Mind-Tender

by Sheila Paulson

When the metal ship fell from the sky in Herder territory, Ir-ets felt the pain and fear of the dying and cried aloud with anguish she could not avoid. As chief mind-tender of the Herd, her shields were automatic, and she did not broadcast the pain to the Herd the way a novice might have done. Alone in her isolated cottage, her audible cry disturbed no one. But when the anguish faded to a bearable level, she felt one last spark of life, stubbornly clinging to existence, so she rose to prepare for healing. She put out a rapid signal to Ar-ond; he was big and strong and she might need his help to rescue the hurt one and carry him home. She tried to send comfort to the victim, but in the way of non-Herders, his mind was closed. She could feel pain--even animals could transmit that--and she sensed despair, but she could receive nothing more. In her tenure as mind-tender, she had rarely sensed alien minds and she feared contact with a being who could not meld, who could not even mind-talk without Herder help.

She met Ar-ond on the way and greeted him with a sensation of pleasure. He was indeed strong, darkly furred in the way of the mountain Herders, his ears sharp and pointed, his teeth bright. Though Ir-ets should have been old enough to disregard physical appearance and concentrate instead on the tone of his mind--which was particularly fine--she could not repress a tingle of pleasure at the sight of a comely member of the Herd. Ar-ond's ears twitched with gentle amusement and he panted a second in silent laughter as he sensed her feelings, and she knew he shared them.

When they arrived at the wreckage, his laughter vanished as if it had never been. The sky ships came in many sizes and this one was as big as six cots together. Ir-ets led the way inside, wincing at the sight of the crushed and shattered bodies. They were bareskins, the tribe that called itself Human, though Ir-ets had only seen two of them before, furred only on their heads and sometimes their lower faces. But like the People, they were bipeds, intelligent in their fashion. Ta-el, the previous mind-tender had cautioned her that Humans were dangerous, they did not Herd, and their minds were silent.

But the one Human she found alive in the wreckage did not look very dangerous. She thought it was male, and its head hair was the color of Ar-ond's fur. Its arm was broken, it was bleeding from the mouth and nose, and it looked weak and harmless. Pale and hairless as it was, it looked rather disgusting, but she knew that to be a provincial, narrow-minded attitude. She could read its pain, but she thought it too deeply unconscious to communicate.

She directed Ar-ond to position its body carefully, setting the arm bone in place and holding it that way while she scanned for wrongness, finding places inside that bled. There was no time for delay, so she drew in the Herd, focusing their thoughts into the oneness necessary to heal the human. As the power surged through her and poured through her hands into the human's body, she was rapt with the ecstasy of the group mind. It was so beautiful that moisture leaked from the corners of her eyes and dampened the golden fur of her face.

The human glowed with the power of the Herd's healing and as his body mended, she could sense his mind for the first time.

Oh, horrible! Such pain, such twisted misery, such cold bitter loneliness. It was all Ir-ets could do to keep her hands in place, to let the power flow while shielding the Herd from the human's mind. Yet the mind touch seared her like acid and her tears were no longer tears of joy. Ar-ond, so close to her, freed the human's mended arm and held her while she fought down fear and revulsion. She was mind-tender. Must she tend this strange mind too?

Until he could communicate, she could not heal his mind only soothe the worst of his hurts without touching their cause. She could not make him whole, not without days of study, but not even a human should suffer so. She gathered the power of the Herd to calm him, giving him enough distance to face his hurts without such anguish. She knew he had endured terrible things beyond her power to undo, but he had let the hurt fester inside until he was ready to burst, and she freed that constraint, pleased to see he could still cry. She and Ar-ond hugged him and held him. He never fully woke, but when he slept it was a natural sleep she knew would be free of nightmares. She was not so certain of her own.

*****

Kerr Avon stirred awake and lay considering for a long time. He remembered the ship that Servalan had ordered to take him to Earth, but then something had happened, a crash. There had been terrible pain, but now it was nothing but a dim memory for he felt remarkably comfortable and at peace. Where was he? What had happened? Blake--?

Memory crashed over him like a tsunami; Gauda Prime, Blake's blood-spattered body at his feet, the arrival of Servalan's troops. When they had disarmed him, she had glided into the room and ordered him removed to Earth, and he had not cared. Numbly he had watched her stride from body to body, and he suspected from her carefully masked reaction that Vila lived and maybe Tarrant...but Blake was dead. She had lingered over him, amused and gloating, before she ordered her troopers to take Avon away, and he had gone unresisting. With Blake dead, there was no longer a reason to fight.

The thought of Blake dead sent an unexpected wave of misery shooting through him that shocked him in both its intensity and its honesty. He had learned in a hard and bitter school to shut away such feelings, to deny their validity, even their very existence, but now as he lay in an unfamiliar bed, honest grief at Blake's death--Blake’s murder--flowed through him, twisting his gut and stinging his eyes with unfamiliar moisture that threatened to spill over. Only a colossal effort enabled him to choke back a sob. This was not normal! What had they done to him? Drugged him? Hypnotized him to weaken his guard? If he could not maintain control, how could he hope to face his enemies?

Expecting a Federation cell, he opened his eyes warily, but instead he found himself in a rustic cabin with five sided windows and a thatched roof overhead. Patterned weavings decorated the walls and a meaty aroma of cooking sent tantalizing messages to his taste buds, reminding him it had been a long time since his last meal.

Soon he discovered the owner of the cottage, a golden-furred alien with ears like a terrier and a fanged mouth, though the snout was longer and rounder than a canine’s. Clad in a leather tunic, it stirred the ingredients of a cookpot, whistling to itself, the music alien and unfamiliar, yet not completely unapproachable. After a moment, he was able to pick out the unusual and compelling rhythm. Cally would have liked it. The invasion of his mind with thoughts of Cally stunned him. He had been careful to hold his memory of her at bay, but now she had come to him naturally.

Sternly he forced his thoughts back to the alien. It should have been a frightening being, but something in Avon's mind insisted that he was in no danger, and though he knew it foolish to believe that, he sat up carefully, unafraid, waiting and watching it for threatening moves.

"Awake?" The voice was deep and mellow, the accent exotic but understandable. "Terran I have learned to speak. I am Mind-Tender Ir-ets of the Herd. Healed you we did, and I directed. Terran I took from your mind."

"That was convenient," he observed sardonically, though it took an effort to sound that way. "What else did you do to me?"

"Broken arm fixed, spleen mended, ribs healed, lungs mended, concussion healed. Mind pain eased. Repair your mind fully I cannot do unless I know you better, Kerr Avon. Humans are strange to the Herd, but try I will."

"You will stay out of my mind," he snarled, uneasy at the thought of its previous invasion. Yet it was hard to maintain his anger toward Ir-ets. Had it brainwashed him? Was all this part of a Federation plot? Mind-tender? The Herd? If the Federation knew of these beings...

"Federation knows us not."

Panic sharpened his tone. "Stay out of my mind!"

"But we are linked," it said reasonably. "I healed you. Now I share."

"I do not wish to share my mind with anyone!" he spat in measured tones. Ir-ets reeled back in obvious disbelief. "Not share? Why not?"

It genuinely did not understand his panic. "It is not the way of humans," he explained, realizing he had upset it with his tone and his anger. "You meant well," he continued with surprising patience. "But humans are not telepathic. We are not comfortable when others invade our thoughts."

"But damaged is your mind. I heal. I cannot leave you unrepaired. Unethical it is."

Avon found the reference to ethics intriguing, discovering that without his protective shell, it was hard to repress his curiosity and to avoid involvement. He said with deliberate coolness, "I should consider it unethical for you to interfere in my mind without permission. No matter how well you mean, try to remember that different peoples have different customs."

"Yes, knew that I did, though never have I healed humans before." She came closer and he suddenly realized he had known she was female all along; was the sharing reciprocal? "If erred I have, unintentional it was. But do your human healers not hesitate to aid a being in distress?"

He pondered that. "Any true healer would feel that way. But I ask you to respect my customs. You have done too much already."

"You fear exposure. This I know and understand. None is here but I. The Herd shielded I keep your thoughts and feelings. Unaware are they of great mind-pain. Hurt them I must not. Never will they know more of you than that I used the group mind power to mend your physical damage."

"If you wish to protect the Herd, you must never let the Federation know of that power."

"Federation is not familiar with the Herd," she assured him. She pulled up a five-legged stool and sat beside him, taking his hand in her own; he noticed that although the backs of her hands were hairy, the palms were human in appearance though black and leathery like animals' paws. She had five fingers to a hand. Perhaps that led to the style of fives he was beginning to notice in the household design as it had probably led to the outdated use of the decimal system among humans.

Only then did he realize he had not resented her touch, and he stiffened. It was bad enough that the healer had lowered his barriers but if it interfered with his protective instincts, he could not permit it to continue.

"Only with those no threat to you, Kerr Avon," she reassured him gently.

"I told you to stay out of my mind." It annoyed him that he sounded peevish like a child trying to warn away adults who knew him too well.

"Trying to reassure you I was. In all but myself and your friends, barriers still exist as usual. Automatic it is."

"Then it is you alone," Avon replied coldly, avoiding her eyes.

Ir-ets looked surprised, at least he interpreted the widening of her eyes and the opening of her mouth as surprise. "Vila and Tarrant," she observed. "Soolin. And, very strange, but traces of Blake."

Avon froze. "Blake is dead!" he cried, hearing in his voice the anguish he could not conceal.

"Herd is powerful, Kerr Avon. When felt I your friends, with the evil woman Servalan, knew I that Vila, Tarrant and Soolin lived. Present was I in room with you, memories vivid." She squeezed Avon's hand in what he imagined was meant to be a gesture of comfort, and he resented it, yet a corner of his mind was grateful for it too. "Servalan thoughts clear, Kerr Avon. Thoughts of deceit. Fooled you she had. Something of 'plastic surgery'? Know I not this terms, but meaning clear. Killed you not Blake."

Avon jerked his hand free and leaped to his feet. "No!" he burst out. "It was Blake."

"Was it? Blake so different? Blake so changed? Blake to say such foolish things? Surely Blake you knew very well or not searched for him. Possibly artificial Blake, made to look alike, told of you."

He was breathing hard, his body quivering. No matter how he hardened himself, he could not control these outward manifestations of distress. Was it possible... No! He would not let himself be deceived.

"Then where is Blake?" he demanded. "YOU insist we were given a copy, altered to resemble Blake by means of plastic surgery. Interesting how his voice matched as well." He knew that could be clone with micro-laser surgery, though part of it could simply be acting. Perhaps there had been some conditioning to make him believe he was really Blake. Poor fool. Poor doomed fool, up against a madman. This was Servalan's show. No wonder she had lingered over the corpse. She was trying to decide how effectively her substitute had managed to mislead Avon. Uncertain of her success, she might even have arranged the crash that had brought him here. If the Herd was as well hidden as Avon suspected, she would have given the possibility of rescue no consideration. Death in space or on an uninhabited planet would suit her equally well, and it would also rid her of the threat of one more person who knew her true identity.

"Where Blake is, I know not," Ir-ets confessed. "But find him I can. Bring Vila and Tarrant here is easy. Free they are."

"How can you know that?" he demanded suspiciously.

"Easy. Know their patterns through your memories, especially Vila. Like him I would. Used I the Herd power to trace him and touched him briefly, enough to know that free he and Tarrant are and searching for you. Coming they are now."

"You also mentioned Soolin. What of Dayna?"

"Very sorry I am," she said gently. "Dayna has died. Soolin survived and with Vila and Tarrant she is. Your thoughts less concerned for her were. After Blake most concern for Vila, then Tarrant."

Tarrant? Avon found that unlikely. He had never liked the young pilot. But now he admitted there were times when he had not found Tarrant completely tiresome. The potential was there if Avon didn’t get him killed before he could achieve it. If nothing else, Tarrant could be a staunch ally, and he had been remarkably understanding about Anna. Avon had not returned the favor when Zeeona had died, but by then Avon had been beyond caring for anything but his obsession with Blake. He was not certain he wanted to find Blake after all. Look what had happened the last time.

"Not Blake," Ir-ets insisted. "Kerr Avon, your surface thoughts come to me still. I must not barriers repair yet. Too much pressure makes you mind-sick. When leave here you do, return barriers I shall, but not before. Understand that there are things I cannot do. If you will not let me heal your mind, you must permit me to let nature take its course." She paused and smiled charmingly, displaying a disconcerting number of very sharp teeth. "I have that phrase correct?" she asked. "Lovely concept it is. Natural healing is best."

"Then there is no further need to interfere with my mind," he observed wryly. Something else occurred to him. "When Vila and Tarrant arrive--" He realized he was believing her without hesitation and was annoyed, but not enough to snap at her. "When Vila and Tarrant arrive, I must be as I was."

"NO!" She glared at him. "Same problems begin again. Too soon it is. Herd will search for the real Blake for you, but you must face Vila and Tarrant openly. Friends you all were though often quarreled. Quarrels safer away from Herd, but times there are for comfort too. Though Herding is a mind union, Herders also need physical warmth. Often we greet strange Herders with warm hugs. Especially children, who do not yet know the joys of Herding. Warmth and sharing in physical manner assures children they are loved while Herding is still beyond them."

"How very cozy," Avon muttered with deliberate scorn, but in the back of his mind, in a place he usually kept locked away, was a kind of wistful regret as he remembered the cool formality of his own childhood. Ignoring that feeling, he asked, "Does the mind union begin at puberty then?"

She nodded. "Correct you are. Herding is not of the physical realm. Generally the Herders take a life companion, a mate, but the mind-tender traditionally does not. I serve for three more years, then I take a life companion."

"Whose name is Ar-ond?" Avon asked, wondering where the name had come from. There must be something of a two way street in the "herding". He could picture another being like Ir-ets, with darker fur.

If she had been human, Ir-ets would have blushed. "You are correct. You see, I learn the word placement of your people. Ar-ond is a mountain Herder with a fine mind. He it was who carried you here."

Her mouth fell open, exposing her ominous fangs and it was only a moment later that Avon realized she was smiling again. I He concealed his disconcertedness. This promised to be a very difficult experience, in more ways than one.

*****

"I'm being got at!" Vila Restal burst out in dismay.

Del Tarrant shot him an irritated look, then ignored him. He had not been particularly cheerful since Gauda Prime, and it didn't help that his bruises from the crash of the Scorpio insisted on aching so much. Losing Dayna had been a shock because until then he hadn't really admitted how much she meant to him, but he had been permitted no time for mourning. Avon had been sent ahead of them and they had to catch his ship before it got too close to Earth. They had been remarkably lucky to escape at all, and if

this ship they were using was no match for the Liberator or even Scorpio, it was a good little craft for all that, fast and maneuverable, and Tarrant knew he could catch Avon's ship with it, given time. After all they had ORAC. But ORAC could no longer trace the other ship, and Tarrant couldn't help wondering if Servalan had concealed Avon on a ship without tarial cells. They would simply have to hurry.

Tarrant had never really let himself become too fond of Avon, but Avon was one of them and he refused to abandon him to Servalan, though things would be different once they found him. The battered, defeated man who had stood in a daze over Blake's body hadn't looked capable of leading anything, and Tarrant didn't intend him to start ordering their lives again. But because he had been too hasty to tell Avon that Blake had sold them, he could not abandon Avon to his fate without a rescue attempt.

Soolin had been remarkably silent since the escape from Gauda Prime.

Tarrant knew she had grown close to Dayna, and perhaps she had cared for Avon more than any of them suspected, for she sat glowering at her controls, responding only when absolutely necessary, ignoring Vila's half-hearted attempts to break through the stunned paralysis that held them. Yet none of them had left the flight deck, as if they felt a compulsion to stay together.

Vila was quieter too. Although he was still quickest to come up with a quip. Tarrant had seen a hollow emptiness in his eyes, and he had to stop and remember that Vila had been with Blake on Liberator, and that Vila had never hesitated to follow Avon in his quest for the legendary rebel. Vila had liked Blake, and Vila had seen Avon kill him, but he had killed a man who had not matched his image. Odd that anyone could have changed so much, thought Tarrant sourly, realizing that even he, who had never met Blake, had been caught up in the image, and that part of his motivation when he had flung those bitter and hurtful words at Avon was because he had been disillusioned, too.

"I'm being got at," Vila cried again, and Tarrant stared at him suspiciously, wondering what Vila was going on about now. He'd never really understood the thief, had never really tried. But now Vila sounded stranger than usual, enough to make Soolin break free of her gloomy preoccupation and stare at him.

"What is it, Vila?" Tarrant demanded impatiently. This was no time for games.

"I'm being got at. Someone's talking to me inside my head."

"He's hearing voices," Soolin burst out in disgust. "I always knew all that drinking would rebound one day."

"It's not that." Vila scrunched his eyes shut tightly. "It's more like...Cally. Some kind of telepathy. I'm being got at."

"I don't feel anything," Soolin argued.

"Have you ever been around a telepath?" Vila demanded accusingly, glaring at her.

"No, but--"

"Then you don't know anything about it. Be quiet."

She opened her mouth to object to this summary command, but Tarrant put out his hand to stay her protest. "No, wait, Soolin. I think I know what he's talking about. I can feel something too, though I'm not getting it clearly. Let me concentrate on it and see." He closed his eyes and tried to clarify the sensation. At first he felt nothing more than an awareness, a sense of something he couldn't identify only feel. It was really nothing like Cally's clear transmissions, but it must indeed be some form of telepathy. He couldn't make out actual words, but it involved Avon somehow. He glanced at Vila, who had gone very still, his eyes tightly shut. Then it began to make surprising sense, and Tarrant found himself reaching for the controls, altering their course to a new heading. Though he couldn't understand his certainty, he knew the new course would lead them to Avon.

Finally he lifted his eyes and met Vila's stare. Vila nodded. "That's it, Tarrant."

"What did you pick up?" Soolin demanded suspiciously. "I didn't feel a thing."

"I got new coordinates," explained Tarrant a little awkwardly. It was only his experience with Cally's telepathy that had made him believe this was anything other than some new kind of folie a deux. "Someone out there wants us to know where Avon is."

"The Federation," Soolin insisted, turning away in disgust.

"No," Vila objected. "They don't know where he is. I know that much. I got something a little different from Tarrant. Avon's ship crashed, but he was rescued. By hairy aliens," he added nervously. "I could almost see them."

"Hairy aliens," Soolin echoed in the patient tones of someone humoring a lunatic.

"Laugh if you will," retorted Vila, sounding more like himself. "But you'll see, Soolin. You’ll eat your words before this is all over."

"Perhaps," she conceded. "But I’m not entirely certain finding Avon is such a good idea."

"You agreed to it," Tarrant accused her, though he had thought much the same.

"I know I did. And I believe we must find him. But if he's not in the hands of the Federation, we should seriously consider whether we want to take him with us or not." She turned to Vila, who had opened his mouth to protest. "And you-before you say anything, I think you should remember what happened to you in that shuttle over Malodaar." Vila froze, stricken. "I never said--"

"You didn't have to. What did he do, Vila? Try to push you out the airlock?" Vila lowered his eyes and nodded. "But he wasn’t himself then, Soolin."

"I know. I’ve seen him not being himself since I first met him. I could never understand your loyalty to someone like that, though I saw a little of it at first. He’s done nothing but get worse since I met him. He's watched my back a few times, and that’s reason enough for me to want to take him out of Federation hands, but that doesn't mean I'll tie myself to that kind of--of insanity any longer than necessary. I'm sorry, Vila, but I don't think it will help the three of us to take him with us. If he's safe, leave him there, and if he isn't, take him to a decent bolt-hole. If you don't intend to do that, this is where I get out. I mean it."

"But Soolin--"

"She's right, Vila," Tarrant replied. "I don't like it any more than you do, but--"

"Not much you don't. You never liked Avon," Vila accused him. "You’ve always wanted a good excuse to dump him and now you've got one." He looked surprised at himself. "I don't know why I'm defending him, but you always go on about never deserting a fellow crewman in trouble. Avon's in trouble now. I'm not one of your fancy space command officers with their chivalrous notions of crew loyalty, but even though Avon tried to kill me, I still think we should help him. He wasn't really himself when he did that. You didn't hear his voice, Tarrant, as he called to me, hunting me. He didn't sound sane. When he found the way out, his voice changed completely. I don't think he's been... well, Avon... for a long time. I can feel these hairy aliens are worried about him and want to help him. That's why they want us there, because we know him. I couldn't pick up much more, but there was something else I didn't get, something about Blake."

Tarrant nodded. Yes, he'd sensed that too. "Something about Blake being alive. But that doesn't make sense. I saw his body before we were dragged out of there, and he was definitely dead."

"Thoroughly dead," Soolin put in, grimacing. "I don't think I like your hairy aliens, Vila. If they're telling Avon that Blake’s alive, they aren't Vila shook his head. "No, you're wrong, Soolin. I don't know much about it, but they don't mean him any harm."

"They're aliens," she pointed out. "Their idea about what's good for him might be different from our idea about what's good for him."

Vila objected, and Tarrant wondered how the thief could suddenly be so certain of himself. How much more detailed had his contact with the aliens been? Tarrant had been given a sense of Avon's presence and the necessary coordinates to reach the planet, but Vila evidently knew a great deal more.

It was odd for Vila to be the most knowledgeable person on board, but Tarrant hoped he could admit when he was wrong, and this time, he thought he'd try trusting Vila. Soolin's suspicions and Tarrant's wariness could protect them from threat. If they had to blast out of there with Avon, Tarrant could handle that. Even better if the natives really could help Avon, but if they did it by insisting Blake survived, Tarrant didn't trust them. Blake was definitely dead.

*****

Roj Blake strode into the ruin of his base on Gauda Prime and stared in dismay at the chaos there. The bodies had been cleared away, but he had seen Deva, and the other one, the one he could not believe in. As his people emerged from hiding to greet him, they could scarcely believe their eyes.

"You’re dead!" was the immediate reaction. But he shook his head and reassured them. "It must have been an impostor," he pointed out. "We’ve known for some time that Servalan had something on her mind, but not what. Now it looks like she’s slipped in a ringer." He stood in the medical unit looking down at Klyn's body, in stasis until she could have proper surgery. Servalan had planned this very well. She had slipped in her impostor when she learned that Avon was coming-Avon at last!-and he had walked into a trap. His body had not been among the dead, though the young black woman had been identified as Dayna Mellanby, one of Avon's people. Blake looked down at her sadly, then uncovered Deva's face.

Deva had known him very well, too well. Now the damage was done, one of Blake's aides had reported seeing Deva slip off a few times that couldn’t be accounted for. It was Deva who had been with "Blake" when Tarrant was taken. Who knows what they had said to Tarrant to make him tell Avon Blake had sold him. Blake had played the tape over and over, and it made him sick. He shuddered each time Avon fired, his body cringing at the imagined strength of the charges, but a different part of him, deep inside, bled for Avon, whose face was anguished as he was driven to kill Blake. Avon hadn't known it was the wrong Blake. He didn't look as if he could have made the distinction, especially after Tarrant's ill-advised words. That Tarrant had needed to warn Avon of betrayal was a given, but that he had added with such relish, "Even you," made Blake want to drive a fist into that young, attractive face. Blake knew Servalan had Avon, and, looking at the ruins of his organization, he knew he lacked the manpower to get him back. The rest of Avon's crew had escaped and were presumably in hot pursuit of him, but there were only three of them. Vila had never been the bravest of men, Tarrant was still recovering from the crash of their ship, and as for Soolin, she was an unknown factor, and Blake could not guess how she would alter the odds.

But even if it had gone wrong, Avon had come. Avon had finally sought him out, and even if it was because Avon was desperate, Blake couldn't help but warm to the thought of seeing him again. He had to go after Avon, even if he went alone. But what could he do? How could he help? If he could find Vila, he could join them in their quest. There was nothing left for him here. The wounded would be removed within the hour, before the Federation could return to mop up. Supplies and records were being transferred even now, and though he hated to abandon the base, there was no choice. Servalan didn't leave loose ends. The sooner they were away from here the better. Blake walked around talking to the medical personnel, telling them about the move, watching a few of his people organizing supply sleds to take the medicines and equipment out; they'd leave as little as possible for the Federation. Klyn would be moved in stasis and treated at the back-up base, but even that was compromised if Deva was the traitor they feared him to be.

Blake knew they would soon have to scatter, every man for himself, and the thought of the wasted years ate into his heart like acid. He rubbed his bad eye; the wound ached sometimes when he was tired or heart-sick, and sometimes his vision blurred. This part of his life was over.

What good could he do here? Better to go after Avon. He turned to the young aide who had dogged his footsteps since his return and said so. "But he tried to kill you!"

"He tried to kill someone who looked like me, Dylan, someone who looked like me but didn't act like me, someone who drove him to it. Servalan's man. That's not the same thing and you know it."

"If he's still sane after that, you might be safer away from him. What do you think it'll do to him to see you alive and well?"

Blake had already considered that. "I'll be careful, Dylan. But I need him, more than ever now. Maybe once the two of us are united, we can mend what needs mending. I should never have stayed away from him, though I didn't feel I could go back after the Andromedan war."

"How will you ever catch him, then? He's got hours and hours head start?"

"I’ll catch him," Blake insisted. "Somehow." He looked at the exhausted young man, his wavy hair dragging down in his eyes. Blake couldn't count the times the boy had dashed it away with an impatient hand since they'd begun the tour of the base. "Come with me?" he asked.

Dylan's eyes lit up. "You didn't have to ask. I was wondering if I could sneak aboard your ship." He peered at Blake in concern. "You were gone so long. They decoyed you away so they could substitute him?"

"Yes. It was a distress call. I couldn't contact the base. I had no idea 'I' was here all the time. Damn it, Dylan, how could she get to us like that? I trusted Deva." He trusted few people now, some of Avon's excessive caution rubbing off on him perhaps, but damn it, Deva had been a friend.

"We all did, Blake." The young man dared a comforting hand to his leader's shoulder. "I'll help you find Avon," he promised. "I'm good with a gun and I'm a decent pilot too. That ship of yours will do time distort 14 in a pinch. We'll catch them."

"We'll have to leave before the evacuation is complete." Blake shook his head. "No, I can't do that. Another forty minutes can't make that much difference. Come on. We'll go to headquarters and help them load up."

Dylan looked disappointed that they would not begin instant pursuit, but Blake suspected the boy would not have argued no matter what he said. He'd probably have stood on his head and sung the Federation Anthem if Blake had ordered it.

Smiling faintly, he led the way down the passage and they went to work. When the base was finally empty, it was Blake who set the timer on the explosives. Gauda Prime had been a good base. He hoped that one day soon, he could reunite his people. There was still so much to accomplish.

But once he and Dylan were on his ship, headed for Earth, he felt exhaustion creeping over him. He'd been out for over forty-eight hours on a mission before picking up the distress call, and he hadn't had much sleep during all that time. Dylan, who had probably slept within the past thirty-six hours, waved him away to his sleeping compartment. "I'm wide awake, Blake. I’ll take it for now. We can't have you passing out at a critical moment." He sounded like a fussy mother hen, and Blake smiled. No one had tried to take care of him in a long time and it felt good.

But once asleep, Blake dreamed, and he dreamed of Avon. Aliens cared for him, safe from the Federation. In the dream, they were aware of Blake, and one of them, golden furred with sharply pointed ears and equally pointed teeth, looked at Blake across the void. He stared back in confusion. "Needed you are, Roj Blake," the creature told him. "Better is Avon, but without Blake, never will he be well. Come to us." Coordinates appeared suddenly, shining before his eyes. "How?" he asked, confused at the reality of his dream.

"No dream is this, Roj Blake," the alien told him. "Rescued Avon we did. Vila comes now with Tarrant and Soolin. Faster is your ship. Come to Avon now."

Blake sat bolt upright in bed, shaking with the dream's reality. But the coordinates remained vivid in his mind, and he left his cubicle and headed for the flight deck to implement them.

"It's only been two hours, Blake," Dylan protested, turning sharply as if startled out of daydreams. "You need more sleep than that."

"Would you think me mad if I told you I knew where Avon is right now?"

"I'd say it was wishful thinking," Dylan replied sympathetically. "How could you possibly know something like that?"

"Telepathy."

"But Avon isn't supposed to be telepathic, is he?"

"No. But the people who rescued him are."

"Aurons?" Dylan asked doubtfully. He knew the fate of Auron.

"No, aliens. Run up a schematic of the tenth sector." He sat at the navi-console and punched up the coordinates. "What have we got there, Dylan?"

"A planet," replied the young man. He queried the computer. "Looks like the most unappealing planet that ever existed. No valuable metals. No fertile soil, terrible weather conditions, lousy strategic position. No one in their right mind would want to go there."

"How many surveys?" Blake asked, interested.

"Just one. They couldn't leave quickly enough."

"Hmm. Telepathic aliens. Perhaps they wanted the Federation to believe their planet was a hellhole. If they were powerful enough, they might be able to fool the Federation into believing they didn't want anything on that world. It's worth a try anyway. What else is there to do? We can't catch Avon if he's on his way to Earth. If Servalan sent him off, she might have rigged the ship to crash. I think Avon must have discovered by now that Sleer is Servalan, and if she knows it, she couldn't risk sending him back to Earth. What's one pursuit ship to her? If that ship crashed on the planet, Avon could still be alive."

Dylan shook his head thoughtfully. "All right, Blake. I think you're pushing it but we can try. It's not really out of our way; a ship for Earth would have to pass close by anyway. I'll keep us on the right course and wake you when we get closer."

"How much longer will it take?"

"A little over five hours."

*****

Avon rested for several hours at Ir-ets' instruction since she claimed he needed to recover from the stress and trauma of his injuries though he was physically healed. Avon would have felt more comfortable alone, but Ir-ets stayed in the cottage with him, soon bringing him dinner. "It will not harm you," she exclaimed. "Understand your biochemistry I do. Nothing in this food is bad for humans."

Avon was not particularly interested in food, but he ate to assuage his hunger, avoiding her eyes. He had no interest in conversation either, especially with someone who knew him too well. He could feel her watching him and he knew she was monitoring his surface thoughts so he concentrated on the food and its flavor. At least he would give no more of himself away to her that way, and it was easier to keep emotions at bay with something else to focus on. The thought of Blake was raw and painful, and whatever she had done to him prevented him from rationalizing it or setting the pain away where he could pretend it did not exist.

Avon had long been able to deny the emotions of a situation, feeling no need for sentiment. He would have liked to feel none now, but it was no longer as easy to hold his feelings at bay. As he sat there playing with his food, trying to guess what he was eating, he could admit his attempts to deny feelings had been both futile and stupid. It was not that he should have been more emotional with Blake or Vila, or even Cally. But pretending he had cared for none of them had spared him no pain. Vila, who often let his emotions run rampant, seemed better adjusted, and though Avon would never choose to emulate Vila, he could not help acknowledging that his refusal to deal with his feelings, privately if nowhere else, had at least partially caused the problems and pressures that had burgeoned in him since Cally's death. Freed of constraints, he could see how his condition had deteriorated lately, how he had altered. Ir-ets had been right; it had been unhealthy to suppress everything. Perhaps if he had tried to deal with it, he might have coped better. He didn't like to admit it, but he could not deny he had become psychopathic. He struggled to keep his thoughts away from Anna Grant, disgusted because he had let her matter so much. Better to let her go, to let his feelings about her ease. Why deal so emotionally with Anna and Anna's memory when he had held everything else back? It was not logical.

Blake--Ir-ets said Blake was not dead, that he had killed a false Blake. Could that be true? Avon shook his head in denial. She was lying; it was a Federation plot. He could not believe her story, for if she was wrong-- That was the reason for his denial. Faced with it, forced to confront the truth, he admitted he didn't dare hope for Blake's survival. Shooting Blake had been the only thing left to him. Driven deeper and deeper into a trap of his own making, he had been cornered, and like a cornered animal, he had fought back in the only way he knew how. The lesson of self preservation had been too well learned, yet learned backwards. Survival at any price had been his goal and now that it was too late, he realized some prices were too high to pay. Blake's life, even a Blake as different as that, was too much to expect of him. He couldn't pay that price, yet he had paid it.

For the first time he admitted that if Ir-ets hadn't enabled him to face the truth, he would possibly be thoroughly mad right now. He was not well yet. But she had enabled him to see a truth in the midst of his self-deception. He was not prepared to thank her for it yet, if ever, but if she was right that Blake was alive... Could he risk Blake's life again? No.

"I won't see your Blake," he told Ir-ets.

She joined him at the table. Though she made no move to touch him, she looked at him with her wise, far-seeing eyes. "Think you I would let you hurt him, Avon?"

She knew. She knew exactly what he feared. A part of him resented that and feared so much knowledge. Yet what had Jenna said when they first got the Liberator and she had interacted with Zen, that there was a freedom in being completely known. If he could hide nothing from her, he did not have to hide anything from her. She knew and did not judge. That she cared too he could not understand, and a part of him felt faint contempt that anyone would want to care, knowing him as well as that. Yet back on Liberator, hadn't Blake sometimes tried to do just that? Hadn't Vila stayed with him after Blake was gone, knowing Avon as well as anyone? Certainly Vila had been able to read Avon best these last years. With shock, Avon realized he had actually needed Vila. He had wanted to need no one; it was far safer; so when ORAC had announced that Vila weighed 73 kilos, Avon had pursued him, seeking him through the shuttle, knowing that the contradiction of needing Vila, of wanting to need no one, and of needing to survive at any price, when the price was patently too high had pushed him over the edge into madness. He had not found Vila, instead he had found Egrorian's trap, but if he had found Vila, he would have been forced to kill him because his life experience and his stupid insistence on his own survival would have demanded it of him. Like shooting Blake, that would have been too high a price to pay for survival.

"It is the nature of living things to try to survive," Ir-ets said. "Dying nobly together would have been stupid."

He didn't know if she meant it or if she was making a point, but it occurred to him that had it been Dayna or Soolin on the shuttle with Vila, they might have saved themselves at Vila's expense, and that it might not have been as hard for them as it would have been for Avon. Tarrant was the type to talk of dying nobly together, but Avon wondered if he would have meant it when the chips were down.

"Of course," she went on, "one must be prepared to pay for that kind of action."

"And if the price is too high?" he asked. "After the fact, though, it doesn't matter to the victim."

"True. Depends it does on the victim's importance."

Avon looked away. "I won't see Blake," he repeated.

"Blake will be safe. You neither want nor need to kill him. Want him well you do."

"If you have found Blake, and if he is not the man I shot, how willing do you think he'll be to see me, knowing I killed him?"

"Nothing of the sort he knows. Knows he what happened on Gauda Prime. Racing here to you he is."

"The man was always a fool," Avon spat.

"Because he cared? Wrong you are, Avon."

Avon shook his head, uncertain if he were denying her words or the fact that Blake had cared, but he was not ready to face it. It was far safer to avoid involvement, far better to maintain his distance, and if he could not do that, then risks were inevitable, risks and loss. He didn't want it.

"And rewards?" Ir-ets suggested gently.

"Rewards?" His voice was laced with skepticism.

"When you deny yourself the risks, Avon, you deny yourself the rewards. You feel your life is empty. Much of that is your fault. You denied the good things that accompanied the chances you refused to take. Your friends cared for you but you held them off. They will still care if you let them."

"You have scarcely left me no choice," he retorted sarcastically. "I have nothing left with which to hold them off, have I?"

"Then answer for me a question. Want to hold them off, do you?" Her eyes locked with his as she awaited his reply. "That is not your business."

"That is not an answer."

A sound outside distracted him and he reached automatically for a gun, to discover he was not wearing one. Naturally. The Federation would hardly have left him a weapon.

But this time there was no threat. A tribe of youngsters of Ir-ets' race burst into the cottage and flung themselves at her affectionately, hugging her and dancing around her, chattering non-stop. Though Avon could not understand their language, the looks of intense curiosity shot at him probably meant they had come to see the human. They exhibited no fear at the sight of the alien, and Ir-ets smiled, hugging one or another of them, patting their heads, and speaking to them. Finally she looked up at Avon. "They have never seen a human before," she explained. "They are curious. I have not asked much of you, but I ask you greet them properly."

"In what manner?" Avon asked suspiciously. "I do not speak their tongue."

"You are an adult. They expect hugs from adults."

Avon stiffened. Hug a troop of alien children? He felt his face freeze in distaste and knew it was fortunate the children had no understanding of human facial expressions. But Ir-ets had saved his life and he owed her a debt. "What must I do?"

"They will do it."

He was mobbed by the children, grabbing at him and embracing him, yipping like puppies as he forced himself to respond. They vied for his attention, capering about with delight, and he realized that someday they would tell their children of their meeting with the human. The thought that he would become a part of someone's future legends caused him to smile in cynical amusement, and at the smile, the children came prancing back.

"They want to see your teeth," Ir-ets told him, struggling to restrain the humor in her voice. "They do not understand how anyone can eat with dull teeth."

This is truly the bottom of the barrel, thought Avon, baring his teeth at the children. Next they'd want him to strip. But the sight of his teeth was enough and they withdrew, all but smothering Ir-ets with another set of hugs before they pranced out again.

"Sorry I am," she told him. "Know I that was not to your liking. But curious were those children. We try to satisfy curiosity in our young.

Soon they will grow and mind-talking will come to them. Now they must learn in other ways. Was it so bad?"

Avon ignored the question, but the alien woman seemed undismayed. "Our customs are strange to you," she decided. "I will not take you too far from your nature. You are a private person, Avon. I would not change that. It is not in you to share your deepest feelings. I would just have you admit their existence if only to yourself."

"I do not understand what good that would do."

"Has burying your feelings made you a happy man?"

"I have yet to meet a happy man."

"Or to admit it? What of your friend Vila?"

"Friend? Hardly the term I would choose."

She concentrated. "Semantics, Avon. He is a friend whether or not you so name him. He is also here." She lifted her head, listening. "His ship comes."

Avon stiffened as he heard it too. "It sounds like a pursuit ship," he observed. "If you have been holding me for the Federation..."

"Believe you that?"

No, he didn't believe it. Within certain limitations, he knew he could trust her, but he didn't want to admit it, and betrayal was no part of her. She knew him too well; if she knew he had tried to kill Vila and had .shot a man he believed was Blake, and could still be concerned for him, he was safe with her, at least from the Federation. He was not safe from her questions.

"Come," she said. "We will go to meet them."

"Will we?" Avon asked scornfully, but he followed her from the cot to a green. and shady valley with a river running lazily through it. The trees had long, feathery branches and their green tended toward blue, but it was a tranquil place. Avon had always acknowledged his appreciation of beauty, though he seldom spoke of it.

It was a pursuit ship, but then what else would Tarrant have access to after an escape from the Federation? It landed quite near, and he hesitated, feeling incredibly exposed, but he believed Ir-ets' assurances that Vila, Tarrant and Soolin were inside. He was wary of meeting them though because of his current condition.

Vila was first out of the ship, stopping and staring, his eyes widening at the threatening sight of a hairy alien with big teeth, then he saw Avon, and his face lit up like the sun. Avon was astounded that Vila could look so pleased to see him, and without his automatic barriers, he could not suppress a feeling of surprised gratification at Vila's reaction. It must have shown on his face, for Vila cried, "Avon!" in an elated voice and ran at him, engulfing him in a hug. Helpless to resist, Avon felt his own arms close around Vila, who must have been astonished though he concealed it manfully.

"I can't take my eyes off you for a minute," Vila accused, his voice only slightly shaky. "What do you do when my back is turned? Run off with the Federation and crash. Rescued by hairy aliens! Is it friendly, Avon? My knees are knocking together."

"A not unusual condition," Avon said carefully, pulling free of Vila.

"The noise of it must have led to your eventual capture when you were robbing the rich back on Earth." He looked past Vila to Tarrant and Soolin, who were staring at him with expressions of surprise and concealed relief, and nodded to them.

"I'll have you know..." Vila began hotly, then he broke off. "Are you all right?"

"More or less," acknowledged Avon. "Though I fail to understand why you should care."

"Do you really, Avon?" That was Tarrant. He studied him curiously.

"It looks like Servalan wanted you dead, Avon. ORAC scanned the wreckage of the ship you came down in and it was clearly sabotage. Apparently she couldn't risk you giving away her true identity. I'm glad you made it. Though how anyone could survive a wreck like that--"

"That was Ir-ets' doing," explained Avon, introducing the alien. "Her people use mind power to perform incredible feats. Surely you were aware of that--or did you believe your arrival here was pure serendipity?"

"Seren--what?" Vila asked. "No, they contacted us and told us where to come. I thought I was being got at."

"And us all out of soma," Soolin put in. "You look well, Avon."

"Do I?"

"She's right, you know, Avon," Vila informed him. "You look remarkably well for coming through that crash and..." His voice trailed off awkwardly.

"Gauda Prime in general?" Avon asked, though he preferred to avoid the subject. "Ir-ets has informed me that Blake is alive and on his way here. It appears the man I--shot--was someone Servalan temporarily inserted into Blake's base. No one noticed the deception, of course. Remarkably dense, Blake's followers. I am not entirely certain I believe it."

Neither was he entirely certain why he was talking so much. He fell silent, pressing his lips together carefully as if unexpected words might creep out when he wasn't looking and betray him.

"Someone on the inside must have been involved," Tarrant theorized. "If the ringer was careful, he could fool a few people for a short time. I wonder if he was always meant to die. Servalan knows you too well, Avon."

"Well now, we shall have to remedy that."

"Blake's really all right, Avon?" Vila asked eagerly. "He's coming here?"

"He was lucky. He didn't have to face me." He couldn't hold back the bitter self-recrimination from his voice.

Vila must have caught a fleeting reference to Malodaar in the words, for he stared at Avon in surprise before saying quickly, "We're all lucky then, Avon. We get a second chance."

Avon warmed inside at what felt like absolution for Malodaar, though he didn't understand why Vila should offer it, but he didn't want to warm. It was far too risky. "All but Dayna," he said pointedly.

Vila flinched. "I know," he said, dropping his eyes, but he looked up again at once. "Not your fault, Avon."

"No? Who insisted we go to Gauda Prime?"

"You did not shoot Dayna!"

"A subtle distinction which I am sure she would have appreciated." He had taken Dayna for granted when she was alive, valuing her skills and occasionally feeling a surprising and quickly squelched protective impulse toward her, but now she was dead, it was astonishing how much he minded. Mentally he damned Ir-ets for taking away his protective shell. How did people live without them?

Before anyone could respond to the uncontrollable note of raw hurt in his voice, the children emerged from the 'shelter of nearby trees where they had ducked at the sound of the descending spacecraft and swarmed forward.

Unsure of the three newcomers, they bunched around Ir-ets, and, to his discomfiture, Avon, hanging onto his arms and legs. One enterprising youth even scrambled up his body to balance on his shoulders, flinging its arms affectionately around his neck.

Vila, Tarrant and Soolin frankly boggled, and Avon struggled to hide a smile at the sight of the three jaws dropping in unison. "What are they?" Vila asked uneasily. "Friendly, are they? What do they want?"

"What do they want?" Avon echoed, and suddenly and unexpectedly, he found himself grinning. "They want to see your teeth."

*****

Vila sat at Ir-ets five-sided table, two of the children on his lap playing with the miniature lock-pick kit that he always carried concealed on his person and stared at Avon surreptitiously, wondering why he was so changed. He'd actually been glad to see Vila, even returning Vila's hug, which was even more astonishing than the fact that he had wanted to give Avon one in the first place. At mention of Dayna, Avon's face had openly shown pain, as if he was inches from tears, and though he'd worked hard to stay in character, Vila knew he was allowing himself to feel more than he had in a long time. Vila was pretty sure Avon had always felt it, but he'd always covered it up before, hiding it inside and pretending to everyone, especially himself, that it didn't matter.

Now it seemed to matter too much. Vila eyed Ir-ets suspiciously. She was a telepath and a far more powerful one than Cally. The children, non-telepathic until puberty according to Avon, seemed to idolize her, and she could broadcast caring to them as well as offering them physical affection.

She had demanded Avon offer it to them too, and, wonder of wonders, old sourpuss Avon had actually complied. What had the alien done to him?

//I have not hurt him, Vila.//

He jumped, startled, then realized that, unlike Cally, she could read some of his surface thoughts. *Don't get at me,* he thought at her.

//I mean you no harm, Vila. Healer I am for my people, and Avon came to me gravely injured. I mended his physical hurts but I could not do as much for his mind. He needs release from the pressures with which he surrounds himself. Barriers have I removed until he is stronger. Restore them I will when he leaves here.//

*But he needs them,* Vila objected, sneaking another wary look at Avon, who was ruffling the fur of a determined cub that was methodically counting all the studs on Avon's vest.

//Need them he will away from here. Here he is safe from harm. Here he can be at peace.//

*Even in front of Tarrant?* Vila asked skeptically, glancing at Tarrant, who watched Avon, his eyes full of speculation.

//The one called Tarrant means no harm. Often have they quarrelled, but between all of you is a bond. The one called Tarrant will not fight him unfairly. I have spoken to him. Surprise you it would to know Tarrant cares for all of you, in his way.//

*It would,* Vila agreed but he wasn't so sure. At this point, nothing would surprise him. During the past few months, everything had been turned upside down. Since the shuttle over Malodaar, Vila had been confused and miserable, his only consolation the fact that Avon wasn't really well. Still, that and Gauda Prime had left him with the feeling of having nowhere to turn, and now this hairy alien was offering to help, implying Avon needed treatment. He probably did. Shooting Blake, even the wrong Blake, was bound to have made it worse. Vila hadn't know what to expect when they arrived here.

The last thing he'd expected had been the happiness and relief on Avon's face when he saw him and the others. Maybe Ir-ets knew what she was talking about. She'd done some good already. Avon might be better off than he'd been the last few years. If Blake came and he was like he'd been at the beginning instead of the way he--or someone--had been on Gauda Prime, Avon might get well again and Vila could start to feel safe once more. He sneaked yet another wary look at Avon, who was listening tolerantly to Tarrant's description of their escape and nodded to himself. *All right, Ir-ets,* he thought. *I'll back you. What do you want me to do?*

//Treat him normally,// she responded. //The rest I will do.//

Treat him normally, Vila thought glumly. What was normal any more? He looked at Avon, who seemed incredibly vulnerable, avoiding their eyes, and wondered if Ir-ets had the right idea after all. Avon looked frightened, and that scared Vila. Avon wasn't supposed to be frightened; that was Vila's job. But Avon had been glad to see him and sorry about Dayna's death. Maybe when Blake came, if he was really Blake, he could do something to help.

None of them were in top shape, but if Avon could be healed, they'd stand a chance for survival.

*****

"It will be soon now," Ir-ets said at last. She'd fed them all and shooed the children off to play, and now she raised her head as if she could hear something none of the rest of them could hear. "Blake's ship soon will come."

Avon looked around wildly. "I can't see Blake." He sounded frightened at the very idea, and Tarrant could only stare at him in shock. Whatever Ir-ets had done had changed him drastically. She had tried to explain it, both telepathically and vocally, and Avon had actually joined in the explanation, though Tarrant thought he was trying too hard to sound normal. He did not deny his need for help, but neither did he seem to welcome it. Although his anger was directed against none of them, he looked uncomfortable speaking to them. Tarrant would be glad when Ir-ets decided Avon was well enough to have his barriers reinstated. Maybe he'd understand Avon better when that happened. Maybe they could work together again.

Soolin was sympathetic, though she tried pot to let it show too much to Avon, who would probably be uncomfortable, but she didn't look like she meant to abandon Avon after all, and Tarrant decided he wouldn't either. He'd see what happened when Blake arrived. Vila had always claimed Blake could handle Avon. If he could handle him now, maybe they could work their problems out.

But now Avon insisted he wouldn't see Blake. Tarrant was worried.

"Told you I would that I will not let you hurt Blake," Ir-ets reminded him.

"Do you believe you could stop me?"

"Yes." She smiled at him. Tarrant found her smiles intimidating, but Avon didn't appear to notice.

"I couldn't stop myself before," Avon confessed, and Tarrant dropped his eyes.

"You didn’t kill Blake," Vila burst out angrily. "That wasn't Blake, remember? If he’d been Blake, he wouldn’t have been so bloody stupid. He wouldn't have played games with Tarrant and made him believe he'd sold us. He wouldn't have said those stupid things to you. You expected Blake and you were afraid he'd changed. You fell for it, but it wasn't Blake. You didn't hurt the real thing. If you don't see him now, you'll let Servalan win."

Avon stared at Vila as if he were a stranger, then he relaxed fractionally.

"Will you come too?"

Tarrant winced at his tone, suspecting it shocked Vila too, but the thief bore up manfully. "If that's what you want. I won't let you hurt him either."

"Do you imagine you could stop me?" The words and tone were normal, but he was still hanging on by a thread. Tarrant wondered if they all shouldn't be there, though if Avon's barriers were down, he’d hardly want an audience for his reunion with the man who affected him so strongly. "I'm quite clever," Vila responded. "You'll see."

"A unique event, something to look forward to." But Avon’s lips curled in a reluctant smile.

"Not so unique," Vila insisted. "I've saved the day before."

"Name once," Soolin cut in. She was trying for normalcy too and not quite succeeding, but she was doing better than she had on their journey here.

Life had returned to her eyes, and if she was still grieving for Dayna, who had probably been her first real friend, she looked like a woman who realized that her remaining friends just might survive after all.

"Ultraworld," Vila countered. "Before your time, Soolin. And what about that time I told you how to repair Scorpio? And I rescued ORAC at Terminal. Lots of other times too. I don’t know what you lot would do without me."

He was watching Soolin as he spoke, and only Tarrant saw Avon’s eyes rest on Vila with a fond and gentle smile that erased when he felt Tarrant's stare. Quickly Tarrant glanced away, pretending he’d seen nothing.

"Blake comes now," Ir-ets announced, and moments later they heard the roar of a ship landing. Avon jerked to his feet, curiously resembling a creature at bay, jumping a little when Ir-ets rose beside him and touched his arm.

After a few moments, Avon calmed. "Come on, Vila," he said sharply and headed for the door, with Ir-ets at his side. Vila bounced up and trailed him from the cottage, pausing in the doorway to shake his head when Tarrant started to rise. "Better not," he murmured. "Leave this to me."

"Somehow," Soolin commented, "I’m not reassured."

"Somehow," Tarrant replied, surprised with both his comment and with Vila, "I am."

*****

"Well this is where you claim we're supposed to be," Dylan remarked, looking up at Blake from the controls. "There's a pursuit ship down there, probably the one Avon's people used to get away. I think I should set down beside it rather than the wreckage of Avon's ship."

"Do it, but make sure we're armed. I don't want to believe this is a Federation trap, but they have been known to use telepaths. This could be part of Servalan's plan."

"I don't know," Dylan objected, removing two hand guns from the weapons' store and offering one of them to Blake. "She could have got you simply by waiting at Gauda Prime. Why let the others escape if she meant to capture them again? No, Blake. I don't think this is her plan." He returned to the controls, checking his weapon's charge as he went. "We won't walk in blind though. I'm scanning."

"What do you pick up?"

"Not much. The only human life readings are right below us."

"Avon," said Blake wistfully. "I got so caught up in my cause, Dylan, that the people got left behind. I made that mistake with Avon."

"He must not have held it against you. He came to look for you."

"And evidently shot me," Blake reminded him. Though Servalan's imported doppelganger had no real experience with Avon and had probably mishandled the situation accidentally if not deliberately, Blake still felt slightly uneasy at the thought of confronting the man who had cold-bloodedly gunned down his double.

But he discovered that he needed Avon. Toward the end, he'd handled their relationship all wrong, and he'd made no effort to get Avon back, but now, as they came down to the planet where he hoped to find Avon, Blake admitted he'd been wrong. His cause could not be as abstract and obsessive as he'd made it. If he didn't make room for people, he was in danger of becoming no better than the Federation. Though even handling the relationship no better than he had, Blake needed Avon and it seemed that Avon needed him. Fine. For the moment, Blake would leave the rebellion behind and do what he could for Avon. As soon as he decided that, he felt much better.

"He didn't shoot you," Dylan insisted. "He shot a Federation agent.

That makes a difference, Blake. Talk to him. Explain. If he doesn't want to listen, I'll hold him down until he does."

"He'll listen," Blake replied. "And I'll listen too."

But when he opened the hatch, Blake discovered he was still wary of the meeting. He had known Avon well, and Avon was never conciliatory. Blake insisted on going out first, gun in hand if not raised, while Dylan followed him protectively, ready to take on all comers. His gun was at ready, and Blake knew he'd use it if he had to. "Don't shoot unless I order it, Dylan," he told the boy over his shoulder as he led the way down the ramp. "Yes, sir."

Then Blake saw Avon and he checked for a moment, mouth dry in anticipation, before hurrying down the ramp to meet him. Avon didn't seem armed, but he looked both wary and defenseless, Vila at his side. Blake was surprised when Vila reached up and clasped Avon on the shoulder, and even more surprised when Avon didn't reject the touch. On Avon's other side stood a tall, furred biped, who must be the telepath that had contacted Blake.

"Avon," Blake greeted, approaching cautiously. "Are you all right?"

Avon's face was carefully expressionless, but his eyes were full of emotions; tension, wariness, even fear, relief, elation at the sight of Blake (or was that only wishful thinking), embarrassment. They came and went so quickly in Avon's eyes that Blake was certain he'd imagined them, but instead of taking refuge behind Avon's usual cool stare, they didn't go away. After a moment, Avon dropped his eyes as if it was his only recourse for hiding his feelings. Suddenly Vila appeared a protector, unwilling to back down and let his comrade face trouble alone. His face was determined and the look he shot Blake held a warning that Blake couldn't immediately interpret. He'd been away from them too long to read either man easily, though he'd once been adept at it.

"All right?" Avon echoed blandly and formally like a guest at a boring party. "I should not say 'all right' precisely, Blake, but I am alive. So, it seems, are you, though I should have doubted it. I presume you are, in fact, the correct Blake."

"Of course I’m the correct Blake," Blake burst out, driven by the pain that threaded through Avon's formal tones. "If I'd been the one you met on my base, I wouldn't have bumbled it so badly. He was a ringer, sent in when I was decoyed away, and my second, Deva, was working with him. Deva spent the most time with him, so the others didn't catch on. When I got back my base was in ruins and you and the others were gone. I came after you as soon as I could." He blurted out his explanation quickly to let Avon know what had happened. The details could follow when everything was settled.

"You expect me to believe this story, Blake?" Avon's question was curiously tentative, as if pleading for reassurance.

"Yes, I expect you to believe it, Avon," he snapped. He would have snapped before and going softly here wouldn't convince Avon of anything. When he saw the tape of "his" death at Avon's hands, he had realized that Avon was riding close to the edge, and the last thing he wanted was to give the final push. But if he was too cautious, he wouldn't seem normal and Avon's suspicions would grow. "I won't lie to you, Avon. I don’t know who it was that Servalan sent to the base. We may never know. I doubt it was the clone who has IMIPAK--that would be a little too risky even for Sleer."

"You know she’s Sleer?" Avon demanded suspiciously, as if he expected Blake to be working with her.

"I know what she looked like. We got a good sighting on her once, on Mednat. After that, we knew to be careful around her. But she got word of me and set out to take us in. She must have decided to go for you first."

"That would, of course, explain the mix up at your base."

"I think she’d expected me back sooner. Once I realized I’d been pulled out for a false message, I tried to contact the base. When I couldn’t get through, I went after Jenna and warned her off before I came back. We'll meet at a rendezvous three days from now. I hope you'll come with me."

"Your doppelganger told Tarrant Jenna was dead."

"Probably to prevent questions," Blake replied. He didn’t know what good

that would do, but on the other hand, it might have been a way to get a reaction from Avon’s group. He looked past Avon to the alien. "We got a message about you, Avon."

Avon introduced him to the alien, Ir-ets, who greeted him in easy, if accented, Terran and explained her rescue of Avon from a crashed ship and the healing of his injuries. A telepathic overlay filled him in more fully. Avon was unable to shield his feelings at the moment; she felt he needed the release of pressure. //Be careful with him,// she concluded and took Vila's arm. "Come, Vila."

Vila hesitated, but it was Avon who protested. "Ir-ets, you promised me--" he cried accusingly.

"I promised I would not permit you to harm Blake. You mean him no harm, do you?"

Blake held his breath. Avon had been quick to shoot his double, and if truth were told, he was a little uneasy, but Avon shook his head. "No. And stay out of my mind!"

She bared her fangs in a smile and bore Vila relentlessly away to the cottage.

Blake decided Avon needed no audience. "Dylan, why don't you go with them?"

"Blake, are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I'll be fine. Now go along. Meet the others. I hope we'll all be working together."

Dylan cast a dark, suspicious glance at Avon. "I don't want anything to happen to you," he proclaimed, but when Blake caught his eye, he gave in. "All right," he agreed and hurried after the others.

When he was out of earshot, Avon and Blake faced each other self consciously. "And I thought Tarrant was gung ho," Avon muttered. "What do you plan to do with him, Blake? In a fight, he'd get you killed in the first ten minutes."

"He's worried about me," Blake countered. "Gauda Prime upset him badly. He thought I was dead." He hoped that would give Avon a good opening.

"Perhaps I can understand that," confessed Avon, and Blake was shaken by the sincerity in his voice. If he couldn't shield, Avon would give away much more than usual, and while that might reassure Blake that he was no longer a target, it would be difficult for Avon, both now and later. Ir-ets had implied it was a temporary condition, and Blake hoped so. Though it felt good to know Avon had feelings for him, he couldn't strip away Avon's defenses and leave him naked. It would be unfair to both of them.

"I'm sorry, Avon," Blake said gently. "I suspect Servalan knows both of us too well. Apart, she can use that against us, but together, we can fight her and win. I was a fool not to see that earlier. I'm glad you came looking for me, Avon, though I could wish it had been a few days sooner."

"I believe Servalan managed to leave messages for ORAC to make the timing work to her advantage," Avon replied. "So you are glad I came looking for you, are you, Blake? Even after what happened back there?"

"It wasn't me. If it had been, it would never have happened. And don't tell me I'm an optimist, because I know it's true." He softened his voice. "It's been a hard two years, hasn't it?"

"Harder than you know," confessed Avon in a low voice. "Blake, don't ask too much of me. I can't--"

"Can't hold back?" Blake asked. "Ir-ets explained a little. She may be right, up to a point, Avon. I always fought against involvement, back on the Liberator and since. I think part of that was because the Federation had taken my memories and I didn't want to make new ones only to lose them too. It was safer to view you and the others as tools I could use for the rebellion. I lied to myself for a long time to make myself believe that. I fought to keep you beside me and told myself it was because you were useful. If I'd one shred of sense, I would have seen that fighting you was the wrong way. I had to be strong enough to keep your respect, but sometimes I pushed too hard."

Avon's eyes softened. "I always pushed back, Blake," he replied, turning away and sitting on a convenient rock, refusing to meet Blake's eyes. "You held me at bay. I did the same with you. How else could either of us have reacted? Perhaps that is something we can blame the Federation for, if you will. Our culture doesn't encourage confiding in friends. It doesn't encourage friendships at all. It teaches the lesson that everyone is alone and must defend himself first and foremost simply to survive. I learned that lesson well."

"I know. I'm guilty of it too, Avon. None of us are innocent of it. Look at Vila, pretending to be a fool and a coward until he almost believes it himself. A survival tool, if you will. We all wear our masks, Avon. Most of the time they’re necessary. Maybe the worst thing the Federation’s done is to make us forget our friends are important, forget how to trust. We should have tried that on Liberator. I wanted to. I tried sometimes, but it was such a big risk I didn't try hard enough. Besides, I was sure you would have scorned trust and caring. You had the best mask of all, Avon. I was never sure if you liked me or if you could cheerfully have pitched me out the nearest airlock."

Avon winced as if Blake had struck him. "I nearly did that to Vila once," he confessed then rushed on quickly before Blake could question him about it. "Perhaps I would have scorned any such attempts. But I was never immune to you, Blake. I think there were times when I would have regretted holding you at a distance if I’d dared be so honest with myself." He shook his head. "I warn you, though, when Ir-ets reinstates my shields, I shall most likely deny this conversation ever took place."

Blake smiled a little. "Then if you mean to deny it, tell me now while we're being honest with each other if you want to team up again?"

JI was amazed at how much I wanted you back once you were gone, Blake," Avon said with difficulty. "I claimed I wanted to return you to Earth as I'd promised, or that you would be useful, or even that the rebellion needed a figurehead and that I felt you would fit the bill. Foolish idealists make good figure heads, Blake. Perhaps I subconsciously put you on a pedestal. You often fell off but never far enough to make me stop wanting you back." He groaned. "Listen to me. I sound like a fool!"

"No, Avon. I know how hard this is for you. It’s hard for me too, and I haven't your excuse. I think the reason I never came back was because I was afraid to take the risk. I was afraid I’d return and you'd tell me you didn’t need me. I could have faced the Federation with you at my side, but I couldn't face your rejection. It was safer to stay away. Then I could pretend I could return whenever I chose and that nothing would have changed."

"But everything has changed, Blake," Avon reminded him. "I lost the Liberator and caused Cally's death." He drew in a ragged breath. "I killed someone believing he was you. Not even bleeding heart Roj Blake could be fool enough to choose to ally with someone like me."

"You’re doing what I did, Avon," said Blake easily. "Putting me off for fear of rejection. But you don't have to. I didn't come here to reject you. I came to help if I could and to join you again, if you’ll have me. Gauda Prime is over. I had a good base there and Servalan ruined it. I can't go back, and my people have had to scatter because our back-up base is compromised too. I'll want to set up like that again, someplace else, and I need you there. I'll take the risk this time, Avon. Come with me. You and Vila and your other people, and Jenna and Dylan." He chuckled. "Seven of us again. Maybe it's lucky."

"Eight with ORAC," Avon countered. He finally looked up and Blake realized why he hadn't done it before. His face was far too vulnerable, gave too much away. He wanted to team with Blake again. He wanted it so much that Blake was humbled. But he was afraid to want it because it went against all his survival techniques. Admitting he cared made him feel embarrassed and foolish, and a part of him believed it would eventually lead to his destruction.

"It will be dangerous," Blake said quickly. "I can’t give you any guarantees, Avon, except that I will try to change. I won't put my cause before the people."

"That I would like to see."

"I said I'd try," Blake reminded him. "I'm not perfect, Avon. I'll make mistakes."

"Too many of them." He caught himself. "What you ask goes against my nature, Blake. What you see now is not me. It's the part of myself I must fight to survive. I cannot promise you that when Ir-ets returns my shields I will not deny you matter to me at all. I might be all the more likely to deny it because live been forced to talk to you this way now."

"I'm used to that," Blake responded, though he knew he wanted this Avon to stay, at least partially. "I expect you to try though. I don't want us to stay what the Federation made us. Together, with the others, I want us to be all we can be. I don't think they can fight against that. I don't mean we should take foolish risks and trust unproven strangers, but I think we should know how much we can trust each other. You understand a little of why I behaved as I did on Liberator. When I become obsessed with my cause, as I'm sure I will, I hope you'll point it out. When you close yourself away from us, I will tell you of it-discreetly. When Vila plays the fool too much, we'll remind him we expect more of him."

"May I tell you what a fool you are being right now, Blake? It will never work."

"'Not if you believe it won't. Avon, tell me something honestly. Later on we can pretend I didn't ask and you didn't answer. I know you minded shooting that man you thought was me. That means you do care what happens to me."

"More fool I."

"And your crew--you value them too?"

"When they are not behaving like idiots."

"That's their behavior. You don't always approve of a friend's behavior but that doesn't stop the friendship, or it shouldn't. Have you ever read any banned literature, Avon?"

Avon shot him a wary look. "Occasionally," he confessed. "When I was young."

"Did you ever read a book called The Three Musketeers?"

Suddenly Avon chuckled. "Can you picture Tarrant as D'Artagnan?"

Blake grinned. "Or Dylan." He took a step closer to Avon and offered his hand. "Do you remember their oath, Avon? 'All for one and one for all.' That's what I want for us and the others. 'All for one and one for all.' If we can't manage that on one ship with a band of people committed to the same cause, then we've got no business trying to overcome the Federation."

"Assuming we are all committed to the same cause. You are becoming disgustingly sentimental, Blake," Avon criticized, but his voice held no real condemnation, only a determination to offer the voice of reason. He looked at Blake's extended hand as if it were something held found under a rock, then he smiled naturally and clasped it. "All right, Blake. All for one and one for all. I shall have to deny this whole conversation when I am well."

"You may try," Blake replied. "I won't let you forget it."

"Your own memory being so remarkable," Avon countered. Before Ir-ets, he would have meant it to be cutting, and the part of him that was working to appear normal still let an edge of it creep through, but it didn't quite work. "This is a private conversation," he continued. "Perhaps we may speak of it to Vila, but none of the others." Suddenly he smiled, openly and naturally with genuine amusement. "And if I have any say in the matter, Tarrant must never learn of D'Artagnan. Can you imagine how insufferable he would be?" Blake chuckled. He was still gripping Avon's hand, and now he pulled him close for a hug, brief because he knew how difficult this was for Avon. But Avon didn't fight him, returning the grip for a moment before he freed himself, open contentment on his face. "I do warn you," he said, "that in spite of all your trust, Blake, you must be wary of me. I have always been a heartless bastard."

"I'm quite used to that. It's one of the things I like about you."

"You are a fool, Blake."

Blake laughed outright. "Then don't argue with me, Avon. You know what they say about the reasons for never arguing with a fool?"

"No, but I am certain you are going to tell me," Avon returned cautiously, his eyes twinkling in anticipation of a joke, his mouth curled in a saturnine smile.

"They say that if you argue with a fool, people will never be able to tell the difference."

Avon grimaced with reluctant amusement. "You must never tell that to Vila," he instructed. "Very well, Blake. But if you know what is good for you, you will keep books like The Three Musketeers away from Tarrant."

"It's a good book, Avon. In some ways you rather remind me of Athos."

"Indeed!" Avon frowned. "I cannot say you resemble any character in the book, Blake. Once you might have been a candidate for D'Artagnan yourself."

"What of Servalan?" Blake asked, amused. "Milady de Winter?"

"Oh no. Not a role of enough scope for Servalan. None other than Cardinal Richelieu."

Blake nodded in agreement and would have continued with their pleasant game, enjoying the spectacle of Avon so relaxed, but suddenly a great sense of danger swept over him and he choked off his response. Avon went pale, and before Blake could demand an explanation he got one from Ir-ets. //Avon, Blake, danger comes from the sky. Hurry to me so we may plan.//

The two of them raced for the cottage as fast as they could go.

*****

Avon burst inside to find Tarrant and Soolin bent over ORAC. "What is wrong?" he asked as he and Blake joined them. Vila, he noticed, was eyeing Ir-ets uneasily as if it were all her fault, and Blake's aide Dylan leaned casually against the wall, his face bland and unconcerned. That made Avon suspicious, and he was glad it was so easy to maintain his natural caution in spite of his present vulnerability.

"There's a ship coming," Tarrant explained. "ORAC thinks it’s Servalan."

*I do not think it, I know it,* ORAC retorted huffily. *My investigations have confirmed that the ship now approaching is that of Commissioner Sleer."

"Coming here?" Avon asked scornfully. "I find that interesting. She would not be here if she did not know what to expect. Someone has informed her of our presence here." He eyed Blake warily. He didn’t want to suspect Blake, but he was afraid of his trust for the man and couldn't control his fear. "Blake--"

"I wouldn't betray you, Avon." Blake looked hurt, but he must have known suspicions of some sort were in order, for he did not fly into instant denials. "There could be several reasons for her arrival. For instance, a homing beacon in the wreckage of your ship, or the one Tarrant stole."

"Or yours," Avon insisted.

"Tell me how. It was elsewhere when the impostor was on the base. I never met Arlen; I was gone before the false Blake brought her in. Unless Deva set it..."

Avon rounded on Dylan. "Then what of him? He could have sent Servalan a message to tell her where you meant to come."

Blake looked Dylan, who seemed untroubled by the accusation. "He could, I suppose, but he wouldn't. I'd wager my life on his loyalty."

"That’s exactly what you are doing, Blake," Tarrant replied. "If it's not a homing beacon, Vila, Soolin and I were constantly together on the way here. There's no way one of us could have sent a message without the others seeing it. After what's happened, it’s impossible to believe the three of us are all traitors. Avon, of course, was in no condition to notify her. That leaves you and Dylan, because no one else knew where we were and I'd rather believe it was him than you."

"It doesn’t exactly call for the reasoning of a genius," Dylan retorted, and the lazy relaxation was gone from his posture. Now he stood erect and controlled like a soldier, weapon in hand. "But close enough," he finished. "Yes, I sent the message, Blake. I knew you’d eventually figure it out, but I hadn’t counted on ORAC giving you advance warning."

"Dylan!" Blake cried, stricken. "You were one of us."

In the midst of his rage at this betrayal, Avon felt a surge of uncontrollable sympathy for Blake because he sounded so shocked and miserable, and with a real effort of will, he forced it down again. This was no time for sentiment. "Oh no, Blake. Like Arlen, I’m a Federation officer. I know my duty. It was remarkably easy to win your confidence. After the Commissioner took Avon and the others, I waited, knowing you'd come back. Servalan--yes, I know who she is and she knows I do, so don't threaten me with her--felt your base was compromised now and that your people would have to scatter. They are no longer a threat to her. But you are back. At first I simply meant to deliver you to her, but when you claimed to know where Avon was, it became even better. She could hardly fail to reward me for giving her the both of you."

"You sent her a message while I was sleeping," Blake accused hotly.

"Not the first one," Dylan replied. "I've contacted her many times since I joined you. How else do you think we managed so well. It wasn’t Deva, Blake. He never betrayed you. But I told your double enough about you for him to pass muster with Deva for such a short time. It was easy for me to turn suspicion away from myself. Oh no, Tarrant," he added warningly when the pilot made a surreptitious movement toward the gun he wore. "Leave it. Servalan wants you alive. I should hate to disappoint her."

//Do not worry.//

The telepathic message startled Avon and it was all he could do to keep his face impassive as he remembered Ir-ets. The alien had stood frozen near her stove, her expression unreadable, and if he had considered it, Avon might have said she was afraid, but then he remembered the power of her mind and the union she had with the Herd. She could hardly fear one human. Whether she would risk herself for him and the others was another matter.

When Vila's eyes widened in surprise, Avon realized the message had gone to all of them but Dylan. He wondered what Ir-ets meant to do, and even as he wondered, he heard the distant rumble of Servalan’s ship. If Ir-ets meant to help them, she would have to hurry.

*****

Ir-ets listened to the traitor, the human called Dylan, as she formed the link with the Herd. It would take much control to protect her people but she was capable of that. What was also needed was courage and trust from the humans. It would depend on how much Avon would let himself trust her, and if he could convey that to the other humans. He was still suspicious and she knew he would always retain some suspicion even of his friends; it was his nature.

Monitoring the human conversation and listening for the sky ship, Ir-ets channeled most of her concentration into the meld, drawing them in with her.

This time, she would protect humans and Herd together, and that could be a problem, though most of the Herd now felt a proprietary concern for Avon, having helped to heal him. Avon would hate it if he knew, but among the Herd he was now regarded as almost a pet, someone to be protected and defended and loved, and his willingness to tolerate the children had been the final bond between him and the Herd. If they knew they were called upon to protect Avon, she could count on their unity of purpose to meet the challenge. Had any other mind-tender faced such a colossal challenge? Ir-ets did not think so.

"You should hate to disappoint her?" Blake echoed, sounding angry and chagrined. Blake trusted too easily, and Avon not at all. .Perhaps they balanced each other and that explained the tie that existed between them. "You bastard, I trusted you," Blake cried. "I liked you. What a fool I was not to see it."

"But you are a fool, Blake," Dylan retorted flippantly. He looked relaxed, but Blake was not deceived this time. Dylan was ready for any attack. "Hasn't Avon told you that already? Your futile cause has twisted you and there's nothing left for you now but to surrender with good grace. I think you'll do it. The others, they're expendable, if you are not. I'll kill the girl first if you try anything."

"If you think you're good enough," Soolin spat, as Tarrant shifted position to move between her and Dylan, who acknowledged his action with a scornful smile. Ir-ets knew from Avon's mind that Soolin was a gunfighter, superbly trained in the use of weapons just as Ir-ets was trained in Herding. But Dylan's weapon was in his hand, and even with Tarrant's interference, she would be unable to free her weapon before Dylan could fire.

"Easy, Soolin," Tarrant cautioned her. "It's what he wants."

Avon looked surprised at caution from Tarrant, but he didn't take the pilot’s advice. Instead he shifted slightly under cover of Tarrant's movement, bracing himself. Perhaps he thought if it was he whom Servalan wanted Dylan would be less likely to shoot him than he would Tarrant or Soolin.

She sent a tendril of thought to him and the others. //Wait.//

Avon flashed her a sensation of outrage and made a gesture toward the sky. The ship was almost down. There could be no more delays.

//Trust me, Avon. You must do what I say and I will protect you and your friends.//

His skepticism and disbelief was vivid on his face, but behind his eye was a wistful desire to trust her. Even without shields he was cautious and skeptical and did not trust easily, and simply because he could not hide his feelings did not mean he would believe something so unlikely. She detailed her plan with lightning speed and saw the beginning of comprehension on his face, but he was still wary, terribly afraid of being wrong, of making a mistake that could lead to his death and the deaths of the others. Believing he'd killed Blake had been a dreadful experience, even if Blake had seemed an enemy. Now the real Blake saw still in jeopardy, and to save him, Avon must lower his guard still further and reply upon an alien and a stranger.

"It’s crazy," Vila objected. She had sent them all her plan, and though Blake looked interested, Soolin was frankly disbelieving. Tarrant was both intrigued and worried, and Vila looked frightened. "Just go out there and face Servalan?" he scoffed. "We wouldn't have a chance."

"That's the whole idea," Dylan purred. He didn't understand what was happening beneath the surface. He could never be a part of the Herd.

But Dylan was still armed, and that had to end. Ir-ets sensed that Blake's gun had been doctored on the sky vessel, and she preferred that Tarrant, Soolin and Vila didn't try anything. Avon was still unarmed.

She gathered the Herd power and focused it on Dylan just as Avon, still disbelieving, made his move for the gun.

Dylan pulled his weapon round to fire at him as Avon crashed into Blake to knock him out of range, but even as the two of them sprawled on the floor, Dylan let out a yelp of pain and dropped the gun, clutching at his hand. "What did you do?" he accused. "Damn you, what did you do?"

Ir-ets smiled. "Shocked your hand I did. Weapons are not necessary. Now we will go to meet Servalan. Come, we go now." She led the way outside. Blake and Avon struggled to their feet, Blake both gratified at Avon's attempt to save his life and annoyed that Avon would take an unnecessary risk, though he realized what happened at Gauda Prime had driven Avon to it. Avon seemed chagrined at his actions. Of course he knew why he had done it; he could not deny concern for Blake, but he said awkwardly as he brushed himself off, "Instinctive reaction, Blake."

"I've heard that before, Avon. I didn't believe it then either." He smiled at Avon who dropped his eyes and followed Ir-ets out the door.

She saw Vila exchange a surprised and speculative look as they followed. The thief grinned suddenly and muttered to Tarrant, "See, he's all right," as if it had been a subject for debate between them. "Let's go." Then, recalling that Servalan was coming, he added, "On second thought, maybe I should wait in here."

"Oh no, you don't," Tarrant returned, catching Vila's arm and dragging him along. Ir-ets found herself intrigued yet again by these humans. How different they were from the Herd-and yet how similar.

Dylan burst from the cottage and headed for Servalan's ship, hanging back as it shut down, prepared to lead Servalan and her crew to their prey, and Ir-ets saw Tarrant and Soolin aim their guns at his back, cautioning them to hold their fire. //We can not explain such wounds,// she pointed out. //Trust me.//

"I've never been very good at trust," Avon muttered in an aside to Blake that Ir-ets suspected was half apologetic. "I've generally found those who trust meet their ends abruptly. Cally said the man who trusts can never be betrayed, only mistaken, but life expectancy is still predictably short."

"I trust Ir-ets," Blake retaliated. "You trusted Dylan too."

Blake grimaced. "That's one of the reasons I need you back, Avon. But I trust you. In spite of all efforts to the contrary--" and he caught Avon's arm, turning him to face him. "I am still alive and mean to stay that way."

"What do you want us to do?" Vila asked Ir-ets before Avon could reply.

"You could try shutting up," Avon snapped, but Vila grinned at the reproof, used to such remarks from Avon, and turned to Ir-ets expectantly.

"Sit here. Watch." She smiled at them. "You might find it amusing, though it might be unnerving too."

"Unnerving?" Vila echoed irrepressibly. "Avon, your friend is good with understatements, isn't she?"

"Remain quiet," Ir-ets said. "Maintain the illusion I will, but you must assist. Remain calm, remain quiet, watch."

They chose their places on the bench that ran the length of one wall of her cottage like a group of well mannered children, though she sensed their instincts to fight, to run, to protest. But Avon did trust her; he had been in her mind and a part of him knew what was safe. What happened next would be outside of his realm of experience, just as the behavior of humans was outside her own, but in spite of all he had endured, one small fragment of his mind still could trust. It was the part that had driven him to seek out Blake when it was obvious that to do so would only lead to danger and the chance of betrayal. It was the part that had made Vila show his elation at the sight of Avon, even after Avon had tried to kill him. It was the part that prevented Tarrant and Soolin from giving up on Avon completely in spite of everything he'd put them through. And it was the part Blake responded to when it seemed nothing could break through his obsession to defeat the Federation. It was not the sum total of the tie between the members of the group, but it was an important part of it, and it would be enough to integrate Blake back into the group again, though he was a stranger to Soolin and Tarrant.

//Be very still now,// Ir-ets counseled as people emerged from the sky vessel. More humans. She had seen more humans than anyone in the entire Herd. These humans made her uneasy though. Avon had terrified her at first, when she had felt the acid of his pain and the twists of his mind, but he had not held the malice that the human woman did who pushed forward amid her soldiers to confront Dylan.

"Well?" she demanded abruptly, looking around with obvious distaste.

"Where are they? You claimed you'd captured Blake and that Avon would be here." Her eyes darted here and there, seeking out places of concealment. "What a desolate world! Give me the prisoners so we can return to Earth."

Dylan goggled at her in blank disbelief. "But they're sitting right there," he insisted, pointing to the row of humans on the bench, who were just now beginning to realize they were invisible. Vila's relief was comic, and Ir-ets set aside the memory of his face to regale the children when the humans were gone. "Over by the cottage," Dylan plunged on helplessly.

"Cottage? On an uninhabited world? Come, Dylan, you can do better than that."

The boy's face was blank with shock. "But, Commissioner, can't you see them? Avon and Blake. Soolin, Vila and Tarrant. Over there with the alien. She made me drop my gun but they didn't run."

"The alien?" Servalan's face was full of scornful disbelief. "Oh, Dylan, this grows tedious. Confess they discovered you and abandoned you here. I should have known better than to trust someone so inexperienced with something so vital."

"But they're here! The alien must be doing it, making you believe they're not here."

"Have you gone quite mad?" she demanded. Vila clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh, and Soolin's eyes danced in amusement.

It was Tarrant who saw the problem develop and he signaled desperately at Ir-ets, unable to call out for fear of rupturing the illusion. Avon had retrieved Dylan's gun, and now, his eyes glittering with hatred, he raised it and leveled it at Servalan.

Vila was closest, but Vila was no match for Avon in a fight. He grabbed Avon's arm, but Avon wrestled free and shot a look a Vila that froze him in his place, helpless to stop him.

//No, Avon,// Ir-ets sent. //Shoot her now and you condemn my people. If she leaves here intact, the Federation will continue to believe this planet worthless. If you shoot her, never will they leave us alone. Fight we can, but not the entire Federation. Kill her you must not.//

*I must,* Avon thought to her. *She made me kill Blake.* He glanced at the real Blake and the heat of his determination intensified. *I will not take that risk again.*

//You will not kill her now. You would condemn the children. Blake is alive and will not betray you now. But you risk his life too if you destroy the illusion.//

Blake leaned across Soolin and put his hand on Avon's arm. He couldn't speak aloud and Ir-ets could not translate mentally between them without breaking the meld. But Blake tugged at Avon's arm, and Avon turned to face him.

Neither man needed telepathy. Leave it, Avon, Blake said without words. It's all right.

Avon stared at him for a long moment as Dylan raged at Servalan, then he heaved a sigh and lowered the gun. *If he insists,* he sent to Ir-ets, and passed the weapon to Blake who stowed it in a capacious pocket.

"You have gone mad," Servalan repeated to Dylan. She gestured to two of her guards. "Bring him. We will scan the area and see if we can detect anything. Obviously they rendezvoused here." She pointed to the pursuit ship Tarrant had stolen. "They must have transferred to Blake's vessel. We will search the system and the adjoining one and send out a message through the quadrant to be on the alert for them." She turned a disgusted frown on Dylan. "To think I had such hopes for you," she said. Turning, she stalked back to her ship, the guards trailing her, two of them holding a protesting Dylan firmly by the arms.

The minute the ship began its ascent, Vila let out a whoop of joy. "Didn't you love the look on his face?" he crowed. "I never saw anyone so frustrated. Servalan's the wrong person to cross. She'll have him on the next ship for Cygnus Alpha, see if she doesn't. Better him than us."

"We're lucky we weren't there as well," Tarrant challenged Avon.

"She remains a threat to us," Avon pointed out. "Someday you will wish I had not held back."

"No, Avon," Blake said softly. "We owe Ir-ets too much for that. Even if we could have defeated them, we could have compromised this world, and I have no intention of doing that."

"Be very careful, Ir-ets," Avon warned the alien. "Before you know what he means to do, Blake will be negotiating with you to use this world as a base."

The mind-tender smiled. "Would that be a terrible thing, Avon?" she asked. "Oh well, if you could endure the constant risk..." But Avon's voice was calm. Perhaps the humans would base here and perhaps not, but Ir-ets found she would miss them if the went.

*****

The humans remained on Ir-ets world for three weeks, and during that time, Ir-ets 'counselled Avon whenever he would permit it. He often complained about her interference and ordered her from his mind, but as time went by, he became more at ease with the process and more relaxed around the others.

She warned them that when he was intact again, he would perhaps be more resistant than usual in an attempt to compensate for this period of exposure, but she suspected none of them would be fooled by Avon's facade. Humans were not Herder creatures, and Herding was not for them. They lived in a terrible world--many terrible worlds--full of people like Dylan, who betrayed people for favor and advancement, and Servalan, who viewed all like as unimportant beside her need for power and her desire to control. Avon had suffered in that world, and so had the others, and each had coped in their own way.

Now they were returning to their world. Blake had not asked for a base here. He had asked for, and received, permission to return from time to time when his crew needed rest, though Avon had been skeptical of Blake's willingness to "rest" while the Federation still stood.

"You will drive us as you did on the Liberator, Blake," he insisted.

"And I hope you'll tell me when I step over the line, Avon," Blake countered easily. "I'm sure all of you will."

"I won't say no to an opening like that, Blake." That was Tarrant. He'd just returned from examining Blake's ship and he looked pleased with it, though part of his pleasure was from listening to Avon's plans for modification. With ORAC's help, they could approximate the stardrive they'd had on Scorpio, and between Avon and ORAC, they could once again build a teleport. The fighting power of the vessel was no match for Liberator and they would need all the compensation they could get.

Blake had sent a message for Jenna asking her to delay the rendezvous, and ORAC had routed it through to her. Upon learning that Blake had found Avon and Vila, Jenna had offered to come to them, but Blake thought it unwise to encourage too much ship traffic in the vicinity of this world. Jenna agreed to wait.

Eventually Ir-ets pronounced herself satisfied with Avon and closeted herself with him in the cottage, prepared to reinstate his shielding.

The others found excuses to linger about outside, Vila first, trailed as he often was by a group of the children, urging him to show them magic trick and tell them jokes. Vila loved the audience and was in his element. A pity Vila had never had children.

Tarrant showed up with ORAC and some printouts which he pretended to study. Blake knew Avon and Tarrant professed to dislike each other and that they had often resorted to power struggles aboard Liberator and Scorpio, but Tarrant was loyal to the crew and perhaps reluctantly found something to admire about Avon. He knew the Avon who emerged was sure to pick fights with him as he had in the old days, but that didn't appear to disturb him. He worked away happily on his fax sheets until Soolin, who was hanging about with no excuse at all, informed him with a smile that they were upside down. Tarrant flushed and stalked off, but he went no further than the ship, where he parked himself on the ramp and contented himself with casting dark looks in their direction.

"On our way here, we talked about leaving Avon, Blake," Soolin explained. "We didn't know what we'd find. You didn't see him during the past year. We knew he was getting worse, but there wasn't much we could do with him.

Vila might have tried, but I don't think he could have done anything either."

"Wish I could've," Vila muttered. "But it was hard, Blake. Cally..."

His voice trailed off. "Bu+ now you're back, it might work again. Only don't think you're going to push us every minute. I think we need a nice holiday first. Find a good rest and rehabilitation center. Get ORAC to run off false IDs for us and have a good time. Lots of beautiful women and sunshine, and..."

"I'll think about it," Blake conceded, laughing. Turning back to Soolin, he asked, "You don't mean to leave now?"

"No. We talked it over, Tarrant and Vila and I." Vila avoided Blake's curious glance. "Before we got here, we felt Avon was a liability who needed help we couldn't give. It wasn't that he was particularly unpleasant because we were all used to that. But we had enough problems without a madman hung round our necks. Ir-ets has changed all that. I don't think Avon will ever win a congeniality award, and he's usually going to think of himself first, but I trust him to back us now, and so does Tarrant. We need someone like him, to maintain our hard edge."

"Yes, I know," Blake agreed. "I always trusted him, but I don't know what I would have thought if I'd met him when you were on Scorpio. I trust him now, but maybe I wouldn't have then."

"And you would have been correct," snapped Avon from the doorway. "But then you have always been gullible, Blake."

Vila's head jerked up and he stared at Avon, who stood there regarding them coolly. "You're better then," he burst out.

"If that is one of your typical profound statements, Vila, it is fortunate that you are not in charge or likely to be. We would soon be in even more trouble than Blake will cause us."

"Oh good," Vila cried, ignoring the insult. "He's nasty again."

"You can't like him nasty, Vila?" asked Soolin.

"I know where I stand with him when he's nasty," Vila defended himself. "Besides, Blake can handle him."

"Do you agree with that foolish estimate, Blake?" Avon purred smoothly as if defying Blake to make any such claims.

"That I can handle you?" Blake caught Avon's eyes. "Perhaps. It works both ways, Avon."

"Does it really?" He glanced past Blake to Tarrant, who had risen and was approaching. "It becomes worse. Here comes D'Artagnan."

"Here comes who?" Soolin asked, but Vila's eye lit in delight and he gave a crow of ,amused laughter. Blake cocked an eyebrow at Avon in surprise. Vila had recognized the reference?

"It's a long story, Soolin," Blake told her.

"You'd like it," Vila confirmed. "But better keep it away from Tarrant. It might give him ideas."

"Do you actually mean to say you have read the book?" Avon demanded skeptically, looking down his nose at Vila in disbelief.

"I've done more than you will ever guess," Vila defended himself, falling into his usual tones when arguing with Avon.

Avon shook his head in patent disbelief, and only Blake suspected he saw a flash of humor in Avon's eyes, quickly concealed. Avon's face was cool and disinterested as if his patience at such a silly topic of conversation was long exhausted. "If true," he said in bored tones, "I fear that the galaxy will never be the same."

When Tarrant reached them, the rest of them were laughing.

The end

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