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Current Poll

Who is your Favourite Guest Rebel?

Avalon - (Project Avalon)
Avalon - (Project Avalon)
22% [41 Votes]

Selma - (Horizon)
Selma - (Horizon)
4% [8 Votes]

Tyce - (Bounty)
Tyce - (Bounty)
14% [27 Votes]

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

Bek - (Shadow)
Bek - (Shadow)
7% [13 Votes]

Kasabi - (Pressure Point)
Kasabi - (Pressure Point)
15% [28 Votes]

Hal Mellanby - (Aftermath)
Hal Mellanby - (Aftermath)
16% [30 Votes]

Hunda - (Traitor)
Hunda - (Traitor)
4% [8 Votes]

Deva - (Blake)
Deva - (Blake)
12% [23 Votes]

4% [8 Votes]

Votes: 188
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Started: 09 July 2016

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February Fanfic Challenge
I'd like to play but dont have time for much - so can I quote myself? Hope I can because I'm going to.

For Red. From I&R so PGP. Avon dreaming about blood and a very important question from 'Blake'.

Avon dreamt of dancing lights and shifting shadows, of shimmering curtains and whispered words, and blood. Particularly of blood.

A creeping blood red glow stained his dreams like his jacket. He wished he could remember why blood was so important, maybe then it would go away and his world would stop being tinged in red.

The garnet veined shadows rose up and took on a harder shape. Arms, and legs, and eyes; burning, red rimmed, eyes. Blake. He watched Blake falling to his knees, and frowned; why was Blake wearing his jacket? He looked down at himself, the jacket was still there but his shirt was ripped open and his chest showed pale in the red light. His jacket flapped in the breeze and he shivered in the chill. There was no blood on his clothing now, but it was running like a tide around his feet, washing over his boots, pooling all around him.

He looked back to Blake lying on the ground in the red stained jacket, but the blood was not flowing from him and the ground around him was dry and clean. No blood. The memory stirred again. So much blood. 'Or then again, maybe not', the dancing light whispered. An image rose beyond the light and he struggled to catch the memory, but it was still out of reach. Avon watched the tide of red around him rise, washing up to his knees, but still it didn’t touch Blake.
"Look', the light whispered again," look'.

Now why was that important?

The pool of blood around him was growing deeper; already it had submerged his thighs and lapped at his hip like a crimson sea. The pink flecked waves rippling across its surface reared up in flame lace crests and splashed his face, scattering droplets into his hair and across his naked chest. He shivered again as the breeze lashed his exposed flesh and he tried to pull the jacket tighter around him, but he could not and fleetingly he wondered why.

His eyes drifted back to Blake lying on an untouched island, only the jacket he wore echoing the colour of the ocean that surrounded Avon. So much blood.

Avon knew that soon the rising tide would sweep him away, submerge him beneath its red froth. He found that he didn’t mind that thought but that he hoped that it left Blake where he was.

A shaft of sudden light caught his eyes and he looked up. High above him was a single window of ruby glass, back lit, its glow was deepening the tint of the red tide around him still further. A picture was etched into the glass, a picture of a gun and a fallen man stained with blood whose redness fed the tint of the glass; but the gun was pointing away, out from the window towards where he stood in the crimson pool. Avon squinted against the brilliance of the fiery glow, fascinated in a way he couldn't explain.

Still the ocean of red rose higher, it was at his chin now, the spray misting his eyelashes and hair. So much blood, he knew he would sink beneath it and drown; but he found that he didn’t care.

The light from the window grew brighter and drew his eyes back to it as the picture in the glass shimmered and changed. Now the man and the blood were gone and a woman lay there. Yet the light that streamed from the window remained red, still echoing the torrent that eddied around him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, yet still the image burned on the back of his eyelids. He was so tired, so very tired; too tired to stand, to tired to fight the rising tide. Soon he would slip beneath it and it would be over.

With a sigh he opened his eyes again.The light from the window glowed brighter and the red hue of the sea around him deepened again, now nearly purple. He looked around and saw that Blake’s island was still standing proud against the red stained waters but that the sand on which Blake lay was now as coloured as the sea surrounding it. He had thought of death as black but he had been wrong, it was red, blood red.

He wanted to laugh at this final mistake but the bloodied water was in his mouth, and it had the tang of iron amongst the salt. Avon turned his eyes back to the window and the woman lying there, and he wondered who she was that she had taken Blake’s place?

A voice cut through the dreams, borne on a rising wind.a woman's voice, soft and warm as the waters. That voice brought with it an icy blast that whistled around his head driving back the tide, parting the red river, pushing it away from his face. He looked up again as the window shivered, then shattered, in the force of it, the sparkling red fragments scattering on the racing air like sunset dipped snowflakes. The surface of the bloody tide shimmered and reflected back the lights that burst above its surface as the voice from beyond the sea spoke again.

As he watched the racing fragments the blast triggered a single thought, 'why didn’t she bleed?'

Then red turned to black and the lights, and the dreams, winked out.
@ trevortravis - What a surprise - a double decker bus with a Dr Who crossover as a bonus!
And kudos for completing the scene as well - so that's what Blake was up to...

@peladon - feel free to play any way you can. Especially if it means we get to share such a stunning and evocative dream.
By Any Other Name

The raid on the bio-lab had yielded many wonders but none like the one that held the crew of the Liberator spell-bound as they gathered around the bench. Ever the leader, Blake was the first to break the silence.

“It’s powerful.”

His mind summoned up visions of a potent symbol blazoned across banners, rallying the rebels. Jenna leaned forward to inhale the heady perfume, her eyes closing for a moment before she coyly glanced up at Blake. Her voice was breathy.

“It does stir up passion."

Vila snorted. Trust those two to get carried away with idealism and fantasy and ignore the true potential before them. He rubbed his hands in glee.

“It’s important, gotta be worth a lot.”

Ignoring them, Cally concentrated, her long, pale finger reaching out to stroke the velvety- soft texture. It roused something within her, called out to her. Reluctantly, she broke contact.

“It’s a message.”

Gan couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. It wouldn’t fill an empty belly, was too fragile to make a tool, wouldn’t keep you dry and warm.

“It’s useless.”

He glanced at Avon, waiting for the inevitable retort. Avon studied sharp barbs concealed behind blood-rich beauty with morbid fascination.

“It’s deceit... and danger.”

His hostile words shattered the thrall and the crew became aware of alarms, shouting and the thud of heavy boots. They scrabbled for more tangible bounty as Blake barked into his communicator.

“Orac! Teleport. Now!”

With a shimmer the crew disappeared, leaving behind a single red rose.
Oh wow. Pelladon's, Purple Cleric, Little Sue - have loved reading your stuff on various sites and these contributions are amazing- just as lovely. Not just good ideas but beautiful beautiful writing. Joe loved your story. Trevor - clever stuff can't wait for the sequel.

I am one big smile!
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
Joe Dredd
I like your work, purplecleric. You have a very tight writing style that keeps the momentum going and the concept of the story in focus. I think the title is a bit of a double-edged sword though. (Not that I can think of a better one!) A very enjoyable journey nonetheless.
Recollections of Red

Recall that flame-haired traitor who plotted then murdered the lawyer and his wife. How he infiltrated and insinuated himself within the Dome-city's outcasts. The carnage he wrought- the beet-red splashes of blood upon those unfortunate citizens in that grimy sub-basement: a charnel house and bloody tomb which prompted Blake to take up the Cause once again.

Imagine that sanguine sky- like a faint mist of blood before one's eyes. And the alien warrior in diffused rubellite-colored garb, who tumbled Blake and probed his mind. Then the explosion: like fireworks of gold and carmine, eating Central Control in a large gout of flames. A clarion call to the Federation that Blake was back and meant to topple them all.

Remember Blake and Cally retrieving Orac which brought troubles of its own and leaving much of the crew with radiation sickness. Jenna, ever loyal pilot matched the brilliant scarlet and gold of her blouse- her cheeks of the same hue in her fever-wracked body. With life-giving medicines, the crew recovered, ready to fight again at a moments notice. To fight for Blake and his Cause, whether they believed in it or not.

See smeared life's-blood across the button activating the Solium device. A desperate move against a desperate people. Blood-lust in Grant's eyes upon seeing the man he wished dead. An unlikely and tentative alliance in order to save Albian. Then victory at the last moment, and a gentle parting of ways between two men who loved the same woman- one romantically and one as a brother.

Note Freedom City, hanging like an over-ripe piece of fruit in the vacuum of space. Both Servalan and Blake searching for the one called Docholli: a cyber surgeon with a past and information which could turn the tide in the war for freedom. Her gown- a vermilion spangled creation- speaking volumes to all who had seen her. Power- supreme confidence in her plans- a fearsome vision of what was once called 'the Devil'. Travis being left armless. Blake, snatching a scrap of information from the mysterious surgeon and then gone. And on with luck, to Star One.

What of this cloned world would Servalan ever want? To procreate, to breed her own gene stock of little maniacs? But at what cost to the peaceful Aurons? Drops of maroon blood in each little receptacle is all that was needed to clone a new copy of Supreme Commander. But with treachery, all hope of a living Auron is lost as Ginka reaches too far and suffers the 'mark' of a red death, and so does Auron.

Gaze upon Ultraworld- an armored orb. Home of the Ultras- home of a giant brain absorbing all who enter this world. But what of Cally and Avon? That ruby-red capsule full of his life essence- a sudden switch of capsules would cause catastrophe. But Tarrant perseveres and normality is restored although not for the blue inhabitants or their brain as it spits its green matter spectacularly in its violent death throes.

What's this? A red dot- a bug bite?- minuscule- but drug tipped and so powerful, so pervasive. Avon drops to the floor unconscious in a drug-induced and electronic dream. He sees the vision of Blake- his search is over, or is it? He is utterly defeated by the black-clad Servalan. The Liberator- lost- and hopefully the same with Servalan on board. The crew stranded on Terminal. An apt name if ever there was. Could there perhaps be a new beginning?

We don't understand why the pull of an un-named something on the green planet of Virn is like a moth to the flame for both the crew of the Scorpio and Sleer. A lost love recaptured? No- but a new one seems to begin. Her lips, bloody-red and inviting, an irresistible draw for Tarrant it seems. The pilot walking the same path as his colleague Avon before. A tentative alliance? No- but the sand persists until a freak rainstorm is manufactured and quickly the green sand and Tarrant's ardor are dampened. The two adversaries leave nothing resolved. Save for lust.

And finally, the weak red flickers of the emergency lighting signaled the end. One man's quest finished another man's life nearly done. A misunderstanding of grave consequences, the leather-clad Avon kills the object of his quest. Blood-spattered gore is showered over computer consoles, walls, even the black leather of Avon's tunic. Our hero falls dying in a pool of his own life's-blood. The color drains from the shooter's face, shock registering. What has he done? "He happened," Arlen shouts. The image at last focuses on Avon's face- a grimace of determination as his last seconds tick by. Fade to black- no- fade to red. As shots rain through troopers in a last ditch effort for life, then shockingly, silence, and then credits roll and it's over. Forever.
Zil: Oneness must resist the Host.
Spaceship Dispatcher
Looks like I have some catching up to do with this thread Grin
@ Paula
Great writing! I think you found just about all the "reds" in the Series!!Grin
Wow... just wow! What amazing contributions!

LaraSue - lovely scene for Avon and Cally, each one's take on their respective red costumes.

TT - so, for you Red = London Bus = Doctor Who/B7 crossover - inspired! I liked your 'complete the scene', as well. (Must get on with mine...)

Thank you, Peladon, for that extraordinary dream - the imagery is now haunting my own dreams.

Paula - that's fab, tracking the colour red through the entire series - great idea, really well done.

Who would have thought that the simple word 'Red' would give rise to such a fantastic range of stories?
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
A statement of fact cannot be insolent
Anniew wrote:

Oh wow. Pelladon's, Purple Cleric, Little Sue - have loved reading your stuff on various sites and these contributions are amazing- just as lovely. Not just good ideas but beautiful beautiful writing. Joe loved your story. Trevor - clever stuff can't wait for the sequel.

I am one big smile!

Thank you for your kind words, but I couldn't do all this writing on my own. Lurena normally supplies ideas and names etc and then reads the result and does the illustrations...and for the longer stories there are the beta readers who check it etc and suggest changes etc. Back in the day, in the 1980's, I had a great deal of help from a load of people; Alex Delicado, Audrey Waller, Sylvie, Maria and numerous others.
I still live in fear of my English teachers coming across my scribblings and going 'tut, tut, tut'!!! (They would be in their 90's by now or even older).
Everyone is coming up with brilliant ideas and I'm loving it.
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/
Ellen York
I'm really enjoying all the fics; we have so many talented people on the forum. I do envy that sort of talent; creative writing was the bane of my existence in school Sad

Brad gets my vote for most creative interpretation of the prompt. I've seen the movie, but while considering various interpretations of "red" I overlooked that one.
Anniew wrote:

I am one big smile!

That's me - every time I look at this thread!

It's fun thinking up the challenges and writing my own contributions, but the best fun comes from reading everyone's ideas.

Thanks Anniew & Joe Dredd for your compliments.

@Joe Dredd - I agree about the title, but like you I can't think of a better one. Maybe someone else can come up with one?

@Paula - Wow. The entire history of B7, from genesis to exodus, all framed in red. What a great idea.

So how about poor Blake - are we going to leave him stranded, struggling to evade those grasping arms?
Lorna wrote:

@ Paula
Great writing! I think you found just about all the "reds" in the Series!!Grin

Thank you. Glad you enjoyed it. But there are many more referenced to red in the series. I could have mentioned Avon getting shot in the arm, and even Dayna getting kissed by a bullet. There is Keiller's jacket and so on. But I thought a sampling throughout the series would work the best. It just came to me thinking of different words for red. The rest as often happens just flowed out from my pen to the paper. Grin
Zil: Oneness must resist the Host.
Joe Dredd
purplecleric wrote:
So how about poor Blake

How about... Blake's body is quickly wheeled away on a stretcher, which is hijacked by one of Vila's Mounties hiding underneath it. She gets him into a stasis capsule and flys him away to a rebel medical centre where he is revived and rejuvenated. All that just for the groan-worthy title of "Reds under the Beds".
Joe Dredd
purplecleric wrote:
@Joe Dredd - I agree about the title, but like you I can't think of a better one. Maybe someone else can come up with one?

The nuisance of it is that it's such an apt title, and on different levels!
Joe Dredd wrote:

purplecleric wrote:
@Joe Dredd - I agree about the title, but like you I can't think of a better one. Maybe someone else can come up with one?

The nuisance of it is that it's such an apt title, and on different levels!

When I read it, for some reason I missed the title - without that clue, I was reading about the characters' reactions to a mystery object. Alien artefact? New piece of Federation tech? What could it be...? It was fun picking up clues along the way as the object was gradually revealed.

Perhaps it doesn't actually need a title?
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
A statement of fact cannot be insolent
You could go with What's in a name?
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
I cheated a bit with this one. I like the idea but ran out of steam on the execution as well and it doesn't really say anything new. Can't come up with plot ideas!!

Blake’s feet scrabble in the loose shale, trying to gain purchase on the slope as he attempts to escape from the strong arms pulling him down.

“You don’t understand,” he protests struggling frantically to escape.

The pull on his legs is too strong; his feet are slipping, sliding, gravity taking over and he is plunging straight down the sheer sides of the escarpment, faster and faster..

"Blake", the voice that startles him awake is acidic, sharp, the hand shaking his shoulder surprisingly gentle."What was it this time?"

"A dream , I think. Could be a memory, how would I know?" Still caught in the sticky threads of sleep, he battles to focus his mind, to recognise the flight deck, and his companion.

"The application of a little logic might help!" Avon's tone is dry but not unkind. "What were you dreaming?"

"I was climbing a cliff. Shale. I kept slipping. Something, someone was pulling me down. I was falling when you woke me."

"There's your answer then. You were living in the domes when they wiped your memories. Precious few shale cliffs under the domes. Therefore it has to be a dream. "

"Am I awake now, Avon?" He is still fuddled, caught in the fear of his fall. " How do I know this isn't all a dream?"

" Your dream, my nightmare, Blake. You're awake now."

"What do you mean......your nightmare? "

"You are awake and so you will soon begin to plan our next suicidal mission. I will find my life at risk again while you pursue your dream ".

Blake yawns and stretches, looking up at the slighter man, trying to gauge his mood and his meaning. This feels different from the usual Avon complaining. "Are you telling me you're afraid! That can't be true. I can believe it of Villa not you."

"Of course I'm afraid Blake". The acid in his voice is sharper now, distilled, bitter. "Only a mind-wiped idealist would not be. Why do you imagine I value my life so little?" He picks up his glass, twirls the contents, grimaces slightly as he downs a mouthful of the green liquid and then places it decisively on the console.

" I ...Avon I get scared too." Blake wonders if this is true even as he makes the statement. Does he value his life? There is so little room in it for anything but the Revolution, so few people alive that he remembers and relates to. He is conscious that his admission is designed to divert Avon. To deny the raw, emotional truth that he can hear in the other man's voice.

" My Fearless Leader feels fear? Well that makes it better of course. How comforting to know that we plunge into danger quaking in our boots together. " Smoothly Avon rises to his feet, lifting his glass from the table. Blake sits up straighter on the couch, consciously of his rumpled appearance. Suddenly ashamed of what he has done today and will do tomorrow.

"Avon...I have to...."

"You dream of failure and that scares you more than the reality that we are risking our lives." There is a sad acceptance in Avon's voice that he has never heard before. " I understand Blake.... If you don't fight you're afraid that those memories, the gaps in your mind will close in until you no longer know what is real. Fighting is what keeps you sane."

"Yes, no..I don't know Avon. No that's absurd. I fight because it's the only way to honour all those that have sacrificed their lives for the Cause. I have to stop the Federation and to do that I have to find Central Control and destroy it. If I don't, all this is meaningless."

He glances at Avon's pale, set face, puzzled by its expression, the sense it conveys that he is the one trapped in a nightmare from which he cannot escape.

Avon peers into his glass as if it contains something he values and his voice is very quiet when he finally speaks. " What about our sacrifices Blake? We are all forced to climb your cliff with you. Your fear drives us all to take bigger and bigger risks. How long before one of us falls? " He looks up from his glass then, forcing Blake to meet his eyes. " I fear for my life. Each day I do your bidding, climb whatever cliff you have chosen for today's crusade, I have to kill, destroy, maim others, to preserve it. The only safety you have left me is to continue climbing until I die or until we win and, ironically while winning guarantees you sanity, I fear the effort it requires will eventually rob me of mine".

Something in those eyes, usually so inscrutable, pleads for recognition, a wish for release which Blake refuses to, can not accept. Through the drumbeats of his heart, the nervous tick of Avon's finger against the glass, he hears the incessant voices of his past, crying out, demanding that he completes their struggle for freedom. The realisation that these are the voices he will heed makes him brusque.

"Then we will have to get there quickly won't we?"

The light leaves those uncomfortably knowing eyes, and, for a second he glimpses murder in their depths. Then the familiar astringent smile quirks Avon's mouth and gracefully he inclines slightly towards Blake, acknowledging the bitter truth of his reply.

In the silence that follows, Blake feels once more those strong insistent hands pulling him down. "You don't understand", he wants to shout at the departing, rigid back, " I have to win. I have no choice.".

But he knows there is always a choice and his is made.

"Zen. Set a course for Earth. Speed standard by seven".
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
Ellen York
Travisina wrote:

When I read it, for some reason I missed the title - without that clue, I was reading about the characters' reactions to a mystery object. Alien artefact? New piece of Federation tech? What could it be...? It was fun picking up clues along the way as the object was gradually revealed.

Oh good, I wasn't the only one who missed the title Wink

I had no idea what they were looking at until the end, but the reactions were very in character for all of them.
WOW! Amazing stories!
Haunting nightmares (Peladon and Anniew), time travel (TT), and some very original ideas! Well done, congrats to you all!
Purplecleric I love your journey through the thoughts, matching the characters so well, by looking at the precious red object!
Joe Dredd, your Soolin story is very believeable, her history told and her attitude elucidated.
Paula, such an original idea! Recollections of Red, I enjoyed it and it touched me.
Lara&Sue's Blake's 7 stories and *my PD as Kerr Avon Tribute*
*No, I am not. I am not expendable, I'm not stupid, and I'm not going.*
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