1 Week Later
Although over a week had passed since their ill-fated mission to Pralix the atmosphere on board the Liberator was still dark and subdued. When he had been around Avon had been a hard man to ignore and his absence was just as conspicuous, not least in the minor unrepaired faults in the ships systems, Jenna thought wryly as she deftly compensated for one on her controls. For a man as unlikable as Avon, she had to admit his death had had more of an effect than she had expected on her crewmates. While Gan had been alive, Vila had spent most of his time with him but since then he had taken to following Avon around instead. Now of course he was dead as well and the thief seemed to be spending most of his time alone or with Cally, drunk more often than not. As for the telepath herself, she had made no secret of her sadness at Avon's death but she had also tried her best to keep them all together, making sure all her surviving friends were as well as they could be, given the circumstances. But it was Blake who really worried her.
He spent most of his time alone, brooding silently on the flight deck or hidden away in his cabin and when he did talk to anyone it was usually to snap at them. He blamed himself for what had happened to Avon, Jenna could tell, and the guilt was constantly eating at him. It had been bad for him after Gan's death but this time seemed worse. She could not be sure why exactly. Perhaps it was because Avon was the second man he had lost in as many months, or because he had made no secret of his feelings over the mission, or in fact Blakes whole crusade. Or perhaps it was how he had died. Jenna had to admit that death under federation torture was one of the worst ends she could think of, it would not have been a pleasant one. But whatever the reason Blake's mood, and the moods of everyone else on board, were making the closeness of life onboard the ship almost unbearable. Watching him now, standing silently beside the viewscreen, arms crossed as he watched its picture mutely, she decided enough was enough and resolved to have a word with him.
Switching the ship to manual, Jenna strode over, ignoring Blakes frown as she stopped to stand Infront of him.
''Blake, we need to talk, about Avon'' she began and his head snapped up at the name.
''What about him?'' he asked, somewhat irritably.
Jenna sighed, doing her best to be sympathetic despite already being fed up with Blakes behaviour. ''Look Blake, whatever happened to him, it wasn't your fault. You need to move past it, you must see that.''
A look of anger burned in Blakes eyes as he replied but Jenna was fairly certain that it was directed at himself, not at her. ''Oh yes, it is'' he told her with certainty. ''Avon didn't want to go Jenna, you heard him, we all did! He said it was suicide, warned me it was a trap but I didn't listen, oh no, I charged in anyway... for the cause.'' The bitterness in his voice as he spoke those last few words even took Jenna by surprise for a moment. ''I killed him Jenna, just like I killed Gan except that Gan, at least, believed in what we were doing. he was willing to risk his life for it. Avon made it quite clear it wasn't his fight, so what did he die for?''
Jenna had no answer to that so instead she reached a reassuring hand to Blake's arm. ''Blake...'' she tried but again he just pulled away.
''No Jenna, I killed him, as sure as if I'd shot him myself, except at least that would have been quicker.''
Not knowing what else to say, the pilot began to realise there was nothing she could do that would change anything for Blake, so instead she changed to something else that had been on her mind.
''Blake I'm sorry to bring this up but, talking of Avon there's something we need to discuss.''
Blake gave her a weary glance as he spoke. He looked utterly exhausted but she wasn't really surprised; everyone knew how little sleep he had been getting this last week. ''What is it, can't it wait?'' he asked, but this time he she shook her head.
''No, I don't think so, not this time. we've already waited long enough.''
''If you're talking about Avon's voiceprint I erased it from Zen this morning'' he assured her,mmaking an educated guess. Somehow, he had not been able to bring himself to do it until then. It made everything seem, just that bit more final.
That had not been it but Jenna seemed glad all the same. ''good, it's about time. Any extra voice patterns in the computer are an unnecessary risk, just in case there's a chance the federation could find a way to exploit them. But no, that's not it.''
''What then?'' he asked again, at a loss.
To her surprise Jenna realised he really did not seem to know what she was asking, but surely, he must have considered it himself. ''Come on Blake, you were down there, you saw what they did to him.''
Blake stiffened, his whole face darkening as if a dark cloud passed across it. ''Of course I saw!'' he snapped; the painful memory pulled roughly to the forefront of his mind. ''They tortured him, tormented him until he was dead and then they just left him there! I'm hardly likely to forget!''
Ignoring his anger for a moment, Jenna continued. ''That's not really what I meant'' she explained calmly. ''Avon was a valuable prisoner, why let him die so soon? ... unless they already had what they wanted.''
She saw barely suppressed anger in Blake's eyes again as he turned back towards her, but this time she had a feeling it was aimed at her. ''What exactly are you suggesting Jenna?'' he asked, his voice deceptively calm as he began to grasp the meaning behind her words.
''Everyone brakes eventually, we both know that'' she pointed out. ''And some people are more likely to betray us than others.''
Blake shook his head, the certainty in his voice surprising her. ''No, not Avon. Not that quickly.''
''Why not?'' she asked, unconvinced. ''He was never exactly a loyal supporter of the cause, or of you, he made no attempts to hide that. Perhaps he already told them what they wanted to hear, tried to sell us out to save his own skin.''
Again, Blake seemed unreasonably certain. ''No, he wouldn't have betrayed us.''
''Why?'' Jenna wondered, ''why do you suddenly trust him?''
''I don't, suddenly trust him'' Blake responded flatly, a hint of irritation beginning to creep into his voice at Jenna's questioning.
''Then why?'' she pressed, missing the point to Blakes last statement.
Realising Jenna was not going to leave him alone until she had some kind of answer, Blake decided to give her one. ''Think about it Jenna'' he began. ''For one thing Avon was too smart to think they'd set him free, he would have known they'd kill him the moment they had what they wanted and that hardly gives him much of an incentive. Anyway, I doubt he would have given them the satisfaction of begging mercy from the federation.''
At that, Jenna just shrugged. ''Then you had more faith in him than I did'' she told him simply. ''Blake, whatever you say we need to consider the possibility that he sold us out. We might not be as safe as you think.''
At that, Blake shook his head, a hint of bitter humour clear in his voice. ''Oh, I don't think we're safe'' he assured her darkly. ''How could I? not after what happened to Gan, what happened to Avon. but it's my choices that have put us at risk Jenna, not Avon's.''
There was no point in arguing with Blake right then and Jenna began to realise as much. ''Perhaps'' she conceded slowly, less than convinced ''but I for one have no intention of hanging around here waiting to see if you're right.''
Blake said nothing to that, just gave her a look to suggest the discussion, what there had been of it, was at an end. She gave a stifled a sigh of frustration, shook her head and brushed past him in irritation, heading back to her station and leaving Blake alone to his thoughts once again.
Cally, just coming up to the flight deck for her shift, saw the end of the disagreement and caught Jenna's arm lightly as she stormed past to stop her. ''Jenna, what's wrong?'' she asked concerned, glancing between her and Blake.
Jenna scowled. ''I've had about enough of this place'' she complained, letting her frustration show more than she would have liked. ''sometimes I think it would be better if I just cut my losses and left, at least that way I'd stay alive.'' As she spoke, she freed herself from Cally's grip and was gone before the telepath had a chance to try and change her mind.
''Jenna!'' she called after her but the pilot ignored her, deciding now Cally was there she could leave her station and get some time away from Blakes dour presence.
Seeing she would get no more out of Jenna for now but wanting to stop the fight before it got out of hand, Cally decided to ask Blake instead. He glanced up as she approached, clearly angry and ready to snap but when he saw it was her, not Jenna, he just looked away.
''Blake, what happened?'' Cally asked gently, hoping to get a better answer out of him than she had got from Jenna.
''Jenna had some things to say about Avon'' he explained, his voice holding a noticeably bitter edge and Cally sighed inwardly, beginning to see where this was going. ''Things I didn't want to hear, and I still don't believe.''
''I am sorry'' Cally told him sympathetically, ''but I doubt she wanted to upset you.''
At that Bake turned to look at her, the slightest weary smile on his lips as he saw the wisdomm of her words. ''I know, I know'' he conceded tiredly. ''It's just...'' his voice trailed off, not wanting to say it but he did not have to; Cally knew well enough what was bothering him.
''I know, I miss him too'' she told Blake with a sad smile, placing a comforting hand on hism shoulder. ''Very much.''
He did not reply and they stayed there like that in silence for a few moments, each lost in their own memories and thoughts before Cally pulled away.
''Blake, you're exhausted. You should try and get some rest; I can manage here for a while.''
Blake shook his head, objecting but Cally would not take no for an answer so eventually he gave in. He doubted he would actually be able to sleep but he agreed at least to try.
Avon took a deep, shuddering breath as the pain momentarily subsided, glaring daggers up at the silhouetted man looming, threateningly, above him. His torturers name, he had recently discovered, was Prell Tarrat and Avon's hatred of the man had grown steadily with every torture session he had endured. In fact, it was partly that hatred that kept him going, knowing, if he backed down, that Tarrat would win, and that was not something he was going to allow. He would not permit the man the satisfaction.
Avon had lost track of exactly how many days he had been held there. They really left him alone for more than a few hours rest between sessions and he could not remember the last time he had had a proper night's sleep, not that he ever really slept much but still, even he was feeling somewhat sleep deprived by now. His best gauge was when they brough him his meals, some form of thin broth that just about sustained you without minutely abating your hunger. Assuming that was twice a day, he guessed he had been there just over a week. That was a long time since his supposed 'death' and Avon had no illusions that Blake would still be looking for him. Even if he could get a message out to Blake somehow, he had no way of knowing if it would make any difference. Oh, he had no doubt Blake would come for him if he really thought Avon were alive, that was just the sort of heroic, idiotic gesture the man was so fond of. But if Servalan's plan had been a success, and he had no reasons to suspect otherwise, then they would have every reason to assume he was dead. If he contacted Blake now, would he believe he was who he said he was? If the situations were reversed, Avon suspected he would not.
His weary eyes started to droop as his mind wandered, the dark of oblivion threatening to finally claim him but a brutal slap to the face snapped him violently back to the present.
''Its time you started talking Avon'' Tarrat snarled, his cruel voice hiding the smallest hint of frustration, a sound that filled Avon with a perverse sense of pleasure. ''Believe me, if it were only my choice, I'd be happy to continue our little, talks, indefinitely, but Servalan's expecting results and without them I have no way to win her, rather powerful, favour.''
''That must be a disappointment for you'' Avon managed with a cold smirk, his voice laced with bitter sarcasm and scorn despite its rasping hoarseness.
Tarrat however shook his head. ''Not really. A frustration maybe, but I've never found a man I couldn't break.''
''Well, there's always a first time'' Avon responded dryly, earning himself another vicious blow across the face, snapping his head to the side.
''I doubt that'' the torturer disputed, confident in his undefeated skill. ''And anyway, it certainly won't be you'' he added, ''we just need to up the stakes a little.''
With that, he strode over to the table and carefully put back the sonic probe he had been using, selecting instead something else from the myriad of tools layed out neatly before him. It was a large hypodermic syringe, already filled with a dark, milky substance Avon could not identify. ''You handle pain well, I must admit'' Tarrat continued as he walked back to stand over his charge once again, ''but pain for pains sake sometimes lacks, incentive, for men like you.''
''What's that?'' the computer expert asked wryly as he studied the syringe, only half expecting an answer. ''Are you planning to poison me? If so, I think Servalan might have a thing or two to say about it.''
He had not been entirely serious, nor really expected that to be the case, but rather disconcertingly, the expression on Tarrat's cruel face when Avon spoke suggested he had been closer to the truth than originally supposed.
He held the syringe up for Avon to see properly, flourishing it before his helpless captive's face with obvious pleasure. ''Oh, this isn't a poison,'' he explained, with a sadistic smirk of his own. ''Well, not at first anyway. It's called Saranax, a drug used for 'incentive' in certain 'interrogations'. Its rather painful I believe, in fact I'm assured the agony's quite, breath taking, but I wouldn't usually recommend its use long term.'' Now his grin grew truly unpleasant, revelling in Avon's plight. ''I suppose you could call it a poison after all. Its longterm effects are cumulative but use it long enough and it leads to a rather painful death. Even if the pain itself can't break you, I'd bet the fear of a slow lingering death will. Either way, I will break you soon enough, one way or another.''
The fear Tarrat had hoped to see reflected back in Avon's eyes did not materialise, instead all he saw was a mixture of loathing and defiance. ''Don't, count on it'' Avon warned, his cold gaze seething with hatred as he stared back defiantly.
Unconcerned the torturer just shrugged, reaching for Avon's arm and pulling up his sleeve in preparation. Instinctively, he tried to pull away but the straps round his wrists prevented him and there was nothing he could do to stop the deadly needle from piercing his skin. At first nothing happened but then... the pain hit. When it came the agony was immense, the intense pain like a raging fire burning through his veins, filling his mind as the rest of the world faded into nothing in comparison. He forced himself not to cry out, not to give Tarrat the satisfaction, but even he could not stop the pained groan that forced itself from between his lips.
It was late evening on the Liberator and Jenna's watch on the flight deck. She had expected to spend some time alone, a welcome break from the oppressive atmosphere on board, but she had only been there a short while when Vila walked in, a large bottle in hand and a friendly smile on his face.
''Vila, what are you doing here?'' Jenna asked surprised, trying to hide her irritation at the intrusion.
The thief just shrugged. ''Oh, you know...this and that'' he replied, offering the bottle to his unwilling companion but she politely declined. Instead, he took a large swig himself and settled down at his station, clearly planning to stay.
There was a long silence for several moments, Jenna trying unsuccessfully to ignore Vila's presence while he, apparently oblivious, just looked lost in alcoholic contemplation. Almost 10 minutes went by before he spoke, suddenly and without warning, almost making Jenna jump.
''I never thought I'd say this but I miss him you know, Avon I mean'' he told her, his voice contemplative as he surveyed the empty flight deck. ''Things just aren't the same without him around.''
There Jenna had to admit Vila had a point. ''Well, I agree with that at least'' she conceded ruefully.
''Now there's no one around except me who understands the bright lure of thievery, or the money that comes with it. No one to spar with, no one to fix the ship'' Vila noted, thinking of the things he noticed most about Avon's absence. Vila tended to remember the good things about people, what there had been of them, rather than the bad.
With a slightly ironic smile, Jenna continued his list. ''No one to argue constantly with Blake, no one always making you the butt of their jokes...''
Vila's thoughtful face fell and he grimaced. 'All right, all right, there's that... but still...''
He turned to Jenna then and for the first time she realised he was not drunk after all; in fact, for once he seemed remarkably sober. ''Cally told me, you know, about what you said I mean.''
''Did she'' Jenna responded, sounding slightly annoyed.
''Look,'' Vila began. ''Things haven't exactly been easy for any of us recently, especially Blake, but that'll change, I'm sure. The last thing we need is to lose any more people,'' he added, thinking strongly about what would happen to the remaining crew if they did. ''I mean, the ship can hardly function as it is!''
''I know,'' Jenna agreed, ''that's why I'm planning to leave. The Liberator might not be the safest place to be anymore, not with Blake the way he is, or with whatever Avon may have told the Federation'' she added frostily.
Vila for his part looked unconvinced, after all, where else was there? The federation was still after them, now more than ever. ''Really? It might not be perfect but believe me, I can't think of anywhere better'' he told her. ''why do you think I'm still here?''
''I really couldn't say'' the pilot replied dryly.
Vila tried again. ''Look, why not just give it a few weeks and see how things go. You can always leave after that, if you still want too.''
Jena gave him a sidelong glance, noting his suspiciously innocent, open expression, and felt herself giving in. She did not want to leave the Liberator, not really, not after everything she had put into Blakes fight the last few years. That would make everything she had been through seem such a waste. ''All right,'' she agreed somewhat reluctantly. ''But if things haven't changed in a month, I'm leaving and going my own way.''
''Fair enough'' Vila conceded. ''Here'' he offered her the bottle again and this time she accepted. ''If things haven't changed in a month,'' he added, grimacing again at the thought, ''I think I might even join you.''