Blake's 7 - Liberators
The sequel to Blake's 7 - Survivors
...
The year 308 of the Second Calendar
...
Chapter 1
DSV-A1 - The 2nd Liberator - 6,000,000 spacials from Earth and increasing...
Blake stepped onto the flight deck of the Liberator, her boots making barely a sound on the dark shiny surface. The floor felt ever so slightly yielding, spongy, and not at all slippery despite looking highly-polished. She ran her hands over the nearest of the control stations, and it came away clean - there were no dust particles in the air. Everything about this place was new. Reborn.
Waiting.
She turned to the others, to reassure them, only to catch something in the periphery of her vision, something that made her heart hammer in her chest. Before she even glanced directly at the source of her alarm, she focused on her companions, alarmed to see that Darvin had already followed her onto the flight-deck - "Back!" she wanted to shout, but no sound would come out, and she whirled round to face... it.
The lights. She had hoped never to see them again. Whatever it was, this thing she had theorised to be some kind of security system for the ship, had been activated again. She had feared the others might have to experience this, but not to come face to face with it herself once again. "What do you want...?" she yelled silently. "What now?"
The lights remained in her peripheral vision, and it was impossible to bring them into focus. Just as before. Blake forced herself to remain calm, turning to the others to reassure them... and they were gone.
She was alone.
Darvin stepped down, and almost lost his balance - his artificial legs occasionally let him down in their response time, and almost always picked the most inconvenient moments to play up. Cursing quietly, he got his bearings again... to find Mara - no, Blake, she was Blake now - gone. He whirled round - clumsily - to check the others were all right... and they were gone too.
What?!
How could they all be gone...? Well, a teleport obviously. Right? He forced himself to think it through. This ship might be big, but it wasn't infinite, and if they were still on board he would find them. For now, he would explore.
With a little difficulty he climbed the steps running along the side of the banks of control stations, and allowed himself a tour, casting a critical eye over the layout of the controls. The Federation had never quite managed to get its hands on the original Liberator - not till it was far too late - and so the chance to inspect a similar ship was actually quite exciting. If he was honest with himself - not that he would ever advocate such a radical approach - he would happily grasp at anything, any distraction, to avoid thinking about... any of it. His losses. Servalan. Revenant. His friends, lost in the war. His-
No.
Don't go there.
"Quite right..." she said. "Don't think about me. That's the last thing you need right now..." She smiled. "Oh! Too late, Stev."
He did not look up, but he could see the shape just at the side of his vision. She wasn't real. Couldn't be real. Darvin refused to look.
He looked.
She was just like the last time, that last day, before... Did she leave, or did he...? In a way, he supposed, they both did. No, this was fine, he could handle this... Just about. One thing he wouldn't do, whatever happened, the one thing he had no intention of doing-
"Tarna..." he breathed.
-Talking to her. It. Whatever it was. That was what he had no intention of doing. "Tarna...?" he said again, this time as a question.
"Stev..." she replied, another smile threatening to break out.
"I'm not going to ask how you can be here."
"Good."
"How...?" He lost his cool. "How...?! Just... how?!"
"Don't shout," she admonished calmly with an infuriating half-smile.
"Don't-!" He rubbed a hand, his one real hand, over his brow, but didn't look away, as if afraid she wouldn't still be there if he did. "Just don't, all right...?"
"Tell you what to do...? As if I could!"
"Why are you here?"
"A much better question..." Tarna started to climb up toward him, lifting her long skirt to do so, and his apprehensive eyes followed her progress. This thing, whatever it was, it was exactly like her. The sheen of her olive-skin, the hair elaborately braided and cast over one shoulder, the graceful economy of her movement, the look of calm amusement in her eyes... The insufferable look of calm amusement... Rather, he realised, with a terrible ache at the pit of his stomach, this was the girl she had been when he last saw her. While he... He wasn't an old man, by any means, but he wasn't a young one any more either.
Darvin noticed he had stopped breathing, and made an effort to start again.
"We're all here, you know..." she said, reaching out a hand for him to help her up the last step - not because she needed help, but just to make him touch her. To prove she was there, or...? He moved back. Looking a little disappointed, she stepped up to join him and they stood either side of the highest level of the bank of consoles with the duty stations separating them.
"Who's here...?"
"All of us. The ones who didn't make it. The majority. The non-survivors." A calculating look had entered her eyes that chilled him. "You can still be with us, you know. Just take my hand. Wouldn't it be easier...?"
"Probably." The smile he gave her was the one perfectly crafted - tried and tested, even - to create distance between himself and an opponent as he gauged their weaknesses.
"What do you have left to prove, Stev? You did everything you could... Well, almost everything. But, who knows, maybe we could even make it work this time... We could try."
"Could we?" Darvin let himself look away, and when he looked back she was still there. He obviously wasn't going to be allowed an easy way out.
"What is there, Stev...? I can feel it, you know. Your despair. I'm the only one who can. The only one who ever really knew you, I expect."
"That must be why you left."
"I left? Well, yes, but then, you left me a hundred times, and I only left you once." She smiled again. "But who's counting, eh...?"
"You're all right..." He slapped the high back of the chair in front of him. "I'm good here."
"What's left of you!" she snapped. "Come with me, Stev, while's still some of the original you left!" She looked over his body. "Just how much is left, anyway...?"
"I don't miss you," he said abruptly. "At least, not the way I did." He gave a weak smile, and avoided looking directly at her. "Sorry. And, uh, thanks for making it a little easier, right there." He started to climb down. "Oh, and... Goodbye, Tarna."
"Suppose I'd better just go, then," she said, just a voice now and sounding much further away than the top of the steps.
"Suppose," he replied.
"I've done this," said Blake. "I've been through all this." She turned to address the whole of the empty flight-deck. "I passed your little test... Didn't I? What is this, stage two? When exactly does it end? Are you just playing with me now...? Is that it?" There was no response, but the lights remained hovering on the edge of her vision. "Where are the others...? No, wait, are they here? That's it, isn't it? We're all here, but somehow... on different planes, so we can't see or hear each other...? Yes. Are they all going through what I did?"
The lights shifted and started to resolve in front of her. Menacingly. "I passed...!" she yelled. "What else do you want of me?"
Mara passed. The voice was felt rather than heard. Mara, it said again. Not Blake.
"So that's it..." she said quietly. "It's still me. I just changed my name."
Not just a name.
"No..." she conceded. "It isn't, is it...? When Darvin called me Blake, back on Earth, without even meaning to, it felt... right somehow. Like he'd just shown me, shown me how to... be me."
Where is Mara now?
"Mara served her purpose..." It wasn't even her real name, whatever that might have been. "Blake is needed. So, till that changes, I'll be Blake." She closed her eyes. "Was that enough?"
"Was what enough?" asked Darvin, and Blake opened her eyes again to find the others clustered around her in the area in front of the bank of consoles. The horseshoe-shaped seating area looked very inviting, but she wasn't going to be the first.
Instead, Rissa was the first, throwing herself down on one of the couches. "Oh, I need this!" she cried.
"What happened to the warrior ascetic, trained and honed like a razor's edge?" Darvin gently mocked.
"She met a very silly man who showed her there was a lot more to life than chanting and never having sex."
"I don't remember that," said Darvin, looking slightly askance.
"Well, you strongly implied there was more," said Rissa. "I had to find out the details for myself."
"With you now."
Seeing Caul standing apart, looking uncertain what to make of any of this, Blake went to join him. "All right?"
"I... Yes." He glanced at her briefly. "What's not to like about this?"
"Itching to take it all apart?" she asked mischievously. "And put it back together again, of course."
"Was it that obvious?"
"Only to me."
"Mara... I mean, Blake..."
"What is it?"
"No, it's... Never mind. It can wait."
She touched his arm. "It's all very different, isn't it?"
"One way of putting it."
"When you're ready." She moved over to join Darvin, who was leaning against one of the consoles and seemed a little shaken.
"M-" He corrected himself. "Blake. Here we are then, eh...?"
"Here we are."
"Where else would we be...?" mused Juni. Not so long ago, that would have come out as a snipe, a retort, but she just sounded dazed. Behind her, Faal's large-pupiled eyes flicked over to regard her with what looked like remorse, for those who might have managed to catch his momentary change of expression. The aloof mask of the Clone Master descended again right away.
Juni had lost more, had her life changed more, than any of them, if the change was to be measured materially. From the luxury and power of Galaxy City, to fighting a war, to this, in the space of a day. Little wonder she looked so lost. Even if she had sometimes displayed a certain lack of empathy herself - and was that so surprising, being Servalan's adopted daughter in all but name? - the others could find it in themselves to feel just a little sorry for her.
"I saw things..." said Rissa, to none of them in particular. Or perhaps to all of them. "Things I... wish I could unsee. Right here, in the last few minutes. Or hours, or days, or however long that was." She looked around. "Anyone else?" Darvin looked over at Blake, and they both saw the answer to that in each others' faces. He visibly steeled himself, and moved to stand in front of Rissa.
"I saw my wife." No prevarication, he just said it, and saw tears well around Rissa's artificial silver eyes. She stood and clasped his hands.
"Darvin... I'm so sorry." It was so perfectly and so precisely the right thing to say to him at that moment that he actually laughed, choking a little, and made her laugh as well. She felt the need to be as forthright as her mentor, and blurted out, "I saw... them. All of them. They were"-
-"You don't have to," he said, tightening his grip on her hands. She smiled almost shyly, and nodded, and Darvin turned to Blake. "I think it's safe to say we all experienced some sort of test, right?"
"And we passed, it seems, otherwise... I don't know if we would still be here." Blake glanced around the others, settling on Caul. "Did you...?" Distracted by his examination of one of the consoles, Caul looked up as if surprised by the question.
"Uh... No, I don't think so. I was just here, alone. The rest of you were gone, and then you were back. Nothing else." He became aware of Juni's scrutiny above that of the others, as her mouth moved without producing any sounds for a few moments.
"Same here," she said, and looked reticent as the others all turned to her. "Nothing," she said, almost bitterly, and looked back at Caul. "I was alone too." He smiled faintly, and she held the look.
"Well, I saw more than enough for all of us," announced Rissa, springing up from the couch and crossing to join Caul, leaning in close to him and glancing dismissively at Juni. Blake and Darvin exchanged a glance that said let's not ask.
"Did you see anything, Faal?" Blake inquired of the tallest member of the group. Faal regarded her calmly for a few moments before answering.
"Yes," he said. Just when she thought that was the entire answer, he continued. "I will need time, to consider it, then... I will need to speak with you, Blake."
"Well," she replied, "I think we can dispense with appointments, given that there's only six of us..."
"INFORMATION..." the ship's computer - Zen - interrupted. "LIBERATOR CREW IN PLACE. SHIP'S SYSTEMS ENTERING FINAL STAGE OF CALIBRATION FOR OPTIMAL PERFORMANCE. SPEED IS STANDARD BY SIX. HEADING IS PROVISIONAL."
"Make that seven?" suggested Darvin.
Deep space, between the solar system and Proxima Centauri
"All ships report."
The squadron of Unified Systems ships - several science vessels, three warships and, on the fringes, multiple pursuit ships buzzing to and fro, kept their stations on the far edge of the solar system, a state of nervous anticipation animating the crews in their various tasks. All were aware, now more than ever, there must be no mistakes. As bad as the consequences would usually be, today it was more vital than ever before.
"Reports acknowledged. Incoming pulse in two minutes... Mark."
Preparations were complete. They were ready to attempt, for the first time, to disrupt the beam carrying the powerful electro-magnetic pulse at the speed of light toward Proxima Centauri. Their home. The stakes could scarcely be higher.
The warships kept their distance, while the specially modified science vessels closed in on each other - the squadron rearranged itself balletically in the inky blackness. "Check positions, people... This has to be precise. Not even a"-
-"Commodore - Incoming!"
The beam and its deadly pulse was invisible, but the beam emitted by the science vessels in an attempt to counteract it was not - The electronic pulse was blinding, had anyone been unwise enough to look at it directly, and it fizzled silently as it travelled through the void. "Emitters at full power!" came the report, the voice over the comm channel urgent, breaking a little in the excitement and stress of the situation.
The beams met at a safe distance from the emitting vessels, and combined to form a far more powerful one and be launched on a new trajectory - In moments it encountered the beam launched from Earth... and had no effect.
"Report!"
"Readings coming in, Commodore...! It's... It's... Ineffective, sir. The counter-measures have proved... I have to report failure, sir. We've failed..."
"Pulse still incoming!"
"Get out of there!"
"Too late, Commodore... It's all right, we knew... knew this would happen. Though we hoped... I hoped..."
"Evasive, for"-
There was no time for the science vessels to obey, and all were in the path of Avon's magnified electromagnetic pulse. All were shut down instantly, and one, in the act of firing up its engines to at least attempt escape, exploded and took all the others with it in a chain-reaction. The warships altered their positions and intensified their electronic shielding to minimise the chances of being damaged by the debris, and silence fell on the comm channels for several minutes.
"That was... only the first attempt... Remember that. The pulse is still more than four years away from Proxima. We have four years."
"Warship Xerxes to flagship. Scouts reporting in... Reporting... sighting of enemy vessel... Trajectory being extrapolated. There's a chance we could intercept if we go now... Permission"-
-"Permission granted..." What was there to lose now? "Good hunting, Xerxes."
"I saw it..." said Juni, leaning on the console in front of her, abandoning her attempts to learn its purpose for now in favour of talking to Faal, positioned one row in front just above the base level of the flight-deck. "Or rather... I felt it. How does that work?"
"What, precisely?" Faal responded while still busy with his console, apparently able to divide his attention.
"What...? I mean, as I stepped onto this ship I was instantly aware of what happened down there... on Earth! It took a while to make sense of it, but now... Servalan... and Avon, they were both in that dome when UniS... When they bombarded it. They're dead, aren't they...? I mean, I know it happened, somehow."
"Yes."
"Is that all you have to say?"
"I suspect the ship's computer has some form of data cloud which uploads pertinent information to the crew as required, so long as verbal or visual communication would not be more efficient."
"I downloaded the information."
"Yes."
"Information..." Juni impersonated Zen's calm, impersonal tones. "The most important person in your life... She's dead. Gone. Just like that. Information ends. Report over!" The note of bitterness entered her voice as she spoke, and when she was finished she started exploring the console's interface once more.
"Impressive..." commented Caul, looking up from his console at the top of the stairs a level above Juni - only the three of them were present, and he was apparently oblivious to the undercurrents in the conversation as it had developed. "That might be very useful indeed if we have to fight this ship."
"So..." said Juni, and if she had heard Caul speak she gave no indication of it. "A telepathic interface. Is it something akin to the techniques you use when you want to produce an adult clone? Ideal for fast dissemination of information... Education... Indoctrination, even."
"I..." Faal was taken a little aback for a moment, but the calm veneer soon reasserted itself. "My people have used similar techniques in the past, it is true. Responding to the specific requirements of a commission."
"What about me?" Juni asked, almost casually. In her heard, she heard Rissa's inevitable scathing response - That's basically what we hear every time you speak, Juni - but Rissa wasn't here at this moment. I've internalised her, Juni realised, and sighed wearily.
If Rissa had been here, or any of the others for that matter, Faal might have found that a convenient distraction, but as things were he found himself in a very uncomfortable position. "You?"
She sighed again. "Never mind." Her eyes, however, remained trained intently on the back of his head for some time.
"Honestly..." Darvin mused. "I'm not so sure."
"You don't think they're dead...?" asked Blake incredulously. "You saw what I did, didn't you?" They, along with Rissa, alert with her gun before her but still listening to their conversation, were advancing down one of the Liberator's hexagonal corridors.
"Yes," said Darvin. "I saw what this Zen thing saw. What I was meant to. I mean, you met Avon, right... You talked to him. Well, take it from one who knew him a little longer, we all saw exactly what he wanted us to see."
"I hope you're right."
"We might well never hear of either of them again, but take it from me, Avon had no intention of sacrificing himself... Not his style at all. And he went to a lot of trouble to make sure Servalan was with him at the crucial moment, so..."
"He told me she murdered my mother," Blake said casually.
"Oh...!" Rissa commented, turning to her for a moment. "Actually, that does sound like her, doesn't it, Darvin?"
"She did a lot of terrible things in her time..." said Darvin. "But then, so did I."
"There were... circumstances." Blake glanced between them. "In her place, I might have done the same. I don't know."
Rissa leading, they walked into the teleport bay - now complete and made of the same pristine materials as the rest of the ship, and apparently ready for use. The sound perpetually in the background - advanced alien technology ticking over, or some kind of air-conditioning system? - was louder here. Darvin investigated the storage bank built into the far wall, full of teleport bracelets.
"Nice..." he said. "This ship might be compatible with Revenant's bracelets, but I suspect these are somewhat better..." He turned to Rissa. "Be nice to teleport without having to replenish all your salts afterwards, eh...?"
"I think you're in love again," Rissa replied with a faint smile. "How long before you even forget Revenant's name?"
"Who?" Darvin asked as he examined one of the bracelets, fitting it on his wrist before taking it off again, although his expression was sad as he looked over at her almost apologetically.
Sol, the star that had given birth to the human race that now straddled half the galaxy, dwindled into a tiny point and finally vanished from view as the new Liberator hurtled through the void. Earth was left behind, a shattered remnant of what it had once been. There would be no need ever to return.
"There...!" said Rissa, depositing the pile of brightly-coloured, shiny or glittery objects onto the back of the curved bank of couches for the others to take a look. "Don't say I never get you anything! Juni, look... Shiny things!" Juni had been the first to pick up one of the items, but she put it down again at that, scowling at Rissa resentfully.
"A whole room full of them," Blake informed them. "If you'd ever wondered how Blake... Roj Blake, that is, financed his campaigns... Well..."
"A wonder Avon didn't kill him a lot sooner," said Rissa.
"And one with machines to run off spare clothing to your exact specifications..." said Darvin. "And lots already produced in our exact sizes for all environments imaginable... Stored food and the means to make more, medical supplies and a surgical unit"-
-"They must have been produced after we came on board, but while the ship was still configuring its interior spaces," reasoned Caul.
"It all seems a little too good to be true, doesn't it?" said Juni, facing away from them.
"You're wondering what the price is," said Blake, and Juni turned to look at her appraisingly.
"There's always a price. Servalan taught me that." The look between them was held for a few moments. "Or, at least, she taught someone." That left Blake a little confused, but she left it there for now.
"Anyway..." said Darvin. "How went your investigations? It's been a long afternoon foraging out there, I hope you at least have dinner ready."
"Food rations and supplements are available throughout the ship, from dispensing units," Faal responded.
"Good to know, good to know," said Darvin. "Caul?"
"Well..." Caul was not at all comfortable addressing them all, and cleared his throat before continuing. "As you... The computer can of course control the ship for us, and will respond to instructions, but obviously there are advantages to being able to switch to manual control..."
"Can we?" asked Blake.
"Yes. And I discovered, at each console there's an accelerated learning programme, so each of us can learn a particular station in some detail, or even all of them, in case..." He did not spell out the possible drawbacks of strict demarcation, and instead moved over to the central position halfway up the bank of stations, before beckoning Darvin to climb up to join him.
"How is that possible?"
"Uh..." Caul became a little hesitant. "Telepathic interface."
"Should've known, really... Want a volunteer, I'm your man"- Darvin began, before seeing what was being pointed out to him, and looking concerned. "They really do cover all eventualities, don't they?" He ran his hand over the port that had appeared in the console, just in the right position for a pilot, specifically him, to plug in a prosthetic interface. "Shame I left my spare hand on Revenant when she went," he said.
Before he had even finished speaking, Caul produced an object from the compartment beneath the console, and held it out for him to take. "Like this?"
"Very like that, but this one lacks the makeshift charm of the old one." Darvin turned to Blake and the others. "Too good to be true?"
"Let's hope not," said Blake.
Proxima II
Some, even after all this time, thought it witty to observe that the Kapital complex on the second of the ten worlds of the Proxima system made Proxima II top-heavy - Certainly, as depicted on the banners of the ancient house of Mekatir, with its suggestion that the Kapital was visible from high orbit - even though it wasn't quite that large, that was how it appeared.
The banners of Mekatir were very much in evidence in and around the vast spaceport that evening, as the light of Proxima Centauri dipped below the horizon and in the moments before Proxima II's artificial sun lit up to take its place in the sky. Anyone looking out at the endless cityscape would have had their view distorted by the residual heat haze, but then few were looking out - not when such a rare event was taking place before them.
Proxima II's most famous daughter was coming home, at long last.
Doctor Lenta Guld took her place among the welcoming party at the foot of the long ramp of the landing vehicle, as soon as it was fully extended, and waited. The array of tired old faces, all men, sweated in the heat of the evening, jowly and resentful, but Guld kept her face neutral - if anything showed at all, it was her pent-up excitement. She was very much looking forward to what was about to happen.
The new arrival was going to shake things up - if nothing else, all could agree on that.
The Lady Shilena Mekatir Scarn swept down the ramp, preceded and followed by both her husband's elite guards and her own, the difference in their dress body-armour subtle apart from their contrasting helmet crests. Though more than seventy years old, probably a little closer to eighty, the First Lady's pace was quick, her movement fluid. Doctor Guld met her gaze unflinchingly, where the panoply of fusty old men avoided it, and was rewarded by a brief nod as the First Lady passed by.
It was not long before Guld was approached by one of the First Lady's attendants, neatly attired in her robe of distinctive Mekatir blue, and told to attend the Lady Shilena presently.
"I will not waste your time, or mine, with platitudes," Lady Shilena called with little apparent effort, projecting her voice so that all in the cramped reception hall could hear. "Suffice it to say that at least some of the rumours you have no doubt heard are true..." Her icy gaze swept over them all without settling on any courtier in particular. "Yes, President Scarn has seen fit to release the old bag...!" Some ventured a faint laugh at that before lapsing into uncomfortable silence. "No, he will not be attending in person... He will be remaining at Storm Mountain for the foreseeable future, where... other matters demand his attention, and is leaving matters here in the Kapital in my hands."
She raised the hands in question. "These hands..." she said. "Make no mistake, my lords... and others... I have returned. And now I am home at last, I will not be leaving again. That, I promise you!"
"What did you think...?" Lady Shilena's question was casual, the washing of her hands before partaking of the waiting refreshments occupying most of her attention, but when she turned to her guest it was clear some kind of answer was expected.
Doctor Guld, alone with the First Lady in her private rooms apart from a couple of the ever-present sentries, smiled unguardedly. "Just what was needed."
A curt nod was the response, and a brief grunt. "Good." Lady Shilena took an ornate chair and motioned her guest to do the same. "Nice to see you again, Lenta, very much so... I shall need you, and others like you, in the coming days... Oh, I know, there are no others like you...!" A brief cackle. "No sign of Carnell, I suppose?"
"Disappeared again."
"To be expected... A pity about the Admiral..." Guld kept her face carefully neutral, unsure of the First Lady's mood at this point. "A loss, a great loss. An honourable man." She shifted position in her chair, and that was clearly that - the only mention of the late Admiral Zanso that would be allowed. "And... he is returning here, yes...?" A curl of the lip accompanied that question.
"Yes. He has sent multiple requests to see President Scarn in person, but I have made the instructions clear - He is to be brought here. To you."
"Requests... You mean he has commanded it."
"Indeed, but that is not in his power any more."
"I shall see him as soon as he arrives... Arrange it."
"I will."
"Seven years confined, because of that filthy little toad," said Lady Shilena bitterly. "Make no mistake... My husband was easily led in those days... This has been long-awaited, my dear... So long." Doctor Guld almost pitied the object of the First Lady's ire - almost. "And now..."
"Yes?"
"Information has been difficult to come by, of late... You must tell me everything you know... about the new Liberator." The hawk-like face with its distinctive curved Mekatir nose broke out in a smile, and cold blue eyes fixed on her advisor keenly. "If I am to do what my dear husband has charged me with, I must have all the relevant data... I must know everything... if our insurgents are to be hunted down and destroyed."
The Liberator, deep space
"What was it you wanted to see me about, Faal?" asked Blake discreetly, as the others departed to the newly-discovered areas of the ship to refresh themselves, and the tall Clone Master lingered behind.
"Is it your intention to prosecute war against Unified Systems?" he said straightforwardly, with no preamble.
"Well... Now, that's a question..."
"Yes."
She sat down, and beckoned for him to do likewise, but he ended up just moving closer and standing just beyond the edge of the bank of couches. "I haven't quite decided what I'm going to do yet, Faal. What do you think?"
"I... may have information that will alter your decision."
"Oh?"
"You are aware I have been living for many years in the belief that the rest of my people were destroyed along with our homeworld during the Andromedan war..."
"I had gathered that," said Blake.
"I no longer believe it to be true."
She took a moment to respond. "I see... Was it something you saw during our... entry to the ship...? I'm not sure everything this ship shows you is quite literally true, Faal, I think it shows you things that... make you vulnerable, to see how you'll react"-
-"No, the information I have is, I believe, reliable. Unified Systems went to some lengths during our escape from Galaxy City to secure me"-
-"Well, that's no surprise, surely... Just think of the possible"-
-"I cannot manufacture troops for them. Capturing me would not avail them in that sense, even if I was willing to do so."
"I understand. So why do you think they wanted you?"
"To accomplish that goal would require a full cloning facility to have survived the destruction of my world. Something that, to my knowledge, did not occur. Although, if I were truly the only survivor, it would not matter as the genetic imprint of two Clone Masters would be required to initiate production."
"You are unable to produce clones, then?"
"I am now. I used the last of the... necessary resources some time ago, and now even small-scale production is no longer possible." His tone did not invite questions on the details of that, though Blake was beginning to make some deductions given Juni's barbed comments earlier.
"You believe more of your people survived."
"Just one, I would speculate, or my presence would not be so urgently needed. Also, a cloning facility transplanted from our homeworld before the end."
"Let's not allow them to get their grubby hands on you, then..." said Blake, standing up and moving over to him. "Thank you for telling me."
"You are our leader, Blake," he replied. "It would be very wrong to withhold information of this nature from you."
"Have you told Juni...?"
Faal looked very hesitant to venture a reply to that, but in the end he was spared as a shrill alarm briefly sounded. As they rushed to the bank of stations, Zen's voice cut through the noise. "INFORMATION..." it boomed. "LIBERATOR IN CLOSE PROXIMITY TO NUMEROUS SMALL OBJECTS ADVANCING AT HIGH SPEED..."
"We need the others," Blake said urgently. Faal leaned over and activated a switch, and she shot him a grateful look. "Get back to the flight-deck," she called into the intercom. "Hurry, we've got trouble."
"OBJECTS ARE EXPLOSIVE PROJECTILES FIRED FROM SPACECRAFT NOW ENTERING DETECTOR RANGE..." said Zen calmly. "DISTANCE CLOSING."
Dart-like, the oncoming ships hurtled through space, and soon enough the Liberator's advanced detectors would reveal them for what they were - Unified Systems Gamma-class Pursuit Ships.
On an attack run, and closing in on their target.
Blake and Faal had now been joined on the flight-deck by the others, who hurriedly assumed the duty stations that seemed natural for them all. "Just how accelerated is that accelerated learning, Caul?" Darvin asked, hurriedly fitting the new appendage to his artificial arm.
"Initiating now..." said Caul. "You'll see an icon appear on the main screen in front of you... Look at it it, and don't look away."
"How's that meant to work?" Juni demanded.
"Telepathic interface...?" said Caul, his tone impatient, becoming a little flustered as the urgency of the situation took hold.
"So now we're letting this ship into our heads!"
"I rather think we already have," said Blake calmly as she followed Caul's instructions. "Zen - Take all normal evasive measures and stand by to go to manual control!"
"CONFIRMED."
"Will those missiles be effective?" Rissa wondered.
"Those ships were developed specifically to combat this one, or rather its predecessor," said Darvin, even as he stared at the monitor in front of him. "So... Yes, there's a very strong possibility!"
"Oh, bum," said Rissa.
Last-minute navigational adjustments were made remotely, and the barrage of missiles raced their way through the dark toward the Liberator...