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August Fanfic Challenge
littlesue
trevor travis wrote:

littlesue wrote:

This seems to be 'Let's have a pop at Tarrant' month.


Is it? What fun Grin Grin Pfft


Beware the wrath of Clare!!!
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/
 
JustBrad
littlesue wrote:

...
Beware the wrath of Clare!!!


But she's so cute when she's angry.....

Maybe Paula will loan her the Welsh Street Sign.
 
clareblues1
JustBrad wrote:

littlesue wrote:

...
Beware the wrath of Clare!!!


But she's so cute when she's angry.....

Maybe Paula will loan her the Welsh Street Sign.


LOL

I'm about to post a humorous romp myself and you could even say I'm adding to it, depending on your point of view!
The foolish reject what they see;
the wise reject what they think.
 
clareblues1
Don't say I didn't warn you folks....might be better to put that coffee cup down and push the biccies to one side...I don't want to have to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre!


The Iron, The Witch and The Bathrobe


Tarrant bristled. He couldn't believe the nerve of the man! He stiffened his spine, threw back his shoulders and injected every ounce of arrogance he had acquired as a Federation Officer into his voice.

"Have you seen this latest Blair Cloos script?!"

He charged onto the Liberator flight deck with damp hair and wearing waffle slippers and a black designer bathrobe with gold trim and the word 'Ferrari' embroidered on the breast pocket.

"Can't say as I have", Vila replied and took the script from him. "Given up on dressing for your fans?" he grinned.

"What fans?" Avon cut in.

Tarrant gave him a sour look.

"This is my costume for this episode! And I'll have you know I have plenty of followers."

Dayna sniggered from the upper-right console position. "I'd tie up that robe a bit more if I were you, don't want to inflame them now do we?"

Tarrant scowled and surreptitiously adjusted the tie-rope around his waist.


Vila skimmed through the script, "I can't see anything to worry about here. At least this time I've actually got a part and we don't have to run around any muddy chalk pits either."

He handed the script to Avon, who looked less than enthusiastic.

"Let us be thankful for small mercies. If you recall in the last Blair Cloos script I ended up washing my teddy bear and putting him in the auto dryer."

"We are talking about the fourth season", Tarrant jibed. "But this is worse! How am I supposed to be convincing in this stupid outfit? Just for once I'd like a script where I'm not the fall guy!"

"Well now..." Avon started, but was interrupted by the ship's warning alarm going off.


Tarrant ran to the pilot's station. "What's wrong Zen?"


"TOXIC SUBSTANCE DETECTED IN SUB-SECTION 1. RECOMMEND PERSONAL INSPECTION."

"Toxic substance?" Vila queried.

"He means Cally's cooking again, I really wish she'd stop watching the Great Galactic Bake Off."


There was a momentary pause as a studio hand walked through the set carrying an ironing board, followed by another with a pressing iron.


"That's for your big scene Avon," Vila grinned and pointed at the script.

Avon glared at him, "What?"

"Apparently the fans have been writing in saying that there's not enough 'real life' on board the Liberator. They're going to turn you in to a 'new man', you know, all domesticated and that," Vila replied.

"A new man?" Dayna guffawed. "That'll be the day!"


The director waved his hand and Avon stomped off along the corridor.


"I'd hate to be a fly on the wall for that one!" Vila smiled.

"Why?" Dayna asked.

"You mean you've never seen his laundry?"

"No," Dayna frowned.

"He wears leather undies," Tarrant chipped in. "He has to run a cool iron over them while they're still damp so they don't crease."

Dayna's eyes grew wide.

"Well I suppose it's a relief to know he does actually wear something, I always thought..."

"We don't need to know!" Tarrant cut her off. "Who's scene is next?"

"Err...Dayna's," Vila replied. "She's helping Cally in the kitchen."

"Thanks a lot!" Dayna groaned.


Another studio hand arrived carrying a white apron and chef's hat.


"Try not to set Zen's alarm off again, please," Tarrant pleaded.

Dayna stuck her tongue out at him and left the flight deck.


"So, that leaves you and me Vila, what delights has Blair Cloos written?"

"Well according to this there's no ending yet, awaiting last minute edits apparently," Vila replied.

"But before we get to that we're off on a chase around the ship to save our plumbing system from being taken over by a rampaging army of..." Vila paused.

"What?"

Vila handed the script over.

"Oh for goodness sakes! How ridiculous! Who on earth would be scared by a one-eyed robotic pepperpot with a polka dot skirt and a plunger stuck on the front?!" Tarrant said, exasperated.

"Depends if you're a drain I suppose. Apparently these are all the rage in sci-fi shows," Vila replied. "Massively popular it says here."

"Popular my...."


The director waved at him wildly. "We don't have profanity on this show! It's for the kids!!"


"Sorry," Tarrant replied quietly.

"Alright, let's get on with it. After you Vila," he gestured towards the corridor.

"You're such a gent," Vila grinned.


Another studio hand appeared and handed Vila a navy boilersuit, a peaked cap and a large toolbox.


"What's that?" Tarrant asked.

"My costume," Vila lamented and opened the toolbox. "Hey, Avon would be really jealous of all these proddy tools!"

Tarrant picked one up.

"Oi! You don't do proddy tools!" Vila snatched it back. "At least not in that outfit, flyboy!"

Tarrant pushed Vila's hand away from his robe.

"Gerroff!"


"DIS-INFECT! DIS-INFECT!"


"What the?!" Tarrant exclaimed.


The army of pepperpots had reached the flight deck.


"Get the guns, quick!"


The hair-dryers loosed off with a volley of shots that melted the pepperpots into a sticky mess on the corridor floor.

"Yuck! I pity the poor fool who's got to clean that up," Vila said.

Tarrant grinned at him.

"Hey! Why me?"

"You're dressed for it and besides you're the plumber," Tarrant jibed.

"Now come on, let's have that chase around the ship, there could be more of these things lurking in the bathrooms."


Several chases and messes later.


"I'm pooped!" Vila said.

"Out of the mouths of plumbers," Avon said dryly.

Vila oathed silently under his breath.


Dayna and Cally entered the flight deck.


"Get your cooking done ladies?" Tarrant asked.

"Yes, thank you," Dayna replied and brushed her scorched apron.

"I enjoyed it," said Cally.

"You didn't eat it," Dayna muttered.


"And how about you Avon, did your scene go well?"

"I'm not a new man, I'm not domesticated and I'm not saying another word," he replied.

"Rumours of your domestication..." Tarrant grinned.

Avon left the flight deck in a fit of 'star of the show' temper. "That's it, I've had enough! I'm going to shoot him in the next episode!"

"Rather a lot for someone who isn't going to say another word," Vila observed.

"Anyway Tarrant, what about you? You're the only one of us who hasn't really had anything to do yet."

"I shot those pepperpots for you didn't I? And you're forgetting ORAC," Tarrant replied.

"Oh yeah, where is it by the way?" Dayna asked.


"THE ONE CALLED ORAC IS...IS..IS.."

"What's wrong with Zen?" Vila asked.

"ALL CIRCUITS ARE FUNCTIONING NORMALLY."

"I'd hardly call that normal," Cally said.


In a puff of blue smoke ORAC appeared on a table in the seating area.

"I AM CASTING A NEW SPELL, YOU HAVE SPOILED MY DASTARDLY PLANS FOR FAR TOO LONG!" announced the one called ORAC.

The box of de-lights vanished in another puff of smoke.


"That must be the witch part," Dayna said. "I was wondering what that was."

A shriek of cackling laughter permeated the flight deck.

"Right on cue, now we're getting silly!"


Magic was in the air and unknown to the others, Tarrant's eyes sparkled.


"Well I'm calling it a day," Tarrant said.

"Me too, the staff bar is open," Vila added and followed him off the flight deck.


They strolled along the corridor, rounded the corner and were met by a studio hand who gave the episode ending pages to Vila.

"I might've guessed we'd had it too easy," he grumbled.

"Don't tell me, Servalan's going to get her hooks into Avon again?"

"No."

"Into me then?" Tarrant grinned broadly.

"No! Don't be disgusting!"

"Give me that script," he tried to snatch it from Vila, but he ducked out of the way.

"You'll find out," Vila smirked.


Once again the magic sparkled in Tarrant's eyes and he turned and walked away from Vila.


"Hey, wait for me!"


A little further on they reached Tarrant's cabin and found a table with an ice bucket, bottle of champagne and two glasses outside the door.

"Where did this come from?" he asked.

"Last minute, hand written script change. Look," Vila held up the amended scene pages. "No one ever explains anything in a Blake's 7 script, you should know that by now." He eyed up the champagne, "Well if you don't want it..."

Tarrant pushed him back and picked up the glasses.

In the struggle, Vila's elbow caught the door control and it slid open.

Inside a brown haired young woman stood, wearing a purple satin night dress who smiled at Tarrant. "Well hello there..."

"What the heck?!" Tarrant exclaimed.

The woman carefully concealed a magic wand behind her back and waved her fingers to cast the necessary spell.

"Hey, don't knock it!" Vila said excitedly. "I knew there must be a reason for your silly costume. That's the best ending to an episode you've ever had!"

Tarrant scowled at him.

"Thank you Vila, I'll deal with this."


Once again the magic sparkled and Tarrant took the champagne and went inside.


"I bet you will! Vila closed the door. "Lucky oaf! Perhaps Blair Cloos isn't such a terrible script writer after all."


*EDITED TO FIX A FEW FORMATTING ISSUES*
Edited by clareblues1 on 07 August 2015 20:25:53
The foolish reject what they see;
the wise reject what they think.
 
Anniew
Ooh Claire. That naughty Blair Cloos has given 'taking a pop at Tarrant' a new dimension! I'd love to see the scenes where Avon is encouraged to get in touch with his feminine side. A very entertaining read.

Great stories from the Brads too!
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
 
JustBrad
CB: You had me at the title.
 
Anniew
The teleport whisked him from Husbac 5 in the nick of time, a bullet brushing his tunic as he dematerialised. Damn that was close! Too damned close. As he reassembled on the pad he heard Avon's voice.

"What a waste of time and effort. Another rumour and still no sign of Blake."

"Did you know there was a Federation outpost on Husbac? " Tarrant asked him as he regained his footing and his breath , "and that they had detected The Liberator? Before you teleported me down I mean?"

"You provided a useful diversion and Dayna and Cally were able to contact the rebels undetected." Avon was cool to the point of disinterest. "Of course, I knew a Captain such as yourself was more than a match for a few Federation troopers. Or are you telling me you weren't up to the job?"

"You knew and you still sent me in without back up?" Tarrant protested, appalled by the careless way Avon had treated his safety and the narrowness of his escape.

" I only had Vila available. I thought you'd do better on your own." Avon seemed to think this ended the discussion because he rose fluidly from the controls obviously preparing to leave the area.

"There was you," Tarrant reminded him pointedly.

"Ah." Avon, paused briefly seeming to consider his reply. "Well you see," he continued with exaggerated patience, " I'm rather too useful to be used as back up."

Tarrant bristled. He couldn’t believe the nerve of the man! He stiffened his spine, threw back his shoulders and injected every ounce of arrogance he had acquired as a Federation officer into his voice.

"I am not bait," he barked angrily. "You will not use me in that way again."

" You would prefer I used Dayna perhaps? Or Cally?" Avon's tone was conversational, a polite enquiry. It threw Tarrant off his stride.

"No..No..of course not," he stammered. Then, pulling himself quickly together, he struck back. " Don't try and confuse me, Avon. My point is we're a team. We shouldn't use each other. We should discuss things. You had no right to put me in the firing line without warning me...."

"There was an opportunity. I took it. Should I have waited until the chance was lost?" Avon cut across him decisively but still with that polite, almost bored tone in his voice that left Tarrant itching to punch him.

" I would prefer that you had told me what you planned rather than sending me down without letting me know the risks," he gritted back, clenching his teeth.

"And you would have gone would you? Knowing the risks?"

Tarrant bristled again; the implication that he might lack nerve was insulting but he refused to be drawn into a slanging match. Instead he took a breath and answered as equably as he could manage, " I would. If you had explained your reasons."

" Well then. Since you would have gone in any event..." Avon turned away a barely concealed smirk of contempt on his lips.

Despite his resolve, Tarrant found himself raising his voice. "Don't turn your back on me Avon. I have as much right on this ship as you do and my life is as valuable."

Avon turned back, seeming the more dangerous for the fact that the movement was unhurried. " Well now," he drawled lazily, " that is something that remains to be proved, doesn't it?"

He turned away again and, incensed beyond reason, Tarrant grabbed him by the shoulder pulling him round so the two men were face to face. Something moved in Avon's eyes, feral, unpredictable, and Tarrant found himself dropping his hand and taking a step backwards. Without a word, Avon turned on his heel. He was nearly at the steps to the flight deck when he turned again.

"Shall I inform the others that you are averse to taking risks," he asked slyly a suppressed air of triumph colouring his tone, " and are unwilling to take on future scouting missions? That you prefer it that the rest of us shoulder the dangers?"

Tarrant ignored the proffered bait.

" I would PREFER you kept me informed about your plans in future."

"And the scouting missions?"

"Of course I'll play my part. If you play yours."

"Well that's alright then." Avon smiled at him smugly, adding as he left the area, " I believe Dayna has a plan to secure us a base. Perhaps you should discuss it with her. It seems it may involve a close encounter with a volcano. "

Tarrant stared after him. Round one and he wasn't sure who had won the encounter. The one thing he was sure of was that if he wanted to survive he would need to keep a very close eye on Avon.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
 
clareblues1
Excellent AnnieW!
The foolish reject what they see;
the wise reject what they think.
 
Travisina
Excellent story, Anniew! I've always had a feeling there was a lot of stuff missing between Powerplay and Volcano, your story bridges the gap nicely.
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
 
clareblues1
Anniew wrote:

Ooh Claire. That naughty Blair Cloos has given 'taking a pop at Tarrant' a new dimension! I'd love to see the scenes where Avon is encouraged to get in touch with his feminine side. A very entertaining read.

Great stories from the Brads too!


Thank you Smile I may have to write that scene for Avon, will give it some thought Grin
The foolish reject what they see;
the wise reject what they think.
 
Travisina
JustBrad wrote:

CB: You had me at the title.

Likewise! And thank you for the warning, it saved my keyboard from being sprayed with coffee Grin
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
 
clareblues1
Travisina wrote:

JustBrad wrote:

CB: You had me at the title.

Likewise! And thank you for the warning, it saved my keyboard from being sprayed with coffee Grin


Tee! Hee!
The foolish reject what they see;
the wise reject what they think.
 
Hugbot
@Brad & Paula: It is great to see your marital harmony at work! Paula writes a spot-on portrait of Brad's favourite pilot, and Brad writes a spot-on portrait of Paula's favourite mercenary. Futhermore, both stories end with punch lines at the expense of Blake. And Close Shave was just hilarious!

@Clare: Your Blair Cloos Witch Project had me in stitches! I already had to laugh out loud at the title. Thank you for this jolly romp. And I think you have written the best description of a Dalek ever!

@Anniew: Wonderfully intense dialogue, perfect characterisation of our heroes, and absolutely convincing as the 'missing link' between Power Play and Volcano.
 
Ellen York
Poor Tarrant is taking it on the chin this month. But he completely brought his problems on himself in Close Shave Grin

Brad, I like your pragmatic portrayal of Grant in Achievable Objectives (or did Paula hijack you account?). And that last line is priceless.

Clare, thank you for the tea and biccie warning. Daleks really do sound ridiculous on paper. And now I am stuck with the mental image of Avon ironing his leather undies.

Annie, hard to go wrong with Avon, Tarrant, and alpha male posturing. But indulging in a war of words with Avon is dangerous.
 
Hugbot
Sorry, but none of the silly ideas I had for the ‘heat’ word prompt has (yet?) worked out. Instead I have this devastating little tale for you:

Keeping My Promises

Red clouds burned in a red sky above a red desert. An unrelenting sun glistened on the glazed surface. Instead of air a toxic steam wavered above the plain, thick and hot like an ocean of fire. Blake felt like a snowball in hell. Without the protective suit, he would be dead in a minute - suffocated, fried to death by radiation, and burnt to ashes.

The nuclear attack had left no living being on the planet. Yet there was movement on the horizon. Unaffected by heat and radiation, the towering mining machinery worked with clockwork precision, digging deeper and deeper and spitting out the precious ore at an impressive rate. The machines were much more efficient than any human labourers, especially the unskilled former inhabitants. Using slaves to get the monopasium out of the ground had been a fancy idea, but the Federation was not dependent on the inhabitants. Robots could do the job even better, plus they would never start a rebellion. The federation had not even bothered to battle for this planet. Just nuked it from the orbit and then sent in the robotic miners.

Jenna had landed the shuttle at the exact spot where the royal palace once stood. While still in orbit, they had already realised that the planet was dead. Blake had nonetheless insisted on going down to the surface. After all, he had promised Ro to come back. It did not matter that he could not do anything on Silmareno. Setting his foot on the destroyed planet was just a symbolic gesture that he thought he owed to the dead.

Blake looked around, taking in every detail of the devastation as if to remind himself why he fought his war. ‘If only I had visited this planet earlier!’ he growled.

Jenna sighed. ‘Or never at all,’ she said.
 
Anniew
Oh Hugbot. Sad, sad, sad. More proof that ' the struggle' was doomed from the start. I wonder how Blake picked himself up after this blow - or perhaps he didn't. Maybe that's why the bounty hunter routine, killing criminals for the reward to fund the revolution. I wonder if Avon was right and Blake was planning to sell him. Blake must have felt so responsible for all the deaths that he couldn't help become a little mad.
Love the relationship you sketch between Jenna and Blake - almost Blake and Zill- Jenna protecting her mentally damaged charge and trying to keep him safe.

Really deft story telling!
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
 
peladon
A little something for the weekend - came to me in a flash

For Heat - or the absence of

When Tarrant first boarded the Liberator he had assumed he would have salvage rights but he hadn’t expected a computer system that simply behaved as if he wasn’t there. Even he could see that it was hard to claim salvage when you can’t control the ship you are sitting on, when you can’t steer it to port or send a message proclaiming your ownership, when you are nothing more than a passenger on a voyage being controlled by someone else. And it was being controlled by someone else he soon realised that.

When the person controlling it came aboard he thought he might yet get ownership, Avon the computer expert seemed a cold and rather passive figure and it seemed unlikely that he would present any long term obstacle to Tarrant’s ambitions of control. Oh he handled verbal confrontations well enough, better than anyone else Tarrant had ever known if he was honest about it, but he remained cold and distant and the pilot had no doubts that when action was required he’d back away from the necessary decisions as he must have done when Blake was around. No, Tarrant had no real doubt that in a difficult situation the real commander of this ship would be obvious.

Then they went to Obsidian and nearly lost the ship and Orac, but for Avon would have lost them. He couldn’t deny it had been a shock coming back to find that Avon had been involved in a gun battle on the flight deck and had been injured. As was Vila reluctantly admitting that Avon had done very well in saving the day.

When they were on the move again, leaving the shattered remnants of the planet drifting in the chill dark of space, he’d crossed to where the Avon was sitting in silence, apparently lost in thought, and looked down at him, made some comment about letting himself get over the shock, that being injured was hard when you were unused to the idea, however minor the damage might be.

Avon had looked up at him with the usual cold expression but for a moment some guard slipped and behind the ice he saw something else, something raw and hot and very powerful; something like the volcano he had just left behind. But a volcano contained, strait jacketed and managed by the ice around it. That was the first time he had felt a flicker of doubt in his assessment of Avon and he didn’t know if it had shown for Avon had simply given him a contemptuous and ironic half smile, his expression closing down as he got to his feet and left the flight deck.

“He’s done it before you know.”
Vila’s voice came from behind him and he turned to see a glass being held out to him and a smile of something close to pity on the other man’s face.
“Very adaptable man our Avon, and with Blake around he had to do a lot of very fast adapting.” The smile took on a sly edge, “As I said he did it very well. Don’t let the chilly distain fool you Tarrant, nor the ‘I’m a genius and can’t get my hands dirty' posturing, there’s enough heat in Avon to boil water when he needs it, it’s just that he never lets it get out of control. It worried the hell out of Blake. Which should make you think, don’t you think?” Vila looked baffled for a moment, “If you see what I mean” he finished.
He gave Tarrant another smile before he wandered away to do whatever it was he did when he wasn’t on the flight deck.

For a moment Tarrant stood and stared down into the glass he had been given. Down in its depths he saw Avon’s eyes again, the sudden glimpse of heat amongst the chill of ice. What could you make of a man who held so much fire and who could wrap it in ice, a man who could perhaps tame it and truly master it. A man who used the ice secure in the knowledge of the fire beneath it?

That was the moment when Tarrant started to understand that the ship may never be his to command. It was also the moment when he first started to fear Avon.
 
Travisina
...a man who held so much fire and who could wrap it in ice

Gosh, wow, Peladon. Wonderful!
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
 
BradPaula
Hugbot writes: "@Brad & Paula: It is great to see your marital harmony at work! Paula writes a spot-on portrait of Brad's favourite pilot, and Brad writes a spot-on portrait of Paula's favourite mercenary. Futhermore, both stories end with punch lines at the expense of Blake. And Close Shave was just hilarious!"

Thank you, Hugbot. We discussed our story ideas and it just happened that I wrote a Jenna piece and Brad a Grant piece this month. But then, we are both so addicted to Blake's 7 and our favorite characters, what else would you expect? That and being together for more than 40 years helps the marital harmony! As Brad and I always tell others: marry into fandom. It's a lot easier that way.
Zil: Oneness must resist the Host.
 
BradPaula
Hugbot, Keeping the Promise was brilliant! It reminds me a bit of the Big Finish piece called Spoils from LC#8 where we go forward via dreams to see what a mess Blake makes of his Federation. I love the ending sentences, quite poignant!
Zil: Oneness must resist the Host.
 
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