Tarrant slipped noiselessly into the room, gun at the ready. It was dark, only the glow of indicator lights coming through the glass door to an inner room--the room Blake must be in--allowing any sort of visual besides the spill of light from the half-opened doorway. He frowned; there was no help for it, whoever was in the room knew he was there by that tell-tale light, if nothing else, and there was nothing left to do except brazen it out. "Hallo?" he called, using his best "official use only" voice. "Can someone lend me a hand out here? There's been an accident, my mate needs help--"

"I'll be right there." The voice was young, female, and came after a hesitant pause that alerted Tarrant even before a figure rushed at him from the darkness. He managed to avoid the hypodermic she tried to stab him with, but it took a moment to subdue her furiously struggling form.

Tarrant clamped his hand over the unknown woman's mouth, neatly avoiding her snapping teeth in the process. When he felt her securely in his grip--in spite of her continued struggles---he leaned over and whispered in her ear: "Look, I don't want to hurt you, so if you promise to behave I'll let you go. Otherwise I'll have to knock you out." He didn't sound as if he cared which option she chose.

Lloyd stopped struggling and nodded as best she could, but he didn't release his grip on her or her mouth until she saw another guard slip into the room and give it a thorough search. For anyone else hiding in the darkness, she supposed, her heart beating wildly. She had lived a quiet life, the only sorts of adventures being of a surgical nature, with her in control, and it was disconcerting to find herself at the mercy of complete strangers. Whether they worked for Servalan or not remained to be seen; for the moment, all she could do was wait. Whatever happened next, she grudgingly admitted, was out of her control.

The other guard finished circling the room, ending up at the second doorway. Lloyd tensed when he opened the door, then allowed herself to relax when she heard low cry of relief. "It's Blake! He's alive! And there's no one else here," he added belatedly.

Her captor cautiously removed his hand from her mouth and eased his grip somewhat, but not entirely. Although Lloyd entertained the idea of shoving him away and making her escape, she knew she'd never make it. Besides, although these strangers--they weren't Federation guards, she knew that much by now--seemed relieved that Blake was alive, that didn't mean anything. Servalan had been relieved that he lived as well.

Even as she thought about escaping, the other man gave a sharp whistle that brought a confusion of half-seen figures into the dimly lit room. She counted three in all, the last one dragging what she hoped was only an unconscious body, before the door closed behind them again. One of them activated the lock she hadn't had time to get to before her current captor came in. Then the lights came on and she blinked at the sudden brightness, studying them as she waited for someone to do or say something.

Tarrant kept one eye on Vila and one on his unwilling hostage. Technically, he knew, anyone in a Federation uniform was the enemy, but he had a hard time thinking of the young doctor as a threat, never mind how many hypodermic needles she'd come at him with. He could certainly admire her willingness to defend herself. The question was, why had she felt the need to do so? Had their escape been discovered, despite Avon's planning and Orac's assurances? It wouldn't be the first time a "fool-proof" plan had gone wrong, he thought sourly, but that didn't seem to be it. She seemed truly puzzled by their presence, at least until Vila had announced Blake's living presence, not as frightened as she had been. Certainly not at ease, but not as tense, either. As if she were expecting someone else entirely, and their presence--hostage situation or no--was a relief.

She spoke first, startling him. "You're Blake's people."

Avon, who had been heading for the inner door, paused and turned to face her. He studied her for a moment, then nodded. "And you, I suppose, are Blake's doctor."

"I am." She spoke firmly but quietly, then nodded at the door he'd been about to enter. "And my patient is still very weak right now." Her voice was urgent, but not frightened, filled more with concern for Blake than herself. "If you are his friends, then you must remember that. You mustn't agitate him. More than necessary," she added at the implacable look in the dark haired man's eyes, and the equally determined look in the eyes of the blonde standing slightly behind him. They were going in there whether she wanted them to or not, but she wasn't going to simply stand here and do nothing. Not when her patient's health was at stake.

He nodded once, then glanced at the blonde. "We need to speak to him, that's all," she promised. Lloyd frowned as she realized the other woman was holding the hand of a small child. If these were escaped prisoners, where had the boy come from? He didn't seem frightened, as if he were a hostage, but she hadn't heard or seen any children on board before the prisoners came on board.

"Jenna and I will see Blake," Avon announced. "The rest of you wait out here until we determine if he is in any condition to assist in the decision making process." He turned a sardonic eye on Lloyd. "That is, if that meets with your approval, doctor--"

"Dr. Lloyd," was the stiff reply. "I don't suppose I have any choice in the matter."

"No," Avon replied dismissively. "You don't." He, Jenna, and Jared moved toward the door again, Jenna holding back at the last second, suddenly nervous. Things had moved so quickly, she hadn't really had time to think about the fact that she was coming face to face with her son's father under less than ideal circumstances. "Jared, you wait right here, Mummy just has to go into this room for a minute."

Vila crouched next to the boy as Jenna flashed him a worried glance. "It's all right, Jenna, Jared and I have some magic tricks to discuss, don't we?" Jared nodded his head vigorously, then grinned with delight as Vila pulled a coin from behind the boy's ear. "We'll be right here when you come out."

Tarrant had finally released his hold on Lloyd, although she noticed that he kept himself between her and the small boy, Jared, and that the efficient looking blonde standing near the door held her gun like the professional Lloyd assumed her to be.

"Jared will be all right with us," Tarrant said, flashing the child a brilliant smile. The smile faded as Tarrant reached out to grip Avon's arm. "Avon, tell him...I'm sorry."

"I'm sure that will be a great comfort to him," was the sarcastic reply, but Tarrant thought the acid was a little weak today–and in light of the astonishing things Avon had been doing and saying, perhaps it was more than wishful thinking.