Blake's 7 - Liberators
The sequel to Blake's 7 - Survivors
Chapter 8
The Liberator approached the turquoise world at high speed and dropped smoothly into geosynchronous orbit, hanging majestically above the hazy, heavily-forested surface. A matter of minutes after its arrival, a highly directional, intense beam of energy, invisible to the human eye and carrying three distinct and individual patterns of data, was directed at one specific predetermined area of the planet below.
"This was the place."
A look around by the tall granite-faced man elicited agreement and confirmation from the ragged band gathered in the forest clearing, their grave features offering various degrees of encouragement. Some were wounded, and made themselves as comfortable as possible on fallen trunks or wherever there was space and something akin to comfort.
Holding up the electronic marker he had found just where it was supposed to be, but contrary to his expectations, the tall man clambered with some difficulty across the rough terrain to the side of a large robust-looking figure, rounded face flushed with exertion and eyes gleaming, perhaps with excitement or - more likely - with the fever he had recently fought off.
Or perhaps with sheer self-belief - this was a born aristocrat unusual even among his own class for the extent of his self-regard. So the tall man thought, but he payed well, or had done before they had been forced to flee the cities. He was certainly a better immediate prospect than life under their present occupiers.
"Aye," another man said. "That was the marker, all right. If we can trust them, this is where they'll arrive."
"Well," said another. "I don't see no shuttle, or hear one yet... And this is the appointed time, give or take... They're not coming!"
"They're not coming by shuttle," said the imperious stout man with a sort of bored petulance. That created some bemusement, but none questioned his assurance. For now.
The tall man struggled over to join his employer. "What if they don't come...?" The stout man, his features smooth and unsettlingly childlike enough to belie his forty-something years, did not turn around fully to look at him, and merely flicked his eyes to the side briefly.
"Watch," he said.
"Watch where?"
"Up there!" a voice shouted, and they all turned to look at the man's pointing finger just in time to see, at the top of an incline, three figures appear silhouetted against the setting star. A halo was formed around them, a halo of bright white that disappeared and left most of them unsure they had really seen such a thing at all. They all shaded their eyes to get a look at the new arrivals.
Two of them were in front of the other, and they were the first ones to be properly visible, before they began climbing down. The man was tall and broad-shouldered with a mane of dark curly hair around his face, and next to him was a slender-built young woman with long gold-coloured hair loose around the shoulders of her dark-red leather tunic. The man also wore a leather tunic, his dark brown, and heavy-duty trews tucked into high boots, while she wore close-fitting trousers of the same dark-red leather.
The third figure, less distinct in front of the intense back light, picked his way down carefully behind the other two, perhaps deliberately trying to stay in their shadows somewhat. His apparel was a rather more nondescript brown and beige outfit, and he carried a solid metal case in his hand of which he was very protective.
Finally, they arrived at the bottom of the slope and stood cautiously ready to greet and be greeted. "Which one of you is Blake?" asked the tall man. There was a long moment of tense silence before at last the largest of the three arrivals walked forward towards them, and for the first time his face was seen clearly. He offered a warm smile of greeting.
"I am," he said, offering his hand, the other hand moving away from the weapon holstered at his side. "Roj Blake."
"Vin Kort," said the tall man, and took the hand.
The other two moved in behind Blake. The other man was, like Blake, in his thirties, but shorter and slighter, thin-faced and shifty in his demeanor, ready to run at a moment's notice. The blonde woman was a few years younger than both, confident and strikingly attractive but also wary, which was why her hand, despite Blake's example, was still poised very near the gun at her side. They exchanged cautious glances, both clearly uneasy about the situation in a way their leader was apparently not.
"Down and safe," the young woman said, speaking into the bracelet on her wrist, and Blake shot her an amused glance as though jokingly put out that she had intruded on his prerogative.
"Hopefully," breathed the third member of the landing party quietly.
"Jenna and Vila," said Blake, introducing his companions. "Sorry, I thought you might have been Erno Scarn."
"No," said the stout man, moving into the light. "I am Scarn."
Proxima II - The year 279 of the Second Calendar
The party moved along the difficult forest path carefully in the fading light, strung out and, to Blake's mind, worryingly vulnerable to an ambush. Was he more worried about these things now...? After-
After Central Control. Everything had felt a little different since then.
"It's getting very dark," he said to Vin Kort. The man seemed to be some sort of spokesman as well as bodyguard to Scarn, as well as whatever other duties were within his remit, and certainly Blake felt a lot more comfortable conversing with the relatively personable Kort than with Scarn himself.
"Watch," said Kort. Blake looked up, bemused, and almost no sooner had Kort spoken than the sky was filled with light once more, in a matter of seconds.
"So it's true," said Blake. "Artificial star?"
"Yes," Kort replied.
"Expensive."
"No doubt it was... Proximans were rather wealthier when that was built... That was before the Federation."
"And scared of the dark," commented Vila. "I feel at home here already."
"We will be again," said Scarn quietly, picking his way with care. "Wealthy, that is." That was the only statement he was prepared to make, however, and the party continued quietly, with those who were armed keeping their weapons ready for use.
"If this is easing us back in," said Vila, "I'd hate to see what he's got in mind when we've... How did Avon put it...? Restored our legend."
"I'll look after you," said Jenna wryly, only partly joking.
"You know who else used to say that...?" Vila didn't have to finish, but he did it anyway. "Gan." And look what happened to him... At least he left that unspoken. After a brief moment of shared slight awkwardness, Jenna led the way after the others, and Vila reluctantly followed.
30 years later
"Orac..." Blake began quietly. "Can you access information relating to Clonemaster funerary customs?"
There was a moment before Orac's irritable tones filled the teleport bay, and Blake sat back in her seat at the controls. She strongly suspected the delay was just the supercilious AI's way of asserting his independence the only way he could, straitjacketed by his programming as he was. "Of course I can," said Orac. "The question is, do you wish me to?"
"I didn't ask for rhetorical tricks, Orac..." she said shortly. "Or pedantry. Do you have the information, or do you not?"
"The simple answer is, there is no publicly accessible written account of such customs... It would seem reasonable to conclude that the Clonemasters, such is the nature of their culture, most likely regard the body as simply material, for use and reuse as necessary, and thus attach no sacred importance to what they regard as simply a shell."
"I see."
"Of course, the possibility remains that such customs are simply too personal to the Clonemasters, too private, to be subject to public record, and by their very nature any private customs that might exist are just that... Private, and for the moment at least, beyond my ability to access."
"Thank you, Orac," she said blankly, anger gone.
"Do you wish me to devote further run-time to this question?"
"No thank you, Orac."
She found Darvin on the flight-deck, not that she was actively looking for him, and he looked up as she descended the couple of steps and came over to join him. "At a loose end?" he asked.
"No."
"Well, that answer was definitive, if brief... Do I deduce, from your presence, that you're ready to talk to us again?"
"To you," she replied.
"Oh, I am honoured."
"Well, you are in command of this ship."
"And you're in command of this war we're fighting. Were fighting. Had any more thoughts on that?"
"Plenty," she said. "Just not any useful ones. Not since..."
"Since Faal died?" Darvin sat down and motioned her to do the same. When she didn't, he got back up, took her by the hands and gently but firmly made her sit. "Yeah, it kind of knocked me a little sideways too, I'll admit. Still, what you gonna do?"
"What are we going to do?"
"Well, I seem to remember some bright spark had the notion we could go and see Avalon, or something along those lines... Sounded like an interesting thought to me."
"That was before."
"Before Faal...? I'm going to keep saying his name, you know."
"I know you are."
"I'll give him a little break, if you talk to me."
"What are we doing now, if not talking?"
He clasped his hands in his lap and looked down at them. "That's what I was wondering."
"How's Juni...?" she asked, diverting the subject if not quite changing it entirely. "And Caul."
"Juni's spending a lot more time with Rissa... I know, strange. Not so much with Caul... You two are tight, why not ask him about it...?" She looked askance at him, at the very idea of asking Caul such a thing, and then caught sight of the recent arrival on the flight-deck.
Caul walked down the last couple of steps and moved to his station, footfall almost silent, and began examining the latest data. He gave them only the slightest nod of greeting on the way, and Blake and Darvin exchanged glances.
"Caul..." Blake began, and stopped, not sure how to continue.
Caul looked up at her. "What?"
"How you holding up?" asked Darvin. "I don't think anyone's thought to ask you yet."
"Me?"
"Yeah... We've all had our say on the matter. More or less. Except maybe Juni... I think she's still bottling a few things up."
If mention of Juni had any effect on Caul, he hid it well, busying himself examining his station's readouts. "You should talk to her... You're good with people."
"Or maybe you should," said Darvin. "You two are close."
"Me?" Caul asked. "What makes you say that?"
Not being stupid... Darvin didn't say that, although it was what immediately sprang to mind. "Nothing very much... Just got that impression, that's all."
"I think I'll collate this in my cabin," said Caul, and started to leave again.
"Caul..." Blake's voice made him turn back, and he seemed to do so quite reluctantly. "Later..." she said. "Mess hall? I feel like being Mara again for a little while."
"All right," he responded, and left hurriedly.
"We handled that well, didn't we?" said Blake, rubbing her face. "Well, actually you did, Stev," she added, looking at him a little blearily. "But then, like he said, you're good with people."
"Do you think he heard?"
"That we know he and Juni have been having sex in their spare time?" She raised a hand in the air and let it slap down onto her thigh. "Probably."
"Oh," Darvin mused. "I think it's a little more than that, don't you?"
"Yeah..." she said. "One more good thing I've destroyed. Is it too late to change my mind about all this?"
Darvin settled back in his seat. Choosing not to address her question, he responded with one of his own. "What about you...?"
"What about me?"
"Do you... miss that sort of companionship, Blake?"
She laughed quietly, and probably for the first time in several days. "Companionship...? Is that an offer, Stev?"
He shrugged. "It could be, I suppose..." he said lightly. "But I rather got the impression I wasn't your type."
Blake's assessing look lasted quite a few moments, then she shrugged too. "Maybe I'm a little more flexible than you imagine."
"Oh, don't..." Darvin cautioned her, pretending to feel faint. "I don't think I could take that sort of thing any more." She gave a proper, wicked laugh at that, from deep in her chest, and he joined her in it, his grin wide.
"Ow!" Juni stepped back several paces, and looked at Rissa a little resentfully, taking one hand off the long stick she was holding.
"Did I get your fingers?" inquired Rissa sympathetically, then her face and voice abruptly changed tone. "Good!" She smiled - the animosity was entirely feigned. These two had progressed a long way in the three months they had been on this ship.
They walked around each other a few paces, and sparred furiously with the sticks, Rissa looking approving of Juni's developing combat technique. Finally, both took a rest in their adopted corners of the Liberator's medium-sized gymnasium. Whether this space came as standard in System vessels, or one of them had made it form with a stray thought during the interior configuration, Rissa didn't know or particularly care. She was just pleased it was there, and much better suited to her likes than the overly-busy facilities at Galaxy City.
Juni managed a smile too, though retaining a little of the resentment. "I don't know why I'm doing this," she said. "When am I going to be fighting UniS troops with sticks?"
"You'd be surprised," said Rissa, tossing her stick in the air and catching it after turning swiftly on her heel. "Sticks, blades, fists, feet, elbows, knees... I'm going to teach you them all... Then, I'll teach you to shoot straight."
"I can shoot straight. I'm a good shot."
"Granted. But I'm going to make you an excellent shot."
"Not lacking in self-belief, are you?" asked Juni as she reached for her towel.
"That's one of the reasons why I'm still here," said Rissa. "Plenty aren't," she added, as if either of them needed reminding of that. "And because I'm too beautiful to kill," she added, trying to lighten the mood. "They just can't bring themselves to do it, in the end."
"Yes..." Juni considered. "Some of us just can't die, no matter how hard we try."
The mood a little bleaker now despite Rissa's efforts, the two of them reached an unspoken agreement the training session was over and gathered their things.
Juni returned to her quarters in a subdued mood, Faal on her mind again in a way he hadn't been for the last couple of days... After what he had said to her shortly before his death, she didn't know exactly what to do... How to be. Ever since she had reached the realisation that she wasn't real, that she was a clone, a creature grown or constructed - his methods were a mystery to her as they were to everyone - by Faal on the orders of Servalan, she had felt at a distance to... Well, to everything.
That distance, that lack of involvement, had become very comfortable, terrifyingly so, and learning that in fact she was as much Juni as the original was in some ways more disruptive to her state of mind. What to do now there were no excuses for not feeling... normal?
When her vidscreen activated by itself, she automatically turned to look at it, and when his face... Faal's face, appeared, a chill ran down her spine. "Juni..." he began. "If you are receiving this, it is because..."
She listened to the end.
The area adjacent to the Liberator's medical unit that had hurriedly been set aside and repurposed as a morgue was empty and silent. Dark also, till the lights responded to the quiet approach and gradually brought the light levels up.
Juni paused, unable to tear her eyes away from the covered prone body of Faal on the tabletop. It took a while before she was ready to approach, but when she did, it was with resolution.
"I have one request to make of you, and it is my hope, and my wish, that you do not ask, and do not wonder, as to my reasons for making it..."
She pulled back the cover, glancing only briefly at the long solemn features - as calm and serene in death as he had typically been in life... It was difficult to believe those heavy-lidded eyes would not simply open to reveal the large-pupiled dark eyes, difficult to believe there was no life in the long slender limbs...
"Simply, if my friendship has meant anything to you, please accede to my request, and leave me..."
Taking the object from around her neck, she placed it on his, letting the chain bundle around it... She made no attempt to disturb the body by lifting the head to get the chain around his neck, as that was not as he had requested... Only the presence of the object was required. The Arcturan pearl, its slightly off-white surface formed of undulating bumps and fault-lines. His gift to her, close in appearance but not quite identical to the one gifted to the original Juni - the girl of whom she was a near-perfect copy just as this pearl was of her adornment.
She broke the terms of his request then, by wondering... Why...? Why did he want it back, and under these circumstances...? She would have worn his gift to the end of her days in his memory, but he had asked for it to be returned to his corpse... Why?
"Thank you," he had said. "If these are to be my final words to you, so be it. Thank you." Juni stopped wondering, and left Faal to the silence - and, once again, the enshrouding darkness.
Proxima II
The acrid tang of smoke hung in a wispy pall around and inside the - thought to be - abandoned housing complex that had until very recently been home to Del Grant's cell of dissidents. Dr Guld picked her way carefully through the debris of combat - wood splinters, broken glass, discarded weapons and various other objects - and finally the bodies of the dissidents themselves - Those who had not yet been cleared up - and sought the attention of the squad commander.
"Ma'am..." the man greeted her. She noticed the minuscule pause in which he internally debated what to call someone without rank who nonetheless most certainly outranked him.
"Commander... Anything to report?"
"Plenty..." The man's face was still obscured behind the mask of his helmet, but she could practically hear him grin. Conscious of the possible protocol breach, he flipped the mask up to let her see his lean, sharp-featured and somewhat nondescript face. "We'll be sifting through this for months... or rather those who do that sort of thing will... I say months... Maybe years."
"Data storage?"
"Oh, yes... They had no time to destroy anything thoroughly. Encrypted, of course, but since when has that been much of an obstacle, eh...?" He perceived Dr Guld may not be entirely matching his genial informality, and stiffened to a more attentive posture, face becoming more appropriately severe.
"I'll take it."
"Ma'am?" He was sure he must have misheard.
"I said, I'll take it. All."
"You mean copies, naturally...? Um, normally that sort of thing is done after physical transplantation of the drives, apart from the initial backup done on site..."
"Has the initial backup taken place?"
"Yes, it has."
"I'll take that, so I can study it while the drives are being relocated to my office."
"Ma'am, I..."
"You know who I am...? I'm sorry, I was somewhat lax on my arrival... I am Doctor Lenta Guld, Security Advisor to the President himself."
"Yes, ma'am, I was-"
"-Address me as Doctor Guld, or simply Doctor, please."
"I- Yes, of course, Doctor. It- I'll see to it immediately, if you would just wait... I'll be back quickly."
"Of course I'll wait."
The stop-off for a very quick change of clothes, followed by the rush through customs checks, was a blur to Avral - perhaps the residual effect of the drugs they had administered in prison, or perhaps just the ragged state of her nerves... and no wonder. She had no clue how Del Grant got them onto a commercial flight out of the Kapital and into the teeming anonymity of the orbit lanes, let alone how he managed to secure this plush private cabin on the flight - Thinking about it later, she realised he must have been planning this contingency for a very long time.
He sat opposite, head sunk back into the cushioned headrest of his chair, eyes closed. Seeing him like this briefly seemed to take years off him, and Avral imagined she had some sense of what the young Del Grant must have looked like. The dashing mercenary, hard and ruthless, somewhat amoral but never immoral... She would be curious to meet that Del Grant.
His eyes snapped open, and locked with hers. The two of them sat without speaking for some time.
"I thought you were asleep."
"No," he said.
"You can if you like... I'll keep watch. 'Least I can do."
"I'll sleep one day." She knew better than to keep offering - when Grant had made his mind up, it was made.
"Thank you for saving my life," she said quietly.
"I had to."
The look in his eyes left no doubt it was no reluctant obligation he was speaking of. Avral barely remembered her father, but if he had lived, she knew that perhaps only he would fully understand why Del had acted as he did. "Are we the last two?" she asked, voice quavering just very slightly.
"I imagine a few others will have made it, here and there. But not many."
"Was it our fault, do you think?" She did not say his fault, content to share the responsibility.
"From what you've told me, it was Walar's fault... And ours, I suppose, for not spotting him for what he was."
"Yes, but the timing... If I hadn't gone in there when I did... Perhaps Walar would have happily kept spying on us for years to come, and all the others would still be alive."
"No point debating what might have been..." He leaned forward. "Are you all right...? You told me you killed Walar, but-"
"-One day, I'll tell you about it," she said, her smile of reassurance decidedly brittle. "Not yet. But he is dead, he's definitely dead..." She saw in her mind's eye Walar's bloated purple face, side-on as he twisted round to try to look at her as she slowly garrotted him with the belt-cord from his own uniform...
Avral took a ragged, halting breath, and a sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead. The hand she raised to stop the sweat running into her eyes was trembling.
"I didn't spot him either," he said. "We were all fooled."
"We have no choice, sometimes, but to trust each other..." she said. "Trust someone... I thought that made us better than them, but it just makes us more vulnerable."
"Don't think like that," he told her. "If you do, then they've won."
"He said he loved me... That that part was true... I know I never welcomed that, I just hoped that one day he would give up on it... but when he said it - in that cell..."
"Part of his twisted game."
"I don't know..." She ran a hand through her hair, sodden with the cold sweat that had broken out, and shuddered. "I wish I could be sure of that... I'm not sure of anything now."
"Welcome to life."
That could have sounded somewhat condescending had it been someone else saying it to her, but she knew this man and took his intended meaning, and smiled faintly. "Do I get some sort of initiation gift...?"
"A bracelet."
"Where is it?" She hadn't seen the bracelet Grant had brought with him since before they had boarded this spacecraft. The teleport bracelet from the Liberator, in his possession for the past thirty years.
"In the hold... It's safe. Shielded, if they do a sweep."
"So... You just switch it on, and..."
"There's a way I can make it transmit a pulse on a wide frequency band through some kind of subspacial network... Basically, it becomes a beacon, but only to the Liberator... Or another ship like it perhaps. We'll see what happens."
"When?"
"When we get where we're going."
"Do you think Blake actually is alive...? Or is everyone who says Avon killed him... Are they right?"
"I honestly don't know."
"You knew Avon... Do you think he could actually have done that?"
"Yes," said Grant, a little regretfully but without hesitation. "It's possible, in the right circumstances."
"You always avoid talking about Avon, whenever I've asked."
"Yes, I do, don't I?" He said that kindly, but it was still a rare barrier between them.
"Is he still alive, do you think?"
"Oh, yes..." Grant's eyes flicked over to the side, apparently at the empty seat next to him, and she thought she detected a rare smile from this taciturn man. "He's still alive."
"You seem very sure."
"I'd know," he said.
"I thought I saw Blake," she said suddenly. She had never intended to speak of that aspect of her experience in UniS's custody, but suddenly it felt right to talk about it.
"Where?"
"In my cell... He came and talked to me... Helped me. Just when I needed him most."
Grant thought about that for a moment. "Is it possible...?" he muttered.
"Well, no..." Avral said, smiling. "Of course it isn't possible... I was hallucinating, thanks to their drugs, and lack of sleep... But I was glad he was there anyway."
"Hush, dear," said Avalon fondly from the seat diagonally opposite, before turning back to Grant, whose eyes briefly seemed to move back to face her again. "He wasn't talking to you."
It was Avalon, but a different Avalon from the one currently journeying among the outermost UniS-dominated worlds... This Avalon was gentle where that one was sharp, caring where the other one was calculating... Somewhat different in appearance, also... Her coiled braided hair was silky and had a little more silver in it than her counterpart's, and her maroon velveteen suit was as civilian as the other's black ensemble was military...
And she was totally undetectable to her daughter - Avral was entirely oblivious to her presence. "Ah..." Avalon continued, "But then, you can't see me, can you...?" Her eyes fixed on the side of Grant's head. "Only you, Del... Only you."
"I believe you," Grant said in a husky whisper.
"You do?" Avral was amused and a little taken aback.
"They do come back, you know..." he said. "Sometimes, they really do come back."
279
Proxima II
The place was a hunting lodge, apparently, or had been in more peaceful times, and if that called to mind a small establishment, Blake, Jenna and Vila were to find their expectations somewhat surpassed. The place was huge, and though it had fallen into disrepair of late through lack of use, it was still impressive.
Built within a hollow in a forest clearing, it looked somehow like an extension of the forest itself, its walls gnarled and covered in mosses of various colours. Turrets with lookouts posted to them towered high above, warning of their approach long before they got there. "You can see why Scarn came here when trouble threatened," Blake considered.
"Marvellous," said Vila. "Where does he go when trouble falls on his head?" As Blake and Jenna walked on, he maintained his position. "It's a valid question... Where does he go? And where do we, for that matter...?" He checked the bracelet was properly fixed to his wrist, not for the first time.
"It's pretty secure," Jenna conceded, looking up at the imposing installation with a critical eye. "It might withstand a land assault, but what happens when the Federation resort to other measures?"
"Yes," said Blake grimly. "It's only a matter of time."
"That's what I said..." Vila pointed out. "You just changed the words around."
"That's why this is so important, isn't it?" Blake went on, insistent. "A centre of resistance, defying the Federation on their very doorstep, just over four light years away from Earth... That's remarkable. And it needs our help."
"So do we..." said Vila fatalistically.
"I think we're discovering why you wouldn't bring Avon," said Jenna in a slightly barbed fashion.
"Well, Avon's not much good at opening doors that don't want to be opened, and he doesn't have your charm," Vila said to her. "Blake knows how to put a landing party together, I'll say that for him."
"And Cally...?" Blake asked, humouring them. "Why not Cally?"
"Because you listen to Cally," Jenna said without hesitation.
Blake looked over at her gravely for a moment, before leading the way after their hosts. Through the open gate of Erno Scarn's last stand against the Federation.
The means were found that evening for something of a party, Scarn clearly being determined to show his guests - or allies - that though he might need their help he was not totally without resources of his own. Though Blake looked slightly askance at first, he soon realised the importance of such a gesture to a dominating but brittle ego like Scarn's, and acceded with good grace to playing the role of honoured guest.
Jenna was considerably less comfortable with her role, and soon found a quiet corner of the once-opulent banqueting hall to sit in, lost in thought. A couple of hours later, she was surprised to be approached by one of the Proximans, and even more so to find it was none other than Scarn himself.
"I hope we didn't drive you away," he said. "We may not be at our best, but one thing we can do very well, if I say so myself, is offer our hospitality."
"I'm sure," said Jenna, taking a sip of the drink she had made last since one of Scarn's servants had pressed it into her hand almost as soon as they had passed through the gate. To say she found something unpleasant about Scarn, despite his impeccable manners, was putting it mildly. There was a sense of decay about him, and she was keenly aware of the centuries of corrupt privilege he represented. A spacer like Jenna, used to plain speaking, had little patience for the thousand lies one would have to tell every day to survive around someone like this, and could not imagine she ever would.
His fleshy face wore a mask of benign interest as he replied. "Your presence has been... shall I say, noticed, by a number of my men... but in all honesty I can't say I'm really all that sorry you've kept to yourself..." There was something cold in his eyes as he added, "I like a challenge."
"Well," she began, and smiled, her eyes just as cold as his. "That's good, because you've chosen to wage war against the Federation, and that really is a challenge... Excuse me." She stood and began to move away, but somehow Scarn shifted his substantial bulk with great ease to block her path.
"Is this any way to... cement our alliance?" he cooed.
"You know, it's funny you should say that," Vila piped up loudly, having come out of nowhere to stand barely at arm's length from both of them. "I was just talking about cement to... Oh, I never found out his name, that chap over there with the interesting hat... I said..." Feigning, or perhaps not feigning at all, wine-addled befuddlement, he frowned. "What was I saying...?"
"That woman we met when we arrived," said Jenna, making the irritated Scarn turn back to her. "Was that your wife? I think I'll see if I can get to talk to her... She seems very interesting."
Scarn stared at her for a few moments. "Yes, she is, but I think you'll find your leader has been keeping her company." He turned to go, but not before a parting shot. "A fair exchange, I thought, but perhaps not." He stalked away, visibly angry now.
Letting him get out of earshot, Jenna exhaled slowly. "Thanks for rescuing me," she said to Vila.
"Not for the first time," he replied.
"Or vice versa," she shot back, and he nodded.
"True." He turned to her. "I think it's more important than ever we look after each other, Jenna... After all, no one else will."
"You mean all of us," she said, trying not to laugh or even smile. It was clear now that, while Vila's intervention had been carefully calculated, his befuddlement was not entirely feigned.
"Well... Yes, of course... But we've always had a bit of a special rapport, haven't we...? Oh, go on, say yes, I've got a fragile ego, everyone says so. It's one of my best qualities... Or was it worst? I get those mixed up."
"All right then, I suppose we have." Jenna was certainly smiling faintly now. While they had been talking, she had moved over to where she could see the main part of the hall without her interest being noted, and was just in time to see Blake's imposing figure disappear through an ornate set of doors into the relative quiet of the courtyard. Not alone - he was in the company of the tall willowy wife of Erno Scarn.
She looked up, distracted, as Vila began speaking again. "You think he doesn't notice, but he does, you know... It's nothing personal, it's just that Blake will never let himself get any closer than he is already... To any of us, even me...!"
"Oh, I don't know," Jenna breathed. "I think you might be selling yourself short." She made light of it, but there was no mistaking that Vila was on slightly thin ice.
"Not when he might have to get us killed..." he continued, determined to make his point. "Like Gan." He shrugged, noticing her growing anger, anger made worse by the knowledge that he was right. He stepped back, away from her, and turned to go. "What do I know?"
"Vila," she called quietly after him before he had gone far, and he turned back. "Thanks," she said, not specifying what for. Just for being there, perhaps.
"I'm so sorry," said Blake. "This is going to sound incredibly rude of me, but they never actually told me your name."
"No, they didn't, did they?" replied his companion in their slow stroll around the large courtyard. "It must have slipped their mind." Lady Shilena Mekatir Scarn, an extremely handsome woman in her forties, did not yet, however, repair the oversight, leaving Blake at something of an awkward disadvantage.
"Well, introductions are customary, if rudimentary, where I come from," he said. "I'm Blake. Roj Blake."
"Who could doubt it...?" she mused, then stopped and turned to him. "Why are you here, Blake?"
He was slightly taken aback at that, but soon recovered and embarked on a brief explanation of the strategic reasons for wanting to see the Federation expelled from the Proxima system.
"Not the reasons you tell him," she said. "I fully understand the military situation, please do not underestimate me. I mean, the real reason... Your reason."
Really?, he thought, and took a breath. "We had... a setback, a short time ago... Since then, I've been trying to get us back to where we were, with some success... An attack on Space Command Headquarters, and then shortly after, a real intelligence breakthrough, one that..." He smiled guardedly. "One that I can't talk about."
"Not even to an ally?"
"Not even to an ally."
"I see."
"Madame Scarn...?"
"Shilena, please."
"Shilena... You seem... how can I put this...?"
"Angry?"
"Actually, no, I wouldn't have said that. You seem... to know the intricacies of the way this world is organised, perhaps better-" He stopped himself, and tried to find a better way of expressing the thought.
"-Better than my husband?"
"Frankly, yes... I almost think we'd be better... No, I'll stop there."
"Probably best."
"What I plan to do," Blake said, voice growing more urgent, "is inflict a single, devastating defeat on the occupying forces... Oh, make no mistake, it will be pretty spectacular, if it comes off like we've been planning, but I need to know..." He stopped to consider his words again.
"I won't be here very long," he continued. "It'll be on to the next mission for us, and I need to know that once we're gone the campaign here will be conducted as well as it really needs to be. I think you're the one to ask, honestly... Do you think you can take your world, all your worlds, back from the Federation...?"
"If you play your part, and destroy the command centre," she replied. "I don't see why not."
"I'm very glad to hear you say that," he said.
"How glad?" She stood very close to him now.
"About this glad," he said, a note of what might have been gentle apology in his voice and in his expression, and he stepped back one pace.
"A pity," she said.
"Probably," he replied, a little ruefully.
309
Karstus
They made their way across the barren surface just as the distant star was starting to disappear below the horizon, and quickened their pace, keenly aware of the rapidly dropping temperature... The barren surface of Karstus had temperatures just barely able to support life during the day, but at night nothing they had brought with them could possibly keep them alive for very long.
Once in the shelter of the caves, and having descended to the levels once used as a base, Grant, Avral and their tiny band of followers, bringing them up to six in total, busied themselves reactivating the essential systems. Gradually, light and heat and other necessary resources were brought back on line. Having spent that time in silence, the first thing Avral said when she had leisure to do so was something that made Del Grant pause and stare with a haunted look in his eye.
"I can feel her here..." she said. "It's almost like she isn't..."
She found it impossible to complete the sentence, and not because of the insubstantial presence at her side. Avral was still unaware of Avalon standing there, and only Grant was aware of the terrible irony of her words. Avalon reached out and made as if to stroke her daughter's hair, but withdrew her intangible hand at the last moment before she had to see it pass straight through.
"That's natural enough," he said, speaking to Avral but looking at Avalon, and as the daughter walked away from that spot there may have been something reproachful in the mother's gaze as she looked back at him.
Avral picked up the bundle Grant had recently set down on a side-table in the old main operations room, and carefully unwrapped the teleport bracelet. "How does it work?"
He came over and took it from her, almost reverently. A few moments of hesitation, and he manipulated the controls on the bracelet in a very precise order, and as they watched the device seemed to come to life, the coloured panels faintly glowing and pulsing. Avral thought she could hear something, a faint oscillating sound, just and only just on the edge of her hearing.
"You hear that?" she asked him.
"No," he said. "But at least we know it works."
"So that's it, then..."
"That's it," he said.
"Now we wait."
"Now we wait," he agreed. "For Blake to come back." He looked at her, and smiled. "I think the time has come."
The Liberator
"INFORMATION," Zen boomed across the flight deck from the smooth hemispherical interface built into one of the bulkheads, lights dancing underneath the semi-transparent casing. "POSSIBLE EXPLOSIVE DEVICE DETECTED ON BOARD."
"Possible...?" On his way to his station already, Darvin ran the last few paces with no little difficulty and scanned the readouts. "What do you mean by that?"
"Checking," said Caul. "Zen, where are you getting this from...? I'm seeing nothing out of the ordinary."
Blake ran down the stairs and over to the foot of the bank of stations so she could see them all, Juni only a few paces behind her. Even as what looked like another crisis loomed, she could not help but notice that Juni and Caul pointedly did not look at each other, and felt that pang of guilt again. What was it she had said to Darvin...? One more good thing I've destroyed...
"Running full internal sweep..." said Juni. "Bear with me, this will take a little time."
"Time we might not have," said Rissa, the last of them to take her station, finishing toweling off her hair before throwing the towel with remarkable precision across a distance of at least fifteen feet across the back of her usual seat at the front.
"I realise that," said Juni, voice showing the strain, "But it's something I can do, and so I'm doing it."
"Zen," said Blake, trying and succeeding remarkably well in keeping her voice calm. "What makes you think there's an explosive device on board...?"
"THERE ARE SIGNS."
They all looked at each other a little askance. "Zen, are you going a little odd?" inquired Rissa.
"PARAMETERS ARE NOT DEFINED."
"Where is it...?" Blake demanded. "Where exactly is this device?"
"DEVICE IS LOCATED ON HABITATION DECKS."
"What...?" Darvin looked up in disbelief. "That's not very precise." He looked at Blake. "There's something not right here..." he said.
"Other than the presence of an explosive device somewhere close by?" she replied.
"If there is one!"
"Care to bet your life on that...?" Blake moved around to Juni's station. "How's that scan coming?"
"Slowly," she replied with exaggerated calm, and shared a brief fatalistic smile with Blake, who moved around to Caul on the opposite side of the bank of consoles.
"Caul, what else could cause this? Think quickly, no pressure!"
"Um... A fault with Zen's sensors, maybe. None of us knows exactly how that all works. None of us have dared try to interfere with his operations, for obvious reasons."
"Zen," said Blake desperately. "Please try to help us understand this... What are the signs...?"
"POWER BUILDUP OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN AND UNKNOWN TYPE OF ENERGY... POWER INCREASING RAPIDLY... INFORMATION ON CONTAINMENT SYSTEM IS UNAVAILABLE, THEREFORE INTEGRITY CANNOT BE GUARANTEED."
"Lovely..." said Darvin. "Super, in fact. So... we may have an power buildup, somewhere, we know not where, and a device that may explode and take out the ship, or may not... We don't know where it is, and we don't know how long we may or may not have... Any questions?"
"I have one," said Juni. "What are our options if this scan doesn't pinpoint the location of our problem?"
"Good question," said Darvin.
"Zen?" Blake turned to the curved shell full of blinking lights. "What are our options?"
"EVACUATION OF LIBERATOR BY LIFE CAPSULE REMAINS VIABLE, THOUGH TIMESCALE AND SAFETY MARGIN REMAIN UNKNOWN FACTORS."
"Just when I have my cabin the way I like it," Rissa complained.
"Thoughts, anyone...?" Blake asked.
"Let's get the hell out of here springs to mind," said Darvin, not looking up from his displays until, suddenly, he looked up directly at Blake with a piercing gaze. "Well...?" he demanded. "Wait for the full scan and hope...? Or evacuate? Which is it to be?"
Blake could hear the blood rushing in her ears, keenly aware of their rapt attention, focused on her, and even more keenly aware of some unknown device somewhere on this ship, counting down the hours, the minutes or possibly just the seconds to the deaths of every one of them...
"BLAKE?"
The Liberator's makeshift morgue was silent, but it was no longer in complete darkness. A luminescence, faint at first, gradually intensified further and further until it became singularly intense, flooding the whole space with its fiery glow. At the centre of it was the prone body of Faal, giving off light through his skin in waves of some unfathomable energy... At the very epicentre of the disturbance, where the light was most intense, the pearl laid on his chest glowed incandescently.
A finger twitched... Then the entire hand.