by Tony Attwood
Korell reviewed the facts. ‘MIND is supposed to be some sort of highly logical being taking an active part in human affairs, right?’ There was no reply. ‘So why do you feel it is getting at you?’
Avon became irritated but he refrained from taking further refuge in silence. ‘Events have taken place during the last few years which I have sought to understand. I have examined all possibilities, including the existence of the legend of MIND. I do not believe that MIND is purely influencing me, any more than I believe that MIND is some sort of pure energy force of intellect floating around the Galaxy, which is what the popular belief says. Matters remain to be explained. From time to time I look for an explanation.’
Korell was by now totally fascinated, and would not let go of the subject. ‘KAT, give me a run-down of episodes in Avon’s recent life which may be put down to the influence of MIND.’
‘No,’ shouted Avon. ‘This is a pointless waste of time, when we have to decide what to do about Ghammar.’
‘Are you afraid of something?’ suggested Vila, hoping at last to have found some sort of chink in Avon’s seemingly impenetrable armour.
‘I am simply telling you that there is more important business at the present. KAT is needed now to solve the problem of Ghammar, because if the Ghammarans attack again KAT is the only computer we have which can withstand the attack. If you start taking up our time debating why I happened to say one word during the last attack we might as well surrender now.’
‘Very well,’ said Korell. ‘Let’s put MIND in abeyance for the moment. What do you plan to do about Ghammar?’
‘There is nothing to do about Ghammar,’ said Vila. ‘For once we have found a race of people who actually do not want to harm us. They don’t have teleport, Avon knows how to build one, and they’ll get the raw materials. Avon does the design work and we all get what we want, including a freighter that can go as fast as Liberator. What’s wrong with that?’
‘Nothing,’ said Avon, ‘if it is true. But what if this is just another happy band of people working for the Federation –or working for Servalan? Servalan already has Orac and Caro – which makes for a large amount of computing power, even in the hands of a technological illiterate like Servalan. With teleport as well there is nothing she could not achieve.’
‘I thought you said there was already nothing she couldn’t get with access to the alternative universe through Skat?’ said Vila.
Avon was emphatic. ‘That knowledge gives her great power and a neat trick – a way of countering the Federation without having to match it with physical power, which she’ll never do. But with the situation developing as it is the end will be messy. At some stage she will have to attack the Administration on Earth whilst still attacking the Command HQ of the Federation, and that will be her time of greatest weakness. It will also be the Federation’s time of greatest weakness and our opportunity. But if she gets the teleport...’
‘So why did you offer it to them if you think they are Servalan’s men?’
‘Because for a prize that big they will take risks. And they have risked letting us get back on the ship.’ Avon turned his attention to the small box. ‘What defence can there be against another attack from the sound waves from Ghammar?’
KAT was clear. ‘Sir, there is but one solution. As soon as the emissions from the planet begin, I can put out a counter pulse which will neutralise the sounds. Sir, they will render them harmless. Unpleasant but harmless, Sir.’
Vila was unable to restrain his delight that a machine he had discovered had proved to be so valuable. His only concern was that Avon seemed to be getting more ‘Sirs’ out of KAT than he was.
‘Sir, I fear that I must add however that there is one condition. I feel, Sir, that such heroic work, and if I may say, such demanding and unpleasant work as this, requires a little reward. Vila, Sir, you play with me – try out a little of this, a little of that. It is a load I have to bear, Sir for that is my function. But it is now so long, Sir, since I had a chance to partake of a little para-hyrene. The kind Avon gave me a little at the space station...’
‘Avon gave it to you at the station?’
‘It mixed well with the A and S.’
‘A and S?’ queried Vila. He feigned ignorance.
‘Adrenalin and Soma,’ Korell patiently reminded him.
‘Ah yes. I think I may have inadvertently given some to KAT once. Never touch it myself.’
‘Sirs, Madam, may I suggest para-hyrene plus a little adrenalin and soma would be suitable reward for such tasks as you now require me, a poor humble kinesthetic analysis and transmission machine, to perform?’
‘Vila!’ said Korell with mock anger, ‘you are harbouring a computer that is drug dependent. If it had ever happened before it would be a crime by now.’
‘It wasn’t me! Avon gave it to KAT.’
‘Correction,’ said Avon. ‘I gave it to KAT once on leaving the space station. You gave it to KAT once before, as we approached Skat. Remember the wall?’
‘KAT’s projection?’ asked Vila meekly. He had been scared witless by the mental projections of a computer, and not just once but twice.
Avon turned to KAT. ‘Very well,’ he announced. ‘But you only get the reward after we are safely away from Ghammar. If you touch the stuff before then there’s no telling what sort of counter wave you’ll put out. Korell, lock up every drop of adrenalin, soma and para-hyrene you can find on the ship. I don’t want Vila consuming our chances of survival. No wait, Vila’s the thief – he’ll only steal it. Give it to me for safe keeping. KAT, I will hand it over when your tasks are successfully completed.’
‘Sir, you are most gracious,’ KAT told him. Avon smiled broadly.
Returning to establish a distant orbit from the planet, Avon gave orders to the Ghammarans for the raw materials he required for teleport construction. The details were received without comment other than an assurance that work would proceed forthwith. Avon then set the ship’s computers upon a variety of tasks without a word to Korell or Vila, leaving each of them once again to their own devices. Eventually it grew too much for Vila and he wandered disconsolately down to Avon’s cabin.
Avon looked at the thief with disdain. ‘Vila,’ he declared, ‘this is not the time for idle chatter.’
‘It may not be for you, but it is for me. You deprive me of everything I need for medicinal purposes, I can’t talk to KAT because it is on full alert, you’ve turned most of Blake off line because of Ghammeran interference, Korell won’t speak because she’s too busy trying to analyse logically what makes you tick – and she has to do it without a computer, and I still don’t know what is going on. If the Ghammarans come up with the goods then what? Do we go back down, do we direct them from here?’
‘Would it make much difference to you. Vila. whatever I told you?’
‘It might. I might refuse to co-operate if I didn’t like the scheme. I could leave the ship... I don’t like being pushed around by you, Avon.’
‘It would be bizarre if you did. Just keep out of my way until those people down there get back to us with a report.’
It looked for a moment as if Vila was going to continue the argument, but he felt dejected and uninspired and finally welcomed the interruption caused by the communication channel springing to life. One of the Representatives of the Ghammarans announced simply on all screens that all materials had been gathered and work was now ready to begin.
Avon appeared relaxed, acknowledging the call and stating that he would be ready in one hour with instructions. He then ran at full speed to the flight deck, touched a dozen controls to bring Blake back on line and commanded a full report from the machine. A long series of numbers appeared on the main screen which Avon studied intently. To Vila they meant nothing; to Korell their importance became rapidly apparent. As the number sequence ended Avon turned and noticed Korell. ‘That should make interesting reading for you,’ he said.
‘It’s the locations of the various items that you
listed as essential for the building of the teleport. Half of them at least are not the slightest bit necessary. Why did you send them on a wild goose chase?’
‘To find out where they got the items.’
‘But you knew exactly where they were available.’
‘And so did they. At least they found out very quickly. And in some cases they went straight to Federation strongholds, removed substantial amounts of infinitely valuable materials and brought them back here. How did they know where to go? How did they manage to find what they wanted so quickly? How is it that there are no panic buttons being pushed on every single Federation planet within a hundred light years of here?’
‘I presume,’ said Korell coolly, ‘that those are rhetorical questions.’
‘They are in as much as I know the possible answers. One is that they are allies of the Federation. Another is that they do have powers far beyond what we have yet imagined –powers to subdue whole planets with their sound waves for example, without the authorities knowing that anything untoward is happening. Or last, someone tipped off the Federation what was happening and the order was given to let the Ghammarans have their bits and pieces. Now which one is it?’
‘What wonderful logical imponderables you do set up,’ Korell replied. ‘You have no way of knowing as things stand, since you have two suspects and neither can verify or deny anything since you distrust both suspects. You daren’t tell the Ghammarans how to build the teleport because you still don’t trust them. You are also unsure of me, and yet if you decide I am the traitor you are still not sure if the Ghammarans can be trusted, even if they are not working for the Federation.’ She laughed out loud. ‘This is the best yet. Avon, what are you going to do?’
Avon turned and let out a smile. Vila saw it, and leapt to the ground. Both Avon and Korell turned to him in amazement. After a few seconds Vila raised his head slightly and looked up. Seeing that he was not threatened he rather sheepishly got to his feet. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s that smile of yours, Avon. Last time I saw you look that way you had just shot Blake. I thought it was going to start again.’
‘You can relax,’ Avon told him. ‘What Korell says is true. She could be a spy in our midst, the Ghammarans could have great powers, or they could be working for the Federation.’
‘So what will you do?’
‘On Korell, I reserve judgement.’
‘Thank you Avon,’ she replied mockingly. ‘Most magnanimous.’
‘As for the Ghammarans, I think there should be a modification in procedure.’ He punched the controls in front of his position and the leading Representative of the Ghammarans came on the screen. ‘There has to be a slight change of plan,’ Avon said. ‘I shall build the teleport here on Revenge.’
There were no objections from below. ‘Send up a ship,’ Avon continued, ‘with all the materials on board. It can dock with us and we shall transfer everything into the hold.’
The Ghammaran agreed instantly and happily. Shortly, a ship took off from the surface carrying the materials. Docking and off-loading went without a hitch and Avon was left to work on the teleport project. If the Ghammarans harboured any concern about Avon’s change of plan they showed not the slightest sign.
Once more with time on his hands Vila conversed with the now liberated Blake. The computer’s view was that the lack of concern from the planet below was not surprising. They could have no knowledge that KAT was able to counteract their operations and so would feel safe to let Avon continue his work. ‘But,’ added Blake, ‘there is one thing you should know. With the equipment Avon has and the knowledge he has of teleport, which although virtually unparalleled is none the less limited, it will take him around four and a half years to construct even a working model. Then assuming that no faults are discovered in the model system it will take a further three years to develop a full scale operating teleport.’
Long before Blake’s convoluted sentence had ended Vila had spat his drink out in surprise.
‘Do the Ghammarans know this?’
‘Probably.’
‘And...’
‘And they are prepared to wait. If they do believe they have the Revenge and its crew captured then they have all the time in the world. They can leave us up here, forget about us if need be and carry on with their normal day to day activity.’
‘Is Avon really building a teleport then?’
‘Yes. But that does not appear to be his main priority.’
‘What is he building then?’
‘That I cannot determine. But between us we could solve the problem, Vila.’
There was a change in the machine’s voice that made Vila uneasy as Blake continued. ‘Simply go into the hold where he is working and observe. Then come back and let me know what is going on. I will then deduce the solution.’
Reluctantly Vila agreed. He started making his way through the narrow corridors of the ship towards the hold when a sudden thought struck him. He touched an intercom pad on the wall. ‘Blake, there are computer monitors throughout the ship. Why don’t you monitor Avon yourself?’
‘Avon has turned the monitors in the hold off to stop me observing. He is becoming dangerously secretive. I must know what is going on. For the safety of the ship, Vila.’
Vila let go the pad and walked on towards the hold. The main door refused to open to his touch command. He banged on it and shouted for Avon.
An opening appeared just wide enough to let Vila enter. All around him was electrical circuitry, computer panels and silicon wiring. It was difficult for Vila to make any sense of the mess: virtually the whole floor was covered.
Avon looked at Vila impassively. ‘Yes?’ he asked.
‘Er, I just came down to make sure you were all right.’
‘Very kind Vila, yes I am.’
‘Good. Nothing I can do for you?’
‘Yes.’
‘What?’
‘Go away.’
Vila did as he was told, taking a final look round but knowing it was going to be impossible to give a true impression of what the room was like. It had also struck him that the deal with KAT meant he was going to have to go without access to the finer liquids of life for seven years.
Blake however was able to make more of it than Vila had guessed. As Vila described the mess and confusion the machine disengaged other functions, analysing the information and comparing it with existing data. At the conclusion it gave a courteous ‘Thank you Vila,’ before apparently shutting down. Vila however was not so easily appeased. He demanded an answer. After a moment the machine condescended to reply. ‘Avon is up to something Vila, but I need time to consider his actions, and the materials he is using. I will report back to you as soon as I possibly can.’
10
Vila awoke with a start. KAT was talking to him. He thought about that for a moment. The machine’s behaviour seemed to be getting more and more odd each day. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. KAT was still speaking; Vila decided to listen. The machine was chattering about directions. That seemed odd too. Vila took a leap into the unknown and opened his eyes. It didn’t take long – at least not very long – to realise that something was wrong. Lights were flashing on Blake’s console that should never have been flashing, unless they were in low orbit about to land. But they weren’t. They were in high orbit. Vila checked the data on the screens in front of him and swallowed hard. They were about to land.
‘Blake, abort landing. Take us into orbit again,’ he shouted.
‘No,’ replied Blake unexpectedly. ‘We must land.’
‘What do you mean, no? Take us into orbit,’ commanded Vila.
‘Avon is building a machine that will destroy this ship, and trick you,’ said Blake. ‘We must go to the Ghammarans for help.’
For once Vila acted with a certain degree of efficiency. He pressed the ship’s intercom and called Korell and Avon to the main control room. Then he turned to KAT. ‘Can you override Blake?’ he asked.
‘Sir, I
can, and indeed Sir I shall be delighted to have the opportunity,’ said KAT, ‘but I regret Sir, that I cannot fly the ship. That is why Sir, I sought to wake you.’
Korell and Avon emerged into the control room at full speed.
‘Korell take the controls,’ Vila shouted. ‘KAT take over from Blake.’
The surprise on Korell’s face at being given firm orders from Vila barely had time to register before there was a sharp jolt as KAT relieved Blake of its responsibilities. Carefully she eased the ship back through the atmosphere. As she did so Blake began transmitting sounds of a type they could all remember.
‘KAT, block out the sound,’ called Avon with hands firmly planted on ears.
Within an instant Blake was silent, and the ship continued its climb. ‘When you get up there head into deep space, reference 99 37 81. No orbit, just keep going.’
For a while there was no conversation. Blake had relinquished all controls of the ship, including life support. KAT worked overtime reinstituting fail-safe procedures that the master computer had disengaged. All airlocks were sealed and much of Revenge depressurised, but the ship was maintained in working order. Avon made adjustments to Blake to bring back in basic controls whilst keeping higher functions off line. As the crisis lessened, Avon turned on Vila. ‘And what the hell were you up to during all that?’ he shouted. Vila was taken aback. He felt he needed praise not criticism for rescuing the ship, and feigned ignorance of any guilt.
Avon spoke rapidly and quietly. ‘Vila, you were left on watch, two and a half hours ago. Then suddenly Korell and I are called in to find the ship about to land and the only apparent solution to the crisis being to shut down the master computer. I would have thought that even you would recognise the need for some sort of explanation.’
Vila admitted guilt only in terms of a brief snooze. ‘When I woke up Blake had gone crazy. It said it was taking us in to land because you were endangering the ship.’
‘And I suppose you took it upon yourself to tell that broken down heap you call Blake what was going on in the hold. Didn’t it strike you as worth noting that I had shut down all the links between the computer and the lower regions of the ship?’