by Tony Attwood
The group turned a corner. Ahead were two guards who looked up in surprise. Avon, Vila and Korell slid to a halt. All eyes seemed to focus on Avon. Slowly, so as not to cause any alarm, he moved his hand to his pocket and brought out a small box. It had two slight indentations on one surface. From his other pocket Avon removed a tiny phial. Delicately, watched all the time by the advancing but puzzled guards, he dropped two minute specks of liquid into the indentation.
‘Whatever you see,’ he said quickly to Korell and Vila, ‘ignore it. Keep heading for the ship.’
8
‘They were twenty feet across, crawling straight through the walls, with teeth ten feet high, covered in blue slime and smelling awful,’ said Vila. ‘It’s a good job I’m made of resilient stuff, otherwise I wouldn’t have made it.’
‘You aren’t and you didn’t,’ said Korell.
‘What?’
‘You are not made of resilient stuff and you didn’t make it. At least not on your own. After five seconds you collapsed on the ground whimpering like a two-year-old who’s been left by his mother. If I hadn’t picked you up and led you by the hand you’d still be there.’
‘Wonderful,’ said Vila. ‘You really know how to make me feel good. Still, you didn’t see those creatures. Twenty feet across...’
‘Thirty feet actually. What I saw were translucent, thirty feet across, like eight separate snakes coming out of one central body. They were able to kill anything just by wrapping one tentacle around the neck.’
‘But mine were...’
‘Shut up.’ It was Avon, concluding work at the computer. He turned to Korell. ‘According to the station console they have five unmarked freighters going between this time space and another. They travel out via Skat and eventually come back via the black hole. Whilst they are away they are stealing arms, plasma shielding, and a dozen other raw materials that can be used apparently to stage a very very large attack on the central institutions of the Federation.’
‘And by gathering everything outside this Universe they can do it all in absolute secrecy.’ Vila was pleased with himself at his deductions.
‘Certainly this scale of operation would cause a lot of comment if done on the door step of the Federation. But that is not the point.’
‘No?’ Vila was crestfallen.
‘No. It can’t be, can it?’ It was Korell who had realised the implications. ‘Blake told us that we would start to break up after we stayed too long on the other side.’
‘So?’ Vila still didn’t quite understand.
‘So Vila, by implication anything from the other side, like the guns and the shields and everything else they gather over there must eventually be quite unstable and useless in this universe.’
‘Maybe they haven’t realised yet.’
‘They must have because they have been doing this trafficking for months. There is only one reason why they should be bothering to bring back junk.’
‘To give it to the Federation?’ suggested Vila doubtfully.
‘For the people behind this operation, getting the sygnum and RT Alloy from the other side is only part one. Once here they are selling it on to Federation outposts as new supplies. In the shipments they’ll probably mix up some good weapons and materials with the decaying stuff. Now they have an advantage. Blake told us we would start to decay and the ship would start to break up in a matter of days. But according to the computer on the station the smaller the object, the slower it takes to break up. By the time the recipients of the weapons find out that some of them are not working it will be long past the time these people need. The Federation will be in turmoil, half the troops will be without proper weapons, and when things like that happen the first thing the Federation does is kill off some of its senior officials.’
‘So who is behind this?’
‘Not who, what.’
‘What?’
‘Orac.’ Avon spoke the name harshly.
‘Then that means Servalan.’
‘Quite probably.’
‘So Servalan wants an all-out attack on the Federation. A civil war.’
‘And what do we do about it?’
‘Go to the fifth sector.’
Vila and Korell looked blank.
Avon gave them more information. ‘To get as far out of the way as possible.’
And with that he strode from the room.
‘What is in the fifth sector?’ Vila asked Korell.
‘Stars, planets, comets, debris... You name it, it’s all there.’
‘OK. You’re not going to tell me either.’
‘Vila, if I knew what Avon was up to I might not tell you, but I would tell you that I knew.’
‘Very comforting. What are you going to do?’
‘Work it out.’ And Vila was left alone on the main deck.
The thief sat and pondered, gave up and went and got a drink. Carefully he poured a little onto KAT’s receptors.
‘What would you do in my position?’ he asked as the machine considered the latest concoction.
‘Add some Syrian 72 Sir,’ KAT replied.
‘I don’t mean that. I mean about Avon. And Korell. And this ship. I’m turning into a navvy. Doing odd jobs. Opening a couple of doors from time to time and that’s it. It was all right when there were seven of us. But now...’ He changed the topic of conversation. ‘Do you know that I really do have an alpha plus rating? That’s not just a story – it’s not a boast, you know.’
‘Sir, I know that. You were rated alpha plus from the age of three. You began to fake your questionnaires from the age of seven to avoid going into the Military Academy. When you got into the lower classes you found you could control those around you with your schemes, and get away with your petty thefts. So behaving stupid became a habit. But you then found that as a lower grade citizen you had few rights and fewer options in the workplace, and pushing truckloads of rubbish around the lower levels was not your idea of fun. So your thieving got more sophisticated and you learned to open locks. There are some that say you were the greatest thief of the whole second century.’
‘Do they? Really?’ Vila perked up a little. ‘But you’re right. I couldn’t get back. Acting became a way of life. Now I’m stuck with it.’
‘Does it worry you Sir?’
‘Sometimes. I mean sometimes I really do get afraid. Like really scared. I don’t have Avon’s hardness or Korell’s coolness. But being thought of as stupid is beginning to pale a little as a way of life. Especially as I seem to be doomed to spending the rest of my life with Avon.’
‘So how do you intend to make life better?’
‘By impressing Avon and Korell I suppose. Then they’ll treat me with more respect.’
‘Sir, you do have a problem.’
‘Do I?’
‘You don’t know what Avon is planning.’
‘That’s right. I have a problem. Avon. It’s always Avon.’
‘Then, Sir, solve the problem. Avon won’t expect you to know, so you will always be one jump ahead of him.’
Vila was suddenly wide awake. It appealed. And besides it wouldn’t be hard work. The computer would do it all. Vila turned to Blake. ‘I want you to solve a problem for me,’ he announced.
‘Define the problem,’ said Blake.
‘Avon is taking us into the fifth sector. He must have a plan, and I don’t know what the plan is.’
‘Why must he have a plan?’ asked Blake.
‘He always has a plan,’ Vila told him.
‘Very well. We assume he has a plan. Since the directional computers are locked onto a course which leads into the fifth sector we can also assume he is telling the truth. We can also assume that the ultimate destination lies somewhere along our current flight plan.’
‘Good: so what lies along that flight path in the fifth sector?’
‘Several thousand planets.’
Vila groaned. He knew it wouldn’t work.
He had a brain wave. ‘Do any of them have m
inerals or crystals or products that Avon might want to use to build teleport facilities?’
‘No,’ said Blake.
Vila forced his mind into something resembling action. ‘Are any of them likely locations of white holes?’
‘No,’ said Blake.
‘Well what else can it be?’
‘Sadly there is not enough background information on Avon in my data banks to answer that question.’
‘Why not?’ Vila was shocked. ‘You seem to know all about me. Why not about Avon?’
‘I have widely available data on a lot of Avon’s background. But he is habitually secretive, and that makes it much harder to work out what is on his mind. The only solution is for you to have a look at the list of planets and see if any strike you as being of interest to Avon.’
‘Two thousand you say? Well maybe, maybe tomorrow.’ Vila was losing enthusiasm fast.
‘Sir, do it now!’ KAT commanded. ‘You will be angry with yourself if you let yourself down again. Do it now. You have to stay on watch, and there is nothing else to do. Blake, that esteemed custodian of the ship, Sir, will tell you if there is any danger. I will feed the list onto the screen at your position. When we have the answer then you can reward yourself with a drink, and at that stage perhaps I too may be permitted to partake of a little sustenance, Sir. Are you ready?’
Vila gave in. ‘Even the computers tell me what to do,’ he said.
Despite himself Vila worked his way through the list of grid references and planet names, along with alternative names, local names, official Federation names and slang names for precisely one hour forty-seven minutes and twenty-three seconds at which moment he stopped reading, looked up and stared blankly at the master screen in front of him for a further three minutes. Eventually he looked back at the list.
‘Not again.’ Vila looked at Blake. ‘He can’t, can he?’
‘He can do what he wants, unless you stop him.’ Blake announced calmly.
‘You lost him. No, I must be precise – that is a virtue. I should have said, “I presume you lost him”.’
There was silence.
‘I said, I presume you lost him. Am I right?’
Few people were able to speak to Servalan in that way and survive. Daareen was one of the few. Her mother had been a High Councillor who had backed Servalan in her bid for the Presidency and had suffered the inevitable loss of office that followed the defeat of Servalan’s forces. But she had retained many friends and was virtually the only ally that Servalan kept who was by and large indispensable. Now, finding it politically expedient to remain hidden from public gaze, she used her daughter as a proxy, and gave her free reign. The girl enjoyed the experience.
Servalan regarded Daareen impassively. She was in her late teens and showing much of what had been noted as her mother’s combination of great beauty and rock hard resolve. Her cropped black hair matched Servalan’s own. Indeed, beyond the confines of their own headquarters the similarities in the appearance of the pair were already being remarked upon. In one or two quarters it was suggested that their hair style combined with the flowing, revealing, highly decorated and totally impractical dresses was becoming the new fashion. If Servalan and Daareen recognised the effect they were starting to have on high fashion (and they most certainly did) they didn’t acknowledge it. They tended to have slightly more important things on their hands.
‘It was Kerr Avon, wasn’t it, right inside operation headquarters?’ said Daareen. She emphasised the past tense and retained only the pretence of the interrogative. It was really an accusation of failure, that highest of crimes.
Servalan gave up the act of silence and banged her hand on the table; but recovered and picked up the single blue rose on her desk, holding it to her face, affecting to smell the perfume. Eventually she put it back down slowly and looked up at her ally, attempting through her slowness and deliberation to regain the psychological advantage. ‘He got away because our security system is designed to maintain the lowest of profiles and to keep information secure. We do not issue pictures of the criminals of the galaxy to all the guards.’
‘Perhaps,’ Daareen said, in an equally measured but emphatic voice, ‘that is where you go wrong. Avon may be a criminal to the Federation but to us he could be immensely valuable. Do you realise how much information that man must have locked up in his head? Apart from being brilliant with computer hardware he has experience of stardrives working at above TD12, he has worked with at least two quite separate teleport systems, and from what I know of Avon he has probably worked out what makes them tick. And I hear he is starting to develop quite an ability in redesigning software too.’
Servalan stood and paced around the office. It had become more decorative than she would have liked – Daareen would never agree to stand whilst Servalan sat, so the room had a visitor’s chair. It was that one extra chair that made Servalan feel the room was ‘over decorated.’ The chair interfered with her pacing, forcing a slight detour each time she marched across the golden floor. She looked at Daareen. Her pure black dress contrasted vividly with the pure white walls. ‘Of course I know all that,’ she exclaimed. ‘But if you are suggesting that Avon would ever willingly agree to work with us you are mistaken.’ Servalan looked exasperated. ‘He trusts no one, not even his own crew. Besides we have Orac now, which, if I can remind you, is how we got the Skat project into full production.’
‘Then why didn’t Orac tell us about Avon?’
‘One, because Avon is using some new device which generates non-tarriel random wave emissions, and two because he seems to be fascinated by this MIND myth. Avon is supposed to be the great logical thinker, but he is acting out of type following a myth, so even Orac has problems trying to work out what is going on. And third, Avon told Orac a lot of things but he rarely gave Orac reasons, and Orac never asked. Now all this may give credence to your view on his brilliance. And I know all the incredible things he has done.’ She lingered on the word ‘incredible’ and spread her hands. ‘But there are more important things in the Galaxy than Avon. He is human, and he is vulnerable, but he is still not our top priority. Becoming transfixed with Avon is not an error your mother would make.’
As the speech continued so Servalan’s voice had become more mocking, pushing Daareen about as far as she could be pushed. The girl had more patience than Servalan, but inside she contained the same viciousness and pure brutality. Each knew the other would kill instantly. But for the moment each needed the other.
Daareen was persistent. ‘Who were the two with him?’
‘One was Vila Restell. A good thief but otherwise harmless, useless and stupid. One of the originals – the least effective.’
‘And the other?’
‘A girl, Korell Maarn. One of my agents. She stays with Avon, watches, monitors, and when I’m ready she’ll come back and report.’
‘And you don’t doubt her integrity, letting Avon into the station?’
‘She didn’t know about this operation any more than Avon did. She helped us get Orac – I would think that is quite a recommendation for the time being, wouldn’t you?’
‘Very well.’ Daareen seemed appeased for the moment. ‘But one question remains. What will Avon do now?’
‘Spend time working on ways to use whatever information he found out here. From what was gathered when he reached the station he didn’t know much about what was going on, and his ship, although fast, showed no signs of any modifications beyond the drive and the defence mechanisms. He can’t take the information to the Federation since he would be recognised instantly and killed. And there’s not much he can do with the knowledge of how to use the reality distort on Skat – at least not much to our disadvantage.’
Daareen looked unimpressed. She walked across the room, and inserted the key into the translucent box of spinning lights on the table.
‘Orac, what do you deduce Avon will do now?’
‘It is obvious,’ the machine said. ‘As Servalan has pointed
out already, he will try to use the information he has on your project for his own advantage.’
‘How will he do that?’
‘By extrapolating the logical sequence of events, and working out what you intend to do. That will lead him to the conclusion that you want to take over the Federation. Avon thrives on confusion. Where there is confusion in administration he can act best of all. He will work out a plan which will come into operation as and when you attempt to take over control of the Galaxy.’
‘What form will his plan take?’
‘It will involve computer-based fraud. Vila’s skills will enable Avon to steal any documents he needs and also open any locked computer entrances. His own skills are more than enough to pull off something very large. At least ten times bigger than his last attempt.’
‘Which failed,’ said Servalan.
‘Because he relied on others. This time he relies only on Vila – who is ultimately expendable.’
To Daareen it seemed for a moment that Orac was ready to say more, but nothing further emerged. She took out the key. ‘I wonder where he will make his base?’ she said, but Servalan did not answer.
9
Vila’s newly acquired information left him with a problem. Most of the knowledge he had gained in recent years had been either passed on to Avon, or in moments of crisis used immediately. But Vila knew that going to Avon’s cabin and confronting him with the discovery would probably end up with little more than a closed door in his face. It would certainly not bring about a democratic vote – and even if it did he had no idea which way Korell would vote, nor that Avon would actually abide by any decision taken.
Vila returned to KAT, told him of the answer he had worked out and asked the computer for advice.
‘Sir, I don’t have the necessary background to give that information,’ KAT told him, which as Vila replied, was not the sort of answer he was looking for.
‘Then, Sir, I suggest you do nothing,’ advised the machine. ‘Avon’s actions will either confirm or deny your assumptions. If you are proved to be right you may still have time to put your knowledge to good use, and if not, you will at least be well prepared if Avon chooses not to share his secret with his crew. Confronting him with the knowledge now will do no good.’