Thirty Hours Earlier
The room was cold and dimly lit as Avon woke with a start, the feeling of a hard metal slab, like a table, beneath him. His whole body ached, his head pounding enormously and his back tender and sore as if burned. Still, he was half surprised to wake up at all, a plasma bolt to the back was hardly something you just walked away from. He listened to the silence around him, trying to make out where he was. Not the liberator, he could tell that instantly. Everything was different; the light, the smell... the peace and quiet. If he had been shot and found himself back there, someone would have made themselves known by now. Cally, maybe, with her gentle reassurances or Blake, come to check he was still alive and ease his guilty conscience. Even Vila might make an appearance, his inane chatter making Avon wish he were still unconscious. But there was nothing, only cold, empty silence.
There was nothing to tell him where he was or what had happened, no way to know except the obvious, so he asked, guessing someone would be around to hear him. And he was right.
''What happened? Where... am I?'' he asked, surprised at how quiet and hoarse his voice sounded.
Then he heard light footsteps behind his head and an all too familiar voice answered, as if reading his mind. ''Hello Avon'' she spoke, her voice smooth, seductive and predatory. ''Don't worry, you've been out for almost ten hours so You're bound to feel a little, unwell, at first. And this base is called Deta 8, where you shall be staying for the foreseeable future.''
''Servalan'' he whispered, closing his eyes again at the realization. He was far from pleased but not really surprised at the development, recognising the voice even before the supreme commander stepped into view.
She had a cruel, satisfied smile on her lips as she gazed down at her prisoner, at him. ''I must apologise for the headache, and for the way in which you were brought here, but I'm afraid it was quite unavoidable. The charged electrical bolt emitted by that gun is not of a high enough voltage to kill, but I understand it can be rather, debilitating. it also creates an electromagnetic pulse designed to neutralize those bracelets of yours, it is now quite useless.''
She held up Avon's bracelet as though to demonstrate then threw the useless object over. He caught It in tingling hands, giving it a swift, superficial inspection but even that was sufficient to confirm she was telling him the truth. It was quite dead. Avon frowned, tossing the inert device to the ground. So that was what they'd hit him with he thought, an electric shock, no wonder it had hurt. When he got back to the liberator, if he got back, he would have to make a few modifications to the teleport bracelets to prevent anything like this from happening again. But what of the others? He himself had been the first one hit but what of Blake, Cally, or Vila? Had they escaped?
''Where are Blake, and the others?'' he questioned, knowing that if Servalan had them, she would be more than happy gloat.
As it turned out she did not, but she still sounded remarkably pleased with herself. ''They got away I'm afraid, but not to worry. I still have you after all.''
That was it then, she was planning to use him as bait, thinking Blake would come back for him. It was a simple enough notion but he had to admit it had its merits. Avon knew Blake well enough to know he would never leave one of them behind, even if it could be a trap. He was too sentimental for that. But if he could convince Servalan otherwise, maybe Blake would stand a chance.
''If you think they'll come back for me you might find yourself disappointed'' Avon told her, his voice dry and unreadable. ''Me and Blake don't exactly see eye to eye.''
She did not seem convinced, or remotely upset by his untruth. Instead, her malign smile widened. ''Oh, come on Avon'' she sighed. ''We both know Blake would never leave any of his crew behind, not even you. But anyway, that hardly matters. Why would he come for you when you are already dead?'' she paused for a second enjoying the moment before she continued. ''Death under interrogation, I think. That will be the most convincing.''
What did she mean, Avon wondered, was she going to kill him? no, that didn't make sense, not after she had been through so much effort to bring him there. There had to be another explanation.
Sensing her prisoner's confusion, Servalan decided to enlighten him, increasing the lighting so the entire room came into view and gesturing to his right.
As soon as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness Avon turned his head, looking in the direction she had just indicated, and saw... himself. At first, he thought he was looking in a mirror. The man opposite him, lying motionless on a table just like his, was identical to him in every way. He even wore the same clothes as Avon had, the same silver/grey leather jacket, dark trousers and boots. Probably exactly the same, he realised, noticing for the first time that he was now dressed in a thin grey prison issue jumpsuit. A clone then, it had to be. One Servalan was planning to exchange with himself.
After letting events sink in for a moment, Servalan continued. ''Oh, I'll have to make it look convincing. I would hardly just have you killed, you're far too valuable for that, but sometimes even good interrogators can get a little, overenthusiastic.''
Hiding a grimace as he looked away, Avon recognised that her statement was both an explanation, and a threat.
''I want the Liberator'' she explained, her tone deceptively reasonable, as though discussing a simple business transaction. ''I want to know its weaknesses, how it works, how to control it. You, are going to tell me.''
Avon looked her straight in the eye, the corners of his mouth twitching into a cold, wry smile. ''I don't think so'' he responded simply, cold and unreadable but immeasurably certain.
''You're an intelligent man Avon, or so I've been told'' Servalan purred, trying again. ''Help me willingly and I promise I will set you free.''
Avon did not even consider the offer. Even if he did what she asked there was no way she would actually set him free and besides... could he betray Blake and the others, even if she were telling the truth? He had an uncomfortable feeling that that was a question to which he would not much like the answer.
When he failed to reply Servalan scowled, losing her patience completely. ''Then I cannot guarantee your safety,'' she responded coldly. ''Or your survival.''
After his meeting with Servalan, Avon had expected to be taken directly for interrogation but instead he was thrown roughly into a dark, unlit cell and left, the click of the door as it locked behind the troopers deafening in the silence. It was freezing cold, about eight or nine degrees he would have guessed, and with no blankets and nothing but his thin prison issue jumpsuit it was impossible to keep warm. It seemed Servalan was in no great rush to break him, now she knew no one was coming. She wanted him to sit there in darkness and wait, cold and uncomfortable, knowing what was to come, so that when it did, his fear would make him far easier to crack. That was her plan at least, Avon guessed, but he was far too rational to let it work. He needed to hold out, resist them as long as he could and find some way to get a message out to Blake, let him know that he was still alive. But for now... he had no idea how.
He had endured Federation torture before, what seemed like a lifetime ago, but things had been different then. They had been some of the worst days of his life but whatever tortures his tormenters could come up with had been nothing compared to his own pain at Anna's death. Everything had seemed insignificant, distant, and that had muted the horrors somewhat. That would not be the case this time.
Back in the Present
Far away and three Days later, near the planet Xenafon, the Liberator sat in stationary orbit, half of its crew down on the planet beneath. Blake had hardly spoken to anyone since coming back on board, his dour silence keeping the others at bay as he stood silently on the flight deck. Only Jenna had approached him to ask, with her usual practicality, what they were going to do next. She was desirous to get their next task over with as quickly as possible, knowing things would not even start to settle down on the ship until they had taken care of Avon's body and could start focusing on something new. She had suggested a space burial, the quickest and easiest way to respectfully dispose of the dead while traveling the vastness of space but Blake had shaken his head darkly.
''No, Avon deserves better than that'' he told her, a hint of anger in his mirthless voice as he glanced unconsciously at Avon's empty flight station, but it was not really aimed at Jenna. ''There's a suitable planet not far from here where we can give him a proper burial.''
At that Jenna frowned. ''Blake, are you sure that's wise? We're still not all that far away from Pralix. What if they're still looking for us? We'd be sitting targets if we stayed still for too long.''
''Zen can warn us of any approaching ships and we have the detector shield Remember?'' He turned to Jenna, as if in challenge ''we have Avon to thank for that.'' Then he looked away and he seemed more tired than angry, she decided. ''Anyway, I already told Zen to take us there. We should have almost arrived by now.''
That had been five or six hours ago but at least, to Jenna's relief, no ships had come in range of the Liberators detectors as yet. A large part of her suspected Blakes decision had been more to do with his own need to feel he was doing something, anything, rather than any rational objection to burial in space. It took far more effort to dig a six-foot grave beneath the hot sun of Xenafon than it would have done to give Avon a send-off from up there. Jenna had not offered to help. To everyone's surprise however, Vila had.
''I can give you a hand you know, help out'' he had suggested to Blake in the teleport bay, earning a surprised look from Jenna at the controls. ''It'll be hard work down there on your own, and you never know, perhaps you'd benefit from the company.''
Blake had hardly glanced at him as he clipped a teleport bracelet round his wrist, ready to go. ''I can manage'' he responded flatly, not wanting Vila coming along, not now when he wanted to be alone.
For a second a pained look had flashed across the thief's features and Blake hesitated, realising for the first time why Vila had asked. Perhaps he was not the only one who felt a need to do something for Avon, whatever that was. Avon and Vila's relationship had been argumentative, to say the least, but that did not mean the thief had not cared, or that he did not miss their crewmate now he was gone.
''Well, I know that'' Vila responded after a moment, ''I... I just thought...'' his voice trailed off miserably and Blake had finally relented.
''Fine, maybe you're right. I'll teleport down now and you can join me when you're ready.''
Despite his determination to help, Vila spent most of the time grumbling and muttering under his breath about how hot it was or why he should have stayed on board the Liberator.
''I don't know why I'm making the effort really'' he complained to himself, pausing in his work for a minute to wipe the sweat off his brow, once more silently cursing the oppressive humidity. ''It's not like he'd thank me'' he added dismally, but despite his words he continued none the less.
It was not much longer before they were finally ready and Cally came down with them, when it was time. They could have left the ship on automatic if Jenna had wanted to join them but she had declined, saying it would be better someone stayed on board encase any pursuit ships came within detector range, meaning it was just Blake, Vila and Cally who went down in the end, to say their last goodbyes.
Blake stayed behind for a while, thinking, after the others had gone back to the ship. He had told them to go and leave him alone and Cally, at least, had seemed to understand his need for space, convincing Vila to come back with her for a glass of adrenaline and soma to numb the grief and frayed nerves of the past few days. For a long time, he just stood there, stock still and alone, staring down at Avon's freshy dug grave as he pondered everything that had happened to bring them both here, to this place. This was what the federation did to you. This was why he had to fight them, to stop the terror, the death and cruelty that leached into everything they touched. He was determined that they would pay for what they had done today, for everything they had done, but wasn't it that very determination that had got Gan killed? That had got Avon killed? He paused, shaking his head at the bleak irony of it all and that thought dragged his mind back to a conversation he had had with Avon not so very long ago.
''One of these days they are going to leave you, they were almost ready to do so this time''
Avon had cautioned him, not long after Gan's death.
''Yes, I thought they might be'' he had admitted, steadily meeting his companion's gaze.
''You handled them very skilfully'' Avon had added with the slightest of smiles.
''Do I?'' Blake had responded, his voice suspiciously innocent.
''But one more death will do it.''
The memory of Avon's words hit him hard, leaving him with a very different feeling than they had at the time, as did his own response, the memory almost mocking as his own words echoed portentously in his mind.
''Then you'd better be very careful. It would be ironic if it were yours.''
He had not expected his words to hold that shred of truth, that suggestion of what was to come. But what of Avon's? would they prove true as well? Only time would tell that but, whatever they chose to do, he needed to go back to the Liberator and his remaining friends still alive on board.
''Goodbye Avon'' he whispered sadly, taking one last look at the silent grave before him, ''I couldn't be more sorry for how things turned out.'' Then he turned away and reached for his teleport bracelet, signalling the ship. ''Bring me back up'' he said simply and seconds later he was gone, leaving complete silence in his wake.
Nobody came for Avon that first day, not after he had been locked up. Nobody came for him the second day either. In the pitch dark with nothing by which to mark the passage of time or even distinguish day from night it became almost impossible to tell where one day ended and the next began. He was given water, though less than he would have liked, but no food the entire time he had been a prisoner there. It was not until what he judged to be the third day that the door was suddenly pulled open without so much as a warning, the blinding light shining in from the corridor outside dazzling him after the days spent in utter darkness and he flinched unconsciously away. A trooper was silhouetted against the glare for a moment as he walked in and pulled Avon unceremoniously to his feet, his rough grip dragging him outside into the blinding corridor beyond. He offered no resistance as they marched him down featureless halls and corridors, there was no point, it would make little difference to the outcome and just be a waste of energy on his part. Locked doors passed them on either side of a metal panelled tunnel, an aged feeling permeating the air as if this were an old outdated facility, possibly a long forgotten one, reoccupied and updated in order to put it to a new, different use. The guards did not slow until the latest corridor ended in a large, forbidding door, clearly leading to their room for 'interrogation'.
The light at least was mercifully dim as they dragged him inside but the frigid chill that greeted them as they entered was equally unpleasant as his freezing cell had been. There was little in way of features in the room. A large metal table against one wall held torturers equipment, laser scalpels, sonic probes, syringes of drugs and other things he could not identify from this distance. Other than that, there was a solid metal chair at the rooms centre, beneath an unnecessarily bright spotlamp, and it was to this he was pushed roughly, the trooper behind him shoving him harshly down into it and fastening the restraints, the cold metal straps digging painfully into his wrists and ankles as the guards pulled them tight. Then they left, and he was alone once again.
After days alone in his cell he had grown used to waiting by now. Waiting, it seemed, was something of which the people on this base seemed uncharacteristically fond. It was some time, in fact, before the large door was pulled open once again, a loud squeak signalling its metalic protest.
The man who entered was short and stocky, a cruel, sadistic smile playing across his lips as though he were looking forward to what was undoubtedly to come. He wore a dark uniform, one Avon recognised and remembered from his time spent as a federation prisoner after his arrest. The uniform was that of a federation torturer, just like the man who had handled his 'interrogation' back on earth. Just like the man who had handled Anna's...
A cold look of hatred flashed in his eyes for a moment as Avon stared the man straight in the eye, no trace of fear remotely visible in his gaze. ''What kept you?'' he asked, his voice laden with dry sarcasm. ''I was beginning to think you'd never show up.''
If the man was perturbed by Avon's cold defiance, he showed no sign as he looked down at his helpless prisoner. ''Kerr Avon, I believe?'' he asked but when he got nothing but a cold, hard stare in reply he continued. ''You're going to tell me everything you know about the liberator and its crew.''
This time he did get a response. ''Will I now'' Avon responded dryly. ''And what makes you think that?''
''Because if you don't, I have the ability to make life extremely painful for you'' he explained, that sadistic smile back in place, letting Avon know just how much he would enjoy that opportunity. ''Personally, I'm hoping you don't talk, not at first, then I can drag the information from you, peace by peace until you spill it all.''
''If you think that will work, you're going to be disappointed'' Avon told him flatly but the man seemed less than concerned.
He strode casually to the table and selected a sonic probe, seemingly at random, before returning to his charge. ''I think not. Very soon you'll be begging to tell me everything I want to hear so long as the pain stops.''
Avon stared back defiantly, unflinching as the torturer readied his device. ''I don't think so'' he replied implacably. ''I'm not in the mood for a long conversations.''
Seeing he would get no cooperation out of his prisoner for now, the torturer decided it was time to get to work. ''Right then, if that's how you feel I think we'll begin'' he said, then he raised the probe, powering it on and the effect was instantaneous.
A searing pain shot through Avon's skull, spreading down his arms and legs as though his very nerves were being shredded one by one. He forced himself not to cry out, trying to block the agony from his mind as it increased. Pain was not real, he reminded himself; it was nothing but an emotional response, one that could be ignored or suppressed with enough concentration. He focused on something else, anything to blot it from his mind, and began mentally reviewing the circuitry to the teleport system, running the plans through his mind one by one as he considered ways to neutralize the effects of Sarvanan's new blasters.
It worked fairly well, for a time, but eventually even he found he could not ignore the pain for ever.