Avon sat propped against the wall between the burner and fire, shoulders slumped and face weary, looking as if he had walked all day rather than slept for three. The look in his eyes was wary and his face was pale and strained; but what worried her more was the frown between his brows and the fact that, so far, he had made no eye contact since his initial waking. Soolin sighed to herself and wondered where they went from here.

For the moment he was saying nothing, he just sat and stared passed her to the fire and the cold world beyond it. Unwilling to press him for answers just yet she contented herself with seeing to his physical needs, he didn't appear to have any energy left to take care of them for himself. So she fed the fire and gave him a blanket and then set about preparing food. Rations were running low, but there was enough for the moment. Though now he was awake one of them would have to make attempts to find additional food, and given the circumstances that probably meant hunting it. She shuddered remembering the watching eyes of that first snowy night, for the moment she would make do with what they had.

She put the food on the floor beside him and waited for some acknowledgment, but it didn't come. Nor did he make any move to eat or drink even when she set a cup of water beside the untouched bowl. After a second or two of uncertainty she leant to across and shook his shoulder,
“Avon, you must eat something.”
For a moment he didn't seem to hear her, then slowly he turned his head and looked up at her with eyes that didn’t seem to focus; she wasn’t sure that he was seeing her at all. Was he really back with her, or still dreaming? She reached forward to grasp his arm and with a slight start he dropped his eyes to her hand, as if in surprise, before raising them again to her face. For a moment he seemed uncertain but this time he focussed on her face and she smiled reassuringly,
“Food, you need to eat.”
His eyes widened for a second and then he shook his head slightly as if clearing something from his mind,
“Yes, of course, thank you.” His voice was low and tired and expressionless.
He picked up the bowl and stirred the contents slowly for a moment or two before swallowing a few reluctant mouthfuls. With a sigh he put the bowl down again,
“I don't seem to be hungry.”
Soolin looked at him for a moment, the picked up the bowl and handed it to him again,
“Try to eat it anyway."
He sighed again but took it and swallowed some more, but after a few more mouthfuls he pushed it away again.

For a moment she looked him expressionlessly then with a sigh she picked up the discarded bowl.
"Well after several days without food I suppose you won’t feel like eating much."
Avon stiffened slightly; suddenly he seemed alert.
"No, I suppose I won't," there was a curious note in his voice, subdued but thoughtful.
She looked at him quickly and caught a curiously intent look on the white face before he registered her glance and, blanking his expression, returned to staring at the outside world. Soolin sighed to herself, more secrets; but she was too tired to care.

Avon suddenly seemed to she her, really see her, for the first time since he woke;
“You need to sleep, give me the gun.”
She stared at hom for a moment her own exhaustion warring with concern over his strained look, reluctantly she shook her head,
“No you are barely awake, give it a few more hours. You need to rest.”
He gave her an impatient look, the man she remembered suddenly returning to replace the withdrawn invalid,
“I need to feel secure more than that, and at the moment you look as if you will fall asleep where you sit. Don’t be stupid, the injury is healed, I’m fine.”
His voice echoed the impatient expression. As if to prove it he got to his feet and reached out to take the gun. For a moment she hung on to it meeting his eyes with an angry glare, but he met that unflinchingly and after a moments resistance she shrugged and let him take it. There was no hint of triumph as looked at her, only a long searching stare.
“Get some sleep." he said, and it was an instruction not a suggestion. "Tomorrow we will have to think about moving, we have been here too long as it is. We have transport now, a few hours and we can be at the port and then we can start thinking of a way to get of this planet.“
Soolin nodded wearily and lay down, pulling a blanket around her as she did.
“If you feel unwell wake me.” She said sleepily.
“Of course.” His voice told her what he thought of that suggestion.

After a moment or two she became still and silent. He stood listening to the deep even breathing until he was finally convinced that she slept, then he made his way to the door and took a position looking out over the fire to the hostile world beyond. The forest were dark, the trees just shadows outlined in white; a beautiful but unforgiving place. They had to get away soon; every hour increased the chances of a ground search team finding them. There was no way of knowing who it was that he had taken the flyer from, or how they were equipped. But it was too much to hope that they wouldn’t come looking.

Avon looked down at the fire, frowning at the glowing light of the flames, that was a risk that they should no longer run, the burner would have to do. He stepped outside and began piling snow on the flames until it was just a patch of steaming black ash before returning inside, stepping carefully past the sleeping Soolin, but she didn’t stir. He took a field detector from the pack and crossed the room again, then, with a sigh, he sat down in the doorway, laying the gun across his thighs. In the world outside nothing moved between him and the trees, nothing showed on the detector either so it seemed that for the moment they were alone. Leaning back against the door frame he let his mind wander over the events of the last week. In particular those strange, and oh so real, dreams.

Sitting in the darkness he saw them differently, and though the pain and confusion were gone they still bothered him. At first it had been the events of the tracking gallery that puzzled him. Now there were other things that made him wonder, other things that he couldn’t explain. But still he kept coming back to those last minutes before the death of Blake. The woman in particular bothered him. He could hear her voice, feel the gun in his hand as he levelled it, smell the propellant as he fired, see her fall backwards with a small cry; yet still he could see no wounds, no blood. But that had to be wrong; because he could see only too clearly the gaping, bloody holes that same gun had punched through Blake only minutes later. Wasn’t she made of flesh and blood too? Or was she, like Blake at Terminal, just a figment of his imagination?

But if so where did that leave him?

Avon pulled his torn shirt closer around him, the cold air had tinted the skin of his chest reddish blue and set the hairs on end, he rubbed his hands across the exposed flesh trying to restart the circulation. He needed to find another shirt if he wasn’t to freeze. Staggering slightly he got to his feet clutching at the door lintel as his head spun and his leg muscles dissolved to rubber. Maybe he wasn’t as recovered as he had led Soolin to believe but be damned if he was going to rely on her any further than he had to, not until he had worked out exactly what was going on.

He stood there for long seconds struggling with the grey mist that threatened to engulf him again; finally he succeeded in pushing it away, at least enough to find his way through the door and across the room towards the pack. Soolin murmured in her sleep and turned over, and for a moment he froze where he stood, before cursing his stupidity as he shivered. Most of the supplies and equipment had been unpacked in Soolin’s desperate bid to keep him alive, laying the gun and the detector down he began to pull the remaining items from the pack. Down at the bottom was a creased black undershirt, the musty odour as he pulled it out suggested it wasn’t really clean and he grimaced. Could he bear to wear it in its current state he wondered? He looked around helplessly, then sighed knowing that he had no choice. Reluctantly he shrugged off his jacket and pulled it over his shirt.

As he pulled his jacket on again the cold pulled another shiver from him and the image of Blake as he came into the tracking gallery rose up in his mind. The grubby padded gillet, the low slung belt, the white sleeves of the shirt stark even in the shadows. A shirt open to the waist. Avon's hand crept up to his own chest, his fingers rubbing the shirt against his slowly warming skin, he narrowed his eyes as if to better see the other man. It was a strange costume for a bounty hunter surely? Impractical wear in the chilly mists of the autumn forests, and an open invitation to even a half decent marksman. Or anyone with a weapon come to that. Here is my heart see if you can hit it! Even if he chose not to wear protective clothing, and surely that would be standard issue for a bounty hunter in a forest where a sniper could be behind any tree, such behavior was too careless to be real. To flaunt his vulnerability like that would take a more stupid man than Blake had been.

He sighed and closed his eyes, another thing that didn’t feel right. True it was small and unimportant enough in its own right, but it was disturbing none the less. Blake had been a fool in many ways, but not stupid enough to risk the type of posturing an open shirt in a cold forest suggested. At least the man he had known hadn’t been, who could say how much of a fool the bounty hunter was. Yet that was no answer either. So much was unfathomable, irrational, yet his mind insisted that there was a pattern, a reason for it all if only he could see it.

The warmth began to seep gently through his body, increasing the fatigue that leaded his limbs. He wanted to sleep but he couldn’t, Soolin needed rest even more than he did, after being alone for three days she had barely been on her feet. He shook his head; he needed to be alert to able to defend himself despite the shield. Wearily he straightened his shoulders and rubbed a hand across his eyes, he must stay awake! Reluctantly he turned back to the doorway, the chill of the wind was uncomfortable but it would keep him alert. Sitting down on the threshold he wriggled into the lee of the doorpost placing the gun across his knees, one hand curled around the trigger. It would be some time before Soolin woke and they could leave, but he could put that time to good use. He might be too tired to work on the computers and communicators but he could try and make some sense of the troubled dreams of the fever. His didnt want to, they had opened the door to grief again and unaccustomed feelings were waiting to catch him at any unwary moment, but he needed answers. Particularly regarding Soolin.

He looked across at the sleeping woman, the pale hair spread across her face, her gun hand pillowed under her head. It seemed that she was the only one left, but how far to trust her? He turned his eyes to the world beyond the doorway, it was a desolate place, unforgiving. So why had he come here? To find Blake? Or because there was nowhere else left to go?

Despair and disbelief rose up from some deep corner of his tired mind, what had he been doing to bring the warlords to Xenon? He must have been mad. The risk of them being betrayed was always too great, had he forgotten even basic caution in those last days? If he hadn’t done that then they would still have the base, a safe bolthole from which to plan and work. Vila hadn’t liked the place but staying there would have been better than the future the leaving of it had brought them, certainly for Vila himself.

Then there was the antidote, why had he delayed so long in doing something about it? If he had acted sooner then the Federation would have been less prepared, they would have had less time to persuade Zukan or some other greedy warlord to betray them all. If he had delayed then why do anything at all? Other than keep their heads down and hope that the Federation missed them. But, as he had realised back at the base, he no longer understood anything of what he had done in the year or more since Liberator.

If he couldn’t recognise himself was it so surprising that he couldn’t understand Blake?

If he got back to the facts, to the things that didn’t need him to consider people’s motives, then maybe he would make sense of it. There was a lot to make sense of. He still hadn’t worked out how those troopers got into the base, or where that ridiculous gun had come from, or why the woman with Blake hadn’t got between them, or how the troopers reached the tracking gallery without any warning. Nor had he worked out why the woman hadn’t bled, not when Blake had bled so prolifically

No a voice from deep inside his mind whispered to him that’s wrong too. The projectiles went into, but not through, Blake. There had been no exit wounds, no blood and bone spraying behind him. Avon felt a tingle in his bloodstream and he focussed his mind on the falling Blake again. How could that be? The impact necessary to open up such wounds would have blown a hole right through him. Avon struggled to concentrate, calling back the image of those last few seconds of Blake’s life. It was eerily easy to do, to replay it, like the image of security camera; even the sensations were so clear that they could have happened only seconds ago. He felt the gun vibrate as he fired and saw the wounds erupt like volcanoes’ in the other mans gut, the fabric of his shirt exploding outwards, the blood like a shower splattering up across his torso and face. The gun shivered again and again, two more wounds flowered from the seeds of the projectiles yet still Blake was on his feet; still he came forward. He felt the hands grip his arms and heard his name gasped as the man started to fall.

With a sudden startling clarity his mind focussed, bringing the picture of the staggering Blake into a relief so sharp and bright and cold that it could have been carved by laser in ice. Started to fall! The image glowed in his mind every detail illuminated by an unseen sun. No that didn’t make sense, how had Blake still been on his feet after that first shot? The force of that first impact should have spun him around or thrown him backwards. Yet he had not stumbled or even staggered. It wasn’t possible; a force of the kind that would be necessary to make those wounds would have caused a recoil, it was a fundamental law, action and reaction. Something was wrong about those shots and their effects, very wrong. It would have taken a miracle for Blake to be on his feet for the second shot, but not even that would explain why he was still coming, to take the third.

Avon moved outside as he thought, insensible to the bite of the wind or the glare of the snow covered world. Blake and the woman, two irrational outcomes from the same gun; a gun of unknown origin. There had to be an answer but he was dammed if he could see it for the moment. Something was wrong with that gun, his eyes drifted down to the one now in his hands. The gun he had shot Blake with had been large, projectile not energy judging by Blake’s wounds and the blood; but then again given the illogical nature of those wounds could he deduce anything from that? Probably not. But it had been effective. He pictured the falling Blake again, not an image easily forgotten. Maybe that was the point, not easily forgotten.

Suddenly he felt cold rising from inside of him and another image came to stand beside the dying Blake of the tracking gallery; the dying Blake of Terminal. Two Blake’s, both dying, but one had not been real. He caught his breath on a sudden thought, but which one? Had Blake been the man at Terminal, had Servalan lied about the illusion? Maybe, it would be like her to leave Blake to die, intending him to find the body when it was too late. But if that was the case then the man in the tracking gallery was not real. A double or a clone, either was possible; but if so that left the question of why?

To bring them here, to their deaths? Probably, but if so then why was he and Soolin alive? Unless the story about loss of Orac was true, maybe Servalan had told the truth about that. Yes, that would fit. Servalan had lied again about it not being her operation, it had her fingerprints all over it, she brought them here to die. Then Orac was unexpectedly and inconveniently destroyed and suddenly she needed him alive.

But why here? And how had she known to keep him alive in the first place? Had she stayed her hand until she could get her greedy fingers on Orac? Maybe Servalan would, but what of Sleer? Would she have been so patient? Zukan thought to kill them all on Xenon, which meant risking them destroying Orac as a last act of defiance; yet she must have been behind that too if he was right about Blake and the tracking gallery. But that felt wrong too, why would she do that? Would she have settled for Scorpio and teleport, assuming they could have replicated it? Because he should have been on Xenon and Tarrant, who should have been on the ship, would not have been able to help her.

Tarrant! Another source of questions. How had he got to the base? With Blake? But why? Why bring him to the base only to have him die in the fight? Then again, what about those memories of Tarrant and Blake?

Avon shifted his stance casting a quick look back to the sleeping Soolin; either Tarrant had told him, in which case Tarrant was alive, or else…… the thought hit him like a blow; or else someone had put the memories there. Avon smiled into the wind, oh yes he should have thought of that before! But if she had done that, he needed to knwo why she had done it because until he did he couldn’t be sure about anything that had happened in the tracking gallery at all. And Blake? Maybe not a double or clone, maybe he was nothing real at all, another illusion. Real on Terminal perhaps, but an illusion here . He looked up at the sky with narrowed eyes; then again maybe both were illusions, and if that were the case then perhaps Servalan really had lied about his death on where was it… Jevron. Avon felt a shudder run through him and a sudden feeling as if a pit were opening beneath his feet. Maybe Blake hadn’t died in the tracking gallery or at Terminal; for some reason the thought made Avon smile again.

Maybe Blake was still alive somewhere.

But if that were the case what about Soolin? Had they doctored her memory as well? If so, then why, and how? Had she even been injured? Unless… another thought stole into his mind. Oh yes, that would make sense. But if it were true then where were the others, what had happened when Scorpio came down? He leant back against the door, the fatigue of earlier was gone and he felt fully alert and alive for the first time he could remember since waking at the base. His mind had cleared and with a frown in his eyes he set about some serious thinking.

***

Blake been working on the plans of the magnetic barrier, and wishing for Avon’s help, when the message arrived. Two people to see him. Two! Carrill’s last message had him warned to expect one; a man she had met on outer sector repair station, a man Blake was more than glad to hear news of. Del Grant.

Ro and Selma had agreed to the visit with pleasure and Blake had been waiting for this message for days. Now it set the nerve endings tingling and a sense of expectation flooded him, Grant was a mercenary, but one who had been involved in the rebellion against the Federation for a long time. He had his own transport and a wide network of contacts and informers and he was likely to be well informed about the current state of Federation affairs. Carrill’s message had told him a little of Grant’s recent activities, at the time of the invasion he had been in a sector on the other side of the galaxy from the area covered by the battle; he had not been involved in the fighting. Since then he had been helping the newly freed planets consolidate their gains. Blake smiled at the memory of Grant’s face at their last meeting, no doubt it was a profitable business but Grant gave value for money and had been widely respected; particularly after Albian.

But who could the second one be? There was no reason for Grant to bring one of his crew with him so why two? The second person had to be someone they both knew, which opened up some interesting speculations. Blake pushed the plans aside and got to his feet, rubbing the cramp from a back protesting at long hours hunched over schematics. A quick stretch and he left the control room, heading for the reception area with his heart racing in a way it hadn’t done for a while. Maybe things were about to happen.

Grant turned as Blake entered the reception room grinning broadly and extending his hand. He looked tired and pale, the fair hair hanging limply over his collar and the lines about the bright eyes perhaps more noticeable than before; but he still had the air of jaunty confidence that had marked him out even when things had been going badly. They had not met since Albian.

Blake reached out taking Grant's hand, grasping his shoulder in the same movement. For a moment they just stood and looked at each other before each speaking the others name. Grant reached out his free hand to grip Blake's wrist briefly, his easy smile extending into his eyes,
"So you made it"; there was a note of genuine pleasure in Grant’s voice.
"So did you."
"Yes but I wasn’t in the front line when an invasion force arrived!"
Blake laughed,
"Yes I have all the luck don’t I?"
Grant looked at him considering,
"Nearly ran out at one point so I hear, still Travis won't be bothering you again."
Blake raised his eyebrows
"Yes, but how did you know about that?"
Grant smirked,
"Inside information"
He jerked his head to the left and Blake turned to meet the unwavering gaze of the other person in the room. For a second he could not trust his eyes and he just stared, silently, at the woman standing there.
"Hallo Blake," the voice was low, almost uncertain.

Joy burst inside him, lighting his eyes and warming his voice. Suddenly he realised just how much he had hoped for this moment. With the broadest of smiles he extended both hands towards her,
"Jenna!!"

***

Avon was standing at the edge of the camp when Soolin woke, shoulders hunched against the wind, still and quiet. There was something about his very stillness that sent her heart rate rocketing. He looked cold and tired and the eyes he turned towards her as she moved were dark and hostile. For the first time since leaving the base the look he gave her as she sat on the floor was openly hostile.

Soolin felt fear prickle her blood; keeping her anxiety from her face as best she got slowly to her feet. He watched her without moving, saying nothing, all she could hear was the wine of the wind and the hiss of the blowing snow.
“How long have I been asleep?”
She was pleased her voice sounded so unconcerned; to get out of what ever was coming she was going to need to stay on her guard and use all her skills.
“Long enough.” His voice was abrupt but controlled.

She felt the hair on her neck rise, though she couldn’t have explained why, his tone was bland enough. Her eyes drifted around the room looking for the other gun. It was lying by the burner, but she was sure it hadn’t been when she went to sleep. So he’d been checking things, why did she find that threatening?
“How are you feeling?” She risked a quick look at him, “it’s light you should have woken me. You shouldn’t do too much yet. You’ve only been fully conscious a few hours you should have woken me sooner.”
Avon raised his eyebrows and smiled slightly, a flat and mirthless smile that ratcheted her fear up another notch.
“Really.”
“Yes, you need to take it easy. I can take the watch again now. You can rest.”

He shifted slightly, his finger on the trigger of the gun becoming more obvious,
“We need to be on the move as soon as we can get packed up. Your concern for my welfare is touching but unnecessary.” He was watching her closely.
She strove for unconcern,
“Maybe, but you aren’t superhuman Avon. There’s no need to push yourself like this.”
“Well now, I don’t have a lot of choice do I?”
His voice gave no clue about his thoughts or intentions, but something about set it set her back hair on end and her hand itching for a gun. She kept her voice even only with an effort.
“We don’t need to move just yet do we? It’s not far to the port, not now that we have a flyer. You did come back in a flyer didn’t you? So another day, even two, isn’t going to matter.”

His eyes narrowed and he came a half step closer and she felt every muscle in her body tense.
“Another day or two, you think we should wait another day or two?”
His voice was still calm and quiet.
“It seems sensible. Avon you have been shot, you have been unconscious for three days. You need time to rest.”
“Do I?”
“Yes you know you do!”
She couldn’t keep the exasperation from her voice any longer, but she felt her heart turn over as she saw his eyes widen and the full measure of his hostility hit her.

Unable to curb the instinctive movement her hand went towards that conveniently waiting gun, but for all his probable weakness Avon was quicker. He was on her faster than she would have thought possible, faster than she could move away. She felt his fingers tighten round her wrist, his grip stronger than she expected. He pulled her against him, his other hand moving to take the second gun. At such close quarters she could see the exhaustion behind the black stare and the sheen of sweat on his skin despite the cold, but his voice was still calm and controlled. Then he tipped his head slightly to one side to better look at her in the slowly growing light,
“Time, its all about time isn’t it Soolin?”
His voice was gentle but the tone of it sent a new wave of fear down her spine and she felt the sweat break out in the palms of her hands.

“What do you mean?” she used every shred of will power she possessed to match his tone.
“Time since the war, time since Blake’s death, time for Servalan to become Sleer, time to move us from Gauda Prime, time since we escaped. Time.”
A slight cold smile drifted across his face as he spoke. Slowly he let her go and stepped back towards the door, the gun came up to waist level the barrel tilted so that it was pointing steadily at her chest.
“Avon what are you talking about?”
She could hear the desperation creeping into her voice.

He looked at her for a moment without speaking, then he smiled again, that bright hard smile she hated. His voice was calm, almost purring,
“Questions Soolin, so many questions. But for the moment there are only two that really matter.”
“And they are?”
She felt the breath freeze in her throat as he tightened his grip on the gun. Desperately she looked for the signs of fever in his eyes but all she could see was a terrible sanity. Soolin looked into those bright intelligent eyes and felt the world slip as his smile widened and she heard the question she had hoped he would never ask her.
“Who are you and who, exactly, are you waiting for?”

For a moment she stared silently at him rapidly reviewing the events of these last days and wondering what she could say that would reassure him. His eyes were implacable, the smile dying and his hand steady in the gun. Finally she decided there was nothing she could do any more. Fear clenched at her chest but with it came a strange sense of relief. She raised her eyes to meet his and matched that smile.

Avon watched her struggle with herself. He tightened his grip on the gun certain, at least for now, that he was right, but uncertain about how she would react. For a moment there was silence and the blue eyes staring back at him were expressionless. Then suddenly she relaxed and, tilting her head to mirror his, she met his eyes; a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. It was like watching a landscape appear from the early morning haze. Nothing changes but suddenly everything there is clearer, firmer, more substantial. So the woman who stood looking down the barrel of his gun was Soolin and yet she was not. She was the Soolin of Xenon and she was the Soolin of the base and yet she was neither. This woman, this Soolin, was somehow clearer and more complete. Avon was sure that for the first time he was seeing the real woman.

Soolin watched him watching her. There was satisfaction but no surprise in his face and she was suddenly sure that there was no point in continuing any longer. God alone knew where they went from here. But she felt easier now, strangely more in control than at any time since they had met. Carefully she composed her face into neutrality, only the ghost of a smile remaining,
“All you had to do was ask,” she heard herself say.

He smiled again then, but a different smile to any she had ever seen on his face, one that extended to his eyes; a smile of real and huge enjoyment, and a smile of great charm. Soolin found it impossible not to respond to that smile, and returned it, as she watched him approach closer. The smile lingered despite the gun in his hand.

Avon came to a halt barely a foot away from her but she felt little anxiety, somehow she was certain that smile didn’t mean her harm, not for the moment at least. He raised the gun and brought the barrel to the base of her throat; the pressure on her skin was light as he ran it up the curve of her neck to the point of her chin tilting her head upwards. The smile was still beautiful and warm and amused and that amusement was echoed in his voice,
“Consider yourself asked.”

***
Servalan dismissed the security commander’s report and sat back in her chair staring unseeingly at the wall. How had he got away from her? They had assured her that there was no possibility of escape, that the base was totally secure, so how? The report didn’t seem to make that clear at all, it offered no answers only more questions. All that was certain was that he was gone and the woman Soolin was missing too.

Surely she wouldn’t be a party to his escape? It was not in her interests, so he must have taken her with him by his choice. But how and where? Not that it mattered for the moment. Unless it had been Orac! If it had been them, if they had been here, she would have known, but Orac was an unknown quantity in many ways and it seemed likely that it could act over huge distances. If that was the case then they might be on their way even now.

Servalan pushed the thought away. No she would not lose him, not now!

She steadied herself with an effort. Provided they could keep him on the planet the situation could be recovered. But they needed to keep him here and alive. That was the advantage of Gauda Prime of course, it was both isolated and anonymous and there was little population outside of the base, so he would have few sources of help. Alone, with little in the way of equipment, in the forests with winter drawing on they should be easy enough to find. So why hadn’t they found them?

He hadn’t been gone long enough to have escaped from the planet; unless they had indeed been here and gone. But the MSD would have picked them up and the watching ships would have told her, so, they hadn’t arrived yet and that meant he was still here. The only way out was the port and that was a long march over difficult ground, even if you knew where you were going. No flyers were missing and all traffic around the base could be accounted for, so he was on the ground among the trees. Coming to a decision she leant forward and pressed the intercom,
“Kant”.
The word would be enough to bring him. She leant back again, her mind reviewing the security arrangements outside of the base compound itself.

The young man who entered stood stiffly and in silence waiting for her attention, barely daring to breath. Eventually she turned her eyes towards him, swallowing her anger, uncertain suddenly of his loyalty. With an effort she kept her voice even,
“I want to know how this happened Kant, how did he get away and who was responsible? I want to know the details. I want to know quickly. However, since it has happened, there are some other precautions to be taken. Send out more search parties, make sure that they are properly equipped and briefed. I don’t want any accidents. They must both be taken alive. Make it clear, Kant, that if he dies the people responsible will wish they had died first. Use all available planetary transport.”
Looking at her implacable expression the young man in front of her was profoundly grateful that he had been off base with her when this occurred, and that he would not be taking part in the searches.
“Yes Ma’am”.
She didn’t look away.
“Contact my pilots, tell them to access Avon’s Gpro and prepare for a planetary scan. Make sure that the spaceport is closed, completely closed, nothing comes in or goes out. Is that clear, nothing at all!”
“Of course Ma’am.” How the hell was he to achieve that he wondered?
She was still talking.
“All ships leaving this base are to be thoroughly searched, and only vessels with my clearance will be allowed in or out. Make sure that squads are positioned at the port and that all communications on and off of the planet are routed through base security control. If he has help coming they won’t be far away.”
“Of course. I will arrange it immediately.” He hesitated for a moment then ventured to speak again, “is that all Ma’am?”
“For the moment but keep me fully informed” she nodded dismissal.

Kant turned and hurried for the door. Her voice stopped him as he reached for the lock,
“Kant, one more thing”
He turned on his heel sharply,
“Yes Madame President?”
“Send me Carnell!”

End of part one