Chapter Twelve

"Jenna, have you seen Vila?"

Midnight on the Liberator, artificial hours in a place as far away from Earth as it was possible to be. With a scattering of distant stars heralding an end to The Void, behind them lay an expanse of endless night. People died out there. They lost their bearings, their ships and their minds, yielded up to the group who called themselves the Thirteen, forever in pursuit of perfection.

They had not followed when Jenna and Cally had been teleported back to the ship. Vila, waiting impatiently for their return, had been quick to inform them that Orac had identified the systems responsible for the process of synthetic telepathy. In the final minutes when the ship had powered up and the Thirteen had reappeared on the screen threatening to take Zen in lieu of Cally, a choice had been made. It would take more time than they had to remove the link from the main and auxiliary computers, Avon had reported. Whilst it remained, the Liberator would never be free from the Thirteen's influence. No other way, he had said, except complete destruction.

A well-aimed blast had ended it. In that moment of parting, Jenna had felt the bond die. The brush of another consciousness faded into nothing. She told herself there was a comfort in knowing that her decisions were her own again. There was an acknowledgement too that whatever had lured her to The Void had not been Zen's doing. The affinity they had fostered had been through the meeting of like minds. Enough had remained of the person on which Zen had been based to recognise her for what she was and to respond when that was threatened. And now it was gone.

As Avon was fond of saying, Zen was just a machine. With the destruction of the link, the ship was secure and Zen's inner voice had been silenced forever. Jenna allowed herself to grieve for the loss of a kindred spirit. She kept it to herself, certain none of the others would understand.

None except Cally. If her experience was anything like the natural telepathy shared by the Auronar, then she had a new appreciation of the isolation caused by the severing of that bond. Cally had wanted to stay with the Thirteen because they offered her a return to what she had lost, and she had wept bitter tears when again it was ripped away from her.

In the long hours since, she had made no reference to it. Beyond the usual passing words of concern, it had been assumed she was glad to be back with them. In the presence of the others, Jenna had not pressed the issue and Cally had gone about her duties without a word of complaint. With the end of the ordeal in sight, Jenna knew there were things that needed to be said. For now, there were more pressing concerns.

"Vila is here, Cally," she answered her.

"What is he doing here?" Vila was curled up on the forward seating, swaddled in a blanket, mouth hanging open and snoring gently. She went over to inspect him. "He should be in bed."

"He says he's dying. He wanted company." Jenna stopped herself, hearing familiar words. "We've had this conversation before."

"Yes. I say that when I last checked him, he was improving."

"And I say he's looking for sympathy."

She swallowed hard and glanced about, trying to pierce the façade. If this was the past repeated, then the escape from the Thirteen had never happened and they were living in a construct, under observation by beings who had no concept of freedom, save by their own narrow definition. The prisoner had to be willing to sacrifice their future to live forever in their memories. Fine if the memories were good ones, but Jenna could recall too many hard-fought battles and lost friends to make that prospect appealing. Worse too, in the past the Thirteen had created, she could remember the heat of fire on her face and the lick of flames on her skin.

Only one way to be sure, she decided. If she was right, Vila's waking words would prove it.

"Wake him up," she said. "Let's find out."

Cally knelt at his side and gave him a gentle shake. Vila stirred and opened pained, bleary eyes. He gave a weak cough and tried to sit up, shedding his blanket as he did so. Cally helped him upright and offered him a drink. He took a few hesitant sips and fell back against the cushions, bereft of energy.

"Am I dead?" he uttered.

Jenna saw the concerned look Cally shot in her direction. Only when Vila spoke again could she release the breath she had been holding. This was not the doing of the Thirteen. This was the Liberator, the present. This was home, for now.

"I feel like I am," he was whining. "Everything hurts. I'm not well, I know I'm not."

"You're fine, Vila," Cally said patiently. "You are over the Terran Ague and you're breathing normally again."

"Tell my muscles that! I've been worked half to death carrying blankets and boxes up corridors and down stairs and up again!" He gingerly probed his back and winced dramatically, making the most of the attention. "I suppose a massage is out of the question?"

"Yes, it is." She looked offended. "If you are in that much pain, you should go to your bed and rest."

"I would. But I thought you might need a hand. You know, to get away from them." He nodded to the screen. "They aren't out there, are they?"

"How would you know?" said Jenna. "You've been asleep for the last three hours."

"I was here if you needed me," he replied defensively. "Which is more than you can say for anyone else. Where are they, anyway?"

"Gan is finishing up the last of the repairs," said Cally. "Blake has fallen asleep in the recreation room and Avon's locked himself in his quarters. He said something about not being disturbed on pain of death."

"Again?"

"He has been ill, Vila."

"Ill?!" he scoffed. "He doesn't know the meaning of the word. You didn't see me making a fuss."

"At least it hasn't affected your memory." Jenna grinned at him. "Don't worry, we're free of them."

"I'm glad about that." He got unsteadily to his feet, making a show of supporting his aching back. "I wouldn't have fancied being one of their 'children'. What would they have called me? Vil?"

"They didn't want you. They wanted people who had skills and experiences they could use."

"I've had experiences," Vila retorted indignantly. "I've got skills too. They took everyone off the Calypso, right? That includes the cook and the man who washes the windows." He tried to stand a little taller, grimacing with every tiny movement. "Are you telling me the ship's cook and window cleaner have more to offer than me?"

"When they took the Calypso, they didn't know what they needed," explained Cally. "Individual experiences wouldn't have mattered anyway. Each mind was a focus for the collective and able to draw on all their memories. Whatever their 'children' encountered on their travels, they had a memory and, if not a ready solution, the Thirteen were able to manufacture one by having the appropriate person relive that moment in the past with whatever variant they chose. A living memory bank, if you like."

"Think what they were missing with me," Vila mused. "Bet they didn't have a thief in that collective of theirs."

"They weren't looking for disruptive elements," Jenna said. "That's why they wouldn't have accepted Blake or Avon. I was offering them a pilot for a pilot."

"Yes, about him. Did you see Zendron?"

She shook her head. "We couldn't have helped him anyway. They had been there so long, they were like the Thirteen, caught between the past and the present. If we had brought them with us, they would have died. At least there, they were alive. If you can call that living."

"Orac said they were exploiting a time rift that existed at the centre of The Void," said Cally. "That is why they cannot leave."

"But their 'children' could," said Jenna with a heavy sigh. "When their human will asserted itself, they had no choice but to let them go."

"And then they ended up in the hands of the Federation and the System," said Vila. "Not much fun, is it? At least we know they didn't kill Zen. They just incorporated him into the ship." He contemplated the bronzed dome looming over the flight deck. "I wonder what he looked like when they found him?"

"Nothing physical, Avon says," Cally told him. "He seemed to think Zen and the others would have been transmitted like computer code."

"A person reduced to a load of electronic babble?" Vila pulled a face. "Makes you think."

"You, think?" Jenna gave a short laugh. "Avon will be sorry he missed that."

"He's sorry about losing the synthetic telepathy too," he said, rolling his eyes. "He was saying technology like that would be worth a fortune. Mind you, he says that about everything."

"He's not wrong. It would be a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands."

"Just as well it's gone then," said Vila brightly. "Who needs it anyway? We've got the real thing." He sidled up to Cally. "I'm glad you're back. It wouldn't have been the same without you."

"Thank you, Vila." She glanced at him uncertainly as he lingered at her side. "What is it now?"

"Is there anything you want me to do?"

"No."

"Well, in that case..." As a variety of exaggerated expressions suddenly contorted his features, his next question was predictable. "Cally, can I go to bed now?" he asked.

"Yes, go," she said impatiently. "We can manage."

Vila limped painfully away, every step punctuated by a little agonised moan. Cally watched him go, concern etched on her face.

"Should I help him?" she asked.

Jenna arched a brow. "Remember that conversation we had about him wanting sympathy?"

"Yes." Her demeanour sobered. "That seems like a long time ago."

She fell silent, head bowed in thought. Jenna did not press the issue, instead busying herself with the conflicting readouts from the navigation computers as they struggled to place their position on the borders of The Void. Cally would speak when she was ready.

"You didn't tell them," she said at last.

"It's not mine to tell." Jenna finally looked up from the scrolling screens. "I suppose I did do the right thing?"

Cally gave a firm nod. "I wanted to come back, despite what I said. I knew it wasn't real. But, just, for a while, it felt like I was home." A single shining tear spilled down her cheek. "It was good to remember what that was like."

Seeing the grief she was struggling to suppress, Jenna descended from her station and laid her hand lightly on Cally's shoulder. She did not flinch away, instead accepting the comfort of physical reassurance in the absence of the mental contact she craved. It was a small enough gesture under the circumstances.

"On Auron, everything is shared and known," Cally said, wiping away her tears. "I should tell them. I am not used to keeping secrets."

"Do you think they'll understand?" She gave her a dubious look. "They certainly took your message the wrong way."

Cally put her hand to her mouth in shock. "I'm sorry, Jenna. I never meant for you to come back. When I discovered their intent, I wanted to warn you to stay away. I thought you would understand."

"I did, eventually. Not before we all had an interesting discussion." She avoided Cally's searching gaze. It was over, and if not entirely forgotten, then forgiven. "Look, it's up to you, of course, but if I were you..."

"You wouldn't?"

Jenna shrugged. "I wouldn't know where to begin."

It was true. The more she thought about it, the more fantastical it seemed. It had always been there, of course, from the first encounter where Zen had plucked memories from their minds and turned it against them. She had told Blake and Avon that Zen had meant them no harm and she had been right. What had it been – a test twisted into a defence by the Altas? A search for people who could tell illusion from reality so when the time came and the Thirteen called him back he would come armed with allies? She flattered herself that he had found them, because the test had never been made again when others had come onto the ship. If so, the Thirteen had been correct when they stated that Zen had found his 'whole'. The name she had chosen for the ship had been more apt than she could have ever imagined.

She hoped too he had finally found his peace. Not in being ripped from the Liberator to have his consciousness transformed and adapted to suit the schemes of the Thirteen, but in finding a new kind of freedom, in a ship and a star to steer her by, and companions for the journey. Even if their bond was gone, she could still recognise the soul of one who, though born of earth, had chosen to live by air.

"Do you think he is content?" Cally wondered aloud, following the direction of her gaze.

"Let's ask him," said Jenna, returning to her station. The navigation computers had finally fixed their location. Twelve sectors lay before them. "Zen, are you ready?" she called.

"All systems functioning," the computer intoned. "Status is firm. Please state course and speed,"

"Space City, Zen. Standard by five."

"Confirmed... Jenna Stannis."

She smiled to herself. Perhaps something of their bond remained, after all.