Cally was quietly furious with Avon. He had not been prepared to let her investigate this mysterious planetoid, and had left the flight deck with merely a cryptic comment. He wouldn’t trust her to take the initiative, but was equally unwilling to explain what he was doing.
‘Zen, where is Avon at the moment?’
‘THAT INFORMATION IS NOT AVAILABLE.’
Cally scowled. ‘Which room in Liberator did I just connect to on the intercom?’
‘THAT INFORMATION MAY NOT BE PROVIDED.’
‘May not be…?’ She tried to hold her temper.
‘When Avon doesn’t want to be tracked down,’ Vila observed mildly, ‘there’s no point in trying.’ He put his hands behind his head and relaxed into his flight seat. ‘Let him get on with it. We’re safe enough here.’
‘Don’t get too comfortable,’ Jenna said. She was reviewing systems status. ‘Those aliens haven’t gone away. We’ll be back in the fray soon enough.’
‘Putting ourselves in harm’s way,’ he said.
Jenna tutted at him. ‘Going to the rescue of that flotilla from the frontier worlds. And the Federation fleet is due at any minute.’
Vila closed his eyes. ‘Now might be a good time for a nap, then.’
‘Orac, where is Avon?’ asked Cally.
‘You’re wasting your time.’ Vila hadn’t even opened his eyes. ‘Avon took Orac’s key. As usual.’
Cally felt her frustration boiling over. Jenna was busy, Vila didn’t care, and even Zen seemed to be in league with Avon. The only way she was going to track him down was to go and look for him herself.
She pondered her recent conversation with Avon over the intercom. It was plain from his incautious comment that he was working with someone else. And it didn’t take a head count around the flight deck to work out that person must be Blake. Who ought to be concentrating on recovering from his injuries.
Without a further word to the others, Cally left for the medical unit.
* * *
Blake set off at a rapid pace as soon as he left the observation deck. Avon stayed a step or two behind him – he didn’t want to put more pressure on the injured man than Blake was already putting on himself. Let him prove to his own satisfaction he was ready for this mission, Avon decided. Besides, Avon wasn’t entirely sure Blake was up to it.
Once or twice, Blake took a wrong turning. Avon allowed him make the correction without comment, and studiously avoided meeting his eye whenever he looked across at him to check for a reaction. What conversation they had was stilted, and Blake seemed to reserve his strength for the effort of walking rather than talking.
Blake would need all his energy to survive down on the planetoid. From what Zen had discovered about Megiddo, the surface was freezing. So en route to the teleport area, they took a short detour into the stores, to obtain and unpack a thermal suit. The medipack could not fit inside it, and so Avon helped him carefully into the suit, conscious that pulling the one-piece over Blake’s torso and shoulders must be extremely painful.
With Blake suited up, they rounded the corner to the teleport area. Blake made an effort to remain upbeat, and explained to Avon he had every confidence that leaving him on board with the rest of the crew was the correct decision. As though, Avon reflected, it was actually Blake’s decision to make now. Let him think that, if it made things easier.
Blake slowed to a halt as they entered the room. He leaned heavily on the teleport control desk. ‘I know that you’ll look after them, Avon.’
‘I’m moved by your confidence in me.’ Avon wondered if Blake still had any strength left to make it to Megiddo. His face had turned a worryingly grey colour and his breathing was irregular. Perhaps the adrenaline shot he’d taken before suiting up was taking its time to kick in.
Avon picked up a teleport bracelet from the rack, and handed it to Blake. He wasn’t sure at this stage whether Blake had the energy or the inclination to get one for himself.
Blake slipped the bracelet around his wrist, and clicked it shut. ‘Have you worked out the destination coordinates?’
Avon reached behind him, and adjusted the teleport locator. It whined as the cross-hairs resolved on the display.
‘There.’ Avon indicated where the teleport was set. ‘It’s as close as I can get you to the entrance. You should turn up the dial on that suit. It’s going to be cold down there.’
Blake cranked up the control, and even seemed to relax a little as the heat began permeating his clothing. With a little grunt, he levered himself off the edge of the control desk, and walked slowly into the teleport area. ‘All right. I’m ready.’
‘Ready for what?’ asked a voice in the doorway.
It was Cally. She glared accusingly at Blake, and then favoured Avon with an even darker look. ‘Blake was not in the medical unit. I suspected something like this. Avon, you cannot let Blake take such a risk. Not in his condition.’
‘Can’t I be the judge of that?’ asked Blake, and squared his shoulders. The effect was somewhat undercut by his accompanying wince.
Avon dropped his eyes to the desk, and began to lock in the teleport coordinates. ‘He’s the only person we can spare, Cally.’
‘And I’m moved by Avon’s confidence in me,’ added Blake sarcastically. Cally tried to interrupt, but Blake forestalled her with a gesture. ‘No, don’t argue, Cally.’
Avon was astonished when Cally turned on her heel and left the room without another word. But he was even more surprised when she reappeared carrying a thermal suit. She was already pulling it on as she spoke. ‘I see you will not be persuaded.’
‘What are you doing, Cally?’ groaned Blake.
She smiled sweetly at him as she fastened the final clip on her suit.
‘I am going with you.’ She took a teleport bracelet from the rack, and awkwardly fitted it around the cuff of her thick glove. ‘Now, you should not argue with me, Blake.’
Avon and Blake exchanged resigned looks.
‘Very well,’ said Blake. He indicated the dial on Cally’s suit. ‘Turn that thing up. It’s going to be cold.’
Avon wasn’t yet convinced. ‘You can’t be spared to nursemaid him, Cally. We need everyone on board.’
‘Everyone?’ Blake’s eyes sparkled with amusement.
‘You cannot stop me, Avon.’ Cally wasn’t amused. ‘This is not your ship yet.’
‘Thank you for “yet”,’ said Avon.
‘I know that Liberator is what you want most of all,’ she said. ‘But my people have a saying, Avon –’
‘I was afraid they might.’
‘They say: Before you desire, you should deserve.’
Avon placed his hands palm-down on the counter. ‘I have a saying too: Blake can handle this alone.’
‘It’s her choice, Avon,’ Blake observed mildly.
Cally moved over to join Blake in the teleport area. ‘Avon, there will be no requirement for you to remain here on station.’
‘I have no intention of remaining here on station.’
Blake and Cally stood, side by side, in the teleport area. Their faces were turning pink as the thermal suits boosted their temperatures, in anticipation of Megiddo’s freezing conditions. They didn’t say a word. Avon wondered if he should let them turn lobster red before he made a decision.
Instead, he enabled the teleport activation switches on the desk before him. ‘Very well,’ he said briskly. ‘I’ll teleport you both down. If for any reason Liberator has to leave the area, and the auto-repairs are complete, we will not wait for you. Either of you. We will be gone. Your ship will have sailed.’
Blake seemed amused. ‘Whose ship, Avon?’
Avon didn’t answer. He had already activated the teleport. Before his eyes, Blake and Cally rippled out of existence.
‘Goodbye, Blake,’ he said to the empty room. ‘And good luck.’
The words had barely left his lips before a howling alarm sounded throughout the Liberator, echoing and re-echoing down the corridors.
Avon leapt to his feet, looking around himself in apprehension. ‘What the hell is that?’
As if in answer, the intercom chimed, its insistent note cutting through the cacophony.
‘Avon?’ Vila’s panic was evident through the speaker. ‘Avon! Get back here! We’re under attack!’