by Tony Attwood
‘So what’s he doing on Earth?’
‘For all I know he’s probably convinced the Administration that their best interests are served in doing a deal with him. He plays the cards all ways, Vila, and all ways lead to the best deal for Avon.’ Tarrant put his hand back on his communicator. ‘This is the pilot. I’m in an underground city about half a mile from the ship. I’m going to start working my way to the surface now. There are creatures on the surface from which I’ll need protection. I’ll contact you again when I reach the exit port. Get lights and weaponry aimed at the area 120 degrees from the ship.’
Tarrant’s signal was formally acknowledged. He turned to Vila. ‘You could come too.’
‘What – out there with those creatures? You must be joking Tarrant. And what do I get at the end of it? Another prison sentence on Earth? Anyway, why come and be bullied by you rather than Avon? It makes no difference, Tarrant. You or Avon, it doesn’t matter.’ He looked desperately sad. ‘I’ll stay here.’
‘It’s your choice,’ said Tarrant. He pulled on his coat, walked to the door and then paused. ‘And thanks for saving my life.’
Vila looked away. His face was a strange mixture of emotions. ‘Think nothing of it,’ he said as he touched the controls to bring into focus the exit that Tarrant would soon be using on the surface.
Vila stayed at his position staring at the screen as the newly evolved snow-covered mammoths appeared, lumbering towards Tarrant. They were over twenty feet tall and fifty feet long including the large bone structures that started above the eyes, pointed forward and ended in massive horns which they used as snow ploughs. They were too slow to worry Tarrant directly although they did cause him to divert from a direct path to his ship. Vila continued to watch as a pack of pure white tigers, almost invisible against the snow, attacked and Tarrant fell for the first, and then second time. But by then his eyes had long since stopped relaying to his brain what was on the screen.
13
‘Still calculating, Avon?’
Avon had heard Korell enter the freight bay where he was still working on the equipment he had gathered from the Ghammarans. He stayed with his work and said nothing.
‘Don’t you ever give up?’ Korell’s smile and calmness were still there but since she had rescued him on Earth her voice had changed subtly, giving a barely discernible extra edge to everything she said. Avon, who had listened to her so much over the past months, heard it and recognised it. ‘What is it you are looking for Avon?’ She paused. There was no reply. ‘Fame isn’t enough for you is it? Everyone in the Galaxy knows of Kerr Avon. You could fly into any one of a million planets and have vidcrews chasing you for interviews along with Federation troops chasing you for arrest. But that’s not it, is it Avon? Something else drives you. And it’s not the credits.’ Korell walked round the hold inspecting the work Avon had been involved in. ‘Everyone knows you failed in the big theft, but if anything that enhanced your reputation. And now you’ve got double the amount and your pride can be satisfied.’ He looked up at her. ‘Avon, I am not such a total fool as not to know what you were doing while I was out of the control room. A little sub-routine out of the battle computers and into Finance-7, I imagine. Anytime someone suspects a fault in the logic of Finance-7 the last place they will look is in the programming of Defence Computer-3.’ Avon retained his silence.
‘But that was only a diversion wasn’t it Avon? You never cared about the money. You had no dreams of what to do with it did you? What does Kerr Avon do with credit? He is already the anti-hero of a whole Galaxy. He could command any sum just to lend his name to a revolution attempt at any place in the Milky Way. Or to solve some irritating little computer problem even on an Inner World. Avon could drive forever on Terminal up and down the Galaxy, just as he could on Liberator after Blake disappeared.’ She paused. There was as near silence as is ever possible on a fusion-powered spaceship. ‘What is it Avon? What do you want?’
Korell gave a strong heavy emphasis to the last sentence. These were the questions she should have been asking on Gauda Prime. Avon looked up. ‘Peace and quiet,’ he said. ‘Get out.’
Korell would not go. ‘So it is something else that drives you on Kerr Avon? I wonder what that could be. Is it MIND?’
Avon looked up sharply. Korell was behind him, unable to look into his eyes which she wanted to do. But the reaction gave her enough insight.
‘Yes, it’s MIND,’ Korell continued. ‘You are haunted by the thought that somewhere out there is something or someone who knows a lot more about computers than you do. Oh I know your great philosophy about everyone else being a fool. No one matters but number one. But that breaks down when someone or something else starts pushing you around.
‘Ensor was your equal but in a different field, he designed a new system. So did Muller. Your great talent, what made Avon the famous unbeatable Kerr Avon was the ability to take a system and rebuild it for a new purpose. Ensor and Muller started from scratch working in splendid isolation in wonderful little laboratories where assistants came and fetched and carried. You worked in the field, doing everything yourself. You take other people’s systems and turn them upside down.’
At last Avon had to speak. ‘It’s good to know who I am at last. Now if you have nothing better to do why don’t you pilot this ship back to Terminal?’
‘Because my interest is in you Avon. It always has been in you. Don’t you realise that when you die everything that you have worked to achieve will be lost? You have developed a whole technology of machine manipulation Avon. You are that technology. No one else can do it. Unless someone learns it from you it will be lost to mankind when you die.’
‘Poor mankind,’ said Avon. ‘I feel sorry.’ His voice was thick with sarcasm.
‘But now you’re off on a new track following MIND. Was it MIND that told you to kill Blake?’
‘If you are so interested in finding out about MIND,’ said Avon, ‘navigate us back to Terminal without being hit by one of those ships,’ and with a touch of a contact the screen above them revealed one hundred square spacials liberally peppered with ships of all kinds. Some were in a bad way, some had been abandoned totally, some were still fighting, and some were clearly making their way towards Revenge.
‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’ said Korell as she led the way at full speed back to the bridge.
‘You seemed to be engrossed,’ replied Avon, following her and taking up his position.
With all the skill available to her, Korell took Revenge through a series of manoeuvres which avoided those ships heading in their direction, and around most of the action. As they completed the twists and turns and approached Terminal from above its pointed north pole, she returned to the previous conversation.
‘What is MIND Avon?’
‘It stands for Machine Induced Neural Directives. A machine that talks directly to the brain. It is a clever notion.’
‘But no more than that?’
‘It is much more than a machine. Machines, even sophisticated machines like Orac, are still machines and are dependent upon either pure logic or the emotions induced by the maker. MIND is free from such restrictions.’
‘You mean it genuinely thinks creatively?’
‘And it is free to transmit thoughts to organic beings.’
‘Such as Kerr Avon.’
‘From time to time.’
‘So it really is important.’
‘That’s for you to decide. I make my own decisions.’
Korell stood in front of Avon, and asked the one question that was left. ‘Do you know where MIND is?’
Avon stood to face her. He put his right hand behind her neck, pulled her to him and kissed her hard on the lips. But before the situation could develop, the battle alarms started to ring across the flight deck. A surprise move by a small group of Administration craft had brought them to within close proximity of Revenge and Korell was forced to send the ship in a wide arc to avoid too close an investigation.
‘Friends of yours?’ asked Avon sarcastically as the ships opened fire.
Korell refrained from replying, taking the ship into an erratic elipse around Terminal. As they orbited the planet from above the elipse got larger to account for the shape of the planet. The replotting of the course was undertaken totally by Korell without computer aid. The Administration ships flying by computer found themselves following more logical paths which took them away from, rather than towards Revenge. Eventually they lost interest in the unmarked freighter and pulled away to find more promising foes to fire at.
Korell landed the ship within twenty yards of the entry port. As they landed she called Vila who thankfully was neither drunk nor asleep and managed to operate the hatch controls successfully. Momentarily Avon left the bridge and ran back to the hold. He came back with just one item, a small flat container about one foot long and less than a quarter of an inch thick. As Korell joined him at the main airlock they did a quick scan for animals, saw none and ran to the open entry bay as fast as their space suits would allow.
Avon had no time for discussion as they re-entered the control room on Terminal. Within seconds he was conducting a full sweep of the sky above their position. Immediately he pointed with the forefinger of his right hand at the central screen. There in the middle of the welter of drifting ships was a space vehicle totally unlike anything he had ever seen before. It was flaming red in colour with two black lines diagonally crossing it. But it wasn’t so much the colour of the object that attracted attention as the design – it was a sphere, rotating slowly about its own axis. Only Vila had ever seen it before – as he told the others several times in the next thirty seconds. It was the machine he had seen on Gauda Prime after he had first entered Revenge. As the crew of Terminal watched, it twisted and turned carefully through the ships and debris, seemingly moving from one to another at random but always keeping Terminal at the same distance. Suddenly without warning one of the ships the sphere was investigating broke out of position, trying to effect rapid escape. As it did the sphere opened fire, damaging the fleeing vessel almost at once. With nowhere else to turn the vessel began to tumble towards Terminal.
‘Is Terminal Computer back on line?’ demanded Avon.
‘Er yes, I think so...’ replied Vila. He felt it unjust that greater credit had not come his way for having seen the sphere before.
Avon punched the contacts. ‘Terminal Computer, which fleet does the ship come from that has just crashed on the planet?’ demanded Avon.
‘Servalan’s,’ replied the computer.
‘Then at least we needn’t worry about rescuing the crew,’ said Vila.
‘No wait,’ said Korell. ‘We may be able to gain some information from the captain about the strength of forces –and about the sphere. With the way the sphere cut it down it might be able to knock this whole planet out of the skies.’
To both Korell’s and Vila’s surprise Avon did not try to argue. He looked at Korell curiously, as a broad grin moved across his face. ‘Open the entry port Vila,’ he said. Avon’s voice was curiously flat. Vila did as he was told.
Only two people emerged from the ship. Both seemed ill-equipped to walk across the frozen surface of Terminal, even for just a few hundred yards, and one particularly appeared to be wearing footwear that actually made walking on any surface difficult.
The tigers and mammoths that Vila had witnessed at Tarrant’s departure had now passed on and been replaced by nothing more harmful than a race of long thin-bodied bats, which frightened and annoyed the visitors but certainly had no ability to harm them.
Through the gloom it was hard to make out the identity of the two, save to say that one was female. It was not until the first of the two reached the spotlight at the top of the descent stairs that Vila realised he was letting Servalan into Terminal.
Avon seemed far from surprised, turning to greet her only at the last moment as she entered, closely followed by Federation Captain Telon.
‘Avon, we simply cannot go on meeting like this,’ Servalan announced cheerfully, walking straight across the room and taking a chair. A broad smile stayed on her face. ‘And Vila too, of course, always faithfully by his master’s side. And Korell.’ Servalan drew her head back. ‘Korell you have disappointed me. I hear you have been cavorting with those degenerates in the Administration. Not what I wanted at all. Oh Avon,’ she turned with an exaggerated gesture, ‘did you know this charming young lady worked for me?’
‘And for the Administration, and from time to time for herself.’
‘Really? My dear little Korell, you have been busy. Well well.’
‘And you Servalan,’ said Avon, rising from his seat but carefully keeping his back to the wall. ‘Your fleet seems to be largely in ruins. And how is Orac?’
‘Yes Orac, such a helpful little fellow until the creatures in those crazy spaceships started interfering with Tarriel Cells.’
‘Where is Orac?’
‘Now Avon, you surely didn’t expect me to bring that box of tricks with me did you? My associate is looking after it. Knowing your ability to be at the very centre of Galactic events, and finding nothing less than the infamous Terminal at the heart of our little battle, I could only conclude you were here. Nice of you to let me in. I do hope the irony of the situation has not escaped your notice.’
‘Is Orac on the ship?’
Servalan ignored Avon’s question. Instead she changed the subject. ‘Avon, you remember my captain, Telon? We all met on Gauda Prime!’ Servalan performed a long series of introductions. Nobody tried to stop her. ‘And now,’ she said as she concluded, ‘it is my turn to ask you some questions. Avon, what is that sphere up there?’
Avon retained his position, arms crossed leaning against a wall, saying nothing. He was for the moment content to stand and watch.
‘Come now Avon, I have Orac. Wouldn’t you like Orac back?’
‘I doubt if you’ll give it to me.’
‘Oh but I would Avon. And helpful Caro too. My troops are poised to take over the Administration. We have suffered some minor setbacks but nothing permanent. The enemies’ weapons are essentially useless. Victory is at hand, and with that victory total power. I admit it would be nice to have Orac around to solve the odd problem, but I think I could manage without it.’
‘You mean Orac refuses to talk to you,’ said Vila brightly. ‘I told you it only talked to Avon.’
‘Orac is in a ship of my fleet. We can do an exchange, Avon. You tell me all about counteracting the Ghammaran weapons, and all about that little sphere, and I’ll give you Orac.’
Looking back on it, Vila felt sure Avon was about to continue the discussion. He seemed in no hurry to reach a conclusion whatsoever. But at that moment Korell acted: she drew a gun. It wasn’t a particularly fast draw but she knew that no one was watching her. As she drew she shot. The laser ray missed Servalan’s heart but took her clean in the stomach. The one look on her face that remained in Vila’s memory was surprise. The one word she spoke, was ‘You.’ It could have been a statement or a question, but there was little energy left in Servalan for the niceties of inflection. Even Captain Telon was too surprised to act. By the time he thought of it Avon had him covered.
Korell’s calmness and smile stayed even as she spoke in bitter tones to the dying woman. ‘Monoceros, Servalan. Remember Monoceros?’
It was unclear if in the best of health Servalan would have remembered the little-known star close by a rebellious Federation planet. Certainly in her present predicament she did not. She slumped to the floor with a hand outstretched. By purest chance it stretched towards Vila. He retreated as far as he could. It seemed an obscene gesture.
‘Monoceros!’ Korell was annoyed at the lack of response from the half dead woman. In fury she kicked her in the ribs. ‘You destroyed half of it, Servalan.’
Vila thought he began to understand. He moved across to Korell to comfort her. ‘She killed your parents there, right? Korell I’m so sor
ry...’
Korell pushed Vila away, with a touch that sent him tumbling backwards halfway across the room and into the arms of Telon. It gave the captain an opportunity to make a move to save his commander. He didn’t take it.
‘No, of course my parents weren’t on that pathetic little backwater. My parents are Pro-vice Administrators on Earth in the Terran Administration. But on Monoceros we had an excellent revolution brewing. For years I had forgone the luxury I could have legitimately claimed on Earth as the daughter of senior officials to cultivate that revolution. It was growing. It would have been a wonderful revolt. And then this idiot Commissioner comes along and blows them all to bits.’
Vila was bemused. For the moment the dying Servalan was forgotten at their feet.
‘So you had split with your parents to run the revolution on Monoceros?’
‘Look, Vila, let me spell it out for you. The Administration has known for years that it is threatened by possible attempts to overthrow its power by fanatical military elements in the Federation. So I and a handful of others had the job of organising occasional revolts in the Fourth sector. The revolt we had brewing in Monoceros could have tied up Federation military forces for centuries. I would have been decorated and honoured and had my position in the Administration more than assured. Then that maniac Servalan found some grievance with the locals and burned up most of them in one go.’
With that Korell sent two further blasts into Servalan, and watched coldly as the former President of the Federation and one time Supreme Commander of its Armed Forces in Space stopped moving and lay motionless on the floor. Korell seemed to feel no further need to explain herself but Vila was unsatisfied.
‘You’re saying that the Administration deliberately stirred up revolts against the Federation? I don’t believe it. Give me another example – some planet I’ve actually heard of.’
‘Gauda Prime,’ said Korell.
‘You don’t mean you and Blake...’
‘Blake was a demented wreck by the time we found him. He’d got laser burns, radiation burns, star burns and cerebral burns. Someone had patched him up on a deadbeat planet, but not done a very good job of it. The Administration took him in, repaired his skin as best they could and restored him to something like a quarter sanity. Then we put him on a nowhere planet and let him start his revolution, except that the poor fellow had been through so much that he’d lost his real ability to lead. He bumbled around and attracted a few idealists with more emotion than sense and lived on his name. It was genuinely sad. Then we told the Federation command he was there fermenting another revolution. Except that by then Blake couldn’t even ferment a capsule of soma. We had to keep sending him more supporters to replace the ones he’d just shot because he felt they were Federation agents. And finally out of the blue comes the gallant Avon and company.’
