Journey into Mystery

by Halfhorseau

Journey into Mystery is a rousing second season adventure with fast paced action and atmospheric tension necessary for a story of this calibre. A rebel group from the planet Lento board the Liberator on Blake's initiative. Mysterious accidents follow upon their arrival and the eventual result is a quick moving pageant of mayhem, intrigue and confrontation.

JOURNEY INTO MYSTERY by Y. S. Hintz

The major sun of Lento had already set. The minor sun, following close behind it, looked like a red disc as it slipped through the pink and orange layered sky. Its image reflected in the gently moving water of an ornamental pond in a square in the city of Pryor. A silent watcher contemplated its fat red fish appearance while leaning on the cold, stone surround of the pond. Another person came along. The watcher turned.

"Tolin I'm surprised to see you. Where have you been the last two seasons?"

"Around, gathering information. How would you like to join me in a money-making venture?"

"You never were one for small talk were you? All right, what do you have in mind?"

"Are you still in contact with the man who has the Belling-Fox plates?"

A lop-sided shrug. "You know I am. I deal with him all the time. But what's the use? You know we could never get them off Lento."

The Belling-Fox plates were two sheets of gold, painstakingly hand-set with uncut gems and covered with the ancient pictorial, writing of the Soonin people ... the native race of Lento. They had been discovered in the Tone dig by a young member of the Belling-Fox expedition and all the worlds of the Federation had been treated to glowing descriptions of them before they mysteriously disappeared. The public was led to believe they had been placed somewhere for study and safekeeping; but the embarrassing truth was that they had been stolen.

The thief had been beside himself with delight at first, thinking, at last he'd struck it big, until every fence he approached fended him off with a long pole. They wanted nothing to do with it they said, nothing to do with anything so easily recognised and easily traced. It was pointed out to him that only a few collectors in other parts of the galaxy really had the credit needed to buy them. To reach them it would be necessary to get the plates off Lento ... not easy. Like all antiquities dug up in modern times, the sheets would have been marked with a code that would stand out like a beacon on dark night in any detector system. Every spaceport on Lento was a smuggler's nightmare of security and detection systems.

At last, in defeat, he had sold the plates for a fraction of their value, to a dealer who had time and money to spare to tuck them away and bide his time; waiting for an opportunity to get them off-world. He had waited a long time.

"There's no way you can do it. You'll never get the sheets off Lento. Every known way has been tried."

"Except my way. Are you going to listen or just put up fences of objection?"

Another shrug. "I have nothing on at present. I'll listen."

"You've heard about the experimental SSL?"

"No."

It had been talked about in all rebel and free-trader circles and for weeks, even babes in arms must have heard about it. Tolin pulled a face. "I forgot, you live with your head in a bucket."

"I'm not interested in current affairs ... only money." A wolfish grin. "What about it?"

"It's a weapon, or it could be, if it's ever completed ... a devastating weapon ... like a vibro-gun, but infinitely more powerful. It was originally conceived by a Federation technician who realised the potential of what he'd found and grew frightened of it either being completed and used, or of what would happen to him if he did complete it. He feared ... probably with just cause, that it would be grabbed by someone in power, and he would be disappeared- permanently. So he ran and vanished, leaving the unfinished project with a friend. After a somewhat tortuous journey, the weapon ended up in rebel hands. It's with a group on Firne now and their problem is ... they want to get it to Outer Gal, but they don't know how."

"Why Outer Gal?"

"There's a scientist there somewhere in hiding, working for the rebels. He could complete the SSL, and the Federation knows it. So they're keeping everyone very much on the alert for anyone trying to smuggle the weapon in."

They had walked away from the square, along a path through a park down a series of narrow lanes toward the brash, noisy area where a favourite bar was located.

"So far I don't see any connection between this unfinished weapon and the Sooning plates."

"It's our ticket off Lento ... a ticket that will by-pass all the security systems and detectors at all the spaceports. And before you say it … I can see the look in your eye ... I'm not planning to put a ship down outside the ports; I know that's near to impossible."

"What are you planning then? Solar kites?"

"A ship with teleport facilities."

They stopped abruptly as they reached the mall between the drinking houses. There was a moment of congestion and curses behind them, then the crowd parted and flowed to either side.

"The Liberator You don't mean the Liberator ?"

"I do."

"How? How could you get her to come here? And, even it you could, how could you convince Blake and his people to help us smuggle the plates?"

"Use your head. Of course I wouldn't be asking them that I'll be asking them to help us get the SSL to Outer Gal to help the rebel cause. In exchange I'll give them information I have that I know they want. The plates will be the outer case of the weapon."

"They'll detect them, they're not fools."

"Ah… that's where my usefulness comes into its own. I have a friend on board who'll see that whatever computer-controlled detector they use, it will be blind to the plates."

"A friend?"

"No further comment. My friend's identity will remain a secret for obvious reasons ... until the raid."

"What raid?"

"The rebels of Firne" Tolin said, stating a thought rather than answering the question, "could have transported the SSL to Outer Gal any number of times; the problem always was that they could never get it landed. Federation security is just too tight. There is only one ship that can come and go freely- a small hospital ship. It's rarely searched and can be landed almost anywhere. If the SSL were on board it, they would have would have no trouble getting it to the scientist. The catch of course, is making a fast, mid-space transfer."

"Teleport."

"Exactly. No trouble at all for the Liberator to zip in close to Outer Gal, rendezvous with the hospital ship, make the transfer and be on her way before anyone knows what has happened. I will arrange the assistance of those on the hospital ship with the help of my friend on the Liberator. That is what the Firne rebels will think anyway. In truth, there will be a group of other friends of mine waiting for us. We'll take the SSL and the plates." The pair paused before entering the round doorway of the 'Little Bubble Bar'

"Tolin, I've got to say it: you're a genius!"

"Ah, recognition at last. Just one last thing before we go inside; you'll have to learn a new name to call me by. For a reason I cannot explain, my real name must not be used ... ever ... on the Liberator."

The rebel leader got up from where she had been straddling a chair beyond a large, bare, board table. She moved across the dimly-lit basement room to stand before the stranger.

"All right, you've given us your offer and told us your plan. Now tell us this: what do you hope to get out of it?"

"Satisfaction." Tolin said, "As I told you, I have been an admirer of Governor Le Grande. I had hopes she would be the one to bring all the factions together to create a real power for peace. It was ... when I heard she had been killed ... I felt ... distress ... you cannot know ... "

"We know, we all felt distressed."

"Of course." A calming swallow. "It would give me the greatest pleasure 'and satisfaction to be instrumental in getting the SSL to Outer Gal in hopes that it can be completed there and turned against the Federation; those murdering, double-crossing…"

Without comment the rebels went into a huddle and conferred a while. At last the leader returned to the pool of lamplight before Tolin.

"We have a question. If you can contact the Liberator as you say, and convince Blake to assist us, why can't you ask him to come to Firne? Why must you take the SSL to Lento?"

"It will take at least ten days for me to contact Blake and for him to come here, if he decides to come. Ten days from now the Federation will be swarming all over this region of space - the manoeuvres - had you forgotten?"

The rebel leader slapped her hand, palm-down, on the corner of the table. "Damn, I had forgotten. It's their show of strength to the people of this region. You're right; it would be too dangerous for the Liberator to come here." She looked at the stranger. "Very well, you can take the SSL to Lento. Four of my people will go with you."

"No!" Hostility and some curiosity appeared in rebel eyes at this statement. Tolin softened his tone to explain. "That would make six with me and my man. Too many. Blake will be auspicious of us as it is. Three he might accept on board without much worry, six would be too much of a crowd." The rebels did not look convinced. "I said you would have to trust me; trust me in this then ... we cannot have too many people going with the weapon." Still they appeared uncompromising. "Your group has done enough, leave the rest to mine."

Something in this appeal thawed the rebel leader's frosty expression. She tilted her head a little to one side.

"Two then. Two of my people, two of yours. That's fair."

Tolin was silent a while, then smiled and nodded. "Agreed ... under one condition; choose two of your people who are not present at the moment. I would prefer it if they did not know I an the one with a contact on the Liberator."

Jenna, and Cally materialised in an old warehouse in Pryor, not far from the location they had been given in the rebel-coded message.

"Down and safe ... just." Jenna. reported. "Half the floor has collapsed into the basement." With some alarm she moved away from the edge of the dark hole. Avon's voice came back to her.

"I presume no-one saw you."

"No-one. Nothing but rats and dust in here. But it's busy enough in the streets outside by the sound of it." Cally had walked carefully across the rotten floor to a begrimed window. She looked back and gave a confirming nod. "So, don't try to contact us. We'll call back as soon as we have any news."

She broke contact and together she and Cally picked their way out of the building. The location they had been given led them to a narrow townhouse wedged in the middle of a row of similar houses. Though they had been issued an invitation, they were both too cautious to march boldly up to the door and announce themselves. They made their way to the back of the building and were looking for a way in when a man came up suddenly behind them. His hands shot into the air as both women whirled to face him with guns drawn.

"Easy! Ladies! No need for guns. We're all friends here."

"We'll decide that." Cally told him.

"Are you ... the people ... we invited?" he asked. He was a man of medium height with lively blue eyes set in a face that was mostly obscured by a thatch of blonde hair and a beard. He wore a simple outfit of shirt and trousers and carried no weapon they noticed. Both women began to relax.

"I'm Jenna, this is Cally."

"My name is Syme, Bet Syme." He looked around. "Put the guns away and come inside. We're pretty safe in this area - people around here mind their own business, but it still pays to act with discretion." He opened a door and extended a hand to guide them in. They walked into a room containing a table, a clutter of chairs, some bundles of luggage, a large case and three people.

"Cally – Jenna," Syme announced, assigning the wrong name to each woman. "This is Lora."

Lora was sitting on a chair with her long legs crossed and propped on a second. Her short, tight, belted tunic rode high up her pale thighs, revealing a lot of leg between its hem and the top of a pair of long, soft boots. She looked as if she would be even taller than Jenna when she stood. Adding to her height was a topknot of her own red hair, decorated with gold cord. She regarded the women with a cool, blue-eyed stare that told more about her nature than her smile.

"This is Cal Token."

Standing by the case was a man dressed in a workman's overall. He was short and sturdy of build, with a round, unremarkable face and unkempt, brown hair jammed under a flat cap. The brim of the cap was dark and shiny from repeated handling. The deep-set eyes that turned to them, and the firm-set lips, all bore the stamp of suspicion. He placed his foot on the case in a proprietorial gesture and nodded in greeting.

"And Lyn Vyell"

"Just call me 'Vy'." the indicated woman said, walking forward to offer her hand, the only one to have done so. She was a small, slight figure, almost swamped in baggy fatigues with an array of weapons slung on leather belts around her chest and hips. Her straight, black hair, cut short, swung in curved points on either side of her face, like indicators to her smiling mouth and bright eyes. "It's good to see you. I hope your presence here means you have agreed to help us."

"We're here to assess the situation." Jenna said. She walked the few steps needed to reach the case and braved a glare from Token to touch it. "The SSL. is in here I take it. We'll have to examine it."

The man nodded, removed his foot, and crouched to open the case.

"Will the teleport be able to handle it?" he asked. Jenna was surprised to hear him talk so fluently. She had expected him to converse in grunts and monosyllables. It was Cally who answered him.

"As it is small enough to be carried by one person, it should present no problem."

The SSL was an unimpressive array of barrels, boxes and crystals not in moulded foam. Syme shrugged apologetically.

"It looks like nothing, I know. Even assembled it looks more like a child's toy than a true weapon, but, believe me, it ever becomes fully-functional, it will be frightening. The fact that it will be so effective, easy to handle, small and simple to make, and easy to distribute, has the Federation more scared than they care to admit. SSLs, wide spread, could very well turn the tide of battle our way." He grinned suddenly. "You couldn't guess how enthusiastic I an about the project, could you?"

"It doesn't show." Jenna said wryly and lifted her wrist. "Liberator, do you hear me?"

"We hear you Jenna." It was Blake's voice.

'We've made contact. The SSL looks as Avon suggested it might. There are four people here with some luggage each. Do you want us to check that before coming up?"

'No. Give them bracelets and we'll bring you up. We'll finish the rest of the check. here."

From the background, Avon's voice, 'Tell them not to make any rash moves."

Jenna broke contact. "Avon will have a gun on you when you arrive. He's very quick, and would have no hesitation about shooting anyone he thinks might be harmful. So, if you have any ideas of piracy or other forms of mayhem, you'd better re-think then now" Her tone established the fact that she meant her words to be taken light-heartedly. The rebels all smiled to varying degrees as they collected their luggage and prepared to teleport.

Three men were waiting for them when they materialised on the Liberator. Blake was leaning against the front of the teleport desk, Avon was several places to his right, in his left hand the belt and power pack of a Liberator handgun. The gun, attached by its coiled lead, was in Avon's right hand, not aggressively aimed - just held in readiness. Vila was behind the desk, leaning forwards as he shut down the teleport functions. Orac sat on the floor behind the desk, silent as he made his scan and summary of the four visitors and their luggage. One word from him and they would all find themselves back on Lento so fast their heads would spin.

There was no word from Orac. Blake smiled as he walked forward to greet them, 'Welcome to the Liberator.'

Cally, to the fore, and therefore elected by strategic position to act as Master of Ceremonies, made introductions all round, then they all moved forward to the flight deck. Blake took the lead, together with Syme, who carried the bulky SSL case. Avon picked up Orac. Tentative conversations began to strike up between the newcomers and the Liberator crew as they followed.

Vila attempted to talk to Lora, whose stately form he had admired from the moment it had appeared, but, the way she looked down at him with keenly appraising blue eyes made him drop back a few paces to talk with Vyell lively, brown eyes were on a level with his own.

"Big girl isn't she?" he commented.

"You noticed?" Vy asked humorously.

On the flight deck Syme opened the case to hand sections of the SSL to Blake and Avon who introduced then to Zen's analyser dome and asked for analysis. They could guess, from Orac's continued silence, they would find nothing amiss or harmful, in the case, but they thought they should be seen to make some show of security, if only to protect Orac. If they did nothing, the visitors could become suspicious of their apparent laxity and might conclude they had some other form of detector device. In searching for it, they might just stumble on the secret of Orac's powers.

At first, all the others crowded around, interested, but when the procedure dragged on with Zen giving a non-stop list of components and no surprises, they grew bored and walked away. Cally and Vy were the first to go. They walked to the lounger and relaxed on it, talking about weapons. Cally remarked that one of the ones Vy wore had been popular with the rebels on Saurian Major.

"Yes," Vy said, "I was there with my brother." She turned her head a moment, missing Cally's look of surprise. When she looked back she interrupted any question Cally might have been about to ask by showing an enthusiastic interest in the Liberator hand guns.

Lora wandered between the control consoles, finally stopping at the flight console. There she settled into the high backed seat, gripped the flight-manipulator arms and pulled them about a bit, playing at being pilot.

"Can you pilot a ship?" Jenna asked from where she stood near the navigation console. Lora looked down and across at her.

"No. I was just seeing what it felt like. It would give you a sense of power I should think."

"It gives you a big responsibility."' Jenna said soberly.

Lora laughed as she left the console, flicking the arms up in a nonchalant manner. "But you love it," she said as she approached the weapon's control console. Feeling Jenna's disapproving gaze on her from right across the flight deck, she lifted her hands with exaggeration. "Don't worry, I won't touch anything."

Meanwhile Token strolled around the flight deck, his eyes absorbing all things of interest like two greedy, black holes. He stopped when he came to Orac, and began to examine the humming box, looking at it from various angles. He was peering in the top with the air of a cat about to make a scoop into a tank of goldfish, when Avon walked softly up beside him.

"It's a computer." Avon said, making a deft sweep with his hand over the top of the transparent case to remove the key. "We sometimes find it very useful."

Token looked at him from under a verandah of hair and cap brim, then made a grunting sound of dismissal and disinterest. Avon returned to Blake and Syme just as the blonde rebel was handing over the last item in the case.

"That's the lot, unless you want to check the case too." He laughed. Lora turned quickly to look. Vy froze in the act of examining a handgun. Token exchanged a look of amusement with Vila.

"I don't think that will be necessary." Blake said quietly.

Syme repacked the SSL, which was then taken to a small storage room near the surgical unit. The door was locked. Blake explained that, for the duration of the voyage, most of the locks on the ship would be under computer control and only a member of the crew would be able to open them. "That includes the door to this storage room, but, if you think, you want to check the SSL at any time, we will be happy to open it for you."

The rebels nodded and seemed happy with the situation. Cally and Vila

led them away to collect their luggage and to show them which cabins they could use.

As soon as all the visitors had left the flight deck, Avon made a beeline for the super-computer. "Let's hear what Orac has to say," he said as he activated it. "All right, Orac, what have you found?"

+Everything.+ the machine replied, sounding un-machinelike-surprise that Avon should think to ask such a question. Blake and Jenna came to stand beside him.

"Just give us the relevant details within the parameters outlined before."

There was a pause in the rhythm of the flashing lights, then Orac began: +The woman called Vyell carries two weapons openly plus a folding knife which could be used as a tool or a weapon. The woman, Lora, carries a toy gun which has the appearance of a real weapon but which sprays a Firne mist of water. The man, Syme, carries a folding knife, and the man, Token, has a straight-bladed knife in the leg of his boot, He is not human ... +

The three looked down in astonishment, "What did you say?"

+That is,+ the computer continued, +not human has you are. He is more like Cally.+

"Are you saying that he's Auron?"

+No, he is not Auron, but like them, of a divergent strain; probably from some community long isolated from the mainstream of humanity.

Blake relaxed, "I daresay there are a few of them around. What else?"

+None of them carry any large amounts of harmful substances , either on their persons, or in their luggage ... +

Avon interrupted, "Specify."

+Lora carries a small amount of a substance which, if taken all at once, would be lethal to a member or the human species. But, taken in small quantities as intended, it acts as a sleep inducer. Token carries something similar. Vyell has a bottle of liquid, highly poisonous if taken internally, but harmless if used on the skin. Syme has ... +

"All right, we get the point; even some foods can be dangerous if taken in large quantities."

+Exactly+ Orac said, sounding as if he meant Q.E.D.

"What have you learned about their backgrounds?"

+The facts do not disagree with the information you were given by them earlier. Bet Syme was born on Praxilon in a free society, which later came under Federation control. Rebelling against what was happening he became part of a loose, disorganised band of locals who began to fight out of bases in the Belabron Mountains. When they were substantially wiped out by the Federation, Syme left his home world and travelled to the Fifth Sector where he started fighting with a number of different groups on Firne, Mekil and Lento. The Federation does not have a lot of information on him and the rebels do not keep computer records.

The information I have been able to obtain on Vyell and Lora is limited for the same reason. Lora was born on a freighter bound for mining camp FO-09. The records from that camp were lost in an explosion. There is a record of a woman of Lora's description in the Space City memory bank. She was a hostess in a casino there. The Federation have records of a number of traffic violations in her name. They come from Firne. There are brief mentions of a woman of her description being seen with criminals on Firne and Lento.

Lyn Vyell seems to have been born on Earth and been transported out from there with her family to a colony on Guardian. After that her record is a complete blank until she appears on Firne fighting for the rebels.

Token was also born on Earth, in the Domes, from a group of people brought in from some place out on the edge of Federation territory; there is no record of where exactly. He was a delta-grade, but showed some promise and was given some training in technical skills. An application for a rise in status to beta-grade had been made on his behalf when he got caught up with a rebel group and left Earth. The records indicate he became heavily involved with the rebel cause, fighting in various places all over the fifth sector. He is wanted by the Federation for terrorist activities."

Blake turned away in thoughtful silence for a while. "Well?" he finally asked, "What do you think,?" Orac appeared to have given the four a clean bill of health, but he valued the keen instincts of Avon and Jenna and would not feel easy until they had passed them as well.

Avon removed Orac's key and pocketed it. "On the surface they appear to be genuine," he said with uncharacteristic charity, "But I wouldn't trust the without reserve just yet."

Blake raised an eyebrow. "I had no intention of doing that at any time." He looked at Jenna.

The blonde pilot had remained beside Orac, staring into its depths. Blake frowned, "Jenna? What is it?"

She looked up, "I'm sorry. I was thinking. It's not important. I just have the feeling I've seen Lora somewhere before that's all."

"That could be very important. Where have you seen her? In connection with what?"

"That's just it - I can't remember. I don't think it's important though. I've probably seen her face in a newscast or in a bar somewhere." She shook her head.

"And the others?"

"No, I've never seen any of them before. Oh ... She smiled as she realised she'd answered the wrong question, "What do I think of them? Well, Syme appears to be a good-natured man, but I think there's more to him than meets the eye. Lyn Vyell reminds me of Cally- a lady who will fight for what she believes in. Token . . . it's hard to say. He seems to be harbouring a lot of suspicion and bitterness. Maybe he had a hard childhood."

"What about Lora?"

Avon stirred from where he'd been standing at the foot of the steps to volunteer his opinion. "She doesn't give me the impression of being a rebel for the cause; I think she's in it for some other reason. Therefore- worth watching."

Jenna and Blake looked at each other and smiled, mostly because Avon was so blissfully unaware of what he'd said.

They had been underway for six hours when the rebels from Lento, their bodies still obedient to the circadian rhythm of that planet, began to feel tired and slipped away to their cabins to sleep. The time coincided with the demarcation line between two of the Liberator's own, somewhat flexible, eight-hour watches, so that most of her crew disappeared as well. Blake and Syme found themselves alone on the flight deck. The blonde man yawned, contaminating Blake who yawned as well, although he was not tired.

"You don't have to stay," he said, guessing that Syme might be keeping him company out of a sense of duty. "The Liberator doesn't require more than one man on watch ... mostly to monitor. This is my watch. I'm used to being on my own."

"I feel I should ... "

"Yes, I know. But you won't be able to show a personal interest all the way to Outer Gal. You'll have to eat sometime. It might as well be now - while it's quiet." Blake looked around the flight deck, knowing how deceptive its current serenity was. "It's not always this quiet, believe me."

Syme grinned and nodded, his face showing the tiredness he felt. "I hadn't thought to ask; how long will it take to reach Outer Gal?"

"About twenty hours I think." Blake said, turning toward the display of the master computer, "Zen, what's the flight time remaining to destination?"

The yellow bars and squares of light hopscotched across the mottled, brown field of the display as usual, but, when Zen spoke, it was with a harsh, metallic-sounding voice, +Ragan voll. Coda ell vetan rosok.+

"You understand that?" Syme asked, impressed by Blake's linguistic talent.

"No," Blake replied with a look of bewilderment that quickly became a frown, "the translator unit must be on the blink." He turned to reach for a call button but hesitated. Avon had marched off the flight deck declaring his avowed intention to sleep for seven hours straight for once in his life. It would not be kind, or wise, to disturb him. There would be plenty of time before they reached Outer Gal to look into the malfunction and there was also the possibility that the trouble would clear itself in the next few minutes. That thought was proved true a second later as Zen came forth with the clearly understood statement, +Flight time remaining to specific location off Outer Gal, 18 hours and three minutes.+

Blake turned back, "Thank you, Zen. What happened to the translator unit?"

+your question does not make sense. Nothing has happened to the translator unit.+

"Why did it malfunction a moment ago?"

+There is no evidence it did malfunction.+

"Check it."

+A check has been made. Analysis indicates the translator unit to be in perfect working order.+

"All right, Zen, forget it."

Syme chuckled as the computer disappeared off-line. "Knowing the literal minds of computers it has probably just erased all of that last conversation from its memory banks."

"Do you know a lot about computers?"

"No more or less than most people these days." He nodded at Zen. " I've heard a bit about that one. It's supposed to be extremely sophisticated."

Thinking to himself that to be sophisticated also made one capable of evasion and deception, Blake nodded agreement.

Syme yawned again. "If you really don't mind then, Blake - I will go and get some sleep."

Lyn Vyell woke in the dark of the cabin and looked at the illuminated face of the wall-set chronometer. An hour had elapsed. Only an hour. She lay back against the slope of the bunk and closed her eyes, but sleep would not return. Cursing softly she kicked her legs free of the silvery coverings and swung them over the edge of the bed onto the smooth floor. It was pleasantly warm - kept at a comfortable temperature - suitable for humans, like everything else on this ship. She got up, left her cabin, and padded barefoot along the empty corridors, past the doors to other cabins where the crew and her companions were probably contentedly sleeping. When she appeared, some time later, at the top of the stairs that led to the flight deck, Blake, was leaning over the navigation console, watching a fast-moving display. He turned when he sensed her presence.

"I couldn't sleep," she explained, "I thought a walk might put me in the mood." He said nothing. "Is it all right? I mean ... if there are places on the ship I should not go ...

"The doors have computer-controlled locks. If you can get through a door, then you're allowed to enter." Blake waved one hand, "Feel free."

"Thank you." She lingered, feeling the need to say more. "It is a beautiful ship. You are lucky to have it."

"There was some luck involved," he agreed.

The rebel woman, looking particularly fragile in a light sleeping tunic, divested of her trappings of battle, stood silent. Blake was about to invite her to join him to talk for a while when she softly bade him a 'good watch' and whispered away on bare feet.

Lyn carried an image of the man with her in her inner mind as she walked back the way she'd come, He was an attractive man, this Roj Blake. Much too attractive to be safe to be alone with. She'd made the cause her life, her family, her friends and her lover; there was no place in her scheme of things for a man she found attractive. It had to be that way, but sometimes she found it hard. Besides, she argued, it could never be more than a pipe dream to further disturb her sleep; Blake would never be interested in a slip of a thing like her, with her boyish figure, straight hair and plain face not when he was surrounded by beauties like Jenna and Cally.

A flicker of movement caught her eye and, for a moment, she thought she saw a figure. But an eye blink later the corridor was clear. When she reached the next junction she looked quickly in all directions and there was nothing there- all was still, well lit and silent.

Avon stirred with faint recollections of a bad dream. He turned over onto his back, flinging one arm up over his head and swallowed, aware, with only half-awake senses, of a need to clear his throat. It didn't help. He swallowed again; then fell into a deep, dark sleep, free of phantoms.

Vila's need, when he woke, was not to swallow, but to relieve his system of some of the liquid he'd swallowed earlier that day. Thinking it would have been civilised of the Liberator's designers to have attached private toilet facilities to all cabins, he pottered, with half-closed eyes, out of his cabin and down a corridor to the shared facilities. On his way he passed the door of a small workroom. A soft, whirring noise caught his attention for a fraction of a second, but it did not persist and so did not penetrate the fog of sleepiness enough to arouse his curiosity. Accepting it as one of the many computer-generated noises in the ever-active ship, he continued on his way.

When Avon woke properly, the first thing he noticed was a clinging sweetness at the back of his throat, as though he'd been drinking perfume. There was also a trace of a sickly odour in the air, with no source he could quickly identify. The second thing he noticed was that he had slept eight hours and the third thing, as soon as he moved, that he had developed a fierce headache. Like a buzz saw it sliced through his nose, forehead and brain, causing him to close his eyes and give a moan. He knew, if he was going to be of any use to anyone in the next few hours, that his first stop would have to be the surgical unit for some pain killer.

When he left the cabin there was no-one else around. Two doors stood open, indicating the absence of occupants.

After treatment - with the headache held at bay by a fragile barrier of drugs, like a storm sea raging its might behind a dyke - he walked carefully forward to the flight deck. Everyone was there, all disgustingly cheerful and noisy. It was like breakfast at a boarding school. Without shame he turned to retrace his steps. Blake called his name, ran to catch up and fell into step beside him.

"What do you call this? A hasty exit or a strategic retreat?"

"I'll admit to both." Avon looked briefly over his shoulder, "They all look as if they slept well."

"It seems so." Blake looked at Avon closely. "Are you all right?'

"I woke with a headache. It's under control now, but I don't know how long it would stay that way in that company. Are they going to grace the flight-deck as a body for the whole of the next watch?"

"It seems so." Blake said with a lilt of humour in his voice.

Avon snapped, "Can't you say anything else?"

"What do you expect at this hour? Scintillating conversation? It's the end of my watch - I'm half asleep; and you don't look fully awake yet."

"I've had a disturbed sleep." Avon frowned, "There may have been something circulating in the air. I'll check out the air conditioning system now. Did anyone else smell anything odd?"

"No-one mentioned it. Vyell couldn't sleep ... perhaps that was what was disturbing her."

They reached a junction in the corridors and paused. Avon nodded somewhat tiredly. "I'll check it out. Anything else?"

"The translator unit malfunctioned for a short while some hours ago. You might think it worth looking into."

"What did Zen say was wrong?

"He said nothing had gone wrong." Avon looked at Blake sceptically and he shrugged, "Don't ask me, you check it out." Avon nodded and began to turn away when Blake spoke again, "While you're checking, find time to keep an eye on our guests."

"I thought the others were managing that quite well."

"I'd sleep easier if I knew you were ... "

"Looking after your flock?" Avon interrupted to suggest. "Aren't you sometimes afraid I may be the wolf and not another sheep dog?"

"Even a wolf makes a good watchdog - when it serves his own interests." Avon waited until Blake was well out of sight before he smiled.

Blake slept for four hours, then, feeling refreshed, returned to the flight deck. He was surprised to see Avon there alone. "Where are the others?"

Avon looked up from a small unit he was either examining or repairing. "Lora expressed an interest in our clothes so Jenna took her ... rather reluctantly I suspect ... for a private showing of the Liberator wardrobe. Cally and Vila are introducing Vyell and Syme to the delights of the 'Star Battle' board game, and Token found something in the library that took his fancy and has gone to his cabin with three discs to read."

"Odd, he doesn't strike me as the reading type."

"You know what they say about still waters."

"They form swamps?" Blake asked facetiously. Then, putting on a more serious air, he swung around the end of the lounger, sat down and began scanning an adjacent console. "Anything to report? Did you find anything wrong with the air conditioning?"

"Not with that, no…" The way his voice trailed away made Blake turn. Avon looked preoccupied. "Has anyone been in the computer room since I worked in there last?"

"Not that I know of. None of us would have a reason to go in there. What is it?"

"Nothing drastic. The door was locked; nothing was damaged or altered that I could see. It was just that one panel was partially unclipped. I know I didn't leave it that way, which makes me wonder who got in ... and how, and why."

"What's under that particular panel? Not the translator unit by any chance?"

"No, the main control and distribution processors."

They were silent for a while, then Blake opined, "You could have been mistaken about the panel."

Avon remained silent, for the infuriating thing was that Blake could be right. He was sure he had replaced that panel securely, but he was not sure enough to be certain. He decided to change the subject. "Has there been any mention of anyone knowing the whereabouts of Docholli?"

"Certainly," Blake said, "I mentioned it."

"That was subtle of you." Avon remarked sarcastically. "What did you achieve?"

"They deny all knowledge. They say they were told to accompany the SSL and nothing more. They were told that everything else had been arranged and that they need to know no more. They assume that whatever we want to know will be told to us by the people on the hospital ship when we make contact."

"They could be bluffing."

"I think they are. I don't think any of the rebels have any more idea of Docholli's whereabouts than we have; but they felt they had to have some inducement to get us to help them move the SSL to Outer Gal."

"How little they know you." Avon said softly as he went back to his work.

When Jenna and Lora appeared some time later the red-haired woman was chat chatting enthusiastically about a gala occasion she had attended and the glory of the clothes and jewels she had seen there. Desperately bored, Jenna muttered something about an urgent job she had to attend to and left, leaving on the flight deck with the two men.

Feeling only a little guilty, because she figured she'd done her duty by playing hostess to Lora for the last few hours, Jenna strode swiftly along the brightly- lit corridors, looking more purposeful than she really felt. There as no job waiting for her. What could she do that would keep her out of the way for a while? She could manufacture a few teleport bracelet parts ... a job that always needed doing, but was tedious. She could check the contents C the medikits scattered around the ship ... a useful job, but once again, tedious. Besides, Cally was more familiar with things medical. She could go and check the small craft docking cradles; it hadn't been done for some time. What had made her think of that? Ah yes ... Lora had asked what facilities is Liberator had for taking a small craft on board, if the need arose. The question had arisen naturally out of a conversation about the rendezvous with the hospital ship and did not make Jenna suspicious of Lora's motives. It only served to make her think of a job that needed doing. She made her way to the big hangar on the lower deck, and was surprised to find its entry hatch unlocked and standing ajar. She was even more surprised when she pushed it further open and looked inside to see Token standing by the door to a small storage room near the power distribution panels.

"What are you doing here"

He turned quickly, but not with any obvious display of guilt or alarm. "Just looking around."

"How'd you get in?"

The man's dark eyes looked over her shoulder to the big door. "I walked in."

"The door should have been locked."

Token made a slight shrug. "It wasn't. I'm sorry… is there something I shouldn't see in here?" He turned to look around. "Nothing looks particularly secret or sensitive to me."

There was nothing. The area was usually kept computer-locked against the possibility of accidental opening of the hold doors and transfer chute, that was all. It was a safety precaution. She explained this to Token who nodded with no animosity, and volunteered to remove himself from the area so that she could lock the door.

By the time she had drawn the heavy hatch closed, spun the locking mechanism and checked with Zen that it was locked and under his control, Token had vanished from sight. She gave a little shiver. It was not a pleasant thought knowing that that unpleasant little man with his gimlet eyes was lurking about the ship. What had Lora said about him? He was a bit of a fanatic, but a good little fighter. Jenna went back to the flight deck. Lora had gone. Vila and Vyell were there instead, chatting amiably. She approached Avon because he was the closest. He did not look up. She spoke softly to him so that Vyell would not hear.

"Listen, I thought we agreed that all doors and hatches should be kept locked ... except for cabins, galley and bathrooms."

"They are."

"They are not. I just found Token wandering around the lower deck."

"How did he get there? The hatch to the connecting companionway should have been locked."

"It was. I assumed he'd used the lift. Did we forget to tell Zen about that?"

They both frowned. With the usual lack of decisiveness among those on the Liberator they had probably failed to settle the matter before the meeting broke up and the rebels were allowed on board.

"Another mystery." Avon remarked and told her about the displaced panel in the computer room.

"What's going on?" Jenna puzzled.

Blake asked the same question half an hour later, when all the crew were gathered for a conference in one of the recreation rooms. They had to compare notes. Cally, summoned from her cabin, where she had gone when the board game was over, was the first to speak. "I don't know whether it's important or not, but I just overheard an argument between two of our visitors." Everyone looked at her.

Blake frowned, "Who was it? Could you tell?"

"No. They were in Lora's cabin and I could hear voices - a man's and a woman's I think - but they were muffled and I couldn't identify them. One of them was certainly angry."

"It could have been a lover's quarrel," Jenna suggested. "Two men – two women - there could be liaisons between them. We looked into their available histories but we know nothing about their private lives."

Blake gave his forehead a slow rub. "You're right – we don't and perhaps we should. Vila, go and get Orac and let's see what else he can find out about our guests."

Cally was looking thoughtful as Vila left. When Jenna and Blake looked at her with expressions of query on their faces she said: "Remind me… what did Orac say about Lyn Vyell's background?" They told her and the thoughtful look deepened. "I wonder ... "

"About what?" Avon asked impatiently.

"Lyn told me she had been with her brother when she was with the rebels on Saurian Major."

Jenna stared around sharply, "But that's ...

"... impossible, I know. All the rebels on Saurian Major were killed."

Blake spoke, "Did you ask her to explain?"

"I didn't have the chance to ask her then, ... but I could ask her now." She half-rose from her chair, but Blake motioned her to remain seated.

"No. Leave it. If she really is involved in some plan I think we should not show we are suspicious of her until we have some idea what game she's playing."

"Smuggling." Jenna said suddenly, adding as all eyes turned toward her. "I just remembered where I saw Lora before. It was in Hosiki's House, a favourite meeting place for free traders. She was with some man."

" Syme or Token?" Avon asked.

"No, I told you - I haven't seen either of them before. It was ... I can't remember his name, they called him 'Whispering Wando' or something like it."

There was a silence for a while as they each tried to fit this new piece of information into the rapidly changing view of the situation. At last Blake said, "Interesting, but it doesn't necessarily prove she is behind whatever is happening. Many rebels have criminal backgrounds." He grinned, "We can even count a free-trader among our own number."

Jenna was in no mood to banter. "Not like Lora," she snapped. "She's not a rebel or a free trader; she's an out-and-out mercenary."

"Nice shade of green you're wearing." Avon said unexpectedly, "It wouldn't match your eye-colour would it?"

"Don't be inane," Jenna said as she opened the door for Vila's return with Orac.

When Token returned to the flight deck, only Syme and Vy were there. He said nothing, but his thorough visual sweep of the area spoke volumes. Syme watched him from where he sat in comfort on the white lounger. In his hand he held a glass of emerald green soma.

"If you're looking for Blake and the others - they're having a conference in that room where we played the board game."

"Oh yes?" Token peered suspiciously at Zen, "I get the feeling that thing is watching every move we make." He gave the computer face another scowl, them looked back to Syme. "A conference you say? Did they tell you what it's about?"

"No. Perhaps they didn't like you wandering around, poking your nose into where it's not wanted."

"I did no harm!" Token protested. "It was a storage hold ... with nothing in it. Besides we were told we could go anywhere there was an unlocked door. That door was not only unlocked, it was half open." Like a petulant child he drew his chin back, lowered his voice, and added, almost to himself, "I thought there was someone working in there. I only wanted to be sociable."

"Don't try," Syme advised, "You haven't the face for it."

"Well was there?" Vy asked, "Anyone in there, I mean?"

"No, it was empty." Token painted a picture in the air with his hands. "A big wall over to one side with cables and indicators, next to a door to a storeroom; an empty docking cradle for a small ship; some overhead lifting gear; two big doors and that's all."

Vila came up behind Token on the steps. In size and weight the two men much the sane, and there was even a similarity in the roundness of their faces but Token's eyes were much smaller, with a keenness that did not encourage familiarity. Vila's eyes were soft and sparkling, inviting their observers to linger a while, to joke and to laugh.

"Don't mind me," Vila said, pushing past, "They've got me fetching and again. If ever there was a need for a service robot on this ship, I'd be it." He moved sideways along the narrow lane between the consoles and seats to reach the other side of the flight deck where Orac sat silent on his stand. Hugging the transparent box in a firm grasp, he hoisted it chest high and carried it back the way he had come, swinging it around as moved so that one corner dug into a seat back leaving a triangular dent, and another corner poked into Token's arm, drawing a mild curse.

"Sorry!" Vila said, not sounding it, and vanished down the corridor.

'Where's Lora anyway?" Syme asked when Vila's footsteps had faded. "It's not be wise to antagonise our hosts by wandering too far afield."

"She was in her cabin when I last heard her - arguing with someone," Token said.

Syme's blond head turned to take in a quick glance around those present. "It wasn't me," he said and looked at Vy who shook her head. "Well if it wasn't one of us… it must have been one of the crew. I wonder who. I didn't think she knew any of them."

"She and Jena have been as thick as thieves since she came on board," Vy remarked.

Token turned, "I'll go and get her." he said.

Jenna opened the door for Vila when he returned with Orac ,and Cally cleared a section of the games table to make room for the super computer. Avon pulled the key from his pocket and slid it into the receptor slot. It took several seconds for them to realise that there had not been the usual whine of power, that no lights chased each other around the translucent rods and loops, no light of intelligence glowed in the foggy heart of the tarial cells, nothing, in fact, had happened.

Avon removed the key, examined the contacts, picked at a non-existent bit of corrosion, then re‑seated it in the slot. There was a split second of light, then nothing.

Blake scowled, "What would cause that?" He looked up. "Vila, you 't drop it did you?"

Vila huffed a denial. "What do you think I am?" He looked at Avon. "It's his fault. The key spends so much time in his pocket it's either full of fluff or frozen."

"Could it be the key?" Cally asked.

The computer expert looked at her for long seconds until he had satisfied himself, from her expression and the natural inevitability of the question, that she was not taking Vila seriously, then said, "Yes, I think it is." He held it aloft in one hand and scrutinised it minutely through the transparent case. "This is probably a silly question, but have any of you tampered with it?" There a chorus of indignant denials. Avon lowered the key and turned his gaze on them, "Well, someone has."

Blake frowned, "I thought it was a sealed unit?"

"To all intents and purposes it is, but anything made can be dismantled-with knowledge and the right tools. Whoever opened this key knew what he or she was doing."

"Tools," Vila said softly. "Something that would make a whirring sound?"

"Possibly the micro-laser. What do you know about it?"

Vila took the key from Avon's hand and studied it for signs of tampering as he described the walk he'd taken during the last sleep period and the odd noise he'd heard in the work room. "I didn't think much about it at the time but now I'm sure it wasn't a normal shipboard noise, and it was coming from the workroom. There!" He pointed into the heart of the key. Avon looked, "The filament from the contact's been displaced a fraction. You're right - someone has been inside."

"Can you fix it?" Blake asked.

"If I can find out what was altered," Avon replied, "Of course I can. To do that I'll have to hook it up to the Liberator's analysis circuits, which will take time. How long do we have?"

"About four hours to the rendezvous."

Into the thoughtful silence that ensued, Cally put a not altogether agreeable remark: "There is a possibility none of us has mentioned so far: this phantom who is going around the ship without regard to locked doors, may not be one of the passengers ... or not one of the passengers alone ... he or she may have had help from one of us." Avon and Vila turned their heads to look at her, "Not necessarily either of you two," Cally said in answer to the unspoken resentment, "Zen has control of all the doors, and each of us can control Zen."

"Why? What reason would any of us have to help these people?"

Cally shrugged delicately. "Not one of us knows all there is to know about each other's backgrounds. Jenna was a free trader, perhaps she and Lora have plans ... " She continued quickly to abate the blue-eyed glare that came her way. "I might have fought with Vyell on Saurian Major; for all you know, she and I might have plans to take the Liberator. Vila and Token might have known each other in the past. Avon and Syme might be old acquaintances..."

"Yes, enough of that." Blake interrupted before she reached the point of pairing him off with someone. Hypothetical situations and alliances, no matter how unlikely, often stuck in the mind as firmly as fact. In raising the thought-provoking possibility, Cally had somewhat undermined their esprit de corps.

The next step they decided, after more talk, was to examine all the rebel luggage for any number of rare items which Orac would not have thought to mention but which - Jenna assured them - would be well worth smuggling. Items such as valuable documents, special programs for computers, antique gold, rare gems and valuable artefacts of bone wood or ivory. It fell to Jenna and Vila to detain their passengers on the flight deck while Cally and Blake examined the luggage and Avon worked on Orac's non-operational key.

An hour or so later, when Blake entered the computer room, he gave vent to a sigh of exasperation.

"My sentiments exactly." Avon concurred. He had Orac's key wedged into a slot in one of the banks of computer gadgetry. Blake forgot his own problems for a moment.

"Trouble?"

"Of the worst kind." Avon pointed at the key with a fine-tipped injector.

"Someone has turned it from an activator to a deactivator. To be able to put it back the way it was, I have to know its current state. To do that, I have to put it into the analysis circuits and, as soon as I do that, it shuts them down." Against his will, a smile broke cover, "Ingenious, albeit frustrating." Looking pleased to put the problem aside for the moment he literally turned his back on it.

"No luck with you?" He could see from Blake's expression that he had no good news to report.

Not a thing. If there was anything in their luggage, it's not there now. They must be carrying it on them. Without Orac, how can we tell?"

"Do you think we could persuade then to climb onto Zen's analyser?" Avon abruptly pressed his lips together as if in pain, "Ignore that. It must be the headache; I'm catching Vila's sense of humour. What's the next step?"

"Council of War" Blake declared, making it sound like a declaration of war rather than a mere council.

Cally had returned to the flight deck after helping Blake search the luggage. She found Syme, Vy and Lora there, being entertained by Vila who was relating a long and decidedly bawdy story of one of the exploits of his youth. Jenna came to meet Cally at the foot of the stairs.

"Have you seen Token anywhere?" the pilot asked, "He wasn't here when we got back. The others said he went to find Lora, but she claims not to have seen him. I was worried he might be in his cabin and you and Blake would run into him ."

Cally shook her head. "We did not see him. The cabins were all unoccupied. And there was nothing."

Jenna cast a quick glance around the assemblage on the lounger. "Then they probably have it on them ..." she said. To herself she though that that they must have been warned by someone, which meant, as Cally had suggested, that there might be a traitor in the ranks. But who could it be? Who was capable of betrayal? Vila? Yes, if he was under threat. He did not seem to be. Cally? Perhaps ... for the sake of her people. Herself? Jenna did not like to think herself capable of betrayal, though, until temptation occurred, no-one could be completely sure of how they would act. On this occasion, however, she was blameless. Avon? Certainly, for money or power, or, preferably, both. Blake? Yes, even Blake, if he thought some greater good would come of it.

Right on cue Blake came onto the flight deck, Avon a few steps behind him.

"Is everyone here?" Blake demanded, pausing by the two women. Even as he spoke, his eyes scanned the gathering, "No, where's Token?"

Jenna answered, "No-one seems to know."

Blake turned, "Cally, go and find him will you? Tell him,.. ask him to join us." As Cally left, he called for the attention of those left on the deck.

"We have less than an hour before we reach the rendezvous point off Outer Gal. Before we get there, I'd like a few things settled."

Syme and Vy, seated together at the front of the flight deck, glanced at each other, and then at Lora who was perched on the back of the lounger. Lora shrugged at them. Syme looked back at Blake, "What things?" he asked. "Has something happened?"

Blake took up a position before the main screen, looking rather like a lecturer about to instruct a class.

"A lot of things have been happening." Jenna said. She was accorded a brief look before the heads swivelled back to Blake.

"Who was the architect of the plan to transport the SSL?" he asked. Again the visitors shared glances, then gave their heads small shakes, "None of you then? Token perhaps?" This time Lora laughed.

"No, not him. He knew nothing about it until we were given our orders." Neither Blake nor Avon made any comment on that, leaving the silence as an invitation to explain further. "Token and I had been off-world on a successful mission. When we got back to our base, our leader said she was going to give us an easy job as a reward. How did she put it?" She laid a finger across her lips for a moment as she thought. " 'A little light guard duty on a luxury space ship'. We were told to go to a certain location in Pryor and there we would meet two other rebels and the item to be transported"

Avon stepped forward. Holding his hand with two fingers extended in a characteristic gesture, he waved it back and forth between Lora and the other two rebels. "Are you then from two different groups?" he asked.

Vy looked at him mildly, "Yes. We thought you knew. Does it matter?"

"Yes it does. You and Syme could be rebels and Lora and Token, for all you know, could be Federation agents."

"Conversely," Lora got in quickly, "Token and I could be genuine rebels and they ... " she pointed at the pair, "could be thieves and saboteurs or…"

"Smugglers?" Jenna put in.

Lora turned to her with a wide smile, "I wondered how long it would be before you remembered. It took me a while too - to remember where I had seen you before. Hosiki's House wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was." Jenna returned icily, "What brought about your transition , from free-trader's 'lady' to rebel?" She mode no attempt to keep the cynicism out of her tone.

Lora waved one hand airily and assumed an air of superiority. "I wasn't caught like you." she said, "I suppose I could have gone on with the free traders but I got tired of Wando and his friends. I drifted away from them and drifted into a band of rebels. I suppose one day I'll drift away from then too."

"What about Token, how long have you known him?" Blake asked.

"A few years. We've done some jobs together. We make a good team."

"What can you tell us about him?"

"Probably no more than you already know; born on Earth, a Beta-grade with some training in construction. Lost his family early in life. Never took a partner." She thought for a moment, then said slowly and seriously, "Token is the kind of man you could get to do your dirty work. He'll back you to the hilt, provided you don't cross him, then - I can assure you - you'll find his knife buried in your back."

Blake turned his attention to the other two. "What about you?" he asked.

Vy was about to speak when Syme got to his feet.• "Now look," he said in an agreeable tone, "you would already have learned all you could about us before we came on board. If we are not genuine, we are hardly likely to tell you what you want to know are we? If we are genuine, all this is not serving any purpose."

Blake was inclined to agree with him, but there was one question at least that he wanted to hear them try to answer; the question of Saurian Major. Before he could ask, Cally's voice came over the communicator, calling his name. "Yes Cally."

"I've found Token. He's unconscious. There is blood on the back of his head and it appears he was hit from behind."

"Where are you?"

"At the corridor junction near sub-control room three."

Hearing that, Syme declared himself to be worried about the safety of the SSL and demanded to have a look at it immediately. He asked for one of the crew to go with him to open the door to the storage room. Blake sent Vila with him while he and Avon went to join Cally.

After they had all departed Vy hesitated a while before hurrying up the steps to catch up with them, leaving Jenna alone with Lora. The redhead swung her long legs around the back of the lounger and sliding down onto its padded seats proceeded to examine her fingernails.

Jenna, arched an eyebrow, "Aren't you worried about your partner?"

"Who? Oh ... Token. He'll live; he has a hard head." She buffed her glossy nails on the shoulder of her tunic. "You have good medical facilities on this 'luxury liner' I take it?"

"Yes, we have a surgical unit." Jenna said, low-voiced and disgusted. The free-trading business tended to create hard men and women, but Lora was more adamantine than most. Except for a lack of political ambition, she could almost have been another Servalan.

Sensitive to every mood of the beautiful chip she had called home for some tine, Jenna suddenly noticed a change in the sound of the drives. She quickly dived through the consoles to reach the main flight-control console and checked the readings, at the same time calling for Zen's appraisal of the situation.

+Aggra vallan. Sol Tolin Sohar.+ it announced.

"Zen, translate!"

+So nokar lask teil.+ the machine replied. It might have been swearing at her for all she knew.

From the indicators on the boards Jenna could see that they were losing speed and manoeuvring as though to make contact with another ship - exactly the type of procedure she had expected to be supervising in forty minutes. "Zen, what's going on?" More alien speech. She hit the communicator button, "Blake, Avon, something's happening. The ship's making unauthorised alterations to speed and course and I can't get any sense out of Zen. Do you hear me?"

Outside the medical unit where he had just helped deposit Token, Blake ran for a communicator point and punched the button. As he did so, Vy and Avon joined him and Cally came to the doorway. "Blake here. What was that again, Jenna? We didn't catch all of it."

"Something or someone has taken control of the ship. It's slowing down … manoeuvring ... possibly rendezvousing with another ship. I can't prevent it and I can't get anything out of Zen. He's talking in his own language."

"The translator unit again ... " Avon had just begun to say when Cally gave a yelp. The door to the surgical unit had slid shut, almost catching her as she leapt out of its way into the corridor. They heard the lock click into place.

"We've stopped." Jenna called over the communicator.

"Leave that!" Blake snapped at Avon who had moved to examine the lock on the surgical unit door, "See what you can do about getting Zen back."

As testimony to the seriousness of the situation, Avon's only reaction to Blake's direct order was to obey it. He set off down the corridor at a run with Blake in his wake. Cally, knowing Token to be comfortable and safe in the surgical unit, elected to follow also.

En route to the flight deck the trio reached the computer room door and were not altogether surprised to find it closed. Avon gave it a brief test. "Locked," he reported.

Leaving it, they resumed their headlong rush, meeting Syme and Vila along the way. Syme was about to tell them he had checked the SSL and found it safe in its case, but changed his words to ask what was the cause of the evident emergency.

"We do not know the cause," Cally told him, "There seems to be some outside influence controlling the ship."

Bursting onto the flight deck moments later, the group of five saw Lora on her feet looking a little worried and Jenna engaged in a one-sided battle with Zen. Avon dived for the computer circuits behind the padded back of the lounger. The master computer continued to flash its golden semaphore and speak in its alien tongue while he worked feverishly to cut into the command circuits. If he could get some lower-level commands in somewhere, bypassing the higher-level translator altogether, they might at least be able to gain control of the situation. But nothing he tried was effective. Having tried everything he knew to effect a change he drew back in defeat.

"It's hopeless!" he cried. Avon's tone was one of anger rather than despair; still it was phrase none of them had ever expected to hear him use. Avon believed in success, he always seemed to know one more way to try. "The command circuits have been rerouted; Zen is responding to a very basic source … someone else … perhaps outside ... almost like ..."

"Orac" Vila said. There had been times in the past when Orac had co-opted control of Zen.

Avon shook his head, "Not this time. Orac is out of action."

"Another Orac?" Cally asked. She had had her own, very personal and unpleasant experiences with Orac and an alien creature that had been operating him and hoped that this was not going to be a similar case.

Blake looked at Avon, "Can't you do anything?" he demanded in unreasonable exasperation. "We have to regain control somehow." The icy look he got in response answered his question. Of course… if there had been anything Avon could do he would already have done it. Worried thoughts ran through him mind. What if a Federation patrol should come along. What if Servalan was behind all that had happened. If they could not control Zen and Orac was out of action, they would be helpless.

"The outer doors are opening." Jenna informed them.

Cally, at the console that held the detector readouts, added, "Indicators show that a small ship is coming aboard."

Blake moved across the flight deck to the weaponry rack. Here at least was something he could face. His only worry was that the phantom they had acquired had been tampering with the handguns too. But, a weapon slid out into his hand without fuss and he quickly assembled it together with a power pack and cable. Avon and Vila did the same. Vy handed Syme one of her weapons and then followed Blake and the others off the flight deck. Lora - to Jenna's surprise - took out her small, imitation gun.

"If you go waving that around and pretending it's real, you'll get yourself killed," she said.

Lora flashed her a smile and left, leaving the blonde pilot alone in the command area.

As Lora passed through the hexagonal portal, only Vila, at the tail-end of the party ahead was still in sight.

The invading ship had docked, with Zen's traitorous assistance, in the lower hold which began to re-pressurise. Blake, Syme and Avon stood beside the hatch which would give them entrance, and watched the indicators.

"Whoever they are," Blake said, "they can't come through this door any more than two at a time." He did not bother stating the obvious fact that, if they did, they would find six guns waiting for them. He turned to check on his companions. Avon and Syme were immediately behind him. He guessed that Cally, Vila and Vyell were still on their way and was about to yell for them to them to hurry up but remain out of sight as a second line of defence, when Lora appeared.

Blake looked at the woman's face, noting a strange expression on it but not the toy gun held in her hand. Before he could speak there was a hiss and he felt a moist spray brush his face. A painful tingle ran through his body, cramping his muscles into death locks wherever it spread. His chest constricted like a vice, his scalp tightened like a drum skin and seemed to press the consciousness out of his brain. Before blackness entirely consumed him, he saw Avon and Syme turn with looks of surprise on their faces. He did not see them go down.

Lora entered the flight deck, the little gun held ready, not as a toy, but with firm intent. Jenna saw the look in the woman's eyes and reacted instantly, hurling herself sideways among the consoles. In their protective cover she tried to crawl to the front of the flight deck to grab a weapon, but Lora had all the advantages of height and swift mobility and cut her off. She appeared before Jenna, tall, casual and confident and, with a slight smile, lifted the toy gun and pressed the plunger. Jenna was aware of a mist floating down, touching her skin, and then a paralysis which spread over her like a wave.

Vila had been the first to be cut down by Lora; he was the first to come round. Surprisingly there were no after-effects, in fact, he felt rather good, as he might have done after a refreshing sleep. He was in a cabin on the Liberator - he recognised the fittings and fixtures. It was one of the larger staterooms with two bunks and a viewing port. Blake was there, propped against the side of a bunk, Cally almost in his lap. Avon was face-down by the bulkhead below the thick-paned viewing port. Jenna was on the other bunk. All their weapons had been taken from them.

Vila's jacket had been removed and with it his small tool kit. The door to the cabin was closed and, he learned when he went to inspect it, locked. Cally sighed suddenly, opening her eyes, and asked, "What hit me?"

Vila shrugged. The last thing he remembered was running down the corridor from the flight deck. Lora had come up beside him, draped an arm over his shoulder and poked a small, plastic gun in his face. He had been about to remind her that it was not a good time to play games, when there had been a spray of fine, moist mist and a painful stiffness had gathered his body up in its grip until it squeezed the senses from him.

"It was Lora." Blake said, conscious though having trouble getting his mouth open. He made the effort and scanned the room. "She hit us with some kind of paralysing drug."

Avon leapt to consciousness with a startled jerk. Quickly looking about and seeing only friends, he relaxed and sat up with his back to the wall. I see that none of our guests made it into internment with us."

Blake's shoulders drooped, "You're right. It looks like they were all this together, sorry."

"For what?" snarled Avon.

"Not being suspicious enough. Not being more cautious."

Avon gritted his teeth and fumed in quiet irritation. Blake was always singing that tune- rushing them headlong into scrapes; trusting them into traps, and then regretting it later. This time though his irritation was somewhat muted by the knowledge that he had not been as cautious as he should have been. He'd been suspicious enough of all the rebels, their motives and their luggage, but Orac and Zen between them had assuaged his doubts. Neither computer had indicated anything amiss about the four when they had come on board. But Orac had been quickly put out of action and now Zen seemed to have turned against them. How had they done it? How had they altered Orac's key and taken over Zen? Unless one of the people in this room was playing a part in helping them, the man or woman had to be a computer genius comparable to himself. He could not imagine that ... none of them seemed likely ... or … an incomplete thought hovered on the edge of his mind but he could not make it take solid shape. Ever since the headache he had not been able to think clearly.

"Lora!" Jenna said as she woke. She sat up suddenly, searching for the weapon that was not on her hip. Seeing where she was and who she was with she grunted and relaxed her muscles and the word she next exclaimed just about summed up all their feelings, "Idiots!" She pushed the hair back from her face, "What idiots we are. I knew we shouldn't trust Lora. And it looks like the others are in it too."

"It does look that way, yes." Blake agreed as he got to his feet. "Vila, can you get the door open?"

Vila was already at work, prying at he flat, protective cover of the lock with his fingernails. "Maybe ... if I can get at it."

Blake cast a quick glance at Avon. He wasn't wearing his jacket and ; presumably his tools were not in the cabin with him. "Has anyone got anything that we can use?"

A quick search of pockets and the room produced only a pen and a spoon .Vila examined them critically, "What am I supposed to do with these? Write the lock a letter or eat my way in?"

"You're the expert," Avon snapped back shortly, "or so you keep telling us. You figure it out."

Vila applied the spoon handle to the edge of the plastic cover, knowing that even when he got at the lock, it would be slow going without tools. Avon wandered across the cabin to join him. While they worked, Blake and the two women moved back and sat on the edge of the bunks.

"What do you think they want?" Cally asked, and then proceeded to answer her own question, "Us? The Liberator?"

"You guessed it," Jenna mumbled sourly.

"Why did they not kill us? The reward for us is as great, dead or alive."

Jenna shrugged, "Presumably they, still need us."

Cally grimaced. "Who are they, I wonder."

Blake looked at Avon's back as the man worked. He had suspected the computer expert at first. He had the knowledge to make Zen obey him; he could easily have damaged Orac's key and then pretended to be unable to fix it; he could move around the ship at his discretion; he was avaricious enough to consider mutiny and kidnapping to claim the Liberator, but ... Avon had had opportunities before and had not betrayed them. Although he pretended to despise them and to be totally aloof to their fate, somewhere beneath his tough shell he must have developed a kernel of caring, for he stayed on when he could have left; he fought to protect when he could have sat back and done nothing; he worked to improve their capacity to outrun and survive the Federation and not just, Blake suspected, for his own benefit. No, it wasn't Avon behind it all. Nor any of the others of his oddly assorted crew.

Jenna had known Lora before, she admitted as much, but by her words and expressions she showed plainly that she had no lingering friendship for the woman and was not in partnership with her. Cally may or may not have fought alongside Vyell on some occasion, but there was no complicity in Cally, at least in so far as the ship was concerned. Vila? No. Although he was able to open all the locks on the ship (given time and tools), he had not the knowledge to put Orac out of commission or to make Zen obey him, and none of the ambition that might make him want to try.

Blake briefly recalled a conversation he'd had with Syme and remembered the man had shown some knowledge of computers. That could be the answer - he might be the expert of the group. What might he be doing now? Altering Zen beyond all hope of repair? Blake called out to the pair by the door: "How is it going?"

Before they could reply, there came a voice from outside, "Blake, Blake, is that you?" It was Token's voice. "Can I come in?"

"That rather depends on how good you are at undoing locks," Avon said. A second later the door slid back revealing Token standing there with a Liberator handgun in one hand, its belt and power pack in the other. He was not aiming it at them.

"How did you do that?" Vila asked, looking at the door as if it had in some way betrayed him.

"I pushed the button from the outside," the man replied looking mystified, "Were you locked in here? What for? What's going on?"

"We were hoping you could tell us. How did you get out of the surgical unit?"

"Just walked. Why? Wasn't I supposed to?"

Jenna was studying him cynically, "Oh just another example of a locked door mysteriously opening for you." She looked around, "Where are the others?"

Token had lost his cap; his wild brown hair, free of its usual confinement, fell on his forehead and got in his eyes. He pushed it back impatiently. "Syme and Vy are in the cabin down there ... both semi-conscious when I saw them. I don't know where Lora is." He sucked in a breath, "I don't know what you mean about locked doors opening for me; I swear, when I went down to the hold on the lower deck, the door of the hold was open. As far as the door to the surgical unit goes ... it wasn't locked. Or at least not locked when I came to."

Blake tossed his head in a conciliatory gesture, "It's all right. It's all right. No-one is accusing you. It looks like Lora may have been in this on her own."

Token rubbed the back of his neck. "I wouldn't doubt it. Bitch! I bet she was the one who hit me. I never did trust her; but she was a good fighter. Am he spoke he waved the handgun back and forth and up and down in such a way that it was mostly pointing at Avon's face. The computer expert had to fend off its business end several times.

"Where did you get that?" Avon asked, pushing the weapon out of the way for about the fourth time.

"In that room you use for the teleporting business. There are more there."

In unspoken agreement they all went out into the corridor with the intention of going to the teleport bay. After a short while Syme and Vyell came out of cabins farther along and moved cautiously toward them.

"What happened?" Vy asked, to which Avon replied:

"Lora happened."

Blake gave her a quick explanation while Jenna went on to the teleport bay. She returned with four handguns and two of Vy's guns. When the weapons were shared out they were one short. Vila would have been quite happy to go unarmed and thus rule himself out of whatever confrontation was coming up, but Token bundled the Liberator gun into his arms.

"Here, you take this. I'm not familiar with then and I have another means of defence." He bent down and drew a long-bladed dagger from his boot.

Lora's words echoed in Blake's mind. 'He'll back you to the hilt ... ' Yes, he could believe that, but who was he backing? Token and Lora had been partners; were they still partners? What had he been doing wandering around the ship? Who had knocked him out and why? Should they trust him? Blake's thoughts were interrupted by a series of loud thuds reverberating. through the ship.

"Meteor storm?" Token suggested, but they knew the sound of their ship to well to believe that.

"No." said Blake, "That's coming from inside." He moved off quickly toward the sound with the others following closely behind.

The noise came from somewhere in the maze of corridors and storerooms near the teleport section. They paused, hidden around a corner while Blake chanced a cautious look. He saw six tough-looking examples of interplanetary riff-raff standing before a storeroom door. They were all heavily armed but had set their weapons carelessly aside or holstered them, in order to concentrate their full attention on the attempt to break into the storeroom. The door was scorched around its edges, its lock smashed and hanging by a single cable and its metal plates damaged by the heavy hammer being wielded by one of the group.

Blake drew back. "There are six of them," he whispered, "all armed. I don't want any of them to get back into the corridors beyond." Avon and Cally nodded understanding as he looked at them.

"We'll give you two minutes to got into position." Avon beckoned to Syme and Vyell and they all slipped away to circle through the corridors to the other side of the group. Blake glanced around at the three who remained with him, "Jenna, Vila, stay out or sight for now, but be ready to back me up." He looked at Token, who appeared to be fierce and determined but who was armed only with his knife. "You keep out of the way to begin with; they've got powerful weapons …"

There was an abrupt yell from the direction Avon and the others had gone and the sound of gunfire, followed quickly by more bursts of sound and the clatter of hastily-grabbed weapons and running feet. A bolt of energy lifted the material on the shoulder of Blake's shirt, hit the wall by his head, and broke off a spray of hot fragments which stung his face. Realising it had come from behind he spun quickly to face it. Jenna had also turned to meet the threat. They saw two strangers diving for cover back along the corridor.

"We're in a crossfire!" Jenna cried. "Get out! Scatter! Take cover."

Vila and Token wasted no time in obeying her; they scuttled down a lateral corridor and were soon out of sight. Blake and Jenna followed at a slower speed, moving backwards, firing to protect themselves every step of the way. Four of the group who had been breaking into the storeroom had joined the two down the corridor and all of them were coming after them.

One of the pirates went down; seconds later Jenna gave a cry of pain as she was hit in the thigh. Clutching at the wound she managed to stay on her feet and shoot back at a man who was taking aim at Blake. He saw her and dodged, his shot spoiled and glancing off Blake's boot leaving him gasping from the resulting bruise. Blake stumbled backwards, gratefully following Jenna into the relative safety of another corridor. Somewhere to their right they could hear the sound of more gunfire, indicating that Token and Vila had struck some resistance. The sounds of shouts and gunfire seemed to fill the ship.

"This way!" Blake decided, setting off down the passageway that led to the flight deck. If they could get there, they could perhaps make their way right around the area of fighting and come up on the pirates from behind. Jenna didn't need to be told, she was - if anything - a few steps ahead of him in spite of her injury. The worst thing she knew was to stop moving and let the muscles stiffen up and lock. A man appeared ahead of them. Jenna's hand came up but before she could fire, Blake's shot took the pirate in the chest. He was lifted up and sailed back into the corridor wall to crumple against it like a ragged doll. "Pay back!" Blake said with a nod to Jenna's wound. He gave his head a toss. "Come on!'

In another corridor Vila and Token retreated with Vila laying down covering fire. Vila heard a cry behind him but could not turn as an invader was coming around the bend ahead of him. A blast of energy and Vila felt an agonising lance of fire score along his side. He fell, twisting and firing without sighting. There was a sudden silence, he clutched at his side and established the fact that both his tunic and flesh were torn open by a surface laser burn. The pain was shooting through him like a stabbing knife, threatening his consciousness.

Worried that he was becoming vulnerable he looked quickly about. The man who had shot him lay dead a few feet away but he'd sensed someone moving behind him. Forcing himself to his feet against waves of pain he turned and gulped to see a pirate lying on the floor, his throat cut open from ear to ear - a pool of blood starting to spread out beneath him. Feeling more faint than ever, Vila stumbled away from the body, "Token!" he called, but the man was nowhere in sight.

Avon, Syme and Vyell had set off with the intention of encircling the men breaking into the strong room. They failed when they ran into opposition from more pirates. They tried to retreat but found that still more of the invaders had come up behind them. Avon found himself grabbed from behind and his weapon was wrenched from his grasp. He lashed backwards with one foot, catching his opponent on the shin and the two of them crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

Syme had been luckier than Avon, getting off a shot that took out one of the pirates. In a superb display of fighting co-ordination he spun and kicked sending a second man sprawling. Looking like his wild Viking ancestors he then flung himself at another man who was firing at Vyell.

Avon meantime fought like a madman with the space pirate who outmatched him in both size and strength. He found himself forced to the floor and the giant knelt on his chest and raised an arm above him. Avon's eyes widened in horror as he saw the knife blade ready to strike. In a desperate move he arched his body and twisted.

The air filled with curses as the pirate toppled sideways and the knife blade slashed down to hit the floor instead of its intended victim. Avon pulled his left leg out from under the other man's weight and realising that it was positioned conveniently between the pirate's legs, kicked upwards with all the strength he could muster.

There was a satisfying scream of agony as his shin connected with the man's genital region. The knife clattered to the floor and the pirate toppled sideways, curling in pain. Avon rolled to his side and delivered several blows to the man's head. When he felt certain he had rendered him unconscious he staggered to his feet and looked about for his gun.

Syme, meanwhile, was busy beating one pirate senseless while another writhed on the floor, still suffering the effects of being on the receiving end of a vicious drop kick. There was an open cabin nearby. Avon signalled for Syme to leave off his attack as his victim seemed half dead already. Together they pulled the three disabled invaders into the room, closed the door and smashed the lock.

Leaning against the door when this was done, Avon brushed off Syme's attempts to examine his arm. It was bleeding quite heavily but still fully functional and that was all that mattered to him for now.

"See to her," he snapped, pointing at Vyell who lay pale and unconscious on the corridor floor. Syme did so, reporting that she was badly wounded but with medical treatment she might survive.

They looked at the body of the dead pirate and both realised at the same time that the numbers did not add up. One dead, three in the room…

"There were five of them. Where's the other one?"

Avon pushed himself away from the door, wondering not for the first time what had happened to his usually sharp perceptions. Two steps around the corner from where the ambush had taken place he found a corpse with multiple stab wounds in its back, "It looks like friend Token was here." he muttered as Syme joined him carrying the unconscious Vy. Avon nodded at the woman. "Take her to sick bay. I'll try to find the others." In the distance they heard sound of blaster fire.

Prowling along a corridor that ran parallel to where Avon's group had been attacked, Cally came across a small group of pirates talking and laughing as they explored the ship. She saw one of the party look into an open doorway and heard him cry out in surprise: "Here, look at this will you?" The others crowded around and Cally began to hear other sounds of surprise. She trembled with anticipation as she realised they had stumbled across the wardrobe area with its rack upon rack of exotic clothing. If only they would go inside! She waited hardly daring to breathe, listening to the voices grow fainter as the men moved into the room. She chanced a peek around the corner just in time to see the last man's back as he moved through the doorway. Like lightning she ran forward and pressed her hand against the door switch. The men cursed and lunged as they realised that the door was swinging closed on them. Cally heard the sound of gunfire bouncing off the back of the door and smiled grimly as she brought her Liberator hand gun into play and welded the door closed. She hoped that their shots were ricocheting nicely around the room, doing some serious damage. There was no cry of pain but a great deal of shouting and cursing. Soma gas pumped into the room through the ventilation system would soon take care of them… and easy job to do once the ship was back in their hands.

She had no sooner finished closing the door than she heard the sound of more fighting. She broke into a run, skidded around a corner and stopped to take in the scene before her. Blake and Jenna were fighting with a pair of pirates. Blake was in a close grapple with one man but Jenna was holding her opponent off at a distance, a knife held out before her.

Cally hoisted her weapon, "Jenna, get clear," she shouted. Her intention was to fire as soon as her crewmate was out of the way but it didn't work out quite as she had planned. Jenna was distracted by her cry and hesitated allowing the pirate to spring toward her with his own knife ready to stab or slice. Cally threw herself to one side to get a clear shot, thumbing the firing button even as she fell. The pirate seemed to crumple in mid-air and the knife missed Jenna as his body crashed to the floor.

Jenna leaned against the wall and looked to Blake who was up and holding his semi-conscious ex-opponent by the collar. He stood still for a moment before seeming to realise that he had a man dangling at the end of his arm and let him drop to the floor. After the thud, silence reigned throughout the ship. Jenna listened for a while then looked from Blake to Cally. "Does this mean that we won?"

They had won, but not without cost. Twelve pirates had boarded the ship of whom five were now dead and seven taken prisoner. Of the ship's defenders Vyell was the worst injured, laying on a medi-couch and fighting for her life as the others licked their more superficial wounds. Only Syme had come through the battle without injury; he was merely hot and tired. Of Token there had been no sighting since he had departed from Vila; although he was undoubtedly been responsible for the expert knife despatching of two of the pirates. When Vila led his companions back to the bloody site where the man lay with his throat slashed open, Jenna looked at his face and said:

"Well… this is no surprise."

"An old friend of yours?" Avon asked sarcastically. This was not the first time the ship had been invaded by Jenna's ex-associates.

"An old friend of Lora's," Jenna said. "Wando."

"Speaking of Lora," Blake said. "Token is still not the only one unaccounted for."

Back on the flight deck, Lora's fate was soon apparent to them. She lay in a pool of blood below the vertical star chart. Like Wando her head had very nearly been severed from her neck.

Vila looked pale and turned away, clutching his stomach, "I don't think I feel well." No-one else did either.

Blake remarked: "As she herself said, Token is not a man you cross."

Syme walked to Lora's body. "They were partners, but there is no honour among thieves."

Avon shot him a sharp look then stood in silence with his thoughts. He was feeling extraordinarily irritated… not by the present situation but by his inability to comprehend it clearly. Normally his thoughts ran like quicksilver over a glass plate, but over the past few days they seemed to have been more like lead balls rolling through cold treacle.

So… he thought, Lora had tried to take the Liberator and come to this ugly end. She must have had it all set up with Wando, her old boyfriend . Now she was dead and so was he. The rest of the invaders were either dead or incarcerated. It was all over. He told himself he should be feeling relieved. But he wasn't. There was something niggling at him… something telling him that it was not all over.

It wasn't all properly explained. That was what was bothering him; it was not all explained. Where, if anywhere, did Syme and Vyell fit in? Were they simply rebels caught up in Lora's plan or was there more to them than met the eye? Was Token involved and if so, how? Where was he now? Who had taken control of Zen? Who had sabotaged Orac's key? None of the four seemed capable of it. And just supposing one of them did have the ability… when had he or she had the opportunity?

It must have been during that first watch when he had slept so deeply and awakened to a sickly smell. He had been drugged… that much was now obvious. The drug had not come through the air conditioning system… he had ruled that out… someone must have entered his locked cabin. But how? Did one of the four have Vila's talents?

Avon realised that even though his brain felt sluggish it was still coming up with a lot of questions. It was, however, not so good at coming up with answers. In his own defence he told himself that he really hadn't had much of a chance to sit and think about it all.

Who might it have been? Lora? It was possible- she came from a criminal background. Mixing with Wando and his friends she might have picked up some surprising abilities. Token? Quite likely. A strange, deep little man… who knew what talents he was hiding. He even looked a lot like Vila. Perhaps all good thieves had that look about them.

Avon shook his head to rid it of such arrant nonsense. Before he could think any more Cally interrupted to comment that the detectors were still registering that the out hold doors were open.

With a quick look at the scanner readouts Blake nodded agreement. He looked up to the master computer. "Zen, status report on the lower hold."

+Anar coll velot Tolin makar.+ the computer replied.

Avon had a thought, "Zen, give me hard copy status report on the lower hold." It had occurred to him that perhaps only the speech translators were on the blink. Everyone waited when the sheet was delivered and he read it. He shook his head, "Alien."

The main screen glowed and came to life. It showed a small ship against a star field. They had no difficulty in recognising it; it was the ship the invaders had used. The scene lingered a few minutes, then changed to an interior view. The first thing they saw was the top of a cap with a dirty, sweat stained brim. Then the pilot lifted his face into view. Token's dark eyes looked out at them from under a verandah of unruly hair.

"Greetings all," Token said amiably. "In case you're wondering, this a live transmission, not a recording, so don't go dashing down to the lower hold just yet. I'll have Zen close the doors and re-pressurise in a moment, but first ... some explanations."

"Who are you?" Avon asked.

"Can't you guess?" Token grinned. "Ah, no, perhaps you can't. Your agile brain has not been up to its usual standard has it? It's the drug. I was sorry to have to cripple an intellect like yours but it was necessary. My plan was not so fool proof that you might not have seen through it."

"Did you kill Lora?" Cally asked.

"Me? Kill my delightful partner? No, no, it wasn't me. It was Wando who performed that act. He got some satisfaction from it I imagine. He hated her you see. I hated both of them for something they had once done. I killed him in the way that he killed her… poetic justice and in a way revenge for a partner who had got me out of a few scrapes in the past. Of course," he smiled ingenuously, "it also removed the last person who knew that I had hired him and his crew. It covered me in case something went wrong and I had to make a final appearance before leaving you."

"Is that what this was all about then?" Blake asked. "A plan for revenge?"

"No," said Avon. "He wouldn't have gone to all this trouble to revenge himself on two people he could easily have met somewhere in a city."

Token laughed, "Very good. The cobwebs are clearing. Keep going… And by the way, you can save yourself the trouble of sneaking across flight deck to the weapons console ... nothing will work for you. Zen, and therefore the Liberator, is totally under my control."

Avon paused, half way across the flight deck, his treacle thoughts starting to come unstuck at last. How had Token brought Zen under his control? To do that would take an Orac, which he did not have ... or days of work, which he had not done ... or prior tampering, which he could not have done… or … the thought that had started to form earlier finally coalesced. He caught his breath. "Of course!" he turned to face the screen as he uttered the exclamation. "I know who you are. Not a thief ... not Vila's counterpart, but mine!" Token's laughter filled the flight deck. Avon walked toward the large screen as if approaching the man himself. He was viewing the little man with fresh eyes… eyes touched with admiration. "You're the man who built Zen."

Token frowned and smiled. "I'm flattered, but that's not quite true. The System built Zen but I modified him … mad him our own."

"He's one of the original crew!" Jenna exclaimed, pleased for no reason she could discover, except that her curiosity was in imminent danger of being satisfied. She had often wondered who the original crew had been and why they had abandoned the beautiful ship.

"Then it was the Liberator you were after." Vila guessed, puzzled, as they all were, as to why he had left it behind. Token hooded his eyes for a moment.

"It was always my intention to take the ship,- right from was not the Liberator. but Project DSV - 2 ..." A spellbound hush fell over the flight deck as Token unfolded the story to them; all anger held in suspension as they stood and listened. "Rycott was an engineer taken from other projects to work. He didn't like The System anymore than most, but, unlike most he saw the chance to escape from it; he decided he would steal the new deep-space craft.

"First he had to collect a group of people with the talents he would need in the escape and, later, to fly the craft. Rycott was black-haired, bearded, soft-spoken … a big man in all ways. You may have noticed that some of the clothing this ship carries was intended for a big man ... " Token did not notice the look of sorrow that faces of some of the people to whom he spoke. They were remembering a large, gentle man named Gan who had worn many of those clothes. "His best friend was a man named Padra ... a good man ... the best to have beside you in a fight. Rycott would have included him in the plan even if he had not been the weapons specialist that he needed. Padra never said much, but I think he was as enthusiastic for the plan as Rycott was.

"The next most urgent need was for a computer expert, for at that stage the master computer of the DSV-2 was going in and Rycott wanted his own man in place making modifications right from the ground level.

"He came to me with his plans and asked me to join him. I had a high-status position in The System - a privileged position - not ruled by the Altos - not far removed from the Elite themselves. I tell you, I wasn't all that interested in losing it all for the dubious life of a renegade. I wished him success, promised I would not betray him, but refused to help. He went away and I thought that would be the last of it. While I got on with my usual life, Rycott collected a navigator - a young woman: named Tamis; and she introduced her cousin, another young woman, named Mirin. She was a pilot. Both women had lost most of their families to the System and were very keen to leave.

"They went ahead with their plan, but every way they turned they seemed t run up against the need for a computer expert. Rycott approached a woman named Koril .. a very talented woman ... I trained her, but she had her sights on becoming one of the Elite and would have betrayed them for a good word from the System. Fortunately Rycott realised her true nature before he gave away too much.

"They were at an impasse. It was then that Mirin suggested that I might be willing to leave my comfortable niche in society, if I was offered more than I had already. They contacted Fidron, an infamous and flamboyant thief. Have you seen the black leather and studs outfits amongst the clothes .. the silver jacket and other fancy gear? They were Fidron's. He was about your size, Avon ... I notice you wear many of the clothes meant for him ... but, when it came to stealing things, he was your equal, Vila. You and he would have made a devastating team.

Fidron had been doing very well out of The System until they caught hue. They were about to subject him to their particular brand of 'rehabilitation' ... a form that would have left him a will-less, mind-less idiot, when Rycott rescued him. In gratitude he thought the thief would join the team, but he didn't. He said, 'Thank you very much.' wished them luck and disappeared.

"For a while it looked to Rycott as though all his plans were going to come to nothing then, unexpectedly, Fidron returned. He'd had another narrow escape from the law and decided that, after all, it might be a good idea to flee the System. As a start, he'd brought a packet of jewels and alien currencies and a stack of the fancy clothing worn only by the Elite. These were his contributions to the effort you might say.

"Rycott then returned to me with a new offer. He described an exciting life on a beautiful, modern ship, perfectly equipped for a life of piracy ... or quiet travel, if that was what we wanted. We would have fine clothes, wealth, a whole galaxy to explore and a new ship to call home. I would have a brand-new, ultra-sophisticated computer to mould as I would wish. I came to the conclusion that it was too good to refuse. In fact I'd never really stopped thinking about it since the first approach, and it didn't take that much to finally change my mind. Rycott arranged for me to be transferred to the DSV-2 project.

"As I worked on the computer, Rycott proceeded with the rest of his plan. Fidron stole and Padra smuggled on board all the essentials we would need plus some of the extras for our promised 'life of luxury'. I won't tell you of all the little hitches and the many moments of pure fear when we thought we were to be discovered. However, our luck held and, although there was a last-minute change of plan that nearly made our escape impossible, the test-firing during which we were to steal the ship, eventually came. I would dearly have loved to see the looks on the faces of those System automatons when the DSV-2 not only fired up her drives for the test but took off and left!"

Jenna had to smile at the thought. She would have liked to have seen that too. "They followed you?" she asked.

"They certainly did! They came after us with everything they could launch. We weren't particularly worried; we had the newest, fastest, ship the System had ever produced - a ship more versatile and intelligent due to our modifications. We fled toward that area of space occupied by the Federation, hoping that the System would not want to provoke it by following us there. Unfortunately we didn't quite make it all the way into Federation space. Somewhere on the edge they caught up with us and there was a battle.

"It was not a mean little scrap, I can tell you. We had upwards of twelve small fighters and several cruisers against us. Padra and Rycott had designed and installed a force wall far superior to the original model, but even that was not enough to withstand all the energy that was being thrown at us and we took a few bad knocks.

"After a particularly bad shock, the master computer told us that we had to abandon ship because the life-support system was in a failing condition. We had plenty of life pods and we were within range of a few planets so we were disappointed, but not too worried. I helped them get safely away."

"Heroic of you," Avon commented sarcastically, suspecting it had not been anything of the kind.

Token's eyes gleamed, "Of course, I had to stay on board to operate the controls didn't I?"

Avon almost smiled. "Right to the last when Zen would have suddenly revised his estimate on the terminal state of the life supports."

Blake's eyes opened in realisation, "Leaving you with the ship!" So he was not the only one who had to contend with scheming companions. He felt sympathy for the luckless Rycott.

"Leaving me with the ship." Token confirmed, nodding, showing the top of his cap. When he looked up there was an expression of wry amusement on his face. "Or that was what I had planned; but it went a little wrong."

Over the top of Vila murmuring about 'mice and men', Token went on:

"While I was in the life capsule bay, getting Rycott ready to leave, a piece of the wall came loose and fell, hitting me on the head. My wonderful, heroic leader ... may his toes rot in his boots … got me into a pod and launched it." Token seemed undismayed by the display of mirth from his audience, "I presume, as you found the ship empty, that Rycott got himself away safely as well." He saw them nod. "When I came around I'd landed on the surface of a planet. Zen would not answer me. I'd programmed him to ignore all calls from planetary surfaces for some time after the pods were ejected in order to prevent the others from returning. I hadn't planned to be stuck on a planet myself." He paused to look at his still-chuckling listeners.

"Hoist by your own petard" Jenna said .

"An expression I have heard applied to my situation, yes ... whatever a petard may be. Anyway, suspecting - but having no way of knowing - that Zen would be winning the battle with the System, I walked to the nearest settlement and began rebuilding my life. I am, after all, a realist."

"What happened to the others?" Blake queried.

"I think they all survived, although that could be wishful thinking."

"Or conscience." Cally commented. Token ignored her.

"Rycott would have found it easy to survive, he was a man of great talents and adaptability- probably runs his own planet by now. Fidron disappeared into the anonymous ranks of Freedom City and I heard that Taniz and Mirin joined some rebels. Padra, I assume, would have gone looking for Rycott. Maybe they are together. They were both survivors. I myself got into the computer side of a firm of investment consultants-and worked my way up to the head office. I made myself a very wealthy man …"

"How wealthy" Vila asked, glancing at Avon.

"Nothing like the amount Avon would have taken from the Federation had his fraud succeeded," Token answered in interpretation of Vila's look. He studied his counterpart on the flight deck of the Liberator, "But I made my money honestly, buying and selling shares." His eyes seemed to go blank for a moment, then he continued slowly. "I suppose you could say I had everything a man could want. I had money, power, I was free of the System. But what I really wanted was the DSV-2, and the freedom she could give me." The fire returned to his eyes, "From the beginning that had been my sole aim; that had been the real lure; not the piracy, not the escape from the System ... but the ship … my ship." He glared at them as though daring them to deny it. None of them did.

"When I first heard about you and your finding of the ship, I was furious ... then I thought that it might be a good thing; that it would be easier to get the ship back from a bunch of criminals than from the Federation, which, I had by then, begun to realise, was a pretty formidable enemy. Later I heard of your exploits, your daring, your courage and I knew that whatever I had to do to reclaim the DSV-2 it would not be easy." He paused and sighed, leaving an opening into which Blake thrust some questions.

"Were you and Lora working together? How did you get the SSL? Is it genuine? What about Syme and Vyell?"

"You need not fear for Syme and Vyell- they are genuine rebels." He dropped his gaze toward the controls of the small ship. "I should tell you the story from the beginning, or a little before that, in order for you to understand my reasons. " He looked up, "I met a woman and fell deeply in love with her. Her name was Carin. She was intelligent and beautiful. I'd known her for some time before I learned that she was a Federation officer on a special-team that dealt with free traders. Wando and his gang caught her ... " His voice dropped and they could see he was fighting emotion. "He and Lora…" He closed, his eyes and swallowed. "They didn't just kill her ... they tortured - her to death. "Laughing all the time. Lora used to boast about it, describing it, saying how she'd been so amused." He shook his head savagely and, all they saw for a while was the top of his cap. He looked up abruptly, "So you can see why I wanted them dead." Tolin, the man they knew as Token, sighed. "Revenge is a strange thing; you think it's going to be so sweet, so satisfying but . .." He lifted his shoulders and dropped them again, "It just leaves you empty, burnt out. I have no ambition left." He fell silent. After a time, when it became apparent that he was not going to say any more, Jenna said;

"You were going to answer some of our questions." Token gave a slight nod. "What were you doing in the hold when I found you there?"

Before the man could answer the others got in their own questions.

"What did you do to Orac?" Avon asked.

"Who knocked you out?" Cally queried.

Blake was interested in what was, for him, a far more important matter: "Did you know about Docholli? What do you know about Docholli?"

Token raised a hand. "So many questions," he said with a small laugh. "All right, me a chance and 'I'll try to answer them. But first ... let me finish my story: After I had established a living for myself, I learned all I could about the Federation, the people in power, the various rebel forces – and you. I formulated a number of plans that I thought might work and I waited. I waited for the right set of circumstances to occur. When they did they gave me the opportunity to have my revenge on Lora and Wando.

"I had done some work for the free traders, so they knew of me; so did Lora, though she did not suspect how I felt about her. What do you know about the Belling-Fox plates? His question met with a flight deck full of blank looks. "Zen. Vagra ashan coll vecor," he ordered and his image was replaced on the main screen by that of a pair of jewel-studded, gold plates. Token's voice came over the audio relay:

"These are the Belling-Fox plates; made of gold, as you can see, set with uncut gems and covered with the pictography of the Sooning people, the native race of Lento. They were found in a dig some years ago. The records will tell you they were put away for safe keeping and study, but they were actually stolen. As you can imagine, they are worth a very great deal. The thief couldn't sell them however - at least not for their true value - and the dealer who finally bought them had to hold them all this time, waiting for a chance to get them off Lento and into the hands of a suitably rich, and suitably unscrupulous collector. I knew that Lora knew him, and I told her to tell him we could get them out for him; that I had a fool-proof way to get the plates off world."

The image of the plates faded and Token's face returned. "I'm sorry I could not have had Zen explain to you about the plates ... his description would have been better than mine ... but as you might have guessed ... I've by-passed the very high-level, interpreter so that, at the moment, he only understands and speaks my language."

"You shouldn't have been able to do that." Avon said in a tone bordering on wonderment. He had, long ago, realised that the original crew, including the computer expert, could he out here somewhere, all with teleport bracelets, just waiting to get back on board. He had been determined that, if they managed it, they would not get a very friendly reception from Zen. He had done everything he thought necessary to wipe all knowledge of the previous occupants of the ship from the memory of the master computer. But It had obviously not been enough.

"You did a good job." Token conceded, "but you could not have erased everything without destroying the computer itself. Knowledge of me resides not only in Zen's memory, but is built into the very fabric of his being. Like our chromosomes, which contain the blueprint for a duplicate of ourselves, within every cell ... every part of the computer contains a memory block that knows me and is obedient only to me."

"A very basic source," Avon murmured. "What did you need to do in the computer room then?"

"I had to introduce myself to Zen under my new name, reach the memory store and give him a few orders. I also needed to set up a couple of input terminals for myself in various parts of the ship, program him to open some doors for me at certain times and by-pass the high-level interpreter when I ordered it. I also wanted to see what kind of alterations you'd made. I knew you would have attempted to build in safeguards. It took me a long time to find all of them. I congratulate you; it was quite an achievement ... for your level of technology."

"It was our level of technology that produced Orac," Blake reminded him.

Token's face lit up. "Yes indeed! A remarkable creation. Of course I could see what it was as soon as I walked onto the flight deck and could guess at its capabilities. It worried me at first then I realised that I would be quite safe for a while. Apart from detecting that I am of a divergent strain of humanity - a fact I'd allowed for in the history I made up for myself and put in the Federation's memory banks - there was not much your computer could tell you about me that would make you suspicious. But I couldn't leave it in action… that would have been too much of a risk."

"In case he told us about the gold plates in the lid of the SSL case," Blake guessed.

Avon shook his head, "No, the plates were never on board, were they?" Token grinned confirmation and Avon continued, "You told Lora you could control the computer and make it ignore the plates; but that wouldn't have been possible at that stage as you hadn't had time to introduce yourself to Zen and therefore no way to control his response to the analysis ... and no control whatsoever over Orac. You couldn't have risked it. So what did you do with the plates?"

"I posted them back to the authorities on Lento. I imagine they'll be pleased and surprised to get them back."

He and Avon seemed to be sharing secrets. "I don't understand," Jenna interrupted, looking at Avon, "How did you know he didn't try to smuggle the plates?" It made sense to her that he should have tried it; they were small, easily concealed and very valuable it.. just the sort of thing smugglers loved. "It was worth the risk, surely?

"He didn't need them." Avon said, "They were only the bait to get Lora on board and secure co‑operation at the other end ... " he broke off as another of those half-formed thoughts wafted into his mind. It had something to do with Lora and Wanda and why Token had needed them at all.

Before Avon could make anything of the thought, Token went on with his story. He described how he had returned Orac's key to his cabin after altering it, and how he had nearly been caught by Vyell, wandering silently about in bare feet. The next day, while checking out the lower hold, to make the docking cradle was ready for the ship, he had been surprised by Jenna. Of course the hatch hadn't been open ... he had opened it. When he returned to the cabins, Lora was waiting for him. She was angry and accused him of trying to find a new hiding place for the SSL so that he could leave her out of any deal with Wando. He had told her not to be stupid, went to his own cabin and tried to rest. He had found he couldn't and left to walk the corridors. He was walking near sub-control room three when he was suddenly aware of footsteps behind him. The next moment something struck the back of his head and darkness followed.

"When I woke up in the surgical unit I opened the door and looked out. All was quiet. I went to the flight deck. Wando and the rest of his murderous band were there. He'd brought along more than I'd told him. I'd said four. What did he have? Eleven? He'd killed Lora." He bared his teeth in a smile. "Poor Lora, It must have been a nasty surprise for her to realise who I'd hired to take the Liberator. She'd ditched and double-crossed him and he didn't like it. The throat-cutting was a predictable outcome of their rendezvous I suppose, they always were a charming pair."

"There was a surprise for you too," Jenna. observed, "when you found out that Wando planned to double-cross you; that was why you decided you would had to release us."

Token nodded, "You have it. They were going to kill all of you and take the ship for themselves. They wanted weapons, so I told them the armoury was in that storeroom that they were attacking when we first saw them. That gave me the time I needed to free you. I never intended you should be harmed in any way; I'd given strict instructions that you should be captured alive and just locked away until we had completed our 'business'. When I learned that they planned to kill all of you after taking control of the ship… I guess I began to see that I had not been as smart as I had thought after all.

"Damn it ... I had found myself liking and admiring you, I could see the ship was in good hands and being put to a good purpose ... reclaiming it for myself no longer seemed important ... I'd seen her again ... it helped me make up my mind about what was really important in life. Take her- with my best wishes." He was seen to lean forward in the pilot's seat of the small craft. "I will say goodbye…"

Blake had been thoughtfully contemplating the floor. He looked up quickly. "You're not leaving it at that?"

"No? I thought I had covered everything."

"What about the SSL?"

"I hope you will still deliver it. The rendezvous with the hospital ship is still on ... just a little farther along in space and time than you expected. I really do want the rebels to have that weapon, in spite of what I told Lora. They can still have it ... with your help."

"And the information you used as a bait for us? About Docholli? That was fake I suppose. But how did you know we wanted to find him?"

"I'm not all fraud." Token said, feigning hurt feelings, "I really do have information on Docholli, though I'd be wary of it if I were you. The man who was heavy-handed about dropping the information had 'plant' written all over him. Someone wants you in Freedom City. That's where your elusive cyber surgeon is supposed to be heading." He shrugged. "It's up to you whether you go or not." He began to look a little harried. "Look, you'll be making contact with the hospital ship soon. When you do, Zen will come back on line for you and, if you don't mind, I'd like to be half a galaxy away by then. I know the power of the weapons you've got and I rather suspect you may be a little angry with me. Goodbye friends. It has been quite an experience."

The screen went blank to the accompaniment of cries of protest. Cally said unhappily: "I wanted to ask him about Vy."

Syme looked at her surprised and somewhat accusingly. Avon half-turned towards her, his air one of distraction. "That's simple to explain." he said and went back into a haze of thought.

"Explain then!" she exclaimed.

"Vyell left Saurian Major before the Federation applied its biological warfare." Cally pulled a face as the flight deck went quiet. It was such a simple explanation, none of them seemed to have been thinking too clearly during these past few days, or were they all suffering from the paranoia that was an inevitable consequence of a life on the run?

That was not the problem that was bothering Avon. He continued to stand, head bowed, lips resting on the knuckles of an upraised hand as he thought. Token had told a rational story. It appeared to explain it all, but to Avon, that story was starting to look like a photographic mask which over-laid the truth to conceal the facts by covering them with something that closely matched. Why had Token abandoned the ship while she was still under his control? Was it credible that his motives were as noble as he claimed? He'd have them believe that he'd made good his escape while the fight was in progress. Valid perhaps, but somehow it did not gel. Why had he arranged to bring Wando on board at all? To help him take over the ship and kill Lora he said; but with Zen on his side and Orac out of action, he really needed no help at all, and he could have arranged his revenge on Wando and Lora almost anywhere in the galaxy. Unless it gave him a perverse kind of pleasure to tie it all together like some kind of complicated game.

Avon was beginning to suspect that the whole thing had been a game for Token. If not, why had he not simply come on board, drugged them all and then got rid of them on the next planet, or sent them off in life pods? Ah no, he wouldn't have had enough of the drug. He must have used the small quantity Orac had seen in his luggage to intellectually disable him , the drug they had assumed was for his own use. They did not carry such drugs on board ... at least not in the quantity that Token would have needed. All drugs were strictly controlled by the medical computers and delivered in small doses only. He could have had Lora knock them all out with her little spray gun earlier than she had done, or done something similar himself.

Avon shook his head. Damn it! He kept coming back to the irrationality of Token wanting Lora and Wando on board. It was as if he had been playing a game. Did he only want to prove that he could take the ship if he so chose? Perhaps… but it did not feel right.

"Well," said Vila, breaking the silence, may he your counterpart but I'll tell you this; he's more of a gentleman than you. I can't see you going off leaving the Liberator in our hands." he chuckled.

Avon stiffened as an electrifying thought gripped him. He was Token's counterpart! Yes ... and what would he have done in the same circumstances? He knew what he would have done. "Damn!" He turned and ran from the flight deck. Why hadn't he seen it sooner? They thought so much alike, yet he hadn't seen it. Of course! Token had done exactly what he would have done. It had been his plan all along. Before he left the deck he halted, turned and called out: "Vila, grab your tools!" When he resumed his run, Blake, Jenna and Syme were with him. Cally followed somewhat later, helping Vila as he hobbled along, moaning about his injury and Avon's thoughtlessness.

When they saw where Avon was heading, Blake and Jenna slowed immediately.

"No," Blake called to Avon, "You're wrong. It can't be that. There was fighting in this corridor the whole time … back and forth. You were here yourself. Did you see Token at any time?"

"What is it?" Syme asked as they came to a sturdy hatchway at the end of a corridor. "What do you suspect?"

Avon tried the lock beside the door. As he had expected, it did not work for him. He pulled the cover off and looked around impatiently for Vila.

Blake told Syme, "It is the strongroom."

"It's the only thing that makes sense." Avon said, "Token wasn't after the ship; he never wanted the ship; it's too much of a liability. It was the money and jewels." And, he thought to himself, he had got them! He had no doubt at all that Token had succeeded in what he had set out to do. All that remained to be seen was how much he had got away with. Vila tottered up with Cally's help and began work on the door.

Blake frowned, "How do you think Token managed to break in here and march out with tons of treasure right under our noses? It would have taken ages, even if there had not been a battle going on the entire time out here?"

"In the first place he didn't need to break in. Zen was … still is … obeying him. He moved the treasure while we were drugged and locked in that cabin."

"We weren't in there for more than ten minutes. Besides, Wando and cohorts would have seen him." Blake shook his head, "In any case, in that time, he was unconscious himself and locked in the surgical unit."

"Unconscious perhaps, but not locked in; we couldn't have locked him, in anywhere on the ship." Impatiently Avon tapped his fingers on the wall above where Vila worked. The thief looked up at the hand for a moment, thought about jabbing it with the electric probe he was using, thought about the consequences, and went back to work.

Jenna propped herself up against the bulkhead, "Who knocked him out? Lora?"

Avon gave his head a brief shake, "No. I think he did it himself." Several voices expressed doubt. "It's not difficult to fake. He could have given his head a smart fling backwards, hitting it against a wall or pipe hard enough to raise a bump and break the scalp, and then walked to where he wanted to be found, taken a small dose of fast acting drug and passed out. At the time I remember being suspicious of the fact that the blood had run down the back of his neck."

"But why? What purpose did it serve?" asked Cally.

"It got him out of the way while Wando and Lora had their reunion or confrontation. It kept him safe for the moment in case Wando should try to try a double cross and it lessened our suspicions of him." He shrugged. "I don't know… it might be that he was never in the surgical unit for long. We have only his word for that. He might have spent the entire time moving the contents of the strongroom."

"With Wando and the others around?" Blake still remained sceptical. "I still say no."

With a cry of triumph, Vila got the door unlocked and they swung it open. All the gold and tradable currencies had gone. The jewels ... not so easily converted, were mostly still there. The walls, floor and ceiling were sound and the door had been locked.

Syme stood in the middle of the room and scratched his head. "A mystery." he said. "He could have broken in here ... no trouble … but how did he get the treasure out without anyone seeing him?"

Judging from the empty spaces in the storage bays around the room, a large amount of gold and other metals had been shifted.

"It's no mystery." Avon said. He was crouched in the middle of the floor, looking at something. "Do you see this?"

Blake crouched down beside him and looked, "It looks like material from one of our big power cables."

"See where it is?"

"On the floor."

"Not 'on' the floor ... in the floor."

Blake took a closer look and it was true; the fibre was firmly encased in the material of the floor.

He might not be as observant as Avon, but once the clue was pointed out to him he did not need to be told what it meant. Token had taken power from the ship to run a lance to open a hole in the floor, then dropped the gold and currencies through at his leisure. All he had needed was time and something to cover the sound of his activities. They'd given him both during the battle with Wando and his people.

Before coming on board, he could not know how Avon might have altered Zen and the ship's systems and no way he could put all of the crew out of action long enough to allow him to get the gold. He needed a ship in which to get away… he knew he would have that when Wando came aboard.

After taking as much from the strongroom as he could in the time that the fight lasted, he brought the auto repair system on line and they repaired the hole in the floor, trapping this one thread.

Blake heaved himself up from the floor, irritated that they had all been manipulate with such apparent ease. He tapped his foot on the floor. "What's below here?"

Avon's reply was immediate and rattled off in a kind of sing-song tone that made it sound like a lament. "A small storeroom, next to the power distribution panels in the lower hold by the small ship docking cradle."

Blake looked at him for a moment. "Token knew the ship. He knew that the strongroom was right above the storage room. That answers everything… except why he lied to us just now. He must have known that the robbery would be discovered sooner or later."

"Later being the operative word," Jenna said. "First rule in a successful theft operation; delay discovery for as long as you can. He wanted to put a good distance between us and him before we found out what he had done. The story he spun left us feeling mildly grateful and without any real motive for chasing him.".

"Then his plans did not work out perfectly after all." put in Cally. "He is in a small pirate ship, we will soon have control of Liberator and we can get the stolen valuables back."

"Except they're not really -stolen." Blake said, "His claim on them is far better than ours." He looked around at the depleted strongroom. The gold had always been a temptation ... not only for the company of thieves he counted on for crew - but also for himself. A lure to take the easy way out of the danger, the duty; in a way he not sorry it had gone. "Besides, ' he added, "If we want to deliver the SSL, we cannot chase him as well. Perhaps he really is a man who thinks of everything"

Blake looked around at the thoughtful and silent gathering, each busy with his or her own thoughts. He brushed his hand against the leg of his trousers and then used it to indicate the door, "We have a weapon to deliver."

Syme, Vila and Jenna nodded and followed him when he left. Cally lingered but Avon was blind to her. She left him standing alone in the middle of the room, deep in private thoughts.

On the way back to the flight deck Jenna asked Blake: "Did you know what was on the lower deck below the strongroom?"

Blake made a half shake of his head. "I knew the power panel and docking cradle were down there somewhere, but I wasn't absolutely sure of the location of either in respect of the strongroom."

"Should we ask how Avon was so sure?"

Blake was silent for a while, then he smiled faintly, "No, we shouldn't ask."

"Best forgotten." Cally remarked as she joined them. They both nodded agreement.

When they walked onto the flight deck, Zen came alive to inform them, in a language they could understand, that they were manoeuvring to make contact with the hospital ship.

Blake sailed a trifle bitterly, "Welcome back, Zen. We missed you."

Have you ever wondered how the Liberator cane to be abandoned? Who were her original crew and what happened to then? Why did she carry gold, jewels and fancy clothes though she was built by the ascetic System? I did, and this is my story to explain it all. Perhaps it's the real story, or perhaps it's a story from an alternative universe.

….