Blake’s 7: Warship

by Peter Anghelides

  ‘There, you see?’ Jenna positioned herself so that she could support Blake again. ‘Your carriage awaits.’

  They shuffled slowly down the corridor to the next junction. The floor had tipped at an awkward angle, so it was like walking uphill. Blake wondered if the artificial gravity was failing. If that went completely, they would be floating around helplessly with no easy way of getting to safety.

  But it wasn’t the artificial gravity. The corridor had been forced upwards because the far end had ruptured from its housing. He could feel heat singeing him as they approached.

  ‘Stay back,’ Jenna warned him. ‘It’s a sheer drop.’ She peered tentatively over the ragged edge at the end of the corridor. A gust of scorching air shot upwards. Jenna ducked back down the corridor, pushing Blake fiercely out of the way. Behind her, a gout of flame roared up from the depths and spread like liquid across the ceiling. The walls began to char, and molten drops started to drip down onto the angled floor.

  They scrambled backwards, staggering around the previous junction. The unforgiving slab of a thick fire door slammed into place beside them. Even then, Blake could hear the savage roar of the inferno beyond it.

  Jenna coughed and hacked as she cleared the smoke from her throat. ‘Are you all right?’ she was able to gasp.

  ‘I think so.’ Blake gritted his teeth, determined not to let her see the intense pain he was in. ‘There’s no route through that way.’

  Jenna looked across the junction. ‘And that one’s filling with smoke. We can’t allow ourselves to get trapped between fire doors.’

  Blake considered their options. ‘Back this way,’ he suggested. ‘We’ll have to hope the starboard life capsules are working, too.’

  The fire door opposite was beginning its determined descent. Jenna darted beneath it, pulling Blake after her before it slammed shut.

  They continued to make steady progress, cautious enough to avoid plunging into any further abyss, but with enough pace to stay ahead of the chasing flames.

  Blake lost track of time. All these Liberator corridors, so familiar over the years, now looked the same. Had they doubled back? Just as he was beginning to think they were going to arrive back on the flight deck, they tumbled into the starboard launch bay.

  The area was small and utilitarian. An arched walkway with four access hatches to the life capsules on either side. The capsules themselves were long, silver-grey caskets aligned horizontally, awaiting their passengers. The far end of the bay was scorched, blackened and tarnished where a small fire had broken out some time earlier and been extinguished by the automatic safety systems. Nevertheless, the room stank of charred plastic, and there was an odd metallic tang in his mouth. He put a hand to his mouth, and found blood where he had bitten his tongue.

  Blake looked down the bay. He wondered if any of the capsules would still be working, or whether this was where his and Jenna’s journey would finally end.

  The capsules were stacked in pairs, one above the other, with a short access ladder to reach the upper one. Like bunk beds, thought Blake. He felt tired enough to fall asleep right now. Or perhaps, he reflected, they reminded him of the boxes on Megiddo, holding their silent human operatives in a sleep of centuries. Well, he wasn’t quite that exhausted.

  Jenna lowered Blake to the floor, so that she could close the doorway to the corridor behind them. ‘Rest there for a minute, Blake. I’ll check the capsules.’

  The public address system crackled and spat, echoing oddly around the small bay.

  ‘DAMAGE CONTROL ESTIMATES BREAKDOWN IS NOW BEYOND THE CAPACITY OF AUTO-REPAIR SYSTEMS IN ALL AREAS. SERIOUS MALFUNCTION IN LIFE SUPPORT WOUD INDICATE EVACUATION BY LIFE CAPSULE A PRIORITY ONE REQUIREMENT.’

  ‘I don’t think we need persuading, Zen.’ Blake grimaced as a spasm of pain shot across his midriff and up over his chest. He couldn’t stop himself from shouting in pain.

  Jenna was at his side in an instant, full of concern.

  Blake noticed that the high-pitched hum had faded to nothing. ‘Oh dear,’ he winced. ‘It’s the medipack…’

  ‘What’s happened?’ asked Jenna.

  ‘It’s packed in.’

  No point in carrying it with him any longer, decided Blake. It was just another thing to carry, or that would get in the way. He tugged at the fastenings, and was satisfied to hear the clips ping open. He peeled the device away from his torso, and dropped it onto the floor.

  ‘So much for that.’

  ‘Never mind the medipack,’ Jenna said brusquely, ‘the life capsules have their own auto-medical systems.’ She held out both hands to help him stand again. ‘Two of these are undamaged. Get in that one. I’ll prepare it for launch.’

  The first was on the lower level. Jenna activated the power switch, and the access hatch slid slowly open. Blake saw rudimentary flight controls in front of a long, low impact seat. He ducked his head to avoid hitting it on the roof overhang, and rolled into the space.

  His body sank into the cushioning of the impact seat, and the material began to mould itself around his back as the chair fashioned itself into the perfect fit for its new occupant. The flight control pedals moved up to meet his feet. The life-support system flicked into life, scanning his wounded body and providing him with a heads-up projection that told him in alarming detail about the current state of his various injuries. It was supposed to be helpful, Blake supposed, but it was all a bit disquieting. Nonetheless, even at this point, he was still amazed at the simple efficiency of the ship’s systems.

  ‘Do you remember first boarding Liberator, Jenna?’

  ‘How could I forget?’ She was busying herself with the external controls, fine-tuning the settings in anticipation of the launch. ‘I’d never seen anything like it. I didn’t know if we were looking at a racing ship, or a transport, or an exploration vessel…’

  ‘Or a warship,’ added Blake. He wriggled slightly in his seat, and found that the material had now shaped itself perfectly to cushion his whole body. He looked out into the launch bay, beyond where Jenna stood, and could see the scars and marks of the earlier fire. ‘She’s fought bravely today.’

  Jenna smiled in at him. ‘We all have.’

  He thought he saw something in her expression. Acceptance, now, rather than defiance. ‘I didn’t expect to be leaving like this,’ he admitted.

  ‘Today’s full of surprises.’ She refocused her attention on the control panel outside the capsule. ‘I didn’t expect Avon to stay and fight.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘He’s always taken some persuading,’ she said. ‘Right back to that time on the prison transport.’

  ‘I can be very persuasive.’ For some reason, this seemed to greatly amuse Jenna. He was pleased to see her laugh, nevertheless. ‘What?’

  ‘He said the same about himself.’ She peered in through the hatch again, as though scrutinising Blake for a reaction. ‘But you had to promise him the Liberator to change his mind. Is that why he was such a willing ally?’

  Blake took a pensive breath, and exhaled it slowly as he mused on his response. ‘Someone once told me that the people you choose as allies don’t have to be your friends. They just have to be the enemy of your enemy.’

  He studied Jenna’s face. She didn’t look convinced. ‘You don’t really believe it’s that cynical, do you Blake?’

  ‘No,’ said Blake. He didn’t even have to think about it. ‘No, I don’t.’ He tapped at the fingertip controls on the dashboard in front of him. ‘And I don’t think he does, either.’

  The safety harness fastened around Blake – tightly enough to hold him in position, but not so rigidly that it pressed against the abrasions on his body.

  ‘Right, you’re all set.’ Jenna closed the cover on the external controls. ‘Can’t tell where you’ll make planetfall. The console suggests… let’s see…’ She paused briefly to review the navigation data. ‘OK, the nearby inhabitable planets include Sarran and Morphenniel. Or further out is Epheron in t
he Lauritol system.’ She tapped him lightly on the back of his hand. ‘Move your arm inside, so I can close the hatch.’

  Blake placed both his hands on the navigation console in front of him.

  ‘Once the door’s sealed,’ Jenna continued, ‘hit the launch toggle.’ Her voice was already fading as the hatch slid across into place. She’d said ‘Good luck.’ Or perhaps it had been ‘Good luck, my friend.’

  The hatch clunked shut, and sealed him inside. He was cut off completely from the distant crashes and explosions aboard Liberator.

  ‘Thank you, Jenna,’ he said quietly. ‘Good luck yourself.’

  There was a muffled rapping sound from beside him, and he saw Jenna’s puzzled face through the transparent hatch. She was mouthing a question at him.

  ‘I was just saying…’ he shouted. And laughed at the absurdity of this as his voice echoed around inside the capsule. She couldn’t hear him either. ‘Never mind,’ he said quietly, slowly and exaggerated so that she could lip read. ‘Get in your own capsule.’ He pointed in the direction of the upper level on the opposite side.

  Jenna gave him a thumbs-up and, after a moment’s hesitation, blew him a kiss. Then she was off and up the ladder, starting on the calibrations for her own escape capsule.

  ‘See you again soon,’ Blake said softly, and chuckled. Now he was just talking to himself. He considered the controls in front of him. ‘Hit the launch toggle,’ she’d said. Well, that would be this one at the centre.

  The external hatch blew out explosively, and the launch hydraulics kicked the capsule out into space. Despite the cushioning all around him, it felt to Blake like he’d been punched in the side.

  And then the capsule was free-falling away from the ship. Blake could feel the giddy sense of zero gravity throughout his whole body, and the gentle pressure of the restraints holding him in his flight seat.

  Ahead, through the front view screen, he saw a glimmer of distant, glittering lights. Some of them were the final moments of spacecraft at the conclusion of the war – civilian, Federation, alien, he couldn’t discern from here. Some of the points of light were stars, around which planets orbited. Inhabited, uninhabited. There were worlds out there ready to welcome him wherever he made landfall. He hadn’t felt that way for quite a while. Not since long before he’d had to leave Earth. When he’d last left home.

  He craned his neck to peer straight up through the canopy of the life capsule. Diminishing through the glass was the extraordinary sight of the four-pronged space ship he had just left. A scattering of iridescent lights sparkled across the bows as her systems fought valiantly against the ravages of the conflict.

  He almost said ‘Goodbye.’ But the word stuck in his throat.

  No, Blake decided. I’m coming back.

  Acknowledgements

  David Richardson, who brought Blake’s 7 back to audio, and invited me to join in.

  Xanna Eve Chown, who chaperoned my script into this novelisation.

  The cast, whose performance in my audio and in the original series inspired me.

  Anne Summerfield, for support and love.