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Who is your Favourite Guest Rebel?

Avalon - (Project Avalon)
Avalon - (Project Avalon)
22% [46 Votes]

Selma - (Horizon)
Selma - (Horizon)
4% [8 Votes]

Tyce - (Bounty)
Tyce - (Bounty)
14% [30 Votes]

Norm One - (Redemption)
Norm One - (Redemption)
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Bek - (Shadow)
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Kasabi - (Pressure Point)
Kasabi - (Pressure Point)
14% [30 Votes]

Hal Mellanby - (Aftermath)
Hal Mellanby - (Aftermath)
17% [35 Votes]

Hunda - (Traitor)
Hunda - (Traitor)
4% [8 Votes]

Deva - (Blake)
Deva - (Blake)
13% [27 Votes]

4% [8 Votes]

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Ascendancy by Clare Juland

Blake’s 7 – A PGP Serial
Episode 2: Ascendancy

Clare Juland

Remaining covert, Avon looked on as the stranger entered through the other doorway. Like his comrades, he stared intensely at the figure that stood defiantly before them, draped in a long black robe. They could not see the face, concealed as it was by the darkness of a large hood. Slowly, bare hands and arms emerged to remove the hood, revealing a woman with fiery red hair and bright green eyes.

Blake’s jaw dropped. “Keera!” Unwittingly, his expression betrayed the history between them and was met with surprise from Dayna and Tarrant. Moving closer, she kissed Blake passionately, but he pushed her away. “Audacious as ever,” he frowned.

“Is that all you can say?” Keera replied, placing her hands on her hips.

“I thought you were dead. How did you escape when Jenna…?” he paused. The memory was still sharp enough to cut.

Suggestively, Keera took off the robe. “I almost didn’t."

Dayna and Tarrant regarded her with unease and curiously noted the odd looking sidearm on the stranger’s belt. Deadly and efficient no doubt, Dayna surmised. How else had she escaped Federation subjugation?

“I went back to my home planet,” Keera continued.

“Why?” Blake asked.

She responded with a cold stare; clearly the subject was not open for discussion.

Dayna, growing more impatient enquired, “Where are Avon, Vila and Soolin?”

“Who are Vila and Soolin?”

“Our other friends,” Dayna said brusquely.

Keera was as wary as her guests, but admired their loyalty. She turned to face Dayna. “Dead, apart from Avon, who is recovering in a cabin through there.” She indicated the doorway where Avon was keeping a close watch, causing him to hurriedly retreat. “And you are?”


“Well, I’ve only got one pair of hands you know,” Keera frowned. “I was nearly caught myself, and would have been blown sky high if I’d tried to bring them. Those foul-mouthed guards set plenty of charges in that base of yours.”

“Why did you come back at all?” Blake asked.

Keera replied only with a dark look.

Out in the corridor, Avon felt his anger towards Servalan boiling inside and clenched his fists. He was absolutely certain of her responsibility for sending the troop squad to Gauda Prime. It also seemed likely that the intelligence officer masquerading as Arlen had somehow been able to send a signal that confirmed Blake’s presence and had been the cue to spring the trap. Avon considered the possibility that catching himself and the others was merely a lucky bonus from the Federation’s point of view.

Returning to the present moment, Avon had a myriad of questions. Who was Keera, he wondered? And why had she bothered to rescue them? He felt a small amount of gratitude, though instinctively he decided that she was not to be trusted and felt surprised that Blake had apparently done so.

“You are such a fool, Blake!” Keera said sharply. “I warned you that that bounty hunter routine would get you killed. But would you listen?”

“Why should it concern you?” Blake chuckled incredulously. “You’re the most crooked smuggler Jenna had the misfortune to meet. However, you did at least support our cause, in a manner of speaking."

“Flattery, Blake?” she retorted. “That’s not your style. Running arms for you proved to be far less profitable than small time contraband, although there were a few more pleasurable benefits. I fully intended that journey to be my last.” Blake frowned slightly as she crossed the room and downed a glass of wine in one go. For a brief moment she relaxed her intensity and offered some wine to the others, but was rebuffed.

The bigger picture between Blake and Keera was beginning to be revealed, but despite this, the more Avon thought about it, the less he understood why she may have had reason to rescue them.

Despite his own reservations, Tarrant felt compelled to ask what she intended to do next.

The momentary waver in her concentration vanished as she faced him. “Well, handsome, I’ve already got a full dance card… but there’s always room for improvement."

Dayna frowned in disgust, while Tarrant folded his arms indignantly and glared icily.

“The name’s Tarrant,” he scolded. “And that doesn’t answer my question”.

Keera grinned and gulped a second glass of wine. “We’re on course for a planet called Requia. It’s a remote outpost beyond Federation space. A smuggler’s got to make a living."

The name was familiar to Tarrant from his own past of running contraband, but he wisely kept quiet, unwilling to give up any possible advantage.

Avon frowned. He hadn’t heard of it, but suspected it would be the sort of place that an unscrupulous pirate would frequent.

With each exchange, Keera carefully tested the responses of the strangers. After all, she was outnumbered, despite their being unarmed. However, it was time to move on. Giving a hearty laugh, she left via the other door, with a lingering glance towards Tarrant.

After she’d gone, Blake remembered that first day when Jenna had brought Keera to Gauda Prime. She soon proved eminently capable of running the blockades and had clearly survived when Jenna made the ultimate sacrifice. However, her capricious nature had also been a source of disharmony in the group, not least her bold flirtatiousness.

He knew that Jenna had found her blatant invitations towards the men, and him in particular, very irritating. He had shown no interest in Keera and understood that she knew it, despite her best efforts. Since leaving the Liberator, a few tragedies too many had led him to become jaded and deeply immersed in the battle for freedom.

Lost in memories, Blake almost didn’t register the fact that Dayna had spoken. In frustration, she asked what on earth had possessed him to trust Keera.

“Jenna met her during a scuffle with a Federation patrol. She’s a good fighter and has a lot of useful contacts,” he replied.

Even with this in mind, Avon still felt that Blake had taken a great risk. However, in the face of adversity every possible ally was needed, as was proven by his own consorting with Zukan.

“It seems she’s got her hands on some interesting technology, to say the least,” Tarrant observed.

“And a powerful ship, no doubt,” Blake added.

Dayna swallowed hard and looked at them in turn; somehow that notion seemed the most concerning of all.

Their conversation halted when Keera returned with Orac. “Here, you can have this morose box back,” she said and placed it on the table.

Again the atmosphere became tense as Avon felt the odds had just been returned to more even terms. At least the Federation didn’t have possession of Orac, and Keera’s willingness to return it suggested that this stranger may have a shred of decency after all. Or was it that she simply didn’t fully appreciate its true worth?

“Come on in, Avon!” Keera said loudly.

Avon stood from leaning against the doorway, unaware that he had given himself away. Slowly, he entered the room and fixed Keera with a dark look. Turning to Blake, the two engaged intensely. Neither spoke; emotions were still running too high.

Blake regarded Avon cautiously. Both knew they’d made mistakes on Gauda Prime, but openly admitting it wasn’t on the agenda. Having been given a second chance, there was now the opportunity to put some of that aside. At least that’s what Blake intended. After all, it was his subterfuge that had lead to the tragedy in the first place.

Eventually Avon spoke and addressed Keera. “It is customary to ask before borrowing other people’s property.” His voice was cold and serious as he picked up Orac.

“Would you have agreed?” she replied.


“Well, then.” She grinned cheekily.

“Did you use Orac to revive us?” Blake enquired.

“In a manner of speaking,” she replied and gestured for them to follow her.

Hesitantly they did so and Tarrant tried to keep track of their route as they walked through a labyrinth of corridors until eventually they came upon a large, dark room. Keera waved her hand across a panel just inside the doorway and the room was illuminated. It appeared to be a kind of laboratory and spaced at intervals along either side were a dozen capsules. Each of these was just large enough for a human being to lie down inside. Keera walked up to the nearest, pressed a control panel and slowly the transparent cover opened.

“Orac gave me a very boring technical description, but basically these chambers are designed to perform a number of functions; chiefly cellular regeneration, but also genetic alteration. That computer of yours was actually quite impressed.” She paused, realising that apart from Avon, the group’s attention was wandering.

However, they weren’t staring at her or the capsule, they were looking at a large symbol on the far wall of the room. Dayna had recognised the emblem the moment she saw it and the others soon reached the same conclusion. One of Cally’s few possessions from her home planet of Auron had been a circular pendant, the centre of which bore an identical glyph.

“Cally told us that was the symbol associated with the gods of Auron legend, the aliens who supposedly created their civilisation and promised them telepathy,” Dayna said.

“There is a similar story among my people, but who is Cally?” Keera enquired.

“She was one of us,” Dayna replied. “Sadly, she was killed”.

Blake looked at her through widened eyes. So it was true. He wondered how his good friend had met her fate and wanted to pursue the question, but now was not the time.

Avon, however, had completely ignored the entire conversation and was still fixated on the apparently remarkable chambers.

Turning her attention to him, Keera could see his mind was at work. She could not be certain, but suspected he was already assessing the value of her ship and that he was capable of attempting to possess it for his own purposes.

“These things certainly look alien.” Tarrant caught on. He walked up to the device and looked inside.

With the momentary distraction over, Blake focussed his mind on the ever present threat of the Federation. “How did you get through the blockades around Gauda Prime?”

Keera closed the capsule and faced him. “This ship is equipped with a detector screen,” she replied and walked away.

Avon raised a curious eyebrow, as did Tarrant.

“Come on.” Keera’s voice faded from the corridor.

Still nervous, but faced with little alternative, Avon took the lead, followed by the others.

The flight deck was much smaller than expected and equipped with only two seats. There were four other control panels around the perimeter for an operative to use while standing, however these were currently inactive.

Seeing this, Tarrant wondered about the level of automation and struggled to place the ship into any kind of recognisable category. Was it a cruiser or battleship? But those laboratories suggested more a vessel used for exploration and research.

Pragmatic as ever, Avon placed Orac in one seat and stood behind while Keera took the other. He observed the controls, but could not ascertain their meaning. Each button had a different glyph, presumably, he surmised, the language of the aliens who had built the vessel. To some extent, the basic operations of most space vehicles were universal, but evidently not here.

From the ease with which Keera manipulated the buttons, it was clear to Avon that she was unhindered by this obstacle. When he and the others had boarded the Liberator for the first time, they had fumbled with the controls until Zen spoke out.

Looking around, Avon searched for a similar aid, but came up short. Perhaps these aliens had devised a more efficient means of automatic ship control. Whatever it was, he had no understanding of it and his unease increased considerably.

“What language is that?” Dayna asked curiously.

“It’s an obscure dialect of my ancestors,” Keera replied.

“Interesting,” Tarrant commented. “Does the ship mostly operate on automatics?”

“Yes.” Keera pressed a button that displayed a holographic representation of their current location, just beyond Federation controlled space.

Avon recognised some of the star systems; they weren’t far off their usual route to pick up supplies on Onus Two.

Unlike the Liberator and Scorpio, this ship had a transparent portal in place of a viewing screen, although the course and sensor readouts were projected in such a way that vision was not obscured.

Avon wondered what material it was made of, that could withstand the velocity at which they were apparently travelling. The view was mesmerising as stars flew past in blurred streaks.

Tarrant couldn’t help but be impressed. “Are we travelling beyond light speed?” he asked.

“Yes, much in excess of it,” Keera replied. “I don’t fully understand, but Orac says the drive creates a sub-space funnel through which the ship can travel”.

Avon looked around at Dayna and Blake, who were equally astonished.

Tarrant’s interest in the technology was increasing with each new demonstration of its capability. Under different circumstances he would have fought for possession of this vessel himself, but with Avon and quite probably Blake in his way as well, the chances of success were slim. For now, he would have to be content to bide his time and hope that Keera did not have a change of heart.

He was right, for by now Blake and Avon both had a firm agenda on their minds. Each were thinking that if this ship possessed defensive capabilities like the Liberator, then it could adequately serve as a means of keeping one step ahead of their enemies. However Avon’s focus began to drift onto eliminating Servalan, rather than the Federation as a whole.

Facing away from them, Keera continued to explain some of the other controls to Dayna, who hadn’t noticed the silent scheming.

Meanwhile, Tarrant strained to keep pace with both Keera’s explanation and note Blake and Avon’s intentions. It was obvious to him that Avon would want to use the ship for his own purposes and have no qualm in destroying Keera if needs be. Tarrant was less certain about Blake, although he speculated that he would want to continue his war against the Federation. Evidently Keera had helped Blake in the past, though he couldn’t imagine why. Whatever the reason, that loyalty was bound to surface and opinion on the matter would inevitably be divided.

He breathed deeply, realising that both he and Dayna would also have to make a choice. Should they stay with Avon, who appeared to be showing increasing signs of a bomb waiting to go off, or follow Blake and try to change things for the greater good?

“Can we see the rest of the ship?” Blake asked.

Avon suspected it was a test and would have most likely done it himself.

“Very well,” Keera replied.

The answer seemed to appease them, and a small smile formed on Keera’s face as they left.

Several levels were dedicated to study and one was comprised entirely of laboratories and living quarters for technicians. Nothing diminished their interest as they reached the propulsion area. It consisted of a large globe structure that glowed brightly with a form of energy they had not encountered before. Keera didn’t fully understand how it worked, and they asked more questions than she could answer.

“How many crew members could this ship hold?” Blake asked.

“Based on the number of cabins, approximately 100,” Keera replied.

“What weapons does it have?” Dayna enquired, drawing a jaunty laugh from their host.

“Down to business, I like that. Although this ship isn’t strictly a battle cruiser, the builders clearly expected to encounter hostile races. Let’s just say that the weapons are more than a match for the Federation’s plasma bolts”.

“Where did you find it?” Tarrant asked.

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but on my home planet,” Keera replied rather harshly.

Intrigued Avon decided to investigate later, but alone. He fully intended to discover the potential power of this new ship for his own purposes.


Sleer’s ship entered standard orbit around Sondar III, an outpost planet approximately halfway on their journey to Earth. It had been a long space stretch and the sight of its purple glow in an otherwise featureless darkness was welcoming to everyone on board, except her. She had hardened her emotions against such simple pleasures long ago.

Setting the automatics, the Commander leaned back in his seat. “I hope this means I can see my family for a while,” he said.

“I shouldn’t count on it if I were you,” the co-pilot replied.

Through a raised eyebrow the superior officer agreed.

“Commander!” Sleer’s voice came over the intercom, causing the crew to jump to attention.

“Yes, Madam Commissioner?”

“Doctor Reater’s ship will be docking in an hour. Please ensure that he is escorted to my chamber as soon as he arrives."

“Of course, Commissioner,” the pilot replied. “What’s that all about?” he asked after the communicator deactivated.

“This is your first duty for Sleer?” his companion enquired.


“Then let me give you some advice: don’t question her too much."

From her cabin, Sleer monitored the progress of the small passenger vessel approaching. “Soon…very soon,” she muttered.

Clunking sounds were heard as the docking mechanism engaged and the two ships were secured together.

“Please come this way, Doctor,” the Commander said, as the grey-haired man walked through the hatchway.

“Doctor Reater. Please do come in,” Sleer drawled as they entered her private chamber.

“Commander, you may give the crew leave for 48 hours. My personal staff and two engineers are to remain on board, and yourself."

The Commander was confused, but obeyed. “Very well Commissioner,” he replied and closed the door behind him.

Back on the flight deck, he carried out the instruction, much to the bemused delight of his crew. Some luck, he thought.

“Madam Commissioner, may I ask why have I been summoned here?” Reater asked. “I retired five years ago."

Sleer motioned for him to sit down. “I require the use of your particular talents,” she replied and handed him a tablet on which were detailed surgical instructions.

Reater studied them carefully and looked directly at her. “Madam, please forgive my impertinence, but I fail to see how this will improve on such…” he wisely elected to think before going further.

However, Sleer revelled in his unspoken compliment. “Beauty?” she grinned broadly. “Thank you Doctor, but vanity is furthest from my mind. The reasons are not important; I simply require that you carry out my instructions precisely." There were still a few people on Earth who might recognise her and she could not afford to let that happen.

She wore a serious expression and Reater understood the consequences if he did not comply.

As the passenger shuttle departed with the crew, Sleer's personal staff worked under Reater's instruction to prepare for the surgery. Being in charge of the Adaptation Program had given her access to top-level medical personnel and a number of them had been reassigned to her team.

The procedure took several hours as Reater worked with delicate precision to alter Sleer's appearance. Afterwards when she had regained consciousness, she winced slightly from the discomfort caused by the regeneration mask.

Seeing this, one of her aides approached. "May I bring you some refreshment, Madam?" she asked.

"Yes, thank you." As she slowly sat up, her mind was already back at work. "Is Doctor Reater still aboard?"

"No, Madam," the aide replied. "He departed a short while ago. Your instructions have been carried out."


Slightly relieved to be heading back, Reater relaxed in the lounge of the passenger shuttle. He was still baffled by Sleer's unusual request; however he'd had little option but to go along with it.

The ship was about halfway on its return journey when alarms started to sound.

"What's going on?" he asked a crew member.

"Please secure yourself in your seat, Doctor," the man replied. "Everything will be alright".

Despite this reassurance, Reater felt a nagging sense of doubt. Something about Sleer's manner caused an uneasy suspicion; it was too coincidental.

The Commander on Sleer's ship was monitoring their progress and noticed immediately when the shuttle started to veer off course. He tried to raise them, but was met with static. Hitting the intercom, he spoke with one of Sleer's aides.

"Please relate the situation to the Commissioner at once," he said.

Aboard the shuttle, the pilot was doing everything he could to avert disaster. "I can't hold this course!"

"We've got to, we'll break up!" the co-pilot replied.

"It's no good..."

His words trailed off as the burning streaks of the ship catching Sondar’s atmosphere glowed brighter and brighter. Their angle of descent deteriorated further and with increasing speed. It was only a matter of time.

Down on the surface, the Federation Central Control team was also monitoring the situation and tried to contact the shuttle.

"Sondar Control to Shuttlecraft 5, respond please!" the officer called out for the third time.

"It's no use sir, I can't raise them."

By now his superior's eyes were glued to the screen, and he watched as the small vessel broke up into hundreds of tiny pieces.

"I want that wreckage investigated immediately. Ships don't do that without good reason," he said.

"Yes, sir." The officer dutifully relayed the instruction and a recovery team was sent to locate the debris.

"I'm afraid I cannot offer an explanation," Sleer said in response to the Control Officer's enquiry. "We tried several times to raise the shuttlecraft, but with no success," she added. "It would seem that their landing systems developed a fault."

"Indeed, Madam Commissioner, but I assure you that a full investigation is underway".

"Very well, I will leave the matter in your capable hands." This small diversion was of no significance and she was keen to continue on their journey.

Getting up, she went to her ablutions room and looked in the mirror. Her face was a patchwork of small cuts and bruises, however the operation had proved more than successful and she no longer resembled the woman she had once been.

In spite of the expansion of the empire, Earth was where the real power lay. With Star One’s destruction, all orders had reverted to being issued directly from Space Command Headquarters and relayed to the various sectors through the communications network. It was the only means the Federation had of keeping in contact with its furthest outposts, and not without its problems.

Like Blake before them, rebel groups frequently caused damage and temporary losses. These incidents continued to be a thorn in President Tollen’s side and with every failure to curtail the problem, the doubts within his own ranks increased.

Thumping his desk as he read the latest report, he began to question the effectiveness of Pylene 50. His reaction was decisive and he immediately requested the presence of Commissioner Sleer.

“A fortuitous opportunity,” Sleer reacted when she received the message.

Arrival day finally dawned and after completing the formalities, Sleer was escorted directly to the President’s office.

He greeted her with surprising warmth. "Madam Commissioner, what a pleasure it is to finally meet you."

“Thank you, it was indeed an honour to receive your invitation,” Sleer replied.

He gestured for her to sit down and his aide poured them both a drink.

“I must congratulate you for the excellent progress you have made with the pacification programme. The war with the Andromedans dealt us a severe setback, however I'm pleased to see that thanks to you the colonised worlds are once again being properly administered."

Sleer nodded in acknowledgement.

"Tell me, how exactly does the programme work?"

"Have you heard of Pylene 50?" Sleer asked.

"Yes. It's a muscle relaxant, if I'm not mistaken," Tollen replied.

"In low doses, yes, but my research team found a way to use it in such a way that blocks adrenalin production. It has been used extremely successfully on whole populations, enabling the rapid expansion of Federation control."

"That's remarkable!" Tollen exclaimed. "And it has no side effects?"

"None," Sleer replied.


Tollen paused for a moment. "Commissioner, I summoned you here because of the growing problem with the rebels in the Gamma Quadrant. I am reassigning your duties to deal with this matter personally, and you are hereby authorised to use whatever resources you deem necessary. I am due to report to the High Council in three weeks time and will require a full assessment."

Sleer had prepared herself for the serious element to the meeting and barely gave it a second thought. “You shall have it."

Her reply was in a slightly over-confident tone that for a moment unnerved Tollen. He might have to maintain a keen eye on Sleer.

Taking the shuttle down to Earth, she noted that the city had undergone a series of major alterations since her last visit and the place almost seemed unfamiliar. In addition to the single dome, a further two had been built on either side and were connected by numerous shuttle tubes. Gone were the remnants of the old city where Blake and his fellow rebels had once met. In their place stood brand new launching pads, communications terminals and a vast complex of workshops and hangars, with the new fleet of battle cruisers in the early stages of construction. Even Space Command Headquarters had been completely refitted and additional orbiting cruiser repair facilities created.

The Federation meant to re-establish its presence in the galaxy with an iron fist.

Sleer observed the frenzy of industrious activity around the construction zones and smiled, knowing that the day would come when she, and she alone, would have total control.


The tour over, Keera led Blake and the others back to their respective cabins to get some much-needed rest. They were still feeling the effects of being revived and Dayna especially felt her stomach turning handsprings.

Blake lay awake for hours pondering over the many challenges they now faced, including dealing with the past. Added to this, thoughts of Cally remained in the background. They had been good friends and she was too important to him to simply overlook. Alas, he feared that he may never know the truth of the matter.

In his cabin, Tarrant tugged awkwardly at his new jacket. It was rather ill-fitting and eventually in frustration he took it off and sat on the edge of his bunk. Like Blake, his mind was filled with memories of friends they’d left behind, in particular Vila and Soolin. Try as he might to accept it, the image of their fate was burned into his mind. Unable to sleep, he paced the room before tentatively approaching the door and staring into the dim light of the corridor.

Avon was less hesitant and merely waited until he felt certain of being unobserved. Silently slipping from his quarters, he took Orac and returned to the propulsion room. It proved as fascinating a study as the Liberator had been when they first boarded. Of course back then he’d had to conduct the exploratory work himself; now Orac could provide the information he required simply by scanning the various systems.

“Can you interface with the…” he began.

“No,” replied the computer in a surly tone.

“Why not?”

“I should have thought that was perfectly obvious,” Orac snapped.

“No Tarial Cells or any equivalent?” Avon speculated.

“Precisely. Now will you kindly stop interrupting my observations of this fascinating technology!”

Avon frowned and let the conversation go. It seemed that the skill of piloting the craft was going to remain in Keera’s hands a while longer. However, he resolved to put that right at the first opportunity.

Wandering around the sizeable room, he paused alongside the glowing mass inside the globe. He was about to enquire on the detail of such a powerful energy source, when a voice pierced through its low toned humming.

“Find out what you wanted to know?” Keera said and leaned nonchalantly against the doorway.

Avon turned around. “For the moment,” he replied.

Smiling and without fear, she walked towards him.

“I don’t know who is the greater fool - you, or Blake for considering you an ally,” he added.

“Curious to know what I did to win his trust?” she asked and raised her eyebrows cheekily.


Undeterred by his domineering manner, she ran a hand over his chest.

Avon’s eyes narrowed, partly in pleasure, partly in controlled anger. “I have my own priorities and I intend to use this ship to fulfil them, whether you like it or not."

“I’d have been disappointed otherwise,” she replied.

Grabbing her wrist tightly he pushed her back against the wall. “Let me make this perfectly clear. If you cross us, you’ll be dead before you even realise it!”

Her green eyes flashed in fiery excitement, but slowly her hand lowered to reach for the sidearm.

Just in time, Avon realised what she was doing. Snatching it from her grasp, he held it to her face. He had no idea how to use it, a fact that he suspected she already knew, but he could at least reinforce the point.

She smiled indulgently and lowered her voice. “I like a man with fire in his heart."

Avon released her and lowered the gun. “For someone who’s evidently intelligent, that’s not a particularly well planned strategy,” he snapped.

Keera laughed softly. “Risk is what makes life worth living."

For a moment the two were locked in an intense gaze. Despite her irritating manner, she possessed a quality that Avon found oddly appealing and he noted that she found him interesting, too.

She lifted her head and kissed him, deeper than she had Blake earlier. He was different to Blake, colder and yet exhilarating. To her delight, Avon responded and squeezed her tightly. Keera moaned softly and wrapped her arms around his neck, revelling in the passion she was drawing from him.

Avon was reminded of Servalan’s kiss on Sarran, but now that had been replaced with bitter darkness and he broke away at the thought of it.

“Seems that neither of us listens to good advice,” Blake said, interrupting the moment. He knew Avon far better than Keera.

Avon stepped back and placed the sidearm into his belt, while Keera flashed him a look that left no doubt of her desires.

Turning to Blake, she smiled. “Can you blame a girl for wanting some fun occasionally?”

A less jaded person might have embarked in a debate on the matter; however neither Avon nor Blake fell into that category. Both ignored her, and again their thoughts drifted on to more important matters, namely Servalan and the Federation.

With loud footsteps, Tarrant ran up towards them. Curiosity had drawn him to the flight deck where he tried to make some sense of the controls, but to no avail. Like Avon, he resented being a prisoner of Keera’s ability to fly the ship. However, he had observed the internal sensor display, which told him where to find his comrades.

“What’s going on?” he puffed.

Keera turned and left without a word, sending another admiring glance in his direction as she did so.

“Does she have to keep doing that?” Tarrant said, exasperated.

Blake chuckled, “She’s useful, but takes some getting used to."

Tarrant shifted uncomfortably. “Somehow I get the feeling that this is going to be an uneasy alliance."

Blake raised an eyebrow at Avon, who said nothing.

“It’s also worth noting that there is a negative aspect. I’ve seen what she does to people who get in her way, and it’s not pretty,” Blake concluded. Despite the tenuous coalition with Keera, he too had the notion of using her ship for his own purposes.

Unknown to him, Avon was already well advanced in his plot of revenge against Servalan. Up until Gauda Prime, it had just been something of a game, albeit a highly frustrating one. Now war had been declared and he was resolved to see it through.

Again Tarrant sensed their scheming and thought it only a matter of time before all this reached a flash point.

To be continued...

All original fan fiction hosted on Horizon is copyright to the individual authors. No attempt is being made to supersede any copyright held by the estate of Terry Nation, the BBC, B7 Media, Big Finish or any other licensees or holders of copyright on Blake's 7 material.


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