Delmon's ship

Nearly a day later

"Nearly there," Delmon reported cheerily. Avon, Dayna and Vila - plus Orac - were with him on the bridge of the ageing vessel. He had explained his reasons for rebellion, and Dayna, in particular, had agreed with them.

"Not to put too fine a point on it," Dayna inquired now, "but where are we going? Outside the Federation, I know that much, but these stars are totally unfamiliar."

"No, they are not," Avon said suddenly, rising from his seat as a certain - very familiar - star pattern, an S shape, came into view. "We - Vila and I - have been here before. This is the Twelfth Sector, astral point seven eight one!"

"Where?" Vila wondered, and then he remembered - and gulped. "Oh, not again!"

"Yes, Vila, again," Delmon grinned, "it's time I told you where we are: this is the System - where the Liberator was built."

Avon looked hard at him. "Two questions. One: How do you know that? Two: Why are we here?"

Delmon grinned again. "One: Blake told me. Two: since the System collapsed thanks to Orac, I don't doubt there'll be lots of salvage here - maybe another Liberator. There were at least two Deep Space Vehicles built; I wouldn't be surprised if there were more."

At that Avon looked thoughtful. "That is a distinct possibility. But such a vessel would have safeguards built-in to prevent intruders from stealing her, as the original Liberator did - and we do not have Blake to overcome them."

"True," Delmon conceded, "but we do have Orac." He smiled. "And there it is."

Even at this distance, the bulk of Spaceworld was clear. Some systems still had power, and thus there were a few lights, but mostly it appeared dead.

Ever practical, Dayna asked, "Orac, is there anyone on board?"

No.

She stared at the computer. This was too literal and dismissive even for Orac. "Why not?"

The security measures implemented by the System are automatic and self-repairing. The inhabitants of the three systems have prudently chosen not to investigate. Thus Spaceworld is unoccupied.

"And thus free for us to board it," Avon declared.

I suppose you wish me to deactivate the security measures, Orac observed irascibly.

"We do indeed," Avon nodded, "after which you may return to your research."

Oh, very well, Orac conceded. Its lights flashed briefly in an unusual pattern, then it declared, Done. I presume there will be no further demands upon my time. There is much to do in the study I have begun of recently-detected extragalactic anomalies.

"Well now, we shall have to wait and see," Avon returned, removing Orac's key - and missing what would later become a crucial point. "Now, let us see what there is to see."


What there was, as it turned out, was what could only be described as a viewing gallery. What could be viewed from there was apparently an exact copy of Liberator.

"I thought so," Avon nodded, satisfied.

"Now there's a welcome sight," Dayna opined, smiling happily. She'd loved their old ship; Scorpio was an old rust bucket by comparison, Plaxton Drive or not, and Slave was far inferior to Zen.

"That - that's Liberator!" Vila gasped.

"An obvious logical fallacy," Avon returned dryly, "since Liberator was destroyed near Terminal. That, presumably, is a sister ship, such as the one Orac sabotaged." Then he paused; he could see a number of design differences between this and the ship he remembered. "Hmm. Orac, what is - oh, of course," he noted cynically, and reactivated Orac. "Orac, what precisely is this?"

Surely you can see what it is, Orac answered irritably, a highly-advanced space vessel. Do not interrupt me. I -

"That much I can indeed see," Avon replied (to irritate Orac, if nothing else, by his interruption), "but it is not a Deep Space Vehicle, as Liberator was."

No, Orac conceded. According to the System's data banks, which survived the destruction of the System itself since they are non-volatile RAM, it is the prototype for the Advanced Deep Space Vehicle. It was developed in part by studying the experiences and performance of the DSV craft; this is one reason for the System sending two pursuit craft after the Liberator - it wished to download Zen's logs and memories, and to assess them and the similar logs of DSV One in creating its evaluation and determining how the ADSV would function. While you were being incarcerated, it did so.

Construction was proceeding apace during your incarceration, and since the construction equipment was and is automatic, even after the destruction of the System it has continued, and is in fact now finished. The vessel is ready for launch; all systems read as fully operational. All onboard security measures are now deactivated - as you requested, it added ironically.

"Then let's go and launch her!" Vila suggested, grinning. "She looks the business, just like the old Liberator did!"

They did, boarding her via the main airlock which was open. They proceeded to the Flight Deck, which was of course unoccupied. Avon, in fact, would have been surprised to encounter anyone.


Advanced Deep Space Vehicle One (Prototype)

Berthed in the System's Research & Development Spacedock

Avon and the others (apart from Delmon) looked around briefly to refamiliarise themselves with the ADSV. Everything looked much as the Liberator had, especially - Dayna checked it first - the weapon bay. Enjoying the familiar feel of a handgun, she armed herself.

The Flight Deck was laid out much as they recalled, except that there were fewer crew seats. Vila was the first to remark, "Only four to a crew."

Avon nodded. "Much as I had expected. Given that this vessel is more advanced than the DSV, it would follow that she would require fewer crew. Had the System survived to continue this process of advancement, I suspect the crew would have been reduced even further, perhaps to two - pilot and gunner only."

"Or even none," Dayna suggested. "It might've made the ship entirely automated, given it over to the computer."

"Entirely possible," Avon agreed, "such a system would consider efficiency first. The most efficient number of organic crew would of course be zero. No need for life support, thus her design would be simpler - plus more power would be available for the force wall and weaponry. G-forces during turning manoeuvres would no longer be an issue, either." He barely smiled. "Much can be said in favour of total ship automation."

"But then there'd be no need for handguns like these," Dayna noted, caressing hers. She smiled. "That'd be a shame. They're beautiful."

"Indeed. Dayna," Avon requested, "check the weapon bay's function, if you would." She looked the question at him curiously. "I wish to ensure that it still displays a single function isomorphic response." She nodded and tentatively touched another gun; as they'd both expected, it felt hot, and she said so. Avon nodded, satisfied. "The design is as consistent as expected."

"Right," Delmon began eagerly, rubbing his hands, "let's see what she can do -"

"Wait," Avon interrupted, raising a hand. "If the computer system is modelled after the original DSV design, as is highly probable, none of the primary systems will respond until an organic interface is established."

"Eh?" Vila wondered, mystified.

"Oh, of course," Avon smirked, "you were en route to enjoy yourself on Cygnus Alpha at the time. Do forgive me, Vila, I should have remembered."

Vila glared at him. "Just be glad you weren't 'enjoying' yourself down there!"

"Avon," Dayna asked curiously, "what do you mean, an 'organic interface'?"

"Trust a woman to ask an intelligent question," Delmon quipped; Dayna wasn't taken in by the flattery, but smiled anyway.

"Sounds almost kinky," she joked, "like we're expected to mate with it or something."

"The original Liberator, or rather Zen, did not respond to our presence until Jenna touched a particular control on the flight console," Avon elaborated. "An extremely sophisticated process we never did fully comprehend, though it was most effective. This apparently created a near-telepathic interface of some kind between Zen's neural network and Jenna's consciousness. That was how the translator units learned our language." He smirked. "It also resulted in the naming of Liberator - an idea she had. Zen informed us her thought was 'accepted'."

"How's it work?" Vila asked curiously.

"I haven't the faintest idea of its technical details," Avon admitted, "but it seems logical. A computer such as Zen is essentially a sophisticated network of electrical links. So is a human brain...or so I am led to believe," he added with a cynical smile. "It should therefore be possible to create a link between the two disparate systems. As shown by Jenna's experience, apparently they are compatible." He looked thoughtful. "In fact, it raises the possibility that the ship might be controlled purely by thought, if the pilot were sufficiently disciplined. We must run tests sometime."

"I'd be up for that," Dayna bravely volunteered. She grinned. "I might not have much discipline, but I'd love to try it. A ship controlled by thought? Imagine how fast she'd react," she mused, fascinated by the concept. "Could be a major advantage in a battle."

"Possibly," Avon allowed.

"Hmm," Delmon nodded. "It would make sense for a pilot to form such a link. Which control was it? Or rather, which one is it, do you think?"

Avon crossed to join him, studied the console briefly and observed, "Little has changed here, at least. Logical; clearly the System operated on the principle 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it'."

"Mmm," Delmon remarked, "a principle I wish our culture would follow a bit more often."

"How so?" Dayna inquired.

This might have been an opening for Delmon to remark again on female intelligence, but he thought better of it, replying, "The flight controls on the Mark IX Pursuit Ship, for example, were pretty much perfect; they did exactly what a pilot needed, no more, no less - but then they were 'improved' for the Mark X...which in my expert opinion was almost unfit to fly, too many needless bells and whistles, too much information at once on the tactical screen. The Mark XI was even worse," he scowled. "Change isn't all it's cracked up to be. 'New' and 'improved' are not synonymous."

"Indeed," Avon agreed dryly. After another second or two of perusal, he decided, "There...that panel." It was a flat matt green, with parallel vertical yellow lines etched on it, and looked exactly like the one Jenna had touched; logic dictated it would serve the same purpose. But as Delmon reached for it, Avon stopped him and said again, "Wait."

"What now?" Delmon protested mildly.

"This is, I will concede, an educated guess," Avon admitted, "but I think it would be better if Dayna were to do it."

"Why?" she asked curiously. It seemed to be Dayna's day for making intelligent queries.

"You are a woman -"

She smiled saucily and swayed her hips provocatively. "You know, I didn't think you'd noticed, Avon," she purred seductively, pouting slightly and sensually biting her lower lip.

Vila's jaw dropped at this display, and Delmon grinned lustily. Avon, too, was not unaffected, though he barely smiled. "Oh...I have indeed noticed, I assure you, and as you well know you meet, if not exceed, all the standard criteria for feminine beauty. However, I did not intend to waste time by stating the obvious. My observation was not complimentary, merely factual, part of a thought you gave me no opportunity to complete. I believe that Jenna's life signs were interpreted as being those of an Alta; they were, after all, female, if only technically so."

On seeing Dayna's puzzled frown, he explained about their contretemps with the System and its attempt to redeem Liberator, and why her gender was relevant in this context.

"Makes sense," Dayna acknowledged when he'd finished. She too joined Delmon at the flight console.

"Is it safe?" Delmon wondered uncertainly. "I still think I should try it."

"Completely," Avon assured him. "Jenna was entirely unharmed by the experience. If anything, it was pleasurable for her; she described it as being 'completely known'." He offered them a dry smile. "I doubt melodramatic gestures of chivalry are required here." Delmon shrugged, conceding the point, and stepped aside, giving Dayna room.

Dayna nodded, trusting Avon, steeled herself and touched the panel. Nothing happened at first, and she looked askance at Avon, who did not respond. Then she whispered, "Avon...I can't move my hand..."

"It's alright, Dayna. It is part of the process. Merely relax and let it happen."

She did, murmuring to herself - or, perhaps, to the ship, though none of them could make out the words (it seemed a given as to what the new ship's name would be).

Organic interface establishing, Orac reported. Even by your standards, there is no cause for alarm.

After a few seconds, she relaxed and smiled beatifically. "It's alright. We're home. We're accepted." Her smile turned impish. Curiously, she actually seemed to be in a state of sexual arousal, if Avon was any judge. There was a slight but noticeable flush to her cheeks and neck, and her nipples were quite prominent. "Actually, that was pretty exciting; my nipples are hard, and I'm wet. I think I wasn't all that far wrong."

The familiar curved fascia lit up, varicoloured lights dancing across its surface, and an equally recognisable voice rang out. Welcome, Dayna Mellanby.

"Hey, it sounds just like Zen," Vila opined, unreasonably surprised.

As you say, Vila Restal. This unit is patterned after the archetype installed in the -

Here followed a short burst of computer-speak, which Avon later correctly deduced was the phrase for 'Deep Space Vehicle', the System's designation for the original Liberator, in the System's own language.

-class spacecraft, the computer continued, but is a significant improvement thereon, with regard to computational, interpretive and intuitive capabilities, as well as greatly improved security, storage and retrieval faculties. Your species is known to require a specific identifier for that which you are addressing. The designation 'Zen', given in the thoughts of Dayna Mellanby, will suffice.

"Sounds proud of himself, doesn't he?" Dayna remarked amusedly.

"So presumably you will respond to that identifier. Zen, identify me," Avon commanded.

Confirmed, Kerr Avon.

Avon nodded in satisfaction, unsurprised. It seemed to be the System's curiously naïve policy that the first people to board a Liberator-type craft would of course be the authorised Flight Crew, and thus the onboard computer would accept them as such; Avon's request was primarily to verify Zen's acceptance of its identifier.

Apparently determined not to be left out, Delmon requested, "Me, too, Zen." He had half expected Zen to ask him to clarify, but it seemed the language lesson Dayna had provided included colloquial speech, and Zen's language processor was sophisticated enough to instantly infer his meaning.

And yet Zen briefly hesitated before answering, Confirmed, Delmon.

Avon noted this in passing, but made no comment beyond a raised eyebrow. Zen then announced:

Attention, Flight Crew. The translator units have identified your language. Auto-navigation computers have re-circuited to accept your speech commands. Please state speed and course.

"And with that, we now have full command of this vessel," Avon declared, with a satisfied smile. "We are accepted as the current Flight Crew." Then he scowled. "One final matter, one of security: Zen - prepare to receive a Priority One order, which cannot be countermanded. It is to be stored in permanent and redundant memory. Acknowledge."

Acknowledged. Secure non-volatile memory area prepared. You may state the order.

"Avon, what are you doing?" Vila asked.

But Dayna had already figured it out. "Remember Servalan, and what she did when we gave her access?"

"Oh, yeah," Vila recalled, shuddering, "she left us down on Kairos with her cuddly little kairopan- and flesh-eating pets. Brrr. I hate creepy-crawly insects at the best of times, but when they're that big...eew."

Avon ignored this exchange; he had more germane concerns. But he elected not to interrupt them until Vila had finished expounding on his irreverent thought, as that would be quicker. "Zen, the Priority One order is as follows: From this time forward, no other voiceprints are to be accepted by you unless every member of the current Flight Crew confirms their acceptance.

"Further, you will not respond to any unprogrammed voiceprint without prior approval from the Flight Crew - ever. This order is Priority One, non-countermandable, and must be tied in to all, repeat, all onboard systems. Confirm," he ended, his voice as hard as the herculanium hull of Liberator.

Zen's lights flashed briefly and rapidly, many turning red. Then Zen responded: Priority One order acknowledged; security lock-in prepared. For activation thereof, confirmation is required from all other members of current Flight Crew.

"It's a safeguard," Avon informed them. "I was careless last time, and underestimated Servalan. That will not happen again," he finished bleakly.

"Nothing like being thorough," Delmon approved. "Zen, the Priority One order is confirmed."

"Confirm Priority One, Zen," Dayna chimed in, and nudged Vila sharply when he didn't immediately follow suit.

"Ouch - oh, yeah, confirmed," he managed.

The fascia's lights blinked and flashed again, and returned to their usual colours. Sounding almost satisfied, Zen pronounced, Priority One order is confirmed and locked in. The order is now stored in EEPROM. All onboard systems are now keyed to current Flight Crew only.

"Good," Avon growled absently. "Keep it that way."

Zen's answer of Confirmed took him mildly by surprise; Dayna chuckled at his look. "I think this Zen has a sense of humour," she remarked. "That's definitely an improvement, I think."

"I beg to differ," Avon frowned sourly.

Impulsively Delmon suggested, "We should name her - oh, unless Dayna just did. Zen," he asked, "what is the designation of this vessel - as if I couldn't guess?"

Dayna Mellanby's thought was accepted; this vessel is now designated Liberator.

"Of course it is," Avon remarked cynically.


There followed some hours of exploration of their newly acquired vessel to determine internal layout, inventory, cargo if any and onboard facilities; she proved to be virtually identical to the original Liberator in almost every respect save that everything seemed in some indefinable way to be more advanced and/or sophisticated. Avon had in fact begun from exactly that premise and had - as usual - been proven right, and so the task didn't take anywhere near as long as it otherwise might have.

The crew being who they were, though. it wasn't quite as easy as that.

"We should begin," Avon instructed, "with an inventory of the vessel we have stolen - or rather, appropriated," he added cynically. "Searching personnel should search according to their aptitudes. Therefore Dayna will seek out and assess the weapon systems and defences; Delmon and I will locate the teleport and other critical systems."

"And me?" Vila predictably inquired.

Avon's cynical smirk returned. "Well now, you are an accomplished thief by your own admission. Find something worth stealing - the strongroom, for example. I suppose there will be one." The smirk became a smile of sorts. "If not, I'm sure you will make one. Let's go."

They went.


Liberator

Teleport Section

"As I expected," Avon nodded, "the Teleport Section is in the same location as that of the original Liberator." He scanned the control panel, taking a seat and manipulating a few controls, testing them. "Here there are a few changes. The effective range appears to have been increased - more than tripled, in fact. 5,000 spacials, to be exact. There is a corresponding increase in speed and precision, too - again, as expected. This is, after all, the Advanced Deep Space Vehicle."

"You'll have to show me how it works, Avon," Delmon admitted, "it's all new to me. I mean, teleport? Really? Didn't the Federation run some failed experiments in that field?"

"They did," Avon agreed, "and the effort, in which Blake and I took part, was indeed deemed futile and abandoned. But my studies of the Liberator's teleport indicated that they were in fact on the right track, utilising Aquatar as a stabilising material. It seems the System went further, not being restrained by such concerns as transportee safety." He smiled cynically. "If you dismiss the possibility of the deaths of your experimental subjects and regard them as expendable, as the System doubtless did, progress can be speedier."

"Learning at least as much from catastrophic failure as from success," Delmon reasoned. "Probably it didn't care all that much if the subject vanished or was scrambled by the process."

"Exactly," Avon nodded. "Even the Federation required a teleport to function without the inherent risks. But the System was more pragmatic, believing the end result was more important - at least, if I were a computer system, that is how I would reason. Given a large number of expendables, such as the inhabitants of the three planets, the System would have had plenty of scope for trial and error. Thus it succeeded where the Federation failed."

"It is safe for our use, though?" Delmon queried, concerned.

"As safe as it can be," Avon nodded, "considering its nature."

"Good," Delmon sighed, and took a seat next to Avon. "So how does it work?"

Avon smirked and began to teach him the basics. It took surprisingly little time; Delmon was a capable student. But the way he handled operation of the teleport implied a certain...familiarity.

Which of course was impossible.

Avon puzzled over it briefly, but dismissed it. The similarities to Liberator's original teleport meant that it wouldn't take long to teach Dayna and Vila, which was fortunate - soon, he suspected, they would all be extremely busy.


Dayna had a good time; to her delight she discovered an extensive armoury, plus a practice range. On reporting this to Avon, he answered, "Mmm, a new and doubtless useful feature. Good work, Dayna; keep us informed."

"Will do," she smiled, pleased, and toyed with a weapon. "Actually...I haven't practised in a while, Avon. Could I...?" She trailed off coyly.

She could almost hear his cynical smirk. "Since we are safe for the time being, I see no reason not to...indulge."

Dayna grinned and did just that. It turned out she had lost nothing of her skill; the weapons, which appeared to be more powerful versions of the standard handguns, were as powerful and accurate as she'd expected. They were intended, she supposed, for heavy assault; they were more like rifles, and had extra power packs. One possessed a sophisticated and apparently extremely accurate targeting scope, and seemed to be a high-capacity sniper rifle. She decided to test it on the next planetfall.


As for Vila, he checked out the supply situation...the supply of booze, that is. On discovering Liberator's extensive adrenalin and soma stocks, he grinned happily and went on to the capacious larder, the well-stocked wardrobe (he took the opportunity to change his clothes) and, particularly, the strongroom, all of which were in familiar locations; his memory, for a Delta, was very accurate, and he well remembered the layout of the old Liberator. As Avon had pointed out, form followed function, which meant there was little if any need to alter a proven design.

The strongroom, he found with joy, was bigger and better-equipped than the original Liberator's had been. For a start, there were huge quantities of gold, jewels and other negotiables...some of which, as a matter of course, he pocketed.

After all, he was a thief, and he had a reputation to uphold...

There are jewels here I've never seen before. Wonder where they came from, and why the System wanted them?

(Zen later told him, when he asked out of curiosity: The System knew, if it did not necessarily understand, the importance of money in other cultures. Logic dictated such funds would occasionally be required in dealing with such cultures - at least until they could be assimilated. Hence every Deep Space Vehicle harboured a strongroom, as does this vessel. The jewels and other riches were obtained from nearby systems in exchange for various technological devices, easily replaceable via the auto-repair systems.)

Ah, who cares? They're ours now!


Once they'd finished, they returned to the Flight Deck. They'd all changed into fresh clothes similar if not identical to the ones they'd been wearing.

Avon, meanwhile, had run some computer tests - specifically, determining whether or not Orac could override Zen. It could, the two were compatible via the System's version of the Tarriel Cell developed by the late Ensor, but Zen's internal security had been improved to the point where Orac had to ask, rather than simply taking control. But Avon determined that Zen was perfectly willing to accept outside control from Orac under emergency conditions.

It was, of course, entirely impregnable to every computer virus, Trojan or rootkit known to the Federation - or to Avon, for that matter, the firewalls unbreachable by any means known to him or even to Orac. The system is somewhat more advanced than that of the original, it conceded.

"Advanced compared to you?" Avon inquired with a cynical smile.

Of course not! I am the most advanced computer system in the known galaxy! I merely state that this version of Zen is superior to the original, not that it is superior to me!

"Of course not," Avon drawled as the others sat.

"So," Vila drawled, sprawled out on a couch and looking entirely at home - with all the instincts of the long-extinct homing pigeon, he'd quickly located Liberator's stores of adrenalin and soma, to Avon's exasperation but not surprise - "now what?"

Avon spared him a brief, cutting glance. "I have considered a number of possible courses of action. First, and perhaps most logical, we could hide - find a bolthole well outside Federation borders. We could even, perhaps, remain here, for a time."

"That's a temporary solution at best," Dayna readily pointed out. "Those borders are expanding all the time, and pretty rapidly, too."

"But that may work in our favour," Delmon opined thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?"

"Is it possible they might overreach themselves? If the Federation's territory expands faster than their fleet, they might eventually be spread too thin. We could wait," Delmon suggested, "see what happens."

"Orac's extrapolation of the current expansion negates that option," Avon dismissed it. "Though the idea is superficially sound, and had already occurred to me," he added with a cynical smile, "it would take too long for their forces to be spread thinly enough to afford us a workable strategic advantage. Their fleet is mostly rebuilt now, their shipbuilding capacity almost restored to pre-war levels; the greater probability is that they would locate us long before that point."

"Okay, I see that," Delmon conceded. "Another option, then?"

"As was the case with the original Liberator," Avon noted, "this vessel harbours a strongroom containing more money and negotiables than we could ever hope to spend even if we went into the business of buying planets."

"I found it," Vila announced proudly, to no-one's great surprise, and sighed in pleasure. "Happiest day of my life, that was. Well, unless you count the day I discovered girls," he added saucily, fondly remembering Katellia, the first girl he'd ever seen - and touched - with her clothes off. Ooh, she was well up for...stuff, he reminisced. How old were we, fifteen? Less? She didn't care!

"A day that will live in infamy among womankind, I do not doubt," Avon retorted dryly. "To continue: we could use this fortune, perhaps, to buy security, anonymity and thus protection."

"No, that's too risky," Dayna doubted after only a moment's thought. "Whoever we negotiated with might want to get paid twice - once by us, and once by Servalan."

"Indeed...though I doubt they would live long enough to enjoy their newfound wealth. The same caveat would apply if we attempted to trade this ship's technology for protection."

"All of which leaves...what?" Vila wondered.

"There is only one logical alternative now open to us," Avon growled. "If we wish to survive...we must win."

"I don't think I like the sound of that," Vila said with foreboding, taking a drink.

"You mean, carry on the fight - Blake's fight. Bring the Federation down," Dayna said flatly.

"Now I know I don't like the sound of it."

"So you still think winning is the only safety," Dayna observed, utterly unsurprised.

"The logic was sound then. Why should it not be so now?"

"Yeah, but will they still care," Vila wondered, "with Blake being dead? I mean, do we, well, matter to them now?"

"They have to care, Vila," Avon told him. "With the Administration's new policy of total control of the populace via Pylene-50, they have now established a totalitarian regime both in name and in fact; as history has repeatedly demonstrated, they dare not tolerate any dissent now. True, such rigid control will eventually backfire, leading to an inevitable rebellion - but we shall all be long dead by then even if the Federation does not catch us.

"However...I, for one, want to see results to that end before I die." He almost snarled his next words, clenching a fist as he spoke them: "Those currently in power have cost me far too much already! Payback is long overdue, and I intend to collect in full!"

There was a short, slightly shocked pause. Avon had never spoken so passionately about this issue (except when he was derisively debating it with Blake), but Vila and Dayna remembered too well the anguish on Avon's face as Anna's life slipped away. It seemed he was human after all.

"We couldn't do it alone, Avon," Delmon pointed out, "however powerful and advanced this ship is, it's still only one ship. You three might be legends, but you're still only three - well, four, with me. Five," he grinned, "with Zen. Or even six, if we count Orac."

Kindly refrain from doing so! Orac interjected testily. I am currently engaged in studying certain extragalactic anomalies -

"Enough already," Vila entreated, knocking on Orac's outer casing.

"The odds are against us, I do not deny it," Avon conceded, "but then again...there is nothing new about that."

"Fair point," Delmon acknowledged quietly, with a respectful nod towards his three companions. "But what I meant was that we need, well, a figurehead. Someone people will recognise, look up to and be inspired by."

"Oh, not again," Vila moaned, seeing where this was going, "and if you start harping on about 'lines through the patterns of infinity' again, Orac, I'm gonna slope off an' get drunk."

"You wouldn't have to go far," Dayna teased.

"Are you talking about Roj Blake?" Delmon speculated, and was unsurprised by Avon's slight nod. "Isn't he dead, though?"

"And he should know," Vila muttered bitterly. "He's the one who blew Blake away."

"Did I?" Avon returned, very quietly.

That brought them up short. Even Vila straightened in his seat. "Eh?"

"Did you see what you thought you saw? Appearances, after all, are deceptive, as we have learned to our cost," Avon observed; his tone was flat, but there was steel in his voice nonetheless. "Didn't it all seem unlikely to you?"

"Avon, what do you mean? Don't go all mysterious on us again - remember how that turned out last time?" Dayna reminded him sourly. "Liberator destroyed, Cally dead, us stranded on Terminal..."

"I have not forgotten," Avon pronounced slowly, coldly. "As to my meaning: Blake turning on us? No - unlikely in the extreme. Trying to foment a revolution with mercenaries, bounty hunters and one-time farmers? Were these the tools with which he would build his glorious New Order?" His voice was full of scorn as he ridiculed the very concept...not that Blake's vision of it had ever been anything but ridiculous, in his considered opinion.

"Even more absurd - even Blake, idealistic though he was to a fault, was not totally blind to reality! He recognised we would need the allegiance of people in positions of power and authority - and we would never find those on a backwater world like Gauda Prime!" He paused, and went on soberly, "If Soolin were here, she would be the first to agree on that point."

"Prettiest gunfighter I ever saw," Vila slurred, and raised his glass, toasting, "To Soolin."

"We can't trade on a dead figurehead," Delmon doubted, "martyr or not."

Avon sighed; they hadn't seen his point. "We do not need to." He elaborated: "The entire affair was as far removed from Blake's modus operandi as I can imagine. Whatever else he was, Blake was always loyal to us, to his cause, even damaged as he apparently was by trauma of some kind. No matter how I tried to formulate the problem, I couldn't make his behaviour on Gauda Prime fit into any logical pattern; it was entirely inconsistent with what we knew of the man. I have therefore concluded that -"

"- it wasn't Blake!" Dayna gasped, suddenly comprehending.

"Now hang on," Vila gulped, suddenly and unwillingly sober, "I knew Blake as well as anyone, and it was him! Okay, he had a scar or two, he looked rough, but -"

"A clone," Delmon speculated. "But the Clonemasters were destroyed during the war. And Auron's facility was destroyed sometime after that, I heard."

"Nonetheless, I believe at least one clone of Blake was produced at some point," Avon stated. "Servalan was always thorough, and so I doubt that was the only one. Surely there was a backup."

There were in fact two in total, Orac contributed, created at Servalan's request by the Clonemasters more than two years ago; but one was recorded as having been murdered by Travis, and the other originally intended to remain with Coser's former bond slave, guarding IMIPAK, until Servalan offered to allow them to leave the otherwise uninhabited planet to which they fled - in return for the witnessed, total destruction of the IMIPAK prototype. As is only logical, Servalan had the bond slave murdered once IMIPAK was destroyed.

"While Blake, of course, was no longer there," Avon observed.

"It might've been logical, but logic wasn't the reason, I bet," Dayna growled. "She's a sadist. She probably enjoyed it, the evil bitch."

"'ere, steady on, Dayna," Vila protested uneasily, "I know you've reason to hate her, but -"

"Am I wrong?" she demanded coldly.

"Er...well, no," he admitted, taking another drink.

"What's IMIPAK?" Delmon asked curiously - partly to break the uncomfortable silence.

"A weapon," Avon answered, "developed by, so Orac tells me, an incorrectly-classified Beta named Coser." He explained further.

"Why didn't she just recover it?" Delmon asked, puzzled, after Avon elaborated on the IMIPAK affair. "She could've used an airborne short-lived virus or something, delivered by stealth remote, without coming within a million miles of the planet."

All things being equal, that would indeed have been a viable strategy. The only logical conclusion is that she was unable to do so because she herself was marked, as was Travis, doubtless by the bond slave or the Blake clone. They were thus unable ever to use the weapon without destroying themselves in the process, even if they had recovered it. Indeed, they would then have been vulnerable to the same blackmail Coser envisaged.

"So that's why she never used it on us!" Vila realised. "We didn't outrun the signal after all, and the planet wouldn't have shielded us!"

Correct, if obvious to even the meanest intelligence, Orac noted dryly. Coser himself destroyed all research materials and notes pertaining to IMIPAK prior to his escape, to prevent the Federation from duplicating his invention, and he also killed all his research associates as a further precautionary measure by using the weapon on them. With Coser also dead and the prototype destroyed, the knowledge of its construction and operating principles is, therefore, irretrievably lost. Thus you are all safe from IMIPAK unless someone rediscovers said principles.

"And genius cannot be summoned on demand," Avon added. "One cannot simply declare 'I will be brilliant today, and I will solve this particular problem'. Orac, could the molecular instability potential be triggered by any other means?"

No, Orac declared simply, it was generated by IMIPAK, and specifically designed to be triggered by same. No other influence would create the same effect. The last thing any IMIPAK user would desire would be an accidental triggering of the potential.

"Thus the probability of danger in the context of IMIPAK is small enough that we can effectively ignore it," Avon concluded, satisfied. "Indeed, the probability of danger is as close to zero as makes no odds, given the destruction of the prototype. One would need to be a genius on Coser's level to reproduce even the theory - which at best is extremely unlikely."

"But we know it can be done, Avon, and usually that's half the battle," Vila countered worriedly, picturing himself collapsing into an organic goo as IMIPAK ravaged him (he'd never been marked and therefore was theoretically safe, but his paranoia had never been anything if not constructive).

"True," Avon conceded, "but it is only half the battle, Vila. We would have absolutely no idea where to begin, nor do we know exactly how IMIPAK functioned in order to create the destructive effect."

"Why create this clone, though?" Delmon asked, fascinated. "More to the point, why'd Servalan let him actually leave the planet?"

"Initially, the clone was used to deceive Coser, by presenting him with someone he knew he could trust. Later he came in handy to deceive Orac," Avon answered, "thus deceiving us. I have concluded that Gauda Prime was an elaborate trap. Servalan knew Orac was entirely capable of tracking Blake down," he smirked now, "through the -"

"Oh, don't say it," Vila moaned. Dayna laughed.

"The clone was doubtless infused with all of Blake's past memories but presumably overlaid with conditioning, as a safeguard against him turning on his creators. If we accept that memories make the man, and that a difference which makes no difference is no difference, then to all intents and purposes the replica was Blake. Once he left, he would behave as Blake would, follow the same idealistic course of action and behavioural patterns as the original, patterns discernible to Orac - until such time as we located him, after which he would indeed 'betray' us.

"But something must have gone wrong; the clone developed his own agenda - hence his taking up with the bond slave and his later operation on Gauda Prime." He paused again. "It was only once I was sure of this that I killed him. Even then...I will admit it wasn't...easy..."

Against his will, the memories again flooded back:


Rebel base, Gauda Prime

Seven months ago

"Is it true?!"

"Avon, it's me, Blake!"

"Stand still!" Avon rasped, more distressed than anyone had ever seen him. Not even Anna's betrayal had hit Avon this hard; his perception of reality had never been so badly and profoundly shaken. "Have you betrayed us?" His voice dropped, anguished. "Have you...betrayed me?!"

"Tarrant doesn't understand!"

"Neither do I, Blake!"

"I set all this up!"

And with that, at last, Avon finally saw it all, the whole plan - too late, he knew, but at least he would not die alone. He would have the satisfaction, however short-lived, of taking his killer with him.

"Yes!"

"Avon, I was waiting for you -"

Avon fired.

Fired again.

And again...


"No other explanation made sense," Avon continued, recovering his aplomb. "She went to a great deal of trouble, but it was worth it to obtain Liberator's, and later Scorpio's, working teleport and main drive - the photon drive we procured courtesy of the late Dr. Plaxton," he elaborated for Delmon's benefit.

"Yeah, I know about that," Delmon nodded. "They managed to partly salvage and retro-engineer it, and incorporated it into the new Mark XII Pursuit Ship." He smirked. "Not too successfully, I might add, thanks partly to me. I'll explain that later," he added on seeing the curious looks directed his way, "for now I'm more interested in hearing about Blake."

"Avon, are you sure about this?" Dayna inquired, and then cocked her head pensively as a new thought struck her. "Or rather - Orac, are you sure?" she finished shrewdly.

Avon's analysis is logically sound. My reassessment of the available data and perusal of the relevant Federation records has indeed revealed the existence of an elaborate and far-flung plot; its primary objective was to secure Scorpio and its technology intact, for the purposes of retro-engineering and incorporation into the latest model of Federation Pursuit Ship, which at the time was the unsatisfactory Mark XI.

The secondary objective, which was primarily political, was to capture and/or eliminate Blake's remaining crew, after which the Federation populace would be presented with incontrovertible proof of their demise, thus permanently eradicating the legend of "Blake's 7". This plot was facilitated by the use of the Blake clone, which was permitted total freedom of action in order to allay any suspicions Blake's former crew would naturally harbour.

"But," Avon added, "Orac located the clone by virtue of the pattern of his actions, and there have been one or two anomalous events noted by Orac which did not fit this pattern - but which, nevertheless, bear Blake's stamp. I did, at first, dismiss these as baseless rumour; after Liberator's destruction there were any number of those, as might be expected given the vagaries of human nature and of hope - and," he added sarcastically, "I shall save Vila the trouble of saying 'I told you so', or producing some other witty epithet, by admitting that this was an error on my part." He glared at Vila, who almost said it anyway but thought better of it.

"If there was one clone," Delmon pointed out tersely, "there could be others."

"The thought had of course occurred to me. However, I deem it to be of low probability."

Zero probability, Orac corrected him testily, if there were others in existence, I would be aware of them.

"Why?" Delmon asked Avon, ignoring Orac.

"Servalan, for all her many faults, is no fool. Even a clone of Blake with incomplete memories would be dangerous to the Federation; how much more dangerous would an identical copy be, indistinguishable from the original in terms of personality, memory and," he smirked, "revolutionary fervour and fanaticism? No - she would never have taken the risk of creating more than one such."

"But she did," Vila pointed out almost cheekily, "Orac said there were two!"

That is correct, Orac agreed, but Travis was taken by surprise and killed the first clone almost by reflex, as Servalan knew full well he would. She allowed this to occur purely in order to permit Travis a degree of catharsis, in an attempt to rein him in and make him more amenable to her wishes. Its voice turned dry. This strategy was of dubious value at best, as later events proved.

"Yeah - he went so crazy he betrayed the entire Galaxy," Vila recalled sourly.

Indeed.

"The Blake clone was doomed, by my hand or hers, the instant he set foot on Gauda Prime, and yet there are traces of his actions - or, at any rate, someone's - elsewhere. The only other clone is known to be dead, and no others could have been created since the war. My conclusion: Blake is alive." Avon looked grim. "And we must locate him, at all costs, before Servalan does!"