Suspicion

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vila jumped as if he'd been stung. "Me?" he asked indignantly. "Why would I work for them? Why would they want me to?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The Empress?"

"Servalan."

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Curiosity," he answered succinctly.

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What was it you wanted, Silira?" Vila asked interestedly. He didn't imagine he had a chance with the pretty girl, not with the space-pilot type about, but being friendly usually didn't hurt.

She smiled at him wanly in mute apology for her foul mood and said, "Just some little things from my cabin. Do you need anything?"

Varel answered for him, "As a matter of fact, I need something from my cabin, too."

"Vision," Silira called, and cocked her head awaiting an answer. Some lights flashed across the darkened flight deck.

+Yeah, Silira? What do you want?+ the flight computer answered in her best "I really don't care" voice.

"Could you turn on visual circuits to follow Varel to his cabin and back here? Let me know if he does anything suspicious." Silira ordered with malicious delight.

"Why me?" Varel asked, losing some of his humor.

Silira smiled sweetly. "There's only three of us. Vila will accompany me to my cabin, and Vision can watch you. This was originally a Federation ship, remember? They've got video pickups everywhere, and Vision has advanced processing circuits, you know, judgment and logic. She'll just watch you. Ordinarily the system is shut down." She smiled again and turned to walk out. Vila shrugged, threw a smug smile at Varel and followed her off the flight deck.

***

By the end of the second day, Servalan had contacted Darren's aide, and had him in her office.

"Now, Pendra, I need to know about the spy that Supreme Commander Darren has placed on the rebel ship Scalia. He was going to tell me himself, but he's so busy these days."

She was acting her warmest, but it was unnecessary. Pendra was all too aware of the consequences of angering his Empress. He explained eagerly.

"It was Commander Darren's idea, ma'am. It's an old-fashioned method, but he thought it would be unexpected. There's a technique of conditioning a person through tonal frequencies. The conditioning itself takes only a few days, and once it's done, the subject is completely unaware of it. In this case, one of the crewmembers is conditioned. Whenever we broadcast a certain frequency, that person is compelled to find a hyperspace transponder and broadcast a preset return sequence. Once they've done that, they go back to normal, and never realize what they've done. So, whenever we need to know where they are, we broadcast the frequency and wait for the response."

Servalan considered the information for a minute, and started to smile. "We used a similar technique on Roj Blake, with good effect, a few years ago."

Pendra knew all about that incident and wasn't about to comment on it. "So, when did you last broadcast your frequency? And which crew member is it, by the way?"

"I don't know which of the crew it is, ma'am," Pendra replied carefully, answering the last question first. "The frequency was broadcast 10 hours ago. We should have had a reply by now, but we haven't."

Servalan made a gesture of impatience. "Broadcast it again, then, and keep doing it until you receive a reply. I want to find that ship!"

***

Vila followed Silira down the passageway. He wanted to start a conversation, but for once, he couldn't think of what to say. He was tired of playing the buffoon, but he didn't know what else he could be. He contented himself with watching Silira's walk. It was very graceful, and a little bit stealthy. She had the hips of a good cat burglar, he thought wistfully. Ah, the good old days.

He became aware that something was wrong when she stopped. It was a sudden, jerky stop, not in keeping with her walk. In fact, he noticed as his eyes moved upwards, her whole body was rigid. She stood quite still for a moment and then turned.

"Silira, what is it? What's wrong?" he asked in concern, but she just brushed past him. He watched her go for a minute before setting off after her. He called to Vision, and then remembered that the observation systems were shut down. Silira was walking much quicker than she had been, and Vila nearly had to run to keep up. "Silira, what are you doing?"

She still didn't answer him, and he saw that they had arrived back at the flight deck. He paused at the entrance and then watched in horror as she walked straight to the communications console and began to activate the equipment.

"Silira, don't do that! Do you want everyone to know we're here?" His hair stood on end as he realized that he'd discovered the spy -- but she didn't seem to be doing it of her own free will. She was in a sort of trance, but that wasn't important at the moment. As he moved forward to stop her, he noticed that she was starting to broadcast a coded signal, flicking the transponder switch on and off. He ignored that at dove at her.

His body weight pushed her away from the console. She struggled, but half-heartedly. She was in better shape than he was, but he was paying more attention to the fight, and had the advantage. He didn't want to hurt her, though, so he as soon as he could manage it, he dealt her a short blow to the base of the neck. She went limp, and he hoped she'd be unconscious for at least an hour.

His next worry was the transponder signal. It was not that uncommon to use it to locate a ship, so the signal must be the important thing -- a code that would identify this particular ship. Vila hoped that Silira hadn't had time to complete the sequence, but more had to be done. He went to the communications console and began sending a random signal, praying that it would confuse whomever was listening.

***

Pendra was on his third straight watch, and he was tired. If their agent hadn't responded by now, it seemed obvious to him that they were either discovered or dead. The training could be nullified, if someone knew how, but that seemed unlikely. Those rebels were an uncivilized group of people, who were as likely to shoot you as they were to say good morning, and he didn't expect they'd enjoy finding a spy in their midst.

He sat up as the instruments registered another transponder signal coming in. The things went off every few hours, always with a false alarm. This one started with the right frequency, though. The next one was correct, and so was the third. Pendra leaned forward, excited, and started tracking the signal. He'd almost pinpointed it when the signal stopped. He stared at the machine in confusion. It couldn't be a coincidence, surely. He'd almost given up when the signal started again. This time it was a totally different sequence. He checked, and found that it originated from the same place as the first signal. Some back-water world called Aristo. Records showed no inhabitants, so perhaps the ship had crashed. Whatever the reason, it was no longer his problem. He settled back to wait for the next signal.

***

Vila was sitting on the floor next to Silira's unconscious body when Avon, Blake and Loren burst onto the flight deck. He stood up to greet them, but was interrupted.

"Vila, what's been happening here?" Avon demanded. "Orac reports that someone's been operating the transponder."

"Someone has," Vila responded, only to be interrupted again.

"So you admit it," Blake declared in a ringing voice. "You are the agent. Silira saw what you were doing and you knocked her out."

Loren didn't say anything, she just began moving towards the thief, hand on gun.

"No, that's not what happened," Vila protested, keeping a sharp eye on Loren's approach. "We were just walking along when she suddenly went into a sort of trance. Just turned about as if I weren't there, walked back here, and started playing with the switches. I stopped her. Since she was in that trance thing, I had a chance."

Blake looked doubtful. "Orac says the transponder was activated, stopped, and then activated again. Explain that."

"Well," Vila began, looking puzzled, "I just thought I'd throw them off the scent, as it were. Give them a fake signal so they'd pay no attention."

No one looked convinced at this version of events. In the telling, Varel had returned to the flight deck. Confused by the amounts of people suddenly on board, he ordered, "Vision, recount, if you will, all events on board this ship in the last half hour."

As she began to list the activities, everyone grew quiet and listened. Her version tallied with Vila's, and the thief heaved a sigh of relief for the witness.

When Vision was finished, Blake looked at Vila and apologized. "I'm sorry I doubted you, Restal. I just hated to think that any of my people could be responsible." He walked over to where Vila was standing and gave him a hearty handshake.

"S'okay," Vila muttered, and sat back down next to Silira's still form.

Blake turned his attention back to Loren and the others. "Well, what are we going to do with Silira?" he asked with a heavy sigh, and continued before anyone had a chance to respond. "She appears to be our spy, although it's hard to believe. Why would she want to betray us?" His forehead creased in puzzlement.

"Money, probably." Avon answered impartially. If Silira was the spy, then it wasn't really his problem; he was free to sit back and observe Blake's response. "Does it matter?"

"Perhaps not." Blake agreed thoughtfully. "So the question remains, what do we do with her?"

Loren raised her gun in the unconscious girl's direction, but Blake batted it down and glared at her.

"I will not allow an execution before we have a chance to talk with her. I want to know why and how she betrayed us. Then I will decide her fate."

Silira hadn't been hit all that hard, and she'd been slowly working her way back to consciousness. When she finally came to, the first thing she saw was Loren's gun, pointed in her direction. Instinct had kept her perfectly still, but at Blake's response, she sat up with an outraged gasp.

"What the devil are you people talking about?"

Everyone turned to look at her, and Blake was the first to speak. "Ah, Silira," he half sneered, "so you are with us again. Tell me, when did you decide to spy on us? How much did they pay you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Blake," Silira responded steadily. "But I don't like the sound of it." She started to struggle to her feet, and Vila jumped up to assist her.

"So, you deny that you've been spying on us?" Loren inquired silkily.

"I most certainly do. Where would you even get the idea? I have no love for the Federation, as well you know."

"There's always money, though," Avon observed. "Although it was stupid of you to believe that you'd be able to live long enough to enjoy it. No one loves a traitor."

"Stop it, all of you," Vila burst out, surprising everyone. "I tell you Silira has no idea what she's done. She was in a trance. Avon, you remember, it's the same sort of thing that happened to Blake that time. The other Blake, I mean. With the Governor's council, and that asteroid." He stopped, hopelessly tangled, and watched Avon anxiously.

Avon considered the theory for a minute, and then nodded slowly. He'd heard and seen stranger things. "Get her into the base. Orac will be able to tell us if she is under any influence."

***

Pendra was dozing on duty when the Empress glided into the room. She gazed at the tech with disgust and motioned to one of her guards to wake him. The guard gave him a sharp push with his gun, so that Pendra woke up as he fell out of his chair. The empress allowed him a few seconds to scramble into an upright position before she began questioning him. "Well? Has your toy produced any results?" In anyone else's voice, her tone would have signified boredom, indifference, as if the answer was not important. All of Servalan's questions, however, came equipped with a razor edge of threat.

Pendra stuttered in his haste to give her an answer, hopefully the one she wanted. "There was a signal, a while ago. It started out correctly, and then stopped. When it resumed, perhaps a minute later, the pattern was different. I was waiting to see if we heard anything else." His voice died away as he realized he should have reported the incident immediately.

Servalan glared daintily in his direction, and gave him one chance to redeem himself. "And where was this signal from?"

The tech's mind went blank for a sickening second, and then he remembered. "It was one of those uninhabited planets, I think. The name of it was Aristo."

The Empress's face froze, and she turned away from Pendra, issuing terse instructions to her guard. "Tell Mandra I need to see Orac in my office immediately, with all the spare parts and notes he has. Also send word to Space Commander Darren that he is to proceed directly to Aristo. He is looking for the rebel spacecraft Scalia, either in orbit or on the surface. He is to search for any signs of inhabitants." That said, she swept out of the room in concentration, leaving Pendra to slump back into his chair, weak with relief.

***

Avon came out of the lab to face Paige, Blake and Varel, who were all anxious to hear his news. He smiled at them blandly, waited until Blake was about to speak, and said, "Silira will be fine."

Paige's knees weakened with sudden relief, and she sat down quietly. Orac had confirmed that Silira was under Federation influence, but said that the programming was not complex. Therefore, it would be possible to reprogram her with a minimum of time. Rusk would be capable of handling the procedure with some instruction, but another person was needed as a control. Paige had been gathering her nerve to volunteer when Vila had surprised everyone by stepping forward. That had been three hours ago.

"Is Restal fine, as well?" Blake asked, eager to prove that he was equally concerned for every member of his crew.

"Unfortunately, yes," Avon replied. "Now if you will excuse me, I need to make sure all my tools are packed, as we expect to be leaving within the hour." As Blake began to move towards the lab door, Avon added, "Rusk says no one is to enter yet. They are both sleeping it off. Varel, if you will gather Vila's things, I believe Paige will take care of Silira's." With that he turned and walked away.

"He's so sociable these days," Varel drawled with private amusement.

Paige bristled instinctively at that disparagement, and then forced herself to relax. It was nothing to her how Avon acted, or what the others thought of him. Then she caught Varel's interested eye on her, and realized that he was watching for her reaction. She couldn't think of anything sensible to say, so she just smiled and left for her cabin. She had some things left to pack.

Varel smiled at her retreating back. He was by nature more of a watcher than a doer, and he was finding some of the developments among this crew fascinating. It almost made up for having to share a cabin with the large doctor, while Avon and Vila both had their own rooms. His smile deepened as he thought of the possible relationships. With any luck, there might be an empty cabin soon.

***

About half an hour later, in the lab, Silira woke up. She lay still to examine her situation, and decided that she spent altogether too much time unconscious. That settled, she opened her eyes, sat up and looked around. She was sitting on a table that resembled a cot on stilts, and she discovered that Vila was lying on one to her left, a meter or so away. He still seemed asleep. Well, they must have cured me, she thought, with grim humor. Otherwise I wouldn't have woken up.

On a whim, she jumped lightly to the floor, and moved to stand next to Vila, looking down at him. It occurred to her that this might be the first time she'd really looked at him. When he wasn't playing the fool and the coward, he looked more his age, and Silira thought it improved him. She became impatient for him to wake up. She reached to shake his shoulder but hesitated. On a sudden impulse, she bent down and kissed him.

He woke up at the touch of her lips, and as she straightened, he sat up. She backed against her table and looked at him.

"I should thank you for saving my life." She informed him, in a serious tone.

"Don't mention it." He shrugged and smiled as if it were something he did everyday. "It was nothing at all, really."

She could see he was uncomfortable with her gratitude, but she wasn't going to let him get away with pretending he'd done nothing.

"No, really, Vila, it was something. You stood up for me. That meant a great deal to me. Plus, you were the only one who had any idea what was happening. If I'd had to argue my own case, I'd likely be dead by now."

Vila had been inspecting his shoes, but at the sincerity in her voice, he looked up, smiling a smile full of mischief. "Well, if that's the way you feel about it . . ."

He moved quickly to gather her into a loose embrace. Silira laughed, delighted by his impudence, and looped her arms around his neck. "Vila Restal, it's going to be a pleasure to get to know you."

"Well, of course. I'm a very lovable fellow, once you get to know me." He smiled at her for a moment, and then his eyes flicked towards the lab door. He stepped back from their embrace a second before the door swished gently open to admit Rusk.

The doctor didn't seem to notice anything amiss, and gave them each cursory exams. "You both seem fine. Now, everyone's moving out of here, so you'll probably want to make sure you don't leave anything behind. We lift off in less than an hour."

"What's the rush?" Silira asked.

"While you were under Federation influence, you sent a coded signal," Rusk explained briskly. "We don't know if they recognized it or not, since Vila stopped you. But we're not taking any chances. If they heard it they'll be along to investigate. Best if we're not here."

"I should hope not," Vila assented nervously. "I've had far to much to do with them in my lifetime."

Silira shot him a glance, to see if he was faking his nervousness or not. She couldn't tell. Still, he had the right idea. They were not in an advantageous position. She shrugged, dismissing the matter as unimportant, and went to pack.

***

Jartan Mandra had been head of computer services for four years. He had gained the job when his predecessor had been unable to reassemble Orac. He had spent every spare moment of the last four years studying Orac in the hopes of saving his own neck in a similar situation. Still, when the Empress called for him he felt woefully unprepared.

Luckily for him, she didn't ask him very difficult questions. "These are all the parts that formerly comprised Orac?"

"Yes, ma'am. Everyone is catalogued and numbered, with a description of its function on file. Or a description of what we suppose its function to be." He was meticulous in giving her the most complete and accurate information he had.

"Do you suppose," she asked, with a heavy emphasis on suppose, "that all the parts are here? That, provided any of you clods knew how to put it together, you could put it together?"

"I believe so, ma'am. In fact, I myself have, on several occasions attempted to assemble it. I found a place for everything, but it still didn't work. I don't know the guiding principle of the mechanism, or I'd have a better idea of how to proceed."

Servalan waved his words away with an impatient hand. She'd heard the same things four years ago. It didn't seem possible, but if Avon was on Aristo, it could only be for one reason. He wanted to build another Orac. She hoped Darren could stop that plan, at least, even if he didn't seem capable of capturing one small cruiser. "Very well," She answered finally, relieving Mandra's tension. "You may go. Take everything with you, and continue working on the problem."

Mandra had no idea what she wanted him to do, but he was not about to ask for clarification of the order. Gratefully, he gathered all the pieces and escaped from the interview.

***

Scalia was in orbit when they spotted a Federation battle cruiser on the long range scanners. The crew went to battle stations immediately, but Blake told them to stand down.

"We're not going to fight this battle. We want them to think we were never on Aristo. Loren, nudge us behind the planet's mass, and change course once we're off their scanners. Then we can test our new drive."

"Where are we headed?" Paige wanted to know.

Avon supplied her with the answer. "We're going to Fiorinal, to get Dynamon to finish the teleport system."

(continued in Loyalty)