Chapter Two

"Docking complete. I've transferred them to Inner Hold One. Be careful."

"Understood, Jenna. Keep the hold on visual. Just in case." Blake took his thumb from the communicator and turned to Vila and Cally. "Well, let's go and welcome our guests."

Vila grimaced. "I hope they feel the same way about us."

Typical Vila, Blake thought. Perpetual pessimism may have served him well in the past, but it was no way to live. Having to listen to it on a regular basis was wearing in an insidious sort of way, in some respects worse than having to do daily battle against Avon's hostility. It chipped away at his core, until Blake had found himself questioning what he knew to be right. Helping Mallory was the right thing to do, even if the man and his methods was objectionable. He would have to square it with his conscience later.

The door slid back and, taking a deep, steadying breath, Blake led the way into the hold. Up close, the shuttle was larger than it had first appeared on the screen, capable of accommodating more than a skeleton crew. Blake realised they had underestimated its condition too: panels buckled by the impact of debris, a landing strut leeching fluid and a ramp that needed additional physical force from those inside to make it open. That it had limped this far across the Sector was nothing short of a miracle.

With the ramp down, landing with a thud that shook the floor and echoed around the confined space, several figures emerged. First out was a rangy hard-bitten man, bearded, his brows set in a permanent frown. Behind him, a thin woman, her blond hair pulled up in a severe top-knot, and a suspicious look in her eyes. Three more men followed, scarred, ill-kempt and lean to the point of malnourishment. All wore the same drab uniform: sturdy, stained clothes, threadbare in places, in shades of greys and browns; heavy boots much marked and patched, and all with an array of weapons strapped to their backs and around their waists.

"They're a scruffy lot," Vila whispered. "I wish I'd brought a gun now. I feel underdressed."

"Quiet, Vila," said Cally. "Not everyone is fortunate to have a ship as well supplied as the Liberator."

Blake was only half listening to their conversation. His attention was drawn to the leader of this bedraggled group, who had stopped, fixed Blake with an arrogant stare and then muttered something to his companions that made them laugh. Only then did he stride down the ramp and march over.

"You must be Blake," said he, looking him up and down. "I'm Milo, Mallory's second-in-command." He nodded to Vila and Cally. "These your people?"

Blake introduced them. He was aware of Vila drawing behind him, trying to keep out of sight.

"I thought you had more followers," said Milo critically. "A ship like this needs more than you three to operate it."

The implied criticism did not escape him. "Jenna and Avon are on the flight deck. They guided you in."

"And a mess they made of it." He barked a laugh. "You'd think we had never landed this thing before. We might not have a ship like this, but my pilot could match yours any day. Isn't that right, Avice?" He gestured to the woman, who nodded. "These three here are Adri, Drugo and Edun." They grunted a greeting in turn. "And then there's Sten. Here, Sten, come and join us."

A huge man, as broad as he was tall, his shabby clothes barely containing his bulk, emerged from the shuttle. Before him, he pushed a stately, grey-haired man, his hands bound in front of him and dressed in the white robes of a member of the Council of Ysoria. Only when they drew near did Blake notice the rudimentary short spear with jagged head being used to prod the prisoner in the back to make him advance.

That they had come this far against the Federation with prehistoric weaponry was a testament to their determination. Blake had to admit to a grudging admiration.

Sten came to a halt and stared down at them from a great height, silent and unsmiling.

"He's a big one," said Vila nervously. "What have you been feeding him?"

"You won't get much out of him," said Milo. "He spoke back to the mine-master on Hagona. They cut out his tongue as punishment. He wasn't considered important enough for a voice synthesiser. But he lets us know what he wants. Isn't that right, Sten?"

The big man nodded. Turning his hands inwards so the nails were touching, he pointed his fingers down, making what looked like the letter 'M'.

"That's right," said Milo. "It's Mallory you want, what we all want. Mallory forever!"

"Mallory forever!" the others chorused, punching their fists in the air.

"And this is the fellow who's going to get him back for us." Milo pushed the prisoner in the back. "Councillor Aphon, this is Blake."

To the man's credit, his time in captivity had not dulled his spirit. The clothes may have been frayed and creased from travel, but the patrician air remained, in the proud carriage of his head and the look of disdain he reserved for anyone he considered his inferior. A handsome man, with refined features and an almost regal way of moving, Blake could not shake the impression he had seen him somewhere before.

"You will refrain from touching me," Aphon retorted, reserving his coldest glare for Milo. "And you." He turned to Blake, his expression one usually reserved for inspecting unsavoury stains found on the sole of the shoe. "I have heard about your exploits. You are a traitor to the system that gave you birth."

Blake caught himself smiling at the man's arrogance. He had heard worse. It was not even original. The insults never varied, only the people making them. "I'd have to disagree with you there, Councillor."

"Yes, I'm sure you would. Ingrates like you find any excuse to justify your activities against the greatest force for good that the galaxy has ever seen."

Force for good. The sincerity in Aphon's voice was staggering. Did these people really not see it, Blake reflected, or was it convenient to turn a blind eye, whilst they sat on Ysoria, pampered and isolated from the realities of the system they extolled?

"He's a charmer, isn't he?" said Milo. "You can see why we're eager to be rid of him. We'd have hanged him from the highest tree in Ysoria if he hadn't had value to us."

"Savages," muttered Aphon.

"Give us time, Councillor, and we'll show you just how savage we can be."

The group laughed uproariously at this.

Blake glanced at Cally. She gave a small shake of her head. It's bravado, he heard her voice echo in his mind. They dare not harm him.

"I understand the exchange is to take place on Saunsum," said Blake. The planet, chosen for its neutrality, was on the borders of Federation territory, accessible to both parties without compromising security. "The journey time is thirty-two hours, so we should be there in plenty of time."

"In a ship like this, I'm sure we will," said Milo, turning his head to take in his surroundings. "She's impressive, Blake, nothing to match her. If Mallory had this ship, the Federation would have been broken in days."

"The Federation is not intimidated by you or your alien vessel," remarked Aphon.

"Who's asking you?" Milo shot back. He squared up to Blake, his chin stuck out in defiance. "Come on, Blake. What's holding you back? Not man enough to stand up to them?"

Blake heard Vila catch his breath. He decided not to rise to the challenge. It would have been a petty victory over a man trying to justify his cause in the face of superior technology. In Milo's place, he might have thought the same thing.

"If it were that easy, the Federation would have fallen years ago," Blake replied. "Too many people with a vested interest in maintaining the established order. People like him." He nodded to Aphon. "That is what we're up against."

Milo sneered. "You, maybe. Mallory speaks for the poor and forgotten. He was born in the mines, forged from steel, and like a hammer he will fall on the Federation and break them."

"Then best we get him back."

Blake had kept his voice level and calm. Milo snorted and backed away, evidently frustrated that he had not succeeded in provoking a reaction. It was enough. Lines had been drawn and both sides knew where they stood. Mutual dislike set aside in the face of a common foe.

"Now, is there anything you need while you are here?" asked Blake. Given Milo's pride, he expected to be rebuffed. It had be offered, however.

"We will remain in here," Milo declared. "We don't want to be contaminated by your 'soft' ways. We have food, a floor to sleep on, and anything else we need is on the shuttle."

"The shuttle needs repairs, Milo," said Avice, shooting worried glances at her leader, nervous for daring to speak out. "If you have parts to spare, Blake, it would be appreciated."

"I'm sure we'll be able to help in that respect."

"You can help with the prisoner too," said Milo. "The Federation wants him delivered in good shape. He has 'requirements', don't you, Councillor?"

"I require a room commensurate with my standing," said Aphon. "These criminals will only get their leader back if the Federation is satisfied that my treatment has been adequate."

"You'd better hope they are satisfied," growled Milo, bringing his clenched fist near Aphon's chin. "If Mallory dies, so do you."

"Uncouth barbarians," Aphon retorted. "Your threats are meaningless to me."

"I think we can manage that," said Blake. He heard Vila starting to make noises of protest. "Councillor Aphon won't have any cause to complain about his treatment whilst aboard the Liberator."

"Blake!" Vila hissed, tugging on his sleeve. "I thought we said we weren't going to let them wander around the ship."

"One person, Vila, and he's a prisoner, we can lock him in," said Blake, lowering his voice. Then, turning back to Aphon: "This way, Councillor, we'll show you to your room."

"Sten, go with them," said Milo.

"That won't be necessary," said Blake.

"Really?" Milo's mouth curled into a sneer. "You'll forgive me if I have my doubts. We have more to lose. Sten will see that the Councillor behaves. Then he is to come straight back here. I'm sure you don't want him around, dirtying your pretty ship. Understand, Sten?"

Sten nodded.

"Very well," said Blake. "Follow us."

Outside in the corridor, Blake paused before the silent giant joined them. "Vila, see that the councillor is settled in. Get him whatever he wants, within reason. We have to keep him happy."

"Do we?" muttered Vila. "He's not a very likeable person, you know."

"As long as they get Mallory back," said Cally.

"Where you are going?"

"The flight deck," said Blake. "I want to make sure our guests keep their word about staying in the hold. Cally, see if you can find the spares they need for their shuttle. Get Avon to help. I don't want the repairs to delay their departure."

"Oh, so you don't trust them either," said Vila. "Glad it's not just me." He turned just in time as Sten came up behind him, swallowing hard when his face only came level with the man's chest. Slowly raising his eyes, he finally came to Sten's head. "Come on, then," he muttered, gesturing for him to follow. "Why do I always get these jobs?"

"Is this the best you can do?"

Councillor Aphon looked around the spartan room, a look of distaste etched on his features. Vila glanced up at Sten and rolled his eyes. He had often thought that discontent was probably something the Alpha grades were taught in the cradle. Considering some of the places he had slept in the past, the Liberator's rooms were luxury.

"They're all the same," said Vila. "The people who built the Liberator didn't go in for a lot of decoration."

"Then it will have to do," said Aphon. "Now, release me."

He held out his bound hands. Vila hesitated, and glanced up at his silent companion.

"May I remind you," Aphon said imperiously, "it is a condition of the exchange—"

"Yes, yes, we know," grumbled Vila. "Well, it can't hurt, Sten. We will lock the door. There's nowhere he can go."

After giving it thought, Sten nodded. Vila stepped forward and started to unknot the rope. Finally free, the councillor rubbed his chaffed wrists and turned his attention to Vila, appraising him with a critical eye.

"Tell me, what is your name?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell him to mind his own business. Not wanting another lecture about the 'conditions of the exchange', he relented.

"Vila."

"Ah, a Delta name. I thought it would be. What are your origins?"

Vila fancied he could feel the weight of the councillor's stare and tried not to look him in the eye. "Earth."

"And your position on this ship? You serve the needs of the crew, surely?"

There it was, thought Vila, the old assumption that a Delta could expect nothing more than a menial position. It never failed to rankle. Go where you would in the Twelve Sectors, there were always people who never let you forget your beginnings. Men like Councillor Aphon. They were usually the ones Vila most liked to relieve of their valuables.

"I'm no servant, I am a member of the crew," Vila retorted. "We all do our own work around here."

Aphon's eyes narrowed in surprise. "How very egalitarian. And yet Blake has you running errands and waiting upon me." He sniffed thoughtfully. "Still, the ways of the past are hard to break. One supposes it is convenient for him to pay lip service to an ideal, whilst subverting it in private. Yes, I can see how that would work to his advantage on a ship like this."

Vila opened his mouth. What he wanted to say caught in his throat. Being confronted with the old prejudices of the higher grades was sending him back to places he thought he had left behind. There was a time he would not have given Aphon's snide remarks another thought. Yet now it stung like a whiplash, more than Avon's taunts, gentle by comparison, more than being allotted the role of errand boy for pompous fools like these.

Soft, Milo had called them. Yes, he supposed that was true now. Words had never hurt as much as this in the past. Even Sten was looking at him with something approaching pity.

"I'm not a servant," he repeated. Why bother, he thought. Who did he need to convince? Or was he only deceiving himself?

"Be that as it may," said Aphon, "now you are here, I shall expect you to perform certain duties. I require food and a decent vintage. Before that, I need to freshen up. Clean clothes would be desirable. Have them brought up to me immediately."

"I'll do the best I can," Vila muttered.

"As must we all." Aphon smiled indulgently. "There's another task I shall need you to do for me, something of a personal nature."

Vila was wary. "Oh, yes?"

"Take me to your flight deck. I need a direct link to the High Council."

"Well, I don't know about that," Vila said uncertainly.

"You mean you don't have the authority? Yes, I thought that might be the case." He continued before Vila could protest. "Then you must persuade them, Vila. I wish to assure my associates on the High Council of my identity and survival to ensure the exchange goes smoothly. Any delay would be intolerable, as I am eager to return to my home. Now, do you think you can manage that?"

Contacting the High Council – doesn't sound like a good idea. Don't do it, Vila!