Blake's 7

by Gillian F. Taylor

  ‘Do you have a battleground picked?’ Blake asked.

  Jenna just smiled. ‘Zen, execute course command.’

  ‘CONFIRMED.’

  *

  Cally abruptly stopped pacing and spun to face Avon. ‘It’s been more than ten minutes.’

  He looked up from the terminal. ‘I know. I have the data, as I said I would.’

  ‘Then why are we still here?’ Cally began stalking towards him.

  ‘I’ve been preparing our way out.’ He was unflustered by her attitude.

  ‘Our way out is through that door.’ Cally stopped beside his chair. ‘We need to get moving before security decide to do a full…’

  Avon held one hand up to stem the flow of words. ‘We have several doors to go through, and the security post at the main gate to pass. All of which will be easier if we can simply walk through, rather than trying to sneak.’ He slid out of his chair and gestured gracefully at it. ‘Sit there.’

  Cally stared at him for a moment, then did as he asked.

  Avon leaned in and pressed a couple of keys on the control pad.

  ‘Look straight at the monitor,’ he instructed. ‘There’s no need to smile.’

  Before Cally could say anything, the terminal’s display blinked, then changed to show an image of her own face, looking faintly surprised.

  ‘Not the most flattering likeness,’ Avon observed. ‘But then ID pictures rarely are.’

  He pressed another key. There was a hum and a mechanical chattering noise from somewhere else in the room. Cally leapt out of the chair, reaching for her handgun, then paused.

  ‘Don’t worry; the printer is not a threat.’ Avon leaned over the desk to shut down the terminal.

  Cally made her way over to the printer and picked up the two plastic cards waiting in the tray. One bore her likeness, the other had Avon’s. Both had biometric data encoded on them, which she assumed related to the fake names on them. She looked at the ID cards in her hand thoughtfully.

  ‘These are functional?’ she asked. ‘The security systems will accept them?’

  Avon joined her, taking his own card. ‘Anyone doing a visual check will match our faces to the faces on the cards. Computers will simply scan the data encoded and check that it matches the data in their memory banks. Both humans and computers will be satisfied that we are the people on the cards. These will also serve for identification purposes if necessary while we wait for Blake to return.’

  Cally was impressed both by Avon’s planning, and by his skill in being able to produce the cards. She was reassured by the fact that he was relying on them for his own safety. Avon could be guaranteed not to take chances with his own life.

  ‘Good work,’ was all she offered by way of praise though. ‘Let’s get going.’

  *

  Five minutes later, they were approaching the security booth by the main gate. Avon had pointed out that their two-tone hooded jackets were the same style as the ones Blake and the others had been wearing, which might raise suspicion with an alert guard. It had taken them a couple of minutes to find coats that were loose enough to conceal the hooded jackets and handguns, without looking obviously oversized. Cally had fretted at the delay, but had recognised the wisdom of Avon’s suggestion and reined in her impatience.

  Now Avon was wearing a calf-length black overcoat, which flowed as he walked and added to his natural air of authority. The best thing Cally had been able to find was a hip-length jacket of artificial spotted fur.

  As they got closer to the booth, Cally could hear the guard talking on his intercom.

  ‘No,’ the man insisted. ‘There’s been no-one in through these gates for over an hour. You can check the security logs.’

  Cally could hear the reply coming from the small speaker, but couldn’t quite distinguish the words.

  ‘They must have breached the perimeter elsewhere,’ the guard in the booth replied. He looked up from his comms unit, staring briefly at the two approaching. ‘Wherever they got in from, those stupid robots were supposed to have spotted them,’ the guard added sharply.

  The voice on the intercom was clearer now. ‘They seem to have vanished as mysteriously as they appeared. There’s no trace of them in here.’

  Avon strode up to the window of the booth and held up his ID card. His face had the look of disdainful boredom to be expected from management dealing with minions. Cally suspected it was a look he’d used often. She tried to mimic it as she held up her own card.

  The guard glanced at the cards, then at their faces.

  The voice on the intercom spoke again. ‘They’re probably aiming to get out the way they came in, but stay alert for trouble. They’re armed and dangerous.’

  The gate guard nodded at Avon, and pressed the button to open the gates. As Avon moved towards the opening gap, there was the rumble of a series of muffled explosions from somewhere deeper in the complex. A louder echo of the same sound came from the intercom. Avon and Cally both spun to look as the guard frantically scanned monitors.

  ‘Pankham – what’s happened?’ the guard yelled.

  There was silence for a moment, then screams came over the intercom, the cries of momentarily delayed shock.

  Avon seized Cally’s arm and turned her towards the widening gates. The guard glanced up from his monitors.

  ‘Get out!’ He gestured at the gates. ‘There’s terrorists on the loose inside the complex.’

  Cally and Avon hurried through the gates, which began sliding shut again almost immediately. They could hear the guard alternately calling for emergency services, and begging for Pankham to answer him. Cally didn’t expect him to get much of an answer from the latter: Pankham and his unit must had been in the area of the plant where Blake and the others had been planting mines. It was their tough luck, she felt. They had chosen to work for a company that supported the regime of a corrupt ruler, and which profited from sales to the Federation military: death was an occupational hazard for such men. It was impossible to tell what Avon thought by looking at him. His expression, and the feel of his mind, were tightly focused and closed in.

  As they stepped beyond the gates to the road, a quick glance showed that the main part of the city was quite a distance from the industrial plant, and uphill. There was a public transit stop close to the gates, and they gratefully moved into the passenger shelter. It was past the peak transit hour, but a glowing electronic sign told them that they only had a few minutes to wait until the next shuttle arrived.

  They sat in silence on the hard, minimal bench of the shelter. As they waited, Avon’s attention turned upwards, to the sky. Cally watched him from the corner of her eye for a couple of minutes. The tenseness left his face and there was something akin to wonder in his dark eyes as he watched the grey clouds drifting across the pale grey sky.

  ‘Are you hoping to see the Liberator?’ Cally asked him.

  Avon shot her a scornful look. ‘That would be illogical,’ he replied crisply. ‘Blake should have left orbit by now.’

  ‘Then why are you watching the sky?’ she persisted.

  He was silent a moment, then, somewhat to her surprise, Avon answered.

  ‘On Earth, most people spend all of their lives inside the domed cities. To look up and see sky, and clouds, is strange. If I’d succeeded with the fraud, we were going to leave Earth and live on a pleasure planet where we could look at blue skies all day if we’d wanted.’

  ‘We?’ Cally asked.

  The tension returned to Avon’s face and his eyes became hard. He turned away and watched the road, his posture stiff. Cally gazed at his back for a few moments, hurt at being shut out of his feelings. On Auron, it was natural to share and sympathise with others. Avon was verbally and mentally silent, and she felt very alone as she sat next to him.

  FOUR

  The Liberator fled the Belzanko system, drawing the three pursuit ships after it. Jenna played cat and mouse with the chasers, but it was the mouse that was in control. She slowed the ship v
ery gradually, letting the pursuit ships get just close enough to try taking a shot. The distance was great enough that Blake had enough time to operate the force wall long enough to absorb the shots. Afterwards, the Liberator would increase speed again, slowly at first, until the pursuit ships dropped behind. Then Jenna would gently ease down the ship’s speed again.

  ‘I want them to keep up a fast chase,’ she explained to Vila during one of the slowing phases. ‘I need them to keep their speed up so they drain their energy banks. If I push too hard, they’ll realise they can’t catch us and give up the chase too early.’

  ‘Too slow and they’ll catch us,’ Vila said, looking at her for reassurance.

  Jenna smiled and nodded.

  ‘But what about our energy banks?’ he fretted.

  ‘Zen!’ Jenna called. ‘Status of ship’s energy banks.’

  ‘ENERGY BANK ONE AT TWENTY-FIVE PERCENT. DRAWING ON ENERGY BANK TWO, CURRENTLY AT SIXTY-SEVEN PERCENT. ALL OTHER BANKS FULL.’

  Jenna glanced across at Vila. ‘See? Plenty left. The Liberator‘s hardly feeling it.’

  ‘How long do you think they will keep chasing us?’ Blake asked.

  Jenna studied her monitors. ‘Another thirty minutes, I hope.’

  ‘OK, good work,’ Blake said, smiling his approval.

  ‘Hire a professional, you get good work,’ Jenna answered confidently. Glancing at her screen, she slowed the Liberator again, to feed the pursuit ships the false hope that they might catch their prey.

  *

  Back in the city centre, Cally and Avon had no trouble in following their instructions to connect with Allston’s people. They were escorted to the offices of a garden-design company on the fringes of the business district and were met there by Allston himself. He led them into an unobtrusive storage closet full of cleaning things, and through a hidden door into secret rooms for planning and hiding fugitives from President Greerson. Allston explained that the long, narrow rooms divided two large warehouses used to store equipment for the gardening company.

  ‘The company is quite legitimate,’ Allston explained. ‘It designs and builds gardens, pays its taxes, fills in government datawork and does nothing to attract attention from the authorities.’

  ‘Other than getting all its datawork done properly and on time,’ Avon commented dryly. ‘A rare thing in many businesses.’

  ‘Not on Belzanko,’ Allston told him, his expression turning grim for a moment. ‘Penalties for late or inaccurate datawork are quite severe, for individuals or companies,’ he added.

  The resistance leader was an athletic man, only in his early forties but with a full head of striking, silver hair. He had large, expressive eyes which were very appealing, but his habit of cracking his knuckles set Cally’s teeth on edge, and probably had a similar effect on Avon, from the way he narrowed his eyes at the sound.

  Avon had already removed the stolen black coat, now he retrieved a memory cube from the pocket of his hooded jacket and gave it to Allston.

  ‘This contains all the blueprints for the pursuit ships,’ he said. ‘There are also complete plans for the plant, including wiring conduits, service tunnels and sewers.’

  Allston gazed at the cube with respect, before looking at Avon. ‘Thank you, thank you so much.’ He broke into a wide smile. ‘I promise you, we will put this information to the best use. It won’t be wasted.’

  ‘Is there any more news on the Liberator?’ Cally asked, glancing at the monitors along one wall.

  ‘We haven’t any precise information,’ Allston explained, leading them to a conference table with chairs. ‘Your ship isn’t broadcasting, not that we can pick up. The messages from the pursuit ships are highly encrypted, of course. We can establish their approximate distance from Belzanko from the time delay in responding to messages from headquarters, here on the planet. The pursuit ships appear to be chasing Liberator out of the solar system.’ He looked at the cube, then at Avon, who had already sat down. ‘A highly skilled computer engineer might be able to crack their encryption techniques.’

  Avon smiled lazily as he sat down with the others. ‘I could do it,’ he stated simply. ‘However, it would take longer than the time I have here, assuming Blake returns when promised.’

  With an effort of will, Cally managed to avoid scowling at him.

  ‘I can, however, offer you an alternative.’ Avon raised one hand slightly, pointing at Allston.

  Allston set the memory cube on the table. ‘Go ahead,’ he said thoughtfully.

  ‘There are more ways to damage a person than through military means.’ Avon’s voice was precise. ‘Give me access to a computer and the planetary datanet and I can put President Greerson out of business.’

  Allston raised one eyebrow. ‘Can you, indeed?’

  Avon’s smile widened. ‘I downloaded more than just files about spaceships while I was in Belspin’s computer system. I found a lot of interesting information about their financial situation. President Greerson has left his fingerprints all over Belzanko Space Industries, and, I suspect, a few other companies. He thinks he’s been very clever at using the planetary stock market for his own gain.’

  ‘But you’re cleverer?’ Allston asked dryly.

  Avon nodded. ‘I can hit him in ways that bombs couldn’t do.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘But first, I’m hungry, and I imagine that Cally is too. I work better when I’m not distracted by physical necessities.’

  Allston gave a short bark of laughter. ‘Very well.’ He turned to one of his men. ‘Fram! Find some local restaurant menus. Let our guests choose something to nourish them for the work to come.’

  Cally sat down beside Avon. ‘You can do all this?’ she asked softly.

  He gave her a look that mixed confidence and contempt. ‘I wouldn’t offer something I couldn’t deliver. If Blake messes up and gets himself and the Liberator destroyed, we’re stuck on Belzanko, with these people. Getting rid of Greerson would be in my own best interests. If Blake does return, then I’ve done everyone a favour anyway.’

  Cally glared at him. ‘It still won’t make you popular.’

  Avon shrugged. ‘I don’t care about being popular; I just care about being alive and free. And preferably, alone.’

  *

  ‘WARNING. LIBERATOR WILL ENTER AN ASTEROID BELT IN FIVE MINUTES.’ Zen’s voice was loud and clear across the flight deck.

  ‘Acknowledged.’ Jenna’s replied calmly. ‘Return control to manual.’

  ‘CONFIRMED.’

  The chase had lasted for nearly two hours so far. Jackets and gun-belts had been tidied away and everyone had taken the chance for a quick rest and refreshments. Gan was back on the flight deck, his wound already partially healed by the ship’s remarkable equipment. Now up to date on the situation, he sat at the station above Vila, monitoring any signals they could catch between the three pursuit ships.

  ‘Those asteroids look awfully big,’ said Vila, staring at the viewscreen.

  ‘FLIGHT COMPUTERS RECOMMEND AVOIDANCE OF ASTEROID BELT,’ Zen warned.

  ‘Thank you, Zen,’ Jenna answered. ‘Maintaining course.’

  ‘See,’ muttered Vila. ‘Zen agrees with me. Nasty things, asteroids.’

  ‘I can be nasty too,’ Jenna said, giving a Vila hard look.

  Vila shrank back against his seat. There were no complaints from anyone else as Jenna steadily headed the great ship into the ring of asteroids.

  The pursuit ships followed. Their much smaller size gave them an advantage amongst the floating rocks that now filled their screens. They could slip through gaps too small for the Liberator. Blake glanced once at Jenna, his look warm and trusting. He wasn’t questioning her even now, as they headed into an asteroid belt, and Jenna was heartened by this. How much of his trust was real faith in her skills, and how much was a ploy to win her loyalty, she didn’t know. She was just too cynical to believe that there wasn’t some underlying motive behind his actions. Well, she would prove to Blake and to the others that she
was as good a pilot as anyone, and she would start by demonstrating her skills to the pilots of the pursuit ships.

  Picking a generous gap, Jenna flew the Liberator into the crowd of asteroids. Pulling back on the controls, she lifted the ship up and over the first rock in her path, skimming the pock-marked surface and leaving it in her trail. One pursuit ship followed her, the other two went beneath the asteroid, rising on the far side to join their fellow in a regulation, triangular formation. They caught up a little as Jenna altered course to put the Liberator over another asteroid. The smaller pursuit ships didn’t need to alter their course as much to clear the obstacles.

  This time, as the Liberator climbed, one of the chasers sent a plasma bolt after her. Blake was a little too slow with the force wall and the big ship rocked slightly as the bolt hit one of the lower hulls.

  ‘MINOR DAMAGE TO SURFACE,’ Zen reported. ‘SELF-REPAIR MECHANISMS ARE ACTIVATED.’

  ‘Acknowledged.’ Blake answered the computer, letting Jenna concentrate on flying the ship. ‘Maintaining force wall,’ he added, for the benefit of the others.

  Jenna turned the Liberator, aiming for the largest asteroid in her path. The upper pursuit ship hit with another shot, but this was absorbed by the force wall.

  ‘ENERGY BANK FOUR AT FIFTY PERCENT,’ Zen informed them.

  ‘Their energy banks must be getting low,’ Gan called, studying his monitors. ‘They can’t have as much power as the Liberator,’ he added confidently.

  Another shot from behind rattled the Liberator and made them sway in their seats. Jenna’s hands remained steady on the controls, and the ship barely deviated from her course.

  ‘They don’t have to do that much damage to us,’ Vila said, his voice high-pitched with nerves. ‘If they make us crash into an asteroid, that’ll tear us wide open. Why don’t we go back into deep space?’ he pleaded, glancing briefly away from the screen. ‘We can outrun them. They’re not going to chase us too far from their home planet, especially if they’re already low on energy,’ he pleaded.