Aristo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

He'd hardly turned the first corner before he encountered Silira. In looks, they were similar, both tall, blond and slender. Varel looked friendlier, though.

Silira gazed at him in suspicion. "Where were you going?"

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

"I'm always willing to talk to a pretty girl," he replied gallantly, out of habit, motioning for Paige to join him. Paige sat, seeming unsure of how to begin. "How do you like your cabin?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

"What happened to the guard in the house?"

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vila groaned and sat down on the couch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Perhaps a raid?" Avon suggested impatiently.

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

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

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

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

Blake looked confused. "But no one lives there. It's mostly water." "No one lives there anymore," Avon corrected him. "Aristo is where Ensor lived. And died."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And like a woman, Vision tends to dismiss us as unimportant." Rusk interjected. Vila nodded. He could relate to that.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

As the Federation flotilla advanced, Vision announced indifferently, +We've got 4 pursuit ships with a battle cruiser bringing up the rear.+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

"Does she show any damage?"

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She paused for a minute, then went on. "Yes, there is a need, Avon. You need your rest. You may think you're made of steel, but it's not true. If you were 30 years younger and used to this, I'd take advantage of you and sleep all night. But you're not, and I don't need you collapsing tomorrow, especially with the state Silira's in. Now get over there and go to sleep." Her voice held all the tender concern of a drill sergeant.

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

"Paige? Silira! Where are you?"

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

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

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

"Did you hear that we have visitors?"

"It would be a difficult to miss." He replied, not looking up from his work.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hello. Have we got the computer thingee working yet?"

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(continued in Suspicion)