Blakes 7 - Afterlife

by Tony Attwood

  Here at last he had found his life’s work. True, the adoring masses that he had dreamed of were not there to sing his praises, but Korell was always pleasant, and even Avon seemed to have reduced his natural hostility to Vila by one or two degrees. Indeed, so involved was Vila in the whole activity of moving around the planet that the fact that he had been told little of Avon’s grand plan for the ten thousand million credit swindle caused him little concern. But nudged on by the ever-curious KAT it did gradually dawn on him that they were approaching Earth and it might be advantageous to know a little of what to expect. Sensibly, Vila chose a moment to ask when Korell too was present. Avon was surprisingly forthcoming, but did, he noticed, talk more to Korell than to Vila.

  ‘The Administration’s credit system on Earth was set up with the one simple idea of enabling the Federation to expand. All other functions are secondary and hence dealt with by lower levels of computer operation. The troops out on the frontiers need to be paid, and so do the civilian workers. Also whenever a new planet is brought into the Federation the old currency is immediately declared invalid and Federation Credits are brought in, effectively tying the planet to the Federation economic system. They gain complete Federation control – political, military and economic.

  ‘The economic dependence by the planets is secured by ensuring that all development comes only through long term loans at punitive rates of interest. Whenever the planets can’t pay, the loans are renegotiated over even longer periods. So when there is a political uprising the Federation can agree to the planet’s independence just as soon as all outstanding debts are paid off. This can’t happen so the control is maintained; those wanting withdrawal are forced into violent confrontation and the violence of the Federation is legitimised. It is a standard pattern which has been practised as far back as history goes.’

  Vila looked as if he were going to make a comment. Avon cut him off, continuing with his exposition. ‘To reduce corruption at the Federation end the whole system has long been computerised – not just the handling of the day to day banking functions but also the decisions as to which loans are granted.’ Avon turned away to the banks of machinery. ‘Terminal Computer,’ he called.

  ‘On line’ came the response. The voice was cold, mechanical, emotionless. It was the sort of computer that Avon could work with.

  ‘What is the economic situation of planet Aarn-12?’

  ‘The planet has a debt of 537 million credits over a twenty year period. Repayment of the loan is progressing behind schedule.’

  Avon turned back to his companions. There was no triumph in his voice, no sign that his major strategy was drawing to fulfilment. The computer continued. ‘Facilities for the loan were already in existence when we landed. And according to the loan control computer on Aarn-12 they still have what they think they have always had, debts of 500 million. But Finance-7, the main banking computer on Earth, registers them as having 507 million. Since the debt will never be recovered the difference is irrelevant and will not be discovered. Particularly since the aim of Finance-7 is to increase planetary debts. When it does that it is functioning at full efficiency and has no program instructions to cross-check how it got there.’

  ‘Meanwhile, the remaining seven million is in a credit file logged in an account controlled by Kerr Avon. Where are the accounts Avon?’

  ‘On the seven hundred and thirty-one planets which have computer links with Terminal. Those planets all jointly sponsored the research on Terminal, and used the links to retrieve data from the experiment. It seems they didn’t trust the research teams that were out here to tell them what was going on. Those links can take us into the heart of the computer systems on each of those planets without anyone ever knowing data is coming through. With a billion transactions passing a day, from grain forcasts to starship docking patterns, no one is going to look into one person depositing credits, especially when it helps their banking reserves.’

  ‘Avon, this is brilliant.’ Vila was overcome. ‘You know,’ he added on reflection, ‘I particularly like the bit where I don’t get shot.’

  ‘There is just one other thing we have to do.’

  ‘Yes?’ said Vila more rapidly than he meant. He was so overwhelmed by the scheme he was ready to take on anything.

  ‘It is just possible that during a routine cross check on Finance-7 by the other economic computers some of the discrepancies will be discovered. That is no problem in itself because the computer will just consider itself better off than it thought it was. But if the check reveals that all the discrepancies occurred during the same two month spell, that could spell disaster. I need to go to Earth to modify two circuits in Finance-7.’

  Vila stared. ‘You are not seriously telling us that you intend to present yourself on Earth to the Administration? Hasn’t it occurred to you that you could be recognised?’

  Avon did not answer. Korell tried a different tack. ‘A teleport system would have helped,’ she said. She had a nasty feeling that the more Avon explained, the less she understood of what was really going on.

  11

  Avon pressed a control. ‘Terminal Computer, attack alert.’

  A wide range of lights flashed on and two sirens sounded. Avon silenced them with the touch of another contact.

  ‘Full alert acknowledged. Defence capability ninety three percent in operation,’ announced the computer.

  ‘It’s not Federation. Not approaching Earth like that without a command ship at the front,’ said Korell.

  ‘And without anything coming up on computer chatter,’ said Vila watching his monitors. ‘They ought to be telling the Administration to put on a major reception for that sort of fleet.’

  ‘Well now, if that is not a Federation fleet and it’s not the Administration’s own troops, then there is only one person who would dare to drive this sort of fleet against Earth.’

  ‘Servalan!’

  ‘If Servalan is attacking the Administration on Earth, where are the Federation forces?’ asked Korell. She looked worried.

  ‘Grid reference 489273.’ The voice was that of Terminal Computer.

  Everyone peered closely at the monitors. There, sure enough, was a Federation fleet, complete with battle cruisers and warships, bearing in on Servalan’s forces. As they watched the Federation forces split into two, one splinter continuing the movement towards Servalan and the other section heading towards Earth.

  Avon reacted rapidly. ‘Terminal Computer, give me an analysis of the activities of the fleets on the screen.’

  The computer’s answer was immediate. ‘The force under the command of Servalan is engaged on an attack upon Earth’s Administration. At the same time there is a defence force from the Administration which is currently passing Mars orbit on its way to meet this fleet.’ Vila pointed to a number of dots which represented the Administration’s own ill-equipped, and probably ill-prepared small fleet now clearly launched on its way. ‘The Federation fleet is commanded by Yardynn.’

  Korell repeated the name.

  ‘You know him?’ asked Avon.

  ‘He’s a star fleet commander – one of the Academy’s bright young things. In fact, now I come to think of it, he trained as a pilot in the same year that your old friend Tarrant did. He’s been making noises recently about the need to re-establish a firm hand, and how the Administration is too weak willed to control the Military. A lot of noise, but I don’t think anyone really anticipated a direct attack on Earth by him. It would make sense, though. After making all the threats and getting away with it he’s probably been goaded by other officers to put some action where his mouth is. So now he’s using the opportunity of Servalan’s attack to get rid both of her and the civil Administration on Earth. He’s aiming to be the new President and Supreme Commander all rolled into one.’

  ‘A three-sided civil war,’ said Vila. ‘Servalan, Yardynn’s Federation troops and the Earth Administration troops. And I wouldn’t give much chance for Earth. They can’t be used to fighting wit
h the likes of Servalan and Yardynn. And where does that leave us, Avon?’

  ‘Exactly where we were before. Whoever wins, there will be a need for an economy and expansionist policies to try to mop up pockets of resistance and establish a new order.’

  Vila disagreed. He decided that it was time for panic measures. ‘If we get out now, Avon, we’ll have five million. That’s enough. Get Terminal under way.’

  ‘No, that is not enough,’ said Avon. ‘The plan could be discovered at any moment. We stay. This time we will see it through. I will not be defeated again.’

  Vila gave up the argument for the moment and turned back to the screen. The fleets were getting closer; engagements of the three-sided battle began as Yardynn’s Federation ships moved carefully in against Servalan’s small fleet, and were simultaneously engaged on their other flank by the troops of the Administration. Both battles were remarkably short. Despite their vastly inferior numbers Servalan’s forces exterminated much of the Federation fleet, suffering few losses in the process. Meanwhile the Administration and Federation seemed to be totally ineffective against each other.

  ‘Servalan’s nefarious arms dealing must have been even more extensive than we imagined,’ observed Korell. ‘The Administration and Yardynn can’t hurt each other with disintegrating weaponry, and Servalan can just walk in. We should warn the Administration of what is happening, before you go to Earth.’

  ‘I would think,’ said Avon carefully, ‘that even a commander of the most limited intelligence on Earth would be able to guess that his troops’ weapons are proving useless, as are the Federation’s, whilst Servalan’s forces are being able to walk through unharmed. Unless of course the commander was Vila.’

  ‘But we can’t just let Servalan take over the whole of the Galaxy,’ protested Vila.

  ‘Servalan will have better things to do than reconstruct the entire banking system of the Federation. And even if she knows that the funds have been diverted illegally she will still do nothing. We carry on – the diversion of a revolution will only strengthen our hand by diverting forces away from conventional law enforcement. And never forget, whoever wins out of those three forces will have an overriding desire for expansion and power. To achieve that they need an active banking system. Korell and I will go to Earth in Revenge, you stay inside Terminal.’ There was a long pause. It seemed that Avon had made his final pronouncement, but he had one more thing to say. ‘And Vila...’

  Vila looked up. He had a feeling this could be important.

  ‘Don’t let any of the creatures in.’

  ‘Creatures!’ Vila was suddenly worried. ‘I’d forgotten about them. What happens if they mutate into something that can pick locks?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ replied Avon, ‘I doubt if even this planet contains DNA stupid enough to produce a generation of Vilas.’

  Korell’s flying of Revenge through the three-sided battle would have been recognised as an excellent piece of strategic manoeuvering if anyone other than Korell, Avon and Vila had seen it. Viewed from the galactic plain she would have appeared to be flying straight up away from the sun and its family of planets. The effect was to take Revenge out of the body of the action whilst Servalan’s ships now pressed in hard from the orbit of Neptune, sizing up for a major battle with the Administration forces. The Administration in turn took up positions in and out of the moons of Saturn; a clever move which gave them an advantage of detailed knowledge of some very tricky terrain, plus the possibility of being able to use craft which could fly in and out of some of the smaller satellites and even hide behind the tilt of the rings. Servalan, with her fleet fully committed, found herself without suitable craft for such encounters and was forced to hold her troops back, awaiting developments.

  For Avon and Korell, Saturn was never anything more than a barely visible dot as they gently manoeuvered towards Earth. Approaching from above they gave regular warnings of their position, their mission (Financial Advisors to the planet Skat in the Third quadrant, as Avon had described themselves in his dealing with the Administration) and stressed also that they were summoned to appear before the Finance Computer Complex F-7 on Earth on conventional loan matters.

  As Avon had predicted, the Administration was only too pleased to have civilians coming and going about their ordinary business whilst they dealt with a ‘little difficulty elsewhere’ as it was described to the local populace. And, as he also pointed out, if anyone thought that something strange was going on the first thing they would do would be to send a scout ship to Skat, which should slow down the enquiry somewhat. Landing on Earth was equally easy. They were of course diverted away from all the main installations to a Dome situated by a huge seaway in the northern hemisphere, known as the Scandin Terminal. Such a location discouraged anyone from taking a forbidden walk outside the Domes, especially as the hemisphere was currently in winter. The icy winds blew continuously from the north, and the sea was frozen solid from shore to horizon. Civilisation could only survive with environmental protection.

  A covered companionway came out to the ship’s docking hatch and matched up with its size. Avon left Korell on the ship and walked the five hundred yards of corridor that took him back onto his native planet for the first time in five years. For a moment he let his normally controlled mind wander. He had left the planet a prisoner, seemingly doomed to spend the rest of his life in exile on some forsaken outer world inhabited entirely by criminals. From that point he had risen to become one of the most famous individuals in the Galaxy, representing a revolution he never believed in to people he never wanted to meet. Blake, the man who fought for the revolution, who had left Earth in the same transporter as Avon, and who had vowed as he left that one day he would return, had never made it back apart from in a futile raid on a non-existent computer centre, and ended up dying half way across the Galaxy on a planet little better than the one to which he had been transported.

  As he crossed the gangway into the reception area, Avon pulled himself back together. That brief reminiscence had cleared his mind. He would, of course, never admit it had happened. It would probably not happen again for another five years. He was ready.

  The empty reception room was too warm for comfort. The walls were bare apart from speaker and viewing grilles placed ten feet apart just below the ceiling. ‘Place your identification cards in the deposit box.’ The computer voice was emotionless and cold. Avon moved across the room and did as commanded, placing the seven cards on a white plate. After a moment the voice returned. ‘Remove the cards.’ Avon obeyed.

  ‘Move into the next room.’ A door slid open and Avon proceeded through. The room into which he entered was just as bare as the first save for some chairs. He sat on one and waited, concentrating his mind on the task ahead whilst reviewing the series of calculated guesses he had been forced to make, including the ones relating to Korell, and what she would do on Revenge in his absence.

  Vila meanwhile was having little time to wonder. Watching the screens and talking to Terminal Computer, he became aware that the three-sided war was moving much more rapidly towards him than he had previously anticipated. With Revenge now gone there was nothing to show that the planet was inhabited, nor indeed was there much to show that the planet was even there. It was far too far away from the Sun to give off any reflected light. It would show up on screens as a large, odd shaped bit of rock, be diagnosed by navigators as an off-course asteroid and be avoided.

  At least that was the rationalisation that Korell and Avon had presented Vila with, but now he was not so sure. There seemed to be more ships on the screen every second, and they were all intent on heading, or perhaps drifting, Vila’s way. He turned to the computers for information.

  ‘The battle being fought two hundred thousand spacials from here is a close encounter battle, with ships flying within ten spacials of each other at times. The lack of active weaponry among two sets of forces, and the desire by all sides to capture their opponents’ ships for use later, means that few sho
ts are being fired. The battle therefore is taking on a direction of its own. It is in effect drifting.’

  ‘And that means drifting this way,’ said Vila.

  ‘That is correct,’ the computer told him.

  In vain Vila searched the sky for any sign of Revenge, but he knew that even if Avon had landed on Earth and then taken off again immediately they would never have had time to do the round trip safely. Perhaps they had aborted the trip, deciding to return to Terminal and await a cessation in hostilities. He looked again; there was still no sign. Perhaps they had already been shot down. Desperation filled Vila’s heart. The inside of Terminal lost its charm and appeal. His five months of isolation on Gauda Prime had taught him once and for all that he needed company. Even if it was just Avon’s.

  He looked back at the screen. On the far left there seemed to be a new fleet moving in; a small fleet in small ships. Vila called up a report.

  ‘They do not appear to belong to any of the three main protagonists in this conflict,’ he was told.

  ‘Wonderful,’ he said half to himself. ‘Now half the tribes in the Galaxy have heard there’s a fight for Earth going on and they’re all coming to pile in.’

  ‘From the evidence available so far,’ continued the computer, ignoring Vila’s comments, ‘they would seem to come from the Fifth sector, but there is sufficient data to...’ The voice faded, and stopped all together. Vila touched some controls. Nothing happened.

  ‘Vila!’ the voice was KAT.

  ‘Not now,’ hissed Vila. The last thing he needed at this juncture was a conversation with a half-alert computer demanding more soma. ‘Terminal Computer,’ he urged. ‘Come on, come on. You can’t give up on me now you useless collection of cells. It’s bad enough without anyone else here, but I need you.’