Naturally, rumours ran rampant with scenarios of every description. Few remained alive to reflect upon how current events aligned with measures that had been required during the Blitz during the Second World War. The few informed members of the yellow press, like Crenshaw, were hobbled by a draconian gag order. An obscure Oxford palaeontologist had disappeared and was said to have been arrested for his violation of the Official Secrets Act.
Despite the bustling military activity, the social life along Picklock Lane was thriving. The Prime Minister, for example, was hosting a formal masked ball at his estate on Midsummer’s Eve in honour of an obscure young officer, one Colonel Sogguth, who had volunteered to lead a small group of elite space commandos on an unspecified secret mission. Details about the officer and his unit’s mission were sketchy, but the scope of the masked entertainment suggested something extraordinary.
Straight and Crenshaw were speculating about the masked ball at the Cracked Bell pub when Sheriff Fatty Millstone slapped his hand down on his table and said in his stentorian voice, ‘Stop talking nonsense and have another pint—everyone!’ He turned to Olive and said, ‘Top off all pints, My Dear!’ The assemblage uttered a collective roar of approval and changed the course of their discussions to the pleasantries of Midsummer, including the guest list for the PM’s ball.
Straight said, ‘Blimey! I cannot remember a formal ball with such a distinguished guest list.’
Crenshaw doubled down with, ‘All the dressmakers in the city are bustling, but the mask makers have never worked so hard to fashion disguises. My cartoonist has already made sketches of the designs. My tabloid will publish a key so our readership can guess who is who for a grand prize—in cash to be awarded to a charity. Sheriff, will you and your wife be attending the ball?’
Fatty sipped his pint and nodded his head vigorously in the affirmative. ‘I would not miss it. I only hope the happy event is not the signal for a general mobilization.’
Straight gazed at his pint and muttered, ‘It has happened before. The military brass has assembled for a night of partying, only to be informed they have been ordered to deploy overseas.’
Olive poured bitter into the sheriff’s glass. ‘I dearly hope that won’t be the case this time as I shall be wearing my new full-length gown, and my male friend will be sporting his dashing marine dress uniform.’
Millstone told the young waitress, ‘Best not to dwell upon imponderables. Look forward to the best possibility and be all smiles for your gentleman. Nothing in the news suggests that trouble is brewing. Still, anything can happen. Our government wants to assure that we are ready in case of any emergency. Isn’t that so, Mr Crenshaw?’
The newshound raised his head to collect his thoughts for an answer. He had been plagued by blue devils since he had been required to sign the Official Secrets Act. Now he had to suppress any knowledge of an alien scouting mission in East Timor. So he smiled weakly and said, ‘Whatever you say, Sheriff!’
Meanwhile in the command centre at the tenement, Col. Sogguth was briefing his assembled team on their mission—to interdict a raiding party from the Universe Council. ‘Gentlemen, I have never known the Council to abandon a reconnaissance plan for any reason. In the wake of a failed mission, a second, similar group will be dispatched, and if that should also fail, a third and so forth.’
‘Colonel, what will be our course of action? Will we be on a search and destroy mission? Or is our task to take the second group as prisoners for interrogation?’
Sogguth smiled at the sagacity of his second-in-command. ‘We must remain flexible. Our intention will be to force down the invading vehicle and entertain the crew of the spacecraft before escorting them back to the Council. You see, their incursion into Earth’s atmosphere is only the first phase of their plan. We know what comprises the second phase and the third, but they don’t know that. Hostilities are not advisable unless we are attacked.’
‘How sure are we that the aliens will attack on Midsummer’s Eve in the same location as before?’
‘My assurance is seventy-four percent on that matter. That is why we are going to commandeer the redistribution spacecraft tonight and interdict its second mission on the appointed night. We can only pray that the weather is kinder then than it was for their first mission.’
‘Colonel, supposing our intention of escorting the aliens to their starting point is achieved, what happens next?’
‘Major, we have nothing to hide. We will want to make the truth known to the Council, whose guilty knowledge about the scouting mission will not be known by all of them. Since we shall all be subject to implemented interrogation, we must not dissemble. Our smallest attempt at falsehood will be detected and punished severely.’
‘What makes you think we will be treated fairly?’
‘In matters of polity, there are no guarantees, but I have aunts in both factions. They will arbitrate fairness for us. I am certain of that. If anyone on our team is reluctant to proceed on account of the risks, he or she can bow out now with no prejudice for having done so. Does anyone want to remain on Earth rather than perform this mission? No? Good. Let’s get on with our detailed planning. Again, you are all indoctrinated in the caveat Indonesian Holiday. You will be expected to handle all intelligence in the caveat according to the normal rules.’
Colonel Sogguth and his team were ready to launch two days later. A double for the colonel had been prepared to escort his fiancée to the masked ball. Besides Sogguth’s team and the other members of the Indonesian Holiday caveat, none of the other guests at the ball knew anything about the secret mission that would be playing out on the opposite side of the world on Midsummer’s Eve.
Part of the preparations for the team’s departure was shipping the remains of the former mission aboard the redistribution spacecraft. The bodily remains and artifacts were handled with respect as they filled the compartments of the spacecraft to their capacity. Besides Sogguth’s team, eight spaces for the Council’s second team had been prepared.
Just off Picklock Lane at the Prime Minister’s estate, the masked ball was taking place as planned. Men and women in their military uniforms mingled with men in white-tie formal wear and women in splendid summer gowns. Sheriff Fatty Millstone appeared in the uniform of a major general of the space command with a mask shaped like the full moon. His wife Dr Sarah Millstone appeared in a pink chiffon gown with the mask of Titania, Queen of Fairies, and a tiara set with sparkling diamonds. The newspapers were on hand to record the arrivals and departures in words and images.
The amanuenses of the PM fielded questions from the press while fending off suggestions about general mobilizations and secret missions. Inside the grand house, everything that made a masked ball complete was provided. Liveried servants catered to every guest’s needs. Unobtrusively, Fatty’s clones provided security services, deftly removing potential troublemakers and assuring alcohol did not upset an otherwise pleasant evening.
The orchestra played favourite waltzes throughout the night, leading with the Blue Danube Waltz, by Johann Strauss II. They included lesser-known waltzes by Prokofiev and Schubert. Champagne was flowing, and delicacies were available at tables stationed well off the dance floor.
The guest of honour, ‘Colonel Sogguth,’ was prominent though few approached him with congratulations for whatever he was supposed to have done to merit a ball of such scope and honour. The colonel and his fiancée were like a regal pair, aloof as much from each other as from the crowd.
Sir Douglas Hudibras, dressed as the sun, was accompanied by his wife, the Lady Lucille, dressed as the moon. Half-way through the evening, they spoke in behalf of their honoured guest, but in no way suggesting Colonel Sogguth was absent on a special mission.
Coincidentally, the colonel and his team were forcing the spacecraft of the second Council mission to the ground in East Timor. The aliens protested but complied with Sogguth’s directions as the mission leader was Omsgard, the colonel’s cousin. The resulting discussions between Sogguth and Omsgard resulted in the bloodless transition of the second mission team to the redistribution spacecraft. While Omsgard and his team settled into the spacecraft, Sogguth drafted a letter to the Prime Minister to report the accomplishment of his mission. He sent his coded message to the command centre at the tenement just before his spacecraft departed Earth’s atmosphere en route to the Universe Council.
Millstone’s clone watch standers decoded Sogguth’s message, committed it to memory and sped its verbal delivery in private to the Prime Minister, who had been primed to receive it. Beaming with pride, Sir Douglas made the rounds to inform each cleared person about the success of Sogguth’s mission.
The denouement of the masked ball was a series of fast waltzes that taxed the skills of the most experienced dancers in attendance. The best of all the dancers present were Colonel Sogguth and his fiancée and Sheriff and Mrs Millstone. The Prime Minister presented ivy crowns to these four dancers as tokens of his esteem.
The finale was a second rendition of the Blue Danube, followed by rhytons or riding cups to wish the attendees well as they departed for their homes. At the door stood the host and hostess of the ball to shake each person’s hand in farewell. The winks and nods passed between the PM and the Minister of Defence were not noticed as anything special by the others except for Mr Crenshaw, but he was looking from the outside in dim lighting and could not interpret the secret signs of the high and mighty. The sheriff saw the newshound’s expression and stepped forward to give the man a rhyton, which he accepted with gratitude.
‘Sheriff, perhaps one day off the record, you will tell me what the secret signs passed between the PM and the Minister of Defence meant tonight.’
‘I think they meant exactly what they seemed to mean. Everyone had a jolly good time, especially because no general mobilization was called in media res.’
‘May I quote you on that, Sheriff?’
‘Yes, you may! But be sure to quote me accurately with none of your usual embellishments. As for anything else you may have missed during the ball, you need not worry. Fortunately, there were no scandals, and I can’t think of a single waltz in the repertory that was not played at least once during the night.’
‘Did I detect a somewhat cold reaction of Colonel Sogguth and his fiancée tonight?’
‘It stands to reason as he was the guest of honour. How else did you expect the young lady to act?’
‘Here comes your wife, Sheriff.’
‘Then the party must surely be over. If you will pardon me, Mr Crenshaw, I must escort my wife to our home.’
Sarah nodded to Crenshaw, who wandered off to gather bits of gossip for his tabloid. She took her husband’s arm and snuggled close to him.
‘What was the great news you received during the last moments of the dancing?’
‘Sogguth was entirely successful in his mission.’
‘That sounds like cause for celebration!’
‘It certainly is, Sarah. We’ll meet the Prbzts in the hot tub and discuss the implications over a bottle of champagne.’
The clones kept a close though discreet watch over the Millstones as they strolled to the tenement. They joined their household in the hot tub for late night revelry.
The sheriff raised his glass to toast Colonel Sogguth wherever he happened to be. Everyone drank to the colonel though few had any idea why that was appropriate.
The next morning the newshounds were busy filling out the forms Crenshaw’s tabloid had printed. Fatty observed that the masked dancers impersonating Sogguth and his fiancée were correctly identified. That was gratifying to the sheriff, who had designed the grand deception. To the yellow press complaints about not being invited to the masked ball, the sheriff made a point of raising their objections for a second masked ball, if any such should be contemplated in the future.
