When Blake contacted the human fleet, they were wary at first. Pummelled from every direction, vastly outnumbered, and completely outflanked by the alien opposition, their first suspicion was that this was some cruel final trick.
It may have been because his initial contact was an all-points broadcast to every human receiver within range. There was obvious disbelief that any potential ally would communicate their intentions over an open channel that the enemy could overhear. But Blake had persevered, explaining that the aliens were unable to translate his words.
Nevertheless, he’d needed Avon to persuade Orac to identify some strategic participants among the surviving ships. They chose a selection of both civilian and military vessels, to make a specific communication directly to them, to exploit Orac’s ability to access their computers directly. Once the astonished captains of the chosen ships accepted that the message really was coming from the Liberator, they were prepared to accept what they were told.
And in truth, it was what they desperately wanted to hear: disengage from the enemy. Let them through, so that Liberator could handle them.
Blake studied the tactical display that Zen projected onto the main view screen. The jumbled collection of markers that indicated the relative positions of the fighting ships began to separate. Federation pursuit ships navigated a speedy route out of the central conflict. Mining vessels and tourist cruisers and civil defence craft swiftly extricated themselves from close combat, peeling away in dozens to leave the mass of alien attackers unopposed.
One or two of the aliens squirted off from the main bulk of the offensive, vanishing deeper into the Federation galaxy in search of plunder elsewhere. But the vast majority of the oncoming invasion coalesced into a solid bulk, and its focus was clear: the Liberator.
‘All right,’ called Blake. ‘We’re approaching Megiddo again. Jenna, take us in. Zen, advise on anything unexpected.’
‘CONFIRMED.’
‘Program epsilon zeta delta. Execute!’
The ship’s engines surged anew as the manoeuvre commenced, and the whole flight deck rattled alarmingly. Blake clung to the console in front of him, feeling the vibrations shake his entire body, and trying not to shout in pain. ‘Vila, how are we doing?’
He knew Vila had been obsessively checking his readouts. When he did so yet again, he would see that nothing much had changed. They were still in big trouble. ‘They’re gaining on us!’
Cally confirmed the diagnosis from her own data. ‘Looks like most of the alien fleet is behind us.’
‘And the Federation fleet is in front of us,’ said Avon. He switched the main screen to a forward view. It revealed the blood-red arrow points formed by an array of arriving Federation military vessels. ‘This could get interesting.’
‘INFORMATION. DETECTORS INDICATE LIBERATOR IS DANGEROUSLY CLOSE TO THE PLANETOID SURFACE.’
‘Compensate!’ shouted Blake.
‘NAVIGATION COMPUTERS ARE OFFLINE.’
Jenna wrestled with the flight controls. ‘Yes, I know that!’
Avon glared at her. ‘You’d better!’
The engine note became an almost unbearable screech of protest. ‘Hold on everyone!’ Jenna yelled. ‘I’m going to execute a three-sixty slingshot around Megiddo.’
The artificial gravity must be overcompensating, Blake thought. It felt like he was being crushed into his seat. He looked wildly around the smashed flight deck to see what the others were doing.
Avon was ramrod straight in his seat, his face an impassive mask of concentration. Vila’s head was thrown back, and he had his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
Cally’s eyes were closed, too. She looked almost serene. Was she listening to the minds of the distant civilians, to know if they were now safe? Or the oncoming Federation crews, to discern their motives? Or perhaps the abandoned operators back on Megiddo, trapped throughout the centuries for this very moment? The final act after their long, long wait.
Over in her pilot’s position, Jenna continued to wrestle with the flight controls. She had to physically lean against them to force them to her will.
On the main screen, the ice-white surface of Megiddo loomed large and threatening as Liberator skirted its ravaged atmosphere.
‘Now, Zen!’ Jenna was shouting. ‘Standard by twelve, now!’
‘CONFIRMED.’ Zen’s measured tones sounded odd amid the maelstrom of noise that shrieked around the flight deck.
Blake was pressed harder into his flight seat. Brilliant sparks flashed in his eyes. He couldn’t tell if it was in his mind or on the flight deck itself. His consciousness was slipping away. He forced his eyes to stay open, glaring at the screen as Liberator finally cleared Megiddo’s orbit and powered away towards… towards…
‘The Federation are dead ahead,’ said Vila.
As Liberator pulled clear of the planetoid, the pressure on Blake’s bruised body started to abate. He pulled himself forward in his seat. ‘Open a channel, Zen.’
‘CONFIRMED.’
Blake reached for the comms. ‘Federation fleet, this is the Liberator. We have no weaponry and our navigation systems are offline.’
The main screen dissolved into a frenzy of interference, before resolving into the image of a spaceship interior. No ordinary spaceship either, Blake noted. It might even be one of the Mark IV Star Cruisers that Orac had been hearing about recently.
What was certain, however, was that it was under the command of Servalan.
She peered from the screen at them, like she was conducting an unannounced inspection. ‘Oh dear,’ she tutted. ‘You are in a spot of trouble.’
‘Servalan,’ Blake said. ‘We are unable to control our approach vector, but pose no threat to you. We advise you to keep away.’
Servalan smiled broadly. ‘I advise you to surrender, Blake.’
A fresh rattle shook the flight deck as the ship picked up speed. ‘You need to listen to me, Servalan.’
‘No, you need to obey me, Blake.’ Her smile and fake bonhomie had abruptly dissipated. ‘Escort Group Nine is ready to take control of the Liberator.’ She leaned to one side, beckoning to one of her subordinates. A short, nervous man with a thin moustache trembled in anticipation of her next order. ‘General Howells, target that ship. It is unarmed, and it is mine.’
Blake struggled to his feet. He felt that he had to stand right in front of the view screen. To confront her directly. To show her that he was in command. That he was not afraid. ‘The aliens are right behind us.’
‘And my fleet is right behind me.’ She looked to General Howells, who confirmed whatever she was looking for. ‘So, consider Liberator to be… the spoils of war.’
Blake felt the moment weigh down on him more pressingly than before. ‘Which side are you on, Servalan?’ he asked quietly.
‘Her own, as always.’ Avon had come to stand next to him. He too stared defiantly back at the main view screen. ‘To Servalan, everyone and anyone is a potential enemy. More so than ever, now.’
Servalan merely smiled back at them from the screen, utterly unmoved.
Behind them, Cally suddenly gasped. Blake whirled around just in time to see her clutch her temples. Her eyes rolled up into her head and, with a further cry of shock and pain, she slipped from her seat and onto the rubble-strewn floor.
Blake hurried over to her, checked her pulse, and put her in the recovery position.
He didn’t have time to do more, before Zen’s announcement filled the flight deck.
‘INFORMATION. THE PLANETOID MEGIDDO HAS REACHED THE ALIEN FLEET, AND EXPLODED. PLASMA EXPANSION WAVE IS APROACHING AT SPEED STANDARD BY FOURTEEN.’
‘Here it comes!’ yelled Vila.
Blake hurried back to his seat. ‘Zen, on screen!’
‘CONFIRMED.’
Where previously the view beyond the defence grid had been a black, almost starless vista of space, now there was a violent flow of undulating yellow-white energy surging towards them. Megiddo no longer existed, and in its place was this concentrated hub of pure energy. It roiled and churned and bloomed to fill the whole of the screen.
The image zoomed out to provide the wider context. Between Liberator and the plasma explosion, the alien fleet looked like a scattering of dark specks against the approaching firestorm. One by one they winked out of existence, bursting even brighter for a transient moment before vanishing forever. A few at first, then handfuls, then swathes of the fleet.
‘INFORMATION. THE PLASMA EXPLOSION WAVE WILL OVERTAKE LIBERATOR IN THIRTY SECONDS.’
‘The aliens were too close to escape it,’ gasped Vila. ‘But can we outrun the blast?’
The screen cut back to reveal Servalan. She was studying the scene on the Liberator flight deck with an indulgent smile.
‘You think you have us,’ Blake told her coldly. ‘But you’re wrong.’
‘Ah,’ she nodded. ‘The famous Blake optimism. Well, you really have no option. You must surrender.’ She faltered at some fresh interruption. ‘Oh, what is it now, Howells?’
The General was whispering something urgently to her. Her smug smile faltered, then vanished.
‘There’s a what…?’
‘Your apocalypse device, Madam President,’ Blake explained. ‘Megiddo has destroyed itself, and everything in its vicinity. And the plasma explosion is still expanding. So even if you survive this shock wave, you are not getting your hands on my ship.’
Servalan had stood up now. She appeared to be clutching at objects around her, slapping away the attentions of General Howells and her crew. ‘No!’ she muttered. ‘No!’
Perhaps she was also clutching at straws, thought Blake. Making an attempt to flee. Though he had no idea where she thought there was left for her to run.
‘Goodbye, Servalan. I wish I could say it had been a pleasure.’
He jabbed a finger at the comms, and cut the connection.
‘I think that’s the last we’ll see of her,’ said Avon.
‘INFORMATION. PLASMA EXPANSION WAVE WILL OVERTAKE LIBERATOR IN TEN, NINE, EIGHT…’
‘It might be the last we see of anyone,’ said Blake calmly.
The countdown continued as Avon faced him. ‘She’s not getting her hand on whose ship?’
Blake put his hand on Avon’s shoulder. ‘Our ship.’
Avon smiled. ‘That will do for now.’
Blake seized the console in front of him, and held on tight. ‘Brace yourselves!’
‘… THREE, TWO, ONE.’
And the plasma wave struck.