Blake’s 7: Warship

by Peter Anghelides

  Despite this, she felt no disappointment. Because there was something else. Something reassuring. Something familiar. Sensations she knew all too well.

  She sensed fear. Not her own, but the fear of whoever was out there. Cally felt like weeping in acknowledgement and relief, because she also felt in every fibre of her being that they knew fear could not hold them in its cold grasp. Because the coiled spring of anger was driving them onward. The primal urge to defend and survive.

  They were relentless. They were defiant.

  Cally laughed out loud. ‘They are humans!’

  The flight deck surged back into reality. Weaponry slamming its relentless bombardment against the hull. The heat of the flight deck around her. The yaw of the Liberator as the alien assault continued. Her friends staring at her in concern.

  ‘Humans!’ Cally repeated. ‘Not alien vessels. There are human ships coming!’ She took a few unsteady steps across to the main computer. ‘Zen – visual.’

  ‘CONFIRMED.’

  The main screen flickered and refocused, revealing a motley array of space vessels approaching from sector ten. Although they had many and varied designs, their appearance was reassuringly familiar. A comforting alternative to the unrecognisable shapes of all the alien attackers they had faced so far.

  Cally almost laughed again at her friends’ expressions. ‘I could feel their emotions,’ she explained.

  ‘What? You can read their minds?’ Vila looked amazed. And then he had another thought. ‘Can you read my mind?’

  ‘No-one would want to read your mind, Vila,’ she smiled.

  ‘Where did they come from?’ Jenna wanted to know.

  Cally closed her eyes to concentrate. Trying to recall the intense emotions and intentions of the approaching humans. She focused her mind again on what disparate humans were saying, thinking, hoping ‘It is a flotilla from the nearest frontier worlds,’ she explained.

  Avon was already checking the call idents from the arriving ships. He ordered Zen to filter key information and incoming messages. Cally could see relief in everyone’s faces as human voices spoke to them over the audio, rather than the impenetrable noise of the aliens.

  There were military cruisers arriving from Vilka and Herom, not Federation standard but still armed and ready to engage. There were also mining vessels out of Carthenis, their industrial laser cutters adapted as crude weaponry. Solar shuttles from Palmero flitted in and around the larger vessels. It was clear from the chatter over the comms systems that there were even tourist craft from Harnup and Moran, whose asteroid repulsion systems had been converted in a makeshift manner into armaments.

  Jenna had completed her scan of the approaching fleet. ‘Hundreds of them!’ she confirmed, her voice cracking with excitement and relief. ‘All armed.’

  ‘They heard about the invasion,’ said Cally, ‘and they have come to defend their galaxy.’

  The first of the human ships had started to engage with the enemy. The nearest of the alien ships peeled away from their attack on Liberator, and veered off in the direction of this new threat.

  ‘Defend the galaxy?’ Vila snorted with disbelief as he looked at the view screen. ‘That ragtag bunch of ratty little ships?’

  ‘Those ratty little ships are holding off the alien fleet,’ Avon said.

  Vila looked dubious. ‘But for how long?

  ‘Long enough for us to fall back for a while. Give the auto-repair systems time to recover, and the weapons systems time to recharge.’ Avon began a swift set of calculations and adjustments at his console. ‘Jenna, get us out of range, standard by seven.’

  ‘I’m on it.’

  ‘Zen,’ continued Avon. ‘Keep monitoring the alien fleet.’

  ‘CONFIRMED.’

  Cally heard the engines surge as the ship prepared for its manoeuvre. On the view screen, she saw the human flotilla swarm around them and interpose itself between Liberator and the aliens that poured through the defence grid. For the first time since the war had begun, Liberator was pulling back from the front line.

  Chapter 5

  Unknown Variables

  The clattering of alien salvos against the outside of the ship gradually faded, and then ceased altogether. The engines took on a steadier tone as the ship travelled to a comfortable distance from the main conflict.

  Cally watched Jenna steering them to safety, and was once again impressed with her friend’s calm, almost casual confidence. It was as though Jenna and the Liberator were connected through the flight controls. Jenna was instinctively at one with the ship. Completely at home. This was where she belonged.

  Avon was busying himself with some calculations at his console. Vila tapped his fingers impatiently on his.

  With a final flourish, Jenna completed their manoeuvre and released the flight controls. ‘This should be far enough.’

  ‘Not far enough for me,’ said Vila. ‘Are there still alien ships following us?’

  Cally ran a rapid scan of the immediate area. ‘One small vessel. Vector eight six.’

  ‘Definitely not far enough!’ concluded Vila.

  Jenna was already reviewing their options. ‘We should be able to pick it off with the neutron blasters.’

  Cally continued to scan the solitary alien ship. Unlike their previous attackers, this one was making a direct approach. It accelerated on an intercept course, barrelling its way unerringly at them. Its trajectory steered it directly away from the main conflict, way over at the defence grid. The vessel had the Liberator clearly in its sights, and had the turn of speed and manoeuvrability to get in very close, very quickly.

  ‘Vila, are you ready? There may be just enough residual energy in the neutron blasters to pick this one off.’

  At the last moment of its approach, the alien vanished abruptly from the view screen. Almost immediately, there was the pop of a small explosion outside the Liberator, and a metallic rattle as a hail of shrapnel cascaded across the hull.

  That was odd, thought Cally. Had Vila managed to pick it off? Or had it just lost control and crashed into the hull?

  ‘Where did it go?’

  ‘You must have hit it, Vila.’ Cally checked the readings again. ‘The ship just… disintegrated.’

  ‘Did I?’ The idea clearly pleased Vila, and he sat a little straighter in his chair. ‘I mean, yes, obviously. I must be getting the hang of this now.’ He smiled at his own cleverness.

  Cally smiled back at him. ‘Looks like you can relax, Vila.’

  ‘Adrenaline and soma?’ he asked her.

  She wagged an admonishing finger. ‘Not that relaxed.’

  ‘I think I need a drink.’

  ‘I think you need to concentrate,’ said Avon. ‘Monitor auto-repair. We’ll stay here until Liberator is back to battle-readiness. Zen, is there any sign of alien hostiles?’

  ‘A LARGE, UNIDENTIFIED OBJECT IS APROACHING FROM VECTOR NINE-FIVE.’

  Cally stared at her display, astonished that she had not spotted this while scanning for alien pursuers. ‘What does “large” mean?’ There was nothing visible to her at her station.

  ‘SENSOR DATA IS LIMITED. THE OBJECT HAS DIAMETER 2.397 KILOMETRES. IT HAS MASS 1.935 x TEN TO THE TWENTY-TWO KILOGRAMS.’

  Vila boggled. ‘What does that even mean?’

  ‘It means it’s too big to be a space vessel,’ said Avon. ‘So, what is it, Zen?’

  ‘THAT INFORMATION IS NOT AVAILABLE.’

  ‘Oh great!’ grumbled Vila. ‘Zen doesn’t know.’

  Jenna joined Avon at his console. ‘Are you sure it couldn’t be some kind of alien battle cruiser?’

  He contemplated her question. Cally knew Avon didn’t like to admit when he was baffled, but that he liked even less to be wrong. He produced Orac’s key with a flourish. ‘Let’s find out.’

  The computer flickered into renewed life, and grumbled away in anticipation of Avon’s question.

  ‘All right, Orac. What have you got?’

  After the briefest of pa
uses, Orac said, ‘Would you care to be more precise?’

  Cally smiled as Avon’s eyes narrowed. ‘What,’ he said in a measured tone, ‘have you been able to extrapolate from the movements of the alien fleet?’

  ‘I have analysed a substantial body of data from a wide variety of available trusted sources,’ boasted Orac. Nevertheless, the computer concluded: ‘I have identified no strong correlation outside the parameters of normal variance.’

  ‘Hah!’ snorted Vila. ‘He doesn’t know either. Computers, eh? Who needs ‘em? I suppose they’re company for Avon, though.’

  ‘There are too many unknown variables,’ Orac replied dismissively.

  ‘At least Zen was more honest about it,’ added Vila.

  Avon clearly wasn’t satisfied with this. He placed his hands so that he was leaning on either side of Orac’s casing. Cally thought this made it look, improbably, as though Avon was literally pressing the computer for an answer.

  ‘What about this large, unidentified object that’s approaching us?’

  Orac seemed more interested in this. ‘It is fascinating.’

  ‘So, fascinate us,’ said Avon.

  ‘It is a dwarf planet that circles Star One’s sun on a wildly elliptical orbit.’

  Cally hadn’t heard of anything like that before. ‘A dwarf planet?’

  ‘Its operational signal indicates that it is called Megiddo.’

  ‘Sounds charming,’ said Jenna.

  Vila shared her pessimism. ‘Ideal for a short break. I’ll start packing. Might be able to get a drink down there,’ he added sourly.

  ‘None of us,’ snapped Avon, ‘are going anywhere.’ He straightened up, and was about to give them another piece of his mind when something seemed to strike him about what he’d just heard. He turned back to Orac. ‘Wait a minute… you said operational signal?’

  ‘Of course,’ replied Orac, apparently exasperated that he had to repeat anything. He was sometimes like an unwilling teacher forced to remain patient with a class full of inattentive pupils. ‘I have detected an extensive technological complex buried beneath the planetoid’s surface.’

  Cally decided that she, at least, was prepared to be an attentive student. ‘So what is it?’

  Orac sounded almost cagey. ‘The Federation technology pre-dates the original Tarial Cell.’

  ‘That must make it old,’ said Cally. ‘Much older than Star One.’

  ‘Further information is mere extrapolation,’ Orac told her sniffily.

  Avon wasn’t in the mood for niceties. ‘All right then. Extrapolate.’

  Orac’s operating note quavered and steadied, as though reaching a reluctant conclusion. ‘The technology is primitive. It could be a simple storage capacity, or a weapons facility, or an abandoned earlier…’

  ‘Weapons facility?’ Cally was startled by Orac’s casual inclusion of this possibility, and apparent lack of curiosity about it.

  ‘Kindly do not interrupt while I am enumerating the possibilities,’ snapped Orac.

  Cally pulled a face at the computer.

  ‘As I was saying,’ continued Orac, ‘Megiddo could also be an abandoned earlier iteration of the Star One complex, or even a waste disposal site.’

  ‘But,’ insisted Cally, ‘you say it could be a Federation weapons facility?’ That was good enough reason for her, she decided. ‘Avon, I say we should go there and recover what we can.’

  ‘I say none of us are going anywhere.’ Avon turned away from her, rudely underlining his dismissal of her suggestion. ‘We cannot spare someone to go down there based on mere… extrapolation.’

  Cally refused to accept this, and stalked across the flight deck. She stood between Avon and the view screen to confront him. ‘Can we afford to let this thing fall into alien hands?’

  ‘Assuming the aliens have hands,’ observed Vila.

  ‘Oh Vila, you know what I mean,’ she sighed. It wasn’t so very long ago that the human crew of the Liberator had thought of her as an alien. It had taken her a while to earn their trust, to overcome the parochialism of people from Earth about the trustworthiness of off-worlders. And now here they were, faced with the truly alien. Faced with the annihilation of all humans, whether from Earth or from Auron or from anywhere in the known galaxy. And this dwarf planet might be the solution. She couldn’t allow the opportunity to pass them by.

  ‘I will teleport down to Megiddo,’ she said firmly. Her eyes never left Avon’s.

  He blinked slowly, and turned to Orac.

  ‘What are the odds that it is weaponry?’

  ‘There are too many…’

  ‘… unknown variables,’ interrupted Avon. ‘Yes, I thought you’d say that, Orac. And it answers your question Cally.’ Now he was staring right back at her. Impassive. Unyielding. ‘You’re staying here.’

  He snatched the activation key from Orac, and the computer powered down with an ill-tempered yelp.

  Cally watched Avon walk away from her, towards the exit. ‘So, where are you going, Avon?’ she demanded.

  He shouted over his shoulder as he left the flight deck. ‘Narrowing down the variables.’

  Chapter 6

  Strange Allies

  The solemn tick of the chronometer echoed through the observation deck. Blake held his breath for a while, so he could listen more attentively to the sounds of the room. There was only the clock, marking the seconds, one by one, from its position on the wall.

  It was more calming than the noises of the medical unit. They had been driving him crazy – the monotonous regularity of the health systems, the steady wheeze of respirators, the clicks and bleeps of the monitors, and the sound of his own ragged breathing. Or more likely, the fact that he was lying there helpless, spending far longer to heal than he wanted while having much too much time to lie and think.

  So he had attached himself to a portable medipack as best he could, and traipsed through the Liberator‘s many interconnecting corridors to get here. To the place where, on so many previous occasions, he had secluded himself in silent contemplation.

  Time spent here was very different to the frustration he had felt in the medical unit. The original builders of the ship had found some way of ensuring that this room was silent, despite its position at the rear of the vessel. None of the engine noises permeated its soundproofed walls. There was a comms unit, but Blake had switched it off. It was utterly silent.

  Perhaps that was why Blake had, months ago, fixed the clock on the wall. He had wanted some indication that he was not alone here. Even in his most profound meditations, when the events that had brought him here seemed insurmountable. In his most dejected moments, when he had feared none of his crew supported him. When none of them believed in him. When he was plunged back into the helplessness that he’d felt on Earth after seeing his friends and comrades gunned down. After the charade of his trial. Or while locked in his seat on the prison ship London. Until he had found the Liberator, and a crew to lead, and a new purpose.

  And here he was again, on the observation deck of this fabulous vessel. Wondering about his future. Thinking about how narrowly he had escaped death at the hand of his oldest enemy, Space Commander Travis. Literally at Travis’s hand – a shot from the laseron destroyer built into the man’s artificial limb. Travis had caught Blake unawares on Star One, and shot him without a thought, with no word of warning. Despite his injury, Blake had recovered enough strength to wound the space commander, to stall his plan to allow the alien fleet into human space. But Travis had only finally perished when Avon shot him down, after he’d arrived to take charge of the situation.

  Now Avon had taken charge of the Liberator.

  Blake leaned his forehead against the vast external viewport that curved from wall to wall, from floor to ceiling. It felt neither cool nor hot. The huge transparent partition opened out directly into space. Even when the lights were on in the observation deck, there was no reflection on the partition’s surface. On his previous visits, Blake had liked to extinguish
all the deck lights, and gaze out uninterrupted into the depths of the universe.

  He finally let out his breath. There was no condensation on the partition. So he still had a perfectly clear view. The position of the observation deck meant that you had to lean right into the curved partition and crane your neck to get any sight of the Liberator‘s exterior. Instead, he stared out and considered his current position.

  The flickering lights of the war peppered the inky blackness of a sector without stars. Somewhere out there was Star One. Somewhere beyond that was a vast alien fleet, leaking through the satellite defence grid. The sporadic, silent explosions told him that the war was in full spate. And behind him, oblivious and uncaring, the clock still ticked, ticked, ticked.

  Blake tried not to show his surprise when the door to the observation deck slid open. There was no way of anyone letting him know they were entering. The thrum of distant engines came in with Avon, only to be silenced as he closed the door behind himself.

  Avon looked at the comms unit on the wall, and grunted. ‘Well, that might explain it,’ he said, almost to himself, and switched the unit back on. He turned his attention to Blake. ‘You were supposed to be in the medical unit.’

  Blake peered at him in the darkness. ‘You were supposed to be on the flight deck.’

  ‘When you agreed to remain under observation, I didn’t think you would be so literal about it.’ Avon stood beside Blake, and stared out at the distant lights of the war. ‘Is the view helping your recovery?’

  ‘Something like that.’ Blake chuckled. ‘I suppose I should be touched by your concern.’

  ‘Is this where we embrace and make up?’

  Blake shrugged a gesture to indicate his injury, and winced as the effort made the pain lance through his side. ‘You can hardly embrace me while I’m in this sling.’

  ‘That wasn’t what was stopping me.’