Shattered

By: CindyR

"What if …? there had never been any aliens at Star One?

The last two seasons hinged on the fact that the Andromeda Galaxy had sent invasionary forces to destroy the Federation’s central computer control center. Without this invasion there would have been a very different outcome to Blake’s war.

Shattered

By CindyR

"Number 4 -- red."

"I won!" Vila Restal happily raked in the growing pile of chips, shooting a swift glance towards his companion. Avon had stopped by Freedom City for supplies and had been persuaded after much coaxing to join his old shipmate for a night on the town. Hours of drink and a bit of Starshine slipped in for good measure had turned Avon into a rather amiable mate, Vila thought. Almost human, in fact. Of course not having people shooting at you all the time did tend to mellow a man a bit, and no one had shot at them for nearly a year -- not since Star One had been destroyed.

Vila smiled to himself as he set up another bet. Ah, now that had been a sweet bit of strategy. Blake had been right. Destroy Star One, unify the rebel forces from an earthside base and the Federation would fall like... like stars from heaven. Now where had that analogy come from? No matter. Without Star One, the Federation had lost its cohesion, allowing each sector to fall like dominoes.

Not that he'd had any part of those final fights, Vila reflected, nor had Avon. After ferrying Blake back to earth, Avon had taken Liberator into open space to await the end of the war. He had sat out there, working in perfect safety every since.

Vila, however was no researcher. His share of Liberator's treasure had bought him safety here in Freedom City. It would have been a temporary refuge at best had there been anyone left to sell him to, but with the fall of the Federation there was no danger to him now.

"9-Black."

"Blast." Vila watched his new pile of credits swept away by the smirking croupier, then gathered his few remaining funds with a fatalistic shrug. No matter. He'd do better after a drink. He ambled back to Avon's table, pouring himself a glass from the bottle on the table.

"Now aren't you glad you listened to me, Avon?" The thief settled himself comfortably into a chair. "I told you I knew the best places to have fun."

Avon tried to bite back the smile at the thief's enthusiasm but the whiskey made that impossible. He settled for a lopsided sneer. "You call this the best place in Freedom City?" He snorted. "The Cosmic Casino. Ha! Leave it to a Delta-grade ignorant to consider this flea-bitten, rat trap the Presidential palace of space."

"Yeah? Well I don't see you faulting my taste in whiskey at least." Vila hefted the bottle mournfully. "You've drunk three-quarters of a bottle all while I was playing roulette."

Avon's control broke and he shot Vila a sheepish, slightly stupid grin, "Well, that’s the one thing you've had the most practical experience with" He snagged the bottle from Vila's greedy hand and poured himself another drink, or rather attempted to do so from a bottle that wobbled wildly.

Vila retrieved the bottle again and sat back with a sigh. "I never thought I'd see the day when I could actually enjoy some of that treasure we hauled around with us on the Liberator."

"You mean you never thought Blake would let you enjoy it."

"Amounts to the same thing, doesn't it? After all, as long as the Federation still existed, Blake poured everything into that Cause of his. Now there's nothing for it but to relax and enjoy." As it to illustrate this point Vila took a long pull from the bottle, practically draining it dry, a feat Avon observed with a barely-concealed awe.

"For you perhaps," Avon went on, collecting himself, "but not for Blake He's still trying to structure his New Democracy over the objection of the hardliner officials and despite the 'help' of the intellectualized liberals. I doubt he's having much fun at it."

"I don't see you doing anything to help," Vila snapped back. "You dropped Blake off on earth and ran like your tail was on fire."

"And you ran right beside me." Avon caught himself as the room spun alarmingly, causing Vila to chuckle.

"Had a bit too much to drink, Avon?" he asked innocently.

The other man stiffened his back. "Of course not. I'm merely... worn out with the journey here. I think I'll go lie--"

"ATTENTION! " A middle-aged man whom Vila had introduced as the owner stepped into a spotlight at the center of the room. "We have just received word that the president of the New Democracy has been inaugurated." There was scattered applause around the room. A viewing screen along the wall lit up showing a smiling Roj Blake decked out in official robes, shaking the hands of supporters and well-wishers standing in single-file. "We here at the Cosmic Casino would like to share this grand and momentous occasion with our patrons, so, for a few moments we will take you to the new presidential palace and the inaugural ball."

Vila chuckled. "Well, well, well. So Blake really did accept the seat of president. I knew he would despite..." He glanced sideways, catching his companion unawares and quite oblivious to his ramblings. Avon was staring at the screen, seemingly drinking in the sight of Blake, safe and happy, in his official robes of state. Vila caught a look in the dark eyes he had never seen before and couldn't quite interpret, then it was gone and Avon was paying attention again.

"...er, despite All his protests," Vila finished lamely. He had forgotten his earlier theories, that Avon only fought Blake so hard because the rebel had become so important to him, had learned to reach behind the computer tech's shields and make the man care. Now those old feelings were resurfacing with a jolt, and Vila enjoyed the sight of Avon discomfited for once. Vila cleared his throat. "You know, we could head back to earth for the celebration. It's going to last several days from what I hear. Should be fun."

"No! I mean... you may do as you please, Vila. I have other plans." Avon tried to affect a casual air, but his glance kept drifting back to the laughing man on the screen. Voices drifted across the light years, softening a small portion of his scarred and battered heart. "I am glad you got what you want, Blake," he sighed, abandoning All pretence at unconcern now, allowing a small smile to play about his lips.

Vila stared at the screen unabashedly. He'd never seen Blake look like this before. And wasn't that Jenna next to him? How beautiful she looked in that dress -- less the hard-bitten criminal and more like a presidents lady should look.

President's lady. Vila savored the phrase. And I'm the President's best friend -- and a hero to the galaxy! Maybe a trip earthside would be a good idea after All. He could collect on some of that hard-won gratitude while the collecting was good!

They watched Blake exchange a few words with each well-wisher, finally pausing half way down the line in front of a slim, brown-haired woman. He bent his head to give her a smile.

Vila grinned cheekily. "He always did know how to use that charm of his on the ladies, didn't he, Avon?" No answer. "Avo--?" The rest of what he had been about to say caught in his throat when he caught sight of the other man's expression. All color had drained away, leaving Avon's eyes large and black against the paper-white complexion. Vila looked into those eyes and glimpsed a portion of hell he’d not seen since he was in prison. Pain, disbelief mixed with an odd joy. The thief turned back to the screen. "Who...?"

"Anna?" The whispered word froze Vila to the spot. Blake had told him about someone named Anna Grant, someone who had been very important to the computer tech and who had died under Federation torture protecting him. Hard to believe anyone else could affect Avon like this, Vila thought.

Quicksilver-fast intuition put the puzzle pieces together and Vila took a chance at the answer. "Anna? Is that Anna Grant? I thought she was dead."

" I. . . " Avon seemed to be having trouble forming his words. " I. . . did too." The hand that still gripped the whiskey glass trembled badly, but the computer tech seemed not to notice so intent was he on the pretty face on the screen. Vila watched him with some alarm -- he'd never seen Avon so affected by anything before. He pulled his chair a little closer and laid a firm hand on the other's shoulder. "Steady on, old friend," he advised quietly. "Get hold of yourself."

The thief wasn't sure he'd been heard at first, but then Avon downed his drink and seemed to regain some measure of control. After another moment Vila dropped his hand. "That really is your Anna Grant, isn't it?" he asked hesitantly. Avon wasn't the type to take kindly to questions about his past -- or his heart.

"Yes." He turned tortured joyous eyes on the astonished thief. "They told me she was dead, Vila, dead. I would never have left her otherwise. I swear I would not have." He seemed so desperate to be believed that Vila touched his shoulder again.

"Of course not, Avon. I know that." Avon shot him a suspicious look but his heart wasn't really in it. His attention was drawn inexorably back to the screen and thus they were both witness to the drama that began to unfold.

***

We won! I won! The words formed a joyous litany in Blake's mind, playing over and over again their pleasant melody. The Federation was at last truly in ruins, brought down by as brilliant and daring a maneuver as Blake had ever devised. He'd been right -- the Federation had depended on Star One to maintain a galaxy-wide communications and intelligence network. Once that was eliminated it had taken only minimal effort for each individual rebel cell to attack and defeat the isolated military garrisons on the outer worlds. The major bases yielded eventually to the consolidated attacks of the rebels on the inner worlds. Each Federation garrison had depended on the communications networks for support against the overwhelming populations which faced them. Without that support they had fallen quickly and the New Democracy had been born.

Blake found himself grinning widely, savoring the thought. And now he was the first President of that New Democracy. At last he had opportunity to do some good, to really create a society based on freedom and justice. At last.

The thoughts flowed easily through the subcurrents of his mind, leaving him free to concentrate on greeting the well-wishers in assembly before him. He'd gotten to know them all quite well during these past months spent structuring the new government, and was glad they had the opportunity to enjoy the victory with him. He only wished Cally could be here to join in the festivities, but she had returned to her people months ago overjoyed to be rejoined once again with the "Soul of Auron.". What ever that was. He missed her sorely, but mentally wished her happiness and peace, once again reunited with those she loved.

Blake stopped before a grizzled old war veteran in the line. "Adrian, you old neutron eater! I'm glad you could make it."

The man in question reached out a calloused hand, engulfing Blake's in its fleshy depths. "Roj..." Tear-filled eyes regarded the new President with an almost religious reverence. "I never thought I would live to see this, Roj. We've fought so long…. "

Blake instinctively reached out, embracing the older man. "I know, Adrian. I felt the same way." He stepped back. "But win we did, my friend. Now nothing can stop us from creating the society we've always dreamed of."

"Nothing," the other agreed. They exchanged a look -- two old soldiers tired beyond words of death and destruction, given a glimpse of the Eden they had always envisioned. One look bespoke volumes and then Blake moved on, the joy singing in his heart.

The next was a woman, slim and dark haired. He nodded politely. "Sula. The Rebellion owes you a great debt."

Sula met his eyes with that calm, confident gaze that Blake had never seen slip; not even the day her husband, a Federation councilman named Chesku, found out that his wife was one of the leaders of the largest rebel ceil on earth. She nodded back. "Blake. I wish to address the people. Have I your permission to do so?"

He regarded her puzzled. "Tomorrow is our scheduled council meeting. Can't it wait until then?"

"No. What I have to say will not wait."

"Sula," Blake chose his words carefully. "The rebellion owes you more than we'll ever be able to repay. You had to turn against your own husband to make this," he gestured, "possible. If you wish to address the people, you have more than earned the right."

Beside him Jenna spoke for the first time. "I don't trust her, Blake," she hissed. "She's up to something."

He turned to face her as Sula made her way to the dais and turned to face the vis-cameras. "I spoke truth, Jenna. She does have the right. I'm no dictator; I won't prevent anyone from speaking his mind, and she's proved her loyalty to the Cause over and over. I won't stop her now." Jenna snorted but kept her peace. She recognized that stubborn streak in Blake's eyes and knew when she was beaten before she started.

Sula faced the crowd, mindful of the omnipresent camera, and began to speak "Citizens of the New Democracy. I come before you now on a day when we have been blessed with a new government in which justice rules the galaxy. And it is a matter of justice upon which I now approach you." A screen came to life behind her showing what appeared to be a planet, lifeless and barren. "Behind me is the planet Gamma IV. Gamma IV is a class 'G' planet -- humans may survive there only inside of a completely self-contained and carefully regulated pressure dome."

The scene shifted and even the soldiers present gave an involuntary gasp of revulsion. Bodies lay strewn everywhere, most of them decaying in the still air of the dome. "Gamma IV lost life support capabilities months ago. All of its inhabitants died of asphyxiation."

The scene changed to another interior view. The bodies were undecayed this time, lying frozen in the various attitudes of death. "This is mining asteroid K7. Population 950. The miners and their families also lost their life support capabilities. Death this time was brought about by the cold of space."

Again the view changed to a sunny planet, close-ups showed members of the population, most of them emaciated and plainly starving. Children with swollen bellies; bodies visible in the streets. "And finally Delta Canaris II. Climate control centers ceased to function nearly a standard year ago. Delta Canaris is a new colony -- they don't have the capacity to tolerate loss of even one growing season yet. They have lost two."

The scene froze on one child staring into the cameras, death due to hunger clearly imminent. "These are three examples; there are scores. Planets that relied on climate control, on life support and computer regulation systems All handled by--"

"Star One." Blake whispered the word even as the woman spoke it. The sinking feeling in his gut became a black hole, sucking him down into the chaos.

"Yes, Star One," Sula finished. "By the destruction of Star One the deaths of scores of planets has been assured. It is this matter of justice I present to you now."

Roj Blake became aware of the muttering in the background.

"I have family on Delta 9..."

"I hope my brother is..."

"The population of..."

He felt eyes turn to stare at him from every corner of the room, from all over the galaxy, and he felt naked under their scrutiny. He'd no idea... all this death and destruction -- because of him?

"I demand, " Sula’s voice changed timber, becoming harder, more forceful, singing with unsuppressed passion. "I demand justice for all those lives lost, for all who have suffered and faced death so that one man -- that man," she pointed, "could assume the power of the presidency of the New Democracy. "

Blake looked again at the screen, peering into the death's head of the child, and could bear no more. Without a word, he spun on his heel and fled the room.

****

Vila began to curse, softly and fluently in every language he ever knew. "That traitor! That traitor! How could she do that to him today of all days? How could she..." He broke off, becoming aware of the silence. Sickened, he shifted his attention from the screen to Avon, locked into rigid shock beside him. Vila's eyes softened, sympathy and pity filling them. Avon, for his part, sat mute, the agony in his face was almost more than Vila could bear.

Gradually he became aware that the background muttering on the vis-screen was being echoed in the bar, drunken voices raising. Mob vengeance was something Vila was well acquainted with and he had no desire to experience it from the receiving end. He and Avon were too exposed here for Vila's taste. Time to leave -- sort this out from a position of relative safety.

"Avon?" A tentative touch produced no results and Vila grasped his companion's shoulders, shaking him roughly. "Avon," he ground out, "We have to get out of here. We're both too well known to stay in public until this gets straightened out. Do you understand?"

A blank gaze then a hesitant nod was the only answer but Avon frowned in concentration attempting to regather his scattered wits. Vila felt a stirring of fear. He tried again. "We're leaving now. Come on." Vila hauled the other man to his feet, then guided him casually to the door. He painted a silly, drunken grin on his face and forced a laugh when Avon stumbled. "You've had enough to drink for one night, my friend," he said gaily slipping a supporting arm around the other man's waist. "Come on, I'll get you home."

Avon obeyed meekly, although for the first couple of steps it was only the thief's support which kept him upright; then he seemed to get his feet under him and was able to walk more easily

Vila regretted the Starshine he had slipped into Avon's drink earlier. Starshine was a mild narcotic, known for its ability to strip away inhibitions and increase the taker's enjoyment of a pleasant situation. As a side effect, however, it also temporarily weakened a person's emotional control, leaving him somewhat vulnerable. Vila used the drug occasionally and found that it enhanced his pleasures immensely. But Avon was not Vila. Not only did Vila have a natural resilience that permitted him to recover from emotional malaise quickly, but he was always careful to use the drug in only carefully controlled situations. This situation was rapidly getting out of control and Vila doubted that Avon had his own capacity to compensate for the drug. The drug would have worn off by morning, but Vila feared what may happen before then. They may need all their wits about them to escape from this rapidly deteriorating situation.

Vila paused to listen. "I had a sister on Gaea IV -- she must be dead now." The speaker, a large, loud man glared at his growing audience belligerently.

"Right," another agreed drunkenly. "All those people dead, and for what?"

"To put that murdering swine into the presidential palace, that's what!" a third pitched in and soon waves of animosity rippled through the crowd.

"Restal and Avon are here somewhere," this from a woman near the bandstand. "They were with Blake."

Vila froze, then hustled Avon more quickly for the door. Avon lifted his head -- he had heard and understood the mob sentiment growing behind them -- and had regained some measure of his control. Vila regarded him with respect -- that iron will of his was even overcoming the effects of the Starshine now that the crisis was upon them.

A hand grabbed Vila, disengaging his arm from Avon and throwing him forcefully against a table. Another swung a chair, catching Avon high on the shoulder. He went down heavily with a grunt of surprise, and Vila momentarily lost sight of him under the surging wave of drunken bodies converging on them.

"Avon!" Vila shouted, swinging madly at the arms which held him. He connected solidly -- felt the arms loosen, and made his way to his companion's side. Avon, however, needed no help. Stripped of most of his more civilized inhibitions, a blazing red fury consumed his senses, drowning out pain and thought. He acted a berserker, lashing out, striking whatever and whoever came near until he had cleared a space before the door. It was here Vila caught up with him..

"Avon!" Only the thief's sharply-honed reflexes prevented him from going the way of Avon's other opponents. He latched onto Avon's swinging arm, levered the man around until Vila could peer directly into the burning hot eyes. "Avon -- we have to get out of here -- now! "

The dark-haired man gazed at him blankly then recognition dawned. He nodded once and slipped through the door, Vila close at his heels. "Where?" Avon panted, disoriented.

Vila pulled on his arm. "This way -- if we can make it back to my house we can get the teleport bracelets and get out of here."

Vila led -- Avon followed, two silent ghosts sticking to back alleys and shadows. They gained Vila's apartment unmolested and unnoticed, Vila bolted the door and drew a shaky sigh of relief. "Thank god -- it was getting a bit nasty out there."

Avon muttered to himself, low curses that would have made Jenna blush. "It wasn't right -- she didn't have to do that to him. Not tonight -- not after all we've been through." He paused, looking at Vila full in the face. "I though she was dead. I believed... she was dead. I don't understand."

The thief dropped his eyes, unable to bear the pain mirrored in that dark gaze. The Starshine was obviously reestablishing its hold on the other now that the adrenalin rush had subsided. Vila was saddened that he had made Avon so defenseless against the emotional pain he was undergoing and for the vulnerability the other man was revealing -- the depths of pain and caring so apparent in that desolate gaze. Avon would remember this tomorrow and shame would add its taint to the rest.

Vila sighed, forced himself to look up and reach out. "I don't understand it myself, Avon, but we'll find out. Together." He handed the other a bracelet and donned his own. "Orac? Are you there, old friend?"

"And where else would I be?" came the curt reply.

"Orac, tele-- Wait! Stand by." Vila disappeared into his bedroom, reappeared a few minutes later with a large metal box. He grinned at Avon's puzzled glance. "You didn't think I'd trust banks on this planet, did you? I built the safe myself when I first arrived."

"But it wasn't..." Avon trailed off with a guilty start, realizing he was betraying himself.

Vila only grinned wider. "It wasn't there when you looked? Avon, Avon," he said shaking his head in mock reproach. "Face it, when it comes to thieving, you are nothing but a fuzzy-cheeked amateur next to me." The thief raised his bracelet again. "All right, Orac. Teleport, now." And with a familiar and welcome shimmer, both men vanished.

****

Jenna entered the half-dark room hesitantly. Blake had been closed up in here with Servalan's computer system for the last two days, refusing all but the most meager amounts of food and drink, until she had begun to actively fear for his health. Enough is enough, she thought grimly. That guilt complex of yours will be the death of us both, Blake. Cautiously she approached the big man, peering over his shoulder at the monitors. "What are you doing, Roj?"

He seemed to notice her for the first time, passing a weary hand over his face. "I cross-referenced every known planetary disaster for the past ten months with those caused by a break-down in either life-support, climate control or regulatory computer failure." He gestured toward the monitor. "This is what I came up with." The monitor showed the dry, crumbling waste of what was once fertile farm land; it flickered to a town, silent and empty. "This planet was affected by drought two months after Star One was destroyed." A report flashed across the screen. "Half a million colonists are either dead or in the process of dying of thirst and starvation. I've dispatched a supply ship to them but it won't arrive for days. Most of the colonists will be dead by then."

"Blake... I..."

He rubbed his eyes again, touched another button. "Mining asteroid Omega 4. The inhabitants suffocated after their regulating computer went down. No one knows when -- their communications were routed through Star One. And then there is--"

"Enough!" Jenna slapped a hand down, shutting off the monitor. "You've sat in here torturing yourself for two days now. And all the while that woman," Jenna spat the words with characteristic vitriol, "that woman has been stirring up followers from every point on the planet. She must be stopped now before you lose the presidency."

Blake regarded her with a resigned despondency that brought another thrill of fear to her heart. "Don't you care that I killed all those people, Jenna?"

"Blake." She fell to her knees beside the man, clasping his hand in both of her own. She gazed up at him, eyes full of sympathy. "It's over. It's time to let it go and get on with your life -- to create something out of the ashes. It was the Federation's corruption that made this war necessary. This is their fault -- not yours."

Blake managed a wan smile, touched her cheek gently. "I do love you, Jenna. You've stood by my side, right or wrong, since the beginning." He turned away. "But this something I have to face alone. It was my fault, my responsibility that those people died and I'm..." His voice caught as tears filled his eyes. "I'm... not sure I can live with that."

Jenna threw her arms around the man she loved and rocked him gently. Regret, pain and grief filled Blake's soul, breaking the warm, generous heart of a man who had devoted his life to bringing freedom and happiness to others. Jenna, helpless, could only hold on tight to him and despair as well.

****

Vila hesitated at Avon's door before knocking gently. After commanding Zen to set a course for earth at maximum speed, the computer tech had shut himself away in his cabin and not been out since. That had been twenty-four solar hours ago 'and Vila was~ beginning to worry. The Starshine would have worn off hours ago and by now Avon should have regained the emotional control that was so much a part .of him. Still Avon had not appeared and Vila had begun to wonder why. Was Avon so emotionally affected by what he had seen that he couldn't bear to face even someone as unimportant -- as harmless -- as Vila?

Or perhaps he was ashamed -- the Starshine had broken that iron control he was so proud of and Avon had shown more emotion than he would ever normally have permitted, lf that is the case, Vila thought, I may have to tell him about the Starshine. He shuddered at the thought. If Avon ever found out that Vila had slipped a recreational drug into the whiskey... No. That was just too horrible to contemplate.

Vila received no answer to his knock and, with a mental sigh, he reached into his pocket for a sonic lance. Avon's door was ridiculously easy to open -- not that Vila hadn't had enough practice in the past! -- and within seconds he was slipping into the half-darkened room, silent as a shadow.

Cautiously, Vila approached the bed, staring down at the sleeping man on it. Even asleep Avon looked weary and troubled, a frown etching a line between drawn brows. Vila felt a twinge of pity for the man -- it was obvious that he had been deeply affected by both Blake's troubles and by the woman. The thief turned to tiptoe away. Let him sleep, he thought. I can't believe he's done much of it over the past couple of days.

A movement from the bed made him turn back to find dark brown eyes peering up at him blearily. "Vila? What do you want?"

The thief hesitated. He knew how Avon felt about concern -- he would never accept Vila's pity. Yet the man might need to talk before they reached earth. Taking his courage in both hands, Vila approached the bed. "Things could be in quite a bit of chaos when we reach Earth, Avon. I thought we ought to have a plan before we get there."

Brown eyes hardened, turning to black with the turmoil which surged behind them. but Avon's face remained impassive, betraying nothing, and Vila sighed again. This was not going to be easy. But then, was anything easy where Avon was concerned? "What sort of a 'plan' did you have in mind, Vila?" Avon asked bitterly. "The latest reports show growing unrest both on Earth and on some of the inner worlds. Mobs and rioting are breaking out sporadically to protest the election of 'that murderer.' "

So that was what Avon has been doing over the last twenty-four hours, Vila thought, Collecting information. I should have known he wasn't just sitting here moping over some old girlfriend -- and especially not over Roj Blake! The thief caught a glimpse of the hell lurking behind those now-black eyes and arrested the thought. Just because Avon refused to acknowledge the pain he was feeling, didn't mean it wasn't there. "So what do we do?" Vila asked.

Avon swung bare feet to the floor and passed a hand across tired eyes. "If you had any brains, it would have occurred to you that Blake might need a way off Earth. The mobs are becoming more violent. If a full-scale assault breaks out, palace security might not be able to stop them."

"Is Blake the only reason you're going back to Earth? You never seemed particularly worried about him before."

"Don't be a fool, Vila," Avon replied dully. "As long as Blake is accused of this, I will be considered guilty by association. You know what happened back at that bar -- do you want to have to be on the run from a murder charge the rest of your life?"

The thief eyed him shrewdly and then took a chance. "That's not the only reason is it?" he asked. Avon shot him an angry glare, but Vila pressed on. "You're going back to see that woman too" He stepped back alarmed when Avon came to his feet and spun on him.

"Keep your nose out of my business, Vila," he hissed, "Or I'll cut it off."

Vila froze, frightened by the savage gleam in the computer tech's voice. He maintained a wide-eyed silence until Avon turned away and crossed to the computer console on the desk. Pushing Avon now could be dangerous, Vila thought, But I can't just leave it like this. He moved to stand behind Avon's chair, taking in the display on the screen. Long minutes passed as scenes and reports flashed in succession across the light years, building up a picture of planet-wide unrest, especially among the lower classes. Avon flipped the pictures quickly but not before Vila was able to assimilate the fact that mass chaos was considered imminent.

After awhile Avon sat back and rubbed his eyes again. "You've noticed, of course, that the pattern is not indicative of a spontaneous protest. It is obvious that someone behind the scenes is feeding the 'righteous indignation’ of the rabble; stirring up the aggressive tendencies of the now-undrugged lower grades. "

Vila hadn't, but realized now that Avon was correct. A progressive pattern was beginning to emerge, starting with one small kernel group and spreading across first the Epsilon and Delta grades, then into the Gamma and Beta levels. Even some Alpha's, dissatisfied with the New Democracy, had jumped on the bandwagon, calling for an impeachment of the new president. It was too orderly to be an undirected disturbance. Someone had to be behind it and Vila thought he knew who it could be. "You thing Anna is behind it all, don't you?"

Again Avon stabbed him with that angry, agonized glare and Vila held his breath, releasing it when Avon turned away again and nodded reluctantly. "Who else?" he asked bitterly. "'Councilwoman' Sula is obviously well-versed in betrayal."

"Who?" Vila prodded gently, knowing full well to whom Avon was referring.

"She uses the name Sula now." Avon's voice was soft, as if he was talking to himself. "Sula," he tasted the name, savoring the flavor of it, the memory of her, and Vila had to prod him again. "She didn't use the name Sula when you knew her?"

That was a mistake. The shutter closed down over Avon's face and thoughts. "No," he replied curtly, and turned back to the monitor. "Capital City seems to be the source of the disturbances. We'll go there first. Blake may have located information that wasn't in the computer banks."

The thief nodded absently, then cautiously reached out to touch the other's shoulder. "Avon, if you want to... talk or anything... well, I've got a bottle of whiskey in my cabin and--"

"With or without Starshine?"

Vila gaped at him. "How did...?"

Avon looked up, black eyes glinting dangerously. "Did you really think I wouldn't realize I'd been drugged, Vila? It was the first thing I checked when I returned to the ship."

Vila flushed. "I'm sorry about that, Avon. I just thought--"

"I don't care what you thought. If you ever drug me again, Vila, I'll kill you."

Looking into those cold eyes Vila believed him. He stammered, "Yes. ..ah well, I just stopped in to tell you that if you should want to talk..."

"Unlikely. "

"Uh... yes, well. I’ll be around."

Vila fled then, leaning against the door when it shut behind him. Blast you, Avon, he thought angrily, I had forgotten how difficult you can be. Blake was the only one to ever really handle you properly and now Blake probably can't even handle himself. He straightened and took a deep breath. Anger burned deep within him, and the normally gentle man felt a burst of pure hatred run through his veins. And blast you Anna-Sula-Grant. May you burn in a thousand hellfires for what you're doing to them. With that thought Vila headed for his cabin and the bottle of whiskey concealed therein. He'd really rather not have to do too much thinking for the remainder of this trip.

****

"Your pardon, sir."

The carefully neutral voice broke through Blake's dark reverie. He forced himself to meet the impassive eyes of his chief security officer with some semblance of control. "Yes, Blair. What is it?"

"Ex-President Servalan wishes to speak with you, sir."

"Servalan? Now what the devil could she want? Tell her I'm unavailable."

"Yes, sir. Sir?" Blair came forward hesitantly. "She said to tell you she had information regarding the loss of Star One."

Blake's head snapped up at that. "Does she now? Well then I would very much like to see her. "

"No." Jenna was across the room in two strides, grasping his arm. "Don't torture yourself anymore, Blake. That witch has nothing to tell you -- nothing. "

"I have to see her, Jenna. I have to know."

"Know what? Blast it, Blake, Star One is over with. It's time to put it aside and go on with your life."

Blake slammed his fist against the desk. "Put it aside? How can I put aside the deaths of a million people, Jenna? And they're still dying. We can't save them all, there's just too many." He turned agonized eyes toward the door. "How can I live with the suffering I've caused? An eye for an eye -- isn't that the law our ancestors lived by?"

"Stop it!" Jenna caught her lip between her teeth, struggling to control herself. "I won't hear you talk like that, Blake. I won't." She moved to slip slender arms around his waist. "Blake, I first noticed you because I sensed a decency in you I've never really seen in anyone else. At first I thought it was a sign of weakness, but then I gradually became aware of that strength -- that power -- you carry inside you." Blake looked down, meeting her eyes directly for the first time since the inaugural ball and Jenna flinched at the despair she saw there. "Blake, you can't give up now. Not for yourself, not for me and not for the people you've fought for. They need you now. They still need you."

"They don't need a murderer, Jenna." He freed himself from her embrace and moved to sit behind the desk. "I've decided to leave the presidency. I can do no more from this post." He raised a hand to quell her immediate protest "I am going to see Servalan. If she really does have any useful information on Star One then I owe it to whoever survives to find out what it is. After that... well, after that I'll decide further."

"Blast you." Jenna surprised herself with the vehemence in her own voice, but Blake only stared at her with that mixture of determination and despair and Jenna was afraid. "Blast you, Blake," she repeated, "I can't sit here and watch you kill yourself. That's what you're doing, you know. It's suicide to give up this post. Once word gets out that these disasters are tied into the destruction of Star One, they will crucify you."

"I'm going to do what I have to, Jenna."

The woman felt tears start in her eyes and brushed them aside angrily, but no words would come. She stumbled from the room unable to offer whatever it was that Blake needed right now. Unable to offer him back his life.

(2)

The door opened and ex-President Servalan swept in, regal even in her drab prison garb. From the proud tilt of her head to the contemptuous gleam in her eyes she was in full control. She paused just inside the door, meeting Blake's unfriendly look with a smug one of her own. She waited until he had dismissed the guards before crossing to the desk. He had to admire her poise.

Servalan stood regarding him with her golden eyes a moment before nodding politely. "Blake."

Blake was having no part of the amenities. "What do you want, Servalan?"

"Oh, Blake, really, what do you think I want?"

"Your life. You do know you're under sentence of death for crimes against humanity? "

She gave a snort of derisive laughter. "I am under sentence of death? I killed far fewer than you, Blake, yet I must die and you they make president. Ironic, don't you think?"

Blake flinched despite himself, then returned her smile. "Yes, I suppose it is. Get to the point, Servalan. What do you want?"

"I want to make a deal. I want my life." She straightened, one hand automatically smoothing a wrinkle in the prison garb. "You can get me out of here -- get me my freedom. My contacts will do the rest."

Blake laughed out loud. "Oh, I can, can I? And what do I get in return?"

"Your soul."

The laughter faded abruptly. "Explain yourself."

Servalan flashed her own smile. "Oh, no, Blake. Not until I am in free space, away from this rabble-run little planet."

The rebel circled the desk slowly, deliberately. "If you have information, Servalan, I would advise you to give it to me now while you still have the chance."

The impasse lasted but seconds before Jenna burst back into the room, golden hair flying. "Blake -- that Sula woman has roused a mob against you. They have us surrounded." She checked on catching sight of Servalan, then dismissed her abruptly. "There's no way out of here, Roj. We're cut off completely."

The rebel crossed to the widow slowly. She stiffened her spine when he turned back shaking his head, confirming what she already knew. No way out. As one Blake and Jenna turned to face the ex-President, still standing cool and collected by the desk.

"You go first, Servalan," Jenna spat reaching for a knife. "If I have to die, at least I'll have the satisfaction of watching you suffer first."

"Don't be a fool, Stannis," Servalan returned with contempt. "Free me and I'll show you a way out of the palace. We can all escape."

"Perhaps I don't want to escape, Servalan." Blake's voice was cold and silky; and Jenna transferred her attention to him alarmed. There was death in that voice like an open grave.

"You are a fool, Blake." Servalan shifted her own attention to his direction. "I..."

A pounding on the door interrupted whatever she was going to say, and Jenna readied her knife for the final attack. A blast, and the lock snapped open, admitting the small woman named Sula and two of her men. "Servalan? I should have known you'd team up with that witch, Blake. You're two of a kind it seems. "

Blake stood silent, defeated, and Sula gazed at him triumphantly before going on. "It's over, Blake. You are now prisoners of--"

"Anna. "

The softly whispered voice froze Sula in her tracks. She spun wide eyes to face the man who had silently materialized in the corner. "Kerr? Oh my god."

Avon stepped forward, a strange pain vying with the wild joy for dominance on his features. "Anna? It is you? I thought..."

A silver streak flashed through his peripheral vision and the knife Jenna threw struck home, lodging in the chest of the closest guard. She made a wild dive for the fallen man's blaster -- too late. The second guard aimed, then he too crumpled under a force blast from Avon's gun.

Jenna nodded her thanks as she picked up the weapon. "We're glad to see you, Avon. More last minute heroics?"

But Avon ignored her, lost in the vision of the woman he'd thought lost to him. He roused slightly at a signal from his communicator. "Avon? Avon -- answer me!"

"I'm... here, Vila." He handed three bracelets to Jenna, gestured. "We're getting out of here. Give them each a bracelet."

Jenna protested, "But I think Servalan..."

"Just do it!"

Halted by his savage glare, Jenna obeyed, handing Servalan a teleport bracelet. "This isn't over yet," she gritted between clenched teeth. She moved on to Blake; the determination was gone from his eyes, replaced with a puzzled air and a wild gleam at the sight of the other man. Jenna watched as Avon tore his eyes away from Sula to meet Blake's. she caught the spark which flashed between them, marveled at how both men seemed to gain a momentary surge of strength from the contact.

Blake took the bracelet without a word, in control again for the present. He looked inquiringly at Avon, but Avon was again watching Sula. Avon offered the bracelet to the small woman with a trembling hand. "Put it on, Anna. We*re getting out of here."

"I can't leave, Kerr."

Avon's eyes narrowed. "You are leaving, Anna. Now. Put it on." The tone was dangerous, pain filled and brooked no argument. A clever woman, Sula had always known the time to acquiesce. She took the bracelet, slipped it on and waited, fixing Avon with a look which tore his heart. She waited, watching him, but it was Jenna who broke the spell, and Jenna who called for teleport and got them to safety.

***

Soon Servalan was locked away, Jenna was comfortably ensconced in the pilot's seat and Liberator cruised the relative safety of open space. There had been no attempt to stop them leaving -- the war had decimated Earth's space fleet and what was left had no chance to catch Liberator.

Jenna sat back, luxuriating in the feel of being in space again. She was a spacer first, last and always, and chafed at being grounded for too long Besides, she reflected, Avon might own Liberator, but it could never be his the way it was hers -- not in those was which transcend ownership rights.

She surreptitiously watched Blake sitting on the couch in front of her. That brief spark of energy he had gained from Avon had faded the moment they were safe, plunging him once more into that abyss of despair. She broke in, attempting to re-direct his thoughts. "I wonder what they're talking about."

Blake gazed at her blankly. "What? Who?"

"Avon and Sula... I mean Anna. Hard to believe they were ever lovers."

Blake smiled a little, allowing himself to be distracted. "Having a little trouble picturing Avon in love with her, eh?"

"Picturing Avon in love with anyone pretty near boggles my mind,"

That won her a chuckle. "Not so strange perhaps. I'd always believed he’d lost someone close to him -- why else close off his emotions so completely? I know he thought her dead and now, to find her again..."

"Like this," Jenna interposed grimly.

"Like this." Blake paused, puzzled. "Odd. She must have known Avon was working with me, yet she never mentioned him before -- never tried to contact him. I wonder why."

"Perhaps she wasn't quite so eager to see him as he was to see her." Jenna thought back to the scene not an hour past, when they had materialized in the transporter room. Anna had wasted not a moment before throwing herself into Avon's arms, hugging him tightly. "Oh, Kerr, I'm so glad to see you again."

He had frozen, staring down at her wildly before wrapping the woman in a tight embrace. "Anna." His voice trembled with suppressed emotion, bringing a contemptuous sneer to Servalan's lips.

"That's very touching, Avon. If I'd known you could be so … .passionate, I would have paid you more attention years ago."

Avon shot her a look of pure hatred and disengaged himself from Anna's grasp. "Check her for weapons and then lock her up. Anna, you come with me."

"I'll handle it." Jenna bared her teeth. "Come on, Servalan. I'm going to enjoy this."

Avon and Anna had disappeared into Avon's cabin and not reappeared. Jenna wondered what they could be saying to each other after all these years. Sula was a dangerous woman -- perhaps only Jenna of all Blake's advisors had recognized just how dangerous. The men had seemed quite taken with her; she had an appeal which operated on a totally sexual level that had captivated every man she had come in contact with but which left Jenna quite cold. If even Blake, with his much wider emotional experience had been affected, what chance could Avon have stood?

"I can see what he saw in her," she mused aloud, "But I don't see what she saw in him." Blake looked puzzled, so she elaborated. "Oh, he's attractive, I'll give him that, and probably the most intelligent man I've ever met. But emotionally... Look, I've seen Sula operate. She's devious and ambitious and she's used more men than I can count. She was even married to a High Council member. Why would she take up with a man who has all the emotional stability of a supernova and absolutely no political power at all?"

Blake laughed. "Oh, come now, Jenna. Avon's not that bad... nova, at best."

That made her laugh too, then quickly sober. "She's up to something, Roj. I can feel it. "

"Maybe." Blake turned thoughtful again, and Jenna was glad she had distracted him from that despairing mood he had been in. How long that would last she had no way of knowing, but prayed that something would break soon -- and it would if she had to pull the information from between Servalan's teeth herself. And that, she promised herself, she was going to enjoy.

****

"How long have you been with the rebellion?" Avon hated the betraying tremor in his voice, the way his throat constricted whenever he looked at her. All he wanted to do was take his Anna into his arms and never let her go again, but he couldn't. His control was too brittle, too close to breaking, for him to reach across those scant inches which separated them. He fought for a neutral topic to buy himself a little time

"Since you ...vanished. I started passing information to the underground soon after." She smiled slightly. "My husband could be quite talkative when we were. . . together. "

"So you went back to him after I was arrested?" bitterly. "Avon!"

Sula's eyes widened in horrified affront. "How can you think such a thing of me? He used his influence to get me out of prison. I was going to be executed! "

Avon flinched at that. "I'm sorry. . . Anna. . . I. . . "

"Hush." She pressed two fingers to his lips, touching him for the first time since they had entered the room. "I would have died happily if it meant you could get away. "

Avon buried his face in her small hand, holding it tightly in both of his. She could feel him trembling with emotion and reached out to stroke the dark hair. After a while he raised his head, drinking in the sight of her. "It's like a dream to see you again -- alive, safe. I've thought of you every day, Anna. Every day. "

"And I, you, my love."

"Why didn't you tell me you were still alive? Why didn't you contact me? You must have known I was with Blake. You knew he could get a message to me."

She dropped her eyes. "When you didn't come back for me I thought. . . well, I thought you no longer loved me. "

"What?!"

"I waited for you, my love. I waited so long, and you never came back, for me. Even after you were free you never came back."

"I thought.. .. They told me you were dead"

"Dead?"

He nodded wordlessly, and she slipped slender arms around him. *My poor love. But I not dead. I am here, now, with you."

He crushed her in embrace, never seeing the confident smile which played around her lips. For him there was only the sight, the scent of her. He knew nothing else then as the world dissolved in flame.

***

Sula propped herself up on one elbow and gazed down at the sleeping man. She had forgotten how handsome he was, and needful even in repose. She smiled to herself; that had been the one thing that had distinguished Kerr Avon from her long list of other assignments - that childlike need. He had surprised her with it -- his normally stern, confident mien had concealed it well, even from someone of her experience.

And he had been so easy. Once she had slipped past those formidable barriers of his, he had been hers, heart, body and soul. Not the first man to surrender himself to her, yet that need and trust had set him apart touching even her cold and unresponsive heart. She had been almost sorry to turn him over to Federation Security, but an assignment was an assignment, to be completed and dismissed. Necessary for an agent, and Sula was the best agent the Federation had -- so long as it profited her to be so, that is.

Avon stirred against her and she smiled again. So easy. As long as she could still control Avon she had no reason to doubt her ability to turn this situation to her advantage, Her followers would control the palace by now. What a coup it would he for her to return not only with the murder Blake, but also with the might of the Liberator behind her/ That would certainly consolidate her power. All she had to do now was to play her cards just right with Kerr Avon.

****

When Avon arrived on the flight deck hours later he looked so happy that even Blake roused from the despondency with which he had enwrapped himself to send him an affectionate smile. "I see you and Su-- ... I mean Anna, have made your peace," he said.

Avon responded for once openly, not even attempting to hide the smile which lit his face. "Yes. What course have you set?"

Blake's smile faded, "I’ve put us on a heading for Star One. I think we should take another look at that computer. "

"You do realize that here will be precious little of it left? The damage was quite extensive."

Blake nodded glumly. "I'm hoping we can tap into the fail-safe memory banks -- get what information we can. It might tell us something. We might be able to find something we missed -- something left to salvage."

Avon's own smile faded. "Don't get your hopes up too high, Blake. There may be nothing left for us to find at all."

The uncharacteristic sympathy in Avon's black eyes warmed a small part of Blake's heart, and he dredged up a wan smile. "Back at Star One you said you only wanted an ending. It seems you got your wish, Avon. Not quite what you imagined. I'd wager."

"Blake..." The two stood regarding each other for long moments, then Avon made an abrupt gesture. "I don't want to get your hopes up at all, Blake, but I have been thinking." This elicited a small amount of interest. Blake seated himself, prepared to listen; Avon talking of hope was a rarity in itself. "Let us review what we know of Star One." The computer tech assumed the air of lecturer tutoring a backwards pupil and Blake would have smiled at the comparison had Star One not been such a sore subject. "Thirty years ago the Federation relocated their computer control and coordination center from earth base to a planetary system known at Star One.

"The central control computer is a vulnerable spot in the Federation, since they route so many of their necessary functions through that single system. Communications, interstellar navigation, climate control, life support -- in short, without the CCC the Federation can no longer function as a coordinated entity. "

Blake nodded patiently. "That is how we beat them. Once they were no longer one 'organism,' we were able to defeat each individual 'cell' one at a time. As long as we were able to route our own communications through Orac, we weren't affected by the computer loss."

Avon glared at the interruption but went on without comment. "This move from earth to the eleventh sector was intended to safeguard this weak link in the Federation's armor. The center on earth was left as ostentatious bait -- anyone looking to topple the Federation would automatically aim their sights on Central Control on Earth."

"It was rather obvious, wasn't it?" Blake said bitterly. "I should have noticed that from the beginning. Instead--"

"That's done with," Avon snapped, annoyed by the second interruption, but he allowed himself the moment. "And wallowing in guilt won't bring Gan back." His voice softened. "It's over, Blake. Right now we have to concentrate on the problem at hand. "

The rebel sighed, dropping his eyes. "You're right, of course. Go on."

Avon regarded him in worried silence another moment before returning to his topic. "It was a good plan, conceived and developed by some of the greatest minds in the galaxy. Shennan was president at the time."

Blake nodded. "Tenmar Shennan. He's considered one of the greatest military minds of his day. "

"We also know that that was about the time first contact was made with the Andromeda galaxy. I've been researching that first contact. What we assume to be an alien scout ship was found floating in open space. It wouldn't have been noticed at all if it hadn't been putting out a form of radiation unfamiliar to our scanners. It had apparently been holed in a freak meteor collision which had destroyed its intergalactic drive. No life forms were found, but information was recovered on our evolutionary and technical development as well as our defensive capabilities. That was when both Star One and that antimatter minefield were established. The minefield was fully automated and self-replicating, located in the direct access path an invasionary force would take to enter our galaxy -- the direct line between Andromeda and the Milky Way. The minefield was mankind's first line of defense. And, directly behind it, sat Star One."

He paused and Blake waited expectantly. Then, just as Avon's patience wore out, dawning comprehension lit his brown eyes. "Shennan located his computer control and coordination center in the direct line of an anticipated invasion?"

"Exactly!" Avon slapped his hand down on a nearby console in satisfaction. "What kind of an utter moron would locate his most vulnerable element -- and his most necessary -- where it would be the first thing to fall should the antimatter minefield be neutralized? Knock out Star One and you knock out the Federation. You proved that -- yet the most brilliant military strategist of the century locates his computer command center where he can almost expect it to be destroyed in the event of a war? Even Vila wouldn’t have done that."

Wild hope struggled through the despair. Blake rose, grasped the other man by the arm -- hard. "Then Star One was not the Federation computer control center! By destroying it I didn't... those people didn't die because I...."

Avon returned Blake's grip with his free hand. "Blake -- it's only a theory. We have no proof. It..." he hesitated, forged on. "It might not be true."

The wildness died out of Blake's expression but the hope remained, and with Blake, hope could be a formidable power indeed. He met the black eyes again, and transferred his grip to both shoulders, squeezing gently. "Maybe not, but it is the first shred of hope I've been given since this all started. Thank you, Avon."

He released a disconcerted and curiously touched computer tech and turned to the ship's computer. "Zen -- estimated time to Star One?"

"Four days, nine hours, seventeen seconds."

"You don't really believe we're going to find the location of the CCC by going back there, do you?" Avon was derisive again, all traces of sympathy had vanished as though they'd never been and Blake found himself smiling. It seem that the game was on again!

"No, I don't," he answered, "But we have to start somewhere and that's...' He trailed off, suddenly introspective.

"What is it?"

"Servalan said she had information on Star One. I just wonder..."

"Servalan, eh?" Avon grinned wolfishly. "If anyone would know, it would be her. She was trying to make a deal, I suppose."

"She was trying. Refused to talk until we were in free space."

Avon chuckled nastily. "She'll talk."

Blake added quietly, "We should also question Su-- I mean Anna."

Vehement denial blazed up. "She knows nothing. She wouldn't have a part in something like this. She only wants justice for all those people who died. You seem to think of it as some kind of a personal vendetta."

Blake winced. "No, nothing of the sort," he said soothingly. "Did she tell you that?"

The other nodded reluctantly. "Yes, last night while we were ...talking." Blake let the matter drop temporarily. "Oh. Well, we'll talk to Servalan I'm curious as to what she had to bargain with -- something worth her life, she thought. "

Avon nodded agreement. "Zen -- have you any truth serum in the medical stores?"

"Negative. "

"How long will it take you to synthesize enough to question one person?"

"Fifteen standard minutes, forty-two seconds."

"Get started on it." He smiled again, saw it echoed in Blake. "In about twenty minutes Servalan is going to tell us all she knows about Star One, the computer control center and anything else she thinks we'd like to know." Neither man noticed the quiet shuffle of someone creeping stealthily away from the door and down the hall.

****

Blake stood rooted just inside the doorway; his senses reeling with shock. He had come to fetch Servalan to the medical center -- the truth serum was prepared and he was quite determined that she should tell everything. He had never expected the sight which met his eyes.

Servalan lay on the floor in a pool of her own blood. The blast had taken her neatly in the chest, hitting her just below the heart. Over her stood councilwoman Sula, the blaster still in her hand. Sula looked up as he entered and, for just a moment, Blake saw something cold and deadly in her eyes. Then it was gone, replaced with that innocent-yet-seductive expression she wore so well.

Acting quickly, Blake snatched the gun from her hand; a shove sending her sprawling into one corner of the room. Not taking his eyes from her, he punched the intercom button savagely. "Avon. " Avon answered at once.

"What do you want?" "I'm in Servalan’s cell. Get down here. Now." He cut off before Avon had a chance to question or protest and knelt beside ex-President Servalan.

Her eyes fluttered open and it was with great surprise that he realized she was still alive. Not for long however -- no one could live long wounded that badly. "Blake." A weak, hoarse whisper drew him closer to her lips.

"I'm here, Servalan." His own voice was low and soft -- a touch of compassion for the dying woman.

"Blake. . . Bartholomew, " she gasped. "Bar--" The words trailed off, the beautiful amber eyes forever fixed on the spectre of her own death.

A gasp from the doorway announced Avon's presence. One sweep froze the scene forever in the computer tech's memory -- Blake, blaster in hand, kneeling over the obviously dead Servalan, Anna picking herself up from the corner. The words slipped out almost of their own volition. "What happened, Blake? Why did you kill her?"

Brown eyes freezing over, Blake spared his computer tech a glance before turning to glare at the woman in the corner. "I didn't. Your friend over there did. "

"Anna?"

She picked herself up, rubbing at a spot on her back where she had hit. "I had to, dearest. She attacked me." Her own eyes wide and innocent, Anna Grant crossed to Avon, one hand reaching to grasp his arm. Blake noted impersonally that it was trembling and felt an unbidden surge of admiration for the woman. She was good -- really good -- but no amount of acting could ever erase that impression Blake had received when he first entered the room; that hardness that had shone so brightly before being submerged in the "part" of Anna Grant. Too late, Anna, he thought. You've slipped up. He caught sight of Avon then, slipping an arm around the woman's shoulders, accepting, trusting as only a man deeply in love might trust, and reigned in his thoughts. Maybe not yet, Anna; not as long as you have Avon on the string. Is that the plan? Don't be too confident. Not yet.

"Did she say anything before she died, Blake?" Avon was back on balance, holding his Anna tightly.

Blake shook his head. "Nothing I could understand. Only a name."

"What name?"

"Does the name Bartholomew mean anything to you?"

"Of course," Avon nodded, shifting his hold from the woman’s waist to around her shoulders. "Bartholomew is Federation security's best agent. He's credited with more deaths than any agent they ever had. No one has ever found out who he is; that's why his effectiveness rating was one hundred percent,"

Blake rechecked the weapon, deliberately pointing it at the floor between them. "Or her rating."

"What are you-- Oh, no." Avon followed Blake's gaze as it came to rest on Anna, and an immediate denial rose to his lips. "Don't even think it, Blake," he snarled. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?"

Blake rose to stand directly in front of the couple, eyes boring deep into the woman's; defensively, Avon stepped between them, clenching his fists. "Get away from her, Blake. Touch her and I'll kill you."

Blake believed him, but retreated not an inch. Pieces were rapidly falling into place now, events filling out into a coherent picture. "How did the Federation first catch you, Avon? You said your computer swindle should have been undetectable. "

Avon blinked at the apparent non sequiter. "I... they must have stumbled across...

"Stumbled across what?" the rebel leader pursued, gesturing with his free hand. "You told me there was no way anyone could have discovered that program -- unless they knew where to look. "

Face expressionless, Avon turned to stare at the woman huddled against his chest, and then he too caught it -- the glare of pure hatred she shot Blake's way. His arm slipped nervelessly from her shoulders, stunned realization warring with a desperate need to believe otherwise. "Anna?"

She stepped away from him and as if by magic a gun appeared in her hand and it was not pointed at the floor. "Don't move, either of you." There was no softness, no seduction left in that steel gaze. Anna Grant disappeared as if she had never been; only Federation agent Bartholomew remained -- efficient and deadly. "Get over there," she gestured with the gun. Neither man moved.

"Anna -- why?" The baffled, pleading note in Avon's voice reminded Blake incongruously of a slapped child, and he winced at the pain there. Avon had never been overly stable at the best of times and Blake feared what this betrayal would do to the man.

Sula, however, only smiled contemptuously, meeting the black eyes mockingly, "Why? Nothing personal, darling. You were just another assignment -- Kerr. "

The use of his given name, so scornfully uttered, drained the last bit of blood from Avon's face, sapped even the color of pain from his voice. "You said you loved me," he responded tonelessly, automatically, and Blake realized that the man had reached his emotional limits; the barriers dropping heavily into place.

"Loved you? Yes, I suppose I did say that, you poor fool." Contempt flashed again. "As if I could really love you. You ask for too much, Kerr, and really aren't even worth the trouble."

Blake saw something die in his friend's eyes that moment, and felt the anger within himself flare into a raging inferno. "So it's all been just a game to you, hasn't it, Bartholomew? Play him against me, the people against me -- like a master, I might add. I suppose you're responsible for what's happening at Star Two as well?"

"Star Two?" She looked puzzled. "Oh, you mean Central Command. So you know about that as well." She considered, then saw no harm in going on. "Yes, my people have had Command for well over a year now. My husband discovered the location from one of the original programmers who had been improperly mind-wiped. It wasn't quite that exact a science back then, you know."

And it was your people who have been causing the loss of the computer control across the galaxy?"

She nodded. "We had originally planned to cut all communication and coordination facilities, then I would unite the rebel factions. Unfortunately, you chose that occasion to destroy the primary military communications center at Star One and return the conquering hero. I couldn't possibly compete with that, so this alternate plan was conceived and implemented." She allowed a sneer to twist her features. "You think Servalan gave you a hard time, Blake? You'll be hated from one end of the galaxy to the other before I'm through with you. Pity you won't be around to enjoy it -- it should be quite a show."

"No. "

The ragged whisper barely registered on Blake's hearing but something in it drew Sula's attention immediately. "What?"

"I said no." Avon started toward the woman, reaching for the blaster in her hand.

"Stay back, Kerr. I'll kill you, too." She took a backward step attempting to keep both men covered but was unable to compensate in time. With an inarticulate cry Avon launched himself at the agent, heedless of the death held in steady hands.

The blast came simultaneously with Avon's cry of pain. He dropped, clutching a side from which blood was already beginning to well. Sula raised her blaster again to Blake, but this time the rebel was ready. Avon's body had blocked Sula's aim long enough for Blake to bring his own weapon to bear. His blast caught her gun, which promptly disintegrated. Sula was thrown backward by the force of the explosion, her hand shattered; she fell into a heap, unconscious.

Blake checked her quickly then knelt beside the semi-conscious computer tech, cradling him gently in unsteady arms. "Lie still, Avon," he ordered. "Everything is all right now. "

"Is... Anna...?"

"Dead? No, she's not dead." Blake probed gently at the man's side, halting at the involuntary gasp driven between his clenched teeth. "Not too serious; looks like the shot glanced off your ribs. Bet it hurts, though."

No reply. Blake wasn't even sure he'd been heard. Avon struggled feebly, attempting to free himself from Blake's grasp. "Anna -- I ...need to see ...her." He fell back again, biting back another cry, and Blake hastened to reassure him.

"Easy, man, take it easy," he soothed. "She's right there."

Avon turned his head, focusing shock-blurred eyes on the still form by the door. "I believed her when she said she loved me."

The bitter self-accusation drove a sympathetic knife into Blake's heart. He pulled the other man tighter against his chest. "She is an expert at deceit. There was no way you could have known different."

"But I believed her." Avon seemed more concerned with the fact that he'd allowed himself to believe someone could actually have loved him than he was with the loss of the love itself. Blake suspected it was the shock causing this; that the grief was lurking just behind the surface. But a part of him was fascinated by this small insight into Avon's hidden personality. Did Avon truly see himself as so unlovable that even the hope of someone caring for him was unthinkable? Was that why he had never allowed Blake to show the affection he'd always felt for the man -- because he never accepted the possibility that such feelings could truly exist for him?

The rebel felt another stirring of sympathy beyond the weariness and dropped his chin to briefly touch the dark hair. "She doesn't deserve your grief, my friend -- and you don't deserve to hurt like this."

He peered down into that agonized face and saw the barriers – shattered by sorrow – beginning to reinstate themselves, dropping into position across the man's heart. Not this time, my friend, Blake thought determinedly. Keep this inside of you and it'll kill you. "Avon, do you understand what I'm saying?" He gave the man's shoulder a gentle shake. "None of this is your fault. You didn’t deserve what she did to you."

Barriers wavered under that steady, compassionate gaze, control slipped, as pain and grief washed over and through the broken spirit that was Kerr Avon.

Avon shook his head wearily, a slight smile playing across his lips. "I believed her. That is my crime. I..." The words choked off. Avon forced himself up, away from Blake's gentle hold. He grimaced, clutching a hand to his side, suddenly bright eyes fixed firmly on the opposite wall. "I... knew better, you see. It's the way it always happens when I ...care about..." He could manage no more, simply sat, lost and sick and alone.

Blake regarded him silently for several moments. Blake's gift was that of words which worked their brand of magic on people and their emotions. Words rarely failed him, but today he had nothing to say in the face of so much raw heartache; nothing that would ease that much pain. He had no words to offer; yet his soul yearned to reach out to this man who had been comrade and brother through a long, dark night. Thus it was with his whole heart that Blake opened his arms and drew Avon in to himself.

The rebel met no resistance -- a surprise in itself. Avon seemed to have no fight left in him. He allowed Blake to hold him in a tight embrace, drawing strength and comfort from the power of Blake's affection. That affection reached through the despair, shedding a beam of light into the dark recesses of a broken and abused spirit. Barriers collapsed; Avon buried his head into the front of Blake's shirt, wetting it with bitter tears -- the grief spilled over from a heart already full to bursting. And still Blake held him tight, occasionally stroking the dark hair, murmuring gentle words. Tears formed unnoticed in the rebel's own eyes, gathering and falling in silent sympathy.

Finally, the tears spent, Avon lay limp and exhausted in Blake's arms. He ran a sleeve across his face, wiping away the last of the wetness on his cheeks, and pulled away a bit. Shame made it impossible to look Blake in the face. He managed a wry little smile instead. "I ...I'm sorry, Blake. I--"

"No need, my friend." Blake's gentle, compassionate voice brushed away the apology, and that was right. No apologies were needed between these two men -- not now. After four long years of walls the emotional openness between them was staggering, frightening in its intensity, but somehow right. And finally, at long last, both men knew it.

Blake laid a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing it to emphasize his next words. "Avon, believing in someone isn't a crime; it's a treasure. Loving and sharing are part of being human -- the best part. "We're all wrong, sometimes -- trusting, loving the wrong person. Remember what Cally always said? 'A man who trusts can never be betrayed -- only mistaken.'"

"She was wrong," the other muttered, pressing one hand tightly to his side.

"No, she wasn't wrong. She meant you can never betray yourself by trusting. I know it feels like a betrayal -- that if you hadn't let yourself trust you wouldn't hurt like this." He braced the other man with a tight grip on his shoulder. "Your mistake is thinking that everyone you trust and care for must betray you because you trust and care for them. It's not true, Avon. Everyone who loves you isn't going to... betray. Do you believe me?" Uncertainty warred with hope on the computer tech's face, then a hesitant nod, and Blake realized that he had won. "Good. Now we'd better get you to the medical unit." Blake stood, reached a hand down to the other man. "Think you can make it?"

Avon hesitated, staring at the offered hand for long moments before grasping it. "Yes." Hesitant black eyes met and accepted the affectionate warmth in the brown, and the lightning flashed again, stronger this time, warming and staggering both men with its power.

Blake hauled the other man gently to his feet. "Good. I'm not sure I'm up to carrying you at the moment." He slipped a supporting arm around his computer tech's shoulders, taking some of his weight. "We'll get you fixed up and then. . . well. . . "

"Then Sula."

***

It was two hours later that three men sat in the piloting chamber before a multi-colored fascia of a living ship. A viewscreen showed them open space though their thoughts were inward turned. "So she really was behind the whole thing," Vila said finally from his position on the far side of the couch. "What are you going to... do with her?"

Blake considered. "It was her people who’ve been disrupting computer coordination at -- she called it Central Command. She must know where it is."

"And you mean to find out."

Blake smiled without any trace of humor. "We still have that truth serum we were going to use on Servalan. Should work just as well on her once Jenna is through fixing her hand."

"Then?"

"Then we stop them. No more lives are going to be wasted because these people want the Presidency." He trailed off; a look of guilt and pain crossed the strong features making them oddly vulnerable.

"What is it, Blake?" Avon asked, alarmed, from the foot of the bed.

The rebel leader looked away, refusing to meet the eyes of either man. "I was just thinking -- they aren't doing anything I wasn't prepared to do myself when we destroyed Star One. I knew then that people would die without computer coordination. I knew that and. ..I ...destroyed the complex anyway."

"But people didn't die because of that -- the control center was located elsewhere." Vila spoke up, watching the other two closely. This bitter recrimination was out of place, jangling the new-found harmony that he could sense even underneath the shock that still made the air tense.

"But I didn't know that, did I? And I was still prepared to sacrifice everything for the unwavering Cause of mine. That makes me really no better than they are -- not one bit."

Vila fell mute, unsure of what he could say to help the situation. That left it to Avon to step forward. A tentative hand touched Blake's arm. "You were wrong about Star One." Blake hung his head a bit more and Avon hurried on. "But you were never like them. They treated human lives like so much refuse -- pawns to be sacrificed without thought in some great political game they were playing. "You only wanted to help those who couldn’t help themselves; to make a better life for people who were suffering and hurting."

Blake raised his head. "I did want to help. There was so much oppression -- so much hurt -- in the galaxy that I... "

"That you wanted -- no needed -- to do something about it." He stopped, leaning heavily on the table away from the bed, eyes shining with the new-found revelation. "I understand that, Blake. I didn't understand it then, but I do now. It was in you to need to do something about what was going on, and that in itself was not wrong. But you let the hate and the anger overwhelm you until you couldn't see the consequences of your actions. That was where you made your mistake."

Blake sighed deeply. "Yes, I realize that now."

The other’s grip tightened. "Then perhaps you also realize that you've been given a second chance, Blake. No one died because of you -- this time. We can set everything to rights and start over." He hesitated, forcing out the unfamiliar words, "Maybe we. . .both can."

Blake looked up, surprised and comforted. Avon was right, of course. There was a chance to rebuild, to make right the wrong. That was rare -- the opportunity to make amends for such a grievous offense -- and the rebel would not waste it. Blake breathed deeply into the offered comfort and the world righted itself again. "You're right. And the first thing I can do is to set things right at Command."

"Will you be taking the Presidency back?" Vila asked, a merry twinkle in his eyes.

The other regarded him quizzically, one hand returning Avon’s hold before dropping away. "I'm not sure yet, Vila. Why do you ask?"

"I never did get a chance to enjoy myself much as...er, a hero of the people, you know."

Two pairs of eyes regarded him with puzzled amusement. "You -- a 'hero of the people'?" Avon asked incredulously. "How do you figure that?"

"Well, I was a member of the crew, too, you know. You couldn't have beaten the Federation without my help."

"You mean despite your help," Avon put in caustically. A deep chuckle rumbled in the background, then became a full-fledged laugh. Avon and Vila were arguing again and Blake welcomed the familiar sounds with all his heart. Soon Vila joined in the laughter and even Avon's lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile.

Blake regarded his companions happily. It had been a long hard fight that was not yet over, but they had each gained. There would be many hurdles to face in the future, many nightmares. But this time at long last they would not have to face them alone. .

finish