Buyers, Funds and Irony (part 3 of 4) (general readers)

[my_b7_fic]

When Avon had been returned to the Liberator, the Federation ship he used had also been returned. Tarrant volunteered to use it to make contact with the Amagons through a mercenary base where they sold excess captured ships while Liberator traveled to Saymon's world to acquire a sample of Web.

Avon looked up from Zen's console for a moment as Tarrant's ship executed a showy roll, then accelerated away from Liberator.

--

"They died because of me." Blake moaned and clutched at his head, seeing shattered, bloated bodies floating, floating. He didn't even have Neebrox for company. He was glad of that, glad that the old man had clutched at his chest and died when they heard the screams as the hold containing the non-human slaves had been opened to space, heard their terror before the air was gone, and there was silence. He was glad that Neebrox couldn't be hurt, couldn't be frightened, any longer. Travis had given the order over the comm. and Blake had been made to watch as the bodies burst, but Neebrox was already safe. Travis had laughed. Travis had...

"Well, of course, he laughed," the thing that wasn't a ghost whispered in his ear. Blake turned.

"Leave me alone, Servalan," he begged.

The Servalan only Blake saw smiled and neatly crossed one leg over the other. "He laughed because you're a joke, Blake." Servalan flicked her nails at an invisible speck on her frothy white skirt. "And the joke will be on Avon."

Blake screamed, "NOOOOooooo."

--

Travis's head guard reported to Servalan on the Shadow Depository, "Blake is returning on your pursuit ship, but due to delays identifying him on the freighter... "

Servalan snapped, "Don't give me excuses! Do you think Avon is simply going to surrender himself to me?! I will not give him one second more than is necessary to formulate his plan. Is that clear?!"

"Yes, Commissioner, I'll inform you the moment Blake arrives."

Once the guard left, Travis sat next to Servalan. "Calm down.. Why do you want Avon so badly?"

"He destroyed my armada."

"Revenge?" Travis scoffed. "You didn't give a damn about that rag-tag fleet of refugees. They were expendables. Them and their broken-down ships."

Servalan smiled. "This is why I can't have you around. You know me too well."

Travis smiled back. "Without me, you'd never have got that body you enjoy so well, or the chance to rule as a human, among humans."

"Without me your dissolved corpse would still be a puddle of slime."

Travis's smile widened. "See. We were made for each other."

Servalan grabbed his head and pulled him down to her bosom.

---

Dayna walked into Liberator's cargo bay, with a folded-up sack stuffed under the belt of her jumpsuit. Vila came up behind her, carrying a tool that looked a cross between a hammer and a pry-bar.

Vila grinned at her. "Doing a spot of inventory?"

Dayna retorted, "And you're planning a little home repair?"

"Absolutely. I want to feather my nest a little. Just, you know, something for my old age. Fifty-fifty?"

Dayna laughed. "All right. But we'll only take just enough so no one notices."

Vila pulled out a heavy-duty laser probe from his pocket and cut through the seal on a crate.

"After all, we'll need something to celebrate once Avon gets his Blake back." Dayna borrowed Vila's pry-bar and enthusiastically popped up the lid. She stared. "It's empty."

Vila peered in at a gaping hole in the bottom. "What! It's gone!"

"Someone's beaten us to it!"

"But who? Tarrant's too... 'honorable'."

Dayna nodded, "And Cally would never dream of stealing."

"Avon's too... ah..."

"Say it."

"Ummm... caught up in Blake? Stark?"

"Maybe, but... he's not a thief. Not really."

"Someone is. We've been robbed."

There was a loud, harsh noise. Dayna tilted her head. "Did you hear that?"

"It sounded like... tearing metal."

The sound came again, closer, and louder. Dayna screamed as she fell through a hole in the deck, landing on her back, surrounded by 'spiders'. She sat up hastily, waving the pry-bar at them. "Vila! Get down here!"

Vila looked down into the hole and yelped. "Are you crazy! Umm... stand back!" He adjusted the laser probe to wide spread, and aimed it at the spiders. There was no visible result, but they scurried away from Dayna, disappearing through holes in the bulkhead. "What are they? They looked like..."

Dayna looked up at Vila. "They looked like our money! Our money's alive!"

Vila's face turned tragic. "You realize what this means."

"They're eating the ship!"

"Yes, but-- we're poor."

--
Tarrant looked at the address on his datapad again, then at the building, and shook his head. He entered, muttering to himself,"I can't believe it. Bekhesh, a neoreligionist?" He entered the dimly-lit bare cell, and stared at the mustached man in the dirt-colored robe who was kneeling on a mat and chanting.

"Hello, Bekhesh."

The man looked up. "Tarrant. Have you seen the light?"

"Yes, it's called the sun. You could use a bit in here." Tarrant waved at his surroundings. "I'd ask what you're doing, but frankly, I don't care. I need your ships."

"I no longer lead troops into battle. I'm not a creature of violence any more."

"That's good. Now, let's talk business."

"There is no more business. A lifetime of killing and extortion takes its toll."

"Yes, especially on those you kill and extort." Tarrant picked up the large scroll Bekhesh had been reading from, and glanced at it.

"Yes. But also on myself. During a hostage raid we captured a Priest. A Disciple of the Writ of Turu, he refused to eat or sleep. All he would do, day and night, was preach, whether anyone was listening or not. I executed him. But I kept his writ. I don't know why. One day I started reading, and... they were words of peace, but they made me feel... better. Then one day, I left my ship and gave up all my wealth and power!"

Tarrant knelt down, and smiled at Bekhesh. "I don't believe you."

"Well, then kill me."

Tarrant shook his head. "I don't intend to kill you." He grabbed Bekhesh by the throat. "But I am pressed for time, so I haven't the luxury of politely convincing you to see it my way."

---

Cally examined a piece of 'melted' deck in Liberator's lab. Avon was working on the bench beside her, consulting with Orac. Vila stood in front of them, practically hopping from foot to foot with agitation. Stark was off in the corner, silently observing.

Vila asked, "Those creatures are eating into everything! How bad is it? Are we in danger of a hull breach?"

Cally replied, "Of course we are. They eat Herculaneum."

Avon reported, "They're devouring Zen's sensors along with everything else, which is making it more difficult for auto-repair to even locate the faults. There's total drain on three of the energy banks, maximum discharge on all the others. In a few hours we'll have nothing in reserve."

Vila asked, "Can't you flush them out... or... or suffocate them?!"

Avon shook his head. "I trapped several creatures in a hold and opened it to space, but they were too firmly entrenched to expel. And the vacuum didn't affect them at all."

"Well, do something!"

Avon said, "I can't do any more until I have a specimen to study. Dayna is trying to capture one now. Now, if you can't make yourself useful, Vila, I suggest you leave!"

--

Carrying a large, bulbous weapon ,Dayna chased a spider. She fired it and a stream of blue goo emerged, spattering the deck short of the spider. "Damn!" She fiddled with the adjustment and stepped closer to the metal creature. "This is your last warning shot!" She fired again, missing it off to one side.

--

Vila turned and yelled at Stark, "This is your fault!"

Stark protested, "My fault? My fault!? This is your fault! You were on the inside. You stole the wrong container!"

"Because the gadget you made didn't work! I risked my life for nothing!"

Cally snapped, "Be quiet, both of you! The fault lies with all of us. We brought those creatures aboard. Zen is suffering because of us."

Avon glanced at Cally. "Zen is only a computer, Cally. One we desperately need, but still, only a machine."

--

Dayna moved in close to compensate for the poor aim of her weapon. "I've got you now, you little bugger..." The backsplash hit her in the face. She grinned triumphantly, slime dripping from her face, and then hit the wall comm. "Cally, I've got one!"

"Bring it here immediately."

Dayna looked at the spider stuck to the bulkhead in the middle of a glob of blue. "Umm... yes, as soon as I can."

--

Vila stared at the planet Caspar on the monitor. "Now look, I've tangled with just about every ugly in the book since I got involved with you lot, but I draw the line at Space Rats."

Avon didn't look up from the console he was working on in an effort to locate severed auto-repair linkages. "Go on."

"Well, they have no respect for life. They're based on an ancient Earth sect of unbelievable viciousness."

"Good, that's precisely what we need at the moment." Avon snapped the console back in place again. "Cally, see if you can raise them."

Cally nodded, and set the comm. to a universal band. The Space Rats weren't known for their technological expertise in anything other than vehicles and weapons- stolen from anyone they could.

"Attention Space Rats. This is not a hostile approach. We come to offer you an opportunity of mutual benefit. Please respond."

In moments, the reply came in the form of a blow that shakes the Liberator. Despite the energy expenditure, Avon had raised the force wall on entering the Space Rats' territory, so the ship was undamaged. Avon frowned at his console. "We can't afford another one."

"You're going about it all wrong, Cally," Vila said. "Let me talk to them!"

Cally glanced at Avon, who shrugged. She backed away from her console, and took up position at Vila's weapons' console instead. There might be power enough for a few blasts-- if only there were a visible target. Whatever the Space Rats were using, it wasn't showing up on their scans- too fast, or too small. Or both.

"This is the Liberator! The fastest ship in the universe! We want to do a deal!" Vila yelped when the main screen suddenly showed a man's face. His hair was painted and stuck up in spikes, his face was covered with barbaric patterns in metallic paint. He grinned at Vila.

"Liberator?! Stannis's ship!"

"Erm... Yes, that's right. Jenna was our pilot."

"Was? You need a pilot! I can pilot anything!!" In the background there was arguing and a scuffle and then another gaudy face filled the screen.

"I am Atlan, leader of the Space Rats. What do you offer us, Gook, that we can't just *take*?"

Avon moved into pickup view. "I am Avon, leader of the Liberator. I offer you speed, and the chance to do battle with the Federation and the Terra Nostra."

Atlan grinned, as the people behind him cheered. "That's good, that's very good. But fuel costs, gook! We want *more* than that."

Avon smiled and showed him a vid-clip of Liberator's hold, stocked with crates, and a close-up of their first inspection of the 'Borinium' ingots. "This is more."

Atlan laughed. "Yes, gook, that is *more*. Space Rats, we fight!" The crowd cheered behind him again. "Get your space-choppers!"

--

Bekhesh is chanting quietly, in a tired monotone. Tarrant shook his head and lifted his weapon. "I'm quite good with this, Bekhesh."

"At this distance, killing me hardly requires skill."

"Who said anything about killing? I'm going to burn off your mustache." Tarrant paused. "And your eyebrows."

Bekhesh went pale. "They'll grow back."

"No, they won't." Tarrant adjusted his weapon minutely. "And your chin as well... you'll be as hairless as a woman. Soft... smooth... never be able to command an Amagon ship again. But you don't care about that, do you?" He lifted the gun.

--

Servalan examined Blake, who was huddled on a chair in Travis's private quarters, with a pair of her guards holding his arms behind his back. Blake wasn't fighting at all; he just stared at her in sick horror.

"Blake. Avon abandoned you."

Blake shook his head mutely.

"Don't you hate him for that?"

"No." Blake visibly gathered his courage to look at her. "You bought ten thousand people, just to get me? What do you want?"

"From you, nothing. But your friend, Avon -- he would give me something I want very much." Servalan idly ran her fingers through Blake's hair, while he shuddered. "You had better hope he still cares about you."

--

In the lab, Cally did something to the controls on a clear box encasing Dayna's captive spider. A tiny wisp of smoke rose from the thing, but it appeared entirely inconvenienced.

"The heat's not affecting it. You did say they ran from Vila's laser-probe?"

"Maybe they did," Dayna said, frowning at the box. "It wasn't exactly a controlled experiment."

"I'll increase the heat." After a moment the spider burst into flame and melted into a dull patch of metallic liquid. "Oh no."

"What's wrong? It's dead." Dayna grinned.

Cally shook her head. "It took too much heat to kill it. How could we possibly raise the temperature of the ship high enough? There are over two thousand of those creatures on board. We could never kill them one by one like this. I must find a way to deal with the total infestation."

The comm. unit crackled, and Vila's voice came from it. "Cally, it's Servalan! She wants to talk to Avon."

Cally's chin went up. "I will speak to her, Vila. Avon's busy." That was an understatement. Avon was going about the ship, putting in temporary repairs to keep the systems functioning. "I'll be on the flight deck in a moment."

Dayna followed her. When they arrived, Servalan's image was on the main monitor.

"Where's Avon? Where's Tarrant?" She demanded.

Cally said, "I saw no reason to call them to the flight deck. You tried to sabotage our ship. Why would you honor any exchange?"

"Sabotage?"

Dayna snapped, "Don't play stupid, you butcher. Your metal eating money..."

Servalan said, "I will speak to Tarant and Avon now."

Stark stepped in front of Cally. "Speak to me."
Servalan frowned. "Do I know you?"

"My name is Stark. You murdered my people. Thousands of Baniks as if they were nothing. And all for one man -- well go ahead and kill Blake if you want, because he means nothing to me! You're not getting Avon!!" Stark lifted the edge of his mask and his energy spilled out, abruptly terminating the transmission.

--------

Dayna stared at the blank screen in shock. "Oh, no."

Cally turned on Stark. "You just condemned Blake to death!"

Stark shook his head, "No. No." He blinked. "Blake... Blake *knew*. He knows Servalan won't kill him, not until she's got Avon. We can’t let her know that Liberator's in trouble. She'll come after us. And if she smells advantage, to her it’s the scent of victory."

Cally glared at Stark. "If Blake dies, I will not wait for Avon. I will kill you myself!"

Liberator shuddered, lights flickering wildly.

Dayna shouted, "Zen? What’s happening?"

"Energy failure. Tiers 5 through 9. The creatures have infiltrated the power conduits. State course and speed. Blake. Jenna. Confirmed. Confirmed. Confirmed, standard by five. Dysfunction of computer banks seven, nine and four. Recircuiting."

Cally asked, "How long do we have, Zen?"

Zen's halting, distorted voice answered, "Dysfunction on computer banks three and six. All resources now concentrated on maintenance of teleport facilities. I-- I have failed you."

Dayna said softly, "He never referred to himself before. He never once used the word "I"."

Zen said, "I have failed you. I am sorry. I have--"

Stark said, "He's dying. Zen is dying." He looked around wildly. "I have to... have to..."

Cally said sharply, "No, Stark." She caught his hand as he reached for his mask. "If you cross Zen over, we all die!"

--

Servalan and Travis were in his private quarters. In his bed. Travis was working very hard to ... moisten the Andromedan. He groaned suddenly and shuddered against her.

Servalan pushed Travis off. "Get another gel-pack." She stretched indolently and watched as he obeyed her.

Travis grinned as he kissed her exposed breast. "Well… that brings back memories."

"Am I that much like her?"

Travis thought about it for a moment. "You’re much more patient than she was. She would have been hunting down the Liberator."

Servalan smiled. "Oh, that would be a waste of effort. Avon will come to me. He has no choice." Her smile broadened. "Not after Terminal."

Travis straddled Servalan, slipping the gel-pack into place with leisurely motions. She looked up at him. "The currency that was stolen belongs to you-- yet, you seem strangely unaffected by the loss. Tell me, what did you really put in my storage containers?"

Travis smiled. "Karack Metalites. While dormant, they look like Borinium ingots. But they’re actually burrowing creatures. They consume metal in their natural environment."

"You intended to destroy my command ship. Kill my crew, kill... me."

"Yes. You wouldn’t have respected me otherwise."

Servalan laughed. "It seems it was fortunate that I was robbed. Now tell me: These ‘Karack’ creatures. Will they destroy the Liberator?"

Travis nodded. "Eventually. For a vessel that size, and with the regenerative capabilities we know it to possess, it should take at least eight solar days. Rest assured. The Liberator will be dead."

--

Tarrant aimed carefully, resting his gun along his forearm. "Bekhesh, you're looking a little lopsided."

Bekhesh held his hand up in front of his mouth; one side of his mustache was now an inch shorter than the other. "I can’t help you. The Writ of Turu says allowing another to inflict harm is an act of violence itself. - I’m trying to make up for the things I’ve done!"

Tarrant said, "You want to end violence? You want to serve peace? Then help me! Help yourself." His finger started to tighten. "Say goodbye to being a prince of your people, Bekhesh."

Bekhesh cried out, "Please! Let me go!" His eyes darted to one side, to a pile of dirty mattresses.

Tarrant noticed and he kicked the mattresses with his boot. A dedicated comm. link device fell to the floor. "Even better, I'll be able to *show* your people that you won't be going back to them."

Bekhesh leaped at Tarrant. Tarrant skipped to one side, aiming his gun at Bekhesh's head.

Bekhesh stopped. "If you do that, they'll kill you."

Tarrant grinned. "You forget… I’ve dealt with your people before. Remember? They won't try to avenge you- after all, I won't kill you. They'll say you should have died first, and your choosing life over honour proves you deserve dishonour. They'll spit on your shadow."

Bekhesh shook his head and sighed. "All right then, give it to me, I'll call my men."

"Why should I trust you?"

"You said there was currency in it for me - a great deal of it."

"What about your reformation?"

"It’s easier to reform when you’re rich."

--

In the lab, Avon looked up. The others were gathered around him, hoping he'd find some alternative to abandoning ship; abandoning hope of rescuing Blake. "I think I’ve found a possible solution. Heat is one form of radiation. There are others. We can flood the Liberator with radiation."

Vila yelped, "Radiation! Oh, no, once was enough! I don't want to die that way again."

Dayna said, "Oh, be quiet Vila, you didn't die."

Stark looked at Vila intently for a moment, then nodded. "No, Vila, you didn't die."

Cally asked, "What exactly do you have in mind, Avon? We can't set the engines to overload- there'd be nothing left of the ship."

"Set the Neutron Blasters for auto-firing... and override the Radiation Flare Shields."

Vila protested, "But Zen won't..."

"Zen won't be able to stop me. The computer has no control over any of the ship."

"And where will we be during all this?" Dayna asked. "Radiation's not good for my complexion."

"On Atlan's troop carrier."

Vila winced.

--

Avon and the others watched from a filthy monitor screen on Atlan's carrier. Orac was set on a table in front of them, telling them the countdown.

"Six, five, four..."

"You might want to close your eyes," Avon said, doing so. The rest of his crew obeyed.

"At this distance? " Atlan sneered. "It can... aaaiiiiee!" A pure white light poured from the monitor which sizzled and went black in seconds.

--

Bekhesh sat beside Tarrant in the pursuit ship, the Amagon ships following just within comm. range. Tarrant hadn't trusted him to keep his word once he was out of arm's reach.

Bored, Bekhesh leaned closer to Tarrant in order to see the monitor better.

Tarrant said, "You know, flossing could help you with that gingivitis."

Bekhesh sighed out loud.

Tarrant blinked as Bekhesh's breath went past him. "Whew." Then he turned his attention back to the monitor; they were approaching Liberator. Tarrant saw Atlan's carrier off to one side, presumably still loaded with a swarm of Space-Choppers. "Almost home."

Liberator was drifting, unpowered. Tarrant frowned and angled the pursuit ship for a better view. Liberator was *glowing*. He hit the comm. unit. "Avon, Cally, anyone, tell me what the hell’s going on over there?! Vila! Dayna! Are you all right!" As the angle shifted, Tarrant could see bluish-white hellfire crawling over the 'needles' and the flight-deck section of the ship. "I'm seeing radiation flare on Liberator!"

A message came from Atlan's ship. Cally said, "It’s all right, Tarrant."

"Cally, Liberator's burning! That is not all right!"

Avon cut in, "We released the radiation deliberately."

"What?!"

"We had no alternative… just come aboard the carrier. I’ll explain it to you."

--

When they returned to Liberator a few hours later, the short-lived radiation was gone. Liberator was riddled with holes and full of metallic corpses, and the air was stuffy and possessed a metallic reek composed of acid and ozone. Zen was still off-line. The auto-repair system had reached the point where it could barely keep itself functional. They'd have to work like madmen to fix that before anything else could be done.

Tarrant looked around gloomily. "A mess."

"Yes." Cally smiled. "It's beautiful."

Vila rolled his eyes and kicked a metal-eater out of his path. "Ow!"

"Don't drop Orac," Avon said. "Until we get Zen back on line, I'll have to hook Orac in as controller."

"He won't like that," Dayna said gaily, picking up a metal eater and aiming it at a disposer unit in the bulkhead.

"What a pity. We all have to do things we don't like, Dayna."

Stark muttered, "What a frelling mess..."

--

Tarrant looked around at the gaping holes, and darkened corridors. "Our money did this?"

Cally said, "We did this… and since we have nothing to pay the mercenaries… do you think they are going to want to help us?"

Dayna said softly, "Servalan is going to kill Blake…"

"No she won’t," Avon replied in a conversation-stopping tone.

--

The trip to get a sample of Saymon's Web was very nearly without incident. Bekhesh remained on Liberator in order to keep him from changing his mind, and Atlan insisted that he had a right to also journey in Liberator. They did not get along well.

--

Bekhesh knelt on his rug, chanting something unintelligible, repetitious, and monotonically annoying.

Atlan thumped his drink down on the Restroom table, and yelled, "Hey! Hey, gook! Hey, you! Stop that flagging mumbling!" He leaned over and whacked Bekhesh on the back of the head. Bekhesh whirled and went for Atlan's throat.

Stark jumped between them, holding them apart. "Uh, uh, you’re not here to fight each other."

Atlan said, "And why not? This gook stole one of our ships last year!"

Bekhesh, "That is why I asked your forgiveness."

Atlan shouted, "Amagons are treacherous scum! Crimos!"

Cally stood up, spilling her coffee, and snapped, "By Federation definition, so is everybody on this ship! You are being paid to work together!"

Vila said, "That’s right... " There was a clattering noise as Vila pulled out a necklace made of human teeth and tossed it on the table between them. "...and that’s what we do to people who don’t."

Cally smiled, remembering when Vila had paid dentists on three worlds to save extractions for him, so that he could give her his promised present. "Good work, Vila."

Vila said, "You’re here to do a job. Start acting like professionals."

At Vila's side, Dayna lifted her weapon as a reinforcement of his words.

--

Tarrant was looking harassed as Cally met him on the flight deck with coffee and nutrition cubes.

"Where is Avon? I know he's got the auto-repair going, and Zen's... well, almost back to normal, but I could use his help here."

"I don’t know. I have the impression he's been avoiding all of us. I haven't seen him all day."

Tarrant frowned. "I don't trust him...not that way, Cally. I don't like it when he schemes in private."

"You know he always intends the best."

Tarrant shakes his head. "It just has a nasty habit of turning into the worst."

Zen announced, "Information! There is a signal being directed to Liberator from a transport pod half a spacial away."

"Signal? Put it on the main monitor," Tarrant ordered.

An image of a curly-headed man, drawn and dirty, appeared. "Avon?" he asked.

"Blake!" Cally shouted. "Are you all right?"

"Yes... yes... I think so." Blake passed a hand over his face, over the livid, not-quite-healed wound striking across his left eye and down into the cheek. "They let me go." He sounded bewildered. "They put me in this ship with it set on auto-pilot, and they told me they were sending me to the Liberator. I don't understand."

Cally looked at Tarrant as a horrible suspicion struck both of them.

Blake mumbled, "Where's Avon?"

--

Avon stood in Travis's room, looking straight ahead, ignoring the guards watching him from the doorway.

Servalan came up behind him, and put her hand on his shoulder. Keeping the contact she walked around him to face him. "Hello, Avon."

"Dispense with the social chatter. You have me. You've won."

Servalan circled behind Avon again, both hands on his shoulders in a proprietary gesture. "As if there was ever any doubt."

--
On to part 4