Power Cut
Home... to the Liberator. Kerr Avon's home for the last two years, and now - or soon - his by right of possession.
As the grey-white sands of Sarran - and the enraged face of the new President of the Terran Federation - faded and dissolved, Avon took a deep breath, unwilling yet to relax, unable not to.
He had survived the battle over Star One, and the lesser battles with Servalan; now, in the ruin of Blake's political plans, he was less sure of what that survival meant. Everything was still too much of a mess, though he'd managed to get back to the Liberator, and could now concentrate on what mattered. Finding Blake. Finding the others. Sorting out where they all stood, in the wake of the Andromedan War.
"When Star One is gone, it is finished, Blake. And I want it finished. I want it over and done with."
He put Orac down, and turned to the bereaved girl he'd had to bring with him, speaking with strained kindness. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," she said dully. Well, he was never very good at consoling - Blake could deal with the hideous emotional fallout left by Hal Mellanby's death, or Cally would, once they were safely back. First, though, he had to get them safely back.
"I want to be free of him."
He put an awkward hand to her shoulder; it felt out of place, as it nearly always did. "When we first met," he said, "you said there was no pleasure without danger. Do you still feel that way?"
Dayna shook her head, looking around with big dark eyes, seeing again her father's body in the underground home that was now his tomb. "I think I can do without excitement for a little while."
"Good." Somewhat relieved, he turned to business. "Let's get to the flight deck. I have to locate the others and pick them up."
Have to locate them, he thought, him - before anyone else does. Return him to Earth alive, or my ship will never be quite mine.
He flinched at the memory, the image, of quite literally forcing Blake into the lifepod. Blake hadn't wanted to go, God and Blake only knew why - some nonsense about the danger of leaving the ship drifting and empty.
"As it was when we found it," he could hear Blake's voice, thinned and shaking with pain and weakness. "Avon, it will be too long. Someone has to stay as long as possible - and I'm the most - most expendable..."
"Quite possibly," his own, harsh with fatigue. "But of no importance. We are leaving, now. And you at least are going to survive this fiasco whether willingly or not."
"Avon, listen -"
"No!" And he had pushed Blake into the pod, and slammed the door before he could weaken; before Blake's damnable gift for overriding his reason took hold.
He didn't regret it, not at all; it had been the only thing to do. Letting Blake commit suicide - in whatever way, for whatever reason - had been unacceptable for too long now to overthrow what was admittedly a bad habit. But he had to find Blake as fast as possible - alive and safe - and deliver whatever part of his promise was still viable.
"I will take you back to Earth and then the Liberator is mine."
He was unwilling to think about that, about what taking Blake to Earth would actually mean in this turned-inside-out universe, and pulled away from the thought, and from Dayna. When Blake was back, she could become his problem; given her father's murder, would probably be glad to. As long as she didn't remain his problem, Avon didn't care. "Come on."
Dayna stopped, eyes widening. "Wait!"
Avon turned back, and stared blankly at the man who had just come in; curly-haired, dressed in Federation black, and pointing a large and impressively ugly weapon at them. A man he had never seen before.
"The penalty for boarding a Federation craft without authority," the man said calmly, his bright gaze fixed on Avon, "is rather unpleasant. Now what would you be doing on my ship?"
"Your ship?"
"Well," he gave a wide smile that couldn't possibly be as guileless as it looked, "for the moment, it seems." He turned his head as several more troopers - the type all too easily recognisable as Federation space-cannon fodder - clattered in. "Section Leader, your men searched the ship, and did not find these two?"
A grim, fleshy man with a heavy brow and small, thin-lipped mouth came forward, far too close to Avon, who stared back at him calmly. "We did. Where were you hiding?"
"We weren't hiding!" Dayna spoke up, a touch too quickly. "We've -"
Avon cut in before she said something unwise. "We've only just realized there was anyone else on board. We were -" oh damn, what and where were we? "- in a civilian ship that got caught up in the battle. We managed to dock our life capsule alongside this ship and come aboard." Wonderful. Even an idiot like Vila wouldn't swallow that. Let alone...
"That makes sense," the first man said in that lilting, oddly accented voice.
Klegg shot him a filthy look, and turned back to Avon. "Just the two of you?"
Let's trying pushing our few atoms of luck a little farther. "We were exhausted and settled into a cabin. We've been sleeping for hours."
"Section Leader, you'd best have another search made," the first man, clearly if somewhat incomprehensibly in charge, said. "I'm no' blaming the men," this in a tone of total sincerity that Blake couldn't have bettered, "it's a very large ship, and we all know how people die on it -"
We do? That startled Avon, as did the shifting, not-quite-scared unease that swept the room.
"- But there could be some of the crew still here," the little man went on blithely, gazed back at the others, as motley and ugly a lot as graced any Stormtrooper reunion bash, and a slight, bewildered frown creased his forehead. "And isna someone missing? Section Leader?"
"Two of the men aren't answering, sir." One of the men - dark-haired, rather grubby-looking - offered sourly.
"Not good, it's not safe running round an alien ship on their own. Ye'd best find them."
"Harmon," Klegg snarled, "you heard the officer." The man nodded curtly and led the cannon-fodder away.
"And now, sir... your name?" The officer turned back to Avon, eyes bright, smile blindingly open and sincere, and weapon aimed squarely and steadily at Avon's midriff.
"My name is Chevron, and this is my wife," reaching out and taking her hand, "Dayna."
"You have identification?" Klegg snapped, clearly suspicious.
"We lost everything when our ship was hit."
"We were lucky to get out with our lives," Dayna chipped in, giving the little man in charge a look of bright innocence rather more believable than Avon's. He frowned a little, as if confused, his gnome-like face wrinkling.
"Yes, well, we've all been lucky," Klegg said. "Maybe."
She turned that ingenuous gaze on him.
"Section Leader Klegg," he identified himself after a pause, sourly.
"And I am Subcommander Odo Jarriere," the little man said rather more brightly. "Aide-de-camp to Supreme Commander, now Madam President, Servalan."
Avon choked a little, staring at the man. "Aide-de -" he swallowed. "Most impressive. We are honoured."
Damn. Unless he's as stupid as he looks... we're dead, Blake.
~oOo~