The Way Forward
by Baker Lutgens
Part 8 of 12
"The first ship's away, Avalon."
"Thank you, Riece. Is the second still on schedule?"
"On schedule."
"Thank you."
Avalon turned to Carnell, "Are you going on the second ship, or are you staying with Ro?"
"Going with you, of course. I'm surprised you asked," Carnell smiled ingratiatingly.
"Don't be. I know you approached Ro. You'd be a fool not to, and I don't see you as a fool, Carnell." Avalon leaned back in her chair and studied him. "I don't see you as a rebel either. Why stay with the Rebellion?"
"It suits me."
Avalon waited.
Carnell sighed, "Because you have something I want: access to people who can help me destroy Servalan."
"Why do you want to destroy her?"
"My reasons will have to remain my own. Isn't it enough that we can help each other get what we want?"
"For now," Avalon answered.
"Well then, I'd better finish getting ready to leave. I'll see you on the ship." Carnell gave her a slightly mocking bow and left.
Reluctantly Avalon set aside her speculations about Carnell's motives and turned back to the evacuation plans. The first ship was on its way to Albion, where, like Horizon, the population as a whole was anti-Federation. Avalon's people wouldn't have to fight their way down to the surface and hide from the enemy. The Albions had offered them the deserted Federation base, and the Federation had lost interest in Albion after the War. The rebels would be relatively safe for a time.
On the first ship were people who would assess the facilities and organize accommodation for those coming later. They were carrying supplies and equipment to get the base back into operation quickly, and the Albions had promised fuel to send the ship back to Horizon for subsequent evacuation flights. Those flights would bring more rebels, their families, and supplies, including fuel of their own. Avalon didn't want to presume too much on Albion's generosity.
Fortunately Albion was becoming a prosperous planet now that the Federation was no longer using her people as unwilling labourers and robbing her of her resources. A people who are allowed ownership of their resources cease to be slaves and instead become willing workers. And now those resources were buying them their own fleet and planetary defences. The Federation would find it difficult to take back the planet if they ever recovered their own resources enough to try.
Albion was an old, established colony. The camp followers/merchants from Horizon would be unlikely to follow the rebels to Albion. They couldn't compete with merchants who were already well established. Avalon was relieved at that; she'd never quite trusted the motley collection of vendors and hustlers that had congregated outside the base on Horizon.
So Avalon was pleased with the advantages Albion could offer as a rebel stronghold, and Albion welcomed an opportunity to humiliate the Federation. As far as both parties were concerned, this was nearly perfect. Only one thing could have made it better—if Kerr Avon had returned with Avalon. The Albions knew that every living creature on their planet had been moments away from a hellish death when Avon defused the solium bomb the Feds had left behind. He was their hero. It was a pity they didn't know him well enough to know he didn't want to be their hero. It wasn't just modesty—or in Avon's case, false modesty—he really didn't want to be their hero.
"Lissa, why don't you go ahead and stand down? I'll take communications now," Jenna offered when she entered the flightdeck.
"Thanks, Captain," Lissa smiled her appreciation and began transferring basic functions to the flight console. "Everything's been routine for this area, and that pulse code on our covert frequency—" she nodded towards the ship's computer, "is still coming in at regular intervals. Arne set it up to sound a klaxon if it changes."
"Thank you, Lissa. I saw Arne in the galley if you want to catch him there."
As Lissa hurried out the door, Jenna turned to Tarrant, "Dayna said she told you a little about Blake."
"Yes, not much though," he confirmed. "I take it he was working for the Federation?"
"Towards the end, certainly. In the beginning, he was probably unaware of any actions he may have taken against the Rebellion—or us. It seems the Federation conditioning left him struggling with two incompatible goals. On the one hand, he sincerely was a rebel, working to destroy the government. But lurking behind that was a person who was completely loyal to the government and working to destroy the Rebellion. At first he probably did no more than subconsciously sabotage himself, set up impossible conditions for himself, things like that.
"As time went on, he was more aggressive in his activities, though he was probably unaware of that. Carnell—did you meet Carnell at the base? He's a psychostrategist working for Avalon. He believes Blake began tipping off the Feds whenever we'd have contact with a rebel group, giving away their locations or plans. Putting the pieces together, it looks like too much of a coincidence that the Feds would find the various groups immediately after we were in contact with them.
"Putting my own pieces together, I've been turning events over in my mind and finding time after time when the Liberator came under attack by 'lucky' Federation task forces that just happened to be in an area we would be transiting. Did that sort of thing ever happen when you were on the Liberator?"
Tarrant thought about that for a few moments. "No, we were never attacked by any forces that just happened to find us. We suffered some attacks into which we'd been lured by Servalan though. And most of those were because . . ." Comprehension dawned, and he finished, "because Avon was following rumours of Blake. I thought Servalan had simply gotten more clever and subtle in her methods."
"Oh, no, Servalan was never clever or subtle—but Blake was. And Blake either personally infiltrated several rebel groups or helped Servalan insert agents into those groups. Whenever Avon contacted them with assistance—"
"Avon didn't assist any rebel groups. He has no use for the Rebellion," Tarrant objected.
"Avon has never been a rebel, Tarrant, but he's always been a sympathizer. I imagine if you had checked the contents of the strongroom on the Liberator occasionally, you would have found the contents dwindling. Avon gave vast sums to various rebel groups for support."
"But he had no right," Tarrant said indignantly. "That money belonged to all of us."
"No, it belonged to Avon, Cally, Vila, and me. Cally would have given all of it, at any time, to any rebel group. She was the only real rebel on that ship. I imagine Avon had to exercise considerable control over her to prevent her expending it all at one time. Her zeal often impaired her judgement.
"And you know Vila. He's a soft touch. He probably passed the major portion of his share on to surviving partners and children of rebels. I imagine in the end the only wealth left on the Liberator was my share and some of Blake's, the part he couldn't get in the life capsule. I only figured out later why he had been so reluctant to abandon the Liberator: he'd been loading valuables from the strong room into a capsule and wanted to go back for more."
Tarrant was thinking furiously. "What about at Terminal? Was Blake really there?"
"Carnell doesn't think so. But he thinks Blake willingly connived with Servalan to convince Avon he was there. From what Vila told me, I think maybe he was there."
"And afterwards? When we spent all our time hiding and limping around in that wreck Scorpio?"
"Avon was helping rebels then too. Not with funds; he didn't have any. But with other types of help, locating contacts for them, designing more secure communications codes, activities like that. And he was still looking for Blake."
"And that nearly trapped him in the end," Tarrant said with finality.
"He wouldn't have escaped that trap if Avalon's people hadn't already infiltrated Blake's phony base on Gauda Prime. None of you would have escaped."
"I guess we owe our lives to Avalon."
"Yes, but consider her purpose. She didn't infiltrate that base to save your lives. She did it to stop Blake. And she took all of you to safety because you could have been great assets to her. In her own way, she's just as impersonal as Blake ever was. The difference is that she's less willing to risk people's lives without their permission—so far."
"Try it now, Dayna," Dase directed.
"All right." Dayna put down her probe and settled into the gunner's chair. With her left hand she reached across her lap to the right side of the chair and pulled the retractable restraint belt across her lap.
"Try not to look down when you fasten it," Dase said quickly.
Dayna kept her eyes up and brought the magnetic fastener down to her left side. When she got it close to its dock, it pulled itself into place with a snap. "That's much better, Dase," she smiled. "It nearly pulled itself out of my hand to fasten."
Watching the fastener, she released it and experimented with how distant from the dock it could be and still find its way. "I think this will probably be right for Tarrant, too, but we'll need to get him to test it."
"If he says it's good, I'll retrofit all the seats. This would be an improvement for everyone, not just Tarrant." She dropped her tools back into their bag. "I don't know why he didn't end up smeared all over the walls when Cap did that end-for-end back at Xaranar. None of us had thought about how a one-armed person couldn't fasten the restraint." She indicated Dayna's work. "Nor how a one-armed person couldn't grip the gun and change the scatter width at the same time. At least we thought to lock open some of the doors so Tarrant wouldn't get there carrying something and not be able to palm the opener."
Dayna picked up her probe again and started working on the gun. "Well, when he gets a prosthesis, he should be able to do everything the same way he did before." When she didn't get an answer, she turned to Dase and asked, "Shouldn't he?"
Dase looked sober. "Dayna, don't count on a prosthesis making everything the same again for Tarrant. In fact, count on it not being the same again—ever."
"What do you mean?"
"I know Tarrant acts like he's okay with losing his arm, and he probably thinks he is, for now. But that won't last, Dayna. He's just going on momentum now. Once things slow down and stay slow for a while, he'll start resenting what's happened to him. He was probably pretty depressed for a while, wasn't he?"
"Yes, but he's over it now."
"No, he's not, Dayna. Not really. He's fooling himself. You don't get over something that drastic so soon. Even with a prosthesis, you don't. Sure, it will enable him to do most things he might normally do, but not all. It won't be his arm, Dayna. It won't feel like his arm. It won't look like his arm.
"Pretty soon he's going to start worrying about how a potential partner will react to him because he's missing an arm. He can't not think about it," Dase said.
Dayna looked thoughtful. "But surely anyone worthwhile wouldn't care. I mean, if you love someone, you don't care. Lauren and I didn't care that Father was blind."
"He was your father. You always loved him. But what if he had met someone new, a possible companion? Your father was mature and confident enough not to be concerned about reactions to his disability, but Tarrant's not. He's young, and this is a new experience."
"We're his friends. We'll be there for him," Dayna declared.
"Of course we will. But we're not the whole galaxy. All I'm saying is that you shouldn't be surprised or angry when his depression returns from time to time—and it will. You'll have to be patient. He's worth it, isn't he?"
"There were times when Avon would have said he wasn't worth anything," Dayna recalled.
"They didn't get along?"
"Horrors, no. Both of them were determined to be King of the Mountain. There wasn't a day that went by without those two butting heads," Dayna laughed.
"What's Avon like?" Dase asked, sitting down on her toolbag.
"A bundle of contradictions. Every time you think you've figured him out, he contradicts your theory. He talks to Vila like he's the most worthless being in the galaxy, then he leaps to his defence—not in front of Vila, of course, not often anyway. But Vila trusts him. That's why he's always willing to side with Avon when it's something really important. I remember once when Vila almost left us. He'd met a girl he liked, and Tarrant had been bullying him—"
"Tarrant? Bullying someone?" Dase was surprised.
"He used to bully Vila, and he tried to bully everyone else too. Tarrant was a real pain when he first joined us. And he was so nasty to Vila that he nearly left us; perhaps we didn't really understand Vila then. We made fun of him when he'd talk about meeting a nice girl and having a family."
"And then he met someone."
"Yes, and he almost stayed behind with her. When he introduced her to us, Avon was looking at her with benevolence, or what passes for benevolence on Avon's face. I think he was happy for Vila. Of course, I could be wrong. All of Avon's expressions look pretty much the same—smug or disapproving," Dayna pondered. "Except when he smiles, which isn't often."
"At least he smiles, then. That's good."
"Oh no, that's when you really have to watch out. When Avon smiles, it usually means disaster for someone. What Avon says and what he does are very different things."
"But you like him."
"Oh yes. Even Tarrant likes him, I think. When you get right down to it, Avon's really a sensitive, understanding person."
Avon was wearing his most forbidding expression. "One last thing before you leave, Vila: DO NOT STEAL ANYTHING. You both have plenty of credit chits. I don't want to have to break you out of the local jail," Avon instructed.
"You know I wouldn't get caught, Avon," Vila insisted.
"Remind me: why were you on that prison ship?"
"That's not the same thing at all!" he protested. "I only got caught because one of my false identities unravelled."
"Well, you're using a false identity now, aren't you? I mean this, Vila. If you get caught, I'll leave you here," Avon finished. "Watch him, Task. If something goes wrong, run."
Task took firm hold of Vila's arm and guided him to the door ahead of him. "We'll be fine, Avon. I'll keep an eye on him. We'll meet you back here for lunch so we can unload our purchases. If you think of anything else we should get, you can let us know then. Let's go, Vila." He pushed Vila through the door and to the lift.
Avon muttered, "Unload their purchases. We'll probably have to unload Vila's pockets too."
He picked up the visbox remote, settled on the bed, and began looking for local interest channels. That's how Task had learned about the mine workers spending two days in town and returning to the mine only in time for the first shift.
The first channel he settled on seemed to be showing some sort of drama. There were never more than two or three actors together in a scene, and they were always discussing someone's perfidy or sudden drastic illness. People seemed to be in comas a lot or getting pregnant. And they all seemed to have names like "Harley", "Brady", or "Hayes"—and those were the females. It didn't take long to determine that all the breaks between scenes contained advertising for household products. They weren't any thirty second news updates. Apparently typical viewers were housebound and preferred to be.
The next channel was better; it was showing old visplays. And while there were still the occasional advertisements for household products—spiced up with schemes for learning a new trade at home in your spare time or suing your employer for work-related injuries—there were also quick news briefs containing items of local interest.
"Let me see the list again," Vila said. "Concentrate cubes—can't find those. Purification tablets—lucky thing some of the locals are concerned about their water supplies. Smokeless heat source—bless those home party-givers. Tent—nothing smaller than a four-man tent in bright red. Survival blankets—strange they don't have those. What if their speeders break down and they have to wait for a mechanic?" He handed the list back to Task.
Task skimmed the list. "You wait outside while I get some bottled water. Then we'll put this stuff in the room and have lunch. Avon may have thought of something else,"
They met in front of the store ten minutes later and started back to the hotel. As they walked, Task asked, "What's so special about this computer we've got to get?"
"In my opinion, nothing. He was never anything but trouble, but Avon dotes on him. Orac—short for Oracle, I guess—can remotely access any other computer containing tarriel cells. Avon used him to access Federation computers all the time." Vila explained.
"Sounds pretty useful to me."
"I guess he could be, but he caused us a lot of grief. Orac has a mind of his own, so you can't count on him telling you everything when you ask him a question. He gets all huffy and insulted, and then he twists what he reports so you'll go haring off in the wrong direction. Avon says if the Feds get Orac, they can use him to hunt us. That's why we've got to find him or destroy him. Trust me, when push comes to shove, Avon won't destroy Orac. Avon's greed always gets the better of him."
"If the Feds could use Orac to hunt us, I guess we'll have to find him first, won't we? How big is he? Will we have trouble getting him away from the base?"
Vila's hands were full, so he estimated, "About fifty by thirty by twenty centimetres. Orac's not too heavy, but he's awkward to carry."
"Maybe we'd better look for a bag to carry him in. Would he fit in one of the knapsacks?"
"I don't think so. I think it would be the wrong shape. You're right, we'd better look for a bag after lunch." Vila's face brightened. "That's one on Avon: he didn't think of a bag."
When they reached the hotel, Avon was getting impatient, "What took you so long? I thought you'd been caught stealing."
"Of course not. I'm too good for that," Vila answered, dumping his purchases on the bed. He looked at the remote in Avon's hand. "What have you been up to? More viscasts?"
"I've been watching for items of local interest."
"Yeah, I'd say some of those viscasts are very interesting indeed," Vila grinned. "And not just locally."
"I have learned," Avon growled, "that this town isn't an option for pickup by Jenna. They have temporarily closed the local spaceport for repairs. Even the mining company is having to bring supplies in by ground right now. When we get Orac, we'll have to head to the larger town. It also means," he purred with self-satisfaction, "that the road between the two towns is relatively safe, being a main supply artery. We can make better time by keeping close to it, blending in with the traffic."
"Know-all," Vila started.
"Why don't we go down and have some lunch?" Task suggested, breaking up the incipient argument.
"In the hotel?" Avon asked with dismay.
"It'll save time and be safer than leaving our things unattended for a long time," Task said.
"Yes, well, all right. We'll go over the list after lunch. Then Vila can stay and get some sleep while you and I get more supplies."
Once they were in the dining room, Avon went directly to the order input and made his selection. He found a table apart from the more occupied areas of the room and unwrapped his food, waiting for Task and Vila.
"What did you get?" Task asked.
Avon stared at his food. "I ordered the grilled bason sandwich. It looks exactly like the chicken sandwich I got yesterday." He lifted the bun and peered inside.
"I ordered the poached moonfish." Task said. He compared his food with Avon's. It looked the same.
Vila was unwrapping something fresh, green, and crisp-looking. "What's that?" Avon and Task chorused.
"The lightly grilled garden vegetables," Vila answered.
Avon and Task looked at each other and got up in tandem, going to the order input. Theirs didn't look quite as fresh, green, or crisp, but it was better than the bason or moonfish. Vila ate their rejected orders.
Task and Avon took their supplies purchases directly to the speeder, holding back only the food they'd purchased for dinner. Avon was determined to have something resembling real food and had stopped at a place advertising "Authentic Sicilian," whatever that was. It came in two large, flat boxes and was awkward to carry, but it smelled good enough to make his stomach rumble.
Vila was watching the visbox when they came in. "Did you see the channel that carries old visplays? 'Play it, Sam'," he said.
"What?" Avon asked.
" 'Play it, Sam.' It's a line from one of the visplays. It's the Andromedan War, and this couple find each other after being separated by the war—" he began. "Oh, great! Authentic Sicilian! Sure hope it is," he exclaimed while grabbing one of the boxes. He put it on the foot of the bed and pulled up the chair. "Well, come on! I haven't had this since the Delta Levels in London Dome."
After the awkwardness of searching for utensils—"No, you eat it with your hands"—Avon admitted to himself that the "peetsa," as Vila called it, was quite good, but he wouldn't admit it to Vila. Delta food. He hoped no-one would find out. They polished off both boxes—extra large.
Avon and Vila left Task getting some sleep and began trolling the local taverns for information. Much to Vila's disgust, Avon insisted that they sit next to potted plants so they could pour most of their drinks into the plants and stay sober for the next tavern. Worse, Avon was getting tired after walking all afternoon and wanted to skip some of the taverns. Killjoy. The only bright spot for Vila, aside from the ale, was that Avon was enthusiastically—enthusiastically for Avon, that is—enjoying the free comestibles in the taverns. And it was all foods that were common in the Delta Levels in London Dome. Vila was looking forward to trotting out that bit of trivia when they saw Jenna, Tarrant, and Dayna again.
They were on the last of their chosen stops when a flashily dressed young woman began smiling at Avon. She pursed her lips and lifted her eyebrows slightly. Avon nodded towards Vila. The woman looked at Vila with recognition, rolled her eyes, and turned away.
"All right, everyone, I'm going to cut the lights and leave the road at that curve," Task advised.
Vila slid lower in his seat, dismayed. "Won't we need the lights to keep from hitting the trees?"
"No," Avon answered firmly—and surreptitiously braced himself, just in case.
They'd left the town with a string of other speeders and groundcars while it was still dark, heading for the mine. The trees were both a blessing and a curse. Task had seen the vehicles ahead of them appear to vanish as they rounded a curve, hidden by the trees; but navigating in the woods without light was tricky. He brought the speeder to a halt as soon as he judged they were hidden from the road. Vila started breathing again.
"Now what?" Vila asked.
"Now we wait," Avon instructed, "quietly."
Vila waited as long as he could stand it. "Let's eat while we're waiting. I'm hungry."
"You wouldn't be if you hadn't insisted on sleeping when Task and I went down for breakfast."
"Avon," Vila used that whining tone that Avon couldn't stand.
"Oh, all right, Vila. Eat a concentrate cube."
"But we've got packaged food that actually tastes good."
Task intervened, "It smells good too, Vila; and if we can smell it, anyone nearby can smell too. And they might not mean us well. So here's the rule on anything with an odour: we don't open it until just before we're ready to move on again." He shifted around in his seat. "What's the next stage, Avon?"
"We'll try to stay on or near the road if feasible and continue to the next mining town. If we can make good enough time, we can get near Blake's base sometime tomorrow afternoon. Then we wait until dusk to approach; we don't know what we will find there, or who." He turned around in the seat and lay down. "Wake me when you want me to relieve you, Task."
The sun was overhead when Vila shook him awake, "Rest stop, Avon. Time to get up."
He sat up, blinking in the sunlight. "You should have woken me sooner, Task."
"I was fine, and you needed the rest. You did a lot of walking yesterday. Do you hurt anywhere?"
"No, I feel fine," he lied. My back is killing me! "Let's all stretch our legs and eat. Then you can sleep for a while, Task, while I fly." He began pulling food packages out of a sack. "What will it be, Vila? Cold roast chicken? Cold bason stew? Cold—well, even you wouldn't eat that one cold." He pitched the package back in the sack.
"You keep saying, 'cold'," Vila noted. "What about the smokeless heat source?"
"That is for emergency purposes only."
"Great. If I'd known that, I'd have chosen foods that are supposed to be eaten cold," he grumbled. "I'll take the chicken." He decided against surprising Avon with the bottle of liquor he'd tucked under the seat. Avon never liked surprises. Probably say you could smell it a mile away. Then he thought about what Avon had said. "What do you consider an emergency purpose?"
"If we run out of packaged foods and concentrate cubes and have to eat the local fauna."
"Marvellous. Nuts, berries, and lizards."
When Task went to attend to his comfort before leaving again, Vila turned to Avon, "Why don't you let me fly this afternoon? You still need to rest, Avon."
"No, I don't. I'm fine, Vila."
"No, you're not, Avon. I can tell, and Task can tell. We don't know what we're going to be getting into and how soon. You weren't supposed to be doing this. Doctor Tabor only allowed you go because he was assured you'd be staying on the ship. The truth, Avon, how do you feel?"
It took Avon some time to answer that. He had learned long ago never to admit weakness; it would come back to hurt you, maybe even kill you. But Vila had never let him down, had never taken unfair advantage. Through all his babbling and playing the fool, he had always been a friend. "I . . . you're right, Vila. I hurt some. You should fly."
That had been hard to do, but maybe if he'd given in before when he was tired, the Liberator wouldn't have been destroyed. Maybe if he hadn't let himself get so bone tired, Cally might still be alive. Maybe if he hadn't been trying to prove he was superhuman, he wouldn't be dragging Vila all over this hell-hole of a planet. He got into the passenger seat and stared out the front, thinking of all the maybes.
When Task returned and saw Vila in the operator's seat, he simply climbed into the back and asked, "What's the plan this afternoon?"
As Avon opened his mouth to speak, Vila cut him off, "We'll get as far as we can and stop about an hour before dark. We can eat and get further on before we need to rest for the night. The pocket comp shows another capsule about three hours from here. The least we can do is check for survivors." He started the speeder.
"All right," Task agreed. "Stop about a kilometre away from it and wake me. I'll check it out." He settled down and went to sleep.
By sticking near the road, they made better time. It was only about two and a half hours when Vila halted the speeder and woke Task. "We're a kilometre away from the capsule," he pointed, handing a pocket comp to Task, "in that direction."
"Here's where I earn my pay," Task answered cheerfully and picked up a gun, checking the charge. He climbed out of the hatch and turned to Vila and Avon, "I'll be back in about an hour. Get the knapsacks out of the speeder and hide them nearby. Then hide yourselves. No point presenting a convenient target." He slipped into the trees.
Vila began pulling the knapsacks from the speeder and looking for a hiding place. "When we get there, let's just get Orac and get out. Okay, Avon? Nothing else, right?"
"I don't know what you mean, Vila"
"I mean no looking around, no going to the tracking gallery where everything went so wrong. We don't need that. I don't need that, and you certainly don't need that."
Silence.
"Look, Avon, you did what you had to, to keep us alive. Nobody blames you for shooting Blake except you. The rest of us are damned grateful to be alive. Avalon's people think you're a hero."
Silence.
"Avon, nothing is ever going to make you feel good about that, but it's time to stop beating yourself up. Going and looking at that room would just make it worse, so leave it alone. If you don't, I'll hit you over the head and drag you out. Got that?"
Silence. Bloody stubborn Alpha.
"Slide into that dead wood over there, Avon. I'll be up that tree." Avon complied without argument, always a sign that he intended to go right ahead and do what he wanted later. Oh, well, Vila would just have to find a time to clue Task in. Between the two of them they could surely handle one idiot Alpha.
As good as his word, Task returned within the hour. Avon and Vila came out of their hiding places and joined him. "That one probably had Wrell's people in it. I didn't see any signs of violence, and no-one had stripped the capsule. I couldn't tell how many there were, but they appeared to be heading directly towards Blake's base. Unless they were able to get a speeder, we'll probably arrive before they do if they make it."
Vila looked worried, "You don't want to wait around the base for them, do you?"
"No," Task answered. "They're not our problem. They'll have to look out for themselves." He climbed into the speeder, pushing the knapsacks ahead of him, and finished, "They certainly didn't look out for us, did they?"
Jenna found Dayna in the galley. "May I join you?" she asked, squeezing in across the table from Dayna. "I appreciate what you've done with the guns. Tarrant did a pretty fair job when we got chased from Xaranar, but I need for him to do better if it happens again." She laughed wryly and amended, "When it happens again."
"He should be able to operate them well enough now, especially since Dase has refitted the restraint belts. You shouldn't have to scrape him off the bulkheads."
Jenna smiled. The two younger women were liable to spoil Tarrant rotten. They were already working out plans for more retrofits for Tarrant. "Dayna, I'm going to ask something I know ordinarily wouldn't be my business, but I have to look out for my ship." She paused and collected her thoughts. "Is there some sort of bad blood between Tarrant and Avon? Anytime Avon's mentioned, Tarrant looks uncomfortable. Should I be worried about having them together on the Lady?" Jenna was thinking about the fireworks between Blake and Avon. They were frequent and raised tension levels in the crew almost to the breaking point at times.
"Well, they used to paw the ground from time to time." Dayna laughed at Jenna's puzzled expression. "It's a phrase Avon used once; I had to go look it up. It refers to two male animals facing off against one another, and it perfectly describes what they used to do."
"It perfectly describes what Blake and Avon used to do too."
"I don't think they'll be doing it now, though. They used to be angry with each other a lot. Both of them wanted to be the leader, and they were both probably justified. Avon had the edge because he was older.
"But they got over that eventually. I think the problem now is sorrow, or guilt—something like that. They probably both blame themselves for things going so badly."
Jenna considered. "At one time, I would have said Avon wouldn't have blamed himself for anything, but maybe he's changed."
"At one time, I would have agreed with you. I'm only guessing, but I think maybe he has changed. Tarrant certainly has. He's grown up quite a bit."
"I hope you're right, Dayna. I don't mind Avon and Vila having fights because you can always tell they don't really mean it. But Avon and Blake used to drive the rest of us crazy. Vila used to hide in a bottle to escape it while I found excuses to hide in my cabin. I don't know what Cally used to do; probably tried to reason with them."
"She used to try that with Tarrant and Avon too—it didn't work," Dayna added.
"Vila doesn't drink much anymore. Did he after Blake and I left?" Jenna asked.
"Not before we lost the Liberator. He was staying sober most of the time. After that, he was back on the booze. It was always very tense on Xenon. We all hated that base and the Scorpio. I think Vila spent those two years scared out of his wits, which probably means he was the only one with his head on straight. Still, as drunk as I've ever seen him get, he can certainly sober up in an instant when he has to."
"Probably for the same reason he can't be conditioned. Which makes him pretty valuable if you think about it. We all have our strengths," Jenna said.
"Avon can't be tortured into talking. Did you know that?" Dayna asked.
"No. How do you know that?" Jenna wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the answer.
"I've seen two separate occasions when he was brutalized for information, and he didn't talk. The first time was when he spent five days in a Federation interrogation facility without talking. He looked like hell when we got him out. On the second occasion, his wrist was fractured and his interrogators were continuing to abuse it. I couldn't stand it and told them what they wanted to know," Dayna said a little ashamedly.
"Avon's always been stubborn, and he's allergic to interrogation drugs. What is Tarrant's strength?"
"Bravery. Too much so for his own good; he doesn't always apply his brain before he goes charging in to save the day. I think Avon used to take advantage of that and let him charge ahead of him."
"Well, Dayna, it's my ship they'll be on. Any problems they have with each other will have to be solved away from everyone else. I have a feeling we're going to be living in very close quarters for a long time, unless you happen to know where we can find a handy deserted base we can move into quickly. We won't be able to go back to Horizon."
"Why not? It wasn't so bad."
"I think it's been compromised already. By the time we're done getting Avon and Vila back, Avalon will probably be evacuating." Jenna stood. "So any suggestions you might have would be appreciated."
Vila was getting tired of trees. They all looked the same, and they could all be hiding Vila's worst nightmare behind their broad trunks—hoards of hairy aliens. There was nothing soft about sitting up on a branch half the night, and the aliens could probably get you there too. Avon had announced it was Vila's turn to take the first watch since he had slept late that morning, so here he was: up a tree in the dark.
He had thought briefly about suggesting Avon do some watching and then was ashamed of himself. Avon wasn't in any shape to that. When you got right down to it, Avon hadn't been in good shape for a year at least. There had been too many demands on him, burdens the others were too lazy to help shoulder—or too cowardly.
Vila had determined it was time they all start pulling their weight. It wouldn't be easy; Avon enjoyed being the one in charge. But that was no reason for the rest of them to sit around and wait for Avon to tell them what they needed to do. They should be able to figure that out without being told.
Was that a noise? Vila strained his ears nervously and held his breath. When he was nearly blue in the face, he decided there was nothing there. Just his imagination. The whole night was going to be like that: listening and suffocating himself. He thought back to the night Blake and Jenna spent in a tree when Travis was hunting them. How had Jenna been able to fall asleep during her watch? They should have had Vila with them; he could have kept everyone awake with his shivering.
Vila wondered what would happen after Jenna picked them up from Gauda Prime. Where could they go? Avon didn't want to go back to Horizon, and maybe he was right. It probably was compromised, and that was too bad. Vila had enjoyed the feeling of safety it gave him. Well, mostly safe. Maybe there wasn't any place that was truly safe. He started racking his brains for some place they could go and live quietly. Maybe Orac could find a place.
For the first time, Vila began to see an advantage to retrieving Orac. Maybe Avon could use him to withdraw the bounties on their heads. That would be a start. They wouldn't need to run and hide all the time. Then maybe Avon could get them some money. It didn't need to be much; Vila didn't need to be rich. He just wanted enough to buy a little place of his own, maybe even find a wife, start a family. Of course he'd have to find a different profession. He couldn't be a petty thief forever; his reflexes would start getting slow.
If he had a son, he'd name him "Gan." That would be a way to remember his friend. Things might have been a lot easier if Gan had lived. He had acted as a sort of conscience on the Liberator. Maybe Blake wouldn't have turned bad if Gan had been there all along. Gan wouldn't have agreed with Blake's plan to destroy Star One. Of course the Andromedans did destroy it, so maybe it wouldn't have made a difference after all. But Gan wouldn't have let Blake force Vila to stay on Albion waiting for that solium bomb to explode just so Blake could play the heroic rebel. Blake wouldn't likely have let Gan come along with them though, so maybe that wouldn't have been any different either. Avon had once said something about Blake being willing to fight for his Cause to the last drop of his followers' blood. Avon was right.
But if they'd still had Gan with them after the War, other things might have been different. He wouldn't have let Tarrant bully Vila as he had. Vila smiled at the image of Gan, half a head taller and twice the bulk, looming over Tarrant. That would have shown Tarrant!
And maybe Gan wouldn't have let Avon launch that miserable plan to kill—Avon said "execute"—the Central Intelligence interrogator he thought had tortured his Anna to death. Then Avon wouldn't have had to find out she'd betrayed him, that she was the one who caused him to get shot, that she was the one who caused him to be caught and put on a prison ship. Vila decided that's when things had started going wrong for Avon. He had started getting hard-edged then. Well, more hard-edged than normal anyway.
Mister Hard-Edges crept out from under the survival blanket "tent" and slipped into the woods just then. Vila saw him but hadn't heard him make a sound. Sneaky Alpha. Where did he learn to be so quiet? Vila watched him come back a couple of minutes later. He took a closer look. Avon was limping. When did that happen? He hadn't been limping before. Uh-oh. It would be just like the toffee-nosed bastard to lie about his condition. Vila decided he'd better let Task know about it as soon as he could.
Jenna had waited as long as she could stand. She keyed open the intercom and announced, "People, as far as I'm concerned, the Gauda Prime mission is overdue. We're heading there now." She released the switch and turned to Dev.
"Already laid in, Captain," he told her.
She smiled her gratitude at his understanding. "Thanks, Dev. How long at current speed?"
"Two days."
Dayna and Tarrant came onto the flight deck. Dayna asked, "Did you get a signal?"
"No, I just got tired of waiting." Jenna locked open the intercom to the engine room, "Are you there, Dase?"
"Here, Cap. What's the plan?"
"It's going to take us two days to get to Gauda Prime. If Avon and Vila haven't called for pickup by then, we'll just take our time transferring the cargo. If they still haven't called, we'll have to need engine repairs. Can you fix that up, Dase?"
"No problem. I've got some stressed parts I can display to backup a repair story."
"All right then. We're going to land at Briggston. That's the mining town closest to Blake's base. Nobody leaves the ship but Dev, Lissa, Dase, and me, only two at a time. We four have been seen there before, but Tarrant and Dayna haven't. I'd rather no-one know they're here.
"We'll take turns 'enjoying' some shore leave in town. The team in town will stay in contact with the ship at all times. If the pickup signal comes, we'll all return to the ship as quickly as possible without arousing suspicion. I'm counting on someone here to locate that signal. If it comes from the town, we may have to trace it on foot, but we'll need to be circumspect.
"If it comes from an unpopulated area, we can rent a speeder and go looking. Vila has met Dev, so I'll take either Lissa or Dase with me. Dev can take the other with him if we need a second speeder team. Avon wouldn't recognise anyone but me.
"We'll all go armed—discreetly. They don't scan for weapons anywhere I know of except the mines, so that shouldn't cause a problem. If Avon and Vila have made it to a town, they'll probably be safe enough that we won't need to use our weapons. If the signal comes from outside of a town, we'll arm ourselves very noticeably.
"Dayna, you go ahead and move in with me before we land. Dase, put Cully in with Tarrant. Avon will probably need a cabin of his own due to his physical condition, and Vila can go in the other one. If they got anyone else out with them, they can sleep in the corridors if they have to.
"Once we make the pickup, we'll go directly to Teal. If anyone wants to rejoin Avalon, they'll have to wait. The families, Avon, and Vila come first. We'll only divert if there is a medical emergency. I'd rather get everyone to Teal first because it's a non-aligned planet and they don't care for the Federation. What's wrong, Dayna?"
She glanced at Tarrant. "I think I'd better plan on staying on the ship when we're at Teal."
Tarrant explained, "There was a small altercation with Servalan a few years ago during the last Teal-Vandor war. Dayna's been banned. I'd probably better plan on staying on the ship too."
"During the last war, Tarrant skipped out on his obligations as the First Champion of Teal," Dayna added.
"Accidental obligations," Tarrant amended.
Jenna looked from one to the other. "Anything else I should know? Did Avon break the banking system? Don't tell me: Vila got caught picking pockets."
Dayna spoke first, "No, they didn't get into any trouble that I know of. I think they'll be fine."
"Right. Well, I guess that answers any questions about whether Teal would be a good place for a base—not very." Jenna concluded. "Does anyone have any other questions? Good. Let's get busy."
