by Tony Attwood
To interrupt the seemingly endless flow Avon removed the key with a flourish of his right hand. He paused for a moment and then reinserted the key. ‘Let’s try again, Orac. You are suffering some sort of interference. Could that interference be MIND?’
Orac was not to be so easily deflected. ‘Since I do not recognise that Machine Induced Neural Deviance exists, the answer must logically be no. But there is another machine – it appears to be unreadable by me. I have endeavoured to establish contact on a number of occasions but without success.’
‘Is it a computational device?’
‘That is as it appears, and yet if it were a computer then it would be readable by myself. Therefore, since I cannot read it, it logically cannot be an instrument of computation.’
‘What function does it perform?’
‘I do not have that information.’
‘Where is it situated?’
‘I do not have that information, although it appears to be close by. Now if you will allow me to continue with my work there are many problems relating to this part of the galaxy which need investigation.’
‘Forget that Orac. I want to know about the mechanism you cannot read. I want to know where it is, what it is and who, if anyone, controls it. And I want to know if it could just conceivably be the first example of Machine Induced Neural Deviance that you have come across.’
‘That of course was one of the matters to which I was referring,’ Orac announced. ‘You knew as soon as you initiated the reprogramming that there was a central logical problem facing me.’
‘Therefore,’ interrupted Avon, ‘get on and solve it.’
But Orac was not to be told what to do. ‘Therefore,’ the machine replied, emphasising the word, ‘do not instruct me to undertake tasks which you know perfectly well I am already investigating: It is a prime example of the way in which DNA based organic life forms waste the time of entities such as myself. Really Avon, your mind must have degenerated during your spell in the dome. And I did have hopes for you! You should devote yourself to a course in logical training – the educational section of the dome computers should be able to provide suitable material.’
‘Thank you Orac, I’ll bear your advice in mind. But before you get back to your esoteric studies we’ll need the details of how to get this ship to travel through space.’
‘First, improve the ship’s computer so that it will take rapid information from me. That will liberate me from the task of having to listen to you, Avon. Enlarge the memory function in Gate 19 and introduce a voice synthesiser – you should be able to design it. Then we should get what we want.’
Inside the plantation dome Vila pondered the prone form of one of the service androids. The machine was box like running on eight wheels with ten separate highly extendable arms located around the edges. Its white shiny surface contained a number of contact points just below a central brain section located in the top of the box. Vila had succeeded in bypassing the primary feeds which acted as a locking mechanism to the robot’s brain. What he couldn’t do, and indeed wasn’t expected to do by either Korell or Avon, was start to reprogramme the machine to accept his orders. On the other hand Vila fancied a tame android for himself. The simple fact of lack of knowledge had never stopped him in the past, and seemed unlikely to now. He lowered a lance into the brain and nearly dropped when a voice spoke quietly from behind.
‘One centimetre lower and the back up circuits will discharge through you.’
Vila didn’t need to be told twice. He leapt backwards and collapsed onto the floor.
‘Where is Korell?’ asked Avon, whose voice it was.
‘Somewhere through there.’ Vila indicated with a vague wave of the hand to the rest of the dome. ‘I have instructions to open up the brains of these mobile boxes for you to do your reprogramming bit. Just make sure they respond to the orders of all three of us. Korell specifically included me.’
Avon knelt down and inspected the android. It looked a straight forward job. He turned to Vila. ‘Go back to the ship and open up every locked compartment you can find. Check inside for anything other than the on board control systems that might be computer based. Also open up the safety locks on all the on board computers so I can get inside them.’
‘Wonderful,’ said Vila, not moving. ‘You’re going to disable the ship we are leaving in so that it runs out of control with all of us on board. A brilliant scheme. I should have thought of it myself.’
‘If that was the scheme you would have thought of it yourself.’
‘Listen, if you want to commit suicide that’s fine, but don’t involve me. Hasn’t it struck you that Korell is getting us off this soaking planet? She hasn’t attacked us, killed us, threatened us, or anything us. In fact I don’t see how she could threaten us even if she wanted to. So what are you doing fooling around with the ship’s gear?’
Avon decided to humour the thief. He spoke rapidly in a low voice. ‘Vila, five months ago this area was crawling with Federation troops, now it isn’t. A number of people, or possibly their bodies which were here, are no longer here. Somewhere close by there is a computer that Orac cannot read. The only person who conceivably knows what is going on is Korell. Since she is unlikely to tell us the answers I want to know where the other computer is and what it is. If things go wrong Orac is our only friend, and I don’t want Orac being intercepted by something we know nothing about. There is a fair chance that whatever it is that Orac cannot read is on the ship, so our job – correction your job – is to find it.’
Vila got up resignedly. ‘All right, Avon. Yes, Avon. I’m going Avon, at once Avon:’ He repeated the phrases over and over as he made his way back to the entry hatch. His intention was to go outside, sit down and do none of the things Avon had asked of him. But it was raining again, so he ran quickly into the ship to get dry. Finding himself onboard and alone, he turned back to the one thing he could do – the one thing that made him Vila – and started opening the locked doors.
2
Servalan looked up from her high backed chair. The office was simple, stark, monotone. The screen and the touch sensitive plate next to the vidfone were the only items on the desk. Her hair, as ever, was short and jet black. Her clothes, on the other hand were elaborate but still not colourful. The dress reached the floor. The long sleeves nearly covered her hands. Her shoes were totally impractical for movement, yet somehow she managed without any sign of difficulty or discomfort.
She looked up at her guest and smiled a sweet smile revealing, to those who knew her, more malice than friendship. ‘You were on the planet Captain Telon?’ she asked carefully.
The officer of the crack Federation surveillance squad, LD9, stood squarely to attention. ‘Yes commissioner.’ His helmet and face mask were held correctly in his right hand, his left arm straight to his side. His feet were a regulation twelve inches apart. His black uniform had one flash of colour – the Federation globe positioned just over his heart.
‘What were your orders there?’
‘To remove the prisoners held in the compound and return them to Earth.’
‘To Earth?’ Servalan moved her mouth to produce a slightly quizzical look. Her head tilted to one side. The smile changed slightly and became momentarily more encouraging. ‘They must have captured someone important for those degenerates in the Administration to stir themselves.’
‘Commissioner...’ The Captain hesitated, unsure of his superior officer’s security clearance. This could be a test of his efficiency. He allowed himself a swift intake of breath and then decided to push on. ‘For some time the planet had been used by enemies of our Federation. We have had them under close surveillance and had 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. She placed her hands firmly on her desk and stood up, brushing past the captain as she swept across
her office. ‘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 sneer froze on Servalan’s face. For a moment she did not speak, she did not move. She barely breathed as she turned to the captain. ‘Did you see Blake?’
‘Yes, Commissioner. I supervised the identification of his body. He was dead. Shot repeatedly from very close range.’
‘You are sure it was Blake?’
‘Yes, Commissioner. He is one of the main criminals wanted by our Federation. We have his picture...’
‘Don’t tell me about Blake, you fool.’ Servalan snapped. ‘I know more about him than you’ll ever know. What about the others?’
‘We found a number of bodies, and signs that other people had been injured and had left the area. We were about to start our roundup and identification, according to orders, when we were attacked.’
‘By whom?’
‘Madam, we have no idea. The attack was sudden and came from outside the compound. We evacuated the dome to avoid being caught by Aoline 97 – it is a standard precaution, the new gas can maim instantly... By retreating through the compound we were able to avoid the attackers and leave without loss beyond those involved in the shooting of Blake, of whom four were seriously injured.’
Servalan stopped her pacing and turned to the captain. Correctly he had remained facing the Commissioner’s desk even though she were no longer seated there. ‘You mean you evacuated without even seeing your opponents?’
‘Yes, Commissioner. Our instrumentation clearly showed overwhelming forces attacking us. And because our prime orders were to ensure the final elimination of Blake it was felt we had complied with...’
‘And Blake?’
‘Madam?’ The question seemed incomprehensible. Had Servalan not been listening?
‘Blake, you fool, Blake. Where is the body of Blake?’
‘I presume still on the planet, Commissioner. As I reported, Madam, we evacuated rapidly, there was no time to return to the domes...’
‘So there is no proof, just your word.’
‘Madam...’
‘You may go Telon.’ Servalan’s voice was suddenly harsh. There was no room for argument. The officer left.
Servalan continued to pace the room, her fists clenched. Her strides were as long as her full dress would permit. The material made a gentle swishing as it ruffled against the synthetic floor coverings. She had wanted Blake for her own. The rumours of his continued existence had circulated ever since the Galactic war. She knew; she had even cultivated them at times. But a rumour of his death – that would never serve her purpose. Servalan returned to the console at her desk.
‘Yes, Commissioner.’ It was the voice of a mutoid; the only beings Servalan ever really trusted. Vampire-like, they existed on blood plasma, but were moderately good fighters and totally reliant.
‘Bring me a complete analysis of the status of the planet Gauda Prime.’
There was no more conversation. The mutoid, trained to accept the personality of her commander had long since learned not to waste time with formalities. Instead she instantly called up the information from Data Central, and transferred it into a small plastic like card. The mutoid – to anyone not knowing how she lived she could have been an attractive young female – took the card to Servalan, and immediately left the room.
Servalan studied the information carefully. She read of the frontier planet’s transformation from a peaceful agricultural society into an Open Planet where the normal laws of the Federation were abandoned in order to increase the speed at which natural resources were being exploited: She read the classified appended report that the planet was apparently suspected of being used by criminal elements as a gathering place, and that political motives were suspected. She read of the bounty hunters whose job involved rounding up and killing the criminals who had enjoyed freedom under the now terminated Open Planet policy. She read of the existence of an infiltrated Federation unit ready to take out the rebels. And she read no more. That was all. No Blake. No mention of Avon or Orac. No mention of their spaceship Scorpio with its teleport facilities – probably the only teleport system left in the Galaxy.
A puzzled look passed over Servalan’s face. She stared at the blank screen in front of her. Finally she used the vidfone; a second later a picture appeared. The dismissed Captain back in his quarters looked somewhat more nervous than he had in Servalan’s presence. But irrespective of his feelings he naturally obeyed the Commissioner’s command to return.
‘Captain,’ said Servalan as soon as the door closed behind him, ‘you must forgive my abruptness of a moment ago – forged entirely by disappointment. The man Blake – you may have heard of him’ – (the Captain nodded) – ‘an arch criminal, and the thought of him dead and not answering my questions momentarily flooded my judgement. A weakness on my part – forgive me.’
The Captain was suitably stunned. Not only was it unheard of from a senior Federation Commissioner to ask a captain to accept an apology, for Servalan to do so was beyond belief. He made a sound deep in his throat which could have been a cough, a protestation or an acknowledgement. Servalan seemed to find it acceptable. ‘I have been looking at the data on this planet...’
She affected not to remember its name.
‘Gauda Prime.’ The captain helped her out.
‘Of course, Gauda Prime.’ She waved a delicate hand imperiously. ‘And I can see the problems you faced.’ She paused; the captain looked relieved. ‘But I also think there is more information that can be found from the planet. I therefore propose an expedition to return there – with you in charge.’
Telon was impressed, and felt duty bound to protest his lack of qualifications for the job. The protestations confirmed Servalan’s view of the man. She pressed on with the plan rapidly forming in her brain. ‘It will be a highly secret mission, Captain, for if there are forces lurking in that part of the frontier they will certainly pounce on a large fleet and our chances of finding what evidence remains will be lost. We will take just one ship – mine. You will command. If you will make ready...’
The captain was dismissed before further speeches could be made. Servalan sat back in her chair and smiled. From the cabinet below her monitor she took a tumbler full of intoxicating green liquid and sipped gently. The smile on her lips grew.
Avon did not smile. Korell was giving him far too much freedom to plot and plan. As part of his mind worked on that problem the rest of him concentrated on other matters. There was no difficulty getting time alone with Vila – Korell regularly wandered around the Plantation base looking for the items that Orac specified would be needed to build the fusion drive amendments they needed. But Vila reported that his search had drawn a blank. He had worked his way through every section of the ship and there was nothing that looked remotely like a computer apart from those bits which should be there. The on-board mainframe also looked normal. Once Vila had opened it up Avon inspected it, but could find no sign of tampering.
Avon sat down behind the bank of instruments that made up the main control board which faced the captain’s position. He needed more information and he needed it quickly if he were not to be forced into trusting Korell with more than he wanted to give away. The Orac computer was still giving out that subtle distress code he had found on switching the machine back on, and as long as that happened there was a strong chance that this outside force, whatever it was, was up to something not entirely to Avon’s benefit. But unless he had some other information soon he was going to have to ask Orac for help, and the danger of that was that if Machine Induced Neural Deviance was at work it could use Orac as a booster to increase its influence. In desperation Avon turned to Vila. The thief had his feet up on the pilot’s desk and was trying to flick small pellets of carbon into a waste discharge point on the far side of the control cabin.
‘After the shoot
out... Tell me again. What happened after you crawled away from the action?’
‘You mean what happened after you shot Blake?’ Vila was not going to let Avon forget that – ever. He was still completely unsure why Blake had been shot, but whatever the reason it didn’t matter. Vila owed much to Blake. Blake had rescued him from the prison planet Cygnus Alpha –before a clever vidcast commentator had thought of calling them "Blake’s 7". Vila had heard that the commentator had then found himself transferred to Cygnus Alpha, theoretically to make a documentary on the subject of the criminals deported there. Unlike Blake, he had never made it back.
Blake had gone to Cygnus Alpha to rescue Vila. Blake had been the nearest thing Vila had ever had to a father figure – at least in Vila’s memory. And Avon had shot him.
Avon offered no comment.
Vila shrugged. ‘After I got out I looked for somewhere to shelter. I went into the nearest ship – this one – switched the rear viewers on and watched.’
‘Did you see any guards outside?’
‘Only bodies.’
Avon found it hard to believe. ‘Were they all dead?’
‘I didn’t ask them, but their conversation wasn’t up to much.’
‘What about Tarrant, Dayna, Soolin...’
‘What about Blake?’
Despite the taunt Avon was determined to pursue his line of questioning. ‘Didn’t you see anyone alive – or hear anything?’
‘Hear anything? It was commando country out there. All the bounty hunters – hundreds of them on the communication channels spread out across the planet, armed to the teeth shouting orders at each other.’
‘Then what? Did you see them?’
‘No, after a while they just stopped shouting. It all went silent.’
‘Equipment failure?’
‘No I checked. Avon I know you think I am stupid...’
‘You’ve noticed!’