Chapter Seven

When Jenna returned to the flight deck, it was to find Cally alone, standing before Zen in quiet contemplation. Lost in her thoughts, her arms wrapped tightly about her, she did not turn when Jenna descended the steps nor did she stir at the slight squeak from the chair at the main console.

Jenna did not envy her those thoughts, whatever they might be, or the decision she was being forced to make. It would have been kinder not to have told her, as Avon had insisted. Jenna had been forced to question what she would do if she were in Cally's place: a sacrifice to let the others live or trust that a way would be found to survive without Zen. Her heart was pulling her one way, her mind the other. She hoped she would never have to find out the answer to that question.

Cally too might be spared if all went according to plan. The hour had flown by and Blake was on his way up to start the test run. All being well, they would leave this place, if slower than they had arrived, but together and safe. For how long was debatable. And then there was the daunting prospect of spending months in the confines of the flight deck with Blake fretting, Vila whining, Avon complaining, Gan reminiscing and Orac lecturing with nothing but interminable games of galactic monopoly to break the tedium. She had endured worse, she told herself, and with more objectionable companions.

She cleared her throat; Cally was about to be disturbed when Blake arrived and Jenna wanted to give her time to compose herself. It worked. Cally started and looked around.

"Sorry," she murmured. "I was thinking."

Since making self-evident statements was not usual for Cally, Jenna had to put it down to the distracted state of her mind.

"Did you speak with the Thirteen?" she asked gently.

Cally nodded thoughtfully. "The offer is genuine. They do indeed have much to offer. They are wise in so many ways." Her eyes lit with sudden fervour. "What they could teach me could be of value in our fight against the Federation. Think what we may achieve with such knowledge!"

"It won't be much use if you're trapped here in The Void."

"You doubt me?"

She had bridled at the perceived criticism. Out of consideration, Jenna changed tack. "I doubt them. There is no record of them here or anywhere else. I wonder how far afield their travel takes them."

"The universe is infinite."

"Yes, I'm sure you're right." Jenna offered a smile. No use arguing about it if Cally had made up her mind. "Is that your decision then?"

"I don't know." She faltered in her response. "It is the sensible thing to do. It would solve many problems."

Jenna stopped what she was doing, hearing the ache in her voice. Cally was hugging herself again, scant comfort in a world that was dying around her.

"Problems we will rectify," she insisted. "Blake is confident..." The word sounded unconvincing even as she said it. "This time we will succeed in finding a host computer. Once we can get away from this place, we'll work on a creating a permanent replacement for Zen. Orac will give Avon the blueprints―"

"Avon is dying," Cally stated. "He tries to hide it, but I can see. He is breathless now even at rest. His condition is deteriorating."

Jenna had to concede she was correct. "He will be the first to go without treatment soon, yes."

"And then Blake and Vila and everyone else before we can implement the new system." She bowed her head. "Without Zen, we are lost."

"He's not the only ship's computer out there." She hoped Zen could not hear her. "If we have to abandon the Liberator at some point, then we'll manage."

Cally gave her a look of disbelief. "The Liberator gives us our advantage."

"Yes, it does. But with this level of technology, when things go wrong, there is no easy fix. That makes it a liability, along with the fact that everyone else wants it."

"Jenna." Cally looked shocked. "How can you say that?"

"It's only a ship." She glanced about her, as if seeing for the first time things she took for granted every day. "A superior ship," she said with regret, "the best I've ever flown. However, it can be replaced. People can't. If you want to go, no one will stop you. But do it because you want to, not because you think you have to."

Cally managed a sad smile in gratitude. "What would you do?"

Jenna hoped she would not ask. What to tell her when she did not know herself?

"The first thing they teach you when you start to fly is that people die in space," she replied. "It's true. The only old pilots I've ever met are the ones who lost their nerve. Everyone's luck runs out in the end. It's the risk we accept for the privilege of flying ships like the Liberator and seeing sights that people on Earth can only imagine." She took a moment. Cally waited patiently for her to continue. "This could be where our luck runs out. If so, that is the risk we assumed, each and every one of us. Remember that."

Blake chose that moment to stumble into view, sweating from his exertions and breathing hard.

"Thank you," Cally mouthed at Jenna before going to help him down the stairs.

"Ready for the test run," Blake said. Weak as a newborn, he was forced to cling onto the back of the forward seating for support. "Orac, do you have a suitable host?"

"Of course," came its reply. "I have selected several candidates that should be able to cope with the demands of the Liberator at reduced capacity."

"Good." Blake started to cough and choke. It was painful to hear. Cally took him a drink and rubbed his back until the fit had passed. "I'm all right," he said, straightening up. "Switching now."

A momentary dimming of the lights and a drop in the constant hum that told of the busy workings of a thousand connections and systems throughout the ship was the only indication that Zen was no longer in control. Mindful of her premature celebration last time, Jenna caught herself holding her breath, waiting for the moment when the tenuous connection broke. The longer it persisted, the more her hopes were raised.

"All right," said Blake cautiously. "Let's try moving the ship. Sub-light speed, Jenna."

An explosion thundered from the depths as the ship nudged forward. With the lights starting to blink, Blake threw the switch and cut out the failing host.

"Damn!" he swore under his breath. "Orac, you assured me―"

"I did no such thing," came the computer's querulous reply. "If you had listened, I stated the hosts selected 'should' be able to cope. That particular verb is used to indicate what is probable, not what is possible. Evidently they were unequal to the task."

"Then find a host who is!" Blake returned angrily. "Or before I breathe my last, I will dismantle you into so many pieces, no one will ever be able to put you back together again."

Orac huffed. "Violence is the last refuge of the―"

"Incompetent, yes, I know. It's going to be very satisfying, though."

Jenna waited for him to calm down. "Well, we know it works," she said.

"As long as we don't want to go anywhere." He activated the intercom. "Avon, what happened?" Silence met his question. Blake tried again with the same result.

Then Gan replied. "Blake, I'm here with Avon. He's unconscious. He won't wake up."

"Was he hurt?"

"I don't know. I've just found him. He's breathing. I've got the mask on him. There's something else." His pause was significant. Jenna braced herself for more bad news. "There's a fire in the corridor leading to the main drives. I can't put it out by myself."

"And all the while, it's eating away at our oxygen." Blake smacked his hand against the console out of sheer frustration. "All right, Gan, I'll send Vila to help you. If that fire reaches the drives, we're finished."

"What about Avon?"

"Give him a stimulant shot."

"He's too weak," said Cally. "Avon won't―"

"We need him awake." Blake cut her short. "We'll make repairs and try again. Although," he said with a heartfelt sigh, "I don't know what else we can eliminate. We've stripped the system down to the basics as it is. We can breathe, but we can't move."

"There must be something you've missed," said Jenna.

"I don't know." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "A fresh pair of eyes might help, if you can manage it." The intercom chimed again. "Yes, Gan."

"I've given it to him," he reported. "It had no effect."

Blake remained where he was, as though carved from stone. "Give him another."

"No," Cally protested. "It will kill him."

"Do it," he said. "I'm sorry, Cally. Avon wanted to keep going. I'll take responsibility if anything happens to him. Go ahead, Gan."

"Eighty-nine per cent," Orac piped up.

"What?"

"I have recalculated Avon's odds of survival based on this new information."

He snapped out the computer's key. "Someone will have to remind me one day why we keep Orac."

As the long anxious wait continued, Vila came staggering in, hand clasped to his head. "I took a tumble when the lights went out," he said in answer to Blake's question. "Isn't there an easier way to do this?" He looked embarrassed when he saw Cally. "What I mean is, why can't Avon get it right?"

"He's unconscious, Vila," said Jenna severely.

"I wish I was," he grumbled.

The intercom chimed. Blake quickly pressed the button.

"Avon's all right," said Gan. "He's awake but groggy."

Blake sighed with relief. "Stay with him and tell him what happened. Vila," he said turning to him, "there's a fire threatening the main drives. Do what you can to put it out."

"Me?!" Vila bleated. A volley of coughs suddenly shook him until he was doubled up. His eyes widened with alarm when he saw blood streaked on the back of the hand he used to wipe his mouth. "I've caught what Avon's got!"

"I'll deal with the fire," said Jenna, stepping down from her console.

"Be careful," Blake called after her.

"If I'd wanted a quiet life, I'd have stayed on Earth," she said with an assured smile. "Come on, Cally, I'll need your help."