Blakes 7 - Afterlife

by Tony Attwood

  Avon, on the other hand, was starting to have doubts about the viability of ever returning to anyone’s side. He had planned to make his way through the entry hatch that he had used on his last visit to Terminal, into the underground tunnels, and then work a route around the blocked passageways using the by-pass tunnels that would have been built to carry emergency air supplies from the surface, and to act as emergency escape routes. But these too now appeared to have been blocked in the explosions that wrecked much of the underground complex. Just as he was thinking he would have to make another overground trek to find the next entry point, he located a small air duct, just large enough for him to crawl down. The grille had already been knocked out, but the iron ladder was still firmly attached to the wall. Carefully he made his way down into the pitch darkness. After ten minutes’ descent he found himself standing on a pile of rubble but with no obvious way out of the duct. For a moment Avon considered the possibility that so much debris had come down the duct that he was still many feet above the bottom of the shaft. But his boots kicked the unmistakable form of the grille blown out from the top of the shaft. That would obviously have been the first thing to go down. If there had been rubble it would have come after the grille, and the grille should then be buried. Avon was clearly on the bottom.

  He picked out a tiny nuclear torch from his pocket and shone it around the circular base of the shaft. Half way round he found the join he was looking for. At the first push nothing gave, at the second, with a severe creak, it moved back.

  Avon walked out into a wide passageway apparently undamaged by Servalan’s destructiveness. As far as he could judge he was probably several levels below the location the woman had chosen for her HQ, in what must at one time have been a recreation area for senior scientists. It was beginning to seem that his deductions had been right. Servalan had only been interested in Terminal as a suitable out-of-the-way location for trapping Avon and getting hold of Liberator. She had probably never even instructed her troops to search at these lower levels.

  Carefully, unwilling to believe his own deductions that there was nothing to fear down here, Avon made his way through the tunnels, his torch picking out the accumulated rubbish plus the odd skeleton, representing decades of neglect.

  His first priority was the establishment that this was, indeed, the lowest level. He checked a door. The main circuits were of course dead and it refused to slide open to his touch. But then the emergency fusion battery back-ups took up the request and the door slid back. Avon peered into a small store room, moved back into the main corridor and continued his cautious probing through the pitch darkness, penetrated only by the photon beam from his hand-held light pack.

  On Revenge, Vila was dozing in his chair in the main control room. To his right Korell continued to watch the screen closely. Neither occupant of the ship was in any way prepared for the explosion that shook the whole ship and threw both of them to the floor.

  ‘Take off,’ screamed Vila. ‘Avon’s triggered some more explosions. The whole place will fall apart any second now.’

  ‘We can’t leave Avon,’ Korell shouted back.

  ‘Yes we can,’ replied Vila, still shouting as loud as possible, despite the fact that the initial sounds of the explosion appeared to have died away. He lowered his voice a little. ‘We can go into orbit and then come back when it’s safe. Avon’s bound to have a communicator. He can call us if he wants.’

  ‘He’s still moving,’ said Korell. ‘Not very much though – as if he is in a confined space.’ And then she stopped speaking, for it was now clearly possible to hear a low rumbling which appeared to come from the very ground itself.

  ‘Take the ship up,’ pleaded Vila, but still Korell would not agree, although she did set the controls in readiness for a rapid blast-off just in case the ground underneath them gave way. At the same time she put all the ship’s scanners on different screens. One of them immediately caught her eye. She cried to Vila and pointed at it. For a moment he didn’t realise what he was looking at. Then he saw. The sun in the sky was getting smaller. But that was impossible. The ship was still on the ground.

  ‘It’s a super nova,’ he called. And then in a calm voice, ‘Of all the ways to end. Our deaths will be seen in the skies of a million planets.’

  ‘Very poetic Vila,’ said Korell, ‘but also very untrue. I didn’t know you read poetry.’

  ‘My mother did,’ said Vila. ‘But what is it if it’s not the first stage in a star explosion?’

  ‘The first stage in a take-off. The whole planet is on the move. That rumbling must have been the engines. And Avon has found a way of starting them up.’

  ‘You mean Avon is driving his own planet?’

  ‘So it would seem. Look at the screens now.’

  Outside it was growing dark as the star that had previously given light and warmth to the surface of the planet receded and became just another blue-white dot in the sky. Within minutes a deep permafrost covered the ground. Korell shone a powerful light towards the sea, and saw the deep blues and sparkling whites of half formed waves now frozen, never to make the shore.

  ‘It was the only explanation,’ Korell told Vila. ‘A pointed planet in the wrong place. Evolution speeded up a million-fold. Terminal had been moved and the power to move it is inside the planet itself.’

  ‘So now Avon has a planet instead of a spaceship. What are we going to do? And don’t say that we should go and find him. It’s freezing out there.’

  ‘Since the planet is flying through space, and the only thing we could do if we took off would also be to fly through space, I guess we just sit and wait and see what he does next. Besides,’ she added, tapping out commands onto the template in front of her position that linked to Blake, ‘I’m not sure we can do much else. The navigation controls are locked on a route that takes us out of this sector altogether. We can either fly out or wait. We can’t go into orbit, nor can we follow the same course as Terminal at a safe distance behind.’

  Korell considered the implications of this development and frowned. Since she had first met Avon on Gauda Prime she had found more and more that her predictions about Avon were becoming less and less reliable. She knew beyond doubt that in the early days Avon had thought a lot about her, and as Vila had reminded her, he had guessed her connections with Servalan. Yet he had made no move to remove her from the ship. With a moment’s sudden inspiration she checked the food stores. Avon had removed a considerable amount of concentrate – not enough to cause a problem to herself and Vila but still a considerable amount of food. It looked as if he were planning on a long stay on Terminal.

  She thought again. If Avon seriously thought Korell was with Servalan he would know that she could signal Servalan with Avon’s whereabouts at any time. What was his planning? Did he now think Korell was not working for Servalan? Or did he think she would hold off until she had more information to give? Or was the planet armed in such a way as to make any attempt to get him impossible? That would seem unlikely – Servalan had blown up whole planets before, and the artifical environment would seem unlikely to stop her repeating the procedure.

  As she pondered further, Korell’s mind turned to even more remote regions. The talk of the myth of MIND. Could the hard-headed Avon really be taken in by a myth as she had suggested? It seemed utterly unlikely, and she had hoped her baiting of him would have given clearer insights into Avon’s motives; but it hadn’t happened. He had led everyone on a totally reckless journey to Terminal once before. Could that be explained entirely by his already having at that time a clear knowledge of what was to be found on Terminal?

  She began to list the unsolved problems that had gathered around Avon like bees around honey, writing them directly onto the computer screen in front of her position. Each problem she turned into an isolated dataline, and as the lines began to fill up the screen she considered the links between them. She gave space to the troop disappearances on Gauda Prime and to the curious existence of KAT, a computer with powe
rs far beyond what should be necessary for kinesthetic analysis and transmission. She linked that with KAT’s apparent existence without tarriel cells. Why, she contemplated, should anyone want to build a non-tarriel computer anyway, even if it were possible? Separately she noted the re-occurence of the topic of rural environments, and linked that with Avon’s absorption with MIND.

  As she worked Vila looked over Korell’s shoulder. She let him, confident that whereas Avon would have seen clues at once Vila would hardly bother to concentrate on the progressions she was inventing. As it turned out her guess was right. Avon would immediately have concentrated on the aspects of their time together which Korell did not list. Vila didn’t seem to notice.

  Korell looked at the embryonic program. At the commencement she added ‘Blake’ and at the conclusion ‘Avon’. Find the link between the two, she knew, and she could have the whole mission tied up without further ado. The clue to the link was somewhere in that program, but she couldn’t see it and nor could the Blake computer operating in a much-reduced capacity. Back on Gauda Prime it had all seemed so much easier. Now she began to suspect that Avon had been playing with her. He knew she would sit in Revenge and wait for him, and whilst doing so would review the evidence. For that reason he had removed certain key sections from the Blake computer which stopped the logical links between those six points being analysed.

  Remaining true to her personality, Korell did not slam a fist on the table, nor pace up and down the room restlessly. But inside she vowed to make Avon pay for this particular burst of egotism.

  She turned to the options at her disposal. She could either do nothing, take off, or try and contact Avon. Physical contact was out of the question since Avon had clearly walked a considerable distance when he had left Revenge. In the frozen wasteland that the planet had become, the only way to make the journey was wearing thermal protection suits, which were hardly standard issue for space freighters. That left the option of wearing space suits, which equally was hardly feasible for a two mile walk in normal gravity. And since she wasn’t going to run away, that brought back the single option of contacting Avon without leaving the ship.

  Korell felt like a child being led along a pre-planned path. She gave Blake a series of commands, and expressed no surprise when the computer accepted them. Certain higher level pathways within the computing complex had been left open.

  ‘The link to Avon’s position will only work under certain conditions. Those conditions have been met. I can put you in touch with Avon,’ said Blake formally.

  ‘Wait,’ called Korell, stopping the computer just in time. ‘What were the conditions?’

  ‘That five hours should pass between the take-off and your requesting contact; that during the time you should not have tried to make contact with any other person, that Avon should not have called in with a code word himself, and that no landings should have been made on Terminal.’

  ‘Trustful isn’t he?’ said Vila, watching with interest. ‘It’s a typical Avon move. Leave us in the dark, set up a load of instructions in the computer. He probably told Blake to reduce himself to rubble if you tried to call Servalan. Isn’t that right Blake?’

  Blake confirmed it was, more or less so. ‘Very well,’ said Korell. ‘We talk to him on his terms. Let us communicate.’

  The picture that came on the screen was clear. Avon was sitting with his back to a panel of controls, flashing lights and computer equipment. As contact was made he spun round and smiled. ‘Korell, Vila, come over here. There is work to do.’ ,

  ‘Two reasons why not,’ said Vila. ‘One is you’ve made it so cold outside it must be near absolute zero, and two because I don’t like the sound of work.’

  ‘There is an entry port one hundred and twenty yards ahead of the ship,’ Avon said. ‘You can make it wearing space suits. Or you can stay in Revenge if you like.’ And with that he cut contact.

  Despite the inevitable protests of Vila, they got into their suits, left the ship and began the slow trudge through the permafrost. The sky above was pitch black, with only a handful of stars shining this far from the galactic centre. There was no sense of movement, any more than there was on a normal planet, for in many ways Terminal was a normal planet. It just happened to be travelling between the stars rather than around one of them.

  As they walked Vila complained of the cold, the weight of the suit, the distance to the entry bay, the likelihood of getting lost, and then suddenly he shut up, In the distance there was a moan, turning rapidly into a shriek. For a split second it made Vila stand still. Then as the sound repeated, only this time closer, it made him move faster than Korell would have thought possible. She followed him, frightened but curious.

  The entrance turned out to be a set of glass-covered panels with white surrounds raised at 45 degrees to the ground. Korell and Vila approached cautiously, but as soon as they were next to the entry bay one of the panels swung back to reveal not the staircase that Vila expected, but a single chamber, with room for two. Vila looked at the enclosed space cautiously. A sudden movement near him made him leap forward. Korell moved equally quickly and they collided together in the small chamber. The outer door remained wide open, enabling them to make out in the starlight a hideous form. It was perhaps thirty feet tall with wide wings and a bullet-like head. There appeared to be two massive hind legs, although it was the two much smaller fore legs thrashing about in the air that gained closer attention. These were the ones that would do the damage. One swipe from either would leave the victim torn in two. The creature obviously knew where Korell and Vila were standing, presumably from the smell, for it was difficult to see anything in the mediocre star light. It made its way relentlessly towards them, crunching the hard frost as it walked. In total desperation Vila searched for any sort of control mechanism that would activate the door, but there was none. As he looked back out the creature made it to the entrance hatch and put out a forelimb to pick up Korell.

  Vila swore ever after that Avon left the closing of the hatchway until the last moment to derive some morbid pleasure from seeing how dependent Korell and he were upon him, now that Terminal was on the move. Certainly inside the control room Avon had managed to get a number of surface monitors working, including one which now showed a clear picture of the creature stomping around the hatchway wondering where its prey had gone. For several moments after the hatchway had closed and the lift began to take them down Vila continued to look straight ahead in dumb horror.

  ‘Instant transmutation,’ Avon pronounced when Korell asked for an explanation of the creature’s origins. ‘Life on this planet genetically transmutes to adapt to changing circumstances. It’s the survival pattern that the original seeding introduced by the Terminal Consortium. They were looking for new life forms and new food supplies. They certainly got the former.’

  Korell noted the comment (or rather lack of it) on the latter. But having got away from the creature she showed no further interest in looking outside. She was more fascinated with every aspect of the interior of the man-made planet, and Avon showed no hesitation in letting Korell discover the layout of this section of the planet. As he had conjectured, the central power machinery and its controls had not been damaged by the devastation wreaked by Servalan. Although some of the passageways were dusty they allowed free access through this level and the one above. There were sleeping quarters close by, along with plenty of food concentrates and a variety of clothing.

  ‘Korell, I need to know much more about the forces that operate this ship and the way it is manoeuvered. The controls are over there,’ Avon indicated across the room with a wave of one hand. ‘Vila, I want those compartments open, and also the five doors on the right in the corridor outside this room.’

  Asked to work in his own speciality and still shaking from his experience on the surface Vila readily agreed, but stopped work almost immediately when he discovered that Korell had refused to join in.

  ‘Avon,’ she said, ‘I concede that a whole planet could
be more comfortable than a spaceship and is certainly somewhat more spacious, but that in itself is not sufficient reason for coming here, going through the melodramatics and getting Terminal on the move. Before I start work which will result in my giving you the secrets of this planet, I want to know why I am giving them to you and what I am getting out of it.’

  Avon did not trouble to argue. ‘I am going to finish the work I set out to do five years ago, and this time there will be no error. The Federation is used to thinking about me in relation to Blake and all his political activities, and have forgotten my real interest in life. And with the way I have it planned they won’t even know what I have done. I am going to break the banking cartel, totally, finally and utterly, by removing from the system ten thousand million credits.’

  Vila’s attempts to make space travel more bearable were continuing to bear fruit, and in a way that he could never have dreamed possible. Not one single second of his time on Terminal seemed to weigh on Vila’s hands. There were an infinite number of doors to open: cupboards, safes, bedrooms, food stores, drinks cabinets, computer access panels. They had all been locked before the last occupants of this level had left. And whatever the reason for their departure they had certainly not left in a hurry. Everything was put away in its place, waiting to be reclaimed at some future unspecified date. Sometimes Vila found electronic components that had Avon almost overwhelmed enough to thank him. Sometimes he opened up bypass channels that freed data banks which kept Korell awake for twenty-four hours at a stretch checking them through. And sometimes he found stores of relaxants that had himself and KAT in ecstasy for hours on end.

  The underground locations went on for ever, and as time passed Vila seriously began to wonder if it was possible to walk around the whole planet on the inside. If that were so, he calculated (with the help of KAT during one of their more sober moments) then it would, at their present rate of progress, take them three hundred and twenty-seven years to make their way round the world once, and they would still have consumed only about one tenth of one percent of the relaxants and stimulants they came by.