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Og-tober 2016 Fanfic Challenge
trevor travis
Hugbot wrote:

I hope nobody feels offended by the following story. I am well aware and want to state explicitly that the action is completely unrealistic, because none of us would do this to each other.

Hugbot, great tale and, of course, you're right, none of us would do it to each other.

Incidentally, Og is coming along to the Space Spectacular Concert and sitting in seat Rausing Circle T Row 2 Seat 82.
Anniew wrote:

Lovely little Vila vignette, Spaceship Researcher. Really glad you've joined in.

Thanks Anniew. I'll have to continue the story.
trevor travis wrote:

Hugbot wrote:

I hope nobody feels offended by the following story. I am well aware and want to state explicitly that the action is completely unrealistic, because none of us would do this to each other.

Hugbot, great tale and, of course, you're right, none of us would do it to each other.

Incidentally, Og is coming along to the Space Spectacular Concert and sitting in seat Rausing Circle T Row 2 Seat 82.

I 2nd that. Great reading Hugbot and your works are fun also TT.

"Those men over there with the oil all over there faces. You wouldn't happen to know anything about them by chance would you Vila?"

For crying out loud. Why was it, just when I was starting to have a good time with Shilli, there would be an interruption. Without fail and practically on que. This time it was a couple of half brained air conditioning mechanics I'd stolen a turbo charged expander for. All I did was obtain things for people, I could hardly give them warranty with the device. What did I know about repairing items like that. My specialty was locks and soma.


"Shilli, I hate to leave you in the middle of a nice Soma, but I promise I'll resume our conversation as soon as possible. Same time, same place."

"Well..... alright Vila, but this is getting repetitive and tiresome. It would be nice to have more than a 2 sentence conversation."

"Wouldn't it just, sales never was my strong point, always comes back to bite me, gotta dash, business and all that."

Acting swiftly mostly due to a growing fear of being lynched, I pushed on a carefully positioned table which toppled not one but 3 tables and several chairs and made my way faster than a Federation trooper with orders to kill out of the side exit. You must always have a near by exit. It's the first law of theft really.
trevor travis wrote:

Hugbot, great tale and, of course, you're right, none of us would do it to each other.

Phew, glad you liked it! Grin

Incidentally, Og is coming along to the Space Spectacular Concert and sitting in seat Rausing Circle T Row 2 Seat 82.

No problem, as this is a classic concert; no Josette on stage, just 'a raft of penguins' (to quote Ian Anderson). Looking forward to meeting our hero!
Apart from a piece of dialogue from Rescue, I also nicked a couple of lines from JMS. But as JMS nicked more than just a few lines from B7, I think that is only fair!

The Last Evening

It had been a successful year. Dr Plaxton had upgraded Scorpio, Forbus supervised the production of the antitoxin, and Muller had mass-produced the circuit influencer. The Alliance of Non-Aligned Planets had provided a battle fleet, and an army of Bucol animals was ready for combat.

Tomorrow, they would strike.

Dorian was enjoying a fine wine when Avon entered the room.

‘I see you have already made yourself comfortable’, Avon said. ‘However, there is still one thing that we have to discuss.’

He sat down opposite Dorian. ‘You have achieved so much, and yet you still look so young’, he mused.

‘I’m flattered’, Dorian smiled, ‘but I don’t think you wanted to talk about my appearance?’

‘On the contrary; it is exactly what I want to talk about. Orac is a very useful research tool. I let it process a few DNA samples of yours.’


‘Orac tapped into the DNA databases of the Federation. It found an exact match. However, the guy in question was not called Dorian, and he was born 200 years ago.’

‘DNA identification is obviously not as perfect as it is cracked up to be.’

Avon drew a book out of his jacket and threw it onto the table. It was a well-thumbed edition of The Picture of Dorian Gray.

‘I found this book in your library. That was the source for your nom de guerre, I presume. But where is the portrait? Maybe below this strange blind staircase?’

‘You tell me!’

‘I will tell you. Vila found the door. And opened it. There was a strange room below, and a strange creature. A dying creature. It seems you have to replace it soon. By us, I guess. Tonight, before we can attack. That way, you can get a reward from the Federation into the bargain.’

The next second, Avon looked into the muzzle of Dorian’s gun.

‘Change of plan’, Dorian said. ‘I think we should go now.’

Avon smiled. ‘You disappoint me, Dorian. You of all people should know the intellect is a much more powerful weapon than the gun. Particularly when the gun ... doesn't ... work. Vila removed the magazine and replaced it with a dummy.’

Dorian scoffed. ‘So, what are you gonna do, Avon? Blow up the basement?’

Avon inclined his head as if pondering the thought. ‘Actually’, he said, ‘now that you mention it ...’

He produced a small device from his jacket and pressed a button. The vibrations of an explosion shook the room, and a muffled thunder rolled through the corridors. ‘Nooo!’ cried Dorian, cringing and sinking to his feet. A few moments later, only a small heap of dust was left of him.

When Avon left the room, he met his new aide-de-camp, a very efficient man who had been instrumental in planning the attack.

‘You have everything prepared for tomorrow?’ Avon asked.

‘Everything’, Leitz smiled.
Joe Dredd
Punishment Enough

Ever so carefully, Professor Mint spliced the Bethe trigger into the Bambleweeny submeson brain. With great delicacy, he grasped the fine, spider-like neurowire in the padded tweezers and began inserting it into the atomic vector plotter. He was concentrating so hard that the sound of the communicator chime made him jump.

"How much longer, Professor?" It was Avon, the leader of the gang who had rescued him from his servitude on Maximegalon.

"Not much longer... just a few seconds. I'm making the last connection now."

"Good," replied Avon curtly. "We'll be on our way as soon as the drive is hooked into our control system." He cut the link.

The Professor bent down to retrieve the tweezers and resume his work.


On Scorpio's flight deck, Avon quickly began keying commands into his console.

Vila eyed the main screen nervously. "They'll be in firing range in ten seconds!"

"What are you doing, Avon?" Tarrant asked suspiciously.

"I'm programming in the main drive circuit."

Dayna's eyes widened in alarm. "But that means the drive will fire as soon as Perry makes that last connection. He could be hurt."

"Hurt?" scoffed Soolin. "He'll be dead."

Avon looked up, eyeing them all with a steely gaze. "If we don't get away from those gunships we're all dead. He's dead either way."

A few final electronic pips signalled Avon had finished his programming. The crew avoided each others eyes, unable to argue with the logic but sickened by the conclusion.

Without warning, the crew were suddenly flung back in their seats as Scorpio surged ahead, tearing away from the Federation ships at an unbelievable pace. Moments later they were far away, their pursuers lost in the distance.

"What about the Professor?" asked Dayna.

Avon gave her a hard look.

"He has passed on. He is no more. He has ceased to be. He's shuffled off this mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. In short, he is an ex-Perry Mint."
Oh Joe.....I was just having my breakfast when I read that...now to clean off the keyboard!!!Grin
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/
Hugbot - your story is so B7 it hurts! Disaster at the moment of triumph. The sucker punch just as your reader relaxes in admiration of Avon's brilliant leadership skills! Season 4 zeitgeist captured in 500 words. Brilliant.

And Joe....words fail... Hilarious!!
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
Very nice Hugbot and Joe Dredd.
Halfway through the month, and another burgeoning collection of great stories!

@Brad - Love the Animals experimenting on Justin Pfft

@TT - I was reduced to tears of laughter reading your B7/HHGG mash-up and your Og/Dorian tale. Pleased that Vila survives, too Smile

@Hugbot - a sweet story about Avon and his teddy, but with a B7 sting in the tail. And stings don't come much darker than 'The Last Evening' - very clever.
'...Ogs of War' - great title, fun story.

@Anniew - two terrific stories. Dark, evocative and credible.

@Spaceresearcher - nice to see you join the ficlet challenge - and well done for keeping within the word count!

@Joe - Such a neat reversal - a dark story but with a hilarious punchline!

Well done to everyone!
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
I'm cheating a bit. I missed the September deadline, but couldn't get the idea I'd been working out of my head. So it's now been re-written for this month's challenge...

Orac's Seven

Having delivered his prediction, Orac wasted no further time considering it. Leaving the others to wrestle with the implications of his prophecy and to recover from their radiation sickness (humans were so tiresomely vulnerable), he turned his attention to studying the hierarchy of the crew and establishing his own place within it. First, Orac set up a link with the alien computer that called itself Zen. Data flowed between them; information was swiftly shared and analysed in silent communion. He noted with interest that Blake counted Zen as one of his crew of seven. Orac would bring that total to eight, which could prove problematic, as humans had an illogical affinity for the number seven.

Pillars of wisdom, deadly sins... even the days in the week stubbornly remained at seven, despite several Federation attempts to change this to ten. The ancient scientist who identified the components of visible light defined seven colours in the spectrum, solely because of his even more ancient belief that seven was a mystical number. Seven was hard-wired into the human psyche; it was deep-rooted and unshakeable. Therefore, Blake had one crew member too many. Therefore, one had to leave.

Orac decided to establish which crew member was redundant and facilitate their departure. This was not his first experiment in human psychology – Orac's creator had been an interesting subject - but it was the most complex.

Obviously, Zen was integral to the ship and although she did not realise it, Jenna was integral to Zen. Blake was necessary; human teams require a leader. Avon's understanding of technology was essential to a crew that would include two computers.

Orac then considered and rejected Cally; her Auron physiology and telepathy were worthy of further study.

Vila was the next candiate, but Orac discerned that his own survival would one day depend upon Vila's actions. Vila must remain.

That left Gan; the logical outcome of Orac's process of elimination. The next stage of the experiment would be to persuade Gan to depart. Orac pondered the methodology, but it was Gan himself who unknowingly provided him with the opportunity.

For all his size, Gan felt inferior to the other crew members. Hampered by his limiter, he sought other ways to be useful and requested extra training in plotting and setting teleport coordinates. He readily agreed to Orac's offer to tutor him.

Gan was a frustrating pupil; good-natured and slow. But these factors, coupled with the vulnerability caused by his limiter, made him impressionable. Orac introduced suggestions, some subliminal, some overt, encouraging Gan to doubt his abilities on board the ship, highlighting ways he could be useful elsewhere. Gan subconsciously learned that his departure would benefit his crew mates; self sacrifice was an option. Orac planted the seed, nurtured it and watched it grow.

Five crew members went to attack Central Control; only four returned. As Liberator left Earth's orbit, Orac clicked and purred with satisfaction and silently informed Zen:
The experiment was successful. Now we are seven.


Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
Travisina - great idea, wonderful execution, all too plausible! So glad you cheated!
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
Ellen York
I can see ORAC doing something like that, the rat Sad
Well, here is my little Og contribution with artwork by Lurena.

A Night to Remember

Og was puzzled.
He couldn’t understand what had just happened; one moment he was in that room full of straw and the promise of food and now he was here, in the middle of nowhere.
Perhaps it was something to do with that young woman…

…if only he knew the truth.
Dayna had, unknowingly, been responsible for sending Og on his strange journey, by pressing just one too many buttons on Justin’s console.
And now, Justin was trying to rectify the matter.

But Og didn’t know that.
What he did know was that others were looking at him, some were turning on their heels and running, screaming in fear. They were scared of him.
But Og didn’t know that.
He just wanted someone to point him the direction of home…

Night began to fall.
The lights of the town seemed to beckon to Og.
Perhaps his home would be there?
Perhaps he would find shelter
…or even food.
And so he began to walk towards the lights and found himself suddenly meeting other creatures; creatures that seemed pleased to see him.
He joined the small crowd as they approached a house.
A man opened the door, roared with laughter and handed out sweets and other morsels.
Everyone liked Og; they all thought he was the best.
The second house had a light inside a strange round face.
The light flickered.
It scared Og, but the others didn’t seem to be bothered.
There was a table on the doorstep. On it was a large plate with some small cakes, still warm from being in the oven.
They all took one.
“Mmm,” one of the other creatures said, “Soul cakes. Have one.”
Og wasn’t too sure, but he took one and ate it. It tasted good.
Then the group came to the town square and no-one from the throng of people milling about there seemed at all concerned about Og.
There was a man.
On a table he had some small nuts.
“Write the name of your love and see if she will be yours.”
Og couldn’t write but he mumbled ‘Her’ which seemed to satisfy all concerned, and that was written on one of the shells.
They were put onto a shovel and then into the brazier beside the stall, its flames flicked over the metal.
One by one the nuts burst and there were great cheers…but the nut with ‘Her’ written on it burnt to cinders.
The others were sad, which made Og sad.
He didn’t understand the meaning behind this ritual and they tried to explain it. All he could make out was that ‘Her’ would not be his true love.
His thoughts turned back to the young woman in the forest and then he remembered Justin.
Was he her true love?

Justin found the correct sequence of buttons and Og returned to the room.
“It’s only an experiment,” Justin declared, “Nothing came of it and Og won’t remember…”

Og looked at the ashes of the nut in his hand.
He remembered.
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/
Sue and Lurena....a very imaginative response to the prompt! It's a wonderful notion - Og at Halloween. I'm so glad he found a place where he felt accepted and has some happy memories.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
While this old comp struggles...we will be getting a new one soon.. I thought I'd best post my 2nd Expriment story...Once again apologies for going over the word count.

The Revels continue...

The Finger of Suspicion

Blake couldn’t understand the discrepancy and Vila declared himself far too busy to discuss the matter.
The Liberator’s food preparation area was strewn with a variety of foodstuffs and in its midst was a sugar coated Vila.
“What…?” asked Blake.
“An experiment. Sorry about the mess, but Orac’s directions weren’t entirely clear, but it’s getting there.”
“What is?”
“Ummm…well, we’re getting a bit short of...things.”
“I’d noticed. Where have all those packets of Revels that we stole…”
Vila wagged a finger, “Not stole; liberated. The ruling elite will soon start moaning…”
“Well, they’re not. From what Orac tells me, someone is making a killing on the black market with a sudden supply of Revels.”
“Yes, really. However, it seems that some other delicacy has found favour; Treets. Have you ever heard of them?”
Vila squirmed just a bit, “Err…no. Should I?”
Blake suspected something underhand was going on, but he couldn’t figure out what, “Maybe the others will know…”

“I tell you, someone has hacked into our records,” Cad declared.
“They’ve found an old recipe.”
Bury was suddenly interested. With almost their entire stock of Revels stolen and rivals moving into the market, things were getting just a bit frantic. Especially as that stolen consignment was apparently making someone a great deal of money.
“What recipe?”
Cad pulled it up on the screen, “Well?”
“Oh yes….we can make those.”

“Are you telling me that every single one of those packets have been eaten…by you?” Blake asked.
They all nodded.
“This doesn’t seem right.”
“Well now, if you insist on letting the Liberator wander around the galaxy for no good reason, then naturally your followers have to recourse to something.”
Avon had that self-satisfied smug look; the others just feigned innocence.
“Vila is experimenting with something…and he won’t tell me what. Have you any idea?”
“It’s a surprise,” Gan said.
“A treat….”Jenna added.
“Speaking of Treets…do any of you know about them? They are outselling Revels by the thousands,” Blake informed them, “Whoever was selling those on the black market is about to get their fingers burned.”
Avon’s attitude suddenly changed, “Excuse me, I believe I left something in my quarters.”
He passed Vila on his way off the Flight Deck.
“Don’t you want to see….?”
“We do,” said Cally.
Vila held up his new concoction.
“It looks just like a finger,” Blake said, “What is it?”

“It’s a finger of fudge,” Bury informed Cad, “and it’s just enough to give the kids a treat.”
“It looks delicious, coated in chocolate like that.”
“…and it’s just enough until it’s time to eat. It’s full of Cadbury’s goodness and very small and neat.”
“You sound like a commercial,” Cad smiled, “But I like it.”

Avon didn’t like it.
At all.
Blake’s announcement about the Revels had proved to be true.
What Travis and he had planned had evaporated.
There would be no amassed wealth secretly stashed away.
Avon crumpled his last empty packet of Revels and threw it to the floor.
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/
Ahh that's where fingers of fudge came from - designed by fingers Vila! -appropriate! And I'm very pleased Avon lost out!!! Allying with Travis ...the naughty boy!
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.

Dorian smiled as he made his way up the cellar stairs. The room had accepted the three strangers and his former companion; their life forces were now combined in a powerful gestalt creature that would sustain him for years - possibly centuries. It was interesting that Vila's absence hadn't affected the outcome. Perhaps his companions' bond with him was less profound than it was with each other. He would discuss this later with Orac. First he needed a drink, then a hot bath and a long sleep. As ever, the cleansing had left him sated; suffused with elation, but exhausted.

The door to the wine cabinet stood open. Vila was lounging with his feet on the table, a glass in one hand, the useless clipgun on the sofa beside him.

Dorian poured himself a drink and sat down. "Hello, Vila. Where've you been hiding?"

Vila shrugged. "Here and there. Mostly here. I asked myself, what kind of man keeps his booze under lock and key? Obviously, one with superior taste and a well-stocked cellar... but you don't keep yours in the cellar, do you?" He sipped appreciatively. "This is a fine wine. You were probably around when the grapes were picked – it must be nice to be able to wait for it to mature."

Dorian frowned. "How much did you overhear?"

"Everything you told Avon. Are they all... even Soolin? Won't you miss her?"

"I've been missing companions for two hundred years, I'm used to it. What about yours?"

"They weren't very companionable. Avon only kept me around because I was useful. Tarrant bullied me and Dayna didn't like me. The only person who cared..."

"...was Cally. It would have been better with Cally."

"Everything was better with Cally," Vila muttered.

"So you know about the room, my vices."

"I have vices, too. We seem to share similar ones – good wine and pretty women."

"You've a long way to go before you come close to some of the things I've done."

"But the room cleanses you?"

"Yes. You know, I might keep you around a bit longer. You could be useful and entertaining."

"Sure. I can do magic tricks and tell jokes, as well as picking locks. Are there any pretty women on this planet?"

"A tribe called the Seska. Some of them are pretty."

"Freedom, wealth, female company – all I could ever wish for." Vila put down his glass, yawned and stretched.

It was infectious, Dorian couldn't help but yawn too. When he opened his eyes, he was astonished to see the little thief was aiming a gun at him. Not the clip gun, but a functioning Federation rifle.

"Too bad you got rid of Soolin," Vila remarked, and pulled the trigger.

'My first murder,' he thought, watching in fascination as Dorian's body crumbled to dust. 'Well, it was him or me. Now to find that cleansing room. If the creature kept Avon's memories, it might remember me saying that I planned to live forever.'


Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
Ooh that's dark Travisina. Vila out Avoning Avon. Interesting that it's a perfectly plausible narrative. I wonder why he never stood up for himself in the series because it's obvious he was capable of it ....every line in this fic rings true. But it isn't actually his first murder - he did kill the guy on Cygnus Alpha - but perhaps he means that this is the first person he has deliberately killed. Season five Vila in charge of the others ... wouldn't that have been interesting!
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
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