The detectors told him what it was, a four man flyer, small but powerful, long range and flexible; probably a search and rescue craft designed for this type of terrain. In which case its presence here was unlikely to be accidental. He watched the detectors carefully as it stirred the air above him. It was looking for something, that much was certain, but he wasn’t sure that he was its target. The thought reminded him of how little he knew about events on the rest of this planet; he hadn’t seen anyone but the dead men, and the search squads, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a small war being fought amongst the trees. If the Federation really were taking back the planet back then it was likely that skirmishes would be taking place everywhere.

If the Federation were taking it back, and it was a big ‘if’ in the circumstances.

For a while he crouched in the shadows and held his breath, the cold of the melting ice trickling down his neck, the flying crystals stinging his eyes. The shield would hide him from detectors, even at this proximity, but it wouldn’t hide him from human eyes. So he pushed further back into the stiff, unyielding, undergrowth, ignoring the stab of the ice tipped razors of frost stiffened leaves, cursing only when blood dripped red onto the white of the ground. The sight stirred memories and sent his already thudding heart into an even faster beat.

Avon steadied himself impatiently, now was not a time to allow the past to overtake him.

Crouching forward he scuffed the bloodied snow away then pushed further back into the prickly cover, wiping his face with his sleeve. Then he waited. The flyer’s pilot didn’t seem to have spotted him, or the discarded pack or reddened snow. With a slight change in the angle of the down jets, the flyer drifted over his hiding place and away to the right. Avon held his breath a little longer, only when it continued without turning did he relax. Finally, when he was sure it wasn’t circling back, he fought his way out from the undergrowth and back into the clearing.

He listened intently for a moment, but there was no sound other than the wind. He shivered, the temperature was dropping quickly. Looking around him he realised that the flyer had hung around longer than it had seemed and now darkness wasn’t far away. The wind was getting stronger too, the slight tremor of the towering trees was becoming a decided sway and the blasts of dislodged ice scoured the snow and his face. Maybe this wasn’t the place to linger.

Cold fingers fumbling he shrugged on the pack, its bulk at least sheltered his back from the wind. He checked the detectors again, there was a cluster of signals between him and the base but he could avoid them if he wished to. But did he wish to? They were obviously preparing to make some form of assault against the base, did he really want to be inside it when they made their move?

But if Soolin was right, and Blake, any Blake, was in there, or the others, did he want to turn away and leave them to whatever Fate had up her copious sleeve? If it was Blake, and if he turned away now, then he might indeed be committing the act he so hoped he hadn’t already committed. But if he continued, and the rumour of Blake was just that, and all a part of Servalan’s devious machinations, then he might be stepping straight back into her arms. Could he take the risk?

He frowned as the choices spun in his head. If he left now then he might never get his answers, if he went on they might prove to be answers he’d rather not have. Like Anna. But did he wish that he had never known about Anna? Would he have preferred to have gone on suffocating in the guilt and grief that had haunted his every unoccupied moment from the time he had thought her dead to the moment he knew her to be so? No. He had learned to live with the knowledge of what she was and what he had done, but he had never learned to live with what he thought he had done to her. This would be no different, and he couldn’t grieve for an illusion again. So he must know what was, and was not, truth.

No choice then.

Dusk was falling quickly and the signals showed every sign of settling down for the night, he could be in the base and out again by the time it was light if he travelled through the darkness. He pulled the night visor from his belt and fitted it over his eyes, vision blurred as it adjusted itself to his sight and the light level. Then the world was clear again, sharp as the shaft from a prism, only the faint red halo around the deepest shadows betraying the darkening in the world beyond it. Stooping carefully he retrieved the weapons dropped in his scurry into the bushes, then he straightened his belt and pulled up the hood of his jacket. Pathfinder in one hand, gun gripped in the other, he began the final trek to the base.

***

Soolin had packed up the supplies and dismantled the hide and was about to uncover the flyer ready to load it when she heard the low thrum of engines close by. With a curse she lifted the outer edge of the vegetation piled around the flyer and edged herself under the stubby wing, dragging as much of the supplies behind her as she could manage. Stupid she knew, without the shield the flyers detectors would probably have spotted her before she heard it. Still she could hope that her own heat signal had been too low to be separated out from the background; the flyers engines were now cold enough not to be visible. So she edged further under the flyer and prepared to wait for who ever it was to pass.

But they didn’t pass. The slight noise of engines came closer and then she heard the faint hiss of silenced thrusters as it descended, not more than half a mile away as far as she could judge. 'Well, it didn’t necessarily mean that she had been spotted' she consoled herself. 'This was a good place to hide, it was why she and Avon had chosen to stop here, so why shouldn’t else want to hide here too?' She could only be glad whoever it was hadn’t set down on top of her.
But it was going to make getting away difficult. Unless the pilot stayed in the flyer there was a risk that whoever they were would hear her as she moved around preparing to leave. She would have to wait a little longer, hope whoever it was slept, or wandered off in search fuel for a fire.

She was out of luck, because the pilot did neither. Instead he left his flyer and began to search the area, maybe he had spotted something after all. Speculation served no purpose in the circumstances, and Soolin had no intention of being caught doubled over under the flyer, so, slowly and carefully, she crept out from under the wing. Gun in hand she edged her way back into the trees to her right, then she waited, barely daring to breathe, to see if the new comer headed her way.

Her luck held and he didn’t, instead he moved away from her. For the moment at least. Heart thundering, she waited for a minute or two, looking longingly at the flyer but knowing that she had no change of getting it off the ground without the newcomer spotting her. If he was alone she might stand a chance, if she could clear enough vegetation to get the flyer door open. Then she would be able to take off before he could reach her and she would be well away before he made it back to his own flyer. But if there were two of them then it would be harder, the other could be airborne as quickly as she was and she knew that she wasn’t a good enough pilot to hold her own in a fight. She needed to know if he was on his own.

At least she had the advantage of knowing he was there.

Soolin crept forward in the direction of the other flyer. The ground underfoot was treacherous in the dying light and the minutes stretched like her nerves as she skirted round the small clearing, dodging from tree to tree, stopping every now and then to listen, only to hear nothing. Finally the outline of the other flyer came into sight across a clearing. She squatted down, pushed her gun into her belt, and looked it over. It was compact, but larger than she had expected, the tail section more square than the one she and Avon had been flying, the distance between the rear fins wider. It looked pretty powerful, she didn’t think she would be able to hold her own against it if the owner caught her in mid air. Assuming it was armed that was, and on this god forsaken hole that seemed more than just likely. No indication that it was Federation though, but then no sign that it was one of theirs either.

“And just who might you be?”
Soolin heard the first word at the same moment as she felt the brush of something against her ear, she didn’t need to see or touch it to know that it was a weapon. Slowly she drew her hand away from the gun so unfortunately not to hand, then she turned her head slightly and looked up at the man standing above her.

Her first thought was that he had a kind face, a stupid observation given that he was pushing a gun into her neck. A hood was drawn up over his head but one lock of hair had fallen forward and was brushing his eyebrows, his face was in shadow and the rapidly deepening dusk sketched his outline in black and white. In the shadows she couldn’t see the colour of his eyes but his skin had a blanched look that suggested he was feeling the cold. Even so the voice was calm, and, though cool, it wasn’t overtly threatening.

Soolin slowly rose to her feet. Something at the back of her brain stirred, she was suddenly sure that she had seen him somewhere before.
“Does it matter?”
She cursed herself as words came out unplanned; she had certainly spent too long with Avon if she went onto the attack under such circumstances. But the man opposite seemed to find nothing wrong in what she said, instead he just tilted his head a little and let his eyes wander over her, taking in the jacket that was clearly too large, the tangled hair, the hand so obviously itching for a gun.
“No I suppose not. What you are though, well that’s different.”
He took a step backwards letting the gun sight itself on her midriff.
“Federation?” The word came out calmly enough but the uncoloured eyes were watchful.
“No, but does that matter either?”
“Oh yes, that matters.”
He looked at her in silence for a moment, then he shifted the gun upwards slightly so that she could see the muzzle more clearly,
“So I ask you again, what are you?”
The words were colder this time and his body position took on an element of threat.

Soolin struggled to stay calm, finding it easier than she would once have believed possible,
“Not Federation,” was all she said.
“So what are you doing out here, alone in this weather?”
“Looking for someone.”
“Who?” there was scepticism in the voice, and the cold note was still there.
Soolin thought fast, if he wasn’t Federation then who was he? One of theirs? It seemed unlikely; if he was then he would have a good idea who she was, just as the man back at the mine had done. So who might he be? Someone else looking for Avon? From the Liberator maybe? No , that didn’t seem likely. So who else?

Memory provided a possible answer. She could try it, if he was Federation after all it was likely to cause all sorts of painful problems, but she could try it. She looked at the man again, something about him was telling her he wasn’t Federation. Instinct? She could imagine Avon’s reaction to that. But Avon wasn’t here and she was, he’d gone off and left her to fend for herself so she would have to trust to her judgement rather than his. Probably about time too. She decided to risk it.
“Blake. A man… a rebel called Blake.”

“Blake!” The man took a step backwards and the gun muzzle dropped a degree or two. “Why would you be looking for Blake? Do you know him?”
It was obvious that the man facing her did, Soolin wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or not.
“Not personally," she hedged, “but I know someone who does, or rather did.”
“And that’s who you are looking for,” a statement not a question.
Soolin sighed silently; well it was too much to expect that he was stupid. She nodded her head, probably best to say as little as possible.
“And you think Blake might know where he is?”
He paused for a moment and the shadowed eyes searched her face. She schooled herself to impassivity, but she must have shown something because his eyes narrowed,
“Noooo, you hope that Blake might help you to find him.” His eyebrows rose, “Which means that you think Blake is here. Why?”

Soolin computed odds, then gave up, deciding that whatever she said had a more than fifty percent chance of being the wrong thing. She realised she was so far out of her depth that she was likely to drown in her own machinations, so better to tell him the truth.
“Sort of. I heard someone say he was here. My….. friend didn’t believe it, but I’m not so sure.”
“Why didn’t your friend believe it?”
“Because he almost believes that Blake is dead.”
“Only almost?”
“Yes, he wants to believe he’s not, that’s why he won’t quite accept it.”
The man opposite let the gun droop a little further while still making it obvious that he could get her well before she had any chance of getting him.
“He wants to believe Blake is dead? Why, what had Blake done to him?” He stiffened slightly,
“Federation is he? This friend of yours.”

Soolin smiled at that, she couldn’t help it, the image of Avon as Federation and all the trouble it would have saved. Yet some part of her was almost revolted by the thought, her realisation of that widened the smile, turning it against herself; she was illogical as all the rest.
“No, he wants to believe that Blake is alive.”
“But he won’t? Why?” The man didn’t sound at all confused and Soolin wondering again who he was, and why he sounded, as well as looked, familiar.
She met the still narrowed eyes with all the calm she could muster; quite a bit in the circumstances, she was almost proud of herself.
“He is nearly sure that he killed him, Blake that is.”
“Only nearly?”
“By now yes, but he’s a perverse bastard, the more he wants it to be true the less he will accept that it is or might be.”
The man opposite smiled at that, a strangely attractive and reassuring smile. Soolin felt her nerves stretch at the sight of it.
Oh Avon, she thought, you taught me more than I had realised, one day I’ll make you answer for that.

“The curse of an honest and honourable man.”
The voice was wry and there was a hint of something there, some trick of speech that tugged at her memory again but still brought no useful response.
Soolin smiled,
“I’d not thought of him quite like that.” Memories surged and her eyebrows climbed, “But now you come to mention it, it would fit. Just as long as you don’t expect honest to mean law abiding, or honourable to also mean nice. What a strange idea.”
The man opposite returned her smile, but his eyes were wary.
“I don’t, expect honourable to mean nice that is.” He raised the gun slightly, “but why would he think he had killed Blake? Is Blake dead?”
Something in his voice suggested that they were discussing the possible death of someone he knew, not a comfortable idea.

Soolin watched him carefully as she replied,
“Not as far as I know.”
A flicker of relief seemed to pass across his face and that wayward memory tugged at her consciousness again, but still she couldn’t place the face opposite her.
“So why?” The voice too seemed even more familiar than before.
Soolin took a deep breath, no going back now, but she wished that she knew why this man seemed so familiar.

With an effort she kept the doubt from her voice.
“Because people went to a great deal of effort to make him think that he did.”
The man’s brows disappeared under the flopping lock of hair;
“Did they now? Why would they do that?”
There it was again, that something that reminded her of someone she couldn’t quite place.
For a moment the hopelessness of it all washed over her, who was he and why was he familiar? Another piece in a puzzle that wasn’t what she had thought it to be. Where was it all going to end, and would she live to see it?
“It’s a long story,” was all she said.

He looked up at the deepening sky, at the clouds that piled there, then around at the trees, just starting to sway in a strengthening wind.
“Well if that’s the case then we had better get under cover before you recite it hadn’t we? There’s bad weather on the way, and though I’m very interested to hear your tale I’d rather not freeze while listening”
He indicated to her to hand over her gun and pick up the pack,
“My flyer I think. You go first, no sudden moves though. I’m sure you understand that, much though I would hate to do it, I will kill you if necessary.”

“But then you’d never know would you?”
Her voice was muffled as she bent to brush snow from her knees, she grasped her pack and straightened to see him smiling faintly; even the smile was familiar now.
“True, but I’d live with the situation.” He sounded amused.
Soolin shrugged herself into the pack and headed towards the clearing.
“I expect you would.” She replied as she pushed through the drifts.
He followed behind her saying nothing.

The clearing was wide and deeply cushioned with snow, she couldn’t hear him but she knew he was still behind her, the gun was at his side now, but still angled in her direction. The cold and fatigue were eating into her and it seemed as if all her life up to her arrival at Gauda Prime had become a dream; reality was, and always had been, a frozen forest and a man with a gun behind her. Even the base seemed just a memory; Carnell, Jocasta, Elliot, just actors in a barely remembered play. Only the forests, Avon, and the man behind her were real any longer. Soolin was closer to understanding Avon’s confusion than at any time before, and it frightened her. The silence, the whiteness of it all, the cold and the ever present feeling that events were spinning out of control.

But she couldn’t let them, she had to take the initiative back or lose herself in the fear.

She collapsed against a tree beside the flyer, struggling to catch her breath in the cold and wind. The man came and stood behind her but made no move to push her on.
“My name is Soolin,” she gasped, “and I’d rather like to know who has a gun in my back this time.”
“I’m sure you would. Why not?"
She heard the smile in his voice before shock blanked out everything else.
" You can call me Deva.”