Chapter Three
Vila entered the teleport room. Avon was in front of the teleport station, kneeling on the ground. His head was almost buried inside an open panel in front. Vila stared at Avon's back for a moment and then he walked to the other side, planted himself heavily on the bench behind the control station and exhaled forcefully. Upon hearing the noise, Avon poked his head out and asked, "Does Argus need the teleport?"
"No," said Vila in a bored voice, his hands idly touching the controls.
Avon's eyes lifted in a question. "What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing. Hey, why aren't any of these controls working?" Vila pressed several of the controls absently, not really seeing them.
If Avon was the kind of man who rolled his eyes, he would have. Obviously Vila didn't equate "open panel which someone was working on" with, "do not touch anything".
Instead he said, "I've disconnected the energy couplings." Usually he would have added, "it's a good thing I did you fool" and maybe, "are you trying to kill me?", but he decided that this may not be conducive to the new relationship they were trying to build. "It's not safe to have the power running through the circuits while I have my hands in it."
"Oh. That's a good idea," said Vila, not really paying attention.
"Obviously," said Avon.
Vila's eyes took on a mildly curious expression, "What are you doing anyway?"
"I'm building a remote activation capability for the teleport. It allows Zen to control it." Avon straightened up. The partially bent over position was putting a strain on his back, which was becoming bothersome.
Vila's eyes showed more interested. "You mean like ORAC can do?"
"Yes. It will be faster and will have infinitely less attitude."
Vila grinned, "That overgrown drinks dispenser never did like being drafted for teleport duties."
"Any member of the crew whose voiceprint Zen recognizes, will be able to request remote teleport using a teleport bracelet," said Avon.
"That's brilliant," said Vila.
"Mildly," said Avon. He stood up and stretched his sore back. "Why are you here, Vila? Is this another attempt at social interaction?"
"No. I was bored. And besides all of those soldiers marching around the ship. Too much like work. I get tired just watching them."
"So you decided to come and watch me work?" asked Avon dryly.
Vila grinned. "It beats working."
Avon handed Vila a tool and said, "Make yourself useful."
"Now wait a minute…" said Vila as he took it.
Avon suppressed a smile and said. "I could use some help."
"Oh. Really? Are you feeling alright? Should I get Cally?" Vila didn't know whether to be amazed or worried. He had never heard Avon ask for aid for himself before, at least not from him.
"Are you trying to be funny?" asked Avon.
"Are you?" asked Vila.
A slightly irritated look appeared on Avon's face. He did not understand Vila's attitude when he was attempting to engage the other man in an activity they could do together; in the same way Vila had done before.
"You've never asked for help from anyone before," explained Vila.
"Your memory must be faulty. I've done that many times."
"But not for yourself. That was always for someone else." Vila's face took on a knowing look, "And you don't really need me to help you right now. Do you?"
"Why would I ask you for help if I didn't need it?" asked Avon.
"That's a very good question," said Vila with a suppressed grin. He knew how Avon felt about displays of sentiment and decided not to push it. Avon did seem to be trying. "Now let's work on this remote thing before Argus comes in and assigns me some real work."
Cally and Reya were eating in the dining area; sitting at a corner table. The usually empty room was full of military types who seemed to be perpetually hungry. Most of them found the Justice's food processors far better than the ship board rations they normally got.
More soldiers came in. With a silent look at each other, the two women vacated their table to let the newcomers sit down. They both headed back to the flight deck. Cally's shift was next.
"Have you seen Sester today?" Reya asked her companion as they passed a soldier carrying some heavy supplies. They got out of his way.
Cally glanced at her. "The last time I saw him, he was with Argus."
"I thought so."
"He was still alive the last time I saw him," said Cally jokingly.
Reya frowned. "Yes, but for how much longer. He likes to play dangerous games."
"Don't worry about him. If there is one thing Sester is good at, that's taking care of himself."
"I wish they would get along," Reya said with a sigh.
"They never will." Cally slowed down and looked at her. "You know why they never will."
Reya grimaced and stopped walking. "Yes."
"You have to be careful of Sester," Cally warned the other woman. "He's devious, clever and can be very convincing."
"I know that," said Reya with exasperation. "All of you think that I don't. But I do." She continued walking and Cally followed slowly, studying the other woman. They arrived at the flight deck.
Cally said to herself, "No. You don't." There was a worried expression on her face.
"Avon." Vila sat at the teleport station, activating each control as Avon directed.
"What is it?" Avon asked absently as he studied the interior of the open teleport control panel in front. He chose a tool in the kit lying beside him and made an adjustment. "Try it now."
Vila activated the control, several lights came on. "That's it. What do you think of Sester?"
"Good," said Avon. A brief smile of achievement crossed his face. He stuck his head over the control panel and asked, "What did you ask?"
"I was wondering about Sester. Are we done?"
"For now." He felt tired and stiff; his back had become increasingly sore as he worked. Avon gripped the edge of the control unit and pulled himself up slowly. Vila watched this with concern but didn't say anything. Avon continued, "The final test will be to have Zen activate the controls. I'll do that later." He was too tired to continue and this was too important a system for him to not be fully alert. Avon decided that this wasn't something that Vila needed to know; or anyone else that matter.
When Avon was finally standing, Vila said, "You still haven't answered my question. What do you think of Sester?"
Avon stared at him as if he was trying to ascertain the purpose behind this question. "Be careful of him. He's dangerous." Avon hunched a bit and tried to stretch; his jaw tightened at the sudden stab of pain.
"That's it?" asked Vila. He was hoping for more details; he already knew Sester was dangerous from the way Avon, Argus and Cally acted towards him. He looked on worriedly as Avon tried to relax his back.
"Isn't that enough?" asked Avon. He turned slightly to try to stretch his back at a different angle.
"I'd like to know what I'm dealing with," said Vila.
Avon's eyes narrowed and he straightened up. "I wouldn't recommend dealing with Sester in any way."
"Aren't you the one who always says that all information is useful?" asked Vila as he got up and crossed over to Avon's side.
"Useful. If you live to use it," said Avon. He glanced down at the floor and saw the tool kit still on the ground. His lips twisted in irritation as he prepared to bend down to get it.
"Here I'll do that." Vila quickly bent down to do it before Avon could protest. "You're trying to tell me to mind my own business? And stay out of his way?" Vila asked. He closed the tool kit and handed it back to Avon.
"Thanks," said Avon curtly as he took it; still not comfortable with feeling disabled and needing help. He said in a serious tone, "Vila, stay out of Sester's way. The fewer people he interacts with, the fewer chances he will have." With that, he headed for the exit. Vila followed and watched Avon's slow and deliberate movements, it was obvious that the other man was in pain.
You can't even take care of yourself, thought Vila. And you're trying to deal with Sester.
Vila wondered what he should do. If Sester was as dangerous as Avon and the others thought, then the smartest thing was to stay out of his way. Vila had a natural apprehension of psychostrategists. Among the lower grades especially, they were a feared and mysterious group, not unlike the clone masters. People thought that they could read minds and make people do things. Technically, Vila knew that this couldn't be true but the old attitudes were hard to break.
Should I do something? His natural instinct was not to, and to let the others take care of it. But there was a difference now; Vila knew that the Federation did not want him to overcome this instinct, did not want him to take the initiative. It felt unnatural. He continued to lag a little behind Avon, watching his movements. The analyst was moving stiffly but was trying to do it in such a way as to not draw attention to the difficulty he was having. Vila realized they were headed to the medical bay. It must be bad if you're looking for more help.
Vila made up his mind. I'm going to start watching Sester.
Avon turned to him and said, "Why don't you go find something else to do? I need some time alone."
Vila understood that Avon probably didn't want anyone seeing him deal with whatever problem he was having. He was a proud and independent man. Vila said, "Alright." He headed off to find out where Sester was.
Avon entered the empty medical bay. He knew that Cally would be on the flight deck now, it would make things easier.
He crossed over to the very familiar medical stores area and took out several items. A pain blocker and a muscle relaxant for his back. He injected these into his neck. His tightened jaw loosened and his breathing eased in relief as the pain subsided.
Avon put the injector down. He looked at the rows of refill units and ran his fingers across them until he came to the right one. Adrenaline-E. He pulled it out and slotted an empty injector into it. Avon carefully selected one dose and pressed the button. He applied the filled injector to his neck and closed his eyes. The effect was almost immediate. A very familiar energy flooded his system, the perpetual weariness and constant feelings of being ill faded. His lips parted at an unpleasant memory. Servalan often gave him this in order to force him to continue when his body was no longer able to. He straightened up; his eyes bright with renewed vitality. There were so many things that needed to be done. He couldn't let the others down.
Avon knew that Cally would not be happy to find out that he had been doing this lately. He carefully kept his mind neutral just in case she was paying attention and sensed something different. It was both annoying and comforting at the same time to know that she was concerned about him and that she sought his presence with her mind; he wished he had the same ability at times, but not often.
He told himself that this was only temporary measure; until the current crisis was over. He did not have the energy to deal with Sester, the planning and strategy sessions Argus had been involving him in, the technical tasks which had to be done and the relational things which he never had to bother with before.
He constantly found himself struggling to stay focused and alert when talking with Cally at night or sharing moments of intimacy; it was important to him. And now Vila wanted his time too. Being this actively involved with people drained him. Unfortunately, he couldn't afford the time for the solitude he needed to replenish his energy.
He held up the injector. This will have to do for now, he thought wryly. It was such an irrational action for him to take. The last thing he wanted was to rely on more drugs but there was no other choice. He carefully returned each item to the places where he had taken them from. With restored energy, Avon left the medical bay.
Chapter Four
She always picks mining colonies, thought Jenna with a sigh of distaste. At least a grower colony would have had better food. She tried to clean the soot off the table before the bar server put down her meal of meat stew and strong ale. The server was looking at her unpleasantly while she did this. Jenna could guess what the pasty-faced woman was thinking. Off-worlder. Can't even stand some honest dirt. The woman dropped the tray on the table with a loud crash, spilling some of the ale into the stew.
"Forty-three credits," said the server. "Pay in advance."
"Forty-three? You've got to be joking?" exclaimed Jenna.
"Do you want it or not?" the woman asked, reaching for the tray before waiting for Jenna's answer.
Jenna put her hand on the tray to stop her. "Do I get to taste it first? Before I decide?" asked Jenna.
The server repeated, "Pay in advance."
"Not very original are you?" said Jenna sarcastically. From the smells coming from the bowl, Jenna rebelled at paying this amount for some suspicious meat of unknown origin. She suspected this was one of the special off-worlder prices.
Her stomach growled. She hadn't eaten since this morning and even then she only had an energy bar on the transport ship; the space lines joke of a meal for the low priced tickets. Everything had changed after the alien invasion and the destruction of Star One. Living had gotten much more expensive and much less pleasant.
Jenna took out her credit marker and handed it to the server. The woman entered several numbers on her arm register unit and swiped the marker over the reader. There was a beep and then the woman handed it back to her. Before she left, the woman said with a sarcastic smile, "Enjoy."
Sadist. Jenna picked up the spoon and regarded it suspiciously. She looked in vain for something to wipe it on and settled for her not-too-clean sleeve. They must wash these by hand, she thought. I thought only the most primitive colonies did that. Or a penal colony.
She dipped the slightly cleaner spoon into the stew. Runny stew. I hate runny stew. This is more like soup. If I had wanted soup, I would have ordered soup. She doubted if the serving woman would let her change the order now, or to give her the forty-three credits back. Jenna took a spoonful into her mouth. The thing had no taste, what she hoped were the vegetables were more like mush and the meat was rubbery. She could taste a bit of the ale which had been spilled into it earlier. Jenna picked up her mug and poured half of the ale into it and stirred it around. She took another taste. At least it tastes like ale soup now. She began eating hungrily.
I hope you're here, Avalon. I don't fancy checking out every backward mining planet in this sector. Somehow though, she felt as if she was fated to.
Avon's cried out in pain as the whip cut into his body again. His head hung in exhaustion; the metal restraints cut into his wrists. He felt the tension ease on his overstrained arms as the chains were lowered. His legs could not hold the weight and he collapsed to the ground; with barely enough energy to land on his front rather than his raw and bleeding back. The cold floor felt soothing, helping to distract from the pain.
Feet approached; he was too tired to lift his head.
"Hold him down." Servalan. If he could, he would stand up and meet her with as unflinching a gaze as he could muster. Strong, cruel hands gripped his arms and legs, pressing him against the ground.
He felt something cold and wet poured onto his back. And then the pain. Despite his efforts, he moaned in agony and strained against the hands.
"Stay still, Avon." The liquid progressed along his back, dripping down his sides, producing pain as it seeped into every cut the lash had opened up. He was gasping for breath. Avon cried out.
Cally woke up with a start and looked over in alarm when she heard the cry. Avon was on his cot, sleeping faced down. His body was taut with tension; his arms seemed to be straining against something. He was moaning.
Pain. She was aware of the sharp sensation at the edge of her consciousness; her breathing quickened and her own body stiffened as she reacted to his agony. Cally quickly got out of bed and went to Avon's side. She put one hand on his head, attempting to reach him in the way she had been able to once before on Papos.
She projected as strong as she could into his mind, hoping the physical connection would help. Avon. Hear me, Avon. It's Cally. What you're seeing is not real. It's only something in your mind. Come out of it, Avon. She sent comfort and reassurance.
A faint voice responded, trying to break through the pain. Cally? It was so faint, she almost missed it.
Yes, Avon. It's me. You must wake up. What you're experiencing is not real.
She was aware of his mind struggling. The pain began to subside.
Avon opened his eyes.
"Avon? Are you alright?" Cally's concerned voice was just behind his ear. Avon slowly rolled to face her, wary of the half-remembered pain from his back.
"Yes, I'm fine now." His eyes met hers and saw the love and concern there. "I've made you worry again."
"Would you rather that I not?" she asked.
"Yes. And no." The old uneasiness was still there, the fear of allowing someone else in. To no longer be alone. To risk trusting someone other than himself. But there was also something else now, a conscious recognition of a decision that he had made with Anna once. He loved Cally, and in that love he was willing to risk anything, to give up everything.
A soft smile touched her lips, "Do I get to decide this time?"
"I know what you're going to say."
"Does it make you uncomfortable?" she asked.
"I would be lying if I said, no. But I am not uncomfortable with you. Only with myself."
Cally pressed her hand against his chest lightly, feeling the warmth of his body through the loose cream shirt he wore. As she touched him, Avon gave a slight shudder. Cally could both feel his body recoil and sense it from his mind. Her instant reaction was to lift her hand but Avon placed his hand over hers. "It's fine," he told her. Cally knew that it was not, but she could see the determination in his eyes and hear it in his voice.
Avon closed his eyes and concentrated. He told his confused body that this touch was not from an enemy; there was nothing to fear, nothing to fight; he tried to overcome the irrational emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. It was a battle. His breathing increased to meet the demand of the struggle.
Cally looked on with concern but didn't say anything; giving him space. He had to do this on his own; the strength and will had to be his. She knew that it was important to him to be able to fight this for her. Slowly she began to feel his body and his mind relax. His eyes opened and he regarded her with unsuppressed affection. A slow smile played on his lips. He said, "Its closer now." She didn't have to ask him what he was referring to. They both knew that he was still not ready. The battle had been won, but the greatest difficulty still lay ahead.
Avon let go of her hand and reached up to trace her shoulder with his fingers, and then down her bare arm. Her breath caught, she was barely breathing with the sensations his touch was producing. Reaching up to caress her cheek, he asked, "Are you still willing to wait?"
"Yes. That will never change," she reassured him.
"I believe you." He gently guided her down into a kiss.
Sester had been the model of harmless cooperation since being let out of his cabin several days ago. He followed Argus around without complaint, occasionally giving a suggestion but generally keeping to the sidelines. There was a casual, relaxed manner about him as he watched Argus preparing and planning, interacting with his crew and the Athol military unit.
The psychostrategist was enjoying himself; mainly because he could trace the increasing frustration in the other man's attitude towards him. It was not difficult to determine that Argus desired a confrontation; he wanted a reason to throw Sester off the ship, to get rid of this perceived threat. Sester gave him none.
"What are you doing?" asked Vila as he sat down next to Sester and watched the activity on the flight deck with him.
"Same thing I was doing the last time you asked," said Sester, letting a bit of irritation enter his tone. He didn't know whether to be annoyed or suspicious at the thief's questions. Vila seemed to be showing an inordinate interest in him lately, either trying to engage him in inane conversation or hovering nearby. The experience Sester had with the lower grades did not give him much appreciation for them. They were usually painfully obvious and easily manipulated.
Sester was aware that Vila was somewhat different though. There were flashes of intelligence at times which seemed incongruous with his manner. Vila seemed to invite the impression of the fool. Not unlike Avon's attempts to appear cold and purely rational.
Never assume anything. That was one of the cardinal rules of psychostrategists when handling their human puppets. Dealing with humanity was not a science, it was an art. The Justice crew was proving to be an entertaining challenge. For now he would do nothing except what they demanded of him. He wondered how long the frustration could be stretched before someone snapped. He knew it wouldn't be him; he was having far too much fun.
Vila was aware of the man beside him as they sat watching Argus work. He knew that the psychostrategist was crafty; he recognized the type. Sester was better than any he had seen before though. The man had such a lack of obviousness that it was easy to miss the deliberateness.
He knew that Alphas usually dismissed Deltas like him. The lower grades were normally regarded as irritations to be sloughed off or humoured by people like Sester; definitely not much of a threat, except of the violent kind.
Well, two can play this game.
"Have you had breakfast?" Vila asked another harmless and meaningless question.
"No."
Vila asked puzzled, "Aren't you hungry?"
"Famished," said Sester. He was ravenously hungry at the moment.
"I don't know what psychostrategists do when you're hungry. But Deltas usually eat. Do you have pills or something you take instead?" asked Vila with seemingly genuine curiosity.
"Ask Argus," said Sester.
"Argus has pills? Is this an Alpha thing?" asked Vila.
Sester turned to him with a bemused look on his face. A fellow player. Is this a good act or a very bad one? "Why would you assume that Alphas would be any different? We all need to eat regardless of the grade."
"You never know with you Alphas. I heard once…uh never mind. You're probably not interested."
"I am always interested in adding to my knowledge of what human beings believe," said Sester.
"So that you can use it?" There was no fool behind this question.
Sester hesitated at the unexpected question and then he smiled. "All knowledge is useful. But only if you know how to use it."
"Is that what psychostrategists do?" asked Vila.
"Knowledge is one of our tools," acknowledged Sester.
More like one of your weapons, thought Vila. "Then I don't think I'll tell you."
Sester laughed. "Suit yourself. But to answer your question. I haven't eaten because Argus hasn't yet."
"He won't let you eat until he does?"
"He never said that. But he doesn't trust me to be out of his sight yet. And I don't want to cause any conflict."
"Even with that on?" Vila asked, looking down at the very conspicuous trace bracelet around the other man's wrist.
"Even with this on," said Sester.
"Well, that's not fair. What if he doesn't eat all day?" asked Vila with a sympathetic look on his face.
"Then I imagine I will be a few pounds lighter by tomorrow," said Sester pleasantly.
Vila stood up and pulled on Sester's arm, "I'm going to talk to him. Just because he doesn't feel like eating, doesn't mean you should suffer."
There was an amused expression on his face as Sester stood up and followed him. Who is playing whom here?