Blake's 7 - 04 - Afterlife

by Tony Attwood

  'That, Interrogator, is a simplification of the truth which even the Administration ought not to make. I have used the planet as a base because I needed a base on which to work. However, not for the first time I have decided to come to your aid. '

  'And exactly how are you coming to my aid?' The Interrogator had a half feeling that this was not the line that the questioning ought to be taking.

  'A major revolt is about to be started by Servalan... '

  The Interrogator's laugh made Avon pause. It was raucous - far louder than seemed possible from such a slight frame. 'You are too late, Avon. You are losing your touch. Servalan has launched her attack. '

  'Then you have few moments left, ' Avon told her. 'As soon as Servalan moves in the Ghammarans will counter attack, and they have a weapon which will disable everything you have. ''You are making it up Avon. Your crimes are clear. But this time you will not be sent to a penal colony. You will be put on display as a lesson to all the other malcontents. We'll leave your brain functioning but suspend the rest of your miserable body in eternal animation. You'll be a total cripple Avon, moved from planet to planet to show off to all the other little men who grow too big and think they can take on the Administration. Now, enough nonsense. Where is Blake?'

  'Blake is dead, ' said Avon his temper rising, 'And before you get any further carried away with your own insanity check the latest battle reports from the fleet, because I am the only person who knows how to counter the force of the Ghammarans and with me dead or out of action there is nothing to stop their total overthrow of the Administration and its precious Federation. '

  The Interrogator sneered. 'I've never heard of the Ghammarans. Avon you do not seriously suggest... '

  Something in Avon's face made the Interrogator stop despite herself. She turned to a screen on her desk and pushed three contacts giving code messages in response to buzzes coming from the screen. She recognised the implications of her information at once.

  'Let us assume, ' she stated casually, 'that there is something in what you say. What do you offer the Administration that will be of interest to it?'

  'Computer knowledge, ' said Avon simply.

  The Interrogator laughed. 'We have our own experts Avon, ' she said.

  'Then call them in, ' said Avon, 'and let them evaluate the situation and my knowledge. '

  A light flashed on the Interrogator's desk. She pressed a contact, and the door slid open. Koreli walked in, smiling as ever.

  'Defences, ' said Vila to himself. 'That's what we need. Armaments. And defences. And a force field. Terminal Computer. ' As he spoke he remembered the mainframe's problem. He turned to KAT. 'Do we have defences on this planet?' he asked hopefully.

  'The planet is unarmed, but does have primitive shielding, anti-glare screens, quantra locking on all hatches... ' Vila stopped listening, groaned and sank back into his chair. KAT tried further reassurance. The doors are all sealed, and there is nothing on the surface to suggest that

  the planet is occupied by anything other than the latest mutations. It is also still severely cold on the planet's surface, which will make it impossible for anyone to travel more than the smallest distances. You should remain unharmed and safe as long as you do not venture onto the surface. '

  'Tell my heart that, ' said Vila. 'It doesn't seem to accept computer logic. ' He looked back at the screens in dismay. Ships from all fleets seemed to be constantly drifting closer. As he watched he saw one ship head too quickly towards the surface of Terminal and the subsequent vibration from the crash could be felt even deep in the interior. There was silence, until a second ship came down. This one seemed to be more under control, almost as if it were still being piloted down despite the loss of computer guidance. Even in his state of panic Vila could spare half a second of admiration for that sort of piloting.

  As the ship manoeuvred towards the gloom of the planet's surface Vila could make out its markings. It was an Administration ship, a ceremonial craft refurbished as a war cruiser by the look of things. The pilot appeared to have some sort of idea where he was heading as the ship glided gently through the thin atmosphere. But even the expert at the controls had difficulties at the last moment and the ship crashed, with a sickening thud, to a halt a few hundred yards away from the main air locks and entrance to the tunnels.

  In the darkness Vila could just about make out the main air locks on the ship opening, and a single figure emerging. He had a slight limp.

  'Can't we put some light on him?' asked Vila.

  'Only if you wish to advertise your presence, ' replied KAT. 'The animals will get him. '

  173

  And as the machine spoke Vila saw a tall grey figure appear from behind the ship. The object must have only recently evolved for Vila could not recall seeing anything quite like it before even on this forsaken planet. Something strange had happened to the creature. The two front legs were used for walking in a slow ponderous way, but the back legs appeared to reach over the body and act as grotesque arms ending in six long pointed fingers. The body itself was covered in a dark thick fur and in the gloom it was difficult to see where body ended and head began. But what there was no mistaking was the mouth. It was huge - half as large as the rest of the creature and alternatively snapping with vast teeth and lashing out with a giant red tongue. On top the ears merged with a vast pointed horn. The eyes too, evolved for the planet's current dark climate, were huge - almost pulsating. Vila could feel the thuds as the creature made its way towards the hobbling stranger.

  For once Vila had the start of what was almost an insight. 'What made him leave his ship?' he asked half to himself. KAT offered no opinion. 'I mean it's freezing cold out there, and there are the creatures - so why does he get out of his ship?' Vila could have said (but he didn't because the thought was too worrying to acknowledge) that it was almost as if the man knew where he was going. And where he was going was towards the main entry lock with the creature not far behind.

  Handicapped by a limp and the cold the man's progress was painfully slow, but it did take him to within a few feet of the secondary hatch which Avon had initially used to gain access to the underground passages of Terminal. On top of the hatch was one of the cameras that was used to keep an eye on the surface. As the man made it to within a few feet of the camera position the creature made its first attack - half shuffle, half hop, mouth open so wide it was possible to see the furrows on the bright red tongue and count the searing white teeth. The man turned at the last moment and pulled a weapon. The creature, shot in the mouth, reared backwards, its hind feet flapping in the air. As it fell one leg came down towards the man, lacerating him badly so that he fell onto the frozen ground under the impact.

  As he fell Vila saw two things. One was a second creature emerging from the gloom. But that hardly seemed to register in his mind. What grabbed his attention and held him paralysed were the features of the man now desperately trying to pick himself up and resume his journey towards the entry bay. His hair was dark, slightly curly. His nose straight and firm, his eyes deep and piercing. It was a young face, hardened by experience - perhaps too much experience. Beneath the dirt and grime, the scratches and the blood Vila could not fail to recognise it. At die same time the man saw the camera, and caught its movements. He crawled across the hard ground and grabbed it. 'For pity's sake, ' he cried, 'if there's anyone down there, open up. '

  Vila reached across and touched the control mechanism. Half a mile above him and the service hatch opened. For the moment that was all he could do. There was no microphone up to the surface to allow him to communicate with the barely moving form. Either he would see the entrance, have enough strength to climb into the hatchway and take his chance or the second creature would get him. Vila could only watch.

  Slowly, painfully, the man half rose. He saw the opening and crawled towards it. With an enormous effort he pulled himself upright on the lid of the hatch and began to climb over. He looked up at the second creature, saw it and fired a shot. But
his aim was poor and he merely succeeded in wounding the creature. The man got his legs over into die shaft, but seemed unable to start lowering himself down the ladder. Bleakly he kept peering at the frightening manifestation that was once more coming at him. Vila touched the controls. The lid of the shaft came down, forcing the man to lower his head, and trapping the pointed fingers of the creature's rear legs. Vila waited and listened for a moment. Either the man had hung on and was now slowly making the climb down the shaft or else he had let go and by now would be lying dead at the bottom of the pit. At least, thought Vila, it was probably a better way to die.

  'Avon certainly does know about the Ghammarans, and he also knows that the only way to overcome their power is to bypass the tarriel cells. ' Korell spoke as if nothing had changed. Her voice and her manner were all as they had always been.

  The Interrogator was unimpressed. 'Everything runs on tarriel cells. You cannot bypass everything. The prisoner is obviously lying. I must protest at my official territory as SCI Scanbase being overturned in this way. '

  Koreli ignored the protests. 'The Ghammarans have little in the way of weaponry, since they don't need it. They use their sound controls to disable and then they walk in and takeover. If one major weapon system could be converted to work without tarriel cells it could blast them from the skies. '

  The Interrogator looked at Avon, at Korell's authority card and scowled in disbelief. 'Very well. Avon, you will convert one of the central defence complex computers. Chief Commissioner Koreli will show you how. ' She rose. Koreli remained standing by the door where she had been throughout the interview. 'Then Avon will be returned to me for further interrogation. '

  'Well now, ' said Avon slowly. 'That does not seem much of a bargain to me. '

  'You are in no position to bargain, ' said the Interrogator.

  'Your first offer was living-death. Your second offer was to defend your Administration, and then death. I don't like either. '

  'What do you want?' asked Koreli.

  'Don't you know?' asked Avon. 'I had gained the distinct impression that you knew me inside out. '

  'I give you the pleasure of telling us. '

  'I want what I came for. Credit discussions with Finance-7 and safe passage away from Earth. '

  The Interrogator stopped Koreli replying. 'Chief Commissioner, I protest. It would be insane to accept terms from a criminal. '

  'If you don't think the Administration is' worth safe passage... '

  Koreli took a quick look in the Interrogator's eyes and stepped forward. 'Under the special powers invested in me by the President of the Federation and Sovereign Power of the Inner and Outer worlds I must overrule any feelings you have, Senior Consultant. ' She placed a second small card on the desk in front of the Interrogator. It had the a desired effect. 'With your permission Interrogator, ' she continued emphasising the words, allowing the older woman to regain as much of her dignity as she wanted, 'I shall take this man to begin work on the central defence computer complex. In return for the successful completion of the mission he shall have all he asks. ' Koreli turned, opened the door with a slight pressure of her right hand on the pad and let Avon step in front of her. As they walked Avon sensed rattier than felt the gun pointed at his back.

  They proceeded down a drab grey corridor past unmarked doors. For Avon it was a helpful walk, adding to his knowledge of the local topography. At the third intersection they turned into a narrower passage and Koreli told Avon to stop. She pressed her hand onto a control panel, spoke her name into a box and the door obediently opened for her. Within the room five men were gathered around a main frame computing unit. Parts of the casing had been removed and various components lay scattered on benches. Above, a large screen showed the location of the forces - the Federation in white, Servalan in red, the Ghammarans in blue. Avon glanced casually at where he knew Terminal to be. There were ships all around the area but the planet itself did not register. Koreli showed her authorisation card to the technicians. They stood to attention.

  'This man is Avon. He has knowledge of the attacking forces and of computer systems, ' she announced. 'He will be in charge of the repairs of the defence system. Borrn, ' she turned to one of the computer workers. 'Inform Avon of the current situation. 'But before the man could speak Avon stepped forward, his right hand slightly raised, his fingers pointing. He spoke in a relaxed calm manner. 'There's no need, I can see what you've been up to. The fact that you are still working on the system shows that the Ghammaran weapon has range problems. At this distance it can affect equipment but not people. ' He turned away from the men and looked at Korell. 'I shall need to have some equipment. '

  'Of course. I shall arrange it. '

  'I don't doubt it, ' Avon replied, his voice heavy with sarcasm. 'You seem to have influence in the highest of places. ' He looked at her eyes, trying to read them, but she looked back with a carefree relaxed smile that was becoming irritating.

  Avon wrote out the list of computer items he needed and Korell left with it. He then turned back to the analysing data banks through which he guessed much of Earth's defences were channelled. He gave instructions to the five men on parts of the system he wanted dismantled and then turned to the master control board amplifying the signal from Ghammar and watching the results.

  'Vila!'

  Vila turned in a hurry. 'Hello, ' he said quickly. 'I thought you were dead. I mean I thought you were dead before, and then I thought you were dead just now, I mean... '

  'Vila you are babbling, which is good because it means you really are here. I would hate to think I'd started dreaming about you. '

  'I know I'm here, but what I can't make out is what you are doing here. I thought you were dead... '

  'Don't start that again. Let's take this step by step. Are you here alone?'

  'For the moment, yes. Avon's on Earth. '

  'Avon! I don't believe it. You are still with Avon. I thought after Gauda Prime you'd have parted company with him for good, or fading that shot him. '

  Vila looked at Tarrant as his erstwhile friend and sometime enemy eased himself off the bed. Tarrant had joined Avon and Vila soon after the battle to save the Galaxy from invasion by the Andromedans. From then on, with Blake seemingly lost forever, Avon and Tarrant had battled for the leadership of the survivors of Blake's original seven.

  Tarrant was a good pilot - possibly better even than Korell, but he lacked Avon's computer knowledge and his impetuosity hampered his ability for self preservation. He had been seriously injured on Gauda Prime as the ship has crashed, but had made it to the control room. Vila had thought him shot by the Federation guards.

  'Not quite shot, ' Tarrant told him. 'I'd lost a lot of blood - it was as much as I could do to get into the base. Once there I collapsed. The next thing I knew I was still lying on the floor but the place was deserted. I went outside, found an old freighter and got her into the air on my own. '

  'You must have been unconscious for two days, ' Vila told him. 'I watched you take off. '

  Tarrant was staggered. 'Where were you?' he demanded.

  'In the next ship. '

  'I went through agony on that freighter and all because I had no one to dress the wounds or to keep watch while I rested. And all the time you were skulking in a ship next door. What made you come out? Rain damage?'

  'The food ran out. '

  'So Avon came and rescued you!'

  'No he did not, ' said Vila. He began to get angry. 'And if you've just come inside to tell me off for not popping in to your space freighter when you wanted me... '

  'No Vila, ' Tarrant told him. 'I came inside to get away from a ten foot tall red and grey creature out on the surface that certainly wasn't around last time I was here. '

  'So what brought you here?'

  'There's a full scale war going on out there - or hadn't you noticed?'

  'And whose side are you on?'

  'Perhaps I should ask you that. We had a three-cornered fight going between Feder
ation rebels, Servalan's troops and Loyalist Administration troops when suddenly another fleet of ships come out of nowhere and immediately all our computers stop working and most of the crew go gaga. Fortunately, after the initial attack whatever it was that was affecting people diminished in power. I managed to stayconscious and get the ship under manual. I saw this place looming up out of the nothingness and tried for a landing. This is Terminal. '

  Vila agreed that it was.

  'Once I recognised the shape of the place I tried to land close to where the hatches were. I reckoned that control system that was interfering with the computer could start up again at any time and get me too, but with a bit of luck might not work under the ground. I also presumed the Links would all be frozen to death this far out from the sun. I didn't reckon on those monsters you've been breeding out there. '

  'We don't breed them, they mutate. ' Vila told him. He took a look at the scratches that Tarrant had received and plugged in the automatic medical scanner built into the couch. As it worked, scanning and treating the wounds, Tarrant continued with his story. Injured and alone, drifting through the outer reaches of the Galaxy Tarrant had finally brought his freighter to a fringe planet which existed mostly to enhance trade between the Federation and the small number of worlds that survived outside its sphere of influence. There he gained employment as a pilot on a small freighter running between Federation and non-Federation planets. His nose for illegal involvements and adventure quickly led to his becoming involved in a series of off-the- record runs exporting cargoes which the Federation would rather never have had imported, and importing some that they would rather never have seen. As his talent as a pilot became recognised Tarrant moved up through the ranks until he pushed his luck too far trying to offload herculanium from outside the Federation onto Earth itself. However, before his trial could take place word passed around that Servalan was about to attack, that many of the armaments supplied in recent months were now worthless and unstable, that many Federation troops could not be relied upon to fight for Earth, and that all in all the situation was desperate. Faced with the option of being tried for what was now defined as a treasonable offence, or working as a