Chapter Eight

Distant thuds, like the rumble of an approaching thunderstorm, echoed down the empty corridor. Jenna stood listening, trying to locate the source. The fire had been contained, repairs were underway and there was an hour to until the deadline was up. Another test run had been planned, although there was a noticeable reluctance to put it into action. If it failed this time, there would be no more second chances. And now this, she thought. What next?

On the flight deck, picking her way through the accumulated clutter of stacked crates, boxes and makeshift beds draped with clothes, pillows and blankets, she found Blake nodding on the forward seating. She touched his shoulder to wake him and he came to with a jolt.

"I was meant to be on watch," he said, trying to get up. He fell back dazed, and made a better effort on his second attempt. "I don't remember closing my eyes."

"You're exhausted. We all are."

He made a noise in the back of his throat that was part-cough, part-agreement. "I'll have another stimulant shot. Are we ready for the test run?"

She nodded. "Blake, there's something else." His crestfallen expression was eloquent. "Odd sounds, coming from outside the ship, I think."

"We're under attack?"

"No. It could be failure of the superstructure."

"Let's hope not." He slid Orac's key into place. "We're hearing noises. What's happening?"

"The source of the disturbance should be obvious even to the meanest intelligence." Still smarting from Blake's earlier threat of electronic dismemberment, the computer sounded testy. "Should further explanation be necessary, I suggest you direct your questions to inferior devices."

"Those 'inferior devices', Orac, are not responding to our commands, as well you know."

"That is an assumption on your part, that has neither been verified nor tested."

Blake glanced at Jenna, slow realisation taking shape on his face. "Zen," he called out. "Report."

Lights began to dance across Zen's bronzed surface. "Primary and auxiliary failure has been detected across multiple systems. Auto-repair systems are unable to investigate."

"That's impossible, unless..." Blake could not tear his eyes from the screen as Zen continued with a full damage report. "Jenna, find Cally."

She hesitated. Logically, there was only way Zen could be working again. "Blake..."

"We have to find Cally now!"

The intercom chimed. "This is Avon. What's going on up there? The auxiliary computers are trying to override the bypass."

"Zen is back with us," said Blake. "Is Cally with you?"

"So," came the heavy reply, "it begins. No, she isn't. But then you already know that."

"Not necessarily."

"The Thirteen set out their terms. If Cally has gone―"

"Then we'll have to get her back. Avon, restore the auto-repair circuits. They can handle most of the damage. And get the oxygen levels back to normal. We need to be ready to leave."

"Without her?" Jenna queried when he had closed the channel.

"If she went willingly, I don't see there's much we can do," he said.

"She said the offer was genuine. She believed they had much to offer."

Blake glanced at her. "Cally told you that?"

Jenna nodded. "We talked about it. I got the impression she wasn't sure."

"Something changed her mind."

Blake coughing, Avon fainting, Vila succumbing and the ship failing probably had something to do with it, Jenna thought. In the days to come, there would be sadness and grief that would be fed by guilt and recriminations. Cally had made her decision freely and to start apportioning the blame would only cheapen her selfless act. With that in mind, Jenna said nothing as Blake activated the intercom again and tried to locate Cally anywhere on the ship. His called went unanswered and only served to summon Gan and Vila to the flight deck to investigate.

"Gone?" Vila echoed. "What, over there with the Thirteen, on that funny-looking ship of theirs?"

"They came for her and she went with them," Jenna said. "That was the sound I heard: their vessel docking with the Liberator."

"That's it then." Vila's unhappy expression betrayed his feelings. "She didn't even say goodbye."

"That's what's worrying me," said Blake. "Jenna, contact the Thirteen."

"Blake, wait," said Gan. "You're assuming they took her. They said she had to go of her own free will. What if that's where she wants to be?"

"I'll accept it when I hear it from her," he retorted. Avon chose that moment to put in an appearance. Visibly weak and relying on his respirator, his pace did have something of his old haste. Blake gave him a hostile glance. "I thought you were meant to be putting Zen back in control."

"It can wait," he said.

"Not if we suffocate!" protested Vila.

"We won't. Environmental controls have been restored. Oxygen levels are rising as we speak."

"Then we'll be all right?"

"We will," Avon said pointedly.

"I confidently predict," Orac piped up, "that the survival of the remaining members of the Liberator is now assured."

"What about Cally?" Vila asked unhappily.

"We're about to find out," said Jenna. "Orac, relay this message. Thirteen, this is Eight. We must speak with you." There was no response. Jenna tried again with the same result. "What now?"

"They've got what they want," said Avon. "They have no need for us now."

"I thought it was Zen they wanted," said Vila.

"Evidently they found someone better."

As Blake turned to him, a single point of light suddenly formed on Zen's screen and expanded, silencing further debate. The group were assembled as before, with the leader and spokesperson draped in silver with his long hair trailing over his shoulders standing at the front. A quick survey of their numbers revealed that Cally was not among them.

"We are Fourteen," announced the leader. "You are Seven."

"Yes, we are. Cally has gone. Is she with you?"

He gave a solemn nod. "It was her wish to pursue a higher purpose in our Whole. She came to us willingly. In return, we have to your care entrusted our most precious child."

"We wish her well. But when she left us, we did not have a chance to say goodbye. We cannot leave without 'making our peace'." Jenna was careful about her choice of words, phrasing it in language the Thirteen had used. "We need to know she is well."

"She is well. Our word is true."

"We do not doubt it. However, we will have no peace unless we see her. It is our custom to say farewell before we depart."

"The former of your Whole spoke of this," said the leader. "She told us you would not leave without contact. She was desirous of making her peace in a message to you. Will you hear it?"

"Can we not speak to her in person?"

"She is preparing for her new purpose. She informed us that the message will satisfy your needs."

Jenna glanced at Blake. His grim expression fed the growing sense of unease she was feeling. In reply, he gave a firm nod, and Jenna gave her assent. The image on the screen changed and Cally took the place of the silver sentinels. Framed against a glowing background, she was smiling serenely. She looked happy, Jenna thought, but appearances could never entirely be trusted.

"My friends," Cally began, "this is not the way I wanted to say goodbye, but I knew if I told you of my intentions that you would try to change my mind. I want this, I want to learn and discover everything the Thirteen have to offer. If I can bring that knowledge against the Federation, then they can be defeated and the oppressed can know freedom." She bowed her head as though taking a moment to compose her thoughts. "You were right, Jenna, the Liberator is a special ship, more important than me or Gan or Vila or Avon or Blake."

Four pairs of accusing eyes suddenly turned in Jenna's direction. "I never said that," she uttered.

"You need Zen," Cally continued. "The Liberator can never be replaced and you must never leave it. This is my purpose. Goodbye, my friends, until we meet again."

The image compressed to a bright pinprick of light and vanished.

"Jenna," said Blake, almost disbelievingly. "What have you done?"