//kat@welkin.apana.org.au by Kathryn Andersen Fortune (part 9) Servalan opened her mouth to speak, but Carnell put his finger to his lips. She glanced over at the recumbent form of Avon, hooked up to Carnell's machinery, and gave Carnell a stare that would have ignited icicles. Carnell carefully put the glass and wire bauble back down on the bench and said "But I fear, Supreme Commander, that this is far too stark a place to discuss such things in comfort." He escorted her out the door, and carefully locked it. "Replacement for the Tarriel Cell, indeed!" Servalan finally said when she judged they were far enough away. "You are a psychostrategist, not a computer technician!" "Ah, but Avon doesn't know that," Carnell drawled languidly. "And we can't have him guessing the truth, now, can we? But before he comes to questioning what happened here, he'll be doubting his own sanity." "Doubting his own sanity? Was *that* the purpose of this charade?" Servalan asked. "You know there is no such process as you describe. The work this station is engaged in has nothing to do with brainwashing - or tarriel cells." "The point of that charade, Supreme Commander, was to make Avon *think* he had been treated by such a process. The practical difficulties of 'brainwashing' everyone in Avon's past so as to fit in with some hypothetical scenario - well, once you had found them all, I can think of far better things to do with them," Carnell said, blinking his long lashes over his palest of pale blue eyes. "No, Avon has merely experienced a vivid recall of an incident from his past. Coupled with our oh-so-revealing conversation, which he, of course, overheard -" "He'll think his real memories are fake ones," Servalan said. "Precisely." Servalan smiled, like a cat about to bite the head off a mouse. "Sometimes I really do like you, Carnell." They continued on up the corridor. "Are you sure," Servalan asked, "that Le Grand and Ven Glynd will try to use Blake?" "The evidence is quite plain - for someone of my talents," Carnell smiled. "The current hold-up in the plan is the failure of your scientists to develop a Course Interceptor." "I am well aware of that," Servalan narrowed her eyes. "The reason I called you, my dear Supreme Commander," Carnell drawled, "is that this little planet may hold the key to this problem." "Indeed? This backwater?" Servalan tapped a red nail on Carnell's shoulder, and purred, "Tell me more. I'd hate to think that you brought me here under false pretenses." Carnell smiled, not at all put out. He enjoyed the game. Crossing swords with Servalan was... stimulating. She had to make her little threats; it made her feel more secure. "Your scientists have been going at the problem from the wrong end," he said. "Flight computers are designed to be secure, and fault tolerant. The human mind, on the other hand..." "Is not a computer, and is not receptive to -" "Telepathy?" Carnell finished for her. "The Auronar would disagree with you." "I fail to see what that collection of parochial weaklings has to do with the problem, Carnell," Servalan said. "A human being," Carnell said, "is far easier to influence than a ship's computer. As our little playlet back there demonstrated. Your problem," he paused, "is to influence a human being at a distance. For that, you need telepathy." He held up his hand to forestall he interruption. "You have no Auronar, so what you need is a machine to do it for you." "Artificial telepathy? Don't be absurd," Servalan said. "I am never absurd, Supreme Commander," Carnell said. "I am perfectly serious. The artefacts on this planet - well, the natives call it sorcery, but I would call it psi boosting." He gestured Servalan before him as they turned a corner. "The side-effects, alas, are somewhat distressing. Premature aging, burn-out... We've gone through quite a few subjects, I'm afraid." *** "So, you decided to come," Piete said. "It seemed like an offer I couldn't refuse," Blake rumbled. "Where's the information?" "Let's have a drink first, eh?" said Piete's companion, and pushed over a pale beer towards Blake. They raised their glasses, and drank. Blake frowned over the bitter taste of his. He wouldn't reccommend the house beer to anybody. "You say you've got a way in to the - to the..." Blake paused, feeling dizzy. He slumped over the table. Piete smiled. "Easy as picking a kulu-nut," he said. End Of Part 9 What will happen to Blake? What is Servalan's plan? Will Avon go mad? What is happening to Cally and Vila, and will Jenna and Gan finally stop waiting and figure out that something is wrong? Stay tuned for the next exciting episode! ------------------------------------------------ Author's Note: for a fuller understanding of references in this part, you are directed to the episode VOICE FROM THE PAST. My slant is that whether or not Auron defectors helped (as stated in VOICE FROM THE PAST) that it was *here* that Servalan got the idea of trying to use Controlled Beaming rather than building a Course Interceptor. And that it would take time to develop. Just to make that clear, okay? In other words, to keep up with the references so far, you need to watch COUNTDOWN, RUMOURS OF DEATH and VOICE FROM THE PAST (not to mention PRESSURE POINT and other episodes in the local vicinity...) ====== //MichelleM1@aol.com FORTUNE Part 10 "What have you done to Cally?" demanded Vila, the last word or so choked out through the explosion of pain in his head. Sarbon's smile never wavered. "She is quite unharmed. In fact, she's much better off than you are." "She'll certainly live longer," Melise added. He didn't like the sound of that. "What are you going to do to us?" Sarbon ignored him, instead addressing Cally, who was still kneeling beside Vila, wiping ineffectively at his face with the filthy rag. "Come here, my dear," he ordered. She obeyed. He held out a teleport bracelet, just out of reach, but close enough for her to see it well. "You each had one of these." She nodded stiffly. "What is their function?" When Cally hesitated, Sarbon's expression darkened. "You know what will happen if you lie." Again, the wooden nod. "Teleport bracelet." "How do they work?" "I don't know." "She's telling the truth," Melise confirmed, "but there's something she's holding back." Cally spoke up quickly, though her voice was no more animated. "There's a communicator." "Can you only contact your ship, or can you speak to your friends using the device?" "Don't tell him, Cal-" The sentence ended in a scream as their captors sent fresh agonies along Vila's nerves. "If they have a bracelet," she answered. Sarbon knelt beside Vila. "I believe I met a friend of yours," he said. "He was wearing such a bracelet. He took something from me. I want it back." "I didn't take it," Vila said. "I can't help you." "Oh, but you can. You see, you're going to call this friend of yours and tell him you're in danger-which is no more than the truth-so that *he* will come looking for *us*." "This 'friend' of mine, what did he look like?" "A dark haired man, in dark clothes." If he could have moved, Vila would have shrugged. "You're out of luck. Avon wouldn't come looking for his own mother." "We shall see." Sarbon instructed Cally to hold the bracelet to Vila's lips and press the call button. "Call your friend." Vila remained silent. "Call him!" Sarbon thundered, punctuating his words with blasts of agony. "Avon!" Vila screamed. "Avon, I need help! Avon, respond, *please*!" There was no reply. "Why doesn't he answer?" Vila was too weary to resist any more. "Lots of reasons. He could have lost the bracelet, or had it taken from him. They damage easily. He could be somewhere it's not safe to respond. He could even be dead. There's no way to tell." "Call again." Vila obeyed, but there was still no response. "We *will* reach him," Sarbon insisted. Melise had been watching the proceedings silently. Now, with a gesture toward Cally, she said, "That one's a sender." "Can we trust her?" "She can't fight you, Sarbon. I made sure of that." Melise's voice held more than a trace of arrogance. "Then, my dear, I have a job for you." He motioned for Cally to sit on the floor. "I want you to call this Avon. Do you understand what you are to do?" "Bring him to you," she slurred. "And then?" "Kill him." **** //number6@iss.org "FORTUNE" Part 11 by Michael J Montoure Servalan raised an eyebrow. "So this trinket _is_ the technology you found here?" Carnell nodded, eyes gleaming. He held the bauble out to her, and she took it without enthusiasm, turning it over and over in her hands. "The microcircuitry looks particularly crude," she said, unimpressed. "Who made this?" Carnell grinned smugly. "A street vendor did." Servalan stared up at him for a long moment. She stood to leave, placing the bauble on the table. "I've come a very long way, Carnell. I'm in no mood for games." Carnell grabbed the device and held it out to her. "This isn't a game, Servalan. Believe me. This is the product of hundreds of years of work." "Hundreds of years." Her tone was flat. He nodded. "Since the beginning of the New Calendar. Look," he said, pointing into the bauble's translucent depths. "This circuitry was acid-etched by hand. These people think it's magic." He looked back into her eyes. "It's not. It's science." Servalan stared back at the device, interested despite herself. "So where does a primitive society like this learn how to build this kind of technology?" "It's intuition." Servalan rolled her eyes. "Intuition," Carnell suggested, "built up over generations of arranged marriages, selective interbreeding." "You honestly expect me to believe that you can select for high technology?" "That's just the point. This _isn't_ high technology. To these people, this isn't a machine, it isn't even a tool." "What is it, then?" she said impatiently. "It's a talisman." He pointed to the delicate lines traced inside. "This is an abstract representation of the lines they feel connect them together." Servalan waited. "And?" "They're right. They _are_ all connected together. This genetic program was designed to select for telepathic potential. This entire community is one, large, telepathic circuit." "Impressive." Servalan stared at the bauble thoughtfully. "Who could have set such a program in motion?" "I don't know," Carnell admitted. "But what matters is that the fruits of that labor are right here. The circuit is duplicated in that acid etching." "And it can boost telepathy," she mused. "But the side-effects -- " "The circuit isn't perfect yet," Carnell said. "My calculations show that the telepathic circuit won't be complete for another two generations. But what we've learned already is amazing. The key to finally completely understanding psychostrategy is right here in my hand." "How so?" "Part of the point of psychostrategy is to understand the mind of your subject to predict their actions," he said. "These people already do this. On a subconscious level, they can predict the future. Accurately." Servalan raised her eyebrows. "How reliably?" "One hundred percent." She took the bauble from him and stared at it. "This will be invaluable to the Federation." "Or to us." Servalan looked up at him, her expression carefully neutral. "With this," Carnell continued, "you and I could be rich beyond the dreams of avarice. This technology is worth a fortune. A hundred fortunes." She stared back at the crystal. "A machine that can predict the future .... " Carnell laughed. "Even Ensor couldn't have built this." * * * Blake stumbled, and it was only then that he realized he was walking. The city around him looked hazy and wrong, as if he were seeing it from a great distance. His head spun wildly, but he kept walking. He felt .... "Drugged?" His voice sounded hollow and strange. "Piete .... " "Piete brought you here," a voice next to him said. He turned dazedly. Next to him was a woman. She didn't seem to move at all, yet she kept pace with him as he continued to plod down the street. She looked familiar to him. No ... she looked familiar to -- familiar to Gan .... Blake's head began to pound. He clasped a hand tightly to his forehead. "What's happening?" he asked. "Where am I?" "In the Link," she said simply. "Piete drugged me," Blake said slowly, realizing. "I should be unconscious .... " "You are unconscious," she agreed. "Oh," Blake said. He kept walking. "I don't understand," he said finally. "You don't understand because you're _trying_ to understand," she told him. "Just relax. Piete brought you here so you could see." Blake tried to relax. And gradually, he could see. He saw lines. Delicate green glowing filigrees, hanging in the air. Connections between all the people he passed on the street. An amazing web; it looked chaotic at first, but he began to see a pattern to it .... "You're -- all connected," he breathed. "Of course," she said, with patient amusement. "And so are you." Blake wondered what she meant, but after a moment, he could see a different web, a smaller, less intricate, more tenuous one; lines were stretching out from him, as well. He reached out and touched one, and felt -- he felt Gan. Inside Gan's head. He could feel the unwanted intrusion of Gan's limiter, like a pressure in the back of his skull. He winced and let go. But now he recognized his companion. "You're -- you're the fortune teller," he said, slowly. "That Gan saw." "That's right." He smiled faintly. "Tell my fortune," he said. "You don't want that." "No, I mean it," Blake insisted. He still trudged forward. "How .... " He trailed off, unsure what to ask. "How will I die?" She sighed, and gathered herself together. Her eyes closed and she looked at him. "There will be -- a betrayal," she said carefully. "The word of a man named ... Tarrant will be your downfall." "Tarrant? Dev Tarrant?" Blake asked. There was no answer. He laughed bitterly. "That already happened. Back on Earth. That's the past, not the future, fortune teller." "There's never any difference," she said sadly. Blake set the warning aside and forgot it. He would die because of this. He looked back at the threads surrounding him. The most complex and intricate of them caught his attention, and he touched it. ~Blake?~ came the surprised but familiar voice in his head. ~Cally?~ he asked. ~Can you hear me?~ ~Yes ... Where are you?~ ~I'm -- not sure,~ Blake admitted. ~I seem to be in an alley somewhere. Why?~ ~I need your help,~ she replied urgently. ~I'm a prisoner here -- in my own mind. You've got to get me out.~ ~Where are you?~ Blake asked. ~I'm being held in -- ~ Abruptly, her mental voice cut off. Blake looked around in surprise. The fortune teller had gently removed his hand from the thread. "Why did you do that?" he asked angrily. He reached for it again, and again she stopped him. "There is no time," she said. "You've got to keep moving." "Where am I going?" he asked impatiently. "Where you must," she said. "Where you always must." She put his hand on the thread right in front of him. He had somehow overlooked it before. But paradoxically, it was perhaps the strongest link of all. It glowed with life and vitality as he held it; rough-hewn, indelicate. It drew him forward, pulling him onward with a deep and abiding need. He kept walking. Finally, behind a ramshackle wooden door, he found a modern, metallic one; in his haze, he was unsurprised to find it was embossed with the arrowhead seal of the Federation. He tapped a combination he didn't know into the keypad next to the door, and it slid open. Of course. He staggered down the flight of stairs, and came into a well-lit room at the bottom. He could feel whatever drug Piete had given him starting to wear off. He shook his head to clear it. As his vision cleared, he saw that someone was staring back at him. Lying on a bed, connected to a maze of tubes and wires, was Avon. Avon glared up at him. "You took long enough." --------------- //RUTH HANSON" Part 12 Gan sighed and resumed pacing the flight deck. "We should do something," he insisted. "Blake said wait one standard time unit," Jenna returned. Exasperation colored her voice. "And that is what we will do." Gan shook his head. "They've run into trouble, Jenna. We can't just wait. We should go down." "And land in the same mess they're in?" Gan slumped down on the flight couch in defeat. "You're right," he muttered staring down at his huge hands. "I just hate this feeling of being useless." Jenna gave him a sympathetic smile. "It's nearly time anyway," she relented. "Zen, adjust course to bring us back on station." "Confirmed," the ship's master computer responded immediately. Jenna checked the flight readouts at the main pilot's station. She looked toward her shipmate. "What's all this about your fortune teller." "Just the usual stuff," he replied too quickly. He rose and headed for the starboard portal. "Think I'll go check on the teleport." Jenna opened her mouth to protest, then thought better of it. She frowned after the retreating figure. "I wonder what the woman really said to him." ----- Blake continued to stare. Avon lay flat on the bed. He was conscious, but unable to move. His dark eyes in his pale, drawn face showed a flicker of some emotion quickly extinguished. "Are you going to help me out of this contraption, or just stand there and admire the view?" Blake blinked in surprise and moved to the bedside. His movements were clumsy and slow as he fumbled with the unfamiliar apparatus. Finally he disconnected the last of the leads and started to unfasten the restraints. "How did you end up here?" Blake inquired as he worked to loosen the straps. "Does it matter?" Avon's acerbic retort elicited a smile from Blake. "Not a lot, I suppose. There, that seems to be everything." He released the last restraint. "Can you stand?" Avon struggled up from the bed. "I'll manage." "Where's the portal of Rieszac?" Blake demanded. "The what?" "The portal," Blake recited. "The portal must be protected." He regarded Blake carefully. "Now would not appear to be the ideal time to discuss this." Avon started toward the door, but Blake did not move. He seemed to be listening to something, an expression of intense concentration stamped on his features. "You must listen. Powers of darkness threaten the lattice." "Blake." Avon shook the man. "We have to get out of here. Now." "Yes," Blake still seemed slightly dazed, but followed Avon to the exit. Avon eased the door open cautiously. The corridor beyond seemed deserted. He slipped silently from the room, motioning Blake to follow. Seconds later he was back. "Come on," he hissed. Blake shook his head as if to dispel a fog. He nodded and followed Avon back into the corridor. The room they exited was the last in a series of rooms along a short corridor. Blocking the near end of the corridor was a set of double doors secured by a computer lock. The opposite end of the corridor opened on another, leading both left and right from the junction. As they reached the junction, the sound of approaching footfalls made them retreat back down the corridor into the nearest room. The room was similar in size and shape to the one Avon had occupied, but appeared to be some sort of control room. Most of the available floor space was occupied by a large console. Various monitors and computer controls took up much of the unit. Avon smiled in satisfaction as slid into the chair and activated the computer link. He began typing a series of commands. "We've got to find it," Blake insisted. Avon paused in his study of the readouts he had called up. "What?" Blake's gaze wandered around the perimeter of the room, focused on something only he could see. "What is wrong with you, Blake?" Avon demanded. No response. "Blake!" The other man regarded him. "How the hell did you get in here?" He gestured to the schematic of the installation on the screen in front of him. Blake looked down at the screen. "I...uh..." ----- The trooper stood stiffly at attention in front of Servalan. "The intruder has reached the interrogation area, Ma'am." "Has he indeed?" She smiled coldly. "He freed the prisoner, but they are both still in the complex." "Is everything prepared? The complex is shielded." The trooper nodded. "As planned, Supreme Commander." "Good. Then they can't use the teleport. Continue monitoring his progress and keep me informed." "Shall I inform Carnell?" "There is time enough for that later, Gent." She dismissed him with a way of her hand. "Just as I knew you would, Blake," she mused aloud as the door closed behind the departing guard. "Prometheus will succeed. You will give me the Liberator." She idly toyed with the crimson blossom in her hand. "And with Carnell's little trinket there is nothing that can stand in my way." ----- Avon shook his head in dismay. "The Prometheus Project?" Blake gave his companion a wry grin. "Orac found some references to it in the latest Federation communications. He tracked it back here." Avon glowered at him. "Go on." "A new underground Federation installation on this planet was worth investigating," Blake asserted. Avon turned back to the computer console and keyed in another sequence of commands. "Since you have brought us here, we may as well see if it was worth the trip." He watched intently as information began scrolling across the screen, then keyed in another set of commands. "Avon," Blake demanded his attention. "There's more here than just the Federation's latest project." Avon glanced up from the screen. "Rieszac?" Blake nodded. "You have to give it back." "Give what back?" Irritation colored his reply. "And just what the hell is this Rieszac you keep going on about?" "I'm not really sure," Blake admitted finally. "What I do know is that every single inhabitant of this planet is linked into some sort of artificially enhanced psi net." Avon gave him a disbelieving look. "I know it's true," Blake responded to the unspoken challenge. "I've felt it, seen it, been part of it. That's how I found you. Piete drugged me and then the woman..." Avon raised a hand to halt the flow of words. "All right. For the moment let's just say that I accept all this. Just what has it all to do with me?" He turned back to the computer screen and resumed working. "You had a portal," Blake explained. "The one you got from the street vendor. It opens the lattice, helps the holder use the power of the net." "If you mean that crude microcircuit," Avon responded absently, "Servalan's pet psychostrategist must have taken it when I was brought here." "We have to get it back. Just think of the potential destructive force of such a weapon in the hands of the Federation." Avon shrugged. "I am more concerned with getting us out of the trap you have so neatly gotten us into." He gestured to the computer screen. "Servalan used this so called project as bait." Blake seemed not to have heard him. "We must find the portal. They'll kill them if we don't." "Besides the two of us, who is likely to be killed?" Avon demanded. "Vila," Blake responded, "and Cally. They're being held by two members of the Order of Protectors. We have to get it back." "Then it would seem we have little choice in the matter." Avon leaned back in the chair, his casual posture concealing his thoughts. "If these people are really as powerful as you insist. Are you certain they do in fact have Cally and Vila prisoner?" Blake nodded. "I've felt their pain, heard Cally, when I was in the lattice." "I would prefer more objective evidence," Avon returned. "Try your communicator." Blake raised the bracelet and opened the com channel. "Cally, Vila, respond please." ----- Sarbon smiled grimly at the bracelet in his hand. "So, they wish to speak to you." He held the bracelet toward her. "Answer him." Cally shook her head. She forced her mind to focus on Blake. She reached out mentally to him. "Blake, go now. We..." She screamed in agony. "Do that again and I will destroy your mind," Melise warned. Sarbon frowned at his sister. He steadied Cally with one hand while he held the bracelet in the other. "Speak." "Do it or your companion will suffer for your disobedience," Melise added. Vila's pleading look added weight to her demand. Cally extended her hand. "Give me the bracelet." "No," Melise retorted. "Sarbon will keep the device. Now answer." "Press the colored switch," she instructed Sarbon. "Blake, this is Cally." There was a brief burst of static, then Blake's voice. "Are you all right, Cally?" "We are alive," Cally responded. "For now." "Blake," Vila shouted. "Help us, Blake." "Silence," hissed Melise. Sarbon released his grip on Cally. "I am Sarbon, First of the Order of Protectors. You know what must be done." There was a pause. Avon's voice replaced Blake's. "We will do nothing until you release our friends." "This Blake has found the dark one." Melise smiled. "Alerian judged rightly when she aided him." Sarbon nodded and reopened the channel. "Return the portal and you will all be allowed to leave." "No deal," Avon returned. "Once our friends have been returned to our ship, we will retrieve the device. Not before." "Wait," Sarbon snapped. He closed the com link. He and Melise exchanged a look. Melise closed her eyes briefly. The lines bracketing her eyes seemed to deepen. She shuddered and opened her eyes. "He speaks the truth," Melise affirmed. "Others now hold the portal. A dark woman and a pale-eyed man. Off-worlders." Sarbon frowned. "They can be dealt with." Melise shook her head. "They are in the hidden place. We cannot reach it now." "Very well. We accept," Sarbon finally said into the communicator. "With certain conditions." Vila allowed himself a brief smile that turned to a scowl. "Wonderful. Conditions. As if a bargain with Avon isn't bad enough." Melise silenced him with a stare. "Go on," Avon answered. "What conditions?" "We will exchange your friends for the portal." "No. They go now. You can always kill us if we don't keep our end of the bargain." The sharp click of the com link closing sounded loud in the confines of the barren cell. Vila sighed loudly. "Told you," he asserted. "Shut up, Vila," Cally warned. Vila subsided, muttering to himself. Cally smothered the urge to smile at the little thief. Her mind was beginning to clear. "Agreed," Sarbon finally said into the communicator. "Stand by while I contact our ship." It was Blake's voice this time. "And return their bracelets." "Fail us," Melise spoke, "and you will welcome death." "Blake out," was the only response. ----- Aboard the Liberator, Jenna responded to Blake's call. "Yes Blake, I copied all that." "Can you get a fix on them?" She turned to Orac. "Well?" "I have already relayed to the coordinates to the teleport console," was the reply. "Ready, Blake. As soon as they're aboard we can bring you and Avon up." "Negative, Jenna. We made a deal." "Then at least let one of us come down," Gan interjected. "No. We need you on the ship. There's still that cruiser out there somewhere." "But..." Orac interrupted whatever protest Gan was about to make. "I am able to locate Blake, but not Avon's teleport device must be damaged." "Destroyed, probably," Blake answered. "Their current location is shielded against teleport," Orac finished, ignoring the interruption. "I heard," Blake responded. "Get on with it, Jenna. Signal when they're safely on board." ----- Melise frowned. "I do not trust this Avon." "Nor I," Sarbon concurred. "But we have no alternative." He handed Cally the teleport bracelet. "Avon is a man of his word," Cally assured them. "He will do as promised." "Or die trying," Vila added. "So Alerian has led us to believe." Sarbon smiled coldly. "She gave him the portal." "Her visions of the future." Melise sounded contemptuous. "We should have killed all the strangers from the beginning." Sarbon shook his head. "Time alters all, little sister." Melise stalked from the room. Sarbon watched her go, then turned to Cally. "See to your companion." Cally nodded. "Do not return. Even Alerian could not protect you then." He followed his sister out. "Liberator, this is Cally." ----- "Let's get going." Blake started for the door. "Just where do you propose we go?" Avon reseated himself at the console. "Or is there something else you've neglected to tell me?" Blake stopped and turned angrily. "Just what would you suggest we do?" "I thought you wanted to know about the Prometheus Project." He gestured toward the computer screen. "And it would be prudent to at least have some idea where to start looking for your precious gadget." "All right, Avon." Blake returned to stand beside the dark man. "Tell me." Avon leaned back in the chair and smiled smugly. "Do you by any chance recall the punishment the gods inflicted on Prometheus when he disobeyed them?" Blake gnawed his finger thoughtfully, nodding for Avon to continue. "Apparently Servalan has some similar fate envisioned for you." ----- The communicator on the desk chimed softly. "Yes," Servalan responded. "The intruders are on the move, Supreme Commander." "Very good, Gent. Follow them and keep me informed. You know what to do." "Yes, Ma'am," Gent answered. "Oh, and Gent." "Yes." "Let Carnell know they're on their way." "At once." ----- Carnell sat in the chair behind a huge desk. Its surface was completely bare except for the crude microcircuit. He smiled down at the device and picked it up. "A rare find," he smiled. He turned the object over in his hand. Its clear surface was warm to the touch. He thought he could detect a faint vibration from it. He concentrated on the pattern etched within, following each line to its intersection with the next. The complex lattice work left a glowing after image when he looked up. His communicator chimed, but he ignored it as if he had not heard it. His lips curved into a satisfied smile as he stroked the object. "With you, my clever little friend, we can be everything, everywhere. We shall know all." He looked down into the depths of the lattice. "We... I will rule." To be continued... Ruth Hanson ruth@alexandria.lib.utah.edu Systems Analyst/Help Desk Manager Marriott Library University of Utah Salt Lake City, Utah 84112 === //Scot Ferre FORTUNE PART 13 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Aboard the Liberator, Gan spoke into the communication system. "We are ready to receive you, Cally." Cally said, "Beam us up, Gan." A moment later, Cally and Vila were safe on the Liberator. Gan smiled. "It's nice to see the two of you again." Vila nodded. "Sometimes I wish I hadn't left the London. I would had a better R&R back on Cygnus Alpha." Jenna interrupted, "I'll signal to Blake that you two are safely aboard." She spoke into her communicator. "Blake, come in please." Blake's voice is distinctly heard. "Blake here. Are Cally and Vila safe?" "Yes, Blake," Jenna said. "They're not exactly ship-shape, but they're fine." "Good. Keep monitoring for any pursuit ships in the area. One word, though. No one is to teleport back to the surface until I give the word. Understood?" Jenna looked at the others. "Understood, Blake. But what if you run into trouble?" "That will be all, Jenna. Blake out." Vila murmured, "Well, we might as well have a R&R here. I've been in a mood for some sleep." He walks out of the room, yawning. Jenna had other ideas in mind. "Well, I'm not going to sit around and wait for Blake. I'm going down there." Cally protested, "But Jenna, Blake kept his word to Sarbon. No one is to teleport down." "I don't care," said Jenna. "I've been stuck up here ever since we arrived at this planet. I want to help. Besides, Blake might not know what is he doing." Jenna hastily left the room before Cally could protest. Gan raised his eyebrows. "Well, I guess there's no stopping a former smuggler with a head full of determination." "What do you mean, Servalan has a fate in mind for me?" Blake demanded. Avon smiled. "According to these data banks, Servalan and Carnell have been working together to devise an punishment that will give you unbearable pain for the rest of your life. They have come up with an unique scheme. Remember that you said that you were immersed in the web? That you could see things that ordinarily we could not in our normal levels of perception?" Blake nodded. "Yes, Avon." Avon further explained. "Carnell has the portal that Sarbon speaks of. The portal has unusual powers. If Carnell were to use the power of the portal on you, he could inflict pain in your mind for, practically, eternity." Blake stared at Avon. "Wait. Eagles came every day to eat Prometheus' liver. Now, Servalan figuratively is going to eat my mind, piece by piece?" "Precisely." Blake straightened himself. "Well, I'm not waiting for my mind to be sucked dry. We have to get that portal back." He heads for the door. Avon calls out, "Wait!" Blake turned to face Avon. Avon removed a small, round, glass object from the console. He displayed the object to Blake. "This is a crude form of a portal. It's small, but it's powerful enough to channel our mental energies into it and beam them out on a target." Blake took the portal from Avon's hand. "It may be useful as a weapon," Blake mused. He handed the portal back to Avon. "All right," asserted Blake. "Let's get that portal." Jenna entered the teleport room, with a gun in her holster. "I'm ready," Jenna declared. She puts on a teleport bracelet and takes another teleport bracelet. Cally asked, "What are you going to do?" Jenna ignores Cally and turns to Orac. "Orac, can you pinpoint the nearest teleportable place to Blake?" Orac replied, "I can put you within several hundred yards of Blake's location." Jenna stepped into the teleport area. "Beam me down, Cally." Cally inquired one more time. "What are you going to do, Jenna?" "To rescue Blake," said Jenna. Cally sighed. She activated the teleport. Jenna appeared outside of a gray and huge installation. She scanned the surroundings for an entry into the complex. She noticed an ornate door built into the wall. The door had a sign on it. The sign read, "No Admittance." Jenna crept to the door cautiously. She turned the knob and pulled the door open. A faint light shone in the distance. Jenna looked over her shoulders, making sure no one was monitoring her movements. She entered the complex. Only Jenna's footsteps were to be heard inside the corridor. She was in a long corridor, stretching to the lighted junction. She cautiously walked to the junction, where corridors to the left and the right were as dimly lighted as the junction. Jenna decided to explore the left corridor. No sooner than Blake had walked out of the console room when Gent appeared out of the corridor and shouted, "Surrender, or I'll fire!" Blake turned around to face Gent. "I'd back off from the door if I were you." Gent glanced in the direction of the door. A swift chop of a hand landed on Gent's neck. Gent fell to the floor with a thud. Avon rubbed his hand. "The Federation pack a lot of muscle in their troopers." Blake chuckled. "If I didn't know better, I would have mistaken you for a martial arts expert." A voice called out, "And if I didn't know better, you would have fallen into my trap." The voice gave a hint of recognition to Blake. He looked towards the source of the voice. Servalan stepped out of the shadows, with two troopers at her side. "It's time to feed the eagles." To be continued... ===== dowgiert@warren.med.harvard.edu FORTUNE - Part 14 by Rebecca Dowgiert Jenna Stannis paced stealthily down a brightly lit corridor, weapon ready, every sense alert. She was actually surprised that she had not run into anyone yet; a part of her mind was appalled that she had teliported down alone into a secret Federation base. She'd pulled similar stunts when she was a girl, of course, but she'd thought she'd outgrown that. But another part of her mind urged her on. Blake was in danger - he needed her. She wasn't sure how she knew this - she just _knew_. A fresh burst of anxiety hurried her down the rest of the corridor. At the end was a door. Drawing near, she could hear behind it the murmur of voices. *Hurry*, something echoed in her mind. * * * In a room in the city, a woman of indeterminate age, wrapped in gaudy shawls, sat cross-legged on the floor, lightly entranced. Suddenly, she sighed, and leaned back slightly. She smiled and nodded in satisfaction. The woman would reach her companions in time. Through the ever-present Link, she felt a familiar sensation. Melise and Sarbon were reaching out to her, requesting her attention. Of course, Melise being involved, it came across as a demand. *Ah, the impetuosity of youth,* she thought, smiling. *Impetuosity indeed!* Melise sent, peremptorily. *What is this you do now? It is bad enough you have involved these strangers at all; why have you dragged yet another into our business?!* *I have not dragged _anybody_,* Alerian replied mildly. *It would perhaps do certain of the Protectors good to be recall that it is not necessary to utterly dominate another in order to positively effect the flow of the Link. I merely have enhanced her sensitivity to the natural link between her and her chosen leader to the point where she can clearly sense his peril. Her actions, though, are very much her own*. Now she felt the touch of Sarbon's mind, more even-tempered by experience than his younger sister's. *Yet Melise has a point, Alerian. Why _these_ strangers? Their thoughts are hard-edged, ruthless. They lie to each other, and to themselves. And you would risk Rieszac thus?* *I?* she snorted. *I am merely a Senior of the Order of the Protectors; but here you speak as though you think I can single-handedly direct the Flow of the Link. What I _do_ have is enough experience to know that these people have become involved here because it is a part of their fate - and ours. Whatever their fortune before, and after, they have always had an important task to perform here. Our job is to assist them. Even your actions, born of anger and rather heavy-handed, have served to help ensure their efforts on our behalf.* *...?* Sarbon's response was a wordless question. At that moment, another mind joined their discussion. *I think I begin to understand,* Piete sent. *I have felt a new presence during the last few hours; a mind new to the Link, but growing stronger. It is ambitious, with an avid appetite for power but no real understanding of the Link or its balance.* Alerian smiled. *Yes. Now you begin to see*. As, an instant later, did the others. *Snares within snares,* remarked Melise. *Who is the hunter, and who the hunted?* *These strangers, these people of 'federation' would always have found us, eventually,* Sarbon mused. *And sought to control the Link.* *Yes,* agreed Piete. *But now the battle is on a field of our own choosing.* Melise smiled maliciously. *And with pawns to draw our enemies' wrath, while we observe and mark their weaknesses. Oh, I do like this better, the more I understand it.* Alerian made an expression of distaste, which the girl ignored, as usual. *You feel much scorn for this Blake and his companions, Melise. For all their faults, they still honor the links that bind them together in their own way. And in this battle against these people of 'federation', they are our allies, even if neither you - nor they - know it.* Piete brushed aside Alerian's objection. *We must prepare,* he sent excitedly. *Will you be ready, First Defender?* he asked Sarbon, formally. *We will need your strength.* *I stand ready, as always, to give my life, if necessary, to preserve the Link,* Sarbon answered proudly. *We will need strength,* Alerian sent, darkly. *There is a great fight ahead.* * * * The moment after Blake and Avon registered Servalan's presence, they drew their guns and fired. Surprisingly enough, the fact that the guns _didn't_ function did not astonish them; they'd half expected it. Also unbewildering was the fact that Servalan's guards, covering them with their obviously functional pararifles, did not react with much concern. "Oh, no, Blake," she purred maliciously. "You mustn't be so uncouth. These guards are just here to ensure that you remain our guest. You see, there's someone here who has been _so_ looking forward to meeting you." As the two rebels hesitated, Blake felt a feeling of heavy lethargy creeping over him. It...was...difficult...to think....of what...to do... As if from far away, he heard Avon's voice. "Blake!" Avon grabbed the arm of the now immobile man next to him. "Blake!" he snapped again. It was no use - Blake gave no sign that he heard or saw him. What they intended to do to Blake had obviously already begun. One of the guards moved aside and Servalan's pet puppeteer entered the bizarre tableau. He held in his hand the primitive microchip that he had taken from Avon just hours before, and wore on his face a fatuous, self-satisfied expression. "Hello, Avon," he said condescendingly. "I really must thank you for bringing this little bauble to me. With it, I can see so many things..." His voice trailed off as he started into it, entranced. Servalan looked hard at Carnell, her eyes narrowed, as if suddenly uneasy. "Pyschostrategist Carnell," she said loudly. He blinked, didn't even look up. "Hmmm?" Anger lent a dangerous edge to her voice. "You are perhaps forgetting something?" He looked up from the psi-portal. "Eh? Oh, yes. Your 'revenge' against Blake." He smiled indulgently, as if granting a favor to a child. "Yes, of course. It will make a suitable practice for me on how to fully utilize the power of the Link." He turned to face Blake, who stood as frozen as a mouse before a cobra. He smiled as he stared into the portal, and Blake's face, although he made no sound, contorted in anguish. Avon stared for a second, appalled, then quickly moved forward - something had to be done. If he broke the puppeteer's concentration, he sensed instinctively, the attack on Blake would be broken. But it didn't work out that way. Even as he began to reach forward to knock the 'portal' away from Carnell, he found himself also frozen in place. Carnell didn't even bother looking up from the primitive psi booster. "Oh, no, Avon," he said, amused, "I don't think you'll be helping Blake today. You see, you have problems of your own..." Servalan watched, fascinated and frightened, as Avon's face became gray with horror. Avon was no longer aware of his surroundings. Instead, he was again trapped in a situation that he had promised himself he would never ever have to re-experience. He should have known, he reflected bitterly, that the 'pain' the Prometheus Project had promised to inflict on Blake and his companions hadn't necessarily meant just _physical_ pain. That would have been too merciful. To be continued....