Archangel

by Scott Harrison

  Table of Contents

  Blake's 7: Archangel

  Copyright

  Dedication

  FIVE YEARS AGO

  PART ONE - Ghosts

  CHAPTER ONE

  * * *

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  * * *

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  PART TWO - Blood

  * * *

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  * * *

  CHAPTER TEN

  PART THREE - Project Archangel

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  * * *

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  * * *

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  SALVATION

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Blake’s 7

  ARCHANGEL

  Scott Harrison

  BIG FINISH

  First published in November 2012

  by Big Finish Productions Ltd

  PO Box 1127, Maidenhead, SL6 3LW

  www.bigfinish.com

  Blake’s 7 Producer for Big Finish: David Richardson

  Executive Producers for Big Finish: Nicholas Briggs and Jason Haigh-Ellery

  Executive Editor for B7 Media: Andrew Mark Sewell

  Managing Editor: Jason Haigh-Ellery

  Production Editor: Xanna Eve Chown

  With thanks to Peter Anghelides and John Binns

  Cover design: Anthony Lamb

  Copyright © Scott Harrison 2012

  The right of Scott Harrison to be identified as the authors of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved.

  The moral right of the authors has been asserted. All characters in this publication are

  fictitious and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information retrieval system, without prior permission, in writing, from the publisher. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Blake’s 7 ™ © B7 Enterprises Ltd 2012. All rights reserved.

  Blake’s 7 wordmark and logo are trademarks of B7 Enterprises Ltd and are used under license.

  Blake’s 7 ™ © B7 Enterprises Ltd 2012.

  Based on the original television series Blake’s 7 created by Terry Nation.

  ISBN: 978-1-78178-022-0

  ebook: 978-1-78178-023-7

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  This book is for my wife, Linzi

  FIVE YEARS AGO

  They moved silently beneath a starless sky, eight of them altogether; shapeless forms hidden beneath black, featureless uniforms.

  Pale light flashed across the smooth, domed peaks of their combat helmets as they pushed their way through the forest clearing, following the steady curve of the river northwards. The narrow trail that wound down to the water’s edge was slippery underfoot and had to be taken one at a time. The only sound as they clambered down from the rocky outcrop was the rush of wind high in the leafy canopy overhead, of muffled breathing beneath thick protective face-guards.

  They emerged from the trees, stopping at the edge of the sandy bank, the dark river water knotted with ripples as it flashed past, inches from where they stood. They were making good time and could afford a brief rest. Not that there was any real hurry. The traitor and his family weren’t going anywhere, not in this weather. An icy wind was blowing down off the mountains, bringing with it a tangle of swollen, grey cloud; there’d be a hard frost on the ground by morning, perhaps even an inch or two of snow.

  Space Captain Garrin pushed his way slowly through the small collection of troopers, the crunching of the loose stone and shale beneath his boots like an artillery barrage in the silence of the forest. He stopped a little further up the bank and lifted his visor, peering into the gloom.

  The sky was growing darker, the sun little more than a blazing scar beyond the trees to the west. In the dying light he could just make out the broken path of rocks that stretched across the river, from one bank to the other, jagged peaks piercing the surface of the turbulent water.

  ‘There…’ Garrin hissed, a grin pushing at the corners of his mouth. He half-turned, eyes scanning the dark knot of shapes a few metres behind him. He spotted the tall, slightly stooped frame of his second–in-command almost immediately, sitting on a rock to one side of the group, legs folded awkwardly in front of him. ‘Darvik. Get over here.’

  A second or two later, the Section Leader appeared at his side, tugging off his helmet and tucking it into the crook of his arm.

  Garrin stood in silence, his eyes tracking along the gentle sweep of the river ahead, watching as it twisted down into the valley, spiralling through the trees until it disappeared into the hills beyond. Then he jabbed a finger towards the growing swell of shadows. ‘That patch of scrubland there, where the river narrows…that’s north west isn’t it, lad?’

  Darvik nodded. ‘Yes, sir—give or take. According to the map, the river skirts the edge of the forest for another four or five miles in that direction, before it hits the mountain range.’

  ‘Good. Then that’s where you’ll take your squad,’ the Captain told him. ‘If you keep the water in sight at all times, and stick to the marsh ground for a good mile or so, that should bring you out to the north of the ruins.’

  Darvik thought about this for a moment, then gave his superior another terse nod. ‘Might be a problem for the lander, sir. All that greenery. It could miss us out there.’

  ‘Let Control worry about that, son. You just concentrate on getting the “package” delivered.’ Garrin slammed his visor into place and jerked his head back towards the spot where the men were waiting.

  The Section Leader saluted and disappeared off towards the troopers, fixing his helmet back into place as he went.

  Within minutes, the men were moving again, picking their way slowly, carefully, across the river; water frothing around their boots as they waded from rock to rock. On the opposite bank, the garrison peeled off into two groups of four. The first plunged on ahead, deeper into the forest, while the second group, led by Darvik, edged along the loose shale bank towards the dark tangle of scrubland further up the river.

  As the troopers pushed on, breaking the tree line and heading for the old stone ruins beyond, the first flakes of snow fell from the sky.

  *

  It was getting colder. Kodyn was sure of it. Either that or the stimulants Blake had given him were beginning to wear off.

  He pulled the collar of his tunic tighter around his neck and reached for another branch to throw on the fire. The flames were getting low again. T; the wood he’d collected together was too damp to burn properly; it did very little except extinguish the flames and fill the interior of the old building with long, noxious fingers of black smoke. Kodyn cursed silently. The smoke was probably visible for miles in all directions, even this far into the forest. If a security patrol should pass by now…

  If he wasn’t careful his stupidity was going to get them all killed.

  Kodyn leant back against the pitted stonework of the wall and
watched his daughters as they slept. They looked so fragile curled up by the fire, hidden beneath their mother’s rough, woollen shawl. So small and helpless. They could easily be mistaken for a pile of discarded clothes, strewn carelessly on the hard, stone floor.

  How could he have done this to them? He said he would protect them, had given them his word, promised to get them out of the Dome and safely off the Earth, perhaps even as far as the outer colonies. He didn’t really care where they went, as long as they were far enough away from the mood suppressants and artificial stimulants that the Federation was pumping into the bodies of his family, polluting the minds of his children, twisting their reason.

  Blake had told him where to go: five klicks due north, just beyond the thick belt of trees, there would be a transporter ship waiting for them. He’d given him a homing device, its tiny sensor-core locked onto the ship’s transponder signal.

  ‘Use it sparingly,’ Blake had told him, ‘and only when you’ve passed beyond the range of the Dome’s detector field. Activate it before then and you’ll have a tracking party down on you so fast you won’t have time to run or hide.’

  The contact had been waiting for them by the service hatch in the lower levels, just as Blake had promised. Kodyn couldn’t remember the man’s name now—he thought it might have been Dev, or possibly Del—though it hardly seemed to matter; there’d been very little time for introductions at any rate. Whatever the man’s name, he’d said very little to them, just reiterated Blake’s instructions, then quickly bypassed the micro-electronic seals of the outer hatchway so that it could be opened without tripping the security circuits in the Dome’s computer room.

  Beside him on the ground was an old plastic satchel that contained the homing device, an electro-topographical map of the surrounding area, and a small laser pistol that Blake had given him the night before they had left the Dome. The pistol was for emergencies, Blake had told him. A last resort. Should it ever come to that. His friend’s eyes had been cold, unblinking, and it had taken a moment for the words to truly sink in. When they had, Kodyn had snatched his hand away from the gun as though it were white hot. He’d taken it anyway, despite how wrong it had felt in his hands. It had been the first time he’d held a gun.

  He slipped it from the front pocket of the satchel and checked the clip again, hands trembling as the effects of the stimulants began to wear off.

  On the other side of the fire his wife, Lyssa, stirred fitfully in her sleep, causing Kodyn to almost drop the pistol in fright. He waited for her to settle back down again before he clicked the safety bolt into the on position, then stuffed the weapon into the pocket of his tunic. It felt heavy and awkward lying there inside his clothing and he tried his best to ignore it.

  They’d got away from the Dome and were safe, for now. That was the most important thing. At first light the four of them would be making for the transporter ship again, and after that he wouldn’t need the pistol. He could dump it in the undergrowth before boarding the vessel, or hand it over to one of the crew. Whichever way, he’d be rid of it soon. Blake had only given it to him as a precaution, he told himself. He wouldn’t need to use it.

  Kodyn forced himself to his feet, then walked slowly through each of the crumbling rooms in the building, hand wrapped protectively around the handle of the laser pistol nestled in his pocket. He stopped for a while when he reached the hallway, one foot resting on the bottom step of the wide staircase. The room was huge; the ceiling arching high overhead reminded Kodyn of the great Archive Halls back in the Dome. He shuddered, peering upwards into the darkness that collected on the first floor landing, and thought briefly about checking the upstairs rooms. Instead, he turned and headed for the front door.

  Outside, the air shimmered in the cold. Along the edges of the forest clearing a thin, grey mist was pooling, stirred only by a sharp breeze that tumbled down off the mountains.

  Kodyn stood in the deep blue darkness of twilight, face turned up towards the stars, and fought back the tears. Every time he closed his eyes he kept seeing that one frozen moment: the image of his daughters, curled in front of the fire, wrapped up in their mother’s shawl for warmth.

  It almost broke his heart to recall how confused and afraid they’d been when he’d woken them the night before, when he’d told them to get out of bed and get dressed. Tala, just twelve years old, had stood in the hallway comforting her sister Katri, younger than her by four years, as their mother raced around the living-unit, grabbing things off shelves, out of cupboards, and thrusting them into the backpack. Both girls had been so silent as they’d stepped through the open service hatch and out into the cold night air for the first time, Tala clinging tightly to his side not daring to let go, her eyes so wide, so full of confusion and fear.

  Snow was falling now and Kodyn realised that his hands and feet were beginning to ache from the cold. He turned and walked back into the ruined building, returning to his family and the warmth of the dying fire.

  There was a spare blanket-roll in the corner of the room, along with a flask of water and a container of hastily packed food. Kodyn unrolled the blanket and laid it on the ground next to Lyssa, then ate a few protein biscuits from the food container. He wasn’t really that hungry; it was more to stop his stomach from cramping than anything else.

  Before he settled down, he checked that his daughters were warm and comfortable, tucking the covers up high around their chins and kissing them lightly on the forehead. Then he lay down beside his wife. He was teetering on the edge of sleep when he heard movement in the other room and his eyes flew open.

  *

  Snowflakes drifted down from the tangle of dark cloud. Only a handful at first, tossed on the cold breeze, then gradually growing faster, heavier.

  Darvik licked his lips nervously, waiting for the Captain to get into position and give the signal. He could feel the cold trickle of sweat down his spine despite the biting wind that tugged at his thin uniform.

  ‘Sir!’

  The voice was little more than a hiss, coughed out from between cold, dry lips. It came from somewhere behind him, a little further along the ridge. Darvik swung his head around, squinting into the gloom.

  The trooper who had spoken gestured towards his own face, then at the ruins in front of them. It was a signal: Target in sight.

  Darvik flattened himself against the frozen ground, eyes scanning the area ahead. The trooper was right. He could see the traitor standing out there amongst the ruins, his deep crimson tunic blazing like a beacon amidst the falling flecks of white. He didn’t seem to be doing anything, just standing there, a laser pistol clutched absently in his hands. His head was turned away so Darvik couldn’t see his face clearly, but he seemed to be staring out across the tops of the trees towards the mountains in the north.

  Darvik waited for a minute or two, but the traitor continued to gaze out into the darkness, face titled upwards, unmoving. The Section Leader pushed himself backwards, shuffling back down the ridge until he was hidden behind the ruins again. As soon as he was out of sight, he scanned the ridge again to make sure that his men were in position.

  The trooper to his left had swung his rifle from his shoulder and was slotting a new cartridge into the grip-feed, his eyes on the Section Leader. Darvik signalled quickly, circling the air with his forefinger, then pointing to the far side of the ruined building: Circle around behind the target. Then he held up five splayed fingers, before bringing them quickly together into a tight fist: Wait five minutes, then move in.

  The trooper nodded, slinging the rifle across his shoulders once more, before creeping silently away along the ridge.

  After a few seconds, Darvik moved forward again, sliding along on his stomach. He had to assume that Captain Garrin had seen the traitor too and was holding position just beyond the treeline. If that was the case then he was probably waiting for the target to move a little closer, away from the ruins, before risking taking a shot. Darvik turned to signal the two remaining troopers on his
right, but a sudden movement caught his eye, and he froze.

  The traitor had spun quickly on his heel and was walking away from them, back towards the broken entrance to the building. At the same time Garrin’s group broke cover, emerging silently from out of the dense curtain of trees, and disappearing amongst the jagged line of stones.

  Gripping his rifle, Darvik signalled for the other troopers to follow him, before pushing himself up onto the ridge and darting across the open ground towards the ruined building.

  *

  The first bolt hit Lyssa in the chest, jerking her off her feet and slamming her backwards into the wall; the second tore her head from her shoulders, sending spumes of dark blood spraying into the air.

  Tala began to scream, her eyes wide with shock as she reached instinctively for the sleeping form of her sister.

  More uniformed men came pounding into the room from the doorway opposite as Kodyn fumbled for the laser pistol in his tunic pocket. The material tore as he tugged the barrel free, swinging it clumsily upwards in the direction of the approaching troopers. He squeezed the trigger but the shot went wild as the man at the front of the group, a tall, awkward-looking youth, knocked the gun aside with the barrel of his rifle, before punching Kodyn in the face with his free hand.

  There was a loud crack as his nose shattered beneath the impact, causing him to stagger backwards against the wall. The gun skittered across the floor as Kodyn slid down onto one knee, his hands clawing at the crumbling brickwork in a desperate attempt to keep himself upright; around him the room was heaving like the deck of a starship making an emergency planetfall.

  The room was full of Federation troopers now, circling slowly towards the centre of the room, keeping themselves between him and the doorways at either end of the room.

  He could hear Katri. She was awake now and sobbing uncontrollably. The noise brought the world back into sharp focus, giving him the strength to fight against the tide of unconsciousness that threatened to break over him. Kodyn shook his head and glanced towards the sound, to where Katri sat clinging to her sister in terror.