Chapter Three

The flight deck was empty when Vila entered. He looked around, expecting someone to suddenly appear from behind a console and demand to know what he was doing. It took a moment to register that he was alone, save for Zen, looming above all in quiet contemplation, and Orac, going about his business with his usual cluster of hums and whines.

Well, if there was no one to ask, he would have to use his own initiative. Councillor Aphon wanted to speak to the High Council. Blake had told him to keep the man happy. He had said something about 'within reason', but if speaking to them was a condition of Mallory's return, then speak to them he would.

Orac would know how to make contact with them, Vila decided. It was easier to take him to the Councillor rather than let him have access to the flight deck. He could contact the High Council and have Orac back before anyone missed him. So much for needing permission.

Feeling bolder by the moment, Vila picked up Orac. A protest came from the computer's inner depths. Vila silenced him by removing the key and stowing it in his pocket. He had almost made it out when voices from the other direction made him stop dead in his tracks.

"We do not have 'spare' parts, Blake," Vila heard Avon saying. "Or did you forget about the auto-repair circuits? What are we supposed to give them?"

"We must have something lying around they can use," Blake said, as the pair of them appeared at the head of the steps. "Just give them whatever we've got."

"A new shuttle perhaps," Avon retorted to Blake's departing back as the chime of the communicator called him away. His gaze switched to Vila. "What are you doing with Orac? I thought you were supposed to be keeping the prisoner happy."

"I was, I am," Vila spluttered.

"If you have nothing better to do, you can put Orac down and help me. I have to find 'spare' parts, whatever they are."

Vila hesitated. "I can't. It's the Councillor. He wants..." His confidence withered under the severity of Avon's glare. "I'm running an errand for him."

It was little enough, but it piqued Avon's interest. Vila saw the suspicious look that came into his eyes.

"An errand that involves Orac? Now, what could that be?"

He reached out to take Orac. Vila backed away.

"I don't have to answer to you," Vila protested. "I'm as much entitled to use Orac as anyone."

"What's this?" said Blake, looking up from the main pilot's console.

"The Councillor," said Vila. "He wants to speak to his friends on the High Council."

"Does he? Did he say what about?"

Vila shrugged. "He wants to tell them he's all right."

"They already know that," said Avon. "Ignore him, Vila. You have better things to do than organise the councillor's social diary. Now, come on."

"Wait a minute," said Blake thoughtfully as he came down to join them. "Friends on the High Council. Perhaps you're wrong about their reasons for the exchange, Avon. This Aphon appears to carry some weight, after all. What do we know about him?"

Vila put Orac down on the table and replaced the key in its slot.

"When you have quite finished," Orac piped up, "you are interrupting―"

"Yes, we know," said Blake. "I want you to access Councillor Aphon's security file."

"Isn't it too late for that?" said Avon. "The man is already aboard."

"That was before he asked to speak to the Terran High Council. Well, Orac?"

The computer made a noise that sounded like an exasperated sigh. "Very well. Councillor Juhel Aphon was appointed to the ruling body of Ysoria several years ago. He is considered one of their senior members."

"Before that," said Blake.

"I am unable to access that information without the appropriate data recall code."

"Data recall code? Well, that shouldn't be a problem for you, Orac."

"It is not Federation in origin."

"Then who―?" Blake straightened up, realisation coming as his gaze finally fell upon Avon, who had removed himself some distance away. "Avon?"

He did not look up at the mention of his name. "What do you want to know?"

"I want to know why you have locked the information about Councillor Aphon. Clearly, you've accessed the man's file."

Avon finally condescended to meet Blake's accusing stare. "I like to know the background of our passengers. Milo, for example. Did you know that he incited Mallory's followers to overthrow the de facto government of Arandigar, after they had usurped the previous military junta? Rebel turning on rebel – it's an interesting notion."

"I'm not talking about Milo," said Blake, approaching the flight console where Avon had taken refuge. "I want the data recall code."

"Aphon is dangerous," said Avon. His avoidance of the direct question did not go unnoticed. "On no account should he be allowed access to Orac."

"Oh, you'll have to do better than that." Blake was standing close enough so that Avon could not ignore him. "The code, Avon."

From where Vila was standing, obtaining a simple answer seemed to take the longest time, but finally Avon relented. "Orac, Avon Alpha One."

"Yes, it would be," muttered Vila.

"Happy now?" Avon said to Blake.

"I'll let you know." Blake returned to the table and directed his question to the computer. "Orac, tell us more about this Councillor Aphon."

"Sections of the file have been redacted by Federation security channels. That information is now impossible to retrieve. I can tell you, however, that he assumed the name 'Aphon' only recently before his retirement to Ysoria."

"He changed his name?" said Vila. "Why would he do that? He sounds dodgy to me, Blake."

"There is another name linked to Aphon's file," Orac continued authoritatively. "He has a younger brother. A first name is given."

Blake shrugged. "Well, I don't see how that will help, but tell us anyway."

"Kerr."

Vila was a fraction behind Blake as he whipped round to face Avon. What could have been nothing more than a coincidence was confirmed as soon as Vila saw his expression. A flash of irritation combined with sardonic defiance. And was that just a hint of guilt, Vila thought?

"Something you forgot to mention?" Blake said accusingly. "Aphon is your brother?"

Avon smiled faintly. "Not in any meaningful sense of the word."

"Avon!"

"Yes, he's my brother. What do you what me to say?"

"Your brother?" Vila echoed. "How did he end up being a councillor on Ysoria?"

"By being a good Federation citizen and reporting his discovery to the relevant authorities that a potential weakness in the banking system was about to be exploited by a certain party." As he had been speaking, he had stepped down from his station. His wandering seemed to come to a natural terminal when he stopped behind the forward seating, a laser probe twisting uneasily between his fingers. "I do not need to tell you who that party was."

Vila felt his jaw drop open. "Your own brother turned you in? And I thought my family was rotten."

He was about to say something else when he saw Blake give a warning shake of his head. Whatever Blake knew must have been bad, Vila decided. Best not to pursue it. Not that it mattered, as Avon appeared not to be listening.

"He's a fanatic," Avon continued. "Juhel is zealous in his support of the Federation. He believes it to be the greatest force for good the galaxy has ever seen."

Vila caught his breath. Having heard the sentiment uttered by the Councillor, it was a shock to hear Avon use the exact same words.

"Ah, he has already said his piece," said Avon, noting his reaction. "I thought he might. Keen on expressing his opinion, is Juhel, even in the face of danger. You should recognise that, Blake. It's something you share in common."

"Right now, Avon, all we share in common is our presence on the Liberator," Blake retorted. Vila could feel the anger burning off him. "When were you going to tell us about your brother?"

"Never." Avon took a seat and sighed. "It was my intention to kill him."

If the revelation took Blake aback, he did not show it. "As easy as that."

"Nothing worthwhile is ever easy. Killing him would be satisfying, but not without risk. I have envisaged any number of different methods and have had to discard them all. Realistically, there is nothing I can do whilst our 'guests' are aboard that would not jeopardise the Liberator."

"And us," said Vila.

Avon gave him a sideways glance. "That consideration was not foremost in my mind."

"But, Avon, you can't kill him. He's your brother."

"Because of Juhel, people died," Avon said flatly. "I should have died. Juhel used his influence to have the original death sentence commuted to life imprisonment."

"There you go," said Vila. "He saved your life. That must count for something."

"It was not for my benefit, Vila. Having a family member executed tends to affect social standing. Better to have them shuffled away out of sight. Then you change your name and forget about them."

"Oh, yes, I was going to ask about the name."

Avon stifled a laugh. "Close enough to be recognisable to his peers, pretentious enough to impress anyone who does not know him."

Blake was silent for a long moment. "Do you realise what you've done?"

Avon shrugged lightly. "Little compared with what I wanted to do. I knew Juhel was on Ysoria. I knew Ysoria had fallen and he had been taken prisoner by Milo and his rabble. When you told us you were assisting in the prisoner exchange, I saw an opportunity. A slow-acting poison would have been my weapon of choice. But the Liberator lacked what I needed, along with those 'spare' parts of yours."

"You know what I mean, Avon," Blake retorted. He had come to rest behind him and was leaning over the couch. "Had you told us, I would never have agreed to assist Milo."

"Yes, you would. I spared you the necessity of having to make a choice between your ideals and the rest of us." Avon got abruptly to his feet and faced Blake. "This way, if anything does go wrong, you can salve your conscience with the knowledge that you were not in full possession of the facts. It's something we have all had to get used to. And no, we don't like it either."

Blake eyed him steadily, refusing to be riled. "Does Aphon know you are here?"

Avon turned his attention to Vila. "Did he know who you were?"

Vila shook his head. "He thought I was the hired help."

"What does that prove?" said Blake. "He recogised me."

Avon glanced across at him. "Everyone knows who you are. 'Blake and the Liberator' is the phrase on the lips of half the Federated worlds. Which affords the rest of us a degree of anonymity. If Juhel was aware of my presence, he would have made our relationship known by now. He would have found some way of using to his advantage."

"His request to contact the High Council could be about you."

"I should say," Avon said slowly, "it is an attempt to salvage what little favour he has left. They will want someone to blame for the loss of Ysoria. The other councillors escaped. They will have had a chance to put their side of the story. My brother will bear the blame. I take consolation from own my inability to take direct action that nothing I could do to him would equal whatever the Federation has planned."

"Very well." Blake released a long sigh of annoyance. "I don't like it, Avon. If Milo finds out―"

"Who is going to tell him?"

"Aphon still might. He might have been withholding that information to use now. That was Cally on the communicator earlier. Milo wanted to see his prisoner. I thought nothing of it, but now I wonder if Sten told him about the request to contact the High Council. Milo might insist."

"Stall them. Tell them we have been unable to make contact."

"Meanwhile, stay of sight. There is a family resemblance. Slight, but it is there."

"Why do you think I have been keeping myself out of the way, despite your best efforts to involve me?"

Blake regarded him intently. "Why is he dangerous, Avon?"

Avon considered his answer carefully before replying. "He specialised in cyber security. He designed the security protocols for the Federation's civil and military divisions... and the Federation Banking System."

"Well, well," said Vila with a knowing smirk, "so now we know. You had inside information. And you let us think you did it all on your own. Not so clever, after all."

The slight stiffening of Avon's jaw was the only indication that Vila's needling had struck home. Perhaps he had not been so far from the truth.

"Juhel was always keen to talk about aspects of his work," Avon admitted. "From what he said, it was evident to me that his security system was flawless. In the end, I did not go through it, I went around it."

"He's good then, this brother of yours?" asked Vila.

"He has more experience," Avon conceded.

"Oh, so he is better than you."

Avon fought and failed to suppress a scowl. "Allowing him access to Orac is inadvisable."

Vila noticed how he had ignored the remark. Changing the subject only made it obvious how much it had annoyed him.

"Keep him locked up," he continued. "And I will keep my distance."

"You won't take action against him," said Blake. "I want your word."

"You have it," Avon snapped. "Let the Federation deal with him."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a distant howl rose up from the corridor, followed by a yell and the sound of running feet. Vila turned in time to see a flash of robes as the breathless figure of Juhel Aphon suddenly appeared at the head of the stairs. Fast behind him came Milo, a smear of blood at his brow, with Cally hard on his heels. Milo grabbed Aphon's arms, too late, for the pointing finger had already identified its target.

"Avon!" Aphon cried out. "Brother, help me!"

There's nothing like making things even more complicated. On to Chapter Four!