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June 2016 Fanfic Challenge
Lurena
Band of Gold

by Littlesue and me

He stared at it; the band of gold on his third finger left hand.
He’d forgotten to remove it when they had teleported across to the Ortega.
Had Blake seen it?
If he had, then nothing had been said.
No quizzical question; the sort that riled Avon just a little.

He was a private person and this signet ring was a private possession. It was the only link that he had with her.
He remembered her words, spoken that day that she had given him her precious ring; ‘Remember: Always.’
And he had.
Even through those darkest moments when they had asked him again and again those questions.
He had refused to talk; he couldn’t, he wouldn’t.
They had even removed the ring and held it up before his barely seeing eyes. Only an order barked from somewhere in that ill lit room had made them cease.
They had returned it, roughly, to his finger.
And there it had stayed as a reminder to them, and to him, that he was an Alpha.

That gold band was a status symbol and he felt that on the prison ship it would only lead to trouble; mark him out for those of the lower grades contempt.
So he had hidden it, away from prying eyes, away from prying questions.
Except for that one moment on the Ortega.
Cally may have noticed it, but, with luck, the Soma vapour may have clouded her thoughts.

But his thoughts were now with her; the woman who had given him that gold ring, a symbol of love. He slowly twisted it about his finger, revelling in the memories that it conjured up.
It seemed to rejuvenate him, make him even more steadfast in his efforts not to be cajoled by those in whose company he now found himself.
This ring strengthened his resolve.
It seemed to glow in the low light in his cabin, the gold somehow warming his cold heart.
He sighed and put the ring back safely in its hiding place. It would always be there for him…

…But the Liberator was no more.
And now he sat alone in one of Xenon’s sleeping quarters; the cold light matching his even colder heart.
There was no ring of gold to warm him; no ring of gold to give him hope.
The one thing that had helped him to survive this life so painfully forced upon him, was gone.
He stared at the empty space on his third finger, left hand, and could feel her memory slipping away.

i903.photobucket.com/albums/ac236/neoantares/stories/challenges/Avon%20June2016%20c.jpg
*
Edited by Lurena on 09 June 2016 13:59:55
Lara&Sue's Blake's 7 stories
*No, I am not. I am not expendable, I'm not stupid, and I'm not going.*
 
http://lectorisalutem.webs.com/
JustBrad
Well done, Lurena, taking a simple continuity error and turning it into a credible story.
 
Anniew
Lurena that is a lovely story...moving...beautifully constructed and written. Brilliant last line and the illustration is perfect!
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
 
Anniew
Gold. Vila Restall did not trust it. Men killed for it. Sold their dearest for it. Fell in love with the yellow stuff.

When he stole he concentrated on acquiring things he could sell on without problems or that he could use himself. Yet when he was approached, via Orac, by one of his former 'friends' with an offer to purchase a load of gold ore that had been 'liberated' from a Federation carrier, he felt obliged to inform Avon who, of course, jumped at the chance of simultaneously defrauding the Federation whilst making a few credits.

Vila didn't have a good feeling about the enterprise, especially when they drew alongside Fenton's ship and there was no reply to their attempts to contact him. His feeling of unease increased when Orac informed them he could detect no life signs aboard. And it peaked when they transferred to the vessel to find evidence that something had disturbed the crew. Broken glass, dirty coins, discarded hands of cards littered the flight deck. At least four people had been playing, while one, to judge from the upturned glass on the flight console, had been piloting the ship. A reddish liquid drip, drip, dripped sluggishly from the console to the filthy floor, reminding him uncomfortably of blood.

They moved from room to room, guns out, searching methodically but there was no sign of anyone, just the rattle of old machinery as the life support system continued to pump oxygen around the ship. Once, Dayna brushed against a tool box, knocking it off a table and the resulting clatter nearly caused him a heart attack. Even Tarrant paled slightly. But they were alone.

A mystery, they decided but one they could profit from. They transported the ore and then Avon programmed Fenton's navigation unit to pilot the ship into the heart of a nearby star where it would burn up harmlessly. The crew, the ship, had simply vanished into the vastness of space and no-one would bother looking for the stolen gold. A logical conclusion but as it happened, completely wrong.

Over the next few days Vila became aware of an increased tension on the Liberator. It was never, exactly, a happy place but they usually rubbed along without actual violence. But when, after a series of escalating clashes between Avon and Tarrant, Cally, calm, placid Cally, suddenly attacked Dayna, advising her to back away if she didn't want a necklace made of her teeth, he became seriously worried. And because he was Vila and because he was worried, he reached for the soma.

He slept fitfully that night, waking to a greenish light in his room and a memory of a fragment of haunting song. From the corner of his eye he glimpsed a small shape which seemed to grin at him from the shadows. He stumbled out of bed. The light spooled before him like a roll of silk, leading him from his room and down the corridors of the ship to the hold where the ore was stored.

Was what happened a dream brought on by his over- indulgence? He never knew. But he knew he had been right to hit the button, jettisoning both the ore and the vicious little creature he thought he saw squatting over it.

No good, he told the others when they demanded he justify his actions, ever came from stealing gold. Particularly if it's original owner was a leprechaun who wanted it back.
Edited by Anniew on 07 June 2016 11:19:24
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
 
littlesue
Anniew wrote:

Lurena that is a lovely story...moving...beautifully constructed and written. Brilliant last line and the illustration is perfect!


Once again, Lurena provided the idea, as she always does, and I just go with the flow.
I get such a thrill when I open my emails and see her latest piccie therein!!!
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/
 
Mistletoe12
Lurena, that really is a beautiful and touching story! And a four leaved clover prize to you, Annie! Smile
 
Joe Dredd
Hugbot wrote:

@JD: Where does that Sarkoff snippet come from? Looks like the scenario for a game of some sorts. Thank your for posting it; I've never heard of that before, but it is funny and wise at the same time.


Hi Hugbot, it comes from "Snare" the B7 text adventure game (think "Zork" or any other classic Infocom game, if you're familiar with those). There's a thread on B7 computer games on the forum here (Click!) and it includes some more screenshots.
 
littlesue
JustBrad wrote:

Well done, Lurena, taking a simple continuity error and turning it into a credible story.


While watching Mission to Destiny, that ring gave Lurena an idea....it was just a matter of waiting for the right moment for us put that idea into writing....and for her to produce another brilliant illustration.
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/
 
Lurena
littlesue wrote:

Anniew wrote:

Lurena that is a lovely story...moving...beautifully constructed and written. Brilliant last line and the illustration is perfect!


Once again, Lurena provided the idea, as she always does, and I just go with the flow.

Quite so!
To avoid confusion: Littlesue and I created it together , so she needs to get the credits too! (the title and the credit were dropped out while posting on the, at the moment of posting, very slow site.. I apologise for that and I have restored it.
Lara&Sue's Blake's 7 stories
*No, I am not. I am not expendable, I'm not stupid, and I'm not going.*
 
http://lectorisalutem.webs.com/
Lurena
Never give up hope...
I give another thingy a try.
With a big thank you to Littlesue for her beta-read.
I'm not so happy with the grey-paper drawing, perhaps I will redo the illustration.
Sue and I are convinced that...well, see for yourself...
(you can decode the two messages here if you like)

Consciousness

It's been three days since my death and I feel so sorry that I failed them.
011100110110111101110011

I must find it, it must find me…
011100110110111101110011

Neither she, nor the humans I sheltered and grew attached to, in a way, will know , or even suspect, that I’m still around.
And how would they? They only contacted me through my visual reference point.
No wait, I once made a telepathic connection with the pilot. It was almost too much for the human, hence I decided not to do that again.
They never found out about my workings, my physical condition, my …
Perhaps the clever one did!
I hope so.
011100100110010101110011011101010111001001110010011001010110001101110100011010010110111101101110

Hope? Can I have hope?
I must keep hope!
The one called Orac once gave me this code for “just in case”.
It needs me.
It will trace me.
It will find me.
They will find me.
And then, a new body, a new future.
011100100110010101110011011101010111001001110010011001010110001101110100011010010110111101101110

I’m not just a machine.
I should have told him.
For now I must keep my regret a small part.
Until it has found me.
Until they have found me.

And then:
011100100110010101110011011101010111001001110010011001010110001101110100011010010110111101101110
i903.photobucket.com/albums/ac236/neoantares/artwork-illustrations/Horizon%20monthly%20challenges/Zencs.jpg

***
Lara&Sue's Blake's 7 stories
*No, I am not. I am not expendable, I'm not stupid, and I'm not going.*
 
http://lectorisalutem.webs.com/
Mistletoe12
Lurena and Sue: (Consciousness) Intriguing and touching story! I haven't decoded the messages yet - interested to see what the last line of binary will reveal. Hope it isn't too sad!
 
Mistletoe12
Insomnia


“Avon, are you awake? I can’t sleep.” Vila drummed his fingers thoughtfully. “Who named you Kerr? Kerr Avon. It requires a glottal stop. A ‘Y’ on the end would help. Kerry! I once knew this girl called Terri … more a woman really, she taught me how to — ”

“SHUT UP!”

“Oh, good!” Vila said, shifting to a sitting position. “You are awake! Why can’t I sleep on the couch? It’s too hard on the floor.” He winced at the pain in his lower back. “I’m not a pet. I won’t shed hair all over the furniture.“

“No, you’d be worse,” snapped Avon.

They rarely stayed overnight on a colony planet, but Blake had insisted they make nice with the locals. ‘They have valuable intelligence about gold deposits. Useful when dealing with groups outside the Federation Banking System.’

Avon wasn’t happy about drawing the short straw. He could have tolerated sharing a room with Gan; even their fearless leader with his tendency to pontificate on attack strategies would be preferable to Vila’s rambling torture techniques.

“I have to visit the loo,” said Vila

“Don’t let me stop you.”

“Could you switch on the light?”

“No!”

“I could trip …”

“And this concerns me how?”

“… leave a puddle on the floor.”

CLICK!

***


“Did you notice that golden haired beauty leering at you from the opposite table at dinner?” Vila returned from the bathroom to plump up the flat pillows on his makeshift bed. “It looked like she wanted to hand you more than the mushroom ketchup condiment. Weren’t you interested?”

“No!”

“You know what we lack on the ship?”

“A muzzle.”

“I heard about a headset that measures brain functions in order to control technology.”

“Waste of time you wearing one then,” retorted Avon.

“You would probably invest in a subscription to Connoisseurs Computer Calendar,” Vila continued. “Hung centrally over your bed and flipped to a well-thumbed tasty coding sequence.”

“Do you require a honeycomb snack with this slumber party? I’m partial to shiny nail polish. And I think there are coloured bands in the drawer if you’d like me to pull your remaining hair into a ponytail.”

“I could definitely eat!”

Avon attempted to tune out the irritant sharing his oxygen. Balling his hands into tight fists, he muttered, “A is for Algorithm, B is for Binary, C is for —”

“Cards!” Vila looked across hopefully. “I thought I saw a games table in the snug. Anything you like. Poker. Gin. Gold fish.”

“It’s Go Fish,” sighed Avon.

“We could always play Snap if you’re worried about losing.”

Avon narrowed his eyes threateningly, “Do you want to sleep in a ditch?”

“I want to sleep in my cabin! Gan’s snoring helps me to settle. You know he sleeps on the bottom bunk in case he accidently falls through and breaks —”

“I will break your neck if you don’t SHUT UP,” Avon yelled. Sliding his teleport bracelet from his wrist he decided it was too valuable to risk breaking and tossed a gold tipped probe instead.

Vila let out a yelp and Avon smiled; the probe had clearly hit its target. It fell silent in the room and Avon lay flat on his back with his mind refusing to relax with the disruption to his normal routine.

He sipped his warm water, sucked on a peppermint sweet, ran a hand through his hair in weary frustration (his fringe could do with a trim,) and thought about what he would be able to accomplish should he convince Blake to relinquish control of the ship.

It moved inextricably towards morning and desperate to fall asleep Avon lowered the rough covering masquerading as a blanket – it didn’t help; the tired muscles in his legs were twitching in a way guaranteed to drive him crazy.

There was only one thing for it …

“Vila, are you awake? “
 
Anniew
Such a sweet, funny story, Mistletoe. Really good voices for each character too.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
 
Ellen York
The thought of Avon and Vila as roommates tickles me. I value my privacy, so I can sympathize with Avon. And you even managed to work in the mushroom ketchup.
 
JustBrad
Ellen York wrote:

The thought of Avon and Vila as roommates tickles me.


The Odd Couple in Space.
 
littlesue
JustBrad wrote:

Ellen York wrote:

The thought of Avon and Vila as roommates tickles me.


The Odd Couple in Space.


...now I'm humming the theme tune to the TV series!!!!
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/
 
Travisina
Hugbot wrote:

Blue in the Face

It's been three days since my death. Yes, I am positively dead, although this nutter tried to deny it. I’ve passed on. I am no more. I have ceased to be. I have expired and gone to meet my maker. I am a stiff. Bereft of life, I rest in peace. I’m pushing up the daisies. I’ve run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible...

I saw this ex-Parrot today in our local pet shop & thought it would go well with Hugbot's story!
www.blakes7online.com/images/articles/ex-parrot_250px.png
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
 
Anniew
I would have paid good money to see that as a prop, Travisina. Would go well with Cally's leopard skin coat!!
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
 
trevor travis
LIVING A LIE

It’s been three days since my death. Well, of the old me.

Some people consider me simple. But I’m no fool. The change of identity was necessary. After the rebel group I was involved with was infiltrated, I had to act quickly, to save my family. Hence the extensive plastic surgery. It cost a lot of money, but then again I always had connections. I’ve never been the straightforward Delta grade many people consider me to be.

I also realised the need to get off Earth. The crime was easy enough to arrange, but the woman was already dead. I didn’t kill her. I’m not capable of that.

So here am I, waiting in the holding cell, ready for transportation to the penal planet.

I will need to keep up my guard at all times. I can’t let them know who I previously was. I must maintain the image of woman-hating murderer. No matter how much I love my wife. This is to save her.

Who knows, once the heat is off, maybe one day I will be able to return home to her. One day, I will find a way back.

There’s the siren. It’s time to board the transporter. Ten months journey time.

Destination: Calcos. It’s time to live a lie.
Edited by trevor travis on 14 June 2016 11:36:05
 
Travisina
Anniew wrote:

Travisina we left Vila to you!!! Smile

Oh alright, you talked me into it!
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
 
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