Blake was sitting on the forward couch, staring at the planet below; the beginnings of a frown were puckering his forehead and his eyes were slightly pink from the hours of watching screens. One arm rested across his belly, the other was propped on it, the hand raised, index finger gripped between his teeth. The small, sharp, marks on the skin were testament to the time he had sat there.

Not that he was conscious of either the frown or the weary eyes, any more than he was aware of the image on the viewer. His mind was drifting, alternating between the past and the present, but studiously avoiding thoughts of the future. In a few hours time they would begin the journey to Albian to rendezvous with Grant. The pick up here was completed, Kearne’s people were aboard, some fifty assault and technical staff. Liberator was more populated than he had ever known it, and for some strange reason that made him uncomfortable, as if there were trespassers aboard.

But it would take all of them, and a few more, to make it work they way they had planned, and Grant was waiting with additional help. Ro had contributed the advice of a few ex federation specialists and a couple of technical staff whose families on Horizon would ensure their loyalty. Blake hated the cynicism of that last thought but couldn’t avoid it. Cauder would make good any remaining man power deficiencies.

Sarkoff had been persuaded that it was better for Lindor to stay out of this for the moment, but it hadn’t been easy. The president had seen the sense of it but Tyce hadn’t been easily convinced. Cally and Jenna had traded sly smiles at her imperious demands to be involved, and Blake had pretended not to see. Only the agreement that the Lindor fleet would mount a joint manoeuvre with Teal to distract Servalan and her remaining forces, without Teal’s knowledge of that objective of course, had eventually reconciled her to staying out of the matter.

Turning away from the viewer Blake turned his mind to the calculations spread out on the table in front of him. Plans were laid and time measurements synchronised. So, though the journey ahead might allow for some re-evaluation, the die was cast and they were committed. Some part of him was still uneasy though, uncertain that they could do it, astonished that they needed to.

In the time before Star One he had never given much thought to the Federation’s view of the others. Arrogance perhaps, but he had known of Travis’s obsession with killing himself and thought that had explained everything. Until the business with Avalon it had not even crossed his mind that they would try and take the ship, never mind that they would go to these lengths. How naïve he had been. He was just a man after all but Liberator was a route to the future, or at least to a future that they wanted; a way to a Federation more powerful than ever before. The administration would not have passed up that opportunity lightly. Once you understood that, accepted that, things looked a little different.

From where he stood now it was easy to see how important a place this ship, and therefore Avon, might have in Servalan’s future; and why a battered Federation on the brink of disintegration would invest so much on what might be, for them, the last throw of the dice. For Servalan it would be worth getting Spaceworld technology whatever the cost, because not doing so would be infinitely more expensive. That was likely to cost her power. Possessing the ship would have been the better option of course, but Avon had robbed her of that. It was obvious that she now believed that he might have denied it to her far more completely than she had ever allowed for when she enticed him to Terminal.

Blake had seen and heard enough to realise that Avon had indeed planned extensively and comprehensively to prevent her taking the ship. He could only wonder how much of this planning could also have denied him the same thing, and if so why Avon had never used it against him? But Servalan could have no doubts about Avon’s intentions regarding Liberator, not now. That accepted it was only logical that she saw the man himself as the only acceptable alternative.

She couldn’t be allowed that alternative ofcourse. Blake saw no need to explore why that was the case in any more detail than that. Yet he was ill at ease. Despite all the planning he was worried, and at the root of that unease was Avon himself. A lot had happened since he had last stood with Avon in front of Zen. Blake knew that that time had carved some deep marks in him, and was aware that it would have affected Avon too. He just couldn’t be sure how, and not even Cally appeared to be able to explain that to his satisfaction.

Jenna had smiled when he told her that.
“Avon doesn’t change Blake. He knows himself too well to have to change. It’s his main redeeming feature, he is reliable.”
Then her smile had become a frown.
“Not necessarily predictable though. Understanding what he’s doing, and why he does it, is a different matter. He’ll adapt to whatever situation he finds himself in, just as he adapted to you and your ambitions. If he wants to that is. The trick is understanding what he thinks it is he has to adapt to, and just how much he wants to do so.”
She was right of course, Avon was a survivor and that meant he would accommodate the situation facing him quickly, and with few illusions about why. Did that mean he would accommodate Servalan? Blake thought not, and to his surprise Jenna had agreed.
“Avon sets his price high, whatever he does he will need to be able to sell it to himself, to see it as worthy of him. I doubt that Servalan will understand that. After all she doesn’t know a lot about him.”
Jenna had sat back and stared across the flight deck with a slight reflective smile and Blake had wondered what exactly it was that she was remembering, but he didn’t get a chance to ask.
“He learns quickly too,” she went on, the smile still lurking around her mouth, “she won’t be able to afford a single slip. Somehow I don’t think she will allow for that, she’s too used to being surrounded by people who are afraid of her. Avon will be a new experience for her.” The smile broadened, “she'll judge him by what he says, and we both know just how big a mistake that is.”

Blake had laughed and nodded at that, but suddenly he wasn’t sure. That might have changed.

Nor was a changed Avon the only problem. Avon as he had known him could be an issue. Blake still remembered the disagreements they had had, the lash of Avon’s tongue, the all too frequent confrontations, and the other man’s unwillingness to accommodate other people’s self delusions and evasions. They had made Avon an uncomfortable companion even in the better times. But the cold, bright, light of Avon’s perceptions had never been reserved for him, Avon had shared it evenly amongst everyone that he had encountered. There was no reason to assume that that, at least, had changed; Blake knew it, and it make him nervous. It made no difference to him, he had accepted the justice of Avon’s challenges some time ago, but he wondered about the others. In particular he wondered about Tarrant, how would he cope with the Avon they might bring back? More to the point how would he cope with so many of the original crew being on board?

At the moment Tarrant seemed willing enough to pursue the missing man, despite Lille’s attempts to sway him, but Blake didn’t know the pilot well enough to be sure if that would last. He needed to know just how deep the tension between Tarrant and Avon had been, and to do that he needed to get Tarrant alone, and before they committed themselves to any action. He wasn’t looking forward to the discussion but he couldn’t delay any longer, not least because Jenna had drawn his attention to the growing relationship between the pilot and Lille. A relationship that had blossomed since Blake had come back. Neither he or Jenna, or Vila come to that, considered that development to be unrelated to Blake and Jenna’s arrival. For some reason Lille didn’t want Avon found.

Getting to his feet and checking the time Blake began the pre hand over checks, his watch was nearly over and Tarrant would relieve him in less than twenty minutes. It was the perfect opportunity, a chance to talk to Tarrant one to one, given that Lille would be asleep or elsewhere. As he worked Blake felt as close to happy as he had for a very long time, even with the uncertainty and worry. Liberator was home now, more than any planet would be, even Earth. He only hoped that Avon would be willing to welcome him back as a permanent crewmember, if they found him. What ever might have happened Avon had honoured his undertakings and Blake would honour his. The ship belonged to Avon now.

He sighed and closed his eyes, they had to find Avon for all their sakes, and it was his responsibility. After all he had cast Avon in the role that had brought him to Servalan’s attention. He had involved Avon in his fight, almost against ther man's will, he could admit that now, and he had driven hium on forcing him to master Liberator and her wonders so that they could all survive. In doing so Blake knew that he exploited the man, used him as if he was just another weapon in his fight and that had played a large part in making him the catalyst that he now was. Knowing that how could he abandon him?

The thought stirred other memories, other guilt, and for a moment sadness washed over him driving away the contentment of only miutes before. Footsteps were approaching the flight deck but he stayed where he was, eyes fixed on the console, until he felt Tarrant come and stand beside him, then he looked up. The pilot was watching him with a hostile look,
Blake met the other man’s stare calmly, pushing the blue mood away;
“I need to talk to you" he said, coming back to the present with relief, “and you need to talk to me.”
Tarrant looked down at the console with deliberation and called up a status check before turning to look at Blake,
“Oh do I, what about?” The tone was suddenly bantering and the smile was bright, but hostility still shone in the blue eyes.
Blake didn't rise to the obvious bait,
“Liberator, the others,” he hesitated fractionally and saw the smile die and the watchful eyes narrow, Tarrant knew very well what was coming, “and Avon.”

That brought another brilliant, yet tight, smile,
“Oh yes, Avon. Well I’m not sure that I want to talk about him, I know you all think that I was happy to abandon him…”
Blake didn’t let him finish the sentence,
“I didn’t and I don’t.”
“Well you’re the only one then,” the smile became glittering but the tone was acid enough to strip laser linkage.
Blake smiled slightly in return and shook his head,
“No, the others know you wouldn’t have left him, and that you want to find him as much as any of us.”
“Do they?”
“Yes. But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.”
He moved away from the flight stations and gestured towards the forward couch.
“Sit down will you, we may not get such a chance again.”
Tarrant stood uncertainly for a moment, but Blake’s gaze didn’t slip. Finally the pilot sighed and followed him.
“So what do you want to talk about?” there was grudging acceptance in his tone.
Blake breathed a silent sigh of relief, at least he was willing to talk. So start easy, nothing too personal.
“Firstly, how had Avon been behaving in the last few weeks before Terminal?”

Tarrant hesitated, they had all agreed that they would only tell Blake about Anna Grant if they absolutely had to. Still, Blake had said last few weeks, the events of Earth were a little longer past than that. Even so he would be careful he decided, so his reply was terse,
“Like Avon.”
Blake smiled slightly,
“Ah, you mean sarcastic, demanding, aggressive, remote, uncommunicative, un-cooperative and unpredictable…” he hesitated for a moment, “except when you needed him, when he was sarcastic, ruthless, critical, dismissive of your efforts, but surprisingly reliable.”
Tarrant felt a stab of surprise, Blake wasn’t a fool then. He relaxed a little,
“Something like that.”
“Yes that sounds like Avon.” Blake looked sideways and suddenly his eyes took on a sympathetic warmth that shrieked a warning at Tarrant, “It wasn’t you, you do understand that don’t you? He was always the same. In fact sometimes he was worse.”

Tarrant felt a sudden uncertainty, he didn’t want to discuss this, and yet at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to stop the conversation. Was this the notorious Blake effect that Villa had mentioned? Suddenly restless Tarrant stood up and walked away from the other man. He kept his back turned as he spoke, articulating words that he wanted very much to restrict to the privacy of his own head, but was somehow unable to.
“I didn’t always like him very much, in fact I often didn’t like him very much. He wasn’t what I had expected, not given what I had heard about Blake’s people.”
Blake threw back his head and laughed,
“I do hope you didn’t say that to his face. No you can’t have done, you’re still alive.” The laugh faded and his voice became somehow sad. “Avon never saw himself as Blake’s people.”

Tarrant spun around then.
“What did he see himself as? He was dangerous Blake, and I didn’t understand him or why I felt he was so dangerous." Taarrant looked away, his eyes wandering over the flight deck. "After all what was he? A computer specialist and a criminal. He shouldn’t have been anyone’s leader, yet he often was,” the voice dropped suddenly, “even mine.”
Tarrant’s expression became bitter.
“Something made me cautious when I was dealing with him, even when I confronted him. I wasn’t really surprised by the threats at Terminal, and I had no doubt that he would have killed me.”
Blake looked down at his hands,
“I know.”
“What was it about the man?” Tarrant demanded, “I was taught to command but I couldn’t command him. Did the Federation get it wrong?" His voice bacame weary,"Maybe I’m not command material.”

Blake looked at him sharply, was that the root of the problem? That Avon made Tarrant uncertain of abilities he had always taken for granted? Dangerous if it were the case. He waved his hand dismissively,
“Don’t be a fool, you can’t judge your abilities on Avon’s reaction. I led a resistance party very successfully, I was considered too dangerous to kill by the Federation, but I couldn’t command, or lead him either, not without his agreement.” Blake held his breath and hoped that Tarrant didn’t ask too much about the Freedom party’s success.
Tarrant shook his head as if he hadn’t heard
“The others too. They would always support him against me, even Dayna. Why Blake? He didn’t give a damn about anyone, he didn’t even really want to lead, so why?”
Blake could hear the angry confusion in the pilot’s voice and sighed, he’d give rather a lot for an answer to the same questions. He let his eyes drift back to the bleak face of the other man, and after a moment of consideration he leant forward.
“Tarrant come and sit down, I’m going to tell you a story.”
The pilot stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then he shrugged and came and took a seat opposite.

Blake leant forward, hands on thighs, eyes cast downwards as he remembered.
“It happened not long after Cally joined us, in the early days. A group of outlawed scientists from Auron were trying to bring us to them, why doesn’t matter now. They had taken control of Cally and caused her to sabotage the ship, and one of the things she did was to place a bomb. I went to find it and Avon followed me. By the time he arrived I had already found the device and was inspecting it. He came bursting into the room, took one look at it and told me that once the lights went out I had three seconds.”
Blake gave a wry half smile towards Tarrant.
“At that point the lights went out, I didn’t react fast enough but Avon did, he pushed me across the room and out of the way. Neither of us was hurt.”
He was silent for a moment but Tarrant just waited.
“Now at this time Avon and I were not on the best of terms, and he resented me taking command of Liberator. When I asked him why he had saved me he said he didn’t know, that it was an instinctive reaction and he was as surprised as I was. For some reason I wasn’t surprised and told him so,”
Blake’s smile brightened momentarily,
“He wasn’t best pleased by that. But I decided then that I could probably trust him. One thing my dealings with resistance groups had taught me is that you can usually trust someone who has got the right instincts, regardless of what they say.”
Blake leant back again and looked out into space,
“It was only later that I wondered how he had known.”

He turned towards Tarrant and his expression thoughtful.
“As you said Avon was a criminal. In fact he was an embezzler, a very civilian, bloodless, type of crime. So what did he know about explosives? Or more importantly why did he know about explosives? But he did, and it saved my life. I have never got an answer to that question or to the others I often wanted to ask.”
“Such as?” Tarrant was sitting forward now, watching Blake intently,
“Oh well, why he took to piloting so quickly, why he knew so much about weapons and where he learnt, why he was so good at sabotage.”
Blake smiled ruefully another memory surfacing.
“How he recognised crack Federation assault troops when he saw them, when I didn’t? A hundred unexplained things; his courage and nerve when it mattered, unlikely pieces of knowledge, inconsistencies in his words and his actions, unexpected loyalties.”
A pause and then a lower voice,
“and why, like you, I felt him to be more dangerous than his crime would have suggested. I never did work it out. Avon wasn’t quite what he seemed Tarrant, but I never did discover just what he was.” He looked at Tarrant and smiled again, “I had twice the amount of time that you had. So don’t blame yourself.”

“I don’t.”
Tarrant paused for a moment as if uncertain whether to go on. What the hell he thought and looked Blake full in the eyes, a slight, sad, smile lifting the corners of his mouth,
“I wouldn’t have left him, whatever I felt about him at the time, I wouldn’t have left him.”
“No, I know.”
Tarrant dropped his eyes to his hands and was quiet for a while. Blake let the silence hang. Finally the pilot gave a small shake of his head, his face was unusually sombre,
“Why didn’t he trust me, Blake?”
There was both pain and resentment in Tarrant’s voice.

Blake looked at the frustrated expression on the pilot’s face and smiled, pushing down the obvious retort.
“Avon doesn’t take to trust easily, but I don’t think that was what was at issue. I think he was covering your backs.” He held up his hand before Tarrant could protest, “Just like he had covered mine in the past. Obviously he was determined that Servalan wouldn’t get the ship. This time I think he thought the odds of Liberator getting away if things went wrong were better with you all on board. If he thought it was a trap laid by Servalan then he probably wanted no hostages to fortune. It would make sense.”

“Would it? Only to Avon.”
Blake looked at the frustrated face beside him and he spoke slowly and without inflexion;
“Would you have given the ship up to her Tarrant?”
The other man was quiet for a moment,
“I don’t know. Would you? If it had been to save your own life?”
Blake sighed at that, the hiss audible in the quiet of the flight deck,
“I’m not sure any more, but I think I might have done it to save the others.”
“Would Avon?” Tarrant demanded.
Blake smiled,
“That’s your reason Tarrant, he didn’t want to find out.”

In that moment Blake understood that he had just spoken the truth. Avon had taken the only way he saw to keep the ship and Orac out of Servalan’s hands without being asked to hold the lives of the others in his. The tiny voice that usually only spoke in his nightmares these days made itself heard, ‘You can only hope you would have been able to do the same.’ He looked across at the pilot, now staring unseeing at the viewer, and decided that was enough for now.
He pushed himself to his feet.
“Your watch I think.”
The other man looked up at him his eyes still far away.
“Yes,” he rose to join Blake and walked with him to his flight station.
“Is he alive Blake?”
“I hope so, Avon isn’t so easy to kill”
“No, so he said, I wasn’t sure whether to believe it or not.”
Blake laughed ,
“He survived close proximity to me for more than three years!”
The pilot registered the note of bitterness in both laugh and words but decided to let them go for the moment.
“I suppose so,” for the first time he smiled in genuine amusement, “he survived me too.”

Blake said nothing more but put his hand on the pilot’s shoulder briefly before walking off the flight deck, leaving Tarrant to his watch and his thoughts.