There was a loud buzz from the teleport as the two figures materialized out of the air. Blake and Cally looked around in alarmed surprise as they took in their unexpected surroundings. Orac had designated the coordinates, guessing they would put the two rebels down among the generally deserted storage bays of the base but apparently his best guess had been somewhat misinformed. Instead, they found themselves in a brightly lit corridor, no one around just yet but the area certainly looked far from uninhabited.
Blake contacted the ship. ''Down and safe Vila, at least for now. This certainly wasn't where we expected to be put down.''
Vila's confused and slightly defensive voice filtered through the intercom on his bracelet. ''What do you mean? I set the coordinates properly, I'm sure I did!''
''What he means is that Orac got it wrong'' Cally put in over the channel. ''This is not a storage bay.''
''Oh,'' Vila sounded somewhat relieved they were not blaming him for the mistake. ''Do you want me to bring you back up?''
Blake thought for a second then declined. ''No, we don't really know where anything is down here. If we tried again, we might end up somewhere even worse. We'll just have to hope for the best and keep in touch, Blake out.''
He closed the channel on his communicator and turned his concentration back to their surroundings. They needed to move before they were spotted and the alarm was raised.
''Come on'' he said, turning to Cally. ''let's get out of sight and try to work out where we are before anyone sees us.''
The telepath was about to respond when they heard the sound of footsteps echoing from round the corner, right on top of us. Apparently, they were too late. Before they could react, a federation trooper rounded the corner. Someone else was beside him, they could not tell exactly who he was but the civilian clothes and startled expression marked him out as a probable low-grade technician of some sort, no real threat.
The trooper raised his gun to fire but his slight, momentary hesitation when he first saw them gave the rebels just the edge they needed and Blake raised his gun first, getting off the first shot. The man fell with a cry, the sound of the handgun ricocheting around the walls and down the corridor.
With a scream of terror, the other man turned and ran, Cally dashing after him instantly and Blake just behind.
When he rounded the corner, Blake saw Cally had caught up with the man before he could do any damage and was just about to render him unconscious when Blake called out to her to stop.
''No, wait!'' he cried, causing her to look up, startled.
Blake turned to her trembling prisoner. ''You, there are prisoners being held on this base. Where are they?'' His voice was calm and even and to his credit the man remained silent, clearly weighing the danger posed by these trespassing strangers compared to that from his own people if he cooperated. A little shove from Cally helped make up his mind as she thrust her handgun into his neck.
''Talk'' she warned, her voice deadly, ''or I will not be afraid to use this.''
What nerve the man had crumbled under Cally's stare.
''Please, I've never been down there, I'm just a technician'' he cried desperately, afraid of what they were going to do with him. ''The detention complex is on the bottom level, six levels down but I don't know anything else. Please don't kill me!'' he wailed, clearly very afraid and Cally put him out of his misery with a blow to the head, knocking him unconscious.
It was just then that a loud mechanical klaxon started blaring from the speakers in the wall beside them, sounding yet another problem to their plan. Clearly, they were close enough to an occupied part of the base for the recent gunfire to be heard and for someone to raise the alarm. The two rebels shared a look of alarm.
''Come on!'' Cally shouted, heading down the corridor at a run with Blake following just behind but they had not got far before a cry of warning from one of the alerted guards and a worryingly well aimed laser bolt forced them to turn back and run the other way.
They ducked into a small side room out of site and pushed the door shut, breathing heavily as they rested for a second, hidden from view.
Blake shook his head, his face a mask of frustration. ''That's it! We'll never get six levels while the station is alert!''
Cally spoke up urgently, drawing her gun. ''Blake, they don't know how many of us they are, just that we are here. I can lead them off, head up to the surface level and make enough noise so that they know just where to find me.'' she offered, her tone resolute. ''You find Avon and get him back to the Liberator.''
''What about you, are you sure?'' the rebel leader asked with a frown, worried about her safety.
She nodded; her face determined. ''Yes. I can keep ahead of them for a short time and when I am sure I have led them away I will teleport back to the ship and wait for you there.''
Blake had to admit, the plan, though risky, could certainly work. If the troopers were busy chasing their tales, combing the outer level for Cally, there would be far less men in between him and Avon. He might actually have a chance.
''Right'' he agreed after a moment's consideration, knowing it was their best chance of success, ''but don't take any unnecessary risks and get back to the Liberator as soon as you can. Understood?''
''Understood'' Cally agreed, drawing her gun and preparing to make a run for it. ''Be careful'' she added, her voice sincere with just a trace of fiery resolve.
Blake flashed her a warm smile. ''You too'' he told her before she opened the door. ''See you back at the Liberator.''
And then she was gone and all he could do was sit tight and wait for her distraction to draw off the guards so he could get moving again.
Tarrat looked down at his prisoner in hateful frustration, cursing the man's wilful defiance. He had not held back this time, just as he promised, but he had still failed to extract anything of value. He knew if he did not get his information soon, he would not get it at all.
Avon's head lolled forward; his eyes half closed as he teetered on the edge of unconsciousness. Tarrat raised a hand, ready to jerk him back to full wakefulness with a vicious blow, when a deafening alarm suddenly blared out of the speaker system above the cell door. The piercing clamour cut through the creeping fog in Avon's mind, pulling him back to the present and he smiled slowly, knowing it could mean only one thing... Blake.
The torturer put down his instrument, clutched casually in his left hand, and looked up with a frustrated scowl. As if things were not difficult enough already, now he had intruders to deal with as well.
A week snort of laughter from his prisoner drew his attention back to the man in front of him and the triumphant smirk creeping slowly across the rebel's face was almost the last straw.
''It sounds like we have company'' Avon managed sardonically through clenched teeth, despite the lingering pain from Tarrat's latest 'attentions'. ''This really isn't turning out to be your day.''
The man glowered, angered by this latest show of defiance. ''I won't be the one who's dead at the end of it'' the torturer snapped in response to his captive's barb, taking pleasure from the rebel's miserable condition.
''We'll have to see about that'' Avon snarled back, but there was a slight slur to the edge of his words as his eyelids began to droop. Blake was coming, he knew, he was already in the complex. He just needed to hold out a little longer and he would be back on the Liberator.
These were the thoughts going through Avon's mind as Tarrats fist struck him hard in the side of the head, bringing the inevitable oblivion just that little bit sooner.
''I don't think so'' the man muttered darkly under his breath before turning on his heel and heading for the door. ''I'll be back, and when I am I'll make your friends watch as I kill you myself. Maybe then, they'll be more talkative than you were.''
It was not long before Cally's presence became apparent. An alarm tripped here, some gunfire there and pretty soon everyone knew where the intruders were headed, to the surface. Blake waited a while, to be sure her plan had worked and his way should be clear before opening the barred door and peering outside. Sure enough, there was no one about and he slipped outside, handgun at the ready incase there were still troopers prowling about on this level as well. However, he met no one as he hurried down the corridor, looking for a way down to the lower levels. Finally, after having to duck out of site of a couple of nervous looking technicians, he found a lift but it seemed during an alarm they were all powered down to make it harder for intruders to move around the base. It certainly made it harder for Blake. There was a steep flight of stairs close by though and they were perfectly usable so he took those, careful to keep a look out for anyone on their way up.
It took more time than he would have liked to climb down to the bottom level. If all had gone well, Cally should be back on board the Liberator by now but the guards would not know that. He still had time; Blake reminded himself. When he arrived, Blake found the detention centre covered the entire bottom level of the base. It was an extensive set up, and secret too as none of them had ever heard of it before. Blake wondered who it was secret from, exactly. Just the rebels? Or was it Servalan's private institution. He would not put it past her to keep secrets from even the president himself if it suited her purposes.
Blake hurried down the rows of cells, looking for anything to help him locate Avon's. There was a computer access point in the wall close by and he turned it on, checking for any reference to where he may be being held.
Cell, 17B it said but when Blake found it and looked inside it was empty. Then there wereonly two alternatives. Either Avon was dead, they had executed him after his attempt to contact them, or he was being held somewhere for interrogation. But no, Cally had sensed him down here, felt his pain, so it must be the latter. Going back to the computer, he checked the location of the interrogation rooms then headed off to find them.
He was almost fatally surprised by a trooper guarding the entrance to one, but Blake found he was quicker on the trigger than the trooper was and the man fell swiftly to the floor with a dull thud. So, there were still some guards around then, he would have to be more careful. That had to be the right room though, otherwise why the guard?
The door was locked of course but, helpfully, the dead trooper had the key card to open it so it only took a few seconds before Blake was inside.
It was cold within, the light dim and subdued, but still, Blake could easily make out the wrenchingly familiar scene that greeted his eyes as he looked around. It was as if he had stepped back in time. As if he was reliving the memory of what had brought him here, how this had all started all those weeks ago. The room, the chair... Avon's slumped figure at its centre. Even in his current dishevelled state there was no mistaking the computer expert's hauntingly familiar form. For a second, Blake did not move, hesitating at the room's threshold but then he was walking, covering the distance in a few worried strides and kneeling down beside his helpless companion.
No. No, not again... he thought as he reached up to Avon's neck, desperately searching for a pulse. Again, his skin felt abnormally cold beneath his touch, but somehow not like the last time. After a long, agonising moment he found what he was looking for; a pulse. It was somewhat weaker than he would have liked and unnaturally rapid under his fingers but it was there none the less and for now, that was all that mattered. He gave a sigh of relief, releasing a shaky breath he had not realised he was holding.
There were deep crimson stains patterning the collar of Avon's drab jumpsuit and when Blake reached up, he could feel the thick dried blood matting his unkempt dark hair near the back of his skull.
''Avon?'' he asked, shaking his friend's shoulder gently, trying to wake him. ''Avon!''
For a second there was no response but then he groaned, his dark eyes blinking open as they fell on the rebel leader before him. For a moment they held a look of confused disorientation but then they focussed and Blake found himself looking into a familiar clear and focussed gaze.
''Blake...'' Avon breathed, his lips twitching into a slight, thin smile as he spoke. ''You... took your time.'' His words were quiet and horse but there was no hiding the cutting hint of wry sarcasm they held. His week smile, though, seemed genuine enough and Blake returned it easily.
''It's good to see you too Avon'' Blake replied warmly, his words, though transparently sincere, holding a slight trace of ironic wit themselves. ''Anyway, you're lucky we came for you at all, we all thought you were dead.''
Blake started to retract the metal restraints at Avon's wrists and ankles as the other man responded. ''I know'' he said with a frown, remembering Servalan's words to him, and the surprisingly unnerving feeling of staring at his own clone. Suddenly, a violent wave of dizziness swept over him and he squeezed his eyes shut, Blake clearly noticing his discomfort despite his attempts to hide it. He waited a moment for the spell to pass before he continued.
''A day longer'' he admitted, his voice coldly realistic, ''and I suspect …... you would have been right.''
It had seemed miraculous that Avon was alive at all after over three weeks of thinking him dead but a cursory glance at his companion was all Blake needed to know he was probably right. He needed to get Avon back up to the medical unit on board the ship as fast as possible.
''Come on, we need to get you back to the liberator as soon as we can'' he decided, handing Avon a spare teleport bracelet. ''Here'' he added, then turned to his own while Avon clipped the bracelet into place. ''Vila, Cally, I found him, we're ready to come up'' Blake said, contacting the ship, but there was no reply, only static. He frowned. ''Liberator, do you read?'' he tried again, his voice tense. ''Liberator!''
Avon looked up sharply at Blake's failure to get a response, their eyes locking for a moment as they both realised something was wrong.
''What is it? What's... happened'' he asked as the rebel lowered his hand, easily recognising the worry in his companion's eyes. ''Have they been attacked, do you think?''
Blake shook his head, fairly certain of the Liberator's safety with Jenna at the helm. They could have been forced to leave orbit of course, but he doubted it.
''No, I don't think so. I think we're too far underground'' he replied, remembering how many levels down they were. ''All this rock's blocking communications...''
''...And teleport...'' Avon finished wearily, realising their way out would not be so simple after all.
Blake nodded. ''It looks that way, yes'' he agreed. ''We need to get closer to the surface.'' Then he gave Avon an appraising look. ''Can you walk?''
The computer genius paused for a moment, considering the question. ''I'm …... not sure'' he finally responded somewhat reluctantly, forced to admit how weak he really felt. ''Do I have a choice?''
Blakes expression said it all before he even spoke. ''Well, no, not really or else we're both stuck here. I expected we'd be able to use the teleport.''
Avon shot him a withering gaze at his apparent lack of foresight, frustrated by Blakes naive incompetence and hoping it would not get them both killed. But they could not do anything about that now.
''Then... I dare say I can manage'' he replied, painfully aware it was the only chance he had to escape, or survive.
A look of relief flashed across Blakes face at the words and he offered his friend a hand up.
Avon did not appreciate having to accept Blakes help but it seemed the best option under the circumstances so he agreed, letting the other man pull him to his feet and steady him, Avon's hand resting on his shoulder as he found his balance. After a few moments the world stopped spinning and he decided he could manage, Blake retreating after receiving assurances from his friend that he was fine, at least for now.
To his credit, despite the state he was in Avon managed to get halfway to the door before his uncooperative legs suddenly gave out beneath him and he pitched forward. Blake had been keeping a careful eye on him just in case something like that should happen and he leapt forward, catching Avon before he collided with the hard cell floor.
''Avon!'' he exclaimed alarmed, giving his injured companion a few moments to get his breath back before he spoke. ''Are you alright?''
The tight humourless smile he flashed Blake was answer enough. ''No, not really... but never mind'' he replied through gritted teeth, his voice hoarse and strained. ''Right now, that seems the least of our problems'' he added knowing all that mattered for now was finding a way back to the Liberator before they were caught, or worse.
Carefully manoeuvring his friend's right arm across his shoulders, Blake positioned his arm around his waist to help support his weight, being extra careful as he noticed Avon's sharp intake of breath when it brushed his bruised, cracked ribs.
The computer expert stiffened, clearly uncomfortable with the necessity of the other man's help but he could see there was no logical alternative so he did not protest.
''Let's try like this, shall we?'' Blake suggested with a slight smile and when Avon agreed, albeit somewhat sharply, they headed slowly but steadily to the door.
The two rebels moved with agonising slowness as they made their way to the same stairwell Blake had used on his way down. Despite the alarm there were still people around and they had to be extra careful to keep out of sight, ducking down passages or into small, dark rooms whenever someone approached. Blake knew Avon was doing his best, supporting his own weight as much as he could, but the further they went, the heavier he seemed to become. At first the rebel leader thought it was his imagination, his own muscles protesting against the strain but he soon realised it was Avon himself getting weaker, relying more and more on Blake's support to keep himself standing.
The stairs proved to be their greatest challenge. They took them slowly, one at a time, stopping every now and again for Avon to get his ragged breaths under control but his limbs felt like lead weights. It was an effort just place one-foot infront of the other and after the first level or two, he knew he must feel like a dead weight in Blakes arms.
On every level they reached, Blake tried his communicator and every time he did, he was greeted by static. This would be his third attempt and he was getting worried. If there was no answer this time, he was not sure how he would drag Avon up another flight of stairs. Not now he was carrying practically all of his weight.
Blake paused at the top of the stairs leading to level three, getting rather worn-out himself.
''Avon, hold on, it's not much further'' he promised, desperately hoping he was right. ''Let me try here, we should be high enough by now.''
The glare Avon shot him was surprisingly harsh given his current state. ''That's... what you said last time, Blake... you're guessing'' he panted between clenched teeth, somewhat exasperated and utterly exhausted.
Blake cast a worried, sidelong glance at his companion, not liking what he saw. Avon's laboured breaths were shallow and rapid, his skin deathly pale and beads of sweat glistened on his brow.
''well, this time, let's hope I'm right'' he replied, trying to hide his growing concern.
He helped lower Avon gently to the ground so he could rest for a moment, his back propped up against the metal wall, before raising his wrist to his lips, activating the communicator on his bracelet.
''Vila, Cally, can you hear me?'' once again there was no reply but this time there was no static either, which was a good sign. ''Liberator, is anyone there?''
After another second's silence someone replied. Blake did not think he had ever been so pleased to hear Vila's voice in his life. ''Blake, is that you? Where have you been, we were getting worried!''
''It's not important'' Blake assured him; he could fill them in later. Right now, his priority was getting Avon back to the ship. ''Is Cally there with you?'' he added, needing to be sure she had made it back safely.
''I'm here Blake'' came her voice over the channel and Blake felt a wave of relief. ''Did you find Avon?''
Blake glanced anxiously at his companion, unable to hide his concern as he replied. ''Yes, but he's in a bad way. We need...''
''Blake... Look out!'' Avon shouted suddenly but it was too late.
Someone barrelled into him, a heavy blow knocking Blake to the ground with a painful thud. It was Tarrat. He had gone looking for the intruders himself, rightly guessing they would come down to the lower levels not up to the surface and so had not gone with the majority of the troops to search up there.
Blake reached for his gun, holstered uselessly at his hip but before he could aim it, it was wrenched viciously out of his grasp. Instead, he kicked up, catching his opponent's hand and sending his weapon skidding aside as well, a standard federation blaster, putting the fight on far more equal terms. Blake tried to get up, to regain his feet before Tarrat could use his prone position to his advantage but he was too late. A hard Kick to the ribs knocked the wind out of him and he felt a rib crack painfully beneath the torturers boot. Then the man was upon him, two strong hands closing around the rebel leader's throat before he could react.
He could not breathe. He fought desperately, chest heaving as he struggled to fill his lungs but the constricting grip was too tight. Everything was going dark, his vision clouding as the life was gradually choked out of him. Then suddenly there was a loud bang, a sudden flash, and the pressure was gone.
Blake gasped, coughing raggedly as he breathed in huge lungfuls of air. He looked around, his clouded mind trying to make sense of what had just happened and then his eyes focussed on Avon and everything fell into place.
Somehow, Avon had found the strength to force himself to his feet and retrieve Tarrat's fallen weapon. He stood, leaning unsteadily against the wall, the federation blaster gripped tightly in one hand, still aimed at the spot where Tarrat had been only seconds before.
The man himself now lay sprawled out on the ground beside the panting rebel leader, groaning feebly in agony but still alive as he fumbled at his belt.
Avon took a slow, determined step towards them, then another, one hand resting against the solid metal wall for support, but before he could reach them, Tarrat's hands found what they were looking for. There was a small laser knife concealed in his belt and before either rebel could react, the deadly blade was pressed roughly against Blakes throat.
''Stop there or I kill your friend!'' he wheezed, pulling Blakes head back sharply by his thick dark curls, making his threat all the more clear.
Avon stopped dead. ''I'm not sure I would ever call him that'' he observed dryly but he remained motionless none the less.
Seeing his hostage was worth something to the other man after all, Tarrat grew bolder, making another demand. ''Drop the gun or I kill him'' he insisted but this time, Avon refused.
''No'' he responded with immutable certainty. There was an indistinct slur to the edges of his words now, but his voice itself was ice-cold and laced with hard menace. ''If I do that you will call the guards and we will both die anyway, or worse we will be taken alive.'' He raised his weapon again. ''Now drop the knife and I will let you live.''
Tarrat growled, his face contorted with pain and anger. ''I won't let you get away Avon, not that easily.''
''Then it seems... we have reached an impasse.''
Their eyes met for a moment, cold, dark ones meeting hostile blue as the torturer snarled, his hand shaking as it grasped the knife. A drop of red blood blossomed on Blake's neck as he slipped, the laser knife slicing into his skin.
Then Tarrat seemed to come to a decision. He knew Avon would not back down, he could see it in that steely hard stare but still, he would not let him win. His professional pride would not allow it. He had never met a man he could not break and this was the first sign of weakness he had seen for the entire three weeks. maybe this was all it took.
Avon saw his hand move, about to slice open Blakes throat from ear to ear, but he never got the chance... Avon was too quick. He pulled the trigger the second Tarrat stirred, the blast from the weapon knocking him backwards to the ground with a pained cry. After that, he lay still.
''And you thought it would be me who died today, Tarrat'' Avon murmured, coldly triumphant as he looked down at the lifeless corpse of the man who had caused him so much pain during his three long weeks of imprisonment. ''It seems …... you were wrong.''
Blake looked up, rubbing his sore neck as he pushed himself upright.
''Thank you'' he wheezed honestly, grateful for his friend's timely assistance.
Avon stared back, his gaze dark. ''Believe me... he deserved it.''
The blaster fell wearily from his hand as he flopped back against the wall, the last of his strength finally deserting him. The room started to spin, his vision blurring and suddenly it seemed a struggle just to draw breath. He could hear Blake's voice, shouting his name but somehow it seemed distant, far away as the world around him started to fade, darkness creeping across his vision as his deadened limbs gave out beneath him.
''Avon!'' Blake shouted in alarm, seeing what was about to happen just seconds before it did as Avon's eyes clouded over, his usually sharp gaze growing distant and unfocussed. And then his legs gave out beneath him and he fell, his suddenly limp form hitting the ground before Blake could reach him.
Forcing his uncooperative limbs to move Blake scrambled over, his heart hammering in his chest as he searched Avon's lifeless form for a pulse. At first, he felt nothing and he feared he was too late, that his friend really was dead this time.
''Come on Avon'' he begged, willing himself to feel something, anything and finally he did but it was week and thready beneath his touch, scarcely perceptible at all.
Hurriedly, he raised his wrist. ''Vila, Caly, are you still there?'' he asked urgently.
Cally's voice sounded concerned as she spoke. ''Blake! What happened? We were talking and then, we just lost you.''
Blake glanced down at Avon, more than a little worried about the teleport stress but he knew there was no other option. If he did not get him back to the ship soon, he would die anyway.
''Never mind, I need teleport now'' he demanded and his serious tone was not lost on the telepath.
Seconds later the familiar beam of the teleport engulfed them and they disappeared, materializing once again in the reassuring safety of the Liberator's teleport bay.