where friendly chefs plied him with hot beverages and tasty pastries, and on past the gyms, saunas, cinemas and even the swimming pool, committing the places to a mind-map. Through the all-too-familiar domain of Doctor Fawn: Sick Bay, the surgical theatres, the accident and recovery wards, the waiting rooms, admin offices and even the morgue.
On this particular Christmas Eve, he studiously avoided the temptation of dropping into the Amber Room, where the standby Angel Pilots always welcomed visitors to break the tedium of waiting for their next mission. There had been a small, select gathering of the colour-captains and the Angels earlier that afternoon, with an exchange of Christmas gifts and much frivolity over the sprig of mistletoe hanging by the panoramic windows. Besides, with Rhapsody Angel now on duty in Angel One, there was less to entice him back in.
He strolled towards the other end of the base, past the serried ranks of dormitories, cafeterias and games rooms that accommodated the lower ranks of Cloudbase’s personnel during their 3-monthly duty rotations. There were innumerable doors to workshops, technical labs and support stations buried deep inside the cavernous base and he had, in his time, investigated them all, even the broom cupboards. So, he kept walking until he reached the very lowest of the central levels where daylight was unknown. These lower decks held the unglamorous, yet essential, service bays: waste disposal, recycling, equipment that was worn out or unrepairable. It was a cold, dimly lit world, and it was highly unlikely he would find anything of interest, yet something drew him on. He peered through spy holes into murky storage bays, tried doors that wouldn’t open even to his exalted key-code, and investigated dead-end corridors.
Finally, towards midnight he reached the very last level and turned into the final corridor. He was surprised when the lighting flickered into life; more often than not in these remote levels, it had to be switched on by anyone venturing into the area. He spotted a motion sensor and frowned, wondering why this particular corridor should be equipped with one. Then he noticed a lift door, about halfway along, so he wandered over to investigate. There were no indicators as where it came from, and the only button showed an ‘up’ arrow. He squinted as he tried to orientate himself in the 3-D mental map he had created from his explorations: what was directly above here? The Spectrafan?
He was about to summon the lift when he stopped.
Cigarette smoke? Surely not…
He pursed his lips, feeling sure he had discovered some miscreant taking a forbidden cigarette break where they felt sure they would never be discovered.
Colonel White had never approved of smoking on the base, but because one of the men who had been involved with the development of the base from the very inception of the project was a smoker, a smokers’ room had been provided, somewhere away from the main areas of occupation: a hidden sin. Scarlet had never smoked, so he had never bothered to work out where this ‘sin bin’ was.
He turned away from the lift and walked deeper into the corridor until he saw a plain, unmarked metal door; there was no keypad, just a metal handle. He reached out and pressed it down. The door was heavier than expected, but he was able to push it open.
Cautiously he stepped inside the unlit room. The lights that spluttered into life were tinged yellowish and dim and the air was stale. The room itself was small, bare, with comfortless metal seats around the walls and sand filled waste bins regularly placed beside them.
It was probably the saddest place Scarlet had ever seen.
He was suddenly overcome by a wave of emotion as he realized where he was and recalled his original field partner: Captain Brown. Brown, an expert in aerospace design, had also been a World Army Air Force Officer until he had been seconded to work with the colonel and Captain Black on the development of Cloudbase and both men had both joined Spectrum when the opportunity presented itself. Rather to his surprise, Scarlet had been assigned as Brown’s field partner, in order, he believed, to nurse the ‘rookie’ field agent into shape, although the colonel had explained that he considered the two Britons – Alan Stephens was proud of his Cornish ancestry and bridled to be called an Englishman – one an experienced soldier and the other a master of surveillance techniques, would make an effective team.
The memory of Alan still weighed heavy on Scarlet’s conscience. Their first mission together where Brown had been the Field Commander, rather than Scarlet, had been the fateful mission against the Mysterons that had resulted in their deaths. The Mysterons’ power of retrometabolism had recreated them both in the service of the implacable aliens, only, somehow, he had retained the strength of will to fight against this slavery. Brown had not. Accompanying the World President to the Maximum Security Building in New York, Brown’s body had been turned into a bomb, powerful enough to destroy the building and most of the surrounding block.
All that had been found of Captain Brown was his bomb-damaged cigarette case that he had discarded when the metal detectors at the entrance had sounded an alarm.
Scarlet stood for a long moment in thought, his head bowed at the sorrow and the pity of such a wasted life.
“Hello, Paul.”
Scarlet spun round to stare in shock at the speaker. He blinked rapidly several times in doubt at what he saw.
“Merry Christmas,” said Captain Brown.
Uncharacteristically speechless, Scarlet shook his head in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing in silent confusion.
“It’s only me,” Brown reassured him. “Don’t you know me?”
“Y-yes, of course I do.” Scarlet swallowed hard and continued, “But, Alan, it’s rather a surprise: I mean, you’re dead.”
Brown raised an eyebrow. “Well, so are you; at least, the real you is.”
Scarlet shook his head and looked away. “I managed to break away from the Mysterons. Captain Blue shot me, and I fell 800 feet… when I came to, I was no longer under their control, but somehow, I had retained the power of retrometabolism. I am the real me.” It was a statement of belief that even Paul Metcalfe had found hard to accept in the early days, but he was now, gradually, coming to accept that what his friends told him was true. He was who he had always been, except that he was now indestructible.
“You really hit the jackpot,” Brown remarked, although there was no animosity in his voice. “I remember the car crashing and fire… not much else.”
“I’m afraid you didn’t last too long after that,” Scarlet explained carefully. “You – or rather, the Mysteronised you - attempted to blow up the World President and in so doing, destroyed your retrometabolised self as well. Spectrum found our original bodies by the burnt-out car; that’s how they guessed I was a Mysteron agent, just as you had proven to be. If it’s any consolation, I’m no better; I kidnapped the World President when I was supposed to be protecting him. Long story, but that’s why Blue shot me. I don’t remember a thing about it either. All I can remember is waking up in Sick Bay after the car crash.”
Brown nodded and sat disconsolately on one of the metal seats. “I just wish I hadn’t gone west quite so easily. I’d have liked to have been remembered for putting up a fight, at the very least.”
“Alan; none of us knew what we were fighting – then. I’m not sure we do now, if I’m honest. The Mysterons have powers we cannot hope to understand, as the colonel is so fond of reminding us. In those early days we lost you and Indigo before we had any way of finding out how to recognize who we were up against. The rest of us just do what we can to even things out and stop the Mysterons from wiping us all off the planet.”
“I’m sure everyone does a great job,” Brown remarked with a sympathetic smile. “We were a top notch squadron of men, after all. Whatever happens, or did happen, I’m always on your side, Paul, don’t forget.”
Scarlet gave a wry chuckle. “That’s good to know.” He paused and then continued warily, “How do you come to be here, now? I mean, what are you doing here?”
“It’s Christmas Eve. It seems in certain instances, some people can come back, just for an hour or so. I think it’s mostly for those people who never got a chance to say ‘goodbye’ properly, if you know what I mean?”
Scarlet nodded. In the past year or so he had been forced to accept concepts, ideas and even realities he would not have given credence to before he joined Spectrum. Somehow, this explanation did not surprise or alarm him; he knew there were many beliefs and legends about the unique events that could occur on Christmas Eve.
Brown’s voice took on a profound sadness as he continued, “Only when it was my turn, I realized I had nowhere else I wanted to go but Cloudbase. Then I heard you … sensed you, perhaps is a better description… thinking about me, so I came. Mind you, it’s ironic I ended up in the sin bin, especially with you. I could as well ask you what you are doing here!”
Scarlet sat down opposite him. “Do you miss Cloudbase that much?”
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Brown’s voice gained some animation as he spoke. “I never fail to marvel at how well she turned out.” He shrugged. “I guess that means I miss her.”
“She is marvellous. Your triumph.”
“And Conrad’s.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I sometimes wonder how he is. We were friends… I hesitate to say ‘good friends’ as he was not an easy man to know.”
“They killed him too; he’s a Mysteron, Alan. Their agent in all that’s destructive and evil.”
Brown looked confused and frowned, shaking his head slightly. “He isn’t dead. Trust me, I’d know.” He glanced at Scarlet and shrugged his left shoulder in a characteristic gesture. “ It explains why I haven’t seen him though.”
Scarlet looked away, swamped with pity and horror for Conrad Turner’s terrible fate. The remaining group of the elite officers Captain Black had inducted into Spectrum had long debated whether their erstwhile companion was dead or alive. That he was a Mysteron Agent had quickly become clear, but whether he was aware of the evil he did at their behest or not, had remained a mystery. For Scarlet, the concept of being forced to perform such acts of destruction and death as Black had done since his return from Mars, whilst being conscious of what you were doing, was the ultimate inhuman torment. He knew Conrad Turner had been a lifelong pacifist and the irony that he was responsible for putting the whole planet in peril, by his overreaction to a perceived threat whilst leading a Martian exploration mission, was not lost on him.
Now he felt unable to offer any comfort to his erstwhile partner, so he resorted to banalities. “Is there anything you want? Anything I can do to… to make things better?”
“No.”
There was a hint of amusement in Brown’s voice as he recognised Scarlet’s honest desire to help in some undetermined way. “There’s nothing I need and the only thing I really miss is my gold cigarette case, which had great sentimental value. It had been in the family for generations and my grandfather gave it to my father when he married my mother. My father gave it to me before he died, even though I was only a kid. That was when I started smoking, ironically enough.” He sighed. “I expect it was destroyed in the car crash.”
“No. No, it wasn’t. They found it at the Maximum Security Building after the blast. The security film showed that you jettisoned it near the entrance when it set off a metal detector.”
“Really? I never considered that; I just assumed it was lost in the crash. I don’t suppose the Mysterons understood what it was… or what it meant to me … why would they? I can’t see something having sentimental value meaning anything to them. But perhaps it shows that they don’t really understand human beings as well as they think, however powerful they are? If they had done, they’d have known I would never have just thrown it away.”
Scarlet nodded. “We do seem to be able to blindside them occasionally. I am sure they consider our emotional reactions to things and events incomprehensible. If they’d had insight into that aspect of humanity, they might not have assumed Conrad’s attack on their base was hostile, but realised it was just fear of the unknown.”
“You may well be right. You know more about them than I do, Paul. My memory stops when I died in the car crash, remember? I know nothing of what, or who, made me act as you say I did.”
Scarlet gave a disappointed sigh. For a brief moment he had thought that here was someone who knew as much, if not more, than he did about what had happened to him. But he realised now that this Captain Brown was the spectre of the ‘human’ Brown who had never experienced the sensation of retrometabolism. The tantalising promise of understanding what the Mysterons had done to him, had once more evaporated. But it was not Alan’s fault. He gave his friend what he hoped was a cheery smile and said:
“The colonel has your cigarette case, by the way; he keeps it in remembrance of you – his friend.”
“Does he? That’s nice.” Brown gave a wry smile.
Scarlet had a sudden idea and impulsively asked: “Would you like it back?”
Brown’s face lit up at the thought, but he replied, “I won’t say it’s not a nice idea, but I don’t think it’s possible, Paul. I won’t be here much longer and I can hardly go and ask him for it; he won’t be able to see me for a start.”
Scarlet leapt to his feet and dashed towards the door. “Wait! Wait here. I’ll get it for you. Wait, Alan. Stay here!”
“I have no choice,” Brown called after Scarlet as he raced away through the heavy metal door.
Scarlet took the lift up to the engineering walkway below the Spectrafan and then ran as he’d never run before towards the main elevators and the escalators to the officers’ quarters. He dodged people, leapt barriers and ran up the escalators until he felt his heart would burst. He reached the colonel’s quarters and without thinking pressed the bell.
Colonel White opened the door. He was wrapped in a thick woollen dressing gown over his pyjamas.
“Captain Scarlet! What is the meaning of this?”
Panting heavily, Scarlet gasped: “Brown’s cigarette case – where is it?”
“What?”
“I need it. Alan’s cigarette case. He wants it back. I can’t explain now. Later. Give it to me – quickly!”
Colonel White had decades of experience to call on when it came to analysing people. He realised that whatever was going on was important to his most valuable agent, and that ‘no’ was not an answer Scarlet would accept. With commendable speed he went to a desk and from the lowest drawer he pulled out the battered cigarette case and held it out.
Scarlet grabbed it. “Thanks! Later!”
He pirouetted on the ball of his foot and raced out of the room, back towards the lowest deck.
Even as the door closed behind him, Colonel White was contacting Security, the Control Room and Doctor Fawn, alerting them to a potential threat and a possible medical emergency.
It seemed to take an age to get back down into the bowels of Cloudbase, but Scarlet was not going to give up while there was breath in his body. He almost fell against the metal door, leaning heavily on the handle, and stumbled into the sin bin.
Brown was standing at the far side, close to the wall. Even to Scarlet’s 20-20 vision he looked almost transparent. His voice was little more than a whisper.
“Did you get it, Paul?”
“Yes.” Scarlet laid it on the metal seat closest to his friend. Brown’s hand reached for it, an expression of pure joy on his face. But he was too insubstantial to pick it up.
“I can’t…”
Without hesitation Scarlet drew his gun and fired at the metal case. The bullets shattered the already fragile gold and ricocheted off the metal wall. One of them hit him in the chest, just below his heart.
Before he bled to death, Scarlet had the satisfaction of seeing the miasma of Captain Brown pick up the ‘ghost’ of the destroyed case – whole and shining.
“Thank you, Paul. Merry Christmas…”
Doctor Fawn arrived with an emergency medical team to recover Scarlet’s body. Captain Blue who the colonel had alerted to find his friend and investigate what the hell was going on was close behind.
As the corpse was wheeled away on a gurney, Fawn turned to look at the tall American. “What do you think he was doing down here?” he asked. “He’s never smoked in his life.”
“No idea,” Blue confessed thoughtfully. He was stirring the shards of metal that lay on the floor with the toe of his pale blue boot. He glanced around the room noting the various bullet marks on the floor and walls and the spent cartridges. “Whatever it was, I don’t think he intended to shoot himself, looks to me like there was a ricochet.”
The colonel had repeated what Scarlet had said to him to Blue, but with the proviso that he did not repeat it, in case it caused disquiet amongst the staff.
Blue sighed, shrugged and continued, “Scarlet told the colonel someone wanted something back. I guess we’ll have to wait until he’s woken up to find out what he’s been doing. After all, Doc, tonight of all nights, miracles can happen.”
Author’s Notes:
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all.
Thanks to Hazel Köhler for her beta-reading services. Any mistakes are mine and mine alone as I couldn’t resist doing yet another re-write of part of the text after Hazel had knocked it all into shape. Thanks also for the title, because I couldn’t think of one.
Thanks to Chris Bishop for the Spectrum HQ website and the inspiration.
Thanks to all of the people involved in bringing Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons™ to the TV screens and comic books of my generation. I doubt they realised just what they were creating, but I am grateful they did it anyway.
Marion Woods
17/12/2022