Author's note. These stories were written before I had got a serious grasp of the complexities of the character of Ed Straker. Please forgive me. Archived here after reconsideration. All stories/art work etc available on my website: Lightcudder's World

Validation Process

Paul Foster had only arrived back at his flat two hours ago, after a long arduous stint in control of Moonbase. He was still jet-lagged, or to be more precise he thought, lunar-shuttle-lagged. He knew that he had to face Straker first thing in the morning to explain how, last month, two UFOs had managed to evade the Moonbase tracker systems, not to mention SID.

Fortunately, Sky 4 had destroyed one of the UFOs, but the other one, coming in piggy-back on the static trail of the first, had caused huge disruption in SHADO with its Gamma Ray weapon that was targeted at the SHADO C-in-C. He had been fortunate that Straker, once recovered from the effects of the GRB, had not demanded his instant return to SHADO HQ, but had insisted that Paul remain where he was to 'get a better understanding of the role of Moonbase Command.' In other words – stay put and learn to do the job properly.

Foster was not looking forward to the meeting the following day. The SHADO leader was someone who expected all his subordinates to be as perfect as he himself was, and Paul was convinced that Commander Ed Straker was undoubtedly lying awake right at that very minute, planning some appropriate punishment for Foster.

Damn it all, hadn't they done enough to him recently? There had been the interminably long stint in the Falklands, where the only other senior members of staff had been the competent, delightful, and extremely attractive Communications officer and her equally competent and possessive husband, the base leader. There had of course been several thousand penguins as well.

The South Atlantic job was followed by his sudden and unexpected posting to Moonbase.

He had not been home for over three months and his flat was cold, unaired, and unwelcoming. It wasn't as if he had any company either. Most of the girls he had dated in the past had ended their relationship because of his habit of leaving them waiting in restaurants, or abandoning them in cinemas, or simply not being available for weeks at a time. SHADO always came first, but he was beginning to resent the constant intrusion into his private life.

He laughed ironically. What private life? They monitored everything he said and did. It was almost as if they couldn't trust him. And in a way, he couldn't blame them. The recent incident on Moonbase had made even Paul himself doubt his own abilities.

Perhaps Straker was, even now, planning to remove him from the command structure. It would be a dreadful wrench, but the alternative of total amnesia, or even a bullet through the brain, was even worse. Foster decided that he would deal with whatever Straker threw at him, and would persevere.

SHADO was too important now in Paul's life. He needed to be a part of it, to be up there with the rest of them, with Freeman and Ginny and Lew Waterman, yes, and even with the iceman himself, Straker, helping to make a difference.

He poured himself a gin and tonic, preferring bourbon on ice, but he had finished his last bottle, all his bottles in fact, apart from the dregs of a bottle of gin, in that party he had held just before heading to the South Atlantic. He had only found the gin after a scrabble at the back of the cupboard in his search for some, in fact any, alcoholic drink to welcome him home. The tonic was nearly flat. There had been no opportunity to restock either the kitchen or the bar.

There was a loud knock at the door. Ah. Pizza. That was quick. Paul fumbled for his wallet among the detritus of old papers and letters on the table. The knock sounded again. Urgently.

'All right I'm coming,' he yelled, his fingers finally grabbing the wallet. He opened the door. Not a sullen young pizza delivery boy with scooter behind him; instead, heavily armed SHADO security officers with a waiting 4WD transport vehicle, complete with sirens and flashing lights.

'Come with us, sir,' he was ordered as his arm was grabbed, and he was almost forcibly escorted to the waiting vehicle.

'What the hell….'

He was interrupted by the leader of the armed group.

'There has been a major incident at SHADO HQ. You are needed there immediately. Fasten your seatbelt. Please.' The curt instructions were spoken in almost a monotone. Nothing else was said.

Foster, stunned at the suddenness of events, strapped himself in as the vehicle sped away. He looked back over his shoulder to see two outriders catching up with the vehicle.

The journey to SHADO HQ took less than ten minutes. The convoy, sirens blaring and lights proclaiming their inalienable right of way over all other vehicles, including police, fire engines and ambulances, broke all speed restrictions as it raced along the road.

Foster, despite the seat belt, had to cling to the door handle as he was flung around by the excessive speed.

There was no conversation. No one looked at him or made any attempt to look at him. The escort, sitting next to him, concentrated on watching the other vehicles on the road as if anticipating an attack from another car.

Foster began to panic. What had happened at HQ? Were the aliens attacking in force? He knew that Straker was expecting a major assault from the enemy any day soon; they had been exceptionally quiet in the last weeks and this usually foreshadowed an all-out offensive. But in that case Ed would have simply called him and told him to get his butt down to HQ immediately. No, it couldn't be the aliens.

They drove recklessly into the entrance to the studios, then round the back to the cargo access lift. Why not the usual executives' lift, or even the staff entrance hidden in Sound Stage 4?

With a squeal of brakes and a plume of gravel, the convoy halted.

Foster waited.

'This way, sir.' The escort was respectful, but Foster knew that they would have been as polite to anyone; their manner was not deferential, simply a matter of training. The only person in SHADO that they actually respected was Straker; and as far as they were concerned, the rest of the SHADO operatives were simply his minions, to be treated with outward respect, but in reality to be discounted as unimportant.

Colonel Foster unstrapped and slid out of the rear seat. Once more his arm was grabbed firmly, and he was hurried, or rather rushed, through the empty storage section to the concealed cargo lift.