Blake’s 7: Warship Read online

  ‘If only,’ she admitted. ‘They seem to have been reaching out to me since we got here.’

  ‘Well that’s it!’ Blake was laughing again, but now it was in delight at a fresh idea. ‘If anyone knows where the comms equipment is here, it’s the operators. So why don’t you ask them?’

  Cally seemed to think this was a good idea. Blake watched, in a mixture of admiration and concern, as she composed herself and froze into immobility. Despite the machine hum all around them, she was able somehow to disengage from her immediate surroundings.

  Within a couple of minutes, she blinked back to into life. ‘It’s no wonder we couldn’t find the comms controls,’ Cally said. She led Blake across a couple of the connecting bridges to one of the equipment islands at the very edge of the cavernous room. ‘They stored it away, because they knew they would never use it again.’ She drew a cover from what appeared to be a simple wooden box, and lifted out an antique-looking comms desk with an integrated monitor and speaker. ‘And no, they didn’t want to contact the Federation for us.’

  Blake plugged in the comms desk and powered it up. ‘Thanks for asking, anyway.’

  ‘I was joking. They’re the trigger for a bomb,’ she said. ‘They don’t do requests.’

  It had been a long time since Blake had used such old-fashioned equipment. He took for granted that he could bark commands at Zen, and have the ship’s computer handle the connections. Or bark commands at his crew on the Liberator. Perhaps he’d started to take them for granted, too.

  The equipment was set up for an all-points broadcast to Federation channels. Blake had to wonder whether the same channels had survived for hundreds of years, or whether he had made the right connections in the comms desk to ensure that his message was getting outside of this room. ‘This is an urgent transmission to all Federation vessels. Do you copy?’

  Only a static hiss came over the speakers. The oval view screen showed a zigzag pattern of interference.

  ‘D’you think this thing’s even working?’ Blake struck out with his open palm, and the equipment jolted.

  Cally slapped his hand away. ‘That won’t help. You’ll break it.’ She repositioned the speakers and adjusted the camera lens.

  ‘I think it’s broken anyway,’ grumbled Blake. ‘It can’t have been used for centuries.’ He raised his voice again. ‘Federation vessels, do you copy? This is an urgent transmission from the security facility on Megiddo.’

  Cally sat beside him at the comms desk. ‘Perhaps they are not yet in range.’

  ‘We saw them starting to arrive,’ he reminded her. ‘Back on Liberator.’

  ‘Unless they did not survive their first engagement with the enemy.’

  ‘You’re full of cheery thoughts, Cally. But it is odd that they would ignore us.’

  He pressed the comms link one more time. This time, the static hiss was abruptly interrupted by an incoming signal. Blake tried to tune out the interference and boost the voice signal.

  ‘This is Escort Group Nine. We receive you. Barely.’

  Blake whooped with delight. ‘They are out there! But the signal is corrupted…’

  ‘Switch to channel alpha-epsilon,’ the voice said. ‘Those antediluvian systems are so antiquated as to be an embarrassment.’

  ‘Alpha-epsilon?’ Blake puzzled.

  Cally reached past him and cranked one of the handles. ‘I suppose it must be this one.’

  ‘We read you, Escort Group Nine.’

  ‘Your signal is clearer, now.’

  ‘This is Megiddo facility. My name is…’

  ‘Roj Blake,’ said the voice. ‘I know.’

  ‘Oh.’ Blake stared at the comms speakers. Then he stared at Cally, as though she might explain it somehow. ‘Did you hear that from Space Command HQ?’

  The zigzag interference was clearing now. An oval face with short hair was coming into focus. ‘You seem to be in regular contact with me, Blake,’ it said. ‘I’m touched.’

  Blake groaned. ‘Look who it is, Cally.’

  ‘Oh, splendid.’ On the view screen, Servalan beamed with apparent delight as the camera showed her who sat beside Blake. ‘You have Cally with you on Megiddo. All friends together. Quite a reunion.’

  Cally scowled at the camera. ‘I am no friend of yours.’

  Servalan sipped delicately at the elegant drink in her hand. ‘And yet, here we are, Cally. Chatting away.’

  Blake stared at the woman on the screen. They had rarely met in person, and if they did it meant that one of them was usually at the end of a gun. And now his pursuit of the real Control, located at Star One, had brought both him and Servalan here. To the edge of human space. They weren’t aiming guns at each other any longer. They were facing each other over a comms link. And facing up to a common enemy, as the alien fleet massed at the border of their galaxy.

  ‘I wish I could say it was a pleasure, Servalan.’

  She smiled her acid smile. ‘It is for me.’

  Blake didn’t know who in the Federation had received Liberator‘s original appeal for reinforcements, but this was unexpected. ‘I didn’t think you’d show your face on the front line, Servalan. Too dangerous. You’d rather let others do your dirty work.’

  Servalan waved away some flunkey just out of vision, and continued smiling at Blake. ‘You do seem to have contained the alien fleet. Thank you for that.’ She took another sip from her glass. ‘And while the Federation vessels complete the job, what better than a morale-boosting visit from me? Bound to do the troops a power of good.’

  ‘Power!’ spat Blake. ‘A word that trips so easily from your poisonous tongue, Supreme Commander.’

  Servalan glanced off to one side of her camera in mock indignation, as though appealing to some unseen person in the room. ‘Madam President, if you don’t mind.’ Her eyes stared right into him, now, piercing like lasers. ‘So don’t be hurtful, Blake. You’re in no position. Whereas, thanks to you, mine does seem to have improved.’ She waved her empty cocktail glass at the person with her, and it was immediately replaced.

  Cally was not intimidated. ‘Your position is about to deteriorate, Servalan.’

  ‘We’re all in grave danger,’ Blake emphasised. He could feel the situation slipping out of his grasp. Since Travis’s death, Blake loathed the woman on this screen more than anyone he knew. He held her responsible for the death of Gan, for countless military actions against innocent civilians, and now for being the prime representative of the Federation itself. Every fibre of him wanted to make her pay for all of that. And yet, he knew it had to wait for another time. Today, he had to work with the Federation.

  ‘Do tell,’ Servalan prompted him.

  ‘This war is by no means over. That huge alien fleet is barely contained.’

  ‘I know my Federation technology is far superior to theirs,’ she interrupted.

  Blake gritted his teeth, trying to stay calm. ‘Well, this Federation technology here on Megiddo is about to kill us all.’ He widened the view on the camera lens, to allow Servalan a fuller view of the planetoid’s cavernous interior. ‘This whole facility is an enormous plasma bomb. You have to use your Federation command protocols to override these systems.’ He leaned in closer. ‘You must defuse this thing.’

  Servalan leaned back in her seat. ‘I don’t think so.’

  Cally bent in towards the camera, her voice quiet and urgent. ‘It will destroy the aliens, the humans, and every last one of your Federation ships.’

  ‘The weapon is indiscriminate,’ Blake agreed. ‘It’s a blunt instrument.’

  Servalan seemed fascinated with the fingernails on her left hand. After a moment, she favoured the camera with her attention again, and said: ‘I know.’

  Blake didn’t think he’d understood her. ‘What?’

  Servalan took another indulgent sip of her cocktail. She licked her lips. Blake’s bafflement seemed to amuse her. ‘It was something the head of the psycho-manipulation team mentioned during his…’ She pondered what
might be the right word. ‘… during his debriefing. It didn’t make sense at first. But then my interrogators worked it out. Megiddo.’ She enunciated the word as three separate syllables, delighting in the name. ‘The Federation’s armageddon device.’

  Blake looked at Cally. It seemed she couldn’t believe what she was hearing either. ‘It will destroy everything!’ she said.

  ‘As I said. Superior Federation technology.’

  Blake could not longer contain his temper. He slammed his balled fist onto the comms console, and the speakers and screen rattled. ‘What about the ships from the frontier planets? They’ve been defending your galaxy.’

  The image on the screen settled down, and revealed that Servalan was still completely unmoved. ‘There may be some… collateral damage.’

  ‘And your own fleet?’ Cally asked quietly.

  Servalan checked something on a read-out in front of her. ‘It appears I have held back sixty percent of my fleet.’

  Maybe if he pleaded with her, Blake thought. Maybe then she would see how serious this was. And she would see reason. ‘Servalan, please! You have to prevent this. You have to stop Megiddo.’

  Servalan looked directly into the lens. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I really don’t.’ She was already reaching for something on the control desk in front of her. She hesitated briefly. ‘Goodbye, Blake.’

  Her image splintered into a million pixels, and the sound cut abruptly to static.

  ‘Servalan?’ yelled Blake, scrabbling at the switches in front of him. ‘Servalan!’

  Cally pulled his furious hands away from the comms controls he was crushing. ‘She has gone, Blake,’ she said quietly. She stood up, and walked away from the desk. ‘And we must go, too.’

  ‘Go where?’ he wondered. ‘Back to the Liberator? Maybe we could blast Megiddo into pieces.’

  ‘Does the Liberator have that power?’

  Blake pondered this. ‘Or we could at least deflect its orbit. Send it back off into deep space.’

  ‘What about the alien fleet?’

  Blake had already thought of that. ‘Servalan will have no option but to commit her remaining fleet to the battle.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Cally looked uncertain.

  Blake wasn’t sure that he had any more words to convince her. He tried his comms bracelet again. The activation chime sounded lost in this vast room. And there was no response from Liberator. No way of teleporting back from here.

  ‘Maybe we’re too far below the surface. Come on, Cally.’ Blake started across the bridge, on a route towards the cavern’s arched entrance. He had to stop with a groan after only a few steps as the pain in his side kicked in again.

  Cally was beside him at once. ‘I do not think you can manage the climb.’

  Blake thought about the difficult journey ahead, clambering back up that long, narrow ladder. And then, beyond the hatch, had that savage storm abated? Would they be able to contact Liberator even if they managed to get out of this place and back onto the surface of Megiddo?

  He looked back over at the desk. The screen still showed the crisscross pattern of interference. ‘That comms equipment…’ he mused.

  ‘I doubt the Federation will rescue us,’ said Cally bitterly. ‘Servalan will have relayed her own orders to them by now.’

  ‘That’s not my point,’ Blake said. ‘If it has a connection out of here to reach the Federation, then we must be able to reconfigure it to contact the Liberator!’

  Chapter 17

  Dropping the Pilot

  Vila didn’t know how long he’d been there, slumped against the wall of the tiny airlock. He couldn’t bring himself to contact Avon. To tell him what had happened. He started to wonder if falling away from Liberator and vanishing into the depths of space wouldn’t have been a better option after all.

  With his hands covering his eyes, he could still visualise those last moments. Jenna waving him back, then standing, then turning away from him. The looming alien ship, its colours changing and coalescing. The shield wave bursting towards her, starkly silhouetting her.

  He removed his hands, and looked bleakly around the airlock. His hull suit was peppered with burn marks, with a clear hole in one of the legs. That exploding mine must have been closer than he’d realised. His helmet lay to one side, its visor cracked. The toolkit and his gloves were discarded beside them.

  ‘What have I done?’ he muttered to himself, over and over. ‘What have I done?’

  No, it didn’t have to be like this. He could fix this. He could get a gun and go back out there. Face down those alien things. Bring Jenna back inside to safety.

  Vila pushed himself up the wall, new resolve filling his shaking legs. He lunged for the comms unit, jabbing furiously at the transmit button.

  ‘Avon!’ he shouted. ‘Deactivate the flare shield! Jenna’s still out there. I have to let her in!’

  The comms unit hummed in response. ‘You’re too late,’ said Avon. He sounded resigned to the fact.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Vila choked back a sob, his mind whirling. ‘You mean, she’s dead?’

  ‘I mean, she’s gone.’

  Vila struggled to find the right words. ‘Don’t dress it up to soften the blow, Avon. She’s dead.’

  ‘No,’ said Avon levelly. ‘I mean, she is no longer on the hull.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Vila’s mind raced. ‘Is she floating out there in space somewhere? Can we get her back?’ Another awful thought came to him. ‘Or did the shield wave… y’know. Did it leave no trace? What are you saying, Avon?’

  ‘I am saying,’ Avon continued calmly, ‘that she boarded that alien ship.’

  ‘What?’ A conflicting jumble of emotions coursed through Vila. She was alive. But what fresh trouble was she in? ‘Boarded the…? Well, tell her to get off it!’

  He dashed across to his abandoned helmet, and crammed it back onto his head. He bellowed into the microphone inside it, desperate to get back into contact with her. ‘Jenna? Jenna!’ His own voice boomed inside the helmet.

  ‘You’re wasting your time.’ The tinny sound of Avon’s dispassionate voice filtered from the helmet’s dangling earpiece. ‘Those hull suits are designed for close-quarters work. She’s already out of range.’

  ‘Get her back in range!’

  ‘If I can locate the ship. And that’s difficult, because you didn’t complete the repairs on the sensor array.’

  Vila fumed. ‘Well, we both got a bit distracted. What with the mines exploding and the alien ship. And you trying to scrape us off the hull!’

  ‘Get back here to the flight deck,’ snapped Avon, and the comms link disconnected.

  Vila put the helmet back down on the floor. It rolled over onto its side beside his toolkit.

  The toolkit moved.

  Vila stared.

  The bag moved again. Fell onto its side. And revealed the flat round shape of an alien limpet mine.

  Vila let out a yell of alarm. It had got into the airlock with him! If the one outside had cracked his visor and ripped his suit from a distance, what could this one do to him this close up?

  He looked around frantically for something he could whack it with. All his tools were in the bag, right next to it.

  The alien rose up on its thin legs. It began to vibrate.

  Vila leapt back towards the inner airlock door, and threw himself into the antechamber.

  The alien exploded with a dull crump. A gout of flame belched out of the airlock, and smoke roiled out into the antechamber. Vila banged hard on the wall control, and the inner door sealed the fire within the airlock. He peered back in through the inspection window. The ceiling sprinklers had kicked into action, dousing the flames.

  He backed away from it in relief. His foot caught on something on the floor. Another alien mine beneath him. Vila leapt into the air with shock.

  The alien’s antennae were crooked, and the legs splayed out at awkward angles beneath it. Perhaps it had been damaged before it got in through the
airlock with him.

  Vila was taking no chances. He jumped into the air again, and came down on top of it as hard as he could. His hull suit boots crunched onto the alien. He repeated this, again and again, until a crack appeared across its carapace. An oily green liquid seeped out, staining the antechamber floor. Vila stumbled back from the mess and pressed up against the antechamber wall.

  While he was catching his breath, he heard a grating noise from the corridor nearby. It sounded like metal being dragged along a smooth surface. Instinct told him to stay hidden in the antechamber, but nevertheless he stuck his head out into the corridor.

  He groaned in dismay. He had peered out just in time to see more of the alien devices as they scuttled away down the corridor on their tiny appendages. Their antennae tweaked inquisitively as they vanished around the far corner.

  * * *

  Jenna clung on desperately as the ship bucked and weaved on its departure route. Her hands clutched a ridge high up on the access door that she’d seized when the ship swooped low and close to Liberator. As the door closed, she caught one last glimpse of her ship as the shield wave crashed over its exterior. The limpet mines sparkled and burned as the radiation spilled over them and stripped them from the hull in a merciless wash of lethal energy.

  This ship had artificial gravity. That much was clear from the buffeting Jenna got as it veered abruptly away from the shield wave’s devastating effects. Otherwise the ship was, indisputably, alien. Like the limpet mines, it was a bizarre combination of the mechanical and the organic. Though what she might look like to the aliens in her battered hull suit, Jenna could hardly imagine.

  She was in a loading area, of sorts. Or maybe it was a bomb bay. All around her were more limpet mines. Close up, she saw that they were concave underneath, so they could be stacked in piles ready for deployment. Unlike the ones on the hull, these were immobile, silent. Hibernating, maybe.

  Jenna picked her way cautiously through the bay. She almost laughed as she realised she was holding her breath. There was no sound penetrating her helmet from the outside, and it was improbable that the aliens would be able to hear her breathing inside her helmet.