This work of fan-fiction is based around the events of "Rumours of Death" by Chris Boucher, and inspired by the fanfic "Five Days" by Shaset. I do not propose to own any of the characters from Blake's 7, or any direct dialogue from the show.
The Fifth Day
It had been five days. Five days of stomach-twisting anxiety, but I knew it was nothing to what Avon was going through. I had been tortured, and I knew it could break your spirit. We took it in shifts to monitor the homing device implanted in Avon's neck, spending remaining time on the Liberator's flight deck, making strained conversation or trying to sleep in our cabins. Tarrant enjoyed himself for the first twelve hours, swanning about pretending to be in command, with Dayna issuing challenges. But it didn't last. It wasn't funny. Even Vila did not give in to his usual bout of drinking, bad jokes and arguments with ORAC. He remained solidly sober as the days wore on, the homing device still steadily sending.
My cabin was supposed to feel like a refuse from the tension that surrounded everyone on board, but sleep was hard to come by, and when it did, I dreamed.
I was stripped naked, sitting in a chair, hands bound behind my back. Questions repeated themselves over and over from somewhere in the bright, white room.
"Who are you?"
"Why were you on Valon?"
"Tell us your name."
"Who do you work for?"
"What is your name?"
"What information did you hope to obtain from the computer?"
"Who do you work for?"
I answered none of them. I was silent through the pain. I had to keep silent – for her. He would arrive sooner or later, and then I could avenge her death. A fist drove into my face, and I felt my nose break. Electricity arched into my back, burning, agonising.
I woke screaming.
"Cally? Cally!" Someone was hammering on the cabin door. I staggered to it and pushed the button so it slid open. Dayna was standing outside in a long nightgown.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes." I nodded, holding onto the doorframe. "Just a bad dream."
"Are you sure?" Dayna peered at me in the dim light from the corridor. "You were screaming. And your nose is bleeding."
"Is it?" I raised my fingers to my nose and felt the wet blood. "Just stress, I think. I'll clean myself up, have a hot drink and go back to sleep."
Dayna smiled sympathetically and squeezed my shoulder lightly. "We're all worried about him, Cally. But he'll be fine."
I don't know whether or not she believed what she was saying.
I sat in the control room the following morning, Vila by my side. He was talking, but I only gave brief responses.
"Oh, come on, Cally. Brighten up."
"Brighten up?"
"Yes. He's Avon. He knows what he's doing. And if he doesn't, well…"
"Be quiet, Vila."
"I was only—"
"Be quiet!" I stared at the display in front of me. "It's stopped."
"What?"
"The homing device, it's stopped sending!"
Tarrant and Dayna were in the room within twenty seconds.
"Have you located him?" Tarrant demanded.
"Almost, hang on!"
"We only have two minutes, Cally!"
"More like one and a half," Vila chipped it.
"Got it!" I gasped "I've got the co-ordinates. And there's no shielding, I can send you both in there."
"Then do it!"
Tarrant and Dayna had already put on bracelets, and Tarrant was holding two extra. They moved onto the teleport pad, both drawing their handguns.
"Ready?"
They nodded. My hands were shaking as I activated the teleport, and then they were gone. Vila and I waited. Seconds stretched out. Vila produced a bottle of green liquid and a glass from under the table where the bracelets were stored – he seemed to hide them all over the ship for ease of use.
"What are you doing?" I demanded.
"Pouring a drink."
"Is that wise?"
"It's not for me."
Tarrant's voice suddenly blasted through the comm.
"Ready?"
And Dayna's voice "Go."
I activated the teleport again, and within a few seconds they were all there before me. Avon looked thinner than he had five days ago, more hollow. He was dressed in some kind of grey overalls. His eyes were dark caves in his face and he did not smile. He was holding something in his right hand – a laser probe. The forth man – the one we had been waiting for – knelt at Avon's bare feet, Dayna and Tarrant surrounding him. Vila leant against the table, drink in hand.
"You look terrible," he observed.
"So I've been told." Avon moved to the table and took off his bracelet.
"I thought you might need this." He handed over the green drink.
"Thanks." Avon exchanged it for the laser probe and gulped it down. I have never seen him drink so quickly. I stood up from behind the bank of controls.
"So you're Shrinker. He doesn't look much."
It was true. The man was balding, with a dark beard, his plump frame strapped into a dark Federation uniform.
"It depends on what you've paid to get him." Tarrant replied.
"He cost me enough." Avon had his back to me.
"Was it worth it?"
"I'll let you know." He still didn't turn.
"What are you going to do with me?" Shrinker sounded afraid. Dayna gave a small laugh.
"He's going to kill you."
She and Tarrant pulled Shrinker to his feet. The man was terrified now, his words coming out in a broken babble.
"Why me? I haven't done anything, I only ever—"
"Oh, don't tell me, let me guess," Tarrant's voice dripped with sarcasm. "You've only ever followed orders."
"It's true! It's true!"
"I believe you, stand there!" Tarrant shoved Shrinker off the pad, closer to me.
"Is everything ready?" Avon asked quietly.
"Just as you said," Vila replied "I set it all up myself."
I went over to him and lent against the table.
"Are you sure you want to go on with it?"
"Yes I'm sure I want to go on with it," he said sharply, looking at me for the first time. "Look, Cally I know you don't want any part in this, all right I'm not going to give you any part in it, you're out, this is mine, I'm doing it!"
His words stung.
"And what am I doing, Avon, just following orders? Like him?"
"She's right!" I heard Shrinker bleat behind me. "It'd be murder!"
"Well, you should know if anyone does." Vila replied.
"I'm going to get cleaned up." Avon pushed himself away from the support of the table; it seemed to take considerable effort. He crossed the room. "Will you entertain my guest?"
"It'll be a pleasure." Tarrent replied as Avon walked out. I watched him go, worry clenching in my chest. Shrinker was stammering again, his hands reaching out imploringly.
"Why? I don't even ... I never saw him before. What have I ever done to him?"
"You killed someone he loved." Dayna said bluntly.
"And there aren't many of them about," Vila commented. "Avon's not a very lovable man, in case you hadn't noticed."
"Who was it?" Shrinker gasped.
"Did they give you names when they gave you your orders?" Tarrant moved closer.
"Even if they did, could you put a face to the name? One screaming face among so many screaming faces?" Dayna was at his side.
"Did they beg, Shrinker?" Vila joined them and they began circling the terrified man like vultures. "Did they plead? "No, Shrinker. Please, Shrinker"?"
"Can you remember how they cried, what they cried? Can you separate the voices now?"
"Or is it just one long satisfying scream?"
The emotion in the room was running so high that it made my heart start to race. This Federation torturer was genuinely afraid for his life, and with good reason, my three crew mates looked as if they were about to fall on him and rip him to pieces.
"Stop it! Stop it!" The words were out of my mouth before I had time to think. "All of you! Leave him alone!"
They stopped their circling, but Tarrant didn't raise his eyes when he replied.
"He's an animal, Cally."
"Yes," I said cuttingly. "And it's contagious, isn't it?"
He looked at me, and I might have inflicted some guilt upon him, for he shoved Shrinker towards the steps.
"Get over there, sit down."
He sat, whimpering on the steps like a frightened child. Dayna and Tarrant went over to the table and removed their bracelets.
"What do you suppose went wrong down there?" Dayna asked.
"Took longer to trap him than we expected," Vila replied. "That's all."
"No, I didn't mean the plan. I meant the whole thing. What happened to the rebellion? Why is the Earth still controlled by creatures like him?"
I pondered on her words as I went down to the infirmary. I knew Avon would be there, it was the agreement we had made upon his leaving the ship. Why was the Earth – and the universe – still controlled by such sadists?
Avon was leaning against one of the infirmary beds with his back to me, and I fought not to gasp. The top half of the overalls was hanging around his waist and his back was covered in scars. They looked old, but I knew they had not been present before he left five days ago.
"Avon…" I approached him slowly. He didn't turn around, but did lift his head.
"Don't ask what they did to me, Cally. Parts of it I don't remember. At one point I'd forgotten my own name." He spun to face me. "But I told them nothing, Cally!" His dark eyes were bright with fever. "Nothing!"
I put my hand to his forehead and he flinched away from me. "You're burning up."
"I'll be fine."
"You need food and sleep. Sleep the most."
"A luxury I cannot afford."
"Avon, please…"
"Don't, Cally."
I sighed and picked up one of the medical instruments. "I'm just going to check you over. There will be no pain. Do you trust me?"
"I trust you."
I ran the scanner over his torso. Almost all the bones had been broken, and knitted back together with some kind of technology I had never seen. The scars were left from where the wounds had healed themselves. I didn't push Avon, but slowly he spoke of his own accord. He told me about the torture; about being asked the same questions over and over, about refusing to answer, the thugs who had stripped him naked and beaten him, with fists, stun batons, finally a whip. How he had been locked into a pod that painfully re-grew his bones and "healed" his injuries so that there was a fresh body for them to torture each day. I swallowed hard.
"I dreamed some of it, I think."
"Dreamed?"
"Yes. Woke up with a nosebleed. Woke up screaming."
He didn't reply. Eventually I said: "I can give you a cream to heal the scars, although their pod should have done that for you. Technically you should have no marks at all. Avon… I have to… do you trust me?"
"I already told you that I did." He replied, and slipped the overalls off completely. No part of his body had been spared the torture, and I felt my eyes prick with tears as I used the cream to try and comfort him, ease his pain. He lay on his stomach on the bed, very tense, fist clenched, and in total silence.
When it was over, I said gently: "I bought some clothes in here for you, and some shaving things. I can help you if you want…"
"No," he replied "I can dress myself."
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, took the pile of clothes from my arms, and sat with them in his lap, just looking at me.
"They could have killed you." I said.
"They did." He replied. "I'm sure my heart stopped at one point. I think they had to bring me back from the dead."
"I'm glad they did. Are you sure I can't persuade you to rest? I can make you a draught, numb the pain, help you sleep."
"No, Cally. I've waited years for this. I'm not waiting any longer."
I nodded and turned to go. He called my name as I was at the door.
"Cally?"
"Yes, Avon?" I turned again.
"Thank you."
I nodded and left the room, trying to fight down the lump in my throat.
I watched from outside as Avon re-entered the transport room, dressed, washed and shaved. Exhaustion was etched in every movement, but he was determined. He addressed Vila, who was sitting at the controls, as he put on the bracelet.
"The teleport co-ordinates set?"
"All set."
"Need any help?" Tarrant offered.
"I'll manage." He turned towards Shrinker without actually facing him. "On your feet."
"No." Shrinker's word was hardly more than a whisper. Avon sighed.
"I'm tired and I hurt. It would be easier to kill you here and now. On your feet."
The torturer stood and moved across the room as Avon gestured at the teleport pad.
"Avon?" Vila reached across the controls to hand him a small box.
"Thanks."
"Concentrate. He's more dangerous than he looks."
"Isn't everybody?"
"Listen," Tarrant put out an arm to stop Avon moving to the teleport pad. "You've got him on his feet, are you sure you can stay on yours?"
"I'm touched by your concern."
"My concern is that I don't find myself looking down the wrong end of your gun with him on the right end of it."
That was Tarrant, selfish to the last. I wondered if he really truly cared for any of us, or if he were doing all of this purely for his own personal gain.
"Don't worry. You won't." Avon walked to the pad and looked to Vila. "Put us down."
And then they were gone. I watched them flicker and fade out of sight. It was true I had wanted no part in Avon's plan for revenge. But I had seen the pain in his eyes, the pain he thought he had mastered, when he spoke of Anna, and when he told me of the last five days. I could only hope that this violent act against his lover's killer would give him the closure he craved.