From: blakes7-d-request@lysator.liu.se Subject: blakes7-d Digest V00 #307 X-Loop: blakes7-d@lysator.liu.se X-Mailing-List: archive/volume00/307 Precedence: list MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: multipart/digest; boundary="----------------------------" To: blakes7-d@lysator.liu.se Reply-To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se ------------------------------ Content-Type: text/plain blakes7-d Digest Volume 00 : Issue 307 Today's Topics: Re: [B7L] Andromeda - the new B7? [ "David A McIntee" ] [B7L] Re: crossovers [ Helen Krummenacker ] Re: [B7L] Re: crossovers [ Tigerm1019@aol.com ] [B7L] Crossover mark two [ Jacqui Speel ] Re: Nice Voice [was Re: [B7L] Headhu [ "Doraleen McArthur" To: "B7 Mailing List" Subject: Re: [B7L] Andromeda - the new B7? Message-Id: Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit ---------- > From: Christine+Steve > > What is Andromeda and where is it shown? > > > > Marian > > > > Its a show created from a few notes by Gene Roddenberry. Apparently the > notes were found in a box by his widow and the show developed from there - > Roddenberry's influence really isn't that big. It's actually mainly Robert Wolfe's idea for the fifth Trek series, which he pitched, but Paramount didn't fancy. (In that version, the Klingons were nomadic pirates, and the Vulcans had renounced logic anad become the villains. The crew of the lest Federation starship had to try to restore the UFP) > Anyway, its shown on Fox in > North America (Saturday's at 3pm EST). I'm not sure about the UK, but I bet > Sky One will show it as its a Murdoch company. Amazingly, it's on Mondays at 8pm here - a mere two days after the US airing! (More amazingly, by December Sky will be ahead of Showtime in airing Stargate season 4...) ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 1 Nov 2000 09:24:02 -0500 From: "Dana Shilling" To: Subject: Re: [B7L] Headhunter (was Re: Avon as loner?) Message-ID: <00b901c0440f$78f9aa00$9d614e0c@dshilling> Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Carol said: > > Avon and Tarrant throw ineffectual gurney > blocks on the android, while Dayna tosses a cart in the doorway, blocking > *her* team from moving down the field. I guess growing up on Sarran didn't > prepare her for complicated pro football playbooks. Or she got mixed up as > to which was their goalpost. ;) This is where they need Blake, with his grease-pencil-and-Palm-pilot playbook (I think it was in Horizon). -(Y) ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 1 Nov 2000 17:04:14 +0000 From: Julia Jones To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Cc: B7 Lyst Subject: Re: [B7L] Andromeda - the new B7? Message-ID: In message <39FF02F2.44CA75B8@sdc.org>, Betty Ragan writes >I dunno... I haven't seen _Andromeda_ (yet), but IMO by its last >season _Deep Space 9_ had a lot more in common with B7 than it did with >TOS... Given that the only bit of the last season of DS9 I managed to see was the incredibly icky final two-parter.... -- Julia Jones "Don't philosophise with me, you electronic moron!" The Turing test - as interpreted by Kerr Avon. ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 1 Nov 2000 17:06:13 +0000 From: Julia Jones To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Cc: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: Re: [B7L] Hallowe'en on the Liberator (was Crossovers) Message-ID: In message <20001031.102953.-107899.1.rilliara@juno.com>, Ellynne G. writes >The trepidation he had felt vanished. The prodigal son had returned. >Avon was home at last. -- Julia Jones "Don't philosophise with me, you electronic moron!" The Turing test - as interpreted by Kerr Avon. ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 1 Nov 2000 19:41:56 +0100 From: "Marian de Haan" To: Subject: Re: [B7L] Headhunter (was Re: Avon as loner?) Message-ID: <002801c04433$734b27e0$6ded72c3@marian-de-haan.multiweb.nl> Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Dana wrote: >This is where they need Blake, with his grease-pencil-and-Palm-pilot playbook (I think it was in Horizon).< In Duel Blake took time off to play with it in the middle of a space battle. After that the others got Vila to hide it and it took Blake until Weapon to find it back :-) Marian ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 01 Nov 2000 12:04:16 -0700 From: Helen Krummenacker To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: [B7L] Re: crossovers Message-ID: <3A00692F.7129@jps.net> Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Well done, Ellynne. So, Morticia's maiden name was Avon? I loved it. ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 1 Nov 2000 14:53:56 EST From: Tigerm1019@aol.com To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: Re: [B7L] Re: crossovers Message-ID: <70.47251ae.2731ced4@aol.com> Content-Type: text/plain; charset="US-ASCII" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit In a message dated 11/01/2000 1:45:26 PM Central Standard Time, avona@jps.net writes: > Well done, Ellynne. So, Morticia's maiden name was Avon? I loved it. I second this. :-) So how did Grandma react to the return of her son, Ellynne? ;-) Tiger M `Cats are intended to teach us that not everything in nature has a function.` --Garrison Keillor ------------------------------ Date: 1 Nov 00 12:04:15 PST From: Jacqui Speel To: "Blakes 7 list" Subject: [B7L] Crossover mark two Message-ID: <20001101200415.20811.qmail@www0x.netaddress.usa.net> Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable This is a British one. Blakes Seven meets Citizen Smith (comedy series set in South London) - th= e six members of the Tooting Popular Front against the establishment (with Robe= rt Lindsey in the title role) ____________________________________________________________________ Get your own FREE, personal Netscape WebMail account today at http://home= =2Enetscape.com/webmail ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 1 Nov 2000 15:53:09 -0500 From: "Christine+Steve" To: "B7 Mailing List" Subject: Re: [B7L] Crossover mark two Message-ID: <001701c04445$c00ec700$a0209ad8@cgorman> Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Jacqui Speel wrote : > This is a British one. > > Blakes Seven meets Citizen Smith (comedy series set in South London) - the six > members of the Tooting Popular Front against the establishment (with Robert > Lindsey in the title role) I'm guessing Servalan would be first against the wall, come the revolution. Steve D. ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 1 Nov 2000 21:35:15 +0000 (GMT) From: Judith Proctor To: Lysator List Cc: Freedom City Subject: [B7L] Cult TV con report Message-ID: Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; CHARSET=US-ASCII Cult TV 2000 - Judith Proctor October 27-30 This was to be a memorable weekend in more ways than one... I'd been trying desperately to get two new zines in print for the convention. I'd got all the editing and layout done and the innards of the zines had already been copied. The hiatus was caused by the cover. Andy had allowed me to twist his arm into doing a cover for Star Four, but no sooner than he'd agreed to do it, than his life was invaded by real work. Needless to say, real work takes priority over unpaid work for fanzines. I asked him if there was any chance he could manage the cover before Cult TV and he said he'd give it his best shot and agreed to mail it direct to the copy shop. Around 10 in the morning, the copy shop phoned to say that the art for the cover still hadn't arrived. We were planning to leave in a couple of hours... We had to go to the shop anyway to collect 'Not to Know' a new B7 novel by Harriet Bazley, so we crossed our fingers for the postal service to get its act together and departed. We reached the copy shop at midday to find that the disc with the art had arrived about half an hour earlier and the staff were frantically doing things with it. They're lovely people at the shop I use - amazingly helpful - I've been printing there for years now, even though there are other shops closer to home. Half an hour later, we had the first half dozen copies of Star Four with covers and bound. With strict instructions from Jane to keep the zines resting on their spines for the next hour to allow the glue to set evenly, we departed for Torquay. Nothing worse than an hour long traffic jam got in our way and we arrived in time to get everything set up in the dealers room before the evening meal. The dealers room was in a less than ideal position, but I wasn't to realise how bad it was until later in the weekend... Tea time was when I started catching up with all my friends. One of the good things about Cult TV is that it's a half-board convention. You get breakfast, evening meal and accomodation included in the price. Admittedly the food in holiday camps is somewhat variable (I've acquired skill over the years in knowing which menu items to avoid. eg. Tomato soup can be any kind of thin, red liquid, but smoked mackerel can only be smoked mackerel - albeit a small portion.) You all get to eat at the same time and the programme allows for the meal times and it does make for a good social group. The first night, the service was absolute chaos. I opted for salad simply because it was self-service and it was obvious that waiting for a waiter would involve us being late for things after the opening ceremony (I'd already given up on the ceremony itself.) Things did imprve on later days, but I would never recommend Barton Hall to anyone as a place to stay. My mind is already blanking on the evening, but I think I spent a fair bit of it in the bar talking to Gareth and to Frank Maher. Frank's an amazing guy - did stunts on B7, but has worked all over the place and on all sorts of things. He's far older than I would have guessed from looking at him. He was a paratrooper at Arnham. He doesn't do stunts now, but gets paid to write action sequences for movies, etc. (I haven't seen Die Hard, but he had sequences in both movies.) Anyway, he was a great guy to listen to and I got to chat to him several times over the weekend. He and Gareth are old friends and were clearly delighted to meet up again after 20 years. I really should mention the video programme here. Although, I didn't actually get around to seeing any of it - videos are usually low priority for me - Cult TV has the widest ranging video programme of any convention I have ever been to. There was stuff I'd have liked to see, I just seemed to be doing something else at the time! (usually in the dealers room) To give you an idea, you could have seen all of Knights of God, episodes of Kit Curran, Jonathan Creek, Space 1999, The Worst Witch, Maid Marion and her Merry Men, The A Team, Hostile Waters, The Bill, Cleopatra 2525, Relic Hunter, Dad's Army, Captain Scarlet, All of Ambassadors of Death, Catweazle, Highlander, Pulaski, UFO, Public Eye, The Protectors, Magnum, A Foreign Field, and The Invaders. And that's only the programme from Friday noon to Friday midnight. Many of these were episodes chosen beacuse they featured actors who were guests at the convention. Saturday - up for breakfast. Barton Hall can murder scrambled eggs, but the rest of the breakfast was fine. I was sharing a chalet with Anne Wells and she proved to be a most agreable person to share with. I always like to share at conventions, talking over what you've done is half the fun. I went along to Frank Maher's talk, followed by Gareth's. Both interesting, though Frank was even more intersting on a one to one basis than he was on stage. Gareth asked a question of Frank - can't remember exactly what now, but the kind of happily derogatory question that you toss at an old friend when you know he'll laugh rather than take it as an insult. After that it was back to the dealers room. It turned out that I'd mostly guesed right as to what would sell at the convention, but had underestimated demand for "Blake's 7: The Inside Story". I'd assumed most people had it and had only brought half a dozen copies. They all sold quickly, but then it is a really good book. Browsing at your peril - it's full of interesting anecdotes about the series. Star Cops also sold well. That wasn't a surprise. Star Cops zines always go well at Cult TV which attracts people from lots of fandoms. Totally different crowd from those who buy B7 zines. Star Cops fans are nearly all male, B7 fans are far more of a mixture. New B7 zines sold moderately well, old ones less so. I did sell two copies of Star Two though, which means there are now only two left (grab fast if you want one as I won't reprint it. Some of the stories will go up on the web when it sells out, but I'm not in touch with all the writers now, so there are some stories that won't go up because I can't ask permission.) I went to a workshop on commedy writing which was interesting, though not quite what I'd hoped for. Ken Rock's tips on selling overseas were interesting though. You can sell a gag to several different countries, especially if it's a visual joke. If it's a good verbal joke and it isn't based on a pun or something that won't translate (eg. they don't have window cleaners or paper boys in some European countries) then they will accept it in English and translate themselves. Just don't try that trick on the French. Another stint in the dealers room, chatted to several people thinking of coming to Redemption. We'd arranged it so the Redemption stand was next to mine so that Steve, Anne and I could all take it in turns minding shop while one or two of us went off to programme items. Rough Magik. I wanted to see this, and in any case, I had strict instructions from a friend who's a big Paul Darrow fan to tell her all about it. The working title was 'The Dreamers' and to be honest I prefered this once I'd seen what the show was about. But I guess 'Rough Magick' may sell better. It's horror, which isn't really my genre, but Paul is certainly well cast in his part. It opens with a scene of a woman doing a magic ceremony and we slowly realise that she's going to sacrifice her own children. AFterwards she is visited by a group of men, including Mr Moon (Paul). She says she was dreaming. One man asks if she was dreaming while she did it. No, she says. I dreamed it and then I did it. She starts reciting a line - something about 'he sleeps'. Mr Moon instantly picks up on this and gives her a line in return. Then, in my favourite scene of the whole programme, they recite this litany taking alternate lines between them. He is obviously familiar with her kind, though he does not give the impression of being one of them. He's a scientist with another specimen. The recitation confirms to him what she is (a 'dreamer') and also for a brief moment makes them seem alike. Moon comes over as an excellent Paul Darrow vehicle: quiet, menacing, etc. Just take Avon, make him a fraction more dark and reduce his sympathy a little. Moon, we will discover, is nearly as ruthless as the thing he fights, though probably not evil per se. (defining evil may be tricky in this world where we will later see signs of a struggle between two sides who both look as bad as one another.) Later one we meet an associate of Moon's called Kenneth. Associate is a tricky word to use in Moon's case. It is evident that Kenneth is useful to him and has given him some kind of sigil which is used where dreamers are held in prison (in solitary confinement is some special place by the look of it), but Moon is also willing to risk Kenneth's life to get more information from him. Using drugs, he forces Kenneth to relive something that happened to him at the time of the Falkland's War. As a psychiatrist, observing soldiers under combat conditions, he came across something very different - a harmless-looking farmer who is not at all what he initially seemed. The farmer killed, and subesequently rather grusomely dealt, with an Argentinian patrol. It slowly emerges that he is some other entity inhabiting the body of the farmer. The "Chosen One". If I understood it correctly, he is of a race that fought Cthullu long in the past (and possibly other gods too). They seemed to have developed the concept of being extremely nasty to deal with something even nastier. Not people you'd want to meet on a dark night. At the time Kenneth's flashback ends, we are uncertain as to whether or not he has been taken over by the Chosen One. All in all, it was a good production, though horror isn't really my genre so I've no great desire to see more. My only complaint was that the soldiers were too polite. I find it hard to believe in soldiers who virtually never swear. After Rough Magick came the Cult TV awards. This ceremony goes more upmarket every year and the guests and attendees are encourage to dress for it. Gareth looked great in a dinner jacket and bow tie and his wife looked lovely too. One of my favourite moments of the entire convention was when Alex (the head committee member) did a routine with Sooty who popped up from behind a black box. I really don't know how a routine in which only one of the characters can be heard by the audience (I trust everyone knows that Sooty can only whisper in ears) can be so funny, beats me. It was great though, and both Alex and Bill Oddie got squirted with water. (I've long had an interest in puppets, so this was a real unexected treat for me, though it sounded as though everyone else was enjoying it too.) Blake's 7 won 'best returning series'. Travis was entered in the hall of fame as a best villain. Sorry, I can't recall the rest of the awards, though I did notice that they were a good spread, which I appreciated as it suggested that people had been thinking about their votes rather than just voting for anything associated with their favourite show. I know I voted for Oliver Postgate in one category and Thunderbird Two in another as well as a few B7 related things. I also avoid voting in categories where I can't make an informed decision. If I only recognise one or two names on the list, then I skip that category. Shirley had asked before the con if we could do a script reading of 'All Change', so a group of us gathered into mine and Anne's chalet after the award ceremony and enjoyed our evening. Most of us had two parts, but at least that meant we all fitted into the chalet! Shirley does an excellent Orac and our actor for Slave also had the voice spot on. There was also a casino (with play money) operating that evening. I missed it, but those who went said it was great fun. Sunday - to my amazement, I was still able to get up in time for breakfast. I'd been to two 'After Dark' discussion sessions by now. They start at 11.30 and end a lot later. They tend to involve just the kind of esoteric discussion that I love - do more TV channels mean more choice of programmes? Do people abandon old cult shows when new ones come along? - that kind of thing. There also tends to be some discussion on the ins and outs of running conventions, which I also find very interesting as other people's experiences can be educational. Saturday had been cold and wet. Sunday was very cold and very wet. There were tornado warnings on part of the south coast. The rain started coming down sideways. We had to go outdoors every time we needed to get in or out of the dealers room. The dealers room was on the basement level and had no heating. I hit breaking point mid-afternoon. When Steve and Ann got back from seeing Hattie Hayridge, I made my apologies and left through the driving rain to find anywhere that was warm. I managed to catch the B7 blooper reel by pure good luck and then joined the autograph queue. I still couldn't thaw out though. I was stiff all the way up my back from being on the verge of shivvering for so long. Eventually, I made a decision to head for the venue with the largest amount of body heat, so went back through the weather and found myself listening to Caroline John. About two hours after leaving the dealers room, I finally thawed out and felt like a human being again. An experience I never want to repeat. I should add that it wasn't entirely the con com's fault. The venue had changed hands a few months before the convention and as several other conventions who have had the same thing happen can testify, this tends to mean that everything you agreed with the venue flies out of the window. The site had converted from a camp aimed at holidays for senior citizens to a young people's activity centre. What should have been a gym was now a place for indoor rock climbing. (I still find it hard to believe that the venue couldn't provide any heating at all though.) I don't really recall much of Sunday beyond being cold. Gareth popped down into the dealer's room for a while to sign some of the Together Again tapes for me, but it was so miserable getting to the dealers room (you couldn't get there without braving the weather and there were no signs in any case) that very few people were around. I think I went to a talk about Sooty (for those who don't know, Sooty is a small glove puppet of a yellow bear with black ears and has been around for two generations on stage and TV) in the morning. There were lots of other interesting looking workshops that I missed. There were fewer of us to look after the dealers tables than usual, so we couldn't get away as often. We sold some Redemption memberships and certainly had some interested people who will probably sign up later. I skipped dinner. Barton Hall food was wearing on me. I didn't want to face the rain again and I was feeling a bit low anyway. I was also chatting to friends (who were also avoiding the food by planning to eat in Torquay later) and they were more interesting than food. Luckily I was more with it later as we had our entry for 'Famous for Three Minutes' to prepare. Steve had suggested doing something around the Prisoner, so we'd all brought what we could in the way of jackets/blazers. I'd nicked my husband's white jacket that he got married in and Ann had sewn black tape around the border. With my black polo neck and Ann's black trousers, it looked surprisingly good. Steve had the black jacket with white trim, making him number 6 and me number 2. Except that we twisted it around and made a play on the Prisoner escaping Barton Hall rather than the Village and used a con badge to make Steve number 323. "I am not number; I am a free fan," he cried as he hurled the badge to the floor before being surrounded by me and my minions whom I had summoned up from the first row of the audience to slowly engulf him to the sound of manic laughter and the phrase "You will never leave Barton Hall..." Oh, yes, and Rover was a space hopper. (and that will only make sense to Prisoner fans, I'm afraid.) Fancy dress over, Ann and I retreated to a warm chalet to do some filking. We spent a relaxed hour or so composing a new filk for Vila to the tune of 'Lincolnshire Poacher' which we both knew. The storm was so loud that we never heard any footsteps, so when there was a loud knock on the door, we nearly jumped out of our skins. It was only Jon dropping by, to show us his period Vampire with lace cuffs (which looked really classy. Just think Spike and dress Victorian/Edwardian). Ann dressed as a Victorian gentleman for the disco. (I've never heard of Adam Adamant, but that was the theme for the evening.) Janet and Chris had gone the whole hog and hired period dresses which I duely ventured forth to admire. Not being a disco person, I then retired to the After Dark to discuss the future of conventions and why people do/do not go to them. A really interesting session that ended around three in the morning. We discussed all sorts of things - should conventions provide facilites for children? How do you maximise use of video rooms? Does the internet make people more/less likely to go to conventions, etc. I like the people who run this event. I still like them even after being nearly frozen to death in that **** dealers room. I guess that has to be a recommendation of some kind. This is a convention I keep coming back to and the depth of the After Dark discussions is one reason why. (Not to everyone's taste though. Ann was bored after five mins the only evening she came, and left to do something else.) When I fought my back to the chalet around three in the morning through the wind, rain and general turmoil, I was rather surprised (typical British understatement there ) to see that the felt roof had come off and was hanging to the ground like a curtain. Slipping inside, I was reassured by Ann that it wasn't in fact our roof, but had blown off the top of the hotel! Only slightly reassured by this, but desirous of sleep, I crawled into bed anyway. Come morning, it turned out that the roof was from Rita's room and that a fair bit of water damage had seeped down to the ground floor (and could be seen among the remains of the disco). A couple of other rooms had been affected and convention staff had been checking affected rooms until four in the morning to make sure that people coming back late were aware of the problem and could move elsewhere. Stephen Greif's guest talk gave us a break from discussing disasters - we knew by now that parts of the country were cut off and that no trains were running south of Birmingham. I'm afraid I can't remember the guest talk - they tend to merge into on another in the memory when you've been to a few conventions. It was enjoyable though, and Jackie Pearce joined Stephen on stage for a while. That was the end of the main programme. I packed, and then Richard phoned on the mobile to say that he'd arrived and had loaded the stuff from the dealer's room. (getting there from Dorset was actually no problem - the road works had been abandoned and there was no traffic jam.) We hung around for the closing ceremony and then departed. I was one of the lucky ones. Fans heading for the north of England were offered the chance to stay an extra night. Ann took a B+B in Torquay with Chris and Janet (avoiding Barton Hall food), but she didn't get home until Wednesday afternoon as they were forced to stop overnight in Shrewsbury. If anyone had anounced a convention at the Adelphi after an ideal Cult TV weekend, I might have had reservations. The Adelphi has a mixed reputation... However, that reputation includes on the plus side that it is warm and dry and has lots of indoor dealer's space and good quality food. Thus, when the con com announced that next year's Cult TV was to be at the Adelphi in Liverpool, I was with them all the way. So were plenty of other people by the sound of it. By the time I left on Monday, over 140 people had booked for next year, and that was without a single guest having been announced. You see, that's what Cult TV is really about. They will go for a large number of guests right across the range rather than a few big names. They'll only get a fraction of those they ask, and you won't have heard of half the ones they do get, but turn up to the talks and workshops and you'll discover why they were invited. Stuntmen, special effects people, actors, make-up artists, writers, they all have something interesting to offer and unless you are totally wedded to just one fandom, then you'll find interesting surprises. This year's guest list included Peter Purves, Bill Oddie, Hattie Hayridge, David Croft and Xenia Seeberg as well as the Blake's 7 guests, but the hit of the weekend for me was Frank Maher. I'd never have come to hear Jeff Smart either (wouldn't even have known the name), but he was very interesting and I'm sure the same goes for many other guests that I never had time to catch up with. See you at the Adelphi? The web site is http://www.cult-tv.org -- http://www.hermit.org/Blakes7 - Fanzines for Blake's 7, B7 Filk songs, pictures, news, Conventions past and present, Blake's 7 fan clubs, Gareth Thomas, etc. (also non-Blake's 7 zines at http://www.knightwriter.org ) Redemption '01 23-25 Feb 2001 http://www.smof.com/redemption/ ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 2 Nov 2000 01:28:42 -0700 From: "Ellynne G." To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se Subject: [B7L] More Addams Message-ID: <20001102.012850.-401411.0.rilliara@juno.com> Content-Type: text/plain Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit OK, it's been ages since I watched any form of Addams Family, so I'm not sure how well I did some of the characters, but here it is. Vila was only about halfway through his story when the old woman, for lack of a better term, freaked out. She dragged him up the stairs, which at least got him away from the smelly cauldron, and out of the dank cellar with all its slimy and slithery things, and up into a very dark parlor. The only light came from a few scattered candle stubs, but it was enough for him to make out the dark haired man sitting by a very primly dressed girl with black braids and apparently reading her a story book. Vila's world tilted slightly on its axis. "Avon?" he bleated incredulously, but he was drowned out by the old woman. "All right, Cur, what have you got to say for yourself?" Avon put the book down. Vila caught a glimpse of a picture of a disemboweled Andromedan before he closed it. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of Vila, followed by a brief look of exasperation before he said smoothly, "I'm sorry, Grandmother, is something wrong?" "Is something wrong? *Is something wrong?* Do you know what your friend told me about you and some Servalan woman?" "I'm afraid I don't but, knowing Vila, I wouldn't vouch for its accuracy," "You wouldn't," she shoved Vila forward, "All right, then, tell them what you told me." "It was nothing," Vila said, wondering what was going on this time, "I just told her about some of the things that have happened to us. Cygnus Alpha, Space City," "The people," the old woman snarled, "Tell him about the people," "What? Who? I mean there was Travis, Nova, Ro, your old friend Tynus-" "Tynus?" said a blond woman walking into the room, "What about Tynus?" She had a wan, wistful look to her, reminding Vila for some reason of a flower bed he'd seen once growing by a flooded riverbank, the dead blossoms moving slowly back and forth beneath the water. She seemed to know Tynus and the truth, he remembered, was a bit brutal. He edited. "Oh, he was just a base commander we knew. Er, not much to say. Very into sketching bugs." The old woman snorted, "Sketching bugs! It was an all male base, wasn't it?" "What?" Vila tried to think what was wrong with sketching bugs. Nothing came to mind, "Oh, er, yes, I think it was," Now, those uniforms Tynus had liked that made everyone look like a cockroach, *those* had been a problem. "Most Federation bases are," Avon interceded. "And look where it got him! *Sketching* bugs! He should have stayed home and married some nice girl. Look at that pretty Thing from the Mantis family, she was crazy about him!" "She nearly bit his head off on the first date," Avon commented, "It gave him cold feet," "And burying himself on a military base was a solution? It broke her heart." "She seemed perfectly happy on that prison planet she moved to, even if you can't say the same for the men there, the ones who are left - I mean the ones she *hasn't* dated." "She's just putting on a brave face after the way he treated her. And don't take that tone with me. I know you helped him go into hiding. Fake I.D.s, Federation military - you think I don't know you helped him work that scam?" "I did think you'd put the pieces together, especially after the first twelve hours of interrogation." "You should have told me!" Avon shrugged, "Tynus didn't want to spend the rest of his life on a prison planet with a Mantis girl. I can't say I blamed him." "No, you're as bad as he was. Why haven't you married and settled down? You think I don't want to see some grandchildren in my old age?" "I seem to recall that you have grandchildren," "Oh, and that let's you off? Do you know how many golden opportunities you've missed?" "Golden ones? Not many," "And, now, you're friend's been telling me about this Servalan woman. What have you got to say to that?" "What have I got to say to what?" Vila found himself pushed forward. "Tell them!" the old woman barked. "I'm sorry," Vila said, "Tell them what?" "Did she ever try to kill him?" "Servalan? Lots of times. You could call it her life mission. Seems like we couldn't turn around without her shooting at us." "Did she ever set traps just for him?" ‘Him' being Avon. "Oh, yes," "How often?" "Well, I never really kept count, but it seemed like once a week," "Now, mother," a dark haired woman in a long, tight dress said soothingly, "There's more to a relationship than traps," "Oh, yeah?" she turned on Vila again, "Was she smart?" Vila thought of some of the traps Servalan had set, "Very," "Good looking?" "If you like blood hungry weasels, sure," The old woman turned on Avon, "AND YOU LET HER GET AWAY? *WHAT'S* YOUR PROBLEM?" Avon, looking very irritated, sighed, "Vila, did you mention Anna Grant?" "Anna?" Vila looked around nervously, hoping from some route of escape, "I think I managed to leave her out." "Don't. Tell them about her." Vila shrugged, "What's to tell? You had an old girlfriend -" "ANOTHER ONE?" the old woman screeched, "CUR. . . ." Avon held up his hand, "Just a moment," he turned to Vila expectantly. There was a long moment of silence. "And. . . ?" he prompted. "Oh, well, Avon thought she was in love with him, but she was really setting him up. He thought she'd been killed but she'd only pretended to be dead and got him sent to a penal colony." The blond began to sniffle, tears streaking her face, "That's so romantic," Vila didn't follow that but he knew better than to stop when Avon was watching him that way, "Avon came back to get the guy who'd killed her. Spent five days being tortured -" The brunette began to dab at her eyes. The blonde snuffled more loudly, "Only it turned out he hadn't killed her. She was still alive. Avon found out she'd set him up, so she tried to kill him. Only Avon shot her first." The blonde began to sob very loudly. The old woman rolled her eyes. "Does somebody have to draw you a map? What does a woman have to do to get your attention?" "She was only after some money I was stealing," "So, she was practical. You think that's bad?" "And she was married," "And if everything isn't just perfect, you have to go dump her. Maybe she needed time to tie up some loose ends, you ever think of that?" She grabbed Vila again, "What do you think. Did she tie him up?" "Who?" "Her husband! Who did you think we were talking about?" "She shot him in the back," "That's almost as good," she turned back on Avon, "You here that? She shot her first husband in the back. Why can't you bring home a girl like that?" "Believe me, she wasn't interested. I haven't heard anything from her since the shooting. Just ask Vila about Servalan." "What about her? Did she have a husband, too?" "Not that I know of," Vila said, "Oh. You mean when we met up with Anna? Servalan was there. Anna had staged a coup, but she hadn't killed Servalan yet. She was chained up in the basement." "And. . . ?" Avon pressed. "What do you want? She'd been beaten up, I guess. And she almost killed you-" "Wait a second," the old woman said, "Where was this Anna?" "Er, lying dead on the floor between them, I think," Vila said. "Wait a second. The old girlfriend's just been killed and then this other one shows up and tries to kill him?" "Well," Vila admitted, "She'd been there the whole time. Avon found her before he found Anna. He asked her if she knew where Anna was. Sort of. He thought he was still looking for whoever killed her, but-" "Never mind," the old woman shook her head, "Morticia, take the extra plate off. Looks like we're not having company for dinner," she looked sadly at Avon, "OK, she was cheap trash, throwing herself at you like that. But haven't you met *anyone?*" she turned back to Vila, "Hasn't he met any girls he could take home to meet his mother?" *Mother?* Vila stared at her, sure he had misunderstood what she had just said. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if this whole thing might not be a very strange dream. He glanced at Avon. Well, maybe a nightmare. But even in nightmares, it was wise to play it safe. He didn't know what the old woman would do if she didn't like his answer, but he sure knew what Avon would do to him. Thinking quickly, he came up with the only safe answer he could, "Well, there was Cally. But she's dead." Something sparked in the woman's eyes. "Dead?" Vila could see Avon trying to signal him to stop this. "Oh, yes, very dead," Vila said, emphasizing the finality. "She was an Auron," Avon said, a note of desperation in his voice, "You know how they are, kind, thoughtful. . . ." Vila nodded, "And dead," he added helpfully. The glint in the old woman's eyes seemed to grow brighter. "What, all of them?" "The whole planet," "Any family?" "They're dead, too. Her sister died when we got away." He could swear the old woman seemed to be salivating, "What happened to her?" "We were on the planet Terminal -" "Terminal," the blonde murmured dreamily, "What was it like?" "Awful, lots of explosions, man-eating snakes with triple jaws, killer monsters -" "Really?" she said wistfully. Her tone threw him, but he nodded, "Really. And then Cally got trapped in this exploding building. She never stood a chance." "Don't tell me," the old woman said sourly, "Cur here didn't even go down into it to check on how she was feeling." Avon was signaling frantically, now. Vila wasn't sure what was going wrong but he tried to fix it, "Oh, no, he went down. But he only found out . . . well, Cally had never stood a chance." Every woman in the room, even the little girl, was now looking at Avon as though he were insane, "*Well?*" the said simultaneously. "There were too many explosions," Somehow, this sounded like a weak argument when Avon said it, "I had to get everyone to higher ground," "Right," Vila said, trying to back him up, "That's where we met Dorian. I told you about him and his basement. Cally was supposed to be with us when we got there. I mean, Dorian thought she'd be with us, and -" The old woman was shaking her head, "Cur, Cur, Cur, what am I going to do with you? I know what a soul sucking basement sounds like, but haven't you ever heard of seizing the moment? No matter what you'd set up, did you really think it would top that Terminal scenario?" "She has a point, dear," the brunette said, "And spontaneity can be so romantic," "Whether it would have been or not," Avon said icily, "It didn't happen. It's too late know." The old woman laughed, "Wanna bet? Morticia, leave the plate, I'm going to go crank up the cauldron." Cackling, she went back down to the basement. The blonde sighed, "She's right. It did sound so romantic. Whatever happened to Tynus?" Vila, admiring her half-drowned beauty, said, "We had a fight with him. He was electrocuted. Fried to a small crisp." But it was the little girl who seemed interested in this implied story of a deadly fight for survival, "I have an electric chair. Can you show me what it was like?" "Wednesday," Avon murmured, "Vila's a guest. Go electrocute one of your brothers." The girl nodded and scampered off. "Electrocute. . . ? Avon. . . ?" Vila began incredulously. "Don't worry," Avon told him, "They'll survive," "That's right," the brunette assured him, "The only time Wednesday really tried to kill one of her brothers was when the baby was born and she thought we would have to get rid of one of the others to make room. Of course, that's terribly silly. We would never do anything like that these days." Vila forced a faint laugh. "Avon, who are these people?" he said a bit desperately. Avon shrugged, "These are my sisters, Ophelia and Morticia. Morticia's married." he added, probably noticing the look Vila gave Morticia as she stood up. He didn't know married women were allowed to wear clothes like that. Too bad. But Ophelia must be available. "But didn't you have a brother?" "I did," Avon admitted. "We needed room," Ophelia murmured. "You have no idea what kind of trouble you've caused," Avon went on. "Me? That crazy woman would be after you for not dating Cally if I hadn't told her she was dead." "And you think knowing she's dead will stop her?" "Well, it would have to, wouldn't it?" Avon's eyes narrowed, "Vila, even you must have noticed - Don't you even remember Gauda Prime at all?" "Don't remind me. I hate being shot at. I'm amazed we got out of that one in one piece," Avon seemed about to say something, then shook his head, apparently giving up, "Some of us got out in more pieces than others," he said obliquely. Still shaking his head, he went off, maybe to go help the girl electrocute people. This had to be a bad dream, Vila decided, as he drifted across the room. The way the old woman talked, as if being dead wasn't a problem for dating, as if it was just one of those things. Reflecting on how unreal it all was, Vila never noticed as, pale and insubstantial, he drifted through the couch where Avon had been sitting just moments before. ________________________________________________________________ YOU'RE PAYING TOO MUCH FOR THE INTERNET! Juno now offers FREE Internet Access! Try it today - there's no risk! For your FREE software, visit: http://dl.www.juno.com/get/tagj. ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 1 Nov 2000 09:36:03 -0500 From: "Doraleen McArthur" To: Subject: Re: Nice Voice [was Re: [B7L] Headhunter] Message-ID: <000401c044d2$58033500$3cf35a0c@oemcomputer> Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit From: Harriet Monkhouse <101637.2064@compuserve.com> To: Sent: Tuesday, October 31, 2000 7:03 PM Subject: Nice Voice [was Re: [B7L] Headhunter] Katie wrote: >Oh, but I like "Voice From The Past" already. > No blackmail needed there. Excellent. Is that... three of us now? We could set up our own group called something like "Speak up for the Past". Have we asked you whether you like Jarriere yet? Er, is he the fop from Gambit? If so, I'm pretty much neutral on Jarriere, I'm afraid. --Katie -------------------------------- End of blakes7-d Digest V00 Issue #307 **************************************