(This is my first fan-fiction. I'm not even sure what year it was written, but most likely 1991 or 1992. Consider it an historical document.)

    "I am.  The original. Where's Orac?"
    "Not here."
    Dayna had been listening to them, while sitting on the floor holding her head, still apparently suffering the aftereffects of the stun. "Avon hid it," she said, then frowned. "Where is Avon? And Vila, he's missing, too."
    Soolin stood up, her blue-gray eyes narrowed in pain. Obvious, isn't it? The  Federation has them."
    "Damn," Blake said softly, "They'll get Orac through Avon. "
    Leaving the still groggy trio behind, Blake led his forces after the fleeing troopers. When his men became  pinned down Blake moved on alone, outflanking the enemy.  He caught up with his quarry at their ship. The vessel was prepared for flight, engines vibrating so violently that the troopers carrying Avon wobbled on the landing ramp. Close on their heels, Vila's guard dragged his reluctant prisoner.
    Blake slid to a halt, gun held high. "Vila," he shouted, "get down!" The thief twisted free, rolling off the ramp to flatten into the dirt of the landing field . Blake fired, taking out the trooper on Avon's right, sending Avon and the other guard down onto the ramp. "Sorry, Avon," Blake muttered. He aimed at Avon, then hesitated. A uniformed arm snaked out of the open hatch, hauling Avon in by his collar. The hatch sealed and the landing ramp retracted, abandoning the unlucky guards to their fate as the ship lifted.
    "Help!" Vila cried weakly, caught in the fringes of the hot exhaust blast that cooked the troopers.
    Blake holstered his useless weapon and ran to Vila. He had the thief safely leaning against the building before Vila stopped coughing and wiping his streaming eyes long enough to notice his rescuer.
    "Blake?" Vila touched Blake's arm tentatively, then pinched himself. "Ouch, so I'm not dreaming.  I must be dead. I'm disappointed, though. If this is heaven, where are all the dancing girls?"
    Blake sighed and grinned despite himself. "We're alive, Vila. And in trouble."
    "What else is new?"
    "Servalan has Avon and she means to use him to get Orac."
    "I know." Vila shivered, remembering that cold voice coming from the commander's communicator. "Avon won't talk, Blake." Vila's voice trailed off as he contemplated Federation techniques.
    "Everyone talks, Vila. Our only hope is to find Orac first."
    "Fat chance. Avon put the flier down  once Orac had the flight path analyzed and took the ruddy box for a walk. He came back empty-handed, that's all I can tell you. It'd take a hypnoprobe to get me to remember any more than that."
    Blake stopped pacing and gazed at Vila.
    "No," Vila said with alarm, "I've had a bellyful of machines mucking about in my head."    
    "Relax, Vila." Blake put a warm, friendly smile on his face, which made Vila even more nervous. "Nothing like that.  We don't even have a hypnoprobe."

    "Hypnotism?" Soolin's openly expressed skepticism matched the looks on her crewmates' faces.  "Why not try witchcraft… or Tarot cards?"
    "Hypnotism is rather more of an art than a science," a soft voice surprised Soolin, eliciting the blonde's usual reaction to unexpected sounds. A thin woman, no longer young, but probably not as old as her serious expression and lack of makeup made her appear, blinked at the gun, her slightly slanted amber-brown eyes remaining as calm as her voice. "Remarkable reflexes."
    "Don't shoot." Blake appeared at the woman's side. This is Pavra Sabri, the best hypnotist on Gauda Prime. "
    "Thank you, that sounds better than the only  hypnotist."
    "Do you use any special equipment?" Dayna asked, curious about a profession so far removed from the logical sciences her father had taught her.
    Pavra retrieved a sparkling piece of jewelry from one of the many pockets in her flowing gown, the metal bright against the mottled rust and fawn fabric. "I use this to focus attention." It certainly worked in Vila's case; the glitter of the obviously expensive antique gold pocket watch inset with a small natural diamond caught his eye and he wandered closer. Pavra said, "It's an heirloom. I took it back from the man who murdered my family. After I killed him, that is."
    Suddenly, Vila lost interest in the bauble. "I need a drink, " he muttered .
    Pavra asked, "Are you Vila?"
    "Yes, that's me."
    "Normally, I wouldn't recommend it, but alcohol does  lower inhibitions."
    With Blake hovering impatiently in the background, Pavra attempted to entrance the three who had accompanied Avon in the flier. After an hour she dismissed the women and concentrated on Vila.
    "Blake," Pavra called the rebel leader.  Vila was sprawled across a low couch, smiling foolishly. Blake sniffed and raised an eyebrow at the empty bottle resting beside the thief. Pavra followed his glance. "It was the fastest way to relax him. He's rambling, but he says he can show you where Avon landed the flier."


    Suspended motionless in geosynchronous orbit around Gauda Prime, the flagship of the blockading fleet floated, surrounded and guarded by smaller vessels. Aboard the battleship, her commander was pacing, with ill-concealed annoyance. The crew gave a wide berth to the slender woman in the elegant gown. She looked up as a man wearing a medical technician's uniform entered the room. "Well?" She asked harshly.
    "Commissioner Sleer, the prisoner's respiratory system was severely depressed. He is still unconscious, too weak for even the first level of persuasion."
    "Notify me when he regains consciousness." She smiled wolfishly. "I'd like to speak with my old friend Avon before he dies."


    The tiny flier that Tarrant piloted was a far cry from Sleer's lumbering flagship. Blake, Pavra and the four from Scorpio filled it to capacity. The pilot was guided by Vila until Dayna leaned forward with an exclamation.
    "To the left," she said. "See the flattened bushes in that clearing?"
    Tarrant landed the craft directly atop the damaged foliage. Beyond the relatively flat area that the flier occupied the landscape was rough, broken terrain. Vila indicated the direction Avon had taken on leaving the flier, but as Avon had disappeared from view almost at once and the stony ground held no footprints this wasn't very helpful. A thorough search of the immediate vicinity turned up no clues and the discouraged group met back at the flier.
    Soolin was irritated. She untangled a few twigs from her long blonde hair and complained, "If Avon wasn't so paranoid, he could have told us how to find Orac."
    Still entranced, Vila had been keeping up a constant babble of nonsense which his friends were doggedly ignoring. At Soolin's remark he stopped for a moment, then said, "Avon said,‘If Blake wants Orac, he can whistle for it.'."
      "Yes, but he didn't mean it literally,  "Dayna protested.
   "Perhaps he did." Blake boarded the flier and reset the transmitter to wide-band ground level communications. The others gathered around the open door. "Here goes," Blake said. He switched on the instrument and began whistling an old freedom fighters anthem. In mid-stanza he was interrupted by a familiar precise, supercilious voice.
    * Identify yourself, * Orac said.
    "This is Roj Blake" Blake grinned. "Where are you?"
    * Identity confirmed.  Select a frequency at random and resume transmission. I will reveal my location when contact is reestablished. *
    "Avon's little joke," Dayna said wryly.


    Orac's instructions led the party along a winding path formed by a dry stream bed. Within a few paces of their destination they were shocked into immobility by an explosive hissing originating from a dark opening in the sandy soil. Soolin crouched with her gun aimed at the hole. "Gully Viper," she said, "Lethal."
    * Correct, * Orac's voice emerged from the hole, * and I am capable of driving them into a fury by the use of ultrasonic vibrations. Alternatively, I can repulse the serpents. You have thirty seconds in which to identify the members of your party. * Orac was silent as the humans hastened to comply. * Acceptable. Remain stationary until the vipers are clear of the entrance. * A rustling tangle of drab brown coils emerged from the dark pit, separating into individual snakes seeking shelter away from their nest.  Orac said, * I am just within the entrance. Move swiftly, before the occupants return. *
    Blake lunged forward, snatching Orac from the snake den. "Let's get out of here!" He ran heavily with Orac's clear plastic case clutched to his chest.


    In the flier on their way back to the rebel base, Blake asked Orac why he had verified their identities. "After all, you don't care whose questions you answer, do you?"
    Orac replied, * Avon ordered me to allow my retrieval only by you or him. Further, I was instructed to attack any group containing Servalan, even if  accompanied by you and Avon. *
    "So Avon did suspect a trap." Blake stared out of the window without seeing the passing landscape. "I wish I knew if he was still alive."
    * Most probably he has been preserved for informational purposes. *
    "And when they discover that he can no longer lead them to you?"
    * Having no further value he would presumably be terminated. *


    Sleer/Servalan entered the interrogation room. Undisturbed by the reek of strong antiseptics overlaying a mixture of blood and the subtle stench of fear she smiled down at her captive. "So, Avon, we meet again," she purred, running her clawed fingernails gently down his cheek. "I'm pleased to see you looking better."
    "Purely a temporary condition," Avon said, weakly jerking his head away from her touch. "An easily corrected oversight."
    "I don't want it corrected. I want you at my side."
    "Like this?" Avon glanced down at the thick straps securing him to the steel table.
    "Answer my questions and more comfortable quarters will be arranged."
    Avon grinned cynically and shut his eyes. "Go to hell, Servalan," he whispered.
    "I'm truly sorry, Avon, but you have made that your  destination." Her negligent wave drew the technicians to their prey. "Inform me when you've broken him. I'll be in my quarters." She strode from the room, allowing the sound-proof door to close of its own accord.


    Servalan wandered restlessly in her suite, her black gown swirling around her ankles as she turned back to the desk. She stabbed a button and her viewer lit up, revealing the interrogation room. She heard a man's voice raised in  a drawn-out wordless howl. The sound was abruptly choked off, then replaced by the chief technician's unemotional tones as the man faced Servalan's monitor.
    "I regret, Commissioner, to report that the subject is not yet cooperative. Physically, he is weakening at an alarming rate. Conventional methods are liable to kill him long before he talks. With your permission, I would like to try an experimental drug. "
    "Why haven't you already done so? I have always given you complete freedom in your work."
    "The drug has a high mortality rate, Commissioner.  Also, I will require the assistance of a female volunteer and all of my personnel are male."
    "It sounds interesting." Servalan lifted an eyebrow in amusement.  "What role does this woman play?"
    "She will be the focus of an induced dependency. The subject will do anything she requires, once initial resistance is overcome. The process is harmless to the woman."
    "Now you have me fascinated, doctor. I'm coming down to discuss this in person.  It may not be necessary to requisition a volunteer."


    Servalan stood in a small room adjoining the interrogation chamber, studying a vial of colorless fluid. "Before I commit myself, doctor, I have a few questions. How, precisely, does this drug work, and would the process be affected if  the man disliked, even  hated, the woman ?"
    "The drug makes such considerations irrelevant. Primitive areas of the brain are stimulated, creating a permanent state of terror. Only the presence of the person injected with the counteracting agent relieves this anxiety. In a very real sense, the subject is addicted. You see, the counteracting agent causes the woman to emit, through pores and breath, a nullifying pheromone. Both drugs are long lasting- up to a week from a single dose. The subject has  already been given the terror agent and been placed in isolation."
    "Is he likely to die?" asked Servalan.
  "No; adverse reactions, when they occurred, took place immediately. This one will survive the drug."
    Servalan held out her arm for the injection, wincing at the sting. "He may survive longer than that, if it suits me."
        
    From two corridors away, Servalan noted that Avon's new cell was not sound-proofed. As she and the doctor approached, the shrieks died down. The doctor signaled the guard away from the cell door and slid back the inspection panel for Servalan. "He has been experiencing the full effect for twenty minutes. It was necessary to restrain him to prevent self-mutilation after the first five minutes."
    Servalan gazed dispassionately at the heap of coarse fabric huddled in a blood-streaked corner of the cell. On her orders, the guard opened the cell and brought two chairs. She settled gracefully into one chair, and nodded toward Avon. The guard yanked Avon up by the thick cloth of the strait-jacket and deposited him on the other seat, holding him in place with a heavy hand.
    Servalan forced Avon's head up. "What have you done to yourself, Avon?" She touched the angry scratches that ran the length of his face, perilously close to his eyes. "Doctor, tend these wounds."
    Except for a constant, violent shivering, Avon never moved. His eyes were blank, unblinking even while his face was being bandaged.
    "Catatonic, he's useless to me, doctor," Servalan warned.
    "It's simply shock, Commissioner." He tweaked Avon's earlobe, producing a noticeable flinch and a flicker of animation on the chalk-white face.
    "Answer my questions, Avon." She pulled him close, kissing him with bruising force. "The fear is less when you please me, isn't it?" She smiled at the startled realization in his eyes. "Yes, I'm the antidote for your condition. Cooperate and end this pointless misery."
    Avon was bleakly defiant. "No," he rasped, hoarse from screaming. "Never."
    Servalan tightened her grip on his matted hair, then she released him with a vicious twist of her wrist. "Perhaps you'll change your mind in an hour or two. That is, if you still have a mind by then. Call me when you decide, but don't delay too long.  I do so hate dealing with idiots."

    "The subject endured longer than expected, Commissioner, but before he lost consciousness he asked for you." The chief interrogator stepped aside, allowing Servalan to precede him to the table on which Avon lay. "There has been no neurological impairment. He will, of course, be disoriented." The doctor gave Avon an injection, then checked the restraints.
    Avon stirred, shifting in his bonds. "Wake up, Avon." Servalan snapped her fingers to attract his attention. "Look at me… that's better. Now, you are  going to be a good boy and tell me everything. Aren't you?" She patted him gently on the bandaged cheek.
    Avon bit his lip, sending a trickle of blood down his chin. "Yes," he whispered.
    "A very good boy," Servalan crooned, toying with a lock of Avon's hair. "Where is  Orac?"
    Avon gave her Orac's coordinates. Then he said, "It's in a viper nest. Orac will goad them into attack unless I'm there." He paused for breath. "Also, it will attack if it hears your voice."
    "How sweet… you were expecting me. Are these vipers the only obstacle to possession of Orac?"
    "Yes. My resources were limited."
    "Then the problem is easily solved." Servalan issued orders for her personal ship, Stiletto , to be stocked with gas grenades lethal to reptiles and readied for a flight to Gauda Prime.  


     Despite Avon's apparently complete surrender Servalan decided not to allow him in Stiletto 's control room where a desperate man could conceivably sabotage the vessel. Instead, she chose to travel with him in the ship's ready room, leaving the operation of the ship to her hand-picked crew. As soon as Avon was secured into the seat beside Servalan she gave the order to launch.        
    In contrast to Scorpio 's  last harried flight Stiletto's  journey was uneventful, thanks to Servalan's authority and identification codes that allowed her to pass the blockade unhindered. When they had landed at the given coordinates Servalan issued her orders to her men.
    While Avon was being released from his restraints Servalan took her chief henchman aside. "You have issued gas masks to all the crew?" At the man's nod, she continued, "I fear that the prisoner will panic . He may even attempt to remove his mask before the poison is negated. Without damaging him, you are to prevent this." In the absence of the counteracting pheromone, Avon's present apathy would quickly turn to terror. Servalan had become intrigued by the thought of keeping Avon as a pet and would regret losing him before she became bored.
    

    Supported by two troopers, Avon guided the squad to Orac's lair. "There." A black hole, smoothed by the passage of countless scaly bodies, lay directly before them. "That's it."
    The entire party donned their gas masks and the chief lashed Avon's hands together behind his back. Then the grenades were flung into the snake pit, detonating with sharp reports, releasing vast clouds of dirty green smoke. Agitated, the dying serpents poured out of the nest, hissing and knotting in convulsions. The clouds thickened, and the vipers were reduced to silently twitching lumps. "Get Orac," Servalan ordered the chief into the dense smoke. He disappeared from view.
    The crackling hisses of blaster fire, far louder than the serpents' final agonized cries, erupted in the smoke-shrouded forest. It's a trap!" Servalan cried as her men scattered. She jerked Avon to his knees and reached for a discarded weapon lying nearby.
    "It's a trap, all right," A familiar deep voice rang out. "This time I set it." Out of a cloud of poison, a broad-shouldered, gas-masked figure stepped, weapon pointing at Servalan.
    "Blake," Servalan said, "I thought Avon had killed you." She rose slowly, letting her weapon dangle loosely from one hand. "And Orac? Was it ever here?"
    "Oh, yes. Every trap needs bait." With his foot, Blake nudged the clear plastic case forward until it could be seen through the ragged smoke trails.
    Avon had been weaving with increasing tremors while they spoke. Suddenly, he scrambled to his feet between them, screaming.
    Shielded by Avon's body, Servalan aimed at Blake, but he fired first, dropping Avon at her feet. Exposed and vulnerable, Servalan hastily dropped her weapon. "You have changed, Blake."
    "He's only stunned. I need him." Blake made an adjustment to his weapon. "You, on the other hand…"
    "You also need," Servalan said. "My ship, with me aboard her, is the only way off this dull little world. My blockade is unbeatable."
    "Can't say the same about your men." Tarrant arrived, holstering his weapon with a satisfied air. "I have to agree about the blockade, though."
    "I'll defer the pleasure, then. Start walking." Blake gestured with his gun. He picked up Orac with his free hand and followed Servalan. Tarrant led the way with Avon slung limply over his shoulder. The heavy poison smoke lay in the hollows, dissipating as they ascended the slope. When the air was clear they removed the gas masks. Tarrant and Blake were jarred by Avon's ravaged features.
    "What have you done to him?" Blake growled, looming over Servalan.
    "My technicians tried something novel." Servalan took spiteful pleasure in explaining the details of Avon's treatment.
    "The drug wears off in a week, you say." Blake said, "I propose a bargain, Servalan. You get us clear in your ship and I personally guarantee to release you, unharmed, on the nearest neutral planet once Avon is fully recovered."
    Servalan grinned wickedly at Tarrant's prim disapproval of the offer. "Yes, you do  need me, Blake. To give the clearance codes and to keep your friend alive. Which is more important to you, I wonder?" Blake's fierce glare made her laugh aloud. "If Avon was making the offer, I'd refuse. He and I are too much alike, but you'll keep your word, won't you, Blake? Yes, I agree."


    Servalan's belief in her immunity was shaken when they arrived at the tumble-down farmhouse Blake had chosen as his rendezvous with the remainder of Avon's crew. "Servalan! At last!" Dayna shouldered Soolin aside, drew her lips back in a humorless grin and raised her gun.
    "No, Dayna."  Blake stepped in front of Servalan. You can't kill her."
    "She killed my father. Of course I can kill her."
    "You'll be killing Avon as well," Tarrant said. He let Avon down next to the girl. She recoiled in dismay as she noticed Avon's state. Blake's terse account convinced Dayna, reluctantly, to postpone her revenge.
    "I still don't like it, "she muttered, as she holstered her gun.
    "It sounds dangerous to me, too." Vila joined the group, with Pavra at his side. Prudently, they had waited under cover until Dayna ceased hostilities.
    Soolin said, "Everything  sounds dangerous to you, Vila."
  Blake frowned at Pavra. "What are you doing here? I've  separated from the Gauda Prime resistance. We've got to get Orac off-planet."
    "I have no ties here, anymore." Pavra said. "I'd like to go with you."
    Blake studied the slender woman with compassion. "There may not be room aboard the ship," he said gently.
    Now over her initial fear, Servalan was restless. She said, "Stiletto  is large enough, Blake. Take the useless baggage, who cares?"
    Pavra ignored Servalan, keeping her golden-brown eyes fixed on Blake.
     "All right." Blake nodded toward Avon. "See what you can do for him."
    In a few minutes, Pavra succeeded in reviving Avon. His head pillowed on Pavra's lap, Avon whispered, "Servalan."
    "She's right here," Blake said, pulling her into Avon's field of vision. "And I have Orac." He set the plastic box down beside Avon.
    Avon dismissed Servalan with a hate-filled glance. He said to Blake, "I thought I'd killed you."
    "You killed a clone, Avon, not me." Blake did not mention how close he had felt to his 'brother'. He had felt even closer than that to Avon, once, and he didn't see any point to recriminations. It wouldn't bring back 'Roj'. And he did need Avon.
    "Sorry, anyway, Blake. Just so damn tired of it all." Avon closed his eyes in exhaustion. "A favor, Blake. Kill me and Servalan, her first. After I see her die  then I can rest." His last words  nearly inaudible,  Avon passed out again.
    Blake stared at Servalan for a moment, then he handed Orac to Vila. "Servalan's taking us to her ship. Dayna, if she causes any trouble, shoot her in a non-vital area." Blake hoisted Avon to his shoulder. He told Servalan, "Stay close. If he comes to, you keep him calm."


    "There she is," Servalan announced, "my private transport, Stiletto ."
    The ship's blue-black metal hide glittered with an oily sheen. It had the wedge shape of a starship capable of atmospheric work, subtly modified to enhance her speed. Protuberances dotting her sides at regular intervals hinted at sensor devices and armaments far beyond the norm for her class. She resembled her owner a great deal, being beautiful, powerful, and utterly merciless.
    "She's a beauty," Tarrant said.
    "So glad you approve," Servalan responded.
    Soolin stared at the sleek black ship. "I wonder if Servalan left a friend or two on board."
    "Not possible," Vila said. "She hasn't any friends, but, to be on the safe side, I'll watch your back while you go ahead and check it out."    
    Blake asked Servalan, "Well, is there anyone aboard your ship? Betray us and you'll be the first to die."
    "I'll make certain of that," Dayna said.
    "You and Tarrant accounted for my entire crew with your little trap."
    "Not us alone." Tarrant grinned. "We had help from some friends who prefer to remain anonymous."
    "The point is, Tarrant, the ship is unguarded." Servalan sighed. "If you are going to steal my ship, I wish you'd get on with it."


    For once, Servalan spoke the truth. Stiletto  was unoccupied. Indeed, the ship showed little signs of use. The control room's instrument panels boasted factory-fresh gloss and the richly padded seats were stiff with newness. Nine seats were arranged in a double arc; six outer places enclosing three central seats. Blake belted Avon into the seat next to Servalan's at the communications console before settling behind the commissioner. "Be very careful what you say, Servalan."
    Dayna selected a nearby seat. "Yes, they might be your last words."
    Soolin manned an armament panel. Pavra and Vila occupied scanner positions with Orac wedged on the floor between them. Tarrant studied the controls for a moment, then confidently took his place at the helm.
    The lift-off was smooth; Stiletto's rakish nose sliced effortlessly into the sky. Servalan's passwords got them safely past the blockade and the crew relaxed .
    Blake stood and turned to Servalan. "You'll be confined to a cabin with Avon until he's back to normal." Leaving Soolin and Tarrant on the flight deck, the others accompanied Blake back to the living quarters. Vila and Pavra were motivated by curiosity, Dayna by her reluctance to allow Servalan out of her sight.
    Blake stopped at the first cabin they found. It was fully furnished, comfortable in appearance, although Blake frowned at the glinting lens of the surveillance camera set high in one wall. He lowered Avon to a bunk.
    Vila nodded in appreciation. "Very nice. All the comforts of home." He located a liquor cabinet, circumventing the lock in seconds.
    "Later, Vila." Blake ordered. "Make certain this room can be secured from the outside."
    "I was just going to do that," Vila grumbled. He examined the door panel. "Yes, it can. Don't like guests sneaking out for a midnight snack, eh, Servalan?"
    Blake searched the compartment and the attached hygienic chamber thoroughly. "All right. Servalan, if you or Avon need anything use the intercom." He turned at a noise behind him.
    Avon tossed fitfully on the bed. He bolted upright, screaming, "Servalan!"
    Blake caught him, manhandling him back onto the couch. "Where can we get a sedative?" He asked Servalan, as he held Avon down.
    "Down the corridor to your left, there's a small surgery. You'll find everything you need there."
    "I'll get it." Pavra ran out of the room. On her return, it took the combined efforts of Blake and Vila to hold Avon still for the injection. Within seconds, Avon slumped back, unconscious.
    Breathing heavily, Blake released Avon and rose to his feet. "Remember, Servalan, your life depends on his."
    Left alone with Avon, Servalan waited a few minutes, then listened at the doorway intently. Satisfied that they had gone, she tapped briefly against the wall adjoining the door panel. A niche appeared, exposing a single button and a small blaster. "Imprison me on my own ship, will you?" She aimed the gun at Avon. "No, that would be too easy." She knelt beside him and kissed Avon savagely. "Good-bye, Avon. Sweet dreams." She pressed the button,  overriding  the  door  mechanism.
   One last little chore before I go,   she thought, making a slight detour on her way to the emergency escape pods.


    Stiletto  lurched and a shrill warning tone sounded. "Servalan!" spat Dayna, jumping to conclusions. She whirled, racing back to Avon's cabin.
    Pavra and Vila trailed Blake onto the flight deck. "What's wrong?" Blake shouted.
    "An escape pod's been launched." Tarrant pirouetted Stiletto  after the tiny blip on the tracking device. "Three guesses who's on it."
    "Destroy it before she contacts that patrol."
    "We can't, Blake." Soolin flipped switches rapidly on the armaments console. "She must have activated a computer security code. The whole panel's gone dead."
    "Just like we'll be when Servalan's people get here," Vila wailed.
    "Point taken, Vila. Get us out of here, Tarrant," Blake said.


    It was a harrowing ride; full of darting maneuvers and violent course changes. When the last of their pursuers faded from the scanners Vila rubbed his neck, grimacing. "Whiplash, that's what I've got."
    "Be grateful for the safety harness," Soolin told him. "You'd have worse than bruises otherwise."
    "Avon and Dayna!" Blake leapt to his feet. "Vila, Pavra, come with me."
    Dayna met them outside Avon's cabin. She was rumpled and flustered, but unharmed. "Blake," she said without preamble, "Avon looks pretty bad."
    Blake glanced at Avon and agreed. Sheet white and sweating profusely, Avon twitched and moaned in his drugged sleep. "We'll take him to the medical unit and keep him sedated."

    Servalan's handiwork was apparent the instant they entered the surgery. An evil-smelling mound of dissolved plastics and colored fluids in the center of a scorched patch of deck radiated heat in waves. "That bitch!" Dayna cried. She searched the ransacked supply cabinets in vain. "Every last tranquilizer and sedative, they're all gone, Blake."   
    "What do we do now?" Vila asked.
    Blake deposited Avon on the examination table, strapping him down to prevent the computer tech's increasing convulsions from flinging him to the floor. "Is there any poison, Dayna? Something quick and painless?" Over Vila's and Dayna's horrified protests, he said, "Look at him. Once that shot wears off, he'll suffer the tortures of the damned. Not counting Gauda Prime, the nearest half-way civilized planet is over two weeks away. He'll be either dead or insane by then. Damn it, what else can we do?" Blake half-shouted.
    "Perhaps." Pavra's soft voice surprised Blake. "Perhaps, I can help."
    "How?" Blake demanded, "Can you hypnotize him out of his fear?"
    "No. I could convince his mind that he wasn't afraid, but the drug would continue to affect his body. The conflict would be intolerable. What I can  do is isolate a transitory persona resilient enough to withstand the trauma."
    "Did you understand that?" Vila asked Dayna.
    "Not one word."
    Avon groaned, his mumblings more distinct as he neared consciousness. Blake made his decision. "Try it, Pavra. I'll leave Vila to help you. Until we break the computer code locks I'll need every other hand on the flight deck."
    After Blake and Dayna left, Vila asked, "What now?"
    Pavra side-stepped the noxious puddle in the center of the room. "First, we dispose of this mess. Then, I want you to bring me some liquor, preferably strong."
    Vila grinned. "No problem."

    Avon regained consciousness with shocking suddenness, fighting the straps and shrieking. Vila raised the head of the table and forced Avon's jaws open. Pavra began pouring Vila's pilfered brandy down Avon's throat, despite his thrashing and sputtering.
    "That's enough, "Pavra said after a few minutes, giving Vila the bottle. "I want him numb, not out."
    "Good. I need a drop myself." Vila took a hearty swig from the bottle.
    The alcohol blurred the fear sufficiently for Avon to speak to his tormentors. "Who're you?" he asked Pavra. "An' Vila? What…"
    "I'm Pavra, Avon. Tell me," she said, "what's your first name?" She produced her gold watch, twirling it by the chain so that it flashed in Avon's eyes.


    "How old are you, Kerr?" Pavra's voice was ragged, but still calm and controlled.
    She was answered by a soft-spoken, shyly hesitant Kerr Avon. "This many," he said, wriggling the fingers of his right hand. Abruptly discovering that he could move nothing else, Kerr turned worried eyes on Pavra. "Why am I tied up? Have I been bad?"
    "No, sweet, you're a very good boy. You've been sick and we had to make sure you didn't hurt yourself. The whole family has been worried about you."
    "Don' have a family." Kerr was ready to burst into tears, lower lip atremble.
    "Of course you do. You have a mommy and a daddy and brothers and sisters. Try to remember, Kerr," she urged him.
    He thought a moment, then asked, "Are you my mommy?"
    "Yes." Pavra smiled. "And you can tell me your daddy's name too, can't you?"
    "Blake." Kerr was certain he was right, but he wondered why the man sitting next to mommy smiled in such a funny way when he said it. "You're Vila." Kerr  smiled at the man, thinking that he had a nice, friendly face.
    "That's right." Pavra hugged Kerr. "Vila's your big brother. Your other brother, Tarrant, and your sisters, Soolin and Dayna, are helping daddy fly the ship."
    Kerr accepted the statement uncritically, then he said, in a very small voice, "I'm scared, mommy."
    "I know, baby." Pavra brushed Kerr's hair back from his eyes. "But we'll look after you. No matter how frightened you are, remember that and then it won't be so bad. Come now, it's way past your bedtime." She began unfastening the restraints.
    Pavra and Vila helped Kerr to his feet. Kerr went white and whimpered, "I don't feel so good." He gagged and they reached a basin just in time.
    "Waste of good booze," Vila said regretfully.


    They took Kerr to the stateroom that Avon had briefly shared with Servalan. With some difficulty they removed his filthy clothes and bathed him. Exhausted, he offered neither resistance nor assistance, finally allowing himself to be tucked into bed. He lay stiffly, clutching the blankets with white-knuckled quiet terror.
    "Go report to Blake," Pavra told Vila. She pulled a chair next to Kerr's bed.
    Vila hesitated. "Are you sure you should be alone with him?"
    "Don't worry." She gently impelled Vila to the door. With a tired sigh, Pavra sat and began combing the snarls out of Kerr's damp hair. "Go to sleep, Kerr."
    "I can't. I'm scared."
    "It'll be all right, Kerr. I'll stay with you."
    "Will you leave the lights on?" he whispered.
    "All night long," she promised him.


    "Pavra," a deep voice behind her startled the woman awake. She jerked erect, blinking. "Sorry to startle you." Blake stood in the doorway with Vila at his side. Blake said, "Orac's broken the computer codes, and the situation's quiet, so I came to see Avon." He studied the sleeping man intently. "Vila told me I've just become a father."
    "Kerr is five years old, vulnerable and lonely. He needs guardians, especially the ultimately dependable protector, a father. Avon's subconscious chose you."
    "I'm flattered," Blake said.
    "You should be," Vila commented, "you got top billing."
    Without warning Kerr awoke, crying out, and fell out of bed in a tangle of blankets. Blake pinned his shoulders down and Vila landed on Kerr's kicking legs. "No!" Kerr wailed, "Don't let it get me!" He clung to Blake, sobbing.
    Blake lifted Kerr to a sitting position and hugged him tightly. "Daddy's here," he soothed Kerr. "I won't let anything happen to you." Blake looked over Kerr's shoulder at Pavra. "Vila and I are staying."


    Blake and Pavra half-dozed in armchairs while Vila occupied a makeshift pallet on the floor beside Kerr's bed. In the early hours of ship's morning Vila was awakened by Kerr tripping over him. "Where are you going?" Vila asked sharply.
    "Don't be mad!" Kerr begged. "I was hungry." He darted an apprehensive glance at Blake. "I didn't mean to wake anybody up."
    Blake yawned and stretched. "Breakfast sounds good to me, too. Good morning, Pavra," he said to the lump stirring in the chair beside his.


    Blake sat stiffly at a table in Stiletto's galley, afraid to move, even to  lean against the soft backrest. Freshly washed, wearing clean clothes and adequately fed for the first time in days, Kerr had finally relaxed, curling up on the bench to fall asleep with his head on Blake's lap.
    Tarrant entered the galley with Soolin and Dayna. Blake waved at them, signaling for silence. The table blocked Tarrant's view of Kerr, so he asked, loudly, "What's the matter, Blake?" Kerr yelped, rolled off the bench and huddled under the table, clinging to Blake's legs. "What?" Tarrant bent down to look at Kerr.
    "You frightened him, stupid." Dayna pushed the pilot aside, going to hands and knees to coax Kerr into the open. "Tarrant won't hurt you. He's loud, that's all."                
    "He doesn't like me," Kerr protested, cowering behind Dayna.
    "Yes, I do." Tarrant held out his hand. Kerr timidly took it and Tarrant pulled him into a quick hug.
    "Let's make it unanimous." Soolin kissed Kerr on the cheek and threw her arms about him.
    "Good," Pavra whispered to Blake, "he's accepted them."

    Pavra was looking for Kerr. The week was almost over and  Kerr's fear-linked personality should automatically revert to Avon as the drug wore off- she hoped. She found him in the recreation room, playing cards with Vila and Dayna. Kerr sat cross-legged on the deck, barefoot and wearing a pair of shorts raggedly cut from a pair of Federation uniform trousers. He seemed distracted, paying little attention to the game. Eventually he dropped his cards, gazing about the room in puzzlement.
    "Avon," Pavra shouted. "Look out! It's Servalan!"
    Avon sprang to his feet, fists clenched. "Where is she?
    Vila dove for cover. "She's not here, Kerr," he said.
    Avon glanced at Vila in annoyance. "Kerr? No one's called me that since my mother died. Certainly not you ."
    "So much for ‘Vila, let's play Hide and Seek'," Vila muttered.
    "Don't be an idiot, Vila," Avon snapped. Then he noticed his attire. "What's been going on here?"
    "You haven't been yourself lately," Dayna said, with a sly grin.
    "And frankly, I liked him better," added Vila.
    Pavra said hastily, "I'm Pavra.  We're aboard Servalan's ship, Stiletto. Without Servalan," she qualified, "and the rest is a rather lengthy story. Wouldn't you prefer to change your clothing first? Your room is nearby."
    Avon eyed the reprehensible shorts. "Perhaps I'd better."
   After they left, Vila told Dayna, "I'm going to the flight deck. Should be quite a show when Avon sees Blake."
    Dayna returned his smile. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

    Pavra sidestepped the pallet on the near side of Avon's bed and took a neatly folded uniform from the dresser wedged against the second pallet. "Hope you don't mind, but Federation black is all we have to offer." She noticed Avon's disturbance at the flophouse  appearance of the cabin. "We couldn't leave you alone," she said.
    He took the uniform. "Why is it I get the distinct impression that I'm not going to like this story?" He ducked into the adjoining room to dress. "The last I can recall, I was under interrogation. What happened after that?"
    Pavra outlined events, from Servalan forcing Avon to reveal Orac's location to Blake's successful counterplot, ending with their escape from Gauda Prime and Servalan's last dirty trick.         
    Avon emerged from the other room, somehow managing to make the uniform appear tailor-made. "It's a pity she escaped, but at least she lost this time. Orac, Blake, Stiletto . She hasn't even the meager satisfaction of my death. Although it seems I should have died, or at least been driven insane."
    Pavra explained how Kerr's isolated personality fragment had saved Avon.
    "I've been playing Hide and Seek  with Vila  for a week?" Avon was aghast.
    "Kerr was a very sweet boy." Pavra laughed at Avon's expression. "Nobody minded looking after him, although Blake did complain that he was running out of bedtime stories."
     Avon groaned. "Thank you very  much. That was the last straw. Where's Blake?"
    "He should be on the flight deck with Tarrant and Soolin."

    Pavra trailed behind, unnoticed, as Avon strode to the control room.
    Blake looked up as Avon entered. "I've told you, Kerr, you're not to come to the flight deck."
    "Who died and made you God, Blake?" Avon leaned negligently against the back of a chair, glaring at Blake with all his old arrogance.
    "Avon? Why, you old…" Blake would have embraced him, but Avon stepped back, fending him off with upraised hands.
    "Enough sentiment, Blake," Avon said, dryly. "What implausible scheme for overthrowing the Federation have you dragged me into this time?"
    While they argued, Vila sidled over to Pavra. "It may have been a mistake bringing Avon back."
    Pavra smiled. "We'll all miss Kerr. Especially Blake. After all, a man's first son is special."

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end of Stiletto 1 (click here for Del 10)