Jackie

One

'Wake up!' Avon was being shaken, and finally decided to stir. For once he felt a brief sympathy for Vila. 'Wake up!' The speaker sounded familiar, but he not immediately place it. One moment he had been standing over Blake, encircled by Federation troops, smiling at the thought of returning to the London, and the next he was "elsewhere." A spaceship by the familiar vibrations and the Med Unit from the scent of antiseptic and the brilliant whiteness when he opened his eyes fractionally. Part of his mind was conscious of cramps. He should not have fallen asleep in a chair. He felt suddenly disorientated--where was he, how and why?

And now somebody familiar-unfamiliar wanted him awake. The voice had not been unfriendly--and thus not Federation. A memory--from where?--said the ship was going to Earth.

'No coffee thank you,' Avon muttered, borrowing one of Vila's "do not disturb" excuses. It did not work for him either.

'Avon! Just wake up!' He would have to open his eyes now.

Standing over him, whole and apparently unharmed save for a superficial scratch across his face, was Blake as Avon remembered him from the days before Star One. Avon felt whatever panic had just assailed him return.

'Blake?!' Avon managed after a few moments. Was this another of Servalan's tricks? Had he finally gone mad?

'What happened? All I did was wake you and you look as if you've seen a ghost.'

Avon looked around the Med Unit, forcing himself to relax. Orac sat on a table nearby glowing with activity, next to it a book whose lurid cover Avon recognised after a few moments. He had glanced at it while Blake had been checked over after being rescued from Epheron. What he had experienced was a mostly unpleasantly realistic fantasy. Who *had* he seen in the doorway of the tracking gallery?

'Just a dream,' Avon managed, using all his control to seem outwardly calm.

'Unusual for you,' Blake replied, indicating the drinks dispenser. Avon nodded, grateful for the few moments to collect his thoughts and ease his cramps.

'Why did you wake me? What crisis have you got us into now?' he asked sharply after taking a few mouthfuls of water. He recognised that Blake was hiding something. Again. Which he would need help in resolving. Again.

'No crisis--at the moment,' Blake replied, recognising Avon's mocking tone. He continued. 'Who was betraying you?'

One of Vila's more enjoyably colourful swearwords came to mind. Avon realised he would have to give Blake some explanation. He decided he would not fall asleep within Blake's earshot again if he could possibly avoid it. 'Just a dream Blake. No doubt set off by that dreadful juvenile adventure story you foisted on me.' He picked it up long enough to read the ending. Everything resolved as usual and the next adventure about to begin.

'The Plaxton stories are enjoyable.'

'Most fourteen year olds think so.'

'Did you?'

'Yes, I was that age once, hard as it is to imagine.' This banter was what he enjoyed most about being on the Liberator. That and the possibility of exploring the galaxy and beyond. 'I read … several of them if I recall.' More than he would admit to Blake. A sudden thought--had he discovered Blake's real motivation? To be the universe-saving hero of juvenile fiction? The style of the books would definitely go with his "warts and all" biography of Blake--and Blake would love it.

'Who betrayed you?' Why did Blake have to go back to that?

'What else did I say?' One of Vila's more useful tips, more plausible than most--always get your alibis consistent. Apparently Vila had ended up on the London because he had not--but he had been juggling fifteen alibis at the time. Even Avon would have found that difficult.

'Instead of looking for obscure computer parts--as I would expect--you were still looking for me.'

'Perhaps I was turning your adventures into a computer game. Just read the book,' Avon waved at it, 'or ask Vila to recount his.'

'I want to hear about yours for a change.' Avon saw him glance slyly at Orac and the comms unit, had a flashback to the dream.

'You've got something planned haven't you?' Another of Vila's ploys--divert attention from one topic by asking a question about something else, until the original subject is forgotten.

'I was setting something up. I was waiting for you to wake.' Avon felt a sudden panic which he could barely disguise.

'With who? What have you done?' This was not a dream.

'I was in contact with the Federation… Orac was helping me.'

'What?!… You… You!…' Avon rose, letting his sudden fury show, cramp forgotten. He had never admitted to anyone, even himself, that he believed in Blake's cause, whatever the personal advantages of removing the Federation were, but if Blake had abandoned his cause, what was there for Avon to put his trust in? The now empty plastic cup collapsed in his hand and fluttered to the floor. Blake, alarmed and puzzled, made calming gestures and spoke softly.

'You misunderstand Avon.' Avon allowed himself to relax slightly, sat down again. Unlike the dream there might be a sensible explanation. They were briefly silent, and then Blake registered sudden understanding. 'You half-heard me in your dream, is that it? You thought I was betraying you?' Avon was, for once, unable to respond. He looked at the cup moving in a slight draught on the floor. 'What happened in your dream? Apart from your adventures?' Blake was no longer teasing. Avon decided to open up fractionally for once.

'The Federation was restored. We ended up in a rebel base which you were running. There was confusion, a trap, Federation guards everywhere. Everybody was shot Blake--even you. I was the last man standing--for a few moments at least. And then you woke me…' That was all he would ever tell anyone. The dream had been more disturbing than he cared to admit. He added, with unexpected bitterness, 'Satisfied now? And can you tell me what did happen?'

Blake looked away momentarily. His expression on looking at Avon again was contrite, almost guilty, and he had an embarrassed smile. 'I'm sorry Avon--friend.' Avon understood what was being offered, was more pleased than he would have expected. 'We got our wires crossed again, didn't we?' Avon nodded. He had regained a measure of control. 'There are those in the Federation High Council and elsewhere who are willing to negotiate a transition. For their own ends, of course, but it is a starting point.' Blake sighed. 'I am going to have to do a lot of explaining.'

'Starting with me--you have not been a model of clarity.'

'And you are?' Avon flashed his most innocent smile in reply. Then he was suddenly weary of all the confusion and double cross that they had been involved in. 'Blake--just stop being stupid. In the dream you caused the destruction of everything you were trying to do, everything we… you believed in, because you refused to explain, played silly games.' Avon saw that he had hit home, but that the slip of the tongue had been noticed. Blake put his hand on Avon's arm again, accepting the rebuke. Avon did not shy away from the contact as he sometimes did, accepting what was being offered. He had not misjudged Blake.

'Avon--I have always trusted you, even when we've been most opposed. And… I will try not to betray my cause, or you, or give you the impression that I have. Satisfied now?' Not a promise, as if to do so would be to invite what it was wished to avert. Avon relaxed, suddenly happy. Something he had wanted for a long time had been freely and knowingly given.

'Yes… for now. Just tell me what you intend doing, how far you have got in rearranging the Federation.' Blake, Avon knew, was easily diverted to discussing his own plans.

Blake nodded. 'Orac--give an update on Federation affairs.' Distinctly fragile the last time Avon had checked. There was very limited recognition of Servalan's bid for the presidency.

'It is difficult to determine whether the Federation continues as an administrative entity or just as a convenient geographical description of part of the galaxy. I have verified that the persons you were speaking to Blake are who they claim to be, and that they have the authority to designate the holder of the Presidency in an emergency or a disputed succession. They prefer, among other things, not to have the highest levels of civil and military authority concentrated in one person or group. Considering the numerous examples to be found in history as to what happens when this does occur, and Servalan's previous behaviour, they are fully justified.'

'They prefer you to Servalan,' Avon commented dryly, 'on the grounds that you are less likely to stab anybody in the back. Literally or figuratively.'

'Which two methods you and Servalan share between you.' Blake said with a smile that disarmed the remark of any malice.

'You are going to accept the offer?'

'What else could I do, having come this far? How else could I justify what I have done? Or do you want the office?' Avon reflected for a moment. First Servalan, now Blake.

'May I be the first to congratulate you… President Blake. You've finally done it. I never thought you'd do it, most of the time.' Avon was genuinely pleased for Blake, and not just for his own reasons. How often did one achieve a lifetime's ambition while still able to enjoy it? He went to the dispenser, got two drinks and gave one to Blake. With a slightly mocking smile he raised his to Blake, who touched cups.

'To tell you the truth, some of the time neither did I.' Blake gave Avon a near salute. 'Thank you for all that you have done for me. I think I forgot to say that at times.'

'A slight understatement.'

`'And I suppose I had better thank Orac.' For once Avon did not protest that Orac was only a machine.

'Your intention is understood, justified, and accepted.'

'No one can accuse you of false modesty Orac,' Blake said, laughing.

'What do I have to be modest about? Why should I lie about what I can do and have done?'

Blake turned back to Avon. 'You still want the Liberator?'

Avon felt a sudden anxiety. 'Why?'

'I agree with Servalan on one thing. It would make a good Presidential flagship.'

'First get your Presidency--or you will be lucky if you end up on the London again.'

'Well, it was a sturdy ship, even if it was a trifle slow.' Blake kept a straight face. 'Unless you want it?' Avon suddenly realised he was being teased, relaxed again. 'That was the bargain wasn't it? You help me back to Earth…'

'Which will now involve making you President.' If that was what it took to ensure that Blake would stay off the Liberator, it would be worth it.

'… and you have the Liberator and whoever you can persuade to join you.'

'Thank you.' There was nothing else to say.

Blake looked at him with a half-smile. 'You just told me to stop playing games.'

'In a different context.'

'But now I have to be serious, don't I?' He was being manipulated again.

'Yes--most of the time. But don't ask me for advice Blake. You wouldn't accept the most of it, even if I gave it. I don't know about the others, but I was never committed to your cause--though who could disagree with removing the more offensive aspects of the Federation towards its members?' The nearest he would come to admit the truth of the situation.

'Helping me served your own ends, and you can show traces of altruism occasionally. You are too curious about the universe and the information therein to make a good politician.'

'If you say so.' The relationship between them was changing now that they were no longer rebels, and Avon was not certain how to handle it yet. 'Yes … I enjoy a challenge, and I do not care for negotiations that depend on hair splitting.'

'You will help me become President so you can have the ship?'

'If I want one it appears I must do the other.'

'I have two last requests before we proceed.' How often had Avon heard this from Blake?

'Condemned prisoners are usually only allowed one.' Avon was slightly mocking.

'Please? I will be President.'

'If Servalan allows it.'

'The Liberator will reach Earth before Servalan does. There is significant support for your taking office Roj Blake.' Orac interjected. It had taken offence with Servalan because of her treatment of it on Sarran, including being buried in the sand within the extent of extreme high tides.

'What do you want apart from being installed safely in the Presidential Palace on Earth?' Avon asked.

'Firstly ensure that the computers respond to me rather than my predecessors.'

'My pleasure.' Both knew that this was literally true, and that Blake would not inquire too deeply into what else Avon did. 'But I was caught out in the bank job.'

'I trust you and your skills. Orac--what is your opinion of the subject?'

'Kerr Avon and I are the most appropriate choices for the task you require … Blake.' It was reserving opinion on the title till actually given. 'Other process than flaws in computer programming were responsible for the detection of Avon's activities, which showed a considerable amount of ingenuity. Those who undertook the prosecution failed to fully appreciate what had been done, or to investigate certain other irregularities that they came across.' Avon was gratified that his desired interpretation of events had been confirmed. He decided not to investigate what had happened to Anna, despite the dream. Some things were best not known. 'Much of what Avon has done is of merit…'

'Enough flattery, Orac. I need Avon as modest as he currently is.'

'A statement of fact cannot be flattery. You asked for my opinion and I gave it.'

'Thank you Orac. I appreciate your assessment. What as your other request Blake?' As if Avon could not guess.

'That there will always be a place for me on the Liberator.' There was a wistful note in Blake's voice.

'Planning an escape route already?'

'Prudence. And I am following your advice.

'For once.'

'I will accept your direction if I do return to the Liberator.'

'As I accepted yours?'

'I needed a sparring partner, to bring my castles in the air down to earth.' A role, Avon reflected, that he had accepted willingly.

Avon knew that he would probably regret his next remarks, which were said with less irony than intended. 'How can I refuse the President--and a friend?' Why was he admitting his ties with Blake so readily.

'Come on--we have to go to Earth. I have to decide what I intend--and so do you.' Would Blake yield up the Liberator that easily?

This is not a dream, Avon thought, no longer a game of "What if." He began to see just what Blake was likely to be facing. He wanted the freedom to explore, and now he would have to face what that entailed. I have achieved the dream I wanted, as has Blake--and I would not exchange mine for his. Where would in the universe would he explore?

Two

'Why so anxious about the suggestion I go to Gauda Prime? To get Servalan's approval for taking over legitimately after her coup?' Blake replied to Avon's unexpectedly vehement comment on the subject.

Del Grant had visited the planet--on business he had not cared to explain--and had made a brief visit to Blake to report what he had found. Images of the planet appeared on the computer screen. Their eerie similarity to the place of Avon's all but forgotten dream disturbing him--but those of the abandoned base Grant had used showed a totally different place. After finding that several of the places of his dream had been host to viscast stations or marker beacons Avon had put it out of his conscious mind--until now.

'Knowing your taste for spectacular acts, I can quite see you going to Gauda Prime n a show of bravado against the last of the old regime--and I would have to rescue you again.'

'Don't tempt me Avon,' Blake replied with a smile. Avon suspected Blake was bored of office. 'As the Cabinet agreed--treat them as if they no longer mattered, while keeping them contained. Though it would have made a good place for us once--planet and rebel hideout.'

'One question,' Avon asked after a few seconds. 'Where would you have hidden the Liberator?'

'I would have thought of a way. How are the modifications going?' The best of the Federation space technology was being applied to it, and contact with the System from whence it had come, now with a more liberal administration, had resulted in an agreement on joint space exploration.

'Orac says that it can navigate us through the minefield, and that the developments in powering it could take us through to the galactic satellites.' The computer had expressed its desire to continue its researches on the Liberator so frequently that Blake had eventually told it that it could do so. It had dismissed Servalan's original plan for it, to take over the functions of Star One as "interesting--for a while" though better suited to such vastly inferior computers as had been previously handling it. Orac made a further comment that that even Servalan had misinterpreted what the term actually meant. The explanation that followed was complex and involved the computers in general deciding that the instructions to keep "Star One" inaccessible to those in authority meant that it should not have an actual physical location. It was unclear from what was said whether the complex that had been Star One had persisted.

'I wonder if one day Orac might actually find that even it has limits.'

'Though it will find some explanation as to why they are not limits.'

'For a mere computer it can display remarkably human characteristics.' Blake said with a laugh. 'When will the Liberator be leaving?' he asked wistfully, picking up one of his favourite "ornaments" to play with--Vila had given it to him, as they shared a taste for the particularly obnoxious Bayban the gameshow host. At least, Avon knew, this one would not be given to him, like all the others that Vila could not be persuaded to "steal" from him, in an uncharacteristic demonstration of good taste.

'When he returns from Lindor.' Sarkoff had come on an antiques hunting trip, and to see his "old friends" now in power. Avon had come to like the man--they shared a similar sardonic view of humanity in general and politicians in particular. He had also finally thanked Sarkoff for what he had said on their first trip. The widower had recognised Avon's sense of loss and made a tactful remark when they were alone together, which Avon had been unable to respond to at the time--which Sarkoff had understood.

'Are you sure you want Grant with you?'

'If I hadn't wanted him, I wouldn't have made the offer.' Avon snapped. The two of them had talked while Sarkoff had very carefully packed his acquisitions and, as the politician reappeared, Avon had made the offer, slightly to his own consternation. He had been surprisingly pleased when Grant had accepted.

Blake raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture--Avon had a momentary flashback to his dream, but his expression showed nothing. 'I would find it … useful if you stayed.'

'I want to be free to explore.' Both senses intended, as both knew. 'I kept my promise.'

'I would expect no less. You are one of the few people I have known who has never asked for more. If you want any office, ask now.'

'Even the Presidency?' Avon teased.

'Do you really want it?' The reply was half-serious.

'There are few things I would want less. I wanted your seat on the Liberator, not the one you are occupying now.' Blake nodded. 'Besides,' Avon let his malice show, 'I am not a good enough manipulator of people.'

'You are free to make your choice--I trust you to make the right one.'

'Thank you.'

Blake looked round the office. 'What shall I do now, Avon?'

'Your appointment book is full.' Avon replied, deliberately misunderstanding. He knew what Blake meant though--whether or not he believed in Blake's cause he had enjoyed the sense of purpose the connection with the rebel movement had given him. This mission he was now going on was an attempt to recreate something of that. And it seemed Blake was after the same.

'I have achieved everything I set out to do. What next?'

'You could make Servalan your Supreme Commander and fight her again.,' Blake grinned in response, 'or ask the Andromedans for a rematch.' Who now remembered Travis, Avon wondered. His role in the Andromedan invasion had not made it public. 'Or you could go to the System and ask them for a DSV of your own.' Blake's expression unconsciously indicated his reply, and Avon smiled to himself.

'You're right--this has reminded me of the good old days--or at least the better parts of them.'

'And you've got the most out of it--many of the rebels have returned to anonymity.'

'Which is what most of them wanted. Did you enjoy your time with the computers here on Earth? I understand consultants are usually well paid.'

'I found it most interesting.' Once, it had been his ultimate ambition, to work in the vast computer network on Earth--as the administrative capital of the Federation and thereafter--that existed despite Star One. He had enjoyed losing himself in the physical construct and in making use of its resources. He had also followed a suggestion of Vila, whom he had taken on a tour of the place--to leave messages for future users, showing what had been done till this date. Avon had enjoyed Vila's joke that perhaps the only way somebody from the distant future would discover the great rebel Roj Blake was from trying to find out more about Kerr Avon "who had checked this part of the system." Avon smiled, and added, 'But there is more to the universe than computers--or money.'

'When did you discover that?'

'At some point on the Liberator, when I realised what it could do.'

'Next you will tell me you robbed the bank partially out of curiosity.'

'Perhaps.' A brief memory of Anna--he had not had the heart to find out what had happened to her, though what Del had said implied a more innocuous interpretation.

'You will come back and tell me what you get up to?' Blake repeated.

'Of course. Part of the pleasure of going is telling those who have not what they have missed.' He was teasing Blake--but suddenly realised that Blake was looking for something else, was taking him seriously.

'One last request Avon, before you go.'

'A trip on the Liberator as she now is, or you will stow away?'

Blake reacted almost too fast. 'Yes, Avon, please.'

'Of course--what could I refuse the President--or a friend?' Saying the last word no longer surprised him.

Three

Six months Blake had said, to spend in the first exploration of this galactic satellite, then return to Earth with a report of what had been found. Long enough, it had been decided, to get an understanding of what might be there, and so it had proved. The group on the Liberator knew what course they would recommend, and that Blake would readily agree to it.

Avon had enjoyed being in control of the Liberator, though at times he almost missed Blake leading them. Their plans had changed over time, from pure curiosity to something more sophisticated.

When they had first arrived Avon had told Orac and Zen to analyse what they encountered, and suggest places of interest.

Orac claimed that the first planet they approached bore some resemblance to Aristo, but denied Vila's accusation of sentimentality as anthropomorphic. Avon had then asked about curiosity, to be told that this was a natural outcome of any sufficiently complex entity.

Avon thought that the beach on which they teleported to had little in common with that he had briefly seen on Aristo. It was Vila who pointed out that what disturbed the group about this place was that while there was greenery on dry land there were no animal sounds--there was nothing larger than insects and beetles.

They walked along the beach, enjoying being planetside again, while the weather lasted. Orac had had Avon construct it a drone such as it had had on Aristo, and this bobbed around trying to get them to investigate things. Orac had a trick of making it "creep up" on someone and then speaking, and had taken on board Avon's advice that the best way of "handling" Tarrant was to have the drone "look down" on him. Much to the amusement of Avon and the others, it worked.

A couple of fishlike creatures emerged from the water, scuttled over their boots, grabbed some leaves and returned whence they came, as the first raindrops landed.

'So much for the first encounter with the inhabitants of this cluster.' Avon said.

'And what will they encounter when they reach our galaxy?' Dayna asked.

'Orac probably,' Vila's comment had disconcerted them all, and they had all been willing to follow his suggestion that they escape the weather. On the Liberator Avon invited ideas as to their next destination, with everybody agreeing to Vila's request to see an eclipse. Orac had found something with suspicious but not unwelcome promptness, and they had enjoyed a system with a complex and multiple system of eclipses. The only problem with their first choice of planet was the plant life--somewhat more intelligent than that on Sarurian Major, and mobile. After the plants had shown interest in Orac's internal lights it had demanded to be withdrawn "very immediately" and to be taken to a satellite with apparently fascinating geology.

They had spent the next few months exploring. There were native space going species here, and once Orac and Zen had established contact with their opposite numbers, it was possible to determine the political structures present and then to make contact. Responses varied from the hostile to the curious. There were those prepared to make what would be largely theoretical links between this star cluster and the galaxy from which the Liberator had come. There was much that would interest Blake when the ship finally returned home.

Now was the time for the Liberator to make that journey. On it they would make the decision as to what they would do next. As far as Avon could tell nobody had started on that process--not even himself. The logic of the situation made the most appropriate course of action unclear.

He sat on the flight deck with Vila, contemplating the view. Orac glowed nearby. The others were relaxing elsewhere.

Eventually Vila spoke.

'Odd that the peoples here were not aware of the Andromedan transit to our galaxy.'

'Half our galaxy probably did not know-- even the System only had fragmentary knowledge. If the galactic shield had been in place, this place might well have known.'

'And the Andromedans might well have been more dangerous, because their bases were nearer.'

'That is a possibility,'Orac said

'I wonder what happened to Andoromeda as a result of the War going our way.'

'It is too far, Vila, at present technologies to reach in a human lifetime.'

'I would prefer to do another galactic cluster or two in my lifetime.'

'You, Vila? I never expected to hear you say that.' There was a touch of humour in Avon's voice, but he recognised that Vila had changed as much as he had himself.

'When you are being chased by the Federation it is one thing, when you can choose to go it's another. And I was getting bored in the Presidential palace. Most of the locks could have been opened by a well trained child. And anything of any value was too well known to be sold on.'

'And I never knew,' Avon recollected, 'that there could be so many objects in excruciatingly bad taste together.' Some of which would be rejected by the proverbial museum of failed kitsch.

'Blake appeared to like the stuff. Although I think that monstrosity in the President's reception area was a bit over the top.'

'Calling it a bit of flim-flammery was being polite.' It had been the one piece of Genuine full-blown kitsch in the place, and Avon had some sympathy for whoever had to clean the wretched object. Predictably it had been Blake's favourite object.

'And what about those little gizmos you collect? The rest of your stuff's so plain it must be expensive, but whenever you see one of those…' Vila produced an example from his pocket.

'They are amusing,' Avon replied trying to work out precisely what the object did without snatching it from Vila.

'I buy things which are in good taste, or amuse, you buy things which are acceptable or time wasters, he buys overpriced and pointless trash.' A game they had all played as children.

'Not quite elegant enough,' Avon said, increasingly distracted by the object in Vila's hands.

'Have you got any more examples of that type?' Orac asked. It was fascinated by word games.

'Before we get into a long discussion,' Avon interposed, 'perhaps you can start plotting the way back.'

'Be more precise.'

'Home,' Vila said.

'Define home?' Orac's voice sounded almost plaintive. It was easy to forget, Avon thought, that for the small computer "home" would be Aristo or the Liberator--and what answer would Zen give? Then--he came from Earth, but where did he place himself mentally?

'Our galaxy in general and the Earth in particular,' Avon said.

'That has already been done. This has been a most interesting venture, despite the limited time we have had here.'

'Don't worry Orac, you can come back. Or you can instruct other computers to go adventuring for you.'

'That is an interesting idea. The Andromedan galaxy was mentioned earlier….'

Orac's tone was hopeful.

'Is there time enough in the universe for you to explore it all?' Avon asked.

'All the interesting features.'

'Why do I have the feeling you have already decided where you will go?' Vila asked.

'Planning is an essential part of such a program. With other computers designed to deal with specific aspects I will have to recalculate what my priories will be.'

'Avon--imagine the Liberator staffed with Oracs.'

'And how long before the ship remained in the middle of nowhere while they argued where they would go next?'

the end

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