Blake's 7

by Gillian F. Taylor

  ‘When it comes to revolution,’ Avon replied, ‘I always find myself wondering – cui bono?’

  Blake grinned. Even in his cynicism, Avon found a way to hint at his own education.

  ‘Cui what?’ said Vila.

  ‘It’s an old language,’ Blake replied. ‘Latin. It means – who benefits?’

  Avon was impressed, and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Revolution shakes things up,’ Jenna observed, as Cally entered the flight deck, holding a tray full of iced drinks. ‘No argument there. But not everyone benefits. For example, last week’s revolution in the kitchen means that now we have to endure Cally’s cooking for another three days. If you make a fuss about the status quo, you have to be prepared to take the consequences.’

  ‘I was quite open with you all about my lack of food preparation skills,’ Cally said. She eyed Jenna archly.

  Watching them, Avon found himself quite beguiled by how easily teased Cally could still be. He took a glass from her tray and sipped it, then nodded in approval. ‘Nothing wrong with this, Cally. It’s perfect.’

  She returned his gaze, even and serious. ‘This is not where my strengths lie.’

  Avon wondered how long it would take a woman of her utterly alien background to finally adjust to their company.

  ‘Blake, are you suggesting that we could benefit from this revolution?’ Gan asked.

  ‘I wasn’t going to, but now that you mention it…’

  Avon took another sip of his drink, concealing his own reaction. How clever Blake could be. The more Avon saw of him, the more he realised what a formidable leader Blake might become. How well he was learning to play his little band of ‘freedom fighters’. Now he even had the rest of the crew thinking his ideas were their own.

  But Avon knew better. Whatever the power of Blake’s charisma, Avon himself would never allow himself to be manipulated by the man. The time would come when an opportunity to enrich himself would present itself. Until that time, Avon would remain an accomplice of this ludicrously ambitious revolutionary.

  ‘Gan’s right. There may be a way to benefit.’ Blake hesitated.

  ‘Are you going to tell us how?’ Vila asked.

  ‘Well, apart from the obvious advantage of having another world break free of Federation control…’ Blake started.

  Jenna interrupted, ‘Yes, but Kartvel? Really? Wasn’t it one of the Federation’s more backward colonies?’

  ‘Hardly. They have a population of sixty million and a continental visual broadcasting service. They have a national airline fleet of forty aeroplanes. Their two universities are amongst the best in the quadrant. And from what I hear, they can even manage the odd bit of interplanetary travel.’

  ‘Which is provided by the Federation as part of their treaty. And it’s open only for diplomatic travel.’

  ‘True,’ Blake admitted. ‘But they have to start somewhere.’

  ‘If we’re looking for allies,’ Vila said, ‘we might want to think about somewhere with a bit more going for it.’

  Blake spoke firmly. ‘All allies are useful. Believe me, Lindor was in worse shape than Kartvel. But Sarkoff was still someone worth cultivating.’

  Vila shook his head. ‘Your plan to reinstate Sarkoff almost got us killed.’

  ‘You don’t need to remind me of that,’ Blake said. His tone had turned a little sharper, Avon noticed. It often did that, when Blake sensed resistance. Dissent usually had to come from Avon, but he wondered whether this time he might get a break. Whatever Blake was planning, the others seemed to be already on their guard.

  Blake continued. ‘As it turns out, the man in charge of Kartvel is an old friend of Sarkoff’s.’

  There it is, thought Avon. Blake was itching to play politics. Again.

  Cally glanced from Avon to Blake. ‘You’ve been in touch with Sarkoff?’

  ‘Yes, I spoke with him briefly, yesterday and then at considerable length again today. He sends his best, Cally. As does Tyce.’

  Avon said, ‘It’s good to know that you’re tending to your carefully cultivated plants, Blake. But what’s the point of getting involved with whatever is happening on Kartvel?’

  ‘The new man is a hero, by all accounts. His name is Edu Shevard. He joined the dissident movement about five years ago. It was a brave and rather risky move – given that at the time he was a Federation officer. Reported directly to Servalan.’

  ‘He broke ranks from inside the Federation?’ Gan sounded impressed. ‘That takes real courage. How did he get away with it?’

  ‘He didn’t,’ Blake said grimly. ‘He spent two years in a Federation prison. For quite a lot of the first year, they tortured him. I’d say he’s the kind of man who’d be on our side. It’s what Sarkoff thinks, too. He’s been in touch with Shevard. And apparently, he has a proposal for us. He needs a favour.’

  Avon glanced up. ‘A favour?’

  ‘We’re just six people, Avon, when all’s said and done. Liberator might become the head, and the heart of a movement. But we still need arms and legs.’

  Avon forced himself to ignore Blake’s segue into tedious rhetoric. He was beginning to recognise the tactic. It might work with the others, but someone had to question whether Blake’s dreams were actually attainable.

  ‘Do you know if they brainwashed him?’ Avon’s eyes met Blake’s again for a moment. He saw a flash of disappointment. For a moment, Avon almost felt sorry for provoking him.

  Blake shook his head slightly. ‘You think the Federation turned him?’

  ‘You’d know better than me, how persuasive Federation brainwashing techniques can be.’

  ‘As far as I know, Avon, Shevard has shown no signs of sympathy with his former torturers. But thank you for trying to protect me from myself.’

  ‘It’s clear that you enjoyed playing the kingmaker with Sarkoff. Someone has to take care that your new hobby doesn’t prove incompatible with staying alive.’

  ‘I hate to say it but he’s right,’ Vila said, gloomily.

  ‘We might need more than a month to forget when you last put our lives in danger, Blake.’

  As Avon warmed to his theme, he noticed a change come over Blake – his shoulders stiffened, his jaw tensed. Blake seemed to ponder his next words with great care, eventually saying, ‘I’m sorry that you don’t seem to whole-heartedly approve, Avon, but on this matter I’d like you to trust me. Politics is a delicate business. There are interests to balance. We’re hardly in the driving seat now, are we? Allow me to do what I know how to do – to create a base of support.’

  But the eyes of Cally and Jenna were on Avon. They looked anxious, especially Cally.

  In the end, Avon thought, this wasn’t the most radical step that Blake could make. They had the Liberator, the most powerful ship known to exist in the galaxy. Yet all Blake could think of were ways to push it around a chessboard as if it were a pawn and not a queen.

  ‘All right.’ Avon nodded, once. ‘Kartvel it is.’

  This wasn’t going to be the first time he let something go without properly opposing Blake and it wouldn’t be the last. But Avon was promising himself on a weekly basis that, one day, he was going to put a stop to Blake’s ill-advised antics.

  TWO

  ‘An election monitor?’ Vila sounded sceptical.

  ‘If you don’t know what it means, just say so,’ Avon said. ‘I don’t imagine they taught advanced democracy during your schooling.’

  ‘Then perhaps you’d better explain it to me too,’ Cally said, with a hint of coolness. ‘I haven’t much of an idea what you’re talking about either.’

  ‘When an emerging democracy holds its first genuine election, a team of monitors is sent to oversee it,’ Blake explained. ‘They make sure that everything done is above board.’

  ‘How can anyone trust the monitors to do their job properly?’ Gan asked.

  ‘It’s a good question. With great difficulty, would have to be my honest answer. But it’s something that members of the
Freedom Party were asked to help with, on occasion.’

  ‘I thought the Freedom Party was restricted to Earth,’ Jenna said, puzzled. ‘And there’s not a great deal of democracy there.’

  Blake nodded. ‘There’s no amount of democracy whatsoever, Jenna. But the Freedom Party had members who left the planet and managed to find themselves on worlds where the Federation’s grip was weaker. I’ve heard of members who helped monitor the elections on some of the distant worlds. Believe it or not, there are planets where the Federation is willing to consider proposals for secession, provided that there is demonstrable popular support.’

  ‘And provided there isn’t much going for that planet in the first place?’ suggested Vila. ‘So, this Shevard fellow, he wants you to monitor the election?’

  ‘It seems so.’

  ‘But he’s already in charge.’

  ‘He’s the Acting First Minister. Which simply means that he took the reins of power after the revolution.’

  Jenna shrugged. ‘That sounds a lot like “demonstrable popular support”.’

  ‘Not really,’ Avon said. ‘Revolutions can be puzzling affairs.’ He flashed a sardonic grin at Blake. ‘The victor isn’t always the people’s choice.’

  ‘Not in every single instance,’ agreed Blake. ‘Although I’ll admit, Shevard appears to have a strong case. He didn’t initiate the revolution himself. He seems to have accepted the mantle of leadership, as opposed to seeking it. From what I can tell, he even proposed other candidates as better suited than him. They’re standing against him in the election, political types who’ve held administrative posts.’

  ‘Shevard is not a politician?’

  ‘He’s rather new to it,’ Blake said. ‘He worked for years in Federation Security, a fairly minor role. Then he had his epiphany, started writing some rather influential articles suggesting that the Federation ought to respect the unique traditions of the Kartveli people.’

  Vila said, ‘Unique traditions?’

  ‘He means religion,’ interjected Jenna. ‘Kartvel is some kind of enclave for an ancient religious sect.’

  Vila rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, just what we need, another mad-eyed cult leader. Just so you know, this time someone else can line up to be sacrificed.’

  ‘No-one’s going to be sacrificed,’ Blake grinned, his eyes crinkling with amusement. ‘It’s not that kind of religion.’

  ‘But Shevard’s a religious nutcase.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s it,’ Blake said, pensively, ‘although I haven’t met the man, of course. It’s more to do with the nationalism. The planet was colonised by a fairly ethnically homogenous group. Shevard – and his supporters – seem to be rather passionate about maintaining ancient roots.’

  ‘Will you be a monitor then?’ Avon was getting bored. The man had clearly decided that the way to favour amongst any anti-Federation coalition included alliances with any kind of misfits. Avon simply wanted to know the plan quickly, so that he could evaluate any personal risk and how minimise it.

  ‘Actually,’ Blake said, with a smile, ‘I was going to ask you.’

  Avon looked at him sharply.

  ‘I think you’re the man for this job, Avon. You know all about how democracies are meant to function. You’ve a keen eye and you’re a good judge of people.’

  Avon knew better than to listen to Blake’s flattery. ‘I’m not at all sure that I am a good judge of people…’ he began, intending to finish with some sarcastic quip about his current company. But Blake interrupted.

  ‘You don’t? In that case, perhaps Cally should accompany you?’

  Avon bit his lower lip. I walked into that, he thought.

  ‘Cally.’ Blake glanced across towards the sofas, where she was sitting with Vila. ‘What do you think? They’ll take care of all the arrangements on the ground. You and Avon just need to turn up and register with the official team of election monitors.’

  Avon said, ‘And what are we to expect from our… colleagues?’

  ‘There’ll be at least two from Lindor, we know that much. Sarkoff was one of the first regional leaders that the Kartveli contacted.’

  Cally frowned. ‘The Kartveli pick their own monitors?’

  ‘They nominate. The Federation has final approval.’

  ‘But they’re all friendly with the current Kartvel administration?’

  ‘They’re sympathetic, shall we say. Most of the monitors are representatives from planets with which the Federation is allied. It’s in the Federation’s interest to behave legally, as well as Kartvel’s.’

  ‘Or to be seen to do so,’ Cally said.

  ‘Quite so,’ Avon said. ‘And we’ll be the odd man out.’

  Blake smiled. ‘That you will.’

  ‘But you believe we’ll be safe?’

  ‘This whole affair is under immense scrutiny. All the non-Federation worlds in the sector will be watching. Including their allies. The Federation will be putting on their “benevolent Empire” face. The big brother that would only take over a world in desperate circumstances, for the good of its own population.’

  Avon sighed. ‘So you think the law is going to protect us here?’

  ‘Kartvel’s laws as well as the Federation’s. If the Federation were to try to interfere with the election in any way…’

  ‘For example, killing two of the election monitors?’

  ‘There would be an interplanetary scandal. The election would be declared null and void. No allied world would trust the process again.’

  ‘To capture Roj Blake, it might just be worth the hassle,’ Vila murmured.

  ‘Which, I imagine, is precisely why Blake isn’t going himself,’ Avon said.

  Blake ignored the comment. ‘Once you’re in Kartvel City, they’ll brief you and then assign you to a programme of official visits to polling stations. If you see anything suspicious, anything that looks like the election is being rigged, or that voters are being prevented from participating, then you report it.’

  ‘Voters?’ Cally murmured.

  ‘There were no voters on Auron?’

  ‘There were no elections, as such.’

  ‘I imagine with telepathy, you can make certain desires known without being explicit,’ Avon said.

  ‘We had ways of choosing our leaders, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘What if it’s a trap?’ interrupted Gan. ‘How do we know the Federation have really left Kartvel? If there’s a chance they are still there, surely none of us should go?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s a trap, Gan. I’m not trying to save my own skin here. I just think that Avon and Cally might be good at this – better than me.’

  Gan didn’t seem wholly convinced. ‘If there’s a risk, is it really worth the effort?’

  ‘It’ll do this one good to step up,’ Jenna remarked, hooking a thumb at Avon. ‘Perhaps he’ll be less prone to making barbed comments if he has to get his hands dirty with the real business of democracy.’

  For a moment, Avon was surprised. It was a sour observation, coming from someone who’d once privately shared the same reservations about Blake’s grandiose ambitions. Either Blake was getting much better at influencing his crew with his revolutionary fervour, or Jenna and Blake had exchanged these views in Avon’s absence. Avon strongly suspected the former.

  ‘I don’t mind doing it,’ Cally said.

  Graciously, Blake said, ‘Thank you, Cally. I’m told that Kartvel is beautiful in winter. It’s one of the earliest Terran colonies – parts of the capital city are over a hundred years old, and built in the style of ancient monuments back on Earth. It’s surrounded by mountains, there are ski lodges, lakes.’ He grinned. ‘We wouldn’t blame you for staying on an extra day to enjoy the sights.’

  ‘Wouldn’t we?’ Vila said, unhappily. ‘Why didn’t you say there were ski lodges? I’m quite partial to a bit of mountain air, me.’

  ‘Oh, you ski, do you?’ Jenna asked, laughing. Vila turned to answer but Gan joined in with Jenna’
s teasing of Vila’s unlikely prowess on the slopes.

  ‘You don’t have to ski to enjoy the sights,’ Vila grumbled.

  Avon said nothing. It wasn’t the worst job Blake had ever asked him to do. He was even looking forward to the chance to mix with the other election monitors. There might even be some interesting conversation. Anyone would at least be a change from the mind-numbing tedium of listening to Vila.

  THREE

  Five hours later, shortly after dinner, Avon and Cally arrived on Kartvel. They landed near the spaceport and were then escorted by tram to the Kartveli Parliament. It had paid, in the past, to conceal the Liberator crew’s ability to teleport, so Cally and Avon had called the bracelets communicators and taken their seats on the shuttlecraft that Shevard had arranged.

  The day was very clear, a cornflower-blue sky that remained stubbornly light, even in the middle of the evening. Blake hadn’t exaggerated the beauty of Kartvel’s capital city. Buildings made from a salmon-and-grey stone, wood-framed windows and striped awnings mingled with the monoliths of glass and concrete that were characteristic of Federation architecture. The combined effect was striking, especially with the backdrop of craggy, snow-capped mountains. Between some buildings, Cally caught an occasional chink of the deep blue of Lake Paravan.

  Within the city itself, there was an air of calm. Yet Cally had no trouble whatsoever picking up on a barely repressed tension amongst the city dwellers. The effects of democratic upheaval were unlikely to be visible to the uninformed casual visitor, she thought. An orderly election amongst a tidy, well-behaved electorate left only the odd discarded ballot paper. Had they arrived earlier, however, Cally reflected that they might have wondered at slick patches of a rich, dark substance on the streets outside the parliament, perhaps even have gone on to identify them as the blood of traitors – or that of patriots. The baroque complexities of another world’s politics could appear deceptively simple.

  Within the parliament building, they were silently divested of their weapons and teleport bracelets before a single word was spoken. Cally hesitated, but saw that the same was expected for all the monitors. The immediate presence of at least twenty armed and scowling guards inhibited any instinctive reaction to protest.