Tarrant had actually managed to doze off and was just getting to the meat of a pleasant dream when he was shaken rudely and abruptly awake. His angry demand to be left alone, however, was slapped back into his throat by Dayna's hand across his mouth. That brought him fully awake and alert; his eyes snapped open and he nodded, just enough to let her know he understood.

Dayna pulled her hand away, and Tarrant strained to hear whatever it was that she was already listening to. After a moment, he heard it; the distinctive sound of someone outside their door. "Guard?" he mouthed silently.

Dayna responded with a grimace and a half-shrug. Maybe, that gesture told him, just as it told him, Maybe not. Tarrant rolled off the bunk and came to his feet as Dayna rose from her defensive crouch. If someone was coming to interrogate them, if Servalan was here to gloat, they would be found standing defiantly, waiting for whoever was taking such an inordinately long time at the door.

Tarrant frowned as he realized there was something wrong. If it was a guard, then he should be able to unlock the doors in no time--and if it was Servalan, that guard would do well to open the door even quicker. Even if Servalan was Sleer, she still oozed poison with every glare and danger with every impatient tap of her perfectly groomed nails. But if it wasn't a guard, and if it was taking this long to open the door, then that could only mean…

"Vila!" Dayna exclaimed softly as the thief poked his head around the door and gestured the other two forward.

As they started to move, a new sound intruded on Tarrant's consciousness, and he faltered as he tried to identify that quiet hiss. Dayna's hand on his shoulder wasn't gentle as she shoved him forward, and he realized belatedly that she was holding her breath. He did so as well, as the gas wafted gently into the cell, and didn't let it out until Vila had hurriedly closed and re-locked the door behind them.

He opened his mouth to ask Vila how he'd gotten not only them but himself out, but confronted only the thief's back as he turned to speak to Avon. Who looked much saner than he had during those last minutes on Gauda Prime, to Tarrant's private relief. "They've started pumping gas into the cell; d'you think that means they know we're up to something?"

Avon shook his head. "The lack of guards would suggest a serious manpower shortage on this ship; I assume the gas is meant to keep us sedated until we reach our goal." His lips twisted in a bitter smile. "Actually, I find it an encouraging sign." His eyes flickered over to Dayna, then briefly met Tarrant's before he deliberately turned to speak to the woman standing next to Soolin, a stunning blonde with careworn eyes and an armful of small child.

"Well, who's this then?" Tarrant broke in before Avon could do more than open his mouth. "I'm Del Tarrant, and this is Dayna Mellanby." He indicated Dayna with a gracious sweep of the arm. "I assume you've met the rest of our little party." He waited expectantly, but it was Vila who responded to the question, if not the outrageous way it was presented.

"This is Jenna and Jared Stannis," he hissed. "Now can we please get out of here before they turn the gas on in the corridors, too?"

Tarrant's eyebrow rose a notch as he recognized Jenna's name, and he nodded absently as Vila, with an exasperated noise, busied himself with the door that led out of the cellblock. He'd always wanted to meet the woman whose name Avon most frequently used as a taunt against the younger man's piloting skills. "Jenna Stannis, how absolutely fabulous to finally meet you," he said extravagantly, flashing her his most brilliant smile. Dayna gave him a disgusted look. "I've heard so much about you from Avon--"

"I'm sure you have," Jenna interrupted dryly. "Harassing the pilot was one of his less endearing traits, as I recall."

"And one of yours was your inability to keep your mouth shut," Avon shot back, but Tarrant could swear there was a gleam of amusement in his eyes as he spoke, and Jenna didn't respond like a woman who had just been insulted. She merely smiled and shifted the small child into a more comfortable position in her arms while they waited for Vila to do what he did best. Tarrant opened his mouth to ask the obvious question, only to be forestalled by Avon.

"Since I know you're going to ask," the computer man said, "yes, Jared is Jenna's son, and yes, Servalan used him to force Jenna to betray Blake, and yes," he finished, eyes glittering as the venom returned to his voice with unexpected force, "you erred in your assessment of the situation on Gauda Prime. And the final yes: I was a fool to listen to you, even for a moment." Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the venom was gone. "However, strange as it may seem, that momentary lapse into stupidity on my part may actually have been fortuitous, since we were not only able to rescue Jenna and Jared, but now have access to Servalan she rarely allows us." The cold smile he bestowed on Tarrant did not bode at all well for the former president of the Terran Federation. "That is, if Vila can actually get us out of here," Avon added pointedly.

"Keep your shiny black leather shirt on," Vila shot back, not bothering to lift his eyes from the job at hand.

Jenna stifled a grin at that, and she thought she saw the same expression struggling for release on Soolin and Tarrant's faces as well. Avon's look of outrage was almost exaggerated, but it and Vila's words had eased some of the tension his exchange with Tarrant had provoked. Of course, Jenna would never dream of pointing out to Avon that he and Tarrant reminded her of nothing so much as he and Blake, only with the roles reversed; in this case, Tarrant was the arrogant challenger of authority and Avon the authority figure. She did not think he would appreciate the comparison; no matter how differently she viewed him now, that much would not have changed.

"All right, this is it." Vila rubbed his hands together nervously. "One more door and we're out of here. And even if they didn't bother with guards inside the cell block, there's bound to be a few on the other side of this one."

"There will be two," Avon announced, then added blandly, "Most likely."

Vila gave Avon an odd look. "If you say so. At any rate, they'll be armed. What's the plan?"

Avon shrugged. "I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Tarrant demanded in outrage.

"Just that: I don't know," Avon replied coolly. "Our next step depends entirely on the guards. Or rather, on their condition." With those cryptic words, he gestured for Vila to open the second door--

to reveal the slumped forms of two guards, guns dangling from their hands, the sickly odor of the same sedative gas that had been pumped into their cells still lingering in the air. Avon passed quickly through the room, holding his breath and listening only briefly at the opposite door before opening it and gesturing the others into the corridor with him. They followed, Dayna and Soolin quickly retrieving the guards' dropped weapons before hurrying through the door before the gas could affect them.

"Well, that was lucky," Vila whispered once they were out of the small anteroom. "Them getting gassed by their own sedative and all."

Avon gave him an unreadable look. "Yes. I imagine it was misdirected, somehow. No doubt because they were in such a hurry to sedate us for the trip to Earth."

"No doubt," Vila agreed, his voice heavy with irony. But if he or the others had any more questions for Avon, they came to a mutual--and unspoken--agreement to save them for a better time; even the whispered exchange between the two men had taken far more time than was safe, exposed as they were in the corridor. "Where to next?"

Avon bared his teeth in a ferocious grin. "Why, to see Madame President, of course. She has Orac."

"Which is all well and good, but wanting her and finding her are two different things," Tarrant pointed out. "Where do we look?"

"I have no doubt that she'll have appropriated the best quarters on the ship," Avon replied without hesitation. "Since a ship this size does not boast VIP quarters, that can only mean the captain's quarters."

"And if you're wrong?" Tarrant challenged.

Avon shrugged. "I have been known to be wrong in the past," he conceded, "but in this case I doubt I am. We shall deal with that situation if and when it arises." He looked around the corner cautiously. "The layout in these ships is unvarying; Tarrant, you have the most familiarity with them. Do you think you can find the captain's quarters for us?"

Tarrant nodded. "Follow me."

oOo

Servalan sighed in pure, sybaritic relief as she stepped out of the small bathing area attached to her quarters. How Tesch could possibly have given up the singular privilege of a real shower was beyond her. She was just grateful he appeared to be as indifferent to pampering himself as he was to her opinions on how to handle the prisoners. For which she was still fuming, she reminded herself as she fastened the last delicate pearl button on her dress. It was her one weakness, she admitted as she glanced at herself in the mirror by her bed, the one vanity she'd been unable to give up when she assumed the "Sleer" identity. She'd muted the wardrobe somewhat, but hadn't been entirely able to change her dressing habits. Growing her hair had been easier to adjust to than giving up her wardrobe.

"Why Servalan, fancy meeting you here."

She whirled, stunned, at the sound of that deadly--and familiar–purr. "Avon, how did you--never mind," she interrupted herself as she finally found him in the dimness of the room. "To what do I owe this unexpected…pleasure?" she asked instead.

She didn't notice Tarrant until it was too late, so focused was she on Avon, free and in her room. The impossibility of that, as well as her flash of vindication--hadn't she warned Tesch about this very possibility?--had captured her attention to the point that the younger man was easily able to slip in behind her. Then she as well as her attention was captured, caught up in a parody of an embrace as Tarrant threw one arm across her chest, pinning her arms to her side.

Servalan's eyes flashed angrily over the top of Tarrant's hand, which was now clasped tightly across her mouth. Those infuriated eyes more than adequately demonstrated her feelings on the situation. She didn't bother to struggle, but Avon knew that if she sensed any sort of weakness she would make her move. "All right, Servalan, hand it over." He moved closer and she stiffened in Tarrant's embrace. "I know you have it," Avon whispered, his words a mocking echo of the last ones she'd spoken to him on Gauda Prime. "It's so much more dignified if you give it to me, rather than forcing me to allow Dayna to search you for it."

Servalan froze as Dayna Mellanby stepped into view, a small weapon trained unerringly on her enemy's head. "No tricks, Madame President," Hal Mellanby's daughter said in a voice as steady as her hands, in spite of the hatred she didn't bother to conceal. "I'm absolutely dying for the chance to avenge my father."

Filled with impotent fury, Servalan glanced at her desk, then back at Avon, ignoring Dayna's presence as best she could. Avon jerked his head and Vila appeared, searching the desk top and each drawer with practiced efficiency. It took him very little time to find Tesch's hidden drawer, which she'd already gone through in the commander's absence and found nothing of value. There was nothing there now except Orac's key.

Avon, meanwhile, hadn't bothered asking her where Orac was. It was too bulky to conceal, so she'd simply stowed it with her luggage. Avon found it a moment after Vila's triumphant "Got it!", inserted the key into the computer housing, and activated it. "Hallo, Orac, been busy, have you?"

"Of course." There was no mistaking the haughty sniff. "But you know that. I have been carrying out your instructions, and am currently awaiting your command to proceed. As ordered."

Servalan's eyes widened with shock, and Avon spared a moment to give her a nasty grin. "Thought you were controlling it, did you? Sorry to disappoint you, Servalan, but Orac has been following my pre-set commands from the start. I'm certain what you were told was very convincing. It was supposed to be." His smile turned deadly. "Orac's signal to execute my orders was your announcement that you now controlled him. Which, I have no doubt, you did immediately."

Servalan ground her teeth furiously. It had all been a trick. Avon hadn't overlooked the possibility of betrayal and capture after all. Instead, she had been the one to underestimate him. But how could she have known--? The shock and madness in his eyes when he and the others had been captured had been real, as had been his intention to allow himself to be killed when he thought the others were already dead--and that Blake had been taken down by his own hand. It had seemed a delicious irony then, but now she marveled at the strength of his mind, to survive such a series of blows. Avon had always been a survivor, and although she could admire that about him, right now it placed her at a definite disadvantage.

Servalan raised her chin as Tarrant released his grip on her mouth, apparently trusting to Dayna's presence to keep her in line. "If you expect me to stand quietly by while you murder me--"

"We expect no such thing," Avon broke in. He nodded at yet another person, and Servalan grimaced as Jenna Stannis came into view. Jenna, and Jared, and following them, the gunslinger, Soolin. Everyone except Blake. She should have known. If Avon had planned this as carefully as it seemed, he would have left nothing to chance. She should never have underestimated him…

"Really, Stannis, is this how you repay my generosity?" She turned her attention to what she hoped was the weak link. There was a chance, however slim, that the others didn't know who, exactly, had betrayed them... "After you led me to Blake and thus to your current companions--" she nodded graciously at the others as best she could, "--I kept my word and returned your child to you--"

"She's the bad lady," Jared said suddenly, the first words he'd spoken since his return to his mother. He'd been watching everything through suspicious eyes, never once releasing his hold on his mother, but now he pulled his hand out of her grasp and pushed up his sleeve to reveal the bruising marks of a vicious pinch on his upper arm. "She hurted me when I cried."

There was no telegraphing of the punch, no flare of emotion in Jenna's eyes as she laid the other woman out cold. Tarrant, as caught off-guard as Servalan, barely kept himself from crashing to the ground as he received not only the backlash of the blow, but also the full weight of a suddenly unconscious woman in his arms. He came heavily to his knees, then laid Servalan none-too-gently on the floor before returning to his feet. "A little warning next time would be appreciated," was all he said.

Jenna rubbed her hand and shrugged. "It had be done sooner or later, and it's the least I owed her." She knelt down to hug Jared. "Don't worry, sweet. She'll never hurt you again."

"Now what?" Vila asked, looking down at Servalan's unconscious form with a frown of distaste. "How that woman can dress like that and expect to remain anonymous is beyond me," he murmured, not quite to himself. Then he shook his head and returned his full attention to Avon, to whom his original question had been addressed.

"Now we get Blake," was the reply. "He's the only one not with us, and we need to make sure the Federation has no more hostages. Orac has disabled the ship's internal communications system and made it look like an ordinary malfunction. That will only work for a short time; when the problem turns out to be unfixable, the crew will be alerted to the fact that something more is going on. They may even attempt to break the radio silence 'Central Command' ordered them to travel under and attempt to communicate with one of the other two ships."

Vila caught the sneer in Avon's voice and rapidly put two and two together. "Central Command meaning Orac," he said admiringly. Then, as a sudden thought struck him: "I suppose Orac is the reason there are so few guards on this ship?"

"If they discover they can't break the radio silence," Avon continued smoothly, "we'll be in serious trouble. Before that happens, we need to be in control of the Sickbay. From there, we can have Orac gas the rest of the ship, and then we'll be able to take care of the crew." He didn't respond to Vila's question, but the glint of amusement in his eyes was answer enough.

Dayna grinned at Avon with as much admiration as Vila. "You had this planned all along. That's how you knew about the guards--and the 'misdirected' sedative."

"And of course we couldn't be trusted with any of the details--as usual, eh?" Tarrant interrupted bitterly. "Or was it just another thing you couldn't be bothered sharing with the rest of us?"

Avon looked at Tarrant, his eyes as level as his voice. "Interrogation was always a possibility, especially if the captain of this vessel or Servalan chose to act before any plans of mine could be implemented. And what you didn't know--any of you--you couldn't be forced to reveal. The risk was completely mine, and yes, I found it necessary to act that way. I always try to cover as many contingencies as possible. The fact that Gauda Prime might be a trap resulting in our capture was too obvious a possibility to overlook. Therefore I planned accordingly."

Tarrant nodded grudging acceptance of Avon's reasoning as Jenna spoke up. "So what's the plan after we secure Sickbay and gas the rest of the ship?" She admired Avon's ability to think two moves ahead of his opponents as much as anyone, but now wasn't the time to stand around marveling at his foresight, or challenging him for real or imagined slights. All that could be worked out later. Right now, somebody needed to remind them of the practicalities of the situation, and she had no problem assigning herself the task. "What then, Avon?"

He shrugged. "We see what our Fearless Leader has to say--if he's conscious." There it was again, that habitual mask of defensive sarcasm camouflaging his true feelings. Jenna fancied she was getting rather good at spotting it. "If he's not, then we take over the ship, fight our way to a safe spot, unload our unwelcome Federation 'hosts,' and go into hiding until he is able of offer more long-term suggestions."

"What, you mean you'd actually give up the number one spot?" Tarrant mocked. "I thought all you ever wanted was to be rid of Blake."

"So did I," Avon replied. Tarrant was taken aback by the naked honesty in Avon's voice. "But I have discovered that is much easier to deal with Blake than to try and be Blake. So." He looked at them. "Are we ready?"

A series of nods all around, then he turned his attention back to Jenna. "Are you certain you don't want to stay here with Dayna and help guard Madame President?"

She shook her head. "I'd rather face a roomful of Federation troopers than expose my child to that viper's presence one moment longer." She hesitated before adding, "Besides, I think I've delayed introducing Jared to his father far too long." Never mind the poorness of the timing; to wait any longer was impossible. Especially if Blake's condition was as bad as Avon indicated…

Avon nodded at the determination in her voice, then nodded approvingly as Vila and Tarrant began to strip Servalan's unconscious guards of their uniforms and tied them up securely.

Avon turned to Dayna as Tarrant and Vila worked. "Remember," he warned. "No accidents. Unfortunately, right now we're better off keeping her alive." There was regret in his voice, and Dayna responded to that regret with a reluctant nod. Only the fact that Avon wanted Servalan dead as much as she did kept her from making the childish gesture of crossing her fingers behind her back to denote a fib. She would do as she was asked--but let Servalan give her one excuse, and she would blow the murderous bitch's head off.

"Good luck," was all she said, flashing a victory sign as the others slipped out the door. Then she settled in to wait, her eyes never leaving Servalan's crumpled form.