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Just This Once, Everybody Lives!
Vila
After that last year, especially the last month, I'm a bit surprised to be alive. All right, 'surprised' is actually overstating it because I just feel numb. When they locked me in here, I just sat on the bed for a while, then went to sleep, and now I'm just sitting here again waiting for whatever happens next. Maybe it's a side effect of being stunned? Suppose they did that so they could publicly parade and punish us, well, except for Dayna, shot by that Arlen. And I said sorry to the woman when I floored her. Pathetic, right? Anyway, they said Dayna's going to be all right, so that's something.
Blake did have everything set up too, planned counterattack (not using stuns, either) and fast relocation—I'd be impressed if I was capable of feeling much at this point. I'm just not sure what else was set up: us? Or was it set up for us? Looks like it might be the second one seeing they shot the troopers and we're still here. Bloody crazy Avon, taking it the wrong way. Understandable, but still: if he wasn't going to trust Blake, why the hell did he look for him all that time? I sometimes don't understand why people do things. I mean, I liked Blake yet he turned out to be fine with mass murder, and I liked Avon too, and look how that turned out.
I suppose they've locked the others in separate rooms too, and that suits me fine because I don't particularly want to talk to anyone. Still have picks hidden in my clothes, but I doubt any of them will shift the bloody great bolt on the other side of the door. They've got to let me out sometime though, then I'll be gone so fast it'll make their heads swim.
And I should tell them about Avon, I suppose.
Avon
Avon sat hunched on a narrow stretcher in a small room with concrete walls. It had obviously been used as a cell before, judging by the bolt he had heard being slammed shut.
He looked down at his shaking hands, remembering Blake lying there bleeding in front of him before everything had gone black. What had he done? He had spent two years looking for him so that he could wash his hands of the crew and any responsibility for them. Now, he couldn't stop going over and over what Blake had said and how to interpret it.
No, look at it logically: Blake had never been interested in money, just the cause. If he had been captured and 'readjusted', then they would have used him as propaganda, not bounty hunting on an obscure planet.
He'd got it wrong: yet another spectacular failure.
Vila
Vila was considering another nap to escape reality and fast-forward time, when Blake's assistant Deva, his arm in a brace, and a datapad in his free hand, came in. "We're questioning you one at a time." He closed the door and sat in the one chair. "It's your turn, Restal."
"It's Vila. Well, unless you think that's too friendly, of course. And you probably do."
Deva ignored that. "Why did you come here?"
"To find Blake, at least Avon did. Didn't have any choice, as always, I was only along for the ride, though I didn't mind in this case." Vila paused. "Look, is he all right? Blake, I mean?"
"What do you think?"
"Suppose not, then. It looked bad." Vila slumped.
"He was wearing an armoured vest."
"Oh? You mean he's all right?" Vila's face lit up.
Deva looked surprised. "You're glad?"
"Of course! I was happy when Avon said he'd found him. I thought things might finally be better. Might've known they wouldn't be."
"Why did Avon shoot him?"
"Why did Avon ever do anything?" Vila said bitterly. "To be fair, it probably made sense to him. Anyone he ever knew that we came across betrayed him, so he must've thought Blake was just one more. Mind you," Vila added, rallying, "Blake could've been a bit clearer, I mean, that was bloody ambiguous. Though Avon could've damn well asked too, used a bit of logic."
"Yes," Deva said flatly, making notes on his pad with one hand.
"Look, Blake really is a rebel, not a bounty hunter, right?"
Deva looked up, surprised. "Of course. He was recruiting."
Vila tilted his head. "You mean for criminals? Like us, I mean me and Avon?"
Deva considered him. "People outside the norm, people who think for themselves, yes."
Vila couldn't see that working well, not given the vestigial consciences of most criminals and Blake's dictatorial management style.
"Of course," Deva said, "Blake could have been wounded during the counterattack."
"Eh?"
"He informs me that could well be the case." Deva didn't look as if he approved, but Vila doubted he had much say in Blake's decisions. "Seeing it that way, he says, would make it considerably easier—and safer—for you people when you join us."
Fat chance, in my case, thought Vila. "That Arlen saw," he pointed out. "She could talk."
"No. Our people got all of them, including her."
Fine with me; she shot poor Dayna after all. "Right." Vila stood up. "Can I see Blake now? It could be urgent."
Blake
The wounds were only a dull ache now they'd been treated, but at that close range, all three projectiles had penetrated his vest and drawn blood. Klyn had fared somewhat better, and Deva had been shot in the arm by Arlen. All in all, they had got off lightly—if one discounted being shot by a friend.
There was a knock on his office door. "Yes?"
It was Deva. "I've spoken to them separately. They all say much the same thing, that they've had a long run of bad luck, and that Avon often seemed unstable. Possibly near breakdown."
"Useful to know. And did they all agree to follow our narrative?"
"Why wouldn't they? It's in their interests. Oh, yes, Vila Restal wants to talk to you. He says it's urgent."
Blake nodded. "Fine, send him in."
"You sure?"
"I've known him a long time." Blake smiled wearily. "He says he's harmless and he's right."
"That's what he said to Arlen before he slugged her. Looked like he broke her jaw." Deva shrugged and opened the door again. "Go on in, he'll see you."
Vila looked tired and defeated, with none of the bounce and humour Blake remembered.
"Good to see you, Vila. Come here and sit down."
Vila remained standing. "I won't be long."
"First, I'd like to know where Cally is."
"Oh." Vila winced. "She was in a building that blew up. She called out to me, and I tried to go back, but it all collapsed and Avon said, well, it wou'dn't've mattered anyway." He looked miserable, probably feeling guilty.
Blake took a moment to regret Cally, her strength, fierceness, and kindness. He sighed. "I suspected something of the sort. Right, what was it you wanted?"
"Is Avon here too? I mean, on this base?"
"Yes. Why?"
Vila's face went hard. "Then you'd better get rid of him or leave him here and move out."
That was definitely not like Vila. "What?"
"Look, Servalan got hold of him once. He was looking for you then too, even got the Liberator eaten—"
"Eaten?"
"Space enzymes." Vila waved his hand. "Never mind that. He even thought he met you, said it was an induced hallucination, but the thing is, if they did that to him, what else did they do?"
Blake went still. "Just what are you suggesting, Vila?"
"Servalan kept finding us—calls herself Sleer now, by the way. At first I thought it was Tarrant because he used to be in Space Fleet, but I checked his cabin and all his possessions. I think she put a tracer in Avon when she had him."
"Ah." Blake sat back in his chair with a wince. "Deva!" he called to the outer office. "Get Lotar to run a scan on Avon. And prepare for another evacuation. Just in case." He turned back to Vila. "Did you mention your suspicions to Avon?"
"Valued my life, didn't I? Anyway, she was just playing with us. She could have killed us, or at least Avon, several times. I think she always fancied him, you see. Bit of a nutter, that woman. She might not be playing if she finds you, though."
Blake pinched the bridge of his nose. "All right. I'll tell the guards to release you three. You can all help with the move if it's needed."
"All right. But after that—"
"Yes?"
"I'm leaving. I've had enough."
Blake looked at him, surprised. "I could use your skills, Vila, you know that," he said slowly.
"Let's be honest, they're hardly ever needed, and you wouldn't want me otherwise." Vila looked at the floor, shoulders hunched. "I'm done."
What had happened to change him that much? But then, the last two years had changed them all, himself included. "You do know it's very dangerous out there. You can't wait until someone goes off planet?"
Vila shook his head.
"Very well, I'll let you have a flyer to get you to the local spaceport. Set the autopilot and it will return here."
"Really?" Vila looked up, relieved. "Thank you!"
"Vila. Until you're off planet, trust no one."
"Don't worry. I've learned that lesson."
Blake gnawed his fist, thinking. If Vila was right and there was a tracer, they would have to move the whole operation again. And it had better be the last time because there weren't any more bases set up on this planet.
He was disappointed that Vila wanted to leave. His skills were valuable, and when he couldn't leave things to others, he was very competent. He and Avon had made a good team, both clever in different ways, both trusting each other. He had thought they were friends despite their mutual insults; he had seen a certain warmth between them.
If that friendship was broken, perhaps he could understand why Vila wanted to go. It looked like more than that though; he had seen battle fatigue all too often.
Vila
They did find a tracer in Avon. I often wondered but never dared to say anything—I valued my skin and everything inside it. Bet Avon thought of it too, or being reprogrammed when Servalan had her claws in him, which can't have done his mental equilibrium, if I want to be polite, a lot of good.
Blake's lot seem to know what they're doing, why would they need me? I'm not wasting any time, I'm going straight for that flyer.
I thought of asking Soolin to come with me, no strings attached, just because she once told me what happened to her family here, and I didn't think she'd want to stay, but she was with Dayna in the med unit, and there's no contest between a good friend (or maybe more?) and me, is there?
Funny thing, this'll be the first time I've been on my own for a few years, and I don't actually mind all that much because for the first time in ages, I've got options. That's actually slightly cheering.
Avon
Avon sat on a narrow bed in another grey underground room much like the last one. Back there, they had scanned him and removed a tracer, which had not particularly surprised him. Apparently it was Vila who had suggested it, not that it was a great leap of logic; Avon had suspected something had been done to him on Terminal but had had to continue as if it wasn't true.
He heard the door being unlocked, and Blake came in, waving the guard behind him away. "Avon."
"Blake!" Avon jumped to his feet. "You're alive!"
"Obviously." Blake folded his arms. "And no thanks to you."
Avon forced the emotion from his face . "Armoured vest?"
"One of Deva's ideas, yes. All our public-facing people wear them. Klyn was one of them, luckily for her. Klyn," he added pointedly, "is the woman you shot. As unarmed as I was. If she hadn't put the alarm out, none of us would be here now."
"No. I assume we would be well on our way to Earth." Avon spoke calmly but sat down, putting his hands under his thighs to hide their shaking.
"Why did you shoot me, Avon? I was hardly a threat."
"I thought you had betrayed us. Many others have."
"Surely you knew me better than that."
"We spent a long time looking for you. You could have at least tried to contact us."
"You made it very clear that you wanted the Liberator. Which, if I believe Vila, was... eaten? He also told me about Cally. You seem to have been very careless with what you wanted so much."
There wasn't much he could say to that. "What have you done with my people? They had nothing to do with it."
"As we have found out."
"What will you do with them?" It was easier to ask than what they would do with him.
"They have valuable skills and they're willing to join us. Well, except for Vila."
"What about Vila?"
Blake shrugged. "He's gone."
Avon felt cold. "What do you mean? Define gone." He had tried so hard not to care, only to have failed at that too.
"He left."
Avon stood up. "And you didn't stop him?" he asked incredulously, his voice rising in anger.
"How could I? How could anyone stop Vila, with his skills?"
"You should have tried! It's dangerous out there." Avon clenched his fists.
"He knows that, and besides, I lent him a flyer. He can take care of himself. I suspect he's survived a much harder life than either of us."
Perhaps he had, but he was harmless, dammit. "You could have convinced him to stay!"
"Do stop shouting at me, Avon," Blake said mildly. "I did try but I've seen people who are burned out. He had simply had enough."
So that was it. Now he had lost everyone he cared about. That should be freeing, shouldn't it?
"I always thought you two were friends," Blake said softly. "What happened?" When Avon did not respond, he slapped his thighs and stood. "Right. When you're feeling better, I'll need you to do some work for us."
"No," Avon said listlessly, sitting back down and looking at the floor.
"Yes, Avon. I have some important jobs for you, and you will carry them out."
"I can hardly work with your people after... what happened."
"I think you'll find that you can. Arlen told Deva that you shot me, but why would anyone believe the word of a Federation officer, especially one that died in the battle? You must have been firing at her or the attackers and got me in the confusion. Your aim has never been the best, I seem to remember. You were found stunned and lying on top of me as if you were protecting me."
Amazed, Avon looked up at Blake. "Why would you—"
"I would hate to waste someone as valuable as you."
Blake's face was unreadable. Was that supposed to be a reference to Avon believing the bounty hunter role, or a simple statement of fact? Avon looked away. Either way, he deserved it.
"Especially one that was a friend."
Avon quickly looked back, but Blake already had his back to him and was leaving. "Wait!"
"Yes?" Blake turned around.
There was something positive he could recover from this. "What did you do with the tracer?"
"Had it dropped it over the first base."
Avon raised his eyebrows. "Uncharacteristically logical of you."
"Avon," Blake said warningly.
"Servalan will turn up there. Either via the tracer, or by hearing about Arlen's people failing to report back. They may not be connected to her, but she has her tentacles everywhere."
"Ah. You want to be there."
"I rather think that I'll follow your and Travis's examples and be there first. I shall also want Dayna and Soolin with me. They're both accomplished killers."
"Hmm." Blake regarded Avon thoughtfully. "I think I'll come along too, with a couple of my people."
"You don't trust me. Blake? Fine, the more the better."
Vila
After sending Blake's flyer back to the base, Vila spent some money he'd found in it on a paper container of fried potato from a machine. He ate them at a rather dirty table, his back to the wall, careful not to make eye contact with anyone, then went and staked out the port itself.
He needed a ship that could be flown solo, but not a Wanderer class, not ever again. He finally chose an Explorer that no one had been near in the time he had been watching. The lock was a handprint one, easy enough to get through, like the one on the London that he said he couldn't crack, but he'd had no intention of showing the extent of his skills back then. Always safer to be underestimated.
It was basically the same principle as a psycho-physio lock: intercept the check and send back the confirmation. Once in, he locked the airlock to make doubly sure and leaned against it, sagging with relief. He was safe for now, but the sooner he got away, the better. He quickly checked the ship out. There were three cabins and a small mess where someone had left a pad. Vila decided to investigate those later, and headed to the flight deck.
The ship was ready to go. He didn't bother contacting flight control, if there even was any on this benighted planet, but lifted and headed out at top speed, ignored by the blockade which was only concerned with arrivals. Once he'd set a course for Gardinos, a nice safe tourist planet where no one would notice yet another stranger, he had a look around.
Only two cabins had been occupied. The clothes in one were too large, but the others looked as if they'd fit, if a little loosely, but then he preferred that. Repelled at the thought of wearing someone else's maybe dirty clothes, he loaded everything into the auto-launderer, then undressed, extracted his tools, and put his clothes in with them. On second thoughts, he added the bedclothes and put some clean ones on the bed in the empty cabin. By now chilled and shivering—"Plan more carefully, next time, you idiot!" he muttered—he got into bed and curled up.
Sleer and Loathing on Gauda Prime
Dayna
Dayna, almost completely recovered from her wound, was delighted at the chance to take Servalan out. She and Soolin went with Avon to the original base, along with Blake and two of his people, Klyn and Grosz.
"I'm glad they cleared all the bodies out," she said, looking at the blood stains on the tracking gallery floor. "They'd be getting pretty ripe by now, despite the cold."
"Thank you, Dayna, for that charming thought." Avon looked around. "How did you stage your counterattack, Blake? We're certainly not hiding behind pillars for what might be days."
"I doubt she'll take that long," Soolin said. "She didn't before. All she has to do is get through the barricade, and knowing her, she'll have paid someone off."
"Or promised to," said Dayna, curling her lip, "and then have them killed to save her the price of a pair of shoes."
"You're not far wrong, Avon." Blake beckoned them over. "Have a look at the wall behind this pillar. There's a panel, see?" He traced the outline.
"Not very obvious," Avon said, raising an impressed eyebrow. "I would assume it's opened from behind."
"Exactly. There's a small room back there. I had someone stationed in each one if there was anyone unvetted on the base."
"How many are there?" Soolin asked, interested.
"Six, one for each of us."
"Any sort of vision available?"
Blake nodded approvingly. "There's a pickup in each pillar."
"Is that why the patterning is there, to hide it?"
"Not at all. We think it was an old religious building, and perhaps the rooms were for musicians; no idea. We managed to find two others like it using georadar. There are probably more."
Soolin leaned towards Dayna. "That's interesting. When I was a child, they used to tell stories of secret underground chambers from the sectarian wars centuries ago; my sister and I always wanted to find one. Maybe that's why Blake came here. I can't imagine any other advantage to being on Gauda Prime."
"Klyn set the alarm off last time." Avon said to Blake. "Can it be tripped automatically?"
"No." Blake took a device from a pocket. "However, we will use a motion sensor. Klyn will place and set it." He handed it to her.
"That klaxon could be useful. The noise and lights were quite distracting."
"I can set that off remotely, if you like," Klyn said to Blake, who nodded.
Dayna was not surprised that Klyn avoided looking at Avon. She felt aggrieved herself about being caught in a trap because of his obsession with finding Blake, who had yet to impress her. At least this time she probably wouldn't be shot again as they were all wearing armoured vests. She idly wondered why the idea had never occurred to Avon, but who knows what he'd worn under his leather. She also suspected that Blake and his two people were there to ensure that Avon didn't betray them to Servalan. She and Soolin would have to keep an eye on everyone.
"What d'you think?" she asked Soolin. "We take the positions closest to the door?"
"It makes sense. I assume we're the best shots, and we don't want anyone getting out."
And they'd also have the best chance of escape if anything went pear-shaped.
"Sounds good to me," Blake said. "I'll show you the way."
The room Dayna found herself in had basic furniture—a chair and a narrow stretcher—and a small and simple screen showing the view from her pillar. She wondered whether to sit and watch the screen, or just wait for the awful sound of the klaxon. In the end she went for the latter and lay down on the bed; being shot took a lot out of you, she found.
She and Soolin had discussed their plan for when Servalan turned up, and the whole odd Avon-and-Blake thing. Those two seemed to be working well together, but she and Soolin had both noticed Blake eyeing Avon at times. For that matter, Dayna was going to watch Avon carefully too—how many times had he failed to kill Servalan, and vice versa for that matter?
Vila
Vila slept for over ten hours, which surprised him. He lay awake for a while, unwilling to do anything much, then forced himself out of bed, emptied the launderer, and put on one of the clean outfits, a yellow tunic and tan trousers. "I've had enough grey for a lifetime, Dorian you bastard," he said out loud. He almost started to shave, but seeing his stubble in the bathroom mirror, decided to keep it; the change to his face would be useful. "I'd say I look rather dashing and piratical if I wasn't me."
He went to the mess and ate a protein bar, much like those on Scorpio, and washed it down with a cup of instant coffee—much worse than that on Scorpio. He shuddered. "Crap, that was awful!" He pulled the pad over. "I'll start talking to myself, next. And why not, I ask? It's not like there's anyone better around."
The pad was easy enough to get into if you knew the common operating systems, and Vila wiped all the files and set up two new profiles, one in the name he'd decided to use in his new life, and one as a temporary alias for Gardinos. He was pleased with that one: Kai Farron, being two separate names he'd heard or read somewhere, had no connections to him or anyone he'd known.
"All right, ship, you need a new name too." He headed to the flight deck and called up the registration. "Dragon? Bit common, that. Not very original, is it? You'd probably disappear in the crowd like all the Dels, but you still need an alias, like me. After all, you're mine now." That thought cheered him.
What to call it though? New Horizons? He could just imagine Avon sneering that there were no horizons in space. "Shut up, Avon. You're not here now." Thinking of him reminded him of how they'd once talked about whether to stay with Blake or find a bolthole. "That's a good one. Right, ship, you're Lightning Bolt." He hacked the details and registration number, then leaned back in his chair. "That's more than enough for the first day. Leave yourself something to do, Vila, or you'll go mad from boredom."
There were several more days at this speed before he reached Gardinos. Perhaps he could find something to fill the time: books or games, perhaps a deck of cards, not that he held out much hope. He yawned. "Right, some lunch and a nap, I think. And why not? The day is mine."
Tomorrow he would connect one of his smaller bank accounts to the pad and also download some books. This was the first time he'd been truly alone for a long time, as opposed to lonely, and a bit of escapism would take his mind off the silence.
Soolin
When the alert came through the comms, Soolin watched via the pickup until several troopers were well into the room and Servalan had entered. Klyn then set off the klaxon and lights, and Soolin pushed her door open and stepped out, gun ready. Opposite her, from behind her own pillar, Dayna bowled a small bomb towards the back of the room where it promptly exploded, and she and Dayna quickly picked off the troopers still on their feet. She then swiveled to shoot the two guards left outside who had immediately come to the doorway as she had expected.
So far, so good.
The others were also shooting from the cover of their pillars, leaving Servalan as the only one standing, as they'd earlier agreed. She looked briefly appalled, then cool and poised; Soolin was rather impressed at her self-control.
Avon strolled out, his gun aimed at Servalan. Blake, Soolin noted, emerged opposite Avon, his gun pointing between him and Servalan as if he was uncertain about both. Klyn's gun was definitely on Avon, and Grosz's on Servalan. Soolin glided to one side, while Dayna circled the other way towards Avon.
"Well, now." Avon drawled. "Your little cat-and-mouse game is finally over."
Servalan's eyes passed indifferently over Blake and fixed on Avon. "Why, Avon." She smiled warmly. "Such a pity. I did enjoy it so."
"I did not."
Servalan stepped towards him, head tilted. "Come now, we've always had a connection, you and I, a real understanding."
Soolin saw Blake's gun swing towards Avon.
"I understand you very well," Avon said. "Venal, power-hungry, and cruel."
"Yes, Avon, we do have a lot in common," Servalan purred.
"Oh, come on, cut the crap," Dayna said sharply. "Let's not waste any more time here."
"Why, if it isn't the little Mellanby girl."
"That's right, it's me," Dayna said. "I wanted to be the last thing you see."
She shot Servalan in the heart.
"Huh." She smiled in satisfaction. "She had a heart after all."
Blake
"You hesitated, Avon," Blake said, still suspicious.
"I knew Dayna wanted the kill. Servalan murdered her father."
"I might only have one good eye, but I'm not blind. I very much doubt you'd have pulled that trigger."
"No, and would you have? That is why I brought Dayna and Soolin. I knew they would."
"They fancied each other, those two," Dayna broke in, disgusted. "I never got a clear shot before, but I bet neither of them would've done anything, and they both had the chance."
"Shut up, Dayna." Avon turned to Blake. "The only reason she didn't kill me is that she was using me to find you."
"She did not seem that concerned with me."
"She probably didn't recognise you."
"Besides," Dayna said, "she told you on Terminal that Blake was dead."
"That doesn't mean she believed it. And that's enough, Dayna!"
"Come on," Soolin put her arm through Dayna's. "We still need to take out any guards they've left outside."
"If there was anything between us," Avon said, looking back at Blake, "I would have hardly suggested trapping her here. And I seem to remember you failing more than once to kill Travis when you could have." He raised an eyebrow. "Was there anything between you two, perchance?"
"Of course not."
"No, you just didn't have it in you to kill an unarmed person. Give me the same benefit of the doubt."
"Fine." Blake turned away.
He did not doubt that Avon was on the right side, but he was still going to keep an eye on him.
Taking Steps
Avon
Avon had been sent with a salvage team led by Deva to remove the stardrive, teleport, and the annoyingly obsequious computer Slave. Blake wanted the thing. Avon laughed humourlessly to himself. He would probably try to emancipate it.
He thought about Orac, hidden outside the first base, and decided to leave it there until he was free of Blake and what Avon thought of as his punishment duties. Repairing the salvaged equipment was not going to be quick, especially without Vila's help, and then he would have to supervise teams to reproduce the technology. He could see this taking months of tedium, but what else did he have to do?
What was also annoying was that he did not just miss Vila's dexterity, but, he found, Vila himself. For some illogical reason, he had assumed Vila would always be there, and the gap he left was... disconcertingly large.
He had missed Blake too: his strength, his purpose, and his warmth, despite the arrogance and fanaticism that had repelled Avon in the end. He was not sure he would ever see that warmth again from Blake, or from Vila, not that he was likely to see him again.
Once trust was gone, it was very hard to get back, though he had usually thought of himself losing it, not others in him.
One Step at a Time
Vila
I've never stayed in a hotel, but books and viscasts are a good way to learn how other people live. It was easy to book a room on the way there, a nice one with a balcony and lake view, and all I had to do was swan up to the desk and give my name, well, Kai Farron's (there probably is one somewhere in the galaxy), connect my pad, and get a door code and card (in case I lose one or the other, not that that would keep me out). It's a bit upmarket here, nothing ostentatious, but very nice.
Funny thing, I thought I'd be happy, safe at last, especially somewhere beautiful, but when I looked at the lake and the trees, all just like I imagined, I still felt numb. Stuns only last a few hours at most, so it couldn't still be that. Just wanted to lie down and go to sleep again. Dunno what's wrong with me. Maybe after trying to stay alive for so long, I've run out of energy?
Fine, I can have a rest for as long as I like. It's safe and peaceful, I'm just one of a whole heap of strangers so no one will find me here, and I don't have to do anything if I don't want to. One step at a time.
Avon
Avon lost himself in work, installing Slave—which Blake renamed Conrad, presumably for 'comrade', the ridiculous idealist—repairing the stardrive and teleport, and drawing up plans for manufacturing new ones. There was a certain satisfaction in the challenge, and he had set himself a side goal of creating a smaller teleport bracelet with a thin band and an inset watch face, something that would be easily overlooked if captured. After the work day though, he kept himself apart, eating in his small room because it was a distinct improvement on sitting isolated and ignored in the canteen. He knew there were rumours that he'd had a breakdown and fired indiscriminately at everyone in sight, which certainly explained the wariness.
Not that he cared much about what these people thought of him. There were very few whose opinions had ever mattered to him.
The only thing he had to hope for now was Blake's forgiveness, but that was unlikely. After all, if their positions had been reversed, he would not have forgiven Blake.
Vila
Not doing badly now. After a week or so I feel a bit more up to doing things: breakfast and dinner in the hotel restaurant downstairs, wandering around a bit during the day, having lunch in interesting looking places. I'm starting to feel like my old self, or rather my new one. I don't talk to anyone except for ordering food, just sit in the restaurant or wherever with my pad so it looks like I'm reading—well, sometimes I am—while enjoying being around people again without having to interact with them.
I like people, but as Avon said once I don't really know how to talk to them. What was it he said, 'socially maladroit'? I'll cop to that one. Never really fitted in, me, not at school where I was too clever till I stopped that lark and went for jokes instead, not as an adult where I just didn't get most of what they went on about, sex and family and work stuff. Got by all right though till I had to actually live with people on the Liberator and found I wasn't any good at it. It's a wonder I never got a notice delivered: Vila Restal, your application to join the human race has been rejected.
I've been for walks beside this lake, and I get why people like to live near water. It's huge and peaceful, puts your worries into perspective like when I used to sit in the Liberator observation room, or whatever it was, and look out at space.
It makes me sad though when I think about how I planned to come here with my share of all the money we were going to make from kairopan. I was just dreaming about it and my mouth ran off ahead of my brain as usual when I said wanting children and being there with Cally. It was just that she was the only one of that lot who'd have liked it, that was all, didn't mean those two things together, did I? Look, I like kids (and there are lots here playing in the water), and yes, Avon, I know I'll never have any as you said afterwards. Though you didn't have to point out that no one would want me even if I wasn't asexual, you bastard.
All the same, Cally would have liked it here. I've even been for a swim at night when the moons were out and imagined she was there too and I'd see her if I turned around quickly. I miss Cally. I miss Gan.
I think they'd like knowing I'm here.
Avon
Avon had always found it hard to express his feelings. Words which revealed too much of himself were hard to say. It was so much easier to show he cared. Why hadn't they ever understood that?
Dammit, he had saved Blake from being blown up without thinking of his own danger. He had stayed with him despite his dictatorial attitude and arrogant habit of keeping the crew in the dark. He had even thought, down on Terminal, that they might face death together once too often.
He had been unwilling to leave them all on Horizon when he could have been free of them.
He had kept Vila close, finding him amusing and relaxing to be with. He was often Avon's first choice as partner for missions because he was clever, adaptable, and not stupidly reckless, to say the least. Why did he leave? Did he only notice the insults? They were just words, used to prevent anyone seeing Vila as his weakness to be exploited.
Why hadn't either of them understood? Why didn't they see what he did? Of course what he had done in the tracking gallery probably outweighed everything else, and there was his failure to shoot Servalan. Her remark about how much they had in common still nagged at him. What was it: venal, power-mad, and cruel? All of those had certainly been true at times, and he found he regretted many of them.
Avon drove his fist into the office wall and cursed under his breath at the pain.
New Horizons
Vila
Time to plan my next step. I've been here for almost a month now. Here I am on a lounger under the trees, the leaves all translucent in the sun, like silver and gold glass—amazingly beautiful place, this. I could have a nap, and I definitely will, but I need to work out where I'm going, the further away from the Federation the better.
Thought about Lindor, of course. Lovely place, but a bit too close and the Federation already had a go at it when they exiled Sarkoff. Bit dicey, that, they might well have another try.
What I need is somewhere far away, without valuable resources to attract invaders or criminals or the Terra Nostra, somewhere with a free and tolerant society, and a government that doesn't oppress its citizens. Yeah, I know that seems like a hard one, but there actually are places like that, I've read about them in novels, and they can't all be made up. I did think about Toscana Nuova, sounds like a wine and food paradise, but I'd have to learn Italian, not that I'd mind, but I need to blend in and not get noticed as a foreigner who sticks out like a sore thumb.
I've narrowed it down to three likely ones. One has minerals it might get attacked for—even though it's a long way from the Federation, there are always greedy people and governments. Best play it safe, scratch that one. The second looks like paradise but the current government is not exactly welcoming to immigrants. The last one though? It's not rich and it's a fair way off, but it's somewhere you can be whoever and whatever you like.
I might even fit into a society of individuals, never know your luck in a big galaxy, like my mum used to say.
Avon
Blake looked up from his pad. "What is it, Avon?"
"I have completed the repairs and installation with the help of your people."
"Deva tells me you did a good job."
How condescending. Do I get a gold star? "He's very competent himself."
"Yes, almost as clever with computers as you."
"Then you don't need me. Am I free to go?"
"Have a seat."
Avon remained standing.
"I need you to oversee the manufacture of more drives and teleports using your plans. They'll be manufactured and installed on two different planets to spread the risk. You can take the upgraded ship with Tarrant and two of my people so that you can move between them."
Of course, do keep an eye on me. "And after that? What are you planning?"
"You don't need to know."
"Ah. I see you're going to continue with your counter-productive practice of keeping people in the dark and overworking them."
Blake raised his eyebrows. "Do you really think I'd take you into my confidence?"
"Because of the shooting? Is that always going to be between us?"
"What do you think? Also I am told you failed to do any significant damage to the Federation. You didn't appear to have any goal at all beyond self-interest and self-enrichment."
There were his attempts to deal with Pylene-50 which had come to nothing. Perhaps Blake had contacts who could help with that. "How would you know? And I looked for you."
"Why, Avon? Were you going to give me my ship and crew back?"
"Perhaps."
"In the meantime, you carelessly lost them."
"You lost Vila. You let him leave."
"The others seem to be all right, but he wasn't. You broke him. You tried to kill him, is that right?"
"I suppose he ran his mouth off and told you everything," Avon said bitterly.
"He told me nothing. The rest of the crew were much more forthcoming. He wouldn't have tried to save himself at your expense, Avon."
"I know that. I didn't want to, you know." No, not calling out to Vila the way he had, which had been counterproductive to say the least.
"In some ways, he was the best of us," Blake said musingly.
"Vila?'
"Despite everything that happened to him in the past, he was never angry. He was soft-hearted."
The riposte Don't you mean soft-headed? rose up automatically, but Avon suppressed it because Blake was right.
"We didn't value that or him, did we?" Blake went on.
"Because it wasn't useful."
"If the Federation couldn't hurt him with their reconditioning, and I know what that's like—"
"And you think I don't have any idea of what he went through? I actually used to talk to him, unlike the rest of you. With the exception of Gan, I suppose."
"Then, what happened to him? That wasn't the Vila I knew."
Avon shrugged, not wanting to think about it.
"I gather you were close to a breakdown."
"I most certainly was not," Avon said acidly.
"Not what I heard. Or saw. You needed rest and recovery, and you've had that chance with the work I gave you. I doubt you found it particularly hard."
"Oh, that's what it was?" Avon folded his arms and leaned against the wall. "Not a punishment, then?"
"Is that what you think?"
"Don't tell me it wasn't."
"All right, perhaps some was reparation for the trouble you caused, but you do seem better for it. We really did—and still do—need your expertise."
"And what grand ideas are you entertaining for your upgraded ships?"
Blake just sat back and looked at him.
Avon stepped forward and leaned over the desk. "And what have you achieved? A well-run base on a lawless planet, set up to recruit criminals? How many have you actually gained for the cause? And what damage to the Federation have you done? I've heard nothing about you in all this time." Remembering what Vila had said that night they had radiation sickness, he went on, "Blown up a few communication centres, perhaps? I should think that hurt the Federation, like a flea biting a bear."
"That will do, Avon!"
"Is that a promise?"
"If you're asking if I've finished with you, then no. You will oversee the manufacturing and installation of more drives and teleports, then I shall see." Blake picked up his pad.
Well, that went well. Avon turned and walked out.
Blake was right, though: the losses had been his fault. Now he had alienated both of the people who had made him feel less isolated. He was not sure what he had left, if one discounted the money in his various galactic banks, and somehow that seemed small consolation.
It especially hurt that Blake had accused him of breaking Vila, because looking back, Avon could see how much he had changed, and whose fault was that but his?
Then it occurred to him: he would continue to work for Blake, but he would also look for Vila and try to make it right. Perhaps he could even get his old fr—the old Vila back. Finally he had a goal, and the thought made him feel oddly hopeful.
Tomorrow he would take a flyer and pick up Orac.
Vila
It'll take weeks to get to Ataro at this speed. I'm not used to travelling this slowly, but at least the good old Lightning Bolt now has an espresso machine and some decent coffee beans, a stasis chamber with lots of tasty meals, and plenty of books and viscasts. I'll be fine, even if I get there sick of the sound of my own voice.
In the meantime it's goodbye to Kai Farron and hellooo to Villem Lassiter! I've had that identity stored up from well before I got sent to Cygnus Alpha, and I filled some bored moments playing with it, adding various embellishments like schooling and work and travel history.
But you know what, something's niggling at me about it. One of the books I read on Gardinos had a character saying that people's aliases were usually anagrams or near-anagrams, deliberate or not, funny how the subconscious works, and... shiiiiit!
'Villem' is fine; you've got to have something you'll answer to, right? But 'Lassiter'? Always liked the sound of that, solid and a bit classy, but now that I'm looking at it, I can see it spells 'is Restal'. Bloody hell, subconscious! That's an arrow pointing right at me! What were you thinking?
Fine, I'll be Villem Landry. Still has a bit of class, and changing it everywhere is something more to fill up the days.
While I'm thinking about names, Lightning Bolt needs a new one just in case anyone tracks me to Gardinos. I need something positive, something that's not about running away or a new life—bit of a giveaway, those two ideas. Ooh, how about Revilation, spelling intended? Nah, it's got my name in it; pity though because I like it. Ship Happens? Maybe not; could be inviting it to. How about Third Ship Lucky? Not very witty, but after all, it is, not counting penal transports. Yes, that'll do.
Sometimes though, sitting here in the mess with a book and a coffee, I can't help but think about Blake and Avon and the others and wonder what they're doing. I know I've made the right decision because I don't miss that life at all, but I still hope they're all right. Even Avon.