POWER STAR The Imagination Anthology ISSUE 90 SEPTEMBER 1995 Jerry Seward, Editor Emeritus Kimberly Murphy-Smith, Managing Editor Monica Rose Kiesel, Production Director Brian Neale, e-mail "Postmaster" Bennet Pomerantz, Collectibles Columnist J. Calvin Smith, Manuscript Editor CONTRIBUTORS: D. Lynn Bivens, Darlene Damp, Judy H. Wilson New Season Highlights "Star Light, Star Bright", By Kimberly Murphy-Smith. . . . . . . . . . . .6 The Book House Boys are on a mission to stop drug runners using TWIN PEAKS as their throughway in this complete-in-this-issue tale. "The Almost, Absolutely, Positively, Ultimate KAOS Kaper", By D. Lynn Bivens. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 Can Maxwell Smart and Agent 707 GET SMART enough to save the former chief of CONTROL from KAOS agents controlling his retirement home? The conclusion is here! "Leap In, Fade Out", Part Two, By D. Lynn Bivens . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 Sam Beckett has QUANTUM LEAPed into INVISIBLE MAN Dan Weston--but is he there to save Dan or stop a new killer weapon from being built? The story continues! "Uneasy Relations", By Kimberly Murphy-Smith . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49 CAPTAIN SCARLET AND THE MYSTERONS face off over a conference between Spectrum and the European Commanders of the World Military--one of whom is Captain Scarlet's father. Returning Shows Credits `N' Stuff. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .2 Who did what kind of art/graphics this issue, plus the usual disclaimers, addresses, etc. Musings. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .2 We say goodbye for now to an old friend. Subscription Rates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .4 Our usual advertising plug. POWER STAR Shareware Distributors. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .4 Got a modem? Check out these BBSs where POWER STAR and lots of other great stuff can be found. Movie Reviews, By Darlene Damp And Judy H. Wilson. . . . . . . . . . . . 78 Reviews of JUDGE DREDD and APOLLO 13. Comm Panel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80 Your reviews of our new season. "Ye Olde Collectables And Trivia Shoppe", By Bennet Pomerantz. . . . . . 84 Bennet Pomerantz's nationally-renowned column on the latest in collectables. Back Issues Cross-Reference. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87 Home movies from previous issues of POWER STAR. Coming Next Time.... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95 ...we go trick or treating. Read all about it. * * * * * * * * POWER STAR is a monthly amateur fanzine devoted to science fiction, fantasy, and horror in all media and is published by Kimberly Murphy-Smith and Jerry Seward. Seeking material--fiction and non-fiction, prose, poetry, and artwork--on all forms of fantastic media. Comments are welcome. Submission guidelines are available upon request. Issues 1-23 are no longer available. Other issues are available upon request. Shareware copies (ASCII text only), starting with issue 71, are available on several BBSs worldwide, including the official BBS of POWER STAR, =ACE= Online. On your modem, dial (301) 942-2218 (8-N-1, 28800). Comments or submissions may be left as a message for Kimberly Murphy. A complete up-to-date (as of publication date) list of BBSs carrying POWER STAR can be found on p. 4 of this issue. BBS SysOps interested in distributing POWER STAR should contact Kimberly at either the post office or e-mail address below. Issues and shareware registration cost $5.00 ($7.50 in Canada/Mexico; $10.00 for other foreign countries) in U.S. funds. Discounts are available for volume purchases. All issues are shipped at Fourth Class Book Rate (U.S. orders) or Printed Matter Airmail rate (overseas orders) unless otherwise requested; there is an extra fee of $3.00 for faster shipping. Make check or money order payable to Kimberly Murphy-Smith. Address all correspondence to Kimberly Murphy-Smith: Regular mail: 9640-K Barrel House Road/Laurel, Maryland 20723 USA/(301) 604-6824 Primary e-mail/internet submissions: kimberly.murphy@acenet.com America Online Submissions: Pwrstr Manuscript Editor's address: calvin.smith@ghawk.com Additional e-mail stops: kimmurphy@aol.com or kimberly.murphy@ghawk.com (Snailmail information requests, please enclose SASE. E-mail information requests, please include e-mail address in the body of request to prevent misrouting of replies.) Copyright 1995, Jerry Seward/Kimberly Murphy-Smith. POWER STAR is in no way meant to infringe the rights of holders of copyrights referred to in this publication. All original stories and artwork are copyrighted to the authors. ****** ** Musings Commentary By Kimberly Murphy-Smith "I need a break." With those words, prolific fandom writer and POWER STAR regular Dan Lynn Bivens announced that he would not be writing any more for POWER STAR for the foreseeable future. Dan has been a part of POWER STAR since early in its life, when he wrote his first piece for the fledgling zine. When Editor Emeritus Jerry Seward founded POWER STAR almost ten years ago, it was a non-media-based zine, thin on content, and irregularly published. With Dan's help, POWER STAR began to grow into what it is today--a monthly zine packed with media-based fiction read by hundreds (perhaps thousands) of fans all over the world. But health problems and personal problems have slowed Dan's output over the past year, and he's found it harder and harder to keep up. "I wasn't getting any feedback," he said, "and what I was getting seemed really hypercritical. And I just don't have the energy to keep it up if I'm not getting anything out of it." Dan was quick to offer praise to the people who make POWER STAR run. "I know my strengths and weaknesses as a writer, and I also know that there have been stories I've written that I cringe when I see them in print. But they've gotten better, and the credit for a lot of that improvement has to go to Jerry and Kimberly." He also offers thanks to Manuscript Editor Calvin Smith "for helping make my words a lot better" and Collectibles Columnist Bennet Pomerantz "for appreciating my strengths. But sometimes Mr. Pomerantz doesn't realize how much Kimberly and Jerry add to my pieces. I'm a pretty good action writer--that's pretty much agreed by all my critics; most of the rejection letters I've gotten stress that--but I've always had trouble with characterization unless it's something like STAR TREK, where I know the characters inside and out. Jerry's a great idea man, and a really good writer on his own; I wish he'd write more stuff, because he gives me almost all of the ideas that end up in stories `I' wrote. And Kimberly's a genius when it comes to characterization; I can't write the kinds of things she writes. Her dialogue is true; her characters act real; her stories say something. "I'm not one of those writers with a huge ego," Dan went on. "In fact, I have NO ego--that's my problem. I need some kind of reassurance that I should keep going with this. I'm not giving up writing--Jerry and I are trying to get some things sold right now, in fact--just writing for POWER STAR. I'm not going to say I'll never write for POWER STAR again--like Sean Connery [who once vowed he would never play James Bond again, then recreated the role years later in NEVER SAY NEVER AGAIN], I learned the hard way to `never say never'--but right now, with my health problems and all that's going on in my life, I just can't keep it up. Maybe down the road I'll feel different. I've been through this before, I'll probably go through it again." Dan added that he knows he's got some unfinished tales in POWER STAR. "I know they've got to get done," he said, "and I know that Kimberly's got enough material of mine to keep going for a long time even without me giving her anything new. I'll probably do what I did with part two of [the Murphy/Bivens CAPTAIN SCARLET story] `Pawns Of Evil'--turn in fairly detailed outlines to Jerry or Kimberly and let them finish the stories. It'd give Jerry a chance to show off his writing skills, and we all know what Kimberly's capable of when she has outlines like that. A lot of people don't realize that she, for all intents and purposes, wrote part two of [the FOREVER KNIGHT story] `Rogue' when the original was lost in the mail and I had to send her a script-like outline." Dan wishes everyone the best. "POWER STAR has really grown in ways I couldn't have imagined when I started writing for Jerry way back when. It's grown beyond my talents. The layout and look is really professional, and the writing quality is just so much better than it was, thanks to a wider variety of writers like Mary Rudy, Calvin Smith, and lots of others. All the graphics are great, the artwork is great, and I look forward to reading it. I just wish there was more feedback on my specific work, but I understand that with the direction the zine has taken toward the electronic world, that's just not going to be. But keep writing and keep reading--I know I will." Take care, Dan, God Bless, and Godspeed. We'll be here whenever you're ready to return. -- Kimberly ****** ** POWER STAR The Imagination Anthology Back Issues Pricing Policy: For all issues except The POWER STAR Yearbook and Issue 50: $5.00 per single issue, $9.00 for two issues, $12.50 for three issues, $25.00 for six issues, $40.00 for twelve issues. The POWER STAR Yearbook and Issue 50 are priced at: $15.00 each, or $25.00 for both issues. (Canada/Mexico, add $2.50 in U.S. funds per order; other overseas countries, add $5.00 per order.) ****** ** POWER STAR Shareware Distributors ASCII text versions of POWER STAR are available on the BBSs and FTP sites listed below. These issues are "shareware"; they may be registered for a "final" finished paper copy for the same price as a regular issue. Discount registrations are also available. New issues are usually uploaded by the 10th of the month. Check out these boards! BBS Name . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Phone number =ACE= Online . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (301) 942-2218 001 Science Fiction (POWER STAR Online Bulletin) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (713) 778-0239 Abacus BBS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (334) 393-6312 Atomic Books BBS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 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But when an important surveillance goes awry, six of the Book House Boys, including Harry and Dale, must flee for their lives and depend on that core of goodness to save them. Welcome to TWIN PEAKS--the POWER STAR universe, where it's December 1989, Harry Truman is married to Dale's twin sister, Diane Cooper-Truman (the same Diane who received all of Dale's dictation during the series, in this universe), Dale is married to Ben Horne's nineteen-year-old daughter Audrey, and both couples are expecting twins in the spring of 1990. For those unfamiliar with this universe, I highly recommend reading "The Saga of Dale and Diane" in The POWER STAR Yearbook; for those unfamiliar with the series itself, I recommend reading "Who's Who in TWIN PEAKS" in issue 54 of POWER STAR. Below is a list of characters in this story, and the actors that either played them in the series or whom I cast myself for characters I created. Casting of my own creation is marked with an asterisk. * * * * * * * * Cast of Characters Kyle MacLachlan. . . . . . . . F.B.I. Special Agent Dale Bartholomew Cooper Michael Ontkean. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Sheriff Harry S. Truman Susan Anton (*). . . . . . . . F.B.I. Special Agent Diana Lee Cooper-Truman Sherilyn Fenn. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Audrey Horne Cooper Harry Goaz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Deputy Andy Brennan Michael Horse. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Deputy Tommy "Hawk" Hill Everett McGill . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ."Big" Ed Hurley Kimmy Robertson. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Lucy Moran Brennan Daniel J. Travanti (*) . . . . . . . . . F.B.I. Special Agent Rex P. Caliph Brett Vadset . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Joey Paulson * * * * * * * * And now, the story. Enjoy! * * * * * * * * The annoyed cry of a hungry baby filled the air of the lobby of the Twin Peaks Sheriff's Department as F.B.I. Special Agents Dale Cooper and Diane Cooper-Truman entered. The fraternal twin agents looked at each other oddly. Receptionist Lucy Moran Brennan rose into view as she sat up straight at her desk once more, cradling her month-old infant son which she had just removed from the portable crib next to her chair. "Sorry about that," she said. "Can-Do Temps couldn't spare anybody with the Christmas holidays approaching." "It's all right, Lucy," Dale replied. "It's a sound Harry probably ought to be getting used to." He walked over and took the baby from her arms. "Hi, Aaron," he said, gently holding baby Aaron Walter Brennan. "What's all that fussing about?" Aaron looked back at him with the oddly fascinated look common to all newborns. "Sounds like he's hungry," Diane said, taking him from Dale and holding him in her arms above her large abdomen, its shape growing more round as her pregnancy with twins progressed to its midpoint, four and one-half months. "You hungry, Aaron?" Aaron nuzzled against her breast in reply." "Sorry, honey," Diane giggled. "They don't work yet. Give them a few months." She handed the baby back to Lucy. Aaron began fussing again. "Just a minute," Lucy soothed, inserting a pacifier into his mouth to silence him for a moment. "Andy?" she called. Deputy Andy Brennan entered the lobby. "Yes, Lucy?" he said. "Watch the desk for a minute," she said. "I have to take care of him." "Can I help?" "Not with this." Andy suddenly nodded in recognition. "Oh," he said, somewhat embarrassed. "Sorry." Lucy headed off for the ladies' room. Dale patted andy on the shoulder. "Cheer up, Andy," he said. "I'm sure there'll be plenty of opportunities for you to help." "I hope so," Andy replied. "Lucy doesn't let me do anything." "I imagine that'll change," Diane commented. "She's still trying to get used to being a mommy. Just keep offering to help." "O.K.," Andy promised. Dale and Diane smiled at him, then headed into Sheriff Harry S. Truman's office. Harry was on the phone when they entered. "Yeah, thanks, Ed," he was saying. "Gotta go. I'll get with you later. Bye." He hung up and rose from his chair, then headed over to greet his wife and brother-in-law. "Hi, honey," he said, kissing Diane gently. "How're you feeling?" "Tired," she admitted. "I never knew desk duty could be so draining." "Coop, I thought you were supposed to make her behave herself," Harry commented. "It's hard to make her behave when I'm out on the streets," Dale replied. "Shackling her to the desk isn't accepted Bureau practice." "Now, wait a minute," Diane retorted. "I stay at my desk." "When you're not at the copier, or in Rex's office, or down in the forensics lab, or..." "Aha," Harry said, smiling. "No wonder you're so tired." "If they'd put my desk on wheels, I could stay there," Diane replied. "But since they won't..." "`Nuff said," Harry stated, then turned to Dale. "Busy tonight, Coop?" Actually, yes, Dale thought to himself. This was the night he and his wife, Audrey Horne Cooper, had planned to decorate their first Christmas tree together. But something told him this wasn't a social question. "Not really," he finally replied aloud. "Good. Why don't you stop on by the Book House around 7:00?" So this WASN'T a social question, Dale thought. The Book House Boys were planning their next move in response to a new drug trafficking route from Canada to Spokane through Twin Peaks. The elite group of Twin Peaks' finest civilians and policemen had spent the past three weeks tracking suspected couriers up and down Highway 21--Dale included, providing background checks through the F.B.I. computer files of suspects identified by Book House Boys surveillance. Harry's goal was a complete sweep of all involved--top to bottom, no one walking away. And they were palpably close to that goal. "Sure," he replied. "But I need to run home first." "No problem," Harry replied, slipping his arm around Diane's waist. "Good," Dale said, turning to go. "See you at seven." He stopped at the door, then turned back and stroked his right temple with his index and middle fingers--the Book House Boys' sign. Harry responded in kind. Dale left. Diane looked at her husband. "I know, I know," she said. "It's safer for me if I don't know what the Book House Boys are up to now." He nodded. "It's for your own protection," he replied, placing a gentle hand on her abdomen. "And for our twins." "This is big, isn't it?" He looked at her stomach and smiled. "Yeah, you are getting big..." "Cut it out, Harry. You know what I mean. This is the biggest thing the Book House Boys have been involved with. And you're nervous about that." "Nothing I can't handle." His words belied the tension he was feeling. And Diane could tell. She embraced him as best she could. "Just don't try to handle it alone, Harry," she urged. "Promise me." "I promise," he replied. "I've got a team I can depend on." "Maybe someday I can be part of that team." He scowled. "A Book House Girl? I don't think the guys'd go for that." "You'd have to persuade them." "I don't know. You'd have to persuade me first." She kissed him sensuously. He smiled. "I like your persuasive technique," he said. "I can be very convincing," Diane smiled back. "I'd like to see that." She kissed him again, this time more sensuously than before. "Convinced?" she said when they broke. He looked thoughtful. "I'll have to think it over a little longer," he replied. "Maybe do a little more research." He pulled her close once more. Their lips locked into a deep soul kiss. Dale pulled his black wool coat out of the hall closet and swept it on quickly, then headed for the kitchen to say good-bye to Audrey. He found his wife still seated at the kitchen table, looking forlornly at the dinner dishes. "Are you all right, Audrey?" he asked. She looked up at him, a mixture of sadness and annoyance on her face. "Aha," he said. "We are not happy." "You should be a detective," she retorted. He sighed hard. "Audrey, I've already explained..." "I know, I know. This is important. But you can't tell me why because it would be better if I didn't know." She began sulking again. He knelt down next to her. "Audrey," he said, "I have to go. Harry put his trust in me when no one else would and gave me the full backing of the Book House Boys when I needed them. It's my turn to give something back." "But why this? Whatever's going on, it can't be entirely legal, otherwise you'd have no need to sneak around dressed in black. And you got suspended once for something like this when you and Harry rescued me from One Eyed Jack's..." "I got suspended because a crooked Mountie and a drug dealer set me up. This is different." He took her hand. "Audrey, I'll be fine." She looked at him, anger now replaced by worry. "Dale, I'm scared," she said softly. "I know. But I'll be all right. I know how to take care of myself. And I've got a lot of good men to back me up." He placed a hand on her stomach, softly rounded in the third month of pregnancy with twins. "Besides, worrying isn't good for these little ones. So don't worry." "I'll try," she promised. "Good." He kissed her gently. "Don't wait up." He started to get to his feet. She stopped him and pulled him close for another, deeper kiss. They broke and smiled at each other. "I think you're trying to hold me up," he teased. "It's working," she replied, moving in to kiss him again. Their lips met again, parted briefly, then rejoined in a stronger kiss. They finally reluctantly broke and met each other's gaze once more. "You're making this difficult," he scolded. "What makes you say that?" she said, kissing his ear sensuously. He smiled at the pleasant sensation of her lips on his earlobe and neck. "Because I'm now torn between going to my meeting or taking you to the bedroom and making mad, passionate love to you for the rest of the night." "M-m-m," she purred. "Anything I can do to tip the balance?" He considered answering her question, then forced himself to return to the task at hand. He took her by the shoulders and gently but firmly pushed her away from him. "No," he said firmly. "I have to go. It's my duty." He stroked her cheek with a gentle hand. "I love you," he said warmly. She took his hand off her cheek and kissed it. "I love you, too," she replied, her voice shaky. He got to his feet and forced himself to leave. Audrey waited until she heard his car start, then reached down and rubbed her belly. "Your daddy's gone off to save the world," she said to her unborn twins. "Mommy just hopes he knows what he's getting himself into." The Book House was dark, save for a single bright light over a round table in the corner of the room. Dale entered the meeting of the secret society and headed over to the table, where five members--Ed Hurley, Joey Paulson, Deputy Tommy "Hawk" Hill, Andy Brennan, and Harry Truman--sat waiting for him. Dale stroked his right temple with two fingers in greeting. The five returned the gesture. Harry pulled back a chair for the Special Agent and offered him a seat. Dale sat down and joined them. Sorry I'm late," he apologized. "Audrey tried to make me a better offer." "I'm not so sure you wouldn't have been better off taking it," Ed replied. "Tonight's not a good night for surveillance." "I noticed. The sky's too clear. Too much starlight and moonlight. And it's getting damn cold out there." "Unfortunately," Joey said, "it's tonight or maybe never. I've been following our mule all day. He looked awfully edgy. The big deal's about to go down." "How big?" Dale asked. "From what I've been able to overhear, we're talking millions of bucks. There was a lot of activity at that lakeside cabin this afternoon...and they were really paranoid. I almost couldn't get back out of there, the surveillance was so tight." "O.K.," Harry said. "That means we've got to watch each other's backs. Now, I don't want any heroics. We get in trouble, nobody gets left alone. I want everybody paired off. Hawk, you and Joey stick together. Andy, you and Ed stick together. If we get in a jam, split up into your teams and get the Hell out of there. Remember, the object is to get them back on our side of the border with the goods. Anything less is a failure. Understood?" The others nodded. "One more thing," Dale interjected. "In this room right now, there are four lawmen and two civilians. When we cross that border, there will be six civilians. When we cross that border, we are in another country. Our badges mean nothing. Four of us will be illegally possessing firearms. We have no backup except ourselves. This is dangerous. We could all go to jail for what we are doing, and there is nothing anyone could do to get us out. Now, if any of you are uncomfortable with that reality, speak up now." Silence filled the room for a few moments. Finally, Hawk broke the impasse. "Let's do it," he said. The six men saluted each other with the Book House Boys' sigh. Then, they stood up and left the room. Diane was stirring a large scoop of peanut butter into her cookie dough when a knock at the door sounded. She mock-frowned at her tummy. "Who could that be?" she asked her babies, then headed for the front door and peered out through the long window alongside it to see who was outside. She saw Audrey standing on the porch, shivering against the December chilling wind. Diane quickly opened the door. "Audrey?" she greeted quizzically. "What in the world are you doing out there? It's cold!" "I hadn't noticed," Audrey replied sarcastically. "May I come in?" "Of course." Diane stepped aside and let her sister-in-law inside. Audrey shook off her coat and shivered for a moment, rubbing her arms to get warm. Then, she smiled nervously. "Am I interrupting anything?" "Oh, no. I was just baking Christmas cookies. Want to help?" "Sure." "Let me take your coat." Diane took her coat and hung it in the hall closet. "Coffee?" "Please. At this point, I don't even care if it's decaf." "Good...because that's all I've got." The two ladies headed into the kitchen, where Diane poured Audrey a large mug of steaming black coffee. Audrey took a seat at the kitchen table and drank a long, luxurious sip of the hot liquid. "M-m-m," she sighed. "I needed this." Then, she looked at the bowl of cookie dough on the table. "What kind are you making?" "Peanut Butter Drops--peanut butter cookies with Hershey's kisses in the center." "Sounds wonderful. What can I do?" Diane pointed to a bag of kisses on the table. "Start unwrapping." Audrey laughed, then opened the bag and began shelling the chocolates. Diane began stirring the dough again. Audrey absently unwrapped chocolates onto the plate Diane had set in front of her. "Wonder what those two are up to?" she finally commented aloud. "I don't know," Diane replied. "I don't ask...Harry doesn't tell." "Aren't you even a little bit curious?" "Of course. But I've been told I'm not allowed to get involved." "And you accept that?" "Yes, I do." She looked at Audrey oddly. "Something wrong with that?" "No. It's just...well, it's not your style. You're always such a go-getter, always wanting to be in the middle of things..." "Yeah...kind of like my sister-in-law." Audrey looked embarrassed. "Guess I still sound like an immature teenager, huh?" "Not really. You sound more frustrated than immature. Feel left out?" She sighed hard. "At least you're a Special Agent, Diane. You have some idea what's going on. I don't understand any of this. They're off sneaking around, trying to save the world, and I have no idea from what." Diane nodded. "Well, it may not exactly ease your mind, but I have a good idea of what they're doing." Audrey looked up at her. "Well?" "From what I've been able to gather, they're tracing a drug trail. Apparently, there's some sort of Calgary-to-Spokane drug route that runs directly through Twin Peaks, and the Book House Boys have kept it under heavy surveillance for the past three weeks. Their must be something important going down tonight, though." "Any idea what?" "No." Audrey sighed and continued unwrapping. Diane continued to stir, stopping for a moment to rub her abdomen. "All that stirring waking you up?" she asked her tummy. Audrey giggled. "They must be moving." "Wiggling around. They were quiet until just a minute ago." Audrey smoothed her dress over her stomach. "Mine don't move much." "They probably move more than you think. Remember, twins are smaller than singlets at this stage. They move just as much--but they've got more room to move around." She stopped and rubbed her stomach again. "Be thankful. Mine are starting to run out of room--they push on my uterus a lot, and I end up with muscle stitches when it tries to expand to accommodate them." "I've had a few of those. Dale's real good about rubbing my sides when they get sore." "Harry is, too. He likes to sit with his hands on my stomach and feel the babies move. He feels some of the little ripples I don't, and he thinks it's neat." "Dale's the same way. He just sits and holds me some nights, and the smile on his face could light a room. She paused. "At least you know if he's O.K.," she commented. Diane looked at her oddly. "Harry?" "Dale." Diane nodded. "True." "I wish I did." Diane smiled warmly at her young sister-in-law. "I suspect you do." Audrey laughed slightly. "I'm no empath." "No. You're his wife. You share a part of him that I can never know." She blushed slightly. "Sometimes, I'm envious." Audrey looked up at Diane. "You really are just like him." "In what way?" "We were talking the other day about babies and the future, and he said that he sometimes wished he knew the part of your soul that Harry knew...that he was almost envious of Harry sometimes." Diane laughed slightly. "God, we are just alike," she concurred. "That's scary." She patted her tummy. "I can't imagine what my identical twins are going to be like." "I know," Audrey agreed, pointing to her tummy. "And my set isn't far behind. Can you imagine four little Coopers running around?" Diane cringed slightly. "Think we should warn the school system?" Audrey thought for a moment. "No. Let them sleep a few more years." Both ladies started laughing, their worries temporarily forgotten. It had gone wrong. Terribly wrong. Dale, Harry, Andy, Hawk, Ed, and Joey raced at breakneck speed from their various vantage points around the rundown cabin on the north side of Black Lake as six men brandishing automatic weapons ran after them, firing rapidly. The six Book House Boys had finally traced their heavily-watched suspects to this Canadian cabin, where a buy was scheduled to take place. They had planned to follow the couriers back across the U.S. border and make an arrest there. But that was before an apparently hungry rottweiler had tried to make lunch out of Joey...and had alerted its owners to the presence of the watchers outside. Now, the Book House Boys were running for their lives, trying to make it back to their vehicles, left at the side of the road about a mile back, and escape across the border--twenty-five miles away. "Jesus!" Joey shouted as a shot whizzed by his ear. "They're getting closer!" "When we get back to the cars, split into your teams," Harry ordered. "See you on the other side," Hawk replied. The six men reached three vehicles--Joey's Harley, Ed's Jeep, and Harry's four-wheel-drive Suburban--and quickly divided into their designated groups. Joey's cycle roared to life and sped away into the woods, followed quickly by Ed's Jeep, and headed back down the main road toward the U.S. border. Harry started his engine and tore away from the pursuing group the opposite direction from the one the others had taken. "What are you doing?" Dale asked. "This road circles the lake," Harry replied. "We're taking the long way around and giving the others a chance to escape." He gestured behind him at the shotgun rack with a double-barrel shotgun mounted on it. "Know how to use one of those?" Dale nodded. The first time he'd been forced to take a human life in the line of duty, he'd used a shotgun and fired two deadly accurate rounds into the chest of the armed suspect who refused to drop the weapon he had aimed at Dale's forehead. The experience had not been something he had enjoyed. But it was necessary...just as it might be necessary tonight. He reached behind him and picked up the gun, then primed it and lowered his window. They sped down the road, following its winding course around the north side of the massive lake. Harry glanced in his rear-view mirror at the empty road behind him. "Looks like we got a jump on them," he said. "Either that, or they're running without lights..." "Harry!" Dale interrupted, looking off to the passenger's side. "Look out!" Harry looked to his right--and nearly ran into the pickup truck that had suddenly pulled in front of them from the woods off to their right. He swerved wildly, barely missing the truck, and sped on. The pickup roared after them. Shots echoed around them as it did. "Looks like we've got company," Harry deadpanned. "And well-armed company at that," Dale agreed. "Step on it." Harry hit the accelerator. The V-8 engine roared louder as their speed increased. The shots were getting closer...and so was the pickup behind them. Harry's headlights suddenly reflected off two shiny points in the darkness as a shadowy figure ahead came into view. "Holy...," Harry said as he suddenly spotted the massive doe in his path, standing in the middle of the lane, mesmerized by the headlights as they reflected off her eyes. "Hang on!" Dale hastily braced himself for the impending collision as Harry tried in vain to swerve... A-A-A-G-H! Diane screamed suddenly, dropping the bowl of dough onto the table as one hand clutched her abdomen and the other her head. "Diane?" Audrey said, rising from her seat and hurrying over to her sister-in-law. "Are you all right?" Diane shook her head as her breathing became more labored and forced. "Something's happened," she said between gasps. "Something's gone very wrong...Dale and Harry are hurt...oh, God, what's happened?" "Oh, my God," Audrey whispered, trying to still her rising panic. "Can you tell what?" Diane shook her head again. "No. I felt some kind of jolting pain--like a collision. But I don't know what happened..." "Come on," Audrey said, pulling a chair out at the kitchen table. "Sit down. I'll call the Sheriff's Station." Diane took a seat, still shaking and rocking back and forth from the blast of psychic energy her empathy had absorbed. Audrey walked across the room and picked up the phone, then hastily dialed a number. "Lucy, this is Audrey," she said when someone answered. "Are any of the Book House Boys back yet?" "Not yet," came Lucy's reply. "But Andy said they might be gone for a while. Why?" "Diane just had a feeling something's gone wrong." "A dream?" "Sort of like that. Can you reach any of them?" "I'll try. Hold on." Audrey held the phone anxiously, each moment of silence becoming more and more difficult to take. Finally, Lucy returned. "I can't reach the Sheriff," she replied. "And that's kind of strange, because he has a police radio in his truck just like he has in his cruiser. He must not be anywhere near his radio." "Or he's out of range," Audrey guessed. "Lucy, we'll be right there." "O.K. Bye." Audrey quickly hung up the phone, then turned to her sister-in-law. "Lucy said none of them are back, and she can't raise Harry." "My God," Diane whispered. "Audrey, something terrible has happened. I am absolutely cold all over." "I know," Audrey replied, coming over to Diane. "You've turned pale. And that can't be good for you or the babies." She took the bowl of dough and put it in the refrigerator. "Come on. I told Lucy we'd come down to the station and wait for news. It'll keep us from both going crazy." Diane nodded. "Give me a minute." She took a deep breath and composed herself, then stood up. "Let's go." Dale felt something warm and sticky next to his head. He forced his eyes open and looked around. A shiny black eye looked back at him. Dale nearly had a heart attack before he realized he was looking at the head of the doe that had come through Harry's windshield. It took another few seconds before he realized the truck was lying on its side--and he was on the high end of the truck, resting against the deer's carcass. Think clearly, he commanded himself. You're not out of danger yet. Assess the situation and react accordingly. He sniffed the air and detected the familiar aroma of gasoline. Terrific, he thought. Got to get out of here. But got to get Harry out, too. A low moan startled him before he realized where it was coming from. "Harry?" Dale whispered. Harry moaned again. "Harry!" Dale said a bit louder. "We've got to get out of here. Can you move?" Harry moaned again before words finally became clear. "There's something in my way," he replied in a raspy, pained voice. "I know. Can you help me push it back through the windshield?" "I'll try." Dale grasped the shotgun with both hands and used the barrel as a horizontal bar to push on the head of the deer, finally managing to shove it back through the shattered windshield. Then, he looked down at Harry. The Sheriff was covered in blood--Dale couldn't tell immediately if it was Harry's or the doe's--and looked disoriented. He was lying against the driver's side door, weak and barely moving. "Harry?" Dale called. "Harry?" Harry's head stirred again. "Harry!" Dale demanded. "Look at me. Talk to me." Harry stirred once more, then opened his eyes and tried to focus on Dale. "Coop," he whispered, then managed a weak smile. "Looks like I took a wrong turn." "Never mind that. Can you move?" "Yeah, I think so." "Good." Dale reached out the window, grasped the door handle and tried to pull himself out of the truck. "It's no use," he said after a momentary struggle. "Harry, can you undo my seat belt?" There was a long, tense moment before Dale felt the pressure of his seat belt release. He quickly pulled himself out of the truck and stood on the ground next to the Suburban. The dizziness nearly overwhelmed him. He held onto the side of the truck for a moment and stood still, trying to stop his head from spinning. His whole body ached. He had no doubt he had a concussion and cracked ribs and God-only-knows-what-else. But he had to get himself together. Both of their lives depended on it. "All right, Harry," Dale instructed, leaning back inside the window of the truck and extending the shotgun inside. "Undo your seat belt, then reach up and grab the shotgun. I'll help pull you up." Harry moved slowly, painfully. But he got his seat belt undone and reached up for the outstretched gun. He tried to get his feet out from under the steering column and gain some leverage--and the pain nearly overwhelmed him as he let out a cry of agony. "You all right?" Dale asked. Harry shook his head. "Feels like I broke my left ankle," he replied. "I can't put any weight on it." Terrific, Dale thought. Just terrific. "Can you get any weight on your right ankle?" "I'm trying. It's an awful tight fit in here." "Keep trying. I have no idea what happened to our friends in the pickup, but this thing's leaking gasoline badly. We're dead if we don't get out of here. Use the gun, Harry. Don't try to do it all yourself." Harry finally got his right foot under him and pulled hard on the gun as he forced his good foot to hold his weight. He managed to stand upright in the cab and grasped the exterior handle of the door to pull himself further out of the wrecked truck. Dale helped him climb out, then stood at his left as Harry tried to steady himself. "God, you're a mess," Dale commented wryly. "Thanks," Harry replied equally sarcastically. "You're looking pretty rundown yourself." "Can you walk?" "I'll try." "O.K. Lean on me." Dale slipped his right shoulder under Harry's left arm to hold him up. The two men tried to take a step forward. Harry nearly buckled to the ground as his left ankle refused to hold him up. It took everything Dale had to keep him from falling--including leaning on the stock of the shotgun as a cane. "Got to stabilize that leg," Dale commented aloud. "But I'll do it after we get to safety. Work with me, Harry." The two men began to move off into the dark woods once more, Harry now hopping on his good leg as he leaned against Dale for balance. The pair took several more hop-steps before Harry tripped on the root of a tree and crashed to the ground, bringing Dale with him this time. "A-A-A-G-H!" Harry cried in pain. The fall hurt Dale almost as badly as it did Harry. His cracked ribs sent a wave of pain through him as the dizziness caused by the bump on the head he'd taken in the collision threatened to overwhelm him and knock him unconscious. "Damn!" he swore under his breath, then caught himself and got his frustration under control. He forced himself to sit up, then moved over to help Harry. "You O.K.?" he asked. "Just dandy," Harry replied sardonically. "Scoot back under the tree," Dale ordered. "Let's take a look at what we've got here." Harry painfully moved back under the large Douglas fir behind him. "What we've got here," he said, "is a real mess." "Yeah, I can see that," Dale replied, looking him over in the moonlight. Even in the bad light, Dale could now determine that the blood on Harry's face was largely his own, mostly coming from a head wound suffered in the collision. The Special Agent quickly pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped Harry's forehead to get a better look at the wound. "Nasty piece of work," he commented, then removed one of his gloves and held up two fingers in front of Harry's face. "How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked. Harry hesitated for a moment. "Two," he finally whispered. "Good guess," Dale said. "If I hadn't been holding them up, I might not have been able to tell, either. Let's take a look at that leg." He leaned forward to examine Harry's left ankle. Harry let out a low scream as Dale took hold of the joint. Dale quickly slapped a hand over Harry's mouth. "Harry," he said softly, "I know it hurts. My head is spinning and I think I've broken the ribs on my left side. So believe me, I know it hurts. But there are well-armed men out there who will kill us the minute they find us. And I swear, if I have to, I'll knock you out to keep you quiet. Can I trust you to be quiet?" Harry nodded. Dale lifted his hand from Harry's mouth. Harry sighed hard. "Sorry," he whispered. "It's O.K.," Dale whispered back. "Just hang in there." He once again looked at Harry's ankle. Harry let out a low moan but otherwise kept quiet. That's the best I can hope for, Dale realized. "Can you move it?" he asked aloud. Harry slowly and painfully flexed the joint. Dale breathed a slight sigh of relief. "All right," he whispered. "It's probably a bad sprain, not a break. Leaving your boot on may be the best thing for it right now--it'll act as a brace. Let me know if it goes numb on you." He looked around them. "How far would you guess we are from the U.S. border?" "Good twenty miles or so," Harry whispered back. Too far to walk, Dale realized. "There's probably not a cabin within miles that isn't populated by our drug-dealing friends," he commented aloud. "And they're not going to give up just because our truck's a wreck on the side of the road. You think the Book House Boys will come looking for us?" "It'll take a while before they even realize something's happened to us," Harry pointed out. "Remember, it took us an hour to get out here in the first place." "True." He looked at the ground, now beginning to show the glimmer of frost in moonlight. "Getting colder, too. We've got to get out of here." "And go where?" "I don't know. But anywhere is better than here. Maybe if we move a little bit at a time, we can get back across the U.S. border eventually." "Twenty miles is a long walk, City Boy." "I was an Eagle Scout, Harry. I know all about long hikes. And I know we can't stay here or they'll find us. And we'll freeze to death if we don't keep moving. Can you stand up at all?" "I'll try." Harry put his right foot under him and clutched at the trunk of the tree as he tried to stand. He successfully made it to a standing position--only to crash back to the ground again when he tried to move away from the tree using his injured left leg. Dale quickly moved to aid him and help him back into a sitting position. "Are you all right?" he asked. Harry shook his head. "I keep getting dizzy," he said, "and my leg's not strong enough." He looked at Dale. "Go on, Coop. Get out of here. I'll lay low until this passes, then I'll follow." "You'll freeze to death before this passes--if they don't find you first. I'm not going anywhere without you." "Dammit, Coop, don't be stupid. You can walk, and I can't. No sense in them finding us both. Get out of here. Go get help. I'll be all right." "Harry, I'm not leaving, and that's final. Besides, my head is spinning so badly that I'd probably end up walking in circles or pitching into Black Lake. We're either going together or staying together." "And it doesn't sound like either of us is going anywhere fast." Harry leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes. "Don't go to sleep, Harry," Dale cautioned. "You've got a concussion. And I think I do, too. We're going to have to keep each other awake. We've got to make it through the night until we're both able to walk and think clearly. We've got to believe Hawk and Andy will send help when they figure out something's happened." Harry laughed slightly. "How are they going to find us?" he asked. "You once told me that Hawk could find anybody." "Yeah, but he's got to have a place to start. We all got out of there so fast I doubt I'd remember where we started." "He can follow the lake road." "We're a long way from the lake road now, Coop. He'd still have to find us in these woods." He leaned back and sighed once more. "Now, if it was Diane coming after us, I'd be a little less worried. She could find you with her eyes closed." He chuckled slightly. "She's incredible, Coop. You should hear her talking to those babies as if they could hear her and understand her. Maybe they can. It wouldn't surprise me. If she's bonded tightly with you, I'm sure she and the babies are bonded even closer." He paused. "I love her so much. Coop...if anything happens to me, promise me you'll take care of Diane and the babies." Dale looked at Harry. "Nothing's going to happen to you," he said. "Promise me!" Harry insisted angrily, his eyes pleading. Dale met his brother-in-law's intense gaze. The anger and desperation in that gaze was almost palpable. Dale had never seen Harry so frightened. This is important to him, Dale realized. If promising to care for Diane and her children would bring peace to Harry's heart, he knew he could not refuse. He took Harry's hand in his. "I promise," he told the Sheriff softly. "But you have to promise to keep fighting...for Diane's sake. For those babies' sake. Let that love you feel keep you fighting." Harry nodded. "O.K.," he answered in a soft whisper. There was a long pause as both men sat in silence. Finally, Harry spoke up again. "I don't suppose there's any way you can reach Diane," he said with a slight hopeful chuckle. "I don't know," Dale confessed. "We're so far apart right now...I can just barely feel her deep worry. She knows something's happened, and she's frustrated and scared because she can't reach me either." "That's an awful lot for being `far apart'. Sure you can't reach her?" Dale leaned back against the large Douglas fir next to Harry. Maybe there was something more he could do. What was it that the dream master Morpheus had said--his clairvoyance was so strong that the extremes it reached during his ordeal with the psychic-enhancing drug didn't even begin to approximate its true strength? And Diane was equally strong, Morpheus had claimed. But both of their powers were held back by conscious mental barriers they erected to protect their sanity, Morpheus had told him. Maybe he could reach her. It was certainly worth a try. He closed his eyes and began concentrating. Diane, he mentally spoke, I need you to hear me. Reach out to me. Nothing. Not even mental static came in reply. He tried again. Diane, I'm in trouble. I can feel you through the power of our bond...but I need to hear you. And I need you to hear me. Harry's hurt, Diane. He needs you. Help us, Diane. Again, nothing. Dale pounded the ground in frustration. "I can't reach her, Harry," he whispered apologetically. "I'm sorry." Harry sighed. "Guess it was too much to hope for," he replied softly. "Don't give up, Harry. Fight for that lady and those babies. They need you. Twin Peaks needs you." "I know. It's just so hard...I just want to go to sleep..." "I know. But we can't. We've got to stay awake." He looked up at the stars. "Look at the stars, Harry. I've never seen so many stars." Harry looked up with him. "Yeah, they are pretty amazing. When I was a kid, my dad and I used to sit and watch the stars for hours. He taught me all the constellations and how to use them to find directions. I can still identify all of them. And I can still pick out the North star." He looked over at Dale. "Your dad ever do that with you?" "Sometimes. Dad was fascinated by the moon more than the stars. He spent hours watching the moon through his telescope. When Armstrong landed on the moon, it really affected him. After Mom died, Dad would just sit out in the back yard and sketch what he saw in that telescope all night long." He paused. "Did I ever tell you my dad discovered a crater on the moon that no one else had ever found?" "No. Really?" "Yeah. It was in early 1970. Dad was looking at the edge of the dark side of the moon and suddenly saw a shadow he hadn't seen there the day before--and hadn't seen on any other moon map. He sketched its position and sent the sketch to NASA. NASA confirmed his findings. Today, the southernmost crater at the new moon edge of the dark side is called Cooper's Crater." Harry smiled. "Now that's something to tell your kids." "Yeah." Dale leaned back against the tree and looked up at the night sky. The diamond-like points of light twinkled brilliantly. He remembered one of his first dates with Audrey, spent sitting by White Tail Falls, listening to the roar of the water and watching the bright stars on a clear April night. They'd talked for hours, saying that familiar childhood rhyme about wishing on the first stars of the night as they made wishes about the future...a future of the two of them together. He'd held her in his arms, observing the natural light show and feeling their love for each other filling both of their hearts to overflowing. The memory sent a pleasant warmth through him. He found himself longing to hold Audrey again...to see the beauty of her face...to bask in the glow of her loving smile...to feel the silky smoothness of her skin...the luscious softness of her lips...the growing roundness of her pregnant belly...the intense fire of their passion... The stars seemed to spin around him, drawing him inextricably toward them. The night seemed to surround him in a cocoon of starlight as his mind drifted farther and farther from the desperation of his plight into a kind of peaceful placidity. Diane and Audrey waited in the lobby of the Sheriff's Station with Lucy, anxiously awaiting the return of their respective husbands. Lucy was rocking baby Aaron quietly, trying to keep fear from transferring from her to her child. Diane was leaning back on the couch, her eyes closed, trying to keep her mind clear and open. Audrey was standing by the glass doors, looking out at the clear night sky. "Star light, star bright," Audrey said in a sing-song whispery voice, "first star I see tonight...I wish I may, I wish I might have the wish I wish tonight." She sighed hard, remembering all those wishes she and Dale had made under the stars when they were dating. They all seemed so far away now. "I wish my husband would come home," she said. "I just want to be able to tell him I love him." "He loves you, too," Diane whispered oddly. Audrey looked at Diane. "What did you say?" Diane blinked suddenly. "What?" she asked. "You said, `He loves you, too.' Are you just trying to reassure me? Or did you hear that?" Diane looked at her sister-in-law, confusion in her eyes. Suddenly, the confusion cleared. "I felt it," she realized. "He's trying to reach out." Lucy looked confused. "How?" she asked. "Never mind how," Audrey interrupted. "Can you reach back?" "I'll try," Diane replied. She leaned back against the arm of the couch once more and closed her eyes again. She and Dale had discussed his visit to the dream realm and his confrontation with the spirit Morpheus for hours after he had freed the two women in his life from a series of terrifying nightmares. Those nightmares had been caused by Morpheus in an attempt to frighten her and Audrey about the power of "special dreaming"--and to transfer that fear to their unborn children to keep them from using the power that would be their birthright. Morpheus' statements about the amount of power he knew the Cooper twins possessed had both unnerved and intrigued her. She had always known how strong Dale's dreaming ability was; to learn hers was equally strong was a surprise to her. Both had agreed to keep Morpheus' proclamation a secret until they could discover the validity of his words for themselves. So, they had quietly--just before falling asleep at night, and just after waking up in the morning--been trying to expand their own limits on their psychic abilities, concentrating on reaching out for each other through their symbiotic bond. And so far, the experiments were showing some positive results. Their dreams often touched and ran in unison through the night, more now than ever before. And they had just recently begun to sense each other's thoughts early in the morning, before their conscious minds could take control. It was that aspect that Diane was now trying to invoke, that sense of a shared consciousness that existed for a few brief moments while their mental barriers were still relaxed. It was a sensation she had felt in the latter stages of Dale's battle with that mind-enhancing chemical he was exposed to several months back, when they could carry on entire conversations through thought patterns. It was a sensation that they could never consciously recreate afterwards...but which seemed to creep through their bond when their mutual empathy was especially highly charged. And it was certainly highly charged now. She closed her eyes and reached out mentally. Dale, she thought, I know you're trying to reach out. I can feel you. But I can't HEAR you. Help me reach you. Nothing. Only silence filled her mind. Dammit, she thought, I can almost TOUCH you, the empathy's so strong. Why can't I HEAR you? No answer. She pounded her fist on the couch. "Nothing," she said out loud. "I can't reach him." Audrey stamped her foot. "This is frustrating," she said. "There's got to be a way to get through and find out what's happened to them." "Maybe you could go to sleep," Lucy suggested. Diane looked at her oddly. Lucy looked back at her, her expression showing an earnest desire to help. "Well," she continued, "it works for Agent Cooper. He usually has a dream that helps him solve the case." Audrey looked at Diane. "She's right," she commented. "Dale's best intuition comes early in the morning, right after he wakes up." "Or when his mind is completely relaxed and open," Diane noted, "like it is when he meditates." She leaned back again. You're concentrating too hard, Diane, she scolded herself. Let the bond do the work. A strong sender needs a strong receiver. Relax and let your mind go. She began to breathe slowly, rhythmically. Even her ever-wiggling twins lay still and quiet as her body began to relax, as if they could sense Mama's need to let go. Thoughts of Harry filled her mind...his boyish grin...his gentle touch...his soothing voice...his passionate kisses... The room seemed to slip away around her. She felt as if she were floating in a sea of calm... Diane. Dale's voice echoed softly through her head, as if across a large lake on a clear, quiet night. Dale, she called back mentally. I hear you, my sister. And I hear you. Are you all right? Very dizzy...very sore. But I'll live. Harry is in worse shape. Talk to me, Dale. He's got a concussion...a bad scalp wound...a sprained left ankle. He needs help. What did you hit? An unfortunate deer. Harry tried to swerve, but it was no use...we collided head-on with it and rolled the truck over. Where are you? Canadian side of Black Lake...roughly twenty miles from the U.S. border, heading west. Hiding in the woods. From what? Drug runners. We were spying on a buy, hoping to follow the courier back across the border and make an arrest. Unfortunately, we got caught. What about the others? We split into three pairs...Andy and Ed, Hawk and Joey Paulson, Harry and me. As far as I know, the others got away. Diane thought quickly. I don't know how long we'll be able to keep this mental channel open, she spoke telepathically. Can you see any landmarks that would help a search party find you? There was a moment's hesitation before a reply came. I'm afraid to open my eyes, Dale said. I don't want to break this link by becoming too conscious. Then let someone else be your eyes. Ask Harry for help. I'll try. The link may break by my becoming conscious enough to ask him. Don't think like that. Keep your mind clear and focused on our bond. Don't concentrate too hard or the link WILL break. Our bond will keep our minds joined if we don't try to force it. Remember that. All right. Wait a minute. "Harry." Harry jolted out of the semi-sleep he had fallen into ever since Dale had stopped talking to him. The sudden motion made him both dizzy and sore simultaneously. "Oh-h-h," he moaned. "Coop? What is it?" "Harry," Dale said in a monotone, "I've reached Diane." "Thank God," Harry sighed with relief. "Tell her to send someone out here quick." "She needs to know where." Harry almost laughed. "How the Hell should I know where we are?" "Harry, time is short. I can't guarantee how long I can keep this link open. Be my eyes, Harry. Look around and tell me where we are." Harry looked around. "We're in the woods, north of Black Lake, twenty miles around the west side of the lake from the U.S. border." "I already know that. Tell me something more." "There isn't any more." "Look overhead, Harry. What's in the sky?" Harry looked up. The act made his head spin. He tried to concentrate on the sky and force it to clear. "It looks like we're right under the North Star," he finally said. "Are you sure?" "Positive. That's the one star my daddy always told me to find first." "Thanks." He focused his mind on Diane again. Diane, can you still hear me? Yes, came her reply. All right. Harry says the North Star is directly overhead. It's not much to go on, but it's the only recognizable landmark--or, in this case, star mark. You're right--that isn't much. But at least it's something. I'll send someone up there as soon as one of the others gets back. Diane...tell Audrey I love her. I know you do. Tell Harry I love him. I know you do. I can feel it...like I'm sure you can feel my love for Audrey. It was how I knew you'd begun to reach out. She paused. I love you, my brother. I love you, my sister. Two souls... ...joined into one life... ...sharing hearts, minds, and destinies, they finished in unison. The sound of an approaching vehicle shattered the quiet of the night. Dale felt the link break abruptly as his mind snapped back to attentiveness. "They're back," Harry whispered. "Sh-h-h," Dale replied softly. "Don't move. Maybe they won't find us." They both lay still. The sound of footsteps and muffled voices rippled through the clear, quiet night...soon joined by the low growl of dogs. "Oh, God," Harry whispered. "Dogs. They'll find us." "We"ve got to move," Dale decided. "Try to stand up." Harry fought the pain and tried to stand up, pulling on the trunk of the tree for support. He held onto the trunk with both hands as he attempted to put his left leg down. Nothing. His ankle had gone numb. He barely knew it was down there. "Can you make it?" Dale asked. "With a little help," Harry replied. "Lean on me," Dale offered his right shoulder as a brace. Harry draped his left arm across Dale's shoulders, then leaned against him. "Let's go," he whispered. The two men moved off into the night with a series of hop-steps, heading into the depths of the dark woods. Audrey peered out the glass doors of the Sheriff's Station, searching for some sign of her husband. "Someone's coming," she said excitedly. Diane opened her eyes and slowly sat up. Her babies protested the interruption of their rest, wiggling violently inside her. She rubbed the bulge gently. "It's all right, babies," she said. "We're going to find Daddy and Uncle Dale. Stay calm." She looked over at Audrey. "Who's there?" "I can't tell," she replied. "It's a motorcycle." "Joey Paulson's," Lucy said, getting up to join her. "That means Hawk's with him," Diane said. "Good. Maybe we can send some help Dale's way." "What about Andy?" Lucy asked. "Dale says he's with Big Ed, and he thinks he got away safely." "There's a jeep coming," Audrey observed. "Ed," Lucy said. The three ladies watched as the four men met in the parking lot and looked around, as if seeking evidence of their missing comrades. Lucy opened the door and leaned outside. "Hawk! Andy!" she called. "Get in here quick--the Sheriff and Agent Cooper are in trouble!" The four Book House Boys immediately hurried inside. Lucy stepped aside and let them through. "Andy--are you all right?" she asked. "Fine, snookums," Andy replied. "The baby'll get cold if you stand out here much longer." Lucy snuggled Aaron close to her chest and let the door shut behind her as she came inside to join the group. "What happened?" she asked. "Stakeout went wrong," Hawk said. "A rottweiler tried to make an entree out of Joey. Where's Harry and Cooper?" "They had an accident on the way back," Diane said. "They're still on the other side of the border." "Jeez," Joey said, shaking his head. "They're in trouble. Those guys meant business. They had some heavy-duty arms." "Where exactly are they?" Hawk asked. "They're not sure," Diane replied. "There's no real landmarks they can use to identify where they are--except for the fact that the North Star's directly overhead." Hawk turned to Lucy. "Lucy, get Harry on the radio," he ordered. "Tell him we're on our way." "They don't answer their radio," Lucy complained. Ed looked confused. "Then how does she know what happened?" he asked, indicating Diane. Hawk looked at Diane oddly, his eyes showing an understanding of what was obviously happening. "You know where they are," he said. "Not really," she replied. "But I can find them." Hawk thought it over. "Harry'll kill me if I take you. But I don't actually have a choice. Let's go." "Wait a minute," Joey said. "If they're trapped on the other side, those guys will be expecting us to send help. They'll have that road guarded. You'll be walking into an ambush." "He's right," Ed said. "There's no way you can get up there." "Not by land," Audrey said thoughtfully. Hawk looked at her. "You have another idea?" he asked. "The AUDREY ROSE...Daddy's boat." "A yacht?" "Please. Yachts aren't exactly subtle...and Daddy was nothing if not subtle about his jaunts to One Eyed Jack's. It's a speedboat, docked at the Black Lake Marina." "Can you get your father to loan it to us?" Audrey reached for her purse. "I don't have to," she said, producing her key ring. "I've got the keys." Hawk thought quickly, then turned to Lucy. "Stick by the radio," he ordered. "Audrey...Diane...let's go." Hop-step. Hop-step. Hop-step. Harry had no idea how long they'd been moving. The trail seemed endless. His head was spinning and his entire body ached. But they had to keep going. The pursuing drug dealers would catch them if they didn't. Dale forced his feet forward. Harry's weight was beginning to get heavy on his right shoulder, and his broken ribs protested by sending waves of pain through his body. The disorienting sameness of the dark woods didn't help him keep his bearings as he fought dizziness. But he couldn't stop. If the drug dealers didn't get them, the cold night air and exhaustion would. He kept moving, helping Harry move forward as he did. "Are we still moving along the lake?" Harry asked. Dale glanced to his left. He could still see a slight shimmer of moonlight off the lake's surface twinkling through the trees. "Looks like it," he replied. "As long as we keep it to our left, we won't get lost." "Can you still hear Diane?" "No. I lost her when our friends returned and distracted me." "How is she going to get help to us?" "I don't know. We've just got to hope she can." He paused. "And that there's something of us to find." Something crashed into Dale from behind, toppling them to the ground. It didn't take Harry long to figure out what had tackled them. An angry, unleashed rottweiler had his jaws firmly clamped onto Dale's right arm. Dale was screaming in pain. Harry quickly crawled over to Dale's left and grabbed the shotgun he had dropped. He started to aim it at the dog, then realized he was too disoriented to fire the gun accurately. Instead, he swung the shotgun at the dog's back and hit it hard. The dog refused to break its grip. Harry swung again, this time striking the dog in the head. That got the rottweiler's attention. He released Dale's arm and lunged for Harry, tackling him to the ground. A shot rang out through the night. The rottweiler yelped in pain and limped away into the woods, bleeding from a shoulder injury. Harry and Dale looked toward the sound of the shot. Hawk came out of the darkness and over to them. "You two sure know how to attract attention," he wisecracked. "Hawk," Harry said, his voice relieved. "Let's get out of here," Hawk replied. "If your screaming didn't get their attention, that gunshot will." Dale fought the pain and got to his feet, then moved over to help Hawk assist Harry. "I've got him," Hawk reassured. "Head for the lake." Dale did, clutching his arm. Hawk joined him, helping Harry move along. The three men burst out of the woods and reached the lake road. Dale began looking around for a vehicle. "Cooper--this way," Hawk urged, heading directly for the lake. It was then that Dale spotted the boat. He quickly followed Hawk to the water's edge. "Help me balance Harry," Hawk said. Dale hurried over and supported Harry's right side this time. Together, the three men waded into the freezing waters toward the speedboat. Diane suddenly sat up in the back of the boat. "Diane?" Dale said, his tone and expression simultaneously confused, angry, and relieved. "Help me lift him," Hawk ordered. Dale helped Hawk float Harry's weight upward toward the ladder attached to the boat's side. Diane reached for her husband and helped pull him into the boat, then offered a hand to Dale. Hawk gave Dale an assist to the ladder, and the Special Agent quickly climbed in and joined his sister, then reached back and offered Hawk a hand. "I've got it," Hawk said, climbing in. "Hit it, Audrey!" Audrey suddenly sat up from her hiding place and started the ignition, then hit the throttle of the boat. The speedboat roared away from the edge of the lake as shots rang out in the night from the shore. Hawk quickly moved up to the front seat. "I'll take it, Audrey," he offered, taking the steering wheel. Audrey vacated the driver's seat and moved into the seat next to it. "Get situated, Audrey," Hawk cautioned. "Rough ride ahead." The boat jolted suddenly as it smashed through a thin patch of ice as if to punctuate his int. Audrey gripped the boat's dashboard for a moment, then relaxed slightly and reached underneath the seat to produce a stack of thin cotton blankets. "Here," she said, passing two of them behind her. "Wrap yourselves up in these--it'll keep you from freezing to death." "Thanks," Diane said, handing one to Dale and wrapping Harry up with the other one. Dale wrapped the blanket around him, then looked from his wife to his sister and back again. "Are you two insane?" he asked. "You could have been killed!" "Grateful, isn't he?" Diane said. "I'd really be angry if I wasn't so happy to see you," he retorted. Audrey reached for Dale and suddenly noticed the bloody tear on his coat. "What happened?" she asked, gently touching the wound. "Dog bite," Dale replied, taking her hand off his arm. "I'm fine." He turned to Diane. "It's Harry I'm worried about." "Just a bump," Harry mumbled. "No big deal." Diane looked at Harry closely. "Nasty piece of work," she said, stroking the cut on his forehead with her finger. "How do you really feel?" "Like I've been run over by a truck," he confessed. Diane held him close. "Lean on me," she said. "We'll be home soon." Hawk looked in the side mirror of the boat. "Not if we don't outrun this company," he said ominously. Dale, Diane, and Audrey looked back and spotted the speedboat behind them, full of the same well-armed pursuers who had trailed them on land. "Gun it, Hawk," Dale ordered. "Already got the throttle up full," Hawk replied. "This lake's tricky--lots of shallow spots and hidden hazards--not to mention the occasional patch of thin ice." He grabbed the radio microphone. "Hawk to Base," he said into the microphone. "Come in, Lucy--over." "This is Lucy," came the reply. "Go ahead, Hawk--over." "Rescue mission successful. We're going to need some help at Black Lake Marina in a few minutes." "Already on its way." "Good. Hawk out." "What kind of help?" Dale asked. "You'll see," Hawk replied. Shots began sounding around them once more, several of them passing too close for comfort. Diane quickly pulled Harry down into her lap--or what remained of it, as his head rested against the round abdomen that took up most of her lap. Harry smiled slightly. "They like the ride," he commented. "They're really moving around in there." Then, he winced slightly. "Hey!" he declared to her tummy. "Don't kick your daddy!" Diane couldn't help it. She started laughing. Dale smiled and reached forward for Audrey, gently placing his left hand on her shoulder. She reached up and took his hand off her shoulder, then kissed it lovingly and sensuously. Dale smiled at the kisses. "I'd have been better off taking your offer earlier," he commented. "That'll teach you," Audrey responded. Another round of gunfire blasted around them. Everyone winced and ducked once more. "Hang on!" Hawk ordered, suddenly swerving the boat hard starboard. The AUDREY ROSE executed a reasonably tight left-hand turn. The drug runners' boat followed suit. Audrey looked up and spotted the marina getting very close very fast. "Hawk--look out!" she declared. "I see it," he answered, maintaining course. "But don't you want to..." "No." He continued racing toward the docks. Dale looked behind him. "They're closing," he reported. "Good," Hawk replied. The marina loomed large in front of them. Audrey screamed. Hawk suddenly killed the engine and steered into an empty slip near the marina's entrance, letting the boat bump the edge of the dock. The opposing speedboat tore past them and nearly smashed into the concrete launch ramp before drifting to its own stop as the driver killed the boat's engine. Suddenly, spotlights snapped on and completely lit the marina. The drug runners looked around. Standing on the shore were dozens of local, state, and Federal law enforcement officers, all with guns trained toward the four drug runners. "This is Special Agent Rex Caliph of the F.B.I.," came a voice over a megaphone. "You are completely surrounded. Throw your weapons in front of the boat and put your hands up." The four men in the boat looked around for a moment, then threw their weapons toward the shore and raised their hands in surrender. "Very good," Rex continued. "Oh, and gentlemen...welcome to the United States." The next morning, Diane and Audrey arrived at Calhoun Memorial Hospital and headed into a semi-private room occupied by two special patients. Dale and Harry both lay sulking in their respective beds as their wives entered the room. "Look at this," Audrey said, indicating the unhappy brothers-in-law. "Trouble in paradise," Diane agreed. "He broke the TV remote," Harry said sullenly. "I did not," Dale protested. "It's not my fault hospital coffee is really black battery acid. Besides, the cup was already leaking when I picked it up. I didn't spill it." "You two make the absolute worst patients," Audrey commented, pulling up chairs for herself and Diane. "Agreed," Diane remarked, taking a seat next to Harry's bed as Audrey took a seat next to Dale's. "You two should be celebrating. You helped collar a major new drug ring." "What's the latest on our drug runners?" Harry asked. "Sitting in the Federal pen, singing their hearts out to the D.E.A. The Canadian government's sent Mounties down to listen in." "Which reminds me," Dale said, the memory of his suspension due to the antics of a Canadian drug lord and a crooked Mountie still fresh in his mind, "what does Internal Affairs have to say about this whole mess?" "Well, Rex isn't terribly happy with you...or me, for that matter, since I'm technically not even supposed to be out in the field. But since we were out there as private citizens--and our suspects voluntarily entered the U.S.--there'll be no charges filed. You're safe for now, Agent Cooper." "Thank God. Now...when do we get out of here?" "Well," Audrey said, "Doc Hayward said that if you two were good boys, he might consider letting you go home later today. Of course, if you lie here pouting..." Dale looked over at Harry. "Sorry I spilled the coffee," Dale said. "Forget it," Harry replied. "Nothing on TV worth watching anyway." "That's more like it," Diane commented with a smile. Harry looked at his wife. "So tell me," he said, "how did you two manage to find us?" Diane and Audrey looked at each other. "We wished on a star," Diane replied mischievously. All of them laughed as they recited the childhood rhyme in unison: Star light, star bright, First star I see tonight... I wish I may, I wish I might Have the wish I wish tonight. T H E E N D ****** ** The Almost, Absolutely, Positively, Ultimate KAOS Kaper A GET SMART Short Story By D. Lynn Bivens C O N C L U S I O N "...So the old Chief calls Maxwell Smart, our NEW Chief, on the bedpan phone from the CONTROL Retirement Home to tell him about a new plot KAOS has hatched." "Larrabee, what are you doing?" "Oh, hi, Chief. I was just telling the people tuning in what's happened up until now." "Larrabee, this isn't TV, it's a FANZINE! People can't tune in to see us...they can only read about us!" "Oh. In that case, I guess there's no need for me to tell you about your pants being unzipped, huh?" "What?! Oh, uh, excuse me a moment, folks. Uh, I'll just turn around and..." *Zzzzip...* "Uh, Chief?" "Yes, Larrabee?" "This is a fanzine, remember? They can't see you." "I KNOW that, Larrabee, but even on the printed page, the Chief of CONTROL can't go around with his fly open!" "Are you SURE you didn't win your promotion in a lottery?" When last we left Thaddeus, the ex-Chief of CONTROL, he was strapped to a metal table in a converted operating room with Siegfried, Starker and a motley collection of KAOS thugs posing as orderlies--not that there is much of a difference in intelligence--about to commence the implementation of their brainwashing techniques. "All right, Thaddeus," Siegfried screeched in his typically maniacal manner, "are you ready to haff your vill stripped from you und your brain enslaved by zhe forces of KAOS?" "I don't suppose a 'no' would be accepted at this point, would it?" Thaddeus moaned with a curious scowl screwed onto his wrinkled face. "Nein!" Siegfried railed, as the scar running down one cheek twitched with a tic usually associated with a true lunatic. "Zhis iss not a multiple-choice qvestion!" "Well," the ex-Chief sighed in exasperation, "in that case, do your worst, Siegfried." "My dear Thaddeus, zhat iss vhat I do best." Then, barking orders in German too fast for the ex-Chief to follow, Siegfried had his henchmen literally falling over one another in order to prime the machines to be used in the reconditioning of a mind trained to keep its secrets. "This is the '90s, Siegfried," Thaddeus frustratedly pointed out as the comical choreography continued. "Don't you have a single switch you can just...snap, click, brrrr here?" "Chief, zhis iss KAOS," chastised Siegfried with a stupid expression. "Ve don't snap, click, or brrrr here!" "Oh. Sorry." "Zhe electrodes are charged, Mein Leader!" the pith-helmeted Starker said excitedly while assuming a stance of attention. "Zhe tranzformers are hot, zhe resistors are at full capacity, und zhe power-flux dampeners are activated." "Um-hmm," hummed the megalomaniac in charge of the operation, "but did you plug it in?" Starker's posture slumped from shame as Siegfried realized his idiotic right-hand man had screwed up again. "Shtarker!" "Tell you what, Siegfried," said Thaddeus through a yawn. "I'm gonna take a little nap. Wake me when you're ready to start brainwashing." "Now you zee vhat you haff done, Shtarker?" shouted Siegfried as the ex-Chief slipped into a snoring slumber. "You've put our helpless victim to shleep! Dummkopf!" Blrrrt-blrrrt... "Hello," gurgled Max after answering yet another super-secret telephone installed in his smaller-than-before office. "Maxwell Smart, Chief of CONTROL, speaking." "Max?" a painfully familiar voice asked in Smart's wet ear. "99?" he gurgled again with a mixture of surprise and distress. "What's wrong? Has something happened to the twins, 89 and 98? Has King Charles tossed you out of the castle? Are you reversing these charges?" "No, Max," his ex-wife and ex-agent of CONTROL said, heaving a sigh. "Everything's fine. And I'm paying for this international call. You forget, Charles has a long distance calling plan from every carrier." "Yes, but does he have an original Mickey Mouse table phone in his bedroom?" Max asked with a stupid smirk as if coming up with something significant to top the lookalike royal who had stolen his wife of many years. "By the way, Max, why do you sound so strange?" 99 asked while shifting the tone of the stranger-than-usual conversation with the idiot she actually loved before Charles swept her away. "You sound as if you're under water." "I am," he replied with an elongated burble. "I'm using our new aquarium-phone. The water's not nearly as difficult as the fish." "Uh-h...okay," 99 answered slowly, as if to dismiss the entire subject. "Anyway, I was just calling to ask about this month's alimony. It's late again." "Oh," Max said shortly. "Well, I sent it by way of CONTROL's own super-secret, ultra-fast, international mail express plane yesterday..." "So," finished 99 almost sarcastically, "that would mean I should get it sometime in the next three months, right?" "If the weather holds," Max smartly answered, then paused a few seconds and curiously asked, "By the way, 99, seeing as how you've been remarried to King Charles for years, and he's reportedly worth billions...how come I'm still sending you alimony?" "Because we agreed to settle out of court in order to prevent the judge from knowing you were a CONTROL agent." "But," Max stupidly stated through the water in his aquarium-phone, "they knew anyway!" "I know, Max," 99 replied with an amused smirk apparent in her voice. "But the money does help pay for some essentials...such as postage stamps in case I want to send three or four letters. Locally, of course." "That reminds me, 99," Max remembered and haltingly admitted. "CONTROL's budget's been cut again, so you're alimony's coming Postage Due." 99 heaved a heavy sigh and said, "Same old Max." After the connection clicked to an end, Max closed the top of the tiny treasure chest nestled in the bottom of the aquarium-phone, deactivating it. Then, he pulled his head, dripping wet, from the tank, took out the special micro-miniature oxygen conversion noseplugs and mouthpiece--flexibly designed to make speech possible--and shouted to his imbecilic assistant just beyond a too-thin sliding wall-door: "Larrabee! How about changing the water in the aquarium-phone once in a while!" "May I help you?" the thug wearing an orderly's outfit--and speaking with a slightly discernible German accent--asked the strangely-garbed man seeking admittance into the Retirement Home. "Yeah, sure," stammered Agent 707 as he animatedly attempted to bluff his way into a CONTROL facility swarming with KAOS agents. "My name's George Bush, and I've come all this way to see my dear old uncle, Ronnie. He's not dead yet, is he?" "You're George Bush?" "That's me!" "The former President of the United States?" "You got it." "Strange," the thug posing as an orderly droned. "You don't look like the former President." Without missing a beat, 707 launched into a verbal song-and-dance designed to convince an enemy agent he was who he claimed to be. All it really did was convince the enemy agent he was dealing with an utter cretin, the likes of which had not been seen since the secret number of 86 had happily been retired. 621 numbers had managed to be assigned to sane, relatively intelligent men and women--by governmental standards, which are understandably low in order not to endanger the jobs of Congressional representatives--who served with distinction...except for that Ames dude from the CIA. Then came 707: The product of a trickle-down economic experiment during the 80's that sort of trickled all over CONTROL. Eeeewww... "Uh, well..." the idiot dressed in the incredibly loud Hawaiian shirt and oversized Bermuda shorts snorted, "you know how those people on TV look with their lights and filtered lenses and make-up?" "No," the thug flatly replied with huge arms folded across an even larger chest while glaring unblinkingly at 707. "Uh, well, like I was saying...I've come to see my Uncle Ronnie and make sure his Alzheimer's hasn't made him forget to include me in his will. Barbara would never forgive me if that happened!" After quickly looking about, 707 leaned close and added in a whisper, "She's a real brute when she's pissed, ya know." "Vhere are your Secret Service men?" the thug asked suspiciously. "Uh..." 707 hemmed as he struggled stupidly for an answer, "I left 'em at the airport. Yeah, that's what happened. I left 'em at the airport, because, uh, because the guns they were carrying kept setting off metal detectors. So...so I had to leave them, because, uh, because it'd take too long to get rid of all those weapons and retrieve them after clearing the detectors. Yeah, that's where they are: stripping off all that hardware while I'm visiting my Uncle Ronnie. By the time I get back, they should just about be finished." "Vhat about your I.D.?" "M-my I.D.?" parroted the moronic agent as his face twisted into a comical mask of perplexity while desperately searching for some sort of answer. "Oh, my I.D.! I, uh, left it in my other pants. Yeah, I didn't want to attract any unnecessary attention, what with having to leave the Secret Service guys behind." "I see," the thug said as he allowed his beady eyes to examine the outlandish outfit at length. "Well, then," huffed 707 as if all was settled, "nice talking to you. I'll make sure to put a good word in for you at the White House. I hear some of them may have need of an orderly or two..." With that, 707, his nose hoisted with self-importance into the air, strutted past the puzzled "orderly" as the thug scratched his head. Just as 707--alias "George Bush"--proceeded down the first hallway leading away from the lobby, his nose still positioned in an upward direction, another orderly pushing a food tray cart entered from a side door. Neither person saw the other until... CRASH! 707 knocked over the cart, spilling food, breaking dishes and knocking the orderly to the floor. The messy scene was straight out of an old Laurel and Hardy film. "Oops," 707 said as he attempted to get to his feet while dishes of food fell from his soiled shirt and shorts. "My fault entirely. I'm used to having Secret Service guys walking ahead of me to keep me from bumping into stuff." As several orderlies, patients and visitors gathered to gawk in incredulity at the ridiculous occurrence, 707 showed further evidence of his ineptitude by clumsily attempting to assist the fallen orderly back to his feet. "Here, I'll give you a hand." Crash...THUD. "Oops. Sorry. Let me get that off your head." Ssslip...CRASH...tha-dump. "Ow, bet that hurt, huh?" THUNK! "Uh...ooh...is there a doctor handy?!" "Eff'rythink ez in readiness, mein Leader!" Starker screamed as he snapped to attention inches from the right ear of Siegfried, whose flinching reaction easily demonstrated the discomfort felt at such an unthinking act by his less-than-thoughtful henchman of many years. "Shtarker," the mustachioed neo-Nazi said softly as he wiggled a finger in a gesture for the pith-helmeted idiot to lean closer, "ve are KAOS agents. Ve don't SHCREAM in our Leader'ss ear here!" Starker's reaction was even more comically expressive than Siegfried's own, as he slowly straightened while screwing the end of a forefinger into his ear as if attempting to restore a sudden loss of auditory perception. Frankly, he was deaf as a tree for several seconds. "Hass zhe device been plugged in zhis time, Shtarker?" Starker contorted his already moronic face into a mask of puzzlement as he looked at Siegfried and asked simply, "Vhat?" "Never mind, Shtarker," Siegfried growled through tightly-clenched teeth while rolling his eyes. "Chust svitch it on!" "Look, Siegfried," the ex-Chief of CONTROL said as he squirmed beneath his restraints, "I hope this isn't going to take long. My bladder control's not what it used to be." "Tie a knot in it, Thaddeus!" Siegfried exclaimed loudly as his humorously smirking face stared down into the ex-Chief's own. "I happen to know zhat you haff a Depends unsergarment on! So keep your veak attempts to ezcape to yourzelf!" "Uh," thought the ex-Chief in desperation for some other equally effective plan, "did I tell you about my bowel problems?" "By zhe time ve get finished vith you," Siegfried snarled sadistically while leaning close and patting Thaddeus' electrode-laden forehead, "you von't know schitt from Shinola! Heh heh heh heh heh..." Just then, Starker figured out which switch was the correct one and tripped it with the enthusiasm of a small child. "Arg! Shtarrrrkerrrr!" No sooner had the pith-helmeted henchman turned than he saw his leader being mildly electrocuted from touching the exposed wires running to one of the electrodes attached to the furrowed forehead of the ex-Chief of CONTROL. Starker's moronic reaction and clumsy attempts to deactivate the system only complicated the otherwise simple situation. "Ach, no! Mein Leader eez beink barbecued! Like a big fat piece uff hamburger! I've got to zave him!" Hitting all the wrong switches and dials, Starker actually increased the voltage assaulting his boss. "Shtarker, you dumkopf!" Siegfried spat as static charges danced about his body and made his clenched teeth chatter. "You're makink things vorse!" Thaddeus, completely unaffected by it all, knitted his aging brow and puzzled, "It's been a long time since I've been tortured, Siegfried, and I quite honestly haven't kept up with all the newest techniques...so is this supposed to somehow bother me?" "Be qviet, Thaddeus!" Siegfried stammered as his eyes almost seemed to bulge during his jerky responses to so much electricity passing through his person. "Or I'll send for a near-zighted proctologist vith big fingerss!" As Thaddeus scowled at the unpleasant thought of such an examination, Starker, out of frustration borne of his utter lack of intelligence, finally followed the machine's round wire to the outlet into which it was plugged and jerked it out. Almost immediately, the shower of sparks cascading off Siegfried ceased, as did his uncontrollable twitching. Unfortunately, his gray hair now stuck out on all sides, as if he had spent the last several hours getting a make-over from The Don King School of Hairstyling. Starker rushed to his Supreme Leader's side just as Siegfried had removed his hand from the ex-Chief's head and turned toward his henchman, who happily held the plug in his hand. "You are zafe now, mein imperious fhrer to be," Starker stupidly exclaimed with a broad grin adorning his moronic features. "I haff pulled zhe plug!" Visibly shaking with churning rage, Siegfried attempted to feign gratitude as he slowly took the plug and attached wire in his own hands. "Oh, tank you zo much, Shtarker. Let me zee zhis for a moment, von't you?" Then he immediately looped it about Starker's neck and commenced strangling him. "You shtupit idiot! You almost killed me, do you know zhat, Shtarker?" "Mein Leader," gasped a stupidly bug-eyed Starker as Siegfried shook him forcefully while still strangling him with the cord, "I--I cannot breazhe!" "Zhat's zhe general idea, dumkopf! I should haff done zhis years ago!" "Uh, I hate to interrupt you murdering somebody, Siegfried," the ex-Chief apologetically stated, "but if this is a bad time for your brainwashing scheme, we could do it another time." "You vould like zhat, vouldn't you, Thaddeus?" Siegfried suddenly exclaimed as he released Starker--who staggered and gasped for air with a contorted countenance--and spun toward the ex-chief. "Vell, it von't be qvite so eazy, Mr. Shmarty-Pantz!" "You can't blame a brainwashing candidate for trying, can you?" "Shtarker!" the wild-haired Siegfried shouted to his henchman--who was still stumbling around trying to regain his composure, such as it was. "Plug in zhe machine, und zhis time, don't shcrew it up!" "Y-yes, Mein Leader," coughed Starker. He picked up the dropped plug and staggered back toward the machine which was making so much trouble for him these past several minutes. "Listen, Siegfried, I was just wondering," Thaddeus asked curiously of his sadistic host, "seeing how totally incompetent and idiotic Starker seems to be, why does KAOS keep him around?" "Becauss," Siegfried snarled in a hushed aside--being careful not to touch the electrodes on Thaddeus' head again--"he ez zhe only vun vith a falid driver's lizenz. Vhy does CONTROL keep Maxshvell Shmart around?" "He owes us money." Grimacing a little while nodding in understanding of Thaddeus' meaning, Siegfried surmised, "At zhe pay leffel of a gofernment employee, he should haff it paid back in anozher, oh, fifty years, eh?" "And that's just the interest," Thaddeus added as an afterthought. Siegfried did a double-take and shot an astonished stare toward the ex-Chief. "Zhe machine iss plugged in, mein compazzionate Commandant!" Starker excitedly exclaimed as he snapped to attention at his superior officer's side. "Und may I say, your hair iss much more becomink like zhat!" "Oh, you really zhink zo, Shtarker?" Siegfried earnestly but effeminately asked as he primped in an affectation of pride. "You don't zhink it'z too much?" "Oh, zertainly not, Herr Siegfried," Starker almost lisped as he moved his hands about effeminately. "It abzolutely brings out zhe highlitz of your clazzically handzome faze." "Come now, Shtarker, you are beink too kind." "Nein, nein...really!" "If you frauleins want to take a break to freshen up," Thaddeus interrupted sarcastically, "I'll just wait back in my room until you're ready." Suddenly realizing how ridiculous the two of them had been acting, Siegfried snapped angrily, "Shtarker! Don't make me haff to get mein ridink vhip!" Starker cowered at the thought like a disobedient dog who had just displeased his master, as Siegfried leaned closer and hissed, "How many times haff I told you, not in front of zhe torture victims!" "Jawohl, Mein lovely-- er, Mein Leader," Starker quietly and obediently responded in a similarly hushed voice, his expression a mask of overblown shame. "Ve'll talk about zhis later," Siegfried said somewhat soothingly and then added almost suggestively, "over zome shtrawberry daiquiris perhapz..." Starker smiled, making his expression even sillier, and started to speak in reply. "Shh!" Siegfried hushed him, glancing back at the ex-Chief. "Torture first." Starker nodded childishly, as Siegfried swiftly turned to the others and growled orders in German. The henchmen hastily responded by throwing controls and switches which promptly prodded the oversized machine to luminous life. Simultaneously, Siegfried's foot depressed a pedal on the floor which activated a motor steadily tilting the entire table on which the ex-Chief lay into a semi-upright position. Thaddeus' eyes grew wide with unreasoning fear of what was to come next. "Und now, ex-Chief of CONTROL," Siegfried snarled sadistically while glaring at the trembling Thaddeus, "it iz time for zhe torture vhich zhall break your mind und make you a shlave of KAOS!" With a sharp gesture of one hand, Siegfried signalled his men to activate one more machine that was integral to his dastardly plan: a movie projector. On one wall of the converted operating room, the horrific images began to emerge along with mind-bending sounds: "Here's the story of a lovely lady, who was bringing up three very lovely girls..." "No...n-o-o-o!" screamed the ex-Chief as his monitored mind was already beginning to weaken. "It's the story of a man named Brady..." "Please, God, stop, STOP! It's inhuman!" But Siegfried and Starker only laughed as the torture continued and Thaddeus' screams rose in pitch to express his sheer terror. No man should be forced to endure such punishment. "Arrggg!" 707 instantly reacted to the reverberating screeches of inhuman torment that filtered through the corridors of the retirement home from within the closed doors of the operating room. "Oh, my God, the ex-Chief! They've started their torture!" 707 exclaimed to himself as he moved jerkily about in Don Knotts/Barney Fife fashion. "I've gotta do something! They're gonna kill him! Or worse...they'll turn him into a Rush Limbaugh fan!" "N-o-o-o-o..." the voice reverberated. Clumsily, 707 hiked up his Hawaiian shirt and began unbuckling his belt--whose color clashed with the beige Bermuda shorts he wore--just as several sinister shadows fell across the agent from every direction. "Uh-oh," 707 mumbled to himself as he stopped moving briefly, the belt now in his hands, and cut his eyes about at the expected sources of the shadows. A dozen or so wide-shouldered, musclebound "orderlies" with pistols, knives and short clubs in their hairy hands stood, their eyes narrowed and sadistic sneers on their square-jawed faces. "You know," began the bumbling CONTROL agent with a somewhat frantic tone, "something like this would ordinarily worry your average agent who'd left his government-issued firearm in his other pants...but not an agent who has one of these!" As 707 stupidly lifted the belt into view, holding the buckle end in one hand and the tapered end in the other, the thugs surrounding him looked at one another in amused puzzlement. "Yeah, I know what you're thinking," chuckled 707 as he shook the belt menacingly at the men standing in a circle about him. "You're saying to yourself, 'This guy's nuts! He's trying to scare us with just a belt.' But that's where you're wrong! It's not just a belt." As the thugs continued to watch in perplexity, 707 began some strangely exaggerated movements with the belt, twisting it this way, turning it that... "In a few minutes," he grunted while still twisting, turning and tugging, "this belt will turn into a combination M-60 and grenade launcher. When that happens, you guys'll be sorry. Oh-ho-ho, you will be so sorry! Just as soon...just as soon as I make this...unh...this last turn...oof...I'll blow you bad boys away. Yeah..." Despite all his attempting to twist and turn various parts of the belt--the "orderlies" almost laughing at the intruder's idiotic struggles with a belt which seemed to be fighting back and winning--all 707 wound up with was an ordinary belt wrapped about his wrists and forearms like leather handcuffs. "Uhh..." 707 nervously blurted with a forced smile and chuckle, "I put on the wrong belt this morning. "This one doesn't do anything but hold up my pants." Perfectly on cue, 707's baggy Bermuda shorts slipped down his hips to plop onto the floor about his ankles. He looked down, then slowly raised his pensive face to regard his armed captors. "Ah, well, boys, I've just got one question: How's KAOS prison food these days?" Ka-ba-THOOM! The explosion came as a sudden shock to everyone--especially an acutely agitated Agent 707--as all quickly looked in the direction of what used to be a south wall on one end of the corridor. "All right, drop your weapons!" the instantly recognizable nasal voice shouted as he led heavily armed CONTROL agents through the dust-cloud created by the explosion that had torn through thick concrete and plaster. "Maxwell Smart, Chief of CONTROL. You're all under arrest!" The thugs, now outnumbered and outgunned, tossed aside their various instruments of violence--taking way too long to do so, and creating a pile of killing gear nearly three feet in height on one side of the corridor. "Enough already!" Max exclaimed in exasperation. "Boy, you guys must owe a mint to those weapons supply companies in Soldier Of Fortune magazine!" "Chief?" 707 puzzled as he stood with his hands still entangled in his belt, but with a tone in his voice as if nothing were amiss. "What are you and these CONTROL Strike Force agents doing here?" "Quite simple, 707," Max said with a self-assured smirk which only accentuated the obliviousness of his features. "When Larrabee was unable to raise you on your wallet-phone, I assumed the worst and immediately put a Triple A-1 Alert into effect. As soon as the helicopters were in the air and the bombproof vans full of highly-trained agents assembled, we proceeded to rush right over and use plastique to blow out that wall in order to use the element of surprise to its fullest." "But Chief," 707 whispered sheepishly, close to Max's ear, "I left my wallet-phone in my trenchcoat outside. I couldn't have heard you anyway." A perplexed look dominating Max's features, the current Chief of CONTROL could only say, "Oh. Well, guess it's a good thing you really did need help, then." 707 glanced at his leather-bound arms and the shorts about his ankles and blushed, as Max asked, "So where do they have the old Chief?" Gesturing clumsily with both bound hands--almost bopping Max in the nose in the process--707 stammered, "I, uh, don't know for sure, Your Most Exalted Self, but I believe I heard him screaming further down this hall." "Screaming?" "Yeah," 707 said, and proceeded to demonstrate mere inches from Max's ear. "`Arrgg! Noooo!'" Max's eyes crossed and his jaw dropped open as he slowly stuck a finger in the assaulted ear in an attempt to purge it of the ringing initiated by 707. "Oh, sorry, Chief." "Eh?" "We've found him!" someone shouted excitedly from the far end of the corridor as Max shook some sense into himself and quickly dashed toward the now-open operating room doors. 707 baby-stepped behind in his fallen Bermuda shorts which slapped the floor, his hands still trapped by the knotted belt. "Don't wait for me, Your Excellency!" he shouted after Max, who totally ignored him. "I'll be along in a few minutes. Don't hold up the rescue for me. I'll be fine, really." "Chief?!" Max exclaimed in shock at the sight of Thaddeus, who was being helped off the upright metal table. As Siegfried and Starker were brought past Max, he grabbed the former by the collar of his laboratory smock and growled, "All right, Siegfried, what have you done to the Chief?" "Nozhink zhsat a lobotomy vouldn't fix, Maxshvell Shmart!" "You'll pay for this, Siegfried!" "In shmall change, Shmart!" "Take him away," barked the bumbling head of CONTROL, but then added, somewhat effeminately, "By the way, Siegfried, I love what you've done with your hair." "Oh, zhank you, Maxshvell," Siegfried lisped as he was forcefully shoved out the operating room doorway. "Hey, don't be zo rough!" Max rushed over to his ex-boss and sputtered, "My God, he looks like a zombie! What could've possibly been done to him?" "Till the one day when this lady met this fellow," Thaddeus mumbled maniacally to himself, "and they knew that it was much more than a hunch..." "Oh, God!" gasped Max, then added in grave tones, "That's horrible! Is there anything that can be done for the poor devil?" "Well," the Task Force team leader sighed, "a few hours of back-to-back Dirty Harry movies should snap him out of this." "Good," Max said with a confident nod as Thaddeus was led from the operating room. "Well, our work's done here. Time to go back to protecting the world from dictators, terrorists and insurance salesmen." Just as the shuffling 707 joined Max's side, the CONTROL Chief jammed his pistol into his shoulder holster. It fired. "Ooh," 707 hummed with his face screwed into an expression suggestive of the seriousness of the injury that now had Max rolling his eyes. "That's gonna take a lot of Band-Aids." "Shut up, 707," Max said with a strained voice through clenched teeth while heading for the doorway. "Yes, sir, don't worry about that," the agent with his hands bound by his own belt said as he shuffled after his idol. "If there's one thing I'm good at, it's shutting up. I was even good at shutting up when I was a kid. Just ask my Mommy!" "Shut up!" "Yes, sir, anything you say, sir," 707 continued as the two exited through the hole blasted into the south wall. "By the way, Your Legendship, if you need any blood to make up for what you're dribbling all over the floor, I'd be more than happy to donate it!" "707," Max shrieked in exasperation and pain just outside the hole, "shut up!" T H E E N D (This is where you would see the end credits if we had any. Since we don't, let me just take this opportunity to expound to you my latest project: A sub-spatial displacement field, which has a great many interesting properties...) S H U T U P ! ! ! (Sorry about that, reader.) ****** ** Leap In, Fade Out A QUANTUM LEAP/INVISIBLE MAN Short Story By D. Lynn Bivens P A R T T W O Nobody ever said Leaping into other people's lives wouldn't be free of surprises or shocks--God knows I've had plenty of both--but nothing could've readied me for Leaping into an invisible man...let alone one who happened to be an old colleague of mine prior to Project Quantum Leap. Al's disconcerted expression, as the two of us stared into a full-length mirror where my own reflection looked back, said it all. "Al, how the Hell am I going to make certain not to stand near any reflective surfaces and try to talk my way through a meeting with Walter Carlson and whoever else without exposing the fact that I'm not Dr. Daniel Weston?" "Uh..." Al fumbled while puffing pensively on his expensive cigar, "all I can tell you, Sam, is to fake it the best you can." "Fake it?" Al seemed somewhat embarrassed at being at such a loss for words--possibly the least likely eventuality during any Leap--and shrugged, "Ziggy and I will do everything we can to make certain your little improvisational performance doesn't come off as...transparent." "Ha, ha, very funny, Al," I sarcastically retorted as I turned from my own reflection in the full-length mirror to regard my holographic friend with a no-nonsense stare. "Instead of standing there making bad puns, you should be getting Ziggy to recalculate the odds on what I've been sent here to do." "I already told you," Al animatedly insisted as he started pacing about and passing through solid objects--I hate it when he does that!--"Ziggy gives the best odds on you being here to reverse the invisibility process for Dr. Weston. Then he can stop being..." Al double-checked the data on the handlink, "...an agent for the KLAE Corporation and use his genius for all the great things he would have accomplished had things been any different for him and his wife." "He and Kate did evidently waste their scientific potential those many years ago," I pondered pityingly as I proceeded to pace about as well--this time taking care to not bump into things myself. It's much easier to avoid objects when you can see where your body is in relation to them. "I remember wondering what had happened to him when I first oversaw the installation of equipment at Stallion's Gate, never realizing it was his impassioned search to become visible again, followed by failure after failure, which drove the couple into obscurity." "That's what Ziggy and I've been telling you!" "But I'm still not qualified to reverse a process created by Dan!" I adamantly argued with the one person who had literally stood by me through years of Leaps. "I know nothing about his invisibility theories. In fact, if memory serves, Dan's true scientific quest was in the teleportation of matter. There's almost nothing in common between that and time travel. Hell, I can't even develop a means of reversing my own experiment-gone-wrong!" Al seemed to struggle against saying something, as he absently strode through some computer equipment on his way to join me. "Al, I know that look," I strongly stated as he came closer with clouds of cigar smoke encircling his hanging head. "What is it you're trying not to tell me?" Al looked up at me while slowly slipping the stogie from his lips, reacting to an unheard--by me, at least--voice which could only have one possible source. "Gushie, I know what we discussed before I stepped into the Imaging Chamber," Al railed into the air like some madman, "but Sam's got a right to know, and I'm gonna tell him! So zip it!" He then stared directly into my eyes in a manner normally used whenever something unpleasant was about to be revealed about a Leap. "Sam, according to the most likely of scenarios run by Ziggy earlier, your somehow helping to reverse Dan Weston's invisibility will make it possible for him to become an important part of Project Quantum Leap." "In what way?" I asked, already suspecting his answer. Al puffed on his cigar a couple of tense seconds, then stated matter-of-factly, "Sam, Dr. Weston's participation in the Project would make it possible to bring you back!" It hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks my father used to mention whenever something startling took place...or whenever he was told something as shocking and unexpected as this. "Great," I groaned frustratedly as I began pacing again. "Either I do the impossible in order to save my old friend, or the two of us are doomed to be victims of our pet projects." "You don't know that it's impossible to reverse Dr. Weston's condition, Sam!" Al continued to insist as he paced alongside me while hurriedly entering requests for further information into the handlink. "According to Ziggy's calculations, there's a, uh, 43.6 percent chance you can somehow redo his invisibility gizmo to make him visible again." "That's a lower percentage than Ziggy had given you for making sure this particle-gun device was not taken on by the KLAE Corporation." "I thought we'd settled this already!" Al laughingly lamented while waving his hands about like a bandleader, his cigar leaving thick trails of smoke in its weaving wake. "Look, they're not gonna agree to these experiments with the particle cannon thing. Your only hope is to try and bring Dr. Weston's visibility back!" "But I've already told you, Al, I can't! This field of physics was not part of my expertise." "Well, according to Ziggy, it's the only logical reason for being here." "Well, Ziggy's been known to be wrong before, Al." "Yeah, but most of the time she's right on the money." "Well, some of the time she's off-base, and I think this is one of those times." "Dan?" Oh, boy. How many times has this happened to me? Arguing with Al, whom no one else can see or hear, just as a person important to the success of a Leap walks in on what seems to be an unstable person having a heated debate with empty air. "Oh, uh, Kate," I stammered as she stood in the doorway of the lab looking at me with eyes full of fearful suspicion, "I, uh, I was just, uh, practicing for our meeting with the government guys...the ones I'll be arguing with in just a few minutes." She slowly approached while studying me intently and asked, "You're not thinking of changing your mind and doing the experimental work on the particle gun, are you? I thought we'd already decided against it." "We have!" I quickly interjected as I tried to redeem myself in her eyes. "I haven't changed my mind at all." "Well, it certainly sounded that way when I came in," Kate commented pensively as she stared into my eyes with a strange expression I had noticed earlier just after Leaping in. "Seemed you're practicing leaning toward an argument for KLAE Corporation involvement." "No, no!" I exclaimed suddenly as I realized how close I'd come to screwing up the whole thing. "I...you...it's not how it sounded!" "That's thinking on your feet, Sam," Al sarcastically quipped from behind me as cigar smoke swirled about my head. Good thing I couldn't actually smell it. "Not now, Al," I quietly said through tightly clenched teeth meant to convey a calming smile to Kate. "What?" "Nothing," I swiftly answered somewhat nervously as Kate knitted her brow in puzzled consternation over her spouse's perplexing change in character. I would have to be careful from this point on, or Kate would come to realize I was not her cherished husband. "We'd better go," I said while gesturing toward the door. "Don't want to keep Walter waiting any longer than usual." "Why, all of a sudden, do you care whether we keep Walter waiting?" Her searching eyes danced about my dermaplex features as if seeing something different in the over-the-head mask which was Dan's only means toward visibility. "Uh, shall we, dear?" Kate finally looked away while shaking her head and heaving an exasperated sigh. I glanced back over my shoulder at Al as he held up the handlink. "I'll meet you in Carlson's office, Sam." Al then tapped on its buttons and promptly popped out. If only I could have done the same at that moment. "Ah, here they are now." Walter Carlson stood and crossed the expanse of his office to greet us. Al was already there, of course, standing near the rear wall and waving in his usual humorous manner. I always try to ignore Al when he does that, since he knows I'm the only one who can see him and he obviously gets a "kick in the pants" from doing nonsense like that. No sooner had Carlson--a tall man with features that might have been called "matinee looks" in the past--reached us than he chastised us in a hushed aside. "I was beginning to think I was going to have to send Security to drag you down here, Dan." "He, uh, was having a little trouble getting his mask and gloves just right," Kate quietly lied before I even had a chance to speak. "And, uh, I was helping him." Walter eyed us both with a disbelieving look and one eyebrow raised, then hissed through his perfect teeth, "I know how much the two of you like horsing around in the lab, but really..." If dermaplex were capable of blushing, I'm certain my cheeks would have been quite flushed after that unexpected statement by a man who was obviously as much a close friend of the Westons as he was their boss. Kate's cheeks were indeed flushed. "Uh, General Matting, Colonel Marks," Walter politely called to the two uniformed men slowly rising from their respective seats, "allow me to introduce our resident genius, Dr. Daniel Weston, and his assistant, who also happens to be his wife, Kate. Dan, Kate, meet General Matting and Colonel Marks." "How do you do, General...Colonel," I said as I stepped forward and shook their hands. "Sorry we were late. We were, uh, finishing up some calculations on one of our ongoing experiments." "Uh, yes," Kate added as she, too, shook their hands. "Some equations dealing with the electromagnetic potential of neutrinos in a near-zero environment." Though what Kate had said sounded good, it basically served the purpose of so much scientific doubletalk. However, it did seem to impress our military visitors, as well as add credibility to why we were late. "Well," General Matting said somberly while looking at his wristwatch, "we both have late afternoon briefings at the Pentagon, so let's get down to brass tacks." Oh, great. A "brass tacks" kind of guy. Just what I needed to make my day even more stressful. Even Al displayed obvious disdain for the General as he stepped unseen to the officer's side with an expression of utter disgust on his sometimes comical face. "We're here because the Star Wars program is at a standstill." "Yeah," Al interjected with a sarcastic snort. "The damn project was a waste of time and money!" "The part of the project," Colonel Marks added, totally oblivious to Al's remarks, "dealing with a functioning particle cannon has...hit a slight snag." "Yeah, it can't be built and shouldn't!" chanted Al in a chorus unheard by the military men. I was dying to tell Al to butt out, but I had no desire to instill further doubts regarding Dan's sanity in anyone, especially Kate. So I just pretended I had not heard anything other than what was being said by the General and the Colonel. "Uh...what kind of snag?" The General glanced at the Colonel as if uncertain of how much should be revealed...then took a breath and regretfully replied. "It seems the scientific minds who originally designed a prototype failed to take into account what would happen should the thing overload." "Yeah," Al interjected tauntingly while calling up as much declassified data on his handlink as he could. "It seems they blew up a billion-dollar R&D complex located in what was known as Area 51 and lost their dim-bulb braniacs in the process, as well as a dozen or so soldiers. Nothing was left of the prototype except the computer backup files of the blueprints." "So," I asked just before Al finished his sharp-tongued relay of pertinent information, "what is it the military thinks I can do, General Matting, that those scientists involved couldn't?" "We want the man who gave us the KLAE Resource to use that great intellect of his to perfect our project." The KLAE Resource? Obviously, it was something Dan knew of full well, but I had never heard of it. I looked to Al, who, thankfully, was already pulling that data from his hand-held connection to Ziggy. "Uh, the KLAE Resource must be the codename Walter Carlson gave to the invisible Dr. Weston, Sam. No one else in the government ever knew anything about its true nature." "Well," I stalled, in hopes of not tipping off Kate and Carlson to the fact that I wasn't Dr. Daniel Weston, "there's a major difference in the development of the, uh, the KLAE Resource and...and a particle cannon." "But both are outgrowths of standard physics equations, aren't they?" Colonel Marks curiously inquired as if reading my expression for some vulnerability which could be exploited. "Uh, yes, of course," I nervously said as I began pacing about the office so that these military leaders could not deduce too much from my visible symptoms of uncertainty. "But...but that still doesn't erase the inescapable fact that they evolved from two different areas of physics research. Just because I was, uh, able to create the KLAE Resource doesn't necessarily mean I could complete this project." "The bottom line, gentlemen," Kate interjected a bit abruptly, "is that my husband and I have no intention of working on a weapon of such destructive potential." "Attagirl!" Al cheered while Walter seemed somewhat distressed with her bluntness. "Dr. Weston," General Matting began with a self-important smirk on his scowling face, "Mrs. Weston...need I remind you where most of the KLAE Corporation's funding comes from? Where the money used to eventually create your KLAE Resource came from?" "I'm certain the military as well as the government have benefited greatly from the KLAE Resource, General," Kate was quick to point out. The general and colonel definitely did not appreciate her direct approach. Al, on the other hand, loved it. "Oh, if only she wasn't already married," he mumbled a little leeringly while Carlson fell over himself apologizing to the sources of his bread and butter. Carlson looked like he'd been kicked in the gut. "I'm sure they mean that their schedules with other projects currently being undertaken by KLAE are so overwhelming that another at this stage would be..." "This project has the government's highest priority, Mr. Carlson," Colonel Marks cut him off and stated succinctly, eyes narrowed and square jaw set. "A trillion dollars plus has already been invested. We have no intention of just logging it as a failure. Too much is riding on it." "Yeah," chuckled Al. "Like their jobs." I shot Al a stay-out-of-this glare while still staying as far away from the officers as I could without raising suspicions. Something about General Matting disturbed me at an almost subliminal level. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I knew I did not need to get eyeball-to-eyeball with the man. Strange, though, how Kate never seemed to be adversely affected or intimidated by him. As near as my Swiss-cheesed memory could recall, she always had been a very strong woman, as well as beautiful. "Aren't there other think tanks funded in part by the military that you could go to?" I asked somewhat sheepishly, not really wanting to make a major issue out of a situation into which I almost literally fell on this very day. Walter and Kate shot surprised and perplexed glances in my direction as Corporal Matting fielded the question as if he had expected it. "At the risk of stoking your scientific ego, Dr. Weston, no one else currently in the field could even begin to understand the complexity of it all, let alone do what others have been unable to do--get the damned thing to work!" "Well," I pressed respectfully, "I'm not so sure about that, General. Seems there might be one other with the expertise in physics you seem to be looking for." "Sam, I know what you're about to say," cautioned my holographic friend from behind the officers, as all eyes became transfixed on me. "Don't do it!" I continued, "Someone by the name of Sam Beckett." Al groaned and covered his face as he turned away. Walter knitted his brow in bewilderment, and Kate seemed to be even more suspicious than she had been before. The General and Colonel merely regarded one another curiously. "Well, to put it quite bluntly, Dr. Weston," Colonel Marks replied aloofly, "we consider Dr. Beckett's intellect to be, shall we say, too erratic for something like this." "Excuse me?" "Sam, just drop it," Al urged after turning back toward me with a characteristic guilty look on his countenance. "You're gonna blow the whole deal!" "You know this?" I asked of my unseen companion, as Kate and Walter reacted as if the short question had been directed at them. "What?" Walter queried. "Dan, are you all right?" Kate asked, genuinely concerned. At the same time, Al was frustratedly admitting, "Ziggy thought we didn't need to include that piece of information in your scenario. It's not even important; what is important is telling these bozos where to shove their particle cannon!" "Dan?" Kate asked again with increasing concern etched into her attractive features. "Uh, I was...I was just thinking out loud." It was a lame excuse, but the only one that came to mind after being referred to as erratic by military officers out to drum up help in completing what could be the most misused energy weapon since the atomic bomb. "Well, there's nothing to think about," she snapped in a highly displeased voice, "or to discuss further. We've decided. We're not working on the particle cannon." Kate abruptly started toward the door of Walter's office as I tried to head her off. "Kate, wait!" I did not notice the mirror before I accidentally stepped in front of it. "Sam, stop!" shouted Al. Too late. "What...?" gasped a shocked Kate Weston just as I, too, turned toward the mirror to catch my true reflection looking back. I quickly stepped to one side, but the damage had already been done. Kate's expression as she gazed at me in complete perplexity told me my mistake had revealed a truth I had hoped to keep secret. After all, Kate knew Dr. Sam Beckett almost as well as her husband. "Uh, Walter, if you don't mind," I quickly said in an attempt to stop Kate from remarking on what she had seen, "Kate and I do have important experiments to complete...which, I might add, are also funded by the government." "Uh...all right, Dan." Though Walter obviously wasn't too thrilled at having VIPs from the military side of that very government rebuffed so rudely, he took the hint I was giving, that I wanted to speak with my spouse in private. "Kate," I pleaded while looking directly into her eyes and placing a firm but friendly hand on her shoulder, "please come assist me in the lab." Kate stared at me for several tensely silent seconds, then glanced toward the mirror briefly as if doubting her vision and sanity. She nodded. "Sure...`Dan'. I'm anxious to resolve that experiment myself..." The two of us exited Walter's office in thick silence, and I knew I would be bombarded by a barrage of questions as soon as the two of us were safely in Dan's lab. Al frantically punched buttons on his hand-held unit and shook his head with dismay. "Gushie," he called to the bug-eyed technician with the famous foul-smelling breath, "I'm afraid Sam's blown this one! Have Ziggy run a new set of scenarios based on what's happened in the last few minutes. I'm gonna stick with these guys." "Mr. Carlson," General Matting snarled, "we thought KLAE Corporation was friendly to military assignments. Your top scientists may give the government cause to pull vital funding in the near future." "Now, just a moment," Carlson retorted in defense of friends and the corporation for which they all worked. "Dan and Kate Weston are the best in the field of physics. Though I don't necessarily agree with their views on the particle cannon assignment, I do respect their right to object to it!" "You tell `em, Carlson!" Al cheered as he stepped to the taller man's side and sucked soberly upon his cigar. "And as far as government funding being pulled, if your bosses are through with the KLAE Resource's contribution to national security, I'm sure we can get private funding in exchange for its use." That was enough to quiet the two officers, as they looked at one another in a shared moment of mutual concern. "We'll be in touch with you later, Mr. Carlson," Colonel Marks rumbled just as they were about to start for the door. "We suggest you discuss this with the Westons in our absence. Government funding could be quadrupled if they were to help perfect the prototype particle cannon." Carlson's eyes almost seemed to show dollar signs as the thought of such a large sum of money being offered over the next four years through exclusive contracts with the military weakened his less-than-rigid resolve. "Hang in there, big guy," Al said, though Carlson could not hear or see him. "Money's not everything. Don't sell out." "I'll...do my best, gentlemen," Carlson salivated as he fought to resist the temptation of such vast sums, "but the final decision has to be theirs." General Matting nodded in acknowledgement while growling, "We'll contact you in exactly six hours, Mr. Carlson. I trust your response will be a positive one." Without another word, the general and colonel proceeded toward the door, leaving a confused Carlson in their twisted wake, torn between loyalties for his friends and for KLAE Corporation. "Gushie, keep Ziggy busy on those new scenarios," Al called again as he followed the officers. "I'm gonna stay close to these two bozos. I don't trust military brass." From nowhere in particular, Gushie's amplified voice sarcastically quipped, "You should know...Admiral Calavicci." "Eat a breath mint, Gushie," mumbled Al to himself as he passed through the seeming solidity of the closed office door like a ghostly spirit moving from room to room. Outside Carlson's office, Al quickly caught up with General Matting and Colonel Marks as they strode toward the main entrance of the KLAE complex. He was just in time to pick up a conversation that sent shivers up his spine. "...so the only way to guarantee Dr. Daniel Weston's cooperation on our project," the general was finishing in a hushed aside, "is to kidnap Kate." "And release her safely only when the prototype is completed," agreed the colonel coldly, as Al's face showed the shock he was experiencing over hearing such a dastardly desperate plan. "I'll contact one of our Shadow units to carry out the mission immediately." "Just make certain we are en route to the airport before they make their move," ominously ordered General Matting as they turned toward the glass doors leading outside. "We can't afford to be directly implicated in this crime." "Will the standard termination order be in effect should unusual resistance be encountered?" "Definitely," the General nodded as they stepped through the doors as one, "for all of them!" Al stopped and nearly dropped his expensive stogie onto the holographic floor beneath his feet, the full weight of the dangerous turn of events hitting him like a blunt weapon atop his head. "Oh-h-h, boy..." (END OF PART TWO) ****** ** [The Mysterons...sworn enemies of Earth, possessing the ability to recreate an exact likeness of an object or person--but first, they must destroy. Leading the fight, one man fate has made indestructible. His name: Captain Scarlet....] Uneasy Relations A CAPTAIN SCARLET AND THE MYSTERONS Short Story By Kimberly Murphy-Smith A peaceful day in the midst of war. As the bright sun shone in through the many windows of the flying military base known as Spectrum Cloudbase, calm pervaded the atmosphere of the station. Other than the active duty officers, the rest of Cloudbase's complement of personnel took the time to enjoy the respite. Some, however, enjoyed it more than others. "Your move, Adam," Captain Scarlet chided his slow-playing chess partner as they sat on either side of a table in the officers' lounge, engaged in yet another round of their favorite pastime. "Yeah, yeah," Captain Blue replied irritatedly. "I'm thinking." "You've been thinking for the last five minutes. There is a time limit, you know." "I don't see a clock at this table." Captain Magenta came into the lounge. "You two at it again?" he asked. "Still," Captain Ochre replied from next to the window, looking up from his newspaper. Magenta looked at his watch. "Weren't you at this two hours ago?" "Same game, too," Ochre laughed. "Blue's stalling `cause Scarlet's beating the pants off him." "I am not stalling," Blue protested. He made a move. "There." Scarlet swept his knight to take Blue's newly-uncovered pawn. "Check," he announced. Blue frowned. "I hate playing chess with a military strategist." "I am not a military strategist. I am a historian...Winchester University, class of `57." "Of course, Captain First-In-His-Class-At-West-Point." He went back to studying the board. Magenta stood behind Blue to see his perspective on the game. "Want some good advice?" he offered. "Couldn't hurt," Blue noted. "Give up." Blue frowned at Magenta. "Your faith in my skills is most reassuring." "Listen, if I can beat you, you haven't got a prayer against Scarlet." "You only beat me because he helped you." "Yes, but you were due on duty," Scarlet interjected, smiling wryly as he remembered the time he gave Magenta the winning move in a prolonged chess game with Blue. "Now quit gossiping and move. You're in check." "O.K., O.K." He moved his king out of the way of Scarlet's knight. The room's loudspeakers hummed, as if someone had activated them. All four men looked up at the ceiling. Then came the voice that spelled the end of their respite: "This is the voice of the Mysterons..." Ochre threw his newspaper across the room. "Go away!" he shouted at the ceiling. "...we know that you can hear us, Earthmen. We have observed your futile attempts to defend your world and we warn you that it is useless to oppose us. Our next act will be to cut off the head of your European defense force. We will be avenged!" The voice silenced. For a moment, the room was still. Then, Lieutenant Green's voice relaying Colonel White's instructions sounded. "Attention, all Spectrum personnel. Cloudbase is now on yellow alert. Captains Scarlet, Blue, and Ochre, please report to the Control Room immediately." "Well, old buddy," Blue said to Scarlet as he rose from his chair, "guess we'll have to finish this game later." "No, we won't," Scarlet corrected. He slid his rook onto the back row, where Blue's king sat unguarded. "Checkmate." Blue looked carefully. Indeed, all avenues of escape were cut off, for he was fenced in behind a row of three pawns, and the only other square took him back into the path of Scarlet's knight. "I hate playing chess with you." "You always say that." Scarlet rose from his chair. "Same again later?" "You're on." Ochre suppressed a laugh as the three of them exited the lounge together. The trio of captains walked into the Control Room and stopped before Colonel White's round console, snapping to attention. "Reporting for duty, sir," Blue announced for the trio. "At ease, gentlemen," White replied, depressing three buttons on his console. Three stools rose from the floor. The captains doffed their RadioCaps and took their seats before White. "Well, you've all heard the latest Mysteron threat," White stated. "I take it you all know to what they are referring." "Yes, sir," Scarlet replied. "The conference with the European commanders of the World military forces." "Right, Captain. The World military forces have finally decided to comply with the World President's directive of a joint defense with Spectrum against the Mysterons. All that remains is to work out region-specific details. And this conference with the European commanders of the World military forces is the first step in that process." "There's a lot that can go wrong, sir," Ochre pointed out. "Not only are there three powerful military leaders involved, but you as well. Has any thought been given to relocating the conference from Geneva?" "Already in progress, Captain Ochre. Spectrum Headquarters Geneva has located a suitable secure facility deep in the Alps, a former ski lodge now used as a winter retreat by the World President. It is isolated and will be relatively easy to defend." "So what is our assignment, Colonel?" Blue asked. "Your assignment, gentlemen, is to ensure the safe transport of the three commanders to Cloudbase. From here, we will all proceed together to the conference site." "Why not just hold the conference here, then?" Ochre queried. "Too great a risk. If there is to be a Mysteron attack, I will not endanger any more Spectrum personnel than absolutely necessary. Spectrum ground forces will support us at the conference center. Now then...Captain Blue, you will leave for Moscow and escort Space General Rostokovich. Captain Ochre, you will leave for Berlin and escort Admiral Ruprecht. And Captain Scarlet, you will leave for Winchester and escort General Metcalfe." Blue cast Scarlet a sidelong glance. Scarlet did not acknowledge the look. "When do we leave, sir?" he asked instead. "Immediately. Leftenant Green will notify the commanders of your impending arrival. Good luck, gentlemen. Dismissed." A half-hour later, Captain Scarlet entered the command suite of the World Army Air Force base at Winchester, England. As he walked into the room, the lieutenant working as a receptionist immediately stood and came to attention. The sight was odd indeed. Although Spectrum captains were equivalent in rank to World Army colonels, it was rare to find a serviceman or woman below the top ranks who actually knew that. Part of the reason was that Spectrum uniforms bore no rank insignia, making it difficult to tell at a glance how highly ranked a Spectrum agent was, though captains and higher-ranking lieutenants wore color-coded uniforms as opposed to the charcoal-gray uniforms of ground personnel. The other problem with getting proper military respect was that those who knew of Spectrum's command structure often did not understand it; Scarlet had heard more than one remark about how Colonel White was so high-ranking--equivalent to a five-star general or full admiral--yet still "just a colonel". Few realized that the structure was designed that way to avoid indicating the exact importance of high-level leaders, leaders whose identities were already protected by color-code names. But then, General Charles Metcalfe, European Commander of the World Army Air Force, was no ordinary serviceman. A long-time supporter of Spectrum, Metcalfe had schooled his command well on dealing with Spectrum, including giving its officers proper respect and complete cooperation. The result was that, out of all the services, the World Army Air Force was the easiest to work with, something Scarlet always appreciated. "As you were," Scarlet told the young lieutenant. She relaxed her stance slightly. "May I help you, sir?" she asked. He pulled out his I.D. "Captain Scarlet, Spectrum. Here to see General Metcalfe." "Of course, sir. He's expecting you. One moment, please." She dialed a number on her intercom. "Sir, Captain Scarlet of Spectrum is here to see you." She paused. "Yes, sir." She hung up and gestured toward a doorway just beyond where they were standing. "This way, sir." "Thank you." Scarlet followed her to the door, where the young lieutenant knocked. "Come," a deep, authoritative British voice called from the other side. The lieutenant opened the door. "General Metcalfe, may I present Captain Scarlet of Spectrum," she announced, standing at full attention. Scarlet also stood rigidly. Metcalfe nodded to the pair. "As you were," he said, then approached Captain Scarlet, right hand extended. "Captain Scarlet...good to see you again." "And you, sir," Scarlet replied, accepting the handshake. "Leftenant...two coffees, please." He turned to Scarlet. "Black, as I recall?" "Yes, sir," Scarlet nodded. "Two black coffees...yes, sir," the lieutenant said, hurrying away. Scarlet watched her go. "New, isn't she?" "Very observant," Metcalfe answered. "New indeed. But efficient. I could use a whole platoon like her. Too many young people today have forgotten the meaning of military discipline." The lieutenant returned with a tray containing a thermal urn and two elegant china cups, each already filled with black coffee. "Two black coffees," she announced. "Sir, Mrs. Metcalfe is on line one. Shall I take a message?" "No, I'll take it. But hold the rest of my calls." She nodded and retreated from the room, closing the door behind her. "This will only take a moment," Metcalfe noted to Scarlet, then picked up the phone. "I'm just about to go into a meeting," he said into the receiver. "No, that's all right. No, I believe we're leaving in a few minutes. My escort is already here. No, I don't know when I'll be back. Yes, I'll be careful. I always am. Yes, I'll be certain to tell him. I love you, too. Goodbye, Mary." He hung up. "Trouble?" Scarlet asked. Metcalfe shook his head. "She always worries when I go somewhere and won't tell her where. And the fact that this meeting is with Spectrum doesn't ease her worries." He paused. "Your mother sends her regards." Scarlet smiled warmly at Metcalfe. Metcalfe returned the smile, then embraced his son tightly. "God, it's good to see you, Paul," he whispered. "Good to see you too, Dad," Scarlet replied softly. They broke the embrace. "Please, sit." Metcalfe gestured over a chair, then took his own seat at his desk. "How are you?" Scarlet sat down and picked up a cup of coffee. "Fine. Keeping busy." "I should say so. Every time I open the papers, I see where Spectrum and Captain Scarlet are saving the day. Your mother has a whole scrapbook of cuttings that I make her keep under lock and key." He chuckled slightly. "Of course, I can't blame her. Often, it's all I can do to keep from shouting to the world how proud I am of you. You've made quite a name for yourself." Now Scarlet was embarrassed. "Just doing my job," he said quietly. "And doing it well. But then, you always did." He took a sip of his coffee. "I shouldn't say things like that when you're on duty. After all, as far as the world knows, Colonel Paul Metcalfe received an honorable discharge from the World Army Air Force and went into quiet retirement two years ago...and I should know. I signed the discharge papers." "And a fine retirement it is," Scarlet smiled. "It must be. I've never seen you look so happy. Or so healthy. The air on Cloudbase must be incredible." "Sorry?" "I swear, you look ten years younger than you did when you retired. I'd have thought all this nonsense with the Mysterons would have at least grayed your temples." Scarlet looked down at his cup. His father had unknowingly touched on a delicate area. The reason Scarlet was always saving the day, the reason he looked so healthy, the reason his age seemed frozen in time, was one of Spectrum's most classified secrets...one so protected that only the World President could access it outside of Spectrum's closed ranks. The secret was that Scarlet himself had once been a Mysteron agent. Less than a year ago, Scarlet and his partner, Captain Brown, had been en route to protect the World President from a Mysteron threat when their car was attacked by the unseen energy beings and forced off the road and over an embankment, killing both men. But then the Mysterons replicated the pair, making perfect copies who were in every way--physically, mentally, everything--like the originals, except that they followed Mysteron orders blindly. Brown died in service to his Mysteron masters, exploding as a human time bomb, almost killing the World President. Scarlet survived by a fluke: Shot at the top of the London Car-Vu by Captain Blue, he fell 800 feet to certain death, only to wake up hours later on Cloudbase, in perfect health and free from the Mysteron influence. He was exactly as he had been before the incident...but with one exception: He was now indestructible. Scarlet's Mysteronized body had retained what had since been dubbed "retrometabolism"...the Mysteron property of spontaneous regeneration, enabling him to make a complete recovery from even fatal wounds within hours, as long as his body remained more or less intact. Retrometabolism had some interesting side-effects, some of which they were only now beginning to discover: Mysteronized tissue was impervious to x-rays but vulnerable to high-voltage electricity. Recovery from very minor injuries--small cuts, scrapes, bruises--was so quick as to be nearly instantaneous. And the physical deterioration associated with the second law of thermodynamics--the signs of physical aging--simply did not occur because Scarlet's DNA was capable of making perfect copies of itself, as evidenced by his complete recovery from any injury. All of this, of course, was a secret not even his family could know. All he'd ever told his father about the incident was all he could remember: The car crash, then waking up hours later on Cloudbase after it was all over. The official story, a version of the truth, was that an impostor had kidnapped the World President and was shot dead off the Car-Vu. But no one--not even his family--could ever know more than that. "I've embarrassed you," Metcalfe observed. Scarlet looked up at his father. "No," he reassured. "I was just thinking that the only time I'll truly be happy is when this war with the Mysterons is over." "Right. Which brings us to the topic at hand." He took another sip of his coffee. "I haven't told your mother about this threat. She knows I'm meeting with Spectrum, which is enough to worry her. No need to bother her with this." "Good. She worries enough about both of us without the Mysterons adding to her concerns. How is Mum?" "Blissfully happy since I returned to work last year. This way, she doesn't have to think of things for me to do all day that will keep me out of her hair." "Yes. I believe the way she phrased it was that she married you for better or worse, but not for lunch." "It did turn out for the best. I was getting very bored just puttering about the garden anyway. I'm from the old military school, Paul--as long as there is something to fight, I want to be fighting." "I know what you mean. And the Mysterons are certainly something to fight." "Right. Which again brings us back to the topic at hand...what is the Mysteron interest in all of this? I'm not naive enough to believe it's simply an excuse to off three commanders. They could strike any time for that." Scarlet fought the urge to show his relief at the change of focus away from personal matters. "Spectrum believe it's an opportunity to drive a wedge between the World military and Spectrum. To `cut off the head of the European defense force'--that is, to kill three commanders while they are under Spectrum protection--would severely damage Spectrum's reputation and give hard-liners an excuse to further distance themselves." "Clever. Of course, they may not have to work too hard at driving a wedge." Scarlet nodded. "Rostokovich at it again?" "Isn't he always? Ever since Space General Vasily passed away last year, Rosty's been acting like his service is the only game in town. Why Vasily couldn't have had the good sense to make a moderate his second-in-command is beyond me." "Compared to Rosty, anyone would be a moderate." "True enough. I don't envy Colonel White. He's got to convince Rosty that the days are long gone where the services could afford to work independently. We need each other. And we need Spectrum as our first-strike force." "What about Admiral Ruprecht?" "What about Admiral Ruprecht?" Metcalfe threw up his hands. "Cooperating one day, resisting the next. I almost had him convinced it was in his best interests not to oppose Spectrum when Rosty decided to bend his ear. Now I can't get a firm commitment on anything from him. I hope your colonel can do more." "We'll soon know. Ready to go?" Metcalfe finished his coffee. "Ready." Both men stood. Metcalfe looked at his son for a long moment. "I'm placing my life in your hands, Paul." "Your safety is my responsibility," Scarlet responded. "And you always taught me to take my responsibilities very seriously." He hesitated a moment, then reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a small metal disc, about a half-inch thick and the size of a small keyfob. "Take this." Metcalfe did so. "What is this?" "A Spectrum Personal Tracker." Scarlet indicated the raised red spot on the disc's surface. "We use it in emergencies. It emits a homing signal specially tuned for each officer. If anything happens to one of us and we can't use our radios, we activate the tracker and a Spectrum relay station picks up the signal. That way, a rescue party can find us. If anything happens to you or to me, push that button." "What about you?" Scarlet looked his father in the eye. "You put your life in my hands...which means I must be ready to give my life to save yours. And I am ready. As I said...you taught me to take my responsibilities very seriously." Metcalfe pocketed the device. His eyes shone with pride. "Let's hope neither of us needs it. Shall we go?" Scarlet gestured toward the door. "After you, General Metcalfe." Metcalfe sighed. It was time once again to assume the roles expected of each of them. "Thank you, Captain Scarlet." With that, they left. "Captain Scarlet and General Metcalfe have arrived," Lieutenant Green announced to Colonel White as the door chime to the Control Room rang. "Thank you, Leftenant," Colonel White answered. "Send them in." Green depressed a button on his console, and the Control Room door slid open. Scarlet and Metcalfe rode the moving walkway to White's console as the commander stood. "General Metcalfe," White greeted. "Welcome to Cloudbase." "Thank you, Colonel," Metcalfe nodded respectfully, mindful that technically White outranked him, though such minor differences in rank were usually ignored at the upper levels. "Good to see you again. It's been a while." "Yes...since the commissioning ceremonies, I believe." "Has it really been that long? That was almost two years ago." "Yes, though it hardly seems that long ago. I trust you had a good flight?" "Yes, I did. I've been looking forward to visiting Cloudbase. It appears as if the money the services invested was put to good use." "We believe so. Would you like a tour?" "I would indeed." White turned to his aide. "Leftenant Green, notify me when the other two commanders arrive and send them to the conference room." "S.I.G.," Green replied. "This way, General," White said, gesturing toward the doors. Metcalfe and White walked out the door and onto the elevators. Scarlet followed respectfully behind. A short elevator ride later, the trio arrived at the Prominade Deck. The three men stopped in front of the long bank of windows. "Magnificent view," Metcalfe observed, then turned toward Scarlet. "No wonder you like it here." "It's very practical, too," White noted. "At this height, we are immune to most weather conditions. Our aircraft can operate 24 hours a day and reach any point in the world in a matter of a few hours. And the base can be moved to a different location within a few hours as well to improve our security and to ease the stress on our aircraft on long flights." "Like a flying aircraft carrier. Amazing. A pilot's dream." He turned to Colonel White. "I see you've been taking good care of my son." "And he of us," White responded. "One of the finest officers I've ever commanded...and one of the bravest." "Not too impetuous for your taste?" White turned an amused glance to Scarlet. "Only at times." It was all Scarlet could do to keep from rolling his eyes. He felt like a child being patronized by his elders. "I suppose I should apologize," Metcalfe continued. "It seems he has inherited his father's stubborn tenacity." "I believe, though, at the higher ranks the term is `using your initiative'." "Is that what people mean when they say that about me?" White smiled. "I suppose it means the same as it does when they say it about me." Now both men were laughing slightly. Even Scarlet found himself amused, though he realized much of the other men's amusement was at his expense. But it was also oddly comforting to realize that all three of them were alike in many ways. "You certainly have initiative, coming out of retirement to head up the WAAF's European Command," White noted. "Yes, well, retirement was definitely not my cup of tea," Metcalfe replied with a smile. "I found I missed the daily challenges of military command...and this business with the Mysterons was the perfect excuse to return to what I do best." He turned a proud gaze toward Scarlet. "I suppose in that sense I take after my son, the `retired' Colonel Paul Metcalfe, who also couldn't stay retired for very long." "As you said, the term is `using your initiative'," Scarlet remarked in a deadpan tone. "Well, you'll need all the initiative you can get, Colonel," Metcalfe observed. "I'll be the easiest person you'll deal with through this whole exercise. Space General Rostokovich, on the other hand..." "Yes," White agreed. "I've dealt with Space Generals before. Why they all can't be like Peterson and support our efforts is beyond me." "Territory infringement. You're battling an outer space menace. They feel that's their job. The fact that you seem to be doing an effective job under the circumstances isn't the issue." "What's Admiral Ruprecht's problem, then?" Scarlet asked. "His problem is that he doesn't understand Spectrum or this battle against the Mysterons. While he's willing to give lip service to Spectrum, he truly doesn't understand what it was designed to do. That's why he won't commit one way or the other. If you can get agreement from those two, Colonel, you'll have my utmost admiration." A Spectrum officer's transport landed on the deck, and another circled, waiting to land. "Looks as if Captain Blue and Captain Ochre are back," Scarlet noted. Moments later, Green confirmed Scarlet's observation. "Colonel White, Captain Blue and Space General Rostokovich have arrived," the Caribbean-accented voice announced over the deck's speakers. "Captain Ochre and Admiral Ruprecht are awaiting landing clearance." "Well, then," White stated to the two men beside him, "our task begins. The rest of your tour will have to wait, General Metcalfe." "There'll be plenty of time later," Metcalfe replied. "Shall we?" "Right." White led the way back to the elevator. The door to the Conference Room slid open, and Captains Blue and Ochre came to attention as their superior and their other guest entered, with Scarlet close behind. "As you were," White stated. "If you will all take a seat, we'll meet briefly before leaving for the conference center." Space General Ivan Rostokovich looked over at General Metcalfe as he took a seat. "I should have known the Spectrum puppet would be with his masters when we arrived," he said disdainfully. "Hello, Rosty," Metcalfe replied evenly. "Lose any more Frost Line bases lately?" Blue had to look away to keep from laughing. He'd been working the communications post the time the Mysterons had attacked the Frost Line bases--jointly manned by the World Army and World Space Patrol--and knew that it was only Captain Scarlet and Lieutenant Green's quick action that saved the world from a larger-scale war with the Mysterons by thwarting their agent before he attacked the Frost Line Headquarters. "Gentlemen," Admiral Gunther Ruprecht interjected, "this is neither the time or place for this. I, for one, am interested in what Colonel White has to offer us." "I am interested in nothing that is said here," Rostokovich stated. "I thought this conference was to be held at a neutral site." "And it will be," Colonel White said calmly. "But the latest Mysteron threat has necessitated moving the conference to a different location. Rather than chance a security leak, I had the three of you flown here so that we could all go together. An Angel escort will accompany us to the Alpine Conference Center near Gstaad, Switzerland. Spectrum ground forces will be guarding the facility, and the Spectrum Angel Flight will patrol it regularly as long as our conference is in session." "I would feel safer with support from my own troops," Rostokovich said. "Absolutely not. No one but Spectrum is to know of our whereabouts. Security for this conference must be top priority." "Are you saying my men cannot be trusted?" "Of course not..." "Rosty," Metcalfe interjected, "even you know that the fewer people there are who know a secret, the more secure the secret is." Rostokovich stared daggers at his WAAF counterpart. "There are too many secrets about Spectrum," he muttered. Blue and Scarlet exchanged glances. "This argument gets us nowhere," Ruprecht snapped. "I too would feel safer surrounded by my own guards, but we all agreed to this meeting under the terms the World President spelled out." He turned to White. "All of us. I suppose you intend to leave behind your staff just as we left behind ours." White sighed. He knew this was going to come up. "I understand your concern, Admiral Ruprecht, but the World President has agreed that it would be best to have additional guards on the three of you since you were the direct targets of the Mysterons' latest threat. And Captain Scarlet, Captain Blue, and Captain Ochre are three of our finest." "You see?" Rostokovich said. "We cannot even trust them to live up to their end of a meeting agenda!" "And I suppose your officers have any more experience fighting the Mysterons, Rosty?" Metcalfe retorted. "Gentlemen!" White interrupted. "As Admiral Ruprecht said, this argument is pointless. The fact remains that the Mysterons have threatened your lives and the World President has authorized Spectrum to initiate tighter security. And that is the end of the discussion. Now, if you are ready to proceed, we should be getting along." He activated the intercom button on his chair. "Leftenant Green, have Captain Grey report to the Control Room. He will take charge of Cloudbase in my absence. Launch the Angels to escort the Spectrum Passenger Jet." "S.I.G.," Green replied. White turned to Scarlet. "Captain Scarlet, prepare the Spectrum Passenger Jet for takeoff." "S.I.G.," Scarlet replied as he rose from his seat, relieved that he did not have to sit in the back with the bickering commanders. Diplomacy was never one of his strong suits. White stood. "This way, gentlemen," he said, gesturing toward the door. The three commanders followed White out the door of the Conference Room. Blue and Ochre looked at each other. "Scarlet has all the luck," Ochre groused. "Tell me about it," Blue replied. "So which of us gets to join him up front?" Ochre pulled a coin out of his pocket. "Flip you for it." Blue rolled his eyes. "Come on," he said, leaving the room. Scarlet was powering up the controls of the SPJ when Blue entered the cockpit and took the co-pilot's seat. "Everyone's on board," Blue reported. "Good," Scarlet replied. "How did you and Captain Ochre settle who was to be my co-pilot?" "I cheated. I told Ochre your father's an old airplane buff. He conceded right away." Scarlet smiled. Old aircraft was Captain Ochre's weakness; he was also an aviation buff who loved building models. "Better he than I. Raising landing pad." He depressed a button on his console. The landing pad raised on hydraulic jacks to the bottom of a glass shaft that extended some ten feet below the ceiling of the hangar bay and completely surrounded the SPJ and the landing pad, creating a mini-airlock. "Equalizing pressure." He pressed another button. The hiss of air indicated the draining of pressurized air from the chamber. A light on the console blinked green. "Opening outer doors." He pressed another button. The doors above them opened to reveal a clear blue sky. The floor beneath them rose through the glass tube until it locked seamlessly in place with the outer level. Scarlet lowered his RadioCap microphone. "Scarlet to Control--request launch clearance." "Spectrum is green," Lieutenant Green's voice replied. "Have a good flight, Captain Scarlet." Scarlet fired the jet's engines, then taxied the short length of the flight deck and took off. Once airborne, the SPJ rendezvoused with the Angel Flight and fell into the middle of their formation, heading toward Switzerland. "What's our flight time?" Scarlet asked. Blue looked at his computer readings. "ETA seventy-five minutes," he replied. "We'll be in Gstaad for lunch." "Good. Let's hope there aren't any fatalities before then." Blue looked at Scarlet oddly. "You sensing something?" "No, no. I was referring to the quarreling commanders." Blue chuckled slightly. "Tell me about it. I don't know how I'm going to survive the weekend." Scarlet smiled wryly. "Why, Captain Blue, I always thought you had the patience of five saints." "I do, and I'm praying to all of them for deliverance. How'd you get so lucky and end up with General Metcalfe?" "Because Colonel White wisely put his most diplomatic officer with the commander requiring the most diplomacy, and the most impetuous one with the only commander who could tame him." Now it was Blue's turn to smile wryly. "Your father's looking well." "He looks tired," Scarlet replied. "I worry about him. He pushes himself so hard." "So that's where you get it from." Scarlet shook his head and laughed slightly. "You are a lot like him," Blue noted. "People have always said that. The older I get, the more I notice it." He frowned as he finished speaking. Blue noticed the change in Scarlet's expression. "I say something wrong?" "My father commented on how young I'm looking." Blue nodded. There was no need for either man to elaborate. "It's not going to get any easier to deal with." "I know." Blue looked at Scarlet for a long moment. They'd been friends since the beginnings of Spectrum, and the friendship had only gotten stronger since the incident with the Mysterons. Blue knew that Scarlet felt he owed his life to him, and Scarlet had returned the favor countless times. They'd confided their hopes, dreams, and fears to each other. But it was moments like this when Blue knew there was nothing he could do to help Scarlet deal with the turmoil inside him. He had nothing to compare it to, no way of ever truly understanding what it was like to have your life turned completely around like Scarlet's had been. "I envy you," he finally said. Scarlet looked over at him. "Sorry?" "I envy you...because you handle this so much better than I could ever hope to." "Rubbish." "I mean it, Paul. Maybe it's that `stiff-upper-lip' you Brits seem to always have, or maybe it's your military upbringing. But the way you've dealt with everything that's happened to you...I know I couldn't do it. I couldn't be you." "No, you'd be Adam. And you'd deal with it as Adam, not as Paul. There's nothing special about the way I deal with life, Adam. Sometimes I don't deal with it well. But I have to deal with it, because the only alternatives are madness and death, neither of which I find terribly attractive." "I suppose you're right." A moment of silence passed before Scarlet looked at his friend. "Thanks." Blue smiled. "What are friends for?" Both men then returned to their flying duties. Spectrum ground forces met the SPJ at Gstaad airport, where the seniors and their guests exchanged their jet for a Spectrum Maximum Security Vehicle and a Spectrum Pursuit Vehicle. The MSV and SPV proceeded to the Alpine Conference Center, accompanied by ground troops in Spectrum Patrol Cars. Rostokovich climbed out of the MSV in front of the conference center. "Like riding in a sardine can," he complained. "Why, Rosty," Metcalfe commented as he followed him out, "a Space General doesn't like enclosed vehicles? How did you ever get through astronaut training?" "Metcalfe," Ruprecht interjected as he joined the pair, "I commanded submarines for six years. That doesn't stop me from hating vehicles like them." Ochre got out of the MSV's driver's seat and looked at Scarlet and Blue, who had followed in the SPV, and White, who was the last out of the MSV. "This is going to be a fun weekend," he groused. "We are not here on holiday," White reminded him. "I am here to conduct negotiations. And you three are here to protect our guests." "Yes, sir," Ochre replied. The four Spectrum senior officers and the three European military commanders walked toward the conference center. No one seemed to notice the mysterious black-clad man in the distance, watching intently with binoculars. The seven men entered the lobby, where a Spectrum lieutenant in a color-coded uniform stood at attention before them, saluting White. White returned the salute. "As you were," he said. "What's the situation, Leftenant Peach?" "Only essential staff has been retained for this weekend, Colonel White," the lieutenant reported, nodding at the four people standing to the rear of the lobby. "The manager, Mr. Giuseppi Quadrini, his wife Laura, their son Gianni, and their daughter Debbi. They've all been checked with a Mysteron detector, and they're clean." "Guards?" "At all entrance ports and throughout the center. Say the word and a platoon will be dispatched here within minutes." "Thank you, Leftenant. That will be all." The lieutenant nodded and left quickly. White approached Giuseppi Quadrini. "Mr. Quadrini?" "Yes...Colonello White, is it?" Quadrini replied in a heavily Italian-accented voice. "Yes." He nodded to the men behind him. "Spectrum Captains Scarlet, Blue, and Ochre; General Charles Metcalfe, Admiral Gunther Ruprecht, and Space General Ivan Rostokovich." "Pleased to meet all of you." He nodded to his family. "We are at your service. When would you like lunch?" "In an hour." White turned to his men. "Captains, escort your charges to their rooms. We will eat, then reconvene after that in the main conference room." "S.I.G.," all three men replied. Giuseppi turned to his son and rattled something in rapid-fire Italian, then rattled a different Italian phrase to his daughter. Both nodded, then jumped to action; Gianni hurried to retrieve the luggage deposited at the door by Spectrum ground troops, while Debbi handed seven keys to the officers, who nodded their thanks and walked away. It had been a long afternoon already. That was all Laura Quadrini could think of as she stood on tiptoe on her stepstool and put away the dishes from lunch. The three military commanders had argued non-stop through the meal, each taking every opportunity to snipe at the other. The elder Spectrum officer in white had the patience of a saint in her opinion not clocking each of them in the side of the head. And the other three Spectrum officers looked as if they'd just received engraved invitations to a firing squad. She began to wish they'd never agreed to sell this resort to the World Government. She hated politics. Without looking back, she reached down for the next pot on the counter. Her fingers brushed against it for a moment, then it seemed to move away. She swore under her breath in Italian, then looked down for the pot. Holding the copper pot she had been reaching for was Spectrum senior-turned-Mysteron agent Captain Black. She gasped and started to call for help. The words never left her mouth as Black clubbed her in the side of the head with the pot, knocking her off the stepstool. Laura hit her head against the side of the stove as she fell, trembled for a moment on the floor, then grew very still. Two greenish circles of light swept over her body, then traced another area nearby. Seconds later, a perfect replica of Laura Quadrini stood before Captain Black. "Get rid of the body," Black ordered in the ominous voice of the Mysterons. "We have much to do. And we will need help." She nodded. "Mysteron instructions will be carried out," she replied. Gianni Quadrini placed a new pitcher of ice water and four fresh glasses on the table as the three commanders and Colonel White continued their negotiations. He also left a fresh pitcher and three glasses for the three Spectrum seniors, who were seated by the door. Ochre nodded his thanks, then took the pitcher and a glass and questioned the other two men with his eyes. Blue and Scarlet both nodded in reply. Ochre passed a pair of filled glasses. Blue gulped his eagerly, wiping his brow after the drink. "You look terrible," Scarlet noted. "Are you all right?" "The cioppino," Blue remarked. Scarlet nodded his understanding. "Cho-what?" Ochre questioned. "The Italian fish stew we had at lunch," Blue explained. "It must have had some kind of shellfish in it--and I'm allergic to shellfish." "The blue-blood from Boston--home of the world's best clam chowder--can't eat shellfish?" Ochre quipped with a wry smile. "I can eat a little," Blue retorted. "I love shellfish. But more than about half a cup of it and I feel like death warmed over." "Just don't get sick on my uniform," Scarlet ordered. "This is my last one. I haven't gotten my uniform allowance this month." Blue handed his glass back to Ochre for a refill. "Lighten up, Captain Scarlet. Your uniform allowance per month is more than any of ours for the whole year." Ochre chuckled as he passed the filled glass back to Blue. "I think the Colonel's patience is wearing thin." "What gave you that idea?" Blue muttered sarcastically as the volume of the voices at the table increased. "Possibly the deepening frown lines on his face," Scarlet replied in a deadpan tone. "I think we need a break," Ochre sighed. "The problem is, we don't get a break," Blue reminded him. "We're stuck with them." "It could be worse," Scarlet noted. "Yeah," Ochre sighed. "Captain Black could walk in." Both Scarlet and Blue shot him a frown. "Don't even joke about that," Scarlet warned. Ochre looked interested at Scarlet's sharp retort. "You know something we don't?" "I'm not sure. There's just something here that doesn't feel right. But I can't pinpoint it." "Probably the idea that your dad is here is putting pressure on you," Blue pointed out. "Maybe you're right. But I'll be very glad when this is over." The other two nodded their agreement. "Mama?" Gianni called as he entered the kitchen. "I need some fresh glasses--are the dishes done yet?" "Almost," she replied. "Come help me put away the silverware." Gianni set the dishpan with the empty pitchers and glasses down on the countertop and headed for his mother. "What do you want me to put away?" "The knives." With that, she jabbed a long carving knife into her son's abdomen. He looked incredulous for a moment, then dropped to the floor, dead. Two circles of light passed over him. Moments later, there were two Mysteron agents in the midst of the conference. The pop tune Debbi Quadrini was humming echoed through the basement laundry room as she pulled a load of wet linens out of the industrial-sized washing machine and began stuffing it into the dryer. Heavy footsteps on the wooden stairs behind her startled her. She turned around. Gianni stood at the foot of the stairs, looking at her intently. "Don't just stand there," she sighed. "Give me a hand with this laundry." He walked over to her and scooped up a handful of wet linens out of the washer. She reached for them. He shoved them hard into her chest, throwing her partially into the dryer drum. "Hey!" she screamed. He shoved her the rest of the way into the drum and slammed the door, then turned it on full. Her screams were just barely muffled by the sound of the dryer running. Moments later, the screams silenced. Two circles of greenish light shone through the plexiglass dryer door. A knock on the door of the conference room interrupted the loud argument within. "See who it is," White commanded to the three Spectrum officers next to the door. Ochre stood up and opened the door. "Yes?" he asked Giuseppi Quadrini, who was standing in the doorway with a Spectrum sergeant behind him. "Sorry to interrupt," Giuseppi replied. "Dinner will be served in a half-hour." "I'll tell them," Ochre said. "Thanks." Giuseppi nodded, then left. The sergeant closed the door, and Ochre turned toward the table. "Excuse me, sir, but Mr. Quadrini wanted to remind you that dinner will be served in a half-hour." "Thank you, Captain Ochre," White said. "When I meet with my staff," Rostokovich grumbled, "we have dinner brought in." "Fine," Metcalfe noted. "I'll be certain to call a delivery service on my way to the dining room." Rostokovich started to retort, only to be cut off by a gesture from Ruprecht. "Rostokovich," Ruprecht snapped, "even you have to admit we need a respite from these talks. Our discussions are getting nowhere." The volume of argument rose at the table once more. Blue turned to Scarlet. "Even if I wasn't sick, all this bickering would spoil my appetite," he complained. "They're even starting to turn my stomach," Scarlet agreed. "Oh, God," Ochre whispered, rolling his eyes. "We're all in trouble." Giuseppi Quadrini walked into the kitchen. "They will be down to dinner soon," he told his wife. "Is everything ready?" She turned to him, flour-coated rolling pin in hand. "Almost," she replied. "Well, hurry up. Put that rolling pin to work, woman." He turned toward the wine cellar. The last thing he heard was the crack of the wooden rolling pin on the back of his head as he toppled down the cellar steps. "We have been over this before, Rosty," Metcalfe sighed. "The WAAF has different needs from your service. To restrict the situations where we share resources with Spectrum inhibits our ability to work with them effectively." "You would want unconditional Spectrum access to your facilities," Rostokovich replied. "They're primarily an air support service." "That's your perception. Certainly their record says otherwise." "Yes," Ruprecht snapped. "Their bombing of Atlantica Base certainly speaks volumes about them." Blue and Ochre both cringed. They were the ones who had bombed Atlantica's outer perimeter while under the influence of a "non-alcoholic" champagne that had been tampered with by the Mysterons and tainted with a nerve gas that caused symptoms of intoxication. Black had slipped a phony map into their navigation pack that led them over the Atlantica Defense Post instead of over the drifting wreckage they were supposed to bomb. "That was an accident," White noted, somewhat impatiently. "We have already offered our full apologies for that incident and given much to the reconstruction of Atlantica. Our men were off-course as a result of a Mysteron attack that disoriented them." "And I suppose that is also your excuse for your Captain Scarlet's abduction and attempted assassination of the World President last year?" Ruprecht retorted. Scarlet tensed noticeably. He had not expected this to come up. Metcalfe looked incensed. "That was an impostor," he snapped. "Oh, really?" Rostokovich said sharply. "Is that what your Spectrum masters have told you, puppet? How do you know? Have you ever seen any evidence?" "Spectrum has no reason to lie." "Don't they? Ask your friend Colonel White about his man Captain Black, now the most wanted man in the world, a known Mysteron terrorist. I find it very suspicious that an entire incident involving two top Spectrum agents and the World President was suddenly closed with a tersely-worded report that the two men involved in two nearly-successful attacks on the World President were `impostors' and was never spoken of again." "The report on that incident is the most highly classified secret in the world," White stated. "It contains detailed knowledge of the Mysterons and their methods of attack and operation...knowledge we cannot allow to be freely bandied about. The pertinent facts of the matter have been fully disclosed to all concerned parties." "So you say," Ruprecht said. "But that report is just one of many things protected by the `Rainbow Clearance' that we as World military leaders have no access to. We have no way of knowing what else Spectrum may be concealing about the Mysterons." "Or its membership," Rostokovich added. Blue looked at Scarlet. Despite the younger man's reputation for impetuousness, Scarlet had incredible discipline that his years of military training and his strict upbringing had built into his personality. But Blue could see that it was taking every bit of Scarlet's discipline to stay controlled. His knuckles were white from gripping the chair's armrests in an effort to keep his anger in check. Scarlet's anger was contageous. One look at Ochre told Blue some of the same tension was flowing through the other man, as Ochre's jaw was clenched tightly. And even Blue found himself wishing Rostokovich would shut up and drop the subject. "Gentlemen, I have bent as far as I can bend," White stated firmly. "What more is it that you want from us?" "Full and unrestricted access to Rainbow Clearance material," Rostokovich responded. That was it. Scarlet could take no more. "Impossible!" he snapped angrily. White shot Scarlet a silencing glare. Metcalfe also turned a disapproving glance toward his son, then turned back to the table. "You don't know what you're asking," he told Rostokovich. "I do indeed," Rostokovich replied. "I want full disclosure from Spectrum before I will agree to discuss anything else." "General Rostokovich," White said, trying to keep his voice even, "there is much that is protected by the Rainbow Clearance...information that is vital to the way Spectrum operates, vital to the safety of our agents. What you are asking would damage our ability to operate beyond repair." "But is it right for you to keep such information from us?" Ruprecht interjected. "If we are to work with you, we need full unrestricted access to your intelligence--just as you need full unrestricted access to ours. You must understand our position." "But they do not," Rostokovich snidely remarked. "They're too busy trying to cover their trails for their past mistakes--the death of the Director-General of the United Asian Republic, the destruction of the desalinization plant at Najama...did I miss any of the higher-profile ones, Colonel White?" "The fact that those are the only two you can name should speak volumes," Metcalfe countered. "If you weren't so busy trying to cover your own backsides because you can't even hope to fight the Mysterons on your own..." "And I suppose the WAAF has been a shining example of efficiency during all this?" Rostokovich returned. "Enough!" White finally snapped. "This is getting us nowhere. The fact is that I could not give you the access you seek even if I wanted to. Only the World President can grant access to Rainbow Clearance material. Now...I suggest we adjourn for dinner and reconvene after I've had a chance to consult with the World President." He looked toward the door. "Captain Ochre, ask the sergeant outside the door to escort the Generals to dinner." "S.I.G.," Ochre said, standing and opening the door. "So, we are no longer good enough to be protected by Spectrum's finest?" Ruprecht remarked. "I need to consult with my officers," White returned. "My ground forces will accompany you to the banquet hall." Three Spectrum sergeants entered the room, then stood at attention before White. Rostokovich and Ruprecht reluctantly left with their escorts, grumbling to each other as they walked out of the room. Metcalfe stayed behind for a moment. "A word with you, Colonel?" he said. White nodded to the Spectrum sergeant, who closed the door to the room for a moment. Metcalfe looked White in the eye. "I had no idea they would bring any of this up," he told his Spectrum counterpart. "It certainly was an unexpected snag," White admitted, trying to calm down. Metcalfe looked at the three Spectrum captains standing behind him, then turned back to White. "Colonel, I understand why the Rainbow Clearance material must remain protected. As a family member of a Spectrum officer, I was briefed on some of what I know is protected under that umbrella. I know some of the most significant things that clearance protects are the identities of your officers and the locations of your many bases. So I understand in a way that neither of the others can. But I have to warn you that there is nothing more I can do to help you. When Rosty gets like this, there's no negotiating with him. And the fact that Ruprecht appears to be on his side makes this situation all the more difficult. I'll see if I can make Ruprecht see reason. But I must warn you that there is only so much I can do without compromising your security." White nodded. "Thank you for your candor, General Metcalfe." Metcalfe sighed. "I'd better go join the others before my position is even further eroded by spending too much time with my `puppetmasters'." He left with his escort, closing the door behind him. White sighed as Metcalfe left. "A wise man," he noted. "Unfortunately, he's right. There is only so much he can do." Scarlet looked askance. "Surely you're not even going to consider giving them what they want?" he said, his voice incredulous. "It's not my decision, Scarlet. I must consult with the World President." "But, sir...the security of that information must remain intact! If my father were ever to find out the truth about what happened with the Mysterons..." "Personal considerations have no place here," White cut him off. For a moment, Scarlet was silent. "It's not your life that's at stake," he replied frostily. "And not just yours," Ochre pointed out to his red-vested counterpart. "There are lots of criminals who'd love to know World Police Commander Richard Frazer is alive and well and living in Spectrum as Captain Ochre...and lots of mobsters who'd love to get their hands on turncoat Patrick Donaghue once they find out he's wearing a magenta Spectrum uniform." "Not to mention the potential harm that could come to the family members of Spectrum agents," Blue added. "We've been fortunate so far...the Mysterons haven't tapped Captain Black's knowledge base to wreak havoc on Spectrum personnel and their families. But if this information suddenly became widespread..." "You all make valid points," White interrupted. "And I agree with all of them. But again, it isn't my decision. I must consult with the World President before I can go any further in these talks. Now, I suggest we all get some dinner and reconvene possibly in the morning. I'll need time to discuss this with the World President. He, too, has a significant decision to make." With that, White left the room. For a moment, the other three Spectrum officers stood quietly, the weight of White's words pressing down on all of them. Finally, Scarlet spoke. "I'm sorry," he said. "I was thinking only of myself...I should have realized we all have a stake in this." "Forget it," Ochre stated. "Sometimes I forget that you have more at stake than the rest of us." Blue patted Scarlet on the back. "Don't worry about it," he told his best friend. "We're all in this together. We have to back each other up." "Let's go get some dinner," Ochre suggested. Blue groaned. "Let's hope they're serving chicken soup." "If they're not, I want you on the opposite end of the table from me," Scarlet replied. "I can't afford to have you getting sick on my only uniform." "You can borrow one of mine," Ochre noted. "Think he'd look good in gold, Blue?" "Nah," Blue remarked. "Skin's too pale. Azure blue'd look better." Scarlet's blue eyes turned icy. "Very funny." All three chuckled as they left the room. The first course had already been served by the time Scarlet, Blue, and Ochre reached the dining room. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with even the dullest butter knife. White and Metcalfe were on one side of the table, Rostokovich and Ruprecht on the other, and no one was saying a word. Scarlet quietly took a seat between White and Metcalfe, while Blue and Ochre sat on the other side of the table next to their charges. Blue looked at the bowl of soup before him. "Minestrone," he complained. "Wonderful. Just what my stomach needs." "Think of it as vegetable soup," Metcalfe responded. "It's good for you." "You sound like my mother," Blue sighed, taking a sip of the soup. "I've got a son your age. I scold him the same way when he's home." Scarlet quickly looked down at his bowl of soup and took a bite to keep from rolling his eyes. There were times he wondered if he'd still be "General Metcalfe's son" when he was 100. Ochre dug into the soup eagerly. "Mm-m-m," he remarked. "Delicious." "Hm-m-m," Rostokovich grumbled, taking another bite. "Somewhat bitter." "Spices are stale," Ruprecht remarked. White shook his head in disgust, then yawned. Metcalfe did the same, then rubbed his eyes. Scarlet looked at his father. "Are you all right, General Metcalfe?" he asked. "I feel sleepy," he noted, his words sounding slurred. The clatter of silverware caught Scarlet's attention. He looked across the table. Ruprecht had fallen out of his chair and was now lying sprawled out on the floor, and Ochre and Rostokovich were looking dazed. White fell forward next to Scarlet, barely missing falling into his soup. Rostokovich wasn't so lucky as he pitched face-first into his bowl. "The soup--it's been drugged!" Scarlet realized, quickly standing to lift the Russian general out of the bowl and keep him from drowning. He heaved Rostokovich's head up and pushed him sideways. Rostokovich fell into Blue, and both men fell to the floor unconscious. Ochre soon followed suit. Metcalfe slumped in his seat, and the chair tipped sideways and dumped him to the floor as well. It was then that the wave of dizziness and nausea hit Scarlet. He looked toward the kitchen. All four Quadrinis were now standing in the dining room, looking intently at the only officer in the room who was still conscious. "Mysterons...," Scarlet whispered before the combined effects of the sedative and the pain from his Mysteron-detecting prescience overcame him. The last thing he remembered was the sight of the white tablecloth coming toward him. It was like someone had thrown a switch. That was the impression Captain Scarlet got when he awoke as suddenly as he had fallen asleep less than ten minutes after the drugged food had taken effect. It was much like the effect he used to have after drinking alcohol--a period of intoxication that made him disoriented and sleepy that would suddenly wear off and leave him completely sober and wide awake. Of course, those days were long past him now; retrometabolism had made him practically immune to such intoxicating substances. He stood up slowly, stretching the kinks out of his back, then looked around. There were times Scarlet hated what the Mysterons had done to him...the way they had taken any chance for a "normal" life away from him, the way they had turned him into some kind of freak of nature with their retrometabolic recreation of him. This was not one of those times. Scarlet said a quick prayer of thanks for his body's ability to neutralize invading organisms and foreign substances within minutes, then made a quick assessment of the situation. Except for White, Blue, Ochre, and himself, the room was empty. The Quadrinis were gone--apparently completely, as his internal Mysteron sensors were not detecting anything--and so were the three commanders. And the conference center was unnervingly quiet. Quickly, Scarlet ran for the door and looked in the hallway. Two Spectrum sergeants lay dead in the hall, shot in cold blood. Scarlet returned to the dining room and took the pulses of the other three men. They were all thankfully still alive, though their pulses were sluggish. All three needed medical treatment, and someone had to find the Mysterons and their hostages. He needed help. He picked his RadioCap up off the table and donned it, then lowered its microphone. "Scarlet to Cloudbase," he said. "Priority One transmission. Codeword: Shadow." "This is Lieutenant Green," the Caribbean-accented voice replied. "Go ahead, Captain Scarlet." "I have a medical and operational emergency at Alpine Conference Center. Colonel White, Captain Blue, and Captain Ochre have been poisoned, probably by a powerful sedative slipped into their soup, and are unconscious. General Metcalfe, Space General Rostokovich, and Admiral Ruprecht are missing and most likely have been abducted by the Mysterons. Suspected Mysteron agents are the Quadrini family--Giuseppi, Laura, Gianni, and Debbi--who are the staff here. At least two ground forces sergeants are down and I would suspect at least one of our vehicles is missing. Request immediate Angel Flight support and a medical team." "This is Captain Grey," the acting commander's voice replied over Scarlet's speakers. "Angel One is already patrolling the area; we'll launch the others immediately and send a medical helicopter. Which vehicle is missing?" Scarlet headed for the windows and looked out. He could see the SPV and patrol cars--and two more dead troops. "MSV 021," he reported. "There are two more officers down near where it was parked. They can't have gotten far--I'm going after them in the SPV." "S.I.G. Cloudbase out." A groan from across the room attracted his attention. He looked behind him. Captain Blue was trying to sit up, looking dazed and disoriented. "Adam!" Scarlet called, hurrying over to him. Blue held his head as Scarlet knelt beside him. "Wh-what happened?" Blue asked unsteadily. "The soup was drugged," Scarlet replied. "How did you come out of it so fast?" "Must not have eaten enough of it," Blue replied. "I remember Rostokovich falling over on me..." He looked around. "The generals..." "The Quadrinis are in the hands of the Mysterons--and they've taken them. Stay here--I'm going after them." "I'm coming with you." "You're in no condition to go anywhere." "You're going to need help--even you can't fight four Mysterons alone. I'll be all right. I think I hit my head when I fell over, and that's what's making me groggy, not the drug. I'll be fine." He struggled to his feet. "You're too stubborn for your own good, Captain Blue," Scarlet said, assisting him as he stood. "I learned that from my partner," Blue retorted. "Now, are we going to argue or go after them?" Scarlet sighed. He could use the help. And Blue was looking a little more steady. "Come on," he said exasperatedly. Charles Metcalfe stirred slowly from what felt like a drunken stupor and looked around. He could see the Quadrini family standing across the room, each holding a gun trained on him and his fellow commanders. They were all obviously in some kind of country farm house, as he could make out farming implements in corners of the room. And now that he had moved, he could tell his hands were bound behind his back. He gave Rostokovich, who was lying next to him, a nudge with his shoulder. "Rosty," he whispered, "wake up." Rostokovich, his face still stained with soup, groaned and opened his eyes. "What's going on?" he asked in a weak, raspy voice. "I believe we've been kidnapped." Now Gunther Ruprecht stirred, then looked over at the pair of generals next to him. "So much for Spectrum protection," he noted sarcastically. "Quiet," Giuseppi Quadrini said, kicking Ruprecht in the side. Ruprecht fell down, groaning in pain. "In case you haven't deduced it yet," Metcalfe continued, "we were drugged. I imagine our Spectrum counterparts are also unconscious." "I thought they cleared the staff," Rostokovich groused. "I said quiet!" the senior Quadrini snapped, giving Rostokovich a kick as well. Rostokovich fell back down next to Metcalfe, trying to suppress any show of pain. "They did clear the staff," Metcalfe told his companions. "These are impostors...just like the incident with the two Spectrum officers and the World President." For his explanation, Metcalfe also got a kick in the side from Gianni Quadrini. He gasped for breath, then forced himself to sit up and look firmly at his captors. "Didn't your mother teach you any manners?" he said in his best "haughty British general" tone. "Shut up!" Laura Quadrini snapped. "Metcalfe, what are you doing?" Ruprecht whispered. "You are going to get us killed!" "No, they don't want to kill us," Metcalfe observed. "We'd already be dead if that was their aim. They want something else from us." "You are correct, Charles Metcalfe," an ominous voice intoned from across the room. All three men looked up. Captain Black was now standing with the Quadrinis, looking like a walking corpse. "Who is that?" Rostokovich asked. "That is the man you said was the most wanted man in the world," Metcalfe replied. "That is Captain Black." "Very good," Black stated. "It's been a long time," Metcalfe said. "You know him?" Ruprecht asked. "He used to be a pilot in the WAAF. I remember him well. His lifelong goal was to see world peace." He looked at Black. "Grow tired of waiting, Conrad?" "Your arrogance is not amusing," Black retorted. "It will be a great pleasure to kill you." "So do it," Rostokovich snapped. "I would prefer to die quickly than be toyed with like this." "You're missing the point," Metcalfe noted. "They have no intention of killing us quickly. They want something from us." "Information," Black added. "Full details of your strengths and weaknesses. We will use your own plans and strategies to destroy your world." "I will never tell you anything," Ruprecht vowed. "Then you will suffer greatly." The coldness with which Black delivered those words chilled all three men to the bone. It was now clear that death, when it finally came, would be merciful. "Not even Spectrum can help you now," Black continued. Spectrum...Metcalfe suddenly realized that there might indeed be a way out of this. Surreptitiously, he began to work the hem of his uniform jacket with his fingers until the bottom of the right-hand pocket was in his grasp. He squeezed the pocket tightly until he felt something click. "I wouldn't be too sure of that," Metcalfe said to the gaunt man standing before him. "Spectrum are very...resourceful." Finding the MSV had been the easy part. Destiny Angel had spotted the abandoned MSV just a few miles up the road from the Alpine Conference Center. But it was obvious from the air that a second transport vehicle had been used to take the commanders on to their final destination. And the tracks ended when the vehicle re-entered the main roadway. Now Scarlet and Blue were trying to follow what little tracks were left in the SPV while Destiny, soon joined by the other two Angels, were doing aerial reconnaissance. A blip showed up on Destiny's radar screen. Seconds later, a Spectrum identification number came up on the target. "Angel Leader to Cloudbase," the French pilot spoke. "I have radar indication of a Spectrum Personal Tracker being activated." Scarlet and Blue, listening over the SPV's speakers, looked at each other. "Tracking signal confirmed," Green's voice stated. "Captain Scarlet, your personal tracker has been activated. Is there a problem?" "My father!" Scarlet realized. "Leftenant, I gave my father my tracker. He must have activated it. Get a fix on that position and relay the coordinates here--fast!" "Processing now," Green reported. "Angels One, Two, and Three, please relay fix on position of tracker signal for triangulation." Seconds later, the coordinates had been run through the Cloudbase computer and a map reference returned. The grid flashed up on the display screen on Blue's side of the SPV. "Got it," Blue said. "Angel Flight, seek and report." Overhead, the sound of a fast Angel aircraft roared into their ears. "I have visual contact with a farmhouse approximately two miles from your present position that is in the range of the coordinates," Rhapsody reported. "There is a large vehicle outside. Take the right hand junction just ahead." "S.I.G.," Scarlet replied, making the turn. "Have visual contact with farmhouse on our monitors. I think we've found them. We're going in." The sound of low-flying aircraft overhead startled the cabin's occupants. Debbi Quadrini looked up. "What was that?" she said. "Spectrum Angels," Black realized, recognizing the sound. "How did they find us?" He turned to his minions. "Search them--one of them has a homing device." Giuseppi, Gianni, and Debbi began searching the commanders' pockets. Metcalfe tried to resist, but was held down by the stronger, younger Gianni Quadrini. He now knew it was only a matter of time before the secret was discovered. Gianni found a round disk in Metcalfe's right pocket and carried it over to Black. "A Spectrum Personal Tracker," Black said angrily. "Scarlet's SPT." He threw it into a corner, then looked at Metcalfe coldly. "Kill him." Gianni aimed his gun at the WAAF general. From behind, a beam of high-powered electrons struck him in the center of his back. He dropped dead to the floor. Black and the remaining Quadrinis whirled around...and saw Captain Scarlet aiming the anti-Mysteron gun straight at them. Laura fired her pistol at Scarlet. Scarlet dove for cover. Another shot rang out, and Laura dropped to the floor, a bullet through her heart. Giuseppi Quadrini turned around to see Captain Blue on the other side of the room, Spectrum pistol trained on him. He fired at the Spectrum officer. Scarlet zapped Laura with the Mysteron gun to finish the job Blue started, then fired a ray of electrons at Giuseppi. Giuseppi joined his wife and son dead on the floor. Debbi fired at Scarlet, catching him in the left side. Scarlet cried out in pain and fell to the floor. Debbi came over to finish him off. A bullet caught her in the upper shoulder. She turned back to Blue and fired at him. Scarlet regained his control and put the Mysteron gun in Debbi's back, then pulled the trigger. She shook from the electrical burst, then fell face-first to the floor, dead. Black raced from the room. "Get the commanders out of here--I'm going after Black!" Scarlet ordered, already running from the room. "S.I.G.," Blue responded, heading over to untie the three commanders. "Is he insane?" Ruprecht said, incredulous. "No," Metcalfe said, smiling slightly. "He's doing the job a Spectrum officer is trained to do." He looked at Captain Blue. "But he's been hurt. Just untie us, Captain Blue, then go help him." "I have my orders," Blue replied. "My first priority is to get the three of you to safety. Captain Scarlet can handle himself." "Forget your `orders'!" Rostokovich snapped. "Metcalfe is right--you cannot leave him alone against that monster!" "I don't intend to," Blue responded. "But all of this is meaningless unless I can get you three to safety. Now quit arguing and come with me!" The three reluctantly agreed to follow Blue, but not before Metcalfe looked back in the direction Scarlet had headed. "Be careful," Metcalfe whispered. "For God's sake, be careful." Black had overturned furniture and thrown everything that wasn't nailed down in Scarlet's path, and still the Spectrum super-agent was hot on his trail. Several beams of electrons had scarred the walls as the pair ran through the kitchen to the cellar. Suddenly, Black found himself in a corner, near the furnace. There was no way out. And Scarlet stood on the stairs, Mysteron gun aimed squarely at him. "Give yourself up, Black!" Scarlet ordered. "You're trapped--there's no escape. Surrender and we may be able to help you." "Never," Black sneered. "It is you who are trapped, Scarlet. And there is indeed no escape." With that, he vanished into thin air. Scarlet lowered the gun and looked at the spot where Black had been standing. "I don't believe it," he hissed angrily. It was then that he noticed the furnace smoking heavily. "Oh, no..." He hurried back up the stairs. As he stepped onto the main floor, the furnace exploded. The explosion shot a fireball into the air and shook the SPV, where Blue and the three commanders had taken refuge. Metcalfe watched the display on Blue's monitor in horror. "No!" he screamed. Blue just stared at the screen in shock. Once again, Scarlet had saved all of their lives...and pushed his abilities to their absolute limits. I could never do it, Paul, he thought. I could never be YOU. Metcalfe buried his face in his hands and shook visibly. "Metcalfe, what is wrong?" Rostokovich asked. "You have surely seen this before--a brave man dies in the line of duty..." "You don't understand," Metcalfe responded, looking up at them, his face anguished and his voice shaky. "That man was my son." For a moment, the interior of the SPV was silent. "Mein Gott," Ruprecht finally said. Rostokovich's eyes widened. "That is why you support Spectrum so strongly," he realized. "I support Spectrum because I believe in what it stands for," Metcalfe snapped. "It stands for the future of world security, for brave, dedicated men who are willing to give their lives in defense of this world...even to protect three pig-headed, arrogant commanders..." He grew silent again, pressing a fist against his mouth to help stifle his building emotions. Blue steeled himself. It was hard enough to explain to the average person Spectrum dealt with that such incidents didn't necessarily mean the end of Captain Scarlet. But now he had to face Scarlet's father and explain that fact without giving away Scarlet's secret. He dropped his RadioCap's microphone. "Blue to Cloudbase," he said. "The commanders are safe. Mysteron agents have been neutralized. A bomb exploded in the farmhouse, however, trapping Captain Scarlet inside. Send rescue squad to search the wreckage for Captain Scarlet." "S.I.G.," Green responded. Blue turned to Metcalfe. "We'll find him, sir," he promised. "We won't give up until we do." Metcalfe fought to keep his emotions in check. "I want to stay and help," he said. "I'm afraid not, sir. It would be better if you didn't." "He's my son, Captain..." "Which is why it would be better if you did not stay," Rostokovich interjected. "I watched a rescue squad pull my son's body out of the burned hulk of a crashed space capsule. It was an experience that will forever haunt me." Metcalfe nodded, still in shock. "We'll notify you as soon as we know anything, General Metcalfe," Blue promised. "If there is any way for anyone to have survived that blast, Captain Scarlet did. Just keep believing he'll be all right." Metcalfe looked at the younger officer. "I suppose I don't have a choice." There was nothing more for Blue to say. He put a reassuring hand on Metcalfe's shoulder, then drove the crowded SPV away from the scene. It had been an agonizing six hours. Charles Metcalfe paced the floor in the sitting room of his elegant English country home, unable to sit still or stay calm. His wife, Mary, sat near the fireplace, every now and then weeping softly as a fresh wave of sorrow or fear came over her. Even their yellow Labrador, Humphrey, looked sad and confused at his masters. Not since the car accident a year ago that they thought had claimed their son's life--a confusing day that first seemed to indicate Paul had turned traitor, then became an even more confusing story of impostors attempting to kill the World President--had the Metcalfes had so much uncertainty in their lives. Metcalfe had heard the report before he left the conference center that Paul's body had indeed been found, and that he was being rushed to Cloudbase. But Metcalfe wasn't naive. He'd seen the building blow up. If Paul survived at all, he knew it would be weeks or months of agonizing recovery before he could even hope to live a normal life, if such were even still possible... The phone rang. Both Metcalfes looked at the phone anxiously. Neither seemed to want to answer it...to hear the news they had been dreading. It rang again. Finally, Charles picked it up. "General Metcalfe," he said into the receiver, his voice shaky despite his best efforts to stay calm. "Dad?" came the reply. Metcalfe nearly dropped the phone. No. It can't be..."Paul?" he said, his voice now incredulous. Mary Metcalfe looked stunned, then anxious. "Paul?" Metcalfe repeated. "Is it really you?" "Yes, Dad, it's me," Scarlet replied. "It's him," Metcalfe whispered, still not sure he wasn't dreaming. Mary ran into the next room and grabbed the kitchen phone off the wall. "Paul!" she cried out. "Oh, thank God...are you all right?" "I'm fine," Scarlet reassured. "I was very lucky. I'd just managed to get upstairs before the bomb exploded, so I escaped most of the blast." "But the building collapsed...," Metcalfe pointed out. "Yes, but I fell into the fireplace, which remained more or less intact. I escaped with only minor injuries. It looked worse than it was, I'm certain." "How's your side...where you got shot?" "Also not nearly as bad as it looked. Dr. Fawn thinks that with a short rest and recovery period, I should be right as rain in no time. What about you--are you all right?" "Fine, thanks to you." He paused. "You saved my life, Paul. You saved all of our lives." "I take my responsibilities very seriously," he reminded his father. "We all do at Spectrum. Maybe someday Rostokovich and Ruprecht will see that." "I think they already have. We had a long talk on the way back to the conference center, and I think Rosty and Ruprecht are going to drop their demands for Rainbow Clearance access. I think they now have a clearer understanding of just how great a threat the Mysterons truly are." "That's great," Scarlet said, relieved. "Stop talking shop," Mary snapped. "When are you coming home?" "Not for a while, unfortunately. Once I'm fully recovered, it's back to active duty. Maybe I can make it home for my birthday." "That's six months away!" "The life of a Spectrum agent, Mum. I'll see what I can do about a weekend pass sooner." "You'd better. That colonel of yours should give you a medal." "I've already got too many of those." He paused. "I have to go--Dr. Fawn's come in to check on me, and I think he wants to run some more blasted tests. I love you both. Take care." "We love you, too, son," Mary said, her voice breaking with emotion. "Take care, Paul," Metcalfe responded, having trouble keeping his own emotions in check. "Let us know when you can come home." "I will. Goodbye, Mum...Dad." "Goodbye." Charles hung up the phone. Mary rushed into her husband's arms and broke down sobbing with relief. Charles held her close, then finally joined her tears with his own. Scarlet hung up the phone and turned to Dr. Fawn, who had come into the hospital ward to check on his almost-recovered patient. "There are times I wish I had told them the truth early on," he sighed. "I don't like lying." "Well, you didn't exactly lie," Fawn told him. "You were lucky you weren't caught in the wake of that explosion--you'd have been blown to pieces--or killed when the Mysteron gun was damaged in the blast. And you do need a little more rest and recovery time." He looked at his watch. "I'd say about a half-hour from now, you should be ready to report back to work." Scarlet grimaced. "It still makes me uneasy to lie to my father." "Human relations are by their very nature uneasy relations. If they were easy, we wouldn't have to work so hard to get along. Besides, your father knows the important truth...that you love him and would do anything for him. And that's all any parent can ever ask." Scarlet smiled slightly. "In the citation I received with my discharge papers, my father said that if I had not been his son, he would have wished I were. It was the single highest compliment I had ever been paid...and worth more to me than all the medals ever minted." He sighed. "Maybe someday..." "Maybe someday," Fawn agreed. "Now--quit stalling. You know the drill. Lie back and let's get this `fitness-for-duty' exam started." Scarlet lay down on the examination table. "I can't return to duty," he complained, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "I destroyed my last uniform in the explosion." "Oh, I don't know about that," Fawn joked. "You and Magenta are about the same size, and the color's close enough..." Scarlet shot Fawn a withering look. "Just a suggestion," Fawn smiled. Both men laughed as Fawn turned on his monitors and hooked up his equipment to his special patient. T H E E N D ****** ** Movie Reviews By Darlene Damp And Judy H. Wilson Imagine being assaulted, minute after minute, by a never-ending barrage of senseless violence--all in the name of justice. This ridiculous piece of trash that denigrates human life and the criminal justice system is the R-Rated JUDGE DREDD. And it is perfectly dreddful. Adapted from the British comic book of the same name, the film's futuristic setting is creatively captured on screen. People in the year 2030 have moved into mega-cities after a combination of social and environmental disasters have left much of Earth a barren wasteland. However, crowding so many people into one place, with no jobs, no food, and little to do has turned them into angry mobs who never seem to stop battling their own little turf wars. The difference, though, is that these folks have the kind of weapons the military employs for full-scale national defense. Enter the Judges, or police who have been given the authority to dispense justice on the spot, with weapons even more lethal. And none is more feared than Judge Dredd (SYLVESTER STALLONE), who, with his chiseled features and lack of acting talent, makes the perfect comic-book-type hero. This guy has a stone where his heart should be, proclaiming without question or angst in his on-the-spot decisions, "I am the law." No matter whether it's a simple case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or killers on the loose, his brand of justice is swift and uncompromising. No wonder the city is encircled by crematoriums; otherwise, it couldn't keep up with his daily death toll. However, Dredd finds himself on the receiving end of his own style of justice when he is wrongly accused of the rapid-fire murder of a reporter and his wife. Little does he realize that it is all part of a plot by a corrupt politician (JURGEN PROCHOW) and his flunky (ARMAND ASSANTE) to take power from the ruling chief justice (MAX VON SYDOW). If you can believe this, they plan to create even more murder and mayhem in their bid to take control and exert even more authority over the city's residents. And while the setting has a very real, futuristic look, the non-stop shooting, maiming, gutting, and killing is enough to make anyone but a sociopath sick. There is no character development. We are simply presented with these robot-like killers and so-called heroes and expected to watch nearly two hours of garbage. And what's worse, most of the violence is in the name of "the law." In the kind of society we live in today, where the dividing line between good and bad seems very difficult to discern, Judge Dredd takes the concept of justice and smashes it to smithereens. This is the kind of film that will have parents in an uproar with the politicians over Hollywood's role in promoting violence. But ironically, without the explosions, gunfire, and graphic killings to constantly rattle your cage, this movie is simply B-O-R-I-N-G. Stallone probably can't do any better than a film like this. But what excuse do Assante and von Sydow have? -- Darlene Damp * * * * * * * * Go figure. If you know anything about spaceflight history, or have been lucky enough to have lived through every fascinating second of it, you know how the Apollo 13 lost-in-space crisis ended. So why, then, are we left on the edge of our seats by Ron Howard's film APOLLO 13? Literally on the edge of our seats--with stomachs churning and eyes welling up with foggy tears? Talk about deja vu. Whew! As if it were only yesterday, those horrid, heart-pounding four days of April 1970 are relived: Days of worldwide angst when a trio of American astronauts faced death from one of three ugly possibilities following an on-board explosion as they were halfway to the moon. They could suffocate as their oxygen ran out, freeze to death as a result of insufficient power to heat the spacecraft, or end up poisoned by their own carbon dioxide exhalations, thanks to an unusable filtering system. Lovely, eh? Then there was that cruel clincher: The heat shield may have been damaged, or the re-entry pattern mis-configured, so that they could just burn up on re-entry anyway. Howard has directed one heck of a ride in this 2-1/2-hour film. With in-your-face camera work, outstanding performances from the entire cast, a lean and efficient script by William Broyles Jr. and Al Reinert, as well as breathtaking details, viewers will relive what some think was our finest hour in the space program. THE RIGHT STUFF was about the macho heroics of the original seven Mercury astronauts. APOLLO 13 is, by comparison, "The Exhilarating Stuff," as brains, not brawn, is celebrated, as well as the "little people" whose names never make the headlines. What Howard does so very well in his movies--COCOON, PARENTHOOD, BACKDRAFT, and THE PAPER in particular--is showcase a sense of community, of family, of teamwork, of togetherness in the midst of adversity; a sense of camaraderie. APOLLO 13 continues that tradition. Granted, the three imperiled astronauts--portrayed by Tom Hanks, Kevin Bacon, and Bill Paxton--play a primary role. But the film's hallmark is what those of us who lived through it did not see: the behind-the-scenes work at Mission Control, and the turmoil endured by the families. Howard places his camera in everyone's face, and the expressions and eye contact are riveting. Rapid-fire editing and crosscutting intensifies that human factor. Ed Harris is powerful as Gene Kranz, the no-nonsense flight director who barked at his staff that "failure is not an option." Loren Dean is amusing as the young flight controller who, quite frankly, may be the real hero when he discovers a vital piece of the puzzle no one had considered. Gary Sinise is solid as the scrubbed member of the flight team (he had been exposed to measles) who then locks himself in a simulator until he comes up with the right answer. But up and down the rows of desks at Mission Control is a bevy of white-shirted, nerdy-looking technicians who will knock your socks off as they fiddle with their computers, slide rules, and common sense, in order to bring 'em home. Despite its tension, APOLLO 13 is not without plenty of great moments of humor--as well as a dose of space sickness that is both revolting and fascinating--and glimpses of astronaut Jim Lovell's mother, who greets a couple of very famous personages by saying, "Are you boys in the space program?" Special effects, of course, play a vital role in this film, but in no way overshadow its wonderfully human component. Every single shot of the film is original. There are no shots lifted from footage of the actual Apollo 13 or any other space mission. And that, in some cases, defies imagination. Until this movie, I never considered how horribly cold it got out in space, or how wet it got upon re-entry. NASA personnel and equipment helped make this movie, with Lovell and Apollo 15 astronaut David Scott serving as advisors. Howard, his scriptwriters, and his cast underplay the story beautifully. Consequently, the film is strongest in the small, quiet moments: moments when man triumphs over technology; moments when human beings connect silently; the moment when Lovell realizes his one chance to walk on the moon is passing before his eyes. Howard was smart enough to realize that the story of Apollo 13 was sensational enough in itself and needed no seasoning. Hopefully, viewers will also see his other piece of observational genius in this film: that when things are at their darkest, American ingenuity can come to the rescue. APOLLO 13 is a go. -- Judy H. Morris ****** ** POWER STAR Comm Panel 9640-K Barrel House Road Laurel, Maryland 20723 USA (301) 604-6824 kimberly.murphy@acenet.com Congratulations for Kimberly and Calvin on the occasion of their wedding! May your happiness radiate through future issues of POWER STAR! Peter Van de Bossche pvdbos@vnet.vub.ac.be [Thanks, Peter, for your best wishes. Calvin and I were thrilled to get all the great notes and cards from subscribers, and we're loving married life...KAM] * * * * * * * * I've received the copy of POWER STAR 88, in which you printed my CAPTAIN SCARLET AND THE MYSTERONS filksong, "Indestructible". Could you e-mail me feedback from other readers of the zine? Thanks. Parker Gabriel capscarlet@aol.com [Happy to, Parker; thanks for submitting it! Readers, feel free to submit your feedback here or to Parker directly...KAM] * * * * * * * * Hi, Kimberly! Thanks for your kind help and fast response to a new subscriber! It is greatly appreciated, believe me! One thing makes me curious, though: All the messages seem to indicate that there is 19 of them in total. So far, I have only received six of them! Maybe my server was "filled up" and returned the others? Also, I would like to know if you accept contributions from new authors. I am gearing up to write again on SPACE:1999 (after a fifteen years hiatus!) and am just wondering about the possibilities, that's all. In any case, thank you once again! Daphne DVEZINA@socrate.droit.usherb.ca [Daphne, sometimes the multiple pieces get scrambled in delivery, but they almost always get delivered. And we'd love to hear from a new author...KAM] * * * * * * * * Congrats go out from here to GreyHawk subscribers Calvin Smith and Kimberly Murphy on the occasion of their wedding. May they have a happy and prosperous life together. But if they think they are going to get a discount just because of this they should think again :-) Congrats again. Walter Ames SysOp, GreyHawk BBS sysop@ghawk.com [It was worth a shot...KAM] * * * * * * * * Some comments I've been meaning to send you for a while: One of the things I didn't care for about POWER STAR is the continuing stories. I always save multi-part stories until I have the end before I start reading. So after a while of clipping and saving, I'll end up deleting because I don't have time to wait four months (or longer in some cases) for the resolution. A personal quirk, if you will--I hate cliffhanger endings! I like the opening editors comments and the collectible column. I like personal commentary on any sort of genre. I don't like TWIN PEAKS (ducking, running for cover), I don't read comics, and I still don't have a clue about Gerry Anderson. So POWER STAR doesn't work for me a lot of the time. How about you send me the stuff you don't use, and we'll do POWER STAR 2? Hm-m-m-m...not a bad idea... Terry Owen BrionyLodge@CRPL.CEDAR-RAPIDS.LIB.IA.US [Terry, I'm sorry you don't like some of the stuff you read in POWER STAR, but of course there's one way to change that--write something! We've got a lot of material but can always use more...KAM] * * * * * * * * Welcome To Mage BBS! Hello there...I'm very glad you made the call. We at Mage will do our best to provide a great deal to interest, amuse, educate and entertain. Already our filebase is growing rapidly, and new features are being added all the time. There will be plenty to view, download and use, so contribute and become a part of the growing online community on Mage! If there's anything on Mage which looks weird or incorrect, mail us and we'll change it. If you have any suggestions for new ideas or projects, then get in touch...we're always keen to improve! I love your uploading loads of your POWER STAR files, including TWIN PEAKS and STAR TREK stuff! Thanks a million! There are some up-and-coming conferences which you might fancying dipping into--our TWIN PEAKS and STAR TREK fora are quite good, and are gradually growing... Once again, thank you! The Mage SysOp, Mage BBS [Thanks for joining us as one of our partners!...KAM] * * * * * * * * What do you think of DEEP SPACE NINE this year? To be honest, I've forgotten a lot of the episodes. I know they did a takeoff on BRIGADOON and I did like the two-parter featuring Garak and Odo. I also think Sisko's trip to the Mirror Universe to rescue "his" wife should have been a two-parter; there were a lot of ideas in there that could have been explored and expanded upon. What I'd like to see next season: An Odo/Kira relationship now that Bareil's gone, more shapeshifting by Odo (dependent upon the budget, of course; those computer graphics are expensive), the return of those Quark and Odo scenes (best repartee since Spock and McCoy), and Bashir in a bathing suit, the skimpier, the better (O.K., I'm sexist, so sue me--I sat through six years of Marina Sirtis in a low-cut clingy dress while all the men wore uniforms, so I think the women in the TREK audience deserve a little reward). I haven't been too excited by VOYAGER's stories so far, but I do like the characters. My favorites are Tuvok and the holographic doctor. What the heck, it took STAR TREK:THE NEXT GENERATION a season or two before they found their dramatic footing. Now, if only Captain Janeway didn't sound like Marge Simpson... But my favorite S/F TV shows are THE X-FILES and BABYLON 5. THE X-FILES is one of the best shows of any genre on TV. I watch B5 when I can find it; it tends to move around a lot on the schedule. I caught an episode where Ivanova stated emphatically that Babylon 5 was "not some deep space franchise." A little dig at a rival show, perhaps? Pat Cunningham Ephrata, PA [Well, Pat, with your writing skills, you should try writing some VOYAGER episodes; you certainly couldn't do worse. But check out the letter below for another take on DS9 and the possible return of a favorite character...KAM] * * * * * * * * Kimberly: I wish we had time for more personal communication, but expediency denies us. We will keep you apprised of the latest developments in our campaign through releases such as this one and thank you so much for your support and forum for our efforts! Bright blessings to you. Now, to our latest release: FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE TO ALL FRIENDS OF VEDEK BAREIL SUPPORTERS The Friends Of Vedek Bareil campaign has always in its history conducted itself in the spirit of Vedek Bareil, with the respect for all of those involved. We choose to base our operational decisions on facts and not rumor control. The campaign continues, regardless of any rumors or storylines on STAR TREK:DEEP SPACE NINE. We also must ask you all not to write DS9 Producer Rick Berman any more; instead, we ask you to concentrate your efforts on Ira Steven Behr. On 18 July 1995, a development occurred which will shift some of the focus of the campaign. We have been informed by Mr. Philip Anglim's agent that he is no longer interested in performing the character of Bareil. We are currently seeking final confirmation of this decision from Mr. Anglim; regardless of what that confirmation tells us, we are henceforth changing the focus of the campaign to strictly seeking the return of the Vedek Bareil character instead of a specific actor. We are also in the discussion stage of developing a fan fellowship or club for Vedek Bareil fans which would be under the "Friends Of Vedek Bareil" name. Effective immediately, please contact the campaign only at the addresses listed below. A new e-mail address is pending. If you are interested in a Bareil fan fellowship, please send a SASE to the West Coast Coordinator of the campaign. May the Prophets walk with Bareil and may God Bless Philip Anglim. Gayle-Lynne Gordon West Coast Coordinator 4941 Murietta Avenue Sherman Oakes, California 91423 USA Stella Sutkiewicz East Coast Coordinator 119 South Camden Avenue Fruitland, Maryland 21826-1323 USA [Gayle-Lynne and Stella, thank you for your latest update, and we wish you all the best...KAM] ****** ** Ye Olde Collectibles And Trivia Shoppe By Bennet Pomerantz Someone mentioned to me, "Why don't you do more family materials in your column?" I replied that most of my column is family material, unless noted. You must understand I enjoy children's science-fiction collectibles almost as much as adult paraphernalia; many of these things seems to cross over each other. An amusing thing happened when I was at McDonald's in July--I saw adults buying the POWER RANGERS Ninja-zords...and they weren't buying these Zords for their kids. COLLECTABLE COMICS Those wonderful people at Warp Graphics have a set of ELFQUEST bedtime stories entitled--what else?--BEDTIME STORIES. Most would consider this ELFQUEST LITE. However, this project is one of the best ways to introduce children and young adults to the elven saga. Richard Pini and crew have outdone themselves again! Archie Comics has started a new venture, picking up the rights to make comics out of Hanna-Barbara cartoons. This is not a new idea. Many other companies (Charleston, Gold Key, Harvey, Dell and even Marvel) had tried this before, with very little or no success. However, Archie Comics reach a certain young market already, so finally the H-B cartoons may have found a home. The first couple of issues of THE FLINTSTONES and THE JETSONS looks good, but lack the sparks the older Dell and Gold Keys used to have. I think Archie may want to review the stories of the older H-B adaptations. I also hope they go after some of the cult shows properties to make into comic stories--characters like FRANKENSTEIN JR., ATOM ANT, THE IMPOSSIBLES, SECRET SQUIRREL, JONNY QUEST (the old classic JONNY QUEST, not the new one they are updating with a girl companion for Jonny), WACKY RACES, RUFF AND READY, SPACE GHOST, and THE BANANA SPLITS. I wish them well and hope they succeed where others have failed. LETS GIVE THEM SOMETHING TO LISTEN TO One of the summer's blockbuster in the movie theaters, BATMAN FOREVER (which will show up on video in mid-October next to the POWER RANGERS movie), has two audio adaptations from Time Warner Audio. The children's rendering is an hour-long fully-dramatized production with four picture trading cards. The three-hour version is narrated by Rene Auberjonois (Odo from STAR TREK:DEEP SPACE NINE and a cameo player as the chief psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum in BATMAN FOREVER). Both audios capture the spirit of the movie. However, Mr. Auberjonis is a master of the audiobook, so if you get a chance to hear his reading of BATMAN FOREVER, go for it! For those true fans of the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, TW Kids has one of the original episodes transferred to a 32 page, 3-D book and audio package. DAY OF THE DUMPSTER is a cute, novel idea for the really young and young at heart. STAR WARS:WE DON'T DO WEDDINGS--THE BAND'S TALES (BDD Audio) is a short tale told in a multi-cast production. The entertaining presentation, freely taken from the short story collection TALES FROM THE MOS EISLEY CANTINA, transcends many age levels. This Kathy Tyers short story is like a piece of STAR WARS mythos that we have not seen and heard--and that's why it's also so much fun. When you think about a cinema classic, what films to you think of? My favorites are GONE WITH THE WIND, MR. SMITH GOES TO WASHINGTON, STAR WARS, METROPOLIS, THE GOLD RUSH, SINGING IN THE RAIN, and THE WIZARD OF OZ. Well, the people at Rhino Records/Turner Classic Movie Music have released a two CD collection of music from THE WIZARD OF OZ. This 138-minute music collection includes demos, numbers cut from the movie (with the master recording cleaned up), and alternate takes of time-honored songs ("Over The Rainbow" and "Ding-Dong The Witch Is Dead" come to mind), and the tunes we grew to love over the ages. This OZ collectable is available at a decent price at most record and tape stories, so it's worth your time to pick up a classic. If you enjoyed the magic of watching THE WIZARD on TV or video over the years, this is for you. ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS Christmas season is getting earlier and earlier each year. I was in a Hallmark card shop in August, and they have most of the Christmas ornaments up already. Some of the selections to be on the lookout for include STAR TREK:THE NEXT GENERATION's Romulan Warbird (remember to buy the uncloaked ornament for the holidays), the Batmobile, the Superman phone booth (with a revolving Clark Kent/Superman inside), Popeye, Garfield, The Flintstones, Disney's Winnie the Pooh (from WINNIE THE POOH AND THE HONEY TREE), STAR TREK's Kirk (in classic uniform), STAR TREK:THE NEXT GENERATION's Picard (does it matter when?), Disney's POCAHONTAS collection, sport heroes Joe Montana and Shaquille O'Neill, the STAR TREK miniature collection (a set of three ships, which were the previous years' ornaments) and a five-piece Charlie Brown Christmas set. I think I'll be spending all of the holidays in Hallmark. CONVENTIONAL WISDOM I will be appearing at Kaleidoscope Science Fiction Convention on September 15-17 at the Holiday Inn Select (formerly the Radisson Hotel) in Lynchburg, Virginia. I'll be having a great time with people like Kimberly Murphy-Smith (I gotta to mention her first--she is the boss!), Allan Wold, Jeanne Spicer, Calvin Smith, Rikk Jacobs, Mary Battles, Jeannette Moore and others who enjoy Science Fiction/Fantasy/Horror and especially like to converse about it. Boy, do we talk about it! If you are in the area, come by and see what it is all about. I know I will be doing a vampire panel, because they know I'm such a pain in the neck! Then I will be at Rising Star 4 with STAR TREK's Grace Lee Whitney, BABYLON 5's Richard Biggs, LAND OF THE GIANTS' Deanna Lund, FAMOUS MONSTERS OF FILMLAND's Forry Ackerman, THE BRINKE OF ETERNITY herself Brinke Stevens, noted Science Fiction authors Fred Pohl and Hal Clements, MIGHTY JOE YOUNG's Terry Moore, ELFQUEST's Vickie Murphy, Mike Allen, and others September 29-October 1 in Glenvar, Virginia. At Rising Star, I will be doing the writers' panel and of course talking collectibles. While you are there, listen to some of the talented people in the media of Science Fiction talking about writing, acting, filmmaking, and craft. There are not many conventions like Kaleidoscope or Rising Star where the guests are user friendly. They will stop and speak to you, sign autographs, and even (sometimes) give career advice. In most cons, the "big-name" guests are whisked about to a forbidden (to the general public) green room (like at most STAR TREK and Creation conventions). At these two cons, the guests like to spend time with the people. That's why I like going to them...I think all of you (if you can) should, too! I am right now unconfirmed at ShoreCon in New Jersey on September 22 weekend. Also, at press time, I am unconfirmed at the Washington, DC area CastleCon over Labor day weekend. Sorry, but these people have not gotten back to me, so can't tell you if I'm going! Well, that's a wrap. So, until next time...let's be good to each other! ****** ** Back Issues Cross-Reference Issue 30 Primary story: "Satisfaction", part one of a four-part BATMAN story where Batman and Robin--a costumed Vicki Vale--take on The Penguin. Also: "Revenge Is A Double-Sided Coin", part one of a three-part BATMAN story about a mysterious rash of bombings in Gotham City where the warning notes refer to the flip of a coin; "Happy Birthday, Sam", a QUANTUM LEAP short story about Sam's leap into an acquaintance's past. Issue 35 Primary story: "Beware Of A Fool's Mate", a TWIN PEAKS story that takes place between the Laura Palmer murder and the Windom Earle mystery, where Agent Cooper has been shot again and a mysterious agent named D.L. Wilkins arrives in town to investigate. Also: "Cries Of The Courageous", part one of a four-part STAR TREK:THE NEXT GENERATION script where the ENTERPRISE is assigned to ameliorate relations between an affluent management faction and a striking labor force on a Federation world that threatens to explode into civil war; "A Serpent In Paradise", part one of a four-part TOTAL RECALL story where, on a reborn Mars, nightmares are troubling Quaid, leading him to wonder if Hauser is regaining control; conclusion of "Satisfaction". Issue 36 Primary story: "Through A Glass, Darkly", a BATMAN story based on Karen Haber and Robert Silverberg's "Batman In Nighttown", where Bruce Wayne encounters a Batman and Joker lookalike at a charity ball. Also: "Do Thunderbolts Strike Twice?", part one of a two-part CAPTAIN SCARLET AND THE MYSTERONS story, where the Mysterons threaten a day of celebration in Washington, DC; part two of "Cries Of The Courageous". Issue 39 Primary story: "Two-Pronged Attack", a TWIN PEAKS story that follows up the attempted assassination of Cooper in "Beware Of A Fool's Mate" (issue 35) by asking the question: Was Cooper's would-be assassin caught in the act--or was he just a decoy? Also: Book reviews of THE FIRST AMERICANS and MARCHING THROUGH GEORGIA; part two of "A Serpent In Paradise". Issue 41 Primary story: "Zara", an original story about a beautiful alien and the lengths two warring commanders--one her common-law husband, one her lover and the father of her child--go to protect her. Also: Interviews with authors Somtow Sucharitkul and P.E. Cunningham; reports from TWIN PEAKS parties in Washington, DC, and Baltimore, MD; part three of "Cries Of The Courageous"; conclusion of the four-part STAR TREK/STAR TREK:THE NEXT GENERATION crossover tale "Ultimate Truth". Issue 42 Primary story: "Bridge Between Worlds", part one of a two-part TWIN PEAKS story which resolves the series' cliffhanger and brings F.B.I. Special Agent Diane Wilkins to Twin Peaks once more. Also: "To Dale And Diane", a TWIN PEAKS poem; book reviews of THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF F.B.I. SPECIAL AGENT DALE COOPER and WELCOME TO TWIN PEAKS:AN ACCESS GUIDE TO THE TOWN; a viewer's guide to ALIEN NATION; "Excursions Into Academia", Cinda Gillilan's call for information on and study of fandom; "Only Half The Man"; part one of a three-part MANIMAL story which finds Jonathan Chase caught between man and animal form after receiving a severe electric shock; "They Don't Make Them Like They Used To", part one of a three-part STAR TREK:THE NEXT GENERATION story where Data builds an android version of Tasha Yar. Issue 43 Primary story: Part two of "Bridge Between Worlds", where Diane must rescue Dale's soul from the Black Lodge--but only if she can face her own deepest fears. Also: "Back Alley Crisis", a G.I. JOE story told from Cat's point of view; part four of the five-part G.I. JOE story "Operation: Paradise Lost"; part five of the seven-part original script-story "Twisted Web 2: Resurrection". Issue 44 "Two Souls", part one of a five-part TWIN PEAKS script where Dale and Diane--their ordeal in the Black Lodge over--attempt to rebuild their lives in Twin Peaks, much to the dismay of Benjamin Horne, who vows to rid the town of the two F.B.I. agents any way he can. But Benjamin may have bitten off more than he can chew by recruiting unscrupulous mortgage broker Jack Allenback to aid him in his pursuit. Issue 45 Part two of "Two Souls", which finds D.E.A. Special Agent Dennis "Denise" Bryson arriving with bad news for Dale and Diane about a notorious drug dealer who's headed for Twin Peaks--a drug dealer who launders his money through brokering mortgages. Issue 46 Part three of "Two Souls", which finds Dale and Diane tracking the trail of drug dealer John Allen, Benjamin accelerating his plans to purchase Dale's mortgage, and Jack Allenback's preparation for his own assault on the twin agents. Issue 48 Primary story: Part four of "Two Souls", where Jack Allenback accelerates his plans to stop Dale and Diane as they rapidly close in on him. Also: Conclusion of "Do Thunderbolts Strike Twice?". Issue 49 Primary story: Conclusion of "Cries Of The Courageous", where civil war threatens to engulf the mining planet of Yervossa, and the Away Team--including Picard--are trapped in the middle of the hostilities. Also: Conclusion of "Two Souls". The POWER STAR Yearbook SPECIAL ALL-TWIN PEAKS ISSUE! Two color covers add to the cost of this special issue, a perfect introduction into the POWER STAR version of the TWIN PEAKS universe; cost is $15.00. In this issue: Kimberly Murphy's trilogy of PEAKS stories introducing Diane and resolving the series' cliffhanger, including revisions to "Beware Of A Fool's Mate" and "Two-Pronged Attack" to cover "truths" revealed in the series' later episodes, are combined into a single anthology called "The Saga Of Dale And Diane". Issue 50 Special Celebration Issue! Color covers of STAR TREK and QUANTUM LEAP add to the cost of this much larger issue; this issue costs $15.00. Primary story: "My Brother's Keeper", part one of a three-part QUANTUM LEAP story about Sam leaping into Al during his days as a P.O.W. in Vietnam. Also: "I Will Not Be Pushed", part one of a three-part PRISONER story that finds Number Six back in the Village after twenty years; an episode guide to BEYOND REALITY; a viewer's guide to NIGHTMARE CAFE; an editorial on CreationCons; the history of STAR TREK's Lt. Commander Gary Mitchell; review of the European version of the TWIN PEAKS pilot. Issue 51 Primary story: "Voices Through The Gateway", part one of a four-part TWIN PEAKS story in which Dale is accidentally injected with a mysterious drug during a hostage rescue and begins to experience increased psychic sensations. Also: "Penny's Diary", part one of a two-part LOST IN SPACE story about the Robinsons' ordeal on planet Monotony; an episode guide to MANIMAL; reviews of ALIEN3 and BATMAN RETURNS; part two of "Only Half The Man"; part two of "My Brother's Keeper"; part two of "I Will Not Be Pushed". Issue 52 Primary story: Conclusion of "My Brother's Keeper", which finds Sam in Al's form leading an escape from a Viet Cong prison camp. Also: "The Warrior", a STAR WARS short-short; "Comes The Cheetah", part one of a multi-part FLASH story, about a deadly female CIA operative who has Barry Allen's powers and who has been sent to kill him; "The Renewal Run", part one of a multi-part LOGAN'S RUN story, a story that takes place just before the end of the M-G-M film and is based on the unfinished Marvel Comics story by John Warner; STAR TREK:THE NEXT GENERATION submission guidelines, courtesy of Paramount Pictures; conclusion of "Penny's Diary"; conclusion of "I Will Not Be Pushed"; part two of "You Can't Keep A Good Joker Down"; part two of "Voices Through The Gateway". Issue 53 Primary story: A belated tribute to the late, great Gene Roddenberry. Also: "If Only I Had Known" and "The Ending Of The Game", STAR TREK poetry; Starfleet Engineering excerpts on food replicators; a history of the U.S.S. SURAK; a report from the FANEX 6 convention; fanzine reviews of MIDNIGHT MARQUEE, BLOOD TIMES, and SCARLET STREET; review of TWIN PEAKS:FIRE WALK WITH ME; "Home For The Weekend", part one of a three-part STARMAN story, where Paul Forrester, Jenny Hayden, and their son Scott reteam with SETI agent Mark Shermin to find the Starman's lost spaceship; "Reunion: The Men In Black Incident", part one of a four-part PROJECT:U.F.O. story that finds Jake Gatlin and Harry Fitz searching for the real reason aliens may have been visiting Earth; part two of the six-part original script-story "NightSpeak"; part three of "Voices Through The Gateway". Issue 54 Primary Story: Conclusion of "Voices Through The Gateway", where Diane and Harry race against time to save Dale's sanity while Dale battles the voices coming through his subconscious gateway that threaten to overwhelm him. Also: Universe guides to TWIN PEAKS and COUNTERSTRIKE; "The Savage She-Hulk", part one of a three-part SHE-HULK story that recreates the green-skinned Amazon's origins; conclusion of "Only Half The Man". Issue 57 SPECIAL FANTASTIC TELEVISION ISSUE! A salute to Sci-Fi/Fantasy Television begins with-- would you believe--the return of Maxwell Smart as chief of CONTROL in "The Almost, Absolutely, Positively, Ultimate KAOS Kaper", part one of a new three-part GET SMART story. Also: Peter, Gabrielle, and Stone must save a childhood friend of Peter's from an assassin at a Psychic Fair in the COUNTERSTRIKE story "The Fortuneteller"; the aftermath of Cooper's experience with the psychic-enhancing drug in "Voices Through The Gateway" (issues 51-54) begins to manifest itself as an investigation into vandalism at a construction site demands his full attention in part one of a new two-part TWIN PEAKS tale, "So Much As A Nightmare"; "What's Your TV I.Q.?", a quiz for couch potatoes reprinted from COSMOPOLITAN magazine; fanzine reviews of PILOT NEWSLETTER, TIME TRAVELLER, and the ST:TNG-inspired script "Jean-Luc Junior". Issue 59 Primary Story: Part two of "The Man Who Fell From The Sky", where Peter and Nikki encounter the malevolent Strand while Stone and Monique attempt to find them both. Also: A review of MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATRE 3000; part three of "A Serpent In Paradise"; conclusion of "So Much As A Nightmare". Issue 61 SPECIAL ALL-TWIN PEAKS ISSUE! POWER STAR celebrates TWIN PEAKS' third anniversary with this special issue centering around the offbeat Lynch/Frost series. Primary story: "MEANWHILE...", a complete-in-this-issue TWIN PEAKS tale that takes place four months after the Laura Palmer murder, as the town begins to return to normal--but not Sarah Palmer's life. Also: "The Rebirth Of Superman", D. Lynn Bivens' take on the possible resurrection of the DC Comics hero; a roundtable discussion between SECRETS OF TWIN PEAKS editor/publisher Doug Giffin and POWER STAR staffers Jerry Seward and Kimberly Murphy on TWIN PEAKS fiction; excerpts from a panel discussion at FANEX 6 featuring Russ Tamblyn (PEAKS' Dr. Jacoby); fanzine reviews of WRAPPED IN PLASTIC and FLASHBACK. Issue 63 A salute to famous detectives! Primary story: "Night Of The Shylock", a complete-in-this-issue Sherlock Holmes/WILD WILD WEST story in which the young Holmes travels to the American West with a theatrical troupe and runs across James West and Artemus Gordon, who help him solve a blackmail case. Also: BATMAN returns in two stories, trying to find a serial killer dubbed "The Mad Hatter" in part one of a multi-part story, "The Tea Party", then racing against time to rescue Alexander Knox and Gotham City from the Joker's deadly positron plastique in the conclusion of "You Can't Keep A Good Joker Down"; Agent Cooper ponders the mysteries of a coffee vending machine prior to his arrival in TWIN PEAKS in the short-short "Tapes Withheld, #1", then teams with his twin sister Diane to find a killer with an affinity for mixed-gender twins in part one of a four-part script-story, "Yin And Yang"; a press biography of BEYOND REALITY's Carl Marotte (Dr. J.J. Stillman). Issue 65 Friday The 13th Festival! Primary stories: Ryan and Jack must save Micki from a haunted house in the conclusion of "Down At The End Of Lonely Street" and from Jason himself in the conclusion of "The Truth Behind The Mask". Also: Agent Cooper oversleeps prior to his arrival in TWIN PEAKS and describes the experience to Diane in the second "Tapes Withheld"; a movie review of JURASSIC PARK; part two of "Yin And Yang". Issue 66 Fantastic Television Festival! Our annual salute to TV begins with part one of a multi-part SPACE:1999 script-story that finds Koenig questioning the reason for their strange adventures, "The Devil's Sweets". Also: Sam Beckett leaps into a mental patient whose wife is conspiring to steal his land in the complete-in-this-issue QUANTUM LEAP story "Pardon My Insanity"; a SPACE:1999 "tech sheet" on Alpha as the "Hub Of Our Solar System: Lunar Transportation Node"; TWIN PEAKS' Agent Cooper tangles with a cantankerous stapler in the third "Tapes Withheld"; a FLASH filksong, "You Won't See Him"; FLASHBACK editor/publisher Steve Beverly reviews the Golden Age sci-fi classic series SCIENCE FICTION THEATER; part two of "Comes The Cheetah"; part three of "Yin And Yang". Issue 70 HAPPY NEW YEAR! Primary story: Sam Beckett leaps into an Air Force officer investigating U.F.O.s in the complete-in-this-issue QUANTUM LEAP story "Space Case". Also: J. Calvin Smith's one-shot STAR TREK:THE NEXT GENERATION comic "Some Days It Just Don't Pay"; book review of A TWIN PEAKS INTERPRETATION; conclusion of "Yin And Yang". Issue 72 Our version of March Madness! Primary story: The struggle against the Visitors of V goes on with a new agent to take up the battle in the complete-in-this-issue story "Death Dreams". Also: The first ever JURASSIC PARK filksong, "Meat Eater"; Sam Beckett QUANTUM LEAPs into the life of INVISIBLE MAN Dr. Dan Weston in part one of a crossover adventure called "Leap In, Fade Out"; part two of "The Almost, Absolutely, Positively Ultimate KAOS Kaper". Issue 73 TWIN PEAKS ANNIVERSARY SPECIAL! Primary story: Ben Horne's up to no good in the complete-in-this-issue story "Boys Night Out". Also: Cartoonist J. Calvin Smith turns out "A Musical Guide To TWIN PEAKS For The Very Young"; Cooper discovers the joy of temperature regulation in Federal buildings in the latest "Tapes Withheld"; conclusion of the Russ Tamblyn interview. Issue 75 GERRY ANDERSON CELEBRATION! Primary story: CAPTAIN SCARLET AND THE MYSTERONS face off over the world economy in the complete-in-this-issue story "The Gold Standard". Also: Act two of the SPACE:1999 script "The Devil's Sweets", in which the alien ship encountered at the end of act one is close enough so its gravitational forces threaten Alpha's existence; CAPTAIN SCARLET mulls over an important decision in the short-short "Moonlight Rhapsody"; reviews of Anderson productions TERRAHAWKS, STINGRAY, FIREBALL XL-5, THUNDERBIRDS, and UFO; universe guides to CAPTAIN SCARLET AND THE MYSTERONS and SPACE:1999. Issue 78 FANTASTIC TELEVISION III! Primary story: CAPTAIN SCARLET AND THE MYSTERONS collide again as Spectrum tries to protect a World Navy exhibition in a "Time Warp Tales" reprint of the out-of-print "An Exercise In Hope". Also: A bank holdup in Spokane two days before Dale and Audrey's wedding draws Dale and Diane's attention away from TWIN PEAKS in the complete-in-this-issue story "New Lives"; an ALIEN NATION filksong, "We All Live In An Alien Nation"; QUANTUM LEAP filksongs "Bringin' On The Rain" and "Quantum Blues"; reviews of THE SHADOW and the 60's Japanese kids' series ULTRA 7. Issue 81 HOLIDAY GRAB BAG! Primary story: Fandom universes converge and only the Fictional Hero Protection Alliance can sort out the damage in J. Calvin Smith's sequel to the non-media-based tale "D.V.O." entitled "F.H.P.A." Also: L. Gray explores how Harry Truman and Dennis Bryson formulated their plan to rescue Agent Cooper from Jean Renault in an episode from the second season of TWIN PEAKS in this complete-in-this-issue "missing scene" tale, "Uniformity"; learn why Ben Kenobi stopped fighting evil in the complete-in-this-issue STAR WARS story "Fading Faith"; a STAR WARS satire, "DEC Wars"; from the internet, the BABYLON 5 frequently asked questions (FAQ) list. Issue 82 HAPPY NEW YEAR! Primary story: A grieving young man needs LOIS AND CLARK's help to find his missing girlfriend who's found out something about the notorious crime syndicate InterGang in part one of a five-part script-story, "Better Late Than Never". Also: The duality of man as personified by Spectrum agent Captain Scarlet and his ex-mentor, Spectrum agent-turned-Mysteron terrorist Captain Black, is explored in part one of a new multi-part CAPTAIN SCARLET AND THE MYSTERONS story, "Pawns Of Evil"; the aftermath of SLEEPING BEAUTY's life with Prince Charming is explored in the short-short "After Love's First Kiss"; a look at a designer who designs TNG clothes from an entirely different angle; an episode guide to LOIS AND CLARK's first season; movie reviews of THE PUPPET MASTERS, STARGATE, and STAR TREK:GENERATIONS. Issue 84 STORIES OF SUPERMEN! Primary story: Award-winning author Mary J. Rudy contributes a complete-in-this-issue tale where the indestructable CAPTAIN SCARLET must protect the British Prime Minister from a "Tiny Terror" Mysteron agent. Also: A CAPTAIN SCARLET filksong, "Angel Ng"; part two of "Better Late Than Never". Issue 85 HAPPY 5TH ANNIVERSARY, TWIN PEAKS! Primary story: A being from the dream realm is causing nightmares for Audrey and Diane and to stop him, Cooper must keep an "Appointment with Morpheus". Also: J. Calvin Smith's analysis of one of TWIN PEAKS' most controversial moments, the death of Madeleine Ferguson, in "Closed Circle"; a look at the USENET newsgroup alt.tv.twin-peaks and the denizens therein. Issue 88 IT CAME FROM OUTER SPACE II! Primary story: A space trader transports a very unusual cargo in the complete-in-this-issue original tale "A Trader's Tale". Also: Mulder and Scully enjoy Christmas, each in their own way, in an X-FILES short-short, "First X-Mas"; L. Gray gives "An Objective Rebuttal To `Ways That TWIN PEAKS' Dale Cooper Is Better Than X-FILES' Fox Mulder'"; a CAPTAIN SCARLET AND THE MYSTERONS filksong, "Indestructible"; conclusion of "Reunion: The Men In Black Incident"; conclusion of "Pawns Of Evil". ****** ** POWER STAR Past Stories (Cross-Referenced By "Universe") ((*) = Still In Progress) CAPTAIN SCARLET AND THE MYSTERONS "Do Thunderbolts Strike Twice?": 36, 48 "The Gold Standard": 75 "Moonlight Rhapsody": 75 Universe Guide: 75 "An Exercise In Hope": 78 "Pawns Of Evil": 82, 88 "Tiny Terror": 84 "Angel Ng": 84 "Differences": 86 "Indestructible": 88 GET SMART "The Almost, Absolutely, Positively, Ultimate KAOS Kaper"(*): 57, 72 QUANTUM LEAP "Happy Birthday, Sam": 30 "My Brother's Keeper": 50, 51, 52 "Pardon My Insanity": 66 "Space Case": 70 "Leap In, Fade Out"(*): 72 "Bringin' On the Rain": 78 "Quantum Blues": 78 TWIN PEAKS "Beware Of A Fool's Mate": 35 "Two-Pronged Attack": 39 COOP Party Reports: 41 "Bridge Between Worlds": 42, 43 "To Dale And Diane": 42 "Two Souls": 44, 45, 46, 48, 49 "The Saga Of Dale And Diane": Yearbook TWIN PEAKS European Pilot Video Review: 50 "Voices Through The Gateway": 51, 52, 53, 54 TWIN PEAKS:FIRE WALK WITH ME Movie Review: 53 Universe Guide: 54 "So Much As A Nightmare": 57, 59 TWIN PEAKS Fiction Roundtable: 61 Russ Tamblyn Interview: 61, 73 "MEANWHILE...": 61 "Tapes Withheld": 63, 65, 66, 73, 93 "Yin And Yang": 63, 65, 66, 70 "Boys Night Out": 73 "A Musical Guide To TWIN PEAKS For The Very Young": 73 "New Lives": 78 "Uniformity": 81 "Appointment With Morpheus": 85 "Closed Circle": 85 "Welcome To alt.tv.twin-peaks": 85 "An Objective Rebuttal To `Ways That TWIN PEAKS' Dale Cooper Is Better Than X-FILES' Fox Mulder'": 88 ****** ** POWER STAR The Imagination Anthology COMING NEXT TIME: -- CAPTAIN SCARLET AND THE MYSTERONS find out "Whose Heart Is Blackest" when they encounter an insane German military officer-turned-mercinary who will do anything to stop Mysterons--even if it means destroying Spectrum in the process -- Audience participation comes to POWER STAR in act one of a new ROCKY HORROR story, "The Revenge Of Dr. Frank N. Furter" -- BATMAN faces off against a criminal dubbed "The Mad Hatter" in part three of "The Tea Party" -- Buster and Clarissa have to rescue Professor Delgado from the menace in the nursing home in the conclusion of "NightSpeak" Don't be scared--POWER STAR will be back next month! Reserve your copy today!