Grey braced as Sable took the SPJ into the air. With his less extensive flight training, it was his job to go over the instruments and the flight rules for the day. “Circle down to… 10,000 feet, heading 120 degree east. Then the autopilot can take it from there.”

“SIG.” By contrast, he could tell that Sable was no stranger to the pilot’s seat. Even inside the highly advanced SPJ, there was no sign of discomfort or uncertainty. It opened up the question of what their life had been like before joining Spectrum.

“Airspeed steady at 700kph, we can bring her up to mach 2 at 10,000 feet. That makes our ETA… 0930 hours.” Grey sat back in his seat and stretched a little, while Sable raised an eyebrow at the ETA. Even Spectrum’s passenger craft were ridiculous. They also shuffled in their seat a little in preparation for the flight.

“We’ll be making good time then.”

“Mhmm, these are fast aircraft.” Grey glanced over, wondering if it was worth risking a question. He decided it was better than dead silence. “Does it handle differently to what you’re used to?”

He spied a faint eyebrow twitch, but Sable remained stoic otherwise. “It does. Certainly not the kind of speed I’m used to.”

“Were you a military or commercial pilot​?”

Sable was silent for perhaps too long. Long enough that Grey started to give up on receiving an answer. Then they spoke, with no small amount of discomfort. “Air Force.”

Grey raised an eyebrow. A picture was starting to form in his mind. “But not a fighter pilot.” Sable raised a hard eyebrow at him at this assertion and he shrugged. “You said you weren’t used to the speed.”

Sable’s hands tensed slightly. “I did.” They kept their eyes trained forward. “I worked in intelligence. So no, I didn’t fly a lot of jets.”

“Ah, so it was more…” Grey had to focus to pull up the right craft. Not his scene, after all. “AEWs, UAVs, that sort of thing?”

“Mhmm.”

It wasn’t hard for him to catch that Captain Sable didn’t have much passion for their old line of work. In fact, they looked a little tense just talking about it. With that in mind, Grey decided it was only fair to offer something back. “I was a submariner myself, with the WASP.”

Sable glanced at him again. “Dangerous work.”

“So I’ve been told. Fortunately, all I walked away with was a chronic ear ache and some.. Lingering back trouble.”

“And that wasn’t enough to stop Spectrum from taking you for themselves.”

For a split second, Sable’s tone made Grey hesitate, but he brushed past it as best he could. “Actually, I’m pretty sure they caught wind I was stuck in a desk job and offered me this position instead. They knew I’d bite.”

Sable scoffed. “Lucky you.”

There wasn’t a shred of positivity in those words. In fact, to Grey, they sounded a little bitter. It made him eye them carefully as he risked another question. “What about you? What did you think when you received the offer?”

Again, Sable didn’t answer. For a moment, they didn’t plan on answering at all. Then it occurred to them that, maybe, having a bit of the truth circling amongst the other officers might it easier to be left in peace. “I rejected it, at first.”

Grey’s eyebrows hit the roof. “No kidding? Do you mind if I ask why?”

Sable shrugged their shoulders lightly. “Just looked like more military crap to me.”

“You… Can’t have enjoyed your time in the air force if that’s what you thought.”

This time, at least, the huff that escaped Sable was cynically amused. “Ten years of my life I’ll never get back.”

“I see.” Grey settled into a frown, his mind buzzing with each new piece of information. “So why join Spectrum?”

“Colonel White makes an irritating amount of sense.” Sable responded without hesitation, and Grey couldn’t help but smirk.

“You’re right, he does.”

“It’s not a bad thing, I respect it. I know where I stand with him.”

Grey nodded. “The Colonel has earned the respect of every one of us, in some way or another.” He had to stop talking for a moment when he felt the SPJ increase in speed, as Sable throttled up to prepare for mach 2. He straightened up in his seat. “Ah, 10,000 feet. Configuring autopilot now.”

Grey dialed in their destination while Sable spared a glance to monitor his work and, once the autopilot was set up, they waited for confirmation. When the display finally flashed the okay that they could relax on the controls, they did so with a heavy sigh. They didn’t really relax in their seat, however. Grey couldn’t help but wonder, based on what he’d learned, if Sable was capable of relaxing at all. He eyed them carefully, spying the tension on their shoulders, the unwillingness to even turn to look in his direction. “I… Hope you realise we’re not just soldiers. That is, you’re not stepping back into that kind of life by joining Spectrum.”

“… I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“That’s alright. We have a lot to prove to each other, don’t we?” Grey offered a halfway smile and a nod of understanding. “It’s a big adjustment, joining an organisation like this. It’s a tough choice to make.”

“I did make the choice.” Sable responded too quickly, and it caused them to frown. Grey caught the shift in their expression, and with a sigh they acquiesced to the scrutiny. Just a little. “It just didn’t feel like much of a choice, at the time. I can’t imagine the Colonel shows up on people’s doorsteps very often.”

Once again, Grey felt his eyebrows slam upwards. “He came to see you personally?”

“Once he figured out the usual recruitment lines weren’t going to work on me, yeah.”

Grey exhaled and shook his head. “Colonel White is a determined man. If he thinks that something or,” he glanced over, “Someone is a necessary asset, I don’t know what could stop him.”

Sable hummed in agreement. They knew exactly what that necessity was. “When I’m not needed in the field, I’m going to be working on developments and improvements to your electronic weaponry.”

Grey’s lips parted in realisation. The pieces were starting to fit together. “Now, that makes sense. The Mysteron gun is still experimental technology.”

“I can tell.” Sable deadpanned. “It works, but it’s not exactly practical, is it? It’ll be my job to fix that.”

“You mean you’ve already tested it?”

“Of course.” Sable actually looked at Grey this time, even if it was quizzical. “If I didn’t know how to use it, I wouldn’t have asked for it for today’s mission.”

“Well sure, we’ve all had the training, but only Captain Scarlet has actually fired the real thing.”

Sable scoffed again. “Well, I have actual experience in electronic warfare. I think White’s hope is that the operation of the equipment will become my specialty.”

“That’s… Quite the responsibility. Do you think you’re up for it?”

“Wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“Good answer.”

With the SPJ now in a stable, high-altitude cruise, Grey unbuckled his seatbelt to sit forward and stretch his back a little. He looked at Sable and attempted a more lighthearted smile. “Do you have any initial ideas for the Mysteron gun? A more original name, perhaps?”

“Make it smaller, to start off with.” They replied with a grimace. “It’s so bulky. Not my style, for certain. And the weight of it means it’s impractical for field work. I mean, what if we have to chase a Mysteron?” Strangely, talking about work specifics was cracking through Sable’s demeanour, bit by bit.

“That’s a good point. In its current form, it kinda turns the user into a walking turret. Not ideal for close quarters engagements.” Grey shuffled in his seat to face Sable more fully. “From what I understand, the main bulk of the thing is the central column, but a tonne of shielding is required to prevent the user from being electrocuted.”

“It also makes it impossible to conceal, which doesn’t exactly fit my intelligence background.” Sable wrinkled their nose. “Miniaturising the weapon is one option, but there have to be other, alternative means of delivering the required voltage. I suppose I need some first-hand knowledge to truly judge what we need.”

“I imagine with your briefing, you know as much as the rest of us. Which is frustratingly little, really.”

“A brief can only impart so much. When it comes to information gathering, seeing is believing.” Sable huffed and pinched the bridge of their nose. “I probably shouldn’t be implicitly wishing for us to encounter trouble, but how else are we supposed to learn anything about our enemy?”

“Always on the back foot, that’s where the Mysterons like to keep us.” Grey’s eyes drifted back to the view out of the window. The clouds below were still thick and dour. “I sometimes wonder if we’ll ever understand them.”

Sable joined him in staring at the ominous view. “We can damn well try.”

After landing at the airport, Sable and Grey found a Spectrum Saloon waiting for them to take them to the command centre set up inside Suez’s main administrative building. They swiped their IDs against the intercom and were escorted inside by a Spectrum guard. They entered the room overlooking the second checkpoint across the canal. The guard alerted his XO, who had been speaking with the manager of the building at the time. After thanking the manager for his cooperation, she turned her attention to the new arrivals.

“Captains, good to see you made it.”

“Looks like you’ve given us a head start, Lieutenant.” Grey said.

“Yes, sir.” She gestured outside the window. “The four checkpoints are up and running as ordered and two SSAs are overflying the canal. We’ve had a few issues with tankers not receiving the new legislation regarding the size of the vessels allowed through. There have been numerous complaints from both estuary checkpoints.” She stifled a huff of annoyance and clasped her hands behind her back. “We’ve done all we can to contact the shipping companies and get a complete schedule of the ships that should be coming through.”

Sable stood a little behind Grey, arms folded, observing their surroundings. Their eyes became glued to the view outside and they didn’t look over as they spoke. “We’re aware it’s a tall order. It’s also a necessity.” They finally looked over to Captain Grey. “Is there anywhere specific you want to be?”

Grey stroked his chin for a moment before turning back to the XO. “Lieutenant, are there tug boats available to steer ships that might get stuck?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’d like to supervise a fleet of tug boats. We can potentially use them to block the passage of any rogue ships that come through.”

“Good idea.” Sable affirmed, their attention elsewhere. They walked over to the radar scanner, wanting to understand the equipment they were dealing with. Part of them wished they were in the sky, hands on the controls of a cutting-edge reconnaissance craft, but they had begrudgingly resigned themself to solid ground for their first mission. The imagery of a bird’s eye view in their mind made them look back over to Grey. “Just don’t get tunnel vision. If this place is the target, there’s no guarantee the disruption will come from the canal itself.”

“SIG, Captain.” Grey replied. A member of staff waved him over and he followed them down to the canal where the tug boats were moored. The XO joined Sable at the radar scanner.

“This is an uplink to the scanners on the two SSAs. They’re able to take super high-res photos from above and match the ships to our registry. Once a match has been made, you’ll see the ship number and name appear alongside it on the scanner.” She pointed to a dot on the scanner that was just entering the northern estuary. It had been identified as carrying lumber for a company called Natura Exports. Once a new dot appeared on the scanner, it only took a couple of minutes for it to be identified and the information to appear beside it. A good system. As Captain Sable observed however, they noticed one dot approaching the southern estuary with no identification. They watched, waited a moment, then pointed at it for the XO’s benefit.

“There’s a severe delay happening with this one.”

The XO leaned in and, with permission from the radio operator, pressed a few keys to centre on the unidentified ship. She frowned. “You’re right.” She tapped the operator’s shoulder. “Get on to the southern checkpoint, ask if they have an eye on that ship.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The XO’s microphone swung down. “SSA1 from Checkpoint S2, we’re showing an unidentified ship approaching the southern estuary from reference W8.”

“Confirmed, Checkpoint S2, we’re showing negative results on the electromagnetic scanners, too. We suspect the ship might be shielded.”

Sable’s brow furrowed. Though rare, sometimes a ship’s cargo would require shielding. However, such ships were always expected, always prepped to identify themselves, and always cleared by the necessary authorities. The people manning the canal likely wouldn’t even need the schedule on hand to know a ship like this was arriving. The mic on their cap flipped down and Captain Grey’s epaulets flashed ominously. He stopped short of stepping aboard one of the tug boats and answered the call. “Miss me already, Captain?”

“There’s a ship approaching from the southern estuary that’s showing up negative on standard and electromagnetic scanners. How are your boats looking?”

“Understood. We have three more tugs ready here and three more at the southern estuary. I’m going down there and taking command.”

To Sable’s left, the radar operator looked up from his phone. “The southern checkpoint reports they’ve identified the ship. It’s a Safeway Waste Exports ship, they were scheduled to come through before the embargo. Obviously they didn’t get the memo.”

“Have they established radio contact?” The XO asked.

“No, ma’am, no reply.”

She gave a worried look to Sable, who tipped their head in acknowledgement as they kept speaking on comms. “Grey, how long will it take you to get down there?” Internally, they were trying to gauge how long it would take for themself to get down there from their current position.

“We’re 60 kilometres from the estuary and there’s a 15kmph speed limit, so that’s 4 hours here to there by boat. If I can take an SPV, I can be there in half an hour.”

“Captain Sable,” The XO piped up, “There’s a Spectrum Helijet available on the roof.”

Sable nodded and mouthed a thank you to her before continuing to speak. “Grey, I’m going to take the Helijet down to the southern estuary. If you want my opinion, I’d want you to make sure those tug boats are organised and ready while I try to get closer to that ship, but if you think you’d be more use elsewhere, I won’t argue.”

“SIG. We may need all the tugs to stop this juggernaut. I’ll muster all the hands I can at the southern checkpoint. Grey out.”

“Still no contact with the ship,” the operator spoke up, “And the southern checkpoint reports it’s increasing speed.”

The XO’s eyes widened. “It’s going to ram its way through.”

“Not if we have anything to say about it.” Captain Sable said and, with a not to those present, walked briskly out of the room towards the roof. The helijet was waiting patiently, those in the area having made sure it was ready to be manned at a moment’s notice. With a flash of ID and a few moments for the workers to haul ass out of of the way, Sable sat down at the Helijet’s controls. They didn’t have long, and every second spent on takeoff procedures felt like another second of tempting fate, but soon enough they were lifting off the pad and the Suez stretched in their vision as they took to the sky. Once they were certain of their control, they contacted Grey again. “I’m in the air, Captain. Flying south now.”

“SIG, Captain, I’m in the SPV headed south. ETA, 22 minutes.”

Sable tilted the controls forward to pick up speed and the Suez below swept into a blur. They could see Grey’s SPV on the road as well, picking up speed. From this height, Sable could just about make out the freighter as it approached the southern checkpoint. The ship passed the coastline and a plume of smoke erupted from the checkpoint. Sable’s epaulets flashed again. “This is Checkpoint South! The freighter has smashed through the barrier and is on its way inland at a speed of 40kmph!” Sable could hear the background noise of people rushing to control the damage and put out the fires. Sable was approaching at a speed of 200kmph and the freighter quickly came into view. It was enormous and carried incredible speed and momentum for its size. Any small boat that got in the way was quickly smashed aside. On closer inspection, Sable realised the freighter’s cargo deck was large and flat enough to land on, and with the chaos on comms in their ear, they made a decision.

“SIG, Checkpoint South. I’m going to land on the cargo deck.”

With steady hands and all the assurance in the world, Sable started to bring the helijet round for the best landing possible. At the right speed and angle, a skilled pilot could make the landing with little to no issue, and if there was one thing Riku could take pride in, it was their skill. Down below, some of the smaller ships had wisened up and were trying to move away with the little time they had, no doubt being warned by the checkpoint operators of the danger. It could only help so much. Sable was the picture of calm as they lined up and began their landing procedures. Landing on a moving target was no small feat, but this one was big, with just enough clearance, and with a dull thud and a faint shake forward in their seat, Captain Sable set the Helijet down on the runaway ship. They took a deep breath before speaking up again. “Checkpoint South, landing successful.” They unbuckled themself from the seat and stood up, their mic falling into place. “Grey, I’ve successfully landed on the cargo deck of the freighter. Given this thing is shielded, I’m going to proceed with caution.”

“I can see you! Be careful, Captain, we’re lining up the tugs. You’re gonna feel one almighty crash in, by my estimate, about three minutes.”

They briefly glanced at the Mysteron gun, then shook their head and opened the door. “SIG, I’ll get moving then.”

Sable exited the helijet and their boots hit the metal shutters of the deck. As they climbed down do the walkway, their shoulders flashed once more.

“Captain Sable, I’ve been informed of the situation.” Colonel White’s voice cut through their thoughts. “It is imperative you stop that ship; it’s carrying nuclear waste. You must reach the bridge and cut the engines. The ship should have hazmat suits available. Do not enter the cargo area without one.”

Sable rolled their eyes and scowled. That was going to eat into valuable time. They were already a kilometre inland and approaching the second checkpoint fast, they didn’t have time to put on a hazmat suit and look for a bomb. “SIG, Colonel, I’m already on the cargo pad and looking for a way in. Sable out.” They stopped in front of the door to the bridge and switched their comms to their field partner. “Grey, once I’m inside communication might be spotty. I’m going in.”

The door that led from the walkway to the bridge was windowed and Sable had to duck to remain unnoticed. They could see one man at the helm and three other crew lying either dead or unconscious around him. That was likely their Mysteron duplicate, meaning the bridge was safe to enter. Even Mysterons could be killed by radiation. Based on what Sable knew of duplicates, they guessed he would only have the combat skills of the original helmsman. For a moment, their hand rested on their sidearm, but they dismissed the idea. A last resort, if only for the mess it could make. Then they risked another glance through the window to try and get a good look at the interior. He looked singularly focused on his task, even if the door made a noise to draw his attention, Sable judged they could clear the distance and engage him whilst maintaining some level of surprise. Well, as much surprise as could be maintained after landing a helijet on the ship.

Nonetheless, something had to be done now.

Sable pushed the door open with an unceremonious groan and bolted into the space, across the room, over the bodies on the floor and between the control consoles, intent on ramming straight into the man. Shocked at the sound, the Mysteron released the wheel and spun around, attempting to counter the incoming blow, but Sable’s shoulder slammed into the man’s gut before he could mount any kind of defense. The pair slid over the ship’s wheel as they fell, causing it to spin, and the ship veered harshly to the right. Winded, the Mysteron did not attempt to escape from Sable’s grapple. Instead, he pawed at their face, trying to dig his thumbs into their eyes.

“You’re too late, Earthman.”

Sable’s eyes met his, barely flinching at the hands on their face, and they bared their teeth in a hiss. “Good. No mercy, then.” They pulled the Mysteron back up by the scruff of his shirt, braced on hand over this face and the other against his neck, and slammed his skull against the cold hard floor. One good crack and the man’s eyes rolled back into unconsciousness. Just as Sable was about to relax, the entire ship quaked and threw them across to the far right of the bridge as the bow of the ship scraped the canal’s concrete edge. As they staggered back to their feet and put their eyes back on the Mysteron, their shoulders flashed to herald Grey’s voice. “Sable! What’s happening in there?”

“There was someone at the helm. He wasn’t happy to see me.” Sable said as they leaned down, removed the belt from the man’s uniform, and rolled him onto his front. He wrapped the belt securely around both forearms against his back and tightened it up.

“Are you alright? You need to stop those engines, you’re five minutes max from the tug line!” Grey warned, not that Sable needed it. The metal panels beneath their feet were vibrating from the hull of the ship screeching against the concrete. They hauled themself back towards the wheel. There had to be some kind of emergency break somewhere. Even replying to Grey fell to the wayside as they stepped back over to the main controls where, finally, they spotted it. They spared the outside just a moment’s glance before they braced themselves against a steady surface and slammed down the emergency cutoff. The thrum of the engines came to a sudden halt, leaving only the shriek of the hull against the concrete outside. Through the bridge windows, Sable could see people fleeing from the canal’s edge. Debris floated on the water where the freighter had crashed through several docked ships. Slowly but surely, the ship came close to a halt, still ungrounded but now just drifting sideways.

“That’s it, you’ve done it!” Grey’s voice brought their attention back to the present. “Alright, we’re making our way over, we’ll pull the ship to a safe distance.”

Ochre spun around to find that one of the new officers had just materialised in the room, neither of the two men having heard them come through the door.

“I’m looking for cold storage.” Stated Captain Sable, who did not look bothered that their silent entrance had nearly toppled Magenta straight off the sofa. Ochre narrowed his eyes at them for just a second, but quickly asserted a friendly smile over his features.

“Captain! You’re in the right place, cold storage for officers is back here. Let me show you.”

He walked around towards the communal kitchen area of the lounge and gestured through to the walk in fridge. “Just through there, should be a shelf there with your name on it. You picking up groceries?”

“Yes.” They replied as they walked through and looked around. Then they looked back at Ochre and gave him a nod that was somewhere between curt and just plain awkward. “Thank you.” They proceeded into the fridge and it took them a few seconds before they spied the shelf with the big SABLE lettering slapped across it. Fortunately, it wasn’t high up, so they just pulled it off the shelf and, checking their grip was secure, hauled it out in one easy move. Ochre stepped forward to help but saw that Sable had everything in hand. Still, like Magenta said, it was always good to ask. “Need a hand at all?”

Sable walked past Ochre and did not glance his way as they replied. “No, thank you.”

They walked out of the kitchen and back into the lounge proper, allowing Magenta to shoot them a grin. “That’s quite the box.”

Sable said nothing in response. Magenta tilted his head.

“You sure you don’t need help?”

“Very sure.” They responded.

“S’pose we can’t interest you in a drink, either?” He replied, keeping his friendly tone. As Sable approached the automatic door, they huffed.

“Doubtful.”

And then they were stepping through. The door shut behind them without another word, leaving Magenta blinking rapidly. “Jeez…” He settled back on the sofa and wrinkled his nose. “You didn’t hear this from me, Rick, but I think the new Black might be an asshole.”

Ochre looked at the door with a pout. That wasn’t it. There was something guarded about the way Sable brushed them off. He walked around and set Magenta’s coffee in front of him. “Well, they have just been pulled into a war against an invisible alien force, set on toying with humanity as revenge for an attack made by the very organisation that hired them.” He sat down next to his partner with a sigh. “That could ruin anyone’s day.”

“Wow, you sure know how to make a guy feel better.” Magenta nonetheless cracked a smile and relaxed with his drink. His expression fell too quickly. “Makes me wonder how the new guys ended up here, actually. I mean, we were already here before the Mysterons basically became our main reason for existing, it’s not like we were meant to fight this war.” He exhaled and the action made him deflate in his seat. “Them, though? They were probably meant for it. Doesn’t sound great, does it?”

“Now who’s making us feel better?” Ochre managed to maintain his wry smile. “Listen to us, whining about the good old days.”

“That were, what, a few months ago?” This at least made Magenta grin again, and he held up his coffee teasingly. “To the good old days, Rick, and our tireless optimism in the face of absolute ridiculousness.”

The kitchen was too big.

That was a weird conclusion to come to, considering Riku’s quarters were probably three times the size of the apartment they’d been previously living in. But that was the point. Having finished stocking the shelves and the fridge with their groceries, it was about half full. It wasn’t even a big kitchenette, but it was still bigger than they’d needed in the past year. They turned their attention to their luggage, realising the same could be said of their worldly possessions. Everything they owned had fit into two boxes and a suitcase. This place was going to look infuriatingly barren.

At least they didn’t need help unpacking.

Since they were doing the kitchen, they opened that box first. Pots, pans, utensils, dishware, it all went into place and did not occupy enough space wherever they put them. Despite this, every pot and pan, every item placed felt like they were giving in. Setting their life here in stone. What were the chances they would have to pack everything away soon enough? That a year, a month, a week from now, they’d crack under the pressure, or piss the wrong person off?

And of course, there was the other, unavoidable truth. They’d noticed it the second they’d arrived.

They were living in the quarters of a dead man.

It had been a very good, tidy job by whoever gutted the rooms before Riku's arrival, but they were just too damn perceptive. The plaque on the front door, the one that read SABLE in angular black letters, was newer and shinier than all the others. The inside had smelled slightly chemical when they'd arrived, the fresh scent of a deep clean. There were heavily faded marks on the walls where there might have once been posters, or paintings, or mounted displays. The carpets were new and very specifically selected for their lack of character. The life story of the man who once lived here had been carefully erased, leaving only the faintest of pencil lines, just like the hollowed out shade the Mysterons had made of him. Now, Riku had been left to paint over what remained.

Easier said than done.

Riku, on some level, didn't want to settle in, or paint over the lines left behind. It meant they ended up staring at these echoes of Captain Black and ruminating on them, like a bizarre form of meditation that was probably no good for them in the long-term. These marks were left behind by their predecessor.

Their enemy.

The jackass who caused this whole mess in the first place.

Riku should have been angry at the man, at this spectre hounding their steps and disrupting their life. But all they felt, as they stared at the marks on the kitchen wall, was the sense they were staring at the last breath of a soul. Perhaps what was left of Conrad Turner's soul resided here, in these walls. It would be a shame if it were trapped in his body, relegated to puppetry for a single, fatal mistake.

Thinking about it like that, Riku could only feel pity for their predecessor and nemesis. Maybe they hadn’t completely forgotten how to meditate after all.

Riku’s epaulets flashed white, breaking them from their thought process. With a huff, they set their last pan down and retrieved their cap from the counter, putting it back on. Their voice came through curt and sharp. “Sable.”

“Captain,” Colonel White greeted, “Would you join us on the bridge for the mission briefing?”

Riku’s brow twitched. So it began. “Yes, sir.”

It took Captain Sable less than a minute to get up to the bridge. The doors opened and they entered in much the same way they did the briefing room. They were momentarily startled when the floor began moving beneath them. When they paused, so too did the conveyor. When they continued, it sensed their movements and propelled them forward. They resisted the urge to roll their eyes. Just another ridiculous thing to get used to. They took the empty seat next to Captain Grey, who gave them a polite smile. They did not respond in kind, indeed like before they didn’t even glance to anyone else in the room, like their surroundings just ran off them like water. Thankfully, Colonel White didn’t leave time for pleasantries. “Captain Sable, good. Captains Indigo and Teal have narrowed down the list of potential targets. I believe your expertise will be invaluable installing surveillance at the Suez Canal. Captain Grey shall accompany you.”

Sable finally spared Grey a glance and gave him a nod of acknowledgement. It was the most interaction those present had seen out of them yet.

“We believe an attack – if there is to be one – is most likely to take place at the canal’s narrowest point.” The Colonel continued, the console spinning around with him so he could gesture to the map on-screen. Sable had to suppress a huff. That couldn’t be practical. “An attempt to block the canal by sinking a vessel wide enough would halt a significant number of vital shipping routes.” He spun back around. “Tell me, Captain, What are your thoughts? What equipment would you need to make the canal secure?”

Sable almost jumped at White addressing them so directly. For a split second, they narrowed their eyes at him. It was clear he’d clocked their relative silence compared to everyone else and was putting them on the spot for it. Well, fine. Sable folded their arms. “What’s the likelihood that this will be the target?”

“Based on what we’ve found, right in the middle,” Teal answered, “There are a couple of hydroelectric plants that we’ve narrowed down as the most tempting targets. Suez is next on the list.”

“Right.” Sable’s cutting gaze landed on Colonel White again, watching his stoic expression closely. Looking for cracks as they spoke. “If resources were no object, I would cut the maximum permitted vessel size by a third for however long the Mysterons hold this threat over our heads. I would requisition aerial surveillance to monitor the entire canal, its connected bays, and landmasses. I would place checkpoints outfitted with Mysteron detectors at approximately every 25km along the canal, from end to end, and everyone working in the main buildings and organisations along it would also be required to undergo detection, as well as have their activity monitored by at least two Spectrum personnel in each building at all times.” They leaned back in their seat and unfolded their arms. “However, I’m still unsure what resources you have available, so I would ask to be informed of what is possible verses what is ideal.”

White nodded in understanding. If he disapproved of anything they’d said, it didn’t show on his face. “That is why I called you here, Captain. We can install floating barricades every 25km along the canal, that would mean 8 checkpoints in all. Unfortunately, we do not yet have a way of detecting Mysteron agents short of taking a photograph of everyone aboard every vessel.” There. A crease in his brow. Annoyance at such a limitation. “This would significantly slow down traffic along the canal which, I’m sure, is the Mysterons’ intention.”

“Slow traffic is better than allowing the Mysterons to carry out their threat, Colonel.” Indigo was quick to point out.

“True, but I believe we should try to conduct ourselves in a manner that creates as little disruption as possible. Especially considering we do not yet know if Suez is the true target.” White pressed his fingertips together. “We must remember, it is a game of nerves the Mysterons play.”

“I agree the size of vessel allowed through the canal should be limited.” Indigo tipped their head at Sable. “The shipping companies may not like it, but they can send more frequent, smaller vessels if they really need to.”

“Agreed. I will contact legislation at Suez and have this implemented.” White tapped on his computer display with intent. “The aerial surveillance shouldn’t prove a problem. I can give you two SSAs outfitted with the latest electromagnetic sensors.”

“But there’s still the fact that we don’t know what we’re looking for.” Teal tapped their chin, thinking. “I mean, it could be anything, right? A bomb, a missile. A rogue ship?”

“Or all of the above.” Grey added to their sentiment. “Perhaps if we limit the checkpoints to 4 areas, then? At the estuaries and either side of the canal’s narrowest point. Ships would only have to pass two checkpoints going one way and we can photograph the crews in groups to save time.”

“That seems reasonable. I can also have local Spectrum agents installed in the buildings along the canal.” The Colonel looked at each of his officers, seemingly satisfied. “A thousand shipping companies operate through Suez, but we must be vigilant. We can implement the same security measures at Panama, as well.”

Sable observed everyone as the spoke, more intensely than if they were just being polite. When their eyes landed back on White, and they took a moment to run through all the suggested logistics in their head, Sable found they were actually a little impressed. Between them all, they’d managed to build out proper action from their own optimistic suggestion. They nodded. “This seems optimal to me.”

“Then it’s decided. I will contact the necessary people to make the preparations.” White looked at the two officers, one familiar and one new. “Captain Grey and Captain Sable, you will oversee security at Suez.”

Grey looked at Sable, probably curious at having been paired up with them. “Will you be piloting the SPJ, Captain Sable?”

“Yes.” They answered. They were a pilot, after all, they assumed as much. They looked at the Colonel again. “I’m aware this is not the only potential location for an attack, but would I be able to requisition a Mysteron gun?”

“If you feel it’s necessary, you may do so, Captain. Cloudbase will chart a course west south-west, and I will have Captain Teal send you your departure time later this afternoon.” Colonel White straightened up in his seat, firm in the decisions that had been made today. “That is all. You are dismissed.”

When the word was given, Captain Sable was the first to stand. They walked out of the bridge ahead of everyone else, incredibly intent on getting back to their quarters to unpack. It made Teal and Indigo glance at each other, given this was the second time today they’d seen the taciturn Captain pull away from any potential group interactions. Indeed, Grey had turned to speak to Sable, only to find they’d already cleared the distance to the door. He fell into step with the other two and frowned. His tone was quiet as they all got close to the door. “Is Captain Sable alright?”

Teal gave him a shrug. “Maybe they got interrupted packing.”

“Perhaps they are simply shy outside of a work context.” Indigo suggested, probably wanting to remain optimistic. Grey couldn’t begrudge them if that were the case; it’d taken him a bit of time to open up to his colleagues, after all. He just hoped it wasn’t a sign of things to come. Speaking of, he smiled at the two officers he was with.

“Well, I was gonna say, the senior staff are heading down to the Amber Room. The new Angel pilots are supposed to be arriving soon. Would you like to come meet everybody?”

“Sounds like fun!” Teal answered immediately. Indigo smiled at their enthusiasm, but hesitated and their face fell. They pressed their fingertips against their temple, massaging the spot gently before they reasserted their smile over their features.

“Ah, that is kind of you to ask, but I think I will take some time to rest in my quarters.” Some sheepishness made it into their expression. “I must admit that I sometimes struggle with socialising as well. My apologies.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know the feeling.” Grey gave them a nod. “You’ll meet everyone eventually, I’m sure they can manage it a little quieter.”

“Thank you.” As the group walked into the hallway, Indigo turned towards the senior quarters. They tilted their head at the others before departing. “Have fun, Captains.”

“See you later!” Teal gave them a wave, then looked up at Grey. “So, Amber Room?”

It was now a widely known fact that the Global Conflict that had birthed the ‘Peaceful Age’ was nowhere near as catastrophic as it could have been. On all sides small acts of defiance had ensured that attacks and bombs had fallen relatively harmlessly – either diverted from the intended civilian targets or the ‘highly-reactive’ (military speak for ‘if we hit it with a couple of bombs, it will obligingly make a massive explosion’) industries; weapons jammed through poorly applied maintenance or sabotaged parts; or even bombs that were re-engineered to be ‘duds’, insufficient explosive materials, or inoperable triggers.

In an ironic twist, it was these last devices – bombs and other explosives with full explosive loads, but trigger devices that did not operate, allowing them to fall to earth with only the potential of their ‘ballistic potential’ (military speak for ‘big heavy object, falling a long distance will damage whatever it hits’).

With long experience borne of many, many conflicts throughout the history of human experience the ‘failed’ ordinance had quickly and efficiently been cleared and ‘disposed off’ (‘blown up somewhere where nobody and nothing will get hurt’) from the land.

The ordinances that had ended up in the oceans were … left. The wise heads in government deciding that the risk they posed to human life and industries was not worth the cost of locating and disposing of them.

So when a rogue faction with Bereznikian sympathisers got themselves a submarine, located a supply of ‘suitable’ UXOs (Unexploded Ordinance) and started setting them in caches at major ports with new trigger devices that would ensure that they would explode this time around, Spectrum swung into action as the first reports had started trickling in.

Spectrum’s response had put Grey and a very pleased Lieutenant Green, as former WASPs with the most experience on and below the water, at the forefront. With the assistance of other Captains, Spectrum’s submarines had been manoeuvred into the vicinity of the caches, and Grey had swum out with a full scuba rig to render the munitions harmless again.

Once the caches had been neutralised, Scarlet led the ‘Hell’ contingent in a raid to capture the terrorists leaders, all of whom were now sitting – their heads probably still spinning from the speed of events – safely in DeWitts Prison awaiting their day in court. WASP were tasked to remove and dispose of the neutralised caches, and the rumblings that could be heard from Marineville all the way up on Cloudbase indicated that Commander Shore would be tasking his various submarines to clear up the remainder of the abandoned ordinances before “that aquatic asshole, Titan gets any ideas.”

It was only in the debrief that Grey had gave any indication that he had taken personal issue with the events.

After professionally and briskly making his report, Grey had requested leave to add some personal observations. White, valuing the submariner’s opinions, granted permission. What Grey had noticed, and what the rest of the Captains had not, was that many of the caches – while placed perfectly to disable shipping in and out of the ports – was also placed near various facilities designed to provide medical treatment and rehabilitation to endangered or injured sea life.

Grey let his feelings about this be known, at length and at volume. When he hit the ten minute mark with no signs of slowing down, and increasingly alarmed at the startlingly bright red hue his face had turned, the flush creeping down his neck to disappear into the low profile roll-neck he preferred, While glanced around at Doctor Fawn.

Fawn nodded and slid out of his seat. White watched with one eye as the Doctor casually headed to the beverage station on the far wall, and made a mug of tea, while waiting for the tea to brew he picked up a small spray bottle sitting next to a plant, and fiddled with the jet, sniffing cautiously at the contents. Before finishing making his drink.

Carefully carrying the mug back to his place next to Grey at the conference table, Fawn set it down, before unhooking the spray bottle and…

...fired six or seven quick bursts directly at Grey’s face.

Shocked, Grey spluttered to a halt, his eyes wide and jaw hanging loose as he stared at the Doctor.

Fawn smiled, set the spray bottle down and retook his seat. “Oh good, that worked. You’re much calmer now.”

Grey stared at him. “What … what did you do?” he spluttered, water dripping off his face.

“Activated the Mammalian Diving Response. When you have water hit your face it can lower heart rate and body temperature. It’s a rather neat evolutionary hold-over from before our ancestors left the oceans.” Fawn smiled. “It’s why it feels so good to stand under a shower with the water hitting your face.”

White quickly took control. “If I understand the points you were making, Captain, you feel that the risk to the Marine Rehabilitation Centres was not incidental, but a deliberate choice; and you would wish that this be added to the charges against ‘The Collective’?”

Grey nodded. “Uh, yes, sir; you see…”

White held up a hand. “Thank you, Captain Grey. I will ask that you provide all the relevant details in a separate report. Which I will pass along to the World Government’s Judiciary Branch, as well as WASP with a recommendation that they assist the centres revise their security programmes.”

To White’s immense relief, Grey nodded and sat down without another word.

“Does anyone have anything else to add?” There were head shakes and negative murmurs all around. “Very well. This was a successful mission, and I have every expectation that with the information we will provide to the Judiciary will ensure that those responsible for this attempted catastrophe will not be able to further their agenda.”

White let them absorb that, before dismissing them. “Please have your reports to me by noon tomorrow. And get some rest.” he added as Fawn went to speak. “Dismissed.”

His final word was only half spoken when chairs started scraping back, and the sound of folders being slid across the table top filled the room. Fawn – not having a new charge in Sickbay for a change – was one of the last to leave, fairly skipping out of the room.

White took a moment to collect his thoughts before he, too, stood to make his way out of the conference room. As he turned just inside the door to check the room over for anything missed. The spray bottle, sitting innocently on the table caught his eye.

White sighed, and added ‘write memo to housekeeping to ensure equipment is not left lying around’ to his list of things to do.

Another thought had him checking the time and noting it in his notepad, along with the date. He would have to keep a sharp ear out to figure out how long it was before someone ‘tested’ Fawn’s assertion and he would have to keep an eye out to ensure it didn’t get out of hand.

Personally, he gave Ochre and Magenta less than six hours before they gave into temptation.

Maybe Fawn would be amenable to a little wager...

Notes:

I saw a post about the Mammalian Diving Reflex on Tumblr, which explained that standing under a shower with water hitting your face feels sooooo goooood because it activates the Mammalian Diving Reflex, which lowers heartbeat and temperature – use for our fish ancestors (and, presumably, our currently living fish cousins), so they didn’t waste calories during the high-demand activity of swimming.

How my brain went from that fact, to hitting somebody who’s aggravated in the face with a jet from a spray bottle like they’re a disobedient cat is a mystery for the ages.

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Captain Scarlet, either the TOS or CGI Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

Night had long settled on Marineville when Black arrived and showed his credentials at the gate. He’d been directed to the visitor’s carpark, collected by a security guard, but for some reason he wasn’t taken to the large building that housed WASP. Instead, he was taken to a smoker’s gazebo on the perimeter of Marineville. It was so far away from the main complex that it wasn’t on the massive platform that held the rest of the facility. 

‘I didn’t expect this,’ Black mused to himself as he dismissed the guard and settled in to wait. ‘It does make sense though’. Marineville, ever wary of infiltrators, was covered by cameras on all angles and the organisation was crammed into the one building, so getting a private conversation needed unusual measures. 

He’d been waiting for a handful of minutes when he heard pebbles crunch underfoot. Turning he saw Lieutenant Commander Bradly Holden striding out of the night and up the path to the gazebo.

“Captain Black?” Holden asked as soon as he was in easy speaking distance. 

“Yes, Lieutenant Commander,” Black replied, offering his hand and getting a handshake of greeting in reply. 

“Siddown,” Holden invited, taking one of the bench seats. “I’m sorry about all this,” he waved at the gazebo, “but the base gossip-chain is pretty bad right now. Me meeting with a stranger from an unknown outfit would only kick it into high gear.” 

“I understand,” Black nodded as he sat, because he did. What he also understood was the haunted look in Holden’s eyes, the shame of someone who’d been unfairly found wanting and cast aside by people they’d thought were their peers, comrades and friends. In the eyes of WASP,  Holden had had his chance and wasted it. ‘If Holden can be convinced that he’s fit to join us, it wouldn’t just be redemption, it would restore his self respect.’ Conrad gathered his words with care. If this was going to work, he had to approach this from the right angle. “Do you have any questions for me?” 

“If it’s an active duty role, why’d you pick me?” Holden asked. “I’m permanent desk duty, maybe teaching if I can swing it with the training team. Why do you want me as a frontline officer, not your submarine school? When I got the message and read the brief I was sure you wanted me for that ‘Dolphin’ base.” 

“Because you’re the most experienced submariner in WASP and your lap times in the pool resoundingly put paid to any theories about you being unfit for active duty,” Black informed him. “Holden, the reason why I’m here to recruit you is because I know something about being written off after an injury and how frustrating it is when you know you’re fully capable of carrying out your duties.” He turned his head and pulled at the skin of his neck, letting the fine network of collagen bars speak for him. 

Usually his scars were almost invisible, thanks to the skill of the surgeons and the treatments he’d had. They only showed up when he was overheated (a problem he had to be very aware of, with his scar tissue and grafts he couldn’t sweat as much as a normal person), or when he pulled on his skin like this. He let Holden look for a moment, then let go and turned back to face him. 

“What percentage?” Holden asked in a neutral tone, but his eyes were wide.

“83%” 

That earned a low whistle of astonishment. “That should have been fatal.” 

“So I’ve been told.” Black offered him a tight smile. “I decided to be stubborn about it. They also told me I’d never fly again, but I decided to be stubborn about that as well. Our CMO has already reviewed your file, he has no concerns, nor do I or Colonel White.” 

“Hm.” Hands clasped in an oddly prayerlike fashion and elbows on his knees, Holden looked down at the concrete floor of the gazebo, stained with rotting leaves, rubber boot soles, and the dropped ash of a thousand cigarettes. 

Conrad waited. He knew that he was asking a lot of the sailor. Even ten miles inland, Marineville was still connected to the sea, and Bradley had dedicated years of his life to both the sea and the organisation. Leaving WASP was something that needed due consideration. Conrad knew this internal battle well. He loved the sky, but he adored space. Leaving his Fireball for Spectrum had been worth it, but it hadn’t been an easy choice for him either. 

Finally Holden looked up. “...I’ve got a meeting with Shore in the morning,” he uttered the words quietly. “You’ll have my answer by evening.” 

Black nodded, recognising the pending meeting for what it was: one last chance for the organisation that Holden had given so much to to keep him. “Thank you, Lieutenant Commander,” was all he said as he stood and offered his hand. “I’ll wait for your reply.” 

“I’ll walk you back to the gate,” Holden offered as he shook his hand. 

That was unexpected. “You’re not worried about the gossip chain?” Chatty gate guards, he knew from experience, were almost as bad as communications specialists when it came to juicy stories and spreading them around. 

Holden’s eyes tightened and his shoulders squared back as he turned to escort him down the pebbled path. “If they decide to have a problem with it, they can take it up with me.”