Soolin wanted to sleep for a hundred years, roughly the same time as she felt that she had been awake. But couldn’t sleep yet, not before Avon woke.

Once, hours ago, he had woken, staggered to his feet and stumbled out to the sanitary block. She had spoken to him but he hadn’t heard her. Like a sleepwalker he had headed for his objective in silence, eyes wide open but unseeing, then after a short while he had stumbled back again to collapse on the same bed in much the same position. She had made no move to stop him despite her own exhaustion; one look at the white face had told her that, bad as she might feel, his need was still greater.

Eventually she had given up watching out of doors, the dormitory might be cold and damp but it was warmer than the snow blasting wind, particularly now that night was closing in. She lit a small lamp she had found hours earlier pushed under a bed, hope surging as she discovered it still had some power. The shadows danced on the walls making drifting shapes so amorphous you could see in them what ever you wanted to. For a moment she thought she could hear the voices of the people who once lived here, suffering the isolation for the generous pay. Had they shared some good times here as well as the bad ones, friendships and feuds, laughs and tears? Who could know? Who would care? Soolin didn’t think she had ever felt so alone in all her life.

With a snort of disgust at herself she pushed the thoughts away and pulled a pad from the pack; she could make a list of things to do when Avon awoke. Somehow she didn’t think they would be leaving here in a hurry. Not given the closed port and the weather outside. Maybe they could even make themselves comfortable. Maybe he could get the heating systems working, lighting too. But then again maybe not, the shield might not be able to hide so large a heat signal. Soolin prayed that she was underestimating Avon’s ingenuity, hot water came very high up the list of her priorities. One consolation was that it was probably high on his list too.

It didn’t matter how much he prowled around these buildings, she had already checked those still standing and nothing remotely serviceable as a computer remained. That risk at least was delayed for a little longer. Then again maybe it didn’t matter, maybe he would work it out without one. The only thing that would prevent him seeing through it now was the sheer enormity and improbability of what had been done to him. That and those unstable memory blocks, and the tendency all humans have to believe in what they see. There was no way of knowing if it would be enough.

A sudden depression seized her, why shouldn’t he see through it? After all was the reality of it any more improbable than the illusion? Was what actually happened so much less believable than what he thought had happened? Not really, not when you came down to it. Life could be bizarre and his certainly had been in recent years, but could any reality be more absurd than Jocasta’s and Carnell’s concoctions? From the magical, yet strangely vulnerable, Dorian (Carnell should have restrained his rather dubious sense of humour there!) to the slavering Egrorian and his besotted companion and, finally, the careless Blake in his slapdash base, it had all been a tissue of nonsense, just as they had planned. But would he see it, would Avon come to see the one idiocy that was, rather than the many that had never actually been?

She pushed herself to her feet and stood at the side of the grubby cot on which Avon had been lying, almost unmoving, for the last twelve hours. His breathing was slow and deep, occasionally the thick fringe of lashes twitched as if his eyes were moving behind the blue smudged lids, but that was all that did move. One arm was drawn across his rib cage, the other lay at his side, the hand slightly closed; his body had the boneless look of a soft toy. For the first time since she had met him Avon looked to be at peace.

Not that he necessarily was. He was sleeping normally now, she was sure of that, but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t dreaming. More connections might well be made within his dreams now that the artificial sleep of the last months had finally given way to the real kind. It jolted her to realise that she had never known him anything other than tired and under stress, she found it hard to predict what kind of man might emerge after sleep had done its job. But then she was tired and stressed herself, more so than at any time in her life. Would that be her comeuppance, that Avon would find himself again just when she felt she was losing herself?

She studied his face carefully, in the pale light the years seemed to have been washed away from him. For the first time she could see that he was a relatively young man, not so very much older than her. At least that’s how he seemed, no way of knowing how accurate that perception was; they hadn’t had that amount of information. She had been surprised by how little hard fact they had about any of them; they had assumed that the Federation kept detailed information on all its citizens. Yet, when it came to it, they had been scrabbling around for snippets of surveillance, trooper records and verbal reports.

Most of what they had had been provided by Carnell, and what wasn’t was on paper, which explained it of course.

Soolin tilted her head and smiled down at the sleeping man, he’d erased it, not allowed them any possibility to use it against him. The smile became a frown, did that mean he had suspected just this type of eventuality? After a moment’s consideration the frown smoothed away from her brows, no that was unlikely, he had just taken sensible precautions in line with his knowledge and experience. He was probably secretive by nature, and it was possible for him to do it so he did. In his place she would have done the same. But if he had been able to do that then what else might he be able to do?

Suddenly Servalan’s almost superstitious belief in his ability didn’t seem so foolish. He’d been good, very good, even when he lived in the drug soaked domes of Earth, was it so surprising that he had blossomed spectacularly once free of them, and with the spur of survival to drive him on? In reality there was no way of knowing just what he was capable of if necessity demanded it. Even in the world of the matrix he had given them insights that would have made this charade worthwhile for Servalan, even if she had got nothing else. Not that she would ever see them of course.

Soolin sighed, no, she must be careful, falling prey to old assumptions might kill her. The Federation had been falling into mediocrity for decades, just as they had always known that it would. It own population drugged into torpor it had relied on its colonies for almost everything, and that was of course at the root of Servalan’s problems. The people of Earth had lost their talent for invention, what little they still had had been had been focussed on the military and conquest, they had slipped behind on everything else. Soolin frowned down at the sleeping man, but that didn’t mean that the basic human abilities had been eradicatedcompletely, only that they had been allowed no expression. Avon might well be the living proof of that.

The light was fading, the lamp’s power was almost spent. She sighed and turned to the pack and pulled out the recharge unit, just enough left, they would need to be renewed in the morning. Something else to add to the list; maybe there was a generator somewhere, she hadn’t recognised one but that didn’t mean it wasn’t here. More for Avon to do.

Wearily she laid the gun down on the cot opposite and then lowered her aching body down beside it. She turned down the lamp to just a small glow, sufficient for her to see the outline of Avon in the gloom but no more. Soolin struggled to get comfortable and failed miserably, in the end even stimulants and painkillers couldn’t keep the aches away. But they could keep her awake, and they would need to for a while yet by the look of him.

Unless she ran for it.

The flyer was parked in the remnants of the hangers, and it still had power. She could take it and run for the base, back to Jocasta and Carnell and the life she was in danger of leaving behind forever. A couple of hours flying time at most, and the computer would handle the course there and back.

She pillowed her head on her hands and looked across at the sleeping man. There were still some sedatives in the medical supplies, she could administer one while he slept. If she left the shield up he would be safe enough until they returned. Then they could take up whatever plan they had prepared and she would be safe. Avon too, they hadn’t gone to all this trouble to hurt him, they wanted him alive and happy she was sure of that. Or was she? Was she sure of anything any more?

Anxiety gnawed at her gut. Knowing Avon had changed her in some way, or rather brought to the surface things she had never needed to explore before, he had broadened her horizons, just as Blake must once have widened his. The part she had played in his dream world had taken its toll too; the calculating woman of the matrix had taken possession of some part of her mind and wouldn’t give it back. Somehow the caution and cynicism, always a part of her own personality, had come to the fore and she wasn’t able to trust so completely in her superiors anymore. It was an unwelcome complication.

Soolin turned on to her back and stared at the ceiling. Nor could she trust in the superiority of her own judgement. After all she had found that she rather liked the man on the other bed. Criminal and cold as he might be she still liked him. Worse than that she respected him. She didn’t know why, just that she did. Avon didn’t feel the need to manipulate people, he would tell her the truth even when she didn’t like it. Carnell couldn’t be relied upon to do the same; he manipulated people as automatically as he breathed. As for Jocasta, she would tell you truth if it didn’t matter otherwise she would only tell you what she needed to you believe. And you would believe her without question; she was better than Carnell at that.

Soolin turned her head and looked towards the pack again, there was enough sedative to take some out and hide it, if Avon noticed any was missing she could tell him she had used it to sleep off the drugs. He would sleep heavily for a day or so yet, there would be another chance to administer it. Maybe when she was less tired it would be easier to think her way through. Forcing herself to her feet she extracted a couple of doses and hid them inside her suit. The feel of the small shapes nestling at her waist brought a measure of reassurance.

Avon moved for the first time in hours, turning onto his side, his hand coming up towards his head. He gave a small moan and whispered something she couldn’t catch. He turned over again, drawing his legs up towards his body, curling in on himself like a small child or animal. She froze, watching him closely as he sighed and settled back into immobility. His sleep was lightening, he would wake soon, and then she could sleep. Soolin sat down on the cot again and waited.

***

Kant stared at the report and wondered what to do. Servalan had been in conference with the heads of departments and the civil administration for hours. It could be hours more yet before he could speak to her. Her instructions had been unequivocal, if it was about Gauda Prime she wanted to know immediately, but somehow he didn’t think she would take too kindly to being disturbed. Or to being given this report in her present company. Her mood had been uncertain for days, caressing smiles alternating with sharp words and even sharper looks, Kant bit his lip and struggled with the decision.

Yes, the report was mildly unexpected but only if he assumed that the President told him everything, and he wasn’t stupid enough to assume any such thing. So there were a couple of pursuit ships orbiting Gauda Prime, that wasn’t necessarily surprising. Nor was the fact that they seemed reluctant to identify themselves. Kant leant back in his chair and considered his dilemma, risk her wrath by interrupting her or by not interrupting her? If there had been a problem they would have heard before now. The base commander would have asked for help if there had been any hint of a threat. But even if he did ask, if there was trouble, what could they do? Gauda Prime was well outside of current Federation territory, it would mean crossing large tracts of neutral space, some of it now distinctly hostile to Federation interests even if the diplomatic formalities were being observed. The odd pursuit ship would be ignored, maybe even a cruiser if the right notifications were given, but a defence force was a different matter.

Maybe these ships were part of her operation there, he mused. Or perhaps they were on a watching brief from other elements of Space Command? Kant wasn’t sure that he wanted to get caught in the cross fire between Servalan and Space Command if he could help it. The purge had not been wise, it had polarised people loyalties, opened a spilt between people’s perceptions of the two camps. Servalan was no longer synonymous with Space Command. That was dangerous for all concerned.

No, it was more likely that Servalan knew about the pursuit ships, that she had sent them there to protect that very expensive investment, what ever it may be. Kant pushed the report aside, he’d mark it urgent for her attention and leave it at that.

***

It had all gone more smoothly than they could have hoped. There had been less opposition than anticipated and Grant’s people had made short shift of much of it.

Surprise and technological superiority had done much of their work for them. Orac had gained access to the base computers and had locked doors and shut off environmental systems as required. In the darkened complex the troopers seemed disorientated and those caught without their helmets stumbled around unable to make much of a contribution. Dayna's efforts had helped with that. But the security personnel had been good and they had put a strong, if short, resistance. However there were fewer than had been expected and, though there had been some fierce hand to hand fighting, in the end the casualties had been remarkably light on both sides.

The last skirmish had come as a surprise in more ways than one. Why had the base forces suddenly felt the need to commit suicide in defence of one small part of the complex was a mystery. It had raised their hopes that Avon or Servalan were there, but they had been disappointed. There were several laboratories, some offices and what looked to be a medical unit but nothing more spectacular than that. Yet they had fought like the possessed to hold on to it.

Vila had been the second surprise of the encounter. The man had been a quivering wreck as they had advanced through the complex but when faced with people very obviously trying to kill him he underwent a strange metamorphosis. His body language changed, the self-effacing thief giving way to a man somehow taller and straighter. As they moved forward and the exchange of fire became almost continuous his hesitancy fell away and his posture became more confident, even his face took on a harder look, the planes somehow more clearly defined. Blake saw him wince a couple of times after an exchange of shots left a trooper on the floor but when Blake caught his eye he responded with the grin he had seen that first day in the holding cell, and hadn’t seen much of since. He held the line too, his concentration as intense as any he gave to a lock. Unexpected though it was Vila more than held his own. Blake saw Grant shoot the thief a slightly incredulous look that was met by another of those cold eyed grins, the mercenary sketched a small salute before turning to cover one of his groups surrounded and with three down. To Blake’s surprise Vila went willingly to his assistance, but two more fell before the advancing troops were beaten back.

There was no way of knowing how long it was before they gained the upper hand, clock watching was not a survival trait. It seemed like an eternity. Behind the combat masks every face was drenched in sweat, all eyes reddened by the heat. The hiss of energy weapons seemed a continuous soundtrack, the percussion of Dayna’s contributions made the corridors reverberate and the forehead lamps cast dancing fireflies over the darkened ceilings and fallen bodies. It brought back all sorts of memories that Blake would rather have forgotten.

In the end they forced their way through, driving the defenders back into the outer hallways. That seemed to be the end of the real resistance. Kearne and his crew had cut off the line of retreat and the disarrayed and dispirited Federation forces had been caught between the two groups. Finally, with nowhere to mount a counter attack and no way of stopping the intruding forces, the base defences crumpled. Once they had taken the inner complex most of the personnel, who were not dead, injured or captured, agreed to surrender in return for a guarantee of personal safety.

All in all it had been quicker and less bloody than they had had any right to expect.

Once they had secured the base they moved quickly to search it. Orac's interaction with the base computers had eased their way restoring lighting and ventilation where needed, isolating the operations and command functions, opening doors, disabling the fixed weapons and monitoring surveillance systems.

The prisoners were gathered in a restroom on the second level and it soon became obvious that most of the base staff were not Federation forces at all. Not even military, or so it seemed, and many had played no part in defending the complex. They were found huddled in any place that offered a hope of shelter from the running battle. A high percentage appeared to be civilian, some were probably intelligence services but many had the appearance of scientists or technicians. This second group clustered together for the most part, avoiding contact with the Federation staff as far as was possible. Grant's people moved amongst them trying to get at least name and rank, no other questioning would be possible until they were sure that everyone was accounted for.

The first wave of sweepers was out now making sure that all areas were secure and that no troopers lingered in unexplored corners of the base. So far all seemed to be clear. Vila was out with them opening any doors that were not controlled by the central computers and, surprisingly, there were quite a few of those. Blake wondered about that.

Two hours after the final surrender they had made preliminary checks on about two thirds of the known area of the base, it was slow and painstaking work, but they had not found Avon. Blake was beginning to wonder if he was here, if he had ever been here. Not for the first time he wondered about Rai and whether he could be trusted. He had been so sure that his sources could be relied upon, certain that it was here that Servalan had brought Avon after Terminal. But as each hour rolled past Blake became more convinced that they were too late or that those sources were wrong.

Blake stood with Tarrant watching the stream of people being ushered into the room, checked for weapons or explosives then listed and handed over to the holding officers. Most of the prisoners stood quietly, many looked dazed and confused still showing the after effects of Dayna's sound bombs. They would be alright but it could take hours for the disorientating effects to wear off. Looking at them Blake realised just how much Dayna's efforts had reduced the casualties and made a mental note to thank her himself. Not that she would care; she and Cally were out with the sweeper squads looking for the real reason for her efforts. If he was here then Dayna and Cally would find him. Blake didn't care who found Avon he just wished someone would.

***