Blakes 7 - Afterlife

by Tony Attwood

  ‘No,’ said Avon. ‘There is something happening here, and I would like to know what it is. There must be a good reason for the Federation to be unsure of who is on their side and who is not. Blake.’

  ‘Yes Avon,’ replied the computer.

  ‘Give me a run-down of all the spaceships within ten thousand spacials of here that are not openly displaying Federation signals.’

  ‘There are only two such ships. One is a Star Cluster type freighter bearing four by seven by nine distance one thousand five hundred spacials.’

  ‘And the other?’ asked Vila.

  ‘Is the freighter Revenge,’ said Korell. ‘Is that not right, Blake?’

  ‘Carrying three people, Vila Restell, Kerr Avon...’

  ‘Thank you Blake, I think we have the picture,’ said Vila.

  ‘So shall we go and take a look at whoever or whatever the Federation have us mixed up with?’ said Avon. ‘Or shall we try to outrun them and never know what is going on?’

  Put like that Vila found it easy to opt for running away. Korell sided with Avon, however, and as always he was outvoted.

  Avon continued with the instructions. ‘Blake, give us a close-up of the star cluster freighter.’ A picture emerged upon the screen. The ship appeared to have undergone substantial modifications, although still bearing some of the hallmarks of the Star Cluster type. Extra sections seemed to have been grafted on the rear ramjets and many of the proper formal markings had also disappeared.

  ‘How many people on board the ship?’

  ‘Three people.’ Blake paused. ‘And two vampires.’

  ‘Servalan!’

  ‘Servalan would never travel in something looking like that. She always retains a degree of style even if it slows her down,’ Vila objected.

  ‘Blake,’ commanded Avon, ‘I want a complete spectral analysis of that ship, and when you have it...’

  ‘I have it Avon.’

  ‘... I want anything that can be identified as relating directly to the people and the mutoids on the ship removed. Then remove anything relating to the legitimate normal structure of a ship of that type, and then report what you have left. Korell, start manoeuvring towards the location demanded by the Federation ship, but do it slowly and awkwardly. We need time.’

  ‘The spectrum analysis remaining,’ said Blake, ‘reveals a high degree of sygnum, much converted to crystal form –although far more than is needed to withstand a conventional plasma attack – plus some still in its purest raw form. There is also a substantial amount of RT alloy towards the rear of the ship, probably located in the hold. Finally there is a combination of alloys and crystals at the very rear of the ship which would indicate major modification to the ship’s drive unit.’

  Korell and Avon exchanged a long, silent knowing glance. Vila got impatient. ‘I know those looks,’ he exclaimed. ‘So stop playing about. What’s going on?’ He looked from one to the other but neither made a move to explain. ‘It sounds like a description of us. So what does...’ Vila’s voice trailed away as the implications began to sink in.

  Avon smiled condescendingly. ‘Raw sygnum is only available in one place. You have been there – you may use the ship’s log to remind yourself. You may also remind yourself that that place is half way across the galaxy. And I can’t think of too many reasons why you need more sygnum, apart from withstanding an attack, unless you are going through a black hole. RT alloy is used for one thing only, and that is the production of laser infusion side arms. Finally, you don’t expect freighters to carry drive modifications. So, Vila, even you may now begin to see that we have just used an exit route from a black hole which someone else is using. And that someone else is also using Skat as the entry point into the other reality.’

  ‘But what for? When we found ourselves in the alternative universe we needed to get out as fast as possible.’

  ‘Quite true,’ Korell agreed, ‘but we had no plan when we went in there, and we spent a lot of time modifying the ship so we could get out again. Supposing you knew what you were up to. You went in with a plan. We know that particular version of the galaxy is underpopulated. So it makes an ideal spot for gathering raw materials, buying up armaments, modifying ships, in fact everything necessary to prepare for a friendly little war.’

  ‘But if it is Servalan, what is she doing preparing a war?’ argued Vila. ‘She’s never had too much trouble getting ships before.’

  ‘When she was Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces of the Federation of the Inner and Outer Worlds that was true. And during her short life as President even more true. But now, as a Commissioner of The Federation she has freedom to roam around the Galaxy investigating crimes, and sorting out local trouble. But that is hardly enough for Servalan, is it?’

  ‘So you think she’s preparing for a comeback?’

  ‘I’m damn sure of it,’ Avon told him. ‘And we have just stumbled on her supply route. The question is, what do we do about it?’

  ‘I don’t suppose running in the opposite direction is one of the options you are considering?’ asked Vila with vain hope.

  ‘The Federation run by Servalan is bad news,’ said Korell.

  ‘Right,’ agreed Vila at once, ‘but the Federation run by some of the Councillors who displaced her could be even worse.’

  ‘Or better,’ Korell countered. ‘At this stage we don’t know. None of us has actually been at the heart of political affairs during the past six months.’

  ‘A Federation mixed up in a civil war could be the greatest opportunity of all,’ said Avon.

  ‘An opportunity for what? Murder, bloodshed, extermination?’ said Korell.

  ‘Isn’t that what goes on anyway?’ asked Avon. ‘We all of us have unfinished business with the sort of people who love power for power’s sake within the Federation.’

  ‘I’m not sure that I do,’ Korell argued.

  ‘You do more than anyone,’ said Avon.

  Korell smiled at Avon. ‘And Vila. Do you have unfinished business with the Federation?’

  ‘I don’t know really. Do I Avon?’

  ‘I thought you were concerned about the death of Blake.’

  Vila looked puzzled. ‘Of course I am. And we all know who killed Blake. You. Kerr Avon.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Sure? Avon, I was standing there. Three feet from you. You killed Blake. I saw the hole you made in his body. Now you’re not going to tell me that I imagined all that.’

  ‘No. Perhaps you are right.’ And with that Avon left the control room and returned to his cabin.

  ‘What’s all that about?’ Vila asked Korell, genuinely puzzled.

  ‘There can’t be many explanations,’ Korell told him. ‘Now we have to decide how to deal with our friends from the Federation. At the rate we are going we shall be docking in about forty-five minutes.’

  7

  As designs for space stations went, it was unexceptional, functional rather than luxurious. As locations for space stations go, it was bizarre in the extreme, circling a burned-out red giant with not even the remnants of a planetary system showing. The station, situated at a distance of fourteen light minutes from the star, travelled its eliptical orbit in splendid isolation. No space captain in his right mind would consider wandering near such a wreck of a sun, and its lack of planets would keep away everyone, from mining engineers to criminal exiles. The space station was as safe from detection as if it had been outside the Galaxy itself.

  Inside the spinning station life was more predictable than outer appearances might have suggested. Federation guards stood at every corner; with black helmets, black uniforms, black hand rifles, black boots. Only the commanders were allowed to push their helmets up, revealing faces and personalities. This one, noticed Vila, played the game of friendship. Yet he had the same insanity deep down inside that all the Federation officers had instilled into them through their training; the ruthlessness that would allow them to destroy whole populations if their military strength was th
reatened in any way.

  ‘I am Chief Commander Rodin, in charge of operation D5. Kindly tell me who you are.’ He remained seated looking up at the three, making no attempt to invite them to sit. Nor did he seem worried by the convention that the psychological advantage is with the person looking down. He had little time for games.

  Avon replied. ‘I am Style, this is Jorma and Avalaan.’ He pointed to Korell and Vila and spoke in a mild, unthreatening way. ‘We have just completed a journey from Skat through the centre of the Galaxy...’

  ‘Shut up,’ barked the Chief Commander. ‘What are you thinking of speaking in front of others? Give the code series, man.’

  Avon looked confused and worried. ‘That’s just it. Something seems to have gone wrong. Everything was fine as we entered the hole...’

  Rodin sprang to life. ‘Guards, leave the room,’ he shouted. ‘No one is to enter without my personal command. Treble the guard on the door. Seal the base. Full alert.’

  The guards rushed out, and the door slid shut after them. From beyond it the sound of running with orders being shouted could be heard reverberating down the corridors.

  ‘Tell me what happened,’ said Rodin finally, regaining his calmer attitude.

  ‘We gathered material as required. Or at least I think we did because everything seems a bit vague now. Then we headed for the hole, and entered dead centre, applied reverse thrust, but it seemed to take too long. The vibrations built up and we all blacked out. We were still trying to sort out what had happened when you contacted us.’

  ‘But is the cargo safe?’

  ‘Cargo?’ said Vila, to whom the question seemed aimed. ‘Cargo?’ he repeated.

  Rodin pressed the console on his desk. ‘Send in Stora,’ he barked.

  Stora turned out to be a fellow officer, dressed in full uniform. He stamped to attention. Something about him puzzled Avon; he averted his eyes. ‘Stora, search the ship that has docked. Check the hold particularly.’

  As Stora left Rodin turned back to the crew. His voice softened and his manner changed as he looked at Korell. ‘Jorma, you say your name is. And what was your role on this mission? Or can’t you remember that either?’

  ‘Pilot Sir,’ Korell replied formally.

  ‘Good.’ Rodin stood up. ‘And do you remember what you are doing, or what is going on? Do you even know who you are working for?’

  All three looked innocent. Rodin swore, and punched a button on his desk violently enough for most desks to fall apart. ‘Come and get these three out of here!’ he shouted. The door opened and two guards came in. ‘Put them in the rest centre and let them try and sleep it off.’

  As Avon, Korell and Vila were ushered out, Rodin sat back at his desk and pondered the matter. He was still thinking when Stora returned with his report. ‘The hold is empty but there are signs of raw sygnum everywhere. The ship has been converted in various ways, including having the extra shielding to allow it through the black hole and the autolog shows that they have been to Skat and through the hole.’

  ‘This is insanity,’ Rodin told him. ‘We’ve got so much security and secrecy around this operation that we don’t even know who is doing what and where. Which is all very well until a bunch of gooks like these three appear, claiming to have lost their memories. Since I don’t know if they should have been here or not I can’t tell if they are telling the truth. And I am strictly forbidden to ask for further information from command HQ.’

  ‘Couldn’t you circulate their pictures sir, see if anyone knows of them?’

  ‘Just as forbidden. No information goes out of here without authorisation from the highest of all levels. And I have specifically been told that information includes such things as questions. And if we detain them for months and then discover they are a crack troop of gravity-probe experts we’ll get court-martialed for not knowing them. Do you recognise any of them?’

  ‘One of them – the one called Style — reminds me of someone, but I can’t place it. It may be nothing.’

  Rodin sighed. ‘What about their computer?’

  ‘Now that is strange, sir. I can’t get at it. It won’t tell me anything.’

  ‘New code word?’

  ‘Perhaps; or maybe it’s just jamming on everything.’

  ‘Could have resulted from the forces in the hole I suppose.’

  ‘Yes sir, except if that were so, how did they receive our command to identify themselves?’

  Rodin stood up. ‘We shall just have to hold them until our Leader arrives and tells us what to do. Keep the ship guarded, keep them guarded; but keep them moderately comfortable, just in case they do turn out to be great heroes of the cause.’

  ‘Chief Commander.’ Stora saluted stiffly, turned and left the room.

  Vila was impressed by the quarters they were allocated, by the food and drink they were given and for a moment even forgot his concerns about the plan of action Avon had led him on. Not that their surroundings could be called luxurious; but considering that most people whom Vila came across instantly threw him into prison, it seemed a reasonable approach. He made his point of view well known.

  Avon for once was willing to let Vila chatter. The room was certainly bugged, and with the Commander uncertain as to who they were it was obvious that every word would be recorded. Eventually however, Vila got tired of talking to himself. He looked at Avon for direction. Avon concluded his detailed examination of the room and brought Vila’s attention to five points where the bugs were located. None of them, fortunately, was a visual link.

  ‘I don’t know about you two, but I am certainly going to rest. I feel like I’ve been battered from here to the other side of the Universe,’ announced Avon in the guise of his new persona. As he spoke he led Vila to the first bug, and mimed the removal of it gently. ‘So let’s keep it quiet,’ he said ambiguously, and delicately Vila applied his skills.

  As the final device was removed Avon went to the bathroom and turned on the water supply. The others joined him. ‘There are bugs against the main door located on the outside,’ he said. ‘The sound of the water should make it harder for them to hear. If they can hear nothing they’ll just assume we’ve all gone to sleep.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Vila demanded through clenched teeth. ‘We’re in here, the ship is guarded, and sooner or later they are going to find out we are not on their side, whatever their side is. And if they can’t find out they’ll just hold us here.’

  ‘I thought you welcomed the luxury,’ Korell said.

  ‘Not as much as I value my life,’ Vila told her.

  ‘Whatever they discover,’ said Avon, returning to the subject in hand, ‘they will find that we have been through the black hole. So even if they do find out we are not supposed to have been through, they will quickly work out that we know one hell of a lot, and that means we are worth keeping alive, to find out what we know and how we come to know it. As long as we are alive we stand a chance of finding out what is going on.’

  ‘I don’t like it,’ said Vila.

  ‘That hardly seems the point.’

  ‘But we can’t just sit here for days on end,’ Vila objected.

  ‘We’re certainly not going to do that. Once you have opened the door out of here I suggest we go for a walk. Since nobody seems to know what is going on we ought to get away with it, and if we don’t then we just say that memories started coming back and we wanted to check them out.’

  As Avon had presumed from its shape and style, the station was built on standard lines, and he was easily able to work his way round without losing a sense of direction. The outer rim corridor curved gently beneath their feet as they passed silver door after silver door. The walls too were curved and packed with cables and trunking, back-up circuits, and every fifty yards there were helpful maps of the whole location. Certain areas, however, were significantly not named. After five minutes Avon led the way down an interior corridor, and stopped outside an unmarked door. It looked the same as every other door to V
ila, but he made no objection when Avon ordered it opened quickly. The lock was complex but the principle well known. It took less than a minute.

  Avon entered carefully and looked around. As he had hoped, the room was empty. Korell and Vila followed rapidly and closed the door after them. Inside they found a square room measuring no more than twenty feet each way. One wall was totally taken up by a range of computer hardware, newly installed by the look of it and clearly fixed into a locked pattern. ‘Watch the door,’ Avon commanded before settling down in front of the main screen at the centre of the control panels.

  Avon, as always, worked consistently and with a clear mind. Korell, as always, remained relaxed and calm. Vila, as always, was tense, fretful and about to panic.

  At the computer Avon touched a number of keys and watched the displays respond, then touched more controls in response to the information he gathered. At one moment he called up an outline of the entire base on the screen, but after a few moments’ study he returned to his questioning of the machine. Aware that every time he touched a control it would be recorded on the audit trail and eventually discovered, Avon kept the routine short and was completing the final run of questions when Vila’s stage whisper told him someone was approaching. He ushered Vila behind the door and left Korell standing in the middle of the room. The door slid open and two uniformed guards came in. They looked at the beautiful lady facing them. She smiled; they hesitated. The hesitation was enough to enable even Vila the chance to render one of the guards unconscious with a sharp blow to the back of the neck. Avon dealt with the other.

  ‘Take the guns,’ Avon announced. ‘I don’t think we have too much time.’

  ‘What did you find out?’ demanded Vila as they left the computer room.

  ‘Vila, if I stand here and tell you now you won’t live long enough to make much use of the information. Move.’

  ‘Put like that,’ said Vila already on the run, ‘it seems a reasonable suggestion.’

  As they moved back along the outer corridor Avon called up the ship, ordering preparation for immediate launch followed by maximum power away from the station. As Blake confirmed, Avon shut down transmission.