Liberator had left Lindor orbit several hours before, on it’s way to Albian at Sarkoff’s request. Cauder had agreed to host a meeting of the newly independent planets and Albian was far enough away from current Federation borders for even the most nervous of the new leaders to consider it safe.

Sarkoff had agreed to provide assistance to Avalon, so leaving them free to go, an arrangement that had not met with universal approval. Lille had certainly felt that Sarkoff was asking too much, though she had been remarkably reticent about her feelings in his presence. Vila suspected that if Sarkoff hadn’t asked for their help when they were all there, and Tyce too, she would have attempted to persuade Tarrant to resist the request. But they had been returning Sarkoff’s hospitality and so everybody had been present. Tyce had thrown her support behind her father, smiling her slow smile at them in a way that had made it hard for the pilot to dislike the idea. Vila wondered if she and Cally had agreed it as a strategy in advance.

Not that it would have been easy to justify saying no; when it came down to it what else did they have to do? Avalon’s need was not desperate it seemed and Sarkoff could provide what she required as easily as Liberator, if not as quickly. Other than that? Well the days of blowing up Federation installations were over, the aliens had left few targets intact and those they had were needed by a lot of people now that Star One was gone. Drifting aimlessly through space had lost what little charm it had ever had, and since losing Avon nobody had come up with a new purpose. Granting Sarkoff’s request staved off the day when they would have to decide where they were going and why.

Vila had felt a pang of desperation as he watched Lindor disappear from the viewer and wished for the tenth time he had asked Sarkoff to let him stay. But that would have meant explaining why and he wasn’t ready to voice his concerns out loud, at least not yet.

The atmosphere on the ship was a tense as ever it had been in the early days, when the battles between Avon and Blake had been at their coldest and most unpredictable. But now there was nothing to bind them together, no Cygnus Alpha, no Travis, and so far no sight of Servalan. For some reason he couldn’t put a finger on the sudden disappearance of Servalan from their lives was worrying him. Since the war she had hounded them almost continually, despite the precarious state of the Federation. Until Terminal at least, since then the pursuit seemed to have stopped. Yet she knew they had survived, there had been a couple of skirmishes with pursuit ships on the fringes of the inner worlds, but the relentless and single-minded pursuit seemed to be over. Vila found that sinister. But no one wanted to listen to his worries, not even Illyan who had apparently appointed himself Vila’s confidant and mentor.

Not that Vila wanted Servalan to chase them, there were more than enough battles on the ship for his liking.

The relationship between Cally and Tarrant appeared colder than ever, and Dayna made no pretence of hiding whose side she would be on if it came to open conflict. In response Tarrant seemed to have adopted the role of Lille’s defence council. Cally’s calmly dismissive looks only made the situation worse. Lille herself seemed untouched by the unspoken hostility most of the time, but occasionally Vila caught her looking at Cally in a way that sent the shivers down his back.

But then Cally did little to hide her distrust either. She and Dayna had gone off on several occasions with Tyce but Lille had never been included in the party. Illyan had gone with them on at least once making the omission all the more telling in Vila’s eyes. Whether they had told Tyce of their concerns about the other woman was not clear, Sarkoff’s daughter had a poker face that many professionals would have envied.

Lindor to Albian was not a short hop even for Liberator and Vila wondered how long it would be before Lille started suggesting that their time could be better spent doing something else. He also wondered how she would try to discourage them from returning to Lindor again; because he was sure that she would. More trouble was brewing, and even Illyan was looking tense. Vila did his best not to think about it, staying away from the flight deck whenever he had the opportunity. So he had handed the watch over to Tarrant and taken refuge in his quarters, as he often did these days.

When the inevitable showdown came he didn’t want to be there. He just hoped that matters were resolved before Lille worked out Zen’s overrides. If she managed to do that then the balance of power might shift radically, and there was no saying what Cally or Dayna would do in response to that.

Vila cast another longing glance at the bottle that still sat, like a security blanket, in the middle of the table. He wrapped his arms around himself and tried to sleep, he was too tired and worried to even do any lock work. But oblivion refused to be obliging. So he stared into the darkness remembering better days and wondering how long it would be before he would be happy again.

***

In fact Lille was further away from getting to grips with Zen than Vila feared, and it both enraged and worried her. Down in the computer interface maintenance room she sat on the floor, a laser probe held loosely in her hand and her head resting against a panel, wondering what the hell Avon had done to the overrides. What ever it was it was far more comprehensive than they had anticipated.

She sighed and ran her hands through her hair, squeezing her eyes closed, trying to see past a technical barrier she couldn’t even begin to visualise. It didn’t help, any more than the hours’ staring at circuits and tracing linkages had helped. With another sigh she opened her eyes and stared blankly at the array before her, it didn’t look so very different to what she had expected, but it was. It had to be because it didn’t behave the way she thought that it would, or that it should.

Lille stretched her neck and sighed, wearily dropping the probe to the ground, shoulders sagging with fatigue. Her brain felt slow and reluctant and an unaccustomed depression was stealing over her. All the expectations she had raised, all the promises she had made! None of it seemed likely to be fulfilled. She had failed and she could see no way now to turn that failure into success. It was no more likely she would be able to solve the puzzles Avon had set her in the time left than she had in the weeks she had been on board. The failure was more bitter than the humiliation that failure would bring. Lille pushed away the rising panic, she needed to be able to think straight if she was to see her way through the mess of her own creation.

She had been so sure that she knew enough, that her brief time with Meeing would prove to be sufficient, and she had been wrong. Maybe she should have foreseen it. Avon had been on board for over three years, and in that time he had been fighting for his life on several levels, in such circumstances a man like him learnt quickly. But he must have been good to start with, and maybe they had underestimated him. Frowning slightly she found herself remembering dissenting voices and grimaced, well some of them had at least. They should have listened and made more allowance for the drug soaked environment of the domes in their evaluations, and maybe the Sopron matter should have warned them.

She looked around the room again; yes she had to admit that he was good, and possibly better than she was.

Lille struggled wearily to her feet and stood hands on hips, eyes darting from one rack of arrays to the next. Despite all the frustrations the scientist in her was beginning to find Avon fascinating as well as infuriating, but that was a fairly common response if Tarrant’s attitude was anything to judge by.

Tarrant. Lille stared unseeingly at the wall; it looked like he was the best option now. If she could get the pilot on her side, persuade him to trust her, she still might yet manage to get the ship home. But it would be hard, and fraught with dangerous difficulties. Cally in particular would be a problem, once Sarkoff’s concerns were dealt with she would want to resume the search for Avon and that was unlikely to take them in the direction she herself wanted them to go.

She chewed her lip. Tackling Cally directly would not be wise. Dayna would almost certainly back her up and, though Vila would do his best to stay out of it, if it came to a showdown, she had little doubt where his loyalties would lie. Illyan too would be an obstacle. Lille frowned as she thought of his calm, self-contained face; she still hadn’t managed to work just who he was, or what he was up to. But she had little doubt that he would ask some very awkward questions if she tried to lead matters too openly.

It was a pity that killing them was not really an option.

Maybe it would be simpler to tell them the truth. Perhaps they would agree to come with her, but somehow she thought not, and even if they did it would shift the balance of power in a most unfavourable manner. No, it had be as planned. Provided she could sway Tarrant it might yet work, if not then she was going to need a contingency plan, but she was sure she could find that in the strong room.

Lille cast another resentful look around the room; she had done as much as she could usefully do and fatigue was winding itself around her brain, twisting her thought processes as well as her mood. Better to leave it for now. She bent down and picked up the laser probe feeling her head swim as she straightened; she needed sleep before her watch. Slowly she headed back towards her quarters.

***

Illyan watched Lille leave with a slight smile on his face. He had never seen her look so depressed, which tended to confirm his suspicions that she was no nearer to understanding what Avon had done than when she came on board. The smile widened slightly, he rather thought she was running out of time. Alienating Cally so completely hadn’t been sensible, certainly not before Lille had been certain of her ability to deliver what she had no doubt promised. If his assessment of the situation was correct then it had always been a rash undertaking, given how little hard fact there could have been. But then they were so often unreasonably optimistic, and no doubt she had counted on having access to Orac to help her.

Illyan’s smile widened further, but then if she had thought that they really didn’t understand Avon. He had never shared that illusion.

So what would she try now? Had she completely given up or did she still hope to get control of Zen? If so then her next move had to involve one of the crew, and it didn’t take a specialist to work out whom that would be. After all she had so little choice. The pilot had shown signs of susceptibility from the beginning and Lille wouldn’t have missed them. She would capitalise on that interest if her skills proved unequal to the technical challenge.

Illyan leant further back in his chair and watched her departing back. She couldn’t be sure of Tarrant yet; he must have loyalties to the others that might still outweigh their current differences. So Lille would need to take measures to secure his interest and support. That might be entertaining to watch. Dayna at least wouldn’t miss much and was unlikely to rein in her tongue. Given that she shared the very young’s intolerant view of other people emotional lives, and that her wit could be caustic to say the least, Illyan could foresee some merry sessions ahead. He smiled to himself again, he was glad that he found people every bit as interesting as machines, but he wondered what Avon would have made of it all. The smile died; somehow with Avon on board he rather suspected that Lille would have faced a difficult choice some time ago.

Illyan turned away from the monitor and let his eyes wander around Avon’s lab taking in the unfinished work set out on the benches and the stack of print outs set neatly on a table by a chair. Printouts covering a surprisingly wide range of topics, and all of which were covered in notes. Coded notes. Private, coded notes. Illyan tipped a metaphorical hat to the missing man; he really didn’t take anything for granted did he?

Getting to his feet he cast a last look around the room before heading to the door. He rather hoped that Avon was alive and that they found him; he at least was rather looking forward to such a meeting.

****

Soolin sat on the bed and waited, her anxiety increasing with every passing second. She shifted uncomfortably, her right arm still felt stiff and heavy and pain was lurking, ready to strike if she moved too quickly. Elliot had apologised for not supplying pain relief in the last twelve hours but they had both known that it was important that she looked the part. So she had shrugged his concern away, after all she had been prepared for this. It was in her own interests that Avon accepted her and her story.

Her currently pale face and shadowed eyes could only help his belief in her and her story. She had left her hair loose and her face naked for the same reason, and under the harsh lights of the room she looked worn out as well as pale and strained. If the truth were told she knew that she looked awful, her dejected appearance highlighted by the muddy coloured medical smock.

It seemed like hours since Elliot had escorted her here, in reality it was less than twenty minutes and all of that time had been spent in silently rehearsing what she would say to him. By the time she heard the footsteps outside the door her nerves were stretched, and the anxiety had bathed her stomach in acid and slicked sweat down her spine. Even then it seemed an age before the door opened and a man came in, turning almost immediately to face the closing door as if he could see through it to the faces of the guards on the other side.

Standing up he appeared slightly taller than she had expected, and thinner than probably was the norm for him. The line of his shoulders was square, but slightly hunched as if he was prepared for an attack from behind, and there was tension in the way he stood, as if he was expecting to have to fight or to run. The dark jacket hung loosely on his upper body but there was a suggestion of power in his legs and hips, it seemed that they had done a good job on keeping his muscles toned in the weeks of his sleeping

For a moment she said nothing, waiting for him to turn, but he didn’t. Unable to bear it any longer she spoke first.
“Avon?” her voice sounded strained even to her own ears.
He seemed to freeze for a moment like a cat startled by a sudden noise, she could almost see the adrenaline surge in his blood, and he turned slowly as if he didn’t want to but knew that there was no other way.

The face that turned to hers was the one she had expected and yet somehow different. The sleeping face had been attractive enough but nothing extraordinary; this face came close to being just that, even as washed of expression as it was at the moment. It was his eyes she decided, guarded as they were at present they still seemed to spear her, demanding her attention. Even in the unforgiving light of this room they possessed a depth and texture in their darkness that drew her gaze. All expression was blanked from them but the brown flatness that remained was of velvet rather than stone. However distant his expression, Soolin thought, those eyes would always hint at something else; and though his face showed a coldness that she had expected, it also had a measure of strength and humour that she had not.

Avon stared at her, his head slightly tilted. The hard light rubbed reddish lights from the dark hair that was just long enough to be starting to curl against the jacket’s collar. Despite the lines of tension and stress that showed around his eyes there was vitality in him too, even now; the drive of someone intensely curious about the world around him, someone impatient to know as much of it as he could. Soolin found herself unexpectedly having to suppress a smile, somehow she thought that it had been a long time since Avon had experienced being ignored or overlooked. Suddenly other things she had heard about him made sense, though she couldn’t have explained why.

She schooled herself to meet that challenging gaze, seeing the slight tensing in the shoulders and the way his hands tightened into fists for a moment before relaxing again. There was no expression in his face that she could read. With a silent plea to whatever local gods inhabited this bleak planet she took up her role.

“So they let you live then, I wonder why that was?”
“You too.” His voice carried no inflection.
This was not going to be easy. She countered with a calm,
“Probably for the same reasons, it can’t be for anything I know.”
Now the first exchange was over it was getting easier. She stayed where she was looking up at him, watching as he moved cautiously into the room, alert for any sign of suspicion. For the moment she could see none.

He inclined his head towards her right hand,
“You are hurt?” A hint of concern slipped into his voice. She was glad; it made the next bit easier to do.
“Nothing that won’t heal. At least they gave me some treatment, but I’m not going to be firing a gun for a while even if there was one to come to hand, and I don’t think that is likely somehow. And you?”
“I’ll survive.” His voice was cold and dismissive, never before had she met anyone who seemed so little concerned with sympathy. She let herself smile slightly,
“Oh I don’t doubt that, you always do don’t you? It’s something I’ve always admired about you.”
“Really?” his voice was flat.

She hesitated for a moment, watching him.
“Surprisingly, yes”
This was the crunch, now she would find out just how well they had done. With an effort she ignored her squirming stomach and moderated her anxiety. Some was permissible, he would expect that even from the detached Soolin of his dreams, but too much might raise his suspicion of her, later if not immediately.
“The others?” she asked.
He looked at her full in the face, meeting her gaze unflinchingly. The darkness in his eyes deepened and for a second the distress in his expression was intense, but then it was gone, so quickly she might have imagined it. Its’ passing left nothing behind, but Soolin thought that she had never seen eyes look so cold and dark, so bleak.The flat tone of his voice somehow matched them.
“I don’t know. I had assumed that everyone was dead. Now it seems that may have been a premature conclusion”. He looked away, “have you had any news of them?”

She suppressed a satisfied sigh, that seemed to have gone well enough.
“No, I had assumed that I was the only survivor, until they told me there was someone I should see.”
Avon turned away from her and scanned the room; Soolin felt an unexpected spurt of sympathy knowing that he was finding this harder than he showed. She was surprised when he came and sat down besides her. Turning to face him she asked the next important question.
“What do they want?” she asked.
“How should I know?”
“You mean they haven’t asked you for anything?”
At that he looked at her again,
“What would they have asked for?”
There was sudden hint of steel in his voice and she pulled herself up quickly. Careful, she thought, remember what they told you, this man is both very suspicious and very quick on the uptake. Take it easy, he would expect you to be curious but he will be looking for signs that you have betrayed him.
“I don’t know, but they must want something, otherwise we would both be dead.”
She was proud of the tone of her voice, just the right mix of uncertainty and impatience.
“Yes”, he was stonewalling, she wondered if that was a good or a bad sign.
“So have they questioned you?” she prompted him.
“Oh yes, they questioned me?” More evasion.
“So what did they want to know?”
“What I had expected”, the remote and final tone of his voice made it clear he did not intend to elaborate further,
“And did you tell them?” He would expect her to ask that.
“No”, the same clipped and final tone.
“Are you sure?”
“As I can be.”

He paused then and a slightly puzzled look crossed his face. She felt a sudden thrill of fear, what was it that had just occurred to him? Instinct warned that now was not the time to press him. She stayed quiet, waiting for him to speak, but the expression of a moment before faded and he simply sat silently, face and eyes blank. After a moments consideration she decided that she could risk probing what he believed about recent events.
“What happened Avon, do you know?”

He turned and looked at her and an unreadable expression flitted through his eyes. She felt her anxiety increase, but when he spoke again there was no hint of suspicion in his words or the tone of voice.
“Blake betrayed us. I shot him, but not before the Federation stormed the base.”
That jolted her; there was no apology in his voice, no an attempt to excuse himself, just a flat statement of fact. Had he no doubts? Had Carnell failed in planting them? What would it mean if he had?
“Are you sure, about Blake?” the words slipped out.
He looked down at his hands where they lay loosely clasped in his lap,
“No, not entirely but it seems probable”.

She cocked an eyebrow,
“Yes I suppose it does, but there could be other explanations, couldn’t there?”
“Such as?” he looked up at her sounding genuinely curious,
“A coincidence. Did Blake know that we were coming?”
“No, not as far as I’m aware.”
“So how would he have known to call the Federation then?”
She watched him from under her eyelashes. He shook his head, the blank shuttered look still on his face.
“Do you believe he would have betrayed you?” she prompted.
“Possibly” he hesitated “but unlikely.”
“Well then?”
“But no more unlikely than that the Federation, in the middle of a pacification programme, was still pursuing a Blake who hasn’t been heard of in more than two years on some out of the way planet away from the main theatre of operations. Nor is it more unlikely than that they just chose that moment to attack the base, managed to approach it without being seen, and that the rebels put up no effective resistance. That would be a pretty spectacular chain of coincidence don’t you think?”

So he had given it considerable thought.
“Maybe they identified Scorpio?” See what that brought.
“Maybe”. He stood up suddenly, “not that speculation will alter anything now.”
Time to back off Soolin thought, better this session was ended now. She rubbed her finger over the alarm buried under her thumbnail.
“No I suppose not. What do you think is going to happen to us?”
He turned and looked at her again,
“I don’t know, but Servalan is here so we can be sure that something will and sooner rather than later.”
“Then it’s her game now Avon, all we can do is survive.”
“So it would seem,” he sounded weary now.

The door opened and the guards entered. The taller of the two moved into the room and indicated Avon to move.
“Reunion over” he said, the voice was as expressionless as the bored face.
Avon raised his eyebrows slightly but moved to the door without protest. Soolin stood and watched him go.

Only when the door had been fully closed long enough for Avon to be on his way back to his quarters did she speak again.
“Well?”
Jocasta’s voice came back to her.
“You did well.”
“Maybe, but I’m not sure. There’s a lot going on his head and not all of it is what we put there.”
“No, you may be right,” the disembodied voice sounded unconcerned.
“So what now?”
“Rest for while, you look tired. We will meet in three hours. Oh, and Soolin see Elliot on your way back to your quarters.”
Soolin nodded to the air then reaching under the thin pillow she pulled out an overall. Wincing with the pain she pulled it on over the smock and headed towards the medical unit.

***