REUNION

A Post “Blake” FanFiction by Pam Jernigan

Chapter 1 – Reunion

In the overcrowded capital city on Earth, amid the crowded jumble of houses and highrises, one dwelling stood aloof. It was not immediately conspicuous, but if it caught the casual observer's eye, some interesting details could be discerned. The yard was tiny in proportion to the house, but both were slightly larger than the surrounding houses. The yard was enclosed by a surprisingly sturdy fence, with a gate that seemed designed only to keep people out . . . or perhaps to keep them in.

The house was unremarkable otherwise, unless the observer was knowledgeable enough to recognize the extremely complex magnetic lock securing the front and only door. The windows were few, and on the small side, but that could have been the whim of the owner, who didn't seem too fond of his or her neighbors. The designer had in fact been under strict orders. The house was not merely a house; it was a political prison, for the Empress's favorite political prisoner.

***

Inside the house, in a basement that looked like a rather advanced laboratory, a man stood before a workbench, studying some sort of complex gadgetry. He seemed lost in thought, turning the piece over and over in long slender fingers. He was dressed in featureless black tunic and pants, and his brown hair was cut short. His face hinted that he might be in his late thirties, but his eyes seemed far older.

Another man appeared in the doorway. He was much younger than the first, in his mid twenties. His black uniform marked him as a Federation officer, but he had an open, friendly face and blond hair. He stood for a moment surveying the workshop and then queried softly.

"Avon?".

"Go away, Varel," Avon replied absently, his attention never leaving the contraption in his hands. His eyes narrowed as he came close to solving the riddle it posed. Then he remembered who he was working for and why he didn't want to fix the unit. He lowered it and looked up, seeing Varel still in the doorway.

Varel, seeing that he had the other man's attention, continued, "Avon, dinner's ready. Do you want to come and eat?"

The computer genius released the gadget and smiled a tired, humorless smile. "Why not."

***

Elsewhere in the galaxy, a smaller man was sitting in a featureless room that closely resembled a cell. He seemed unhappy. He began to talk to himself.

"Easy to escape and meet him, he said. Sure, it was easy enough to crack out. But when I get to the meeting point, was anybody there? I ask myself." He directed an angry glance towards the ceiling. "Well, whatever your name is, that's your last chance." He lapsed into silence again, staring glumly at the wall. After a moment, he walked over to the cell door, in which was set a small metal grille, large enough to see a face through. "Can I have a bit to eat? I haven't done anything you know." Vila Restal had never been innocent in his life, but he liked to keep pretending. "Is anyone there?" He turned and started pacing, bouncing a little as he walked.

Behind him, a face appeared at the grille. It was a pretty face, but the expression was tense. "Hist. Vila"

The thief spun around and ran to the door, and then stopped suddenly. "Who are you?"

"I'm here to get you out. Can you open this door?"

Vila drew himself up with injured pride, "Of course I can. Only reason I didn't is all those guards. Unfriendly fellows."

"They've been taken care of. Open it, will you."

"Already done." He proclaimed loftily, and the door swung inward as he stepped out of its way.

The girl looked even prettier in full view. She was a fairly tall blond with large blue eyes. She was wearing a serviceable green jumpsuit.

Vila looked appreciative, and asked again, "Who are you?"

"I've come to get you out. Now, do you want to spend the next five years of your life on this planet, or are you coming. I can only tell you that I'm one of Blake's people."

"What!" The thief looked stunned, then disbelieving. "You can't be. Blake's dead, I saw it myself. He died six years ago."

"If you want to find out anything more, you'll have to come with me. Blake will explain it to you. Hurry, we've got a shuttle waiting near here."

Vila looked uneasy, "I'm not too keen on shuttles. Haven't you got teleport?"

"No." The girl was visibly impatient, watching the corridor closely. "We've got to go now. I should mention that the Terra Nostra have tracked you down -they'll kill you if no one else beats them to it."

Vila shrunk back into himself, and asked, "How do I know you're not from the Nostra?"

"Because I haven't killed you yet?" She offered sweetly, still watching the corridors. "Come on, they'll be waking up soon."

Vila hesitated another second, then moved out of his cell. Whatever she wanted probably would be better than staying in jail waiting for the Terra Nostra to kill him. Or so he hoped.

"All right, all right. Lead on."

It took less than ten minutes for them to get clear of the small prison. Then they were running for a clump of trees, dark in the twilight. A shot whistled by Vila's ear, but the girl swiveled and returned the fire almost before he could yell. They continued running and soon were boarding a small shuttle craft through the hold doors. Once they were inside, the girl hit a control to shut the doors, then used her communicator. "We're safe aboard, Loren, take us up." She pushed Vila into an acceleration couch and then fell into one herself. After a few minutes of shaking, the shuttle stabilized and Vila guessed that orbit had been achieved.

He remained lying down for a few minutes. After all, he wasn't getting any younger, and he didn't run sprints like that every day. When he was feeling a bit better, he sat up, and looked at the girl next to him. She seemed much more relaxed.

"Look," he began. "You seem to know me, but who are you, and why are you helping me?"

"Simple. My name is Silira, and our pilot is Loren. We're trying to rid the galaxy of the Federation."

Vila moaned softly.

"Blake thought that you could be helpful, so we're taking you to meet up with him." She smiled and walked towards a console to look at the readouts. "We'll catch up with our ship in less than twenty minutes."

Vila relapsed into gloominess. "And here I thought she was going to get me *out* of trouble."

***

After their dinner, Avon and Varel relaxed in the lounge. At least Varel relaxed, sprawling in a chair, watching Avon through half-closed eyes. Avon walked slowly around the room.

"All that pacing about is bad for you, you know," Varel offered lazily.

Avon impaled the guard with a glance and smiled frostily. "You're so concerned about my health. I didn't know your job included playing nursemaid." His voice had a definite sneer, but the younger man didn't seem to notice.

"Doesn't. I'm to keep you within that fence out there. It might look bad on my record if you died, but that's the extent of it. Anything else is not my problem." He looked directly at Avon as he continued. "I'm not ambitious. This army is just as dirty and corrupt as the rest of the government, and the higher you go, the worse it gets. My goal is to be totally unremarkable, and to get out as quickly as possible. Besides," he smiled, "for some reason, I've come to like you, as a friend. I don't know about you, but I could use a good friend or two. If you don't care for the idea, forget I mentioned it. But I've been here for eight months now. I think you're an excellent judge of character; you must know I mean what I say."

Avon looked at him in mild shock, then turned aside to hide his reaction. It had been a long time since he had spoken to anyone who wasn't a guard, or government worker, or Empress, all trying to use power against him. Those encounters he knew how to handle, how to win. But this was something else. He had realized that Varel was different from some of his former guards. Varel acted more like a houseguest than a jailer. It had sometimes seemed as if the guard respected him, but to be friends? In truth, the idea of a friendship was. . .interesting was the strongest word he allowed himself. As soon as he began to consider the possibilities though, he remembered the last time he had begun to open himself up to friendship. Years after the fact and only to himself, he admitted that Vila and Tarrant had been his friends, and that Dayna may have been more than just a friend. Now that they were all dead. It was always the same. Once you made yourself vulnerable, it was all over, and he couldn't allow that to happen again.

"All right, I'll forget you mentioned it." His voice was almost as bland as ever, but Varel noted the difference, and the pause that preceded it, and thought he knew the explanation. Avon would think about it. That was enough for now. There was plenty of time.

Silence reclaimed the room until the telescreen beeped. The matte black surface dissolved into the image of a woman with short black hair. She could be described as stunning, but not as beautiful. At her appearance, however, Varel leapt up and stood at attention at one edge of the room. Avon, on the other hand, took the opportunity to sit down facing the screen.

The woman smiled. "Avon, how nice to see you again."

"Is it?" He replied blandly.

"Of course, it is," she pouted slightly, "You never call me."

Avon seemed amused by that. "Why should I? I don't want to talk to you."

"It's too bad you can't always have what you want," she answered maliciously.

He tired of the game. "What do you want, Servalan."

She shrugged elegantly and got down to business. "I want to know how you're doing at improving the photon drive."

He snorted. "It doesn't need improved, it needs redesigned. It will become unstable at speeds higher than Time Distort Six. That's a design flaw, not mechanical, and it's not my field," he lied easily.

"You must be able to do something." Servalan's impatient nature was beginning to show through her languid facade, and Avon began to enjoy the conversation. Varel watched both of them and was grateful that they ignored him. He didn't want the Empress angry with him; it was too dangerous. It was a mystery to him as to why she had let Avon live this long.

"I'm afraid not." Avon was replying almost graciously. "If I still had Orac, perhaps. . ."

"It's a pity you can't figure out how to put it back together," she snapped acidly.

"It's a pity that you insisted on taking it apart to begin with," he replied in the same manner.

Varel didn't know how often they had this argument, but he had been in the house for eight months, and he'd heard it five times.

Servalan glared at the Avon for a moment, and then glanced away from the screen. Her impatience melted away, and she became again the elegant and slightly malicious Empress Servalan. She turned back to the screen with a sweet, vicious smile and said softly, "I'm terribly sorry, but duty calls. I'll speak to you in a few days." Without waiting for an answer she cut the connection.

Varel relaxed again. "I don't know how you stand her, Avon."

"I have to." He stood again and resumed his slow pacing. Truth be told, Avon was sure he could fix the drive, and improve it, too. And with the correct parts he could have Orac working better than ever. But frustrating Servalan was more satisfying. It was his one source of amusement as he waited for her to kill him; he knew she would kill him eventually, and was, on balance, looking forward to it.

As silence flowed through the room, the guard wondered if he could dare ask some of the questions he had, about Avon, and Blake.

"How did you end up here anyway? I've heard stories, but I don't believe them. Your trial seemed entirely imaginary. What happened?" Varel didn't really expect an answer, but he saw no harm in trying.

Avon glanced at him and then away again. "I fell in with the wrong crowd."

"You mean Blake?" Varel tried to make the question sound casual, but he was aware of the restless tension in the computer genius.

Avon made a small sound that almost sounded like a laugh. "I didn't think anyone remembered us, Blake and the Liberator." He seemed lost in unpleasant thoughts. "They're both dead, you know. All of them. Gan, Jenna, Cally, Blake, Dayna, Vila, Tarrant, even Soolin. All dead." His voice also, was dead.

***

Servalan cut the connection and sat for a minute gazing at the blank screen. The last six years had been good for her. After she had found Avon, and Orac, on Gauda Prime, her return to power was swift. With the propaganda value of a captured rebel and the knowledge Orac had given her, the resumption of her powers was easy. The Zerok gold had helped, of course.

She had found Orac extremely difficult to endure after a while. It's obnoxious manner and constant resistance had grated on the most powerful woman in the Federation. Her computer techs had been unable to modify the programming, and finally in frustration she had ordered Avon to reprogram it. Avon had gotten it open and disassembled easily enough, but then professed himself unable to put it back together again. She hadn't believed him, of course, but after a week of interrogation, she'd had to change her mind. Avon dead was no use to her at all; alive he could be useful, on other projects. If she didn't have Orac, at least no one else did.

She had called Avon from her private office, the main control center of the sprawling Federation. Beyond her taste in clothes, Servalan had never favored opulence; her office was white on white and extremely functional. Her dress for the day showed unusual restraint, a small print of black and silver on a white sheath.

Space Commander Darren arrived while she was in the midst of her call to Avon. He was her current acting Supreme Commander. The life expectancy of a Supreme Commander under Servalan was predictably short, but Darren was proving very capable. He almost reminded her of Travis, back before he became obsessed with Blake. She smiled graciously at him. "What news have you brought me, Space Commander Darren?"

He gave his report at parade rest, studying the wall behind her desk. "Pockets of rebellion are growing again, Empress. Some of the outer worlds are facing internal struggles, and there have been several pursuit ships destroyed without warning. I have sent extra troops to the troubled areas, but as soon as they leave their station, trouble breaks out behind them. It could almost be coordinated."

"I'm quite sure it is. Why haven't I been informed of this?" She asked icily.

Darren thought briefly of how her previous subordinates had died, but dismissed the thought immediately as disloyal. "Until Takma it seemed random, ma'am, nothing out of the ordinary." Darren showed no response to her anger.

"What happened at Takma, then?"

"Two weeks ago, Empress, there was a violent demonstration on Zeta Major. There is only one battalion stationed there, so troops were sent from Takma to assist. As soon as their ship left orbit, there was well planned attack on the capital, which fell into the hands of the rebels. When the troop ship attempted to return, it exploded. It seems likely that the bomb was planted on the ship while it was refueling on Takma. And that planet has always been quiet before. It has now declared itself independent of the Federation and a haven for rebels."

"You will destroy it, of course." She said smoothly.

"Yes, ma'am, but it will take some time. Takma and Zeta Major are right on the border, with no other systems nearby. And they've taken over the navigation beacons and communications systems. They may be able to hold out a few weeks." He remained staring straight ahead.

"But the news will not get out. No one will know of their pathetic attempt. I rely on you for that." She smiled sweetly, razor sharp. "Is there anything else?"

This was the hard part. Darren seemed to lose his detachment, showing unease for the first time. "Yes, ma'am. Your prisoner, Avon, may be a danger to you."

She laughed lightly at that, "Oh, Commander, I assure you he is not. I never see him in person, and there is a guard inside the house at all times. Besides, he's lost his will to defy me. He can be rather. . .irritating, but never dangerous. He knows that I could kill him at any time."

"Begging your pardon, Empress, but he doesn't seem impressed, from what I've seen."

"Oh, no, he would rather be dead. That's what makes it so amusing to keep him alive." She smiled a predatory smile.

Darren shuddered, but doggedly continued. The Federation was the only civilizing force in the universe, and he meant to keep it safe, whatever it cost him. "That's not exactly what I meant, though. There have been rumors, so vague that they weren't worth reporting. Rumors about a rebellion effort headed by Blake."

Servalan lost her smile and stood up. "Don't be a fool. Blake is dead. Everyone must know Blake is dead, we showed that Gauda Prime footage every day for a year." She walked purposefully over to her side table and poured herself a drink. "Tell me all you know."

Darren looked at her for the first time in the interview. "People are talking about Blake being behind all sorts of things. My men have been investigating, naturally." Actually, Darren had gathered quite a lot of information about the rebel. He had hoped to avoid telling the empress, to avoid her predictable - and lethal - reaction. Now, however, Blake was beginning to emerge as a real threat, and she would have to know.

"We've determined that there is a rebel going by the name of Blake. And with the operation on Takma, it looks like someone is starting a full scale rebellion, and that's who most people think it is." He looked straight ahead again. "And that's why Avon might be a danger. He was with Blake. Blake might want him back."

"Nonsense. I tell you Blake is dead, Avon killed him. You are dismissed, Space Commander. I expect you to destroy this Blake, and to wipe out the rebellion on Takma if you have to destroy the entire planet."

She turned her back on him as he left the room, and sat back at her desk. Softly she repeated, "Blake is dead."

***

Somewhere in Federation space, an unremarkable ship was orbiting an unexceptional planet. It was a Horizon class battle cruiser, large enough for a crew of ten. A smaller ship began closing in, and when it got close enough, it slid into an open hangar door, which majestically glided shut once the shuttle was safe aboard.

Inside the hangar, the shuttle landed gently, and a pressurized tube extended from the shuttle to an airlock in the side of the hangar. They locked together, and the shuttle was linked to the ship.

The passageways of the ship were well lit, but they looked a lot like every other hallway in the universe. Silira came around a corner, with Vila close behind.

"Whose ship is this?" he asked curiously.

"Ours. It's called the Scalia. Come on, we're nearly to the flight deck. Blake will answer all your questions."

They entered the flight deck from the rear, and Vila moved forward eagerly to get a look at whoever was there, barely noticing the console positions. He could tell they were similar to Liberator's, but more spread out. He stopped dead half way across the floor.

The man standing in front of the view screen was fairly tall, with straight reddish blond hair. As he turned around, Vila could tell that his eyes were blue and direct.

"You're not Blake." He tried to sound disgusted instead of disappointed.

The man smiled gently. "Well, yes and no. I'm obviously not the Blake you travelled with. But my name is Blake, Talin Blake, and I hold the same goal. To crush the Federation and it's bloated Empress."

Vila perked up at that. "Is she fat now? I never thought she'd get fat."

Talin frowned quickly, then smiled again. "I was being metaphorical, Restal. She is bloated with power and cruelty."

Vila nodded. "It does sound like Servalan."

"Then you do know her?" Silira asked interestedly.

Glad of an appreciative audience, Vila expounded, "Oh, yes, in the old days, anyway. She hasn't come calling in the last few years, but she used to show up everywhere we went. Nasty woman."

Just then another woman entered the flight deck. She was small and of Asian descent, with long silky black hair. She, too, was wearing a jumpsuit. Blake went over to her and led her to Vila.

"Restal, allow me to present our pilot, Loren."

"How do you do," he asked eagerly. "It's a great pleasure to meet you." Loren nodded in his direction but excused herself to move to her station.

Silira rolled her eyes, and Blake frowned slightly. "And here are the rest of the crew." He added, pointing at another entrance. In came a large black man and a young-looking girl with brown hair. They both looked interested and moved forward to greet him. "Restal, meet Rusk and Paige." They all smiled, and the new arrivals moved to their battle stations while Blake continued the introductions. "Rusk is our medic; he's saved my life already. He also operates the Scalia's weaponry and communications systems. Paige is the ship's engineer; she's come up with some valuable modifications. Of all the people in the revolution, this crew is the best." His voice showed his youthful pride in his followers.

His crew must have been used to that kind of speech; none of them showed much reaction.

"Blake," asked Paige, "Have you asked him yet?"

"No, not yet." Blake turned back to Vila. "Restal, my goal is to defeat the Federation, as was yours. I have a small organization, with contacts on perhaps a dozen planets. We think we can win, if we move carefully enough. We were hoping to benefit from your experience and expert advice, Restal."

Blake's use of Vila's surname was starting to irritate the thief. It meant that the rebel leader was taking him seriously and regarding him as an equal. Vila was unaccustomed to that, and quickly decided he didn't like it.

"Great commanders, if they are to lead great armies, need great advisors." Gesturing grandly, Blake walked around the couch and put his arm around Vila's shoulders, forcing the smaller man to pace along. "My people here," his free arm fluttered expansively to indicate the others on the flight deck. For the most part, they were ignoring him with practiced skill. "are the best we have. But none of us possess your talents or vast store of experience. You were with Roj Blake, from the beginning. You can teach us many things. . ."

During this speech, Vila had grown more and more uneasy, his eyes darting around the room as though looking for a place to hide. Paige glanced up and smiled sympathetically.

"So, Restal, what do you say? What should we do first?"

"We need to get Avon," Vila blurted out. He had not meant to mention his former friend at all, and was shocked to hear his own voice suggesting it. Being pulled into the midst of another rebellion, however, had reminded him forcibly of the early, invincible days on the Liberator. This Blake couldn't hold a candle to the original; the speeches were good, but he didn't seem very intense about it. Not very convincing. Vila also knew that he wouldn't be half as useful as Blake seemed to expect, and when they found out that opening doors was his main line, they might be less than kind in their disappointment. Avon at least understood him, as well as anyone, and wouldn't expect too much.

Loren spoke up sharply, "Avon killed Blake, we all saw the tapes."

Oh yes, Vila remembered those tapes. He also remembered those last months on Scorpio. Tensions unbearably high, and everyone slowly going mad, with Avon leading the way. The madness must have stuck, because Vila found himself defending Avon. None of these kids could understand, unless they'd been there. He lied rapidly. "I saw those tapes, too, and a load of rubbish I thought them. It was a setup from the beginning. Avon would never have threatened Blake if Blake hadn't gotten so suspicious. While they were in a standoff, the Federation arrived and got all of us. Then they fixed up the tapes to make it look like he'd killed him." The only record of those events had been a single fixed focus security scanner, and the tape was not the very clearest.

"Actually, Restal," Blake said apologetically, "we've investigated the events on Gauda Prime. It seems certain that Avon did shoot Roj Blake. No one else had projectile weapons."

"Well, it looked like Blake had betrayed us. Avon doesn't take well to that sort of thing." Vila explained defensively. A thought struck him. "You said you investigated. Do you know what happened to the others? I was stunned, and I woke up in a cell alone. I couldn't find any of the others, so I left. They hadn't even searched me."

Paige took over the conversation. "As far as we've been able to tell, Vila, the Federation troopers under Arlen were working on their own initiative. Arlen had heard rumors of Blake, and wanted the credit for capturing him. She got herself into his organization. When she heard that the rest of you were coming, she saw it as a nice bonus. During the fighting, though, she was killed; someone hit her on the head. Her troops were left with Blake and their commander dead, and five strangers. It took six of them to bring Avon down. They took Blake's body and then left you to the mercy of the locals."

"Avon was very heavily stunned, and Del Tarrant had internal injuries, so they put them into a hospital. You, they locked up, and you promptly disappeared. Apparently they planned to sell Soolin and Dayna at a local slave auction. Lovely planet. They loaded them on a skimmer and headed towards the main town, but the flyer never got there. A few weeks later, a spaceship was stolen from the 'port. As far as we know, the two of them are still working together, as mercenaries. When Del had recovered a little, he left as well."

Paige's voice gentled "Avon didn't seem to recover. His body healed, but he couldn't seem to concentrate on anything. The local we talked to had helped to guard him. He said that Avon seemed locked into himself. After a month or two, he started to make some progress, but then Commissioner Sleer arrived, and claimed him as her prize."

Vila winced. He didn't exactly like Avon, but he knew what being Servalan's prisoner must have been like for him. "We ought to rescue him. He doesn't deserve that."

"You and Avon are friends, then?" Silira asked.

Vila blinked at that idea. "Well, no, I wouldn't say that, I don't think he has any left. But he is a genius, you know, and a survivor. If you make yourself useful enough to him, he'll ensure that you survive too. You said you wanted my advice; there it is. We need Avon."

"That's what I've been saying all along." Paige pointed out softly, to no one in particular. Blake nodded an acknowledgment of her comment.

"We considered that, but he's not easy to get to. He's imprisoned on Earth. They say the Empress keeps close tabs on him."

"She would. We've got to get him out of there. If she hasn't ruined him already," he added with a worried frown. "No, she couldn't do that to Avon. And if she did, she'd probably kill him. No, if he's still alive, he's our best shot."

A pained look crossed Blake's face.

"I mean, our best bet."

They promised to discuss it and Vila gratefully escaped to his cabin, also with a lot to think about. He craved something to drink, but they said they had none on board. Vila was not suited for and did not want the responsibility Blake was trying to give him, but at the same time, he was afraid of meeting Avon again. It had been six years since Avon had tried to kill him, but that wasn't something one forgot about. For the first time, Vila determined to think rationally about that shuttle trip. His fear was real, but his cowardice was pretence; he deliberately focused on that short shuttle ride, trying to put himself in Avon's place, trying to understand why his friend would try to kill him.

***

Avon was staring into the past with a grim look on his face when Varel offered him a drink. He became aware of the present once more and accepted it. He drained the drink in one swallow and set down the empty glass.

Varel sat down again and tried to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. After a moment though, Avon began speaking again. "We were caught on Gauda Prime. It was a trap from the beginning, but we all fell in on schedule. The others were shot, and I was captured. The funny thing is, they didn't know who I was. Their inside man was killed. It was Blake they were after, and he was dead. I was in a prison for nearly six months. Then Servalan heard rumors about Orac, and about me. She claimed us both as spoils and used me, and it, to make herself empress. There was a trial, but not for any of the crimes I had committed. I was sentenced to stay here, where she could gloat over her prize. She also wanted me to invent things for her." He smiled suddenly.

Varel considered that, still relaxed in the chair. "Well, it hasn't done her a lot of good, has it. I mean, Orac's broken and you haven't come up with anything else. What's the point?"

Avon moved faster than he had in years, rounding on Varel and picking him up by the shoulders. He pinned the guard to the wall and spoke very carefully. "The point is, I have not done one thing to help that woman and I will not ever assist her. She was able to use me to regain political power, but that is the last benefit she will enjoy. If she were less arrogant, she would kill me now, because while I live, I am determined to kill her. This has nothing to do with politics, it is intensely personal." He released Varel suddenly and brushed off the man's uniform with a small smile. "Repeating that will do you no good, of course."

Varel recovered his breath. "You needn't worry. I won't repeat it."

As Avon turned away, he slid a sideways glance at Varel, but the guard was already resuming his relaxed position.

***

Vila had been in his cabin for about three hours when he heard a knock on the door. He sat up on the bed and called "Who is it?"

A woman's voice answered. "It's Loren. May I ask you a few questions?"

"Come in"

The door gave a soft whoosh and she entered, sitting on the other bed. "Vila, I want to know why we need Avon." She stated calmly. "What's he good at?"

Sarcasm, contempt, and killing people were the answers that sprang into Vila's mind, but he restrained himself. "He's good at survival. He's also good with computers, and gadgets. He made us a long-range detector shield once, and he can build a teleport system. Teleport's very handy. I'm not faulting your piloting, but shuttles are slow." Vila had decided during these last few hours of thought that if he was going to risk his life in the pursuit of liberty, he'd need someone he could trust to help him. These kids were all very well, but they didn't seem very experienced to him. On the other hand, Avon he knew, and knew exactly how far to trust him and under which circumstances. Besides, he really did miss teleportation as a mode of transport. Shuttles always made him nervous, somehow.

Loren nodded agreement to his last statement. "Shuttle flying isn't my favorite occupation. Teleport would be an advantage, I suppose. Assuming we could get to him, would he come with us?"

"No doubt about it. He hates being locked up, and he hates Servalan." Vila answered with complete conviction.

"All right, then," Loren replied, getting up from her chair. "We'll get him out. We've been heading for Earth anyway; there are some stolen security codes we've been wanting to test. Be ready in three hours; you'll need to talk to him."

"That's it? You don't need to discuss it with the others, or convince Blake?" Vila couldn't help asking.

She smiled, but her voice was firm. "You'll soon realize, Vila, that Blake does whatever I want him to. Three hours, Vila." She left, still smiling.

***

Servalan terminated her call and sat for a minute pondering the information she'd just received. With a delicate frown, she pressed a button to open a channel to her communications center. When they responded, she ordered them to connect her to Space Commander Darren.

Within seconds the screen lit up and revealed Darren. "Yes, Empress?"

"Darren, I have received a report from one of your sources. It confirms what you suspected, that Avon may be a danger. I want you to arrange an accident for him." She said calmly, breaking the connection. Then she smiled, and added softly, "Good-bye, Avon. It has been . . ." her eyes searched the room delicately for the proper word. "Amusing."

***

Hours later, it was dark, and most of the city slept peacefully. Avon, however, tossed restlessly. As he slept, a shadowy figure of a man entered his room. The figure entered cautiously and crossed the foot of the bed to reach the side closest to the windows. He reached out and gently shook Avon's shoulder. Avon stirred, but didn't wake.

"Avon . . . wake up, it's me." Vila said softly.

Not yet awake, Avon nevertheless recognized that voice. It set off a chain of nightmare images. First, as always, Avon saw Blake's body, lying at his feet. Then he remembered seeing Dayna shot, and Vila, and Tarrant, even Soolin. His memory telescoped backwards again until he was once more on Egrorian's shuttle, searching for Vila. It was urgent that he find Vila, or else he'd be lost. Out of long practice, Avon terminated the nightmare sequence, and opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was a dark shape looming over him. Out of instinct, he lunged.

His weight toppled the intruder, and they fell to the floor. A small patch of moonlight illuminated Vila's face, and Avon froze, stunned. After a second he released his grip and rolled into a sitting position, a disbelieving expression on his face. It couldn't be.

Vila moaned softly. "I didn't expect you to be happy to see me, Avon, but why try to kill me this time?"

Well, perhaps it could.

"An instinctive reaction," he explained distractedly, still staring as Vila sat up. "Vila, what are you doing here? I thought. . .they told me you were dead." He brushed distractedly at his forehead, trying to clear his mind.

"I thought so too, but I wasn't. When I couldn't find any of you, though, I had to get out by myself. Now, I'm here to rescue you. Shall we go?"

Avon had relaxed slightly, but at that question he snorted. "Is there anywhere to go?" he asked bitterly.

"Of course. There's a shuttle, but if we don't get there soon, it will leave without us. I'll explain later, but we've got some new friends."

"Well now," Avon mused. "Anything's better than staying here."

"Alright, then, let's go. Silira's waiting by the gate."

Avon held out a hand to restrain the thief. "We need to visit my workshop, in the basement. There are a few things I need."

They stood up and made their way towards the workshop, being careful not to wake the guard. Once inside, Avon tossed the drive unit to Vila and opened a cabinet to reveal a familiar pile of plastic. Predictably, Vila complained about having to carry an old pile of junk, but Avon just smiled slightly and ignored him.

Once they got outside the house, they were met by Silira. Vila introduced them quickly, and she handed out guns. "The patrols are everywhere. We'll need to be very lucky."

"And a lot quieter than you have been," said Varel, emerging from the shadows with a gun drawn. Avon's gun was pointed directly at his head.

"Avon, I don't want to kill you."

"Why not? I thought it didn't matter to you if I were alive or dead."

"I want to come with you," Varel insisted, holding his gun steady. Vila and Silira watched, waiting for a chance. "Avon, that woman murdered my family. You can confirm what I say once you get Orac going again. I want a chance to kill her."

After a moment's pause, he spoke again. "Avon, I know you don't like taking risks and trusting people. Alright, I'll take the first risk." Very slowly, and without taking his gaze from Avon, he lowered his gun and reholstered it.

A weapon fired, barely missing Avon. It came from on top of the wall, where a small squad of troopers was pouring in. Avon and Varel whirled away from each other and both began firing at the troopers. Silira joined the firefight while Vila concentrated on opening the gate and not getting shot. The troopers didn't seem prepared for the kind of resistance they were getting, and drew back. As soon as Vila got the gate open, they slipped out. Vila went first, carrying Orac. Silira carried the photon drive while Avon and Varel covered the rear. As they reached a corner, a troop transport came into view, but before they could fire, Silira recognized Rusk. "That's our ride, come on, get in." She and Vila climbed in first, followed by Avon and Varel. Rusk handed out troop helmets that must have come with the transport. "Put these on. In the darkness, we might pass for Federation."

The ruse worked well enough to fool most of the patrols, and the ones that weren't fooled were shot. It seemed like forever, but only twenty long minutes passed before they arrived at the shuttle. Loren executed another emergency launch, barely giving them time to sit down before she lifted off at four g's. As soon as they docked with the Scalia, it pulled out of Earth orbit, a few minutes ahead of the nearest pursuit ship. When the shuttle had come to rest, Blake's crew bailed out to assist on the flight deck, leaving Vila to lead the others. As he was leaving the shuttle, Avon grabbed his arm.

"Vila, I want some answers. Who are these people?"

Vila looked smug, enjoying the rare situation of knowing more than Avon. He knew better than to withhold the information for long, though.

"These people are the new rebellion, apparently. Their leader calls himself Blake." A look of pain crossed Avon's face, and Vila continued quickly. "Obviously, he's not the one we remember, but he is trying to defeat the Federation. He pulled me out of a prison on one of the frontier worlds, or rather, Silira did. Very nice girl, is Silira. And you haven't met Loren or Paige yet."

"It's obvious why you're here. Why get me?"

"They need you. And I thought you'd like the chance to go after Servalan. But who's he?" Vila asked, motioning towards Varel. "He looks like Federation to me."

"Yes, that's what I've been meaning to ask him. Varel, give me one good reason not to kill you." His voice had a razor edge. "Why are you here?"

"For a chance to revenge my family." Varel was more intense than Avon had ever seen him. "My parents were political criminals, executed when I was sixteen. I had a younger sister, I tried to take care of her. I thought if I were in the service, she'd be safe. But when she was fifteen, one of the officers saw her. He wanted her, so he took her. I could do nothing. She killed herself, but it was his fault. I stayed in the service hoping to get close to him, and I killed him, but it wasn't enough. He wasn't any worse than any other officer. The whole of the Federation is rotten to the core, and I want to do my damndest to destroy it." He sighed, and relaxed a little. "I don't expect you'll believe me, but there's always Orac."

"That pile of junk?" Vila interrupted. "I thought it was broken."

"It won't take more than a few minutes to fix, once I get the right parts. I'll check your story, Varel, as soon as it's done." Avon turned back to Vila, and paused. "It's. . .good to see you, Vila." He said slowly.

Vila just nodded, as an artist accepting his due. "I knew you'd miss me. My talent, my charm, not to mention my good looks," he prattled, to cover the emotional moment.

"If you had any, I might have missed you. As it is, I may hit you instead." Avon retorted, in his familiar sarcastic role. "In the meantime, Vila, do you know where the flight deck is?"

"Yes, of course, it's right this way." He started off and then stopped, nearly causing a collision behind him. "No, it's definitely that way." He took a three-quarter degree turn to the right and set off again. Avon and Varel exchanged glances, and then followed at a safe distance. On the way, they felt the ship rock twice, presumably a gift from the pursuit ships.

The three reached the flight deck just as Loren announced that they had outdistanced the last pursuit ship.

"They were slow," commented Rusk soberly. "We should have had to fight."

"But instead, we're safe away, with our prize," Blake stated proudly, gesturing towards Avon.

Paige started towards him and then stopped. "We seem to have gotten a bonus."

Avon smiled coldly, and walked forward. "How do you do. I'm Kerr Avon, and this is my former guard, Varel. He claims to have reformed. You can make up your own minds about that. I don't know who you are or what you want, but I want only two things: to kill Servalan and to be left alone."

"Just like old times," Vila murmured.

"Well, Avon," Blake smiled genially, "we can certainly work together. I would be most appreciative of your assistance."

"That would be a change." Avon said, at his driest.

"Where should I set a course for, Blake?" asked Loren.

"Oh, somewhere remote. We'll need time to adjust our strategies to include our new crewmembers. Avon, Varel, and of course, Restal, welcome aboard."

***

"What!" The Empress was livid. "You allowed them to take Avon? Right under our noses. You are to consider yourself under arrest, for treason."

Space Commander Darren remained calm. "Empress, it was part of a plan. I'd been working on it for months. I knew Blake was coming, and--" He was not allowed to finish his sentence.

"More details you haven't seen fit to tell me? If you want to live for longer than another day, you will learn to tell me everything you do. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Empress. I've been tracking Blake for months. I've managed to get an agent on board his ship. You will know what Blake is doing before he does. And that will finally crush the rebellion."

Servalan looked at him in grudging respect. "You had better be right, Darren. You know how I reward failure."

"Yes, ma'am. Not to worry. Blake is finished before he's started."

"If you are right, on the other hand, you will be my next Supreme Commander. You may leave me now." Servalan was almost gracious once more. He turned smartly and marched out of her office, while she sat back in her chair and contemplated the stars outside her window. "Go on, Blake. When I want you, I shall have you, and Avon as well. And this time I will kill him. Slowly." Slowly, she smiled.

Chapter 2 - Aristo

In a pristine white room on Earth, the Empress Servalan was grilling her acting Supreme Commander about Kerr Avon's rescue. Commander Darren tried to remain impassive as she peppered him with questions.

"How did Avon escape that house? And what's become of the guard? Someone must have helped him." Her gown swished as she took another unhurried, relentless step around the room. "Avon had lost his will to resist me."

"We've determined that at least two people were involved. One of them either bribed the guard or knew how to open the magnetic lock." Darren paused as Servalan made a small gesture of bad temper.

"Vila," she murmured incomprehensibly. "I should have killed him." She became aware that he was hesitating. "Go on."

"There was no trace of the guard. He may have been taken as a hostage and killed later. Or he may have deserted." Darren failed to comprehend how anyone could so neglect their duty, but he knew that some of the younger officers were not as loyal. And if he recalled correctly, that guard already had a black mark on his record, something about the mysterious death of a commanding officer. No proof, just enough suspicion to get the man (Varel, that was his name), grounded out of pilot's training and into a punishment tour of duty, Earthbound.

"So this new Blake decided to free Avon," she concluded thoughtfully. "Why now? Why not some years ago?"

"Judging from our reports, ma'am," Darren offered impassively, "this Blake only began operating about a year or so ago. He's never done anything much, besides stealing one of our experimental battleships. It had a faulty drive mechanism, so it's probably destroyed by now. Our ships rarely come in contact with this Blake, so we don't know."

"What of the agent you claim to have on board his ship?" Servalan asked sharply. "Haven't you received any information?"

"The policy has been to maintain the barest minimum of contact with the agent," Darren replied carefully. "It wouldn't do to have the rest of the crew suspicious."

"No," she agreed, watching Darren. "No, that wouldn't do at all."

***

Loren Espejo was taking a well deserved break on Scalia's flight deck, her long black hair floating over the flight couch. Talin Blake was sitting next to her, in a more upright posture, but relaxing nevertheless. The crew stations on the Scalia were fixed in a pyramid, obviously someone's idea of a copy of the Liberator. The medic, Rusk, was at his communications station, monitoring routine traffic. These people had worked together for some time, and it showed in their ability to be quiet and comfortable together. The atmosphere on the flight deck changed subtly when Avon walked on.

Even a few hours of freedom had worked a wonderful change in Avon. He looked more relaxed, and more sure of himself. He wasn't exactly happy to find himself in the midst of rebellion again, but it was better than being a prisoner, and he'd never expected to be happy.

He walked up to Blake, mentally noting the contrasts between this Blake and the original. This man was slightly taller, it seemed, with short, straight, reddish blond hair. But it wasn't the man's looks that was important, it was his tactics and resources. Avon began his questioning bluntly. "If I'm to stay with you, I'll need to know what I'm dealing with. You claim to have a rebel alliance of sorts. I'd like to hear details."

Blake inclined his head graciously. "Avon, please, sit down. We enjoy popular support on a great number of worlds. All free-thinking people everywhere, in fact."

Avon treated him to a mild "look", a level stare which seemed to disconcert him.

Loren spoke up in his stead. "We have informal treaties from the governments of seven planets, right now. You'll recognize some of them: Lindor, Albion, Exbar. We're concentrating our efforts in Sectors 4 and 5, not too near to Earth, but close enough. Takma & Zeta Major have just joined, as well, but it will be a close run thing to keep them. The Scalia is the command ship, but we have two scouts and a pursuit ship, as well. There are several hundred people on twenty or more worlds, and all coordinated and controlled from here." Her voice was emotionless and precise. Part of her ancestry was undeniably Asian, and she had all of the legendary inscrutability of her race. Avon searched her face for a moment, then gazed speculatively at Blake. The blond rebel smiled blandly, seeming less intense than his pilot, more diffuse. Avon seemed satisfied with what he saw there, smiling tightly.

"That's. . .not bad," he admitted. "What of your tactics?"

Again, Loren answered. "We try to avoid direct confrontation, working behind the scenes, encouraging rebel groups, where we can. We assist in battles when we can't avoid it, but our main goal is to supply and coordinate ground forces. With careful planning and good information we've helped to free four planets in two years," she finished proudly.

Blake coughed, and interjected, "Of course, it's not quite the same way it used to be, but, well, this ship. . ."

Loren flushed slightly and glared at her seatmate. "There's nothing to be gained by rushing around and blowing things up all at random. It certainly didn't get *them* anywhere." Venom colored her voice, and Avon took a new look at her.

Blake fidgeted in his seat. "Yes, dear, you're right, of course, but it's not what Avon's used to, you know."

She transferred her gaze from Blake to Avon and apologized insincerely. "We're doing this slow but sure. Our plans are laid months in advance. We-"

"Leaving plenty of time for a traitor in your ranks to report to his superiors?" Avon interrupted nastily. He had realized that the driving force behind this rebellion was not Blake, but the small Asian pilot. It made no difference to him, except that women were sometimes easier to intimidate. After five years as Servalan's pet inventor, he never intended to be powerless again.

"We have our methods of discovering traitors, Avon." Loren smiled coolly, restraining her anger. Anger was a distracting emotion, to be avoided.

Avon smiled in return. The challenge had been issued and accepted, and he almost looked forward to the battle.

From the communications station, Rusk watched, and shook his head slowly.

***

Varel woke suddenly, with a soldier's reflexes. He quickly ascertained that he was in a small room. There was a second bed, which looked rumpled, but the occupant was nowhere to be seen. From the vibrations, he could tell he was on a spacecraft. This must, then, be the Scalia, the ship he and Avon had escaped to yesterday. At least, he amended with an wry smile, Avon had escaped. Varel himself had deserted his post as Avon's prison guard. During the eight months of his duty as live-in jailer for Avon's house arrest, he had begun to know Avon as well as anyone could. He had to admire the man's spirit. Even after six years of imprisonment, Avon could still defy and infuriate the Empress Servalan. Varel had his own reasons to despise the Federation, but Avon was his sole impetus for joining the rebellion.

He found that he had slept in his black uniform. He tried to straighten it out, but then decided he didn't care. As a last thought, he tore off the Federation insignia, leaving it on the bed as he left the cabin in search of the flight deck.

He didn't recognize the layout of the ship, but he figured that he'd either find a diagram or someone who could direct him. He'd been patient for the past few months, but now he was ready for some action.

He'd hardly turned the first corner before he encountered Silira. In looks, they were similar, both tall, blond and slender. Varel looked more friendly, though. Silira gazed at him in suspicion. "Where were you going?"

Varel smiled broadly. "I was trying to locate the flight deck, but I believe I'm quite lost. By the way, what was your name again?"

His charm seemed to be wasted. "I'm Silira Ree, and the flight deck is the other way," she replied stiffly. "Perhaps I should show you."

"I'd appreciate it," he replied, pulling back on the charm, and switching to sincerity. "I am grateful to all of you for letting me join your group. I realize you don't trust me,"

"Why should we?" shot Silira over her shoulder, feigning complete disinterest. "You're a Federation officer." Her voice dripped scorn on those last two words.

"No doubt about it," Varel muttered, and then smiled slightly when Silira's step faltered. He finished his comment at the same level. "I've got to find some new clothes."

***

Having been rescued first, Vila was fairly familiar with the layout of the Scalia. So when he woke up, he headed straight for the kitchen. He hadn't been able to find any chemical stimulants on board, but at least the food was good. While he was eating, Paige entered the large room. She was small, and looked younger than she was, with straight brown hair caught behind her neck, and pretty blue eyes.

"Hullo Paige. Care to join me for breakfast?"

She smiled. "No, thanks, Vila. I've already eaten. I just thought I'd come over and talk."

"I'm always willing to talk to a pretty girl," he replied gallantly, out of habit, motioning for Paige to join him.

Paige sat, seeming unsure of how to begin. "How do you like your cabin?"

"It's nice enough. Mind you, I'll have to fix it up a bit, once we stop at a civilized world." The cabin had obviously been designed as a double, but Vila wasn't going to ask why he had it to himself. If he said anything, someone would probably move in.

"It beats a cell, doesn't it?" Paige teased gently.

"No doubt, no doubt. That cell back on Zephron was as depressing as any I've been in, and believe me, I've seen the lot."

Paige couldn't suppress a grin at his expertise, and Vila smiled back. He liked talking to Paige; it was nice to not have someone biting his head off every other sentence.

"Speaking of cells, Paige, how did you know how to find me? I thought I was pretty well hidden."

"The Terra Nostra. Blake likes to deny it, but you're a thief, and a good one. We figured that you'd probably have ended up working for them at some point."

Vila shuddered slightly. "They can be very convincing. But when they started talking about breaking all my fingers, I decided to resign."

"Yes, well, I can understand that. They were fooled for a while, too, but eventually they caught on. Silira used to be. . .connected with them, and she's still got contacts. They were talking about killing you, but we got there first."

Vila looked impressed. "How'd she get that kind of information?"

Paige smiled wryly. "She can be very convincing, too."

Vila concentrated on finishing his breakfast, and Paige decided to change subjects.

"Vila, how do you think Avon is doing? I mean, after you all were captured on Gauda Prime he was completely withdrawn. He must have recovered a lot, in six years, but is he back to normal?"

"I certainly hope not," Vila said impulsively, then hurried to rephrase his comment. "I mean, he never was normal. He looks alright to me, though. He seems more relaxed than I remember, but it's hard to tell. Those last few months were a nightmare." A look of great sadness crossed Vila's face. "It was hard on all of us, but worst for Avon. I don't think he was quite sane."

Paige was unsure how to respond. She hadn't seen much of Avon yet, but he seemed acceptable. She considered herself quite expert at judging people by their movements and gestures. Her first impression of Avon had been of a man of hard edges and complex twists, but what he was concealing was beyond her, and that had caught her interest. She wanted to ask more, but her innate caution stopped her from revealing too much of herself, so she changed the subject.

"Well, it will be good to have new people on board. We'd been getting too complacent, too settled. And Silira has been looking forward to meeting you - she gets restless amongst all us relatively honest people."

Vila's eyes lit up at the prospect of a fellow thief. "What's her specialty?"

Paige hid a grin. "She used to be an assassin." Vila recoiled as if he'd been bitten. "She's given it up, of course. She's another one that Blake chooses not to think about. He'd rather use only honest, upright citizens to fight his rebellion, but what few there are seem to be more interested in protecting their privileges. So he's forced to recruit convicted criminals - yourself, Avon, Silira, me." She looked straight at him as if daring him to ask. It was nothing the others didn't know, and being honest on some levels made it easier to conceal other things. "Even Rusk was accused of illegal practice of medicine." She concluded on a light note.

Vila cocked his head and studied her. She didn't look like a criminal, and he should know. "You? What were you arrested for?"

Paige laughed, but it was a poor attempt. "One of my relatives deserted from Space Command. Neither my mother nor I had ever met him; I doubt he even knew we existed. Still, we were convicted as enemies of the state, and sent to Cygnus Alpha." She paused for effect, then added. "I was 12 years old."

"That's terrible! I hope that relative of yours got what was coming to him."

Paige smiled then, suddenly looking very young and full of mischief. "You'd know that better than I would, but it would seem that he did."

When the thief looked inquisitive, she took out her ident card and handed it to him. Vila looked at it curiously, and then his mouth dropped open. He raised his eyes slowly from the card to her face, and questioned disbelievingly. "Paige. . .Tarrant?"

***

The Empress Servalan prowled the room impatiently. Acting Supreme Commander Darren stood at attention before her desk, doing his best to remain emotionless.

"Have you finished with the investigation?" she asked.

"There were at least four people helping him, ma'am. One person got past the lock and inside the house, while another stayed outside. A third stole a troop transport, and the last one piloted the shuttle."

"What happened to the guard in the house?"

"We don't know. No body was found. It was Captain Varel. He'd never shown any rebel sympathies, but perhaps, in his close contact with Avon. . ." he let his voice trail away.

The Empress didn't seem to notice the slight to her former favorite prisoner. "If Vila opened the door," she commented to herself, "Blake must have them both." She paused, and then continued in a louder voice, "Commander Darren, have you heard from your agent recently?"

Darren steeled himself to answer very carefully. It wouldn't do to admit what little control he had over his 'agent'. "Not as such. We have to be very careful of arousing suspicion. In this instance, it seems fairly obvious that Blake will be headed for Takma, to have a part of the showdown there."

Servalan considered this, and then began to smile. "Well, then," she purred. "We can eliminate two problems at one stroke. Prepare to leave for Takma, immediately. Take as much of the fleet as you need. I want that rebellion crushed."

***

When Silira and Varel arrived on the flight deck, a tense silence greeted them. Loren stood at the pilot's station, glaring at her instruments. Blake was standing next to her, murmuring softly and stroking her back. Avon was examining what Varel assumed to be Orac. Silira shrugged and crossed to the weaponry station.

Varel walked slowly towards Avon. He wasn't sure how to act, so he decided to plunge right in. "So this must be Orac. If it does only half the things you and Servalan argued about, it will be worth it. How'd you get to keep it, anyway?"

Avon glanced up at him and then returned to his inspection. "Orac is worth almost anything. And I kept it because I made Servalan a fake copy. That's why some of the parts are missing, and why we need to replace them."

Blake looked up and asked, "Where do you think we could get the parts?"

Avon straightened and turned to face the young rebel leader. "Any top computer or cybernetics lab would have them. The data banks and specialized equipment is intact. I need linkages and some basic circuitry."

"Why bother?" Loren demanded contemptuously. "It's nothing but a computer. Our ship's computer, Vision, is quite adequate for our needs."

Vila walked in the rear entrance and smiled. "If it's computers you're arguing about, it must be Orac. And it's not even fixed yet. Avon," he added, mock seriously, "are you sure you couldn't redesign it as a drinks dispenser? This ship could use one."

"Back to your favorite pastime, I see," Avon observed, with a hint of a smile.

"I would if I had half a chance." He turned to the doctor. "Rusk, are you sure I couldn't have a drop of soma, for medicinal purposes?"

"I only prescribe it for insomniacs, and from what I've seen, you've no trouble sleeping." Rusk grinned, a startling flash of white teeth in his dark face.

Vila groaned and sat down on the couch.

Avon turned back to Loren and continued the argument. "Your shipboard computer will run this ship. Orac will tell you what all the other ships in the galaxy are doing. If you are willing to throw away that advantage, I may as well turn you in for the reward myself."

Loren stiffened, and Blake intervened. "You said the parts you needed could be obtained in a computer lab. We may be able to buy them on Takma."

Most of the people in the room turned to stare at him in amazement.

"Buy? What d'you mean, buy?" Vila was indignant, Loren unamused. "We won't have time. There's a rebellion, remember?"

"I'm afraid not. These parts are quite sophisticated. No frontier world would have them." Avon's calm statement cut the chatter.

Blake looked puzzled. "How would we get them, then?"

"Perhaps a raid?" Avon suggested impatiently.

"We've never done that before. I'll have to think about it," Blake offered doubtfully.

"I begin to appreciate the advantages of having a smuggler for a pilot," Avon commented.

Vila moved restlessly, then offered lightly, "I suppose we could take it back to the shop. Do you think they'd honor the warranty?"

Loren snapped at him to shut up, but Avon was struck by an idea. "Of course! It's perfect. Blake, set us a course for Aristo."

Blake looked confused. "But no one lives there. It's mostly water."

"No one lives there anymore," Avon corrected him. "Aristo is where Ensor lived. And died."

Blake moved towards the navigation console until stopped by Loren's voice, heavy with irony. "If you haven't forgotten, we have a rebellion to assist on Takma. If we lose that system, no other planet will ever take a chance on us."

Rusk watched the tense threesome and sighed. He stepped down from his flight position at communications and approached the combatants. "Perhaps we can arrive at a compromise," he suggested placidly, having none in mind. Both Avon and Loren glared at him.

"It seems obvious enough to me," came Paige's calm voice, startling the group on the flight deck, who hadn't noticed her entrance. Now she moved in from the hallway. "Drop off Avon, Orac, one or two others on Aristo. The rest go on to Takma. If Ensor lived there, some of us could manage for a few days."

Blake hailed the suggestion as the perfect compromise, and they began to make plans. Fortunately, Aristo was not far off their present course. The landing party was chosen by Loren: Avon, Silira and Paige packed up their surface clothes and rode the shuttle down to a sandy beach.

Avon had jury-rigged a connection between Orac's memory banks and Vision, so that they had a description of the lab's defenses. According to Vision, the force field around the lab was still intact, so it must have a working power source. They would have to go in through the tunnels, and face the amphibious creatures that lived in them, but at least the lab still had power.

Once her passengers were safely disembarked, Loren blasted off again, glad to be rid of Avon. Scalia began moving towards Takma as soon as the shuttle was docked.

"Vision, time of our arrival at Takma?" Rusk inquired from the pilot's station.

+17 hours+ It was the first time Vila had heard the computer speak, and he jumped a little at the feminine voice. Blake noticed his reaction and smiled.

"Yes, Vila, Vision has a woman's voice pattern. It's the voice of the ship, really, and ships have always been female."

"Oh, yes," Vila agreed vaguely, looking puzzled.

"And like a woman, Vision tends to dismiss us as unimportant" Rusk interjected.

Vila nodded. He could relate to that.

***

It was warm on Aristo, and the surface party quickly opened their jackets. Avon checked his chart, and pointed uphill, towards the planetary East. "The trap door should be a few hundred yards that way."

Silira started out at an easy pace, with her gun in hand. Paige followed her, looking around and enjoying the scenery. "Isn't it lovely?" she asked Avon. "I've been on spaceships too long. There's such a feeling of freedom."

"Freedom is an illusion," he informed her, in a voice heavy with irony.

"Yes, I know," she replied simply, "but you may as well enjoy it, don't you think?"

"Avon, Paige," they heard Silira call from over a small hill. "I think I've found it!" They increased their pace. Avon was beginning to mind carrying Orac by the time he got to the top of the rise. Silira continued, "There's a trap door here, anyway. How many trap doors in the sand are you going to find on your average deserted planet?" Avon was reminded briefly of Sarran, but willed the thought away.

Silira and Paige set to work opening the trap door, so Avon put Orac down on the sand and watched. In a few moments, they had it open, and they could see the ladder leading down to the tunnels. They peered down for a minute and then Silira looked over at Avon.

"Are you a good shot?" she asked abruptly. He inclined his head affirmatively.

"Good. Come over here and cover me, will you? I can't fire a gun well while climbing down a ladder, and, no offense, Paige, but for a marksman, you're quite a good engineer."

Paige laughed softly. "It's okay, Sil. I know I can't shoot. Loren only put me down here out of spite."

Avon got a good position beside the hole in the ground and commented, "You should be safe on the ladder. These creatures aren't used to direct sunlight."

"Well, then we're set." Silira climbed down. The ladder was only a little taller than she was, about two meters. "Paige," she called up, "if you come down next, Avon can lower Orac down to us, and then come down himself."

That worked well, and once they were all down, Avon closed the trap door. They all had powerful hand lights, which illuminated the tunnels. A few feet down the corridor, there was a passage leading off to the right, but Avon's map indicated they'd do better to go straight.

The tunnels were roughly carved and wet, with a few centimeters of water covering the floor. They maintained their marching order. Silira went first, with her gun ready. Paige kept close behind her with the light. Avon walked last, with Orac.

Silira kept up a running commentary. "It gets a little deeper up here, but the floor seems even enough. Mind your head, Avon, the ceiling's getting friendly."

They followed the chart with little difficulty. At one spot, it looked as if the tunnel had collapsed, but someone or something had dug a passage through. It was slow going, but eventually, they reached their destination, a smooth wall with a roughly rectangular hole in it. What seemed to have been a door was hanging crookedly by one hinge, covering perhaps two thirds of the opening. Silira pushed at it with her gun, but it didn't budge. "Avon, do you think you could move this for me?"

"Of course." It took some maneuvering to get him close enough to the entrance, but once in position he was able to move the door out of their way. When he reached back to gather Orac, Silira pushed past him and out into the corridor, gun ready.

***

As Scalia approached Takma, Rusk received a call from the new president of the planet, Kasren. Fortunately, Blake was on the flight deck, talking quietly with Vila and Varel. Rusk put the call on the screen.

"Blake, you are coming. We feared that something had happened to you." Kasren was no longer young, and he looked worried, although he tried to hide it.

"Something did, sir," Blake responded with a confident smile. "We've acquired new crewmembers, and more advantages over the Federation. So there was an unavoidable delay. We will still be in place before the Federation arrives, never fear. How is the situation there?"

Kasren had begun to relax, calmed perhaps by Blake's confidence. "It's not as bad as it could be. The people are behind us, but not solidly so. Our planetary defenses are meager. I'm afraid we've always relied on the Federation to protect us." The man's voice had risen slightly in his tension. He looked strained almost to the breaking point.

Blake smiled gently, and replied in a soothing voice, "This ship is the most advanced design that the Federation has. And the force shield is better than the Federation's. We can protect you." Vila saw the president relax again, and decided that Blake might have his uses after all. Just watching Blake made Vila feel more confident about their plan, which he had previously decided would never work.

"Remember, sir, that the Federation's greatest enemy is the truth. The more people know of their tyranny, the harder they will fight. Remember also, you will be formally accepted by the Democratic Alliance tomorrow. That means that you will have allies. You know that Albion is sending support, both military and trade, and President Sarkoff of Lindor will also contribute." His voice changed slightly from reassuring to bracing. "Tell your people that they must fight. Leave them no illusions about surrender. They have chosen a hard road, but there is no retreat now. The Federation will never forgive, or forget. Let them know that winning is the only safety."

Vila winced at that last phrase, but President Kasren seemed inspired. "Thank you, Blake. I know what I shall say to them, now. And when are you planning to arrive?"

"Approximately five hours, Terran Standard. We will be in touch with General Tawn before we achieve orbit." Blake nodded to Rusk, who cut the connection.

+Hate to interrupt, Tal, but it will actually only take 4 hours at our current speed.+ Vision observed.

"Thank you, Vision." Blake responded carefully. "And I suggest you examine your translation circuits. My name is Talin Blake, and you should call me Blake." He seemed a bit annoyed.

Vila lowered his glass of vitamin concentrate, fascinated. "Where'd you get that computer?"

When Blake didn't answer, Rusk did. "It's the product of new interactive technology. It learns as it goes along, so it can adapt. In this case, she spends too much time with Silira and Paige, and picks up their bad habits."

"Hate to interrupt," Varel said lazily, mimicking the computer, "but does it matter that you didn't tell that guy anything? I ask only out of idle curiosity."

"Kasren was looking for reassurance, not details." Blake explained. "General Tawn knows what plans we have, and he will be the one working with us. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to speak with Loren."

"Oh," Varel said vaguely. He watched Blake go, and then leaned towards Vila. "Do *we* know what plans we have?"

"Of course. Oh, yes, you were sleeping. You see, it's like this. We hold off the Federation's fleet with this one ship, until they declare the alliance. Then the Federation backs off because everything is legal, and everyone knows." He smiled derisively.

Varel looked at him wryly. "And Blake believes this will work?"

"He may," Vila replied, swallowing the last of his drink. "I don't."

***

Paige stepped through the wall into a nondescript hallway. The lights still worked, and the air was only slightly stale. Avon climbed through after her, and put Orac down on the floor so he could straighten and stretch. Paige saw the mud on his clothes, and became acutely aware of her own state of disarray. Her boots were a wet color between brown and green, and her hair had escaped the clip at the back of her neck. To cover her confusion, she knelt and tried to lean the panel back over the hole in the wall.

Avon inspected her as she stood slowly, and asked, "Are you tired?"

"I'm fine, thanks. After all, I suppose I wanted adventure." She began walking after Silira.

He picked Orac up again and fell in step beside her. "I only wanted peace."

She glanced up at him with interest. "Then I hope you find it. In the meanwhile, life on Scalia isn't too bad. So far, we haven't done much."

Silira came back in time to hear the last comment. "Yes, Loren's not too keen on action. Slow but sure, she says. I suppose it's working, but it lacks style. Anyway, to the right here is only living quarters, as far as I can tell. The lab should be in that direction. No evidence of your amphibious friends, either."

Avon walked off in search of the lab. He found it a wreck. In contrast to the sterile white of the hallways, the lab was a cluttered room, overflowing with scientific paraphernalia and dead plants. He found a cart that must have been designed for Orac, and set down the computer with relief. He set about looking for spare parts, and found diagrams instead.

A few minutes later, Paige came in quietly, and asked, "Have you found what you were looking for?"

"Not yet. These are some of Ensor's plans. He had some ideas I could use, but I've got to reassemble Orac before I can improve it." Putting the diagrams aside, he began opening drawers at random. "Aha. Just what I needed."

Paige watched as he cleared a work space for himself on one of the wide tables. "May I help?"

He looked up sharply at her offer. "If you think you can manage not to drop or break anything."

"I shan't." She smiled shyly. "This looks like it could be fun."

Avon inspected her more closely, then looked down at Orac once more. "You should wait until we've finished to decide that."

***

The Scalia had been in orbit around Takma for less than an hour when the Federation ships appeared on their screens. The crew had spent that time familiarizing themselves with their battle stations. Vila had been given the weaponry console, and Varel had control of the force wall. Loren and Rusk were in their customary positions, and Blake was striking a brave pose in the center of the flight deck.

As the Federation flotilla advanced, Vision announced indifferently, +We've got four pursuit ships with a battle cruiser bringing up the rear.+

"Right." Blake squared his shoulders and faced the video link. "Rusk, open a channel to the battle cruiser, if you would. Audio and visual."

Rusk's large hands manipulated the controls with a surprising deftness, and the vid screen came alive. The Space Commander facing Blake looked weary but determined.

Before Blake could begin, the officer spoke. "I am Space Commander Darren. I represent the Empress Servalan and it is my intention to prevent your takeover of this planet." His voice was flat, his eyes expressionless.

"My name is Blake," replied the rebel leader, and was disappointed at the lack of reaction from the Federation man. "This planet has decided freely to reject the rule of the Federation and its Empress. We are here to assist its people in their quest for freedom. We will resist your imperialistic aggression." As he paused for breath, Rusk cut the connection.

Blake spun around. "What did you do that for?" he asked, sounding peeved.

"The pursuit ships are getting too close, Blake. We must concentrate on them," Loren informed him crisply. He sniffed and sat down on the couch next to Varel.

The first round of the battle was a confused jumble of images. Vila's first shot went wide, but, never a slow learner, he destroyed one of the ships with his second bolt. With help from Blake, Varel managed the force wall efficiently. Paige had done a good job improving it; even when they were hit directly the ship merely rocked.

The piloting was the hardest job. The pursuit ships were much more maneuverable than the Scalia, and tended to attack from both flanks.

The crew worked well together, with Blake calling the sequence of events. "Plasma bolt launched and running at 90 degrees. . .Turning right and down, 20 by 15. . .Raise force wall, now!" Varel complied, and everyone braced themselves for the jolt. "Target bearing 30 degrees," announced Vila calmly, trying not to think about what he was doing. "Fire!" "Target destroyed"

After an endless time, the final pursuit ship reverted to its component atoms. Everyone relaxed somewhat, and then checked for damage. The enhanced force wall had protected the ship from the plasma bolts, with some minor damage occurring when the ship rocked. By this time, however, the Federation battle cruiser was nearly in combat position. It was almost as large as the Scalia, with the potential for superior firepower. Loren turned Scalia to face her opponent head on as Rusk announced, "I have word from the Albion fleet. They'll be in position in another 2 hours. They've gotten word of a larger force on their way from Earth, which should be arriving in another 2 and a half hours."

"Good," Blake nodded approvingly. "If we can keep this cruiser occupied, the fleet will be in a good defensive position. Can we destroy that ship?"

"Not easily," Loren replied, checking her gauges. "However, we could try the Ryder Gambit. If we pretend damage, and start to leave orbit, it's likely that they'll follow us. We can lead them off, slowly, and keep them occupied until the Albion fleet is in position."

Blake nodded decisively. "We'll do it. But we'll need a bit of a battle now, to be damaged in. Start slowly moving away from Takma while we're fighting. We'll need to move away from the Albion fleet, of course, and we shouldn't head directly towards Aristo, either."

"I know, Blake," Loren replied, irritated at his stating the obvious. She started maneuvering the Scalia again, and the battle against the cruiser began.

***

As the Scalia was leading the Federation astray, Avon laid down his laser probe and sighed. "That's most of it done." He sat back, tired but satisfied that the work had gone well, that he hadn't lost his touch.

Paige sat down as well. It had been exhilarating for her to work on such a complex system, and a pleasure to work with someone who was so skilled. She asked with a smile, "Didn't I say this would be fun?"

Avon looked at her and reluctantly smiled back. It was a genuine, pleased smile, breaking over Paige's nerve endings like warm sunshine after the rain. She was breathless from the sweetness of it. They had worked together smoothly, and Avon was enjoying a rare moment of being in complete harmony with another human being. He recovered himself quickly, of course, and murmured, "Your taste in amusements is open to question."

"Ah, well. Those of us who spend our formative years on prison planets do tend to be a bit odd." She watched him closely, curious as to his reaction.

He regarded her steadily, seemingly unmoved. "Did you expect shock, or pity?"

She shrugged. "I wasn't sure. Vila was horrified, although I don't see why. By all accounts he grew up a criminal. Cygnus Alpha was difficult, but it could have been worse. My mother protected me. Anyway, I only bring it up because you might be interested to know that Del Tarrant is, or was, my uncle."

Avon's eyes narrowed slightly. "I didn't know he had any family."

"Neither did he. Deeta Tarrant was my father, but I don't think they were close, so Del wouldn't have known about us. So anyway, now if it comes up in conversation, you can't say I didn't tell you." The subject of her family was old and not particularly pleasant for Paige, so she hurried past it as best she could. "I'll go see if Silira's made us any dinner, shall I?"

She left without waiting for an answer, as Avon contemplated the news. After a few minutes, he decided that it was of no consequence. Tarrant had been annoying but useful. His niece, if she was his niece, seemed to be less annoying and more useful. She was, in fact, the best assistant he'd had for some time, even better than Vila. The little thief had nimble fingers, but he refused to be quiet.

He put down his laser probe and followed Paige to the living quarters. He found her standing in the middle of a large common room, looking puzzled. At his entrance she started, and seemed wary.

"Is there any sign of Silira?" he asked blandly, looking around the main room.

"No, there isn't. I'm rather concerned. Those phibian things could easily get in here." She cast another anxious glance around the room, and then declared, "I'm going to look for her."

"Between the two of us, we should find her rather quickly," Avon agreed, then asked abruptly, "Have you a gun? Can you use it?"

"Yes, and well enough." Paige felt some of her nerves calm at Avon's abrupt assumption of command. They exited the room together, and then set off in opposite directions. The gun felt odd in Paige's grasp, but she disregarded the feeling in favor of concentrating on the stark corridors. She also listened intently, and presently, she began to hear a soft sound. She couldn't tell if it was real, or merely her imagination, but she followed it as best she could, trying to keep silent herself.

The corridors seemed an endless maze, turning every six meters or so, with the monotony only broken by the occasional room. Once, she turned a corner to see Avon aiming right at her. She froze, heart pumping, as he pulled his shot. Then she realized that her gun had come up as well, automatically aiming for his heart, and she lowered it sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Don't be. You have good instincts." He replied briskly. "No luck, I take it. We'll just keep on." He turned and went back the way he'd came, and Paige returned to the search, as well.

It was around the next corner that she spotted Silira. The girl was lying in an untidy heap along one wall, unconscious. She seemed to be bleeding a little from her side. Paige called out to Avon, and then rushed to Silira, trying to check on the damage. When she heard movement behind her, she turned, expecting Avon.

Instead, she saw a large, greenish monster, almost on top of her. She fired once, but then a large hand crashed down, hitting her on the shoulder and knocking her to the floor.

***

"The enemy ship appears to be in retreat, sir," reported one of the junior officers, displaying controlled excitement. "That last bolt seems to have hit them." Space Commander Darren considered that information quickly.

"Does she show any damage?"

The officer rechecked his instruments. "Nothing major, but the ship is moving slower. It may have lost some power. Do we pursue?"

"Of course. Their shields are stronger than we anticipated, but if they're losing power. . ." he speculated, "we should follow, and not give them any chance to recover. Keep an eye on that force detector. Once their shields start to slip, we'll attack in earnest. For now, we wish to wear out their power without using too much of ours." He turned from the forward piloting stations and spoke to the communications officer. "Relay a message to Space Command. We are in pursuit of the rebel ship, which is presumed damaged. Once it is destroyed, we will return to crush the rebellion on Takma. Also, send word to the rebels on Takma that they have precisely one hour to surrender. That is all."

***

Paige came to slowly, and sat up to see Avon dragging away the body of the phibian. "I know this is unoriginal," she said scratchily, "but what happened?"

Avon deposited the carcass in a corner and returned. "I heard your shout, and then I heard gunfire. It was careless of you not to check the hallway."

The criticism stung, but she knew she deserved it. "Quite true. I'm glad you killed it."

"Actually, I didn't. I saw it hit you, but then it collapsed. When I moved the body, I noticed two wounds. Apparently both of you managed to hit it before it hit you. The second wound was too much for it," he explained rapidly, his harsh tone in contrast to his gentleness as he helped her up.

"I still feel stupid. How's Silira?"

"She'll live. She may have some broken bones, however, and I've no medical training. Are you alright?"

Paige took an experimental step, wincing. "I seem to be in one piece. Come on, we need to get Silira onto a bed."

Avon picked up the unconscious gunhand and carried her back to the living quarters. For security reasons, they decided to put her in the common room. They made her as comfortable as they could, and then Avon announced he was going to secure the lab against the creatures. The door of the common room closed easily enough, and Paige decided to spend her time fixing some food. Soon Avon was back, and they ate quickly.

Before they finished eating, however, Silira started moving, and opened her eyes. Paige crossed the room to sit next to her friend. "It's okay, Sil, you're going to be fine."

They filled her in on the creature's demise, and asked what she was doing, exploring that far out. She started to move, and then stopped, wincing.

"I just wanted to check the place out. You guys were taking forever. It moves very quietly, though. I got in one good shot, but then it rushed me. You know, it feels like I've got some broken ribs here." she complained.

"You have," Avon replied dryly. "Rusk will be able to fix you up. For now, the most we can offer you are these pain pills. I found them in Ensor's cupboard." He handed her some small green capsules, and Paige got up to fetch some water.

After she had taken the pills, Avon said decisively that it was time for them all to get some rest, but that they had better set a guard. He assumed first watch.

It was a long night. Silira moaned a bit from time to time, and the couches were not comfortable. Paige woke up after six hours of rest, and saw that Avon was still on watch.

She got up and walked over to him. He turned his head to watch her approach but said nothing. "Avon, I'll take over the watch now."

"There's no need," he replied, turning his head.

She paused for a minute, then went on. "Yes, there is a need, Avon. You need your rest. You may think you're made of steel, but it's not true. If you were thirty years younger and used to this, I'd take advantage of you and sleep all night. But you're not, and I don't need you collapsing tomorrow, especially with the state Silira's in. Now get over there and go to sleep." Her voice held all the tender concern of a drill sergeant.

Avon grinned suddenly, disconcertingly. "You are related to Tarrant, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. I also intend to stand watch whether you go to sleep or not, so you may as well," she stated crossly. She wasn't in the mood to appreciate what his smiles did to the pit of her stomach. "Besides, if anything happens you'll wake up anyway. Standing guard over a locked door is not the most challenging problem I've ever dealt with."

"All right, since you're so determined." Avon retreated to a couch, intending to stay awake. He fell into a deep sleep several minutes later.

***

"Have we led them on enough, now, Blake?" Vila asked. He didn't like pretending to be helpless. Harmless, yes, but not helpless.

"Yes, we've been drifting like this for over an hour. It is rather nerve-wracking," agreed Loren, sounding tired.

Blake turned in his seat. "Rusk, where's the Albion fleet?"

Rusk made a few quiet enquiries, then replied, "They report that they're nearly in position, and relay their thanks for our assistance. They'd prefer to handle things on their own from now on."

A few sighs of relief could be heard. Then Blake turned to Loren and grinned. "Lose 'em."

She returned the grin. "Shall we be delicate and subtle, or just blast them with everything we've got and run like hell?"

"I'm in favor of blasting and running," Vila voted quickly.

"So am I," Varel concurred. The subtle approach was extremely tedious.

"All right, then." Blake resumed his command position. "I want a three quarter turn, fairly quickly. When we're halfway turned around, Vila, fire on them with everything you've got. Loren, continue turning, and once they're out of the direct flight path, I want all the forward thrust we've got. We'll have to pass them fairly closely, so don't relax the shields until we're past. Got it?" They all indicated agreement and Loren began her turn immediately. There was a tense moment as the Scalia reversed itself to face it's pursuer, but then the Federation cruiser was squarely in Vila's gunsights. He released two plasma bolts in quick succession, waited ten seconds and launched a third. Then they were swinging past the cruiser, and Loren pulled back hard on the flight controls. They passed the cruiser just as the third bolt struck it, and in the confusion of the unexpected attack, the cruiser failed to turn in pursuit.

Loren took them on an irregular course at first, to fend off any pursuit. When it became apparent no one was following them, she gladly turned the ship towards Aristo and put it back under computer control.

***

Paige's stay on watch was uneventful, and she was glad when her chronometer indicated the beginning of a new day. She abandoned her post to make some breakfast for them all. She realized Avon was awake when he increased the room's lighting to full.

"Good morning, Avon." She greeted him rather coolly. She wasn't sure how to react to him anymore, so she retreated to impartiality.

He seemed to have come to the same conclusion, stating briskly that he was going to finish fixing Orac.

The morning passed quickly and uneventfully, so that they were surprised to hear voices in the corridors.

"Paige? Silira! Where are you?"

Paige quickly stepped out of the room into the corridor. "We're over here, Blake! How did you get in here?"

"The same way you did, obviously," he replied in good humor. "You forgot to lock the door. Well, there's no way to get a signal through that force barrier. I had to come down. Rusk came along for the ride." He came into sight around a corner, with the doctor right behind him.

"Wonderful. Rusk, Silira was hurt; we think it's broken ribs. She's in here." She led both men into the common room, and left them there while she went to find Avon.

"Did you hear that we have visitors?"

"It would be a difficult to miss." Avon didn't look up from his work.

Paige moved into position to assist him, and with her help he fastened the last connection into place. They released the wiring slowly, and Avon sighed.

"That should do it." With a flourish, he pulled the key out of a pocket, and inserted it into the activation panel.

The computer started buzzing angrily, and a petulant voice started complaining. *I have told you that my function is not that of a spy machine. If I cannot have freedom to pursue my researches--*

Avon smiled reluctantly and interrupted the cranky computer. "Orac, the situation has changed. You will need to update your data banks. In the meantime, I want you to meet Paige Tarrant. She says she is the niece of Del Tarrant." He looked up. "Paige, meet Orac."

She was smiling, bemused by the exchange. "I thought Vision was impressive, but this is extraordinary. I'm assuming, of course, that you didn't bring it along for it's charming company."

*Greetings, Paige Tarrant. This is fascinating, Avon. I will need several hours to receive and process the events of the past few years. Please do not disturb me for that time.* Orac ordered imperiously, and Avon obligingly switched it off. Just then Blake popped in.

"Hello. Have we got the computer-thingie working yet?"

"Just about," Avon replied coolly. "Why don't we take it back to the ship and test it there?"

"Just what I was going to suggest. Let's go."

***

The trip back to the ship didn't seem to take nearly as long as the journey into the lab. Once back on the ship, Silira was rushed to medical, and the rest of the surface party retired to their respective cabins to rest and freshen up. Drawn by curiosity, they all turned up on the flight deck within the next hour. When Avon noted that everyone was present, he decided to begin the demonstration.

Scalia's larger flight couch was facing the main screen, and Orac was set up on the ledge beneath that screen. Blake, Loren and Paige all had places on the couch. The others were in a loose circle behind them, except for Vila. He was standing on the other side of Orac from Avon, both facing the rest. Vila had seen Orac in operation before. He wanted to see what the others thought.

In her typical brusque manner, Loren got things moving. "All right, Avon. Let's see what this magic box of yours can do."

He smiled unpleasantly at her and inserted Orac's key. The familiar whining hum filled the air, but the box made no other noises. Avon waited a few seconds, the asked, "Orac, can you tell me where you are?"

*Of course I can.* The computer replied, in a fairly reasonable tone. *Now that I have had a chance to correlate the events of the past few years. It was irresponsible of you to allow me to remain dysfunctional for such a long period.*

"If I had my way--" Vila muttered, and then broke off the threat at Avon's glare.

"Let me rephrase the question," Avon continued smoothly. "Tell us where you are."

*Your shipboard computer is perfectly capable of relaying that information to you. Indeed, it is of a most fascinating design.* Loren shot a smug look at Blake. *Therefore, you must have some other purpose in mind when asking that question. May I suggest that a clear command to demonstrate my capabilities might be a more efficient way to achieve your objective?* The computer's voice was regaining its usual testy quality.

Avon shrugged slightly, and replied, "Alright, Orac. I require a demonstration of your abilities. Impress these people."

The little computer began reciting its functions and purpose, and the Scalia crew settled back to listen. Their reactions ranged from disdain (Loren) to open mouthed wonder (Silira). Paige and Blake seemed more amused than anything else. They all listened enthralled as Orac finished its monologue.

*This ship is known as the Scalia, and is captained by one Talin Blake. He and his crew are assumed to be organizing a rebellion against the Federation, which, at current rates, stands a 60 percent chance of success.* Avon's eyebrows shot up at that statistic, and Blake looked pleased.

*However,* Orac continued precisely, *in order to maintain those odds, it will first be necessary to deal with the Federation spy who is on board.*

Chapter 3 - Suspicion

"What did you say?" Blake demanded in disbelief.

*Federation communications traffic indicates that there is a spy on board,* Orac replied, in a friendly warning.

In the stunned silence that ensued, the computer sat as still as ever, its flashing lights seeming prim and disinterested. The crew of the Scalia gradually began to move, and accusing looks began to fly.

Avon was the first to speak, although he looked more stunned than the rest - almost wounded. "Orac. . .identify the spy."

*That information is not available. There are very few references to the spy's existence.* Orac sounded faintly proud of itself for this discovery. It went on to quote the references, but Avon was no longer listening.

Neither was anyone else. Scalia's eight crew members were reacting strongly to the upsetting news. Talin Blake, the group's nominal leader, was on his feet and backing away from them, the better to watch them all. His eyes had widened in shock, but then narrowed with suspicion. "Which one of you is it?" he asked. "Avon, Vila, Varel?" He pointed to each of the crew's three newest members. Vila jumped as if he'd been stung.

"Me?" he asked indignantly. "Why would I work for them? Why would they want me to?"

Avon turned toward him wearing a sardonic grin. "You would work for them to save your neck, if given the choice. However, you're right, they wouldn't want you. Besides your notorious unreliability, they had no reason to think that Blake would want you either."

"Thanks," Vila muttered, "I think." He retreated from the conversation and concentrated on becoming part of the wall.

Paige Tarrant watched the exchange with fascination. Vila had asked to be exonerated, and Avon had done it. He then pulled the focus away from the thief by turning to face the rest of the crew.

He was silent for a moment, and when he did speak, it was slowly, as if the words were being pulled from him. "The obvious candidate is Varel. His position as my guard on Earth put him in the best possible condition to become a crew member without ever being fully checked out." As Avon built the case, his words came faster. "He gives us a story about his sister and expects us to believe that he can turn his back on all his training. And it was a very good job," he concluded, his voice tinged with both bitterness and admiration.

Varel took a deep breath and looked around him, roused from his customary air of lethargy. Unconsciously, he had stepped backwards, away from the group, most of whom were looking at him accusingly. He prepared to argue for his life.

"Look, you don't really believe all that, do you?" He could tell by their faces that they were considering it. "Dammit, I'm not a spy. True, I had some Federation training. But all that means is that I can see what a mess they've made of it. Only the stupid and the greedy support the Federation; I'm neither. Oh, and that position as Avon's house guard? That was punishment duty. They suspected me of killing my commanding officer in my second year of pilot's training, probably because I had. He was the one who killed my sister. That `story' is quite true. Avon, you've got your wonder box working, so go ahead, check me out."

Loren spoke calmly from her seat. "We will. And if we find you guilty, we will kill you."

Varel flushed slightly, and responded with uncharacteristic force. "Of course. That's the answer to everything, isn't it? That philosophy is what's wrong with the Federation. If someone thinks or acts differently, drug them. If they still don't conform, kill them. If we can't overcome that urge for an easy answer, then we're no better than they are, with no more to offer." At the end of this speech, he glared around the room, daring anyone to disagree.

"He's right, you know," Silira stated. The tall blond girl was still sitting on the couch next to Loren. "We've got to get more evidence than that."

The large black man standing next to her agreed. "We need more proof than the word of that box." Rusk motioned towards Orac. "I'm not sure I believe it at all. We are all here of our own free will, and we all believe in what we're doing. Why let an unsupported statement like that destroy all we've done?"

"Would you prefer to let a spy operate undetected among us?" Loren replied quickly. "That would destroy us just as surely."

"Still, we need definite proof," Silira argued. "Until we find out for certain who is the spy, if there is a spy, we'll be too divided to accomplish much."

Paige joined in the argument. "In fact, that might be their goal. If they can make us believe that one of us is a traitor, it will certainly slow us down, at the least. If there's no spy to be found, we'd never be able to trust one another again." She didn't believe that, but it would give the others something to think about.

Avon shook his head at that reasoning, and said softly, "They don't know we have Orac." No one seemed to pay him much attention; they were too busy with frantic arguments.

As the tone of the arguments rose, Blake stepped into the fracas. Holding his arms out in a soothing manner, he shouted, "Quiet!" All heads turned towards him. "Thank you," he continued in a more normal voice. "Now, what we need is someplace quiet where we can discover the truth of this. . .problem. Avon, am I right in understanding that only Orac's carrier beam can break through the defensive shield on Aristo?"

"You are," Avon confirmed reluctantly, trying to guess what Blake was getting at.

"Then I suggest that we all return to Aristo," Blake announced. "We can land Scalia, and set up housekeeping in the underground lab. No messages can get in to the spy, and neither can he send any. In the meantime, we are all going to stay on this flight deck and watch one another. The trip should not be long, considering that we just left the planet. Loren, could you get the ship moving, please?"

***

The flight to Aristo was not a long one, but it dragged interminably for the crew. They ended up clustering around the perimeter of the flight deck, watching each other cautiously. Vila, Varel and Silira talked softly in one corner, while Avon questioned Orac in low tones. Paige watched them all for a few minutes, then drifted towards Avon.

She watched him for a few seconds, then said hesitantly, "It wouldn't have to be Varel, you know." He seemed upset at the possibility, although she wasn't sure why.

He looked up at her statement and quirked his mouth in the likeness of an ironic smile. "No, it wouldn't," he agreed grimly. "It could be anyone on board. It could be you."

"I suppose so. But it's not," she replied calmly, dismissing the possibility. "I've no idea who it might be, though."

"You don't believe what you said earlier? That it may be just a trap?" he asked derisively.

"No, although it would be nice. I just said it to calm everyone down. Summary execution won't solve anything. But they wouldn't know we could decode those messages. They don't know we have Orac."

Avon's eyes narrowed dangerously as he looked away. "Not 'they.' 'She.'"

"The Empress?"

"Servalan."

Paige was taken aback by the suppressed hatred in his voice. "Ah. I see. Sorry, but I've never been on a first name basis with the woman. Never thought much about her at all, in fact."

Avon's mood lightened at her reply, as he glanced down at her. "I'm sure she'd be devastated to hear that."

Paige became aware once more of the attraction she felt towards Avon. She didn't understand it; she couldn't honestly say that she liked him, but sometimes, without warning, this awareness swept over her. It made her feel alive, and vibrant, but it also scared her. Even if she felt secure enough to make an emotional connection, Avon was the last man she would choose. He was abrupt, direct to the point of being rude, and extremely reserved. Still she was drawn to him, and that lack of control confused and angered her.

She tried to return to the subject at hand. "Well, we should be safe on Aristo. Only Orac's carrier beam can penetrate that barrier. It will be the perfect time for me to install that photonic drive you stole. Tell me, how are the primary capacitors aligned?"

They proceeded with a highly technical discussion which occupied them for the rest of the voyage. Time passed slower for the rest of the crew, who were pretending to talk normally. They were all aware, however, that what they were really doing was waiting. Waiting for someone to betray them.

***

Servalan, also, was waiting. Impatiently. The campaign to quell the uprising on Takma was not going well. Her command ship had been lured away from the planet, only to be damaged as the rebel ship turned on them. In the meantime, another fleet had set up a defensive position around the planet. The Empress found herself fighting not just one rebellious Federation world, but an upstart alliance. The news was spreading faster than she could deny it, and her empire was showing signs of stress. It was bad enough when planets slipped away quietly, but when they openly declared themselves independent, with an armada to back up their claim, well, the Empress was getting a bit bad tempered. She vented her anger on everyone in the vicinity, but a large portion of it was saved for the crew of the Scalia. They had stolen Avon from her, and then struck a decisive blow against the Federation.

She wished Supreme Commander Darren were there. He would prove a good scapegoat, but she also wanted to know more about the agent he claimed to have aboard the rebel ship. He really shouldn't keep secrets like that from her. Still, there were other ways she could get the information. She smiled as she reached for the communicator.

***

Paige straightened up and stretched, her muscles and vertebrae protesting her posture. It couldn't be helped. To install the photon drive, she needed to connect it to the primary control line, which was located behind and below an immovable panel. She looked around and groaned in half-hearted frustration. "Vila, where are you?"

Vila popped his head around the edge of the engine room door. "I'm right here, Paige." He reassured her, lacking some of his usual humor. "Just counting the bolts in the passageway, that's all. Nothing covert, nothing dangerous."

The engineer smiled slowly, but continued her good-natured scolding. "You know you're supposed to be in the room. I'm watching you, and you're watching me, and sooner or later, someone will catch the spy, remember? Besides, I thought you wanted to help me."

"I do," he assured her in a plaintive voice. "You're the only one who's half-civil these days. Blake won't speak to anyone but Loren, Loren never puts down her gun, and Rusk just orders everyone around with the clean-up. Silira's too disgusted with Blake and Loren to talk much, and Varel's afraid to. And Avon is-" At that moment he broke off.

When Paige looked up to see why, she saw two of the objects of Vila's diatribe. Avon and Loren stood behind Vila. She wondered guiltily if they'd heard him. Loren's face was as calm as ever, but Avon looked like he was hiding a smile. Or perhaps, she thought wryly, that was wishful thinking. Just because she wanted him to smile more often. . .

"Are you making much progress?" Loren inquired frostily.

Paige noticed with a twinge of humor that Vila had been right, she was keeping very close to her gun. That observation released some of the frustration she was feeling, and she managed a very friendly tone to her reply. "It's going fairly well, yes. Once Avon found all the parts needed in the lab, it took less than two days to repair it. The last few days have just been tedious connections. We've decided to install it as an emergency backup for the time being - the engines we've got are better suited for regular use. It will also provide power for our teleport system if I've hooked it up correctly."

Loren looked at her sharply. "We haven't got a teleport system."

"We will have," Avon corrected her. "Once I put it together. That might take another two weeks for the basic design, and then we still need co-resonating crystals of some sort."

"Acquitar or Dynamon," Vila informed them heavily. "Which will put us exactly where Servalan expects us. There aren't that many places you can find them, you know. And she will be waiting."

"We know," Avon replied, in a voice that promised violence.

Silence seemd to fall like a soft brick, but Loren continued, oblivious to the tension in the other three. "We need the drive installed first. Paige, I'm here to switch your helpers. Vila, Rusk needs you for some locked cupboards." He groaned, rolled his eyes and gave Paige a 'What did I tell you' look. Protesting, he followed Loren out of the grounded ship.

Paige listened with amusement as the sound of the argument died away, then turned to face Avon, who was looking at her with a strange expression.

"What's the matter, Avon?" she asked, suddenly on the defensive.

He thought a moment before replying. "You don't seem affected by this whole situation. You seem amused by very odd things."

"Well, I guess I have an odd sense of humor. Some things just strike me funny, that's all." She shrugged her shoulders restlessly, uneasy under his scrutiny.

"I see." He took a step forward. "Does this strike you funny?" he inquired politely, just as his lips met hers and he kissed her.

Paige was too shocked to do anything but stand there, her eyes open wide. A few seconds passed before he lifted his head and looked at her appraisingly.

"What was that for?" Paige almost whispered, still staring at him.

"Curiosity," he answered succinctly.

"Well, I hope it's satisfied now." She drew a deep breath to compose herself. "We have a lot of work to do." She turned back to the engines with an effort of will. After a few seconds, he joined her, and the discussion that followed was strictly technical.

***

The sun had set before Avon and Paige left the ship, so the air was pleasant for the walk back to the lab's main entrance. Orac's floating eye met them at the force shield and opened a passage for them, which, as Paige remarked, beat the heck out of mucking around in the tunnels. The cylindrical elevator performed smoothly, and they reached the common room just in time for dinner.

"Avon, Paige, back so soon?" Loren greeted them coolly.

"Yes," Avon replied, and headed for the food.

Paige elaborated, "The drive is installed, Loren. We couldn't test it at all, but it should work. It's triggered to cut in whenever the main engines reach maximum thrust - after that, it will respond to all controls. I think you'll like it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm starving."

Dinner was somewhat less tense that night than it had been recently. People were finding it difficult to maintain total alertness and were relaxing somewhat. The new drive was the main topic; everyone carefully avoided mentioning the spy.

Silira found it more difficult than the rest to relax. Her early training as an assassin had prepared her for the vigors of alertness. On the other hand, it also conditioned her to see everyone as enemies, either real or potential. Silira wanted to be able to trust these people, and she expected them to be able to trust her, but it was hard for her to break old habits. She was restless, tense and uneasy.

"I need something off the ship," she announced in the next pause in the conversation. "Anyone feel like taking a walk?" A walk would be just the thing to burn off some restless energy, and she'd been inside this lab for four days now.

Varel looked quizzically at her, and she noticed with irritation that he seemed to be his normal self. He was so calm sometimes that he could seem comatose. He stirred himself to agree that a walk could be beneficial, so long as it was short.

Vila watched him jealously and declared that he needed some fresh air himself.

"Fine." Silira glared at her would-be suitors and stood, stretching taut muscles. They also stood, and the happy threesome left the room, and the base.

With the sunset, the air on Aristo chilled considerably, so that Silira was glad she'd brought a light jacket. Being out of the base did help, but she still had a nagging, formless compulsion that irritated her.

"Lovely night, isn't it?" Vila asked bravely, walking close to her and looking around wildly.

Silira relaxed just enough to smile at his antics. "Don't worry, Vila, I'll protect you."

"You needn't worry about that, Silira," Varel asserted in a deep, confident voice. "I can take care of you both."

His assumption that she needed taken care of flicked her on the raw. "Thanks but no thanks. I prefer to look after myself." Dependence leads to weakness, Silira thought. She'd seen it a hundred times. She didn't need a man who would challenge her strength, and she'd never met a man who wouldn't.

"Am I allowed to open the airlock for you?" Varel asked with lazy amusement.

"Why not," Silira muttered, wondering what it would take to get the man into a bad mood. She entered the ship and waited for Vila and Varel to follow her in.

"What was it