Soolin had wondered if things could get worse, now it seemed that they had. Avon was dying. Well, maybe Avon was dying. In the light of the fire she had built to help keep him from the barbs of the freezing wind she could see the shadows on the ground where he had fallen. The white darkened where his blood had stained the snow dusted soil and rubble, and the patches were worryingly large.

She had no way of knowing when, or how, he been shot; only that he had still been bleeding when he made it back. Judging by the look of him when he had collapsed at her feet, his skin white and almost translucent, seeming at one with the snow, he had been bleeding for some time before that. With such blood loss she doubted that he had walked all the way from wherever it was he had gone that morning. That meant that he must have found transport after all, getting himself shot in the process.

She scanned the tree line with narrowed eyes, whatever it was it was out there somewhere, but it wouldn’t be much use to her if he died. But he shouldn’t be dying. She had treated him quickly, sending a silent thanks to whoever it was that had specified the equipment the dead man had been carrying. The medical computer was top of the range, so were the probes that had accompanied it, and she had made no mistakes in using them.

She had been very careful, watching the display as the probes located the fragments of the projectile scattered throughout his rib cage. Her concentration hadn’t wavered as the molecular and cellular scavengers had done their remorseless work, their hungry trails showing red, yellow and blue as they raced after the beckoning probes and then disassembled the shrapnel before absorbing the constituent elements. She had breathed more easily as she had seen the regen compounds begin their work, sealing vessels and ruptured cells, summoning the body’s resources; the damaged tissues glowing white on the image as their replacement levels soared. She had continued to watch the displays as his immune and repair system surged, body cells supercharged by the stimulus of the scavengers and the clarion call to arms of the regen messengers, awaking systems shut before birth and persuading them back into action. Avon had received medical science at its best here on a frontier world, the gift of a man who hadn’t himself survived long enough to make use of its power.

It should have saved him, but as she watched him toss and turn, locked in an apparent fever, she wasn’t sure that it had.

It was the history of the past weeks that made it all so much more difficult, in particular the cocktail of drugs that might still lurk in his tissues. There was no way she could know what effect they might have on a body stressed by unaccustomed cold and heavy exercise and now hit by trauma and blood loss.

With a sigh she checked the time. It was several hours since she had administered the first regen agents so she could probably risk giving him more now. If the first lot hadn’t killed him there was no reason to believe that more would. Climbing wearily to her feet she stumbled back inside and began to search through the medical supplies. There were plenty of drugs, and she could trust the computer to tell her which to use, at least he had that going for him. But the computer had no knowledge of what he had been given in recent weeks, and she wouldn’t know how to give it that information even if she herself possessed it. She would just have to trust that there would be no conflicts.

Soolin ran the diagnostics again, but there was nothing new to see. The computer display listed the next recommended treatment, and after a moment or two of scrabbling amongst the contents of the medikit she assembled the list before returning to the unconscious man. Carefully she positioned the hypo over his arm waiting for the sensors to select the right blood vessel, she held her breath until it flashed green at her and she pushed the trigger. She breathed out in a noisy sigh as the orange flash told her the drugs had gone to the right place in the right quantity. She brushed his hair away from his sweat-slicked forehead, he stirred a little but his eyes stayed closed. Now all she could do was wait and hope.

Rubbing her hands over her eyes she fought for calm. The shards of the projectile had been removed and his tissues were being repaired, there was little she could do for the blood loss but he should survive that now. Whatever it was that caused him to burn with this fever was beyond her help

A glint of reflected firelight drew her eye and she reached down and took out the shiny silver case turning it over in her hands, wondering if she could use it. Her eyes drifted back to the chilly world beyond the doorway, it was starting to snow again and the wind was rising. Shivering she pushed the case back into the pack, this was not the place for using that, even if she was sure how.

Beyond the light of the fire the world was darkening. A sudden slithering hiss, as a branch dumped its white load, caught her attention; it pulled her eyes to where a shadow moved between the shrouded trees. For a second she though she caught the flash of a silver eye. They were still there. They could smell the blood, alien to their senses the scent might be but she was sure that they would know it as blood. If they attacked would the shield hold them back?

Another fear surfaced. The shield, how long could it hold without Avon’s care? She cursed realising that she didn’t even know how it was powered, wishing that she had risked asking him more questions. Keeping her eyes on the flitting shadows in the trees she reached for the gun she had abandoned in the corner and pulled it to her, its contours were now as familiar as her own body. Fleetingly she wondered how she had come to be here.

Forcing the useless thought away Soolin looked around her in near desperation, if the shield failed and they came there would be little she could do to protect herself, let alone him. If only she could get Avon to wake she could get him into the shelter, unconscious he was a dead weight, and one she couldn’t manoeuvre over the stony ground without risking doing him unknown harm. She edged herself into the doorway, making sure that she would have a clear shot over the top of his body. Perhaps the fire would keep them away even without the shield? Maybe they weren’t hungry enough yet? For the moment maybe, but they would be, eventually.

Staring into the darkness she faced an unpalatable truth, unless Avon woke soon she would have to make a decision, stay or go. Try and get back without him, and risk the consequences, or stay and try to keep him alive, and take the consequences. She had no idea which of those she would choose.

***

Blake was dreaming. The crack of weapons and the shrill wail of alarms were ringing in his ears; he could see the faces around him drawn stark and tight in the uncertain light, and smell fear in the air. The trooper’s helmets hid their eyes but that didn’t matter, the face in front of him was all that was important. The man facing them, a man who stood so defiantly, shoulders square and head high as if in command of the situation. But he wasn’t in command, he was going to die and there was nothing Blake could do about it. He cursed himself as the troopers moved in closer. Why hadn’t he listened to Deva? Why had he been so sure that everything would be alright?

It was far from alright.

The shouts echoed around him coming from all sides at once, and he could hear the scrape of boots on the uncovered floor as people ran for cover. Blake tried to step forward, to get between the man in front of him and the troopers, but he couldn’t move. Off to his left he saw Porloff shake his head and wave him back, for a moment Blake wondered how Porloff had got here. Symmons too, he hadn’t seen Symmons since that disastrous ambush on Earth. He was glad they had made it here; they were good people to have with you in a fight.

But it wasn’t going to be a fight, at least not for him. He couldn’t move; his feet seemed fixed to the floor and his hands were bound to his side by some invisible rope. All he could do was stand and watch as the man died.

A sudden rage shook him and he turned in search of another face, the one who might stop it even now. The face wasn’t there. So many familiar faces but not that one. Deva stood off to one side, Klyn at his shoulder. They both smiled sadly and shook their heads as Blake turned imploringly towards them, then they stepped back allowing more troopers to take their place. Shaken by sudden fear Blake looked at the faces around him, he knew these people so well so why were they allowing it to happen? Why had they allowed him to do it? They stared calmly back at him as if they were waiting for something, he saw the blood on their hands and the trust in their eyes and understood.

Then he was falling, just as the man before him was falling. Blood and bone spraying across the endless mirror of the floor, wall reverberating with the final weapon’s roar. He twisted his neck struggling to focus on a world suddenly hazy. A face appeared out of the fog, beautifully triumphant, voice purring his name. Servalan! No, not yet. It was too soon, she couldn’t be here yet. They had to get the dead man away. They had to.

Behind her Travis grinned, both eyes scarred and masked.

Blake reached for his gun but a gentle hand held his wrist, Klyn smiled at him as she pushed his hand down onto the floor. Her eyes glowed as he heard her voice in his head,
“It’s all taken care of now Blake, nothing for you to do. Just trust us.”
Trust. The word seemed to spin around the room trailing darkness in its wake. Then Deva was with Klyn his eyes calm and certain,
“It’s done Blake, you can rest now. Take some time before you start again. You are dead, and a dead man can afford a little rest.”
Blake shook his head; “No” he heard his own voice harsh and bitter, “NO. He’s dead.”
Deva’s voice was steady,
“It’s already done. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“He’s right Blake, nothing for you to worry about.”

Another voice, he turned his head towards it. The large shadow of Gan fell across him, the fading light caught his face and his smile was as open as ever. Blake struggled to sit up, but Klyn’s hand held him back,
“I must Gan, surely you can see that?” he could hear the pleading in his own voice.
The smile seemed to brighten, but Gan said nothing. Blake looked across to where Deva was hiding the body of the dead man under a table. Blood lay like tattered streamers across the floor, but the troopers were gone. Travis watched from the far corner without expression.

Deva was sitting on the table now, legs swinging, Klyn was kneeling on the floor combing the dead man’s hair.
“It’s a perfect opportunity Blake. Go and get some sleep, it will all be better in the morning.”
Deva smiled as Klyn stood and handed him the bloodied comb, then she came and took Blake’s arm. Her hand was corpse pale and skeleton thin, but the grip was strong and her nails bit into his flesh, sharp as knives. He looked from her hand to Deva’s smiling face,
“I can’t, don’t you see. It was all my fault, I can’t.”
His voice rose in panic, but no one seemed to be listening. With a sudden effort he pushed Klyn’s hand away and dragged himself to his knees. Deva slid down from the table and turned to face him, concern and irritation in his face. When he spoke, the familiar voice seemed to come from a long way away,
“Leave it Blake, there was nothing you could have done.”

Blake looked towards the table; the dead man lay facing him, his own face staring out from behind the wall of death. He began to move towards the body, hands’ smearing the blood trails, ignoring the shuddering and crashes as the walls began to crack and fall around him.
“No,” he heard his own voice.
The dead mouth opened in response,
“Blake.”
The voice was his own. Then Deva’s spoke from somewhere under the falling rubble,
“Blake.”
More voices joined the chorus of his name. The air became heavy with the chant of it as the dust rose in clouds shutting out the light.

“Blake…Blake.”
Darkness lightened to dusk, and now there was just a single voice. Even so it had the power to pull him headlong from sleep suddenly aware of his quarters, aware of the sweat drenched sheet and the light from the computer console suddenly sprung to life in the corner.
“Blake.”
It came again, familiar in its impassive, almost expressionless, timbre. Blake shook his head sure that the dream still lingered, after all how else could he be hearing Avon? But he was awake and he was both hearing and seeing Avon.

Avon, standing here, in his quarters, in the one place on Liberator where he had never been. At least as far as Blake had known. But it was Avon, at least a ghost of the man, standing beside the console.
“Avon?” Blake breathed the name before he was aware of it.
The image turned towards him and a shiver of something passed across the pale face.
“So you are alive.” The voice gave no clue to the feelings his living might produce in the man who had caused this image to be.

Blake wondered what to do, how much could this illusion of Avon respond to him? Only one way to find out,
“Yes, at least I think so. Are you?”
If the image recognised the origin of the remark it gave no sign, but it did respond. Maybe it recognised his expression or simply the fact that he had stopped speaking.
“I may or may not share that condition. Whichever it is there is nothing you can do for me, so if you have any thoughts of a glorious and heroic rescue just forget them. I don’t need you, but the others do. Tarrant is not as good as he thinks he is and Dayna is little more than a child. Though it pains me to say it, they, and Cally and Vila, do need you.”
Irony and something else he couldn’t quite recognise loaded the familiar voice. Blake was silent, somehow nothing he could think of to say was appropriate. The image smiled slightly,
“Let that be enough for you.”

Avon seemed to look away, a shadow of satisfaction passing across his face,
“It is done,” he said cryptically. Electronic eyes seemed to return to Blake’s face. “If you are hearing this then Orac is nearly convinced that you are Blake and that the others have nothing to fear from you.”
Avon smiled suddenly and the electronic voice took on the purr that the man had sometimes used when he was about to needle Blake,
“Well no more than they ever did, who knows maybe they will think twice about that this time.”
The smiled died and the purr faded, Avon became brisk;
“However there is one more hurdle you need to clear. Go to the medical centre and wait, take Jenna along too if she is with you. Zen will give you a link to Orac, it will make the final checks there. You know what to expect, you have done it before. When the tests are completed take Orac to the flight deck, if it is satisfied that both of you are who you claim to be it will give you the activator and reactivate your voiceprint. From then on it will be up to you.”

Avon paused for a moment another slow smile creeping across his face.
“If you, or Jenna, fail the tests then Orac will remain inaccessible and Zen will continue to ignore your commands. How you resolve that with the others will also be up to you.”
There was a slight pause before an ironic,
“Good luck.”
Then Blake was alone again.

After a moment or two he threw off the sheet and got to his feet. Running a hand over his tousled hair he pulled on the clothes nearest to hand and headed for the medical unit, collecting a curious Jenna on the way. Cally was already waiting for them.

Three hours later they were heading for the flight deck. Everyone else was already there. Orac sat where it had been so often in the old days, Vila was standing by, his anxiety showing only in his eyes.
“So where is it?” That was Tarrant.
Jenna shot him a hard look but Blake got in first.
“I don’t know.”
“What happens now?” Vila’s voice was strained.
“I don’t know that either.” Blake moved to sit on the couch facing the silent computer.
ATTENTION. ALL TESTS ARE NOW COMPELETED. THE IDENTITY OF ROJ BLAKE AND JENNA STANIS IS CONFIRMED.
“Well hurray for that. So what happens now?” Vila almost shouted.
THE ONE CALLED ORAC HAS CONFIRMED THAT THE CONDITONS SET OUT IN THE THIRD EMERGENCY PROTOCOL HAVE NOW BEEN MET.
“Third!” Vila squeaked, “How many are there?”
THAT INFORMATION IS NOT AVAILABLE.
“So can we expect more of them Zen?” Tarrant sounded resigned.
THAT INFORMATION IS NOT AVAILABLE.
“Surprise, surprise.” Dayna grinned at the pilot, who just shook his head and shrugged slightly.

“Well something must be.” Jenna sounded uncertain. “Avon said that Orac would be made available. The question is how? Zen do you know?”
For a moment everyone tensed wondering if Zen would respond, it did so without a pause.
NEGATIVE THAT INFORMATION IS NOT AVAILABLE.
Vila grinned
“Well at least Zen recognises you again.”
“Zen recognises Servalan, the question is will he obey your instructions again?” Lille’s voice was carefully neutral.
Jenna took a deep breath,
“Only one way to find out. Zen put up the force wall and clear the neutron blasters for firing.”
CONFIRMED
Vila hurried to the weapon station, after a quick glance he turned excitedly to Jenna,
“Zen did it. He obeyed you.” His grin stretched from ear to ear, “you’re back, you really are back. Just like the old days.”
Jenna felt a surge of pure pleasure,
“So it seems. Zen, lower the forcewall.”
CONFIRMED

Blake had been staring silently at Orac, as Jenna turned towards him he stiffened, a smothered oath escaping his lips.
“It's here! The activator is here! But it wasn’t, not before.”
They all gathereda round then, staring in disbelief. At the bottom of the clear case that was Orac’s body one of the sets of relays had changed. Where there had been only ducting and flashing lights the activator could now be seen sitting on the bottom of the casing.
“But that’s not possible.” Tarrant sounded stunned, “We looked, we all looked. It wasn’t there.”
“Well it is now.” Illyan sounded somehow unsurprised.
“Yes, “ Blake shot him a sharp look, “the question is how do we get it out.” He turned to Lille, “one for you?”
Lille’s mouth twisted,
“Maybe but are you sure that you want me to risk it? What else may he have rigged up?”

Vila groaned.
“Don’t say things like that.”
Blake smiled grimly,
“If Avon had wanted us dead I think we would have been so before now.” He looked towards Tarrant , “don’t you agree?”
“It seems so.” Tarrant sounded resigned.
Blake looked across the flight deck,
“Zen how do we get the activator out.”
INSTRUCTIONS ARE AVAILABLE. THEY MUST BE FOLLOWED EXACTLY. FAILURE TO DO SO WILL TRIGGER AN EXPLOSIVE CHARGE.
“Avon doesn’t like to make things easy does he?” Vila moaned.
“It seems not.” Blake sounded amused. He exchanged a look with Lille, “you happy to go ahead?”
She held his eyes for a moment then shrugged,
“Why not.”
Blake nodded,
“Alright Zen, what exactly do we need to do?”
Vila shot Zen a harassed look,
“And he means exactly, very exactly.”

***