For Alistair, it had been no traditional Christmas morning. In lieu of gift swapping and festivity, nervousness knotted his stomach whilst he killed time. Dressed and ready, he tried to put his mind at ease as he read one of Flash's Sly-Fi novels. The Tommies had cleared out, already infiltrating their positions and other than Capt Baker, who had set about heaving another cache of ammo on his bristling shoulders, there was no other noise. The sky-pilot noticed Alistair, set the cache down and sat beside the boy on his bed.

"Scared?" he probed. Alistair nodded, his young face so unsure. Capt Baker reassuringly patted the boy on the shoulder.

"It's enough you're growing up in such a hurry. But you've got to believe, it will be alright in the end. We'll get Archie back and we'll be on our way."

"I hope so," Alistair swallowed.

"If you're all packed, you can take your mind of things by making sure Julian get's himself ready in time. Do you think you can keep an eye on him for me?" Capt Baker requested; Alistair agreed. Meeting up with Chelsea, she tagged along with Alistair has they proceeded to Julian's quarters. They could hear grunting and groaning and cursing and Alistair knocked on the slightly ajar door.

"Help me with this?" Julian implored.

Julian was sat in a club chair, struggling with his boots; he wore his battle-pants but his torso was unclothed. Decorated with tattoos, the most obvious being the '000' within a barcode inked on the nape of his neck and the pink triangles emblazoned on each rounded contour of his shoulder. A playful scroll twirled around his belly button and read 'we let the weirdness in'; his abdomen was stained with the words Cark Diem; and stamped across his chest in gill sans bold extra condensed was Silence = Death. Julian spotted Alistair gawking.

"You got ink?" Alistair shook his head no.

"And before you ask," Julian added, pointing to a 'Q' branded into the front of his left breast, just above the heart. "That stands for 'quality'. Now...be a pet and help with these!" Holding up his boots, both children knelt, taking a boot each and toiled to fit them over his calves. With some elbow grease, choice words and cajoling, the boots finally were on.

"Damn those cankles," Chelsea puffed.

"Damn you to hell," Julian fired, offended. He stood and zipped up the boots to his knees, then tested the fit with a couple of steps; the sole and heel were thick and nasty. In better light, Alistair saw faded scars hatched across Julian's back and waist, the skin was marred by patches of bubbled, long ago burnt flesh, kept company by three bullet scars up his right side.

"Beauty marks," Julian admitted, holding out a stretch mesh singlet. "Now flex this out and I'll slip my way in to it."

"Have you put on weight?" Chelsea asked and Julian ran his hands down the side of his lithe torso to his hips.

"You cheeky minx," Julian scoffed. Alistair and Chelsea stretched the singlet and Julian's head squirmed through the ring of the collar. Julian wriggled his arms through the sleeve holes and rolled the singlet down his stomach.

"Ta-DAH!!! Hot, hot, hot or what?" Julian asked conceitedly, perking up. Tugging on his thicker battle-top, Julian peeled back the doors to his giant gilt edged, walk in wardrobe where a personal arsenal awaited him.

Julian judiciously selected his weapons: he holstered a pair of pistolettes in his knee-high boots before throwing a harness over his shoulders and loaded it with another pair of pistols and replacement clips. A glinting gypsy dagger was slid in to his belt buckle. An assortment of darts, razor sharp silver plectrums, pointy throwing stars and polished ball bearings were tucked into easily accessible compartments in his suit.

Stepping deeper in to the wardrobe, he threw another switch, and bowed before a razor-sharp Samurai sword. With both hands, he reverently picked up the sword from its housing and ceremoniously raised the blade above his head and slowly hid it away in a concealed scabbard sewn in the back seam of his battle-top. Grabbing his long battle jacket, he flung it over his shoulders and observed himself in a full-length mirror, admiring his physique and style. To top it off, he reached in to the armoury and retrieved a killer scythe mounted on a long-staff. He twirled the long-staff around – it hummed in the air – and lunging forward, swished the curved blade under the noses of both Alistair and Chelsea.

"Have you not heard of the single gun theory?" Chelsea queried, gazing in to Julian's fully loaded locker.

"Rather fortuitous that I'm not in the employ of Her Maj, or there's no way I'd get to use these toys," Julian said smugly. He tossed Alistair a packet of sparkler orbs. "Look after these please."

Finally, Julian stood fully armed, tossing his hair side to side on his shoulders, looking all mad, bad and dangerous to know.

"Is this Princess ready for the ball?" Chelsea yawned, checking her watch.

"Of course not," Julian snorted contemptuously, as he waved a compact in their faces. "I still have to do my make-up."

**********************

"I'm scared," Julian confessed, breaking the ice as they all stood in a loose circle. While Alistair, Chelsea, Delilah, Capt Baker and Elvis digested his admission, Julian brushed stray glitter from his cheeks and pursed his lips.

"Actually, I'm terrified," Chelsea confided and Alistair felt for her hand and squeezed it gently for reassurance. Loath to admit it, they all knew Julian was right; they were all scared. Balderick crowed and the sky-pilot agreed.

"Put fear back in its box," Capt Baker blustered.

"Easy for you to say," Chelsea trembled.

"Fear is something positive," Capt Baker reassured, twitching his shoulders. "Feeling scared but challenging yourself to overcome those fears is what being fearless really is. Keep your mind clear, your wits sharp and your reactions swift and everything will be just peachy."

Capt Baker fished a tube from his pocket and snapped open the lid.

"These are my lucky loonies," Capt Baker divulged and Elvis cracked up with laughter.

"Since when 'ave you needed good luck charms?" Elvis cackled as Capt Baker emptied the tube of coins in to his open palm.

"In Canada, we all carry a Lucky Looney," Capt Baker said jangling the coins in his hand. "It supposed to ward off bad omens, evil spirits and uncomfortable thoughts. It never hurts to invest heavily in this sort of thing."

"I want you all to take one," Capt Baker added. "We need all the good luck we can get. So take a Looney and keep it safe."

Elvis accepted a coin, then Chelsea, Alistair and Julian. Elvis flipped the Looney through his knuckles in a trick move while Julian admired his reflection in the coin's polished obverse.

"You too," Capt Baker ordered Delilah who reluctantly took a dollar coin, not believing their human frailty was to be aided by a piece of minted alloy.

Capt Baker tucked the spare coins in his pocket.

"Can I have an extra Looney?" Elvis enquired.

"I thought you weren't the superstitious one," Capt Baker replied.

"I wasn't until you brought it up. Can't hurt, yeah? Anyway, how long has this quackery been going on for, yeah? It's like I never knew you at all."

Capt Baker slapped a second coin in Elvis' waiting palm.

"May I have another one also?" Julian asked friskily.  "Let's face it my dear, we're never going to survive unless we get a little bit crazy."

"Oh for goodness sake," Capt Baker said as he exasperatedly flicked a second coin at Julian. Catching it, Julian held the two coins to his earlobes.

"I can accessorise now. Do you think they make fetching ear rings?" Julian said modelling his new look jewellery. Everyone laughed and even Capt Baker had to grin.

"Me too," Elvis joked, popping both coins over his eyes and squinting to keep them in place.

"Does this make us loon-a-tics?" Alistair punned to a round of groans.

"I want them back when we're done," Capt Baker warned as he checked his watch. "Now, I make that 4pm. Everything packed?" They all nodded.

"You've set the lockdown?" Capt Baker enquired of Julian.

"Yes. Not that we'll be coming back here in the foreseeable future," Julian lamented, realising the base and his home were being left for dead. Once they switched off the air-pumps, his underground cavern would fill with tidal water, seeping in through every nook and cranny. Only the armoury and library would remain pressurised and survive unscathed, as long as no Futurists interfered with the locks before they ever got back."

"What about all your stuff?" Chelsea asked Julian.

"Mere piffle," Julian reconciled. "I can start anew, my dear, on a vainglorious shopping spree."

"Liar.  Most of it's crammed in to the cargo hold.  Now...Why do I feel like we've forgotten something?" Capt Baker then asked, rolling up his sleeve and scratching at some fresh eczema as they piled in to the airlock.

They all looked at each other and shrugged.

"We haven't forgotten anything," Elvis advised. "We're ship shape."

"I'm sure you're right," Capt Baker agreed. "From here on in, it's serious, poker faces and minds on the job."

"There will be no mistakes," Delilah ordered coldly.

"For all our sakes, I hope you're right," he replied. Without being able to put his finger on it, a nagging thought still lingered in Capt Baker's mind. "I still feel we're forgetting something."

Out of the blue, Rocket stuck his head in to the airlock.

"Hey, where did everyone go?"

"See...I told you we'd forgotten something," Capt Baker said smugly, flicking a lucky Looney in Rocket's direction.

"Better late than never," Julian grinned, dragging the soldier in to the airlock. Capt Baker was now ready and he sealed the door, clapping his hands together.

"Let's dance!"