Blake roused from a light, uneasy sleep. It had been two days since that
abortive attempt on Earth's central control computer, and, ever since, he
had found himself dwelling on that and on the subsequent discussion on the
flight deck, Avon had studiously avoided them all since then, choosing the
late-night watch, when the others would be least likely to seek him out.
Not that they tended to do so anyway, unless there was a problem with the
computers. His mood had deteriorated into a particularly unsocial one, and
the others had learned to leave him to his own devices at such times until
he felt more amiable.
Blake finally gave up the attempt to go back to sleep. Perhaps a walk around the ship would help him to relax enough to drop off again.
He strolled aimlessly for a while, allowing his thoughts to wander as freely as his steps, until, with some surprise, he found himself before the opening leading to the flight deck. A quick check of his chrono confirmed what he a I ready knew: it was Avon's watch. His aimless wanderings had subconsciously brought him face to face with the primary source of his emotional malaise. Never one to avoid a problem, he squared his shoulders and entered the flight deck.
Blake stopped just inside the entryway, watching the man within. Avon had not noticed his entrance, his attention fixed on the small component he was working on. Blake stood there a long time, lost in thought, until Avon gradually became aware of another presence on the flight deck. He met Blake's fond gaze with an unguarded one of his own, responding despite himself to the warm, albeit slightly blank, contact. Then his habitual mask slipped into place, and his voice came out a harsh snarl, "What are you doing here? It's not your watch."
Blake strolled across the flight deck, to sit companionably beside the wary computer tech. "Couldn't sleep. What are you doing?"
Avon glanced down to the forgotten object in his hand. Reluctantly, "I'm working on a detector shield for the Liberator."
"What kind of detector shield?"
The other man hefted it thoughtfully. "Theoretically, it will deflect all but an extremely close range scan. Once this is wired into the force screens, we will be functionally invisible down to a range of a few spacials," His voice took on more animation as h e began to speak about his creation, a sparkle lighting the dark eyes. Blake resisted the urge to smile at the uncharacteristic enthusiasm in his normally somber friend, and just concentrated on the complicated technical explanation which followed. Avon finally ran down and gave Blake a slight, sideways glance, surreptitiously checking his reaction.
Blake obligingly nodded. "It's a good idea. We'll be able to attack their defense perimeters from within long before they even know we're there."
"It will also protect us from being discovered by their fleet."
Blake noted the slight emphasis on the word Protect and had to restrain another smile. It would never do for Avon to realize that his streak of protectiveness was obvious Lo anyone who cared to look.
Blake's own protective attitude was all too apparent at the best of times, although it only seemed to irritate the computer expert.
An uncommonly companionable silence fell, and Avon turned his attention back to the small component. Blake watched him work, fascinated by the deft precision in the strong fingers. An electrical engineer himself, Blake was not unacquainted with the components Avon was using, yet the configuration was alien. Avon worked without diagrams, seeming to simply "make up" what he needed as he went along. Blake knew himself to be a more than competent technician, yet here was true genius at work, and the rebel knew himself to be well out of his element.
Time crawled by, and Blake's mind returned to that time on the flight deck, now two days past, and his sudden and unexpected insight into Avon's personality - and his own. The question of Blake's own priorities had been answered - and the answer had surprised Blake even more than it had the others.
He was becoming more and more driven in his quest to defeat the Federation, but this time it had been too close. Can had nearly died, as had the others, and for what? An illusion. "They would all have paid the ultimate price because of his near-fanatical devotion to the Cause.
Blake knew he could never give up - not until the Federation lay in flaming ruins at his feet. Still, he had come near to doing the one thing he had sworn never to do: he had nearly sacrificed innocent lives on the altar of his conquest.
The line between rebel and terrorist was thin indeed, and Blake had long ago sworn never to cross that line.
A terrorist used the civilian population - innocents - as a lever against the established government. Until now, Blake had restricted himself to attacking only soldiers or those who had aligned themselves strictly with the government itself - troops, weapons techs, and those who contributed directly to the oppression and abuse of the people. This time he had been about to sacrifice innocent lives - as well as the lives of his friends - and he didn't like it. He now realized that this act would have driven an immovable wedge between himself and the others. They had forgiven him. Would Avon?
"Avon?" The dark eyes focused blankly on him for a moment - the computer expert had clearly forgotten Blake was there, lost as he was in his own world of circuits and electronics. Then those dark eyes sharpened, instantly wary again. "What do you want?"
"I want to apologize for what happened back on Earth." Blake gazed fully into the eyes of his friend, catching the glint of understanding that was quickly masked behind a feigned ignorance.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Blake. You gambled and lost. That's all there is to it."
"That's not all there is to it and you realize that as well as I do. I meant what I said, Avon, I am not prepared to sacrifice you to defeat the Federation - none of you. Defeating the Federation is important to me, and I don't think I could give up the cause even if I wanted to. I've seen too much brutality, too much suffering, to not fight back. But I've discovered that there are other things important to me as well. I was forgetting that fact - letting my hatred overwhelm me. That is what I am apologizing for - for letting myself get so wrapped up in the need to destroy that I'd forgotten the people I was fighting for. If Central Control had actually been the computer control center for the Federation, we could have killed millions of people on the Class G worlds - the ones that require a pressure dome for the colonists. Or what about the marginal M worlds that depend on the climate-control systems? They would all have died because of me."
Avon regarded him in hesitant silence for a moment. Then, "I did realize that. I thought you didn't care."
"Didn't care?" Blake spoke more forcefully than he had intended to, and was dismayed to see the other man flinch slightly, then steel himself against the anticipated assault, Blake lowered his voice and reached out to touch Avon's shoulder. "I cared, Avon, I just couldn't seem to stop myself. But you know," he softened his tone to a conspiratorial intimacy, "when I saw Gan standing there with that steel door on his shoulder, and the ceiling ready to come down on him, I saw death - really saw it for the first time. We've faced death before, but it was different this time. I saw it as a real possibility for someone I cared about. Before that, we always seemed to invulnerable...." His voice trailed off.
"We've all accepted the risks, Blake, We expect them. It's not your fault." The last words sounded as if they had been almost painfully forced between gritted teeth, yet they had the ring of sincerity, and Blake had absolutely no doubt that Avon meant them.
"Nonetheless, I make you a promise now, Avon, I will not 'manipulate' you or force any of you to risk your lives for my cause ever again. Anything you offer, I'll accept - gratefully - but from now on your lives are your own." He locked warm brown eyes on the suddenly vulnerable black ones before him, and sensed the acceptance without words. "I give you my word on it."
Avon broke the contact, covering the vulnerability with his customary sarcasm, "I'll believe that when I see it, Blake." But the smile had touched his eyes before he turned away, and Blake knew then that he had won,
"Then perhaps I should prove it." A surprised look met this statement. "You look tired, Avon, and I think we could all do with a rest. How about a vacation?"
"Vacation?"
"Why not? I think we've earned it. Blake's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Zen, plot a course for Epsilon Zeta IV."
"CONFIRMED." The computer answered immediately.
Weakly from behind his back, "Epsilon Zeta IV?"
Blake's amusement fairly set the room aglow. "It's one of the Rimworlds, low-level technology and of absolutely no interest to the Federation. I thought it might make a good place to rest awhile."
"How long have you been planning this?"
"Not long." The rich satisfaction was back in Blake's voice, in his eyes, and again Avon found himself responding to it, less unwillingly this time.
Blake again read the other man clearly, and the satisfaction and elation fairly shone as an aura around him. "It's time to rest. And I've learned something I'm not going to forget. Ever." The aura expanded and, for a while, both men relaxed into the warmth and comfort of each other, and the anticipation of a new beginning.
***
Blake finally gave up the attempt to go back to sleep. Perhaps a walk around the ship would help him to relax enough to drop off again.
He strolled aimlessly for a while, allowing his thoughts to wander as freely as his steps, until, with some surprise, he found himself before the opening leading to the flight deck. A quick check of his chrono confirmed what he a I ready knew: it was Avon's watch. His aimless wanderings had subconsciously brought him face to face with the primary source of his emotional malaise. Never one to avoid a problem, he squared his shoulders and entered the flight deck.
Blake stopped just inside the entryway, watching the man within. Avon had not noticed his entrance, his attention fixed on the small component he was working on. Blake stood there a long time, lost in thought, until Avon gradually became aware of another presence on the flight deck. He met Blake's fond gaze with an unguarded one of his own, responding despite himself to the warm, albeit slightly blank, contact. Then his habitual mask slipped into place, and his voice came out a harsh snarl, "What are you doing here? It's not your watch."
Blake strolled across the flight deck, to sit companionably beside the wary computer tech. "Couldn't sleep. What are you doing?"
Avon glanced down to the forgotten object in his hand. Reluctantly, "I'm working on a detector shield for the Liberator."
"What kind of detector shield?"
The other man hefted it thoughtfully. "Theoretically, it will deflect all but an extremely close range scan. Once this is wired into the force screens, we will be functionally invisible down to a range of a few spacials," His voice took on more animation as h e began to speak about his creation, a sparkle lighting the dark eyes. Blake resisted the urge to smile at the uncharacteristic enthusiasm in his normally somber friend, and just concentrated on the complicated technical explanation which followed. Avon finally ran down and gave Blake a slight, sideways glance, surreptitiously checking his reaction.
Blake obligingly nodded. "It's a good idea. We'll be able to attack their defense perimeters from within long before they even know we're there."
"It will also protect us from being discovered by their fleet."
Blake noted the slight emphasis on the word Protect and had to restrain another smile. It would never do for Avon to realize that his streak of protectiveness was obvious Lo anyone who cared to look.
Blake's own protective attitude was all too apparent at the best of times, although it only seemed to irritate the computer expert.
An uncommonly companionable silence fell, and Avon turned his attention back to the small component. Blake watched him work, fascinated by the deft precision in the strong fingers. An electrical engineer himself, Blake was not unacquainted with the components Avon was using, yet the configuration was alien. Avon worked without diagrams, seeming to simply "make up" what he needed as he went along. Blake knew himself to be a more than competent technician, yet here was true genius at work, and the rebel knew himself to be well out of his element.
Time crawled by, and Blake's mind returned to that time on the flight deck, now two days past, and his sudden and unexpected insight into Avon's personality - and his own. The question of Blake's own priorities had been answered - and the answer had surprised Blake even more than it had the others.
He was becoming more and more driven in his quest to defeat the Federation, but this time it had been too close. Can had nearly died, as had the others, and for what? An illusion. "They would all have paid the ultimate price because of his near-fanatical devotion to the Cause.
Blake knew he could never give up - not until the Federation lay in flaming ruins at his feet. Still, he had come near to doing the one thing he had sworn never to do: he had nearly sacrificed innocent lives on the altar of his conquest.
The line between rebel and terrorist was thin indeed, and Blake had long ago sworn never to cross that line.
A terrorist used the civilian population - innocents - as a lever against the established government. Until now, Blake had restricted himself to attacking only soldiers or those who had aligned themselves strictly with the government itself - troops, weapons techs, and those who contributed directly to the oppression and abuse of the people. This time he had been about to sacrifice innocent lives - as well as the lives of his friends - and he didn't like it. He now realized that this act would have driven an immovable wedge between himself and the others. They had forgiven him. Would Avon?
"Avon?" The dark eyes focused blankly on him for a moment - the computer expert had clearly forgotten Blake was there, lost as he was in his own world of circuits and electronics. Then those dark eyes sharpened, instantly wary again. "What do you want?"
"I want to apologize for what happened back on Earth." Blake gazed fully into the eyes of his friend, catching the glint of understanding that was quickly masked behind a feigned ignorance.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Blake. You gambled and lost. That's all there is to it."
"That's not all there is to it and you realize that as well as I do. I meant what I said, Avon, I am not prepared to sacrifice you to defeat the Federation - none of you. Defeating the Federation is important to me, and I don't think I could give up the cause even if I wanted to. I've seen too much brutality, too much suffering, to not fight back. But I've discovered that there are other things important to me as well. I was forgetting that fact - letting my hatred overwhelm me. That is what I am apologizing for - for letting myself get so wrapped up in the need to destroy that I'd forgotten the people I was fighting for. If Central Control had actually been the computer control center for the Federation, we could have killed millions of people on the Class G worlds - the ones that require a pressure dome for the colonists. Or what about the marginal M worlds that depend on the climate-control systems? They would all have died because of me."
Avon regarded him in hesitant silence for a moment. Then, "I did realize that. I thought you didn't care."
"Didn't care?" Blake spoke more forcefully than he had intended to, and was dismayed to see the other man flinch slightly, then steel himself against the anticipated assault, Blake lowered his voice and reached out to touch Avon's shoulder. "I cared, Avon, I just couldn't seem to stop myself. But you know," he softened his tone to a conspiratorial intimacy, "when I saw Gan standing there with that steel door on his shoulder, and the ceiling ready to come down on him, I saw death - really saw it for the first time. We've faced death before, but it was different this time. I saw it as a real possibility for someone I cared about. Before that, we always seemed to invulnerable...." His voice trailed off.
"We've all accepted the risks, Blake, We expect them. It's not your fault." The last words sounded as if they had been almost painfully forced between gritted teeth, yet they had the ring of sincerity, and Blake had absolutely no doubt that Avon meant them.
"Nonetheless, I make you a promise now, Avon, I will not 'manipulate' you or force any of you to risk your lives for my cause ever again. Anything you offer, I'll accept - gratefully - but from now on your lives are your own." He locked warm brown eyes on the suddenly vulnerable black ones before him, and sensed the acceptance without words. "I give you my word on it."
Avon broke the contact, covering the vulnerability with his customary sarcasm, "I'll believe that when I see it, Blake." But the smile had touched his eyes before he turned away, and Blake knew then that he had won,
"Then perhaps I should prove it." A surprised look met this statement. "You look tired, Avon, and I think we could all do with a rest. How about a vacation?"
"Vacation?"
"Why not? I think we've earned it. Blake's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Zen, plot a course for Epsilon Zeta IV."
"CONFIRMED." The computer answered immediately.
Weakly from behind his back, "Epsilon Zeta IV?"
Blake's amusement fairly set the room aglow. "It's one of the Rimworlds, low-level technology and of absolutely no interest to the Federation. I thought it might make a good place to rest awhile."
"How long have you been planning this?"
"Not long." The rich satisfaction was back in Blake's voice, in his eyes, and again Avon found himself responding to it, less unwillingly this time.
Blake again read the other man clearly, and the satisfaction and elation fairly shone as an aura around him. "It's time to rest. And I've learned something I'm not going to forget. Ever." The aura expanded and, for a while, both men relaxed into the warmth and comfort of each other, and the anticipation of a new beginning.
***