Resonances (The Out Of The Blue And Into The Black Remix)
by Kathryn Andersen
Summary: Cally is caught between hope and despair. ("Ultraworld" AU)
Fandom: Blake's 7
Spoilers: Ultraworld,Killer,Gambit
Challenge: RemixRedux 2005
Original Work: "The Ultramarines" by Mistral Amara
Notes at the end of Chapter 2.
Chapter 1
I shivered in the cold air of the hold. It had been purged to vacuum three times just to be sure there was no contagion, and it still held the chill of deep space. I shivered again as I looked at the ancient hulk which filled the area, and this time it was not from the cold. Would Avon's plan work? That hope was all that was holding me back from walking the final path.
The laser probe wouldn't do. It would cauterise the wound. Ah, no, but it would depend on what wound, would it not? If I could boost the power, it would cut through bone. That would be enough. Straight through the heart, and nobody could stop me.
Fortunately, Avon's tools were laid out in meticulous order. I was no electronics expert, but a specialist in communications has to know which end of a power coupling is which, not to mention the amount of equipment I'd had to jury-rig on Saurian Major and other places. I could do this. And if I electrocuted myself, so much the quicker. I can't bear it. I can't bear it. My vision blurred with tears. I blinked them away. Just a few more minutes and it would all be over.
Wires, check. Power cells, check. Laser probe, check. Connectors, check. I began cutting and stripping the wires I would need. Time was running out; it wouldn't be long before he figured out what I was planning. The wire-cutter slipped and dropped with a clatter. I cursed these clumsy fingers. These too large, too thick, too masculine fingers.
There was someone outside the door. I could tell - it was him. These dull senses were useless, but somehow I could still tell when he was nearby.
I'd locked the door, but I knew that wouldn't stop him for long. I picked up the wire-cutters and continued my task. I could still do it if I had just a little more time...
The fingers trembled again. I could hear the door behind me open.
"Don't do it, Cally." The voice was all wrong. Of course it was all wrong, it wasn't his proper voice, but it wasn't my voice either, not the voice I'd grown up hearing myself speak. I didn't know whether that made it better or worse.
I didn't turn to look at him. That was definitely worse.
"I can't go on like this," I said to the wall. "Not forever. Not without hope of an ending."
"What, you imagine we're going to live forever?"
I whirled around, my resolution forgotten, and snapped at him, "That isn't what I meant, and you know it!"
He smiled, dark and wry.
I hated that smile on my face.
"You ashvereth! You cannot understand what it is like!" I yelled at him.
He took two steps towards me. The brown leather clothes didn't look too bad, but his walk was all wrong - stiff, clumsy, compensating for a different centre of gravity. "Don't you think that I hate this as much as you do?"
"I don't know, I can't tell, it is all silence." Like being smothered in snow, unable to see, unable to hear, unable to move.
He stood right in front of me, crowding me. "Can't you Aurons read faces? Look at my face!"
I shut my eyes. "It's not your face. It's my face."
He sighed. "I know."
"There's no hope, Avon," I said. "Ultraworld is destroyed, the Lost are dead, and my people on Kaarn don't have the knowledge to help us. Neural degeneration is probably already starting. There's nowhere else to look, nothing else to try!"
"Yes there is," he said. "It's risky, but it's better than nothing. We could use an imprinter."
"An imprinter? What's that?"
"Very old technology, probably quite similar to the Ultra's devices. It was developed in the early days of space-flight, as part of cryogenic sleep research, to enable the subject's brain-patterns to be restored in case of degeneration after long-term freeze."
"But - that doesn't make sense - cryosleep doesn't degenerate brain-patterns -"
"Modern cryosleep doesn't - because they were highly motivated to improve it, and because it is usually used for medical emergencies rather than decades-long suspension."
"But if the technology is so old that nobody uses it, what makes you think you can find one of these imprinters?"
He smiled, sharp. "All we need is an ancient spacecraft that used cryosleep - and we know exactly where one is."
"You want to go back to Fosforon."
"It's not as if anyone will have taken the spacecraft."
"You don't even know if an imprinter is still there, or if it works. Or how to work it if it did. Or if the plague has burnt itself out."
He shook his head and said harshly, "I am not going to give in to despair! I'm not going to let what-ifs stop me from surviving!" My voice, my face, my delicate profile, but nobody who knew Avon could doubt that it was his mind inhabiting my body.
"Oh yes, so very like you," I spat. "You must survive. No thought of anyone else! You don't know what it is like, to be suffocating in silence. This is worse than Saurian Major. At least then I had revenge to keep me going."
His eyes blazed in my face. There were dark circles under them. "I don't know? I don't know? You are there, you are there all the time. The others, in flashes. You complain about the silence - how do you cope with the noise? The presence, like eyes on the back of your neck..." He shook his head. "And you are a fool if you don't put yourself first. Even an idealist like you should be able to see that you can't help anybody if you don't survive." He took a deep breath. "I endure because I must. And so must you." He put out one delicate hand and touched her shoulder. He said gently, "This is not going to be forever, Cally. We are going to solve this."
"The imprinter could drive us insane."
He smiled that smile again. "It's not like we have very much to lose, is it?"
"Fine. We will try this one more thing," I said. But I couldn't help feeling that there was something he was hiding from me.
I had been right, too. Avon had been hiding something.
"Orac, have you located Docholli yet?" Avon said to the computer. Dayna and Vila were also on the flight deck, with a finished game of Galactic Monopoly on the table between them.
"Why Docholli?" I asked.
"He is the only cyber-surgeon I know of who actually owes us something."
"He doesn't actually owe us anything - it's Chenie he owes it to."
"Well, he's the only cyber-surgeon who won't have an instant motivation to turn us in."
"True."
"I have located Docholli," Orac said prissily, as if annoyed at being ignored. "He is on the planet Gellimar under the name of Harding. If he is to be of any use to you at all, I suggest you expedite your plans, as he is scheduled to be executed as a spy tomorrow morning."
"A spy?" I exclaimed.
"Presumably his fake papers finally didn't pass muster," Avon said. "Zen, set course for Gellimar, standard by five."
+Confirmed+
"Who's Docholli?" Dayna asked.
"An ex-Federation cyber-surgeon," Vila said. "Blake was after him for information about Star One."
"But what do you want a cyber-surgeon for?" Dayna asked. "Prosthesis is hardly going to help your... situation."
"Cyber-surgeons are experts in brain-function," Avon replied. "Which is very relevant to our 'situation', as you put it."
I looked at Avon sharply. "Why don't you want them to know, Avon?"
"Don't want us to know what?" a voice said from the corridor. Tarrant, pilot that he was, had doubtless noticed the ship changing course, and come to investigate.
"Yes, Avon, what don't you want us to know?" Dayna asked.
"It will all be irrelevant if we don't get Docholli," Avon returned.
"That's not good enough, Avon," Tarrant said, stepping down into the flight-deck.
Avon sneered at him. "You are hardly in a position to talk about 'not good enough'."
"Avon!" I said sharply. "I want to know what you are trying to hide. If there is a problem with this imprinter technology, I need to know - it's my life as well as yours."
"Imprinter?" both Dayna and Tarrant exclaimed at the same time. Vila just stared at them with his mouth open.
"Are you insane?" Tarrant snapped. "That technology is totally forbidden! It's what turned half of Terra into radioactive wasteland!"
"Well, it wasn't actually the imprinting that did it, just the wars over it," Avon said.
"Anyone who would be loathsome enough to still have an imprinter after all these centuries, would be the last person to trust with your minds," Dayna said.
"That will not be a problem," Avon said. "The owners are all dead. And we don't even know if the equipment is salvageable."
"But I don't understand," I said. "Why were wars fought over a brain-print restoration device?"
"Because after the first deep-space ships went out, someone figured out how to use an Imprinter as the ultimate brainwashing tool. They turned ordinary people into mindlessly loyal fanatics," Tarrant said.
"That's - abominable," I said. "If the Federation got hold of technology like that, they'd be unstoppable."
"How could you even consider using it?" Tarrant glared at Avon.
"Because I need to," Avon said. "Because this is the only thing left that could help us. I am not going to let your squeamishness stop us."
"You want to swap brain-prints with Cally? Do you know that that would even work?" Dayna said.
"No, that's why we need Docholli," Avon said.
"You can't have one of those things lying around loose," Vila said. "Avon, promise you'll destroy it. Promise!"
I remembered Vila had had his own bout with Federation brainwashing techniques.
"I agree, Avon," I said. "It must be destroyed - even if the attempt doesn't work. We dare not risk such a thing getting into Federation hands."
"Or anybody's hands," Dayna added pointedly.
"You think I would be tempted?" Avon returned. "Never fear, there are some things to which even I will not stoop. It will be destroyed - after we've used it."
Rescuing Docholli had been almost an anti-climax. He had been very grateful, and quite willing to help. When he saw the Liberator's infirmary, his eyes had lit up, and I wondered whether he might not stay on after this.
Which brought us to the ship we'd retrieved from Fosforon...
I heard the hatch open and stepped into the shadows. I didn't want anyone to find me here.
"I just wanted to have a look." It was Dayna's voice.
"Well it wasn't locked after all, so you didn't need to bring me along."
"Oh, don't worry, Vila, those nasty little bugs aren't going to bite you - and if they do, we have Dr. Bellfriar's formula now, so we can cure it."
"So the Doc says. I'd rather not chance it. You weren't there when all those people were dying. Very nasty way to go. And how do we know it's the right formula anyway? Plucking a piece of paper from the hand of a corpse - ugh!"
"It wasn't as if he'd mind," Dayna said.
"Do you have to talk about it?" Vila said. "How's my Delta Blues going?"
"Orac has been rather busy, I haven't been able to get any appropriate samples yet."
Delta Blues? Appropriate samples? What was Dayna working on? Some sort of Delta weapon for Vila?
"Remember what you forfeit if you don't," Vila said. "Ah, I can taste that dessert now..."
A bet? Vila and Dayna had made a bet?
"You didn't set a time limit."
"My patience is not infinite," Vila said loftily.
"Don't worry, you're going to be giving me those neck-rubs before the week is out!" Dayna said. "Why are you smiling?"
"Because I get some Delta Blues, or you forfeit the bet," Vila said. "I win either way."