The tenth of July.
Paul lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what today would bring. He hated today, and for one moment he wondered idly if the Colonel would mind if he called in sick…he gave a mirthless laugh and hauled his carcass out of bed. It was earlier than usual for him but he just couldn't sleep any longer.
He glanced at the time, deciding whether he had enough time for a full breakfast with everyone or just a light one in his rooms before he decided he was hungry. Wondering who would be up at this time Paul walked the short distance to the mess hall.
The first person he saw was no surprise. Brad was a very early riser curtesy of his WASP days, and the man's slightly damp hair showed evidence that his morning exercises had been completed. Brad raised his mug in greeting and Paul nodded on his way past to grab food. It wouldn't be long before the other captains and angels joined them.
Trying hard not to think too much on the fact that Holden was the first person he saw, Paul picked a full breakfast and a mug of hot water he could slip a teabag into and joined his fellow Colour Captain. There was no talking as the two munched, but the silence was companionable rather than awkward.
Eventually other captains joined them and chatter began, and Paul begun to relax. As the food was consumed and talk petered out the captains left for their days, whether that was to get ready for duty or for other activities, and Paul returned to his rooms to don his alter ego.
Captain Scarlet was just straightening his cap when a call came over the base comm for him, his epaulettes flashing white.
'Captain Scarlet, please report to control. Captain Scarlet to control room.'
He frowned at the Colonel's summons. He was due to report in ten minutes anyway, so to be summoned meant something must have happened that was urgent. Activating his radio-cap, Scarlet murmured a quick update and an SIG and quick marched to the control room, nodding to Blue and Grey who were already there.
'Gentlemen, we have something of an anomaly on our hands. We have received a coded message that something is going to happen but we are not sure what or where. The message is simply "Seven Ten". That's all. There is some background noise that Lieutenant Green is trying to refine that noise to see if we can pinpoint anything to help, but so far all it sounds like is a party on some kind of plane.'
'A party?'
'Yes, Captain Scarlet. Lieutenant Green, would you be so kind as to play the sound.'
The three Captains listened closely to the noise, and it did indeed sound like a party on an aircraft of some description. A tell-tale "pop" of a champagne cork had Scarlet blinking, but the unmistakeable rumble of a familiar engine had them all frowning.
'Is that…?'
'Can't be!'
'That can't be right…!'
They looked at each other before turning back to Colonel White.
'You see our problem, Gentlemen. This is not the only issue we have. Lieutenant, play the other two transmissions please.'
'SIG, Colonel.'
The unmistakeable voice of Captain Grey sounded in the room, and everyone turned to him. Grey looked just as shocked as the rest of them.
'Reference 10, Oblique 4, July 10th. Dear sir, the shipment of steel received last week at my Peterville works…'
'And this is the next one. We do not know who is speaking:'
'I'll give you a written order timed at 9:17, July 10th.'
More looks were shared. Colonel White gave it a moment to see if anyone would say anything. It was Captain Grey who spoke first.
'It must be a trick of some sort, Colonel. I don't own any steelworks!'
His words were a trigger for everyone to begin talking at once. The hubbub became louder and louder until Scarlet was holding his head and wincing.
A knock and Paul shot up in bed.
That was some nightmare!
He blinked several times, giving himself room to gather his wits before the knock sounded again. Paul gave himself a shake as he strode to the door, answering via the comm.
'Hello, who is it?'
'It's two minutes to zero.'
'Well, this is one little gathering we mustn't be late for.'
Adam and Rick were gathered outside his door, and from the sounds of it they were not the only ones, even if there was a group effort for some semblance of quiet.
With a start Paul remembered what today was. It was the 10th of July, and he'd arranged a private get-together to commemorate Spectrum's first anniversary.
His thoughts returned to the weird dream he'd had. What was that – a warning? A foreboding?
A shiver ran down his spine.
Hitting the comm, Paul came to a decision.
'I'm sorry, lads. Not today. I think I'm coming down with a cold. I'm going back to bed.'
With that, Paul turned off his comms, fired a quick message to the Colonel and returned to bed, pulling the covers up tightly.
'The tenth of July can go jump.'