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Current Poll

Who is your Favourite Guest Rebel?

Avalon - (Project Avalon)
Avalon - (Project Avalon)
23% [28 Votes]

Selma - (Horizon)
Selma - (Horizon)
4% [5 Votes]

Tyce - (Bounty)
Tyce - (Bounty)
14% [17 Votes]

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

Bek - (Shadow)
Bek - (Shadow)
7% [8 Votes]

Kasabi - (Pressure Point)
Kasabi - (Pressure Point)
16% [20 Votes]

Hal Mellanby - (Aftermath)
Hal Mellanby - (Aftermath)
15% [19 Votes]

Hunda - (Traitor)
Hunda - (Traitor)
6% [7 Votes]

Deva - (Blake)
Deva - (Blake)
8% [10 Votes]

6% [7 Votes]

Votes: 123
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Started: 09 July 2016

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May 2015 Fanfic Challenge
I think it works well Brad. Can't see Vila trying to save Orac! Or the others being able to use it without Avon.

Now I want the next chapter please..what happens next.....
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
Slowly catching up ...
I hope to get online more regularly again in the next time (and to participate in the rewatches). I just managed to squeeze in my Fools story at the end of April, but could not comment on the other stories (as I hadn’t even read everything properly). There were many good reads, and it’s great that we now also have Ellen aboard.

The PanGenre thing seems to be spinning out of control, but nonetheless I like the crazy humour. I don’t know Press Gang and I am neither into GoT nor Who, but I can still enjoy the surreal situations (especially the black-and-white universe). SD, did you really say ‘crayons’? You mean ‘coloured graphite writing sticks’, don’t you?

Maybe I am more inclined to serious stories, and I am also very fond of back stories - like Words and Delta Grade. Words proved be to a very interesting and surprising revelation. Avon as some sort of Nickie Haflinger? Very appropriate, come to think of it! And Delta Grade is something that I often miss in science fiction. Many sci-fi stories portray shiny heroes in space and forget to show us everyday life on a future Earth. I was glad to read about this aspect of the 3rd century of the 2nd calendar, especially in such a convincing way. This really gives even more depth to Vila.

Thank you for the hooch story, Paula. Before I was born, my father used to make his own gooseberry wine. The stuff was infamous: two glasses, and you were under the table. I still have his demijohn (it’s in the background of my cat picture in the humorous image thread).

Brad’s alternative take on Orbit is such a great idea. It was a jaw-dropping moment for me when I realised what was going on. And Vila’s overzealous behaviour - throwing out Avon and Orac - works perfectly fine for me. Chapeau!
I'm still struggling with 'Matter' but here's my Vila scene. Despite several ruthless edits, I'm still a touch over the word count - sorry!

Walk a Mile

He was in real trouble now. Vila took another look and felt the panic rise. How was he going to explain this? More importantly, would he live long enough to explain? His eyes darted about looking for somewhere to hide, but Avon knew Xenon Base too well.

Vila picked up the sleeveless jacket, surprised again at its weight. The material was sticky to his touch and it reeked with the unmistakeable smell of alcohol. It had been an accident but Avon wouldn’t see it that way.


Vila’s hands clenched, the metal studs of the jacket digging into his palms. Anyone else ... but not Avon, not since the shuttle. He’d only wanted to understand.

The rest of the crew were off trying to recruit takers for this new alliance Avon was trying to put together. Vila was left moping about the base, nursing a bottle of particularly potent liqueur and a bellyful of bitterness and betrayal.

Walk a mile in their shoes,” that’s what his mum had always said when people behaved badly. That’s what he’d been trying to do when he spotted the jacket. They must be wearing the green coveralls again, probably thought they looked more of a team, quasi-military even. Vila scoffed and looked at the jacket again. Well, it wasn’t shoes but...

The first thing that had struck him was the weight. His shoulders sagged as heavy fabric laden with metal trim dragged them down. And that was only the jacket. He thought of the jumpsuit and the boots too. Avon’s shoulders never sagged, his feet never dragged.

Walk a mile...” Vila did. Well, maybe not a mile but he moved around the room mimicking Avon’s stance and gestures with uncanny accuracy. His lips twisted into that familiar ‘smile’ and he spoke in a fair imitation of that voice.

“As you always say, Vila – you know you are safe with me.”

For a brief terrifying moment, Vila became Avon. The burden of heavy clothing was nothing compared to the burden of responsibility, in fact he carried the weight as a penance for his failures. And the clothes were so much more. They were the armour, the bristling aggressive porcupine quills, which hid the vulnerable creature within. They were the exoskeleton that kept him standing as the man crumbled inside. They were the disguise that hid broken promises and lost dreams.

Vila tore off the jacket and made a grab for the bottle but his tear-veiled eyes made him clumsy. The bottle toppled, pouring its contents over the jacket. Vila sank to the floor, clutched the spoiled fabric to his chest, and sobbed.


At the sound of Avon’s voice, Vila shot to his feet. He was in real trouble now; there was nowhere to hide himself, the jacket -or his knowledge.

“There you are ...”

Avon’s voice trailed off as he looked at Vila. He strode across the room, as imposing in green as he was in black. Vila felt his feet stir with the urge to flee. Avon stopped, inches away; too close for comfort, close enough to smell the booze, to see the tears. Avon stared at him, his eyes dark and cold, seeing all.

The unbearable silence strung out between them. Vila was about to break when Avon gently took the jacket from his trembling hands. The hard stare softened momentarily as Avon gave a quick nod, and left the room without speaking a word.
Ah PC you do write a good story. This is so moving. I love the ending. Brilliant explanation of Avon's armoured costumes in season 4 !
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
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/
Wonderful, PC.. Moved me to tears - a bit embarrassing on the train!
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
@Hugbot: Thank you for your kind words regarding Delta Grade. The nitty gritty side of life under Federation rule does fascinate me and Vila is a layered character, he lends himself perfectly to this type of story. Angry

@PC: Walk a Mile is a lovely, beautiful story! A joy to read!

For now, all was quiet. Tarrant had personally delivered Groff's message to his tearful, grateful wife; Avon had set the ship's coordinates towards a planet he thought might have a mineral worth investigating and the Liberator was cruising at standard speed while the crew got some rest.

Vila didn't see why he should have to be on watch, but the others had insisted.

"Think of it as a punishment," Dayna grinned, "for not getting us out of that cage."

"I don't know how you expected me to do that without any tools," he argued. "Even the best lockpick needs a lockpick to pick locks with."

The others had rolled their eyes at that, and left him alone, with only the computers for company.

And they're not much company at the moment, Vila thought. Zen and Orac were communicating by direct sensory link, and he wondered idly what they were chatting about. Their quiet whirring and clicking, together with the warmth of the flightdeck was making him sleepy. It wouldn't matter if he closed his eyes for a little while...


Vila opened one eye. "What is it, Zen?"

There was a pause, then the computer repeated, +INFORMATION+

"You've already said that. What's the matter?"


"What?" Vila leapt to his feet. "Zen, explain!"

"Wisdom must be gathered," Orac interrupted testily, "it cannot be given."

+CONFIRMED+ Zen agreed, and fell silent.

"Orac, are you going to tell me what you're both talking about?"

"I have shared a prediction with the Zen computer."

Vila almost laughed with relief. "That old thing? Come on, Orac, it's already happened. You know it wasn't the Liberator in your prediction, it was the sister ship."


Vila slumped back down on the couch. "So there's nothing really the matter, is there? Nothing for me to worry about."


"And Vila will ensure my own safety," Orac added.

"That's nice of me," yawned Vila, barely paying attention. "Is there anything else I should know?"


Vila made himself comfortable, letting the computers' non-verbal chatter wash over him as he drifted back to sleep. Matter, he thought drowsily. It's all a question of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter, ha ha. One for the joke collection...

Afterwards, he could never be sure whether he had dreamed that conversation. Whether he should have mentioned it to the others. Whether they would have believed him, and whether, in the end, it would would have made a difference.

But during the long, cold, despairing nights on Terminal, as Vila grieved for Cally and mourned the loss of the ship that had been his home, he knew that he did mind. And that nothing mattered any more.


Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
Travisina that packs a punch. I love the sense of ordinary life on board the Libby that you create and the slow build up to the killer last lines. Lovely.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
Wow! There are some real geniuses in our midst! Loving this thread Grin
"If you didn't want the answer, you shouldn't have asked the question."
@ Travisina - this could have been a missing scene; the depictions of life on the Liberator and your portrayal of Vila were so authentic. Add in a clever riff on 'Matter' and that poignant ending - just brilliant!
What with PC and now Travisina...I have a tear in my eye.......................
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, Well Done.

EDIT: Though I can't help but wonder if anything would have changed, had Vila recalled every word of the warning.
In Terminal, Avon did not seem inclined to listen to anyone. Would he have believed Vila, and even if he had, would he have changed course?
Edited by JustBrad on 15 May 2015 19:15:40
Thank you for your kind comments Smile

Now to work on the Vila story... can never have too many of these!
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
All that matters.

"What the hell are you doing, Avon?"

" Quiet. Keep your righteous indignation levels down to a whisper if you can. I'm not keen on attracting their attention."

"I'll ask you again, Avon. What are you doing?

"What it looks like, Blake. I'm placing pressure bombs under these bodies. When they come to retrieve them the bombs will activate. It should reduce their numbers and give us a better chance."

"That's monstrous, Avon. You can't do that. I can't let you do that."

"Why ever not? What's the matter Blake, too successful a strategy? You would prefer me to stand up perhaps and shout, "I'm here! Shoot me." Give them a sporting chance to wipe us out?"

"No of course I wouldn't. Don't be absurd. But this...what you're doing...it's horrible. Perverted. It relies on turning an impulse of human decency into a fatal trap. That's not what we're about."

" Really? You'll have to enlighten me then. Explain to me how this is any different to destroying Control? "

"That's a legitimate target, Avon. We take it out and topple the Federation. Take power away from the corrupt and return it to..."

" I know...the honest man. Who won't thank you or know what to do with it. And will probably die in the first six months as the weather on his planet goes haywire. But putting that aside, may I enquire how you rate our chances of destroying Control if we don't survive this mission? There are two of us. At least thirty of them with a mission to kill us and claim the Federation reward. Liberator is off station for at least six hours. With those odds, sneaky dishonesty is the only strategy open to us. Unless, of course, you have a more effective idea?'

"Sneaky dishonesty! That's what you call ripping people apart? What else have you got planned?"

"Trip wires..mines...I haven't enough equipment to do a proper job but I rigged a couple of wires while you were unconscious. Seeded the area with the rest of the land mines."

"Most of those you kill with those bombs will be just boys, Avon. You saw them didn't you? Hardly a beard between them. Doesn't that bother you?"

"Oh yes I saw them. You really do have a talent for raking up the unimportant and placing it at the forefront, don't you? If I hadn't taken out the 'boy' that shot you, along with several of his friends, you'd be dead. The guns they carried weren't toys, Blake."

"There must be alternatives to blowing them up."

"I couldn't see one at the time."

"We could find a safe place to hide, hole up until the Liberator gets here."

"We could. There's a cave over there. I checked it out earlier. Your welcome to hide out there but I feel I should warn you that your 'boys' got to it first."

"It's mined?"

"To the roof."

"What do you suggest we do?"

" I'd have thought that was obvious. We haul up in the rocks and wait. They'll come at dawn. They'll set off the mines and in the confusion we can pick off enough of them to force a retreat. They'll regroup of course but by then Liberator should be back and we'll be long gone."
Safe again on the Liberator, a thought strikes Blake.

"Why did you booby trap the corpses, Avon? The wires and mines did the trick. Why the bodies?"

"I wanted to leave them something to remember us by. I warned them before we landed that I'd take it very personally if they attempted to betray us. "

" Revenge? That's what matters to you? I don't believe you Avon. You're better than that. "

" It's all that matters Blake. I keep my word. And now I need a shower and a long sleep. Goodnight."

Blake knows his rest will be haunted by the screams of those they've killed today and wonders, not for the first time, whether his crusade has crossed some kind of line.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
This is brilliant Annie! I love this exchange between Blake and Avon and the examination of the morals/double standards. The point you make about Avon's revenge is also very apt. Grin
"If you didn't want the answer, you shouldn't have asked the question."
Meegat - thank you! I've always been interested in the line between legitimate protest and terrorism. And how far I'd go if my survival was at stake! I'm glad the dialogue worked for you.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
@ AnnieW - you capture Avon's dry pragmatism and Blake's moral outrage so deftly. While I was reading it I was thinking how well it fits with the Avon Mr D portrayed in Lucifer. Good job!
PC probably because I've just read Genesis! I have to say though that I never saw such a jump in Avon's character as others do between season 1 4 and the Lucifers. It always struck me that a highly competent technician would quickly pick up the skills needed to survive if he was ruthless and not afraid to fight like any soldier in war time and would probably use the same dirty tactics if in a prolonged combat situation .
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
Inspiration finally struck - so here's my take on Matter:

States of Matter

One can almost hear Orac’s precise, fussy tones delivering the lecture:

“A Solid ... closely packed... the forces between are strong so they cannot move freely, can only vibrate... “

Avon’s eyes flashed. Another showdown with Blake on the flight deck and again he is beaten; logic no match for idealism and motives that are pure. He bristles and blusters yet he stays.

“... a stable, definite shape...”

“Well done, Avon!” Another triumph, another Federation stronghold destroyed. Avon hides his pleasure at Blake’s words behind a contemptuous smile. They are a team, with complementary skills and common purpose, though their reasons differ. He belongs here - even if he wishes he didn’t.

“... can only change by force, as when broken or cut.”

Gan’s empty chair seems to hold greater importance than the man himself. Tempers flare and the arguments grow bitter. Blake is the one beaten now; on his knees in an empty room, with only Avon’s cold comfort.

“A Liquid... incompressible...”

Dayna is no problem, she accepts his authority readily. But Tarrant ... Ultimately he is no match for Avon’s intellect and arrogance.

“...intermolecular forces are still important, but have enough energy to move relative to each other...”

With Blake gone, there is no common purpose. Personal matters come to the fore; Dayna’s vendetta, Tarrant’s brother, Vila’s dreams, Cally’s isolation and Anna...

“...the shape is not definite but is determined by its container.”

Only the Liberator holds them together. None willing to give up its power, the edge it gives them, its shelter and security.

“ ... liquids become gas by heating at constant pressure...”

Having gained his prize, Avon discovers it is not enough. Or maybe too much; its legacy is an uncomfortable burden. Too often he finds his thoughts turning to Blake.

“A Gas ...enough energy that the effect of intermolecular forces is small...”

Habit and the need to survive is all that is keeping them together now the Liberator is lost.

“...no definite shape or volume...”

Only his iron will, or maybe his desperation, maintains the facsimile of the team they had been, the man he had been.

“... the distance between neighbouring molecules is much greater...”

Blake is a memory, a shade from the past, so far away ... or is he?

“Plasma ...can arise from a huge voltage difference between two points...”

The jolt of recognition – they are no longer the men they once were. Avon faces Blake over the barrel of his gun. The jolt as the gun recoils, as realisation dawns; no longer the same men, but the feelings remain. The jolt as trust and love and hope die with the man in his arms.

“...no definite shape or volume...”

Things fall apart – blood and bodies and Blake fall – and the centre can no longer hold.

Avon smiles.

“... at very high temperatures, such as those present in stars; it is assumed that essentially all electrons are free..."

With a whirr and a click, the computer falls silent

Apologies to Yeats for the paraphrasing, and to all physics pedants - any scientific inaccuracies are purely mine, in the name of literary license!
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