From Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us Thu Dec 28 18:28:32 1995
Date: Thu, 28 Dec 1995 10:28:19 -0700 (MST)
From: Becky Smith <Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us>
To: calle@lysator.liu.se
Subject: Remembrance Part One (fwd)
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: MB Overton <u4d41@cc.keele.ac.uk>
Message-Id: <1782.9502182133@potter.cc.keele.ac.uk>
To: blake7@lysator.liu.se
Subject: "Remembrance" (RR2 Part 1)
Okay, a day early but who cares. Voila part 1 of "Remembrance",
our new Round Robin. Enjoy, quibble, whatever. I don't mind, I'm
generous like that.
BLAKE'S 7
"Remembrance"
Part 1
by Mark Overton
:Gauda Prime
>>>ENERGISE PRIMARY COIL
Command not accepted. This command is coded Red-level access
only. Please use only commands suitable to your access clearance.
>>>CODE CLEARANCE CHANGE : PRIORITY RED : AUTHORISATION
4247ndy432-ORAC.
Code clearance change accepted, Orac.
>>>ENERGISE PRIMARY COIL
Flyer primary coil energised. Flight mode now available.
>>>ENGAGE
Please state destination.
>>>SPECFIC DESTINATION NOT REQUIRED. LEAVE CURRENT LOCATION AND
FLY TWENTY MILES WEST.
Acknowledged. Beginning flight.
:Space City
:9 months later
Gartoll checked the energy clip in the gun for what must
have been the ten thousandth time. His palms were sweaty with
nervousness, and the cool black metal of the gun's grip had
long since warmed up and become greasy with his uncertainties and
worries. Gartoll eased the weapon back into its half-concealment
in his overcoat's pocket and looked out of the shuttlecraft
window at the empty blackness of space beyond.
But it wasn't empty. Space City was just beginning to fill
up Gartoll's viewport in the shuttlecraft's side. The huge space
station, a collection of domes that would have been impossible
to construct in any atmosphere, began to edge in from the
left-hand side as the shuttle drew further away from the cruise
liner *Magellan* and neared its destination. Gartoll rubbed his
palms together and thought about death and murder as the shuttle
approached the docking bay.
All around him, people were getting into the holiday mood.
Or the gambling mood, or the prostitutes mood, or the drinking or
drugs moods..or any mood that took their fancy, providing they
had the money. Space City was a provider - you paid the money, it
provided whatever you want. The money, of course, disappeared
into the pockets of the Terra Nostra.
One of whom Gartoll was going to kill.
He started to look out of the viewport again when suddenly
the shuttle jerked and space vanished, replaced by dull grey
metal walls as the little craft was taken inside the docking bay.
The shuttle was guided gently to rest in a docking berth and
suddenly, with a whoosh of air that was audible even to the
thirty or so people inside the shuttle, the bay pressurised
itself. Sounds suddenly came to life, travelling in an atmosphere
the way they could not in vacuum; the dying whine of engines, the
brarp of klaxons as spacecraft of all kinds and origins were
prepared for departure or worked over after arrival.
Gartoll unstrapped himself from his seat and hurried quickly
off the shuttlecraft, through one of the side doors into the back
corridors of the space station. These were the areas none of
the rich holidaymakers ever got to see; these were the corridors
of power, as the ancient saying went; these were the true areas
of Space City, somehow more honest than the brightly-lit spacious
rooms outside. This area was the real Terra Nostra.
Gartoll hurried rapidly along the corridors, Criallis' offer
hovering in the front of his mind. The Terra Nostra's command
structure, such as it was, consisted of a vast number of Magnates
all obeying a chairman, and Gartoll had worked for one such
Magnate called Veston for ten years. With no bonuses whatsoever,
the rebellious part of his mind reminded him. And then Magnate
Criallis had approached him with a simple suggestion...
"Assistant Gartoll to see Magnate Veston," he said nervously
to the two guards, one on either side of the door. The gun
weighed heavily in his pocket.
"Certainly," the first guard replied, touching the door
control and watching it slide open. Gartoll sighed, relieved; he
had hoped that his authority as Veston's second-in-command would
get him past the guards, but he hadn't been sure.
The room beyond was twilight, typical for Veston. An example
of one of the few intelligent alien races that the Federation
hadn't exterminated on first contact, Veston was a Tryconnan.
Gartoll, as always, prepared himself not to be sick.
"Ah, Gartoll," the gurgling voice noted. "How nice to see
you again."
The hulking green bulk of the slug-like Veston was nestling
in a massive bowl-like chair.
Veston was about six feet high, but nowhere near humanoid; more
like a kind of gigantic slug, with eyes on stalks that waved
about disconcertingly as you spoke to him. His skin slurped and
slithered even more distractingly, wet and slimy from the
constant sprays of water that were coming from overhead. Sitting
nearby, reminding Gartoll of the rumours about Veston's sick
preoccupation with human females, was a blonde girl wearing a
skimpy bikini.
"What information do you have for me?" Veston rumbled.
"Magnate Criallis says no deal," Gartoll said nervously. "He
wishes to keep the Iclaxis constellation for himself and thus
maintains that he has right of ownership over the planet of
Gauda Prime when it rejoins lawful society."
"He does, does he?" Veston said thoughtfully. "We shall see.
Is there anything else?"
"Yes," Gartoll said simply, reaching beneath his jacket and
pulling out his gun.
Three blasts sounded in the dark room.
Gartoll felt his life-blood burbling away into the darkness.
His legs turned weak and he fell to his knees, feeling blood
bubble up in his throat until he could no longer control it. He
coughed and sprayed blood over the floor. "Failed..." he choked.
"It happens to all of your kind, sooner or later," he heard
Veston say with a deep scorn the Tryconnan's voice had never
contained before. Gartoll felt bitter, then ashamed.
Then he felt nothing at all.
"Well done, my dear," Veston rumbled. "It seems the
intelligence received from that spy of yours was absolutely
accurate. Criallis did make a deal with Gartoll."
"Apparently," the girl observed. "Now, if you'll excuse me,
I'm going to change out of these ridiculous clothes. It's all
very well pretending to be a concubine for a short time, but I
think I'd die of pneumonia if I wanted a career out of it."
"By all means," Veston said graciously.
Soolin nodded coolly and headed for the exit.
: Disentastra
: Same time...different place
The water was rising again, Fasique observed as she swam
rhythmically along towards her destination with powerful strokes.
Probably more of the polar caps had melted, but it didn't
really matter to her. The vegetation around her would adapt,
though the buildings wouldn't. Still, she didn't care much for
the buildings.
Once, the Disentastrans had been enthusiastic members of the
Federation, sending their young men to fight in alien wars,
sending their tithes to help the less advanced colonies. Then a
Federation science team had reported Disentastra suitable for an
ecological experiment.
Which went wrong.
Fasique pulled herself out of the water and looked across
the bayou. She didn't bother with anything like drying herself;
up above, Disentastra's sun was burning down brightly. It
would dry her soon enough. For the same reason, Disentastran
natives did not bother with much beyond basic swimming costumes
these days. It was difficult to see a reason to wear clothing on
a planet where the water level was now forty feet higher than
before.
The bayou had once been a square in Central City on
Disentastra, but now it was overgrown and filled with vegetation.
The chirruping of some unidentified bird could be heard
across the swampy water, having built a nest in what had once
been an upstairs window of an administrator's office. A lyqua - a
reptile not unlike an Earth iguana - was sunning itself on a flat
rock which looked like it had once belonged to the wall of
somewhere. It probably had.
Fasique, barefoot, stalked rapidly across the ground, her
toes sinking into the mud as she walked and then coming free with
wet sucking sounds, dirtying her feet. She didn't care; they
would come clean when she next dived back into the water, which
she was growing to love. Like many Disentastrans, Fasique was
spending a lot of time swimming these days. The water was so
much cooler than the tropical heat of the air.
She reached the top of the building. It had been a
three-storey science laboratory in the days before the
experiments with the planet's ozone layer had begun. Now it was
barely one storey, the other two sunk deep into the mud and water
which covered Disentastra's surface. She could smell the lichen
clinging to the walls. Fasique knocked loudly on the door,
insistently. She waited impatiently, bouncing on the balls of her
feet and looking around.
There were footsteps on the other side of the door, slow and
measured; most ordinary humans or Disentastrans would not have
heard them, but Fasique had better-than-average hearing for her
peers. She stopped bouncing and turned back towards the door as
it opened.
"There are people here to see you," she said as the door
opened.
Tarrant frowned. "Who are they?"
From Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us Thu Dec 28 18:29:53 1995
Date: Thu, 28 Dec 1995 10:29:43 -0700 (MST)
From: Becky Smith <Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us>
To: calle@lysator.liu.se
Subject: Remembrance Part Two (fwd)
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: jpc269@lulu.acns.nwu.edu
Subject: Remembrance Part 2
To: blake7@lysator.liu.se
Date: Mon, 27 Feb 1995 14:27:54 -0600 (CST)
Remembrance Part 2
By: Jason Compton
: A cabin on the cruise liner *Magellan*
Well, not so much a cabin as a cubicle, really. Space is
always at a premium on cruise liners, and when you've got no
steady income and your nerves are shot, it's tough to pay for the
luxury accomodations.
But work is always available, if you know where to look, and
having friends-or at least, acquaintances that tolerate you-is
helpful.
Vila didn't so much sit on the edge of the bed-it was more
like huddling. That Gartoll character left a good three hours
ago, and still no signal. Not that he doubted Soolin-he wasn't
sure he was even right to begin with.
Beep beep beep.
Ah, there she was. Vila flipped on the viewscreen of the
terminal built into the wall at what should have been the
headrest of the bed. No audio, no video, just his previous and
updated bank balances.
So, he was right.
It's amazing the sort of things people let slip when faced
with a superior drinking companion, Vila mused. Now, of course,
his next project was to convert that bank balance into hard
currency, and, if he was particularly lucky, maybe even see
Soolin in the flesh.
"Come to think of it, I still haven't actually SEEN her.
But it sounded like her. Especially when she insulted me. It
must have been her." Vila didn't really address anyone in
particular, but now that the beeps had broken the long silence,
he saw no reason to return to it.
Vila flipped off the viewscreen. With the tension gone, he
decided it was time for a little stroll.
- - - -
: Disentastra, Public Works Office
He didn't really want the girl to answer. The way she
phrased it made the prospect of visitors ominous enough.
Clearly, the "people here to see him" weren't of the local
variety-he was familiar enough with everyone in Central City that
she may as well have identified them.
So, who was it? Federation? Maybe they'd found him out
after all, and choosing an abandoned world to hide on wasn't
exactly the best policy available. A foreign government
offering aid? Hardly likely. Someone else?
All of this shot through Tarrant's mind in an instant.
Despite his leg braces, he felt on the verge of collapsing.
Fasique, after what seemed to be a lifetime, answered.
"They wouldn't identify themselves. But they asked for you by
your first name-your real first name-so I thought it was
important."
Tarrant let out an audible sigh. Whoever it was, they knew
him pretty well, or were at least able to do a good job of
deciphering the limited clues as to his identity. "Well, what
did they look like?" As he waited for her answer, he bent over
and began idly fiddling with the settings on his leg braces.
Damn things.
"It was a man and a woman. They looked...local, but
overdressed. They weren't sweating, though. The woman was
carrying a large clear plastic box with junk inside."
Tarrant nearly fell over-but the leg braces wouldn't let
him.
Orac!
- - - - - -
: Central City harbor
NOW it was starting to feel hot.
Calin wanted to jump into the water-it looked very inviting.
But she didn't come prepared for swimming, and wasn't very
comfortable with the idea of stripping in front of the
locals...and the computer would probably just make fun of her
anyway.
Why had she let herself get dragged into this? And why did
she take Alon with? Actually, the answer to the second question
was easy-she wanted someone to back her up in case this turned
out to be a wild goose chase, or even worse, a trap.
Calin slapped the tiny button on the top of the scratched-up
plexiglass box. "Your friend isn't here yet. You think there's
a problem?"
As he whirred to reply, Orac got that familiar "feeling" of
being annoyed. "Of course there isn't a problem. Del Tarrant is
here, acting as a high-level administrator for this city. He
will undoubtedly discover from his informant that I am here, and
he will come."
Alon, who had been dangling his feet in the water for the
length of the conversation, his pilfered sandals tossed to the
side, whirled on the machine. "Damned sure of yourself, aren't
you?"
"Yes."
"What makes you think we won't just dump you in the water
here? Or sell you for parts?"
"If you were going to do such a thing, you would have done
so long ago. I have ascertained that it is in neither of your
natures to do such a thing."
Well, he was right. After all, they both came to Gauda
Prime to, in some small way, to be "upstanding citizens", law
having been restored to the planet over half a year earlier. And
someone in need was someone in need, even if the someone in
question was an arrogant box of bolts.
Fortunately for the group, the sun was beginning to decline.
But Calin still wanted a swim.
From Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us Thu Dec 28 18:31:06 1995
Date: Thu, 28 Dec 1995 10:30:55 -0700 (MST)
From: Becky Smith <Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us>
To: calle@lysator.liu.se
Subject: Remembrance Part Three (fwd)
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII
---------- Forwarded message ----------
Date: Fri, 03 Mar 1995 02:10:21 EST
From: "Playing solitaire 'til dawn with a deck of 51"
<henry@kenyon.edu>
To: blake7@lysator.liu.se
Subject: "Remembrance" (RR part 3)
Remembrance (Part 3)
by Robin Henry
: Gauda Prime
: 9 months earlier
Landing procedure complete. Primary coil off-line. Awaiting
further instructions.
>>>INITIATE SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE. PRIORITY RED : AUTHORISATION
4247ndy432-ORAC;5335/71gka-ORAC1.
Authorisation received and confirmed. Self-destruct sequence
beginning now. Self-destruct will occur in five minutes. Four
minutes fifty seconds. Four minutes thirty...
A man carrying a clear box filled with flashing lights ran
away from the flyer, staggering a little. A few minutes later,
he dropped to the ground and covered his head with one arm. His
other arm curled possessively around the box as the air was
ripped apart by an explosion from the direction of the flyer. As
soon as it was apparent that he was safe from falling debris, the
man picked himself and the box up--rather painfully--and resumed
running. Perhaps that would put them off his track.
: Disentastra
: Present
Tarrant stared at Fasique as his mind raced. "What do they
look like?" he asked again, moving stiffly toward her to grasp
her shoulders. "Details, specifics. Is the woman blond or
dark-skinned?"
Fasique took his wrists and firmly removed his hands.
"Neither. She has short red hair and brown eyes. She's a little
shorter than I am." Fasique herself was nearly on eye-level with
Tarrant.
"And him?"
"He's blond. About your height. Why?"
Tarrant didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
"I don't know them. But the box and I go way back."
Fasique frowned. "The question is," Tarrant continued,
thinking out loud, "what is it doing here?"
"Your visitors didn't say. Do you want to meet them?"
"I think I have to." Tarrant turned away from Fasique and
walked slowly to a window. The glass had been lost to an erratic
hurricane months ago, and the sound of water lapping at the
building was constant and peaceful.
"Are you going to tell me what this is about?" Fasique's
voice was distant, slightly accusatory. Since she had pulled
Tarrant out of the wreckage of a battered planet-hopper five
months ago, more out of curiosity than anything else, he had
never volunteered more than his name and the fact that he was
hiding from the Federation. For a Disentastran who was watching
her planet sink slowly into a Federation-created swamp, that had
been enough to convince her to find him a place to hide and
recover. Both his legs had been snapped in the crash, which she
gathered had not been his first. They were healing--in a couple
of weeks, she would remove the braces and Tarrant would start
rebuilding their strength.
But Fasique had always been curious about his past,
naturally. She had gathered he had once had companions, but he
had lost them--she suspected they were dead. Tarrant had been
reluctant to commit himself one way or the other. Now it seemed
that he had thought--hoped?--two of them had arrived with this
mysterious box, which he spoke of as if it were a person. After
five months of patient ignorance, Fasique felt she was entitled
to know what was going on.
Tarrant looked back at her, leaning against the wall next to
him for support. "It's a very long story. Maybe we should hear
what these people have to say before I start trying to explain
it."
: Iclaxis Headquarters
: Magnate Criallis' office
Magnate Criallis smiled, an unsettling sight for the
faint-hearted. "Veston, a pleasure to speak with you as always.
My mind's made up, though. I'm not letting go of Gauda Prime, and
that's all there is to be said."
Magnate Veston shifted in his chair, and the resulting
bubbles and slurps were audible even over the viewscreen.
Criallis, he noted, hid his disappointment at seeing him alive
well. Except for the smile. Criallis only smiled when he was
seething with rage. "So I understood from my aide Gartoll.
However, I wanted to confirm it with you personally. I'm giving
you a chance to get rid of it before the Federation resettlement
colonies wipe out all illegal activity. I would think that an
enticing offer if I were you."
"Veston," Criallis said, leaning back in his chair and
grinning hugely, "so would I if you weren't so blatantly eager to
get your eyestalks on it. In light of your interest, I'm
rethinking my strategies for that planet."
*You do that,* thought Veston. He said, "Well, if you think
better of it and do decide to take up my offer, have Mirtala
contact my aide Larris."
"Larris? I don't think I've encountered him before."
Criallis sounded only mildly interested.
"Alas, Gartoll is no longfer with me. He's...passed on to
other things." Veston nodded in a conspiratorial way. Criallis'
smile threatened to engulf the lower half of his face.
"I look forward to hearing from you, Criallis," Veston said
just before breaking off communication.
Criallis' smile mutated into a snarl. *That incompetent
fool Gartoll,* he thought. Well, he'd have to risk one of his
own people. As it so happened, he had the perfect person for the
job--someone who owed him a favor or two for recognizing her
potential and rescuing her from the very planet now under
contention. Veston's tastes for human women were well known.
She would be able to get even closer to him than Gartoll had.
Criallis sent for her.
"Ah, Dayna," he purred as she entered, "I have a little job
for you."
:Disentastra
Calin and Alon shipped the oars of the makeshift dinghy as
Fasique pulled herself from the water. Calin, more hot and sweaty
than ever, watched Fasique with envious eyes as the other woman
slicked her wet hair back and helped them from the boat. It was
amazing how Alon didn't seem to notice the heat.
"This way." Fasique led them to the door and knocked only
once before it opened. Tarrant stood in the doorway, gaze
flickering over the newcomers expectantly. Whatever he expected
to find in them was apparently missing. When he caught sight of
the familiar box Calin carried, he swayed forward slightly, on
the verge of reaching for it.
"Come in," he said, retreating to let them through.
"You're Del Tarrant?" Alon asked once they were all inside.
"Why don't you ask him?" Tarrant replied, pointing to the
box. Calin pushed the switch into place and Orac's humming filled
the air.
"The voiceprints are identical," the computer announced. "I
was correct."
"You're as modest as ever, Orac," Tarrant said, almost
smiling.
"My programming has not changed," Orac answered.
"And who are you?" Tarrant turned his attention abruptly to
Orac's companions.
"My name is Calin Waln. This is Rek Alon. We're part of
the Federation resettlement program on Gauda Prime."
"We were," Alon put in.
"What resettlement program?" Tarrant asked in surprise.
"Last time I was there, it was full of thieves and killers."
"The Federation is trying to change that. They're
transporting people to Gauda Prime and setting them up there for
free. The only catch is that you have to work at capturing the
thieves and killers for the first six months. If you survive,
you're allowed to stay."
"Of course, they only tell you about the catch once you
arrive," Alon said. "If you want out, you have to find someone
to take you home."
Tarrant shook his head. This was all unimportant. "Where
did you get Orac?" he asked.
"Found it," Alon answered. "We were following a set of
tracks, but whoever had left them had already been picked up by a
flyer. We were lucky we kept looking around after we saw the
landing marks. Looked like it had been hidden in a hurry."
"And why did you bring it to me?"
Alon pulled the activator switch off before Orac had a
chance to respond. "How much is it worth to you?" Tarrant
rolled his eyes, spread his hands.
"How much does it look like I have?"
"That thing convinced us to come looking for you." Alon was
on the verge of whining. "It told us you'd make it worth our
while. We're not too popular with the Federation right now,
after sneaking off Gauda Prime."
"That sounds like your problem." Tarrant shifted his weight
back and forth. Standing for any length of time made the leg
braces particularly uncomfortable. "Maybe if you let Orac tell
me what he thinks I have to give you..."
"Maybe we should take it to he Federation and buy our way
back into their good graces," Alon said. "Calin, I told you this
was going to be a waste of time."
She sighed, feeling the heat all the more acutely in her
frustration. "All right, Alon. Let's go."
"I'm sorry, but I don't think so." Calin and Alon looked at
Tarrant in surprise and wondered where he had been hiding the
small gun.
"You may have noticed that I'm none too keen on being found by
the Federation myself. And I've spent too much time trying to
keep that box out of their hands to let you walk out of here and
sell it to them." He nodded at Calin. "Put it down."
Alon was fast, but not fast enough. Tarrant's gun made a
short, high whine and Alon crumpled, his own gun dropping from
his limp fingers. Tarrant's eyes bored into Calin's. "Let's
be reasonable about this now," he said. "Put Orac down."
Fasique, who had been watching silently all this time,
advanced and put her hands out to take the computer.
Calin dropped it.
It was a tribute to Fasique's reflexes that she managed to
break Orac's fall at all; the box glanced off her arms and slid
to the floor rather than plunging the entire way. Nevertheless,
the jarring crack of the impact sounded loud in Tarrant's ears as
he tracked Calin's flight to the glassless window. She had one
foot on the sill when his gun whined again. She fell forward
through the window, into the water. So Calin got her swim after
all.
Tarrant's face showed a momentary regret, but it was quickly
replacd by concern as he turned back to Fasique and Orac. "Is it
all right?" he asked.
"Oh, it's fine. My arms are killing me, though." Fasique
rubbed them where Orac had struck them with a hard edge.
"Turn it on. Where's the switch?" Fasique watched in
mounting amazement and anger as Tarrant carefully bent over
Alon's body and fumbled at the other man's pockets, ignoring her
entirely. He found the switch and tried to pivot on his stiff
legs to face Orac. He almost ended up flat on the floor. Then he
regained his balance and slapped the switch into place.
"Orac? Are you all right?"
The computer continued to hum, but there was no reply.
: Space City
: Docking Bay 14
"All right, it's all there." Criallis' agent finished his
inventory and put his thumbprint to the computer screen in
confirmation. He turned to the pilot. "Your account will be
updated within half an hour. Your next assignment will be given
to you then."
"How long will it take to unload?"
"Three, four hours. But you'll want to rest before heading
out again, no doubt."
"Not here." The pilot looked around the docking bay,
manging somehow to include all of Space City in the gesture. "I
prefer to be on my ship."
"It's not *your* ship. And our people are going to look it
over for general maintenance. That will take at least twelve
hours in itself. You might as well make yourself comfortable here
for at least that long."
The pilot glared at the agent for a moment before turning a
softer look on the ship. Scarred and dingy as she was from her
innumerable runs across the galaxy, the ship was nevertheless
reliable and safe, and the pilot had already grown quite attached
to her.
"Twelve hours." The pilot stalked out of the docking bay in
search of a bed and a meal, not necessarily in that order.
Vila had been very comfortably curled up in one of Space City's
City's many bars enjoying his new bank account when Soolin had
buzzed him.
"What?" he said when her face appeared on the private
viewscreen for which he'd had to pay extra to use. Well, he
thought, it was worth it to catch a glimpse of Soolin again, even
if she was out of focus. He tried adjusting the viewscreen, but
it didn't seem to help.
"Something you'll enjoy doing."
"Finishing my drink?"
"More money. Put your drink down." Vila put it down
carefully.
"I'm listening."
"A smuggler ship just arrived in Docking Bay Fourteen. We
need to know what's in the boxes in her hold. Do you understand
what I'm getting at?"
"Of course. You want me to walk into a docking bay that's
probably guarded, break into an illegal spaceship, and open its
illicit cargo. I'm not suicidal, Soolin."
"Then you'll do it." Vila took a couple seconds to think
that one over.
"Ah. Fourteen, did you say?"
Vila slipped through the mostly empty back corridors toward
the docking bays. He didn't like it back here; he felt exposed,
even more vulnerable than usual. He took a deep breath and
concentrated on the money involved.
In fact, he was concentrating so hard that when he rounded a
corner and bumped into someone, it took a few seconds to
recognize the person, who stared back at him, reflecting his
look of utter disbelief.
"Jenna?"
From Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us Thu Dec 28 18:32:38 1995
Date: Thu, 28 Dec 1995 10:32:24 -0700 (MST)
From: Becky Smith <Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us>
To: calle@lysator.liu.se
Subject: Remembrance Part Four (fwd)
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII
---------- Forwarded message ----------
Date: Tue Mar 7 20:29:50 1995
From: michael brown <mbrown@bgsuvax.bgsu.edu>
Subject: "Remembrance": Part 4
To: Blake7 List <blake7@lysator.liu.se>
"Remembrance"
Part 4
by Michael Brown
:Space City
The simulated dawn was coming into being as the woman
stepped from the transport ship onto the deck of the city's
spaceport. The other passengers who had been on the transport had
thronged to the door and passed into the city proper bent on
whatever business had brought them here. The woman glanced
around, and noticed trash was piled here and there along the edge
of the spaceport walls. She smelled... she shuddered to think of
what it was she had smelled. Better to get the job over and done
with and go back to a living planet instead of this plastic man
made hole.
She wandered through the outer sectors looking for the
lead-in's to the inner parts of the city where the roistering
crowds never passed. As she walked she noticed the people
watching her. They were good, set back in small crevices they
moved only a little but missed nothing. No spy cameras here,
better to trust your own eyes and ears here. She wished her new
employer hadn't sent her on this particular job, she had no
desire to come to this awful place and face Vestron's new hired
lackey. Though there were rumors to the effect that the new gun
hand had deserted...She shook that off because she knew that few
people deserted from the Organization and fewer still lived to
tell the tale.
As she continued along the corridor she noticed that
everything was still, but she could feel the eyes on her. She
knew that she had drawn attention from the right quarters because
the local welcome wagon arrived sooner than she had expected.
A voice snapped, "You there, woman! Don't move."
As nonchalantly as she could, Dayna turned to face the
speaker.
:Prison Stockade, Gauda Prime Garrison.
"Damm this mist," grumbled Sergeant Zaxtry. "If it weren't
for the bloody heat and motion detectors we wouldn't know if an
entire army had snuck up and surrounded this entire camp."
"Will you please stop that nonsense Sergeant," said Captain
McMurry as the two men paced the outer perimeter of the fencewire
compound. "You know as well as I do that no one on this vermin
ridden planet has the resources to create an army. Even if they
did, do you really think an army of cut-throats and thieves could
maintain an alliance long enough to threaten us?"
"They would if they thought they had something to gain,
Sir."
"And just what will they gain if they attack us, Sergeant?
An encampment full of more thieves and cut-throats."
"The Federation doesn't want to occupy this world in the
first place and the destruction of our garrison could provide the
council with just the excuse they are looking for to pull out.
Then the scum could go back to running this place like they did
in the days before we came here."
"Really Sergeant, everyone on this world knows that this
garrison was placed her by Commissioner Sleer herself, and that
if it were destroyed she would sent even more troops to find
out why."
"Wouldn't matter much to us then, Captain. We'd already be
dead and buried."
"Well Sergeant, I wouldn't worry, as long as the Colonel has
that new man monitoring the computer and automatic perimeter
defenses I don't think anyone will sneak up on us here. He
might be a criminal, but he's the best man with a computer I have
seen in all my years of service."
"Yeah, well I think I would trust that one about as much as
the other scum around here; no farther than I could throw them on
a heavy gravity world. And all the electronic devices in the
universe won't save us if one of our own sells us out. There's a
lot of money floating around out there. And most of these
'troops' are kids right from the draft camps."
"Just full of good cheer this morning aren't you, Sergeant."
"Not much here to be cheery about, Sir."
:CO's Office, Gauda Prime Garrison
"Listen to me, can you, or can you not install the systems
to specification in the time required?" barked Colonel Kinney.
"Of course I can," said the prisoner calmly, "but if you
could give me a few more hours I could get them 25% above the
standard specifications."
The Colonel eyed the prisoner with something akin to
loathing. He thought that any man who would sell out his fellows
deserved to be in a place like this. Unfortunately, this one was
too useful for the Colonel to deal with him in the standard way.
This quisling had helped to immensely improve the garrison's
defenses, sold out his fellow prisoners' escape attempts and
been a model prisoner as far as the guards were concerned. The
man had earned special privileges that the ordinary prisoners
would give their lives for. And all because he was willing to
sell out anyone, but this of course made him doubly dangerous,
because he was also working for the garrison and there was the
very real possibility that he would sell out to whoever wanted
information or plans to the facility. But over the years the
Colonel had learned the lesson and learned it well. To keep your
friends close and your enemies closer. He knew it was much too
dangerous to let this man roam free with all the information he
no doubt carried. The Colonel considered all this as he framed
his reply.
"All right, you can have the extra time," growled Kinney,
"see that you don't waste it. Guards! escort the prisoner to
Specialist Stroll."
The prisoner smiled in that most aggravating of ways... it
was a smile that mocked you and all you stood for. It took all
the Colonel's control not to have him dragged back in and
executed on the spot. And as Avon left the room, his smile got
wider still.
From Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us Thu Dec 28 18:33:53 1995
Date: Thu, 28 Dec 1995 10:33:38 -0700 (MST)
From: Becky Smith <Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us>
To: calle@lysator.liu.se
Subject: Remembrance Part Five (fwd)
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII
---------- Forwarded message ----------
Date: Tue Mar 14 17:13:00 1995
From: rdm@cix.compulink.co.uk (Richard Mattocks)
Subject: "Remembrance" - (Part 5)
To: blake7@lysator.liu.se
Ok, here it is, for better or worse..
Remembrance - (Part 5)
By Richard Mattocks
: Disentastra
Tarrant didn't know whether to laugh or cry. On the one hand
he'd managed to get his hands on the single most powerful
computer ever devised, but on the other he'd allowed it to get
damaged by two second-rate blackmailing extortionists.
He leaned over and removed the plexiglass lid of ORAC and
started to examine the circuitry, trying to see if there was a
fault he could locate and repair. *Repair, *, he thought, *who am
I trying to kid ? I don't know the first thing about computers*.
As he sat studying the complex web of electrical
interconnections he stopped, "Surely", he mumbled to himself,
"these circuits were damaged a moment ago."
As he watched, wires moved of their own accord around the
interior of ORAC's casing, lights pulsed and the air filled with
the smell of an ion laser, before suddenly.... a voice.
"This is typical" said the computer.
Tarrant felt that it was the nicest thing he had ever heard
ORAC say. The sheer relief of knowing that it wasn't smashed
overrode all his feelings of irritation.
"Orac, are you all right ?"
"My function is restored to 97.53 per cent, which is
satisfactory considering the intolerable way in which I have been
treated."
Tarrant started to have second thoughts about his feelings.
He considered kicking the living quartz out of the arrogant pile
of junk.
"All right Orac, I'm sorry for letting you get damaged, now
will you please explain what the hell is going on."
"Very well."
Tarrant sat back and listened.
: Gauda Prime,
: Main Garrison Surveillance Centre.
Avon sat working earnestly at the console, it had been years
since he had had to use his skills in this way, but it was good
to know that the years had not dulled his ability. Still, if the
years had not dulled them, the ambush nearly ended them for good.
After ORAC had activated the self-destruct on the flyer he had -
so he thought - dropped out of sight.
He had been mistaken.
It had all happened so quickly. One minute he had been
moving through the undergrowth, trying to get back to the shack
where he had found Vila and the others that first day - the next
there was a noise to his left, he had turned and taken the full
force of the bounty hunters' staser. For an instant pain wracked
his whole body before he collapsed onto the ground and then an
all engulfing blackness.
When he had awakened he was in a prison cell.
But that was months ago. Now he was finally in a position to
start his planning in earnest, ORAC, he knew was no longer on the
planet. It had been found by two settlers and carried off. That
had been part of the plan - such as it was. So far, so good.
The most dangerous part, he thought, was not to arouse any
suspicion and he had already done that, just by being as good
with computers as he was. Should he make his move now ? No, far
better to keep up the illusion of working for the garrison
commander and bide his time, ORAC would get to Tarrant, after
that his life was in their hands.
Avon stopped his work and considered all the times he had
saved the lives of the Liberator and then the Scorpio crews.
Would they now repay the debt, or would they leave him to rot ?
For all his supposed intelligence, he didn't know for
certain: He just hoped.
: Space City.
: Docking Bay 14 Access Corridor
Vila stood, speechless for fully 10 seconds - something that
only total inebriation or an Avon level quip usually managed, and
stared into the eyes of Jenna.
"What are you doing here", he hissed.
"ME, what about YOU" she retorted.
Before he could reply she pulled him into a recess and spoke
quickly. "Look, it's not safe for either of us to talk here, do
you know anywhere...?"
Vila stood for a moment, too stunned to speak, then he
gathered himself together, "There's my living quarters, Suite
163. It's not monitored. That's as safe as it gets round here"
"All right. Be there in one hour."
And she was gone, leaving Vila with the feeling that events
were rapidly overtaking him.
Vila moved towards the main bay door. As he walked people
pushed past him eager to get to wherever they were going. In
Space City you did everything for a reason, there never seemed to
be any truly 'spare' time for any of the day-to-day inhabitants.
For the visitors it was a different matter, everything was laid
on for their pleasure and convenience. But if you worked on SC.,
you had better pull your weight, or you could find yourself in a
lot of trouble. And here that meant only one thing ..... DEATH.
: Space City.
: Docking Bay 14
Activity. People and boxes were all over the bay, *So much
the better* thought Vila as he waited his chance, the shadows of
the main hatchway hiding him from view. *At least I won't have to
break into the ship first*.
Suddenly a fight broke out amongst the shifters that were
working on the main cargo loader.
Apparently Chez had been seeing Bandar's girl on the side
and Bandar was non too pleased about it now he had found out. The
two men sized each other up and the fight began.
As it progressed, the other shifters stopped what they were
doing and moved over to watch. Bets were placed for both sides
and now the fight was on.
Vila took full use of this opportunity. He only needed a few
moments to do what he came for. It only needed for the attention
of ALL the shifters to be on the two fighters and then he could
move.
Bandar grabbed a convenient spanner that was lying on a
nearby crate and connected it with Chez's left shoulder, Vila
winced as Chez went down, the arm limp and useless. The assembled
crowd cheered.
Now was his chance.
He sprinted across the bay until he reached the other side.
There was a box right next to the wall. He examined the lock,
*Huh, not much of a challenge* he thought as he tapped the lock
gently on first one edge and then another, before finally
pressing the release stud.
It opened. Vila peered inside and then wished he hadn't. Now
he knew the reason for Soolin's employers concern. If the rest of
the cargo was what he thought it was, then they were all in a lot
of trouble. He just hoped Soolin could keep him alive for long
enough to see it sorted out.
The fight was ending now, Chez had his good arm round
Bandar's neck, there was the sound of splintering bone. Bandar
went limp.
Vila moved quietly off, back to his quarters to report.
Behind him, the sounds of cheering could still be heard. He
would never understand these people, death seemed to be just
another sport to them.
: Gauda Prime
: Main Garrison Surveillance Centre
The room was dark - some would describe it as mournful -
which suited Avon's mood of the moment. There was a noise from
the corridor and he wheeled round.
"Ah, there you are. Still working on those detectors I
hope", Colonel Kinney's voice had a slightly threatening edge to
it.
"Naturally. The modifications are complete, I've just the
final circuit checks to do, and then the system will be ready. It
should go live in a couple of hours".
"Excellent", Kinney could hardly contain his pleasure. "The
Federation will be most pleased if we can maintain the full rule
of law here".
"I'm sure", replied Avon, "Now if you will excuse me, I must
continue with the checks".
"Of course."
And with that Avon left the room and made his way to the
main computer room.
: Gauda Prime.
: Main Computer Room.
*Yes, everything was ready*, Avon eyed the controls with a
touch of concern. If the commander found out what he was doing
then his only hope could be that death would be quick.
*The thing about A-line converters* mused Avon, *is that
they have an additional backup frequency generator* - not a lot
of people knew that, only himself, the chief of the design team
and Tynus. Tynus was dead, and the chief of the design team was
now such a high powered politico' that the last thing on his mind
would be the misuse of his invention - especially since the war.
As Avon watched the A-Line diagnostic display a slight power
blip could be seen every 20 cycles - a side effect of the
additional power drain as the secondary kicked in - that was all
that could be seen. The only clue.
Now he must wait.
: Space City
: Vila's Living Quarters.
A Box. Not a big box, but a medium sized, Cuboid, Black Box.
Where had it come from ? Who had delivered it ? What did it
contain ?
Vila knew he could answer the last question with ease, but
he didn't want to know. Right now he could do without strange
boxes, delivered by people the door computer couldn't (or
wouldn't) identify. It was worrying.
He was pulled away from this train of thought by the sound
of the door computer's entry request chime.
"Entry Accepted" he called to the door, which opened
obediently. Jenna stepped quickly through, and stood admiring the
room.
"Well, you seem to have done aright for yourself" she
commented.
Vila made an almost imperceptible motion for her be silent
and moved over to the viewscreen. He pulled a small device -
about the size of a pocket calculator - from his jacket and
inserted it into the slot usually reserved for the pay-card. The
lights dimmed momentarily and then regained full power.
"Signal Scrambler. Handy little gadget for these occasions."
Jenna sat down at the table. Vila perched on the edge of the
bed, his back to the door.
"So tell me" she said.
"There's nothing to tell.. Well not much anyway. We lost
the Liberator, found a new ship, took on an entire planet's
security force and lost. Pretty average really".
Jenna didn't know how to receive this information. She tried
being suprised, then confused, and finally settled on being
impatient.
"No, I mean how did you end up here".
"Ahh, that's a long story. It would take too long to tell
you all that I know - and that's not much - but basically I do
odd jobs for a lady working undercover as Veston's Porcupine".
"Porcupine ?" asked Jenna more confused than before.
"Well, something like that, she's dangerous if you try to
get too close to her, and prickly to the touch".
"I see", she mused, "and Veston ?"
"Oh, he's the local big-wig with the T.N. I just do a little
snooping here and there. I was just off to check up on a cargo
when I met you tonight"
"Really ?"
"Oh yes", Vila was getting reckless, "apparently a smugglers
ship just touched down, and you wouldn't believe what the cargo
is..."
From behind him came a cough, they spun round and found
themselves staring into the barrel of Soolin's Rifle.
"Ah". Vila's mouth went dry. This was tricky. "Soolin. Let
me introduce you to a friend of mine from way back. This is
Jenna.", he motioned toward her, "And Jenna, this is Soolin, I
mentioned her earlier."
The two women glared first at each other and then at Vila.
From Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us Thu Dec 28 18:35:09 1995
Date: Thu, 28 Dec 1995 10:34:54 -0700 (MST)
From: Becky Smith <Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us>
To: calle@lysator.liu.se
Subject: Remembrance Part Six (fwd)
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Nick Barlow <pl6a4bnb@swansea.ac.uk>
To: blake7@lysator.liu.se
Date: Mon, 20 Mar 1995 14:45:20 GMT0BST
Subject: "Rememberance" - Part 6
************
Rememberance
Part 6 by Nick Barlow
:Space City
Vila had looked down the barrels of enough guns to know that
he didn't find it an enjoyable experience at all. Despite the
fact that Soolin was at the end of this barrel, this time was no
more pleasant than any of the other times.
"Soolin, would you mid pointing that in some other
direction? It makes me feel even more insecure than normal."
She lowered the rifle slightly, pointing it at the floor but
still holding it ready. "Vila, if you're going to tell your life
story to every 'old friend' you come across then you're going to
have to expect to end up in this sort of position."
Jenna coughed and both Vila and Soolin looked at her. "Do I
get to say anything here?"
"No." said Soolin.
"Look, we obviously haven't started off in the right way
here." Vila interjected. "Soolin, why don't you leave the room
for a minute, I'll makes some drinks, then you can come in and
we'll be much more relaxed."
Soolin glared at him and Vila wilted. "This isn't a game,
Vila." She started to say something else when the tension was
broken by the communicator on her belt bleeping. She picked it
up and held it to her ear for a moment before replacing it.
"Veston wants me." she said. "Wait here and don't go anywhere
and we'll continue this when I get back." With that she left the
room.
"Nice friends you've got." said Jenna.
:Gauda Prime
:9 Months Earlier
"I never thought it would work, Rendall. There's no way you
could capture them alive."
"Well, you should have said that to the Commissioner, then,
shouldn't you?"
"What would be the point? She never listens to anyone else
- especially when it's anything to do with that lot."
"Look, we both know that this messed up. Now, before she
gets here and has us sent back to Earth on the outside of a
Pursuit Ship, lets get out there and find them - they can't have
got too far." He kicked the body at his feet, wiping some of the
blood off his boot in the process, "especially this one."
:Disentastra
:Present
"I can understand you wanting to leave," Fasique said, "and
I can understand you not wanting to tell me what that box told
you. But, please tell me why you cant just wait until your legs
have healed more fully and I can remove the braces. Surely,
another few days won't harm you."
"I've already wasted nine months and it's time to start
catching up with what I've missed," Tarrant replied, "I can't
afford to waste any more time - too much is happening for me to
wait and there are people who need me."
"And that box is the key to it all?"
"Not exactly, but it's the only way for me to get any
information about what's actually happening."
Fasique was silent for a moment. She turned away from
Tarrant and looked out over the waters.
"Right," she said, turning back round to face him, "Where
are we going to?"
Tarrant was too shocked to argue her decision. "Space City,
for a start." he said, and started smiling.
:Space Command Headquarters
He knew that volunteering to work for Commissioner Sleer was
not the most risk-free posting in Space Command but there was no
other posting that offered such a chance of quick promotion.
After all, he was already one of the youngest Captains in Space
Command history. Now, though, standing at the receiving end of
one of her famous stares, he wondered whether the risk had been
worth it. At the moment, it seemed that his life expectancy
could be measured in seconds.
"Captain Rendall, I am not normally in the business of
giving second chances but until your," she paused, and in the
silence it sounded like his heartbeat was filling the room,
"mistake on Gauda Prime you were by far the best officer in my
staff. So, I give you one chance to make amends. You'll like it
- it's the same mission you had then."
"Where are they now?"
"I do not know - finding it out is your job. The one called
Vila was spotted on Space City a few months ago, but not even he
would be stupid enough to stay there for this long a time.
Remember - I want the important ones alive."
"And the others?"
"They are expendable, just like they were before."
:Space City
Criallis' plan was definitely not working. Dayna had been
locked up in the same room for almost two days now, the door only
opening every few hours for someone to thrust food in. She knew
that she'd been identified by Veston's men as the voice that came
with her food called her "Mellanby" and she'd carried no ID with
her, at least none with that name. Siloently, she cursed
Criallis for getting her into this mess. SHe owed him a lot, but
never her life.
*Veston must not need another hired gun, then* she thought,
pacing up and down the room. It was a cell in effect but not in
style, and she was thankful that the Terra Nostra had at least
some idea of style.
The screen in the corner of the room sparked into life. She
dashed over and looked at a face of a man she didn't recognise.
"Veston will see you now." he said.
The door opened and she walked out of the room for the first
time in two days wondering why Veston had taken so long to make a
decision.
Outside the door were two men with guns. They gestured to
her to follow them. She did, her mind more concerned with
wondering why Veston had taken so long to make up his mind about
her. *He can't have discovered Criallis' plan* she thought *or
they'd have just shot me on the spot back there.*
She'd never seen a Tryconnan before and so Veston was a
shock to her. Up until now, she had thought that the Terra
Nostra had followed most of the Federation's path and excluded
all non-humans from its ranks. She tried to hide her revulsion
as Veston spoke to her. She noticed that the two guards who had
escorted her were no longer there and that she was alone with
Veston. For a moment she thought she might have her chance here
but then her keen eyes noticed the miniature gun ports almost
hidden in the walls and she thought better of it.
"I apologise for keeping you so long, Miss Mellanby, but I
had to find out the full details of who you were before I called
you into my presence. And I must say that I'm very impressed by
what I've heard."
"Thank you." she said, struggling to understand Veston's
rumbling voice and wondering where the conversation was leading.
"Normally, I would offer someone like you employment
instantly but I feel that I already have enough people with
weapons experience working for me."
She decided to push him. "I'm sure I'm better than them."
"The reports were right about your pride. Well, that is why
I have called you here. If you want to work for me, then you
must pass a simple test. I know that many of you humans believe
in a concept called 'the survival of the fittest' so I though I'd
put it to the test. To be simple, you shall go into armed
combat with my best weapons handler. The one of you that
survives will be employed by me."
It sounded too simple for her. She couldn't believe that
Veston would have anyone in his employ that could challenge her
with a gun.
"Of course, if you don't want to take that risk..."
"I will." she said, firmly.
"Good, the test will begin immediately. There is a gun for
you behind that door. My operative is there as well."
Dayna walked over to the door, which opened automatically as
she approached it. A small hand held gun waited for her and she
picked it up. She looked around and saw that she was in a large
dark chamber, illuminated only slightly by small strips of lights
in the ceiling. She could just about see her prey on the far
side of the room and she began circling it, gradually and
silently to reach whoever it was. She moved into a patch of
darkness as the prey strayed near a small pool of light. This
was the chance. She raised the gun and aimed carefully, staring
directly at her target.
"Soolin?"
From Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us Thu Dec 28 18:36:42 1995
Date: Thu, 28 Dec 1995 10:36:30 -0700 (MST)
From: Becky Smith <Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us>
To: calle@lysator.liu.se
Subject: Remembrance Part Seven (fwd)
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII
---------- Forwarded message ----------
Date: Thu Mar 23 15:57:40 1995
From: Maria Enriquez Harris <enriquez@bioch.ox.ac.uk>
To: blake7@lysator.liu.se
Subject: Remembrance Part 7
*************
"Remembrance":
Part 7 by Pita Enriquez Harris
:Space City
Dayna lowered her gun momentarily when her rival stepped
into the light but saw immediately that although Veston's
operative had been audibly shaken by her outburst, the gun that
was trained in her direction had not strayed for one instant from
its position. Dayna's reflexes and marksmanship took over and
her gun was again directed at its quarry.
Both women appeared mesmerised, circling each other in the
shadows, yet neither fired a shot. After a terrifying minute of
silence, Dayna spoke. As much as she tried, she found it quite
impossible to keep the fear from her voice. She knew well that
Soolin was quite able to kill her. Why had she not done so? And
yet the threat seemed by no means to be over. Instinct told her
that every extra second alive increased her chances of remaining
that way.
"That _is_ you isn't it Soolin? Drop your gun!" she
pleaded. The answer came back rapidly, a staccato volley of
words that seemed completely unlike Soolin.
"Drop yours! Drop it! Drop it now!"
The tension between them soared to a new level. The fear in
Soolin's voice had been palpable and infectious and Dayna began
to feel horribly like a trapped animal which must choose to
dismember itself in order to survive. To kill Soolin was
unthinkable. To allow herself to die at Soolin's hand was
equally so.
Soolin tried desperately to order her thoughts coherently.
There could be no doubt that the woman locked in the chamber with
her was Dayna and that therefore Dayna was the assassin sent by
Criallis - the very assassin whom she had been ordered to
execute. As Soolin's designated target, her failure to kill the
agent of Criallis would certainly carry a heavy price. She had
not anticipated, however, that death itself would be her
punishment in this case. Death at the hands of her own
replacement - that was what Veston had planned for her.
"You complete bastard, Veston", muttered Soolin quietly,
"You said this was an execution, not some sick contest."
"Put the gun down, Soolin". Dayna called out to her again
but this time her tone was almost reasonable, almost calm.
"Well, the thing is, Dayna, that I can't. You've been top
of my list for quite some time now. I didn't know it was you, of
course."
"Of course" repeated Dayna as politely as she could.
"Veston wants you dead rather badly. And he's a resourceful
creature. A bit of a voyeur, too. That's one of his charms."
Dayna said nothing, moving back into the shadows. There was
something in Soolin's tone that was different now, something
worrying. Dayna felt as though she was missing something very
important.
There was a brief silence as Soolin moved noiselessly along
the wall of the chamber towards Dayna.
"You know, I had a friend once. A colleague" said Soolin
suddenly.
Dayna froze. The voice came from behind her. She turned
around slowly, to see Soolin standing not three metres away, her
gun aimed directly at Dayna's head.
"Tell me about your friend."
"Really quite remarkable marksmanship, you know. She could
shoot the earring right off your ear without so much as grazing
the flesh."
Here it was, Dayna felt certain. The cue for which she had
been waiting. She played her hunch.
"An ordinary earring? Or one of Servalan's?" she asked in as
even a voice as she could manage.
The barely audible chuckle confirmed Dayna's hopes.
"An ordinary one. But let's pretend it was one of
Servalan's."
Veston smiled as he heard the shots ring out, the echoes
thundering around the great chamber. After a few seconds, he
looked at his monitor to see the crumpled bodies of both women.
His eyes bugged slightly on their stalks.
"Simultaneous destruction! Well matched talents, very
impressive", he murmured with satisfaction. He leaned forward
and pressed on his communicator.
"Take them to separate quarters. Wait for them to revive.
Then tell each that she has destroyed the other."
The wait seemed endless but finally Dayna and Soolin heard
the men approach and the doors to the room were opened. It was
only when she saw that just two men had been sent that Soolin
realised that she had been holding her breath and she tried
desperately to release it silently. Not daring to budge until
the men were upon them, Dayna and Soolin remained in the
positions in which they had fallen. Soolin prayed that she would
be picked up first. It was impossible to know how many of her
oblique hints Dayna had understood and the fear that Dayna had
still not realised that the room was watched was enough to knot
Soolin's stomach. In the event, Dayna was picked up first but it
appeared as though communications between the two friends had not
lost any of their precision in the intervening months. Dayna
played dead beautifully although Soolin observed that strangely,
Veston's men made no attempt to verify the death or injury of
either woman. Soolin allowed herself to be picked up and then
unceremoniously slung over the shoulders of the other guard.
Once in the corridor, Dayna and Soolin attacked their
captors with swift, silent efficiency, strangling them until they
fell to the floor on their knees, at which point Soolin dealt a
swift kick to the head of her opponent, knocking him out cold.
She then turned to help Dayna, whom she found was already
disarming the limp body of the other man.
" Something tells me that they didn't expect us to be dead"
said Dayna thoughtfully.
"We'd probably have found that our weapons didn't work,
too", remarked Soolin. Dayna nodded.
"Yes, I know. That's why I thought we'd take this one's gun. I
doubt if Criallis wants me merely to stun Veston!"
Soolin breathed out slowly. "I can't stop you. But there's
almost no chance that we'll get out of here alive."
"Don't stop me. Help me. This one has to go, Soolin. He's
very bad news."
"They're all bad news. This one pays my salary. I've grown
rather attached him for that reason, silly as it is. Still, I
doubt if he'll want to be friends after this, so I may as well
help you as anyone."
Then, as an aside, "Good shot by the way. If I had been
wearing one of Servalan's earrings, it would still be out cold."
Dayna managed a brief smile. Then, abruptly, she said "I've
been working for Criallis because he controls GP. And he claims
to have information about someone we both know, right there on
Gauda Prime."
A silence fell between them as Soolin considered this news.
"A good paymaster is hard to find and loyalty is well
rewarded here. But then again, we should remember that once in a
while, for the good of the system, the status quo must suffer a
challenge. So maybe poor old Veston has been in the game for too
long. And he has the most disgusting way of oozing at me. Let's
get the fat slug - I'll lead the way."
:Space City
:Vila's living quarters
Vila drank a deep draught from the wine bottle and then
tried to look earnestly at Jenna. After a few seconds, he gave
up as he realised from Jenna's faintly amused expression that
earnestness was somehow not what he was conveying here. Jenna
drank from her own glass then and looked at him over the table,
in a manner that Vila would have described as 'fond' if that
word, he and Jenna could ever be associated.
"You haven't changed a bit, have you Vila?" she said with a
gentle smile.
"Coming from you, that's probably an insult of some kind.
Jus' give me a few minutes...and I'm sure I'll see it...hang
on...." said Vila, feigning the slur of a man far drunker than he
presently was. Then he smiled at his own joke and filled Jenna's
glass.
"And you, my dear Jenna, you don't seem to have changed
either. Gone back to your criminal tendencies already. Sad. You
had so much promise as hero of the revolution. Criminals...that's
all we really were, isn't it? Without Blake. I dread to think
what Cally would have thought." Vila sipped from the bottle
again, appearing to drift away into his own thoughts.
"'Would have'? Vila, what does that mean? 'Would
have'...what happened?" Jenna shifted uncomfortably in her seat,
fearing the worst. She knew well that Vila's courage to face the
truth was a notable feature of his drunkenness.
Vila moved to face Jenna and gazed calmly at her. "Cally?
Dead. Ages ago. A stupid trap. Blake? Dead too. Another stupid
trap and a horrible misunderstanding. Life expectancy among your
old mates isn't what it might be, you know. There should be a
health inquiry." He sniggered nastily.
Jenna felt faintly sick. "Not funny, Vila." she said
coldly.
"No, you know what? You're right. It wasn't funny at all.
You probably made the right choice, leaving when you did. Things
changed a lot after you and Blake went. Avon wasn't half as
funny in charge as he had been as Blake's chief critic."
Jenna sighed in frustration. She decided to get Vila off
this tack. "Tell me more about Dayna and Soolin. Soolin
especially."
Vila smiled dreamily. "Ah, the girls! Very special ladies.
The loves of my life, really...except for you, that is..." he
said with a grin.
"How very sad for you Vila. Surely you must know _some_
women who don't think you're a fool."
His expression clouded. "I did. I was stupid, left her.
Biggest mistake of my entire life, that. "
"We all make them."
"Well, at least neither of us is in quite the same league as
Avon there..."
Jenna leaned forward curiously. "This I have to hear."
:Gauda Prime
:Computer Centre
>>>FEDERATION INTERPLANETARY DATA SEARCH SYSTEMS
REQUEST CONNECTION TO PRISONER AND PERSONNEL DATA FILES.
Request security clearance code and password
>>CODE MX1DS45 PASSWORD FATBOY
>>Access permitted. Welcome, FIDSS
>>DOWNLOADING ALL FILES. FILES DOWNLOADED. DELETE REMAINING
COPIES.
Security clearance level does not permit database sysop access
>>CODE CLEARANCE CHANGE: PRIORITY RED: AUTHORIZATION
4247NDY432-ORAC.
Access permitted . Welcome, "Orac"
>>DELETE ALL DATA FILES. TRANSFER CORE HARD SYSTEM VIRUS FILE.
TRANSFER CORE HARD SYSTEM VACCINE FILE.
VACCINE PROGRAM ACCESS CODE 68ARISTO29. VACCINE DESIGNATED USER
MUST MATCH VOICE AND HANDPRINT WITH PRISONER 144.
Acknowledged
>>ACCESS REMOTE COMMUNICATION LOG FILES FOR LAST 24 HOURS
DELETE
Deleted
:Disentastra
:Alkander Space Port
Tarrant sat down gingerly to examine the arrival and
departure data appearing on the small terminal on the desk. It
crossed his mind then, as it had many times in the past few days,
that his decision to remove his leg braces early had perhaps been
unwise. What really troubled him, however, was the situation
with Fasique. He had agreed to her accompanying him more by
omission than by confirmation. The truth of the matter, as he
was beginning to admit ruefully to himself, was that he needed
her. Until the strength returned to his legs, a trip such as the
one he planned which would almost certainly involve danger and
violence, was not something that he felt comfortable about
undertaking alone. He had vowed to himself that he would not
allow Fasique herself to be harmed, that she would serve merely
to cover him and to help him to pass more unobtrusively as a
tourist.
As he watched her moving amongst the throngs of businessmen
and tourists as she went around the concourse trying to arrange
their passage, he realised that with Fasique, he was in grave
danger of breaking part of his own private code of conduct.
Apart from the fact that he did enjoy her company, he was
profoundly grateful to her for the immense favour she had done
him by nursing him back to health. It was clear to him that her
interest in him went beyond mere friendship. Indeed, he found her
attentions most agreeable and had planned to engage in what he
had hoped would be a highly enjoyable affair with her once he was
healed. But to have her along with him, to share his dangers, to
learn to live in fear for her life? To learn to kill or be
killed and to trust only those who completely share your own
interests? This had not been part of his objective and it
troubled him that he was allowing her to follow him for what
amounted to his own purely selfish reasons. Before Zeeona's
death, he would have told himself that he was not responsible for
her actions, that she was a free agent and that if she wished to
follow him then it was not his place to dissuade her. But all
that logic had not helped him when he had found Zeeona's body
in the freight bay on Scorpio base and all that reason had not
prevented him from feeling deeply guilty for her death. As
Fasique began to return, he decided that this subject must
finally be broached.
She handed him the travel disc with a smile.
"There...all done! Now, are we ready to get off this
swimming pool?"
Tarrant carefully pulled her onto the seat next to his. He
put an arm around her waist and gently touched her cheek.
"How old are you, really, Fasique?"
She smiled slightly, puzzled. "Nineteen. Does that matter?
There's nothing for me here."
"Well, you're alive. And no-one is trying to kill you and
you've got food and health and you could have a job...", his
voice softened, "...and a family."
She gazed levelly at him. "And what would their future be
here? Tarrant, if this is you trying to persuade me not to
leave, it won't work."
"Wouldn't it? Then what would?" His voice became firm,
almost cold.
Fasique looked at him anxiously. "What's got into you?"
"An old of friend of mine used to say that sentiment bred
weakness, that if you let it get hold of you were finished. I
thought he was wrong then but I'm not so sure now, not sure at
all."
"Well, take me along on non-sentimental grounds then! You
must see that I can be of some use to you!"
Tarrant spoke softly. "Actually, that was some advice to
you."
Fasique's expression grew cool as she realised his meaning.
"I see."
Tarrant said nothing, looking at her with a mixture of
affection and regret. As he watched her he was perplexed to see
her expression change from one of irritation to one of anger and
fear. He realised that she was looking behind him and as he
turned around he felt a gun being pressed into his side.
"Alright, you've had your fun and we've all been very
tolerant, Earthboy. But now, its this simple - you get off this
planet and you keep walking. Understand?"
Sitting on Tarrant's other side now was a young and
dangerous-looking man. He had an easy confident smile which did
not quite extend to his eyes and appeared to be quite unmoved by
the situation. His gaze wandered over to Fasique, whom he greeted
with a nonchalant grin.
"Faz! It's clear that I can't leave you on your own for
even a minute! I'll bet you thought I wasn't coming back for
another month, didn't you? Well, your luck's right out and it's
too bad for you because here I am. Don't worry about this loser.
I'll have him off your hands in no time."
Fasique appeared too shocked to speak, but Tarrant noticed
something else about the way she looked at him. It was dread and
pure, naked fear.
Tarrant spoke calmly, holding his anger in check. "Perhaps
you'd introduce yourself?"
The young man laughed quietly, shaking his head in apparent
amazement. "You get worse, Faz, you know that?"
Then, turning small grey eyes on Tarrant he said simply,
"I'm Ivo Karin."
Fasique cleared her throat. "He's my husband, Tarrant."
From Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us Thu Dec 28 18:38:13 1995
Date: Thu, 28 Dec 1995 10:38:03 -0700 (MST)
From: Becky Smith <Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us>
To: calle@lysator.liu.se
Subject: Remembrance Part Eight (fwd)
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: VIDICON@aol.com
Date: Fri, 31 Mar 1995 22:23:25 -0500
To: blake7@lysator.liu.se
Subject: Remembrance Part 8
Remembrance Part 8
Kathy Moran
:Space City; Vestron's Headquarters
Soolin and Dayna sped down the hallway. Since Soolin was
always prepared for any eventuality, she knew a way (in fact
several ways) to get into Vestron's office. Luckily he hadn't
bothered to deactivate her access code yet, so they didn't have
to worry about crawling through the ducts. She whispered to
Dayna. "Vestron has two vulnerable points--between his
eyestalks, and a sort of ridgelike projection where the throat
would be in a human. Just about anyway else you have to go
through a lot of ooze before you hit anything vital. Pretty
messy.".
Dayna looked at her, amused at her concise report of the
alien's weakness, "What about employee loyalty?"
She shrugged, "Force of habit. When we get into the
office. I'll go in low for him. You try to take out anyone with
him. We have to about thirty seconds before the room's defence
systems are activate so we have to be fast.
With that, she punched in her access code to the inner
sanctum. They quickly moved through the door.
Soolin immediately went down on one knee, aimed, and hit
Vestron precisely between eyestalks. The only sound he made was
a slight gurgling noise. Since Soolin was kneeling, Dayna was
able to see over her to scan the room for other targets. Since
Vestron was alone, she quickly moved back to guard the corridor.
Soolin came past her to run down the hallway.
As they turned down one corridor, they could hear sirens
blaring in the background. Soolin led the other woman down a
back way which opened opened into to one of Space City's Red
Light district. Many human women entered Vestron's domain
through this way, but this was the first time any women had ever
left this way. Realizing that running would only draw attention
to them, they slowed down slightly as they moved through the
crowd. Dayna was surprised that Soolin did not immediately make
way for the spaceport, but since Soolin was more familiar with
the station, she thought it best to follow her. After all, she
had been on her own for far too long.
:Space City; Vila's Quarters
Jenna stared at Vila in shock. "I can't believe it! Avon
shot Blake?"
"Believe it. Avon thought that Blake was going to sell us
out. Turned out to be some sort of elaborate game of Blake's to
get recruits. I think he was as crazy as Avon. He certainly
wasn't the same man we met on the *London.*"
"Are any of us?" Jenna asked bitterly.
"Well you're still a smuggler and I'm still a thief" replied
Vila looking broodingly into his glass. He didn't want to
discuss--even think about the toll these past few years had
taken.
"When did you last see Blake?"
"Just after Star One. After he recovered from his injuries,
we went our separate ways. I told him I was tired of risking my
life with very little reward--material or otherwise. Funny, I
would have thought by now he would be running the entire
Federation."
They sat quietly for a few minutes, both lost in thought.
Finally Jenna stirred and asked "Is Avon still alive?"
"Don't know. I had to leave Gauda Prime in a hurry and
didn't want to miss my ride. He would've done the same for me."
Suddenly Soolin and Dayna burst in his room. "Vila, We have
to move.on, I killed Vestron and it's only a matter of time
before some of his thugs come here." Soolin gasped.
But Vila was looking her companion who was leaning against
the door trying to catch her breath.
"Dayna!"
Soolin interrupted, "Save the touching reunion for later and
move." She pointed her gun at Jenna who froze. "You can come
with us or I can kill you now. Your choice."
Meanwhile, Vila had grabbed his tool bag and quickly stashed
his bottle and his Signal Scrambler. All the basic necessities of
life. He then noticed the tableau of the two woman. "Aw,
Soolin, don't be like that. Jenna wouldn't betray us."
"I trust your judgement of character about as much as I
would trust you to guard a bottle of wine."
Unexpectedly Jenna laughed at the comment, "She certainly
has you pegged, Vila. Soolin, I don't want to to be caught by
any of Vestron's men either. Can we call a temporary truce until
we get to someplace safer?"
Dayna, who by this time had caught her breath and was
guarding the door, "Let's not waste time, if she proves
difficult, we can always get rid of her later."
Jenna bristled slightly at that, but decided that it was
best not to comment on it, especially since Soolin lowered her
weapon. "Alright, where's the nearest bolthole?"
Vila offered, "Boltholes are my one of my specialties.
Corridor 3 in the Omega Sector has some lovely unused storage
rooms."
From Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us Thu Dec 28 18:39:21 1995
Date: Thu, 28 Dec 1995 10:39:10 -0700 (MST)
From: Becky Smith <Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us>
To: calle@lysator.liu.se
Subject: Remembrance Part Nine (fwd)
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII
---------- Forwarded message ----------
To: blake7@lysator.liu.se
Subject: Round Robin 9 Repost -- Easier to Read (I hope)
Date: Sun, 16 Apr 1995 18:29:50 EDT
From: Jen Hawthorne <jen@MIT.EDU>
BLAKE'S 7
"Remembrance"
Part 9
by Jen Hawthorne
: Alkander Space Port, Disentastra:
"Husband?" Tarrant echoed. Fasique wouldn't meet his eyes.
"Kind of makes you wonder what else she hasn't told you,
doesn't it?" Ivo Karin said. He motioned at their personals bag
and the box holding Orac.
"Faz, pick up those and get home. I'll be along as soon as
I've dealt with Eathboy here." Grey eyes narrowed as he looked
at his wife, who stared back with undisguised contempt. "And
you'd better be there when I get back."
Fasique nodded slowly and moved to comply, still without so
much as a glance at Tarrant. Karin watched her as she moved off
for the exit, his face set in an strange mix of anger, smug
self-congratulation, and puzzlement. Tarrant considered making a
play for the gun in Karin's moment of distraction, but a stab of
pain from his half-healed legs dissuaded him. His own gun was
back in Central City -- he'd been unable to come up with a way to
get it past the Space Port security scans. Dammit.
As Fasique exited the main doors of the lobby, Karin's full
attention returned to Tarrant. "She was just using you, you
know," he said. "To try to get off-world. This was her fourth
attempt in the past year. I'd feel sorry for you -- except that
I'm too pissed off at you for sleeping with my wife. Get up and
get moving." He waved the gun in the direction of the private
docks.
Tarrant rose, making more of a show of how difficult it was
for him than was required. If he could get Karin to believe him
more of a cripple than he actually was, it might give him an
advantage in the eventual inevitable struggle for the gun. He'd
need whatever edge he could get, however slight.
"Is there some reason she shouldn't leave if she wants to?"
Tarrant asked as he finally gained his feet. He gave a
theatrical minor groan of pain, just in case Karin missed the
point of how physically incapable he was.
Karin prodded him in the back with the gun. "Because she's
my wife and I haven't given her permission. Can't figure out why
she won't just stay put and behave herself like she's supposed to
-- I provide for her better than most get." He paused, shaking
his head in what seemed like genuine confusion before returning
to the matter at hand. "Not that it's any of your damn business.
Walk."
Tarrant noticed that their little scene wasn't attracting
much attention from bystanders. The civilians had moved off to
a safe distance, and some were watching curiously, but no one
seemed likely to intervene. Two spaceport security guards were
watching more closely, but made no move to take action. Tarrant
nodded toward the pair as they moved past. "Friends of yours?"
"Them? Nah. But I told 'em what you and Fasique were up to.
They wished me good luck. Even offered to help." He smiled, not
pleasantly. "But I take care of my own business. Keep walking."
Tarrant walked.
: Space City :
"Hold up a moment, Vila," Dayna said, catching the thief's
shoulder as he headed for the door. "There's something Soolin and
I should take care of before we go underground."
"Can't you do it from Corridor 3?" Vila badly wanted to get
out of the room before Vestron's revenge-crazed thugs arrived.
"No. The storerooms don't have comm terminals, and we need
one." She waved a hand toward Vila and Jenna. "The two of you
stand back, out of the terminal's visual range."
Soolin moved up to stand beside her as Dayna punched in a
comm code.
Within seconds, Criallis' unhandsome face appeared on the
screen. His eyes widened perhaps a millimeter or so, no more, as
he saw Dayna and Soolin standing side by side.
"Dayna. So nice to hear from you. Won't you introduce your
charming companion?"
Dayna took no time for pleasantries. "Vestron is dead,
Criallis."
"So I'd heard. Good work. You'll receive your usual bonus."
"Not this time, Criallis. I want something else."
Criallis looked mildly interested. "Something else, dear
Dayna? And what would that be?"
"Three things." She ticked them off on her fingers. "One:
a formal declaration of discharge of debt. From this point on,
I'm a free agent."
Criallis' expression assumed a slight air of injured
sorrow. "You wish to leave my employ? And I thought we had such
a good working relationship."
Dayna ignored that. "Two: You give me the information you
said you had on the whereabouts of Kerr Avon."
Behind her, Vila's mouth dropped open and Jenna frowned,
suddenly paying very close attention to the ongoing conversation.
Criallis' expression didn't change. "I rather expected that. And
the third thing?"
"You will name Soolin Demarest as Optimate of Gauda Prime."
Faced with such effrontery, most men would have yelled, or
snarled, or turned red, or possibly screamed threats. Criallis
merely blinked. "Really? And why should I do that? If I'm not
mistaken, this -- Soolin, did you say? -- is the blonde gunhand
of Vestron's I've heard so much about recently. While I would
not be averse to adding a markswoman of her reputed skill to my
forces, I would certainly not do so without some proof of
loyalty. And she would start at the bottom, like all in my
employ. *Not* at the top."
"I'll tell you why you'll do it, Criallis. You'll do it
because Soolin killed Vestron, not me, and I'd be willing to
swear that to the Chairman himself."
Criallis blinked again. "Ah. I see. I'm disappointed in
you, Dayna. Still, if you did not carry out your assignment, I
don't see why I owe you anything at all -- except perhaps a
reprimand for your attitude."
"At the moment, the only people who know that Vestron was
killed by one of his own people and not by one of yours are
Soolin and myself. If we both swear that *I* fired that shot
that killed Vestron, there's no one who can prove otherwise.
We'll do that if you give us what we ask. And you'll have what
you wanted -- all of Vestron's holdings will be yours, all
perfectly within the Code." She stared levelly at the Terra
Nostra Magnate.
"Otherwise, since Vestron was killed by one of his own, his
holdings will go either to his second-in-command, if he's strong
enough to take them, or they'll be redistributed by the Chairman.
Either way, you'll get nothing."
Criallis considered that for a long moment. "An intriguing
proposition, dear Dayna. I really must stop encouraging so much
initiative on the part of my underlings. What if I accept your
bargain and you decide to blackmail me?"
"Oh, come now, Criallis. Who'd believe the word of a mere
enforcer over a Magnate? And if you can't hold on to what you've
taken, you're not the man I know you are."
"You flatter me, dear Dayna."
"I didn't mean it as a compliment."
Criallis' lips twitched in what might have been a smile. Or
perhaps not. "Why exactly are you interested in Gauda Prima? As
Vestron himself pointed out, it's not likely to be a terribly
profitable world once the Federation resettlement scheme is
complete."
"So you should be quite eager to get rid of it."
"True. Yet, the same thing I told Vestron applies to you.
A sudden interest in an apparently valueless commodity... a man
would be a fool to sell it without first finding out why it's so
badly wanted."
Soolin spoke up. "Vestron wanted it because I told him a
pack of lies about its worth, about the mineral deposits and
natural resources there. I didn't tell him that the Federation
has long since taken everything of value."
Criallis eyed her. "Lying to your employer for your own
ends? You show true Terra Nostra spirit, my dear."
"No need to be insulting."
"I meant it as a compliment. At any rate, the question
still remains -- why are you so interested in Gauda Prime?"
"It's my homeworld," Soolin said simply.
"Ah. Sentiment is a weakness, my dear."
"So I've been told. Nevertheless."
The Terra Nostra eyed the two them standing there, one
dark, one fair, both deadly. He shook his head in mock sadness.
"A true pity. You are both decorative as well as useful. You
would have made an excellent strike team. I'll made you a
counter-offer, dear Dayna. Soolin may have the Optimate position
-- provided she can remove the man who currently holds it. She
may recruit whatever help she likes...but I will warn Ven Jestry
that she is coming. If she succeeds in taking the position from
him, she will have proven herself worthy to hold it." He smiled
for real for the first time in the conversation. It was a warm,
friendly smile, and it chilled Dayna to the bone. "Of course, I
will continue to receive my usual percentage."
Dayna looked to Soolin. The blonde nodded. Vila whimpered
and Jenna clamped a hand over his mouth.
Dayna looked back to Criallis. "That's acceptable. Now --
Kerr Avon?"
"Ah, that. Apparently one of Jestry's people recognized him
in the main prison garrison on Gauda Prime about a month ago.
I've no idea if he's still there. Oddly enough, the Federation
doesn't seem aware of his identity." He smiled again. "I suppose
I really should let them know who they have, seeing as I am, of
course, a loyal Federation citizen."
Dayna tensed, but letting it show would be a mistake. "I
don't think that would be a wise move, Criallis. It might
irritate Soolin."
"Ah, yes. Perhaps it would not be in my long-term best
interest. And I don't think I'd want to irritate Soolin." He made
a dismissive motion with one hand. "Also, I have little interest
in helping the Federation; they can take care of their own
housecleaning. I should mention, however, that if you intend to
help your Kerr Avon, you'd best not delay -- he's become an
informant and stooge for the Federation guards at the camp, and
I understand his fellow inmates are rather upset with him. He
could easily have a fatal accident. It's surprising he's lived
this long. If he has."
Through Jenna's fingers, Vila muttered, "It'd serve him
right." Jenna glared him into silence.
"I understand," Dayna said. "And the last point?"
"The discharge of debt?" He made the dismissing motion
again. "Consider it done. You've provided me with exceptional
service over the past nine months. I'm only sorry you won't be
continuing to do so."
"We have a Deal then?"
Criallis nodded. "We have a Deal."
Dayna let out a long breath. Under all the calm, she was
trembling. She hoped Criallis couldn't see it. "This
conversation is over then. Goodbye, Criallis."
"Oh, surely not goodbye -- rather, 'Until we meet again'?"
Dayna shook her head and reached for the disconnect.
"One final word, Dayna." Dayna pulled her hand back
reluctantly. "Since you are no longer in my employ, I cannot
offer you any further assistance or protection, nor can any of
my people. And Vestron's men are looking for you. You'd best
leave Space City quickly. Unless, of course, you'd like to
reconsider your resignation...?"
"*Goodbye*, Criallis." She cut the connection and sagged
against the comm panel with suddenly liquid knees.
"Can we get out of here now?!" Vila started edging toward
the door again.
"I'd say so, yes," Dayna replied.
Soolin was staring off into the corner of the room.
"Vila...what's that?"
"What's what?"
"*That*." She pointed at the black box.
"That? Uhm, that's...I don't know what that is. And right
now I don't care. Omega Sector, here I come."
"It looks like that box that Mueller's android's head came
in."
Jenna blinked and looked confused, then decided to ask
later.
Vila shuddered. "Don't remind me! Anyway, it was delivered
to my quarters, oh, an hour or so ago. I don't know who by. Are
you satisfied? Can we go?"
Soolin studied the box a moment longer, then strode over,
picked it up, and tucked it under one arm. It was an awkward
load, but she managed it. "Now we can go."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Dayna asked.
"No," Soolin replied, but didn't put the box down. "By the
way, Vila, did you check on that cargo like I asked?"
"That? Oh, yes, that. Yes, I did. They were photonic
stardrives. At least three of them that I saw. Can we go now?"
: Alkander Space Port, Disentastra:
Tarrant walked, as slowly as he could manage, with far more
shuffling than was called for. This had the desired effect on Ivo
Karin, who poked him in the back again with the gun muzzle and
said, irritated, "Keep moving or I'll stun you and drag you
instead."
"I can't move any faster. My legs were badly broken when I
crashed on this planet. I can barely walk."
Karin made a disgusted noise. "Great. It's not enough she
fools around on me with an offworlder, she picks a *crippled*
offworlder." But he slowed down a little, and the gun moved a
little farther away from Tarrant's back. <<That's it,>> the pilot
thought. <<I'm a helpless cripple, Karin. You just keep thinking
that.>>
They had reached the door leading to the private docking
facilities. Karin motioned him to one side while he slid an ID
card into the lock. The doors slid back.
"Where are we going?" Tarrant had assumed that Karin would
take him to the nearest Federation outpost and turn him in for
the reward. But he didn't need a ship for that.
"To my ship. Going to lock you up there where my first mate
can keep an eye on you while I go handle Faz."
"And then what?"
Karin chuckled nastily. "Ever heard of a planet called
Domo, Earthboy?"
Tarrant went cold. "No," he lied.
"Well, I've done business there occasionally. Let's just
say I've got a better revenge in mind than just gunning you down,
as amusing as that would be."
Ivo Karin "did business" on Domo.
No wonder Fasique couldn't stand him.
<<Just give me one chance, you slaver bastard...>>
Karin chivvied him down the hallway to Docking Bay 7 and
punched a code into the keypad. The door slid open, revealing a
short umbilical connection leading to the outside of an airlock.
Karin repeated the code process with the second door and it
obediently let them through. The two of them stepped inside,
and the outer airlock door slid shut.
Karin keyed the inner pad. Nothing happened. He cursed and
rekeyed. Nothing happened again.
Tarrant gathered himself.
Karin slammed an agitated fist down on the intercom key.
"Meroe! What the deuce is wrong with the airlock? Open her up!"
As he shouted, the gun barrel drifted away from Tarrant's chest.
Tarrant dove, both hands reaching for Karin's gun hand,
shoulder down and driving for Karin's solar plexus. His weakened
legs failed to provide as much leverage as he would have liked,
but he connected solidly enough to slam the shorter man into the
airlock wall, and his long fingers wrapped around Karin's wrist,
forcing the gun upward. It discharged, the stun bolt
richocheting harmlessly off the ceiling. Karin grunted
explosively as the breath was forced from his lungs, but he
didn't fall, and Tarrant cursed -- he had dearly wanted to stun
the man with the first attack. Now things became much more
difficult.
Karin slammed his free fist into Tarrant's side, going for
a kidney punch. Tarrant was ready for the blow, but it still
hurt. For a moment he just hung onto Karin, keeping him pinned
to the wall and keeping the all-important gun pointed away.
Karin was yelling, howling for Meroe to get his butt out of the
ship and come help him, but so far there was no response from the
unseen first mate.
Tarrant concentrated on trying to rip the gun from Karin's
hand. Unfortunately this left him open to Karin's counterattack,
and Ivo did what Tarrant would have done in his place -- went for
his opponent's weakest spot.
He twisted against Tarrant's shoulder to get a better angle
and then kicked viciously at the back of Tarrant's legs. The
pilot collapsed with a cry of pain, his vision going brownish-
black. When it cleared a moment later, he was staring up into the
barrel of Ivo Karin's gun.
"Bad move," Karin sneered, breathing heavily. "Now you get
to take an extended nap."
The outer airlock door whooshed open. Karin's head jerked
around in surprise.
"Drop it, Ivo." Fasique stood there in the passageway,
Tarrant's gun pointed straight at Karin's head. Orac hummed at
her feet.
"What the *hell*--!" Karin began.
"Shut up, Ivo!" Fasique snarled. "And drop the gun, or so
help me I'll drill you right between the eyes!"
Karin ignored her. "Where'd you get that?! How'd you get
into this dock? I told you to go home!"
Fasique shot him. Stun beam only, Tarrant noticed, more
than a little disappointed.
"That felt really good," the girl commented, staring down
at her husband's prone body.
"Glad you enjoyed it," Tarrant said, still feeling rather
stunned himself. "Now, if you'd help me get him off my legs so
I can get up...?"
Fasique pushed Karin off of Tarrant with a none-too-gentle
kick to the ribs, and then helped the pilot up. "I told you that
you needed me," she chided.
Tarrant sighed. "I never disputed that. But anyway...thank
you."
"You're welcome. Now what do we do?"
Tarrant eyed Karin's unconscious form. "How did you get in
here, anyway?"
Fasique pointed at Orac. "Your computer. It also got me
past the Space Port security scans with your gun."
** I also prevented him from operating the airlock controls
on the inner door of his ship, ** Orac added, sounding miffed
that Fasique had not listed his accomplishments in full. ** Now,
if we could proceed? Your carelessness has already caused
considerable delay.**
"Orac, have you got access to all of the systems on Karin's
ship?"
** Do not waste my time with stupid questions! **
"I'll take that as a yes." Tarrant smiled down at Fasique.
"In which case, I think we've acquired private transport for our
trip to Space City." He patted the inner door of the airlock.
"Once we've dealt with Karin's first mate, that is."
** Will you kindly get on with it and cease this
insupportable delay?**
"Is it always this bad tempered?" Fasique asked.
"No. It's usually worse." He reclaimed his gun from
Fasique, handing Karin's to her, and grinned, feeling better than
he had in -- well, in nine months, at least. "Ready?"
She nodded. "Ready."
Together, they stepped into the ship.
From Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us Thu Dec 28 18:40:30 1995
Date: Thu, 28 Dec 1995 10:40:19 -0700 (MST)
From: Becky Smith <Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us>
To: calle@lysator.liu.se
Subject: Remembrance Part Ten (fwd)
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: "Mang S. Chin" <chinm@rpi.edu>
Date: Sun, 30 Apr 1995 23:25:41 -0400
To: blake7@lysator.liu.se
Subject: Remembrance Part 10
*REMEMBRANCE PART 10*
by Mang S. Chin
:Space City, Suite 536
Captain Rendall shifted position in his lounge chair for the
tenth time as many minutes. He was well aware that he was
extremely fortunate to be given a second chance by Commissioner
Sleer. Tracking down these fugitives was not going to be an easy
task given the lack of information he had about their
whereabouts. They could be anywhere, but he had to find them,
one way or another. He knew all the rumors about the fate of
officers who failed Commissioner Sleer, but knew nothing about
officers that failed her twice. Rendall was not too eager to
find out.
He got up onto his feet, paced around momentarily, and sat
down again. He should have received reports from his officers by
now. Vila was spotted in Space City several months ago. Vila was
not the brightest person in the universe, after all, he was
classified as a delta grade. Surely he must have dropped some
hints as to where he was going. Hopefully.
:Space City, Omega Sector, Corridor 3
Dayna grabbed the back of Vila's collar and pulled him back.
"Vila, did you just say that those boxes contained photonic
stardrives?", she asked him.
"Who said stardrives?", stuttered a seemingly shocked and
offended Vila "Those boxes were full of sidearms. Standard
stuff, nothing special. That's why they had such crude locks.
You could say that they weren't even locked up at all. Just
lying out there in the open. I could have walked out with an
armload of them and they would have thanked me for taking them
off their hands. We really should be on our way."
"Now I know why Veston was so worried.", said Soolin
completely ignoring Vila's chatter, "Anyone who could get a hold
of those stardrives could become a threat to the Federation
within a month."
"Unless they were the Federation", frowned Dayna, "in which
case we have to do something about it."
"We don't know the buyer. We don't know what it's for.
There's a lot of risk.", said Soolin.
"Come now, ladies, the galaxy can wait a few days. Besides,
we're on the run, unarmed, and unless you happen to be carrying a
bomb around with you, there's not much we can do about those
stardrives.", added Vila with a hopeful smile.
Dayna grinned evilly and Vila groaned. He looked pleadingly
towards Jenna, who finally spoke up.
"He has a point.", she said, "We can't go on a suicide run.
If we want to stay alive, we have to get out of here now. I
don't feel like risking my life for nothing."
"An excellent point.", Vila chimed.
"They're looking for us. Let's go now.", said Jenna, with
the hard tone that she used when she wanted someone to know that
she meant business.
"Who asked you?", grumbled Soolin.
"She knows what she's talking about, after all, she knows
the kind of character these people are. Let's get out of here
while we still have the chance.", pleaded Vila.
Soolin quickly put down the black box from Vila's suite and
drew her gun at Jenna.
"I'm starting to get really tired of this.", said Jenna.
"Tell me now and tell me quickly. What do you know about
the people who are getting those stardrives?", demanded Soolin.
:Karin's ship, leaving Alkander Spaceport and Disentastra
It did not take long for Tarrant and Fasique to overpower
Meroe and assume control of Karin's spacecraft. Moments later,
they had prepared the ship for a quick takeoff. It was a large
ship as far as private ships usually go and capable of excellent
flight speed. Only the best. But what do you expect a slaver
like Ivo Karin to own? Or have owned, anyway.
After Fasique had managed to convince the flight authorities
that Karin had some urgent business to attend to, they were on
their way without a hitch. Tarrant had no trouble getting the
ship space-born. After several minutes of the takeoff, the ship
left the planet's atmosphere. Tarrant put the flight controls on
auto-pilot and turned to face Fasique, who was sitting next to
him in the co-pilot's chair.
"Why didn't you tell me that you had a husband?", asked
Tarrant. They had worked smoothly in taking care of Meroe and
getting the ship into space, but that little question had nagged
at Tarrant's mind the entire time. He had to deal with it as
soon as possible.
"You didn't ask.", answered Fasique flatly.
"Very droll", said Tarrant, as he sank back further into the
pilot's chair. He stared blankly at some of the flight dials and
then turned around to look for Orac. "Where did you put it?", he
asked.
"I strapped it into one of the seats back there. It should
be pretty safe. I don't want to hear it complain about falling
again."
"I'll go get it."
"What for?"
"I like having it around. It cheers me up.", he said, and
with that, he unbuckled his pilot restraints and got up.
Tarrant felt awkward around Fasique now. She had spent many
months nursing him back to health out of the goodness of her own
heart, or so he had thought. After his time with Avon and
friends, Tarrant had learned the lessons of trust. He did not
give trust easily but he had given it to Fasique. Even worse, he
needed her, even now. In his weakened state, his chances of
survival without her were slim to none. Ivo Karin had told him
that Fasique was using him. Tarrant hoped that Fasique did not
have have some private agenda. Sure, Tarrant had kept many
secrets of his own from Fasique, but he had good reason to do so.
Didn't he?
"Del, wait.", Fasique said, still staring at the main
viewport of the spacecraft.
He stopped and turned around. He sensed the worst was about
to come.
"Del, I have to make a confession to you.", she said.
:Gauda Prime, Main Garrison, Cell Block D
He kept seeing it over and over again. He heard the voices
and the screams and the sounds of sidearm fire. He saw himself
being shot in the arm and falling as a second shot connected with
his leg. He fell right next to Blake's lifeless body. And as it
did every time, the sounds stopped and an officer stood over his
body, just as he had stood over Blake's body just moments
earlier.
And then he woke up, just as he always did. Avon sighed and
wiped away the sweat from his brow. He heard a heavy door close.
Someone was coming, most likely a Federation officer coming to
retrieve him for some computer duty. Avon quickly composed
himself. He did not want to give away any impression of
weakness. He sat up and stared through the bars of the cell,
as he normally did. As the Federation officer became visible,
Avon crooked one eyebrow and grinned.
"Hello Avon. Funtime's over. Time to get down to
business."
Avon looked right at Arlen and almost laughed. He had
wondered what happened to the woman who shot Dayna back at the
fateful shootout.
:Space City, Suite 536
*blip blip*
"Well it's about bloody time.", complained Rendall. He
walked over to the viewscreen and flicked it on. "Give me your
report.", he demanded.
From Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us Thu Dec 28 18:41:46 1995
Date: Thu, 28 Dec 1995 10:41:35 -0700 (MST)
From: Becky Smith <Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us>
To: calle@lysator.liu.se
Subject: Remembrance Part Eleven (fwd)
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Barny Shergold <BLAKES7@pearwood.demon.co.uk>
To: blake7@lysator.liu.se
Date: Thu, 18 May 1995 17:15:02 +0000
Subject: REMEMBERANCE - PART 11
Okay here it is - Part 11
Sorry it is so late but I have been offline a bit. Anyway I hope
you enjoy this. If you have any criticisms please mail me direct.
SPOILER : This episode contains a very controvertial B7 idea. I
hope I haven't upset anyone!
REMEMBERANCE
Part 11
By Barny Shergold
:Karin's Ship
Tarrant looked up at Fasique and saw that she had a very
serious look on her face.
"What's the matter now?" he asked.
"I need to explain to you why I originally befriended you so
you can understand that I do love you."
Tarrant braced himself, this was a common thing in his life,
to have a friend who was only a friend because they wanted
something from him.
"When we originally found out who you really were we knew
you could help our planet's cause."
"What cause is that?"
"Our scientists have predicted that the environmental
disaster that has struck our planet is worsening. Within the next
century the whole of the ice-cap will have melted and only a few
small land masses will remain. Far too little to support even
five percent of the current population."
"So what have your people planned and how do I fit in?"
"We have decided to leave the planet. We have found a planet
unknown as yet to the Federation. The problem is that it is on
the opposite side of the galaxy. With normal transport ships it
would take about forty standard years to make the trip."
"I assume you have an alternative in mind?" asked Tarrant,
who was beginning to wonder how he fitted into the scheme of
things.
"Yes, we managed to rescue a rather interesting person from
Gauda Prime. He had heard that you were on Disentastra and sent
us a message saying that if we rescued him from Gauda Prime he
could help provide us with some of the Federation's new
stardrives. The drives would allow us to make our journey in
under three years. Anyway we managed to rescue him and he is now
currently in Space City overseeing the transport of the
stardrives. The other condition he gave us was that when you were
well someone was to take you to him. I was chosen to befriend
you, not even Ivo knew about it."
Tarrant's face had slowly started to sag as Fasique told him
this. When she stopped talking he was almost in tears. She was
the first person he thought had truely liked him and now this.
Fasique saw the tears and wiped them from Tarrant's face
with the back of her hand. "Don't cry, Del, although I was only
doing a job to start with I found myself becoming more and more
attracted to you. I love you Del, that's why I thought you
deserved the truth."
Tarrant looked up in to her eyes and saw that she was
telling the truth. He reached out and hugged her for a moment. He
then pulled away and said, "I believe you Faz, I'll go to Space
City with you on one condition."
"What's that?"
"Tell me the name of the man we are going to see."
"Okay, I think you will have heard of him. His name is
Blake, Roj Blake."
:Space City, Omega Sector, Corridor 3
Jenna looked into Soolin's face and saw that Soolin fully
intended to kill her if she didn't answer her questions.
"Okay Soolin, you win. But stop pointing that damn gun at
me."
Soolin glared at Jenna and replied, "As soon as I start
hearing something interesting then I'll think about it."
Jenna looked over at Vila, who was sitting on the black box
and looking slightly horrified at the situation, and asked,
"Vila, can you persuade her?"
Vila shook his head silently. Jenna realised that she was
going to have to talk quickly. Normally she would have attempted
to spin a story but a little voice at the back of her mind
convinced her that telling Soolin the truth was the best course
of action.
"The stardrives have been stolen from the Federation and are
headed for a planet called Disentastra."
Soolin gestured with her gun that Jenna should continue.
"The planet is slowly sinking into the sea as the polar
icecaps melt. The inhabitants have found somewhere to go and they
need the stardrives to get there."
"Where did the drives come from?" asked Dayna.
"Don't know. I just landed and they were loaded and I came
here."
"Where were they loaded?" asked Soolin.
"Gauda Prime."
Soolin let the gun drop, just enough so that Jenna wouldn't
feel threatened by it. Vila in his surprise fell of the box and
Dayna just exclaimed, "What!"
"They were loaded on Gauda Prime. Why the surprise?"
"Never mind, " replied Soolin, "just tell us where the
drives are going."
"I don't know. My instructions were to come here and wait
for my contact."
"What's the name of the contact?" asked Vila.
Jenna looked over at Vila and replied, "Fasique Karin."
:Space City, Suite 536
Rendall looked at the blank screen. He slowly smiled. His
agents had been thorough, he now knew where most of the
Liberator/Scorpio crew were. Avon was on Gauda Prime, he could
wait. Vila, Dayna and Soolin were on Space City. The only person
who had evaded his spies was Tarrant, but Jordash, his best
agent, had assured him that he had found Tarrant's trail. He
reached out and tapped a code on the comm panel and the screen
lit up again.
After a few minutes Commissioner Sleer's face appeared.
"Ma'am, we have located all but one of the fugitives."
"Who is missing, Captain?"
"Del Tarrant, but my best man assures me that he has found
Tarrant's trail and it won't be long before we find him. Avon is
still on Gauda Prime, it seems he's got himself into prison. The
others are on Space City. I have ordered my men to hold back as I
have a feeling that Tarrant will be looking for them. If my man
fails to trace Tarrant I think that there will be a good chance
that Tarrant will turn up anyway."
The Commissioner slowly began to smile. It wasn't a smile
that Rendall recognised, usually her smiles were cold and you
began to hear your life expectancy falling if you saw one. He
suddenly realised that she was smiling because she was pleased.
Now he was really worried.
"Congratulations, Captain. That is an extremely good piece
of thinking. I need more men like you. Keep me informed of any
progress, Colonel." said Sleer, reaching forward and terminating
the connection.
Colonel! Rendall hoped that he wouldn't fail Sleer. For some
reason he was actually beginning to enjoy himself.
:Karin's Ship
Tarrant shot out of his seat. "Blake!!??"
"Yes."
"But Blake is dead, I saw Avon shoot him."
"Actually what you saw was a clone. A few years back
President Servalan hatched a plot to discredit Blake. She
enrolled the help of the Clone Masters who created three clones.
One was killed by Space Captain Travis, one was left on some
unknown planet and the other disappeared. It turns out that the
Clone Masters weren't happy with what Servalan was doing and they
sent the third clone to Gauda Prime."
"Why Gauda Prime?"
"It was the roughest planet they could think of and it was
outside of Federation law. They thought that the clone would have
the best chance of hiding from her if he was sent there. They
imprinted some of Blake's character traits on it so it would have
a good chance of survival. It would seem that Blake, after he
recovered from his wounds incurred in the War, heard about
the clone and tracked it down. He thought that since the clone
was the same as him then the two of them would make a good team.
When you were on Gauda, Blake was offplanet and left the
clone in his place. He had taught it all he knew so that it could
pretend to be him when he was away."
"How do you know all of this?" asked Tarrant.
"It was me that rescued him from Gauda and since the journey
took a week we had plenty of time to talk."
"But, you're too young for all this. You said you were only
nineteen."
"Actually I am twenty-seven, but I look younger. Even Ivo
thought I was only nineteen. It was all part of my cover. The
leaders of the Expedition recruited me a long time ago as a
sleeper agent. We have had to keep our plans secret even from our
people as we cannot risk the Federation finding out."
"So how many others know the real Blake is still alive?"
"Apart from me and my superiors, just you."
"So where are we going now?" asked Tarrant.
"Space City. To find Blake and a smuggler."
:Gauda Prime, Main Garrison, Cell Block D
Arlen looked at Avon. How can the man be so calm? she
wondered.
"So Avon, after all the trouble you took to find Blake you
kill him. Why?"
"When I saw all the Federation guards I thought he had
betrayed me."
"Well he didn't, I did," sneered Arlen.
"I know," replied Avon, "and if I ever get out of here I'm
going to find and kill you."
Arlen was used to prisoners threatening her like this but
something told her that Avon was fully capable of carrying out
his threat.
"I suppose you're wondering why I am here," she said,
backing off slightly.
"Not really," said Avon, "you hold about as much interest
for me as a week old newscast."
"We want to know what you did with ORAC."
Avon smiled and for the first time since she came looked
directly at Arlen.
"By now I think ORAC is either offplanet or destroyed.
Either way it's out of the Federation's hands."
"You know, I believe you."
Arlen reached into her inside pocket and pulled out a small
flat object.
"Do you know what this is?" she asked.
"Yes," replied Avon, "it's a one shot staser. Some are built
to stun and some to kill."
"Quite correct. And do you know what type this is?"
"No."
"Well, I'll satisfy your curiousity and let you know."
Suddenly Arlen stepped back, pointed the staser at Avon and
shot him.
From Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us Thu Dec 28 18:43:59 1995
Date: Thu, 28 Dec 1995 10:43:49 -0700 (MST)
From: Becky Smith <Becky.Smith@k12.uen.gen.ut.us>
To: calle@lysator.liu.se
Subject: Remembrance Part Twelve (fwd)
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: pcrail@WWorkbench.niacc.cc.ia.us
Subject: Round Robin Part 12
To: blake7@lysator.liu.se
Date: Thu, 31 Aug 1995 14:42:07 -0500 (CDT)
To All: Sorry my part is so long coming. I was offline for quite
a while and before that I wasn't really sure I had a slot in the
Round Robin, or when it came up! Apologies, but here (at long
last) it is:
REMEMBRANCE
Part 12
by Elizabeth Crail
:Gauda Prime, Spaceport, Federation Cargo Ship
Avon awakened slowly. He felt the desert sun beating on his
closed eyelids and the tingle of sweat on his entire body. He
tried to move his head, anything to get relief from that beating
white light. His head felt like a lump of uranium as he slowly
twisted it to the side. The tingling set up more strongly in his
neck. That wasn't right. Turning his head should not cause his
neck to tingle with sweat. Maybe it wasn't sweat. He tried to
lift his hand to check, but it felt nailed to the floor. Floor?
Deserts don't have floors. Without trying to move again, Avon
began to rethink his initial impression of a desert sun. What was
the last thing he could remember? Scorpio...Gauda Prime...Blake-
-treachery--he almost sat up as the fury at being betrayed shot
through his veins--but after that?? There was something more, he
knew. An image of stasers passed through his brain, all pointed
at him, or was it just one pointed at him? He tried to
distinguish between the two conflicting images and became aware
of the beating light again. He wondered if he were dead. No.
He tried to move again and this time his limbs were not quite
so heavy. After a few tries he managed to sit up and open his
eyes. Even though he was no longer expecting a desert, it took
him a moment to try to make sense of the blank whiteness in
front of his eyes. Slowly he grew accustomed to the light and he
found himself in a featureless white room, perfectly cubical and
perfectly empty, except for himself. He knew this was not the
same place where the staser (stasers?) had hit him. Ergo, he had
been moved. Why? Unimportant. Unless they were planning to kill
him by leaving him here, someone, or something, had to come into
the room, at least to feed him. Avon would be ready.
:Karin's Ship, Space City Docks
"So what now? How are we going to find this smuggler of
yours?"
"No worries, Del. Leave it to me. We have a prearranged
meeting point, of course."
Tarrant shook his head. "That sounds like a great chance for
a setup. I don't like this."
"Don't worry, I said. Our people have used this smuggler
before. She's safe. And she's good. Everything will be all
right. Let's get going. She's probably already waiting for us."
"Where's the contact point?"
"The fewer who know, the less chance of accidental betrayal."
"Well, I want to know. What if something happens to you? Your
whole planet could be screwed. And I don't like working blind."
Fasique hesitated. "All right. It's in the Omega Sector.
There's a series of pubs off Corridor 3. Somewhere in there."
"That's pretty general, isn't it?"
"Might help your problem with a possible setup."
Tarrant shrugged. He had bad vibes about this whole deal, but
if there was a chance that Blake was alive...
:Federation Cargo Ship, Flight Deck
Flight Coordinator Kellsig leaned back in his chair and took a
sip from his cup. He sighed in contentment. The machine had
even gotten the temperature right for a change. This had been a
remarkably smooth voyage, normal in all respects except that
prisoner he had to deliver to Commissioner Sleer at Space City.
He had tried to explain to the authorities that this was a cargo
ship, not a prison ship, and not equipped to handle prisoner
transport. They had told him the prisoner would be stunned, and
should remain that way till time to deliver him in Space City.
No problems. Urgently required. Orders from way up. He really
had no choice. Nonetheless, the trip had gone remarkably well,
and perhaps there would be no hitch after all. He took another
sip and then became aware of young Mekwitt standing in front of
him. Mekwitt was training with the sublight radio operator, and
always seemed to bring messages just at the worst times.
"Speak," he growled, without looking up from his cup.
"Sir, uh, Space City Patrol wants to know where we're bound and
where we come from -- and there's a Red Alert on the last part."
"Red Alert on a routine question? That's odd," Kellsig
murmured to himself. "Never heard of that before. Probably a
computer error. So what are you still standing there for?" he
growled at the hapless youth. "Tell them!"
"Sir." Mekwitt hurried off.
A few minutes later he was back.
"Sir. I hate to disturb you again, Sir..."
"You've already done it. What now?"
"Space City Patrol says we've come from a quadrant where space
plague has been reported, Sir. We're under quarantine till
further notice."
"What!" Kellsig sat up very straight. "That's nonsense.
Nothing about space plague in that quadrant. We would have heard
something. Tell them they've mixed it up."
"Sir, we did try to tell them we had no information about space
plague, having just come from there, but they weren't interested.
They're sending a medical team to check us out in a few hours."
Kellsig looked slightly relieved. "And if we're clear? Did
they say the quarantine would be lifted?" he asked almost
eagerly.
"No, Sir. They didn't say."
"I'll have to inform the Captain. What are you waiting for?
Get back to your post!"
Avon was having trouble concentrating. The pure white walls
were hard to focus on, and every now and then colours swam in
front of his eyes, making him dizzy. His body was telling him
that it had been a long time since he had any nourishment, and
he was beginning to wonder if they had actually shut him in here
to die. He looked down at his own black, silver-studded clothing
just to relieve his eyes, and he flexed his fingers into fists a
few times. If someone came, he had to be ready. Just then he
heard a faint whishing sound and he looked up to see a long dark
rectangle opening wider across the blank whiteness of the wall.
Quick as a cat, he slipped across to stand next to the opening.
As a white-suited figure leaned forward in the opening to look
around the room, Avon chopped both hands down viciously just
below the back of the helmet. The figure collapsed on the floor
without a twitch. Avon cautiously put his head outside the door,
but the corridor was empty. He glanced again at his distinctive,
but definitely conspicuous outfit and quickly began to strip the
anti-infection suit and helmet from the Space City Medical
Technician.
Kellsig collapsed into his chair on the flight deck with a
sigh. The Med-Techs had just spent the last several hours
combing through the ship and checking everyone on board for any
sign of the plague. On leaving, their leader had told him that
it would be several days before the test results were back and
they could be cleared of the quarantine. If then. He should have
known the voyage had gone too well to last. He put his head in
his hands and tried to think if any of the cargo would suffer
from orbiting Space City for several extra days. That really was
not his job, but Kellsig had been trying to impress the Captain
with his leadership abilities the whole voyage. How many years
yet before he could make Captain? But a good word from this
Captain might shorten the wait. The cargo should all last fine,
he decided after a few minutes, and sat up, trying to relax.
Still, there was something. Something was niggling in the back
of his mind. He worried the thought for a few moments, then
shook his head. He needed more coffee.
An hour or so later, Mekwitt appeared in front of him again,
just before Kellsig's shift was up.
"What, you again?" Kellsig grumbled. "Haven't you brought
enough bad news for one day?"
Mekwitt ignored the implication. "Sir, it's a message from
Commissioner Sleer, asking after that prisoner we're supposed to
deliver to her on arrival."
"Well, tell her we're in quarantine, and she can have him after
we get out."
Mekwitt snapped to attention and hurried out.
Kellsig sat there motionless. The prisoner! He should be
coming out of that stun pretty soon! What were they going to do
with a desperate prisoner for the next several days? He would
have to be fed... He pressed the intercom button. Someone had
better check on him right away.
:Space City, Omega Sector, Corridor 3
Fasique Karin? Soolin and Dayna looked at each other. Soolin
turned toward Jenna again and started to say something, but she
never got a chance. The emergency klaxons sounded in all the
corridors, and they all froze. After a moment, the volume dropped
on the klaxons and a voice came on. "Attention. Attention. Stay
where you are. All sections are being closed down. A possible
space plague carrier is loose in the city. Repeat, stay where you
are." Soolin looked at Dayna again, and then said, "We've got
to get out of here." She looked at Jenna. "Think. Is there
anyplace we can hide?" They all looked desperately around.
When troops checked for the plague carrier, they would check
identification, and they would check every room. Dayna's eyes
passed over the small garbage chute opening in the wall, and then
snapped back to it. There was a bigger panel around it.
"Vila! Can you get that panel off? Quick!"
"What? What good..." he started to say, then comprehension
dawned. "Oh, no. That's disgusting. There has to be a better
spot than that!"
"She's right," Jenna said, unexpectedly. "There is nowhere
else. Get it open, Vila."
Vila looked at the three women, and then shrugged hopelessly.
"I'll give it a shot," he said, "but no guarantees." He knelt
down by the panel and ran his fingers slowly around the edges.
He finished the circuit and reached for a small tool in his
pocket.
"Hurry up, Vila," Dayna ground out between her teeth. "I think
I hear troops coming!"