The Way Forward
by Baker Lutgens
Part 10 of 12
"Where are you going, Avon?" Vila had spent a largely sleepless night watching over Avon, though of course it wouldn't do for Avon to know that. Vila had finally drifted into sleep sometime in the early hours, only to be awakened by Avon's morning preparations. Why did he have to sit on the bed to put on his socks? He shook the whole bed when he did it.
"I'm going to breakfast."
"But Jenna said she'd be here for breakfast."
Avon sighed. "Vila, that was an exaggeration. She hasn't signalled her arrival, and she doesn't know where we are. I'm not waiting. You can skip breakfast if you like; we still have plenty of concentrate cubes left over."
Vila scrambled out of the bed, grabbing his clothes and heading for the bathroom. "Half a mo', Avon. I'll be ready."
Avon smiled—behind Vila's back—and sat down to wait.
"This place is ever so much nicer than the other one," Vila enthused.
"Vila, stop gawking. You'll draw attention—not that you look like you belong here anyway."
"You're looking a little shaggy yourself."
Task short-circuited the impending argument. "I appreciate it. After all those days in the woods and the questionable cuisine at the other hotel, I'm glad to be here. Did you notice the sheets aren't disposable?"
Avon agreed, "Yes, it is a nice change. Vila, don't take any of the linens when we leave." Vila conjured an injured look.
Task stirred his coffee lazily. "What's next on the agenda?"
"We go back to the room and wait. Orac will send our location as soon as the Lady lands. Then I want to discuss some things with Jenna. And yes, Vila, you're invited to the discussion. Quit playing with your eggs."
Vila put his fork down. "You know I'll argue against your plans, Avon. I just want to get away from this place."
"I know, Vila, but I'm determined to get the stardrive and teleport system whether or not anyone comes with me. If anyone wants to leave, he can. I'll find you later. We can fix a place to meet."
Vila opened his mouth to protest, but Task cut him off, "How did you come about the stardrive?"
"We were making some emergency repairs to the ship near the Altern system when some uncharacteristically fast space choppers destroyed three Federation interceptors. They were going over standard by twelve in real time."
"Whew! I guess that got your attention pretty quickly."
"We studied the recording of the incident and worked out where they had come from."
"And a lovely bunch they were too," Vila interjected. "Space Rats. And guess who got chosen to go down and try to bargain with them?"
"Are they as bad as the rumours?" Task asked.
"Worse! They'd kill their grandmothers for fun."
"And they let you have their propulsion system?"
"Well, not exactly . . ."
Avon took up the thread. "They captured Vila and Dayna pretty quickly. Tarrant, Soolin, and I rescued them and Doctor Plaxton, who had developed the drive."
"Some rescue," Vila muttered.
Avon silenced him with a look. "Doctor Plaxton unfortunately didn't survive. But with the stardrive, Scorpio was able to do TD fifteen eventually. The Federation ships could only do TD nine at that time."
Task digested the advantages of TD fifteen for a moment. "What about the teleport? I heard of it through Avalon's group, but I thought that was only on the Liberator. I really didn't know if it was truth or legend."
"Oh, it was truth. But the system on the Liberator was different. It was actually an integral part of the ship, inseparable from the other systems."
Vila interrupted, "It was? You never said anything about that before, Avon."
"It's not your field; you wouldn't have appreciated it." He returned his attention to Task, a properly appreciative audience. "The teleport on the Scorpio was originally a poor attempt at a similar device, a tele-ergotron, the controlled direction of pure energy. It could never have teleported an object or person. The previous owner spent thirty years trying to achieve that. I reengineered it into a teleport."
Vila was becoming an appreciative audience. He'd never really considered that Avon had done in a day what Dorian couldn't do in thirty years. Still, that was no reason to feed Avon's already monumental ego. "It never worked at better than eighty-six percent efficiency," he derided.
"You'd prefer no teleport at all?" Avon challenged.
"Well, no, I just meant that it would be better if it worked as well as the system on the Liberator. I enjoy having a teleport; it can get you out of a nippy situation pretty smartly." Now why was Avon looking so smug?
"All right, I can see why you want to go back and get those things, Avon. I'm in," Task volunteered.
"You're both mad," Vila opined. "Where are you going now?" Vila asked as Avon stood.
"Take Orac back to the room when you're done here. I'll join you shortly." He slid the shrunken Orac across the table to Vila and left.
"That's a neat trick," Task commented. "I never heard of molecular reduction before."
"Neither had I the first time we used it. Orac said it was 'stabilized atomic explosion,' or something like that. I still don't know what the hell it is."
"When was the first time you used it?"
Vila smiled in fond memory. "When we broke the bank at Freedom City. Ten million credits."
"You won ten million credits? Playing what?"
"The Big Wheel. It was computer controlled."
"And?"
Vila looked at Orac, still smiling.
Task followed his look. After a moment he began smiling too. "Orac gave you the numbers to play on the wheel."
"Yes, it was beautiful. Actually, it was only five million credits to start with. I doubled it when I played speed chess."
"I've heard something about that, but I can't think it's true. Someone told me the idea was to play the resident champion. If you lost, you were executed."
"Oh, it's true," Vila assured him. "We saw it happen to someone. The opponent sat in a special electrocution chair. The champion could choose to press the button if he won."
"Why ever would you take a risk like that, Vila? It doesn't seem like you."
"Well, it wasn't exactly by choice, but that doesn't matter here," Vila added hastily. No need to tell Task he fell victim to a doctored drink, like a greenhorn. "The point is that I won."
"I assume Orac fed you the moves."
"He did at first. Then he just stopped communicating after the first three or four moves; I never knew why." Vila frowned in memory. Something to interrogate Orac about later. "Anyway, I finished the game myself. Must have aged ten years while I was doing it. Avon and I split the winnings. I don't know what he did with his. I wound up giving mine to the Aurons—or what was left of the Aurons."
"I've heard of the Aurons. Tell me about them back in the room though. I'm not comfortable sitting out here in the 'open' for so long," Task said.
"What do you know about the Aurons?" Vila asked.
"Not much, just that they weren't part of the Federation and that they were pacifists. Oh, and I heard they were all telepaths," Task answered.
"It's true they weren't part of the Federation and were pacifists. They weren't all telepaths. That was propaganda. In fact, most of them weren't telepaths. Only the younger ones who had been cloned were telepaths. And even then they couldn't receive from someone who wasn't a telepath, only send. They couldn't read minds. At least that's what Cally always said, but I wondered."
"What happened to them? Where are they now?"
"All dead, mostly. Servalan infected the entire planet with a disease. Only Aurons who were off-world or in isolated, outlying areas survived, aside from one or two we were able to cure. We took the survivors to an isolated planet; spent weeks ferrying the off-worlders there. I gave them my winnings to help them buy survival supplies. I think Avon gave them a good deal more from the Liberator's strongroom. Haven't had contact with them in years. I hope they made it."
"Maybe you can go and see someday, Vila."
"I hope so. Say, that's a good idea, Task. Maybe we could settle down there. The Aurons would be mighty appreciative towards Avon. And me, of course," he added quickly.
Vila turned excitedly as Avon entered the room. "The Aurons would be glad to see us; don't you think, Avon?" Vila asked eagerly. "Maybe we could settle down with them."
"And five thousand embryonic Aurons?" Avon suggested.
"Oh, right."
Avon smiled insincerely, "Why, Vila, that's a wonderful idea. You've always wanted children."
"Not five thousand of them! Think of all the nappies!"
"I am thinking of them, and I think it would be a perfect use of your talents."
Task forestalled another argument. "Where did you get your hair cut, Avon? Here in the hotel?"
"Yes, there's a stylist downstairs. Vila said something about me looking 'shaggy.' Perhaps Vila would like to visit the stylist too."
Vila ran his hand briefly over his thinning hair. No, he'd just keep everything he had for a while.
"May I have your attention?" Orac interrupted. "The Emerald Lady has just landed at the spaceport. They send the message, 'Put the coffee on.' Shall I send our location, Avon?"
"Yes, thank you, Orac. Vila, start cleaning up some of the mess you've left around the room. We'll have visitors soon," Avon instructed.
Vila began collecting odd bottles, glasses, and snacks wrappers. "Shouldn't we get our belongings together? We want to be ready to leave as soon as they come to collect us." It was worth trying, he thought.
"No, we won't. I told you I'm going to confer with Jenna about the feasibility of salvage from the Scorpio. Orac, can you give me any details yet on the Scorpio?"
"I have found no specific references to the Scorpio in any of the computers I have polled. It is unlikely the Federation would have salvaged anything and left no record of it. It is possible some private party did, so I am polling for any reference that might indicate use of the stardrive or the teleport.
"Upon comparison of the Wanderer Class ships' specifications with the damage Slave was able to report before he shut down, I do not believe the Scorpio itself can be salvaged. I will continue to refine my assessments. If I may suggest, Del Tarrant should review the data as well. His contributions would be appreciated."
Again Avon stared at Orac with mild surprise. Praise? From Orac? He wondered how long it would last. "Thank you, Orac. We'll . . . involve Tarrant in the planning as soon as possible."
"He said 'he'," Vila noted.
"What?"
"Orac referred to Slave as 'he.' He never did that before, just spouted about how Slave was an inferior computer."
"It, Vila. Yes, it is interesting. Orac's personality seems to have undergone a change. I wonder why that is?" Avon looked at Vila suspiciously.
Jenna double checked the charge on her tiny handgun and slid it inside her jacket. "Ready, Dase?"
"Ready, Cap." Dase slid her gun into a thigh pocket, and shouldered a capacious tote bag.
"Is everyone clear on the plan? Dev and Lissa will start the cargo transfer procedures; the rest of you will stay out of sight. Avon and Vila are at the Briggston Arms, so we'll take a groundcab there and find them. I expect we'll bring them back immediately. If the plans change, we'll either get Orac to send you a message, or I'll contact you directly. Got that?"
"Yes, Captain, we understood the fourth time you explained," Dev smiled indulgently. "Get going." He shooed them out the hatch and watched them walk towards the public transportation gate. "Gilley, go check the cabins to see that they're ready. Cully, keep a watch in the engine room and let me know if you see anything you don't like."
Linn Devril volunteered, "I'll take an inventory of the galley and medical supplies and see if there's anything we need to get." He headed down the corridor.
Arne seated himself at the computer console. "I'm looking forward to meeting Kerr Avon. The papers he published before he ran afoul of the Federation government are still considered so advanced very few people have been able to understand them. It'll be a treat to discuss them with the man himself. Think how he must have added to that knowledge in the years since."
"I'm looking forward to meeting him purely on a personality basis," Lissa said. "Dayna says his pet name for Vila is 'Idiot,' and that Vila's name for Avon is 'Arrogant, Snotnosed Bastard.' The way Dayna describes him, he's very mercurial, very biting and cutting, but very generous at the same time. Do you think he'll talk about Blake at all?"
Dev responded, "I rather hope not. Apparently they were all somewhat traumatized by the discovery that Blake was acting as a double agent—Avon most of all. It seems he was very close to Blake. Killing Blake was what sent him into near oblivion for so many weeks.
"Vila should be very handy to have around. According to Dayna, he can get any ship's stores we might need very inexpensively—free, in fact. It could be very useful to have a resident thief," Dev concluded.
"As long as he doesn't teach his tricks to Gilley and Cully," Lissa laughed.
"Now what, Cap? We can't go in and ask what room the notorious Kerr Avon and Vila Restal are staying in," Dase pointed out.
"Nor we can we saunter in and say, 'Excuse me, we're looking for a tall, dark, handsome man. Have you got one? And if he has a friend, that's even better'," Jenna laughed.
Dase grinned, "We're not dressed for that kind of trade."
"We'll just have to trust that they're watching out for us. If we don't see them right away, we'll go into the restaurant and ask Arne to contact them. Let's go."
They strolled casually into the lobby of the Briggston Arms and looked about. Dase gestured towards the restaurant. "There it is." They started forward.
"Salena Kindle! I haven't seen you in years! You look wonderful!" Vila greeted them. "Who's your friend? Hello, I'm Micah Keiller." He held out his hand.
"I'm Wendy Dahl," Dase introduced herself, shaking his hand.
"Listen, Prell Dastor is here with me. Why don't you come up and meet him? I know he'd be delighted." Vila led them to the lifts.
"That would be lovely. You've heard me speak of Prell, Wendy. You'll enjoy meeting him," Jenna was saying as the lift doors closed.
"I'm awfully glad to see you, old friend," Jenna said as she briefly hugged Avon. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine, Jenna."
Vila made a face.
"I'm Dase, ship's engineer," Dase explained to Avon.
Task came forward. "I'm Task. You may have seen me around the base."
"Sit down, Jenna. I have a proposal to put to you," Avon said. "Vila, just hand around the coffee, would you?" Avon sat across from Jenna.
When everyone was seated, Jenna asked, "You're not quite ready to leave, are you, Avon?" Task's face gave nothing away, but Vila rolled his eyes. "What is it?" she asked.
"We have an opportunity we shouldn't pass up—I believe we shouldn't pass up."
"He's mad, Jenna," Vila interrupted. "Say 'no' right now."
"Let him speak, Vila," Jenna said.
"Thank you, Jenna." Avon began again. "Do you know anything about the stardrive we had on the Scorpio?"
"Only that Tarrant said it could go as high as TD fifteen."
"That's still faster than anything else out there, isn't it?" Avon asked.
"Yes, but . . . what are you saying, Avon? That you've got the stardrive somewhere?" Jenna asked.
"In a way. It may still be on the Scorpio. Orac hasn't found any clues that it's been salvaged and used. Wouldn't you like to have it for the Lady?"
Jenna's face displayed her struggle. "Well, yes, I'd love to have it. But I don't know that it's worth the risk of trying to get it, especially when you don't know if it's intact."
"How big is it?" Dase asked eagerly.
Avon held his hands apart. "Not really any larger than Orac. It'll connect to standard fiber optic control connections."
Dase looked at Jenna. "That's what the Lady has, Cap."
Avon sweetened the deal, "How about a teleport, Jenna?"
Jenna began biting her lip. Vila saw his dream for a quick departure evaporate. "Come on, Jenna, let's just get out of here. Please?" he pleaded. He reached out and took her hands in his. "I want us to leave. This is a dangerous place, Jenna. No-one needs to keep risking his life for something that may not even be there anymore."
"Vila—" Avon began.
"No, it's my turn, Avon. Jenna, he lied when he said he was fine. He's not. He needs to see a doctor. You know how stubborn he is."
Jenna glanced quickly at Avon and back to Vila. "What's wrong with him, Vila?"
"I told you, I'm perfectly all—" Avon tried again.
"No, you're not. He's limping, Jenna, all the time. Task says he needs a doctor. We don't know if it'll get better or worse."
Jenna turned to Task, "And what do you say about this?"
"It's true that he's developed a limp. Only a doctor can tell if it's permanent, or offer the possibility of lessening it. But it's also true that I understand his reasons for wanting to recover the stardrive and teleport if he can. Reluctantly, I support that. I have to consider the entire patient, Captain. If we insist he leave, he'll just find a way to come back, probably alone. I'd rather be with him than wondering what will happen to him."
Jenna considered that for several moments. Avon was the most stubborn of men. She knew he'd come back alone if he had to. "Yes, all right. I'll help you, Avon, but I won't expect any of my crew to be part of it. It wouldn't be fair to compel them."
"I agree. Orac wishes to consult with Tarrant. Will he come here, or do we need to go to your ship?"
"I told Tarrant and Dayna to stay out of sight for safety. I thought it would be best if no-one notices I've got new crew on board. It would be better if we go to the ship to talk to him."
Avon stood decisively. "We'll go now. We'll keep the room a little longer in case we need it. It's paid for five days in advance."
The others stood too, some eagerly, some reluctantly. As they neared the door, Jenna caught Avon's arm, "Avon, I've grown rather fond of Tarrant. I want him back unharmed."
Avon looked into her eyes for a moment, trying to read her meaning. "Yes, all right. I'll get him back to you in one piece, Jenna."
"I wish they'd hurry," Dayna complained.
"Oddly, I wish they would too. Want some more coffee?" Tarrant offered.
"No, I don't think this is real coffee. Why do you say it's odd?"
"Of course it's not real coffee. It's just reconstituted . . . something." Tarrant studied the remains in his mug. "Well, I don't know what it is." He looked up. "I said it's odd because I'm half expecting Avon to strangle me as soon as he sees me. Vila will probably help him."
"I told you Avon will be glad to see you. You've got nothing to worry about—certainly not from Vila, anyway. He couldn't threaten anybody."
"Don't sell him short, Dayna. I've done a lot of thinking lately, and I'm not proud of the way I treated either of them in the past. Gods, what a terrible brat I was." Tarrant looked up from his mug. "I was probably lucky Vila never got angry enough to put me out of his misery."
"He couldn't," Dayna stated flatly.
"Oh yes, he could. You were out of it at Blake's base; you didn't see what Vila did after Blake's bodyguard shot you."
Dayna began paying closer attention. "Why? What did he do?"
"He disarmed her and broke her neck. It was so unexpected—to me anyway—I almost couldn't take it in. He got close to her with that silly babbling he does so well—you saw that part; she was completely taken in. When she shot you, he gave her one blow to the head, catching her gun as she went down. Her head spun nearly a hundred eighty degrees, Dayna. She was dead before she hit the floor. Vila's one hell of a fighter."
Dayna was staring open-mouthed now.
"Remember Kairos and the ambush on the shuttle? Avon and Vila took down all of the Federation guards. I missed," Tarrant said a little ashamedly. "So, don't sell Vila short. He can be deadly when he chooses." He rose and carried his mug to the autowash. "When you were shot, he chose."
Avon was uneasy as he stepped through the Lady's main hatch. Tarrant and Dayna were waiting in the corridor, and he could no longer avoid the visible evidence of what his hubris had done to Tarrant. Tarrant looked uneasy too.
He stopped in front of Tarrant and studied him for a moment. Then he put out his hand.
Tarrant looked startled and started to speak. Then he looked down at Avon's hand and slowly met it with his own. They nodded once, quickly, as they shook hands. The past belonged to the past.
Then Avon moved on to Dayna, who couldn't stop herself from hugging him.
Tarrant found himself face to face with Vila. Ever open and honest, Vila grinned as he shook Tarrant's hand vigorously. "Glad to see you, Tarrant. Have you been staying out of trouble? We haven't. Just wait till you hear what Avon wants to do next. And that plastic brain Orac is happy to help him get us all into more trouble." He dropped Tarrant's hand. "Dayna!"
Vila was astonished as Dayna hugged him so tightly he almost stopped breathing. She whispered softly in his ear, "I'm very happy to see you, Vila." She gave him a fleeting kiss on the cheek before she withdrew. Vila followed Avon down the corridor in a daze.
Everyone was seated on anything available in the cargo hold or was participating via the intercom as they discussed Avon's proposed salvage of the Scorpio.
"Do you think you can find the Scorpio, Avon? Have you approximate coordinates?" Dev was asking.
"Orac believes it can locate the Scorpio within a few kilometres. A few overflights of the area should be enough to find it," Avon answered.
Jenna objected, "Not with the Lady though. Planetary authorities would notice all too quickly if I tried to take her out of the recognized space lanes. Could your speeder do it?"
"I believe it could gain enough altitude. If not, maybe Vila could help us acquire something else."
They turned to Vila. "Yes, all right. I'll help you find something better if you need it."
"Vila!" Dayna protested. "Don't encourage them. I think the whole idea's foolish. Now that we've got everyone together again, I don't think we should risk anyone."
"I'm sorry, Dayna. You know Avon's going to do this. I need to get him the best tools for the job," Vila soothed.
"We'll need every advantage we can get," Tarrant added, ignoring Dayna's angry looks. "The ship isn't worth anything, but we need the stardrive and teleport badly. And anything else we can think of."
Cully asked, "Do we know the stardrive can be installed on the Lady?"
"If it really only needs standard fiber optic connections," Dase answered. "I could probably get it installed in a couple of days with your help, Cully. In flight if necessary, Cap."
"Orac, what is your best estimate for how long it might take us to find the wreck?" Avon asked.
"Using the speeder currently at our disposal, I estimate approximately one half day to locate the general area and another half day to locate it specifically."
"So as much as a day to find the Scorpio," Jenna pointed out. "How much time is reasonable to spend there salvaging parts?"
"Probably two to three days," Avon answered.
"No, I'm not willing to wait that long. You'll have to get everything you want in one day. I'm sorry, Avon, but I agree with Vila about the risk. We could also consider destroying the wreck to keep the stardrive and teleport out of Federation hands," Jenna said.
Avon controlled his irritation with difficulty. "When was the last time you were attacked by pirates, Jenna?"
"A few months ago. Why?"
"Did you outrun them?"
"No, we eventually outmanoeuvred them and got in some lucky shots. Forget it, Avon. As much as I'd like the additional speed, I won't risk my friends foolishly."
"Very well, only one day for salvage."
Avon had given in much too easily, Vila knew. He intended to spend as much time as he wanted there. Vila understood Avon all too well.
"We know how to find it, we know what we need, and we have a speeder to get it," Avon summarized.
"How many people should go with you, Mister Avon?" Gilley asked.
"Just 'Avon'." Avon hadn't much experience with children. This one seemed properly respectful though. "Task will come with me—"
"I'm coming too," Tarrant added.
"And me," Dase said. "I can probably safely recover the stardrive faster than anyone else can."
"I'm coming too," Jenna said.
"No," Avon objected. "I—we can 't risk you. One pilot needs to stay with the Lady. Tarrant's coming with me; you'll have to stay here. You'll be our ace in the hole."
Dev met Linn's eyes and nodded fractionally before addressing Avon. "You'll understand why I can't come, I hope. I've got a family to look after."
"Naturally," Avon agreed. "I expect you to consider your family first. Lissa, Arne," he addressed the intercom speaker, "there's no need for either of you to come. You can't offer any expertise for this mission. You'll be needed on the ship. There will be four of us. I think that should be adequate, Gilley."
"Well, will you be able to get four people and the salvage into the speeder, Mi—Avon?" she asked.
"Yes. The components won't be very large. There's plenty of room for all of us and a few extra guns too."
Dayna sighed and rose, "Better let me take a look at the guns first."
Vila patted her hand. "It'll be all right, you'll see."
Avon, Task, Tarrant, and Dase had returned to the hotel in a rented luxury flyer and were dining in the suite so they could discuss the next day's activities. The visbox droned quietly in the background.
Avon explained, "As we still wish to maintain the appearance of business travellers, we'll have breakfast in the restaurant before we leave tomorrow. I told the management that we would be making personal inspections of some sites for the next few days and that we wish to maintain the room."
Dase added, "And he told them that I would be escorting you to those sites on behalf of my employers, who wish to enter into a business arrangement with you. A very good explanation for why I'm hanging around with you guys—better than the one they would have settled on for themselves," Dase winked at Tarrant.
Tarrant winked back at her, "More dignified at least."
She laughed, "Which only means they'll still think I'm here for your entertainment but that you're not having to pay for it yourselves and I'm not freelancing."
Avon refused to be drawn into their amusement but privately noted that Dase had performed her role much more convincingly than he felt Dayna would have. Dayna wasn't worldly enough. She hadn't seen women of the type Dase was impersonating. He was wrong of course, but Dayna had never enlightened him.
"Yes. Everyone just be sure to dress for business tomorrow morning. We can change into 'mission gear' on the way to the Scorpio," Avon instructed. "I'd like to leave by—" he froze, eyes rivetted on the visbox. The others turned to see what had distracted him.
It was a newscast on NAM, the Non-Aligned Media channel. The dignified-but-attractive male anchor was saying, "Terran Federation law enforcement officials announced today they've launched a massive hunt for former President and Supreme Commander Servalan, who has been using a false identity for the past two years, that of Federation Commissioner Sleer." Two side-by-side vispics displayed on the screen.
"The connection between the two identities was recently discovered by Teal News Network reporter Trent Darvid and widely reported in the non-aligned worlds. Former President Servalan, or Sleer, was last seen leaving the newly admitted Federation planet Gauda Prime six weeks ago in a private craft." A blurry video of Servalan hurrying onto a small spaceship followed.
Avon snatched up his pocket communicator and keyed in Orac's frequency, "Orac! This is urgent!"
"Yes, Avon?"
"We just watched a brief news story on NAM about Servalan. Can you access and copy that clip?"
There was a pause as Orac's old instincts for argument fought with his new resolve to cooperate. Cooperation won, but was faintly tinged with resentment. "I believe I can access that. Do you wish a copy?"
"Yes, quickly." Avon waited impatiently. "Well?"
Orac barely overcame the temptation to respond, 'well is not a question,' and answered, "I have it."
"Good. Review it closely and see if you can find a way to identify the spaceship."
"Is this a first priority?"
"It could be very important to our long term survival—and yours—but be prepared to set it aside temporarily if necessary. I'll leave that to your judgement."
"Which hasn't always been stellar in the past," Tarrant murmured.
Orac heard. "I shall do as you ask, Avon," he sniffed and cut the connection.
"I think you offended him," Task said.
"He's offended me often enough in the past," Tarrant countered.
Avon smiled complacently, "I think you'll find Orac has become somewhat of a reformed character, Tarrant."
"Oh? And how did that happen?"
Avon quickly stood and carried his wine glass to the service cart to avoid answering. Task mouthed, "Vila," at Tarrant. Dase ducked her head to hide a smile.
Returning to the table, Avon began his review of the possible scenario upon locating the Scorpio. Accessing his pocket communicator again, he spoke into it, "Orac? I want you to hear our plans for tomorrow."
"Yes, Avon. I am recording. Vila is with me as well," Orac answered.
"Thank you." Avon began, "It would be gratifying to think we will be able to work on the Scorpio unmolested, given that the wreck has been there for six weeks. One would think other salvagers have long gone. I don't believe in trusting to luck, however. We should assume we will be opposed.
"Task is the most experienced with combat missions—which this could easily become—so the two of us will plan on approaching the Scorpio while Tarrant and Dase observe the situation. When Task and I are comfortable, Dase will join us and begin disconnecting the stardrive. I'll show you as much as I can about it, Dase, then I'll go to work on the teleport system."
Tarrant interrupted, "Now just a minute, Avon. What am I to do? Hang about in the woods?"
"That's exactly what you're going to do. You don't have the technical expertise Dase has for the stardrive, and you don't know about the teleport. I need you to maintain a watch on the location. You're our backup. If something happens to us, you are to get to the flyer and get the hell out of there." I'm sorry, Tarrant. I promised Jenna I'd get you back to her.
Tarrant swallowed his pride and accepted Avon's reasoning, for the time being.
"Under the best of circumstances, we should be able to get what we need in two days or less. In fact, we'll have to," Avon smiled. "Jenna has already made that clear. I quail at the thought of opposing her."
"You should," Jenna's voice said over the commlink.
"Avon?" Orac interrupted. "If possible, if time permits, could you possibly salvage something from Slave?"
"Why?" Avon asked.
"He was my friend."
Avon considered that for a moment. Computers can have affection for one another? He answered gently, "Yes, Orac. We'll try to get something from Slave."
"Thank you."
Vila's voice came over the commlink, "And Gambit? Remember the circuit board I took from her, Avon? I can tell you where I put it after you used it, if it's still there."
"Yes, Avon. And Gambit too?" Orac pleaded.
More affection between computers? "All right. You can tell us where Gambit's circuit board is later, Vila. Now can we get on with this?" There were no protests. "All right. We will spend the nights away from the wreck and use the same routine each time we approach it—Task and I will scout the wreck, and Dase will join us if we're satisfied it is safe. If we are unopposed at the wreck, I see no reason not to return directly to Briggston, either to the hotel or to the Lady, when we're done. Although . . . it's possible we might find it profitable to go back to Blake's base and see if there's anything we should get from there."
"No!" Vila's voice protested. "There's nothing we could gain from there. Absolutely not, Avon. Jenna won't countenance it, and neither will I. What about you, Tarrant?"
"No, I don't think there's anything we could get from there that's worth the risk," Tarrant agreed. "He's right, Avon. We're not going to the base. That's too much to ask."
Avon was silent for a few moments, struggling between acknowledging Vila's wisdom and the need to look again at the place where Blake lived. It was still difficult to accept his betrayal. Avon wanted a way to get close to him, a way to deny that betrayal. "Very well. We'll return to the hotel or to the Lady," he acceded.
Task rose and carried his dishes to the service cart. "I suggest we all go to bed now. We need to be as fresh as possible."
"I agree," Tarrant stood and collected his dishes. "Good night, Vila. Good night, Orac," he called out. Good night, Orac? Since when have I cared about Orac's sensitivities? Oh well, I guess we've all changed some.
Avon stood as well, "I'll see you back to your room, Dase."
"It's a nice hotel, Avon," Dase said, "I'll be okay on my own."
"I'll see you back anyway."
Avon felt awkward, a feeling very foreign to him. "Do you have any special needs, Tarrant?" His voice was a little husky.
Tarrant was truly puzzled. "Special needs?"
Avon cleared his throat. "I mean your . . ." he gestured vaguely at Tarrant's absent arm, "disability."
"No, Avon. Nothing special, except—"
"Yes?"
"I'd like to sleep on the side closest to the bathroom. Sometimes I have balance problems when I get up during the night. I'm likely to fall all over you trying to navigate around the end of the bed in the night."
Avon had seated himself on the edge of the bed facing away from Tarrant and was staring at his hands resting in his lap. "That's it?"
Tarrant was beginning to understand: Avon wanted to know if he would need help caring for himself. He grinned at Avon's back. "That's pretty much it. You'll enjoy seeing how I put toothpaste on my toothbrush. Oh, I have trouble with some things: it takes me a little longer to get dressed, I have to have zips in my boots, it's harder to scrub my back, things like that. But no, I can do pretty well for myself now."
"I'm . . . sorry."
"For what?"
"For causing your injury."
"You didn't cause my injury, Avon. Avalon's trigger happy 'commandos' caused my injury."
"Which wouldn't have happened at all if I hadn't insisted on coming to Gauda Prime looking for Blake. Nor would we have lost the Scorpio."
"Yes, well, I can't help but feel I could have done a better job there," Tarrant admitted.
"How? It was a dead ship. You brought it down well enough to survive. You have nothing to feel guilty about," Avon objected.
"In that case, neither do you. Look, everything that happened was part of a long string of events, most of them bad, I'll admit. But we were all happy to fall in with your plan to find Blake, so we all share in any blame that needs to be laid. Nobody blames you but you."
When this was greeted with silence, he moved around to stand in front of Avon, putting his hand on Avon's shoulder briefly. "Really, Avon. When Soolin said no self-respecting idealist would be found dead on Gauda Prime, we all ignored her, even Soolin herself. We're all to blame for what happened to me, for Soolin dying, for Blake, for Vila's broken hand—no, that was actually your fault."
Puzzled, Avon looked up at him. "How do you mean?"
"Vila only took a glancing hit with one stun bolt. He was conscious enough to be aware of how his hand got broken." Tarrant smiled. "You fell on him when you went down. You can blame yourself for that if you need to; Vila doesn't."
Avon smiled faintly. True. If Vila had blamed him, he would have said so—often.
"So you can spend some time thinking about how you're going to apologize to Vila, but that's all you need to dwell on. As for now, I appreciate you warming up my side of the bed, but I want to go to sleep. Get on your own side."
Avon smiled a little more and moved around to the other side of the bed. "All right, but if you get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, shut the door before you turn the light on. For some reason, those are the brightest lights in the suite. Can't imagine why." He removed his boots and stretched out on the bed. "Vila snores."
"I know."
"I hope you don't snore too."
"Naturally not; I'm too young."
"Luckily for you, I don't snore either," Avon finished. An hour later he proved himself a liar.
For Vila, the night was largely sleepless. As opposed as he was to Avon going back to the Scorpio, he felt guilty for not going with him. Much to Dayna's distress, he tried to go with the others at the last minute. She had surprised him when she protested, but he decided they must all have changed some: Avon was nicer to him, Tarrant was nicer to him, Jenna was nicer to him—even Dayna was nicer to him. Or maybe it was he who had changed. Perhaps he didn't irritate them as much. Orac was nicer to him too, but Orac didn't have a choice.
And he was surprised with himself. Imagine him begging to go haring off on some ridiculously dangerous mission of Avon's. Imagine him not being relieved when Avon made him stay behind! Avon had been adamant about it, "You're not going, Vila. There's nothing you can help with, and Jenna needs you more."
"Jenna needs me?"
"A security specialist? You'd be invaluable to her."
Vila felt vaguely like he was being humoured, but couldn't figure out how to convince Avon he was far more valuable as a bodyguard—probably because he wasn't.
He dwelt briefly on the idea of Avon not coming back and hurriedly shied away from that. Life without Avon would be strangely empty; they'd been through too much together. For all their fighting and sniping at each other, Mister I'm-Three-Social-Grades-Above-You had always treated him as an intelligent equal, right from the start. No-one from a higher grade had ever treated him like that before, not in his whole life. Vila had developed a thick skin against demonstrations of social superiority. For Avon, it wasn't an intellectual exercise as it had been for Blake. Oh, yes, Blake talked about equality and freedom; he was a raving idealist. But Avon lived equality and freedom, in spite of loudly denigrating the ideals.
So Vila had tossed and turned all night and had risen early in the morning, keeping Orac with him at all times. He wanted to be ready if Avon needed him for anything—and he wanted to know that everything was going all right.
