Perceptions Series: 10 A Difference of Visions

by kalinda001

The crew returns to Chandar to help the women of the planet. Jenna's dark journey continues. Avon, Argus, Vila and Sester wait on the women this time and provide comic relief. Avon learns to take care of Cally. The women kick butt.

7. Chapter 7

Chapter Thirty

Alara's male opponent was extremely frustrated. He tried punching, kicking, even a head butt but nothing landed where it was supposed. Trying to free himself from her grip was next to impossible. Every movement was redirected by the barest touch of her hand on various parts of his body. He felt like a helpless puppet, his face was red with rage at the humiliation of being controlled by a woman. The soldier fought desperately to regain control, to establish the dominance that was his right. This woman did not have the right to do this to him.

Despite his training and physical conditioning, he was tiring. He was expending most while the woman barely exerted any. She seemed to know how to position him so that he would be fighting his own considerable weight just to keep upright. He had always been proud of how fit and muscular he was. It was an ideal for a Chandaran male but the woman had somehow made it a disadvantage.

If she had been a man, he might have admired her skill but all he felt was anger and disgrace at being beaten by a wofman. His life in the military would be over. He had let his people down. Few options were open for a Chandaran who had committed such a great failure; a loss of respect. There would be no sympathy for him.

**********

Reya had been watching Alara's opponent carefully, noting the expression on his face, the emotions in his eyes, and the way he fought. She could read each layer and change of emotion as if they were a computer file. In a way, it was the right description.

Sester had told her what to look for and so far, he had proven right. These Chandaran males were very predictable in their reactions. But he had also told her to watch for something else. A possibility. The man that Alara was fighting showed some promise.

With Alara's current progress, there were two possible outcomes. Success and optimal success. The second one carried a risk. It was time to test the possibility.

The Chandaran soldier was tiring. He was angry and humiliated and his frustration level was high. When Alara looked over to her for direction, Reya made a signal.

**********

Cally, Vila and Corinne were keeping sharp eyes out for activity but they hadn't spotted anything yet. Argus's two groups had also spent a frustrating time searching without any results.

Cally projected to Avon on the Justice, * Avon, have you found anything? *

There was a brief lag and then Avon replied abstractedly, * Nothing as yet. I'm still looking. *

**********

Alara was behind her male opponent and had him twisted in an elbow lock. Every attempt to move caused the man to stretch his muscles painfully. Stronger pressure would result in damage. Alara eased her pressure a bit and leaned closer to him. She whispered, "I'm sorry it had to be like this. I don't mean to hurt you but the way you feel now, that is how I feel most of the time."

She released her lock but kept her hand lightly on his wrist. For the first time, the man was able to turn around to face her.

There was anger on his face but also confusion at her words. He tried to pull his hand from her grip but she twisted slightly on his wrist to show that she was still in control.

As she had been all along, her words were soft. Just loud enough for him to hear her but not to be picked up by the microphones. Alara said, "The way you feel, the helplessness, the feeling that your life is over…that is how I have always felt."

For the first time, the man responded to what she was saying. He whispered warily, "What is this?"

Alara said, "I'm a Chandaran too. I know what will happen to you if you lose this match."

The man snarled, "I don't need your pity."

Alara was suddenly afraid. She knew what Reya wanted her to do. The Champion had explained to them all that she might ask one of them to do this. The reason had been given to them and the risk.

She might get hurt and lose. Losing was what she was afraid of most of all. After the training and the efforts to overcome her fears, she was now on the brink of a great victory. For the first time, she could win against a man. But Reya said that it was important and that for Chandar to change, it had to be about more than just herself.

Alara took in a breath of courage to still her own fears. She said, "It's not pity. I know what the other men will do to you if you lose. Chandaran culture does not accept failure."

The man said, "What is that to you?" He tried grabbing at her wrists but Alara bent her arm and grabbed both of his instead.

Alara said apologetically, "I know that I've made you look bad. It's not your fault. My fighting style is one that has never been seen on Chandar before and for which you have no defence. That is why we used it."

The man said angrily, "I am not going to lose to you." He suddenly lunged towards her and tried to push her back. Alara quickly moved back, pulling him further in the direction he was moving and causing him to stumble and fall. He tried to get up but Alara was now behind him, holding one of his wrists in a lock.

Alara shook her head. "You know you will. If I wanted to, you would not be able to get up from the floor."

"We'll see about that!" The soldier struggled to get up but with a twist of the wrist, Alara kept him down. Further struggles caused pain as Alara angled his wrist further. The man was breathing hard with the efforts to free himself. He finally stopped thrashing about before he broke his own wrist. He whispered heatedly, "Finish this!"

Alara suddenly let go of his wrist and stepped back to let him get up. The man stood up and eyed her warily. They circled each other. He asked under his breath, "Why did you do that? You could have won."

Alara said, "I know but not like this. I want to give you a chance. Not because of pity but because we are both victims of circumstances we have no control over."

They continued circling each other, looking for an opening while they carried on a conversation. With the shouts from the audience, no one could hear them.

The soldier said, "You're not a victim here. You are getting what you want. You're winning."

Alara said, "But only in this fight. I've been a victim all of my life. That is how I feel as a woman on Chandar. Helpless and hopeless, just as you are feeling now. But imagine feeling that everyday of your life."

"I…never thought of it that way." The fight was no longer just on the challenge field, there was a struggle in the man's eyes. "I mean, you're a woman. You're not supposed to…" The man fell silent as he realized what he was about to say.

"We're not supposed to think for ourselves? Or have feelings? Or want more out of life than the limited place that is available for women here? I'm a human being. What you feel, I feel too."

The soldier said, "I…didn't realize." He continued circling but it was more out of habit than trying to find an opening to attack.

Alara said, "It's not your fault."

The man said reluctantly, "You're the better fighter here. You…should win. Don't worry about me."

Alara said, "What if neither one of us wins or loses?"

"You mean a draw?"

"Yes. I want it to look more like an even match."

The soldier's brow furrowed as he considered this. "I don't know…"

Alara said, "We can do it together. Most of my training is in locks and holds. If I don't use those all the time, you will have a chance."

"You would do that?"

"I would."

The man hesitated as he looked at her for the first time as a human being. "Thank you."

Alara asked, "What's your name?"

"Brady."

"Mine's Alara."

**********

For the next hour, Alara and Brady continued their fight. This time it was a more even contest. Brady was connecting with some of his strikes and Alara blocked and controlled his movements at other times. They put on an entertaining and close performance. The crowd cheered and encouraged him. Some of the Champions in the audience, Brent's former staff and a few brave strangers were supporting Alara.

Brady was pulling his punches so that he wouldn't hurt Alara too much but it wasn't apparent to anyone watching. In return, Alara allowed him to escape from some of her holds. They were both getting very tired, Brady was almost exhausted.

Reya held up her hand for attention. The judges acknowledged her and both she and Captain Kegan approached their booth as the contest continued in the circle.

Kegan asked when he came within earshot, "Are you giving up?"

Reya's smile did not touch her eyes. "You know the outcome of this contest as well as I do, Captain. If you don't, I am perfectly willing to wait another hour until there is no question."

Kegan pointed at her heatedly, "You tricked us!"

Reya gave him an icy smile. "It was no trick. Your arrogance defeated you. You thought you couldn't lose and so you dismissed our intelligence and our abilities."

The lead judge, Hallam, a bulky former fighter who was now a respected fight adjudicator said, "It appears that we have."

Kegan was nearly spitting in his anger, "Tricks!"

Reya said, "Fighting is not just about pounding each other until someone falls over. It is about speed, intelligence, technique and understanding of motion and the human body."

Kegan said, "Don't try to teach me about fighting."

Reya said with a flat smile, "Someone should."

Kegan moved aggressively towards her.

Hallam, put a firm hand on the man's arm. "Captain, don't embarrass yourself." His eyes became hard. "Or us."

Kegan faltered and stepped back. "Sorry, sir."

The lead judge turned to Reya. "We've misjudged all of you."

Reya's voice was respectful when speaking to the judge. "Your preconceptions have not served you well."

Hallam was a calm, intelligent man who had barely missed being instituted as a Champion himself. He was a personal friend of President Trist, which was why he had been chosen. "This is the true purpose of these contests, the challenging of preconceptions."

Reya inclined her head in acknowledgement.

Hallam said, "You called for this meeting."

Reya said to the Captain, "Your fighter cannot win against a style he has no defence against. Mine cannot win in a contest of straight punching ability. That is what our two fighters are showing us. You know that if my fighter had not let yours go and allowed him to use his strikes, he would be helpless and your defeat would be a particularly humiliating one. We want to avoid this. It was not our intention to embarrass you or to prove that we are superior."

Hallam asked, "You have a proposal?"

"I do. But only if the Captain is agreed."

Hallam asked Kegan, "Do you have confidence that your man will win if this contest continues? Answer me honestly."

Kegan looked over to where Alara and Brady were still trying to fight. An expression, half between a snarl of anger and a grimace of frustration, tightened his face. He said reluctantly, "In a few weeks…but not right now."

Reya smiled. "In a few weeks, do you think we would be using the same style?"

Hallam said, "Then you are both agreed that this contest will be a draw?"

Reya nodded, "I agree."

Kegan growled out, "Yes."

**********

As the team leaders returned to their respective sides, Hallam spoke to his fellow judges. A decision was made and Hallam stopped the fight. Alara and Brady stepped back from each other with relief.

There was much stirring in the crowd.

Hallam came forward and stood between them. In a loud official voice, he said, "It is the determination of the judges' panel that this match is over. We have decided that the outcome will be the same even if the fight continues. We declare that this contest is a draw." He lifted up both Alara and Brady's hands.

The noise level rose as more people tried to speak at once.

Hallam said, "This was a fair contest and each side showed considerable skill. I want you to remember that. As each of the teams has won one match, this means that the result of the First Challenge is a tie."

There was stunned silence and then the hall erupted in loud voices, some angry and outraged and some hesitant cheers.

**********

On the ship, Avon watched impassively as the contest ended and the results were announced. He mused, The object is not the contest. Then it must be the President.

Avon asked, "What would they gain by assassinating the President?"

Sester had been doing his own thinking and replied, "Not as much as by not assassinating him."

Avon demanded, "Explain."

Sester sat up. "They know that we know there are aliens at work on Chandar. We've already exposed several of them."

"And killed them."

"Yes. They would want to draw as little attention to themselves as possible but still advance their goals."

Avon looked at the diagram again, "Assassinating the President would be very noticeable."

"Yes. It would centre everyone's attention on hunting them down as the threat that they are."

The hall took up the majority of the building with several corridors leading away to smaller rooms. Avon mused, "Whereas, the public Challenges turns everyone's focus to one place."

"Very convenient if your goal is not the Challenges."

Avon was deep in thought. "The President could still be the focus but no one would be paying attention to him."

"Right."

The corner of Avon's eyes crinkled as he concentrated. "But it would not be something as overtly offensive as an assassination."

"Not if they wanted to keep low and continue their work of taking over the Chandar Alliance," said Sester. He had already come to a conclusion but he let Avon work it out for himself.

Avon's eyes widened. "Their method was infiltration. It still is!" He quickly zoomed the diagram to the adjacent corridors. "There are four possible routes the Presidential party could take to leave the building. They'll intercept them and…they'll need a room."

Avon hit the comm button. "Argus. I know what they're doing."

Argus's voice responded over the speakers. "What are they doing?"

"They're going to take over the President and replace him with an alien duplicate."

Argus's voice was all business, "I can't see him from here. His party must have left already. We'll have to do a search."

Avon said, "I don't have an exact location but I have the possible routes he could be taking."

"Send them to the teams' datapads. We'll split up and search."

Avon marked the routes and sent them down. "Done."

**********

Argus and two of the Athol soldiers raced along the corridors with weapons drawn. No President. He could not have left yet or Avon would tell him that the President's transport had left.

"Spread out and check the rooms!" The soldiers moved off.

None of the other teams had reported in. This was not good. That most likely meant the Andromedans had taken the President's party already and was in the process of duplicating him.

He listened at one door after the other. There was an angry, muffled voice in the fifth one. Trist's voice. He signalled the two soldiers and they raced towards him. There was an angry shout, abruptly cut off with a sound that Argus recognized. A solid object hitting a skull. There was no time to get more help. These aliens didn't need the President alive to duplicate him.

Argus signalled with his hand, coordinating their entrance. One of the soldiers positioned his pistol to shoot the door panel. Argus and the other one readied themselves for a quick entrance. He counted off with fingers raised. Five. Four. Three. Two.

The soldier shot out the door and it slid open. One.

Argus and the soldier rushed in, guns blazing. Argus brought down four and the soldier two in the space of a few seconds before the Andromedans had a chance to react and bring their weapons up. There were too many people in the room. The President was tied to a chair. He looked dazed and blood flowed from a head wound.

One of the aliens pointed a gun to the President's head. "Put your guns down or I will shoot him now."

Argus's voice rumbled dangerously. "I don't think so. This is a no-win scenario. You will kill him and us regardless of what we do. You can't let us live. The only real choice is how many of you are willing to die with us." As he was speaking, Argus deliberately moved his pistol to cover the man threatening the President. He steadied his gun hand by wrapping his free one awkwardly around the wrist wearing the teleport bracelet. He barely moved his lips as he whispered to the two soldiers who were back-to-back with him. "Get ready." His men gripped their pistols tighter and readied themselves to fire.

Argus asked the aliens, "What do you say? We have nothing to lose if we're going to die anyway. I am giving you a chance to survive. Give up now and we will spare your lives. Don't and take the chance that you will be the one to die and I guarantee you that over half of you will be dead before we hit the ground. You have seen how fast we are."

The alien with his gun to the President said, "You're not in a position to bargain."

Argus laughed. "You are though. For your own lives." His eyes swept the room slowly, trying to stretch out the time. He knew Avon would have understood the message but would he be quick enough? They were about to find out. Time was running out. "I'm prepared to die. I am always prepared to die. But are you?"

The alien said, "You….must be stalling for some reason. Kill them all now!"

Before the alien had finished saying the word, kill, a familiar energy could be heard and a distortion of the air. The Andromedans all turned to look at the disturbance while Argus and the soldiers fired. In panic, the aliens pointed their guns back at Argus and the soldiers again but by then the teleport energies had solidified, revealing Lt. Dain and his team. For the next few moments, the room was a deadly net of phase and laser tracers as men and aliens on both sides fell.

When the energies cleared, all of the aliens were down. Argus stood protectively in front of Trist. His arm was bleeding from a deep laser slice to his right forearm.

The remaining soldiers checked the wounded and dead as Argus and Dain released Trist. Argus checked the President's eyes. "He's going to be out for awhile."

Most of the aliens were dead. One of the soldiers had also died. Three others were wounded, including Argus.

Argus contacted the ship, "Quick work, Avon. We have the President, he's alive."

When Argus had covered his teleport bracelet earlier, he had pressed the comm button. Avon had heard Argus's voice and immediately guessed what was going on. As Argus stalled, Avon had quickly arranged for Dain's team to be transferred to Argus's location. Just in time.

Argus said, "You'd better bring Cally back up. We'll need the Tellaran doctors too. We have wounded."

Chapter Thirty-One

Avon had rushed to the teleport room as Argus and the others arrived. Argus was directing the injured to be conveyed to the medical bay while he arranged security on the single injured alien who had survived.

Avon stood back out of the way as he watched this activity. There was a lack of emotion on Argus's face. Just the proficient and detached calm of a man doing his job.

After the last man had exited, Argus stood staring after them into empty space, his hand absently covering the still wet wound on his arm.

Avon said in a voice devoid of emotion, "You're dripping."

Argus turned startled eyes to him. "What were you saying?"

Avon said, "You're bleeding."

Argus looked down at the deep slice on his arm. "I suppose I am."

"You suppose?"

Argus's voice was flat. "Innes died." He was the soldier who had rushed into the room with him, shoulder-to-shoulder and with guns blazing.

"Who?"

Argus's eyes closed and his head bowed. His jaw tightened in anguish. "Innes, one of the soldiers. He died on the mission. Not that you would care, you never knew their names. I doubt if anyone cared to know their names."

Avon kept his voice neutral. "It's frequently easier not to care if you don't know their names."

Argus opened angry eyes. His voice was full of bitter sarcasm. "Is that what you do, Avon? Keep them nameless so you don't have to care? Just like you did with the women?"

For Avon, it was much easier not to care. For him love had always ended in pain; the agony of being betrayed or the anguish of a soul-emptying loss. Caring enough to be hurt was foolishness. The deeper the love, the greater the devastation.

His pragmatic mind had presented him with a logical solution, just not a human one. It was what he told everyone. Perhaps if he said it enough times, pushed enough people away, then he could believe it too.

At Avon's silence, Argus asked, "Do you wish that we had never remembered our childhood? Never remembered that we had been friends? So that you don't have to care? Is that why you refuse to let me call you Kerr?"

"You're a fool."

Argus looked down at his bleeding arm and grimaced. He was starting to register the pain. "I suppose I am. A stupid fool." Unconsciously he squeezed with his hand, causing the blood to flow again. And more pain.

Avon grabbed his hand away and asked sharply, "What are you doing?"

Argus looked up at him. The pain of too many wounds making his eyes squint as if it were blinding him. "Another one died, Avon."

Anna's voice from the past haunted Avon's present. How much pain do you think a human being can endure, Avon? She had asked him that once as he held her in his arms after they had shared an intensely physical interlude.

In a physical sense or a psychological one? he had asked for clarification, as if it were an intellectual exercise.

Anna had twisted around to look into his penetrating eyes. And then she had kissed him deeply, the question ignored in a flurry of passion. She had never asked him again.

A cold-blooded question from a woman who knew from the beginning what she was planning to do to him.

How much pain can a human being endure? As he looked into the eyes of the man who carried the burden of too many lives, he knew the answer, they both knew it.

Avon's eyes softened slightly and a voice escaped from the place that his conscious mind could not control. "It wasn't your fault. All of them followed you willingly."

"I never asked him, Avon. I should have…I should have…" Argus shook his head. "Maybe he wouldn't have died today if I had."

Instinct caused Avon to reach out and put his hand on Argus's shoulder. "Jack, don't do this."

He felt a connection to this man. Not just because of a shared childhood that he barely remembered, but because of the pain. Their lives had been destroyed by people who would own and use them. But even more, there was the pain that would forever bind them to an agony they could barely face, because of a debt that could never be repaid.

Argus said with a voice ripe with pain, "Avon…Kerr…I can't do this anymore..."

"I know."

"But everyone…needs me to."

"Yes."

Argus asked in a tormented voice, "Why me?" His eyes glazed over and he collapsed while Avon tried to grab him. Avon staggered back under the weight. Sester had been leaning against the doorway, listening quietly. He quickly came over to help. They carefully lay the wounded man on the ground and knelt down beside him.

Sester said softly to himself, "Who else could it be?"

Avon asked, "What did you say?"

Sester lifted contemplative eyes to meet his. "Nothing." That you want to hear.

Avon said, "We'll need help carrying him."

Sester said, "I'll do that." He stood up, went to the comm panel and called for assistance. When he came back, Avon had his hand over Argus's wound, applying pressure to stop the bleeding.

Sester knelt down as well. He couched his voice in soft concern, and pitched just a little higher. Reminiscent of younger times. "Kerr…"

"He has to go on."

Sester's eyes held a degree of concern that he would never have shown if Argus had been conscious. "They broke his heart and he's been trying to put the pieces back together ever since."

Avon said with bitter sarcasm, "You should know. People like you tore him apart and tried to make him into something he never wanted to be."

"They did it to all of us, Avon."

"You never resisted very much, if I recall. You always wanted the privilege they represented."

"Kerr…"

"Don't call me that."

Several soldiers came in to carry Argus to the medical unit.

**********

The women were in high spirits after the First Challenge had ended. There was a debriefing session and an impromptu celebration. Laughter and smiles abounded. Reya found the hugging a bit excessive but tolerated it with resigned acceptance. These were civilians. Some latitude had to be given.

Other than for the news of the success of the mission that had thwarted the aliens' attempt to replicate and replace the Chandaran President, they had not yet been informed that they had suffered a casualty.

Karita was exuberant and was giving personal demonstrations of different parts of her match. She said to Reya, "That last fall, it was…incredible. He didn't know what hit him."

The shy Alara was by herself in a corner. Corinne saw that she was unusually quiet, even more than normal, and came over to talk to her. She remarked, "You did really well."

Corinne's greeting roused Alara from her thoughts. "Thank you."

"You don't seem very happy."

Alara had to raise her voice to be heard above the boisterous noise in the room. "I was just thinking."

Having been raised on Chandar, Corinne felt a closeness to these women that none of the others did. "You don't have to worry about what's going to happen to you. These are good people. They'll protect you and I'm sure the Tellarans will take you in."

Alara said, "I know but…Chandar is my home. I don't know if I would feel comfortable elsewhere."

"You don't feel comfortable here."

Worry lined Alara's face. "Not anymore but maybe that's a good thing."

Corinne looked at her curiously. "You're thinking of staying?"

"I…don't know. If it's true that my man is an alien, I will probably be claimed by one of his relatives. If not…"

"You would go back to him?" Corinne asked incredulously. "But you can't, Alara. You can't go back to that life."

Alara's eyes were pensive. She looked like a woman trying to make a hard decision. "You've shown me a different life and for that I'm grateful. But when I was fighting down there and I was talking to Brady…"

"Brady?"

"Yes, that was the man I was fighting."

"What did he say?"

"Well, it wasn't what he said exactly. We're all doing this because we want the men to see us differently. And maybe that can change things. After talking to Brady…I'm…starting to think it might be possible."

"That's why you want to stay?"

"Yes. I want to continue fighting but in a different way. Would your mother mind if I asked her what she did to change your father?"

**********

After being treated by a deep tissue regenerator, Argus disappeared from the busy medical unit before a blood infuser could be attached to his arm.

Avon found him in the storage room that had been converted into a temporary morgue. Argus stood in solitary attendance over the body of the soldier who had been killed, his head bowed and his back vulnerable to whoever wanted to come in.

When he heard the door slide open and someone coming up behind him, Argus said without turning around. "I wanted to be alone."

Avon stopped beside him and looked down at the body. "I knew I would find you here."

"Is there an emergency?"

"Yes."

Argus asked with tired resignation. "What is it?"

"You're going to create an emergency if you don't go back to the medical unit. I'm not carrying you."

"You won't have to."

The soldier looked almost peaceful with his eyes closed in death. Avon wondered if it was possible to have that kind of peace in life. That kind of certainty.

Blake had had it and Avon had envied him that. But it was a certainty without any peace. Avon had always believed that it was the certainty of a fool, a simpleton. Or a dream of the insane. Only a man who couldn't afford to think could be so certain about things that made no sense in their world.

But none of that mattered now. He had killed Blake. And now, like the childhood friend who stood in silent vigil over a slain comrade, Avon had a debt to pay.

Avon's eyes closed as emotions threatened to bubble to the surface. He tried to remain in control. His jaw tightened as his stomach twisted in the pain of guilt and loss.

Blake. This man had confused him when he was alive. Full of such compassion and humanity; the insane dreamer that he had derided but, against his better judgement, had wanted to believe.

Then there was the fanatic who didn't know that his actions and the way he treated his crew made his words and dreams a hypocrisy. This was the man that Avon had come to despise.

Unlike the others, Avon had seen both clearly from the beginning. The two halves of Blake; the man and the madness. The dreamer and the destroyer. One had drawn Avon to him and gave him a reluctant hope; the other had driven him away and made Avon want to be free of him at any cost.

Blake was dead now. Avon grimaced at the increased pain from his stomach. He had killed him. It didn't matter if it had been in error or that he had snapped because of one more betrayal by a man that he both loved and hated, had finally proven too much to bear.

Now he would never be free of Blake. He would be haunted by the man's memory and the guilt forever. It was a fitting sentence.

Argus turned to the silent man beside him. A tight grimace marred Avon's face. What thoughts were troubling this tortured man now? Was it possible for either one of them to be free from the ghosts that haunted them? Argus asked worriedly, "Avon? Are you alright?"

Avon roused himself from ghostly thoughts. His face became emotionless again. "You're the one who's hurt."

"I'm fine. This is nothing."

"You left before they finished treating you. You need time with the blood infuser."

Argus turned to look at the soldier again. "I…needed to be here."

"It's not going to bring him back."

"It's not about that. It's…about respect. I wouldn't expect you to understand."

It would be easy for Avon to say that he didn't, but it would have been a lie. If Cally was here, Avon knew that she would say Argus needed a friend. He needed someone who could listen and understand what he was going through. Avon understood, perhaps more than anyone did, the burdens that weighed them both down.

Avon's words came hesitantly. Even though he had been sharing with Cally, and a little with Vila, it was still something that came very unnaturally. "I once risked my life because of the memory of a dead woman."

"I'm sorry, Avon. I forgot about Anna."

"Tell me about Innes."

**********

When Vila arrived back at his cabin to retire for the night, Corinne knew that something was wrong. "Vila, what happened?"

Vila sat down heavily on the bunk that Corinne was trying to prepare for the night. His shoulders were slumped. "One of the soldiers died today."

"Oh no!" Corinne sat down and put her arms around him in comfort. "What was his name?"

Vila looked at her with pained and troubled eyes. "His name was Innes."

Corinne said with silent sorrow, "Oh no."

Vila asked, "You know who he was?"

"Yes. He was one of the soldiers who gave me training. He taught me field hand signals and some other things. He was very nice."

This depressed Vila further. "I…had to ask someone what his name was. I never knew any of their names. They were just soldiers. But they weren't, Corinne…and now Innes is dead. And I had to ask someone his name." He was depressed. "They all call me, sir, and I don't even know their names." And he felt guilty.

"We should do something nice for him. Do you know if he had any family?"

The idea that he could do something brightened Vila's attention. "We should find out. We should…hold some kind of ceremony for him." He straightened up and said with resolve. "I'm going to know all of the soldiers. Every one of them."

Chapter Thirty-Two

Argus was lying on the couch in his cabin with his head resting on Reya's lap. She had a hand on his chest while she stroked his head with the other. It was comforting and calming for both of them after a stressful day.

Argus's injured arm was encased in a stiff healing cast in order to prevent him from moving it too much and reopening the wound. The fingers of his free hand lightly traced the back of hers.

Reya asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Argus said despondently. "What good would it do? It's not going to bring him back."

"It won't but it would help you deal with it."

Argus sat up. "I don't want to deal with it."

Reya sighed. "You just want it to continue hurting. But is it for him or yourself."

"He deserves someone to pay the price of losing his life."

"He did it for you, Argus. They're all doing it because of you. That's why they left Athol, their family and friends. They know that you're doing something good and they wanted a part of it. They also trust you with their lives. For the same reason your men have always trusted you. It's the same reason why the people on this ship trust you, even Avon."

The corner of Argus's eyes crinkled in a pained wince. "But people die around me, Reya. They shouldn't trust me. I can't keep them safe…no matter how much I try." He buried a heavy head in his hands.

Reya drew his head to her chest and stroked his head gently. "I know. It's because you are like this…that they love you. They would follow you anywhere."

"I don't want them to." Argus's shoulders began shaking; the silent, tearless expression of a man weighed down by grief and guilt, but who had been trained never to show weakness.

"You can't fight by yourself, Argus. You cannot face the enemy alone."

"I can try."

"It's not your decision, Argus."

"I'm the leader."

"Then it is your job to lead and give their lives purpose. But you do not control their lives. If they are willing to take the risks, that is their decision. It is not your right to deny it. Just as it is not your right to make them take risks they don't want to. That decision is not yours to make. If you wish to free people from the tyranny of the Federation then you must begin it here. Allow these people the freedom to choose the direction of their lives. That means you must let them choose to take the risks as well as to refuse them."

"You mean the freedom must be the same?"

Reya rested her head on his. "You know it is but it is in your nature to take responsibility for everything. Even if it was someone else's decision."

"I can't help feeling responsible." He touched her face gently. "You would make a better leader."

"No. They may respect me but you are the one that they love. You are the one who suffers for them."

"Don't make me sound like some kind of hero, Reya. I'm not. I have too much blood on my hands and there is too much darkness in me. I'm just a flawed man trying to pay the universe back for all the lives I've taken."

Reya tilted his head so that she could look into his troubled eyes. "I love you."

"You're very wise."

A smile lightly played on Reya's lips and touched her eyes, "Because I love you?"

"No…I mean, you see things I can't."

"Only because it's hard for you to be objective about things that touch you personally. Are you going to be alright?"

"I'll be fine. You don't have to worry about me."

"You mean, like you don't have to worry about the others?"

Argus smiled wryly.

Reya traced the smile with her fingers. "Can you at least promise me that you won't keep it bottled inside?"

"I'll try."

**********

There was a sombre atmosphere in the packed cargo hold. The Athol soldiers were in full dress uniform of dark green and black. They were lined up on either side, standing guard over their fallen comrade, their heads facing downwards in mourning and rifles in a rest position, with the barrels pointed to the ground.

President Trist and his officials and the Champions were also in attendance.

Argus stood forward. His voice echoed like a rumble of thunder in close confines. "We are here to remember a fallen comrade, Gar Innes. He gave his life because he believed that there are some things worth fighting for. He was instrumental in saving the life of President Trist. And he made valuable contributions on all the missions that we have been involved in. He was solid and dependable. A good soldier and a patient teacher. A man who was always ready to lend a hand when it was needed. He was a man who appreciated good food and lots of it. I understand he was also good cook though we never had the opportunity to enjoy his talents here. I suppose…" There was a slight tremor in his voice. "…we never will." He recovered quickly. "Innes's life and his name will not be forgotten. We will finish the work that he helped start. We will defeat the aliens here, in his memory, and then we will bring him home."

Argus caught Lt. Dain's eyes. Dain called, "Attention." The heads of all the soldiers snapped up as one, and they brought their rifles to the front, in a vertical salute.

One of the sergeants put a long instrument to his lips, an Athol musical apparatus that looped around itself. A mournful refrain filled the cargo hold, a solitary sound calling everyone to remembrance. After the echoes of the last note died, they all stood in hushed silence.

**********

After the ceremony, Avon and Cally watched as the others mingled and had refreshments.

Avon thought to her, * Cally, be careful when you go down again. *

Cally projected, * Have you found out more information? *

* There was only limited information on the computer once the encryption was broken. But we know that they are organized here and they are deeply entrenched. We are at a disadvantage if we cannot identify who they are. They could be anyone. Are you able to sense any difference in the alien we captured? *

* Not yet. *

There was no change in expression on Avon's face as their minds spoke. * I could find no physical difference that we could detect with our current scanners. The duplication appears to be exact while they are in a transformed state. *

* How is that possible? * asked Cally.

* We know their technology is superior to ours but I have some new ideas. Our captured alien will be useful in many ways. *

* Hopefully he'll be even more useful once we wake him and he can be questioned. I will be careful on the planet but I need you to be careful about your time. Adding one more task to your list is not healthy for you. *

* We will both take care. *

**********

After the remembrance ceremony, there was a subdued debriefing of the previous day's events and accomplishments. The high spirits had taken on a serious air. The Second Challenge was scheduled for the next day. There was nervous apprehension but also increasing confidence. Everyone spent the rest of the day relaxing.

Reya, Cally, Corinne and Marlena spent some time together. Another tea had been arranged in Reya's cabin.

Corinne reported, "Some of the women want to stay after the Challenges."

Marlena said, "That's good."

Reya said, "That's what we were hoping for."

Cally had noticed the unhappy look on the young woman's face. "You're concerned?"

Corinne's eyes studied the clear surface of the table. "I wish they didn't have to. It's not going to be easy for them."

There was gentle joy on Marlena's face when she regarded her daughter. "They know the cost, Corinne, but they are willing to pay it."

"Just like you did, mother?" When Corinne looked at her mother, it was always with awe and pride.

"Sometimes Corinne, what is important is not living or dying but what you chose to live or die for. These women have made a choice, just as I did. I will also be staying here after the Challenges."

"Mother…" Corinne put her hand on her mother's arm in alarm.

"It's alright, Corinne. I will not leave your father again and I want to finish the work I began here."

"I…should stay with you."

Marlena patted her daughter's hand. "You have your own path to follow, Corinne. You have made your choice. You have your own battles to fight."

Reya said, "We will take care of her, Marlena."

Marlena smiled in soft appreciation, "I know I'm leaving her in good hands."

**********

Sester sat thinking in his cabin, his fingers idly touching the half-finished chess game with himself. The death of the soldier was unfortunate but it served a useful purpose. It focused the Chandaran women's energy. Rather than just elevated spirits that gave them falsely high confidence, they now had a realistic understanding of the stakes.

Since the First Challenge had ended in the optimal solution, it had opened up certain opportunities. They were ones that other people rarely recognized, but someone like him did. Achieving the impossible was what he was good at. Of course, it involved great risks. But they were calculated ones.

He would need the cooperation of two people. And a great deal of secrecy.

Sester went to the door to visit the first of these people, and crashed into Kirsten, who had her hand raised to use his door chime. They both rubbed sore heads that had banged into each other. Sester could feel a bruise growing and saw a corresponding red mark developing on Kirsten's temple.

Sester said, "We've got to stop running into each other like this."

Kirsten rubbed her head. "You could always wear something that gives off a signal."

Sester eyed her suspiciously. "How did…what are you doing here, Kirsten?"

"I would have thought that would be obvious. I'm here to see you."

"Let's get past the obvious, shall we? What are you doing here? And why?"

Kirsten peered into Sester's cabin. "Are you going to invite me in?"

For some reason, this woman set him on edge. She had penetrating eyes that seemed to be able to see right through him. Normally being naked with a woman was not a situation that made him uncomfortable. But the feeling of being bare even though he was fully clothed was disconcerting.

This woman made him feel naked just by looking at him. It was not unlike the feeling he had when standing in front of his master. The Guildmaster had always been able to see right through him too. It was never a safe place for a devious and clever person like himself to be in.

Sester said, "If you give me a good reason."

There was an amused expression on Kirsten's face. "You did nearly give me a concussion."

Sester reluctantly moved aside to let her in. He grumbled, "That's hardly my fault."

Kirsten smiled. "Don't you find it interesting that we usually seem to have the same conjunction of actions at the same time?"

"Isn't that what they call a complete accident?"

She seemed intrigued by his antagonism, "Where were you going?"

Sester hesitated.

Kirsten asked, "You were going somewhere, weren't you?"

Sester scowled. A ready lie was on his lips but instead he found himself admitting, "I was coming to see you."

Kirsten gave him a knowing smile.

Sester said with irritation, "You knew?"

"I suspected so after the results of the First Challenge. The timing was coincidental if that makes you feel any better."

Sester blew out an aggravated breath. "But you knew."

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" She walked slowly towards him.

Sester stood still as she approached, unwilling to give ground to her. She invaded his space and took another step forward, until he could feel her warm breath on his face and her body lightly brushing against his. Sester could feel the aggression triggering involuntary primal reactions that could easily turn into something else if she made the right or wrong moves.

This was a dangerous game she was playing but he had the impression that she knew what she was doing and had judged it very carefully. However, it couldn't be. It was not possible that she had that kind of finely honed instinct. That kind of control.

There was one thing that she was showing him though. She loved the danger of human interaction and she liked taking risks.

Kirsten said in a guttural voice, "How else does it make you feel?"

Sester knew that all he had to do was reach out and touch her. Then they would spend the next few hours exploring something that would give them great physical pleasure. He said in low warning, "You're playing a dangerous game, Kirsten. You should never play with a man like this unless you're prepared to be burned." He leaned towards her.

Kirsten stepped back. "You misjudged me. I never play that kind of game."

Sester looked at her in confusion.

Kirsten backed up again. "I was trying to show how you make other people feel. Your ability to read them makes them feel as if they're naked."

"How did…" Now he was angry. How did she know how he was feeling? That sense of nakedness was not something that would have shown on his face, not with his control. It would have required a very subtle reading.

"You jumped to the wrong conclusion."

Sester asked, "What are you trying to do, Kirsten?"

Kirsten smiled and ignored his question. "I'm leaving now." Without another word, she left a confused man behind.

Sester was full of anger but there was still a strong physical desire. He scowled as he realized that Kirsten had left before he had an opportunity to say what he had to say. Now he was forced to go to her. And ask her to do something.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Jenna stirred as dreams of the past filled her sleeping mind.

Trebular. It was your regular agricultural planet out on the frontier. Not the kind of place that Jenna had imagined retiring to. Dull, placid, and stolid people with little imagination and not much in terms of creature comforts. Not her kind of place at all. She kept looking for civilization but it seemed that the colonists that originally populated this place had valued old, traditional and very dead values.

"Back to nature" and "One with nature" were odd catch phrases that only told her that it was going to be very dull here. It would be a chore to prevent herself from dying of boredom.

No. I'm not retiring here, she reminded herself. This was just a temporary rest station while they decided what to do next. At least that was what she kept telling herself.

She stared around the one-roomed prefab structure that had little nooks for bedroom, kitchen, living room and storage room, all separated by a flimsy curtain-like material. Not even real solid walls. They were lucky to have indoor sanitation facilities.

Jenna's lips curled in distaste. Even in her worst days after her mother had lost all of their money, it was much better than this. The only equivalent she could think of was the time after she had been caught and sentenced to Cygnus Alpha.

She supposed that anything would be better than that fate but this came a close second. Jenna really hoped that Blake would snap out of whatever mood he was in presently and they'd find some real civilization. Jenna hadn't come this far in order to go backwards.

Maybe she should recommend the idea that Avon had suggested. Blake should go back to Earth and unite all the rebel groups.

If only Blake would let her contact Avon to pick them up. No matter what she said about Avon, the man did keep his promises. He would already have them back on Earth by now, probably at standard by twelve. Just to get rid of Blake faster.

He had minced no words when he blew up at Blake that last day before everything went to hell. She had never heard such venom in his voice before. But she had also never heard such concern in his tone before either after Blake had been shot by Travis. The man did confuse her.

Blake came in and brushed the dust from his clothes. "It's dry out there." He ran his fingers through his curly hair to remove more dust.

Jenna poured a glass of water from the temperamental reclamation unit, rapping it on its side when it sputtered halfway through. "This thing needs fixing again." She muttered under her breath, "Like everything else around here."

Blake kissed her on the cheek as he accepted the glass. "Thank you, Jenna." He gulped the contents down thirstily and wiped his volumous sleeve across his mouth. "I'll take a look at it but my engineering skills are rusty and I was never very good at it. I was following the management track back then."

"Why is that not surprising?" Jenna took the empty glass and filled it again.

Blake accepted the glass and rolled it slowly in both hands. "That's why I always left the technical jobs to Avon."

"Yes…our technical genius." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Blake asked with amusement, "You never did like him, did you, Jenna?"

"Let's not talk about Avon."

"Alright, what do you want to talk about?" Blake put the glass down and went to get some tools to fix the reclamation unit.

"I want to know when we're getting off this dust ball excuse of a planet and back to civilization." Jenna picked up a nearby cloth and threw it over the glass. Dust got everywhere on this miserable planet.

"You don't like it here?" Blake bent down and removed the side panel of the unit. He put his thumb to his lips as he contemplated where to start.

Jenna noticed that Blake had lost many of the nervous habits that he used to have on the Liberator. They only resurfaced when something was giving him stress.

"I've only told you five times that I hate it here. This would make it six. Not that I'm keeping count."

Blake poked a tool into the machine and was rewarded with a spark that caused him to pull back with a yelp.

Jenna said, "Maybe we should get a repair technician instead. You can manage him."

"You have very little faith in me, Jenna."

"Only in your repair skills. Let me see that hand."

"It's nothing. Just a spark."

"Let me be the judge of that."

Blake stood up while Jenna got the tissue regenerator. She applied it to the red mark on the back of his hand.

**********

Several weeks later, they were still on the miserable dust planet. Blake came in with a large grey packet in his hands and threw it on the table with a heavy thud.

Jenna was trying her own hands at fixing the reclamation unit. It had broken down entirely and there were no free repair technicians, not to mention they all had very expensive rates these days. Again, Jenna wished they'd nipped into the treasure room of the Liberator before they left.

Jenna looked up and asked, "What's that?"

"It's a food packet. They're handing them out."

Jenna stood up and wiped her hands on a cloth. At the corner of the package was a familiar Federation seal. She asked curiously, "They broke into the Federation storage facilities?"

Blake's throat was tight with tension, "They were handing them out."

"You mean the Federation was?"

Blake's eyes flashed dangerously. "Yes."

Knowing Blake's mind, Jenna asked, "You think it's a plot?"

Blake said angrily, "Of course it is. They're desperate to retain their power. They would do anything, including buying support with these. They're taking advantage of the situation."

Jenna was beginning to find that Blake wasn't a very practical man. He said a lot but when it came to the everyday details of living, he tended to be blind. She was the one who had taken care of most of their daily requirements. However, if they didn't get the reclamation unit fixed soon, they would run out of water.

Jenna opened up the box and examined the packed contents. She began pulling items out and arranging them on the table, organizing them by type. Nutri-bars and wafers. That caused her tongue to curl in distaste as she remembered the prisoner food on the London. Vitamin packs. Protein squares.

Blake asked sharply, "What are you doing?"

"Putting them away."

Blake took the tin away from her hands. "We're not using these. They're probably full of suppressants."

Jenna looked at the tin warily. "At least, don't throw it away."

Blake said firmly, "We're not using these, Jenna, even if we have to starve. I would rather die first."

Jenna sighed. "That's exactly what we might end up doing, Blake. If you bothered to pay attention, we're running out of everything. Soon we won't even have water. Then things are going to get very interesting."

Blake said, "Then we're agreed. We're not taking anything from them, Jenna. We've come too far to let them win."

"I don't call starving to death winning," Jenna said in a disgruntled voice. She had not said that she agreed. Blake just assumed as he always did. It usually took too much energy to argue with him when he was like this. He would never take no for an answer.

Jenna didn't like the idea of starving to death just to make a point.

Blake said, "I've contacted a few people. We're going to blow up the storage facilities."

Jenna asked with shock, "Are you crazy? People are starving and you want to blow up our only source of food?"

Blake said, "This is an agricultural planet, Jenna. They can grow their own. We have to force them to stop relying on the Federation. I thought that blowing up Star One was enough and people would rebel. But they need a little encouragement."

"So you're going to force them to rebel or starve?"

"There's no other way."

Jenna was trying to hold her temper. "Do you know why people are starving here?"

"They don't have the Federation to give them orders anymore once Star One was destroyed. They don't know how to think independently. Avon was right; I should have gone back to Earth to unite the alliance. People need leadership. I'm going to start it here."

Jenna shook her head. "You still don't get it. People aren't growing anything because it's impossible to do it without water."

Blake said, "That's ridiculous." He tapped the side of the reclamation unit. "We have water…at least once we get this fixed."

"And why do you think we have to use these? Because it hasn't rained on this planet since Star One was destroyed. The weather satellite control systems stopped working. The reclamation units are only enough for drinking water. They need a lot more for planting."

Blake rubbed the back of his suddenly tense neck. "Why didn't they say something?"

"Did you bother asking? I hope you didn't tell everyone that you had planned to blow up Star One before. I don't think it would go over very well right now, do you?"

Blake's voice became stubborn. "I was right, Jenna. We had to destroy Star One. It was the only way to break the Federation's power. We were only missing a few details. We can fix those and then everything will work out. You'll see. First, we have to stop the Federation from taking advantage of the situation. We have to stop people from turning to them."

"Blake, as hard as it is for you to accept, people prefer living under the Federation rather than dying free or seeing their children die."

Blake said contemptuously, "Federation slaves! They'd rather sell their souls for a full belly."

Jenna sighed. "They can't eat freedom, Blake."

"You can't live without freedom!" This was Blake the passionate crusader again.

"You can't. But they can."

"I can't rest until they're all free, Jenna. I can't."

Even if they want to be free or not? Or kill them all trying? Jenna thought but dare not say these words. It would sound like a betrayal in Blake's presence. His belief was firm. He accepted no other.

Jenna recognized this voice from Blake. It was an echo from the past. It was the magnet that had first drawn her on the London. It was the inspired and fervent voice of the dreamer.

There was a hard set in Blake's jaw and resolve in his eyes. Nothing was going to stop him when he was like this.

At least it meant they were finally going to leave this depressing planet.

Jenna jerked awake from her restless dreams.

**********

Sester smiled ingenuously at the regal figure on his view screen. The Federation President was a beautiful woman, especially when she was dangerous and devious; a combination that she managed better than anyone else.

Servalan said, "You're a ruthless man, Sester and your deviousness almost rivals mine."

Sester put his hand over his heart, "I would never presume, Madame President. No one could be as…creative as you are."

"Then what do I need you for?" Servalan asked coolly.

Sester smiled. "Why don't you tell me?" They both knew that if she didn't find him extremely useful, she would have returned him to the Guild long ago.

**********

Sester leaned against the wall as he peered surreptitiously around the corridor at the group of women coming out of a training room. He was a bit nervous, though he wasn't sure why. There was no reason to be. He had just finished meeting with the most dangerous woman in the Federated Worlds. A barely educated woman could hardly be a challenge for him.

Then how did she manage to completely unnerve him every time they 'ran' into each other. He was starting to get some very paranoid feelings. What was her agenda? Assuming she had one.

Was it purely a physical attraction? He had to admit that he was somewhat attracted to her. Sester was determined to regain control in any future encounters. He was the psychostrategist after all. His life was devoted to controlling others. No one controlled him and didn't live to regret it. Except for the Guildmaster.

"Do you want to try it again?"

Sester nearly jumped as Kirsten appeared in front of him and peered questioningly into his eyes. He asked startled, "How did you get here?" How did she manage to sneak up on him? From the front?

"Is that a philosophical question? Because asking me how I got from the classroom to here would be silly, wouldn't it?"

"I…never mind." It was not starting out well if he planned to regain control. "I wanted to apologize about before." Now why did he say that? Sester wanted to kick himself.

Kirsten tilted her head to study him with interest. Why did she always seem amused when looking at him? He was starting to get annoyed.

Kirsten said, "It's alright. I'm used to people misjudging me but…I thought you would be different." She sounded sad and disappointed.

"I'm sorry." Why did he just apologize again? He had no idea. It was getting aggravating.

There was a shy, pleased smile on her face. "You can be nice. Sometimes. When you're not thinking about it."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're the psychostrategist."

"You're playing with me," he said accusingly.

"Are you having fun yet?" She suddenly stepped closer, causing him to back up against the wall. "Or is it only fun when you're in control and making all the rules?"

Reya came over to see what was going on. "Is there something wrong here?"

Kirsten stepped back with a smile, "Nothing at all, Reya. I was just asking Sester about strategy."

Sester cleared his throat. "Yes. She was asking me about strategy." He asked Kirsten, "Is that all you wanted to know?"

Kirsten said, "That's it for now. I know where to find you if I want something else." There was a twinkle in her eyes. "Thank you."

Sester tried not to grind his teeth in frustration. He regained control of himself and said with a tight pleasant smile, "You're welcome."

As he watched Kirsten leave, Sester could almost feel Reya's eyes boring into him. He said, "I know what you're thinking, Reya."

"And what am I thinking?"

There was no way he was going to tell Reya that Kirsten was the one toying with him. How could he live it down? The edges of his lips inched up in a grin. "You always think the worst of me."

"Not always."

"Just most of the time?" he asked with light sarcasm.

"Don't play with these women, Sester. I don't want them getting hurt."

"I would never hurt a woman, Reya."

"Kirsten is an intelligent woman."

"No woman will ever replace you…"

Reya snapped, "Don't play with me either."

Sester grinned roguishly as his humour returned. "I need something to distract me."

"Find something else. I mean it, Sester. If you hurt one of these women…"

"You're going to hurt me? That might be worth it."

There was a frosty warning in Reya's voice, "Sester…"

Sester held up his hands in surrender. This would have worked better if there weren't a big smile on his face. "Alright. Alright."

Then he realized that Kirsten had once again walked away from him without giving him a chance to say what he needed to say. He rebelled at the thought that he needed to enlist her cooperation.

**********

Sester sat in his cabin again. He needed time to prepare himself after the latest encounter with Kirsten.

Do not get irritated. Remain in control, Sester repeated to himself. Deep breathing exercises and focussing of his mind. Going back to the beginning, when he had first learned the cold, iron discipline that characterized the psychostrategist.

He had concluded that the breaking down of his mind blocks and the concentrated dose of the mind drugs, not to mention the shock of recent discoveries about his past, were serving to disrupt his normal mental and psychological control. It must be similar to what was happening to Avon. But in his own case, it was a temporary condition.

I'm not going to let her get to me again. He closed resolute eyes and composed himself. Taking a deep breath that reach deeply to the lower reaches of his lungs, he held the air and counted slowly until he reached ten and let it out slowly again. He opened his eyes. His mind was calm and he felt nothing. He was ready.

Sester stood up and purposefully went to the door. He paused before activating the door panel, a light smile playing across his face. Even if Kirsten were outside the door again, she was not going to catch him by surprise. Not this time. No more accidental bumping of heads.

His hand pressed the button and the door slid open to an empty corridor. Sester grinned and stepped outside. This was a good beginning.

"I thought you might be coming to see me so I decided to save you the time." Sester jumped and his heart skipped several beats when he heard Kirsten's voice beside him.

Sester's jaw clenched in anger as his heart settled back to a regular, but elevated rhythm. He turned to his right. Kirsten was leaning back against the wall beside his door.

Kirsten asked with concern, "Did I startle you?"

He growled with exasperation, "Stop doing that!"

"Do you plan to be this grouchy every time I visit you? Don't you think it might be better to do this after you tell me what you need me to do? Or we're going to have to try this again."

Sester said in exasperation, "How do you know I need you for anything?"

Kirsten stared at him with a faintly amused expression on her face. "Are you saying that all of your previous attempts at meeting me…were purely on a social level? That's interesting."

Sester was speechless.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The scorching sun seemed to leech the moisture from her skin as Jenna followed Blake at a discreet distance, trying to keep the dust clouds raised by her boots to a minimum. Blake's meet with his fellow saboteurs was in an old abandoned warehouse at the edge of the city.

She kept to the shadows as much as possible while Blake looked to the left and right, wary of any Federation patrols or traps. He had a wide-brimmed hat pulled over his face and tried to move in a shuffling, limping gait.

Jenna had a bad feeling about this meeting.

The people she had talked to on the planet seemed to welcome the Federation's efforts to help them get back on their feet and become productive. Many of them actually saw the Federation as heroes and saviours. The vid-news services were still broadcasting exciting space battles between Federation ships and the alien invaders. There were numerous in-depth interviews with brave soldiers who had held the line and families of the many brave ones who had died to save humanity.

There were even long line-ups of people ready to join the Federation military. The Federation made sure to remind everyone that the Andromeda galaxy was still full of aliens who wanted to wipe them out. Destroying the invasion fleet wasn't the end of it. The way they depicted it on the news services, Andromeda seemed right next door.

Of course, this had made Blake angry and he was even more determined to act. He could see his dreams crumbling with every broadcast. Blowing up the storage facilities wasn't enough for him. Jenna knew he was planning much more. There had been mentions of the Federation recruiting centres and the vid-broadcasting buildings and blowing them up.

Blake slipped down a dark alley between two buildings and entered a side entrance. Jenna followed carefully, her eyes sharp for signs of danger. She reached inside her jacket. Her pistol slid smoothly out of her concealed holster. Blake said these were rebels that were going to help him blow up the food storage facilities but she didn't know them.

She pushed the door open a crack and peered into the gloomy darkness inside. Blake was nowhere in sight, nor anyone else for that matter. Like a thief, Jenna snuck in on soft feet, her pistol held ready in front of her. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She was in a long corridor with closed doors at evenly spaced intervals.

Which way did Blake go? It couldn't have been far if she lost sight of him that quickly. Jenna tried the closest doors, opening them a sliver, just enough to establish that they were empty of people before moving to the next one.

There was a muffled shout, "Don't move, Blake!"

Jenna started at the demand, her hand pausing before she pushed open the next door. It was just as she had feared. Blake was in trouble and these were no rebels. She put her ear to the door's cold surface and listened.

Muffled voices came from inside. Blake's loud, angry voice was clear. "Do you want to be Federation slaves? They're taking advantage of you! They know you don't have any choice!"

There was another loud, strident voice. "The only one I see who doesn't want to give people choice is you, Blake. You want to force us to fight the Federation by blowing up innocent people who only want to survive and are trying to do what they think is right. You believe yours is the only way and you're going to shove it down everyone's throats even if you have to kill some of us to do it. That's fine for you, Blake. You don't have family and friends that you can watch die right in front of your eyes. I thought you were a hero once...and I still do. I admired your courage and your convictions and I respect your intentions. We used to cheer whenever we heard of your exploits. But now that we're face-to-face with them, when our children, our family and friends will have to pay the price, we can't do it. We arranged all this just to see what your plans were. What you're proposing to do is kill many innocent people in order to force them to do what you want. We can't live with that, even if you can. We can't let you kill our families and friends."

"Sacrifices have to be made if you want to be free. I want you all to be free! I want you to be able to make your own choices! I don't want you to be slaves of the Federation!" Blake's passionate voice bellowed.

"We're not slaves if we work with them willingly. Just because we don't hate them and want to destroy them like you do, doesn't make us slaves. We will not fight your battles, Blake. Perhaps one day we may chose to, when the Federation is to us what they are to you. But that would be by our choice, not yours. Not anyone else's."

"You're pathetic! I should leave you to rot! You want to live like slaves? Live or die at the whim of the Federation, then fine! You're not taking me down with you! I'm getting out! I'm better off without you!"

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Blake. If you want to settle down here, peacefully, we are more than willing to welcome you and your identity would be safe with us. However, if you try to cause trouble with the Federation, then you are not welcome here and we will stop you. We can't let you harm our families. You are free to go, but we will keep your weapon and we will be watching you."

Jenna heard footsteps approaching and moved back from the door, covering it with her pistol. Blake came out, his face flushed with anger. He immediately put his hands up to protect himself when he saw her gun but relaxed when he saw her face. "Jenna."

Jenna kept her pistol raised and looked behind him to make sure no one was following. She said in an urgent whisper and pulled on his arm, "We'd better get out of here, Blake." As they rushed away, she turned back frequently to make sure they weren't being followed.

"You heard?" He rubbed the back of his neck as he reluctantly followed her.

"I heard. I had a bad feeling about this so I followed you. I don't think it's safe for us here anymore, Blake, no matter what they promised. Too many people know who you are."

Blake's eyes were troubled. "I thought that it would make a difference once we destroyed Star One. People would throw off the Federation once they had the chance. But this…"

Jenna's heart went out to him. He looked lost and hurt. His whole life's work seemed to be in ruins. There was desolation in his eyes, like someone who had looked into the abyss and found nothing but bleak emptiness.

Don't you see, Cally? If we stop now then all we have done is senseless killing and destruction. Without purpose, without reason. We have to win. It's the only way I can be sure that I was right. Blake's impassioned, almost desperate words rang in her head.

Blake said in a sinking whisper, "They don't understand. It was senseless after all..."

Jenna wanted to put her arms around him and give him the comfort that he often gave to others. "It wasn't senseless, Blake. You did it for a purpose. You couldn't have known that it would be like this here. And this is only one planet. We should find places where it did work."

Blake said, "Will we find any, Jenna? Avon warned me. He told me we should use Star One. He said that destroying everything won't work. People needed direction and order. He always told me that but I never listened. I always had to be the one who was right. I was determined to prove him wrong." Blake gave a depressed sigh. "But he was right." His voice rose in frustration, "Avon was always right. He must hate me for wasting two years of his life...for nothing. It was all pointless, without purpose, without reason. Just random acts of killing and destruction. He said it was insane from the beginning. He said we could never win. He must be laughing now."

"He wasn't right, Blake. You said it, Star One is too much power for anyone. You couldn't risk it using it. And at least you tried to do something. That's better than these people with their empty cheers."

Blake was angry and depressed, "I should have known on Cygnus Alpha."

"What about Cygnus Alpha?" Jenna asked cautiously. She had never admitted to Blake how close she and Avon had come to abandoning him on the planet.

Jenna could see that Blake was trying to draw up memories from his fractured past and it was not giving him good feelings. "The prisoners rejected me, Jenna. Only a handful were willing to come with me. The rest...would rather stay and be slaves of Vargas. I should have known then. People don't want to be saved."

Jenna sighed. She hadn't known what happened on Cygnus Alpha. She'd always assumed that Vila and Gan were the only ones who had survived the escape. "People do want freedom, Blake ...but when it comes to choosing freedom over living, living usually wins out."

Blake's voice rose heatedly, "Living without freedom. You might as well be dead! Jenna, we have to make them see it! If they won't do it for themselves, we have to do it for them."

Jenna was worried. Blake was emotionally erratic, his moods quickly shifting from depression to anger and now the fever of the crusader again.

Blake was a man who needed a purpose, a reason to live. He couldn't see people 'enslaved' and not do something about it. Being rejected was a big blow to him. It always made him angry that other people didn't see what he could clearly see.

Even if she didn't agree with some of his methods, Jenna didn't want him like this.

She could see from these people's perspectives but she also loved Blake for his passion and his desire to help them. Jenna still believed that the Federation had to pay for what it did to its own people. She still believed in Blake's dream. But not at any cost. Not after Star One and seeing what it's destruction had done to so many innocent lives. How could she? Maybe she could help Blake see it too. She had to try. They could not afford to lose someone like him. Someone who still cared enough to sacrifice himself to save others. He just needed to be guided.

Jenna knew that it would be a difficult task. Blake never listened to anyone except himself and he had lived far too long with the idea that the ends justified any means. Could she change him or would he end up changing her again? She had to try.

Jenna awoke from her dreams with a sinking feeling. She had been wondering why her subconscious had been dredging up these memories. Now she knew.

**********

Avon extended his arms over his head as he stretched work-stiff muscles. He was not alone though the engineers had already gone for the day. The shift duty sergeant was running some additional diagnostics that Avon had requested.

Avon stifled a yawn and took a long, satisfied look at his network tracking and analysis work. His uplink device had not been discovered and it was working perfectly. It enabled him to track the enemy's activity along the networks and identify other people of interest. He was building a comprehensive diagram of this hive of aliens. Soon they would have the entire network and they would be able to move against them, preferably before the aliens did something else damaging.

The Athol surveillance teams were being deployed more effectively with his new information. He checked that the program was still in automatic mode before retiring for the night.

A familiar soft humming sound drew his attention to the flight deck entrance. He watched with amused fascination as Spot rolled smoothly down the steps on its autoform-tracks. Lesser machines would have found stairs a challenge. One of these days, when he had time, he was going to take a closer look at this technology. It did not seem to be mechanical in nature and he didn't have time to look at it when he was fixing the little cleaner.

Spot glided towards him. There was something that looked suspiciously frilly on its head. Avon's eyes narrowed. "Spot, what is that on your head?"

Spot said brightly, "It's a hat! Do you like it, Master?"

"No, I do not like it."

Spot expelled a swish of air, which sounded like an unhappy little sigh.

Avon could guess who had decided to give Spot this unnecessary adornment. It had to be Spot's owner. "Was Corinne responsible for the hat?"

He was willing to accept some level of irrational behaviour. Corinne was Spot's owner after all and she was a young woman who seemed entranced by meaningless frivolities. She was the perfect partner for Vila.

The little cleaner reported, "No."

Avon lifted a surprised brow. "No?"

"No, Master."

"Who is responsible then?" Avon's mind automatically sorted through the gamut of people on the ship.

Spot reported cheerfully, "Sentha, Alara, Karita, Thela, Rakel…"

Avon said brusquely, "That's enough. I get the picture." His lips thinned in displeasure. The robotic cleaner had become a mascot. After all the time he spent upgrading it into a highly advanced machine, this was intolerable.

The little machine asked with trepidation, "Are you unhappy, Master?"

Avon said, "Why would that matter to a machine?"

The little cleaner said with decisiveness, "It's important."

"I see. You've been programmed to meet the needs of those you serve."

"Avon." Cally's voice lightly touched his ears as a bubble of amusement was projected his way.

Avon turned to see her come down the steps. "Cally."

Cally was taking the night cycle shift today. The duty sergeant acknowledged the handover of responsibilities and left them alone.

Cally said, "Spot wants you to be happy."

"It's a machine, Cally. It doesn't 'want' anything. It has been programmed to mimic specific humanoid behaviours in order to fulfil its function of serving its owners."

Cally sighed. "Sometimes I think you could do with a bit of programming yourself."

"I have considered it. It would make the learning process more efficient and take considerably less time."

Cally said, "Avon, I was kidding."

Avon stared at her a moment and then the corners of his mouth tugged in a mischievous grin.

Cally returned his bare smile with an affectionate one and placed her hand flat on his chest. "You're teasing me."

"I thought it might make you…happy."

The heat of his body penetrated through his dark blue shirt and warmed her palm. "You make me happy."

"It would be an interesting avenue to explore," said Avon.

Cally asked teasingly, "Which one? Making me happy or programming yourself?"

"I multi-task quite well."

"I'm sure you do." She leaned her head towards him, their lips parted in anticipation.

Spot whistled with excitement and its ears whirled with pleasure.

Cally and Avon looked at the little cleaner with surprised embarrassment. It felt as if they had been caught doing something that was very private.

Avon remarked with ill humour, "It's a machine."

Cally's eyes looked questioningly at him.

"Why do I…" It was so incomprehensible that Avon could not put words to what he wanted to express.

Cally could sense what he was feeling. "Why do you feel embarrassed? Could it be because you don't see Spot as a machine anymore?"

Avon automatically corrected her, "Cleaning appliance."

"I've noticed that you haven't called him that in a long time."

Spot happily beeped its agreement.

Avon glared briefly at it. "I call it by its acronym."

"Spot?"

"Sanitizing Patroller Omnidirectional Type," replied Avon in a purely factual tone.

Spot beeped a long query.

Cally said, "Oh, Avon."

There was a bright gleam in Avon's eyes and a light tinge in his deadpan voice as he asked, "Would you like to see me multi-tasking? After your shift, of course. And out of the watchful eyes of convenient acronyms."

**********

Vila decided to start on his mission to get to know the Athol soldiers. It was hard to find one free, since most of them were on the planet doing clandestine surveillance, but they had to eat and sleep sometime. The easiest places to find them were in his least favourite place, the gym, or his second most favourite place, the eating area. He decided on the eating area.

He approached a group of four soldiers with a mountain full of food. Lt. Dain and four others he was determined to find out the names of.

With a friendly smile he said, "Lt. Dain."

Dain paused in the middle of piercing a large bite-sized cut of meat with his fork. "Sir?"

"Vila."

Dain looked at him with uncertainty. "Sir?"

"My name's Vila."

"Yes, sir," Dain agreed.

"I mean, you can call me Vila. You don't have to call me sir."

With military correctness, Dain said, "That wouldn't be appropriate, sir. Not while on duty."

Vila eyed the tempting food on the table and pointed out, "You're not on duty, Lieutenant. What's your name by the way? When you're not on duty?"

"You want to know my name?" Dain asked as if it was a strange idea.

Vila was beginning to wonder if all military people were a bit slow when dealing with real life.

"You have a first name, don't you?

"Of course, sir."

"Vila."

Dain regarded him curiously, making Vila feel as if the man was sizing him up for a mission.

The burly, open-faced young lieutenant tested out the name tentatively, as someone who wasn't good at foreign languages, "Of course…Vila."

"That's it!" Vila said encouragingly.

Dain said, "Lucellavar."

"Eh?" Vila asked eloquently.

The other soldiers at the table suppressed snorts of laughter.

Dain glared at them defiantly with the full authority of someone not to be crossed. The soldiers all suddenly had a need to put something in their mouths and apply themselves to the busy task of chewing.

Dain said to Vila, "That's my first name, sir…Vila."

"Oh."

"But people always call me Dain."

Vila pondered this, "I'll just call you Dain then."

"That would be much appreciated, sir…Vila." Dain asked, "Would…you like to join us?"

"I'd love to." Vila pulled up a chair and they made room for him.

Dain made the introductions, "This is Lapley. He's an explosives expert." Lapley was a thin man with an equally thin moustache who reminded Vila of an old 'uncle' who had taught him some of the finer aspects of pick pocketing. He was one of the long-suffering sergeants. Lapley nodded. "Vila…sir."

"Next to him is Bari. He's our comm tech." The tech was a stiffly formal man with a half-moon scar over his left eye that gave him the appearance of having double eyebrows on one side. Bari nodded to Vila. "Sir."

Dain continued, "Across from him is Dyre. He likes breaking things."

Dyre, a cheerful man with dark brown hair that had started to grey, chuckled and stuck out a friendly hand to Vila, "That means I'm an engineer."

Vila shook the man's hand, trying not to wince at the strong grip.

"And last but not least is, Baxter. I have no idea what he does, maybe one day he'll decide and tell the rest of us," Dain said dryly.

Baxter, a short ruddy-faced man with freckles, was the youngest one of the group. He grinned, "If I weren't so good at everything, I might be able to decide."

Dain remarked, "He's also modest to a fault. One of many."

Baxter's grin widened, "You know you love me, sir."

If Bari's voice were any drier, he'd sound like Avon, "He's also without shame and any medication at the moment."

Vila said, "It's good to finally know all of your names." They seemed more like very muscular people now rather than just nameless soldiers. "Maybe we can do something together."

Dain said, "Is this because of Innes, s…Vila?"

Vila regarded at him hesitantly, "To be honest…yes. I should've asked all of you before this. I mean, we've worked together for months now. We're not strangers. We should get to know each other."

Dain nodded, "That's appreciated, Vila. We should get to know you as well."

Vila asked him slyly, "Do any of you know how to play poker?"