The Way Forward
by Baker Lutgens
Part 2 of 12
Jenna Stannis was bringing a much-needed cargo of food supplies into Horizon. Avalon didn't pay well—couldn't pay well—but every time Jenna delivered a cargo to Avalon, it gave her an opportunity to pick up monopasium from Horizon's government mines for delivery to Xaranar. That brought a good price. More importantly, it gave her an opportunity to check Avon's progress.
"How long to the energy barrier, Dev?" Jenna asked.
"Sixty seconds at current speed, Captain."
"Degauss and warn me at ten seconds," she instructed while reducing speed.
"Aye, Captain."
She hated this part. Degaussing was an energy drain, and minimum scans made her nervous. They hadn't spotted any ships nearby, and they were coming in with the planet between the ship and the space lanes; but it was still possible someone was out there. The Federation had long-range scanners, and some of their ships had detector shields. Jenna couldn't use long-range scanners so close to the barrier, and she didn't have detector shields. Maybe Avon could work on that when he recovered.
If he ever recovered. Vila had been telling her the things that had happened after she and Blake left, and she was appalled. It had been bad enough when they were together on the Liberator with the Feds hunting them. But after the Andromedan War, Servalan had waged a personal vendetta against Avon. She had thrown huge resources into finding and destroying him, giving him not a moment of peace.
And Blake had helped her, slipping into rebel groups, often in disguise. Every time Avon contacted a group that Blake also had contact with, Blake had tipped the Federation. Avon probably had no idea how close he'd come to capture or destruction all that time.
After the fiasco at Terminal when the Liberator was destroyed, things were even worse. Though Servalan's circumstances were much reduced, Supreme Commander Servalan, President of the Terran Federation, Ruler of the High Council, and all the rest of her murderously obtained titles, reacted to her overthrow by simply assuming the identity of an obscure Federation official, Commissioner Sleer, and continuing to hunt Avon. She was obsessed.
But if her resources were reduced, Avon's were reduced even more. With him crippling along in that junk heap Scorpio and operating out of a minuscule base, it was only a matter of time before her agents caught up with him. And still Blake was reporting to the Feds whenever Avon contacted a rebel group. The Federation wasn't really much interested in Avon anymore—he had become ineffective—but they had never rescinded the ten million credit bounty on him. Servalan/Sleer wanted him and the money.
Blake. He had fooled them all. Even himself. Jenna wasn't clear yet on everything he'd done—maybe no one would ever know—but Carnell had been studying him, and maybe he could provide some answers. She only knew that Blake had begun betraying them back on the Liberator, but she wasn't sure when it had started. It had caused her to go over and over events in her mind, trying to find the first betrayal. Could it have been as early as when they had been forced to play that bizarre hunting game with Travis and his mutoid pilot? How had Travis located the Liberator so easily? Blake had been so affectionate with her down on the planet. When they got back to the ship, nothing. She wondered if Blake had felt any of his old affection—even just a little—when he saw Avon on Gauda Prime, when he saw Avon for the last time.
Jenna felt like such a fool. Anda Naylor had explained it to her: why he was at turns affectionate and encouraging, and at turns dismissive. But she hadn't explained why Jenna persisted in trying to win his love for so long. Jenna didn't want to ask. It hurt too much.
And Avon. Poor Avon. Blake had treated him abominably. He had played her and Avon against each other, and she had fallen for it. It had taken her too long to figure out that Avon respected, even admired, her. He kept sending signals to her, and she kept ignoring them. That was why she was uncomfortable with the thought of seeing him again. Her face grew warm, thinking about it. Part of her wanted to embrace a friend, and the other part wanted to hide in embarrassment. The doctors said he was recovering. She had asked them every day about him when she was at the base and frequently looked in on him when she was sure he was asleep. She'd probably have to face him soon.
"Barrier in ten seconds, Captain," Dev broke into her thoughts.
"Thank you, Dev. Lissa, go to minimum scans." She braced herself. The engineers had told her it was impossible, but she was still sure she could feel the barrier, like something crawling all over her skin. There it was. She waited, trying to ignore it; and then they were through. Whew! Maybe Avon could find a way to tune the barrier differently, some way that wouldn't affect her.
Time to get busy. "Lissa, medium-range scans and contact Base."
"Aye, Captain."
A few seconds passed. "Captain, I have Base," reported Lissa.
"Tell them all systems are normal and the cargo is intact. Then contact our passenger and tell him to be ready for landing."
"Aye, Captain," acknowledged Lissa and began transmitting.
Jenna began the landing sequences with half her mind. The other half was wondering if Avon had made any progress.
Avon looked at his splinted arm impatiently, "How long is this going to take?"
Dayna peered closely at his splint. "Not long, I think. It looks like the solvent is beginning to work. They're timing this; they'll be back when it's time to remove it. Stop moving your arm, Avon." Dayna needed to distract him. "Tell me about when you were on Horizon before."
"Oh, it was several years ago. We had followed a Federation ship to see what its interest was in this sector. There aren't any inhabited planets in this zone except for Horizon. Jenna and . . . the others had teleported down to see if it would be a good location for a base and got themselves captured by Federation guards and put to work in the mines. The people who worked in the mines were the local primitives apparently. They seemed to die off rather quickly from the radiation."
"Sounds like the Federation," Dayna commented.
"Any fool should have known it wouldn't have worked as a base. The Federation were already here and the society was accepting of it. Those not working in the mines anyway."
"So what happened? You said the others teleported down and were captured. Where were you?"
"I stayed on the ship with Orac."
"And?"
"And when I couldn't contact the others and it became apparent they were not coming back, I went down and got them."
He had left out rather a lot from the story. When he lost contact with the others after failing to prevent their going, he spent hours querying Orac about the resources on the Liberator. He was moments away from abandoning them entirely when a flotilla of Federation ships too large for him to fend off by himself arrived. If that hadn't happened, he would have left the others there to die.
Thinking about what he had nearly done sickened him, and Dayna asked, "Are you all right, Avon?"
"Yes, I'm fine." He smiled to distract her. Then he lifted his arm slightly and examined the splint—a better distraction.
"Put it down, Avon," she instructed. "Why doesn't Horizon make a good base?"
"As I said, there are not any inhabited planets in this sector besides Horizon, and it's pretty far out. There is a space lane out there, but the instant a ship broke from it you would know where it was going. When we were last here, Horizon didn't have any ships of its own. Even if they confiscated the ships that were on the ground when they expelled the Federation, they would not have crews trained to fly them. And there are no neighbours for mutual protection."
"It's hard to imagine," Dayna mused.
"What is?"
"Vila working," she smiled.
"I assume he did. He came back covered in grime like the rest of them and sans his shirt. That was probably the first time in his life he actually worked."
"And that's all the Feds did? Put them to work?"
"No, they interrogated them first. From what I understand, everyone gave in pretty quickly."
"Vila, quickest of all, I imagine."
"In a way. I believe he convinced them he didn't understand anything about the workings of the ship. Apparently they gave up on him straight away."
"Nobody lies as well as Vila," Dayna observed.
"Indeed." Avon wondered briefly about Vila's version of what happened at Malodar. His own memories were so real. Now he needed to distract himself. He lifted his arm again to inspect the progress of the solvent. Dayna kindly—and firmly—replaced it on the table for him.
Avalon's aide, Riece, was waiting for Jenna at the docking bay. The passenger he'd come to collect was very important to them, and he was to be made as comfortable as possible. He'd been a rebel sympathizer inside Space Command until recently, when it appeared his cover might be broken. He'd gotten out without breaking cover, and his knowledge was recent enough to be very helpful.
Jenna guided her passenger over to him and introduced him, "Riece, this is Jahn Durkim." She indicated Riece, "Tan Riece. He works for Avalon."
Durkim turned to her. "Thank you, Captain Stannis. I hope we'll have an opportunity to work together," he smiled and left with Riece.
"Jenna!"
"Vila! What is it?" she asked.
"It's good news, Jenna. Avon's awake—well, most of the time, anyway—he knows us, Jenna! He knows where he is!" Vila was grinning from ear to ear.
"That's wonderful, Vila. Is he aware of his injuries?"
"Yes, the doctors told him, and he seems to be taking it well." Vila stopped for a moment and looked a little puzzled. "I guess he's taking it well. He's being awfully patient, and that doesn't seem quite right." His face cleared as he added, "But he called me 'Idiot!' Isn't that wonderful?"
Jenna laughed, "Yes, Vila, that's wonderful."
"Are you going to see him?" he asked eagerly.
Her face fell. "I'm not sure, Vila. Maybe not just yet."
"But he'll be glad to see you, Jenna. What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I just . . . I have to see Tarrant first. I'll be along later." She turned quickly and began picking her way through the workers in the unloading area.
Vila looked after her. "It's okay, Jenna," he said to no-one. "I understand. And you'll see, Avon will understand too."
Jenna pressed the announce button at Tarrant's door. "Tarrant? It's Jenna Stannis."
There was a long pause before the door slid open. Tarrant waved her to his only chair as she stepped inside. He sat on the bed and put the bookscreen on his lap, ignoring her.
"I came to see if you'd be interested in a berth on the Emerald Lady. We'll be shipping out again in a couple of days, and I thought you might copilot for me," Jenna explained.
"Charity work, Stannis?"
"I don't do charity work, Tarrant, and you're not a charity case. This wouldn't be a pleasure cruise; I'd expect you to work."
He laughed harshly. "I've only just stopped running into doorframes, and you're wanting me to fly your ship? That's good. Perhaps I can defeat an entire Federation flotilla while I'm doing it—with my hand tied behind my back."
"Stopped running into doorframes? Good. That's a step. You're a pretty good pilot, I understand—"
"I was a talented pilot," he interrupted, accurately.
"Oh? Did you lose a piece of your brain when you lost your arm?" She challenged.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm offering you a chance to prove your talent. As a spacer, I would think you'd want to get back into space as soon as possible and stop hanging around with these dirt-siders. What can they understand about the freedom of space?"
That was beginning to work. She could see him longing to get out of the two dimensionality of a planet.
"All right, Stannis. You've had your say. I'll think about it."
"Good." She went to the door and opened it. "And that's 'Captain' to you," she added smartly as she left.
Jenna paused after the door shut behind her. Tarrant was afraid to get back into the pilot's chair, just as she had been afraid to see Avon. Time to take my own medicine, Jenna thought. She took a deep breath and headed to the medical unit.
"Vila, I'm all right. You don't need to fuss," Avon complained.
"I'm sorry, Avon. How does your arm feel?"
"It's not hurting." Not much. "It just feels a little weak, that's all." Everything felt weak, but he didn't want Vila to see that. Vila's face had been so happy when he'd seen Avon in the mobile chair that Avon didn't want to disappoint him.
"How does your back feel? Is it hurting much? The doc said you could have some of the pain patches back if you need them." Vila started smoothing out the small blanket covering Avon's legs.
"It's not bad, nothing I can't deal with. The blanket's all right, Vila. Really." It was actually a bit warm, but he didn't want to tell Vila that.
"Are you sure? It's just that the doctor said people who can't move around get colder than everyone else."
"If I get cool, I'll let you know." He softened his voice a little, "Thank you, Vila." He looked thoughtful. "Vila, Naylor says there might be other . . . events that I'm confused about, like Malodar."
"Is that so bad?" Vila asked.
He couldn't meet Vila's eyes. "It might be. What if I make a mistake because I remember something wrongly?"
"People remember things wrongly all the time, Avon. It happens a lot."
"Not to me."
"Even to you. You're human, Avon, just like the rest of us."
"You used to say I was a machine, a computer."
"Yeah, and you used to say I was a 'fifth grade ignorant'," Vila reminded him.
"That was unfair. You're very intelligent, probably the most intelligent person on the Liberator or Scorpio."
"Next to you, you mean?"
That got a faint smile.
"Look, Avon. It doesn't matter if you remember some things wrong. If you do, we'll tell you. It would only be us anyway, and we're all your friends. We don't care. Did the doctor tell you why you were confused about Malodar?"
Avon was recovering himself now that they were getting out of emotional waters. "Stress, the drugs Servalan gave me on Terminal, too many blows to the head, and . . ." He couldn't quite say 'Blake' yet.
"There you go. Nothing that couldn't happen to anyone." Vila assured him. He glanced at the window to the corridor when he saw movement there. It was Jenna, at last. She was motioning at Avon and mouthing something Vila couldn't make out. He waved at her, inviting her in. When she started for the door, he turned back to Avon.
"Avon, I have a really nice surprise for you. Another friend, one you haven't seen in a long time."
"Who, Vila? Avalon?" He tried to twist around in his chair to see.
A wonderfully clear, warm voice said softly from behind him, "No, not Avalon, Avon," and Jenna moved into view.
Jenna! Avon couldn't speak, could only gaze at her, a smile spreading on his face. She sat near his knee and took his hand, smiling at him brilliantly.
"Hello, old friend. How are you?"
"Jenna," he breathed, continuing to gaze at her. "I thought you were . . . dead."
"As you can see, I'm not."
"No, as I can see. How do you come to be here?" he asked.
"I do some flying for Avalon. And some for myself; the Rebellion can't pay well enough to keep a ship going. I flew you here from Gauda Prime."
"You look wonderful, Jenna."
Vila stood up and grinned, "I think that's my cue. I'll check on you later, Avon. Bye, Jenna."
She stayed for a long time while they reminisced about the Liberator.
"Avalon, Jahn Durkim's here," the intercom announced.
"Thank you, Riece, send him in." She rose and came out from behind her desk, extending her hand. "Jahn, we were relieved you were able to get out. Sit down, please."
He shook her hand and took one of the chairs in front of her desk. "I was relieved to get out too; the Central Intelligence search for the mole was becoming very thorough, very abusive, and very close. I'm surprised I was able to operate for so long from Space Command Headquarters. You command a very tight organization, Avalon."
"And you were very skilled in your deception, Jahn," she returned the compliment. "We have another source at SCH. He tells us your cover is still in place. They believe you died in that groundcar accident. They didn't even bother to test the remains."
"I'm sorry my usefulness there is ended. It was exhilarating helping the rebellion that way. What plans do you have for me now?" he asked. That was his real concern. Deceiving the Feds had become an addiction, and he didn't relish the thought of sitting behind a desk checking cargo manifests. Naturally that was important work too, but it wouldn't be satisfying.
"I'd like for you to take a few days settling in, finding your way around the base, meeting people. Horizon has been very friendly to us. Some merchants, camp followers, have begun to set up a market nearby. It's quite safe for you to wander around outside for recreation. Well, as safe as anywhere these days," she amended. "Once you get comfortable," she continued, "I'd like you to work with our psychostrategist, Carnell. You can no doubt provide him with a great deal of useful information. Think of it as a debriefing if you will.
"Right now he's working on determining the extent of Blake's damage to the Rebellion; but I'd also like to try and find out what happened to Servalan, or 'Sleer' as she last called herself. I have someone here who could be a tremendous asset to us, but he's going to be in extreme danger until she can be eliminated." She laughed dryly. "He's always going to be a target for someone, but I'd like to eliminate that one."
"Who is it, Avalon? Or maybe I shouldn't ask?"
"Oh, it's all right, Jahn. You never met him, but you probably know of him. You would find out soon enough anyway. It's Kerr Avon."
"He's still alive? No information came in to SCH about him after the Gauda Prime incident. But since that was a CI operation, I didn't expect SCH would receive much information. We all assumed he'd died at Gauda Prime and the forensic crew had failed to identify him before they burned all the bodies. You're fortunate that assignment was handled so badly. You may be able to keep his survival quiet for a while. The head of the forensic crew was executed for his blunder. He was probably some half-witted political appointee."
He stroked his chin and thought for a moment. "Sleer? I suspected she was Servalan. Too many of her actions were exactly what Servalan would have done in the same circumstances. Conceited, obsessive, sometimes clever, but usually stupid in the end. She was her own worst enemy. Still will be, if she's alive," he finished.
"It's interesting you should say that. Our people spirited away one of Servalan's mutoids after Blake attacked Control on Earth. She told us about Servalan's interrogation of Kasabi." Avalon paused to explain, "We can't find a way to stop the conversion programme, Jahn; the Federation will continue to turn victims into mindless drones. But we have an operative in the facility. And we have our own secret trigger phrases. If we can get a mutoid before it's wiped and reprogrammed, it will tell us everything since the last mindwipe." She smiled and continued, "You'll appreciate this, Jahn. Just before she died, Kasabi called Servalan 'vicious, greedy, and thick'."
"And that sums it up, I'd say," he agreed.
Avalon stood. "Go and get yourself settled now, Jahn. Riece will look after you. Let him know if you need anything."
"Thank you." He stood, but hesitated. "I'd quite like to talk to Kerr Avon if it's possible."
"Not just yet, I'm afraid. He's not out of the medical unit, and he's got a dragon guarding the gate."
Avalon's mood was sombre for a few minutes after Durkim left. She was remembering the head of that forensic crew who was executed for cremating the bodies too soon. She had known him almost from the start of the Rebellion. He knew what would happen when he decided to burn the bodies before identification. How many of us could be so brave?
Well, Durkim had been useful, no doubt about that. But what was she going to do with him now? He couldn't be placed back in a Federation military setting; too many people might recognise him. When he had said his usefulness at SCH was ended, he had spoken a mouthful. If only he hadn't run so soon . . .
"If only" wasn't going to help; it was too late for regrets. After Carnell finished with him, she'd have to see if she could insert him into one of the rival rebel groups. Some of them were becoming very worrisome. Their leaders had grand plans of shaping the Federation in ways that would be no better than what it was now—the people at the top would look different, but they'd be doing all the same corrupt, selfish things.
But she could put that off for a short while. For now she'd make sure Durkim spent as much time as possible with Carnell. Leaning over to press the intercom button, she said, "Riece? Would you ask Carnell when I could see him?"
Carnell leaned back in his chair with satisfaction. Of course he would drain every last piece of information out of Durkim. Avalon needn't have asked. He needed that information to pursue Servalan. And when he found her, he'd make sure she knew who was responsible for destroying her.
It had been fun, playing that little game with her over Coser. Servalan had greedily wanted to get her hands on some unusual weapon he was said to have developed. Servalan always wanted new toys. She thought this one would be some sort of free ticket to control of the universe, her universe anyway. Who cared if she killed Coser or anyone else? They were just stepping stones.
Of course, she had thought getting her hands on the supercomputer Orac would give her control over the universe too. Then she'd messed it up by pausing to gloat over her prize, and Kerr Avon had come along and rescued his colleagues. She should have let Travis kill them immediately. Carnell was grateful to have had the opportunity to interview Travis after that incident. It had given him better insight into Servalan's personality. But he almost didn't get that opportunity. Servalan had, as usual, sought to place blame for her failure on someone else, and Travis had been bright enough to take himself off pretty smartly. She had underestimated him. Come to think of it, Servalan always underestimated people. Carnell would be happy to point that out to her someday, at length if possible.
His face darkened. If her incompetent sycophants at the Weapons Development Base had reported all the events there as they should, his plan wouldn't have failed, and he wouldn't have had to run. It had been amusing having all those powerful game pieces to play with.
And after she botched that affair, Servalan had gotten nervous, as usual. She'd sent Travis to murder the Clone Masters, who had made the whole scheme possible by producing those clones of Blake. Carnell was enraged over that. How dare she destroy his colleagues, his family? He'd see that she paid in pain for that.
If he didn't do it himself, he would contrive to have Kerr Avon do it. That would be just as galling to her, probably even more so. Servalan had pursued Avon for years, always just failing to catch him. Fool woman. If she'd satisfied herself with killing him, she could have been done with him years earlier. But she wanted to possess him. He would be another of her magic toys for gaining control of the universe. She told herself it was so she could make use of his intellect, when it was really because she wanted to seduce him into joining her, a mate fit for the Supreme Empress, her last self-awarded title before her fall from power. She actually believed he could be persuaded to be her consort. Everything Carnell knew about Avon indicated it would have to be the other way around—he wouldn't tolerate a subordinate role.
He pulled open a drawer and took out a concentrate pak; it was time to eat. He didn't really care what he ate; anything would do. Most people complained the concentrate paks had little flavour. But nothing had any flavour to Carnell. The Clone Masters had made a tiny mistake, and it had left him without a sense of taste.
Dayna was on her way to see Tarrant. She hadn't been to see him in several days because he had made it increasingly clear to her and Vila that he didn't want anyone disturbing his journey to oblivion. Well, she was going to disturb it now. Of course losing a limb was bad, but you got over it and went on, didn't you? Jenna's navigator had lost his eye. He seemed to be doing all right. He didn't spend his days sunk in self pity. Dayna liked Doctor Naylor, but she didn't think the psychologist was doing enough to get Tarrant back to normal. After all, it had been nearly four weeks now. Surely that was enough time.
Tarrant probably wouldn't thank her for it, but she was going to make Tarrant go see Avon. And if she couldn't get him to do that, she would at least tell him how Avon was doing. After all, Avon had asked about Tarrant, hadn't he?
Dayna pressed the announce button, "Tarrant, it's Dayna. Can I come in?" The door slid open. "I just wanted to talk to you about—what are you doing?" She saw the duffel bag on the chair, half full. "You're not leaving?"
"Only for a little time." He placed some more things in the bag.
"But why? Where are you going? Is there something wrong here?"
"I'm going to find out if I'm good for anything."
"What?"
"Jenna Stannis came by a couple of days ago. She said I could go on a run with her as copilot, to see if I can still fly," he explained.
"That's wonderful, isn't it? You don't look very happy."
He sighed and sat down. "I don't know what's going to happen. What if I can't fly, Dayna? I couldn't have flown the Scorpio with one arm."
"The Scorpio was an old rust bucket that needed six people to fly it properly. We only had five. Besides, you could have flown the Liberator with one finger," she insisted.
"This won't be the Liberator. And it won't have an A/I ship's computer like Zen."
"And hopefully it won't have a moronic ship's computer like Slave. After what you were able to do with the Scorpio, you should be able to fly something better with no trouble. I'm glad you're going, Tarrant. You can't spend your life sitting here."
"And if I can't fly?" he asked.
"Then you'll find something else to do with flying. You can't get away from it," she assured him.
He zipped the bag shut. "Well, we'll see. It should only be a few days, and then I'll know." They walked to the door.
"Come and find me when you get back, Del. I'll be wanting to know how it turns out." She moved briskly down the corridor, having forgotten her original purpose.
Tarrant stared after her. That was the first time she'd ever used his given name.
The crewwoman looked up at the young man in front of her. He was wearing spacer gear and had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He was also looking very hesitant. "Can I help you, skyman?"
"I'm Del Tarrant. I think Captain Stannis is expecting me."
"You're taking the copilot's chair? I'm Dase, the engineer. Is your bag tagged? You can just put it over there; I'll put it in your cabin for you. Cap's on the flightdeck, up the ramp and to your left." She pointed vaguely in that direction. "Maybe we can talk later?" She smiled.
That went well, he thought as he ascended the ramp. She didn't stare at the empty sleeve. His step got a little more confident.
That went well, she thought. Cap said he had an attitude, but he seemed nice enough.
Finally he found the flightdeck. 'Up the ramp and to the left' was not quite adequate. He had tried to open three doors before he found the right one. One was a storage compartment, and he'd nearly walked into it. Happily no-one had seen him. The joke was on him: the flightdeck door was the only one that wasn't closed. He entered the flightdeck with relief. There were a couple of crew there: a woman tinkering around under the raised work surface of her console; and a man with an eyepatch, checking instrument calibrations on another console.
The man turned around. "Hello. You must be our copilot, Del Tarrant." He thrust his left hand out to Tarrant. Startled that the man had offered his left hand instead of his right, Tarrant hesitated briefly before shaking hands with him. The man continued, "I'm Earn Devril, navigation. That's Lissa Brin over there. She's our communications officer."
Lissa turned around and smiled at him. "Captain Stannis called you 'Tarrant.' Is that what you prefer?"
"Yes, thank you. That's what I'm most used to. Is Captain Stannis aboard?"
"Yes, she'll be back in a few minutes. She's seeing to the stowing of some cargo. Dev, why don't you go over some of the controls with him while I finish this board?"
"Over here, Tarrant. It's a standard Solar Wind class ship. Have you ever flown one of these?"
"Yes, back before the Andromedan War."
"Well, you shouldn't have any trouble. We haven't tricked out the pilot's board, so everything will be where you expect it. We've added some useful little gadgets though. Some communications functions are in this array in case you need them and Lissa's not at her console." He pointed at another grouping of buttons and switches. "That will show some standard navigation readouts and allow simple calculations, though you can't really do much navigation from here.
"And this is the prize: degaussing for the hull. I usually run that from my station, but it's here if you need it. Horizon is surrounded by an energy barrier, courtesy of the Federation. If your hull's magnetized when you enter it, you won't be coming out in good shape, if at all. The generators are on Horizon's surface and are nuclear, so they won't be running out of power."
Jenna entered the flightdeck then. "Tarrant, glad to see you aboard."
"Glad to be aboard, Captain."
"You've met Dev and Lissa?" He nodded. "Good. We're ready to leave now. Lissa, get clearance from the base."
Lissa turned to her console. After a few moments she announced, "Clearance confirmed."
Jenna indicated a flight chair. "That's the copilot chair. I'll take us up because you don't have experience with the barrier. It's a problem both from inside and out. Dev, lock course for clearing docking." Jenna set some switches and pressed the button for the main drive. The Emerald Lady began lifting slowly. When it was still just within the atmosphere, she instructed Lissa to set the long-range scans and Dev to key in the escape trajectory.
She addressed Tarrant, "This is the part I hate. We don't want to give away the base location too easily, so we fly just within the atmosphere for a while before breaking it. Uses up a lot of fuel, and the Lady is sluggish. So far, the Feds haven't thought to look for us here, and we'd like to keep it that way. We also schedule our flights so we can keep the planet between us and the space lane as long as possible, just in case someone has slipped through the barrier. I expect it will happen one of these days. The Feds will remember Horizon eventually. They'll be wanting the monopasium mines when they think they can afford to start working on their intergalactic drive designs again. The Andromedan invasion did us a real service there, unintentionally. The Feds have been working too hard rebuilding the regular fleet to worry about restarting their intergalactic ship program."
Dev cut in, "Escape point in ten seconds, Captain."
"Thanks, Dev," Jenna acknowledged. "But warn me sooner next time."
"Sorry," he grinned. "Didn't like to interrupt a lady."
She smiled and preset various switches. "Have you followed everything so far, Tarrant?"
"Yes, the controls seem like what I'm used to. I'll be interested in seeing the re-entry procedures."
"Dev, warn me at two hundred spacials," Jenna instructed. "Interrupt me," she smiled. Addressing Tarrant again, she explained, "The barrier is one point five thousand spacials out. The Lady can just manage to degauss adequately within one hundred spacials on either side of the barrier at point zero one C with twenty-three seconds to spare. I prefer two hundred spacials." She smiled. "Don't leave it too late."
"Whew! That's pretty slow if you're being pursued," Tarrant said.
Jenna replied, "I've seen Federation pursuit ships hit that barrier at TD six without degaussing. There wasn't anything left worth salvaging."
"When was that? I thought the Feds hadn't been here since before the War."
"Oh, a few years ago." Jenna grew quiet and stared out the forward visport.
"Two hundred spacials, Captain," announced Dev.
Jenna cut speed and answered, "Thanks, Dev. Degauss and warn me in ten."
"Aye, Captain."
It grew quiet again. Jenna was pensive, Dev and Lissa busy, and Tarrant found himself becoming excited about getting into space again. I can settle for copilot if it'll keep me in space. Hell, I could settle for Waste Disposal Monitor to stay in space, he thought.
"Ten seconds, Captain," Dev announced.
"Thanks, Dev. Lissa, go to minimum scans. Hold onto your seat, Tarrant."
Three . . . two . . . one . . . barrier. Jenna shuddered at the creepy crawly feeling all over her. She glanced at Tarrant. He had a peculiar look on his face, which cleared about the time her crawly feeling did.
"You okay, Tarrant?" she asked.
"Yes, I thought I felt something though. Like something touching me."
"Congratulations, Tarrant," Lissa laughed. "You're the only one besides the Captain who can feel it."
Jenna grinned. "Long-range scans for one full sweep, then cut to medium, Lissa. Take us out, Tarrant. It's all yours."
He had been automatically checking the readouts—old habits die hard—and noted, "Xaranar. What's our cargo?"
"Monopasium."
"For intergalactic drive design?"
"That's what they're working on there. Since the Federation hasn't resumed its intergalactic program yet, Xaranar plans to do some preemptive exploring; it's what they're good at. The Feds undoubtedly had something else in mind with their programme," she remarked.
"Conquest?" Tarrant asked.
"Either that or 'let's get them before they get us'."
After a few minutes Tarrant asked, "What exactly happened at Star One? I mean before the battle started in earnest."
"Blake thought we could take control of the computer there and bring the Federation to its knees, or at least to the bargaining table." Jenna was deliberately glossing over that part of the plan. Blake had intended to destroy Star One, a plan that had distressed even his ardent follower Cally. "He and Cally entered the facility only to discover it was in the possession of aliens who were waiting for Travis. I was never clear why that was.
"Vila and I spotted their invasion fleet waiting for the defences to be lowered about the time Travis showed up. Blake was shot, and Avon rescued him." As usual, she added to herself.
She continued, "So Avon killed Travis, he and Cally removed the bombs Blake and Cally had placed, and they teleported back. For some reason, part of the defences were lowered. I never knew why that was either. But it was enough. The Andromedans started coming through. I had put out a call for help, but it was several hours before any arrived."
Tarrant asked, "And Blake held them off until help arrived?"
How odd that Tarrant had lived with Avon for four years and didn't know. "No, Avon held them off. If you want to see courage under fire, you just look at Avon. Blake was in the medical unit for hours. Even when he was recovered enough to help, he just stayed in his cabin. Other ships started arriving to help, but Avon stayed on the flightdeck directing the Liberator's part in the battle for more than thirty-six hours. We all had to take turns piloting. Finally enough ships arrived that we could take brief breaks from the fighting, but it went on for several days. Did you know that Avon's a very good pilot? No? He hates piloting. I don't know why, but he does.
"By that time the fight was no longer centred around Star One. Enough alien ships had gotten through to destroy Star One, and the defences collapsed utterly. Everyone began dispersing as each ship chased individual targets. Gradually it took us longer and longer to find targets, but we kept at it. We were still having to take turns piloting. I'll bet you didn't know Vila's a pretty fair pilot too, did you? It frightens him though.
"I think it was about two weeks after the start of hostilities when we blundered into a sort of small ambush. Three of the enemy had managed to stay together, or maybe they'd just gotten lucky and found each other. I don't know, and it doesn't matter. We were tired, and we got surprised. We managed to destroy them, but the Liberator was so badly damaged the auto repair systems couldn't keep life support going. I had gone to get some sleep when Avon gave the order to abandon ship. My cabin was near Blake's, so I made sure he got into a life capsule. He didn't want to go; I only learned why later. But I got him away from the Liberator. Then Avon came along and put me in a capsule too. He shoved a bag of enormous emeralds into my hand, and I used them to get the Lady. But that was the last time, I saw the Liberator," she finished a little sadly.
"Has anyone ever figured out why the Andromedans invaded?" Tarrant asked.
"Conquest?" Jenna suggested.
"Or 'let's get them before they get us'," he echoed.
"It could be any number of reasons. We stopped the invasion, at least as far as we know. Maybe there are some still around. Who knows? Maybe they'll try again. Or maybe that was just a small, belligerent faction of Andromedans. We don't know anything about them, do we? I never heard of one being captured and interrogated."
"Could you interrogate an Andromedan? They're some sort of shapeshifters, I heard. How could you physically threaten something that can change shape to thwart you? If you haven't had specimens to experiment on, how would you know what drugs to use on them?" Tarrant asked.
"You'd have to wait for a traitor to make himself—itself available. Maybe one did already. Maybe that's why there was a minefield out there." Jenna shivered at the thought of how close the invaders had come to destroying mankind. Could Blake have been involved somehow? "I'm going to get some rest. Call me if there's anything that makes you nervous."
"Once more . . . that's good. Okay, you can stop now." Task took the weight from Avon's hand and set it aside. "You're doing very well. That's five more times today than yesterday. Are you finding it easier to use your arm now?"
"Yes, a little," admitted a grey-faced and perspiring Avon. The therapy on his arm was clearly helping but was tiring. "How many more sessions do you think I'll need?" He was afraid to hear the answer.
"Probably just five or six more. You've made good progress. Your left arm isn't your dominant arm, so you can't expect it to be as strong as your right. If you feel up to it, you could use the weight some more on your own. I'll leave it here for you. Oh, hello, Dayna," he greeted as she joined them.
"Task," she returned. "How is he doing?" She smiled at Avon.
"Very well. He won't need to keep this up for long."
"Good thing too. You're looking a bit tired, Avon," she commented as Task smiled goodbye and left. She curled herself into the chair next to Avon's bed. "Pretty rough, is it?"
"It's a challenge," Avon cautiously admitted. His pride had begun reasserting itself; he didn't want Dayna to see how weak he was.
She reached over to his table and poured a glass of water, offering it to him. "Drink?"
"Yes, thank you." He reached awkwardly across his chest and took it in his right hand. His left arm was too shaky to trust. "They're letting me have concentrate paks now," he said to distract her from his weakness. "It doesn't taste like much, but it's a relief." He lifted his arm to display the absence of nutrient patches.
"They took all the pain patches off then?" He nodded and handed the glass back to her. "That would explain the way you look," she said.
"The way I look?"
"A little grey and shaky. Are you hurting?"
Yes! "No, not really."
She laughed, "Task: they call him 'Task Master'."
That's an understatement, Avon thought. "Where's Vila?" he asked.
"I think he's off talking to Carnell. Have you met him?"
"No. He's a psychostrategist, isn't he?"
"Yes, he's working for Avalon." She paused and looked at him uneasily. "He's trying to determine . . . trying to determine how some of the rebel groups were betrayed to the Feds. You know, when it could have happened, whether there were Federation agents infiltrated, that sort of thing. If they can work that out, they can find the agents and eliminate them if they're still operating."
That was close. She'd almost talked about Blake, and she wanted to leave that to Vila. She changed the subject, "I think Tarrant's going to be better. He left with Jenna today; she asked him to copilot the flight. It's the first time I've seen him do anything since we got here."
Avon was uncomfortable. He knew Tarrant must blame him for the fiasco at Gauda Prime, for losing the Liberator, for losing the Scorpio, for losing his arm, probably for everything bad that had happened to him in the last couple of years. And he's right, Avon thought. I damaged so many lives—the ones I didn't end outright. What was it that Tarrant had said? 'I've made a success of my life; but you, you've failed.' Tarrant was right: I am a failure.
"Avon? Are you all right?" Dayna asked, concerned.
Forcing a smile, he answered, "Yes, I'm fine. I was just thinking about Tarrant shipping out with Jenna. I'm sure he'll do fine, Dayna. He's a talented pilot; it's instinctive with him. It'll be good for him."
"I think so too," she agreed.
