Whom the Gods Would Destroy

By CindyR

I feel my heart beat a bit faster as I near the operations room. He is here! All my waiting --planning has finally paid off and he has come to me at last.

My steps falter. What will I find waiting for me? The old friend I remembered? Two years is a long time and the reports have not been encouraging. He is mad now, they say, a psychopathic killer. I have heard the stories, of course. Avalon's intelligence network is quite efficient. They say he is mad and dangerous. He kills without reason, The stories go on and on but all carry one central theme -- Avon can no longer be trusted.

This thought pains me. I have set up this base on Gauda Prime for the primary purpose of bringing him to me. Oh, yes, it is a convenient recruiting station, but my troops are drawn from all over the galaxy -- Avalon handles that portion of it. Few of the men I bring in are worthy of joining my rebellion, but I knew it would attract Avon's attention eventually, and I need Avon. I need his cool logic, his sharp genius and, most of all, I need his friendship, his unspoken but unwavering support. For that alone I have to take the chance with him.

And I have done all I could. The base is as secure as I can make it. There is no way the Federation can locate it without knowing where it is. My men have all been warned that the Scorpio crew is dangerous. They have been issued stunners and ordered to take them alive. And I ...I am unarmed. Perhaps the stories are true, perhaps not, but Avon has to be made to understand that I still trust him, still believe in him.

I fight down a twinge of guilt. This is not entirely true anymore. It has been two long years and the stories I've heard have been... convincing. I shrug it off; if things go well Avon need never know I was worried enough to don the light body armor under my rough bounty hunter's garb. If necessary I will tell him that I always wear it. Anything to have him at my side again.

The new recruit, Arlen, falls into step behind me. I haven't had the time to test her properly, not with Avon's arrival so soon after her own. It will be best to keep her with me where I can keep an eye on her. I'll talk to Deva about her later.

The door is opening and... There he is! And there is Tarrant. I owe that young man an apology I suppose. If only those stories hadn't made me feel it was necessary to test him. But if Avon is mad I can't take a chance that his companions are mad too. Too many lives depend on my being right. Always.

But Avon... Oh, gods, look at him! His eyes...the reports are true. I've never seen so much pain, so much desperation in a man's eyes before -- in that man's eyes before. They're so bleak, so empty. Oh, Avon, my friend, what have they done to you?

Tarrant is saying something … betrayal? What is he talking about? Avon, you can't believe...? My words choke in my throat. I try to explain but the words... they're coming out all wrong! "I set this all up..." Fool! Not what I want to say. He doesn't seem to hear me and I try again. "I've been waiting for you," I plead. I draw a breath to say more and that is when the first shot takes me. The impact is terrific -- some kind of a projectile weapon. The body armor absorbs the shell but cannot entirely eliminate the force generated by the shot. I stagger, feel fresh blood start to run where the impact breaks skin.

Then the second shot rings out. The pain is incredible; I’ll be lucky if my ribs aren't broken. "Avon," I gasp out. Just let me explain. But the words catch in my throat without breath to form them.

The third shot knocks me into his arms to slip bonelessly to the ground. I can only stare up at him, helplessly. Does he even realize I'm still alive? Those three shots would have killed anyone unprotected.

What's that? Federation troopers bursting in! Peripherally, I am aware of Arlen speaking. A traitor!! She is an agent. My base has been compromised and invaded. Sounds of firing all around. Arlen goes down; who...? Vila shot her?! That's not the Vila I remember. He killed her so... efficiently. Other shots but I can't see what is going on. My eyes are still locked with that desolate, blank gaze above me. Avon is surrounded by four troopers as he moves to straddle my body … protectively? Curious. I'm sure he believes me dead -- that look in his eyes convinces me, that smile as he raises his weapon.

He never gets a chance to use it. A snap-shot from the nearest soldier catches him high in the chest and he crumples on top of me without a sound. Why am I so sure he is welcoming death? Warm blood mixes with my own, blending, bonding us together. Oh, gods, Avon...

Wait. I feel his chest moving, quivering with the effort to draw a breath. He isn't dead? Not yet, but he will be if I can't find the strength to move soon.

The guards are careless in their victory. They don't check either one of us. More shots ring out now -- one for each member of Scorpio's crew, one for Deva, Klyn, even one for Arlen. They are just making sure the rest are dead. Ah, poor Vila. Forgive me, my friend. I should never have called you to me if I had known what it would cost you.

The troopers leave now, assigning one of their number to keep guard. "Guard a bunch of corpses?" he protests, but is overruled and left to stand watch over the dead. The sounds of battle grow louder from down the hall and he is eager to join in the fighting- the massacre. He ignores the bodies lying in the control room and moves to the doorway, eager for a chance shot to come his way. That eagerness to kill my people will prove his undoing. This I swear.

I've finally regained a measure of strength, it is a struggle not to gasp loudly for breath as my lungs begin to work again. Nothing broken, I think. But I am in no condition for hand-to-hand with a seasoned and eager soldier. What can I do?

Avon is lying limply atop me, his breathing is harsh -- so harsh I wonder the guard does not hear him -- and there is blood on his lips. His lungs must have been affected. He will need medical attention and quickly if he is going to survive.

Something is digging into me. It feels like... a weapon? Deftly I ease my arm out from under Avon's body and feel in his waistband. It is a gun ---a small blaster from the feel of it. Trust Avon to always have a backup weapon on his person!

The guard must have sensed something, for he turns … too late. My weapon bucks twice in my hand; the guard's rifle clatters to the ground as he crumples. You were so eager to taste combat, scum. I hope you enjoy it --- and your death.

I freeze but can hear no one coming to investigate. The sounds of battle from down the hall must have muffled my little melee. Good. That gives me a few moments to work.

Gently I roll Avon off of me, wincing at the soft moan forced through his lips. His skin is so white and there is so much blood? I realize with some surprise that some of it is mine. Fear-induced adrenalin has numbed any pain I might have felt. Time for that later. Right now I have to concentrate on escape.

I have to do it; I have to make sure the others are dead. It doesn't take long. Each one was shot at close range by a Federation blaster. I'm unaccountably glad that Vila's face wasn't destroyed. The others... but Vila-he looks so peaceful. Scalding tears gather in my eyes to be brushed impatiently away. No time!

I may have handled Avon badly but I am no fool and I built my base well. Each section has an emergency exit for just such occasions as this. I am practically sitting on top of one, or rather, Klyn is. I move her body gently out of the way and reach under her console for the release switch. A small stairway appears in the floor leading to the escape tunnels which run under the base. I listen carefully but hear nothing. Deserted. I don't know whether to be pleased or not. Alone I will be safe, but my people.…

I hurry back to Avon. He's deeply unconscious and when I touch his hand the skin is cold. Shock. I have little time left.

Gently I gather up the limp form; I must be careful not jar any broken ribs, his lungs are damaged enough as is. That soft moan again -- it makes me clench my teeth in sympathy. "Hang on, Avon," I whisper. "Just hang on. I'll take care of you now."

I stop at the bottom of the little stairwell and fumble to close the access hatch. There; I throw the switch and move off into the darkness ever conscious of my burden.

Minutes, hours -- an eternity! -- later I emerge into the sunlit forests of Gauda Prime. I'm not far from the mines now; a good thing -- my own wounds are starting to hurt me and I become aware that I am still losing blood. I must not falter in my steps, though; Avon would not survive the jarring if I dropped him now.

I put him down carefully and listen again at the tunnel's entrance. Nothing. No sign that anyone else is using the escape route. The mouth of the tunnel is too near my auxiliary shelter and I know that, after all this time, anyone who is going to use the tunnels has already done so. It is time to perform one last duty for my people-and for Vila.

The explosion lights up the evening sky, bathing it from horizon to horizon in white-hot, purifying fire. No survivors -- not Federation and not my own people. That has always been the agreement. Anyone who could not escape the base would go up with it rather than face torture and death at the hands of the enemy. My heart is heavy as I turn away. I have lost many good friends this day: Deva, Klyn, Jaron...Vila. I was waiting for you too, Vila. Rest in peace, my friend.

Avon stirs slightly as I bend to lift him again, opening his eyes to gaze blankly up at me. I'm worried. How will he react to seeing me like this, covered in blood? Will he believe me still dead? "Blake?"

The word is half whisper, half sigh but it brings a faint stirring of gladness to my heart.

"I'm here, Avon. Don't try to talk. You've been badly hurt. Just rest and let me care for you." I begin to unfasten his black tunic. Those wounds should be bound before we go any farther.

He looks faintly puzzled at the blood which covers the front of my tunic. Does he realize that most of it is his own? He raises an arm to touch my chest, reaches toward the burn marks which show cleanly through the blood. Then he gasps, whether is pain or sorrow I don't know and drops his arm. "Dead?" That half whisper again, this time so loaded with despair that I am forced to halt my ministration to answer him.

"Avon." I will him to open his eyes again, which he does, and I meet them squarely. "I am not dead and neither are you." I reach out to gently touch his cheek, pitching my voice to its most soothing. "You're going to be fine, Avon. My base is close. You'll have medical attention soon. Right now I have to bandage your chest; you're losing too much blood."

His eyes travel to the front of my bloodstained tunic again, then back to my face. I smile reassuringly. "It's all right, Avon," I lie. "That's not my blood. I'm not hurt."

A shadow seems to lift from his face at that, then descends again. "Vila?"

"Safe. You'll see him when you're well enough." I pray the lie doesn't show on my face. He must not be allowed to give up. Not now. I must have been convincing enough for Avon seems to accept my lie. He closes his eyes again, relaxing a bit as I finish opening his shirt.

I bite my lip to stifle the gasp. The wound is bad. The blast has taken him high, traveling downward into the lung and upward to shatter the shoulder. Blood flows far too freely from flesh that was charred slightly by the heat of the laser. Any chance for survival Avon has, has to come from medical attention received now.

I use the knife from my boot to cut his now useless shirt into strips. I use some of them to pad the wound and the rest to tie it as securely as possible around his body, securing his arm as best I can. He remains silent through it all, although I know it is causing him a great deal of pain. The whitened knuckles and clenched jaw muscles are ample evidence of that. And then he finally –- mercifully -- loses consciousness.

"Don't move!" The words halt me in my tracks. The trip from the tunnel to the mine can't have taken but 20 minutes, but to me it seems a lifetime. Although I have taken the time to bind my own wounds before resuming the journey, I still feel a faint trickle of blood flowing down my belly. My strength is faltering too, and more and more I have to force myself forward, concentrating on one step at a time. I look up wearily. "It's me, Blake." I stumble forward again pulling Avon closer to my chest. If anyone wants to shoot me now I truly wouldn't care. I have reached the end of my stamina and feel the blackness gnawing on the shards of my consciousness. Soon I can allow myself to pass out, but I have to take care of Avon first.

"Gods, Blake! What happened to you? Who is he?" Questions swirl around me unheeded. Arms reach out to lift Avon from my grasp, but I glare them away. No. It is my wobbly legs which carry Avon to the crude medical section and my weakening arms which deposit him gently on the bed. He is safe! Thank alt the stars, Avon is safe! Oblivion takes me.

***

I come to wondering where I am. Familiar voices break the black womb I am hiding in. After a brief struggle, my eyes open to the smiling face of my chief medical officer, Jack Sullivan.

"Wha--?" My voice is hoarse as though long unused and my mouth is dry. Jack passes an arm under my head and helps me to sip on a glass of water. I try again. "What happened, Jack?"

He looks surprised. "Don't you remember? The Federation took Gauda Prime's Alpha base yesterday and..."

Memory floods back. "Avon! He was hurt! Is he--?"

Jack pats my shoulder paternally. "Easy, Roj. He'll be fine in time."

"What do you mean 'in time'?"

Jack sobers. He is a good friend and has known me for many years. I have told him how important Avon is to me over many an opened bottle of soma and I can see him choosing his words carefully. I brace myself for the worst.

"He was hit pretty badly, Roj. I had to cut away part of his right lung -- it was seared too badly to save. The flesh and bone is already regenerating and I've given him enough blood replacement units to keep two men alive."

"But?"

"But I had to do all this under these…" He gestures expansivel. "…conditions. Shock has already set in and infection is a real possibility. If he is going to recover," I noticed the emphasis on the word 'if. Then perhaps it isn't certain? "If he's going to recover he's going to need total rest for a very long time. Regeneration takes time, Roj, especially when it affects vital organs like this."

I realize I'm eyeing him sharply. "What else is there? I know there's something you're not telling me."

Sullivan nods reluctantly. "His right shoulder was shattered. Roj. Not just broken but shattered. It took me six hours to weld the bones into some semblance of their original form." He stabs me with that piercing gaze of his and I find I am holding my breath.

"Come on, Jack, spit it out."

"It's bad, Roj. With therapy he may regain some use in that arm." The breath leaves my lungs in a rush. "Oh, my god. He's... crippled?" I scarce recognize my own harsh whisper. Avon – crippled; if he had been in bad shape before he came to me, what would this do to him? "Don't worry, Roj" Jack went on. "I know a good therapist and... Oh, no you don't!" He catches hold of my arm, forcing me back onto the bed. "You stay right where you are. I had to patch you together, too, after all."

"I want to see him, Jack." I try to put as much authority as I can into my voice and am disgusted to hear that pleading note creep in. "I need to see him. Please, Jack?"

He considers, eyeing me carefully. "It's just a matter of waiting for your blood supply to replenish itself, I suppose. Maybe just a short trip." He moves aside and I have my first look at Avon lying on the cot next to mine. His face is drawn and white as death itself. Jack interprets my alarmed glance correctly. "He's alive, Roj, just heavily sedated."

I wave aside his restraining arm and swing my feet slowly to the floor. Spots dance before my eyes but I cling grimly to consciousness. Jack gives up and offers me a supporting arm instead, assisting me across the gulf which separates me from the man I have waited two years for.

I settle heavily onto the side of the bed and reach out to touch the pale cheek. He is so thin -- so vulnerable. I feel a rush of affection for the man and touch the dark hair lightly while I consider my options.

That Avon tried to kill me is an undeniable fact. That he was not completely responsible for his actions is also something I accept without question. I'll never forget that look in his eyes -- that desperate, despairing look when he asked me if I had betrayed him. What could I have said to you, my Avon? I knew – knew -- that you would never accept as straightforward a denial as I wanted to offer you. In the old days, perhaps. Then you would have given me those precious few seconds I need to explain -- to deny!

But now I know the stories were true. You are... ill. I can't allow you to fight at my side any longer, my friend, nor can I trust you to watch my back. So what to do with you?

Avon stirs lightly under my touch and it is then I decide. I can't risk you again, Avon - you are all I have left. First Gan, then Jenna, Cally and now Vila – my new family from the Liberator. My blood family before them -- all gone. My own life is of little import to me, but you must be safe -- protected. And perhaps I do know just the thing, the very way to use your skill and keep you safe both. And to keep you from harming others -- I must never forget that.

Sullivan is always good at reading my mind. He places a friendly hand on my shoulder and brings the question out into the open. "The stories about him are true, aren't they, Roj?" I look up. "I can see it is your eyes. He really is mad, isn't he?"

"No!" My first vehement denial dies away as quickly as it was spoken. "He's ill, Jack. He needs a place to rest and recover from what he's been through." I sigh, resting my hand against the dark hair. "I'm going to take him to Keeva Two."

"Avalon's research facility?"

I nod. "It's a quiet, pretty planet far off the Federation's path. There's a computer research center already set up there. He'll be able to work and live quietly and... safely." I bristle defensively. "It would be a crime to waste a man of his genius. The rebellion can still use him."

Sullivan raises a placating hand. "I didn't say a word, Roj! I think Keeya Two is a good idea. We'll be able to use his expertise and he won't be able to... well... hurt anyone," he finishes apologetically. I remain silent, and he goes on after a moment. "What about you, Roj? What will you do now?"

"Me?" I am surprised and show it. I had thought the answer obvious. "I'II go with him for awhile, I suppose. He won't get well if he doesn't rest and he won't rest unless he has someone to watch his back."

"You?"

"Me," I grin. Then I sober quickly. "Besides, Jack. I'm so tired." I rise wearily after giving Avon a final long look. He is so like a child asleep like this, peaceful. Sleep well, little brother, I mentally send his way and then I have to return to my own bed, Jack at my heels.

"I can't imagine you giving up your Rebellion, Roj. Not even for him."

"Giving up?" I laugh shortly. "I couldn't do that if I tried -- not forever anyway. Just until Avon is well again. Then I'll be back." I unconsciously clench one fist. "And when I do come back I swear Jack, I'll run the Federation into the ground. This time for Jenna, and Gan and Cally and Vila... and Avon. This time I'm not going to fail This time the Federation falls. This I swear."

end