by Tony Attwood
They were in a short corridor, red and black like the outside of the ship itself. Two armed guards approached but pulled back into a side corridor immediately they saw the guns. A voice came on the intercom.
'This ship is now in motion. Please lay down your weapons. If you refuse we will wait, until you drop from hunger or thirst. If you try to fight it out we have several hundred armed troops on this ship and you are certain to lose eventually. Lay down your arms. '
'Avon, ' said Vila. 'Couldn't we do as we're told for once? I don't fancy starving to death. '
Avon laughed, and laid down his gun. Vila and Telon followed suit. KAT and the tool kit remained on Vila's shoulder. The guards reappeared and moved forward tentatively. They wore the same red and black stripes on their loose fitting uniforms as seen on the outer hull. With their weapons they indicated the way forward.
It was clear the three men were being led round part of the rim of the ship. Eventually they paused beside a door, which moved back to allow them to enter. Roughly the guards pushed them inside, and by the time they could turn round the door was locked.
Vila inspected the door, glad of a chance to show his professional prowess. Before he could pass an opinion KAT spoke. 'MIND is near, ' the machine said.
'I always said you should lay off the hard stuff, ' said Vila. 'MIND is a myth. Didn't you hear Koreli?'
Avon stood dead still, right hand slightly raised in characteristic fashion.
'MIND is on the sphere, ' reiterated KAT.
At that moment the door slid back and two men entered. One carried a weapon, the other a communicator on his wrist. The latter spoke. 'The transactions in this room will be recorded, as is everything on this ship. '
'Making an archive?' asked Vila, but the comment had no effect.
'Your names?'
Vila had an idea. 'We are wanted men. The Federation, the Administration, Servalan's troops, the Ghammarans - they are all after us, and if they know we are on this ship they'll be bound to attack you. So why don't you just put us back down on Terminal and we'll get back into the control room there and stay put, and you won't have any further problems from us. We're the enemies of everyone. Just like you, I expect, only for different reasons. Wellmaybe the same reasons. Or maybe no reasons at all. Or perhaps you're not enemies of the Federation. Well we're not either. Not in the full sense. You have your war, we have ours. No point in getting all mixed up is there?' Vila stopped talking. It wasn't so much that he had finished saying what he meant to say, as that he had actually lost track of what it all meant.
Tour name?' repeated the questioner.
Vila gave the truthful answer. The questioner's communicator clicked and pictures appeared on the miniature screen.
'You were with Blake?'
'Blake, oh yes. We were with Blake. Like I said, enemies of the Federation. You know Blake, greatest outlaw of the age. Died you know... '
'It seems the computer thinks you are who you say you are. And if you are, the commander would undoubtedly like to see you. Sir. Would you step this way, Sir?'
Vila was bemused. The weapon which had previously been pointed at him was now raised in ceremonial salute. He was being called Sir. He looked nervously at Avon, who could do nothing but smile back. Vila seemed for a moment to be out of words, but he tried to put on a dignified air as along with Avon and Telon he was shown (rather than led) through further corridors all decorated in the ubiquitous red and black, and into a circular room. It appeared to be an important meeting point on the ship. There were relaxing couches in front of a low level table with firmer chairs around the edges. Half the room was split in two by a mezzanine floor with a spiral staircase linking both levels at the back. Towards one wall near what could be described as the front of the room was a small stage with a lectern. Slightly to the right was a large screen currently showing pictures of the rapidly-receding Terminal.
Interesting though these features were, they were as nothing compared with the one aspect of the room that struck all three men immediately they entered. What they saw, what dominated their total perception was an enormous engraving etched completely into the wall and running some fifteen feet tall from floor and ceiling. It was undoubtedly designed to be easily visible from both floors and from all points in the room. It also appeared to have holistic properties for as Avon moved to left and right the engraving took on new dimensions. Whichever way it was viewed there could be absolutely no mistake of what it was. A little idealised perhaps, a little unreal, and somewhat larger than life; but still unmistakable. The face of Roj Blake.
'I wonder if these people know who killed him?' asked Vila with mock innocence.
The door opened. Two guards appeared dressed in full battle fatigues plus medals and other decorations. The senior of the two spoke formally. 'Gentlemen, the Captain would be pleased if you would honour us with your presence on the Bridge. ' The guard led the way.
Vila began to play the part, uttering a variety of phrases from 'Why yes' and 'Of course' through to This way?' and 'Oh that way' as he rapidly lost his sense of direction.
They moved in fact towards the centre of the ship. A door opened and they entered yet another circular room. Vila made a joke about going round in circles. Avon remained silent. Half a dozen people sat at control desks. Around the walls giant screens showed various aspects of nearby and distant space, except in one spot where a red and black flag had been unfurled. The officers at their posts, all neatly decked out in loose fitting red and black, smartly stood to attention as Vila, Avon and Telon entered. The captain staring intently at one of the wall screens took a moment to turn. As she did a broad smile crossed her face. To Vila she was beautiful. More beautiful than Korell. More beautiful than anyone. Everything about her suggested something deeper than Korell, from her heavy fighting boots to her shoulder-length brown hair. There was also something a little disturbing; something vaguely familiar about her.
Whatever reservations Vila had about the woman, they were not enough to make him not want to make full use ofthe circumstances that fate had pushed him towards. He seemed to be a hero. He had been with Blake from the beginning, and these people seemed to have a thing about Blake. So maybe the captain could have a thing about Vila too.
'Kerr Avon. ' The captain moved towards Avon with an outstretched hand. Avon took the hand, kissed it gently with mock ceremony and looked at the girl. Vila rubbed his eyes. Just his luck. The woman knew Avon. She was probably his long lost lover. Vila coughed and gained Avon's attention. 'Won't you introduce me to the lady Captain?' he asked uncertainly.
'I'm sorry, ' said Avon with feigned politeness. 'This is Vila Rested. Good at stealing, worse than useless at anything else. And this is Telon, a captain in what was Servalan's fleet. ' He turned back to the Captain of the sphere. 'This is Tor. ' He paused for a moment and looked back at the woman. 'Tor Avon. My sister. Also, I presume, if not MIND then the creator and operator of MIND. '
'I see you have been using your little box. Most ingenious. '
'If you mean KAT, ' said Vila, 'it was actually discovered by me. '
'But built by my brother, ' said Tor. 'He always has been too modest!'
Finding Avon's sister in charge of a ship with a massive hologram of Blake on the wall, combined with the news that Avon had built KAT and then presumably deliberately let him find it, was starting to threaten Vila's sanity. But to have Avon described as modest was too much. Vila asked Tor for more information in the hope it might convince him he wasn't going mad after all.
'The ship is called Blake's 7. ' The statement didn't help Vila's state of mind. 'It's named after your one-time compatriot and yourselves. It was designed by MIND - which is myself, as you guessed, operating in conjunction with a computer system I designed and which is now fitted into the ship. This is the flag ship of the revolution. We are taking
the opportunity of this in-fighting to destroy what remains of Federation and Administration power, and to liberate the Galaxy once and for all
. '
'So you are the inheritors of Blake's little visions?'
Tor turned to her brother. 'We never did see eye to eye on political matters, did we? But to my followers you are our heroes. I don't deny that I have got to the exalted position of leader of this revolution partly through happening to be your sister. The New Freedom Party will welcome the chance to pay homage to two of the men who stood beside Blake. '
'That's not all he did, ' said Vila quietly.
Tor seemed to relax slightly. She patted both men on the back. 'Come on, I'll get you some food and drink. And we can all offer explanations. '
'You've come a long way since we last met, ' said Avon as they made their way to the higher levels.
'I just chose an interesting field, ' Tor replied. 'Neural and tarriel - an interesting combination which produced MIND. But don't be fooled. MIND has never done a fraction of the things people say it has. Just as the real Blake's 7 were never like the legend. ' They entered a refectory and sat down to a well stocked table.
'You know what it was like?' asked Vila nervously, helping himself to food and noticing the distinct lack of wine.
'In afterlife images grow bigger. The people need them to help belief. '
'You wanted Blake dead, and you wanted me to kill him, ' said Avon.
Vila spat out his mouthful of tranyel seeds in honey in surprise.'Seeing that you have been carrying around possibly the second most hated woman in the Galaxy for the past few months you've probably learned that the Administration used Blake as a pawn to keep the Federation extremists occupied. Blake had already turned into homicidal maniac, but a maniac with a massive following around the Galaxy which was a total embarrassment to the Federation. If people had started seeing what he had become we would never have held the Freedom Party together. When we heard that the Administration had got Blake on an outer world and were using him as a pawn we knew we had to stop the Federation pulling Blake in and showing him to the Galaxy in the state he was in. So I put MIND on Blake and on you, my dear brother. '
'If Blake was being manipulated by both you and the Administration it's ho wonder he became unstable, ' said Vila.
'Such is the price of fame. '
'And when the shooting was over you used MIND to suggest to everyone within the Dome that they were under attack from all sides, and of course they evacuated. '
Tor smiled. 'You are the great survivor, Kerr Avon. I've had you in my sights since the day you found Orac. MIND feeds into Orac - is boosted by Orac. Orac is the greatest aid to the development of neural deviance there has ever been. It was the greatest fortune that the person who should stumble on Orac was you, and not a thoughtless thug like Servalan. I realised that you were getting suspicious when you started chasing after Blake; it took you longer to realise it wasn't the man that was the key but the machine. And even on Gauda Prime you couldn't be sure which it was, so you had to kill Blake and let Orac go just to make sure you had eliminated all possible sources of neural deviance. Poor Blake. There was really no need for him to die at all. '
Suddenly Tor's manner changed. She began to talk more slowly. 'As a reward for your hard work you've become a hero of the people. '
'So what do we get for our troubles?' asked Vila.
'Choose your positions, ' Tor announced. 'When the revolution is over in a week or so you can name your place on the High Revolutionary Council. You'll have to work of course; there will be no more creaming off the riches whilst the majority starve. But you will be respected. '
'You mean spend life as a stuffed dummy being paraded in front of the crowds on Revolution Day, Independence Day and probably Tor's birthday too?' Avon said.
'It needn't be like that. This is a people's revolution. We are breaking up the Federation. The way it was held together with fear and armies is over. All the drug-induced labour forces, hardly people at all, existing in domed cities. All the economic methods they used to rape a planet of its minerals, whilst forcing it to borrow from the central banks... '
Vila stopped drinking. 'You're going to change the money supply... '
'It's a minor detail. You'll be given a hero's apartment on Earth in Dome 4. You'll be treated well and have power. But not the sort of power that Servalan wielded. '
'Only an apartment?' asked Vila. 'I thought we might get something a little more spacious... Like a palace or two?'
Tor laughed. 'This is the Freedom Party revolution. For two centuries the masses have lived in poverty while the few at the top have lived in total luxury. Those days are over. '
'Another invention?' asked Avon. 'The way to end all poverty. '
Tor looked uncertainly at him, then went on speaking more rapidly. 'The answer was on Skat all the time. Sygnum from the grass. And on Terminal - new ways of producing food. And with the Ghammarans, going off to find new food supplies. But you knew all that. It was there in front of you. The secret on which MIND is built. That is what I really found. A great universal constant on which all life depends. More fundamental than carbon or DNA. An indivisible constant that applies to life everywhere in the Galaxy. Tap into that and you tap into everything. You can communicate with all levels of life. Skat, Terminal, Ghammar, they all found it. On Skat they got sidetracked into looking into new dimensions, apart that is from when your own little box of tricks was creating mental images that blocked everything they were trying to do. On Terminal they let it get out of hand by trying to go too fast. And on Ghammar they only wanted to use it to help develop their sonic interference. They were all blind alleys! Tarriel and neural. That's the only real battle now, and I shall use machine induced neural deviance for the people. With you by my side, brother, we shall win and I shall be recognised for What I am. The greatest computer genius in the Galaxy. Greater even than the famous Kerr Avon. Together we shall build the final link - a neural teleport. '
Avon looked at his sister curiously. 'Are you sure you can win this war?' he asked.
'This ship is revolutionary and we have three more like it. We have dedicated troops, and most of the destructive work has been done by the rivalries between the various factions. Now the Ghammaran weapons have been dismantled by some counter beam worked from Earth we can move in. '
'Yes, the counter beam was a fortunate development for your revolution, ' said Avon.
Tor refused to recognise fortune. 'As heroes of the Revolution you must rest now, and prepare for our final advance on Earth. I'll show you your rooms. '
They walked slowly through the huge ship to the dormitories high on the eighth level. As she left Vila looked at Avon. 'She's quite mad, ' he announced simply.
'Quite probably, ' said Avon.
'What's all this business about talking with the plants?'
'It's been a possibility for a long time. There is energy in every life form, and all based on the same basic principles. Find an underlying force behind the principles and you are halfway to harnessing the ultimate life force. '
'What does this life force give her?' Vila asked.
'Power. Total power to control. As she says it is probably what is behind MIND itself - a fusion of this basic life force Tor has discovered plus her own computer genius. If it works she should have total control over every single living being in the Galaxy. Whatever she thinks, everyone can think. And like all political fanatics she'll believe that what she feels is the right thing to feel. Blake's ideals were never worth much at the best of times, but they're unlikely to see the light of day under Tor's rule. She will control an empire in a way that was never before imagined. Everyone, everything will live through her in the ultimate merging of carbon and silicon. '
'That's worse than Koreli and her Administration, ' said Vila. 'It's even worse than Servalan. And you helped set it all up, Avon. They all used you. '
Avon made no reply. He picked up the small red and green striped box Vila had been carrying, and handled it very gently. It contained no control panels, just two small indentations. On Avon's face was a broad grin. Slowly but in
evitably it was turning into a long hard laugh.
Epilogue
'Commissioner... ' the Captain pushed on. 'For some time the planet has been used by enemies of our Federation. We have had them under close surveillance and infiltrated their command structure. Our enemies were planning a rebellion and were trying to attract other dissident elements to their base. All of the rebels were to be rounded up. '
'Rebels. ' Servalan sneered at the word. 'Who were these great outlaws that senior officers of the Federation had to rush half way across the Galaxy in order to have them arrested?'
'One was the rebel leader Blake, commissioner. '
The sneering half smile on Servalan's face froze. 'Did you see Blake?'
'Yes, commissioner. I supervised the identification of his body. He was dead... '
Glossary
(From the Index, Terry Nation's Blake's 1: The Programme
Guide compiled by Tony Attwood)
ADMINISTRATION - Section of the Federation that controlled Earth.
AVON - Native of Earth, one of the leading electronics and computer experts of the age, full name Kerr Avon. He attempted to embezzle 500 million credits from the Federation banking cartel, and upon the failure of the attempt was sent to a penal colony, en route for which he met Blake. Avon was certainly not above blackmail, shooting someone in the back, or even disposing of Vila if that was required for his own survival. His code of logic and practical necessity was heightened by the discovery that his girlfriend had betrayed him in his embezzlement attempt. His ambivalent attitude to Blake meant that he disliked him whilst twice being drawn back to him. Despite Avon's dislike of Vila's cowardice, he was known to admit that the inherent suspicion Vila displayed frequently made him 'right. ' Towards the end Avon was clearly developing a form of paranoia due to the constant strain of living on the edge of death.