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Current Poll

Who is your Favourite Guest Rebel?

Avalon - (Project Avalon)
Avalon - (Project Avalon)
23% [37 Votes]

Selma - (Horizon)
Selma - (Horizon)
4% [6 Votes]

Tyce - (Bounty)
Tyce - (Bounty)
14% [22 Votes]

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

Bek - (Shadow)
Bek - (Shadow)
7% [11 Votes]

Kasabi - (Pressure Point)
Kasabi - (Pressure Point)
14% [23 Votes]

Hal Mellanby - (Aftermath)
Hal Mellanby - (Aftermath)
18% [28 Votes]

Hunda - (Traitor)
Hunda - (Traitor)
4% [7 Votes]

Deva - (Blake)
Deva - (Blake)
9% [15 Votes]

5% [8 Votes]

Votes: 159
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Started: 09 July 2016

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April 2017 Ficlet Challenge
Excellent use of the "egg" and "rebirth" prompts. And a great segue between "Harvest of Kairos" and "Children of Auron"!

Now I understand why Servalan put up with (ugh) Jarvik.

Yet even as despair threatened to consume her, an element essential to her core was slowly re-emerging: a determination not to be bested by fate; to achieve her desires at whatever cost to others.

Great emotional descriptions of Servalan's determination and obsession.
You, Hugbot and Brad gave me an idea for a story. (More Auron clone stuff. Wink )

I just want to see if I can get both prompts in...
Thank you Rainesz. I'm glad you enjoyed it. It always surprises me how easy it is to connect the dots or fill in the narrative gaps in Blake's 7. I guess it's because of the solid characterisations - even though there was a different writer for each episode , the editor ensured that each character's actions could be explained in terms of their psychological make up. I look forward to reading your story!!

And TT....yet another Armageddon scenario for our heroes. They really are dead Dave in your book!!!! Hilarious.

And Hugbot.... such a surprising yet believable dimension to Vila's personality. It makes me annoyed that these Alphas make so many decisions on behalf of the Deltas without ever really finding out who they are and what they want!!
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
@TT: Hilarious ... and I wisely put down my biscuits while reading. While trying to come up with an idea for the 'egg' prompt, I first thought along similar lines (albeit with a dragon instead of a T-Rex) but I couldn't pull that off; I think it takes your irreverent style to make such a story work. For me, one of the most enjoyable aspects of the fanfic challing is seeing all these extremely different styles and approaches to story telling side by side.

@Anniew: A fascinating story; it does not read a bit like sci-fi fanfic but more like a contemporary psychological novel. Plus you give us a surprising and yet highly convincing connection between HoK and CoA.
Thank you Hugbot. I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'd been reading about Elizabeth 1st's reaction to the death of Robert Dudley and based the piece on that!! Maybe that's why it didn't read very Sci fiey.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
Sorry—a little over the word count again. Pfft

The Visitor

The two identical little girls with curly brown hair were furiously pummeling each other with twigs and leaves.

"Quit it!"

"You quit it!"

"You are such a Cally!"

"Well, you're such a Zelda!"

Cally pouted and folded her arms. "This is so boring. I don't want to propagate your stupid seedlings. I want to go climb the Zircopa trees!"

Zelda looked scandalized. "Cally, you know what Dr. Franton told you after you broke your arm! The Zircopa trees are OFF LIMITS."

"Well, my arm got better. And this is still boring." Cally frowned at the trays of small identical seedlings poking through holes. "Little stupid plant clones."

"This is IMPORTANT SCIENTIFIC STUFF," Zelda protested, indignant.


*Hey.* Zelda switched suddenly to telepathy. *Dr. Franton said there would be some visitors today. Is he one of them?*

She jerked her small thumb in the direction of the children's laboratory window. A solitary man was standing on the other side of it, watching them in silent assessment. He was dressed entirely in black, his thick brown hair starting to go gray, and to both children, he looked very, very serious. He even made Cally a little afraid, but she resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. That would be rude, after all, even if he deserved it for staring.

*Yes,* she told Zelda. *Dr. Franton said he knew someone from our clone-template once. I think he knew another Cally.*

*Or another Zelda!*

Cally sneaked a few more careful looks at the man while attempting a psychic scan of him. What she found surprised her.

*He's sad!*

Zelda was skeptical. *How can you tell?*

*Can't you feel it? I can feel it, even from this distance.*

They were both silent for a moment, wondering what to do. Then Zelda gave Cally a wide conspriratorial smile.

*Well—let's cheer him up then!*

In unison, both girls turned to face the dour-looking man on the other side of the window and began waving and grinning at him with great enthusiasm. However, the man in black did not wave back to them, or even smile. Instead, he turned his back and swiftly walked away from them.

"Well, he's a grumpty-numpty," Zelda said out loud. "I don't like him." She noticed that Cally was still frowning and looking at the now empty space behind the laboratory window.

"What's wrong?"

"I remember him," Cally replied, astonished. "I thought just for a minute—"

Then she turned back to the laboratory table, shrugging. "Nah, never mind." She reached for one of the little plants in the trays. "Hey, are these baby Zircopa twigs?" She began to toss the tiny leafy coils back and forth between her hands.

"Seedlings!" Zelda cried, annoyed. "And quit throwing them around! They explode at the wrong temperature, you know!"

Cally grinned wickedly. "Brilliant. Now this is less boring."

"Oh no! Don't you get any ideas! " Zelda scolded. "You are such a Cally!"
Edited by Rainesz on 10 April 2017 10:11:29
Oh I love that Rainesz...how lovely to think that Cally still exists and that the Children of Auron could be a force to be reckoned with. Now if Avon survives GP I hope he has the sense to go there and heal. Cally Junior could give him a run for his money!! I do like her so much in this fic. Think of all the uses she can put exploding twigs to.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
Thank you, Anniew! Grin
If Cally Junior is any example of the surviving gene stock, the Federation should be worried.
Ellen York
Baby Cally and Zelda, I love it! The Federation (and Avon) had better watch out.
A fascinating story, Raine. Perfect storytelling: instead of spelling out what is going on, you only give us one little hint - a grumpy guy in black clothes -, and that is enough not only to identify the guy but also to tell us what is going on and when it is going on. (Being much too explicit has always been my weak point!)
Thank you, Hugbot! Grin

My stories always seem a little dialogue-heavy. Probably because I listen to so much Big Finish while I'm working. Wink

I still have to re-think my "egg" story. First, I was going to have them make a very big omelette. Then I was going to have a frightening dragon-like reptile hatch from it as well, but you guys are too quick on the draw and also beat me to it.
Edited by Rainesz on 13 April 2017 05:45:09
The Corridor

It was an old corridor, run-down but with an air of former style as if it belonged to a first-class hotel that had been closed for a long time. The sturdy brown carpet seemed to lead into infinity. The walls were painted green and dotted with oaken doors.

What was this building? How did he get here?

Cautiously, he opened the first door to his left and found a room that had obviously been abondoned for a long time. A layer of dust covered the floor, and cobwebs hung from the ceiling like curtains. In the far corner stood a cot. He did not dare to look inside it.

The discovery made him feel even more uneasy but nevertheless he ventured into the second room. To his relief, this one looked much more friendly. It was filled with shelves brimming with window boxes where herbs and flowers grew. The warm sun of noon glistened through the windows.

He opened the third door with more confidence. To his horror he saw the maimed corpse of a young woman. Immediately, he banged the door shut again and stumbled forward. His hands still trembling, he opened the next door.

The room was full of chains, lying on the floor, dangling from the ceiling and stretching from wall to wall. There seemed to be a human figure somewhere deep inside the room, entangled in these chains, but he did not dare to have a closer look.

He should have known better by now, but nonetheless he opened the next door. The adjacent room looked like a cell in a convent. He saw a woman in a drab cloak, a real beauty with long dark hair. She blew him a kiss, but nonetheless he fled.

Five people occupied the next room: a jolly fellow in a jester’s suit, waving a bottle of green stuff, a paternal figure wearing green, a sinister looking guy in black and two women. Behind them, a hexagonal pattern flickered.

Behind the seventh door lay a room full of rubble and debris. Strange noises came from above, and when he looked up, the ceiling gave in. Tons of stones rained down on him. He was hit and thrown into the dirt while more stones came down and buried him. He cried out...

...and woke up. Cold sweat covered his body, and he felt his heart pounding. That nasty nightmare again! But it was time to get up, anyway. It was not good to come late to a university lecture. Not in the education system of the Federation, that is.


‘Now, what’s eating you?’ asked Ela Melas, putting down her cup of coffee and smiling at her fellow student. Vad Noskai looked puzzled, obviously pondering some rather unpleasant thoughts.

‘I’ve told you about the nightmare that has been haunting me for years?’ he said.

‘Yes, but I can’t make any sense of it.’

‘In today’s history lesson, we talked about the ill-fated Blake rebellion a few decades ago. Including some details about Blake’s followers. And there was something... familiar.’

He took a sip of coffee and then seemingly changed the topic, ‘You know, around this time of the year the Christians used to celebrate the resurrection of their God, and members of other religions believed in rebirth and reincarnation. I always thought that was just superstition and wishful thinking. But today... I am wondering if maybe I was...’

He shook his head. No. It was a silly idea. And if it was true, it would be dangerous to talk about it.
Rainesz wrote:

Excellent use of the "egg" and "rebirth" prompts. And a great segue between "Harvest of Kairos" and "Children of Auron"!

Now I understand why Servalan put up with (ugh) Jarvik.

Aw, I like Jarvik!

Excellent story, Annie - I love 'missing scenes' that connect episodes, and this works really well.
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
A statement of fact cannot be insolent

That nearly caused a keyboard/coffee interface incident! Huge LOL, TT Grin
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
A statement of fact cannot be insolent
Rainesz wrote:

My stories always seem a little dialogue-heavy. Probably because I listen to so much Big Finish while I'm working. Wink

Rainesz, it was an adorable story and the dialogue worked well. I am in awe of your ability to write AND draw - most of us mere mortals can only manage one or the other.

The quality of Big Finish scripts (and their performance) is of the highest, but I can only listen to music while I write, otherwise years of practise in transcribing audio finds me typing what they're saying!
Edited by Travisina on 15 April 2017 10:35:18
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
A statement of fact cannot be insolent
Hugbot wrote:

The Corridor

Hugbot, another excellent story from the master craftsman. Kudos, sir!
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
A statement of fact cannot be insolent
"You were very beautiful"

Travis admires the way she moves through the glittering crowd, bestowing a smile, a shake of the hand, a kiss on the cheek. The daughter of a privileged family, celebrating her graduation from Federation Space Academy, a promising future ahead of her. Keira, the best and brightest of her year. The perfect Federation officer. His protege.

Of course, any liaison during training was forbidden. He would not jeopardise his position; she would not risk her career. Their mutual attraction was accompanied by silent acknowledgement that the time was not yet right. Even so, Travis occasionally allowed himself to imagine the taste of her lips, her blonde hair spilling between his fingers. Whenever their gaze happened to meet, the light in her eyes and slight flush of her pale face confirmed that he was not mistaken: she felt the same. He waited patiently for her to graduate.

That day has now arrived, but after long weeks of surgery and reconstruction, Travis is no longer the man he used to be. Keira is too polite to say 'No,' but he sees the unspoken rejection in her cool grey eyes; the slight flicker as she takes in his eyepatch, the swift glance at his gloved hand. He notices the relief in her smile as she is claimed by another officer; tall, charming, intact.

Travis observes Keira on a security monitor as officials visit her cell. Who could have predicted that her privileged family would be uncovered as dissidents? Justice was carried out swiftly: her brother has been executed, her parents exiled. Keira's protestations of innocence are supported by the results of lie detectors and truth serum, but she is tainted by association. Loyal to the end, she accepts her fate: modification.

He watches from the observation gallery as the doctor explains the procedure. Too well trained to betray fear, Keira says nothing, asks no questions. She only flinches slightly at his words: removal of top of the skull... eradication of memory... replacement of nervous and digestive systems... The doctor asks if she understands, then if there is anything she would like to say. She glances up at the observation gallery, then shakes her head and closes her eyes. Medics move in to surround her. When they step away, Travis sees that she is has been swathed in bandages. Her head is shaved, needles and tubes inserted into her arms and neck. Unconscious, she resembles a cocoon awaiting metamorphosis.

Travis notices her among the troop of newly commissioned Mutoids, and selects her for his mission. She does not recognise him. Nameless, emotionless and dutiful, she is the perfect Federation officer.


Edited by Travisina on 16 April 2017 09:08:58
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
A statement of fact cannot be insolent
Ellen York
Travisana, that is creepy and very convincing. Perfect back-story for the interaction we see in Duel.
Now I understand why Servalan put up with (ugh) Jarvik.

Aw, I like Jarvik!

Heh heh, I won't hold it against you, Travisina! Wink

He's just too *manly* for me, I guess.
Joe Dredd
Shoes and Ships and Sealing Wax

Tarrant sheathed his Liberator sidearm and crouched down beside the huge engine block in one quick, athletic motion. Vila stood nervously by as Tarrant tried to work out what it was about the spaceship engine that the Mu'Kree were not keen on them finding out.

Taking all his weight on one arm Tarrant leant inside an opening in the complicated mesh of grills and fins. Turning his head this way and that, peering into the dim, narrow space he finally saw something that looked out of place. "Aha. What's this?" he asked aloud.

Vila licked his lips nervously. "Found something?"

"I think so. There's something wedged up in this space," grunted Tarrant, his voice partly muffled by having his head in the machine and his torso blocking the gap. "It's sort of oval, like an egg, but glossy black and about as long as my forearm."

Vila's eyes widened at once. "Don't touch it, Tarrant!"

"Don't be silly, Vila. It's obviously valuable.... There are some kind of symbols along the base. Writing?"

"You don't understand, Tarrant! I've seen one of those before. The Tholossians had one - or was it the Thosolians? Anyway, Blake touched it and then everything was the same but some things were different!"

Tarrant wriggled, trying to turn his shoulders in the tight space in order to get a better look. "You're not making any sense, Vila. Your nerves are scrambling your brain. Do you think I'm going to take any notice of a little coward like you who has never won a fight in his life?"

Vila threw his hands up in exasperation. "You're wrong, Tarrant; wrong on every count. I won every fight I was ever in by at least a hundred metres. And that thing, it's an Epinaarl rebirth bomb. It somehow rewinds time and changes things. After Blake triggered the last one, instead of having a Travis chasing us who was a precise, sadistic, superior kind of Travis, we were suddenly being chased by a completely different bully-boy kind of Travis who wasn't Travis but still was him after all! Even Orac's voice changed, but it was like it had always been the way it ended up sounding!"

Paying no heed to Vila's blathering, Tarrant pressed the large button on the base of the device.

-- PHWOOM! --

-- !MOOWHP --

The three convicts from the prison ship London stood gazing in awe at the enormous alien flight deck.

"Impressive," said Avon, in the kind of flat tone that suggested he discovered alien spaceships every other day of the week.

"Absolutely amazing," Blake agreed excitedly.

"It's incredible!" laughed Gan in awe. Surveying the controls before him, he turned to the other two men. "If we could get this ship started, we could escape. Maybe even get the others off London somehow."

"Not a chance," said Avon flatly. "Not the remotest chance."

Blake was of a different opinion. "What have we got to lose? Gan, you're at the central position. If we assume that is where the pilot sits, there could be a control there to start the drives."

Gan cast an eye over the different panels. There was a bewildering array of coloured buttons and switches, none with even a hint of what they did. "I don't even know where to begin," he said.

"Try anything!" said Blake. "Try them all! But hurry up - they might send some more guards after us."

"Alright," murmured Gan. "I'll try.... this one!"

He slapped his hand down on a large black oval bulging from the panel like half a glossy black egg,

"My hand... it's stuck!" he cried in alarm. Blake and Avon raced to his side, but as quickly as the mysterious force had bonded Gan to the panel, it released him.

Suddenly, a calm, measured voice spoke, and they all whirled around to face the enormous egg shaped fascia that had suddenly lit up.

"Welcome, Roj Blake. Welcome Kerr Avon. Welcome, Olag Gan."

"It knows our names!" shouted Blake.

"It must've scanned Gan's mind when he was bonded to that panel," hissed Avon, almost breathless at the thought.

"Flight control is available by vocal command," continued the voice.

"That's handy!" chuckled Blake. "Fly us away from that other spaceship."

"Sealing the hatch first," added Avon.


They felt a slight but almost indefinable change in the room as the great drives stepped up and the ship moved purposely away from the London.

Blake slapped Gan on the back. "Good work, Gan! Fancy you teaching an alien ship to speak Terran Standard!" Gan grinned in return.

"I wonder what else it learned from Gan," frowned Avon.

Blake turned to the glowing computer face. "Say, does this ship have a name?"

The golden fascia glowed even more intensely for a moment, then dulled as the voice spoke.

"The thought was accepted irrevocably. Welcome to the starship Spacey McSpaceface."

As one, Blake and Avon turned towards Gan with looks of fury.

"What?" said Gan, raising his hands in a shrug. "I quite like it."
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