As Avon lay dying in the tracking gallery, he was vaguely aware of the Federation troops moving around him, checking the bodies for signs of life.
Vila, Tarrant, Dayna, and Soolin; all dead. And Blake.
He knew Blake was dead; he had shot him three times. He could feel the lifelessness of the body which lay beneath him.
So much blood. The blood stirred up a memory.
"You can stir up a thousand revolutions, you can wade in blood up to your armpits. Oh, and you can lead the rabble to victory, whatever that might mean. Just so long as there is an end to it."
That had been one of the last things he had said to Blake before Blake had gone down to Star One.
Ironic that it is ending in blood thought Avon. He never thought that he would be the one up to his armpits in blood, Blake's blood; which he had spilled.
I was a fool, Avon thought. We both were.
Strange, I don't feel the pain anymore, thought Avon. He knew he did not have much longer to live. Avon felt oddly at peace. He had been tired of it all for a long time; the struggles for survival. Everything had always seemed to be a matter of life and death.
I can finally let go. It can finally end.
"Commissioner Sleer, this one is still alive," said one of the soldiers as they rolled him off Blake's body.
Servalan!
Avon could still feel the stock of th gun he had dropped when he fell.
Careless of them.
For a man who was nearly dead, he was still quick. He pointed the barrel of the rifle directly at Servalan and fired. There was a smile on his lips and no madness in his eyes.
The Federation soldiers may have been careless, but they were not stupid. The moment they saw Avon lifting the rifle, theirs were also up and firing.
The sounds of weapons discharges echoed in the tracking gallery again. For Avon it was no longer a matter of life and death anymore. Only death. And finally peace.