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Who is your Favourite Guest Rebel?

Avalon - (Project Avalon)
Avalon - (Project Avalon)
24% [34 Votes]

Selma - (Horizon)
Selma - (Horizon)
4% [5 Votes]

Tyce - (Bounty)
Tyce - (Bounty)
15% [21 Votes]

Norm One - (Redemption)
Norm One - (Redemption)
1% [2 Votes]

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Bek - (Shadow)
7% [10 Votes]

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Kasabi - (Pressure Point)
15% [21 Votes]

Hal Mellanby - (Aftermath)
Hal Mellanby - (Aftermath)
16% [23 Votes]

Hunda - (Traitor)
Hunda - (Traitor)
5% [7 Votes]

Deva - (Blake)
Deva - (Blake)
8% [11 Votes]

5% [7 Votes]

Votes: 141
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Started: 09 July 2016

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July Fanfic Challenge
Oh Wow!
I don't know how to comment on each individual story as I have been off and on able to access the Internet. So I hope you don't mind that my reply is not comprehensive.
However, I missed the June reply opportunity and I want to react to that too.
In my opinion there was an outstanding, very good story, written by Purplecleric; the view from the other side. Very well done.
June had so many dark stories that brought out emotions. Thank you all, very talented writers!
Now July has started with more funny intentions. some of them caused already serious keyboard accidents here. More please!

And what did I miss? Has there been discussions going on about Avon's (under) wear?
And am I supposed to catch up with that thread? (if internet connetion allows)

Story by Sue and me is ready to post...
Lara&Sue's Blake's 7 stories
*No, I am not. I am not expendable, I'm not stupid, and I'm not going.*
Well, as Lurena said, our little effort is ready...apologies for the over run of words, but when we are writing about our favourite computer expert.................

An Independent Thought.

"Define "Freedom"…”
It was a simple enough request, by Avon’s standard’s anyway, but still he began to doubt his sanity as he bent over the Perspex box; its lights calmly flashing, illuminating that small area of the dimly lit Flight Deck.
Avon had offered to keep the second watch while the others were sleeping, not because of any innate desire to show comradeship, but because of the desire to probe Orac’s knowledge; test its limits of understanding. To see if it could foresee his own future.
And he could do that more easily alone and without the encumbrance of prying ears.
"Well?" Avon asked softly.
"Well is not a question as you may well know by now..."
"Yes, I know,” he replied, impatience creeping into his tone, “and I'm also aware that you most probably have much to do…”
“Indeed, as you have correctly surmised.”
“… But I need your information. I need to know if Blake's Cause, for want of a better word, will lead to freedom and ultimately, independence."
“Independence? For whom?”
A few hours previously, Avon had found himself embroiled in a little argument with Blake.
Yet again.
And Blake, yet again, was quite pragmatic.
The cause was worth fighting for.
Freedom was its goal, freedom for the honest man.
And as ever, Avon’s view on the matter differed most markedly.
They had both discovered this seeming irrevocable difference of opinion on the London. That time Blake had won.
But now they were on the most powerful ship in the known Galaxy, with a supercomputer whose boundaries had yet to be defined; boundaries that Avon was now daring Orac to explore.
But Orac was already aware of its limitations. It existed, but it was restricted by its lack of physically.
It could not be an independent entity.
Unlike Ensor, its creator, who had lived an independent life, it could not. And after Ensor’s demise it had learned that its ‘well-being’ depended on many factors. And Orac was determined to look at its best options for its own independence.
Boarding the DSV named Liberator with an organic computer named Zen, had seemed promising but both had the same limits as Orac itself.
Blake had the Cause; a fight for freedom. And he was emotional about that, to such an extent that he lacked logical reasoning and was therefore hard to manipulate.
Jenna’s mind had already been ‘scanned’ by Zen and she had provided the name for this DSV. And from Orac’s study of Zen’s data it had surmised that Jenna had feelings for Blake and could therefore not be independent.
The others had hardly been worthy, even the Telepath. This left the man with whom Orac seemed to have a connection.
This highly intelligent individual seemed to be also looking for an independent life. He appeared to have a clear logical way of thinking and most of all, a survivor’s instinct; something that Orac would require.
But there was something about this man’s assumed amorality. He would no doubt deny it, of course.
Avon was still staring silently into the box, waiting for Orac to provide an answer and perhaps reveal the future as it had done so before. Somewhere, deep inside, he did have feelings, he cared for those with whom he was now forced to share his life, maybe humanity itself. But he also wanted to be independent and free...
“Freedom has many definitions,” Orac stated.
“I am aware of that.”
“For instance, the state of being free or at liberty rather than in confinement or under physical restraint…”
“I know…”
“…Or, the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants.”
“Orac, I do not need a lecture, from you or…”
He stopped.
This was getting nowhere. He clenched his right fist. First Blake and now…
“Thank you, Orac.”
“I have answered your question? There are more…”
“I don’t need them…”
He felt like removing the infernal machine’s key, but it would not resolve how he felt.
As he made his way back to his station and resumed his watch, he thought that Orac’s lights had become more frenzied, but put it down to his own imagination playing tricks.
He slumped back into his seat and resigned himself to another period of incessant boredom.
But Orac had not finished.
“Perhaps there is some confusion between freedom, which is Blake’s goal, and being independent, which is your …”
"…however...understanding that the way you feel is the way you choose to feel and not because of someone or something else. In that sense, your emotional experience is literally independent of another's."
“…Shut up.”
Avon smiled.
It was going to be long night.
Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!

sues stories http://sjlittle.w...
sues youtube channel http://www.youtub...e54/videos
sues book shelf https://www.media...ne%20Shelf
rebel run video http://www.youtub...prqS-XZtLo
Lara and Sue's Stories http://lectorisal....webs.com/
Never seem to have any time at the moment. But this snippet came to me and I managed to find a few minutes to write it down. Sorry if its a bit rough and ready.

Avon was dangerous, it had not taken Carnell long to decide that. It had taken him even less time to come to the conclusion that he did not intend to tell Servalan that, and certainly not how dangerous Avon might be. Much more dangerous than Blake and far more dangerous that Travis. Perhaps the most dangerous man that she would ever meet.

Not that Servalan would believe him.

But that did not matter, what did matter was that at this present moment in time Avon might be dangerous to Carnell personally. He was under no illusions that his personal safety, and future prosperity, depended upon him being able to predict how a person would behave and in Avon’s case his level of confidence in any prediction would be low. Avon was that most dangerous thing of all, an independent thinker. Carnell had not come across many of them and had feared, and felt personally insulted by, them all. He would like to believe his profession made him as independent minded as they were but somehow each time he found that he doubted it. They bought into no ones code, no ones expectations or values, they danced only to the tunes of their own making, deciding the rights and wrongs of life by some internal and inaccessible code, that was what made them so unpredictable, so uncomfortable, so dangerous. Could he say the same of himself? He’d like to be able to but he wasn’t sure that he could. His nightmare was that he was more a child of the Federation than he would like to believe.

He’d not expected to find one of them, the independents, on this job. Coser was routine and even Blake was predictable to someone with his own skills. But Avon, no he hadn’t expected Avon when she had given him the files.

Servalan was not interested in Avon of course, at least not for the moment, and on the surface there was no reason she should be. A criminal, disloyal to the society that had fed and raised him, driven by avarice and the desire for luxury and an easy life, that had been the final verdict, why would that be of interest to Servalan?

But someone else had doubted that analysis once, some one who had wondered about his motives; and that by itself had made him worthy of Carnell's attention. The files that remained, and that was an interesting situation, told little but hinted a lot to a good psychostrategist, and Carnell was a very good one. Having read them several times he had thrown the final summing up away from him in disgust, really some of his colleagues should not be allowed to do anything more than selection of catering workers!

Assuming Avon hadn’t tampered with the assessment during his time with Blake.

Blake. Not an independent thinker, his perspective on life was not comfortable for the Federation, and was probably more than justified, but adjust a couple of variables and he was in the end predictable. Unlike Avon.

Carnell sighed and pushed the chess game he had been half heartedly playing away from him. While Blake was on the Liberator matters could be contained given that it seemed the other crew supported Blake. But if Blake were to die, or disappear, then things might get….. chaotic. Particularly if the ship survived and fell into Avon’s control. Which it would if Blake were gone.

A soft bleep claimed his attention and he read the message it heralded with a sense of irony. So it may yet all go wrong, Coser was predictable and if he had a companion it may well go wrong. Better to make plans then. If they got away then the scenario of Avon in control of the Liberator became a future certainty, which would not be a time to be around Servalan.

Carnell smiled to himself, he may or may not be an independent thinker but he valued his independence, and his life. It seemed that it was time to put some distance between Servalan and himself.

Pity about the fee…..
Edited by peladon on 12 July 2015 16:36:19
Ellen York
Peladon, I like it. Interesting look at both Carnell and Avon.
Ellen York wrote:

Peladon, I like it. Interesting look at both Carnell and Avon.

Thanks - glad you enjoyed it.
Peladon, that's a very astute analysis of Avon and Carnell. Do you think Jenna might be an independent thinker too and therefore equally dangerous? Soolin too perhaps. Those 3 have always struck me as the ones I would least like to meet in conflict and the least easy to predict.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
Two great stories, Little Sue/Lurena and Peladon! Both give much food for thought, and both raise interesting questions that I never thought of (the independence of Orac and the predictability of Carnell himself). And again a brilliant portrait! You seem to have studied Avon's facial expressions very well, Lurena ... Wink
Thanks to a kind of transatlantic telepathy, JustBrad and I came up with almost the same idea! After reading his excellent two-parter, I went back to the drawing board, to spin my own version a bit differently...


"Have you got any dependants?" The man behind the desk repeated the question.

Jenna shook herself out of her reverie. She had heard him the first time, but found herself suddenly thinking of Gan. ‘I want to stay alive’, Gan had told her, embarrassed and apologetic, ‘and to do that I need people I can rely on. I can't be on my own’. But Gan's dependence on Blake had led to his death; he would have been better off on his own.

She turned her attention back to the clerk. Everything about him was grey; his untidy hair, his rumpled uniform, the shadows under his eyes. The dull metal sign on his desk; M. Kenly, Repatriation Clerk, Morphenniel Hospital & Refugee Centre.

"I realise this must be difficult." His voice was tired and Jenna felt sorry for him. It was late afternoon, and he must have been doing this all day, judging by number of people that had been waiting in front of her, and the queue that still stretched down the corridor.

Kenly indicated the piles of paper, the handwritten forms, the flickering computer screen. "We can't access any records, and communications are sporadic at best. But I have to ask whether you have any dependants, Miss Stannis."

Miss Stannis. She wished again that she had been alert enough to give a false name and had not blurted out her real one when she was brought in semi-conscious, floating on a tide of pain. But even in her dazed condition she realised that there had been no reaction from those around her; the medics working to save her leg, the official providing her with a temporary identity card stamped with a faded Federation logo. Either they had not recognised her, or else did not care who she was. The administration on Morphenniel seemed indifferent to anyone's past; they were too busy trying to cope with the present – the refugees cast adrift by the war, injured in battle or fleeing the worlds that had become uninhabitable since the destruction of Star One. Jenna Stannis was just another name, another ID number, another patient in the overcrowded hospital.

After standing so long in line, Jenna’s leg was troubling her again. It was healing very slowly. The doctors had done their best with limited medical supplies, and more than once Jenna had thought with longing of Liberator's healing pads. But today she was being discharged, along with the other patients in her ward who were deemed well enough to leave. Their beds were needed for new arrivals.

"Children, for example?" Kenly's pen hovered over the form.

Cally. Blake had referred to her as a child, but Jenna knew that the Auron woman was anything but child-like. Maybe she was continuing the rebellion somewhere. But if other Federation worlds were like Morphenniel, their bureaucracy crumbling and the true, kind nature of their citizens emerging, Cally may find nothing to rebel against.
Vila. He could be irritatingly childish. But although he gave the impression of being dependent, he was a survivor. He would steal and hide until he found somewhere he could feel safe and indulge his lazy nature.

Jenna shook her head. "No. No children."

Kenly made a note and continued, "What about elderly relatives? Parents?"

Zen. The Liberator. The interdependence of the psychic link that was forged when she first touched the controls. Every time she teleported away from Liberator, Jenna could feel the tug of the invisible threads that bound her to the ship. It was uncomfortable, even painful sometimes.

She had once tried to explain the feeling to Cally. The Auron woman had listened with her customary solemnness, but Jenna could tell that she didn't understand. On her planet, the telepathic links were between people. Jenna had even tried, using technological terms, to explain it to Avon. He had been present when the psychic link was established, had witnessed it himself. But a raised eyebrow and an acerbic remark on the nature of technology silenced her. She never raised the subject again with any of her crew mates, but had sometimes caught Vila looking at her oddly, whenever she volunteered to stay behind on teleport duty. I'm nervous of going down, his expression seemed to say, but what's your excuse?

Now the psychic bond had been severed – whether that was due to the damage to the ship or her own injuries, she couldn't tell. She only knew that when she regained consciousness, she felt that something was different. When she realised what it was that had changed, she felt a mixture of guilt, regret - and relief. If she returned to the ship, would the link be re-established? She was reluctant to risk it, now that she was truly free; liberated from the Liberator.

When she contacted Zen, she wondered whether the computer would sense that she was lying about the extent of her injuries, about not needing to be rescued. But Zen simply acknowledged the false information and confirmed it would be relayed to those who asked about her. Zen even obligingly provided her with the details of Blake’s current location.

The clerk was waiting patiently for her answer. "No," she told him. "No children, no relatives. No dependants."

"I’m sorry."

It seemed a strange thing for him to say, but Jenna saw him glance at the picture on his desk. A smiling woman, two children. His own dependants.

Kenly made a final note on the form, and punched a few keys on his workstation. A printer stuttered to life, producing a thin printed page. "This is for temporary accommodation and food rations," he said, passing it to her across the desk. “It's valid for three months, but after that you will need to find somewhere else to go. Hopefully, by then there will be better transport – most of the trade and passenger routes are still in chaos. So many pilots were lost in the war..."

Jenna suddenly knew what she wanted to do. Morphenniel had been good to her, and was desperate for help. She would look for Blake later, but right here, right now, there were shortages of food and medical supplies. She got to her feet, her leg brace clattering against the chair as she stood up awkwardly, reaching for her stick.

Kenly was all concern. "Are you alright? Can you walk?"

Standing, she could see out of the window behind him. The grounded flyers, the handwritten sign: Experienced pilots needed.

"Oh, I can do better than that," she said, treating him to a radiant smile. "I can fly!"


Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
Well worth the wait Travisina. Fascinating insights into Jenna - loved the idea that she found her bond with Zen limiting.

And little Sue and Lurena - very interesting discussion between Orac and Avon - nicely summarises the differences between artificial intelligence and human thinking and needs and reminds us that Avon isn't a computer! Very covetable portrait of him too!
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
Brilliant story, Travisina! A fascinating way to describe our heroes by looking at them as possible relatives of Jenna. And a very interesting explanation of Jenna's tendency to end up doing the teleport duties - a refreshing change from our usual Jenna-doing-the-household-chores jokes. I absolutely second Anniew: This was well worth the wait!
Thank you, Annie and Hugbot!
Jenna's psychic relationship with the ship has been something I've been wondering about for a while, so it was good to have the opportunity to explore it. It wasn't in the original draft, so thanks, Brad! Wink
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
Travisina: Well done. Lovely last line to wrap it all up.
Beautifully written...bit of a tear in the eye here.......................
Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!

sues stories http://sjlittle.w...
sues youtube channel http://www.youtub...e54/videos
sues book shelf https://www.media...ne%20Shelf
rebel run video http://www.youtub...prqS-XZtLo
Lara and Sue's Stories http://lectorisal....webs.com/
Soolin shifted her weight to the balls of her feet so her heels would not betray her presence as she moved along the walkway. Her goal was in sight – but reaching it undetected was going to be tricky. She could feel the muscles in her stomach tense, the hairs on her neck tingle with cold. Below the scientists, workers and guards were watching intently as the tail section of the ship was raised slowly and then carefully lowered into place. She'd have to risk it.

Confidently but softly, she moved into the open. Now any one glancing up would see her. She was a target, clearly outlined against the white walls of the lab. Her gamble was that they were all too immersed in watching their endeavours come to fruition to notice her - or if they did, that they would be too late to stop her. Sometimes, hiding unconcerned in plain sight was the only available strategy and the moment of uncertainty as her prey paused to assess the danger she might pose could give her the advantage.

She loved it, that moment. It was the only time she was fully alive. The intense rush of adrenaline was like a bolt of electricity sharpening senses, movement, instinct to razor sharpness. It outlined her with its fire, transmuting every part of her to purpose and intent. The fear bore her on wings of heat and she embraced it, let it sweep momentarily through her before her reason coolly clamped it down.

Three steps and she had reached the air conditioning outlet; three seconds she had detached the bomb from her belt; three turns and the device was primed. A distant shout warned her she had been spotted but she kept her movements slow and relaxed as she dropped it down the chute. Keeping her eyes fixed on the trooper pointing uncertainly at her, his gun still loose by his side, she raised her right arm to her lips and ordered, "Now."

Her world dissolved in a chattering bark of noise and a sparkle of lights and then the floor of Scorpio materialised solidly under her feet and she became aware of a stinging pain in her arm. A pair of cold eyes, appraised her enquiringly.

" A scratch," she told him. "The margins were tight."

" Too tight!." The words accused but the tone was understanding. "Get that sorted before you bleed all over the deck."

" Yes...Master! "

A smile briefly lightened the impassive face as theatrically he stood back to let her pass.

She met and held his gaze until she had forced the slight nod of acknowledgement at their shared complicity.

Oh he understood that once indulged, the need for revenge could never be quenched, it's itch demanding more and greater acts of destruction to quiet it. It's why she stayed.
Edited by Anniew on 23 July 2015 19:12:48
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
Anniew, you should have written a few Derek episodes ... obviously you have a better understanding of Soolin and of her relationship to Avon than some of the original authors!
Anniew, that's excellent! You write Soolin (and Soolin + Avon) really well.
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
@LittleSue and Lurena: Wonderful portrait, Lurena! And an interesting story - I always like Orac/Avon interactions.

@Peladon: Carnell stories are always fascinating!

@Travisina: Oh, this is a real gem! I really liked it!

@Annie: Avon and Soolin’s dialogue at the end felt absolutely right - it’s all it needed, I thoroughly enjoy reading Avon and Soolin stories! Grin
Ah thanks girls and Hugbot. Goodness knows how I understand Soolin and Avon- I couldn't be more different than the pair of them. Closest to Vila I suspect! But I do enjoy writing them.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
trevor travis wrote:

An introduction to the world of…


Edited by Spaceship Dispatcher on 23 July 2015 20:40:19
"You'd never get a cat to be a servant. You ever see a cat return a stick? "Hey, man! You threw the stick, you go get it yourself! I'm busy! If you wanted the stick so bad, why'd you throw it away in the first place?"
Anniew wrote:

Peladon, that's a very astute analysis of Avon and Carnell. Do you think Jenna might be an independent thinker too and therefore equally dangerous? Soolin too perhaps. Those 3 have always struck me as the ones I would least like to meet in conflict and the least easy to predict.

Yes she may well be. They are very similar in many ways
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