Silver Bird
The Avengers enter the man-in-space age
by Caroline Miniscule
Chapter One: The Pawn
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I - Present Day Click. Click. Click. Frederick Smith's footfalls echoed all the way down the hallway and as usual this annoyed him very much. Why couldn't they put carpeting down? It was a useless security feature - anyone who wanted to sneak around unheard simply had to remove their shoes. The way the department was run no one would even bat an eye if they saw someone walking around in stocking feet. But the silence would be blessed. Frederick paused in front of Drummond's door and took a deep breath. He glanced down at the piece of paper in his hand and shook his head. Then he turned the knob and went in. Drummond's secretary looked up from her desk in surprise. "Mr. Drummond wasn't expecting you for another half hour, at least." Frederick nodded. "I daresay. But I've got an answer for him now." Mrs. Pendleton nodded. "Very well." She spoke into her intercom. "Mr. Drummond? Mr. Smith is here." "Send him in." Morris Drummond was a man of average height, slender but muscular with it, with the well-tanned face of one who spent a great deal of time outdoors. His dark blond hair was cut short and came down to a widow's peak on his forehead, his eyes were an electric blue, his mouth wide and with the mobility of an actor. He did not rise from his desk but gestured Frederick to a chair. "Well?" "She's been killed three times already, and she's not even halfway through the course." Drummond sat back, a flash of disappointment in his eyes. "Oh, dear." Frederick nodded. "It's as I suspected, sir. She's got the skills, but she doesn't have the instinct." "I've always thought instinct was highly overrated as a quality," Drummond said somewhat coldly. Frederick shrugged, and handed Drummond the sheet of paper he carried. "The result says differently, surely. She's a marksman on the pistol range - with stationary, paper targets. She goes over the usual obstacle course in quite a respectable time, but when we try to have her put it all together on the Target course...well, she died three times. To me that means her instinct isn't there." "It can be taught." Frederick raised an eyebrow. "She has been taught. Thirty days training. Result, dead three times." Drummond glanced over the sheet of paper Frederick had handed him. Frederick leaned forward intently. "Please consider, sir. This girl has the highest qualifications of an agent that we've had in some time. She's got an IQ off the charts. Her administration skills are top-hole. Language, mathematics, engineering...she's got everything. She belongs at Space HQ, sorting out the reports and making sure the boffins are doing their job properly. Why try to turn a first-rate administrator into a mediocre field agent?" Morris Drummond steepled his fingers. "You say she hasn't finished the course?"
Frederick sighed. "No. But she's already failed, surely. Dead three times in ten minutes. That's a record." "Oh, surely not." Frederick nodded. "Over the whole course, it's dead five times. That record's stood up for a long time...it's held by..." he cast his mind back, "someone named Tara King, way back in the late sixties."
"Tara King...that name sounds familiar." "She belonged to Department Special, I believe. Turned into quite a good agent in the end." "Aha," said Drummond. "You see?" "Oh, but that was a special case, sir. She was partnered with Steed." Drummond sat back, deflated. "Steed. Yes...John Steed. We will never see his like again." Frederick sat silently for a few seconds, then stood up. "I'll go collect Ms. Miniscule then, shall I? Send her back to her regular training?" Drummond shook his head. "We'll let her finish the course. Ms. King deserves a chance to have her name expunged from the record books. Once she’s done you can send her back." Frederick Smith's eyes narrowed as he looked at his superior. It was what he had wanted, but it was not what he had expected. However, he merely said, "Yes, sir."
II Caroline Miniscule lay in a little depression in the ground, fighting to regain her calm. She was not amused. Her chest hurt - no one had told her getting hit by paint pellets would actually hurt, and the paint was soaking through her heavy canvas coverall and she could feel it against her skin and it was jolly uncomfortable. And it wasn't fair. Running around, with mannequins popping up whenever they felt like it and shooting you. She hadn’t signed on for this. She was supposed to be someone that field agents protected, not a field agent herself. Caroline looked down at herself ruefully. She couldn’t even protect herself, let alone someone else. Well, lying down here felt good, but it was buttering no parsnips. What had she better do? What if she waited around til dark? Surely the program would shut down after hours. Then she could just walk out. But no....they probably did night training here as well and the infrared beams would never be turned off. They’d laugh at her...she knew they would...all the trainers and people at Space HQ where she should be right now....“couldn’t hack it, eh, Ms. Miniscule?” they’d say to her, as if she’d asked for this ridiculous assignment herself. And what right had they to laugh at her anyway? Balding, overweight men, stout women in support hose, she’d like to see them try to do this course! Caroline sighed and dashed hot tears of anger out of her eyes. She was no better than overweight men and stout women in support hose. It was a sad thought. Well, she was dead three times. She’d already failed the course. She’d lost. “I don’t like to lose,” she thought....and, then, all of a sudden slipping sideways through her mind...”The Koboyashi Maru.” Many, many years ago, she’d watched the American television program Star Trek. She’d fallen in love with Captain James T. Kirk, of course, but with the thought of space as well, and it was that love that had sent her on her educational path to become an astronaut or at least ensure that manned spacecraft would one day seek out the stars. And Captain James T. Kirk didn’t like to lose, and he was the only one who had beaten the Koboyashi Maru training module. He’d cheated to do it, of course, but he’d still won. Well, she’d apply the same principle here. Use a bit of intelligence, not to mention common sense. If she were a field agent and she knew that a series of streets was simply crawling with enemy agents, she simply wouldn’t go there! What could be easier than that? Well...she wouldn’t make a frontal assault on the street, anyway. All these mannequins...triggered by infrared beams....there must be some way to turn off those beams...turn off the power supply in the whole bloody place! Caroline very slowly rolled over, grunted with pain and extracted her pistol from beneath her body, then very carefully raised her head and assessed the street scene that confronted her. She looked not at the buildings, or the cars, but lower to the ground...looking for any boxes which might hold power cables. Was that....over there....yes, it was!
III
“Well, Ms. Miniscule, please sit down.” Caroline Miniscule stood staring at Mr. Morris Drummond for a couple of seconds longer, before she mentally kicked herself into action and took the seat he held out for her. She’d succeeded in shorting out the power on the course, had walked through the now safe streets and crossed the finish line, and the course instructor had been laughing and chuckling. “I need to make a phone call,” he told her. “Go take a shower then meet me back here.” But when she’d returned it wasn’t Mr. Garvin waiting for her but a Mr. Frederick Smith, and he’d looked very severe, and she was sure that not only was she going to be flunked out of agent training but out of Space HQ as well, but then he’d brought her to Morris Drummond’s office. Surely if they were going to sack her they wouldn’t have someone like Mr. Drummond do it! “Ms. Miniscule, I must congratulate you. The ingenuity you displayed was worthy of ....well, I won’t say who at the present time.” “Um...yes, sir.” Drummond smiled. “Sorry to be cryptic, Ms. Miniscule. Well, you’ve passed the course.” “I passed?” Caroline interrupted him, shocked. "Well...you passed my course, Ms. Miniscule, and that's all that matters." Caroline took a deep breath. "Mr. Drummond, with all due respect, I am not going to be a field agent. I belong to Space HQ." "Certainly, Ms. Miniscule, certainly. And you are going back to Space HQ as soon as you finish the assignment I have for you." "Oh, yes?" "Very simple. I want you to go to...." he pushed a piece of paper across his desk to her..."this address, and interview the woman that you'll find there. Her name is Mrs. Catherine Gale."
"Oh, yes?" It was all Caroline could think of to say. "She was an agent, many years ago. For Department S. You won't have heard of it. Retired now, of course. Been retired for a long time. But when she was in the business there was no one better. A lot of her more esoteric skills have been lost now, by our younger agents. I want you to assist her in writing some training procedures." "But..but...anyone could do that, Mr. Drummond!" Drummond smiled. "I don't think so. Mrs. Gale doesn't do things she doesn't want to do. Some persuading might have to be done. I think you are uniquely qualified for the job." Caroline grit her teeth. Why were they playing games with her? Catherine Gale? Been retired a long time? What could she possibly teach anyone now? And especially herself, who was going in to Space HQ? Well, that was HMG for you. "All right, Mr. Drummond. When do I leave?" "My secretary will give you the details. A cover story, funds, transport, that sort of thing. You'll have a day to get sorted out, then off you'll go." "Yes, sir." Drummond and she rose together, and Drummond shook her hand. "Good luck, Ms. Miniscule." Caroline, having no instincts, no premonition of approaching danger, did not realize that she would need all the luck in the world.
IV Frederick Smith lit a cigarette and took a long drag. Something was up. Caroline Miniscule was supposed to have been sent back to Space HQ. Instead she was being sent up to the north of England to chat with some old biddy about long past people and assignments from 40 years ago - before man had even walked on the moon. Before computers had been reduced from the size of a small room to the size of a small cigarette carton. Frederick took another drag and blew out a perfectly formed smoke ring. Drummond was up to something. And Caroline Miniscule was a valuable cog in Space HQ and would be a valuable cog to other people as well. Caroline Miniscule should not be out on her own, with only an old biddy for company. Frederick nodded to himself. Miniscule would need watching. He'd see to it. |
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