by Sheila Paulson

Blake's wound throbbed fiercely. The rough landing of his life pod had jarred it open again and he had been too weak to do more than wait for the Liberator to repair itself and come after him. Unable to contact the others on his teleport bracelet and fearing that the battle against the Andromedans was going badly, there was little he could do but rest, hoping his ship would find him, hoping the others would come after him. At first, he had lost track of time but surely it wouldn't be much longer. His greatest fear was that someone would come upon the Liberator while it was weakest and destroy it--or board it. That might create serious problems, though he remembered the defense the great alien vessel had thrown against the crew of the London and against himself, Jenna, and Avon. Surely even weakened, Zen would protect the ship from anyone who tried to take it.

Wearily he tried his bracelet yet again, telling himself sternly that it was much too soon to expect a response, refusing to permit his expectations to grow too high. No one would answer this time either. If he believed that, he could hold on a little longer, in spite of his wound, in spite of the threat of an Andromedan victory. "Blake to Liberator. Is anyone there?"

+Liberator is on station.+ Zen's sudden answer sent relief surging through him. +Auto repairs have been completed.+

"Are any of the others on board yet? Can you bring me up?"

+You are the first to be located, Roj Blake.+

"Then bring me up."

+Teleport requires manual operation.+

Blake stiffened. "Orac isn't on board?"

+The one called Orac was removed from the Liberator by Kerr Avon. However, an alternative solution is possible. Wait.+

"Wait?" echoed Blake under his breath. "There's not much else I can do, is there." He should have known Avon wouldn't leave Orac behind when he abandoned ship. Probably assumed he would be the first one located afterward, which might not be so unlikely if he were the last one to leave. Or perhaps it was his way to protect what he would now consider his ship. Blake was not sure the others would be so willing to give the ship over to Avon; certainly they had not agreed to it, and he suspected that if it came to a struggle, Jenna would give Avon a run for his money. But all bets were oft now. The battle had been going badly when Blake had been forced to abandon ship. If the Andromedans won, humanity would need the Liberator to hold out against the forces that wished to destroy them. Surely Avon would understand that. Though he claimed to value no one, he would certainly value his own people over an invader who wished to destroy all life in this galaxy. When Avon returned to the ship, the two of them would have it out--assuming they could return to the ship.

+Ready to teleport,+ Zen Intoned, and before Blake could question him, he felt the familiar sensation of the teleport taking him. A moment later he was sitting in the teleport facing a stranger behind the console, a curly haired young man in a Federation uniform whose gun lay within easy reach of his hand.

At the sight of Blake, who probably looked too weak to stand let alone struggle over a weapon, he relaxed his instinctive reach for it and rose abruptly. "Your ship's computer says you need medical treatment," he remarked. "I'd prefer to claim salvage rights since you'd abandoned this vessel, but the situation is too serious for that."

"The battle?" Blake asked in concern.

"The battle," the young officer confirmed with a nod. He gestured down at his uniform. "Don't take this wrong. I've been using this for protection. I'm not Federation, not that it'll matter. Enough of the Andromedans got through that we're guaranteed trouble in the future. Even if I were Federation, I wouldn't turn you in now."

"Turn me in?" Blake asked carefully, pushing himself into a more comfortable position and bracing his sound shoulder against the wall.

"You're Roj Blake. I recognize you."

"Interesting. The Federation's done a good job of keeping my face out of the media press releases. They don't want to encourage the masses to follow me--unless you really are Federation."

"I was," he confirmed. "Former Space Captain Del Tarrant. I had enough of them and left, taking my ship with me. Since then I've been roaming around the Outer Worlds getting involved in other people's wars." He grinned in a blinding display of white teeth. "I came in against the Andromedans, and my ship was badly damaged. That's when I found this ship. The repairs weren't complete, but life support was back on line."

"And you had no trouble?" Blake asked carefully. Evidently Zen had trusted Tarrant enough to allow him information on teleport functions, but then Zen had an obligation to his crew, and Tarrant had been all that was available.

"Trouble? You mean the defense system on the flight deck? I didn't have trouble with it but a Federation squad boarded too and it killed them. Your ship must have recognized that I was not Federation."

"It didn't with us," Blake disagreed, eyeing Tarrant suspiciously.

"I felt the pull," Tarrant replied. "It showed me an image of my brother and tried to draw me in. But I knew Deeta couldn't be here--I don't believe in that kind of coincidence. It gave me enough resistance to hold out. Besides," he added, smiling, "Your Zen must have realized how awed I was by this ship. I'm a pilot," he added as if saying, 'I'm the next thing to god.'

Blake wondered if it were truly conceit or if he were as good as all that. Maybe he was because Zen had not resisted him. Blake wondered how Jenna and Avon would take to him, and smiled at the Idea. Reminded of his crew, he raised his voice. "Zen, we need to locate the others. Initiate standard search proceedure."

+Confirmed,+ came Zen's disembodied voice, and Blake could feel the surge of power as the great ship started to move.

"What about that wound?" Tarrant asked. "Do you have a surgical unit on board?"

Blake nodded. "It's not a wound from the battle but it's opened up again. We have the means to treat it."

Tarrant stretched out a long arm and pulled Blake to his feet, steadying him as he swayed. "Have any of the others called in?" he asked as Tarrant steadied him.

"There's been another signal or two," Tarrant confirmed. "I didn't know the voices. I told Zen to set priorities according to risk to the people. He must have thought you were worst off because he went quiet analyzing signals then we came after you first."

If no one was hurt worse, Blake would be grateful, but that could mean that some of the others were dead. If they hadn't all called in... He let Tarrant guide him toward the medical unit, astonished at how well the arrogant young man seemed to have got on with Zen. Maybe it was because he was a pilot. Zen had interacted with Jenna before him or Avon when they had first come aboard after all.

Once his wound was dressed and a healing pad in place, Blake felt a little better, but for the moment, while they headed for the next rescue, he was content to stay in the medical unit. Tarrant remained with him, prowling about with blatant curiosity, and Blake watched him, reluctant to trust the young man without proof. Zen had trusted him enough to listen to him, but then Tarrant's orders matched Zen's priorities; Blake doubted the computer would have obeyed if Tarrant had ordered Liberator to turn tail and run.

Tarrant wore a possessive air about the ship, as if he considered it his own, and Blake knew he would have to do something about that. Unless Zen was ordered to do so, he would not take Tarrant's orders as valid, and as he half drowsed, waiting for the pad to do its work, he contemplated devising orders for Tarrant to give the computer which would prove he ran nothing. But that was not as important as the current crisis, so he nodded to Tarrant to activate the voice link with Zen.

"Zen. What is the status of the battle?"

Tarrant paused in his wanderings and came over to stand near Blake, braced for the possibility of bad news. Blake wondered if the threat toward humanity had given them common cause and realized it must when Zen replied.

+Federation losses have been extensive,+ Zen informed them. +One hundred forty seven Alien vessels penetrated the galaxy and avoided destruction. There is evidence that some of these ships were damaged, but not destroyed, and the alien fleet has regrouped and is challenging late-arriving Federation vessels. The Liberator's present course will take it away from the battle and it is recommended that battle be avoided at least until such time as backup can be obtained.+

"A lot of backup," Tarrant agreed. "This ship's the best hope we've got against the Andromedans. I wonder what they're like."

"You'd rather not know," Blake returned with a sour grin.

"Not remotely human, then?" Tarrant nodded, unsurprised.

"Not remotely--though they can assume the appearance of humans if necessary."

"That's bad," the young pilot responded. "How big is your crew. I've heard of Avon, Vila, Jenna, Cally and Gan. Are there others?"

"I'm not sure I want to tell you," Blake returned. "Convince me you're trustworthy. That uniform tends to discourage me."

"I'll be happy to be rid of it," Tarrant replied. "Convince you? That fleet out there should convince you. Do you think I want alien shapechangers roaming our galaxy? Even if I were Servalan's right hand man, I'd want the same thing you do right now, to defeat them and protect us. With a ship like this, we stand a good chance of doing just that."

Blake doubted their chance would be as good as all that--even with a fully charged and sta"ed Liberator, their chances against the aliens were only slightly better than their chances had been against the Federation, and even if they were united with the Federation now against a common foe, their new 'allies' would turn against them the moment the Andromedans ceased to be a threat. So might Tarrant, and the longer he stayed aboard and the better he came to know the ship, the greater danger he would be.

Blake decided to leave it to Orac. Though Ensor's creation resented being used as a lie detector, it could make sense of Tarrant's declarations of support better than any of the others might. The fact that Zen had not injured or killed Tarrant and that he had instructed the young pilot in the use of the teleport to retrieve Blake spoke in his favor, but Avon would be unhappy to find a new crew member already in residence when he returned to the ship.

"I feel a little better," Blake said truthfully. "I'll show you where you can find some different clothing. At least you won't look so threatening to the rest of my crew."

He went with Tarrant to find new clothes. The strongroom was too near for him to risk Tarrant finding it yet. Though something told him the young ex-Federation officer meant no harm, the boy's lust for the Liberator made Blake wary. He would put no more temptation in his path than necessary, at least not before the others returned.

Dressed as a civilian, Tarrant looked slightly more innocuous, but he had an edge that made Blake cautious. No matter how pure he might claim his intentions, and in spite of admitting he wanted the Liberator, something he could have kept silent until a more propitious moment, he might be biding his time. Slowly recovering under the healing pad, Blake knew he must wait and watch until he could be certain of Tarrant.

They went to the flight deck. Blake drew back-momentarily when he found the bodies of the Federation squad. "I suppose we should put them out the airlock," Tarrant admitted. "But there was too much to do at first, and I was here on sufferance. I didn't want to get that close to an airlock myself."

Blake didn't blame him. "We can do it now," he decided.

Tarrant eyed Blake's wound and grinned faintly. "You mean I can do it while you direct?" He set to it uncomplainingly.

"Zen," called Blake. "Confirm that those men are dead." He had not checked the bodies.

+Confirmed.+

Remembering his own arrival on the ship, Blake frowned as something occurred to him. The look on Jenna's face after her linkage with Zen, her claim of being totally known, made him consider another possibility. "Zen, when we first boarded this ship, you linked with Jenna. She said she was totally known."

+State your question,+ Zen replied.

"Did you do the same thing with Del Tarrant?"

+Affirmative.+

"He says he is no longer a Federation officer. Is this true?"

A sound behind him announced the return of Tarrant to the flight deck. He gave Blake a slightly sour grin. "Checking up on me, are you?"

"In my place you'd do the same."

"I'd have been disappointed if you hadn't," Tarrant replied. "It would have made me wonder how you'd achieved as much as you did."

"I never achieved enough," Blake replied regretfully. "Zen. Answer the question."

+Del Tarrant is no longer a Federation officer. He is a gifted pilot whose presence can benefit the Liberator.+

Tarrant's grin broadened into a genuine one. "I can't wait to fly this ship," he announced, suddenly sounding very young. "Zen wouldn't let me do that. I'm not used to that kind of computer. Zen's self-aware, isn't he? No wonder you were able to do so much with the Liberator. This is more than just programming."

"Avon would disagree with you," Blake replied.

"He's the computer specialist though. He'd see it as more advanced programming. I think I'd disagree."

"Wait until you meet Orac."

Tarrant shot him a curious look and went to remove the last body, and Blake sat down on the forward couch. His wound still hurt, though the pain was easing into a dull but bearable ache. If Tarrant was no longer Federation, it removed one threat, though the young pilot had been a mercenary and was not instantly trustworthy simply because he'd left the Federation. Blake knew Avon thought him too soft, too willing to take people on trust, but Blake had no way of knowing it Tarrant was what he claimed to be until Zen had verified it. Tarrant might even have been an Andromedan, though Blake doubted Zen would have given an Andromedan instruction in teleport functions. If Tarrant had not been here, Zen might have linked with Orac wherever it was, and operated the teleport that way. The fact that Zen hadn't worried Blake. He hoped Avon was all right.

"Zen," he called out, "How long before we rescue the next crew member?"

+Two point three eight hours,+ intoned the computer.

"Which of them is it?" Blake asked anxiously.

+Avon.+

Blake heaved a sigh of relief. Avon. He and Avon had been increasingly at odds lately, his Cause driving a near-unmanageable wedge between them, but how much of that had been his growing obsession to destroy the Federation? How much had Avon changed? Most of the change had been in Blake, and Avon's behavior had been a reaction to something he could see but could not control. He had agreed to stay and fight with Liberator when it seemed futile simply because he had given his word. Avon had always valued the giving of his word. He possessed more integrity than he was willing to admit, but he had resisted that promise. Blake had feared it would be the final straw, but when he had come to the flight deck before the battle and faced an Avon who was resentful that Blake had not trusted him to do as he had vowed, his declaration of trust had stopped Avon in his tracks. Blake doubted Avon had believed him but it was true. Trust was not always wise and he was certain that his trust of Avon hadn't been. He'd never given Avon reason to believe it either, once telling Jenna that Avon might run when he suspected Avon could hear him. He had thought Avon wanted to run then, but when Avon had teleported down to Horizon and rescued him, nearly shooting him in the process, Blake had not been very surprised.

Now Avon was returning. How hostile would he be? How resentful of Blake's manipulations? Blake knew Avon had resisted him, had fought liking him, had in one way welcomed Blake's growing obsession as it presented him with a valid excuse to hold himself at arms length. That he had needed an excuse was the one thing that gave Blake hope for a future relationship. The tensions between himself and Avon had had all the others walking warily around them. Blake hoped to change things, since the crisis at Star One had shocked him into taking a second look at himself. He hoped he could manage differently. If not, the future would be even bleaker than it looked right now.

Avon was alive, at least as far as Orac had been able to report to Zen. That was one less worry. "What about the others, Zen? Are they alive?"

+Vila Restal has been in contact. He reports his situation as perilous in the extreme.+

"Then why not go after him first?" Blake asked, though Vila considered many things perilous and his hyperbole need only be a reaction to a potentially threatening situation.

+Avon's situation is perilous as well,+ Zen reported. +His location is on a direct course to Vila's location.+

"What about the others?"

+Cally is en route to the planet Chenga,+ Zen explained. +That is Vila's location. Jenna is on a hospital ship on route to the planet Morphenial. Her situation is stable and as a result will be retrieved last.+ They were all alive then. Blake heaved a shaky sigh. He had been afraid to let himself hope until now. The relief was so overwhelming that his growing tension snapped, allowing him to relax. Gradually, he slipped sideways on the couch, the strain of the past days and the weakness from his wound finally catching up to him. He slept.

*** *** ***

Kerr Avon materialized on the Liberator without a moment to spare and with a great many questions. Orac had reported Blake had returned to the ship and was sleeping, making Avon wonder if his wound was worse. From his own less than gentle landing in his life capsule, he realized that Blake, still weakened from Travis' shot on Star One, might have had an even rougher landing. Orac had temporarily lost contact with Liberator, but had been able to restore it later, informing him of Blake's survival. Servalan didn't know that, and Avon had no intention of enlightening her. She hadn't told him any secrets either.

Avon was certain the battle had gone badly--how could it be otherwise when one ship, even a ship as well equipped as the Liberator had been left for some hours to fight off a fleet of six hundred ships? Too many alien vessels had penetrated the Defense Zone and though the Federation had arrived in great numbers to fight alongside the Liberator, it was inevitable that some of the enemy survive. Avon's experience with the Andromedans on Star One had convinced him that even Servalan was preferable, though it was a moot point, but it had not enabled him to trust her, and he had been glad to leave her behind.

He had no choice but to bring Dayna Mellanby back with him. Thanks to his war with Servalan, Dayna's father was dead, and Avon felt a bitter responsibility for that act; though had Servalan encountered Dayna and her father without Avon's intervention, Hal Mellanby would still be dead and possibly Dayna with him. She had nowhere else to go, and her expertise with weapons might prove useful.

Now she and Avon stood on the teleport platform staring at the total stranger who came striding into the section, a weapon in his hand. When he saw them, he lowered it but did not put it away. "Avon, I presume," he said with a smile that Avon didn't trust.

"Who are you?" Avon demanded suspiciously. Orac had not reported this man's presence--the computer had much to answer for. "Where Is Blake?"

"Sleeping on the flight deck," the stranger replied. "His wound reopened when his life capsule landed. He needed the rest. I'm Del Tarrant."

"You seem to have made yourself at home," Avon observed sourly, noting Tarrant's use of a Liberator gun. He suspected he'd seen the outfit Tarrant was wearing in the wardrobe room too.

"Zen had to make use of me," Tarrant returned. "A Federation death squad boarded before I did, but your ship's defenses finished them."

"And not you?" Avon asked. Interesting. He remembered the difficulty of resisting the image projected by Zen's defense system. It had taken Blake to break the spell. That Tarrant had resisted it said something for him, though Avon was not yet certain what. He did not trust the young man. "I'd like to see Blake," he insisted deliberately.

"Then we'll go to the flight deck." He cast an interested look at Dayna. "And who is this? Neither Cally nor Jenna, surely?"

"Dayna Mellanby, Del Tarrant," Avon returned, taking Dayna's bracelet and storing it in the tray along with his own.

Avon was inclined to be angry with Blake. The man had been driving them far too hard even before Gan had paid the price of his obsession. Lately Avon had begun to believe if he did not put an end to Blake's influence, he would die himself--or become too drawn in to escape. He had started holding Blake at bay with hard words, fueling his anger with every grievance he could find, until, driven to the breaking point, he had informed Blake he wanted it ended. Blake had assumed Avon hated him, but Avon did not quite do that. He simply wanted free of him, another matter entirely. He was not surprised that Blake did not understand it for he did not understand it himself. He only knew that not even his resentment of Blake's manipulation of his crew--especially himself--did not prevent him from going to Blake's rescue on Star One when he learned Travis had arrived. Blake was a dangerous man, and Avon resented the hold he had over him. Better if they could have parted then, cleanly, but it had not worked that way, and Blake, fool that he was, had insisted he had always trusted Avon, from the very beginning.

Avon knew that could not be true, that it was most likely only one more form of manipulation. Bad enough Blake had forced him to stay and fight off the Andromedan fleet until the Federation arrived. Worse he should try to tie Avon to him still further.

Avon went to the flight deck prepared to annihilate Blake with words for everything he had done to him.

Blake was still sleeping, curled up on the forward couch, his hair tousled, his face a little flushed. He slept with the fierce abandon of the very young or the pure at heart, and it was so ludicrous that Avon almost stepped forward to shake him awake, but at the last moment, he held back. Looking down at Blake he asked impartially, "Is it serious?"

"No, he's recovering nicely," Tarrant replied. "He's lost blood and he's been through a lot. He needs the rest."

Dayna joined Avon, staring down at the sleeping man. "So that's Blake," she said softly. "My father enjoyed listening to reports of Blake. We followed any news we could get of all of you and the ."

Dayna was one of the least maternal women Avon had met, but here she stood looking down on Blake sympathetically. Avon remembered her care when she had rescued him from the Sarrens. He could not remotely imagine Servalan caring for an injured man, not unless she stood to gain for it.

Finally Blake stirred as if alert enough, even in sleep, to feel eyes upon him, and he shifted restlessly and opened his eyes, blinking up at Avon blankly. Then his expression changed and to Avon's considerable astonishment--and discomfort--a smile of world-class proportions lit his face. A moment later he damped it as if suspecting Avon would not welcome his delight, but it didn't go away entirely, banked behind his eyes and still smoldering. "Avon," he burst out, sitting up so quickly that it must have twinged his re-opened wound, for he paled, gasped and clutched at his shoulder. Avon was surprised to note that his own (purely instinctive) gesture to help Blake get his balance was backed by Tarrant's, the younger man drawing back at once as if he feared he was poaching on another man's preserve. Avon's eyes narrowed.

"Well, Blake," he said levelly, setting Orac aside on the table. "I see you have failed to take proper care of yourself. It's a wonder you've survived as long as this."

"You seem to be intact," Blake returned, the warmth that had initially been visible retreating behind a wary stiffness as Blake put himself on guard. That was just as well. Avon found it much easier to deal with Blake that way. The open, caring Blake had always been the most dfficult to shield himself against. He wondered if Blake realized that. But now, he must be remembering their furious exchange before going down to Star One, instead of Blake's attempt to convince Avon he trusted him.

Avon's lips twisted sourly. "Intact?" he echoed. "Oh yes, perhaps. Certainly back here, on my ship, Blake. Did you conveniently forget it was to be mine after Star One?"

"Even if I had, you wouldn't have allowed me such a lapse," Blake returned, shifting slightly as if to ease his wound. This time Tarrant did intervene, checking to make certain the pad was still in its proper place. Casting an unreadable glance at Avon he withdrew to the opposite couch, sitting down and folding his arms across his chest as if he were prepared to be entertained.

Avon shot him a resentful look before turning back to his primary target, Blake, aware of Dayna joining Tarrant on the couch and conversing with him in low tones. Realizing he was another newcomer she might want to learn what had been happening, or maybe she was simply curious about the ship. Without shutting them from his awareness, Avon concentrated on Blake. "Zen informs me we will next retrieve Vila, then Cally," he said in neutral tones. "Orac reports that our attempt to halt the Andromedans until the fleet could arrive was not entirely successful. Are we now to align ourselves with the Federation to defeat this new threat?"

"I've considered it, Avon," Blake replied.

"Using my ship?"

"Using any vessel we can lay hands on, Avon. Surely not even you are selfish enough to refuse to fight this particular enemy."

Avon hesitated. "Perhaps not. Servalan was on Sarren, Blake. I left her there. She had shelter and no doubt she will find rescue, but whether or not it will be by her own people is debatable."

"You let her live?" Blake asked, eyes narrowing. "I'm surprised at you, Avon. Every time I do something like that you find fault with me."

"It was not by choice," Avon returned. "Had it been possible, I would have left a corpse behind. But she was necessary for a time, since she alone knew the location of Orac. After that, there was no option."

"If there had been, I would have killed her," Dayna put in coolly, causing all three men to look at her, Blake in surprise and Tarrant with a startled consideration as if forced to revise his first impression of her. Avon introduced her to Blake.

"We've left Sarren behind," Tarrant reminded her.

"It's more important to crew this ship again than to worry about might have beens," Blake chided, looking around the flight deck. "Once everyone's on board, we can plan our strategy."

Avon sat down beside him, rather worn from his exertions on Sarren. "Plan our strategy?" he enquired. "Assuming the rest of us will be interested, Blake?" He eyed Tarrant and Dayna suspiciously. "And what of our passengers?"

"Zen seems to have accepted Tarrant," Blake replied mildly.

"Whether the rest of us shall do the same remains to be seen," Avon returned.

"He's a pilot, Avon."

"So is Jenna, and we are familiar with her motives."

"You mean you trust her?" Blake asked with some amusement.

"I trust no one. But I know what to expect from her." He frowned at Tarrant. "This ship is mine now. Fighting alien hordes is not how I would choose to use it."

"Perhaps not," said Blake, watching Avon through slightly narrowed eyes. "Would you turn your back on the rest of humanity?"

"The rest of humanity has already turned its back on me," Avon responded. "But I see you will allow me no peace if we do not discuss the subject. We will wait until everyone has returned before any decisions are made."

"It may be your ship, Avon," Tarrant spoke up suddenly, "But you're not a pilot. Zen accepts me. I intend to stay here, with Blake. I doubt you'll put him off the ship. I have as much right to fight the Andromedans as anyone, and with this ship, I can do it better than I could anywhere else."

"If Blake is fool enough to trust a stranger..."

"Blake is cautious, as he should be. He'll find he has no cause for alarm. I don't love the Federation. But I don't like the idea of an alien invasion either."

"And you have chosen to follow Blake," Avon observed smoothly. "Be very careful, Tarrant. Blake may be charismatic, but his followers are not his primary concern. For his cause, he will sacrifice anything."

"Yet you're still here," Tarrant pointed out with a dazzling smile.

"For the Liberator," said Blake quietly, and Avon turned a suspicious look in his direction, wondering at the faintly mocking note in his voice.

Tarrant's smile turned into a knowing grin and he relaxed again. Avon's eyes narrowed at the sign of easy understanding between the two men. Surely Blake had not welcomed him without question. Or perhaps he saw in him someone ardent enough to follow him into hell without question. Avon doubted Tarrant would be an unquestioning follower, though he seemed drawn to Blake's personal magnetism.

"What about me?" Dayna asked abruptly. "I've nowhere to go. Have you need of a good weapons designer on this ship? Tell him I know how to fight, Avon. I could easily earn my way."

"You will like her, Blake," Avon said promptly. "She's very bloodthirsty. If we come face to face with Servalan, you must watch her carefully for she is primed to kill her. Now that Servalan is president, she will be all the more dangerous. Perhaps you will need a huntress at your side."

"Presidents in time of peril can gain an amazing amount of support," Blake replied thoughtfully. "Servalan is not my choice of ally, but she might be best equipped to defeat the Andromedans."

"You'd side with Servalan?" Dayna cried, looking at Blake in considerable disillusionment.

"Servalan is human, Dayna," Blake returned. "I don't trust her and never will, and I have no intention of putting myself and my crew into her hands. But she will defend the Federation against the invader."

"Gaining strength for herself as she goes." Avon stood up and walked forward to stand before the main screen, turning to face the others, his hands clasped behind his back. "This invasion may play right into her hands. She will use any tool that comes to hand to defeat the enemy, including you, Blake. Then, when the Andromedans are beaten, she will turn on you. It you believe anything else, you are a far bigger fool than I believed possible."

"How could I ever be that, Avon?" Blake asked with a sudden smile, and Avon felt his annoyance melting away. He wouldn't let it go, however, schooling his face to retain its impersonal glare.

"All too easily. But this discussion is pointless. Perhaps when the others are back on board, we can talk sense into you."

"I am talking sense, Avon," Blake returned. "Not necessarily an alliance with Servalan, no. That might be too great a risk. But we must stop the Andromedans quickly. They're shapechangers. Leave them too long and they'll go to ground. Even if we defeat them ship to ship, enough of them will survive to be an ongoing threat. Eventually they'll take positions of power, replacing prominent Federation officials just as they replaced the technicians at Star One."

Avon smiled slightly at the thought of Servalan being replaced, her body hanging empty and discarded in some darkened room. But even less than that did he relish the idea of an alien in the body of the President of the Terran Federation, manipulating the galaxy. Eventually there would be no safe place left, no bolthole for him to run to when he finally had enough of Blake.

That thought pulled him up short. Only days before he had been proclaiming loudly that he wanted to be rid of Blake and his influence immediately. Blake had taken it as hatred, but it hadn't been. lf so, he would never be thinking of staying with Blake now, especially when he knew how it would all end. Blake would get him killed yet, and if he failed at that, he would get the others killed or manage to die himself, leaving Avon in the unenviable position of assuming Blake's mantle. Avon didn't want it. He had no desire to be a leader, only to be left in peace. But a corner of his mind nudged him with the thought that it was preferable to be left in peace on the Liberator while Blake played his war games than to be left in peace in a safe bolthole away from Blake. That made it all the more imperative to end Blake's hold on him.

But not yet. With an alien force at large in the galaxy, the Liberator was the safest place going, and Avon valued his safety--or claimed to do--above all else. He would have to stay, at least for now, at least until he saw what happened next. If nothing else, he could talk Blake out of alliances with Servalan. Maybe they could use her without risking themselves. But he owed Blake nothing and he would not commit to anything.

"Perhaps you are right," he temporized. "At least with regard to the Andromedans. We must wait and see what they intend." Turning to Orac, he inserted the computer's activator. "Orac, you will monitor the Andromedan fleet, keeping us informed of its movements, of any planets visited by Andromedan ships. Your task will be to insure that no Andromedan replace a human and begin a rise to power."

+My circuits are presently engaged, and the task you specify is impossible.+

"Oh, come, Orac," Blake prodded, entering the fray. "You've always boasted that your powers were tar beyond our puny expectations. Now Avon gives you an important task and you fail us. I shall be forced to conclude that you have been exaggerating."

Tarrant grinned at Dayna at Blake's tone, but Orac snapped back, sounding quite angry, +If anything, my abilities have aIways been understated. Very well, I shall monitor the Andromedan fleet. But not even I can kill every Andromedan at a distance.+

"That's where we come in," Dayna explained.

"We?" asked Avon.

"It's to my advantage to defeat the Andromedans," she returned. "I'm human too. I won't side with Servalan, but short of that, I'll do whatever is necessary. What do you say, Blake? May I join you?"

"We'll need qualified recruits," Blake replied. "Seven of us can run this ship, but with more, we can accomplish far more than we have achieved so far."

Dayna looked delighted, and her scrutiny of the flight deck suddenly became possessive, as if she now considered it her ship. Avon nodded. He had seen Dayna fight and knew that once her considerable appetite for mayhem and danger was toned down she would be a good companion in a fight. Blake would learn that for himself as time went on.

As for himself, Avon preferred to avoid Blake's obsessions, whatever they were, and his only reason for remotely considering going along with Blake was to keep the Liberator intact. He was fairly certain Cally would support Blake especially if he had toned down his fanaticism. Perhaps even Blake was capable of learning from a mistake. Jenna, too, would back Blake as long as he was remotely reasonable, and Vila would complain all the way but would tag along. These two new recruits were unfortunately gung ho, but perhaps that could be turned into an advantage later. Avon regarded at Blake sourly. This was not working out as he had hoped.

*** *** ***

As the Liberator neared the planet Chenga, Vila's desperate transmissions ceased, but Zen and Orac answered Blake's worried questions with reassurance. Vila still lived and wore his bracelet. "I hope we can teleport him," Blake muttered.

"I'm certain Vila hopes so, too," Avon replied. "I shall go set the coordinates."

Dayna studied Avon with interest. He had an unusual manner with Blake, different than she had expected, different from his treatment of her. She had expected him to be openly supportive of Blake; her father had paid close attention to any reports of Blake, and those reports always mentioned Avon fighting at his side.

Her father... She forced her thoughts away from the memory of her father's death, turning the pain into a desire to avenge him. Surely with this great ship and its legendary abilities, she could get the revenge she sought. I will stop her, Father, she thought sadly and turned her mind to the here and now.

"I'll come with you," she volunteered. "I'd like to see how the teleport works."

Tarrant unfolded his long legs and jumped up too. Avon cast a sardonic look at Blake as if to ask if he meant to make it a group project, but Blake shook his head.

"I'll wait here," he said. "I'll see what messages I can pick up. Perhaps someone else out there needs rescuing."

"This is hardly a mercy vessel," Avon protested, leading the way off the flight deck without pausing to see if Tarrant or Dayna followed him. Dayna hurried to keep up.

Blake didn't meet her expectations, either, though it was difficult to judge while he was still recovering. Yet, he had no hesitation about standing up to Avon, and Dayna liked that. She had been drawn to Avon when she first saw him, but part of that was the novelty of meeting an attractive stranger. Even if teachers had been imported to train her during their exile--though she had never considered it so--she had seen no civilized person but her father and Lauren for several years. When the last of the teachers went she had been a child and now she was an adult. Remembering her actions in the cave, she was slightly embarrassed at her temerity, but she had learned early on that if she wanted something, she must take steps to attain it. She wasn't sure Avon was what she wanted, but she had needed to satisfy her curiosity. Looking at Avon's set shoulders as he walked ahead of her, she smiled faintly, then turned to study the profile of the man who walked beside her.

Tarrant was certainly beautiful, but it was a coltish beauty; he was young enough to have his uncertaintites and to feel the need to prove himself. Trying to prove himself against Avon might produce some interesting pyrotechnics. She planned to enjoy the resultant fireworks. Though she had had enough excitement lately to last some time, she knew she would soon be looking for something to liven the atmosphere. Maybe Tarrant could help create a few sparks.

Avon sat at the teleport console and Dayna slipped in beside him while Tarrant leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. He had a cocky look as if he enjoyed challenging those around him, and irritation flashed in his eyes when Avon gave no sign of noticing.

Dayna watched Avon's long fingers, trying to guess what he was doing. She thought she had figured out which controls were directional as a dot moved across the grid, presumably in response to a signal from the planet below. Vila had not replied to their attempts at contact. Since he had proclaimed himself in dire circumstances, Dayna halfway feared he was dead, but from something Avon had said, the teleport only worked on living tissue. If it didn't bring Vila up, they'd know what was wrong, too late to do something about it.

"When will you bring him up?" asked Tarrant.

"As soon as teleport range is achieved," Avon replied without looking up. A long pause followed, then, when Tarrant started to speak again, Avon put up a hand to forestall him and reached forward to a group of levers, to pull several of them toward him. Dayna stared as two forms materialized in the chamber, a man and a woman, both clad in what looked like hospital attire, both of them unconscious. Vila and Cally, apparently, though she had not realized they had met. She jumped up to examine them, kneeling beside the woman. "She's still alive."

"That one is Cally. I'll introduce you to her when she wakes up. This is Vila." Avon strode forward. "I should really introduce you now. He's at his best when he's unconscious."

Dayna bit back a smile at Avon's tone. He sounded as if he meant nothing but contempt, but she suspected he liked Vila, and she wondered why he would try to conceal it.

Her suspicions were confirmed when Avon bent briefly to check Vila's pulse, then he turned to Tarrant. "You and Dayna take them to the medical unit," he instructed.

Tarrant started forward obediently, then caught himself. "What will you be doing?" he asked pointedly.

"One of us must report to Blake. I believe you have some understanding of the functions of the medical unit." He paused in the doorway. "Alert the flight deck before they come around," he instructed and strode away.

Tarrant stared after him, his resentment obvious. "That one likes giving orders," he observed.

"It needs doing," Dayna said, picking up the slender Cally with ease. "And it's more his ship than ours. Didn't you learn to take orders at the Academy?"

"I'd prefer to take them from Blake."

"Blake would probably have made the same suggestions," Dayna replied and waited for Tarrant to pick up the hapless Vila and lead the way to the medical unit. Grumbling under his breath, Tarrant complied. Dayna suspected he and Avon would have a confrontation in the near future.

*** *** ***

"Did you get him?" Blake asked, rousing from a half doze when Avon returned to the flight deck.

"Vila and Cally both," Avon replied. "I directed the others to take them to the medical unit. They were both unconscious, but seemed only stunned." Blake half rose as it he meant to investigate immediately, but Avon shook his head. "I should rest, Blake."

"You trust Tarrant and Dayna to care for them?" Blake asked, somewhat surprised.

"I trust Dayna not to betray us, and Tarrant could have harmed you when you came aboard, but he didn't. While that does not guarantee their trustworthiness, it indicates that they may be of use." Concluding that subject satisfactorily, he sat on the forward couch. "Zen, are there any signs of Andromedans"?"

+None within detector range,+ Zen returned.

"Any other ships?" Blake asked.

+Three Federation pursuit ships at extreme range. They are heading away from the Liberator.+

"That's a start," Blake said with some relief. "I'd as soon get Jenna back before we have to fight again."

"Must we fight?" Avon asked, resigned.

"Oh yes, we must fight," Blake returned. "Don't you see what we have at stake here, Avon? Do you truly wish the Andromedans success over your own people?"

"I have no fondness for 'my own people,' Blake. However, I understand their motivations more easily than those of the Andromedans, and recognize their strengths and weaknesses. I should even prefer Servalan to one of those creatures." He met Blake's exultant eye. "However, do not take that to mean you have recruited me to your cause. I am here and I will fight, but for a far more reasonable goal--survival."

"What else?" Blake asked lightly as if he suspected no other motivation.

Avon, who knew him rather better than he was willing to admit, smiled sourly and changed the subject. "How long until we retrieve Jenna?"

"Four hours."

"Then I suggest you spend it sleeping. You haven't entirely regained your strength."

Blake's look held mild surprise. "Concern, Avon"?"

"Why not?" Avon returned lightly. "Or common courtesy, something that puts me at no disadvantage."

"Would it be so terrible?" Blake asked, climbing to his feet with what looked like the last of his strength. "Being at a disadvantage, I mean? Oh, not against Servalan, but here, among friends?"

Avon grimaced. Blake's way of getting under his skin was second to none. "I prefer the upper hand," he replied. "And from the look of you, you need a hand." He took Blake's arm. "I'll see you to your cabin," he said smoothly.

Blake must have been too tired to resent Avon's offer of help, or perhaps he simply didn't see it as a means of displaying the upper hand. Instead, he bestowed upon Avon a fond smile and allowed himself to lean upon the tech all the way to his cabin. Avon seethed, but only a little, and that for appearances. Blake might be unbearable at times, but life was so much more interesting with him around.

*** *** ***

Cally revived first, surprising Tarrant, who was monitoring the two sleepers after sending Dayna off to rest. At first, the Auron lay there quietly, recognizing her location with some surprise. Then she turned to the other table and registered Vila's presence. A smile lighted her eyes, warming the planes and angles of her face. "So we are home," she said to herself, then she saw Tarrant. At once she was wary, on guard, every inch the warrior. "Who are you?"

"Del Tarrant. I've joined your crew. I found Liberator abandoned and drifting and came aboard. I rescued Blake first."

"Is he well?" Cally asked. She had not yet relaxed, but she seemed content to gather information. Sitting up cautiously, she flexed her fingers as it there were some lingering pins and needles.

"Yes. Everyone's back but Jenna and we'll retrieve her soon."

"You seem very much at home," Cally observed.

"Yes. I like this ship. Zen accepted me, much as he accepted Jenna when she first came aboard. How do you feel?"

"Surprised to be alive. They meant to kill us down there, for spare parts surgery. Servalan was there."

"Servalan!" he echoed in surprise. "Another prisoner?"

"No. She managed to contact the Federation. They were very anxious to have her back. She took time to say goodbye to us. To gloat."

"She'll have precious little time for that," Tarrant replied, giving her a hand to her feet. "We don't know how many Andromedans got through the fleet. The defense zone went down when Star One was destroyed, and they came swarming in. It wasn't the overwhelming victory they'd hoped for, thanks to the Liberator, but it could mean serious trouble."

Cally's face darkened as she turned away from Vila's readings. "It could be worse than you think," she replied. "The Andromedans are shape changers. They can assume the forms of specific people. If this is just the forerunner of a larger fleet, we are in very grave trouble."

He should have considered a larger fleet. The longer the surviving Andromedans ran loose In the galaxy, the greater the threat of another attack or an Andromedan takeover from within. "I'm supposed to tell Blake when you're ready to wake up," he remembered. "Just a second." He put through a call to the flight deck. "Blake? Cally's awake."

"Blake is sleeping," came Avon's filtered voice. "I'll come down. What of Vila?"

"Still out."

"Or shamming," returned Avon with a faint trace of amusement.

"Avon, I'm not shamming," Vila burst out in tones of outrage. He sat up and looked around the medical unit with considerable relief. "They were going to cut us up into spare parts down there. I'm just relieved to be up here in one piece."

"One more spare part for us," Avon retorted and broke the link.

"He missed me," said Vila with a broad grin. Then he turned to Cally, seeking reassurance. "They didn't cut us up any, did they, Cally?" Tarrant bit back a smile as he made a show of peeking under the blanket to convince himself he was intact before staring at Tarrant with wide, suspicious eyes. "Who're you?"

Cally made the introductions. "He's a new member of the crew, Vila. We're on our way to pick up Jenna now. Everyone else is back."

"Including His Arrogance," Vila returned with a vaguely obscene gesture at the wall comm unit. "Pity." He dangled his feet over the edge of the table. "Here now, where are my clothes?"

"In your quarters, I should expect," Tarrant replied.

"You couldn't go and fetch something for me?" Vila wheedled.

"I doubt it. You're fit enough."

Vila grimaced. "And here I am a wounded hero."

"Neither, in fact," Avon retorted as he entered the room. For all his evident disinterest, he had made good time from the flight deck. "There's nothing wrong with you, Vila. Nothing, that is, that hasn't been wrong with you all along."

"Who's watching the flight deck?" Tarrant asked him suspiciously. He still did not quite trust Avon.

Avon favored him with a resentful look as if protesting Tarrant's right to question him. "Dayna is there now," he replied after a minute.

"Dayna? Who's Dayna?" Vila perked up. "More new crew? Things have changed. I'd better get dressed and go introduce myself."

"That should make Dayna's day," muttered Tarrant sotto voce. Vila amused him, though he suspected he might find the thief irritating on a daily basis.

Avon's eyes twinkled, but he sternly kept his face impassive. "Are you well, Cally?" he asked.

"I am quite well, thank you. How long before we retrieve Jenna?"

"Less than an hour. Blake is still sleeping, but I propose to wake him before we get her. There are many things we must talk about."

Cally nodded knowingly. "We must decide how to face the Andromedan threat," she replied. "Blake intends to fight them, I am certain."

"Alongside the Federation if necessary."

Vila stopped in the doorway. "Fight alongside the Federation!" he exclaimed in dismay. "What's to stop them attacking us?"

"Presumably their need of Liberator to stop the aliens," Tarrant replied. "Blake is right. If the aliens can take anyone's form, they're too dangerous to leave at large. The longer they go free, the greater the threat to us. We'll have to spread the news of their capabilities."

"Orac can do that," Avon replied. "Well, go on, Vila, unless you mean to come to the flight deck like that. Perhaps Dayna would like it."

"Oh yes," Vila returned darkly. "You'd like that, wouldn't you." He left without looking back.

Cally exchanged a smile with Tarrant, then turned to Avon. "I shall go and dress as well. I will like to hear Blake's plans."

"That," Avon returned, "is what I am afraid of."

*** *** ***

Jenna was relieved to find herself upon the Liberator once more. There had been moments when she'd wondered if she would ever return, when her bracelet had produced no response to her calls to the ship, when she heard reports of Andromedan ships breaking through the Federation fleet. She'd pictured Liberator drifting and damaged, easy prey for any boarding party, Federation or Andromedan. But when she materialized in the teleport section, it was Blake himself who sat at the controls. He looked a little the worse for wear, his arm still immobilized with one of the tissue regenerators, but his eyes had regained their normal life and fire. The zeal that had drawn her to him at first but which had grown obsessive of late had resumed its old style. She greeted him with a delighted cry of, "Blake!"

He caught her to him in a brief, one-armed embrace. "Welcome home, Jenna. Are you all right?"

"I had minor injuries, some cracked ribs and a few bruises, but I'm fine now. What of the others?"

"Everyone's back now you're here. Do you want to rest, or are you up to a council of war?"

"The Andromedans?" she asked in alarm. "How many of them got through?"

"More than a hundred ships. Our work is cut out for us. We've got to contain them and do it quickly, or we shall never stop them."

"I'm ready to discuss it," she replied promptly, realizing how necessary it was. "I did nothing but sleep on the hospital ship." She fell into step with him. "Is everyone else all right?"

"There were some minor injuries, but everyone's fine. We've picked up some new crew members."

She wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. "New crew? How many and what are they like?"

"I'll introduce you. I think they'll be of some use, and one of them is a pilot, so you'll have decent backup for a change and not have to rely on the rest of us."

"Some of you aren't bad," she conceded. Avon, in particular, had worked hard to master the Liberator, and he had more of a flair than any of the others, though he didn't approach her league. She rather liked her position as the great ship's only real pilot and didn't welcome competition. It the new man was worth his salt, he wouldn't like playing second fiddle either.

She knew that was true as soon as she saw him. Easy to pick out the pilot between the two of them, for this one might as well have had "Federation Space Academy" tattooed across his forehead. He even stood with the natural arrogance of a Space Command trained man, legs a little apart, head up and back as he looked around like a king. He and Avon ought not to get on at all, and that could be interesting.

She was prepared to dislike him intensely, but then he saw Blake, and favored him with a look in which respect and hero worship held no small part, though he tried to disguise them. So he was already Blake's man. Blake wouldn't have mentioned that, and besides, the pilot looked like no yes-man. He might admire Blake and even support him, but he'd speak his mind.

He spoke it now. "So you're Jenna. I've heard good things about your skill. I'm rather looking forward to seeing how good you really are. I'm Del Tarrant."

"Really?" she asked with evident disinterest. "Ought I to have heard of you?"

That won her a nod of acknowledgement from Avon, of all people, and a momentary flash of resentment from the young man. He opened his mouth to defend himself hotly, then he reined in his temper. "Oh well, you've been on the run."

So he had a sting, did he? Suddenly Jenna began to enjoy herself. She knew her worth and rated it highly. Let Del Tarrant see how well he stood up against a more experienced pilot. A little set down might do him good.

"This is Dayna Mellanby, Jenna," Cally introduced, bringing forward a young woman who had the wary grace of a wild creature and the look of someone who knew very well how to defend herself from danger. She was young, probably not more than twenty, if that, but she didn't look inexperienced. "She's a weapons tech," the Auron added. "That will be very useful."

"I've seen some of the weapons she has designed," Avon agreed. "And she has a positive knack for explosives."

"A girl after your own heart, in fact," Jenna returned. "I see you survived, Avon."

"Don't I always?"

"I survived too, Jenna," Vila put in. "And you didn't even say it was nice to see me. Cally did when we met. But then Cally's got good taste."

"From time to time," Avon interjected. "Now that you've arrived, Jenna, you must listen to Blake's newest plan, the one that unites us with our old enemies, the Federation."

"It is necessary, Avon," Cally returned practically.

"Necessary for whom?" he asked. So that had not changed. Avon still went his own way and did not march to Blake's drum. Jenna eyed him narrowly, then she smiled a little. Avon was still here, and it was ever his way to argue.

"Necessary for our own survival if you consider nothing else."

"Necessary for humanity," Blake defended, striding forward to stand before the main screen and turning to face them all. Of late he'd been pushing too hard, rushing them from one danger to another as if only his own desperate drive could save the galaxy. Now he seemed newly inspired, as if he had realized what he was doing and meant to make amends for it. This time, not even Avon could deny he was right.

But Avon could. "The survival of the rest of humanity has never been my primary concern."

"You'd be awfully lonely with nothing but this great ship to protect you from hordes of nasty aliens," Vila piped up, turning to Avon as if he expected the tech to listen to him for a change. "Besides, they must know all about Liberator, the way we held them off while we waited for the Federation to arrive. I don't know how safe you'd be. Wait a minute. I don't know how safe we are. Blake, are you sure this is such a good idea?"

"My hero," said Avon sardonically, but there was genuine humor in his eyes. Lately he'd been harder than usual as if the battle against Blake took all the humanity he'd ever possessed. Not, thought Jenna with amusement, that it was ever very much.

"It's necessary, Vila," Blake insisted, but not as if he were trying to browbeat the thief into following him. Instead he sounded like he really meant to convince him, and the sincerity in his voice moved Jenna more than she had expected. She had never quite managed to believe in Blake's dreams before, although she had wanted to, but she thought she might believe in this. It was a more pragmatic dream, nothing great and glorious and unrealistic, but something that needed doing, something they could do better than most.

"Blake's right," she said. "We have to do it. I don't know about you, but the last thing I want to see is a roomful of empty skins with your faces. We must take this threat seriously. What have you done so far, Blake?"

Vila grimaced in exaggerated disgust at the thought of the empty skins, and Avon, who had seen it down there on Star One and had described it to the others as they waited for the aliens to attack, gave a slight nod as if to concede her point. Avon needed a realistic goal, something practical and down to earth. Not for him the dreams that inspired Blake, though for a non-believer, he was awfully persistent. Jenna suspected there was a withered idealist buried in the computer tech, someone who had once known bright dreams but who had lost too much to risk ever dreaming again. When they weren't tearing into each other with angry words, he and Blake were good for each other.

Cally would follow, of course. She was a true believer but she was more realistic than Blake and her practical experience had done them all good. As for the newcomers, Jenna didn't know yet. If Tarrant was half as good as he thought he was, he'd be useful. A good weapons expert as a help too. Maybe Dayna could design something that would hurt the Andromedans but wouldn't affect humanity.

"We've not had the time to do much yet," Blake replied. "We had Orac send a message to Space Command Headquarters alerting them to the threat we discovered on Star One, that the Andromedans can assume human form. Servalan used the crisis to gain power--she is now President as well as Supreme Commander. She will use the crisis to consolidate her strength, but she did believe you when you warned her of the threat of invasion. I think she will believe us this time too. She was on Chenga earlier, but she will be scurrying back to her headquarters now as fast as she can go. While I wouldn't trust her with our lives, I will trust her to take that threat seriously. In the meantime, I want other suggestions. What can we do to stop them? We can't fight that many ships single handed. The Federation will fight them as well as it can and we'll have to help, but there are bound to be other options."

"I should think the first thing would be to devise a method of detection," Avon suggested. "A device which will tell us if an alien has come among us passing as human. To do that, we will need an alien to work with. Since we do not know their limitations, that could prove dangerous. They had no trouble infiltrating Star One, taking over the personnel there one by one. They may not behave exactly the same as the people they absorb, but they appeared human in every respect. You spoke with some of them, Blake. Was there anything obvious about them?"

"Nothing. I had no idea they were anything but human--until it was too late."

"Which presents us with another problem," Avon replied, "The fact that anyone of us now might be an Andromedan." Everyone tensed up and began to look about suspiciously. "Orac," Avon continued, "How would you suggest we determine whether or not one of us could be an alien?"

"Medical examinations have determined that Blake, Cally and Vila are as they were," Orac replied. "If the rest of you are prepared to undergo the same testing, it can be determined quickly."

"I wonder," Cally mused. "If aliens take human form, would the difference appear in such tests?"

"When I killed the alien on Star One it reverted to its natural form," Avon replied. "I should think it inevitable that some differences appear. Perhaps we could capture one and run tests upon it."

"And then what?" Blake asked.

"Kill it, of course."

Cally shuddered. She would not like the idea of holding an alien for purposes of experimentation. Clearly Blake didn't care for it either. Jenna could see why Avon would suggest it. This time, she might even side with him, for it was imperative that they learn as much about their enemy as possible, and quickly too.

"Avon's right," she said. "We must learn what they really are. They were prepared to give us no quarter, and they started this war. We hardly owe them courtesy."

Avon looked surprised at her support, but he masked the look. "I suggest we retreat to the medical unit so we can be sure of ourselves. For all you know, I may be an alien."

"I always suspected as much," Vila muttered under his breath and fled the flight deck before Avon could lay hands upon him.

The tests proved the Liberator free of shapechangers, and they returned with relief. But they knew no foolproof method to test for alien presence, for they simply knew too little.

"I shall build a failsafe into the teleport," Avon decided. "It will monitor each of us when we teleport down to a planet, and when that person returns, it will make a comparison."

"And do what?" asked Tarrant, looking interested. "Teleport them into space? Freeze them in mid-teleport? Return them automatically to the planet?"

"We shall see what can be managed properly. Zen, I shall welcome your input."

Jenna wondered if Zen would refuse it, but Zen replied, +Teleport modification is possible.+

"Excellent." Avon rubbed his hands together in appreciation. "We shall need hard copies of the schematics, and then--"

+I am receiving a priority message for Roj Blake,+ Orac interrupted haughtily. +I am not a messenger relay, and I resent this misuse of my abilities.+

"Who is trying to reach us, Orac?" asked Blake.

+Servalan.+

"Servalan!" burst out Dayna and Vila, the thief in some dismay and the young woman with considerable resentment. "What does she want?" Vila asked uneasily.

+She requests a meeting with Blake and the Liberator.+

"Right on schedule," Avon returned.

"You've been expecting this, haven't you?" Blake asked him. "Did she say anything to you about it?"

"No. She made some vague propositions about the two of us ruling the galaxy together. I didn't particularly believe her. But she hadn't then learned the full extent of the threat we face. She is not a stupid woman. She may well believe it necessary to recruit us."

"Recruit us?" Cally asked. "She will not acknowledge us publicly, surely."

But it seemed she might. +She reports that our actions at Star One have made us galactic heroes,+ Orac explained astonishingly. The little computer evidently enjoyed the idea of being a hero, for its voice was disgustingly smug. +The Andromedan threat is very real, and we were the ones in the front lines, as well as the ones who gave the warning.+

Avon shook his head. "I should doubt that."

"I doubt it will last," Tarrant countered. "Word of the Liberator's presence might have got out, with so many different people fighting against the invaders. I'm sure the Federation wouldn't have announced it. If this war drags on very long, the people will forget again, and when it's over, Servalan will claim victory and pretend we never helped her."

"But it's a chance," Blake burst out. "A chance to do some good, to convince people we're more than terrorists, maybe even to fight from the inside." He was in the full blossom of enthusiasm again, and Jenna saw Avon regard him consideringly before he shook his head.

"No, Blake. You will be a tool to her hand, no more."

"That may be her intention," returned Blake with fierce intensity. "It is not mine. She may mean to use us, but we know that. We aren't fools to believe her guileless. We're prepared for any threat. We'll be using her."

Avon shook his head. "She'll expect that, Blake. She's hardly a fool. She's accustomed to using people, and compared to her, you are an innocent. You believe in freedom--she believes in power."

"Then you say we shouldn't go?" Blake asked.

"No. I don't say that. I don't believe we would be killed out of hand. She needs us too much for that. I want to hear her offer--and I want to know what resources she is using in the detection and destruction of aliens."

"Then we'll go," Blake decided. "And after, Avon?"

"What about the rest of us?" Tarrant demanded. "Don't we have a say in this?"

"Avon just has his say louder and longer than most people," Vila explained.

"Set up a rendezvous in a location where we are unlikely to fall victim to aliens or a Federation trap," Blake instructed Orac. "Choose a place we can reach first. I think you would prefer to remain out of Federation hands, so choose well, Orac."

+Naturally.+

The coordinates were set--by Tarrant under Jenna's supervision, so she could watch his performance--and they went to meet with the President of the Federation. Jenna had to admit that Tarrant seemed competent. He had taken the time to familiarize himself with the equipment once Blake had instructed Zen to accept his orders, and he looked at ease as he took the ship onto its new heading manually. Of course routine course changes were not difficult; the unskilled crew of Liberator did them all the time. Once the meeting was out of the way, Jenna planned to run some complex programs for Tarrant to see how good he really was.

He watched her. "Planning a test for me, Jenna? Make it difficult. I don't like being bored."

"It will be difficult enough," she replied, holding her temper in check. This one was too cocky. She would enjoy it if he got his comeuppance.

Leaving him at the controls, she went to see what the others were doing. Avon had a series of instruments and equipment spread out before him on a table drawn up before the forward couch, where he was taking readings of various esoteric pieces of computer equipment. "What are you doing?" she asked.

Though she had expected evasion, he replied at once. "Designing a hand scanner which I hope will detect Andromedans. I wish I'd had the foresight to take a tissue sample from the corpse at Star One. It would be useful."

"Avon?" It was Dayna. "Do you think it might be possible to design a weapon or a gas or something that won't harm humans but that will affect the Andromedans?"

He looked at her with some respect. "An excellent idea. Once we know something of their basic metabolism, we can plan such a strategy."

"In the meantime, let me show you the Liberator's main weapons system," Vila offered, joining them and taking Dayna by the arm. "I think you'll like it."

Dayna went off with him to the weaponry position, and Avon raised his eyes to exchange an amused glance with Jenna. As she left him to his work, she marveled at the change in him since his argument with Blake a few days ago. She would have sworn then that nothing short of a miracle would have kept those two from killing each other, but now they seemed easier together. Perhaps it was the different nature of the threat they faced, one that even Avon could understand and appreciate, or possibly both men realized they had gone too far and had backpedaled, trying to find a new common ground. Jenna had always sensed a kind of attraction between them, not a sexual attraction, but something strong all the same. Given different circumstances, she thought they might have been friends. A pity it hadn't worked that way. She thought it would have done them good. Frowning, she wondered if there was any way to help them achieve it.

Blake had not moved from his position as they set the course, but now he got up. "I'll walk along with you, Jenna. We have some hours before the rendezvous. I think I'll use them to get some rest."

She nodded, waiting for him. Like Avon, Blake had changed. He no longer seemed as fiercely driven, as determined to inflict his own particular vision on the galaxy at large, whether the galaxy wanted it or not. She knew his desire to achieve freedom for the masses had not gone away, but it had gained some perspective in the face of this larger threat. That was good, and she meant to encourage it.

"I'll check your wound," she offered as they set off in the direction of his quarters. "Tarrant says it's much better."

"You don't like Tarrant, do you, Jenna?"

She smiled a little. "I don't dislike him. I know the type, and he can be arrogant. I'll trim him down to size and he'll do, I think. If he's half as good as he thinks he is, we'll be glad of him."

"I think he knows his stuff," Blake replied. "Zen welcomed him the way he did you. I wonder if Zen was programmed to respond to pilots, or if pilots simply have an affinity for this ship."

"This ship would be hard to get out of one's system," she agreed. "I'm glad all of us made it back."

*** *** ***

Servalan, Supreme Commander and President of the Terran Federation, looked around the bridge of her flagship and smiled to herself. She had more confidence than most of the tools at Space Command Headquarters, the ones who had warned her to avoid meeting with Blake, especially now that his star was rising after his heroic stand at Star One. But Servalan knew Blake and was beginning to know Avon, and was certain she could use them.

The Andromedans were a serious problem. shapechangers as they were, they presented a far greater threat than she had expected, the danger of infiltration, even as high as the Council itself. She needed far more information on this phenomenon and who better to provide it than Kerr Avon, who had actually seen the change occur. With the vast resources of the Federation limited by the great loss of ships and personnel, it was necessary to take help where it was offered, and Blake was idealist enough to offer it. Fine. Servalan could use that, use the Liberator and its crew for as long as necessary, then find some way to discredit them thoroughly before she destroyed them.

In the meantime, her actions to hold an implacable enemy at bay would cast her in the role of a heroine, bravely standing against the hordes that meant to destroy humanity. She would come out of this ali the stronger and build her power base on her defense of the galaxy.

Never for a moment did she consider the possibility that she might lose. Though her fleet was in a shambles, she still had her ground based personnel, remote ships that had not reached the battlefield in time to fight, the resources of a hundred planets, even those devastated by the destruction of Star One.

Star One, too, was a lesson to her. Had she been in power thirty years ago when it had been moved to such a remote and badly defended location, she would have vetoed the entire plan. Out there, accessible to a threat that someone had suspected even then, it had controlled climates on many worlds, worlds now thrown into chaos and destruction. Such an idiotic plan could never have come from her own fertile brain. Never again would she allow Federation power to rest upon such a slender thread. It was time to plan for the future, to consolidate her power, to devise methods to hold that power safely. She would not preside over a ruined empire if she had any say in the matter. Instead, the people of the galaxy would watch her rebuild, to go from strength to strength, and in the process she would become so strong that no one would ever bring her down.

*** *** ***

The planet chosen for the rendezvous with Servalan was Nidrax 4, an unsettled world in the 9th sector. Liberator achieved orbit first, extra range detectors probing the surrounding space for signs of ambush, but there were none. Instead a fleet of three ships approached from the direction of Space Command Headquarters. One of them would hold Servalan, who seemed desperate for the meeting.

Avon had reached the conclusion that while Servalan might claim to need them, what she really needed was the Liberator. If the threat were less immediate, it wouldn't have surprised him if she chose to take it from them, but with the Andromedans already loose in the galaxy, she had no time to train a crew to manage the mighty ship. She would expect the Liberator to be hostile, or at least difficult to control. Orac had verified her statement that they were now considered heroes for trying to stem the invasion single handed. Odd as it seemed, it granted them a kind of immunity. Avon knew it would never last, but it might be possible to take advantage of it, carefully, for a time. He needed information and Servalan might have access to that which he sought.

The three ships settled into orbit, positioning themselves near the Liberator, and Blake sent Jenna and Avon across with a bracelet for Servalan. As a sign of her good faith, she agreed to come unarmed with only one mutoid to back her. Avon watched her carefully when they materialized upon the Liberator, noting her surprise and alarm when she saw Dayna Mellaby, a feral expression upon her face, watching her from behind the teleport console.

Blake, who had been sitting beside Dayna, rose to greet the president. "Servalan. We have much to discuss. We'll go to the flight deck."

Servalan's eyes flicked around the teleport section, committing what she saw to memory. No doubt the mutoid had been ordered to do the same, for she stared too. Nodding with the graciousness of a politician amidst her enemies, Servalan fell into step with the rebel leader, her mutoid two paces behind her. Avon exchanged a glance with Jenna, then they started after them while Dayna closed down the teleport and jumped up to follow.

Servalan had never been on the Liberator before. The vast flight deck was a surprise she could not conceal, though she composed her face immediately. The blinking lights of. Zen's fascia drew her first. "Your computer?" she asked, intrigued.

"We're here to discuss the alien threat, not my ship," Blake returned smoothly, steering her toward the forward couch. "Please, be seated, and we'll get down to business."

Avon allowed Blake's assumption of possession go without argument. He considered the great ship his own but would not undermine Blake's authority before Servalan. Though loath to admit it, he had chosen to follow Blake now, effectively returning possession to the rebel. Blake had welcomed it, though no words had been spoken. Now, as if Blake could sense the tenor of the tech's thoughts, he glanced in Avon's direction and shot him a look that Avon could read all too clearly. Blake understood what he had done and wag thanking him for it.

Avon turned away under the guise of inserting Orac's key. It brought him under Vila's gaze, and the thief shot him a cheeky grin. Know-it-all, Avon thought.

"I haven't met all your crew, Blake," Servalan replied. "I know most by name and by reputation, but I have not yet met this one." Her eyes turned to Tarrant with no little appreciation. The young ex-officer flushed slightly but amusement touched his eyes.

Going around in a circle, Blake introduced everyone, even those she already knew. Servalan looked at each in turn as if she expected their input to be valuable. It was a trick of leadership, no more. Blake did much the same when he wanted something from them. Avon was pleased to note that none of them seemed particularly gratified.

"We are met here," Servalan began when Blake had finished, "Because of the threat our galaxy faces at the hand of allen invaders. Some of my people have encountered the aliens face to face and have learned the danger they present. One of my men managed to kill three of them and to preserve a body for study." She turned to Orac. "Orac, with your abilities, it should be reasonably simple to analyze tissue samples and to assist us to develop a defense against these creatures."

+Such an action is well within my capabilities,+ Orac returned immediately. +Present your samples.+

"They will be made available in due course. Blake, the Liberator will be invaluable in our attempt to defeat the Andromedan threat. I do not believe you will refuge to defend humanity against them. Though we have been at odds and will be again, our paths run together now."

Avon nodded fractionally in acknowledgment. Had Servalan pretended this temporary alliance might be permanent, he would never have believed her. He was not certain he did now, for a very clever woman could a"ord some honesty when she spoke. lt would be what she did not say that would damn them.

"What is the status of your fleet?" Jenna asked abruptly. "Can you contain the Andromedans at all? How many of them have broken through? How many have been destroyed since then? Do you know which planets might have experienced landings?"

"Those are indeed important questions, Jenna," Servalan replied. "Fleet strength is sufficient to prevent the invaders from advancing deep into our space, from reaching Earth. At present there are 137 alien ships unaccounted for, but some of them may have been destroyed so completely that we have not yet recognized their debris for what it is. Some may have crashed on various planets. Teams are searching now. The bulk of their fleet has formed into an armada, which seems to be moving in the direction of Earth. We will block them and we will fight them. That need not require the Liberator, at least not yet."

Not unless the battle went badly and Liberator could save the day, or perhaps be sacrificed for Servalan herself. She would not want Liberator destroyed, hoping to possess it when all this was past, but if necessary she would cut her losses.

"Other important questions," Avon interjected smoothly, "regard the nature of the guarantees you will give us, should we choose to work with you. Blake, of course, is determined to save humanity no matter his own personal cost, but the rest of us would prefer to emerge from this with a whole skin. As you learned on Sarran, I do not trust you. Anyone here who does proves himself a fool. Let us have it clear. It we are to cooperate with you now, we shall require safeguards."

Not even Blake objected to that. Vila nodded eagerly and muttered, "Safeguards," in agreement.

"I cannot promise you total immunity from prosecution," Servalan replied. "Even as president, such power is beyond me. I can, however, grant you protection now while martial law exists. Orac can verify that it has already been done. It is possible that your actions will make you so well known and so popular that to kill you would become very difficult. Your own actions will determine the outcome. If Blake can see the necessity of working with me for the protection of the Federation, perhaps something can be done."

"I'm working for the preservation of humanity, Servalan," Blake returned. "Not to consolidate your power base. I won't pretend I can accept what the Federation does to people simply because there's a common threat. It conditions don't change after the Andromedans are defeated, I'll be in the same position I was in before, and so will you."

Avon shook his head. Trust Blake to otter her more honesty than she meant to give him. No doubt Servalan would try to find a way to rid the galaxy of them afterwards in something that appeared accidental, either that or she would have discredited them so thoroughly that their status as 'heroes' would offer them no further protection. On the other hand, lying to her to give them temporary protection seemed both futile and demeaning, and Avon found he preferred Blake's way. It was clear and straightforward. Though Blake could be as devious as the best of them, he had too much integrity to hide behind false promises now.

Suddenly Blake looked up and caught Avon's eye. The tech suspected Blake could read his thoughts as clearly as if he'd spoken aloud, but Blake didn't say anything. Only his eyes spoke, and for once Avon didn't turn away or cover the moment with a sneer.

"I expected as much," Servalan told Blake. Avon had expected contempt from her, but there was none. She accepted his words and went on from there. "What I will offer you, Blake, is immunity during the crisis. On that you have my word, which I am prepared to register publicly."

"You are desperate, Servalan," Blake returned, a taint smile upon his face. "I accept that. Who defines the end of the crisis? What stops you from arresting me and announcing that the immunity ended the previous day? I seem to remember a war in history in which the date of the conqueror's reign was changed to the date before the final battle, so he could accuse his opponent's legitimate followers of treason."

Tarrant nodded as if he recognized the reference, and Avon's eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the younger man.

Servalan smiled smoothly. "An intriguing strategy, Blake. However, though you do not deserve it, I will give you one day past the destruction of the final Andromedan ship."

"Which news you will keep from us with every possible effort?" Jenna suggested.

"Why, Jenna, how can you say such a thing? Besides, who is to say that you will not see reason in the interval and come to accept my rule as the voice for order I intend it to be."

"Avon might disagree, but I am not impervious to reason," Blake replied. "When people are allowed freedom, when they are not constrained with suppressants and torture, when innocent people are not confined for the 'crimes' of their relatives, when all men are free to dream their own dreams, then, Servalan, and only then, will I accept your rule."

"I didn't come here for speeches," she said, "but to get terms. I think that has been done. Tissue samples will be made available to Orac. If you will fetch one further member of my crew, he will present you the necessary specimens."

"And the battle?" Tarrant asked. "You want the Liberator for its power. If it comes to a fight, you'll expect us in the front lines."

"As yet, there is no major battle. My fleet harries the Andromedans, destroying ships here and there. It keeps them from concentrating their drive toward Earth."

"The main fleet may be visible." Cally said, "But that doesn't mean others haven't made planetfall and assumed human form. There could still be an internal threat."

"I am aware of that," Servalan replied. "If Orac can design a detection device for us, we can prevent it. It is more important we have that than anything else. It is true we have lost many ships, but their own fleet is vastly reduced. Find me a means of detection and stand by to fight if it comes to that and you shall have immunity during the war." She rose. "If that is sufficient, I will return to my ship and give you instead Dr. Ketter."

"Give us Dr. Ketter?" Blake echoed blankly.

"Why, Blake, did I not make myself clear? Ketter is a biological specialist. He will bring the tissue sample and remain to work with Orac."

"No," returned Avon sharply.

"You said nothing about placing a spy aboard my ship," Blake returned accusingly.

"I am not concerned with spying," returned Servalan impatiently, flicking her skirts aside as she started to stride toward the exit. "I am concerned with saving the Federation. You may not believe this, Blake, but I do intend humanity to survive. I feel as strongly about this as you do."

Dayna spoke for the first time. "Without their survival, you'd have no more slaves."

"I believe in order, Dayna. To rule this vast, unwieldy empire of mine, there must be order. In the pursuit of that order, people must occasionally make sacrifices."

Dayna shot her a disgusted look. "Semantics," she muttered. "That's all it is."

"As the case may be," replied Servalan. "Our goals run parallel to each other for a time. Only a fool refuses to see reason when it stares him in the face. Ketter will join you. He is a scientist, not a politician, and his only goal is to stop the Andromedans."

"We will take him," Blake replied. "Temporarily." He looked around the flight deck, at each of his crew. "He will be guarded, Servalan. I'll allow him to do us no harm."

Avon snorted impatiently. Blake was no good at such things. If Ketter were conciliatory, Blake would be prone to trust him, and the actual guarding of the ship would be left to him and to others equally suspicious. In actual fact, Servalan was inserting a spy in their midst, no matter how skilled he might be in concealing it. Avon vowed that there would be on person on Liberator who would refuse to trust the newcomer.

*** *** ***

Blake knew Avon was furious about Servalan's latest scheme; it was a valid fury, but it was also something they could not as yet control. Servalan's message was clear; refuse to allow Ketter on board and be denied the necessary tissue samples. While they might acquire such samples elsewhere eventually, time was of the essence. Getting them now could mean the difference between survival and defeat. Blake decided to allow the man to join them temporarily. He would expect Avon to see that nothing went wrong.

Dr. Jon Ketter didn't look particularly threatening. He was a tall young man with a shaggy mop of light brown hair which he wore parted in the center. Sometimes, when he turned quickly, it would fall forward in his eyes, and they soon accustomed themselves to his shoving it back impatiently. He had the slightly stooped shoulders of a scientist who bent over his lab equipment his every waking moment, a rather absentminded air that would be a blessing to any spy, and warm brown eyes like a puppy's. His accent was educated; an Alpha, surely, but when introduced to Vila, whom no one could mistake for anything but the Delta he was, Ketter greeted him with the same pleasant smile he had given the others. He wore no gun, carrying only a large stack of specimen jars and record tapes balanced against his chest, a du"le bag dangling from the other hand. As a spy, he could have walked up to any top secret installation and been invited in for tea and secrets.

"This is an honor," he was saying earnestly to Avon, who regarded him with as much wariness as he would if he'd found a viper in his bed. "Not only working with you--I know about your computer studies, you see, and though I'm in a different field, some of my research recording is that much easier because of your technical programs. I wonder if you remember my father, Dr. Lenard Ketter?"

"Dr. Lenard Ketter?" Avon froze in complete astonishment. "You are related to Dr. Lenard Ketter?" He sounded as if he was saying, 'You are related to God?'

"Who's Dr. Lenard Ketter?" Vila asked. "Not that computer type who only talked to Ensor because nobody else could ever understand him? Smartest man in the Federation, was he?"

"One of the smartest," Avon sounded like he were grinding his teeth. "I took several of his classes. He was one of the few who not only knew how to teach but understood all the implications of what he taught. Perhaps Ensor had the more creative mind, but he couldn't convey it." He looked irritated as if he had been forced to revise his thinking about the younger Ketter. Blake knew it wouldn't make him lower his guard. If Lenard Ketter were as brilliant as that, Jon Ketter was even more likely to be a threat to them than Blake had imagined.

"I remember him talking about you," Ketter went on. "He was excited because he said he'd finally found a pupil who could see what he was talking about. He said one student like you made it all worthwhile."

Unguarded delight shone on Avon's face for a moment before he recollected himself. "He was an excellent teacher," he said flatly. "You didn't follow him in his field?"

"No. I'm happier with what I do," Ketter replied, but there was a faintly wistful note there as if part of him still regretted it. Blake didn't know if it were deliberate, an attempt to gain the sympathy of anyone with the wit to understand it, or just a moment of truth. In either case, Ketter was dangerous. Jenna was eyeing him with some slight maternal sympathy which caused Blake to hide a smile. Maternal? Jenna was certainly no older than Jon Ketter. Cally, too, regarded him with interest. Perhaps her Auron abilities might tell her something. Though she could not read minds, she sometimes had useful feelings about people and situations.

"And now, you are working for Servalan," Avon said cuttingly. Perhaps, he, too, had felt a moment of reluctant understanding for Ketter and meant to cover it up.

"Not entirely," Ketter replied. "Yes, she sent me here, and yes, I'm working with her, because we can't let these creatures take over Earth and the rest of the galaxy."

"She told you to watch us, didn't she?" That was Vila. "Spy on us and all. We know."

Ketter flushed, suddenly all youth and awkwardness as if he'd not reached thirty after all. "Well, I have to," he conceded. "I'm loyal and you're all terrorists. You don't look much like terrorists, though."

"Assuming you'd know one when you saw one." Avon smiled too brightly.

"He knows one," Cally reminded them. "He knows Servalan herself."

Ketter looked around as if he felt himself besieged. "Do you have lab space for me?" he asked.

"Yes, and we'll show you presently," Blake replied. "First there are precautions to be taken. Come along to the flight deck." He caught Avon's eye over the younger man's shoulder. "Did you think I'd allow him free rein, Avon?"

"Sometimes I am not sure just how much you will risk." But the malice Blake had half expected was absent from the quiet observation.

"Zen," said Blake when they entered the flight deck. "This is Dr. Jon Ketter. Tell Zen your name," he urged the doctor, pointing to Zen.

"My name is Jon Ketter, Zen," the young man replied obediently.

"You will monitor his presence on the ship," Blake instructed. "You will alert one of us should he attempt to damage the ship, plant explosive charges, plant homing devices or in any way threaten the smooth functioning of the Liberator. You will obey his commands only in time of crisis, should they be necessary to save the ship. You may also answer simple questions that do not relate to the functioning of the Liberator or to you."

+Confirmed.+

Blake was relieved that Zen had agreed to all of that. Though Avon looked like he was waiting for Blake to forget something important, he seemed satisfied with Blake's instructions. "We'll show you a cabin," Blake went on. "You can leave your gear there. Vila, take his samples to Lab 2."

"Vila, take his samples," the thief muttered in some irritation, grimacing as he got a closer look at the green substance in one of the sample jars. "Ugh. It won't ooze out and take me over, will it?"

"It's quite dead," Ketter assured him. "They wouldn't allow me a live one. But cheer up, Vila. I seldom work with live samples anyway. The most of that I'll be doing is to culture some tissue and introduce DNA samples from this." He finished loading the containers and tapes into Vila's arms. "Don't drop any of that, now. I don't think it would contaminate you, but it's better to take no chances."

"Contaminate me?" Vila echoed, horrified. "Someone come help me. I think I'm going to panic." Laughing, Tarrant began to pluck containers from the thief's arms. "Come along, Vila. Let's get these stowed away."

"See," Vila said pointedly to Avon, who had made no move to help. "Some people on this ship are human."

"Oh, I shouldn't count on it, Vila," Tarrant returned as they left the flight deck. "I simply didn't want to have to kill you if it came back to life and absorbed you."

Vila's anguished protest echoed back to them as they headed for the lab. Dr. Jon Ketter chuckled to himself. "You've an interesting crew, Blake. I'll certainly prefer it to the President and her mutoids."

"You don't like mutoids?" Cally asked him with interest.

"Like mutoids? I think it's a perversion."

"So it is," agreed Blake. "Why do you imagine the Federation does it?"

"To rid itself of the type of criminals who can't be reprogrammed," Ketter replied promptly.

"Doesn't the programming itself bother you?" Cally persisted.

"We shouldn't allow dangerous criminals to run loose. Crimos are a threat to any honest man."

"Well, he knows how to parrot the party line," said Jenna. "But we should have expected that." She sounded slightly contemptuous, and anything maternal had vanished from her voice.

Ketter noticed. "I suppose you'd allow them to run about unimpeded? If we can preserve the peace and protect the rights of the innocent..."

"The innocent have no rights," said Avon surprisingly. "If you heard of Blake's trial, you know of one miscarriage of justice. The charges against him were false."

"I know that," Ketter returned. "Child molesting? No, they did that to make sure Blake's rebel activities wouldn't be allowed to continue."

"Do you think that's right?" asked Dayna, studying him thoughtfully.

"I think someone overreacted. It's unfortunate, but no one seems to believe it any more. Blake is the hero of the rabble after all. The Deltas love him, and the oppressed..." His voice trailed off and he looked annoyed with himself. "Where's this cabin you're going to show me?"

Blake decided to leave it. If Ketter was to pretend to sympathize with them, it was a clumsy first attempt, but if he were really beginning to understand what Blake was fighting for, it was better not to push him too hard. He'd only argue back, defending what he'd been conditioned to believe. Blake wanted him to think for himself, and he'd do it better if left alone.

So he shot a warning look to the others, and took Ketter's arm. "Come on. I'll give you the ten credit tour." The silence of the others was loud as he left them.

*** *** ***

"He's very good, I think," Jenna said when Blake had gone. "That attitude strikes just the right note with us. Blake will try to convert him now. It's got to be a ploy, an attempt to gain our sympathy."

"I think so too," Dayna replied. "He can't see how illogical the things he said were. Servalan's got him ready to believe anything she tells him. He thinks we're all monsters, but he's going to pretend different. I don't trust him."

"Nor do I," agreed Avon. He went over to Orac, whose key had been left in place. "Orac, did you monitor the conversation which included Dr. Jon Ketter"?"

+Of course I did. Such a person could be a threat to me, and I took the precaution of informing myself on his background, training and experience, as well as evaluating his conversation on the flight deck.+

"He is working for Servalan, is he not?" Cally asked. She didn't know if that were true, but she was not prepared to say so yet. She was not certain what she felt, beyond an unspecified threat which mayor may not have come from Jon Ketter.

+Yes, he works for Servalan. She recruited him and assigned him the task of joining the Liberator crew. She knew that only someone with a very specific task to perform would be allowed on board this ship, and the task assigned to him is one which he can perform excellently. His rating as a scientist is very high, though not as high as my creator's or even that of his father, who was Ensor's inferior. In his field, he is as skilled as Avon is in his. He has written many learned papers which have been well received and his work in DNA structures of alien life forms is the pioneering work in the field. He has done cloning experimentation as well, though information on such is highly restricted and further data will take many hours to access.+

"Then leave it for now," Avon replied, "Though we may ask for it later. What of Ketter's politics?"

+He has shown no interest in politics to date,+ Orac replied. +Based upon records I have accessed, it is my considered judgment that Ketter has never given the political situation any concerted thought. You will note from his remarks that his political views are immature, in essence parroting the things he was taught. His life has been sheltered, as is the life of any top scientist whose work is productive for the Federation. He has never been exposed to suppressants. His every wish has been granted until now, when Servalan withdrew him from his own research and sent him here. Though he resents that, he believes, with a somewhat simplistic faith, that he is doing his duty to save humanity. Viscast tapes sent to an associate implies as much.+

"In other words, his life has been made easy both by his father's great success and his own successful work in a separate field," Avon replied. "He has never been exposed to Federation brutality and oppression. An innocent, in fact."

"Why should someone like that rebel?" asked Jenna. "He must have had it all. It's seldom that Alphas see past their own luxurious existence."

"You did," Dayna suggested.

"That was different."

Cally shook her head. "I don't believe we'll solve it now. What of Servalan's ships, Avon?"

"They've gone. We're going in the opposite direction." He frowned. "Orac, I expect you to monitor them and report any deviation. Also," he added as if as an afterthought, "Monitor all transmissions leaving this ship and report anything not instigated by one of the regular crew."

"In other words, watch out for Ketter," Dayna confirmed. "Maybe we'd better check him to make sure he's not an alien."

Cally nodded. "I shall suggest it to Blake." She left the others still speculating. The newcomer was likely to cause problems, but she wasn't certain what to do about it.

*** *** ***

Ketter's test proved him free of alien contamination, and he set up his lab with prompt efficiency. Once Orac had processed the Andromedan tissue samples, it correlated that knowledge with their prior test results. Unless the aliens altered their entire DNA pattern instead of just their superficial appearance, it seemed unlikely that one of the crew could be an alien. They were safe.

"Unless, of course, an Andromedan boarded the Liberator while the rest of us were gone," Avon suggested brightly.

Vila shuddered. "You're trying to scare me." When Avon didn't reply, he turned to glare at the tech. "I know you're trying to scare me. It's not nice of you, Avon."

Tarrant chuckled. They had all gathered on the flight deck, including Dr. Ketter, to set up work schedules to deal with the alien problem. "Zen," Tarrant called out. "Will you give us a report on all life forms presently on the Liberator."

Avon turned a slightly resentful face upon him as if annoyed at Tarrant's presumption, but the pilot stood his ground. He was a member of this crew now, whether Avon liked it or not and he meant to take full advantage of the fact.

+All members of the crew are presently on the flight deck.+

"That was not the question," Avon said smoothly. "Are there any additional lite forms which were never designated as crew members presently on board Liberator."

+Negative.+

Vila relaxed dramatically. "See, I knew you were trying to scare me."

"Not merely 'trying,' Vila," Avon purred, winning a sour look from the thief and amusement from the rest of them. But the tension had been broken. Only Ketter held himself aloof but that was to be expected.

Blake rose and walked forward, turning to face them, his back to the main screen. "We have a lot of work ahead of us."

"Work?" echoed Vila unhappily.

Blake ignored that. "I think we'll eventually be needed to fight the Andromedans, so I plan to avoid anything that would require a vast expenditure of power. It there is any truth in Servalan's words, we shouldn't need to fight the federation itself, though I won't accept it as a given."

"Surprising." Avon eyed Blake with some doubt. "I should have expected you to fall in with her alliance."

"I'm not the tool you think me, Avon," returned Blake sharply. "Why don't you, for once, listen what I have to say before you start finding fault with it. You just might be surprised."

Avon looked surprised now. Tarrant half expected him to make a sharp remark or stalk off in a huff, but he didn't. Instead he gave Blake a narrow-eyed stare and made a show of patience. "Proceed," he said with repressed sarcasm.

"Servalan feels she has us at a disadvantage," Blake continued. "In some ways she may be right, since she has put a man on Liberator. We've taken what precautions we can to deal with any threat that may arise from that. For now, the Federation fleet is harrying the Andromedans, whittling them down to a more manageable number. It we have to tight again, the odds won't be so overwhelming. That's why I want us ready for battle with all the power levels high.

"In the meantime, we'll research the aliens' metabolism with Ketter. That knowledge must be shared with people throughout the galaxy. There could be Andromedans on a number at planets by now, and with fleet strength down, we'll lack the force to make a planet by planet sweep to clear them away. That will have to be done later, but by then, a number of them will have assumed human form and be harder to detect."

"When I'm finished, we'll be able to detect them in whatever form they assume," Ketter put in. "That's the whole purpose of having me work with Orac and Avon."

"The rest of us don't count, I see," Vila piped up.

Ketter grinned. He looked like he'd already taken Vila's measure. "I didn't say that. You'll be very useful, Vila."

"Cleaning out beakers and such," Jenna told the thief.

Vila cast her a dark look then turned back to Ketter. "How will we detect them, then?"

"I'll devise some tests."

"Assuming the aliens will allow us to perform tests on them, that should be fairly efficient," Avon retorted, looking none too impressed.

"What I mean to do eventually is to devise a method of extermination. Some type of virus which can be introduced into the air or drinking water of a planet which will kill Andromedans without harming humans or the planetary ecology."

Blake hesitated. "Kill them out of hand?"

"I thought that was the whole point."

"Blake has a nagging conscience," Avon informed the biologist. "Never mind that these beings intended to wipe out humanity. Blake needs must give them a fair chance."

Blake frowned. "I know they must be killed," he returned. "I don't have to like wholesale slaughter."

"It was different when we used neutron blasters," Avon informed the assembled company informatively.

He and Blake exchanged looks of some irritation, then Blake shrugged. "I know you're right, Avon. I just don't like it."

"I see Blake's point," Tarrant volunteered. "I don't like it either, Blake. It smacks of mass murder, and that's the kind of thing that drove me out of Space Command."

Ketter shot him a startled and speculative look. The doctor was in for a rude awakening. Blake had cautioned them all that they were not to try to convince him to come over to their side but to be natural around him and let whatever facts fall that may. Ketter would resist a deliberate attempt to 'brainwash' him, but a more subtle approach might work. Blake wanted to win him over since they were committed to working with him for the duration.

"But I agree with Avon this time," Tarrant went on. "They attacked us ruthlessly. Their admitted plan is to wipe us out. We don't have the luxury of fighting like gentlemen. If we did, there'd soon be no humans left at all."

Blake nodded. "I know that. It just seems cleaner face to face in a space battle."

Tarrant respected Blake's ideals, but he was glad Blake had an Avon on his side. Though Blake could be as ruthless as the next man--Cally, Jenna and Vila had told him some interesting stories--he had a higher honor that attracted Tarrant. It was what he'd looked for in the military, deluded himself he'd found, but had finally been forced to concede was entirely missing. His desertion had been embittered by his disillusionment. Perhaps he had reacted the way he had to Blake because he'd still needed heroes. Blake wasn't perfect, but he possessed the ability to dream. Tarrant still held the seeds of bitterness and knew himself capable of harder behavior than Blake. But deep within were still remnants of the idealistic cadet who had meant to find glory in Space Command, to show his father and Deeta what great things he might achieve. Those dreams were dead now, but Blake could give him new ones. Tarrant was Blake's man.

That didn't mean he wouldn't question Blake if he had his doubts about the man's actions and Blake appeared willing to listen to his point of view. He offered it. "I agree. But we haven't that luxury."

Blake nodded, favoring Tarrant with a smile before he turned back to the biologist. "Then you'll continue with your research, Ketter. I know you want Avon's help. What can the rest of us do?"

"Besides washing beakers," Vila muttered.

"I'll draw up a schedule," the young doctor replied. "I'm told Vila has some computer expertise. That could be useful."

Vila perked up, casting a startled glance at Avon as he realized the tech was the only one who could have told the doctor. "My work requires some knowledge of computers," he said importantly. "Of course it's less detailed than his nibs', but if you need backup, I'm your man."

"Heaven help us," muttered Jenna, smiling.

Blake dispatched everyone to their tasks, and Avon scooped up Orac and fell into step with Ketter. Tarrant watched the younger man engage Avon in conversation as they left, and saw Avon responding quite naturally to him, though his posture suggested wariness. Better that Avon work the most closely with Ketter, since his naturally suspicious nature would not be affected by any liking he might feel for the biologist.

Blake had arranged workspace for Dayna to develop new weapons and now he and Jenna went along with her to see what she had in mind and what she'd achieved so far. It was Tarrant's watch, but Cally and Vila stayed on the flight deck with him. Cally set to checking the communications relays and replacing a panel here and there that needed adjustment. Vila made no pretense of doing anything at all but sprawling on the couch, sipping something green from a glass, and watching Tarrant.

The young pilot sighed inaudibly and began to run his own systems checks. He was glad it wasn't his place to deal with Vila, though he sometimes suspected the thief was tar shrewder than he wanted people to think. On that note, he grinned. "Vila. Come and help me with this."

Vila looked up, grimaced, and hesitated, evidently deciding if he wanted to defy Tarrant or not. He must have decided to avoid confrontations, for he shrugged, donned a put-upon expression and complied.

*** *** ***

The next few days accomplished very little. Tensions were high because of Ketter and what he represented, but he proved a pleasant enough companion, who did not feed them the party line for hours on end. He often seemed surprised at some remark or other, but he was more interested in his work than in recruiting the crew to join the Federation or even to convince them of the error of their ways. Avon approved of his lab techniques, worked very hard with him toward the goal of destroying the Andromedans, and watched him like a hawk. It was never Avon's way to trust his enemies, no matter how soft spoken and easygoing they seemed.

The lack of live samples put some constraints upon the doctor's work, but he was delighted with Orac and spent long hours closeted with the little computer, under Avon's dour supervision, setting up repeated tests. Sample jars and petri dishes littered his lab, and the room grew progressively more cluttered.

Vila was often recruited to set up tests with the doctor, adjusting the settings for various measurements. Since most locks were computer controlled and since Vila was a whiz with locks, he had a basic grounding in many systems, though his purposes were quite different than Avon's. He didn't develop programs, but he knew how to run them. So while Avon and Ketter devised various programs to measure the effect of poisons and toxins on the alien tissue samples, it was Vila who assisted the doctor to run them. Avon and Orac monitored the outcome, and both made suggestions.

Ketter also made use of anyone who came his way, to fetch and carry for him, to tidy away things he'd finished with, to listen to his theories, and generally to talk to when the day's work was finished. He worked long hours, and liked to unwind by chatting for a few hours in the evenings, ship's time, to whomever would listen. Avon tended to avoid the bull sessions, but the others often helped Ketter unwind. Mostly he talked shop, and Blake. who made an effort to monitor his progress, demanded a report at the end of each day. Tarrant seemed interested in the research, though it was clearly not his field, and Dayna appeared to like the young man though she distrusted his involvement with Servalan.

Tarrant seemed to enjoy listening to Ketter, too, asking about his research. He displayed a large general knowledge, and often produced some obscure fact that the rest of them didn't know. Jenna decided he had been well educated. She spent a lot of time with him running through the Liberator's systems, devising test programs to measure his piloting ability. So far, she hadn't confounded him though she'd come close a time or two. Technically, he was one of the best pilots she had ever seen, and he had an imaginative flair that took him beyond the merely competent and pushed him into the gifted range. Soon he developed a feel for the Liberator, working well with Zen. All he lacked was the hard practical experience Jenna had gained on her smuggling runs. Sometimes he fell back the book instead of relying upon his instinct, but not often. He watched Jenna closely, learning from her all the time, and gradually her resentment turned into a comfortable rivalry. Each of them had their own strengths, and while she was confident that she was the better pilot, it kept her on her toes to have sharp competition. Besides, he had a good grounding in Federation maneuvers and Academy theory that supplemented Jenna's own knowledge. Between the two of them, the Liberator was the best piloted ship in the galaxy.

Blake spent his time monitoring the Andromedan fleet. Jenna knew he had accepted the responsibility of defeating the Andromedans virtually singlehandedly, and that he would not rest while they wandered at large in the galaxy. It was he who had urged Ketter to suggest to Servalan when he sent her his weekly communique that the defense zone be reinstated as a protection from a second wave, should it materialize. Jenna was not surprised to find that Servalan had already taken such steps. The president was not one to let such things slip past her. She had installed detectors to sound an alarm if messages were transmitted in that general direction. Presumably the Andromedans had intended to send for backup, or possibly more of their species to colonize the galaxy if their invasion was successful.

It felt strange to encounter the odd Federation ship with impunity. The first time they'd picked up a Federation flotilla heading in their general direction, everyone had assumed battle stations and prepared for an attack, only to receive a communication from the captain in charge, reporting that there was no trace of Andromedans in the sector and asking if the Liberator had detected any ships on their patrol.

Tarrant had glanced at Blake for permission and, getting it, had responded with crisp military precision that they had seen no aliens this far out. It was with some disbelief that they had watched the flotilla pass them and retreat into distance.

"I don't like it," Vila announced. "They're lulling us into complacency, that's what they're doing. Lulling us."

"You have a truce," Ketter reminded them. "They know we're working on the Andromedan problem and that one of their own is on board."

"Do you seriously imagine your presence on this ship would save us should Servalan decide the truce was at an end?" Avon asked in some disbelief. Though he still regarded the young biologist with suspicion, he was the one who spent the most time with him, and he had begun to argue with him instead of simply ignoring his remarks as beneath his contempt. Jenna thought it was as close to acceptance as the younger man was likely to get.

"Of course," Ketter replied. "Servalan gave you her word. Besides, everyone knows what the Liberator risked for the rest of us. You fought to save us from the Andromedans. You've got friends on every ship in the fleet."

Avon snorted impatiently. "I sometimes wonder how someone with your naivete survived as long as he did in the present Federation system. Ivory tower idealism is a wonderful thing--while it lasts."

"What would you know about it?" snapped Ketter, for once fighting back. Avon grimaced.

"More than you think. Your father expected me to take my place in his lab, devoted to pure research. Do you believe I willingly turned my back on that offer to take a minor job in the Banking System?"

Ketter stared. "My father never understood that."

"Another idealist, to the bitter end. A man may not always choose his own career. One needs the proper connections to enjoy that liberty."

"You mean the Federation blocked you?" Ketter shook his head. "That wasn't how my father heard it. He heard you'd opted for something that promised rapid promotions and higher pay."

"Higher pay?" Avon laughed. "I never achieved one third your father's salary." He realized the others were staring and added abruptly. "I was considered political, though I wasn't. Only those who never question the system are allowed to achieve any degree of success."

"As I've long pointed out," Blake said quietly.

Avon turned very slowly and looked at Blake. "When you have convinced me that your actions can change the system, I might consider listening to you. Until then, I shall remain as I am." He turned abruptly and left the flight deck. Blake's face showed sudden comprehension that Jenna didn't understand, and he shook his head and followed Avon out.

Ketter looked around the flight deck. "I seem to have tread on his toes. I didn't mean that. My father thought he sold out to a special interest group. That's what we were given to understand. He always regretted it, but he never held it against him." That got everyone's attention, but Ketter shook his head. "No, that's Avon's business. I won't give away his secrets." He clammed up and returned to his lab, taking Vila with him, but later, when Vila appeared in the rest room, he knew no more about it.

*** *** ***

Three days later, the Liberator had its first encounter with Andromedans since the battle at Star One.

Jenna had been on watch when Zen reported ships at the edge of detector range. "Federation ships?" she had asked crisply, catching the eye of Avon, who was tinkering with the force wall under the 'helpful' eye of Vila, who was passing him his tools. About to slide under the console again, Avon halted abruptly, waiting for Zen's reply, Vila's outstretched laser probe ignored.

+Negative,+ Zen replied. +Ships in question match specifics of various vessels encountered near Star One.+

"Andromedan?" echoed Jenna. "Avon, is the force wall down?"

"It can be up in minutes." He vanished into the panel again and the motion of his legs suggested furious activity.

"Vila, summon the others," Jenna ordered crisply. "Then clear the neutron blasters for firing and put up the radiation flare shield."

The thief hurried to obey. As the six enemy vessels drew closer, the others came racing into the flight deck, taking their positions. Blake halted at the sight of Avon's legs. "Is the force wall down?"

"For the moment. We'd been clear and it needed monitoring."

"There were two panels near burnout," Vila volunteered uneasily. "It might not have held if Avon hadn't checked it. The auto repairs wouldn't have fixed them until they failed. Which would have been right in the middle of a battle."

"They're heading right for us, aren't they?" asked Dayna practically.

"With that many ships, they can take on single ships without much risk," replied Tarrant. "They'll likely recognize us when they get closer if they haven't by now. They won't ignore us, even if we can outfight that many of them. "

"Without the force wall?" Cally asked. "Zen, is there any way to assist Avon?"

+Negative. Panels must be installed manually.+

"Can you reroute around them to give us protection if the ships reach us before Avon is finished?" Blake asked practically.

+Negative. Rerouting would pass a charge through the area presently inhabited by Kerr Avon.+

"Failing to reroute might destroy the ship," came Avon's muffled voice.

"If you're suggesting I save the rest of us by passing a lethal charge through you, I don't like that idea very much," Blake returned. "Keep working and let us deal with the problem. Jenna, can you and Tarrant between you dodge any energy bursts they fire at us?"

"We can try. We can do it manually as well as Zen could do it on automatics. Zen, can the force wall be partially reinstated without risking Avon?"

+Negative.+

"Ships approaching," Tarrant reported. "Vila, lock in on them and report just before they come in range. What do we have on their own firing range?"

"It approximates Liberator's," Blake replied. "Some of their vessels had a longer firing range, some a shorter, and we found no consistent method for determining the difference."

"They've fired," Dayna reported. She was in Gan's old position, from which she could fire in tandem with Vila. "Bolt running."

"Avon..." Blake muttered urgently as Jenna maneuvered the ship expertly to avoid the bolt. "We'll get the flare of a near miss," she reported. "It might toss us about a little."

"Stand by for a shaking, Avon," warned Blake more loudly. Glancing around the flight deck, he saw a rather pale Ketter, who had probably not been under fire before, and barked, "Ketter. Get over there and hold Avon's legs steady when the thing hits."

The biologist leaped to obey. Jenna had no time to watch him to see if he were able to help or not, because she had to keep the Liberator steady enough for Vila and Dayna to return fire.

"Firing neutron blasters now," Vila announced. "Bolt launched and running."

"Steady, steady, it's going to hit--now!" Tarrant warned just behind her. His hand came down on her shoulder to keep her in place, since she couldn't release the controls to steady herself. Tarrant reached past her to brace himself against the edge of the console.

The near miss was far too near for anyone's liking. If Tarrant hadn't been holding her, Jenna would have been flung from her seat. Dayna went spilling sideways, crying out in sudden pain, and Vila blurted out in fear as he was tumbled head over heels. Blake sprawled on the deck, and Tarrant gave a yelp as Jenna came down accidentally upon his foot. All but lying down already to stabilize Avon, Ketter kept his hold, though they were flung about. A muffed noise filtered out from the console that might have been a protest from Avon.

Vila staggered up again, rubbing his forehead, blood beginning to drip between his fingers. He clawed his way back to his seat and looked down at the board. "Oh no. They've fired again. It looks dead on. Jenna..."

"I see it. Tarrant, hold me steady. I've got to do this just right."

Though Dayna sounded as if she were in pain, there was sudden excitement in her voice. "We got one! Vila, you did it!" On the main screen one of the ships blossomed then faded into nothing.

"We need that force wall," Blake cried. "Avon, how long?"

"One more panel," ground out Avon. "Let go, Ketter. I need room."

Jenna eased the Liberator gently into a new position, holding course long enough for Vila to target and fire. "Running," the thief announced, and Jenna guided the great ship carefully to avoid the second bolt.

It was a clean miss, to everyone's relief. But that relief was short-lived, as two of the ships fired simultaneously, and avoiding the twin energy bolts seemed impossible. Vila and Dayna fired several times in succession, targeting even as Jenna guided the ship into position.

"Two more clips," Avon called. "Stand by to put up the force wall. Ready...wait!"

"What's wrong?" cried Blake in alarm.

"I can't get it locked in. If It doesn't lock, the whole system will short out the moment we try to use it."

"We're about to be hit," Dayna burst out.

"I can't avoid it," Jenna cried. She pitched the ship forward into a steep dive, taking it down and below the line of fire, but they were too close. Now!" she cried.

Tarrant braced her once more and everyone else held on for dear life. Ketter dived at Avon's legs again, but the tech pulled himself free. "Let go. I'm almost there."

"Zen, put up the force wall the moment Avon finishes," Blake ordered.

The bolt struck the ship. It felt as if they had run into a planet, the whole ship jerking and shaking. The lights dimmed, flickered back, dimmed a second time. Vila lost his balance and went over backwards, and Dayna barely managed to kept her place. Jenna was flung backwards into Tarrant, and he let out a startled 'oof' as the breath was driven from his body.

The ship rocked v